#I hope anon is okay <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[showstopper35]

Hello! Do you still write for Tfp/Transformers Prime? If so, I have a request!

Maybe ‘cons reacting to reader dealing with a person that caused a lot of childhood trauma? If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to ignore it!! I just am dealing with a person who wasn’t the greatest to me as a kid and would really like some headcanon comfort <3

again, feel free to ignore and remember to take care of yourself!

of course! thanks so much for the request, darlin’! I hope you are doing well and my DMs are open if you ever need to talk. 💛

Megatron

-He knows. He knows how it feels to be scorned in your youth. He knows how much you hurt. He also knows that he wouldn’t be the best at comforting you, so he provides a distraction. -Every time you come to him an anxious, frustrated mess because of them, he takes you to stargaze or to read or just sit on the top of the ship in peace. -Megatron entertains you will tales of when he was younger, fighting for the freedoms he still believes in. You know he’s been hurt too and there’s a comfort in knowing you both still are yet to move on from that past, and that’s okay. You’ll confront it when you are stronger.

Starscream

-He’s not…the best at comforting people. But he is angry. So angry. Why would anyone hurt you? Especially when you were so small? He’s felt small every day of his life, he can’t imagine what sort of monster does that to a sparkling.

-Honestly, he turns into an outlet for your rage. Want to scratch something up? He finds things for you to break, things for you to throw. It's not the most healthy, but when has anything he ever done been?

-When all your anger has been exhausted, he just sits with you. That helps more, and he knows that, but he won't say anything. And that's okay.

Knockout

-Out of all the cons I think he would be the most helpful. He pampers you, taking you on long drives and god-awful drive-in movies to distract you. He's also willing to just listen to you vent to him while he's working in the medbay.

-If the harmful person comes back, you can bet he's got his saw blade out and will not hesitate to bring them down. He provides you with a free escape ride if you are ever in an uncomfortable situation.

-He is always, always ready to shower you with compliments, especially when he picks up that you've had a bad day. And if you don't feel like telling him what's going on, he will distract you with the randomest stories about himself. It always makes you laugh.

Breakdown

-You better believe that this guy's got hugs for days for you. After many, many, many threats to whomever is hurting you, he sits with you and listens to you vent.

-His attempts at reassuring comments aren't the best, but he tries. He'd much rather go pound the jerk to dust, though.

-He somehow smuggles a shitload of chocolate and ice cream up to the Nemesis for you. Most of the ice cream melts before you can eat it, but it is still delicious.

Arachnid

-The person who is hurting you is never seen or heard from again :)

-You don't mention it and neither does she.

Soundwave

-You better believe that you will never go anywhere near your abuser again. He keeps tabs on them, removing you from anywhere within a 5-mile radius of them. If you do happen to meet them, he is sending Laserbeak and they have roasted limbs from lasers.

-Records everything you say they did and privately keeps it just in case. Not to blackmail them or to send them to the police, of course.

-Lets you play with Laserbeak and pulls up comforting and funny videos to watch with you. He is as silent as ever, but that doesn't change the fact that he cares about you.

Dreadwing

-He pretty much becomes your personal bodyguard. It's a little strange at first, but you get used to his presence and sweet insistence in accompanying you everywhere, especially if you encounter your abuser.

-You can bet that if anything ever happens again with that person, they will go down in a firey explosion orchestrated by his own hand.

-Sucks at speaking to you (about anything, really. he's so stiff.), but when he cleans his weapons, he is happy to listen to you.

Shockwave

-Ah yes, Mr. no emotions. He tries...I think. He'd rather give you some weapon of mass destruction than listen to you detail all of your abuse. I mean, it's a solution, I guess.

-He makes you watch the seekers to learn self-defense and also read some Cybertronian literature on battle tactics.

-At least you can punch now and use poisons?

Predaking

-After learning what had happened to you, he refuses to let you leave his side for weeks. He cares for you and distracts you by terrorizing Starscream on the ship.

-Eventually, though, he accompanies you to meet with the abuser. You talk with them for a bit before he comes crashing down in his dragon form, scaring them into oblivion.

-It felt really good.

[nataliescatorccio]

LUCY GRAY BAIRD'S RAINBOW DRESS The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023) Costume Design: Trish Summerville

[not-with-you-but-of-you]

Rory Gilmore and Jess Mariano wearing red in The Bracebridge Dinner (x)

[exitwound]

i think your words are really beautiful. could you say something reassuring to me if you feel so inclined. i hope you have a lovely day

[hungharrington]

okay but could you please write something about steve’s reaction to the reader thinking her boobs are too small for him? because i needed it yesterday and it’s all i can think about

foh sure my friend <3 fem!reader, 1k, MDNI this entire blog is 18+ other than that, enjoy <3

You don't want to be that girl. Digging up a partner's history and trying on comparisons in the mirror til you're sick with jealousy. You know you don't want to do this to yourself, you know that— especially when it always leads to bitter feelings and bruised self-esteems.

But... Steve seems to have a type, whether he realises it or not.

Dana Williams was at least a double-D cup. As was Cindy Prince and as was probably every other girl that Steve's ever gotten into bed with over his sprawling sexual history. Everyone, of course, except for you.

But hey, you're pretty certain you have the tiny, tiny insecurity under wraps. That you can keep it from ruining the budding relationship between you and Steve that is so good, that tastes sickeningly sweet with how well he treats you.

That is, until you're pressed up against the leather of his backseats, his hot mouth kissing yours, hands wandering up higher and higher up your midriff. You don't even notice you do it — freeze up on him — til Steve is pausing, pulling back from you, panting.

"Y'good?" He asks, licking his lips. He checks your face properly, trying to get a read on you. "Everything okay?"

You nod with a hum, trying to settle the nerves alight under your skin. You don't need to be nervous, really, you know Steve wouldn't be so cruel as to dislike you over something so trivial as small boobs. But it doesn't quell your insecurity like you hoped. You still worry what he might think when his hands start wandering again.

Satisfied with you nod, Steve surges forward again and his kiss finds your neck, suckling sweet little marks into the side of it in a way that has you sighing lustfully in his ear. He nips at your neck perfectly, lips hot and teasing, making you squirm —you arch your back into his chest with another soft sigh of his name, your desire boiling hot.

"Mm, feel good?" Steve murmurs into your skin heavily, just as his hand slides up to your chest. You feel your body recoil just an inch as insecurity blooms a mile wide in your mind and in an instant, Steve is halting, again, pulling back from you. His brows pull together, his concern evident on his face as he searches your face.

"Hey, if you don't want—"

"No!" You interrupt, shaking your head. "I- I definitely want to. Believe me, I really want to." You push up and connect your lips with his, a soft and deep kiss that Steve melts under, getting your message across. When it breaks, Steve looks relieved but still, his eyes search yours desperately.

"Then... what?" He looks around the car, looking for the apparent thing bothering you that he can't spot. "Is it the place? I promise no one comes out here but- but we can go somewhere else if you want? Maybe back to—"

You kiss him again, strong and sure and Steve gives a sweet little hmph! against your lips, his hands on your waist gripping tighter. You pull back but stay close, your nose brushing his and can't help but grin. Steve always looks so flushed with love after you kiss him; cheeks glowing, lips pinker than ever... Your stomach does a flip as he regards you with such ardent desire.

"Okay, okay," He nods, a bit breathless. "If it's not any of that..."

He trails off, leaves it open ended for you to answer and you resist the urge to squirm away from the question. It feels silly now, even more silly than worrying about it earlier all alone in your head. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and decide to just be out with it.

"My boobs!" You exclaim, louder than you intend.

Steve's eyes widen a bit. "Your boobs? What- what about them?"

As he speaks, his eyes drop to your chest and there's no mistaking the hunger that creeps in to his gaze. Not so subtlety, one of his hands moves to adjust his jeans as his eyes move back to your face, waiting.

"They're small." You say in explanation. Steve blinks, head tilting to the side an inch in confusion. "Too small," you say, voice a little smaller. "I know in the past you- well, I don't know but I, uh, I figured that—"

"Woah, woah," Steve butts in, expression a little bewildered. His hands on your waist grow a bit surer in their grip and he tugs you closer, the two of you pressed against one another. "Firstly, Steve Harrington is a lover of all boobies. No matter the size."

