#heavy // headcanons // and this is my weapon.

[boimann]

heavy is the biggest gossip

he pretends to be unintrested and quiet but he is actually secretly listening to everybody else's business, and since his grasp on english is not that strong some members on the team aren't as worried of him overhearing things,

than at the end of the day he goes to the med bay and reports all his findings to medic and the two of them just gossip together while medic performs surgery on heavy until the sun goes down

[vnynv]

body practice

[donni-cl0wn]

Hc- scout views heavy as a father figure. Heavy tends to worry about scout but soemtimes gives him a hard time bc scout is a little asshole.

I just want scout to have a healthy father-son relationship with someone😭😭 since spy won’t do it 🙄🙄

[haellen-o]

"I write ophelia more because haellen is very uninteresting. she is just a boring person (affectionate)"

also me

"So yeah haellen is a pioneer in the field of firearms as well as the first person to make commercial magitek prosthetics and wheelchairs"

[honeydewmuses-a]

Tag Dump!

Heavy.

[deepspacenova]

CRIMSON DESTRUCTION

4000 words | heavy angst. romance. blood/injury. war. major character death.

Note: I'm still reeling from everything we've discovered in Sylus' myth card, my friends. This draws a lot of parallels and portrays a bit of history repeating itself. I apologize in advance for any pain and suffering this might cause, this one's for the masochists (: I know not all of us want more angst as a coping mechanism for angst so make sure to read the warnings

Inspired by this ask from a fellow angst enthusiast — i think i may have... over-delivered? Either way, I hope I did your prompt justice @huachengnism <3

Also, bc no ideas are original, I was half done writing this when I found this post by @relentlessconqueror, who I apparently share at least a few braincells with when it comes to headcanons haha so *fist bump*

She struggled to catch her breath, her chest heaving with the exertion of the escape. Her ribs screamed with every inhale, bruised from the last blow she’d taken before breaking free, and every bone in her body ached.

It'd been hours since Mephisto miraculously landed on the bars of her cell in the depths of the Association's intricate Wanderer prison system with an all-access key card. But she — they, she corrected as she felt the reassuring pressure of the crow's talons perch on her shoulder — were alive and unhurt. 

The battle had moved to what little remained of the newest No Hunt Zone: what was once known as Linkon City Centre. The once bustling hub that had been full of people and livelihoods had been reduced to a crater on the planet’s surface, destroyed by violence, explosions, and carnage. Linkon was falling, neighborhood by neighborhood, consumed by chaos orchestrated by the Hunter’s Association. Their relentless pursuit of her — the so-called Traitorous Tenebra — had left a trail of destruction in their wake.

She'd barely survived the Alpha Team's brutal "interrogation," which had brought her to the brink of unconsciousness when they demanded information she refused to give. But it was their arrogance and the surrounding destruction of their crusade to capture the elusive leader of Onychinus that let her slip through their grasp.

Now, she had one goal: find Sylus so they could escape this nightmare.

It was easy to predict how today would go — Ever Group’s unrelenting thirst for domination and the Hunter's Association’s relentless pursuit of Onychinus and aether cores made for a volatile duo. But no one, not even Sylus, who had an uncanny knack for understanding human nature, could have foreseen how they would fuel each other’s chaos, turning the Linkon into a nightmare of their own making.

Bloodthirsty men who called themselves "researchers" with protocore-powered ammunition stormed the streets, piercing through civilians like arrows of death. She'd done all she could to defend the innocents of Linkon from afar with the Hunter weapons she’d swiped on her way out of the Association. But only so many could be saved while it seemed like countless others met their ends.

Of course, the Hunters had their own twisted methods for submission. The few teams she'd spotted were taking protocore-inlaid weapons while Wanderers followed their commands like the puppets Xander Sciences made them to be. The very creatures the Association set out to destroy, now wielded like oversized hellhounds to take down Onychinus' leader, "the harbinger of doomsday in Linkon."

She couldn't help but scoff at their zealous fanaticism. And she was the Tenebra.

Bodies and blood were strewn across the cobblestone and the asphalt, and there were far more dead from their side than she’s sure they had predicted in their arrogance. But the fate of Ever’s defeat loomed over the rubble like the mythological Hades, waiting to collect his souls. 

She watched for a few minutes as the attacks grew more spaced apart, deciding that now was the perfect time to send the signal to Sylus. She’d only had a glimpse of his black-red mist and that was hours ago. All she’d wanted to do was cup the reassuring beat of his heart in her hands, to feel his hand wrap around the back of her head, pressing her nose into the warmth of his neck. 

Now was the time. They were done here. Done with this place. 

She looked at the thunderclouds overhead, swelling with eagerness to spill their deluge of water over the landscape. She removed the dark red gem around her wrist before her hands rose to clasp it over her companion's sturdy neck. Her fingers trailed the cold metal of her crow's studded wing when she murmured, "Keep this safe for me, you big fiend. Now, Mephisto. Go."

His mechanical wings unfolded before he launched into the stormy sky. She watched the crimson glimmer as he soared with a fluid grace and precision that made him as real to her as any other crow.

Sylus would know to meet her now.  

Sylus surveyed the No Hunt Zone from the neighborhood’s tallest building, atop the skeletal remains of empty flats that had somehow stayed standing. He was up there for a better vantage point, sure, but he also had to distance himself from the eye-stinging smoke that had surrounded him below as well as the eerily familiar, nausea-inducing smell of burning flesh. 

But he wasn’t going to think about it. Couldn’t think about it. That was then, this is now. 

He'd purposefully stayed within sight of Linkon's supposed saviors and the battle, moving just enough to keep their attention fixed on him. He darted between buildings, his black-red mist filtering through the haze of smoke, a deliberate lure to give her a chance to make it above ground and send him their signal.

He felt a faint trace of her energy only an hour ago as he moved around, commanding and powerful, the only source of water in a desert of death.

Sylus' heart almost beat out of his chest in anticipation of being with her without time limits, without restraint, and he did his best to tamp down that feeling he forbade himself to feel since he was a dragon with his first love: hope. 

But he couldn’t avoid the promise of their escape. It wrapped around him and took the form of her body, making him feel a longing so fierce, he had to force his feet to stay on the stone until Mephisto arrived. 

The firing shots and pained cries were getting fewer and far between, with no shadows of Wanderers moving within sight. The battle was almost over. 

As Sylus squinted to see if any of his men lay among the dead, his ears caught a rhythmic flapping, prompting him to extend his forearm. When he felt the cold weight of the robot's body land on his arm, two things happened at once.

One, his gaze locked on his bracelet's twin, the garnet-colored gem winking at him as he took it off the crow's neck and clenched his palm around it. Two, at the same time, Mephisto's beak opened to reveal the recording device within and the only voice he ever wanted to hear rang out, "Keep this safe for me, you big fiend."

The sound of the words surrounded him like an embrace. Fiend.

He froze in delighted disbelief and couldn’t help it. He laughed. A loud, genuine laugh. It sounded gravelly and unpracticed, feeling foreign on his battle-hardened cheeks, but he couldn’t contain his relief. 

They were done here. 

Mephisto trailed Sylus like a shadow in the sky as he headed toward the N109 Zone, smirking all the way. Very much the opposite of the expression a man who’d just sacrificed everything he’d built on this planet, whose organization had been disintegrated by the Hunters Association, should be wearing. 

He glanced back every so often at Linkon behind him, a scorched blemish on the landscape. 

Impatient, Sylus tried to seek her out with his evol and swore he could feel her heading his way. He was half-tempted to haul her to him, her complaints of manhandling be damned.

The abandoned buildings in the N109 Zone stood like silent witnesses, their jagged edges silhouetted against the unnaturally bright moon. 

