#their height difference has me screeching

[kolbalissh]

'charlos divorce' DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE WHAT ABOUT THEM WHAT ABOUT THE SAPPHICS

[strifesolution]

had the most visceral but elated reaction to seeing these last night i need to chew through drywall

Strfs yah

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle]

Day 21: Arcade

Chuuya watches the blinking red ‘Game Over’ screen in front him, the feeling of defeat infesting his insides once again as Dazai cackles from the other side of the gaming machine. 

Hands fisting with rage-induced tremors, he springs up, knocking his stool aside and looking over the top at the brunet. “Rematch, you cheating bastard!”

Dazai giggles, a smirk on his lips as he meets Chuuya’s eyes. “But Chuuya, that’s what you said last time. And the time before that and the time before–”

Chuuya screeches, dropping his head onto the machine and groaning out the rest of his frustrations. It is true, much to his derision, he has lost the last… four (?) matches. All he knows is that the score is 1-to-5 in Dazai’s favor, meaning the mackerel is the winner of this versus session.

After venting his not-so-kind thoughts into Dazai and the machine, he stands straight to cross his arms as narrows his eyes at Dazai. “Alright, what’ll it be this time?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Let me think about it,” Dazai says, getting up himself.

“What?! You had this whole time to think about it, are you shitting–”

Dazai grabs Chuuya’s hand suddenly, pointing across the arcade to something that Chuuya can’t even see thanks to a different machine in his way. Stupid beanpole and his stupid height.

“I want that! Chuuya has to get it for me as punishment!” Dazai does a little hop, whining more as he keeps pointing.

Of course he couldn’t clarify what it is. Chuuya doesn’t know if he’s about to agree to paying for a dumb trinket or the whole arcade.

“Stop that,” Chuuya starts, grabbing Dazai’s outstretched arm to reel it in before he smacks some unsuspecting person. “Tell me exactly what it is and what you want me to do. I’m not being forced to do extra work again because you didn’t specify the rules.”

Dazai rolls his eyes, snatching Chuuya’s wrist and practically dragging him to his destination before Chuuya can even react.

As they keep twisting and turning, Chuuya’s beginning to wonder how the bastard even saw whatever he’s aiming for.

And then he sees it.

It’s in one of the claw machines on the top shelf where people with no self-control are supposed to stick the claw’s handle through an itty-bitty hole.

Chuuya does have to admit, though – it IS cute. Very much so. And fluffy enough to have those blankets stores only bring out for the holiday season fucking jealous. 

Staring back at Chuuya with beady, shining eyes is one ginger, stuffed-plush cat big enough to fill Dazai’s greedy arms.

He’ll give it to Dazai – this is nowhere near the worst punishment he’s given. That doesn’t mean Chuuya has to be happy about it as he yanks out his wallet, though.

With even more grumbles, he inserts his first bill of the night, watching with the most deadpan expression he can make as the machine lights up, LEDs going wild in front of them at the prospect of another sucker.

Unfortunately, Chuuya knows how this part of the game goes. Dazai’s grip is tight on him, eyes laser-pointed at the item of his desire. 

Chuuya takes a breath, trying to focus as he feels the heat of Dazai’s hands seeping through his clothes. With a blink, he moves the stick controller, bringing the key towards the little hole on the other side of the glass. He pauses.

Behind him, he hears Dazai sniff, the judgement of it clear to Chuuya. The redhead whirls around.

“Bastard, fix it yourself–” and from the corner of his eye, he sees the key start to move forward, the timer having run out.

It misses by a centimeter. Chuuya growls, getting ready to insert the next bill.

Dazai continues his hold on him, this time going so far as to wrap his arms around his shoulders from behind and lean his head against the side of Chuuya’s.

The electric lights do their silly little dance again, and this time Chuuya makes sure to concentrate. This machine will. not. beat. him.

He lines it up, taking a moment to think. Dazai taps his chest twice, and Chuuya shifts the stick to the right the smallest amount he possibly can.

Just as he’s about to hit the button to get it to move, something bumps into Dazai and thus him, pushing him forward enough to hit the stick and the timer goes off.

Chuuya watches as the handle misses by more than just a centimeter.

And then a chill goes down his spine. He shifts in Dazai’s hold, glancing up and over his shoulder to see those black hole eyes pinpointed on a kid who didn’t even bother to apologize. Before the Demon Prodigy can cause anyone, child or not, to piss themselves, Chuuya shrugs him off.

He inserts one more bill. Just as Dazai moves to go back to his perch, Chuuya sticks his hand out to stop him.

The machine whirls to life again, this time with a red glow barely enveloping it. Chuuya brings the handle to where it was before using the actual stick, then from here he lets the machine do its thing.

As the key moves forward, he forces the machine to line itself up in the correct position, feeling the mechanics trying to go against him but they’re no use against the power of gravity.

The key fits perfectly, unlocking the glass box holding the plush and releasing it into a hole beneath it. A thunk near their feet alerts them to its delivery, and Dazai is quick to snatch it up and into his waiting arms, any traces of the Demon Prodigy long gone as he beams at Chuuya.

“Thanks, Chibi!” He squeezes the cat against his chest, and Chuuya tries to ignore the small thrill of butterflies flying around his stomach.

He frowns, looking away and crossing his arms. “Tch, whatever.”

He opens his eyes again. There, across from them in a corner of the store he couldn’t see earlier, is one of those shooting carnival games, this time with nerf darts to avoid any liabilities.

And above it, hanging from a little loop connected to the roof, is a black cat plush — reminiscent of Dazai’s new one to the point it could be from the same brand, a matching set.

He only spends a second staring at it, debating, before turning away. He’s got better things to spend his money on. It doesn’t matter how soft it looks or how cute. He’s not a kid like Dazai.

He makes a move for the exit, intent on getting out before he can rethink his decisions.

A foot to his shins has him almost hitting the floor. He knows exactly who did it as he catches himself. He couldn’t use his ability just then, after all.

“Dazai, what the fu–”

“Shh, there’s children in here,” Dazai admonishes, his trademark fake gasp popping out, albeit a little less dramatic. Before Chuuya can question it, Dazai’s twirling around to face the carnival-esque shooting game and marching forward, one of his hands wrapped around Chuuya’s wrist much like before.

“One round, please,” the brunet says, taking out his own wallet that Chuuya’s never actually seen until now and handing the cash over to the employee. With the nerf gun equipped, he glances at Chuuya for a split second and sends him a smirk. “Watch and learn, Chuuya.”

Chuuya really can only watch and learn as Dazai effortlessly hits five different targets in their bullseyes, one after the other. The electronics connected to them flash over and over with each hit.

And once a moment has passed for both the employee and Chuuya to pick up their jaws – mostly the employee, though – Dazai sets the gun back down and merely points up at the black cat plush.

The employee gets it down, leaving it on the counter for them to take.

Chuuya doesn’t immediately reach for it. Why would Dazai do this? It doesn’t make sense to him.

Dazai nudges his shoulder and he hesitantly reaches out to grab the plush.

Today is one of the few days he decided to forgo his gloves; the cat’s fur is just as soft as it looked. From here, he can tell that this one is a black version of Dazai’s, a duo set.

He’s never had a plush of his own.

“Why?” he asks, avoiding Dazai’s eyes as he stares into the black fur. Something in his chest is warming up. What, he doesn’t know.

“Chuuya wanted him,” Dazai says, shifting on his feet to sway from his toes to the balls of his feet. “And a thank-you for Slug.”

/That/ causes Chuuya to look up. “Hah?”

“What? He looks like chibi, doesn’t he?” Dazai shoves the orange plush into Chuuya’s face. “See, see?”

Chuuya scoffs, shoving ‘Slug’ out of the way. He sticks his tongue out. “If he’s Slug, then this one’s Mackerel.”

Dazai laughs then, high and airy – genuine – and Chuuya can only attempt to hide his reddening cheeks behind Mackerel’s head. He follows as the brunet leads them outside where the sun has begun to set.

And once they’re a few blocks away, when their lighthearted jabs fade into a comfortable silence, Chuuya gives his own thanks, earning the endearing sight of Dazai’s widened eyes and tinged cheeks before the other tries to wave it away.

[osachiyo]

I’m a tall girl ( 6’0+ ) and I rarely see any content for us and only if you’re up to it and taking requests could we get bsd men with a tall reader ^-^ feel free to disregard this if you don’t want to !

From 🍰 anon ( if I can be ^^ ) :3

⊹ note. . . as a short girlie this was a lil difficult to write, but I managed ! so sorry abt answering this so late and ofc you can be 🍰 anon, my dear <3

dazai doesn't care about your appearance, he'd love you no matter what you look like. if you're taller than him, he'd still enjoy every single bit of it, of of course. he loves how he doesn't have to strain his shoulders and slouch or bend down to kiss you. will also convince you to tease chuuya together, which eventually becomes one of y'all's favourite couple activity <3

during bed, he definitely won't deny a tall dominant lady, if you're into that. but if you prefer being submissive, he won't mind that either. mans just wants to get his dick wet and touch you, as simple as that..♡

chuuya also doesn't care about your appearance− just don't mention or make jokes about the comical height difference between you both. he'll either sulk about it, or huff and smack you playfully, grumbling something about 'height doesn't matter'. and if you picked him up and threw him over your shoulder− he'd screech and probably thrash around to get out immediately. don't worry though, he'd let you give him piggy-back rides eventually, after a lot of begging. oh and if you like to wear heels? he's not gonna tell you what you can and can't wear but it's gonna be pretty funny when he looks half your size.

in bed, unlike dazai, he'll fight you for dominance. definitely won't let you have the upper hand without some struggle− unless you somehow manage to convince him. will be secretly very into it later, he'd rather die than admit it though. but if you're submissive, he'd love that as well. would take the best care of you..♡

fyodor wouldn't care much about your height, he wants someone who listens to him and is devoted. if you tease him for being shorter than you, his lips would turn into a straight line and he'd sigh, "so? why would that matter to me?" if you wear heels, no you don't. he claims you're already taller than him, there's no need for you to become even more tall. guess he's not as unaffected he said he was, huh?

during sex, as much as it pains me to say this, fyodor will not let you have control no matter what. he desires control control and power, and he will not give that up. do not try to overpower and pin him down, I promise you the punishment is not worth it. of course, he'll let you ride him time to time− you may be on top, but he has the control and he sets the pace; don't get it twisted..♡

nikolai is a pretty big guy himself, so he's not gonna mind if you're really tall. he's gonna love it actually, you're the perfect size for him. you two would be the power couple of yokohama, just imagine terrorizing sigma together with him (ㅅꈍᴗꈍ)ᰔ

he's gonna be pretty flexible in the bedroom, of course. he's almost into anything and everything. not afraid of letting you take the lead ! will take his revenge and pin you down later though, so better keep an eye out for that..♡

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 & 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈

❝ 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙪𝙨? ❞

꧁ 𝙏𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙆𝙖𝙢𝙞 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 1.6k

Rating › NSFW

Warnings ›a bit mean no character x character action

Kinks › light spanking/degradation

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

(Name) was a bit weird. He knew, realistically, it was a bad idea to two time people but it wasn’t like they were truly dating. It was just sex and he made sure to test himself every two weeks. He was safe. 

It was just the two people he was sleeping with was vastly different. 