He's smiling but you can tell he isn't making fun of you; no, in the way Steve speaks in earnest, tone soaked in seriousness, you know he means it.

"Secondly," He begins, leaning in close, dropping a kiss on your neck. He kisses his way down, lips scraping along your collarbones as he does, pulling back just enough to speak. "I like these boobies," he skims the underside of one with his thumb, enough to make you inhale sharply. Steve grins. "Because of the girl attached to them."

A laugh bursts out of you and Steve lasts only a second longer before he's laughing too, lips curved into a grin against your skin. "That sounded so much better in my head." He admits bashfully.

"That's okay," You say, running your hand over his hair soothingly, even as another laugh titters out before you can stop it. It turns quickly into a gasp as Steve's hand shifts up again, palm covering your tit as his thumb rubbing over your nipple that peaks up in interest. He's already back to his lazy kisses on your chest, still traveling lower and you can't deny how good it makes you feel. The fire in your belly burns hotter.

"Gonna let me show you?" He hums, fingers pinching your nipple in a way that makes you keen. His other hand shifts up, reaching to tug your shirt down — but he pauses before he gets anywhere, still checking. He gazes up through his lashes, big brown eyes pleading for longer taste of your skin and you nod, breathy and hot.

"Good girl," He purrs, pulling your shirt down further, his kisses following suit as he begins to suck the first of many little lovebites onto the skin of your chest. Writhing beneath him, moans pouring from you as your cunt gets wetter and the windows get even foggier yet, it takes only a matter of minutes before you find it quite hard to recall any insecurity whatsoever...

[stabbyfoxandrew]

i dont know if you are still doing these but!! id love a kiss on the hip for kandrew :) <3

Kevin Day is not a virgin. He understands sex and most of its mechanics. He's slept with a few people in his life, he's also sampled plenty of porn genres.

But none of that compares to this. To having Andrew's full and complete attention. To having Andrew on his back in his bedroom in Columbia. He's not quite sure how they ended up here. Of course, he understands the logistics of getting to Columbia from Palmetto State.

He knows the route they always take, he knows the right exit, he knows how to find Nicky's house.

How he got to this point he's not sure.

All he knows is Andrew and Neil were planning to come here this weekend for a bit of alone time. Just the two of them, no one else to bother them. That's what Kevin thought at least. Until Neil knocked his shoulder into Kevin's side at practice earlier and told him to pack a bag. When Kevin asked why, Neil merely shrugged. "Andrew said to."

Andrew said to. So Kevin did.

Kevin always does what Andrew says. That's how the three of them happened. Six months ago Andrew told Kevin that Neil wanted to kiss him, Kevin kissed him. Andrew watched them make out then announced that he wanted to kiss Kevin, Kevin kissed him.

And now here they all are, spread across Andrew's bed. Neil is sitting cross-legged against the headboard, wearing only his boxers and a tank top. Kevin has been stripped down to his shorts. And Andrew is fully clothed, except for the jacket he shed upon coming into the house, with his head on Neil's thigh. Kevin is hovering over Andrew, not touching him anywhere below the waist. Never touching him below the waist. Never touching him anywhere Andrew doesn't want him to.

"What am I doing now?" Kevin finally asks. Andrew had pulled Kevin over top of him like this a couple minutes ago and Kevin's been sort of frozen since. Because he's not a virgin, but Andrew makes him feel like one. A pair of hazel eyes stares up at him, seemingly bored. The flush on Andrew's cheeks is the only thing that gives him away.

"Whatever you want."

"That's not how it works—"

"It is now. You've graduated, Day. Touch me," Andrew commands. Kevin's hands twitch against the mattress, but he doesn't move them. Not yet.

"Where?"

"Anywhere." Andrew says, the want in his voice making Kevin's breathing catch. It takes a moment for him to process the word. And when he does, he throws himself off the bed. Andrew just stares after him. "Where are you going?"

Kevin sputters and puts his hands in the air. "You can't just change the rules on me like this."

"What rules?" Neil asks.

"The—" Kevin can't believe the question. "Oh, goddamn it, Neil. You know exactly what I'm talking about! I can't go from nothing to something to everything. Not like this. You have to tell me, Andrew. I don't know what—"

"I just told you what." Andrew says, sitting up a bit to look at him. "Anywhere, anything."

Kevin shakes his head. "No."

"No?"

"I don't want to fuck this up."

"You can't fuck it up."

"But—"

"No buts," Andrew interrupts. Kevin's gaze flicks from Andrew's to Neil's, back and forth. Andrew sighs. "Get the fuck over here, Kevin."

Kevin always does what Andrew says.

He moves to settle back over Andrew, propped up on his hands and knees. Andrew reaches for him and grabs the back of Kevin's neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Kevin gasps against his mouth and hears Neil make an appreciative sound, a little hum of a noise, above them. Suddenly there's a hand pushing into Kevin's hair and he knows it's Neil's. Kevin opens his eyes and looks up to meet Neil's eyes. The idiot smiles down at them and Andrew's eyes are closed, his mouth is hot, and... Kevin groans when Andrew fucks his tongue into his mouth.

Kevin moves to slip one hand under Andrew's head and lowers himself onto him, making Andrew exhale against his mouth. They're both half hard, Kevin ruts his hips against Andrew. An experiment that gets a grunt and a nip to his bottom lip.

"Good?" Kevin asks after pulling away a bit.

"Yes. Keep going."

"I want to take your shirt off." Kevin admits. Andrew's expression barely changes, but it does.

"Then do it." Andrew challenges, letting go of Kevin's neck. It takes both of them but Kevin gets the shirt off and drops it beside them. After thinking about it for half a second, he lightly skims a hand up Andrew's side making him shiver. He thinks it's a good sign, but then Neil's leaning in close to his head.

"Firmer, Kev." He whispers.

A hint. A clue from someone who's got years of experience on him. Kevin grabs it and a handful of Andrew's chest, taking Andrew by surprise.

"Really? Groping me, Day?"

"You said anything, didn't you?" Kevin squeezes Andrew's chest and thumbs at his nipple until it's peaked. Then he dips his head back down to press kisses to Andrew's neck. He knows Andrew likes that. It's safe, familiar, good for both of them. Andrew turns his head to the side, likely so he can look at Neil, but Kevin nips his pulse point and Andrew hisses a breath before grabbing him by the nape again and pulling him up like a mother cat does a kitten.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Andrew blinks at him like he's slow. "No. I want you to get on with it."

"You said anything I wanted." Kevin reminds him. "Or are you taking it back?"

"I'm not taking it back."

"Then let me take my time. Want to make you feel good." Kevin returns to Andrew's neck and Andrew's nails scrape against his back. Kevin assumes in appreciation. He nibbles at Andrew's throat until the goalie's breathing is labored, then finally comes up for air. "Can I bite you?"

There's a little spark in Andrew's eyes. Kevin wants to turn it into flame. After a moment, Andrew says 'yes, anything, do you understand the meaning of the word?' and Kevin shuts him up with teeth in the side of Andrew's neck. He sucks a mark there, one that'll bloom purple pedals, then does it again. Again.

He hears a sharp inhale to the side and glances over to see Neil palm himself through his underwear. Andrew tilts his head back to look at Neil and rolls his eyes. 

"How am I not surprised your neck fetish extends to just watching."

At this point in their relationship, or whatever the fuck this is, Kevin thinks Neil has an Andrew fetish. He doesn't say so.

"Keep going." Neil tells him, almost as affected as Andrew. Kevin obliges, kissing and sucking his way down until he's nearing the waistband of Andrew's jeans. He stops there and raises his head to find Andrew glaring at him.

"Neil," Andrew says. "I think we need to get him an English tutor."

That makes Neil laugh and Kevin rolls his eyes, pinches the inside of Neil's thigh. "You can't fault me for wanting to be sure."

"I can and I will. Keep going or get out."