He glanced around and whispered her name a few times. When no one answered back he leaned against a crumbling wall, waiting for her. The moon seemed brighter in the sky.

That was when he saw the sinister glow of emerald eyes in the alley. 

A sharp crack split the air, as Sylus’ power surged forward, barely stopping a metaflux-infused bullet mid-air and disintegrating it into nothing before it pierced his chest. 

"Impressive," a guttural voice growled from the darkness. 

The lead scientist of Xander Sciences emerged and Sylus’ lips twisted into a grimace. The maniac had fused himself with a Wanderer. 

The aether core Ever had attempted to manufacture had done more than just augment him — it had warped him completely. Whatever remained of his humanity was buried under a grotesque amalgamation of man and Wanderer. Ugly green scales shimmered under the moonlight, and claws scraped the concrete as he moved.

"I was wondering when you’d crawl out of your hole," Sylus said, his voice calm and unbothered. 

The monster sneered, revealing his jagged face. "You’ve meddled with us for the last time. This planet is mine to reshape. You won’t stand in our way."

He moved with inhuman speed, closing the distance between them in a blur. He slashed with his claws, but Sylus ducked, releasing a burst of energy that sent him skidding backward. The hybrid roared, firing another shot, but Sylus twisted his hand, bending the energy around him to absorb the bullet’s momentum before redirecting it in a volatile arc that scorched the ground at the monster’s feet.

The battle was a storm of power. The hybrid lunged, his claws tearing through the air, but Sylus met him head-on, energy crackling from his fists as they clashed. Each blow lit up the darkness, casting crimson shadows on the crumbling walls around them.

"You’re nothing but a monster now," Sylus gritted out, his voice strained as he deflected another strike. "Even your own tech couldn’t handle your ambition."

He laughed, the sound a guttural snarl. "Ambition is evolution. And evolution demands sacrifice!"

Sylus wasn’t winning this fight, though. He’d already won. 

The hybrid had definitely been injured in battle, or he might’ve just been drunk on bloodlust, but either way, his attacks were haphazard and sloppy at best. Sylus was just looking for the right opening, baiting him so he could deliver her final strike against him. 

Sylus’ evol surged, spiraling around him in a black-red maelstrom of raw power. He struck the ground with his fist, sending a shockwave that threw the monster off balance. Taking the opening, Sylus launched forward, his fist colliding with its jagged jaw, cracking scales and sending it stumbling.

But he recovered, the gun in his beastly hand raised as he fired a spray of bullets, each one infused with metaflux. Sylus dodged, but one grazed his arm, searing through his jacket and burning his skin.

Gritting his teeth, he channeled his frustration into his power, summoning a massive sphere of energy. "This ends now," Sylus growled.

The sphere expanded, its glow lighting up the area around them. With a roar, Sylus hurled it at his enemy, picturing the faces of the hundreds, thousands of humans and monsters alike who had wronged him. Wronged her.

The hybrid tried to counter, his claws swiping through the air to absorb the energy, but the sheer force of Sylus’s attack overwhelmed him. The explosion rocked the area, sending debris flying and shrouding the battlefield in smoke.

When the dust settled, the brilliant Carter of Xander Sciences lay motionless, his hybrid body cracked and broken. Sylus stood over him, breathing heavily, his evol flickering around him like a lightning storm.

"Evolution demands sacrifice," Sylus echoed, his voice low. "Guess you were right about that."

She sighed as she spotted the outskirts of the N109 Zone and headed toward their spot, toward Sylus. She knew he’d be there waiting for her, knew he'd gotten her signal when she saw the silhouette of a black crow sailing through the sky. 

She couldn’t wait to be with him unreservedly, without ever having to leave his side again. She found herself getting excited, feeling a breathless sort of anticipation. Her body ached, the pain of old wounds and new wounds alike coming together throughout her body. And it took all of her willpower to stay cautious of stragglers, to not to break into a sprint. 

But her willpower was no match for hope. No match for the smile that slowly dominated every inch of her face. 

She’d never been so overjoyed, so relieved. So overcome with the need to see his vermillion-streaked eyes, taste teasing smirk, feel his silver-streaked hair. 

The journey felt endless, like she was the Greek king Sisyphus, eternally destined to never reach her only goal. But finally, finally, she could see the haphazard border of the N109 Zone.

When she was just a few dozen feet away, she spotted him, reclined against a stone wall near a felled wanderer, spotlighted by the moon like her very own star.

She paused to compose herself, holding back her stupid tears of joy, of relief. He hadn’t noticed her yet and she was okay with that, content to steal a moment of gazing at him for herself. 

But then he stirred, his eyes lifting to meet hers, and her breath hitched. A teasing smirk tugged at his lips, but it softened when he noticed the way she looked at him, the way her entire being seemed to collapse with relief.

“You’re late,” he called to her. 

She broke into a run, ignoring the protests of her body, her legs barely able to keep pace with the urgency in her chest. “Sylus!”

He stayed in place, his arms opening as she barreled into him, wrapping herself around him. The warmth of his body and traces of his evol enveloped her, buzzing against her skin like a thousand kisses.

One of his arms slipped down to wrap her leg around his waist and held it there, as if the pressure of her chest against his wasn't nearly enough. She felt the warmth of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth on the space between her neck and shoulder as he tentatively nipped her there, like he was infusing himself into her.

She pulled back with a gasp to look up at him, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. His greedy gaze faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable, as his eyes searched hers.

And then she kissed him.

Her lips met his in a rush of emotion—relief, joy, desperation—all spilling into that single moment. For a heartbeat, he froze, startled, before his hands moved to cup her face, pulling her closer. His evol flared, an electric hum that danced between them, matching the frantic rhythm of her heart.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest to her palm, which caressed the pulse of his neck.

“Careful, sweetie, I might start thinking you like me,” he rasped, his voice rough and playful as his hand slid to the small of her back, holding her close.

She laughed through the lump in her throat, clinging to him tightly.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, ruby gaze sparkling with mischief. His brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You look like hell.”

“I’ll live,” she reassured, leaning into his touch. “I just… needed to see you.”

He sighed as if the words were a balm, hand still cradling her face. “Good,” he said, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Because this big fiend will hunt you down if you leave my sight. Or—" he let go of her leg to circle her wrist and fasten her half of their bracelet around her wrist. "—dare to take this off again."

“Not a chance,” she whispered into his throat, wrapping her arms around him to clasp the bracelet with her other palm, as if printing its jagged shape into her wrist. “No matter how many times the world turns its back on us, I’m never leaving your side.”

The moment took up the entire lens of her focus, so she didn’t spot the other silhouette skulking from the entrance of the N109 Zone.

Sylus felt the shift a second too late.

The sharp, metallic click of a gun broke the fragile quiet, the sound slicing through the air like a knife.

She turned toward the sound and Sylus saw her eyes widen, not with fear, but with recognition.

“Jenna,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

From the shadows stepped her former leader, the woman who had once been her mentor. Jenna's presence was a weapon in itself, Sylus knew —steely, unyielding, and absolute. A metaflux-infused dagger was already raised aimed directly at Sylus.

“Did you really think I needed all the prison guards? I knew where he went, you’d follow,” Jenna’s voice sliced through the air, her voice razor-sharp as she spoke to her and aimed a disgusted glance at Sylus. "The perfect bait."

Without hesitation, she threw the blade like a dart.

"No!" she screamed as Sylus pushed her away from him, the blade slicing his cheek and eye, leaving a burning streak of pain and a hazy right field of vision in its wake.

Pain erupted like a white-hot brand as the impact shattered the aether core in his eye. Blood and fragments of glowing green dripped down his face in a torrent, obscuring his vision.

He staggered, his breath hitching as agony lanced through his skull. The disorienting mix of searing pain and the flickering in his right eye overwhelmed him, and he stumbled.