Kaminari was more soft, shocking (Name) the first time they ever had sex. It reminded him of the first time he had sex. Sweet whispers and moans of how good he made Kaminari felt. He could still remember the time Kaminari kissed him. 

It wasn’t something he thought about but it felt nice in the moment so he never stopped him. 

Compared to Todoroki…. 

It was like day and night. 

Todoroki was more rough. Skin slapping together and (Name) on his hands and knees the entire time. It felt more like actual fuck buddies than Kaminari. Normally, any other person would describe Todoroki as a bit dehumanising during sex but (Name) thought nothing of it. 

The two just gave him different types of sex and it was the most addicting thing ever. 

But sadly, he wasn’t even sure how he got himself in this situation. 

Kaminari was staring at him a bit hurt, sitting on a chair in the corner of the hotel room they were in. Todoroki, how did he even get here, was standing. His face was normal as if this didn’t bother him but (Name) knew he was a little hurt that he wasn’t the only fucking him. 

“You should’ve told me. I was…” Kaminari’s voice trailed off, hurt on his face once more. 

Todoroki hummed. “I would’ve been fine with it if you had just told me.” 

(Name) cursed. He had accidentally scheduled a time with both of them on the same day, at the same time. The two pro heroes ended up seeing each other try to enter the same hotel room. (Name) could still feel the heart attack he had when he opened the door to the two heroes staring down at him. 

Well, Kaminari was his height. It was more of Todoroki staring down at him. 

“I’m not a whore… If that’s what you’re thinking. We can stop, whatever this is, if you guys want,” (Name) said, staring at anything but them. 

“But you are.” 

“Todoroki!” Kaminari screeched, fear on his face. 

(Name) looked up in shock. A whore…? 

“You wanted the both of us but couldn’t realistically do anything about it.” 

Kaminari shook his head, ready to get up. “You guys can have your sex thing without me. I’m—”

“—Sit.” 

(Name) watched in shock at how quickly Kaminari dropped back down. A blush etched on Kaminari face as he looked away in embarrassment—shocked at himself for even complying with the man. Todoroki had a small smirk on his lips, a bit surprised himself that the blonde actually listened. 

“Strip, (Name).” 

(Name) glanced over at Todoroki. He saw the look the hero gave him, a look that told him he had the right to refuse. That he could say no and that would be that. But something inside him told him it could be fun. 

To live a little. 

Slowly, (Name) unbuttoned his shirt. It was something he has done before but not in front of an audience. He could tell Kaminari was still looking away—still mentally reeling at his recent actions. Todoroki was just staring at him, eyes watching his shaky fingers pull of his shirt completely. 

“Hurry up. I’m getting bored.” 

(Name) kissed his teeth but did as he was told. Swiftly pulling off his pants and underwear in one go. He felt a shiver up his spine from the cold air and looked up at Todoroki for any other instructions. 

“Kaminari, look.” 

Kaminari shook his head. “No, no. I’m not into this type of stuff.” 

It took only two steps for Todoroki to reach Kaminari and gently grasp his face, turning it to face him. (Name) couldn’t really see what was happening but he could tell that Kaminari was getting turned on by how pink his face was getting. 

Todoroki whispered something that caused the blonde’s breath to hitch and glance over at (Name). (Name) stared back, surprised at himself for not feeling embarrassed at being the only one who’s naked. 

“Come over here.” 

(Name) blinked and stood up to walk over only to be met with a glare from Todoroki who glanced at the floor. 

What…? 

(Name) was confused but kneeled down. There was no way he wanted him to crawl over there? 

Right? 

Well he would be wrong because as soon as he began to crawl over, Todoroki’s glare was gone as he moved away from Kaminari who could now get a full view of (Name) crawling over to him. Kaminari looked panicked but didn’t move, looking up at Todoroki to wonder what the hell he was planning. 

“(Name), can you do me a favor?” Todoroki asked, a small smirk on his lips as he reached over and pulled down Kaminari’s sweats. Kaminari cried out in shock, reaching over to grab his hand but was too weak to really do anything about it. 

Todoroki was stronger than him. 

(Name) hummed, reaching up to be in between Kaminari’s legs. It didn’t have to be said on what Todoroki want to happen. Kaminari’s cock was harden already, laying on his stomach in it’s five inch glory. He covered his face while muttering on and on about how crazy this was to do it in front of his coworker. 

Todoroki and (Name) ignored him. 

“Suck him.” 

(Name) didn’t need to be told twice. He reached over and licked at Kaminari’s cock, earning a gasp from him. With that, he raised his hand to grab it but was stopped by Todoroki. 

“No hands.” 

(Name) held back his tongue and nodded, leaning forward to try and take the cock in his mouth. He struggled a bit which Todoroki took pity on as he reached over to pull the cock towards him. Kaminari flinched at the touch but continued to cover his face—not wanting the two to see him. 

It was always easy to get Kaminari near release. He was so sensitive. 

(Name) knew blowjobs wasn’t his strong suit but he always tried his best. He tried to fit as much as he could while sucking on the tip, letting his tongue lick off any of the sweat Kaminari got from his hero shift earlier. 

Kaminari’s legs twitched with each suckle, keeping his lips tight so no moans slipped out. It was a shame, (Name) loved at how whiny Kaminari was whenever they had sex. It was a great balance to Todoroki’s limited groans. 

(Name) was so into sucking that he didn’t notice Todoroki was behind him until he felt a smack on his bare ass. He screamed, causing Kaminari to groan at the vibration on his cock. 

He so desperately wanted to look behind himself to see what Todoroki was thinking but he didn’t want to leave Kaminari hanging. (Name) pushed through, wondering when the next slap would come. 

It came whenever he got lost in the pleasure of Kaminari. (Name)’s back arched when Todoroki slapped his right cheek his time. The sound of slurping and hand touching skin was the only thing left in the room. 

(Name) wished he could speak and tell Kaminari to let loose. 

But it seemed Todoroki was able to for him. 

“Kaminari.” 

“Hngh…?” Kaminari whimpered, cursing to himself for letting him hear him. 

“Let (Name) hear you… Let me hear you…” Todoroki said. 

Kaminari shook his head, looking away. Todoroki didn’t say anything else, just a simple hum in response. (Name) could feel his jaw starting to hurt. He could certainly feel that Kaminari was close but wasn’t coming. 

Another slap on his ass caused him to accidentally bite on Kaminari’s dick. 

Kaminari’s voice was loud and sudden. From the bite, which would honestly hurt most, sounded more like a moan than him being in actual pain but that was something (Name) would think about another time. 

Something salty and sticky released in his mouth. Kaminari had came. 

(Name) pulled away, swallowing it easily. He glanced up at Kaminari’s face who had tears streaming done his face with an embarrassed look in his eyes. 

“Kami….” 

“Don’t. That really hurt.” 

“What did?” 

“My dick and my feelings.” He muttered, wiping away any tears on his face. 

(Name) blushed when he felt Todoroki pat him on the head as if he was a dog. He watched as he walked over to Kaminari and did the same. 

Kaminari simply stared at him in shock. 

“It’s okay. It’s just role-play.” 

Kaminari sighed. “Yeah, the sex was but my feelings weren’t!” 

Todoroki hummed, ���then let’s go on a date. All three of us.” 

“Huh?!” (Name) and Kaminari yelled. 

“What? We might as well.” 

(Name) felt this had to be a dream. He knew it wasn’t set in stone but if he could possibly keep both men… 

Ah, it would be a dream come true! 

“After sex though, my dick is hard,” Todoroki said, reaching over to take off his clothes. 

Fuck, (Name) was not ready for sucking another dick. But his own dick twitched at the thought while he could see Kaminari look mildly interested in what Todoroki could be packing. 

Well, he could entertain him for a minute. 

ꕤ

It wasn’t a minute. Todoroki fucked him like he usually did with Kaminari in front row view of it. (Name) felt embarrassed with each thrust that caused him to scream out in pleasure. He could tell that Kaminari was a bit off put by Todoroki’s words of degradation—calling (Name) a slut or whore. 

“Next time, “Todoroki grunted, his thrusts becoming inconsistent, “do you think you could handle the both of us?” 

(Name) mewled as he could feel himself coming close. “Yes, yes…” He muttered, looking straight ahead at Kaminari. Kaminari blinked but kept eye contact with him, glancing up at Todoroki a few times as well. 

Yeah, next time, he was going to enjoy them both.  

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Another request finished! The person who requested this, so sorry for accidentally deleting your request

I’ll be posting tomorrow again another BNHA request

Requests are open so please request anything you like (check my introduction first for any no’s and the fandoms I do though)!

Thank you for reading!

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Could you do the mercs with an s/o who is like- almost comically short?

Oh boy wouldn’t it be a shame if this anon asked me to do a size difference nsfw headcanons one next? Wink wink.

Mercs with an S/O who’s a small menace to society

WARNING: Older bigger men bullying the ever living shit out you. (kinda hot though?)

Scout:

- Scout will not hesitate to make fun of you at every given moment. He’s a decently tall dude so he’ll manhandle you a lot. Holding you in his arms like a personal teddy bear. Overall walking around with you in his arms.

- You bite his arms when you’re bored and he flinches and goes “Ow! What are you? A fuckin’ goblin?!” (Doesn’t he know? The smaller you are, the closer you are to hell.)

- “I could probably slug you into the stratosphere y’know.” He says. You don’t want to test that theory.

- When he’s upset he’ll pick you up, go into his quarters and lay there with you in his arms. Just like the aforementioned teddy bear analogy. If you’re screeching and biting like a fucked up chihuahua that doesn’t deter him.

————————————————————————

Soldier:

- Keeps giving you petnames like “Boot.” “Little one.” “Rat bastard.” (Ignore that last one.) and cheesy shit like that. Treats you how a rich middle aged white woman would treat her teacup pig. You’re being strapped to his back in a baby carrier while he rocket jumps.

- Gets incredibly rough with you on purpose. He likes seeing your squeaks and angry reactions. This guy definitely has a height difference thing. Throws you at enemy lines at like mach 20 knowing full well you’ll shred them like a fucking gremlin. Or stuffs you into his rocket launcher. Pick your evil.

- Lies about you being younger in order to pay less in restaurants. He somehow gets away with this 90 percent of the time. Spy is kind of envious that he didn’t even think of that.

- “NO! WAIT! DONT SHOOT! HANGFIRE! CHILD ON BATTLEFIELD!” He raises you above his head. You’re unbelievably pissed. You’re a grown ass adult. But the enemy lines somehow hesitate which abides him time to blow everyone up. He has no reason to be this smart about your height.

——————————————————————-

Demoman:

- The first time he saw you he burst out laughing. Really hard. Like nearly fell over and shit. He couldn’t stop laughing like actually. It took him days to even approach you properly and finally call you adorable.

- Picks you up when you can’t reach something off the top shelf and instead of helping you get it, he just sits you atop the shelf and leaves you there. They have to call either Heavy or Sniper in order to get you down.

- You take advantage of your height and perch on his shoulders like a parrot. The other mercs don’t understand why Demoman has a pet gremlin.

- “Er’ is my crotch goblin Y/N. They’re gonna bite your dick off if ye cap this point lad!” You can’t say you disagree with that.

————————————————————————

Engineer:

- A romantic partner whose tinier than him? Sign him the fuck up. Cradles you like a baby and kisses your head. Bounces you on his lap to soothe you. Expect a lot of sitting outside on the rocking chair at night while he rocks you in a blanket.