"Alright then. Instead of asking I'll just tell you. I'm going to take your pants off and then I'm going to blow your mind." Kevin decides, suddenly confident despite only giving a few blowjobs in his life. His decree has Andrew's brows raising.

"That so?"

"Yes." Kevin says firmly, making Neil's lips quirk. He eyes Neil for a moment. "Questions, comments, concerns?"

"None. Go." Neil tells him. So Kevin does. He scoots back and makes quick work of Andrew's remaining clothes, save his armbands. He's never seen what lies beneath them and he doesn't want to, because he has a theory and he doesn't want to test it.

Once Andrew's laid almost bare beneath him, Kevin stares. For a lot longer than he'll ever admit. Finally he dips his head and is thrown off course when he notices a freckle he'd never seen before. He detours past Andrew's cock and presses his lips to his hipbone instead. It's a barely-there thing, just a peck. But it makes Neil inhale sharply.

Kevin looks up at him. "What?"

Andrew's eyes flick up to Neil's, then he rolls them. "He's sentimental."

Kevin isn't sure what that means and it must be obvious from the look on his face. Andrew just shakes his head. "This is not a Q&A, get back to what you were doing."

[sematarygirls]

godddd please write more about jealous amanda i need her to know she can’t get our man bc he’s pussy whipped and in lurv ❤️😋☺️😭

your wish is my command 😏🤭 (small continuation of this ask)

                   ౨ৎ

"i'll see you later," you said, giving sonny a quick peck on the cheek before turning to the rest of the squad. "it was lovely to meet you all. i hope to see you again soon," you smiled warmly.

you had hung around for a couple hours but ultimately, needed to get home. you had a few things to straighten out for work and around the house, and you'd also really wanted some wind down time to yourself to destress for a bit before bed.

"see you around," finn smiled, giving you a nod, like you had passed some test of sorts. it made you feel sort of accomplished. finn was an interesting guy, and you were flattered to be someone he considered alright in his book.

"drive safe," olivia told you, giving you a warm smile.

"yeah, have a nice night," amanda mumbled reluctantly, her tone insincere.

"i love you," he called, watching as you left. you shook your head, grinning and blowing him a kiss. he pretended to catch it and press it to his heart. if you weren't already halfway out the door, you would have rolled your eyes and lovingly called him a dork. "she's great, isn't she, guys?" he turned back, a proud smile on his face.

"i don't know how on earth you bagged her, carisi, but you better not mess up," finn laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"oh, don't listen to him," olivia laughed. "you two are adorable together"

"aw, come on," he grinned, waving them off, but he couldn't help the blush that crept up onto his cheeks.

"what do you think, rollins?" he asked. she had been abnormally quiet all night, and he was dying to know what she was thinking.

"she's alright," amanda shrugged. she had that tense posture and tone of voice she always had when she was holding something back.

"well, i think it's time to get home to noah," olivia said, standing from the barstool and placing some money on the bar.

"yeah, i'm gonna call it a night too," finn follow suit, both of them clearly sensing the tension.

"goodnight," amanda called, glancing over, waving goodbye at them. they both waved back, heading for the door quickly, wanting to put as much distance between them and the impending argument as possible.

olivia had her fair share of arguments with stabler in her time. she knew exactly how heated and personal they could become, and finn, he just didn't want to have to sit there awkwardly. the fighting would make his beer taste bad— or so he would say.

"yeah, goodnight," sonny said, but his voice was quiet as he continued to stare at amanda with furrowed brows. "cmon, rollins," he pried, sitting down next to her. "i know when you're not tellin' me the truth"

"listen, carisi," she sighed, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. "i don't want to hurt your feelings, alright?"

"hurt my feelings?" he asked, feeling extremely confused. he felt like the introduction went well. was there something that he had missed?

"i just don't think she's good enough for you," she finally said, looking over to meet his eyes.

"not good enough for me?" he almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. "if anything, i'm the one that's not good enough for her!" his tone wasn't angry or defensive, just confused, as if he had never even considered the thought that he was too good for you.

"i'm just saying-" she paused, trying to find the words without coming across as jealous as she felt. "she doesn't understand the job and its demands. she won't understand you."

"amanda," sonny said, his voice low and serious. "you're my partner, and i respect your opinion more than anyone else's, but you're wrong."

"carisi-"

"no," he stopped her, his tone firm but not unkind. "if it's her understanding me that's your concern, i can assure you, she gets me like no one else. no one else has ever made me feel so seen and loved before. she may not always understand my job or my stressful law classes, but she listens, and she tries to understand, and that's what's important to me. i wanted you all to meet her because i love her, and you guys have grown to mean a lot to me. i would love for you to like her and be something friend adjacent, but i'm not going to lose sleep over it if you don't approve," he said, leaving no room for discussion.

amanda stared at him, opening her mouth to say something back, but she couldn't think of anything. she thought she could express her disapproval, and he would accept it. what she didn't expect was for him to come to your defense like that.

he really loved you, and there was nothing she could do about it.

[silly-writes]

Hi! I love your work! Can you do a Mike + alters, Scott, Alejandro (seperate) x reader where the reader has really bad sensory issues, especially with loud noises, and can have panic attacks from them? if your not okay with writing this then that’s totally fine /gen. it’s important to take care of yourself.

Contestants with reader who gets overstimulated.

Aaa thank u for this request anon! Yes i'm totally comfortable writing this kind of stuff! Thanks for being so kind about it! As an autistic person with really bad sensory issues myself I actually find it a thearputic, lol. Okay enough about me, enjoy!

Mike

dealing with a traumagenic disorder (DID) I would imagine he's honestly kind of in the same boat.

He's no stranger to panic attacks, and is pretty well versed by now in how to deal with them.

The first time it happens though he's sort of an anxious wreck, he's just nervous that trying to help might make it worse, but he doesn't want to leave your side.

He gives you lot's of words of encouragement, and helps you through breathing exercises, and gets you plenty of water.

"It's okay, breathe with me, I'm right here," he assures you gently.

If you require pressure/physical contact during your panic attacks, he's more than happy to give you that.

He gets good at catching them too, he'll always be able to identify when you're about to spiral because of too much noise or too bright lights, and he'll find a quiet secluded room so he can work through it with you.

"Sorry you have to deal with this too," you said, after a particularly bad one, you still felt dizzy, and tears still stained your face, but you had come out of it now, and felt a little guilty.

"Hey don't apologize, I don't mind. Not at all."

He's just very caring with this kind of stuff in general.

Manitoba

Maintoba is similar to Mike, and I would think he likes to carry around a backpack whenever he is fronting (you never know when you're going to run into treasure). So he always keeps noise canceling headphones and a pair of sunglasses in there just for you.

Honestly I headcanon him as the caretaker of the system, so I imagine he's used to caring for people during panic attacks.

He's very observant, probably even more so than Mike, so he's better at avoiding them all together by identifying what situations you can handle and what you can't.

He always does a little research before the two of you go out in the environment to ensure that it doesn't seem loud/bright/overstimulating.

However sometimes these things are just unavoidable, and inevitable.

He'll provide you with whatever physical comfort you require, if any at all.

Anything you need, he's there to get for you.

"Take all the time in the world treasure, I'll still be here," he said.

He's all around good at keeping you grounded, and just good at being there with you.

Svetlana

I would think Svetlana is probably the protector/gatekeeper, most of her comfort comes from her just being fiercely loyal.

She'll be there no matter what, and you take great comfort in that fact.

She's not as good with being traditionally comforting, since it's a little out of her element.

Not that she doesn't try of course, she really cares about you, and she wants that to come across.

(I would think she would panic a little and ask Manitoba and Mike for help from the inner world).

But she would absolutely stay with you, coaching you through breathing exercises, talking to try and distract you.

Eventually if you let her know what you need (be it space, a distracting, physical comfort, quiet, dark) you name it, she will get it for you.

She's much better at caring for you after the panic attack honestly, when you feel really tired and put out, disoriented and just overwhelmed.

"Svetlana's here now to melt all your worries away," she smiled at you once.