Through the haze of pain, he could feel the core’s fragments still burning into him and the world around him blurred as his mind fought to regain focus.

A frustrated sob behind him made his blood run cold.

Raising his head, his heart dropped as he saw Jenna’s gun aimed not at Sylus but at her aether core. Her heart. Jenna's other hand had forcefully raised her elbow, aiming his beloved's gun at Sylus' chest.

“You had such promise, young Hunter," Jenna continued, her tone lamenting. "But you should’ve known better than to run from your fate.”

“Jenna, please—”

Something sinister flickered across Jenna's face before vanishing into her practiced calm. “I taught you everything. And this… is how you repay me?” Her tone was as merciless and final. "Now you either kill him, or I kill you."

“Don’t touch her,” Sylus growled, his voice low and dangerous. He tried to reach out toward her, tried desperately to yank her back to him and take her away, but his evol didn't respond.

Jenna only smirked, her grip tightening as she tilted her head. “Your fate has always been sealed. But hers… Well, that depends on how obedient she feels.” She shrugged coldly. “Now shoot him."

Sylus' mind raced as his blurry gaze locked onto the watery anger of her eyes, familiar to him for longer than this planet's entire existence.

"Do it." He ignored her cry of indignant fury at his unmistakable command as he spoke cruel words wrapped in a loving tone.

"Sylus, no."

Inhaling through the pain he exhaled a shaky, almost impatient sigh. She had to do this, had to know he was okay with a world without him in it. "You bluffed once before in this position, kitten. Don't let a second chance pass you by."

"Stop!" The hand being forcefully aimed at his heart was shaking.

Suddenly a fierce resolve burned behind her eyes at his words, at the memory.

Her quaking hand suddenly steadied and her fingers adjusted their grip on the gun, and for a moment, relief overcame the pain in Sylus' body when he thought of her shooting him and ending it once and for all.

But — his cunning little kitten — she outmaneuvered them all.

She twisted her wrist, aimed the barrel at her chest, and pulled the trigger.

The deafening crack of the gunshot rang out, the impact jerking her frame as the bullet pierced right through her and struck Jenna, who staggered backward, eyes wide with shock as crimson bloomed on her Hunter's uniform.

Letting her go, Jenna clutched at her chest as she fell to the ground.

And the world slowed to a crawl.

The visceral scream that tore through his throat was a feral sound, an ancient, animalistic roar that was both agonized and shrill enough to become a death knell for every living being in Linkon. In the world.

Sylus’ legs buckled as he caught the weight of her body. His knees hit the concrete, and his arms tightened around her as he laid her trembling form on the ground.

“No, no, no,” he growled, his voice cracking as he pressed his hands against the flickering, shattered aether core in her chest, desperate to stem the flow of blood.

Her face was scrunched up tight in excruciating pain, but she was still alive. He could work with that. He would. 

“Fuck. You’re okay, kitten, you’re okay,” he crooned. He ignored the blood dripping from his eye to her chest and tried linking his hands through hers, tried to get her to resonate with him, to activate either of their evols so he could at least attempt to—

But her hands were bloody and trembling and limp.

"It's okay, Sylus. It's... alright," she soothed, wincing. "There's no choice, if it's between you and me. No choice."

A half-growl, half-sob escaped him. “Yes, and that choice is always you. Now look at me so I can fix your mistake and figure out how to— no, you're not allowed to close your eyes."

He paused during his diatribe, noticing just how much of his blood and hers had pooled beneath them, just how pale her lips were getting.

“There’s no saving this, Sylus.” Her unfocused eyes met his, hand hovering in the air weakly to pull his face down and place a kiss on his forehead.

The familiarity of the feeling overwhelmed him, like a thousand cuts of grief all at once. His groan sounded like a whimper as he pulled back to grab her hand and press it into the ravaged side of his face.

"Jenna was wrong.... about your fate." She inhaled a ragged breath. "We just made sure of it. There's no going back now."

All he could do was shake his head and imprint her hand over his eye, cold reality starting to fall like ashes around him.

When grey wisps started to sprinkle her hair and rest against her eyelashes, he realized it was actual ash. To some, it might’ve been beautiful; to him, it was devastating. Their souls were separating again, except this time, she was the one leaving him.

"If I ever had a soul—" he exhaled a shaky breath, blinked past the wetness that blurred his good eye, "—just know that it was you."

"You'll always be tied to me, Sylus. Forever." Her breaths were faster, shallower.

Her cheek twitched up and her eyelashes fluttered as suddenly, weak little notes squeezed their way out of her chest. His hand tightened around hers as the familiar melody embraced him and finally made the chest-wracking emotions drip salty trails down his cheek.

As the final note of her requiem faded, there was a long silence.

He waited for her voice again, for more words, but when he pulled back her chest was a pool of crimson and her eyes were closed.

She was gone, and he was in agony.

Suffering had long created a hole in his blackened heart. But this pain was unlike anything he’d felt before. It enveloped him, suffocated him.

And that’s when he found it. That small pebble of rage beneath the mountain of anguish. 

He set her on the ground as gently as he could before getting up and sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth, focusing on the anger so he could escape his grief. 

He felt it latch onto faint, flickering traces of his evol and the two powers laced together like two lovers, moving through his body, his fingertips.

He almost felt drunk with it.

He didn't notice it at first, he was still fixated on his beloved's lifeless face, but there was a soft glow radiating from the shattered remnants of their aether cores.

Black-red mist twitched restlessly and began to stretch outward.

“The day of judgment is today. Everyone will pay for this,” said Sylus, his voice utterly calm. “The whole world will burn.”

[xxsabitoxx]

My Personal Hashira 🍆 Size Ranking

Warning: if it ain’t obvious, this contains smut lmao — therefore Muichiro is 100% not included in this. We’re talking about 🍆, length, girth, all the fun stuff. So if PPs make you uncomfortable keep on scrolling babes </3

A/N: these low key stress me out cause I feel like people can get pretty defensive over these types of Headcanons. Especially if my own thought differs from yours. Regardless, these are just my personal takes/HCs. My word is not law so do not be upset if my HC does not match yours / don’t feel the need to change how you HC these things to fit my POV. This is why I refrain from describing size in my fics, I want y’all to imagine it in a way that you like lololol

Lastly, idgaf if you see some of this as unrealistic, these are fake, fictional drawings of men, if I wanna give Gyomei a 44ft long 🍆, I can and will (I didn’t but you get the point.) Anyways enjoy my personal thoughts on this matter

1. Himejima Gyomei

Is anyone fucking shocked that this 7’2 (220cm) man is packing the biggest schlong among the male Hashira?

I mean let’s be logical real quick, his dick is as big as the rest of him. This man’s dick is dragging on the floor.

Soft: 11.2

Hard: 12.3

Call it unrealistic idgaf this man is LONG

Girthy too, he’s fucking beefy all over

This man’s dick will feel like he’s shoving his wrist up in there ong bro

It curves downward slightly when hard, I mean shit that thing is heavy, it stands no chance against gravity

2. Uzui Tengen

Again, the man is 6’6 (198cm).

Height comes into play when it comes to our two tank Hashira

Therefore none of you should be surprised that they are the top two

Soft: 9

Hard: 10.3

Your guts are getting rearranged, he knows the length he has but often underestimates how far he can go…

He’s long but doesn’t have a crazy girth to him, which thank fuck it doesn’t take as much prep to take him

He’s pretty straight when hard and manages to flex it and keep it up (he totally does dick tricks & you can’t convince me otherwise)

3. Tomioka Giyu

I’m standing by my “big dick Giyu” head canon. I just know this man is packing a weapon down there

What’s crazy is he wasn’t even aware of how good he had it until he overheard other corps members chatting

Soft: 6.3

Hard: 7.4

He’s got a decent girth and as weird as it may sound, it’s pretty, like really pretty to look at

When hard, it curves upwards and stands at attention which makes him a bit embarrassed

He knows how to use it, because of that he’s pretty confident in that aspect which is wild for him

He will also rearrange your guts unintentionally (or intentionally hehe)

4. Shinazugawa Sanemi

I don’t wanna hear one PEEP from any of you that Sanemi should be above Giyu.