- You make grabby hands to him for uppies and he feels like he’s not allowed to say no. “Aww, sugarplum…” He cooes, setting down whatever he was working on and lifting you up into his arms. He might tickle your tummy if you’re fine with that :)

- Picks you up by the scruff of your uniform like a mother cat when you’re misbehaving. He will stare in amusement if you struggle.

- “Careful outside on the Badlands, darlin.. Never know when one of ‘em damn condors might be circling you.” You can’t decide if you want to kiss this man or kill him.

———————————————————————-

Heavy:

- You’re literally so small he’s scared of accidentally stepping on you or something. Always has to wiggle his way around you in the base corridors and mutter what you assume to be an apology in Russian. What you don’t know is that he’s actually cursing out the Administrator for hiring such a tiny Merc. What if you get squashed by falling debris or something?

- HE PICKS YOU UP WITH ONE HAND. YOU ARE IN HIS FUCKING FIST. YOU ARE BEING HELD LIKE AN ICE CREAM CONE.

- Treats you like a fucking stress ball. scoops you up in his hands and squishes your cheeks. Lays you on his lap like a small kitten belly up. No amount of biting or awful demon noises will ever convince him to do otherwise. Chuckles lovingly at your tiny anger. “Little, little, little. Tiny like the ant.” He baby talks you.

- Due to your height it’s impossible to bother him. Unlike the others. You can gnaw at his ankles and scratch at his chest but he remains unmoved like a large boulder. Threatens to splat you against the wall like one of those rubber toys and turn you into a pancake.

——————————————————————-

Pyro:

- In his point of view you’re actually terrifying. He doesn’t know why. But you stand out from the rest in their beloved Pyroland. You’re a creature from the primordial depths of hell that has come to eat their soul. You’re uncanny as shit.

- When they meet you for the first time it takes for godamn ever for the Mercs to finally figure out why Pyro was behaving so erratically and out of character. Engineer finally convinces poor Pyro to speak to you and it doesn’t end up in vain. You’re actually a pleasant scary monster.

- Spies don’t scare them. Pyro can kill spies with no effort. But you? Holy shit. Sometimes he doesn’t hear you come up behind them and this usually leads to Pyro spontaneously crying because you startled them. (Your team’s Spy is VERY envious of this.)

- You think this is great! You decide to play a prank on them by crawling on all fours down the dark hallway. Pyro looks like a deer in headlights. All tensed up like a cat attempting to look bigger. Two seconds later the entire base is on fire. You have to explain yourself to the other Mercs how this happened and it’s embarrassing.

- Whenever you kill someone on the battlefield it’s horrific shrieking mixed in with fleshy eating sounds.

—————————————————————-

Sniper:

- Calls you stuff like “Baby bear.” Mostly because he purposely holds you like a mama koala in his camper van’s bed and in the sniper nests. You cling to his lap and listen to his heartbeat while he scopes out the window.

- Same as scout to some extent. Carries you around wherever he goes and holds you like a plush doll. “Easy there on the lil’ daggers, mate.” You keep digging into his skin to hold steady.

- Growls at you when you bite him. Something about you both is evil and animalistic. Bites you back on your “scruff” when you bother him too much. He wants to shake you around in his teeth like a fucking chewtoy but he knows full well that might accidentally kill you. Has straight up cute aggression around you.

- Sniper your furry is showing. Helen, get yo fuckin dog bitch.

——————————————————————

Medic:

- “Well it seems you stopped growing at a certain age. That typically is due to genetics and other factors.” He says after looking at X-rays of your finger bones. Tracing his finger over the image of your growth plates as he squints to see better. He fixes his glasses back up on his nose and scratches his chin.

- He gives you a mischievous side smile. It’s unsettling. He secretly finds the size difference incredibly attractive. He tells you to take the lead vest off and waves his hand dismissively when you question his creepy expression. “What?! It is just my usual smile. I always look like this.”

- You’re not convinced. You take the vest off and straighten your team uniform a bit to get yourself situated. Without warning he grabs you by the wrist as you attempt to leave. “Ah-ba-ba-ba! I didn’t say you could go yet.” He pulls you against his chest. Forcibly. His natural heat was causing your heart beat out of your chest. He kneeled down and wrapped his arms around you. Cupping a hand over your mouth. You couldn’t move.

- The way you were (in theory) powerless was exhilarating for him. He placed his free hand on your chest and marveled in your heartbeat. Really? That’s all he wanted? Medic let out a long pleasured sigh. “Oh, that’s gooood.” He feels like he could potentially hold your tiny heart in a cute little decorated specimen jar but that would kill you, sadly. Can’t have that.

———————————————————————

Spy:

- Has unimaginable amounts of trauma from his father figure and you help him cope with said trauma a lot by being small. He deeply regrets passing by the chance of raising Scout. That in-and-itself was also a traumatic experience for him. Whenever it isn’t romantic lovey dovey adult time you lay in his arms and he looks over your adorable small body with adoration in his eyes.

- He rubs your small cheek and although he’s still frowning like always — you know full well this man is losing his mind on the inside. This was oddly healing for him. He felt butterflies in his chest as he gave you the love that his family never gave him. Jesus christ, somebody get this man a silicone baby or some shit. And a therapist. Mostly a therapist.

- He has no idea how to baby you to be honest. No fucking clue and he isn’t great at this. He does what he’s seen people do before in public. Wrap you in a blanket and pats your back. He says nothing as he does this. “There’s a scared little boy behind that mask isn’t there?” You ask him lovingly.

- He avoids eye contact after you say that. Looking away shamefully. His mouth twitches. You put your head under his chin contently.

- He stalks you and monitors you on the battlefield. Ready to stab the ever living crap out of anyone who overpowers you. In a particularly rough situation with an enemy heavy he risks his own life to backstab the opponent. You batter him for being too bold and exclaim that he could’ve killed himself. But Spy side eyes you, fixing his tie and cloaking away. He was secretly proud of himself that he had finally managed to protect somebody smaller than him. To make up for all the times he wasn’t there for Scout.

[awhoreintheory]

Hiii, stumbling out of my mindscape with snippets of Spidey in Gotham embedded in my psyche like thorns on cheap flipflops after a walk on uncleared nature.

I'm just dying at the fact that according to canon jason and Dick look so alike they could have mistaken for one another in their teens, so people seeing Peter might think he's the child of either of the two. And I die againnn. Bc imagine him seeing Jason (Ben) and reacting bc of course he would, and everyone thinks he's the dad??? Screeching.

REAL istg Peter in Gotham is gonna be the reason I fail my bio course and end up in debt for no reason,,, worth it

But no seriously!! I've seen 1 (one!) Fic of Peter getting mistaken for Jason's mini me (welcome to the show by prodby_error) and it SLAPS

Listen. Right ok listen. Things go down, the usual happens, batfamily is stalking Peter, with the assumption this is either Jason's kid from the future or he's a lab baby, doesn't matter, they're stalking him THINKING they know who the daddy is. Dick, among everyone else, is lightly teasing Jason as they try to bring the sassy spider child into their folds. Only, wait, hold up, they just got a DNA sample and Jason,,, isn't the dad?

Dick's hear drops when he sees the test results. He's the father? But the kids a total copy of Jason!

And, sure, Dick and Jason look notably different NOW, what with Jason's height and scarred and lazarus makeover, but Bruce has distinct memories of mixing them up, of calling the wrong name at the wrong black-haired blue-eyed teen.

Jason feels,, kind of sad. He'd already mentally adopted the kid, who isn't even his apparently, but also he's now an uncle???

Not sure how Dick would respond. Disbelief? Anger? Confusion? Adoption mode? Hit or miss tbh

[sanemisstalker]

Homie I don't know if you've considered writing a part 2 for the incel Gyutaro modern! Au scenario cause it legit rewired something in my brain ajskaj 🤒💕- he's like a weird bug that's fun to poke and watch em S Q U I R M ah, I love it.

Like I can see later on y/n has an indirect impact on him even though it's a casual thing- like, telling him his cum taste bitter af and it convinces him to eat better if it means he'll keep getting head (toss in more regular showers in there now that I think about it) . Would also wonder how his sis would react to them hanging out-? 🤔

If it's not in your plans that's alright- either way, it gave me the strength to write for him and I am thankful for the food 🛐

Guess what this post is!!!! I was saving this ask so I could post part 2 with it or whateverrrr. I'm so giggle that so many people are interacting with that post, I didn't expect it to get such good reception!!

Also also, I do plan to write about how this Gyutaro definitely still raised his sister and is a bang up brother in spite of these mentalities he has! I have another ask that wants me to elaborate, and I'm planning on just making a big headcanon thing for him!!

PART ONE <-

CW// FEM READER// AFAB// BREASTED / Dub-con/Non-con (Gyutaro does something sexual under the guise he'll get laid, undiscussed BDSM dynamic)/ Panic Attack/ Vomit (not in a sex way) / Piss (kinda in a sex way)/ Sexism/ Incel mentalities/ Toxic Masculinity / Forced Bisexuality / BDSM dynamics / I say 'skullfuck' at one point / Gyutaro is reffered to as a toilet.

-Incel!Gyutaro's eyes had never even grazed a real dance floor, but there he was, at the big name club you'd dropped the location of 30 minutes ago. He'd hopped on his bike and sped there in what could only be called desperation.

-There wasn't a wait like in the movies. Not a big long line, and they let him in in his baggy jeans and stupid fucking Nietzsche shirt. He hadn't even realized he'd brought his bike helmet in until he was tossing it between his shaking, filthy hands.

-There were so many people. All of them taking their sweet time to gawk at his height and face. This was why he didn't leave the dorm. That and the abhorrent, terminally 2011 music.

-The photo had pissed him off. Bad. He'd come with the intention of a rematch (in your honor or whatever, he's not cringe enough to say that, though) and he planned to leave with you clinging to him like you were supposed to be.

-and obviously you were because there you were, hanging off Tengen Uzui's naturally bulging muscles with those 3 other mindless sluts. Not giving a fuck in the world about him or that skanky photo you sent.

-You were hard to spot in your slut disguise.

-You looked like every other girl there, and that pissed him off even worse, in a way. He had deluded himself into thinking you were good. Into thinking you were different from other females because you knew the bands and the movies, and you agreed when he implied that genetically you were just dumber-

-'Gyutaro!' You'd screech out as you locked eyes with the man. In the dark of the club, with the neon purple strobing over him, he looked almost daunting. With his helmet on one hip, and phone dangling from his other hand, Gyutaro had something similar to a western charm.

-You'd pop off of Tengen, who would only lift his head up to register the man, and then turn back to his girlfriends.

-The whole reason for their fight had been rather trivial, Gyutaro assumed, but, despite his lax appearance, Tengen did everything in his power not to smash the man's own helmet back over his head.

-He feared, along with Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru, for your safety as you barreled into the man.

-You'd run into them with a new found confidence that night. After leaving Gyutaro in his sorry state, bounding up to the three women was far less intimidating. Almost like you shared a comraderie with them-

-and you had! The three were incredibly nice and immediately ushered you to Tengen where you all began to get a long in a picturesque fashion.

-You looked good. Hanging onto his arm with the other women felt good- You just had to take a photo.