She'll almost always bring you home, or take you to a secluded room, and just hangout with you. She'll turn all the lights off and sit in silence with you so you can have basically zero sensory input for a little while.

She'll absolutely stay with you until you feel yourself again.

Mal

Okay things with Mal are a little tricky.

He's for sure a former prosecutor and after a bit of system healing, definitely prosecutor turned protector.

Don't get me wrong though, he can still be a little nasty and snarky sometimes, but he's working on getting better.

Which is why he feels sort of out of his element when he's with you when you're having a panic attack.

He's not good at being comforting, and he barely knows what to do when he has a panic attack, so the first time it happens he completely freezes up.

He might even let someone else front to help you out instead of him.

After a while he gets better at keeping up with your triggers, and while he remains pretty awful at being comforting, he's good at grounding you.

He's glad sometimes that being there is enough sometimes, he doesn't know what he'd do if it wasn't.

"Sorry I can't do more..." he said one day.

You smile at him "You being here is enough sometimes."

Scott

Scott is also somewhat of a wreck I would imagine.

Growing up fairly isolated on a farm he's understandably really rough with being intune with people's emotions, he's not really all that good at reading you. Or anyone for that matter.

The first few times, he's shocked everytime.

What could be making you feel like this? He had no idea.

He would definitely need a list of all of your triggers, you have to tell him what helps you and what doesn't outright. Scott doesn't really like playing guessing games, especially when it comes to your safety and comfort.

Clear communication becomes pretty important for the two of you in all honesty, and the two of you work at it all the time.

Eventually he gets better at serving you during panic attacks, or meltdowns, he knows what to do after a little while.

Again I would think he's really good at protecting, so I think he's super good at keeping people away when he sees you're overstimulated.

"Don't touch them!" he huffed when someone was trying to tap you to get your attention.

Overall, he's really really trying for you, and knowing that is comfort enough.

Alejandro

It's no secret that Alejandro is very intune with people, just one of his many skills.

So he can tell right away from his very first meeting you, any loud noises, bright lights, things like that just don't mix well with you.

He steers clear of them when around you, always guiding you more towards quieter, much calmer and secluded dates.

When driving he turns the music down, and makes sure that all audio input looks like its helping you and not harming you.

Plus I feel like (and this is totally me projecting btw) he would carry around stim toys for you to distract yourself with, and headphones for when things are a lot.

But again, sometimes things just happen, and try as he might to protect you, it's not always possible.

He can always tell when things are getting to be a lot for you, he's good at reading everyone but you in specific.

He's really good at covering for you, if someone is asking where you are, or needs/wants to talk to you when you need to be alone he'll keep them away from you.

He'll spend as much time as you need helping you.

"Are you feeling better mi amor?" He would ask.

"Almost-" you said, voice a little course and shaky "-sorry," you said softly.

"Don't apologize, I don't mind at all."

Alejandro can be really nurturing when he wants to be.

He might deny it, deny it to the ends of the earth but he's very good at taking care of you.

[dootznbootz]

Big oof guys Odysseus wasn't a cheater he was a victim you soggy feminist retelling enjoying fries. and I don't get them changing that so that "women who have been cheated on by their husbands can relate and know they're valid for being sad" because let's be honest if he was a women y'all would've been treating his situation appropriately. Feminism is about men and women being equal, and do you know how many women (and men) could relate to Odysseus's situation? He wasn't a good person (neither was anyone in Greek myth) but stop making him out to be the bad guy. It's not only insulting to his character, mythology fans but also victims. It can be insulting to male victims for this being erased and treated so lightly. And for female victims who know what that feels like and are (rightfully) disgusted when this sort of behavior gets excused.

And for those of you saying "But he had a choice with Circe!!" Um... not really? He slept with her to save his friends, his brothers. Let's put it this way "Let's say your best friend was being held captive, and the only way to save them would be to sleep with the guy who's holding them hostage. Cheating would imply there was a betrayal of trust between partners, this wasn't done out of maliciousness. This was done to ensure the safety of an innocent person/people who you care about deeply. Any good lover would understand there's a huge lack of choice in a situation like that. Again, if the gender roles were reversed y'all wouldn't have been saying this crap.

If men and women are so equal, a men getting sexually assaulted and used holds just as much weight as a woman. This isn't feminism, this is sexism towards men. And no, it's not justified because "that's what the Greeks did", it's not okay just because you lable it as petty payback/revenge. What happened to be better than your oppressor? As if you were the one's in ancient Greece who had to deal with these things. You are not in a friend group with every woman in history just because you had to deal with "scummy men".

And even if you are a victim, how can you be immature and gross to KNOW what that feels like yet still not care/be ignorant towards one suffering and easily erase it. And just because they were the same gender as people who were asses and creeps towards you or people who happen to be the same gender as you.

Tumblr never fails to disappoint me 😔 I have no doubt in my mind Penelope would beat up all these people victim blaming her husband

"you soggy feminist retelling enjoying fries."

Dear Anon, I love this phrase so much. Thank you for sharing it with me.

Sorry this took a while to get to. <3 I just answered quite a few heavy asks recently and I wanted to give a lil break in general :) You also wrote it all out very well already so I didn't really know how much I have to add or say without sounding like a broken record!

And yeah, like, he's not a good person. Nobody really is, especially by modern standards. But that doesn't mean what happened to him didn't happen. Or that people should diminish it.

I mean, I'm very very sure that Homer even shows Odysseus' PTSD from it all in the Odyssey. How he's so adamant about Nausica's maids NOT helping him bathe, despite that being the custom/culture of the time. Like Idk what other reason he would have to not ask for help, being "older" wasn't something that would've been too outta the norm, he was still exhausted from nearly drowning to death, etc. BUT this is RIGHT after he just escaped Calypso. Gives huge PTSD reaction to me.

ngl, I find it really disappointing in a way that this ancient text feels more respectful of victims and their trauma than more modern books lol. A lot of Modern shit feels like trauma porn ;~;

And you're absolutely right with Penelope. She loves her like-minded fool. She would not blame him. I honestly think she'd be the one to reassure him often because he'd probably feel guilt and/or just...need some comfort from everything.

I really hate the whole "He expected her to be faithful when he was not." Because guess what? He canonically was. He had no concubines officially listed ANYWHERE. People can take vague statements if they want but that's just it. Vague statements. All other "interactions" were against his will and/or it was coercion to save his friends. All under duress regardless.

Like in general, there is so much more potential in writing about about a character trying to help her incredibly traumatized lover. Seeing him as he is still and loving him. Him finally feeling safe again, LEARNING to feel safe again. After finally having clawed his way back into the arms he never wanted to leave in the first place, he can LIVE again. There's something incredibly beautiful in that.

I mean as you said, I find Odysseus very relatable in a lot of ways. His story is really beautiful in the whole "You've been through Hell, You've done some horrible things, but despite all that, you can achieve peace again. You can LIVE again." It's a really hopeful story in a way. And I really love that.

[venompinks]

NAYEON ❀ airport departure 23.12.26 ↪︎ anon request

[proship-culture-is]

Proship culture is having 5 backups and rebranding over 6 times when you get mass harassed for being a proshipper by your former friends

☆

[lxvi-gloria]

Drabble Prompt: Post-canon Levi, struggling with chronic pain and mourning his dead loved ones, being visited by his still alive loved ones

Anon, you knew how to talk pretty to me <3

hihi requests are still open btw

I feel like I gotta put a disclaimer or something lmao. So, the length of my drabble requests is usually something between 100-400 words. This request is just an incredibly unexpected exception. it just happened to fit into this idea I already had been thinking of, which was how the remaining 104th would ask Levi to be part of important events in their lives because well, they like the dude lmao, so expect that sort of one-shot soon. Additionally, since I kept reminding myself that this was supposed to be a drabble, I might have glossed over the chronic pain and mourning bits so I'm sorry about that ;;

that being said, 2.4k words of Levi and Gabi be upon ye <3

Now on Ao3!

The angry hissing of the kettle makes him flinch. It brings a loud ringing to his right ear. Instinctively, he places his right hand over it, and gives his ear a couple of gentle taps; it's more of a grounding gesture, a distraction from the buzzing. He usually keeps watch over the kettle, so that he can lower the heat just right before it gets a chance to scream at him. 