My man is forth on the list but that ain’t mean shit, he’s still got a lot going on down there

Soft: 6

Hard: 7

He’s girthy, will tear you up girth, needs thirty minutes of prep minimum because of how wildly he fucks girth

He sticks straight out, no curve in sight and honestly looks like he defies gravity.

He’s like Tengen, can do dick tricks. But unlike Tengen he doesn’t make that known / show you lmao.

He’ll break your back, he may even hurt you (fully unintentional) if he gets too into it. That thing is fr a weapon

5. Rengoku Kyojuro

He’s fifth on the list but trust me he’s not lacking

He’s second smallest, but he’s not small, if you get what I mean. It’s kinda like how we rank the Hashira weakest to strongest but regardless they are still the strongest in the corps… that make sense?

Soft: 5.8

Hard: 6.8

He curves upwards, very prominent veins running along his shaft (heh, shaft)

Girth wise, he’s about normal. Not too intimidating but def offers you a good stretch, forgoing prep is real bold tbh

He’s a quick learner so he quickly masters how to fuck you

He will strive to go as far as your body will let him, so expect to be bruised / sore

6. Iguro Obanai

My king. He may be “smallest” among the Hashira men, but that doesn’t mean shit.

He’s not self conscious of his dick, he knows how to use it. He’s also pretty content with it’s size

Soft: 5.6

Hard: 6.5

See? You can’t come for me cause he ain’t even SMALL

Obanai’s dick is pretty, too. It curves upwards slightly, since he’s pretty pale, his veins are prominent

He’s got an average girth, he doesn’t need to prep you forever to get you ready. Which works in his favor cause he likes to “punish” you with no prep & going in raw

He can and will abuse your cunt, he’s not satisfied until you genuinely can’t walk without limping for a few days

[mrsparrasblog]

MASTERLIST

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Dark Kyle

Layover in London (NSFW)

Regency Gaz

Change my mind

John Price

Seducing Price (NSFW)

Advice from Price

Layover in Liverpool (NSFW)

Headcanon

Brat daughter

All too well

Pussy inspection

Bridgerton crossover

Rodolfo Parra

Sweet as cinamon

Jealous Rudy

Alejandros sister (NSFW)

John "Soap" MacTavish

Mrs. Mac Tavish (Angst)

Sauna Soap (NSFW)

Layover in Glasgow (NSFW)

Take me to church

Simon"Ghost"Riley

Jealousy Jealousy (NSFW)

Stripclub visit (NSFW)

Speak now

Layover in Manchester (NSFW)

Regency Simon

College Ghost

Traitor

Makarov

Makarov x Price daughter

Alex Keller

work is right now in process

POLY

Mai festival

Randome headcanons

Introducing Boyfriend

Birthday Girl (NSFW)

Fighting for you

Pregnant reader

POLY 141 and how it started

POLY 141 reaction of being the father

POLY 141 if they are not the father ( Angst)

POLY 141 x postpartum Depression

POLY 141 reaction to someone flirting with them

POLY 141 Reader on period

POLY 141 When you die because of them

You're losing me

Tf141 and their kinks

POLY Tf141 wedding

Barbie Drabble

COD Porn links

Other characters

Nikto ( heavy angst)

Longer fics

The selection

Traumatised reader who is a living weapon in a team with the tf141 (pairing is not confirmed at the Moment)

Mission save the human race (NSFW)

A fanfiction about being the last Woman in the Zombie Apocalypse

Highscool Au

Nightmares become true solider

Love triangle between Cap, Kyle and Reader with Ghoap Elements and Drama Drama Drama

Other fandome

Passenger

Eddie Wells x Reader

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Boyfriend Toji x Fem Reader pt. 2

MDNI! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD

CW: weapon play

18+ Headcanons:

Older! Toji, who was definitely a fuck-friend, before he was a boyfriend. At first, it was a once a week occasion, almost like an appointment. Slowly it became twice a week, then four times a week, then almost every night. It became an addiction like no other. He began craving you whenever you weren't with him.

"You free tonight baby? Need to fuck you so bad... haven't seen you in three days, fuck."

Older! Toji who fell first... and swears it was some work of black magic.

"Don't know what you're doing to me, Mama." Toji groans fucking you from behind, watching as a ring of white cream forms at the base of his cock. His hips speed up by the second, realizing that he isn't just feeling lust.

"Tightest, prettiest little pussy I've ever fucked. Sweetest, prettiest girl I've ever met. Put a fucking spell on me."

Older! Toji who is not loud in bed. Sorry to my girls that love the moaners and the whimpering sluts 😔. You'll get groans, grunts, and tons of dirty talk but THAT'S IT.

When you're having make-up sex or when he's angry, he won't make a sound. Just heavy breathing and hard fucking. Kinda scary tbh.

Older! Toji who loves it fucking disgusting. Sloppy, wet, hot, you name it. His favorite thing is to lay down and watch you choke and slobber all over his dick. Chokes you just to have drool spill out of your mouth. Cums all over you, having his seed collect on your shaking body. He's absolutely dead set on making you squirt, training your body as regularly as possible.

Older! Toji who loves experimenting with his knives and handguns in the bedroom. Whether it be pressing his Glock 19 to your forehead while fucking you against the wall, or pressing a blade to your neck while marking you up, he loves the way the danger always makes your breath hitch. Don't worry though, he always takes the bullets out, always uses the dull side of the knife... he'd never be able to forgive himself if something actually happened to you. (When he has basic human empathy 😍🤤)

Older! Toji who first confessed after fucking you raw, going three rounds. He was struck with jealousy after you invited him out to a bar, instead of your apartment like you have been doing routinely for about 5 months. He was having a good time, joking with you, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time your face lit up and your laugh rang out.

Everything was just jolly until some fucking guy walked up to you, introducing himself as Satoru. He began practically begging to buy you a drink, claiming that he's only seen a beauty like yours in a dream about a wild forest goddess he had when he got high for the first time in 9th grade.

Toji rolled his eyes, scoffing at the man who was currently making a fool out of himself. You, on the other hand, found the man's antics amusing, giggling while you allowed him to carry on about his dream, detailing the way the goddess walked towards him, blessing him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he informed you that the scene was an exact replica of you walking into the bar.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Toji was less than pleased.

"Oh, C'mon Toji! It was funny. I mean, you really didn't get a kick out of him?" You pest as he walks in, taking off his size 13 boots.

"Tsk, no. He was a drunken idiot. Goddess my ass, he wouldn't know how to worship you."

That night, Toji fucked you sweeter than he ever did before. You expected to have your insides rearranged the second you walked through the door. Something was different. The air around you felt and smelled different as your breathless moans occupied the room. More tender, more purposeful, more...intimate. He worshipped you head to toe.

Once he pulled out, he uttered three sentences that changed your relationship forever...

"You're mine, I'm yours. I want you, I need you. I love you."

He reminds you of this moment from time to time, repeating the same three sentences. Not after you fuck, but after you make love.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Professor Miguel O’Hara x Reader Headcanons

Warnings: University Professor Miguel, Implications of Smut, Age Gap, Secret Relationship, Teacher’s Pet Reader, Academic Manipulation, Coercion, Abuse of Power, Miguel Abusing his Spider Abilities for Nefarious Purposes, Slight Yandere Miguel, Implied Obsession, Minor Spoilers for Miguel’s Backstory, Extra Yandere Headcanons, Forced Kissing, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Miguel knows it’s wrong to want you in the way he does. You’re his best and brightest student, after all — his magnum opus: his academic pride and joy.