-Gyutaro was going to panic. Tengen Uzui didn't scare him anymore, but that immediate jump from Tengen's arms to his, he didn't know how to satisfy that expectation.

-Of course he was better than Tengen- but on a "purely physical" level, he knew he would never have the stamina or prowess to conquer the bodies of three women at once.

-Especially not when he couldn't even fathom conquering you.

-'Ah, is this who you were talking about?' Tengen asked. You laughed in response, nodding with verve. Your body was beginning to shift against him- fuck-

-'Mhm, Gyutaro's my best friend.' You slurred, and it occurred to Gyutaro then, that you might be slighty inebriated. God, Tengen had an awful effect on you.

-His heart thudded at the words 'best friend' Despite your light and teasing cadence, were you friendzoning him? Would you just fuck any friend you had? Not that you fucked him- but you totally fucked him-

-'Oh?' Tengen sang in that stupid fucking tone that made Gyutaro want to rip off that girly fucking headband he wore. 'Have you slept with him?'

-Makio slapped Tengen's shoulder.

-'No, no- Not yet.' Gyutaro was panicking, now. Yet? Yet? You were planning to fuck hi-

-'Be careful.' Tengen sang. And that should've been the end of his thought, but maybe the drink he had was doing more than he expected, because Tengen couldn't fight the grin nor the words that spilled from his mouth after-

-'Tell him to try and last longer this time.'

-Gyutaro saw red, and blue, and maybe it was because of the weed air or the sex musk permeating past the bar- Maybe it was the anger he had at you for sharing such a thing about him- maybe it was because He'd been holding his breathe and plotting Tengen's downfall, and now he was-

-Who was he kidding, Gyutaro was going to fucking barf. The stress was too much, and his stomach rolled in response. He'd never been exposed to such an environment, or such an embarassment, and all he knew to do was turn away and try to keep it down until he got to the bathroom.

-'That was so mean!' Suma cried out as Gyutaro trudged away, attempt at disguising his mood futile. 'You made him cry!'

-'He literally called you a slut to your face at the start of the semester. What the fuck do you mean, mean?' Makio barked.

-You were in one of the gross stalls, pulling his scraggly black hair away from the rancid bowl. You weren't sure how he ate so much and still stayed so twig thin. He'd been puking for at least ten minutes.

-'I didn't expect you to come here.' You lied, having very much intended for that outcome. 'You think Tengen Uzui remembers every drunken, horny story he gets from a woman?'

-He was mortified. The idea that Tengen specifically knew something so intimate about him made him hear colors. Red colors. He was hearing the club lighting and seething at the red blur of the motion sensor on the toilet-

-The tile felt like splinters.

-'W-Why did you tell him that?' Gyutaro gasped out between spills. The question lacked his usual grit. It sounded genuine and hurt.

-He nodded lamely and went to drop his face onto the porcelain, but your hand swooped down.

-Your palm against his marred face was soothing. Lifting his head up from the toilet bowl, you wiped his mouth off with toilet paper.

-His heart fluttered. What a girlish emotion he was feeling.

-'I'm sorry.' You whispered and only semi meant it. Some of the things he said about women in the past months could've definitely validated such treatment. Some of the comments were bordering on illegal, others on beyond morally questionable.

-'It's okay.' He slurred, moving away from your hand to try and stop that flutter. You were quick to find his scar again, and, with hesitance losing to need, he rubbed against your palm.

-Cat. The word shot through your head and then retreated. No, no. A mangy cat. A cat with mange. Rabies, maybe even.

-'I wasn't crying or any-' as he began to speak, you pulled a small bottle of mouth wash out from your bag.

-'Tip your head back.' Gyutaro cut off his sentence and did as you said. The burn of the wash was painful. As he went to spit it out, you pressed a finger to his lips.

-'You get a gift if you can keep it in for the full minute.'

-It hurt. Gyutaro can't remember the last time he brushed his teeth, but the burn in his gums said he should do it more. He managed, though, and you followed through by pulling a tooth brush from your bag.

-Gyutaro had seen this plot before, in a hentai, probably, but he'd always imagined himself probing some innocent sweet trad girl's mouth with a tooth brush. Not being probed.

-You scrubbed plague off his teeth with precise intensity. His gums bled, and he whined. His jaw would occasionally stutter, and he'd bite down with enough force that you feared for your toothbrush.

-Another pass at the mouth wash and Gyutaro stared up at you, puffy lipped and teary eyed. You hadn't necessarily been gentle, nor had you avoided his gag reflex, but you leaned down to Gyutaro.

-His natural huffiness now had a pleasant bubblegum scent.

-When you pulled the vibrator from your pussy, Gyutaro nearly puked again. He hadn't noticed it in your sneaky photo, so seeing you hike your leg up on the toilet seat and pluck it from your insides made him see stars.

-Had you had that in the entire time? Had you told the other girls? Had you told Tengen?

-You dropped the vibrator into his lap. Not in his pants, not intentionally near his dick- on his lap. Gyutaro had taken on an all too natural kneeling position, and you dropped the vibe between the small gap of his thighs.

-Dull buzzing bounced up his thighs, vibratons too far to feel- And then you were pressing your cunt against his face, and he was taking in the scent of your pubes-

-He had been told that eating a woman out was a sign of submission. Got told it'd be gross, and to only do it when the situation was dire. And a situation with a female should never become dire- Having someone's genitals forced in his face like this-

-Gyutaro loved the smell of your pussy. The taste. His hands took to your thighs immediately, one slipping back to find the meat of your ass and bury his fingers in it.

-It would surprise you, how right he looked snug between your thighs. How his eyes fluttered back when he forgot he wasn't really supposed to be into this kind of thing.

-You could remember all of the things he said about vaginas. It often left you contemplating whether or not he found women attractive to begin with, but with his tongue rolling so naturally against your clit, you couldn't question it.

-He was made for this, both of you figured. Your warmth against his palate was ball tightening. He immediately took to it. You'd never seen such enthusiasm and love shown to your cunt.

-'Fuckkkkkk-' He'd moan, but with his tongue flat against you it came out in drool. His spit spilled onto his jean clad thighs, uncaring about anything other than eating you out.

-With his back against the toilet, and your hands gripping his hair, if you saw it from the back, it'd look like you were skullfucking the man. The thought made Gyutaro's already raging hard on twitch-

-And that's exactly how Tengen saw it when he opened the stall.

-'Oh?' He said, and you felt Gyutaro's grip tighten around your thighs. Today was just humiliation after humiliation, wasn't it? He knew by the stupid sing-song tone of the voice exactly who'd invaded his time with you.

-Black pulsed the corners of his vision.

-'Ah, Tengen-' You tried to keep your voice steady- not willing to let yourself be intimidated by a man his size in such a situation. Not infront of Gyutaro. He didn't need real life experience to back up forum rumors.

-'Can I use this toilet?' He nodded down to Gyutaro, and you looked down to the man between your thighs, a bit shocked by the ask.

- Gyutaro would pull off your cunt fast, wide eyed and all teeth.

-'What the fuck did you just s-' You lodged your fingers down his throat, Gyutaro gagging hurtfully against them. His eyes rolled back. He didn't know why having his mouth fucked with felt so good. It'd never felt this good when he was alone-

-'When I cum, yeah.' And Gyutaro was back on your pussy, a sudden fear lighting his movements. You wouldn't really let Tengen do that to him, right?

-Why was he depending on you, a woman, to prevent that? He should just get up and kick his ass- Tengen would have an advan...advantage.... an-

-Fuck your pussy was mind numbing. Fuck whatever Tengen wanted to do to him. He needed that juice.

-Gyutaro chased your orgasm. You were only slightly dissapointed he didn't cum with you- didn't show Tengen how good he could be. A part of you wanted to impress Tengen- to show off a little bit. Show what you tamed. Even if that taming was still very early in the works-

-When you came, Gyutaro smiled wide against your pussy. You pulled back with shaking legs and his head in your hands and he looked at you like Tengen wasn't pulling his cock from his boxers just centimeters away.

-'Just want your pussy, I need your pussy-' He slurred while you starred down at him.

-'If you drink it, I'll let you fuck me-' His ears would begin ringing. Shocked by his own actions, Gyutaro found his jaw unhinged, taking Tengen's flaccid cock down his throat.

-Maybe it was easier for him to accept because Gyutaro never dealt with penis envy. The two men were surprisingly matched. How unfortunate. You really wanted to see how Gyutaro would react to a cock that much bigger-

-Tengen took advantage of the willing hole, rocking his hips a bit much to Gyutaro's anger.

-'If you bite me, I'll drown you. Don't want to die with your head in a toilet, eh, Shabana?' Tengen taunted, sensing the upset from his thighs.

-You watched as Gyutaro's adam apple surged, and Tengen's head dropped back in relief. It was more than Gyutaro could take, obviously, because it began spilling from the corners of his mouth and onto his Neitzsche shirt.

-Gyutaro's face burnt red, and he reeked like piss. Tengen gave the other man's face a light, almost appreciative slap.

-As Tengen pulled out, a rush of piss came spilling onto the floor. He wasn't done though, a guiding hand locking around Gyutaro's jaw to tip his head up. The trickle was backed by the music blurring outside.

-His flow came to a stop, and he carefully shut Gyutaro's mouth. Gyutaro looked over at you with tired eyes.

-You nodded, and he swallowed.

-'Atta boy.'

-With Tengen's exit, you looked down at Gyutaro, dripping and still woefully hard. You pulled his messy hair back into a ponytail once more.

-'oh honey... when did I say you'd be fucking me tonight?'

-'Do I- Do I get to fuck you now?' He'd croak, trying to ignore the completely beer ridden piss on his lips. You looked at him so pathetically. It made his cock ache even worse than it already did.

-He could tell he wasn't going to get what he wanted before you even opened your mouth.

[satorubrain]

Back again 👀👀👀

How would Gojo react if his s/o dressed as him? Like he’s back from work or he walks in on them- can be up up you!

I can imagine the reader giggling to themselves while trying not to trip over Gojo’s trousers BC WHY IS HE SO TALL???

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Tags: Fluff, crack, reader is implied to be short but lets all agree that Satoru is just a fucking buff giant. Why is he built like that. I'll stop ranting-

Synopsis: Gojo sees you cosplaying as him

A/N: I had to add stupidity to this.

"Perfect!!" You exclaim styling your white hair wig. Now all that's remaining is, do work with Satoru's humongous clothes. He was already giant yet his uniform is fucking baggy, which just increases your problems.

The amount of pins you had to use to make his pants fit you already have your hands aching. His top is a fucking dress and you think you're gonna cry. But it's too late to stop. Continuing to put on the white mascara on your eyelashes and checking if the blindfolds fit you-

"FUCK YOU SATORU" You scream trying to get rid of the anger his size is giving you. You just want to get ready before he arrives home. You just tear up the blindfold since you're now too lazy to make proper adjustments, it's just easier if you tie up a knot.

Finally, you put on the ridiculous wig. Yes, it's absolutely absurd that you decided the wig hair length should make up for the difference in height.

Oh lord this get up is hilarious. You're shaking trying to control the laughter while looking at yourself in the mirror. Unwilling to ruin your mascara, you decide to get up and wait for Satoru in the living room. You text Satoru that you "need him" before putting on the blindfolds again, manspreading and sitting like him with a wide smile anticipating his arrival any time now.