He realises then that he must have spaced out while waiting. It’s alright, he thinks. It’s been like that a lot, recently. He’s been like that. Lost in thought-- lost in time, if he allowed himself to be precise. The last days, weeks even, as the temperatures started to drop, blended into each other. There’s a little calendar on his bedside table, it had been a birthday gift from Armin – or had that been Mikasa’s? He isn’t sure, he had received an absurd number of presents from the kids last year, it had been hard to keep track of who gave him what and now the fact escaped him. Turning the pages of the little calendar, with its delicate botanical illustrations on each day, quickly became part of his morning routine, and so he was sure that time was passing at all. The stillness of the routine, he guesses, made him like this.

His vision blurs momentarily while he scoops the tea leaves into the teapot. He squints, trying to will his good eye to focus, but all he gets in return is a throb in his right eye. After putting the tea canister away, he presses the inner sides of his wrists to both eyes, placing just enough pressure to relieve the discomfort. When he opens his eyes again, he is pleased to find he can read the small print on the canister an arm’s length away. 

There’s a loud slam coming from the front of the house, followed by footsteps coming further into the house.

He quickly recognizes the heavy stomping as Gabi’s gait. She’s always been so loud.

Gabi crosses the arch into the small kitchen and dining area. 

“Don’t slam my doors,” he says as a greeting, slowly turning his head to his left side, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his periphery.

“Aye, aye,” the kid waves her hand, shoots him a teasing grin, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Levi hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. He busies himself with placing everything they need for their morning tea and coffee on a metal tray on the counter, which Gabi takes from him as soon as it’s ready and sets it on the table.

He grabs his cane from where he had hooked it on one of the kitchen drawers. He has been leaning against the counter, his right leg supporting most of his weight all this time. He braces himself for the sharp pain that will surely surge from his bad knee, through his left hip and up his spine. Cold mornings like this one and being still in one place for long will do that to him. It’s not so bad. It could be worse.

It takes 4 steps to get from the stove to his chair, which Gabi has already pulled out for him. It sits at an angle that allows him to easily slide down on it and rest his right elbow on top of the table, leaning back and against his good side.

“I have something that will cheer you up,” she holds a couple of envelopes in her hand and waves them at him, “You’ve got mail!”

He nods at her in acknowledgement but does not take his attention away from preparing his first batch of tea of the day. There’s a ritual to it, it almost feels like, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Not when the ringing in his ear is still there, the building pressure in the upper back part of his eyeballs, and the cold air seeping into his bones through his thick jumper. Oh, how he needs a good cup of tea right now.

While Levi waits for it to steep, he grabs the papers that she had shoved in his face, squints his eyes at the first envelope and finds that he is unable to make out much of the handwriting. He brings it closer to his face, squints harder, steals a quick glance across the table and hopes Gabi isn’t paying him any mind, too preoccupied with choosing from the bag of pastries she brought with her. It is with an impassive expression that he hands the stack of envelopes back. 

“Read it for me.” A beat and then he adds, a little reluctant: “Please.”

He knows Gabi prefers coffee in the mornings, and black tea in the evenings, so he makes sure to have a fresh brew of the former whenever he knows she’s coming over; so, with shaky hands, Levi gets to prepare her cup of coffee. While he enjoys the aroma of it, he remains faithful to tea; at first, he thought he didn’t like it because he had butchered his first attempts at brewing it. But even after Onyankopon had taught him how to do it properly and he had enjoyed his cup, it didn’t bring the same comfort as tea. It just never hit the spot.

She shoots him a mischievous grin, “Oh, you sure? What if I read something personal, hm?” 

Levi just shakes his head, scoffing at the idea of Gabi finding his junk mail fascinating.

“Is this how I find out you have a secret lover you’re exchanging raunchy love letters with?” Gabi teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He lets out a tired sigh and rolls his eyes, “just wanna be done with it, ” he stirs the milk into Gabi’s coffee, which now has turned into a cup of milk with coffee. “We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”

She clicks her tongue at him, but still rips the first envelope open, “Mr. Levi, your reading won’t improve if you keep doing that,” she jokingly scolds him.

Although Levi mentally recognises handing her and Falco stuff he couldn’t be bothered reading before, that’s not the case this time. He’ll let her think that for now, though, because he doesn’t want to mention the pressure building in the back of his bad eye, it’s not important and she, a kid, doesn’t need to know his newly found ailment of the week. He can see just fine around him right now. He can see Gabi’s big eyes and playful smile at the other side of the table, and that’s good enough; smaller details, he doesn’t feel he can do them, not without making himself go dizzy with a migraine.

Levi slides the cup of coffee to her and is pleased with himself when she approves of the colour of her drink.

“It’s from Armin,” she announces as she scans the letter. 

From this angle, the soft morning light illuminating her face and thanks to his faulty vision, Gabi’s image stirs his memory. His heart faintly constricts as he is reminded of the many times Hange read their research reports to him during breakfast in the mess hall before presenting them to Erwin. Levi always wondered how they could read so fast, sometimes he even doubted they were actually reading at all, their words barely being able to catch up with her eyes; he never asked about it, maybe reading came easy to them as numbers did to him.

A high-pitched squeal from Gabi startles him, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Oh… ohh, Mr. Levi,” she starts, her smile widening by the second “This is good news!”

Gabi makes a show of clearing her throat and then starts reading “Dear Captain, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health.” 

Levi can’t help but let a sardonic huff at the irony of the greetings but doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. He has written only a handful of personal letters throughout his life, and by now he knows it’s just something you’re supposed to say because jumping straight to the point isn’t acceptable, or so that’s what he had been told. 

Gabi continues reading Armin’s words to him. For the most part, it’s a standard letter coming from him: he asks Levi how he’s dealing with the changing of the seasons, how Gabi and Falco are faring, if business at the tea shop has been good, if there’s anything Levi needs that he can’t get in town so that Armin or the others can get it for him. He tells him a little about the country he’s writing from, he even includes a photograph. Then, after the expected pleasantries, Gabi can barely hold her excitement and starts reading faster, trying so hard not to trip over her words.

“If I’m being sincere, we would prefer to ask you in person,” Gabi stops for a second to look up at him from the paper, gauging for a reaction and finding nothing, she continues. 

Armin apologises for not being able to visit him before the holidays, Annie included, and so it is implied that he won’t be attending tonight’s reunion. 

Sometime during the last five years, the Alliance brats had decided to make showing up at Levi’s doorstep together once a year a sort of custom; the first time it happened was during an early winter, a blizzard had stopped them from leaving Levi’s until the next morning. It had been a really nice evening despite the awful weather, Levi remembers, after everyone pitched in one way or another, they all shared a simple but hearty meal together. It was Connie who jokingly said they should do it every year. The following year, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco joined them. 

This year would be their fourth, and the first someone wouldn’t make it. That fact sits heavily in Levi’s chest, stealing the spotlight from his throbbing eye.

“...Annie and I have decided to get married. The both of us would like you to officiate our ceremony!” unable to contain her excitement, she tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at Levi. “Huh?! This is good news! What’s with the constipated face?!”

That doesn’t sound right. It figures that Annie and Armin would be the first to marry; in a way, he is happy for them, they clearly care for each other. No, that part is easy to understand. Their union is logical to anyone who knows the couple. What Levi can’t figure out is why they are asking him such a thing.

He clears his throat, assumes it’s been 3 minutes and his tea is ready to be poured and so he distracts himself with that.

When he doesn’t answer Gabi, she picks up where she left off. 

He isn’t… well, he isn’t that close to either of them. He’s sure Annie must have other relatives that could step in his stead. Maybe a brother, a cousin. Even Jean or Reiner would be better options than Levi. He isn’t good with words or people like they are, he couldn’t possibly give them a speech about something foreign to him as it is that kind of love, that’s what people expect, right? His title of Captain is obsolete in this new world, so it can’t be that either. Hell, he has never been to a fucking wedding. 

Just… why him?