Problem is, that appreciation for your work ethic and your eagerness to take heavy loads of work (and eventually heavy loads of other things) charmed him. Sure, he could label you asa kiss-ass, a teacher’s pet, a sycophant, but ever since the first day he met you, he can’t help but feel your concern for him is genuine.

You always ask him how he’s doing. Every class, without fail, you stop off at his desk on your way to your seat and ask: “How are you doing today, Mr. O’Hara?” Followed by questioning some inane, specific detail he told you off-handedly a day or week prior.

You always remembered the little details. Something even Miguel finds trouble with doing; what, with his extracurricular activities as Nueva York’s one and only Spiderman.

The fact that you’re kind to him, a luxury Miguel had long since lost along with his family, strikes a chord with him.

He’s not sure when his platonic appreciation of such a hard-working student turned to something more — a rogue daydream into the lewd — but once he started, he couldn’t get enough.

Something about your unspoken submission to him – your, dare he say, desire to perform just for him, led his mind and his morals astray, left much room for interpretation and experimentation.

Choosing to believe you liked him — like-liked him — made a brand of pride bubble in his chest that he couldn’t abandon, couldn’t find a potent enough alternative to.

He starts shamelessly, yet restrainedly, flirting with you. In his own way, of course.

“I loved your paper on the configuration of water molecules and their behaviour when observed; very enlightening stuff.”

The way your face would light up, your eyes crinkling while a small, almost relieved laugh escaped you, made his chest flutter.

He thought it was pride. How little he knows for a science professor.

Eventually, this escalated into him asking you to do things for him he “Wouldn’t ordinarily ask a student to do.”

He smiles at you, eyes deceptively kind behind his slender glasses, as he watches you so intently listen, hear, for his commands.

He wonders what other things you’d do — how far you’d really go, stretch yourself (as he hopes you’d let him) — for a good grade and a positive impression.

He has a secret weapon that he knows will work on you, regardless of how momentous the task.

“I’m trusting you because you’re my favourite student.”

There it is. The activation phrase. Your heart rate quickens, your pupils blow wide and he can feel, hear, the blood rush to your cheeks as his confession settles in.

He can expect whatever it is he’s asked you to do to be complete before the time he’s set for you to do it. And all because of your eagerness to prove that you’re worthy of such a title as ‘favourite’. His favourite.

Truly, though, you are his favourite.

He feels his heart prick and his eyes search for you whenever the door to the lecture hall opens.

Only once were you unable to come to class, rendered bed-ridden by the flu, and Miguel’s heart sank.

He thought at first it was because he didn’t have your adoring eyes following him, trailing his every movement, stroking off his ego with how furiously you’d type on your laptop, take everything he said and burn it into your memory with laser-life efficiency.

But, as the lecture drew to a close, Miguel felt…concerned about you. Your well-being.

A dangerous emotion.

He cared about you. More than just an academic plaything, a task donkey; he wanted to visit you, to care for you. In ways he knew only he was capable of.

During his surveillance of the city that night, he paid you a visit as Spiderman.

Nothing so overt as to make himself known to you; rather a sideline visit as he watched you through your bedroom window.

Truly, your physical state reflected how monumental your illness was; you lay in bed, unaware of the world around you as you slept, nose tip red and eyes ringed.

He wanted to come in, to tuck you back under the blankets you’d thrashed yourself free from, to check your temperature, to be with you.

He leaves, hand coming up to the glass, wishing to breach it — and all the rules — to see you.

But alas, the next time he sees you is in class a few days later when you’re fully recovered.

As you sidle into your seat, lecture hall (uncharacteristically) devoid of Miguel, your friends lean in to tell you all that you missed.

Though, to your surprise, it’s not academic material they’re covering.

“He kept looking over here while you were gone,” came one friend, smiling. Knowing.

“Yeah,” chimes another, leaning in even closer. “And he didn’t sound like he usually does — he sounded…” They look for the right word, term, eyes sliding upwards as if the answer lay heavenward.

The cogs click, they look at you, pointing.

“Disheartened!”

Of course, your friends knew of your admiration for Miguel, often construing it as romantic attraction, but their jibes never went past a joke – purely satirical. After all, practically every student fancied Miguel.

But, that was the first indication you’d seen that Miguel didn’t just view you as another of his students. Though, you hadn’t seen the other warning signs.

Not that youd knwo this prior to dating him, but Miguel gets unbelievably hard when you call him ‘Mr. O’Hara’. Or, even better, ‘Sir’.

Something about the way you look up at him beneath your lashes, eyes filled with the desire to please him, to get on his good side and undertake any task he set for you, was akin to him having full control over you — academic and otherwise.

It just reminds him of how much power he has over you; for the first time, he feels that he has control over the elements and objects around him — an agent of fate rather than being a subject of it. 

That, coupled with his secret identity as Spider Man, sends him on a power trip that often leads him to relieving himself of his growing burden in the privacy of his own four walls, your name laced between the groaning, the panting, the moaning; the only comprehensible instrument in his orchestra.

And, when you eventually start dating, he takes his frustrations out on you.

He makes low, raspy threats when he wants something.

“I’ll lower your grade,” he says, sliding his belt from the loops of his trousers.

The blood draining from your face, your widened stare, your mouth dropping open, make his pants feel tight. Tighter. Goosebumps erupt across his skin.

“Or,” he offers, folding the belt and holding it by the ends. He slaps the belt’s body against itself, sending a crack through the room. You flinch.

“You can be a good little student and earn your grade.”

‘Earning’ often ends with you panting and red and wet, while Miguel watches you between half-lidded, reddened eyes, contact lenses long abandoned, his true nature no longer an enigma to you.

Unfortunately for you.

Extra Yandere Headcanons:

Once you discover Miguel’s true identity, both as Spiderman and a monster, you can never leave.

And not just because you’d be endangering both yourself and him if you ever told anyone.

Miguel, quite simply, cannot live without you. And the thought that you would try to escape him is, despite his intelligence, baffling.

His delusion has blinded him, made him privy only to any positive opinion of him you may have, ignoring your reservations. Invalidating them.

If you ever do make the mistake of trying to leave, Miguel knows he cannot let you have the chance of making it again.

“Can’t risk you getting out, Darling,” he says, placing the finishing knots on the threads of his neon web, keeping your arms constricted behind your back. It’s nigh-impossible to breathe; the likelihood of you breaking your ribs against the pull of the web a certainty rather than you managing to burst it open with any manoeuvre.

He kneels before you, taking your cheek in his hand.

With fleeting defiance, you pull yourself from his grasp, only to see him bear his teeth, fangs and all, and growl. His hands snake about your cheek, your throat, and pull you to him.

“No-one will ever love you like I do,” he rasps. Before you can anticipate, his lips are on yours, parted, tongue lapping at the inside of your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing better than to bite him.

His iron grip on your wrists from last time still haven’t healed.

You daren’t close your eyes for fear that doing so will leave you any more vulnerable than you already are.

Only when he’s breathless does he pull back, eyes half-lidded and gleaming. You can tell he’s angling for something more in the way his hand drops to your shoulder, his eyes sweeping across your collarbones.

But, luckily for you, the two of you know he can’t indulge in you just yet. Not while he has you bound in his basement and a class of students awaiting his arrival.

“I’ll be back for you later,” he says, still panting, forehead pressed to yours. His smile, once pointed and serpentine, is incongruously soft compared to the current circumstances. His lips gentle as he presses a kiss to your forehead. His eyes shimmer with a tenderness that often overtook him in moments of great need – of great “love”, as he’d characterise it.