It doesn't take him more than twenty minutes to hurriedly unlock your door. But this is not what he was envisioning, nonetheless he is not disappointed.

"Im hOO-" he stops mid sentence removing his blindfolds so he can properly look at you for a couple of seconds before bursting into his loud hyena laughter, clutching onto the door knob for support because lord you knocked the air out of his lungs in the most comical way. You would've looked so cute if it wasn't for that darned wig of yours.

"Laughing at the strongest? That's not a very good idea" You choke out trying to control your laughter, biting your inner cheek.

He's wheezing oh so loudly now and closing the door behind him, so he can go to you and sit beside you. He fails to form any sentence whenever he even glaces at you- both of you are now trying to control your laughter, just wanting to breathe for a moment.

"C-can I have a pic-" He wheezes so loudly he starts coughing and at this point both of you have tears of laughter running down your face.

"Yes you may, my dear FAN" you yell the newfound nickname with your cracking voice sending the both of you into another fit of laughter.

It takes you both a solid while to calm down before he can have a photoshoot with you while recording the entire thing with another camera so he doesn't miss out any moments.

You both also record a tiktok with team rocket's motto, but instead of meowth there's an abrupt cut of you tripping over his damned long pants and your wig falling off your head with a screech and him trying to save you- the video goes viral overnight.

What others don't see is how you tripping caused a loud rip of his pants from your toe till your knee as the stiff wig falls with a thud on the ground and you both are rolling on the floor laughing again.

You best believe this man has tucked away the clothes you wore today, as he would say, "to keep the memories safe" but lets ignore how he made the wig a table decoration.

I'm 5'3- so imagining a whole foot long wig standing is fucking killing me.

[REQUESTS ARE OPEN]

[MASTERLIST]

[wulvercazz]

🌃Street Horrors☠️

a bit of a flashback for part 2💕

Previous~

It wouldn't have been so weird to find a person in such a state, Ichigo's horrified to admit; not here on the ground level of the city. His heart stopping in his throat for the half second that he catches glimpse of the sorry figure hidden behind the trash. He's actually far more shocked that what he's found, gutted and dismembered in the middle of an alley, is actually a very unique looking android. Something with this technology isn't usually discarded in such a place.

It takes him a whole four hours to go home for his dolly cart and back and forth three full trips to bring back the broken thing in pieces; unable to carry more than a fraction of the incredibly heavy machinery at a time on his own.

It sits sadly, silently. Even more disfigured now that he had to bring it in three pieces into the garage he calls a home. Something about it rubs him off in the wrongest of ways... Spare parts, is what it is. He reminds himself. Nothing more. Tomorrow, after some severely needed sleep, he'll finish dismounting it to it's core pieces to use for future repair jobs and that sorry sleeping face won't haunt him any longer.

He sleeps that night's exhaustion till noon, and is almost surprised to find the thing still sitting in the same spot he left him. Still sleeping, still sad looking. Androids he's seen in the expensive, more vast, part of the city have plain and clean looks. Friendly in the way that an appliance looks friendly. The way this thing appears to sorrowfully take up space is fucking with his perception of it.

But he's not about to stop himself from doing his job simply because this creepy rich people's toy is disturbingly more human-like than anything he's seen.

Ichigo sets his tools and a makeshift stool at a reach-appropriate height near the android, safety wear in place in case this thing runs on some kind of fuel that he wouldn't want near his eyes. It's so badly broken up, and so much different to anything else he's worked with, that he's got no other choice but to take his time investigating it all over. Following the jumble of gut-like cables that spill out of its abdominal cavity, poking at what he supposes is a very large and empty memory port right in its middle. Whatever an android would need such a powerful core for he's got no clue, and honestly, he'd rather not know. The government doesn't keep a full control of all Android unit production for no reason; he's not about to dive into conspiracy theories... but there's a reason for everything- and they tend to have the worst of them.

Bits and pieces and more length of cable shuffle about as he works, perhaps he was being too optimistic last night, thinking it'd dissassemble so easy. He changes tools with a huff, reaching behind the memory port to poke at whatever it's attached to and a dim light blinks on right above his face. Ichigo's heart drops down to his stomach and then punches him in the throat until a loud startled gasp threatens to choke him, right until the fight or flight freezes on a continuous and alarmed confusion; the thing's eyes are open and staring right at him in a chilling glowing blue.

"Get your grubby fucking hands off me." A hoarse, messed up, voice says with a hard set brow and tight broken up jaw.

The tools clank and clatter into the floor messily, and the box and tool box he'd been sitting on shuffle with a screech when he backs off as much as he can without stumbling onto his ass. "Y-you- you're- I thought- your consciousness works."

"Enough to know I don't care for a scrawny little boy feeling me up."

Ichigo has a hard time choosing whether to be pissed at the obvious offenses or to freak about how this thing is throwing sass and insults in his face in the first place. Androids 'learn' from their first owners what will become part of their personality later on; absorbing the words and mannerisms, the inside jokes as much as they retain their owners' likes and needs, and fit them along their fabrication conduct protocols. To better relate to their human, of course. He's never seen an android learn personality quite like this, never heard an android complain, or have preferences and wants of its own. Never heard one come up with an insult on the spot in a voice that didn't sound like a mere echo, a regurgitated string of words it's heard many times before.

It's almost... like a human is sitting in pieces right before him.

Next~

[beneathstarryskies]

Day 6: Size Kink - Sephiroth

A/N: I got behind in posting so y'all are getting two fics tonight

Warnings: nothing explicit happens really, there is a little mention of violence

Let me know if you wanna be tagged!

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan @loki-love

You were supposed to be on a diplomatic trip to help Shinra get some more support on their side as they prepare to build yet another reactor. Sephiroth was to be your guard, which should’ve hinted at the underlying danger but you’d been so star-struck about having him as your escort that you hardly gave it a second thought. Overall, the trip had been peaceful. You managed to rally more support, but deep down you felt like you were wrong for doing this work. Sephiroth for his part was quiet and stoic, never offering much of an opinion even when you asked. There were times though when you were trying to talk to him when it almost seemed like he’d get flushed, but over all things were professional. 

After a week, the job was done. You’d empathized with the plights of the people in this small town who worried about how a reactor would affect their way of life. Still, they relented. 

It wasn’t until you were leaving town that things went sour. You and Sephiroth were leaving in a Shinra-designated vehicle along with a convoy of miscellaneous Shinra guards. When you were suddenly ambushed by a small militia, Sephiroth didn’t seem surprised at all. The SUV screeches to a stop. 

“So they’ve come after all,” he says before reaching over to open the door for you. “Run.” 

You try to ask questions, but he practically shoves you out of the vehicle and points you in the direction of a small hut on the edge of town. You run as fast as your feet can carry you, but it’s not fast enough. A group of militia soldiers corners you. Their weapons are pointed at your face as you back against a brick wall. You close your eyes and await the sounds of gunfire that would signal your doom, but instead, you hear a metallic clang fill the air. When you open your eyes, the soldiers are bloodied and in a heap on the ground. Sephiroth stands before you, having seemingly taken them all out in one slash. He sheathed his sword before approaching you, his slit pupils only making the fire in his seem even more intense. He leans forward with his hand resting on the wall by your head as he peers down at you. 

Despite the situation, you feel your body flush when you realize your height difference makes you level with his chest. In order to meet his eyes again, you have to look up. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks softly and reaches up to wipe some of the blood off your cheek with his thumb. 

“N-no,” you stutter, feeling so small against him. 

“Good,” he practically purrs. “I might have lost control if anything had happened to you.” 

Your mouth goes dry. You didn’t even know Sephiroth cared for you even in the most professional sense. You try to push yourself off the wall, but the adrenaline leaving your body has your legs feeling like jelly. Sephiroth grabs you with ease and hoists you up bridal style. 

“Don’t exert yourself too much, little one,” he says in your ear, and it was then you realized he knew exactly the effect he was having on you. “I’ll carry you to safety. I wouldn’t want you to tire yourself out.”

[jadelotusflower]

2024 Roundup - books read

Fiction

Stone Blind: Medusa's Story - Natalie Haynes

Atonement - Ian McKeown (re-read)

A Gentleman in Moscow - Amor Towles

Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries - Heather Fawcett

Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands - Heather Fawcett

Coraline - Neil Gaiman

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz - L. Frank Baum (re-read)

The Marvelous Land of Oz - L. Frank Baum

Ozma of Oz - L. Frank Baum

Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz - L. Frank Baum

The Road to Oz - L. Frank Baum

The Emerald City of Oz - L. Frank Baum

Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West - Gregory Maguire (re-read)

Mrs Dalloway - Virginia Woolf

Orlando: A biography- Virginia Woolf

Sappo: Poems & Fragments - Sappo (translated by Josephine Balmer)

Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne (translated by Henry Frith)

The Mysterious Island - Jules Verne (translated by Jordan Stump)

Piranesi - Susanna Clarke

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy (translated by Louise and Aylmer Maude)

Wuthering Heights - Emily Brontë

Frankenstein, or, The Modern Prometheus - Mary Shelley (re-read)

The Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Emmuska Orczy (re-read)

Sir Percy Leads the Band - Baroness Emmuska Orczy

The League of the Scarlet Pimpernel - Baroness Emmuska Orczy

The Elusive Pimpernel - Baroness Emmuska Orczy (re-read)

A Court of Thorns and Roses - Sarah J Mass

Best Fairy Tales - Hans Christian Andersen (translated by Jean Hersholt)

A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens (re-read)

Non-Fiction

A year in the life of Ancient Egypt and the real lives of the people who lived there - Donald P Ryan

Persians: The Age of the Great Kings - Lloyd LLewellyn-Jones

American Prometheus: The Tragedy and Triumph of J Robert Oppenheimer- Kai Bird and Martin J Sherwin

Divine Might: Goddesses in Greek Myth - Natalie Haynes

The Splendid and the Vile: Churchill, Family, and Defiance during the bombing of London - Erik Larson

The History of the World: From the Dawn of Humanity to the Modern Age - Frank Welsh

Pagan Britain - Ronald Hutton

Unruly: A History of England’s Kings and Queens - David Mitchell

Burn it Down: Power, Complicity, and a Call for Change in Hollywood - Maureen Ryan

Montaigne: A Very Short Introduction - William H Hamlin

Essays: A Selection - Michel de Montaigne (translated and edited by M.A. Screech)

Hey Honey, I’m Homo: Sitcoms, Specials, and the Queering of American Culture - Matt Baume

Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent - Judi Dench (with Brendan O’Hea)

What I Ate in One Year (and related thoughts) - Stanley Tucci

What I liked

I enjoyed most of what I read this year, including revisiting some older books with new eyes, finally getting around to some classics from my TBR list (with a few detours), and general mix of history and biography/memoir.

My favourite book of the year, and now up there with my favourite books of all time, is Piranesi, something that has been on the list a while and yet something I have successfully avoided spoilers for. I went in completely blind and so glad I did because the way this story washed over me is one of those very rare things and I loved loved loved reading this book.

I also really enjoyed A Gentleman in Moscow (the tv adaptation was sadly a bit of a disappointment). There’s a fine line between whimsical and twee and while that line likely differs for everyone, for me it successfully kept just on the side of whimsy - or maybe I just love a literary reference and this was full of them. It also inspired me to check out the works of Montaigne which I found interesting in context.