As expected, Armin doesn’t really go into the details of their choice but does let Levi know they do not expect a fast answer and that they do not want him to feel pressured to accept it, despite how much it would mean to them if he did. Armin asks if there’s anything in particular that he would like for his birthday, as it is a month away, and closes the letter by saying he looks forward to seeing him and everyone then.

When the letter is closed and put back into its envelope, silence falls around them. For a moment the only sound that can be heard is the clinking of tableware as Levi places the teacup back on its saucer.

It bothers him, that he knows he will be letting Armin down by refusing something that any other well-adapted person would consider an honour. But the thought of embarrassing him and himself, because he gave an awkward, most likely insensitive, speech, mortifies him. No, he can’t put them and their guests through that. He will find a way to make it up to the couple, maybe he can… he doesn’t know yet, but he will come up with something.

As he finishes his first cup, Levi realises that at some point while he was lost in thought, the ringing in his ear has subsided and now it’s back to that muffled, cotton-in-ear sensation he’s used to and he doesn’t feel his eyeball pulsating anymore. Glancing at Gabi, he notices she is trying really hard not to say something, her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her own drink, followed by a big bite of her pastry. Flakes stick to the corner of her mouth and for once it doesn’t disgust him. Instead, it makes his lips twitch as if going into a smile.

“I can help you... if you want,” she says eventually, sounding uncharacteristically careful and small of her.

Levi quirks an eyebrow “Help? with what?” 

She shrugs, “How to… tell them you don’t want to,” she avoids looking at him for the first time, finding the flakes on her plate more interesting. She shrugs again and tilts her head to the side, a thin line of a smile appearing on her face. “...or prepare for the ceremony.”

Not unlike many times before, Gabi’s words render him speechless, if only for a moment. He spares his tea a glance and he thinks: it’s bold of her to be so upfront about offering her help to him, and had it been any other morning, one where he couldn’t think past the constant ache in his body, he would’ve chewed her head off for simply trying to help him because he himself doesn’t know how to accept that kindness.

This kid is trying her best and he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of that.

“You have shit on your face. Here,” he points to where the flakes would sit on his own face and picks his refilled teacup back up.

Gabi quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting most of the flakes off. Levi gives her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally concedes and tries to ignore the little happy dance she does in her seat.

This time, when the amber liquid touches his lips, it’s remarkably sweeter than before.

[okiroash]

what do you think were red's motivations for leaving to mt. silver?

A lot of reasons,,!!!! I'll list them..

The fame that came from being a champion, becoming that of a young celebrity... having the media follow your trail, tracking everything you do, trying to get their chance to have an interview with you (even when you're in your own home)... borderline stalking, it's terribly scary to happen to someone.. let alone an 11 years old kid who isn't much of a people person

A headcanon I have is that red had been bullied and left out from groups in his early childhood, the feeling of alienation never left him, turning into a champion has completely make him feel even lonelier than ever before... the way people would hail him as a legend, some sort of- concept of strength.. a figure to strive as, a hero who can never show struggle or much emotions, pretty much dehuminizing him.. (this is.. based off the adoration from the ingame dialogues + how a lot of irl fans treats him)

So when he shows a side that's different from people's idealized version of him, bad rumors spread and it's just awful, to be hearing that in whispers as you walk pass them

Another thing is champion's responsibility... because the previous champions have been adults they can do league work just fine, but red's a kid so... while good thing he doesn't have to do most of the work, he still have to attend meetings (which he hates it because he ends up learning about corruption and shit about kanto) he also have to be on standby within the champion room- for far too long than he would like.. makes him feel like he's inside an enclosure, nothing new ever comes, not even a window to look out

The third reason as to why he left is.. to protect the people who are close to him... his mom has to constantly deal with refusing down intervierwers, leftover team rockets grunts have a grudge against him and he have seen what they're capable of.. he cares about his family a lot..

And.. lastly.. the face blue made when he defeated him in the last battle... oak coming to the room to scold him only made things worser.. it never left him, red felt so much guilt

You can see how red doesn't feel at home anywhere anymore.. not with the media.. not with everything.. can't take a proper break, after numerous overwhelming days he took off to mountain silver in the middle of the night..

[rodolfoparras]

ik ur requests r closed buttttttt could u maybe write a quick drabble thingie 👉👈

ik this is weird but like i’m super into like traditional “masculine manly” men who r like super into “girly” cute things. like hello kitty n wearing pink. so how about with price, pretty please

-🕷️

ps love u

It may have been one two or three drinks at the bar when you had described your ideal type to Price.

You hadn’t been awfully specific in your description. You had just said that you like pretty people, pretty people could be boys, could be girls, could be really anyone, could even be Price.

As he stares at himself in the mirror, he thinks he looks pretty with concealer dabbed lightly on his face to hide any visible imperfections, eyeliner drawn in such way to give a sultry look to his eyes and pink on his lips and cheeks just to feel pretty.

He’d even gone as far as to dig up one of his favorite tops out the closet, the one with a plunging neckline that hugs his pecs just right and shows off his dog tags.

It’s not often he allows himself to look this way, to look pretty. The army wasn’t a place for pretty men and as the captain of a sas squad he rarely allowed himself to look this way.

However today he wasn’t an army man- a captain of a sas squad. Today he was John, just john, the man who’s been pining after his best friend for years and went out his way to get all pretty for you in hopes of you noticing him, and not in the way a friend would spot a familiar face in a crowed but rather in the way someone would lay their eyes on a person that they loved.

However for a second he feels doubt creeping up his back, bile rising up his throat and legs readying themselves to run because you’ve never seen Price dressed up and with make up on.

You’ve only ever seen him with black face paint smeared on his face, dressed in heavy gear that protected vital organs and hid vulnerable parts of his body.

What if when you said you liked pretty people, you didn’t mean pretty women and men, what if Price wasn’t included in your definition of what you think is pretty, what if you laugh in his face when you see him all dressed up with make up on his face what if-

He doesn’t get to grumble on it any further before the door bursts open and you walk in.

“John are you ready to g-“

He braves himself, swallows down the acid burning in his throat, stretches out his hands as if to present himself before saying the words “well how do I look?”

You try to speak, but no words slip past your lips and your voice even embarrassingly breaks, as you try to answer his question.

“Didn’t think you’d feel this strongly about a lad in make-up” he says with a forced chuckle, in an attempt to ease the tension while folding his arms across his chest.

“What no wait-“ you say, words rushing to tumble off your lips while furiously waving your hands in the air.”it’s not like that”

“‘It’s alright, no need to explain let’s get moving before we’re late” he says while brushing past you.

“John” you say as gently grab ahold of his arm.

He just hums in response, a forced smile painted on his face as he turns to meet your gaze, braving himself for what you’re about to say.

“I wanted to say that it suits you” you say and it’s only now he hears the slight crack in your voice the way you’re shyly looking down at the floor while fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt.

“Yeah?” He says, voice sounding steadier and smile turning much more genuine.

You just hum in response, hand going to his face to swipe away the mascara that smudged on his eyelid before smiling down at him. “Yeah I think you look pretty”

“Pretty?” He echos back to you in response, tone heavy and word carefully uttered as if you’d take them back any second if he said it too loudly.

Your hand cup his cheek, calloused thumb caressing soft skin, and for a second he dares imagine that your eyes flicker down to his lips.

“Very pretty” you say with a smile on your face, touch lasting a bit too long before you drop your hand to gentle grab his elbow.

“Come on, we have to go now or we’ll be late”

[deeranon]

Dangers and Dragons | BNHA/MHA X animalistic!reader

Summary: not all quirks are blessings. Especially when they make you want to attack your friends and tear your enemies to literal shreds. Yet, where did it all start?

Chapter 1 | The domino effect

Dragons: mythical creatures of legend.

In literature, dragons are often depicted as mindless beasts bent on destruction and killing, or merely as glorified mounts for humans. It's rare to find works of fiction that portray dragons as intelligent creatures.