With a tight, embrace, he parts from you. His shirt is an almost blinding white against the light pouring in from the hallway, the basement door now wide open. He retrieves his glasses from his breast pocket, slips them on. His eyes are unreadable, coloured brown with contact lenses which seemed to conceal his inhumanity from all except you.

“Sit tight, Sweetie,” he tells you. And you are plunged once again into darkness with only the dim glow of his web to accompany you.

And, just like the good, obedient student you are, you obey. For you have no other choice.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[fatuismooches]

I found your Dottore w playable reader stuff and it's been taking over my brain. nf!!but if you could give us a few more silly headcanons? Love ur writing btw 🥹

Dream Chaser's Blight: An ancient weapon that was once used to protect a certain scholar from ages past and to forge a path towards their shared dreams. He has carefully preserved it so that the wielder can use it once more... even though they can no longer perform that duty.

Fly or Fall: HP is increased by X%. When an Elemental Skill hits opponents or heals allies for the first time, the next character that is swapped to will have their CRIT Rate increased by X% and CRIT DMG increased by X%.

Weapon Description: The sound of his fellow peer's humming had become commonplace to the youth. In particular, it always happened when they were carefully cleaning their weapon after a battle, mostly with Ruin Machines that needed to be dismantled with minimal damage... occasionally other unscrupulous people. At the beginning of their budding relationship, the grumpy scholar paid little attention to their fiddling, but as of late, he had taken notice of how his partner's usually tender hands glided along the weapon with ease. The lovely scholar quickly noticed with a smile and inquired of him:

"What, are you interested in my expert skills now? Or- don't tell me, you wish to learn?"

The man clicked his tongue in false disinterest, to which his companion chuckled. They beckoned him further, agreeing that teaching him some basic combat would be wise. After all, despite his high intelligence getting him out of ninety-nine percent of situations, the one percent was certainly something he should plan for. However, unbeknownst to the young man's lover, perhaps he felt a twinge in his chest at the sight of their occasional cuts and bruises. Regardless, before he could finish his thought, something was hurled at him and he had mere moments to catch it.

His so-called beloved had thrown their weapon at him out of nowhere and he could hardly hold it up, all while they were laughing. They just wanted to test his reaction time, they reasoned, sauntering up to him and then relieving him of the weapon's weight, easily maneuvering it to their will.

"Why, you can hardly hold it up, can you? Too heavy, eh? Unsurprising, I know there's a reason I have to haul your items around... but don't worry too much. Until you obtain the powers of the Gods... anyone who hurts my ███ will have to answer to me. But even after, they still will!"

However, an unlived eternity came with nearly insurmountable change for the man's once cheery classmate. Having not picked up a weapon in centuries, the promise was lost to time.

But one day the tired soul questioned their darling, surprised that he had held on to their centuries-old weapon, which had somehow not decayed by now. In turn, he responded that he had preserved all of their belongings from long ago as best as he could. Their weapon in particular was kept in pristine condition, remembering all the opportunities it provided for him. A glimmer of excitement appeared in his love's eyes as they asked if they could hold the weapon once more, to which he hesitantly agreed. But it had hardly made it into his beloved's hands before they nearly toppled over with the weight.

"W-Was it always that heavy...?"

The patient's question was only met with silent sadness and fury from the doctor.

[jevilowo]

Headcanon:

How much the other Mercs can understand Pyro

Scout: Not at all. Won't even try. Literally will just pretend they're on about how cool he is. It drives Pyro insane.

Soldier: Almost every single interaction goes like "mph mph" "LITTLE TIMMY FELL DOWN THE WELL?!?". Soldier can understand them perfectly like once in a blue moon bc funny.

The Other Pyro: They understand each other perfectly and discuss my little pony lore together.

Demo: Understands them well enough but only when hes like the maximum level of drunk. The rest of the time he has to guess based on their tone and body language but how good he is at that depends on how sloshed or un-sloshed he is.

Heavy: The man struggles enough with with english when spoken normally, he's pretty useless at deciphering pyrospeak. He's definitely better at the body language and tone thing than Demo tho, due to having sisters and not being drunk.

Engie: A Sans Undertale situation where most people think he understands them perfectly but he's actually just godlike at reading tone and body language, and decent enough at deciphering the mumbling. I'm pretty sure this is somewhat canon, as the only time Engie has "understood" Pyro was when they made a "nuh-uh" sort of noise which is. Obvious.

Medic: Can't understand much beyond like Yes and No and MEDIC, and is pretty mediocre at tone and body language. Usually just gets Engie to translate. Considering getting Pyro to let him attach a mouth to the outside of the suit.

Sniper: Pretty shit at tone and body language, alright at deciphering the mumbles. One of my headcanons for him was he didn't talk for years as a small child (autism), so I can picture him teaching Pyro some basic Australian sign language.

Spy: He's a spy, and therefore pretty good at deciphering Pyrospeak and tone and body language. He's not as good as Engie, which drives him up the wall.

Miss Pauling: She hasn't really had the time to get used to Pyrospeak (busy), but I can see her getting pretty good at deciphering it over time. She'd probably learn sign language off Sniper too.

Administrator: She was somehow able to understand they wanted more weapons in Meat vs Match so she understands that much at least.

Saxton Hale: That weirdo barely understands Scout. He's probably convinced Pyro is actually just a really obscure species of wilddog that evolved to use flamethrowers.

Zhanna: Same as Heavy, but gains Soldier's ability to understand them occasionally over time.

[zablife]

this may be a dumb idea but.. thinking of a scenario where you get turned on from watching johnny fight and after coming home you see him cleaning them, something something you start begging him to pleasure you with them.. oh the feeling of the cool metal against your clit 🫣 and johnny's in disbelief the whole time (maybe some humiliation..?)

Ode to Brass Knuckles

Johnny Davis x female reader

Johnny Davis Masterlist

A/N: Such a sinfully delicious thought, Lockne!! I ran with this one, but it's just a million diff headcanons about my own obsession with Johnny's fave accessory.

Warnings: violence, weapons, blood, smut, knife play

♡ "What's this?" you ask wide eyed when you first discover the shiny weapon tucked inside his glove box. "Nothin' you gotta worry about, baby doll," he assures you. "I only use it when I gotta teach a guy a lesson," he says casually, unaware that it's a huge turn on for you.

♡ The first fight you witness is over in minutes, Johnny's opponent left bleeding on the pavement as he hooks his arm around your waist and leads you away. "Shouldn't be seeing that," he tries to shield you, but you can't help but look at what your man is capable of when provoked. His show of strength makes you wet.

♡ When you take him home to tend to his wounds, you gasp at his swollen, bloody hands, the thought of intimacy out of the question for the night. However, as he cleans his brass knuckles, you get an idea and you whisper into his ear as he smirks. "Want 'em inside ya, huh?" he chuckles.

♡ The cool brass feels delicious resting against your clit, alternating with Johnny's hot breath. Firm hand holding your thighs apart, the metal digs into your flesh, leaving a ringed imprint that will surely bruise tomorrow.

♡ As the weapon turned sex toy, swipes through your wet folds and presses into your cunt, it stretches you in ways you never imagined. "Such a needy little pussy," Johnny taunts, his deft touch angling it inside you so you feel the ridges against your sensitive front wall with such intensity you scream in pleasure.

♡ It won't be the first time you experiment with the diff types he owns. There's another pair with a knife at the end, he uses to spear your sundress to the picnic table one summer afternoon as he ravishes you. When you complain he's marred your fave outfit, he asks if you'd like a souvenir in your skin to match and you nearly faint with desire as he carves a little J above your hipbone.