On the non-fiction front, American Prometheus is a good companion to the Oppenheimer film, and Burn it Down was an excellent but rage-inducing peak behind the Hollywood curtain, but The Man Who Pays the Rent was my other favourite read this year. Rather than ghostwritten, this takes the format of question and answer between Judi Dench and actor/director Brendan O’Hea, each chapter focussing on a different Shakespeare play and the characters Dench performed. It’s a beautiful insight into the acting process, theatre history, and Shakespeare’s female characters. Dench is so compelling and charming and the format allows her voice to leap off the page (more memoirs should take this approach tbh). I love Shakespeare but hardly consider myself an expert, so her perspective on the works and the characters was insightful - one of those books you look forward to returning to at the end of the day.

What I didn’t

When I tell people I’m writing a fantasy novel they often ask if I’ve read A Court of Thorns and Roses and I’m kind of sick of seeming uninformed about this faeriecore juggernaut, so finally gave it a go. It’s…not for me, really, despite it being generally keyed into my interests. I just found it…kind of boring? Feyre is dumb as rocks difficult to care about, and Tamlin, despite the cute nod with the name, is stock beast archetype with no other discernible personality.

Most of the book was an absolute slog until it finally got semi-interesting 3/4 in, but we’re stuck in Feyre’s pov and therefore unable to explore anything approaching compelling or nuanced. I’ve been told it actually gets good in the second book (and have been spoiled about the whole Rhysand thing), but I’m not really inspired to give it any more effort.

I also had mixed feelings about Emily Wilde - while of better quality than ACOTAR and I really loved the worldbuilding and some of the fae characters (Poe my beloved!) the central romance fell completely flat for me (maybe I’m just immune to the charms of faerie lords?) and I find the narrative is limited by the epistolary style. However I enjoy the fae plotline enough that I will likely get around to the third book at some stage.

On the point of mixed feelings, it’s interesting how much I enjoy Natalie Haynes’ non-fiction work on Greek myth while finding that her fiction completely misses the mark. Essentially a collection of essays, Divine Might is engaging and thought-provoking on the various depictions of Greek goddesses and their place within the mythos both then and now. On the other side of the coin, Stone Blind is ostensibly Medusa’s story, but mostly told through other perspectives and (much like with her previous effort A Thousand Ships) Haynes is preoccupied with recreating the whole of the myth which ultimately subsumes women, and therefore fails in its premise to showcase the female perspective. It’s just so odd that she can’t bring any of her insights from her compelling analysis to an actual narrative.

[nullsleepy]

RE-RE-REPEAT THAT, for me?

“A hundred? One thousand? A million? How many lives will it take for Marinette to go insane? Personally, she thinks she officially went insane during her 35th time, but she’s still kicking!

But wait… something is different this time? After this many times reliving the past, Marinette is certain this wasn’t supposed to happen. No. She’s certain of it. Who are-?”

Chapter 1: Greeeeeeen

Ao3

“ADRIEN!” A hoarse, painful scream rang out as the boy turned to her, giving the small girl a bitter smile. His eyes shared a feeling of hopelessness with the girl as he stepped back, right into a ravine of complete and utter darkness. Tears streamed down the girl’s face as she watched her world, in shades of black and white, disappear.

“This is your loss, Ladybug.” The ear screeching, headache inducing voice taunted her from behind as she crawled forward to the ravine, reaching her hand out to nothing. “But you know that, don’t you?”

She didn’t respond, crying her voice out to the darkness, unable to do anything but hope it was all a dream- a nightmare beyond any nightmare she ever had.

“It’s a pity, but this is goodbye.” A small weight found itself on her back, pushing her closer to the ravine. She couldn’t find it in herself to resist.

“Adrien…” She mumbled one last time as she clutched her chest, the weight kicking her over the edge and into the ravine- into the darkness. Tears and blood flew off her face as she felt nothing, once again.

Once again.

Nothing.

Again.

————-

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open as her hand shot out to turn off her phone. A groan escaped her lips as she checked the date, one she knew very well.

September 2, 2045

The date burned itself into her eyes, taunting her. Her least favorite day of this year, her reset day. The day school started, the day she met Adrien and Alya, and the day it all began. Her senior year. The terminale.

Marinette shrugged out of bed, grabbing some nearby clothes and found her way to the bathroom. She let out a sigh as she stared at herself in the mirror, noticing her bright, freckled skin that stood without many blemishes, her blue eyes that sang stories of innocence, and her forever unchanging height of 5'4. Perfect.

Her hand stung as she put it under the burning water of the shower, but she bit back the pain and headed into the bath. She watched her porcelain skin turn red and angry as she stood underneath the shower head. She barely had it in herself to wash her hair and body before slugging out of the shower. She collapsed onto the ground, hugging herself as her skin screamed in pain.

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Her mother’s sweet voice rang into the room as Marinette cried. They would go to doctors, therapists, and hospitals to find out what’s wrong with her. None of them would give the right answer.

“Are you alright, Marinette?” Her mother’s sweet voice rang into the room after giving a small knock on the door.

“Just fine, maman!” Marinette responded, voice just as sweet and kind as it was any other day. Her mother could feel the smile in the girl’s voice.

“Alright then, dear. Check on your papa for me before you head out. He has a surprise for you!” Marinette listened to her mom’s footsteps leave before hesitantly standing up, tugging on her clothes. The red had begun to fade from her skin as she stood there, looking in the mirror.

A small bluenette stood in the mirror in front of her, wearing a short sleeved, stylish white top underneath a pink dress with a built-in apron and bow. She put on some plain stalkings before putting her hair in its signature pigtails. She then grabbed a small locket and slid it over her head. She gave the image a small smile before dropping all emotion from her face.

Why was this all so hard? Why did she have to do this all again? Marinette leaned against the door, just breathing as she pondered her difficult life- lives. All of her miserable, unfortunate lives.

Her hand reached for the doorknob as she began to hear commotion in the bakery below, signaling its life. She forced on a smile before leaving the bathroom and heading downstairs.

“Papa!” Marinette grinned as she saw her father kneading some dough, before he turned towards her and wrapped her in a hug.

“No, I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She just- she woke up and hasn’t moved since. Please, save my daughter.”

“Marinette!” Tom picked her up, twirling her around. “How’s my big girl today? It’s your final year! Aren’t you excited?”

“As ever! But maman said you have a surprise for me?” One for me to squish when I save an old man.

“Of course, of course! Here you go, dear. Make some new friends, you hear me?” He smiled at her as he gave her a box of macarons before going to wash his hands. “Make me proud!”

“Of course, Papa! Love you both!” Marinette raced out of the bakery, before stopping, looking around her. She quickly found Fu and pushed him out of the way of a moving car.

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry- but you were about to be run over!” Marinette helped the man up, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“It’s fine, young lady. Thank you.” He gave her a small smile before disappearing in the crowd, but not before Marinette felt a weight be added to her bag. Kwami secured.

Marinette quickly checked her phone, 8:26 on the dot. 4 minutes to get to school, just like every other time. Marinette stuffed her phone back into her bag, making her way across the street and up the stairs leading to her school.

“I’m late, I’m late- oh Kwami I’m late!” Marinette made sure the people around her heard her cries as she made her way to the classroom.

“I’m sorry Miss Bustier! There was a-” Marinette was bent over, catching her breath as she looked up and noticed she wasn’t there. But she was always there?

Suddenly, Marinette’s expression fell as she looked around the room, not seeing her teacher among the groups of students. Her eyes landed back on the door as suddenly-

Blue met Green.

Notes: IF ANYONE HAS ANY IDEA FOR LITERALLY ANY BIT OF THIS FIC, PLEASEEEEEE TELL ME! I WROTE IT OUT OF BOREDOM AND NOW IT EXISTS! 😭😭😭 But seriously, any ideas or comments are appreciated. Thank you!

[whattraintracks]

22. Puzzling - TMNT 2012

Don't worry, guys, that wasn't supposed to happen.

When the bit of Kraang tech he's examining (read: poking randomly in the hopes that something will happen) explodes, Donatello's not sure if he or Raphael shrieks louder. He thinks it's Raph. Which would be way funnier under different circumstances.

He blinks against sooty particulates. "Huh, well, that wasn't supposed to happen."

He's amid a cloud of unexpectedly thick, slightly pink smoke. Which is on-brand but frankly annoying. He waves at the air in a vain attempt to disperse it. Maybe he can move this operation to the kitchen, work under the exhaust hood. He should probably install one in here. He gives up flailing his arms, and backs away from the desk. Step one to solving any problem is getting some distance. Step two is—oh, that's weird. The cloud doesn't seem to have moved since the initial explosion. What kind of particles are these? He hasn't seen Kraang tech do this before.

The moment he remembers Raph is also the moment he trips over him. With a yelp, he hits the ground. Hard. Raph giggles. Rude. He's going to have at least two bruises tomorrow. And his scream was definitely louder than Raph's, so he's lost any right to make fun.

"Dude," Donnie groans, pushing to his feet. At least he's away from the Kraang smoke, "Why'd you trip me?"

"I don't know," comes the high-pitched reply, "Why're you so big?"

By the time his eyes clear, he's pretty sure it's a genuine question, not an insult about his height. It makes more sense once he looks down, down, down to find Raph miniaturised.

Donnie throws his hands to his head. "That wasn't supposed to happen, either!" Raph just giggles again.

"Leo!"

As far as they can tell, based on Raph's appearance and memories, he's about five. Donnie can't even remember being that young. Which he counts as a good thing because kids are weird. Or maybe that's just mutant turtle kids. He doesn't have experience with normal children to establish a baseline. Leo and Sensei do, though, and they seem unperturbed by Raph's behavior. Even Mikey takes the whole thing in stride. He is, in fact, absolutely thrilled and oscillates between gathering blackmail material and doing whatever Raph asks.

Donnie will admit he's having trouble making sense of it all. First, and he thinks he’s mentioned this, that was not supposed to happen. He can't figure out how a broken Kraang tech part without any detectable energy source could have caused something like this. Which naturally leads to the question of how he's meant to fix it. Raph has no idea what happened, either, so he's no help. Worse, he just might be the most confusing being Donnie has ever met. Take yesterday, for example.

He's not sure what time it is when he stumbles out of the lab for breakfast, so it might not technically be in the range of the day at which it is appropriate to call a meal breakfast. His brain is too full of viscous pink Kraang smoke to care. It must be some mealtime because everyone but Master Splinter is in the kitchen when he arrives. Leo is at the island supervising Raph and Mikey's mess-making by the stove.

Raph perks up, "Hey Donnie! I wanna tell you a question."

"Ask nicely, Raph," Leo reminds, hiding a smile behind the rim of his tea cup.

"Please, I wanna tell you a question." He barrels on, "How do you open your labrador?”

Open his what? Donnie stares at the space above Raph's head, trying to parse the question until a nudge from Leo resets his brain. "Say what?"

"Your labrador!" He flings his arms out, nearly knocking himself to the floor. Mikey catches the lip of his shell just in time.

“What Labrador? Raph, I don't have a—”

“Yeah, you do!” He's angry of a sudden. Of course, he is. But it's weird. It's not the first time Donnie's made him mad since the incident, but he's never gotten in anyone's face or stormed off with a huff. He just screeches until he gets whatever it is that he wants. It's Raph's anger, but it's not. “It’s how you get to the place you do all your smart stuff!"