This, however, was the real world—a world divided between those with quirks and the quirkless. To you, dragons were everything, because you were a dragon. Or rather, in the eyes of non-dragon people, you were someone who could transform into a dragon. You didn't fault them for this distinction. In an era where quirks could manifest in countless ways, it was challenging to discern where "person" ended and "quirk" began.

Not to you though.

You were different. You knew it. They didn’t.

They were lucky. You didn’t know if you were.

After all, to turn into something imaginary you first had to take pieces of things that already existed and then mold them into what was once pure imagination until it was something all its own.

Whenever you transformed, the world changed. Your thoughts, your perceptions—all of it was different. Especially words. They always meant more than one thing because they just could.

Your mother wasn’t just your mother, she was all of these smells mixed together that made her unique. She was motherloveunderstandinghomesafety.

And your father wasn’t just your father, he was lovingfatherhomeprotection. He smelled like dreams.

And you were you. You were one with the air and the forest was yoursyoursyours and your friends were funnylovingstronggood and you should protectkeepsafesave.

When you were young, you saw nothing wrong with the way you thought or how sometimes the voles in the field looked appetizing and it would just be so easy to dig them out and bite into their throats until they went limp.

That is, until you almost lost yourself to the beast at the age of seven and nearly tore a robber’s arm off because he smelled of dangerironbadhurtothers and he was not allowed to trespass on what was yoursyoursyours.

The man dressed in black let out a blood-curdling scream, his fiery red eyes widening with such intense fear that his pupils contracted to mere pinpoints. His right arm, now slick with a vibrant crimson coating, was clutched tightly against his chest. Meanwhile, his other hand frantically scrabbled across the wooden floorboards, desperately seeking the broken knife that lay just out of reach. The rich, dark liquid pooled around him, seeping into the porous wood grain with an almost eager intensity.

You stood there, your draconic features set in a perplexed pout. Your muzzle, now stained a deep, dark burgundy, glistened in the dim light. The concept of his terror eluded you completely. After all, in your mind, he was unequivocally the antagonist - the villain of this scenario.

Your young mind conjured images from the television shows you'd watched. Villains were supposed to be larger than life characters, cackling maniacally as they boasted about their latest nefarious schemes. They were meant to be relentless in their pursuit of evil, determined to the very end. They certainly weren't supposed to cower and whimper like the pathetic human before you. In your limited understanding, villains simply did not experience fear.

Curiosity piqued, you took a deliberate step forward. Your razor-sharp claws sank into the viscous pool of blood with a squelch. The sound seemed to trigger something primal in the man, for he let out an even louder scream, his entire body now wracked with violent tremors.

Suddenly, the tense silence was shattered by the crisp sound of breaking porcelain. In a last-ditch effort of self-preservation, the burglar had seized your father's prized vase and hurled it in your direction. The delicate object smashed against the floor, scattering shards across the room as the man desperately pushed himself further against the living room wall. A trail of crimson followed his movements, painting a macabre path across the floor.

Undeterred, you continued your approach. In your childlike innocence, you chastised him for potentially staining the rug your mother had so recently cleaned. You even expressed concern about your father's reaction to the broken vase upon their return from their dinner date, which you expected at any moment.

"G-G-GET A-W-WAY! S-STAY BACK!" The red-eyed man's voice rose to a feverish pitch, the volume causing you to wince in discomfort. The disconnect between your perception and reality widened further. In your mind, you were simply engaging in conversation. The fact that your words emerged as menacing growls and snarls completely escaped your young, dragon-shaped consciousness.

To him, you weren’t speaking Japanese. All the man could hear was your angry growls and snarls as you encroached on him like a leopard stalking it’s prey. His eyes darted around frantically, searching for an escape.

The washing room had a door connected to the outside…if he could get past you then he would make it out of here with his life!

You took another step forward, blood squelching underneath you as you prowled towards him.

All of the man’s thoughts of escape died immediately. The you were no bigger than a Doberman, yet had teeth and claws sharper than knives. Also, you had wings. Wings. He couldn’t outrun a monster with wings!

The man waved the broken knife around your face, making you lean back. Mama always said that knives were dangerous and not to be played with.

But you were a dragon. Knives could not hurt you. Let’s end this before mothersafetylove and fatherprotectionhome get back.

Yes. That was a good idea! Beat the villain up just like the heroes on TV! That will teach him not to mess with your family!

Just like the heroes on TV. Don’t let him get away.

You wouldn’t let him get away! This robber was going down!

Once and for all.

You crouched low to the blood soaked floor, tail swaying behind you as you prepared to jump. You’d leap onto the man’s head and knock him unconscious in one fell swoop!

More than unconscious.

You’d be a hero!

You would always be a dragon.

You would always protect what is only yoursyoursyours.

No matter what it takes.

The man looked at you, teary eyes wide with a fear ingrained in all living beings: the knowledge that death was near. The brownish-black hair peeking out of his mask was sticky with dried blood. “I-I-I SAID STAY BACK!” he shrieked, dropping the shattered knife as he quaked.

You ignored the terrified man’s wail, ready to lunge at him when there was a click.

The front door opened, revealing your parents.

You stopped in place. The man let out a relieved sob.

Mama let out a choked gasp, her outfit stained as she rushed to pick you up and hold you away from the bloodied and sobbing burglar. Her eyes were so wide they resembled saucers, she never let her gaze leave you. She turned your head this way and that, trembling at the sight of blood that wasn’t yours while looking for injuries. You had none.

Papa already had a phone to his ear, voice hoarse as he called for heroes. It wouldn’t be long before sirens started to wail outside of your house as heroes took over the scene.

As you looked between your parents, you noticed something. They didn’t let you out of their sight. Never looking at the villain who broke in. Not even once.

You looked up at them, scales dried with a man’s blood while pressed against Mama’s favorite outfit, and saw the distrust in their eyes. The fear. Both directed at you.

For the first time since you got your quirk, you realized that maybe being a dragon wasn’t as cool as you thought.

You lowered your bloody head in shame, cowering against your mother for even a sliver of reassurance. You didn’t know what you did wrong, but you knew you probably did something bad.

You were a hero….right?

Letting the dragon do whatever made people scared, you had realized at a mere seven years of age. Humanity had looked at you funny when you once talked about how fun it might be to chase down foxes in the fields or attack pigeons sleeping on rooftops because all it wanted to do was funplaydowhatevereatplayplayplay.

You realized the looks now. You would never be able to forget them. So, you vowed to never transform again. Not if you could help it.

It hurt not being able shift. The other children at school always thought you were awesome and cool and a thousand other things when you were large and scaly and you. You were a child and nothing really mattered more than who wanted to play with you, what you were having for lunch, and apparently the most important factor— what your quirk was.

Who you were allowed to play with depended on how cool the other first graders thought your quirk was, because the quirkless were boring and weak. At least, that’s when everyone else said. You didn’t think quirks mattered very much. It didn’t matter what they looked like or what their quirk was, to you, if a classmate was a jerk—they were simply that. A big jerky jerk. It was totally not related to their smell connecting to their personality whatsoever. No—you are imagining things.

Your popularity had dwindled slightly when you refused to carry the other kids in your class around on your back during recess, but you didn’t care. You tried not to care, at least.

It was for the greater good, your little seven year old mind had repeated when you sat with a smaller group of friends at lunch than you had before.

You still cried about it in the security of your parents car when they picked you up.

After the robber incident and the other children at school becoming too much for you, your parents decided to homeschool you. You didn’t mind this change, and they always joked that it saved the planet from a little more car emission.

It was during one fall morning that everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong for you.

Mama was in the kitchen with you, cutting both your sandwiches into hearts while you peeled the oranges. You hummed a catchy tune you once heard on the antique radio your mother often uses, blissfully unaware of the havoc about to befall you.

Mama called out your name, “Why don’t you start molding the onigiri? Then papa can take them to work!” She cooed, the frills behind her ears shifting to a soft lavender as they gently trembled.

You looked up at her with an excited nod. "Kay!" you sang happily. Then you turned, hopped off your stool, and dragged it over to the sink to wash the orange peels from under your fingernails. Just like you were taught.