♡ Winters are cold, but that doesn't mean he stops fighting so you'll warm his hands and brass knuckles between your plush, warm thighs before he meets his opponent.

♡ "Win for me, baby, and I'll help clean you up after," you whisper, slipping the heavy metal over his thick fingers with a featherlight kiss to his knuckles.

♡ One night your cheers rise over the crowd, garnering attention from the girl holding her breath on the other side. She charges you the moment she sees her bf crumble to the ground, furious at the defeat. In the heat of the moment, you pummel her with your fists the way Johnny taught you in case of trouble.

♡ The Vandals have to drag you away even tho she's out cold. "No, baby, no. Stop," you hear Johnny's voice calling to you. He pretends to be horrified, but as he drives home, he's grinning to himself, chest bursting with pride.

♡ Bonnie to his Clyde, Johnny buys you a smaller set to match his. They're engraved with the date he proposed.

More here

[phecdasolar]

Tumblr I need your help I am in dire need of feral/unhinged Disaster Twins fics pleaseeee (and maybe Mikey as a bonus) I’m just in love with the idea of Raph being the impulse control for once with this iteration, and just the second he’s out of commission the other three go insane.

Weapons of War, Bioengineered Killing Machines, Manufactured Supersoldiers Rottmnt turtles my BELOVEDS

And maybe just like,,, set Leo and Donnie loose on one of the other dimensions and have them absolutely horrifically annihilate their counterparts’ villains while they watch on in horror

(B.E.A.S.T. was SUCH a good fic you guys oh my GOSH go read it I’m begging you-)

I NEED to have it addressed in fic form that the Rise turtles are fundamentally different than all their other counterparts, because their counterparts? They were accidents. Just a couple of turtles splashed with mutagen and oh look now they’re people but Green. (Huge oversimplification I’m aware but hear me out okay-)

But the Rise boys were created. They were specifically designed to be weapons of mass destruction. They were built with the intent to cause harm which means they were bioengineered to be stronger, smarter(?), faster, to heal quicker, to have the capacity to take hard hits while dishing out even harder ones, they were literally forged with a purpose to kill.

Add on their mystic powers? Then their unlocked Ninpo? You can’t honestly tell me that these four aren’t the strongest and potentially deadliest version of themselves out there.

Yes they still had to learn things, as did the other iterations, they weren’t immediately good (that much is obvious, like c’mon it’s IN the name) but I don’t think the other iterations possess the same instincts as these guys do. They’re just so. Unhinged. They’ve all had their moments in the show I think where it’s obvious they’re not really,,, stable. I love them.

In a plain fists only, maybe weapons, no powers fight, I do think some of the other iterations would win, but purely because they have way more experience than these guys do. (If I did any crossovers I’d say 2003 and 2012 are definitely older than these guys, especially if we’re basing this at the end of their shows) But put them against each other when they’re still at the same level? Rise is whooping butt, I know where I’m placing my bets. It’s called RISE of the TMNT for a reasonnnnnn they’re not there yet but they WILL BE, and as of the end of s2 and the movie I say they’re finally THERE.

I have no idea how this turned into a headcanon rant this was just supposed to be me asking for fic recs hsgdjdjdk it’s almost 3 am tho so whatever sorry if none or only some of this is incoherent o7 o/

Editing this with a list of fics I have been graciously recommended below the cut:

Firefight by remrose [43/43 chapters 222k words] (edit: JUST FINISHED READING ch38-42 WATCH ME BAWL MY EYES OUT I was rotating them in my brain all morning at work) less on the feral side, more on the gut-wrenching angst side, still Disaster Twins and still super good

In Which Donnie and Leo Make Themselves Everyone Else's Problem in an NYC That Isn't Even Their Own by YukiSkyes [7/? chapters, 18k words] the CLASSIC “the Disaster Twins are unapologetically causing chaos” fic, always a delight to read

The Lemon Leak by TurtleSoupSwimmer [27/37 chapters, 143k words] I’m being told it’s very true to the theme here, and it’s very angsty, a suspenseful psychological thriller, and will make you scream at your phone. I for one am very intrigued

Eschatology by aenor_llelo, Alderous, ConcoctionsFromHell, izziel_galaxy, Jaybird314, Otakuforlife19, and Rocket999 [17/17 chapters, 344k words] “HEAVY on the boys being biologically engineered to destroy the world, it also delves into so much character building and worldbuilding that we never got in canon, and it gives even super minor characters the chance to shine” Sounds intriguing, AND it’s a BNHA crossover which I am a big fan of :D

The Hunter’s Bible also by TurtleSoupSwimmer [2/2 chapters, 15k words] Rated Mature, contains themes of SA and c@nnibalism so PLEASE keep that in mind!! Not a fic for the faint of heart this is a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat! The SA is only attempted, and never shown, only implied, and it’s only in ch 1, but the other stuff is fairly descriptive and takes place in ch 2. All that being said, flipping UNHINGED, just about lost my mind in ch 2, it was entertaining in a surreal kinda way if you get what I mean. Funky little feral creatures

[thechocolatearmor]

OK OK OK OK OK people talk about sniper, or pyro, or medic being autistic right?

B u t

What if I told you all of them are?

Every single one.

Engineer? He's autistic. Soldier? Autistic. Frickin Spy?? Omgsh he's so autistic

So because my brain won't stop itching about this I'm going to write up a collection of all the evidence I have for why the TF2 mercenaries possess within their beings the big tism. By the time this is over y'all are going to be very sick of the word autism.

But IDC

So without further ado, let's go through each of these silly mercs one at a time:

Scout:

Alright, first up we got Scout. Scout I would consider to be AuDHD for multiple reasons

The ADHD is more obvious but like dude trust me he's autistic too

He's hyperactive, forgetful, gets distracted easily, kind of the basic stereotypical ADHD stuff you would notice immediately. He stims, he fidgets, he struggles in social situations, he's seen as over the top and a bit annoying, he talks a lot

Now a lot of these traits are things that are common for both autistics and adhders. But I wanna point out some things I notice about him that are autism specific

He has a special interest: It's Tom Jones. Honestly he probably has a special interest about baseball too

But I mean c'mon he's literally has a Tom Jones tattoo

You could argue this is just a hyperfixation but I bet it's been going on for a while

He also has "spikey" skills. Really good at stuff like drawing, dancing, sports, but he sucks at things like reading, math, etc

Mostly what makes me see him as autistic it's how he struggles in social situations. Bro doesn't know how to flirt unless he's got a bucket of chicken on hand

Soldier:

Honestly if anyone's autistic coded it's soldier

Special interest is all things American, especially if it relates to the military

Lots of autistic people wear certain items that remind them of something they like, usually disregarding things like how it looks or even whether or not it's comfortable. Soldier's helmet is way too big for him but he's almost always wearing it anyway

In meet the spy he does "hut hut hut" when he's doing down the stairs and it makes me so happy

He has no filter, he takes things really literally, he often sees suggestions as orders (teleporting bread anyone?)

Also when he says he's been doing nothing but teleport bread for 3 days it makes me think he must've been hyperfocused on that

I don't think he knows anything about volume control since he's yelling everything

What kind of neurotypical fights bears in Siberia while naked and covered in honey

He speaks his mind rather than beating around the bush

His helmet could also double as helping him avoid eye contact

Pyro:

Tell me they don't have aversion to like every texture besides their suit you can't

A lot of their animations are super stimmy

Pretty much nonspeaking

Has childish interests

Could also have schizophrenia? (I'm relatively uninformed about it tho so I might not be a good person to judge)

I bet half of their little mmph mmmph noises are audio stims

Special interest is fire

their stim is ARSON

Demo:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too

I mean tbf a lot of how he is is more related to alcoholism but shhh let me have this

But I mean he made friends with Soldier

Special interest in medieval weapons which would explain why he's crazy about swords?