Mikey swoops in, crouching to squeeze Raph gently, then translates, “He means the door to your lab, bro.”

“The door? Oh. Why would—?" Donnie sighs heavily, sinking into the stool next to Leo. “Raph, that’s the lab door,” he enunciates, “Not a Labrador. A Labrador is a dog breed."

Just like that, Raph's face unscrunches into something thoughtful. “So it’s not a labrador?”

Well, at least the exasperation is familiar. "I literally just said that. It’s a normal door.” Leo clicks at him warningly. Come on, what is he supposed to do here? Seriously, this feels surreal. Maybe this whole dialogue is a dream, and he's hunched over his desk right now. He straightens his shell to test for any worse-than-usual aching.

“Okay," Raph says. Then he turns around. Just like that. As if the entire conversation never happened. Never mind his original question or whatever he was trying to ask. He makes no sense, literally none at all.

But, you know what, fine. Donnie has to eat anyway so he can go back to the "place where he does all his smart stuff" or whatever. So he can figure out how to get his actual brother back, who at least makes sense most of the time.

Leo finishes his tea, returning Raph's enthusiastic wave goodbye, and then there are three. Mikey and Raph finally settle down to eat whatever noxious concoction they've whipped up as Donnie cleans his dishes. Freshly fed, his brain refills with extradimensional smoke and engineering.

"Well, that's boring!"

He fumbles with his mug at the sudden shout. A glance over his shoulder finds Raph, who had been eating quietly, now glaring at him.

“You should name that boring normal door Labrador so we can just call it that anyway," he says firmly.

He's not sure why he tries to ask, “Why would I—”

“Or or!" And it's like a switch again, anger suddenly dissipating. "We could name it something cooler! Like Thundoor from Crognard!”

“Thundarr,” He corrects. It's too late, Mikey's joins in.

“That’s awesome, little dude!" Mikey laughs buoyantly. "We should name all the furniture!”

“Yeah!”

And Donnie is so tired and so lost, and Raph is too much and too little of his brother at the same time it’s not even funny anymore. He doesn't think it ever was.

“Come one, Dee!" Mikey hoists Raph onto his shoulders, naturally content to ignore the messy kitchen. "Help Raphie and I name everything in the lair!”

Donnie tries to shake his head as Raph reaches for him. “Can you! Can you, please? Just for a little bit, please, Donnie, please?” Oh, now he recalls his manners.

"No, Raph." He bangs his mug onto the drying rack, ignoring Mikey's frown. "I don't have time for your nonsense questions and weird games. I'm trying to fix you."

It's not until he slams closed the lab door that the words trailing after his dramatic exit finally click. A puzzled sort of muttering from Raph: "Fix me? But I’m not broken."

So maybe he got a little too worked up, as tired as he was. But he's better now! He's eaten. He's slept five hours. He's determined to sit here until he cracks this thing.

And then someone bangs on the door.

He drops his head with a groan. How is he supposed to heroically solve all of their problems in these conditions? “Who is it, and what do you want," he shouts into the pages of his notebook.

"Once a second!"

One second, he mouths to himself. He listens to Raph struggle with the door for a lot of seconds and hopes he'll give up. He probably won't. Donnie better unlock it before he hurts himself. Or worse, starts screaming. Only because Leo would find some way to blame Donnie for it.

He shoves the door open, not at all irritated. Or vindicated either, when Raph falls on his shell and his sai skitter across the floor. Wait. “I thought Sensei took those out of your—Hey!”

Five-year-old Raph may not be much of a ninja but he is pretty slippery. He scrambles under Donnie's arm and launches into the rolling desk chair.

“Raphael." He glowers, summoning his inner Leo, "You are not allowed in the lab—”

“Without you,” he recites, spinning the chair so Donnie only catches glimpses of his cheeky smile. “But you’re here too! So it’s okay.”

It most definitely is not. Raph has no understanding of lab safety right now, so if Raph stays in here, then Donnie will have to keep an eye on him, and if Donnie has to watch Raph, then he can't focus on his work. He does not want Raph in here, and he says so.

“Donnie, I'll be so so so good. Please!” Oh, Mikey absolutely taught him how to do that with his eyes. Not cool, Mike.

“Raph," Donnie faux whines back. "I need to work. Go play with Leo or Mikey."

"Ugh," Raph flops onto his shell, letting his head and limbs hang. “But Sensei and Leo are medating, and Mikey’s with Red."

“Meditating," he corrects, "And I know you know her name is April.”

“Casey calls her Red.”

“Yeah, well, Casey’s a—” Raph looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. A promise on his face that anything Donnie says will be repeated. "It’s polite to call people by their name."

Raph hums, continuing to spin idly, “But I don't call you Donatello, I call you Donnie. And you call me Raph or sometimes Fai.”

Not a bad point. But what was that second thing? Fai? Oh. His brain retrieves fuzzy, forgotten memories. That's right. When they were both little, that had been his nickname for Raph. Just between the two of them. He can't remember when he stopped using it.

“Right," he says slowly. "But those are nicknames. They're a shorter version of your name.”

“Oh, okay.” Then Raph rolls out of the chair, clunking to the ground shell first, and wanders away to explore the lab.

Donnie retakes the seat, resigning himself to further interruptions. Part of his brain is devoted to thinking up better excuses in case this is one of those conversations Raph returns to without warning. The rest of his awareness is on Raph as he pokes and prods at books and equipment and even poor Timothy. It takes the better part of a half hour for him to realise he's still sitting at his desk not moving a muscle.

He growls, gripping his head. Raph is on him in an instant. "What's wrong? Can I help? Do you need a book? Do you want one of mine? I can get Leo! Or Sensei, or—"

"No," Donnie snaps.

He gapes as Raph's beak trembles and his eyes fill with tears. "You're crying. Why are you crying? Please stop crying." He slides to the floor next to Raph, "I'm sorry? It's just. I'm trying to focus! I need to fix you, but I don't—"

“I don’t want you to fix me!” He shouts, scrubbing his face and hiccupping. “I just want to play! Why won’t you play with me anymore?"

“Raph, I," Donnie looks down at his hands, "I don’t have time,” he finishes lamely.

“Yes, you do! You’re just being mean!” He runs out of the lab. Probably to someone who actually understands him. Someone who tries. Donnie wonders if he’ll ever stop messing things up for Raph.

Because as far as they can tell, this version of Raph went to bed one day, and the family he found upon waking was suddenly different. Of course, Raph is frustrated and confused and probably a little scared. He's not just normal Raph in a smaller body. Donnie might've realised that sooner if he'd spent more time with him instead of causing one mess after the other and then hiding from it all in his lab.

Donnie doesn't remember when he was five, but he's heard Sensei's stories about their childhood. The ones about his younger self hanging on Raph's every word. That one embarrassing retelling of the biggest fight Donnie ever caused by announcing Raph was his favorite brother. His father's memories of them doing everything together, at least until Donnie really got into science. So he steps out of the lab and locks it behind him. His brother, this brother, needs to come first.

He must look contrite enough that Leo only grills him a little before he points to Raph's room. After a single breath of indecision, he sits, shell against the door.

“Hey, Fai?” he starts, tugging at his fingers, “I’m really sorry. I have been pretty mean lately, haven’t I?” It takes a few moments, but a little thud echoes on the other side of the door.

Relieved, he continues, “I’m not as good at this as I used to be. I might need your help. But I’m out of my lab right now, and we can play whatever you want.”

Donnie hits the floor before he realises the door has swung open. Little Raph is looking down at him, eyes still watery but excited. "Really? Anything? Even Space Heroes!"

And Donnie almost can't believe it's that easy. He smiles with Raph's infectious joy. “Space Heroes? Who are you, Leo?”

Raph collapses into him with a laugh that banishes the rest of his tears as Donnie reaches out, tickling him just like he's seen their big brother do. He's still giggling when Donnie staggers to his feet. “Think I could use some bedding to build us the Dauntless?”

Raph cheers. Launching into an explanation of his favorite episodes and characters as he directs them around the lair to collect supplies. If this isn't blackmail material, Donnie doesn't know what is. Raph will never be able to deny that he likes Space Heroes ever again. Once Donnie figures out how to reverse this Kraang-smoke-induced de-aging that is.

He does still have to. They need Raph as he should be: their teammate, their protector, their equal. But if he were here in those roles right now, Donnie knows he would have heard a thousand times over that he needs to sleep, to eat, to take a break for at least five minutes, Don, come on.

So he'll try. He'll take breaks to hang out with his favorite brother. He'll get a lot of experience building sheet spaceships and pillow forts. And by the end of it all, Donnie will realise his little brother really does just want to play and ask silly questions that probably don’t seem so silly to him. He'll decide this little version of Raph isn't a puzzle of confusing emotions. He's the same pieces he's always been, unfiltered and untethered from all the pain and fear of their older selves.

And so, even after Raph returns to 16, whenever the thought creeps up on Donnie that he's not doing enough, that he needs to fix it. He'll lock his lab behind him and say, "Hey, Fai! Wanna play something?"

[giggly-squiggily]

I get so blushy and squirmy about getting t-tickled, I, for some reason, headcanon that Baji from Tokyo Revengers gets the same way, but he also has a sensitive tummy, so when he's annoying one of them will sit on him and just drum their fingers on his tummy and watch him giggle and laugh, it even cuter when after awhile he starts to hiccup.

AHUH-

WHOA-

YOU CAN’T JUST- YOU CAN’T JUST COME IN HERE AND DROP SUCH PERFECTION ON ME LIKE THAT??? (Please continue to do so I love it so much 😭😭😭🥰🥰🥰)

LEE!BAJI!! *screeches* Oh my lord YES! He plays such a mean ler but if anyone even jokingly tries to poke him in the belly or wiggle fingers at it he gets so fidgety?? Arms across his torso, half bent over and turning away with a blush and a giggly “stahahp!” IT’S SO WHNZNWNSN 😍😍😍😍 He only really gets like that with people he trusts- you try to do that to him outside them and he’ll slap your hand away and give you a scary look like a dog ajnxnsnsnsn

Oh goodness I can totally see Chufuyu or Mitsuya (and Kazutora) doing this; Baji likes to mess with them the most cause #TheBoys until one or all three are just “THATS IT!” And it’s game time. It usually results in a struggle but they eventually get him down and play their little drummer song against his belly and he’s DECEASED! Done- giggly and blushy and hiding in his hair cause he just can’t handle it whsnnwnsns

THE HICCUPS AHHH! They’re so rare? First time Chufuyu heard them he was on top of the world for days! No one believed him when he told them about Baji’s hiccups until Draken got fed up with said long haired dork and tickled them out of him ahxnnwnxnsnx Now whenever he’s acting up they’re just: “Get him, Fuyu!” And it’s ON!

Sometimes Mikey will jokingly try to pick people up off the ground from behind all “I’m so strong!” (He is- just like- height differences and physics make it kinda difficult hwnznwndn) but with Baji he’ll intentionally wiggle his fingers into his belly when he goes to grab him just to set him off wjdnwnnxne He might get tossed over Baji’s shoulder but it’s worth the occasional bruise qjsnnsnsns

Thank you for sharing friend this made me SO SOFT! 😍😍😍

[vladimirsangel]

 For @blackforrestpunk, set in a little alternate universe of their webcomic. If you haven't read the webcomic, you should read the webcomic.