Drinking could be an unhealthy coping mechanism/safe food

Probably also depressed with how he can never live up to his family's expectations

Infodumping about bombs in his introduction video

Honestly most of my "evidence" for him is just fanon but idc I like autistic Demoman

Heavy:

Whether or not him having a PhD in Russian literature is canon, some of his in game lines show him to be very poetic and thoughtful

The fact that he only has a few food items but always seems super happy to be eating them gives me safe food vibes

He sings and hums a lot, probably as a stim

He has the Resting Autism Face™

Special interest in his gun

A lot of his voice lines also just feel really stimmy to me, especially when he's doing the "YATATATATATA" thing

Not sure he has any volume control either

Seems to genuinely enjoy Medic's morbid stories, at least to a point

He really really really really really likes the song of the Volga boatmen in particular

He's the prettiest princess it's canon, you can't be a pretty princess without being autistic /j

He has a tiny bed for Sasha. HE HAS A TINY BED FOR SASHA

Heavy is often criticized as a class because guess gameplay is relatively simple and can become a little stale for a lot of people. Yet Heavy seems to have some of the most excited voice lines in the game. I feel like this emphasizes how much he thrives in routine, since he seemingly never gets bored of just doing his thing

Engie:

He has 11 phds

A lot of his voice lines also sound really stimmy to me. Either he's going YEEHAWW GIDDY UP or he's yelling DAMNIT DAGNABIT DANGIT DAGGIT NABBIT

Probably a lot of echolalia with that too

He humanizes his buildings and cares for them like a mother bird

Just listen to his genuinely heartbroken when his sentry gets taken down!

When playing Engie sometimes I find myself smacking stuff with my wrench even though I KNOW it's already level 3 and maxed and whatnot, or I KNOW I'm out of metal, just because I wanna hear the clang noise. So this point is just me projecting but I love the mental image of Engie giving his things a few extra whacks too

He sawed off his arm for his special interest

His whole monologue in meet the engineer is so autistic sounding to me

His dancing taunt also feels stimmy

He's always hunched over, implying irregular posture

He's a NERD—

Man of many talents including playing the guitar

Never takes those goggles off

How does he turn a stressful TF2 match into a (not so) relaxing tower defense game?

Medic:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too because he seems really scatterbrained and it feels like he's working on several things at once and always

He talks a LOT. definitely an infodumper

Either he's super stern or really giggly, there is no in between

He wears gloves in battle but not while doing surgery??? Does he just like organ textures??? Wacko

Special interest is obviously whatever the heck kinda of mad science he does

Here's a heavy medic headcanon I have: medic likes deep pressure hugs

Another special interest could be his birds

He's very spontaneous which makes me think AuDHD even more

Look how excited he gets when taking about the tumors in expiration date!

He got the organ stealing autism

Is it just me or does he fixate on baboon organs in particular???

Sniper:

I'm pretty sure all of you know why this man is autistic but I'm going to list some reasons here anyway

My main evidence tho are his Halloween voice lines: https://youtu.be/2WDljNAslys?si=JP25VOGGDWwwoCI7

Exhibit a, look how much he enjoys having an owl head

Exhibit b, lots of those voice lines make him sound really freakin' overstimulated

He probably wears the hat and shades for sensory reasons as well as because they look cool

Obviously the most socially reclusive of the mercs

I love his backstory where he learns he never felt like the other kids because he wasn't actually Australian, but what if he also didn't fit in with the other kids because he's autistic?

Also throwing rocks at people as a kid screams autism to me

No neurotypical would ever throw jars of his own piss at you either

I think he just wants to live in the woods somewhere and never come back to society and honestly that's based

I feel like he would be the type to bite his own arm when stressed (just like me fr 😭)

Extremely meticulous in following his own life rules (ie being professional and having standards, driving safely with the turn signal and everything)

Spy:

Ok just hear me out for this one

Smoking because stim reasons

He's literally and figuratively masking

He's very suave and probably really good with social things, but I feel like it looks like he's just practiced really hard, again MASKING

Who knows he might not even actually be French

Who collects photographic evidence for a ur mom joke

I see him as either being hypersensitive or hyper insensitive to pain depending on the day (his screams + "I do believe I'm on fire.")

Mad butterfly knife tricks as a stim? (Notice he couldn't help but fiddle with them even disguised as scout in meet the spy)

He sucks at dealing with relationships and that's one of the reasons he's a bad dad

He actually really cares about his team and you can see it especially in expiration date but he's not very good at expressing it

Do you think he wears the ski mask for sensory reasons too?

Probably has his suits tailored to not give him any sensory issues, which could be another reason he likes them so much

Believe me I could go on but I think this is enough to get my point across

THEY ARE ALL AUTISTIC >:00

[ghostssweetgirl]

I’ve always headcannoned ghost as not wearing his mask when he’s off duty. Idk I just think that he whould want to separate the two, maybe trying to find his identity as Simon back.

Love your storys btw there so *chefs kiss*

Can we get some married headcannons with our beloved ghosty. ❤️❤️❤️

I like to imagine that, too. Or at least that he doesn't wear his mask in the safety of his own home, he probably stays masked out in public (if he's ever in public). And thank you 🥺 I'm so grateful you enjoy my stories!

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Ghost as a Husband Headcanons

At first, he was scared of marriage. Didn't want to risk anything happening to you, God forbid an enemy got intel of your name and location. He'd walk through the gates of Hell himself if you got hurt.

But, he knew from the moment your relationship started that he did want to marry you- you were the one, and he just knew it.

He's a big softie, you get princess treatment FORREAL. He doesn't let you carry anything heavy AT ALL, even if you are fully capable of doing it. And if he catches you carrying anything too heavy, he's scolding you (playfully).

If you're on a walk and come across a puddle, he's carrying you bridal style over it, no if's, and's, or but's about it.

He carries all of your bags around for you when you're out and about shopping.

And dammit, he will walk around almost every store with you. Even when he's sighing from exhaustion, nothing compares to the smile on your face when you're getting what you wanted.

Dreads going on deployment. Hates knowing you'll be alone even though he's taught you everything you needed to know about self defense. You know where all the guns, knives, and everything you can use as a weapon are in your shared house.

Loves, loves, loves coming back to you. Back home to your home cooked meals and tender environment, a safe place. A safe place to separate Ghost and Simon. Unmasked, and himself around you.

When he's on deployment, he stays up late at night thinking about you. Looking at pictures he has saved of you in his wallet, rubbing over it, cherishing what he gets to return home to. Sometimes Soap barges in his room while he's hunched over the side of the bed staring at the picture. Soap definitely playfully teases him about it.

If he returns home in the middle of the night when you're asleep, he doesn't want to wake you, or try to. He likes to watch you, your perfect face in such an innocent state, peaceful. He'll rub your cheek, soothingly rub your back until your eyes flutter awake.

Oh, how he just loves watching you groggily recognize him, you jump up no matter how tired you are, into his arms, squeezing him so hard. It just feels nice to know that he was missed.

You always cook him a big breakfast the morning after. He'll come up behind you, placing sweet kisses at the back of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist. He shuffles his huge body with you as you move around, causing you to giggle.

"Simon! I can't cook that well with you up on me like that!" you laughed.

"I just missed you s'much, luv," he kissed the back of your head. "Need to be up on you."

And even though he refuses to talk about his missions, his work, you didn't need to know that, he didn't want your perfect little head to worry about it, he loved to hear you ramble about what you did to the house, the garden, things you did with your friends, etc.

Almost cries when you bring out the gifts you got him while he was away, surprised that someone loves him enough to think about him like this.

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A/N - I swear here lately I'm half asleep working on requests lol, I hope you enjoy these <3