--

“Look, Sasha,” says Erik, resting his hand on the dog’s head. “It’s snowing.”

Sasha doesn’t understand the words, but she can hear the quiet sort of wonder in his tone, and she can sense his emotional state in the way all the best dogs always can. She raises her head, thumps her tail, and nudges the big pale hand with her nose encouragingly.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Ah, now. Walk is a word she knows. She sneezes, delighted, and hustles to follow Erik around as he pulls on his combat boots, lacing them only as much as is necessary for them not to actually fall off his feet. In deference to the weather his jeans have only a few rips at the knee.

“Erik!” comes the immediate call from the kitchen. Erik isn’t sure if Nadir is psychic or whether he just reacts to the trigger word “walk” in a similar way to Sasha. “You’d better be wearing your hat. It’s minus four out there….are you listening to me?”

To avoid a conversation, Erik pulls on a wool beanie hat, tugging it down so that it covers the join between the mask and his hairline, and mutters: “Yes….”

A soft dark green scarf is flung unceremoniously through the kitchen door and lands on Sasha’s golden back. She twists, snuffs at it curiously. “And that!” bellows Nadir, with the benefit of long experience.

Erik doesn’t say anything. He pats his thigh briefly to get Sasha’s attention, clips on her leash, and pulls open the door into the dark winter afternoon. Sasha, scarf dragging, follows cheerfully.

The cold is intense in the city at this time of year. People hurrying past for shopping are bundled up like fat little puppies in multiple layers of coats, scarves and hats. It makes Erik, at his long and spindly height, look even more like a looming matchstick man than usual. The mask at least protects from the brisk wind, and people aren’t looking too closely.

A bus screeches brakes in the slush and Sasha huffs, jumping.

“You’re right,” Erik says, putting a hand out to calm her. He finally picks Nadir’s scarf up off the dog’s back and absently loops it over his shoulders. Nobody is out listening to street music today. Not even the punks will be hanging out in their usual places in weather like this. They need somewhere more sheltered. Somewhere quieter, less bustling.

So they go to the Hauptfriedhof.

Erik likes it here. It’s quiet, and there’s lots of interesting things to look at, old static things, things that won’t change or shift or be alarmingly different suddenly. Human beings are a lot easier to deal with when they’re dead and not changing who they are the whole time. And well-behaved dogs are allowed. On her leash, Sasha is Erik’s constant shadow and tends not to wander far even when he occasionally lets the leash drop. He needs her, after all, and she knows that.

The cemetery is empty. It is growing towards dusk, and the snow remains light, but shows no sign of stopping. Erik and his dog walk together to visit one of his favourite graves, the one with the big stone tomb chest with the recumbent tomb effigy lying atop it. He likes this one because at the feet of the effigy is lying a faithful dog, staying with their master through eternity. The dog has curled ears, reminding him of Sasha.

Erik reaches out a hand and touches the head of the stone hound, brushing away the light coating of snow. He can see from the pattern of lichen and wear on the statue that he’s not the only one to pat the faithful creature. Humans love their animals.

Maybe this is the one thing that, despite everything, keeps him close to his own humanity.

Sasha is snuffling about in the snow that has blown into a drift at the side of the tomb, and Erik glances down to make sure she’s not eating something that’ll make her ill.

And that’s when he sees it.

A footprint.

Inside the hollow eyesockets of the mask, his eyes narrow in confusion as he frowns.

Plenty of people visit the graveyard, but he’d be willing to bet that very few of them do it barefoot in December.

These are the footprints of an adult, judging by the size. He takes a few steps, casting his yellow gaze about him, and – yes – there is another. And another. Someone has walked through fairly recently, barefoot in the snow, heading down the trail between the trees and towards the more distant larger mausoleums.

Of course there are homeless in this city. Every large city has them. Erik counts himself lucky to not be strictly homeless at this present time. He wonders if he needs to worry; not all street people are friendly or safe to be near.

A twig cracks, not very far away. The sky above is almost black with heavy clouds and the oncoming night. Sasha looks up at Erik, her soft eyes alert and interested – and then she trots off towards the sound, leash dragging in her wake.

“Sasha,” Erik calls, but not very loudly, and strides off after her. The dog is not going very fast, her pawprints criss-crossing the bare footprints. She has her head low, as if following a scent, but not like an animal who is hunting. She ambles. Casts back and forth.

And finally she sticks her nose into the shadowy gap between a large stone monument topped with an angel and the circling wall, and there’s an abrupt sound like an overboiling kettle. A loud, bubbling sort of hiss.

A cat?

Not like any cat noise he’s ever heard. Erik stops, and watches as Sasha draws back for a moment, then pokes her nose in again. She’s wagging. Whatever she’s found back there isn’t something that’s worrying her. This time the sound elicited in response is possibly more alarming than the inhuman hiss, because it’s definitely a voice. Using words.

“N-no!...please don’t…”

The voice is high with anxiety, but sounds masculine in tone. Not a local accent, either, and speaking in English.

“Sasha,” says Erik, thinking that he’s probably going to get a lecture if Nadir ever finds out his dog has started bothering random people in public, “here.”

Awkward. This is going to be so awkward. Maybe he should just leave. But the voice had sounded so frightened.

Erik knows a lot about being frightened.

He cranes his neck slightly, trying to see behind the stone.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “She’s friendly.”

He can’t hear any breathing. Erik’s hearing is acute; normally he can hear far too much of the sounds that people make by just living. The sounds that are often almost too much, and he needs to go to his room and put his headphones on to return to a state of calm. But here in the cemetery there’s nothing, only the wind in the trees and Sasha panting quietly, her breath fogging in the cold air. She’s still wagging.

For a moment he wonders if he’s imagining things. It would be nice in a way if he was imagining things. So much less stressful than having to apologise to a stranger in a graveyard because his dog was harassing them.

Then Sasha huffs, just once, not even loudly, and there’s a blur of movement, a shriek, and something – someone – darts out from behind the angel statue. And slams straight into the nearest wall.

Shit.

Erik grabs for the end of the leash and brings Sasha back close to his legs. He stares, eyes huge, at the spectacle before him.

Lying in the snow face down in a tangle of skinny limbs is a -

Erik’s going to go with “person.” There’s a lot of long, lank black hair, legs and arms so thin they’re like sticks. Bare feet and short sleeves, exposing smooth skin the colour of blue-grey slate.

As he watches, the fallen person starts to rise with a whimper, and the hair slips back from the face and ears and the….

….nose.

Or rather, the lack of nose. Erik’s breath catches in his throat.

He looks like...

Like, but not like. The grey ears are long, and fiercely pointed. They react like an animal’s, drooping low and flat in what Erik can only interpret as extreme discomfort. The nose is (to Erik at least) a sickeningly familiar cavity above a mouth that’s more like a maw, with four pronounced shark-like teeth protruding over the almost negligible lower lip. Beneath dark eyebrows angled sharply in distress, sunken eyes as silver as Erik’s are golden stare up at him. The hands clutching at the snowy ground are large and bony, with fingernails tough and dark and more like an animal’s claws.

They’re in a graveyard, and there’s a grey person with fangs and shining predator eyes lying shaking on the ground in front of him. And Erik still can’t hear any breathing at all, where a human in this state would be hyperventilating.

Yeah. This is not a human person.

This is a vampire.

This is a vampire having a panic attack.

Erik can’t be blamed for not knowing exactly what is best to do in this situation. Even regular humans would find this challenging. But Sasha is not human, and she knows very well how to handle panic attacks. She’s a good dog. So she tugs at the leash until Erik, still rigid with shock, lets it slip from his numb fingers. Then she walks directly up to the cringing, whimpering vampire and plops down on her haunches, shoves her muzzle firmly onto that thin and trembling shoulder, and just...is there. Is warm and alive with soft fur and a calm heartbeat.

And Erik finds he can move again, think again.

He trusts Sasha. If she’s not afraid of the vampire, then neither will he be, at least for now.

He takes in the details in quick glances, not meeting the eyes, and stares at the grey earlobes particularly because they have obviously been pierced and stretched with tunnels. The black trousers are distressed and ragged. The black t-shirt has an extremely faded white print on it which could have once been a skull or something similar. Except for his inhuman aspects, the vampire could fit in with any of the local young goths, and Erik finds this prosaic detail reassuring. It could even almost be the start of a joke: a punk and a goth walk into a graveyard...

Sasha’s tail brushes the snow encouragingly. A trembling clawed hand reaches up and shakily starts to pet her ears. Erik crouches down, aware that often shorter people tell him that he looms. He realises he’s still staring, and tries not to. Somewhere at the back of his mind there’s an itch growing, the same kind of itch he gets when new music is trying to be born.

The vampire looks at him in resigned, miserable horror, as if he’s just waiting to be attacked or screamed at. Erik knows this look – he’s seen it in mirrors the few times he’s been unable to avoid them - and for a while they just sit in silence together with the snow falling softly over them both.

Then Erik, the tension of the moment finally pushing him into action, abruptly pulls Nadir’s scarf from his own neck and thrusts it forward without preamble.

“You’re cold,” he says, taking refuge in fact, and can feel the silver eyes on him, full of distrust.

It seems like almost an eternity before - with gentle, anxious hesitation - the scarf is drawn slowly out of his grasp.

It’s almost ten at night. The front door slams. Nadir relaxes, as he always does when he knows Erik has once more returned safely. He glances out into the hall and sees the familiar long hands hanging up the damp beanie hat on a peg.

“And where have you been?” he asks, hearing the thud of a boot being removed. “It’s been hours. You will freeze to death and I will have to explain to the police why there is an Erik-shaped icicle blocking the pavement.”

He doesn’t expect an answer, and he doesn’t get one. Sasha’s furry head pokes around the door, tongue lolling happily, tail up and waving. Nadir addresses her, as he often does: sometimes he tells Erik that talking to Sasha is the only chance he gets for decent conversation.

“Well, at least you’re happy,” he says, and Sasha yawns at him luxuriously before trotting in and flopping down on the rug. He pets her and recoils. “And wet. And cold. Erik, your dog is dripping on the carpet - “

“I made a friend.”

Erik’s voice is soft. He hangs back in the doorway, a shadow in a baggy hoodie, a little melting snow still on his shoulders.

Nadir blinks. This is unexpected. He wants to be pleased. He has known Erik long enough to not be immediately enthusiastic. But the yellow eyes behind the mask seem calm, and even a little brighter than usual.

“Great,” is all he says. He does not pry. Prying could make Erik skittish. Instead, he cranes his neck. “And where’s my scarf?”

“Where it’s needed.”

This is becoming infuriating. Nadir sucks in a deep breath, and Erik immediately heads off back to his room before any further interrogation is possible.

Nadir doesn’t hear anything more about Erik’s new friend for three months. But in the very first few days of March, when the rain is heavy and Erik has been out all afternoon again, he hears the outer door slam at around 6pm and sees Sasha’s happy dog smile appear in the doorway of the lounge. Their home is full of the scent of the dinner Nadir has been preparing.

There’s a pause, somehow full of anticipation.

“You can come inside,” Erik’s voice says, quietly. “It’s all right.”

And this time there are two sets of footsteps in the hall.