As you finished washing your hands, you noticed a strange tingling sensation in your fingers. At first, you dismissed it as nothing more than the cold water's effect, but the feeling intensified. Suddenly, your vision blurred, and you felt a horrible itchy feeling starting to spread across your head in waves until it morphed into a constant pain. You cried out for your mother, tears gathering in your eyes as you kneeled to the ground in pain. The itching only intensified, and the world became a blur of color.

Faintly, like your mind had been ripped from your body and was only left with a dull sensation, you could feel your mother wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her lap.

You tried to tell her it hurt, but all that escaped your throat was a mangled sob as the pain increased tenfold. Stars exploded across your vision in a kaleidoscope of colors. Your tiny hands tugged at your head desperately, as if it would make the pain stop even for a moment. It did not. Something large and soft grabbed your hands in their own, guiding them to wrap around what you guessed were your mother’s shoulders. You held her as tightly as you could, tears streaming down your face and wailing until you lost your voice.

You both sat on the kitchen floor for what felt like ages, motionless until the pain subsided, leaving only a dull headache as a reminder. The food remained untouched, the onigiri unmolded.

Your mother brushed her hand through your hair, whispering a lullaby that lulled you into a drowsy state. As she traced her fingers along your scalp, her confusion grew. When you were hovering between sleep and wakefulness, she felt it again—her hand pausing at the sides of your head.

Small bumps had appeared on each side, barely covered by a layer of skin.

You had begun growing horns.

You were hospitalized when your tail began to grow, nearly a year after your horns started showing. The initial pain was excruciating—so severe that you were ready to knock yourself unconscious when the over-the-counter pain medication your mother had been giving you for your horn growth pains, which had started nearly a year earlier, proved ineffective.

Mama sat in the chair beside your bed, holding your small hand in hers as she waited for the doctor to return and Papa to arrive from work.

You shifted uncomfortably beneath the crisp white sheets. Just minutes ago, the kind doctors had guided you through an X-ray machine, showing you and Mama the images with reassuring smiles.

The results revealed a new bone near your lumbar vertebrae—your lower spine. A literal tail bone, they said. You were growing a tail, little by little.

Your feelings about this were mixed. On one hand—a tail! On the other, it was a tail. And it already hurt! Your horns had barely grown two inches from your head, and you'd felt like you were being split in half the day the bone broke through skin. How long would it take for your tail to grow? You were certain it would be far more painful than growing horns.

You shuddered at the thought, your hand instinctively reaching for your lower back where the new tail was said to be starting. The doctors had warned you, with words sugar-coated for a child of nine years, about the potential discomfort, but their clinical words couldn't fully capture the reality of what you were about to experience. As you lay there in the hospital bed, a mix of anticipation and dread settled in your stomach.

You gave your mother’s hand a gentle squeeze. She squeezed right back.

You would surely be able to figure something out. The doctors could help, right? Doctors saved people. So they were heroes.

Surely there was a way to save you from the pain?

Your mother comforted you through the painful process of growing horns and a tail, a process that took years of medication and hospital visits. She understood you better than anyone; her quirk allowed her to transform into dinosaurs. You'd only ever seen her shift into herbivores, and you both silently acknowledged the reason why. This unspoken understanding formed a deep bond between you—a connection that meant everything.

Your father did his best to understand. His quirk, centered around imagination rather than transformation, made it harder for him to relate. Nevertheless, he always tried to put himself in your and your mother's shoes. These attempts often resulted in comical disasters—misty, house-sized dinosaurs and dragons flying and scampering around the property like oversized mice. Despite the chaos, you could tell that he cared deeply. And that was usually enough.

By the age of thirteen, the horns had grown farther from your head and a full tail connected to your spine, reminding you of how your quirk made you different from others. You cried often as they grew, because growing bones and muscles was painful and you hated your quirk for it. You were sure you experienced pain far worse than any child your age should ever have to go through.

As you grew older, suppressing your primal instincts—the urge to hunt, play, eat, and sleep endlessly—also became easier. Your human mind developed and matured, while the beast within remained stagnant, neither growing nor learning. This internal divide between your evolving consciousness and the unchanging animal nature that was still you in a way became more pronounced with each passing year.

Now you were sixteen years old, attending one of the most prestigious hero schools in Japan : U.A.

Because maybe, just maybe, if you saved people even as a scaly or feathery beast with claws and teeth sharp enough to pierce and kill, they’d look at you and smile in awe and feel safe. A balance to those who saw how dangerous you are and feared you for it.

In the future, as you learned your friends aspirations, It seemed like a selfish reason to become a hero compared to Ochako’s or Izuku’s dreams—but it was your motivation and you couldn’t give it up easily. You wouldn’t, or more specifically, you didn’t know how.

Everything was progressing remarkably well, exceeding your expectations of your high school life. Your classmates' reactions to your quirk were nothing short of healing. As they cautiously ran their hands over your scales, each one as large as their heads, their faces lit up with genuine wonder and excitement. It was as if they were encountering a mythical creature brought to life, struggling to reconcile the reality of your transformed state with their own eyes.

Their expressions of amazement and fascination weren't just fleeting moments of curiosity; they seemed to radiate a deep, heartfelt appreciation for your unique ability. You could see it in their wide eyes, hear it in their excited whispers, and feel it in the gentle, reverent way they touched your scales. It was a validation you had long craved but never quite expected to receive so wholeheartedly.

The warmth of their acceptance enveloped you like a comforting blanket, wrapping around your very being and soothing anxieties you didn't even realize you harbored. In that moment, basking in their genuine smiles and unguarded enthusiasm, you felt a surge of emotion so powerful it nearly overwhelmed you. You knew, with unwavering certainty, that you would go to any lengths, face any challenge, to preserve those smiles and maintain that acceptance. The thought of anything encompassed a vast realm of possibilities, and you were prepared to explore every one of them if it meant keeping your classmates looking at you with that same wonder and joy.

All seemed well until you closed your eyes, nestled under the warm blanket. In that moment of vulnerability, you unwittingly lowered your guard—precisely when you needed it most.

That’s when it chose to strike.

[vani-ash]

AHHH your kimchay post about kim pretending to be poor made me crack up so much!! <3

but can I just make a tiny tiny suggestion: how funny would it be if chay actually knew kim was pretending from the time in the restaurant?

at first chay's mad that kim is "tricking" him so he decides to keep pretending to see how long kim is going to keep the charade up. and kim just... keeps... pretending and like his horrible empty apartment confuses chay so much (maybe cuz he spots kim in a mall one day dressed in like designer clothes, stepping out of his fancy lamborghini so why does kim own an apartment in that horrid neighbourhood?) and in the process of pretending chay realises that kim is nothing like all the rich people he hates and he kind of ends up falling for his stupidly handsome face but like... how... is chay... going to break the news to kim that he's known all along that he's rich???!?

(so kimchay get locked in a mutual deception where neither of them realise the other knows the truth and can't tell each other because they've just gone on too long now. XD)

Original post

I'm glad you liked it anon! 🥰💛 i love the idea of Kim just constantly digging himself deeper unknowingly 😭😭😭

But I want Chay to be oblivious during the dinner but what if when they leave the restaurant Kim's like hey two secs the waiter needed to talk to me i'll be right back and Chay nods and then after a couples minutes decides he needs the bathroom so he goes and then when he comes out of the bathroom he over hears Kim and the waiter talking and the waiter is like 'of course Khun Theerapanyakul' and like bows and stuff and Chay's like (in his head) 'Theerapanyakul??? 🤨 isn't that that super rich family???'

anyway he doesn't say anything right away and they end the date and its all cute and nice and Kim had been perfectly sweet this whole time and hasn't acted like any of the other rich assholes Chay had known so he lets it slide and he's willing to just cut Kim off after the date and ghost him.

So he goes a few days (weeks?) not replying to anything Kim sends him and Kim sends messages like 'I know youre probably working lots, make sure your eating well, miss you ❤️'

and then just as Chay came to terms with not seeing Kim again cause he did really enjoy being with Kim, he sees Kim at one of the high end shopping centers, luxury sports car, decked in high fashion clothing brands and expensive jewelry, Chay even sees that Kim has body guards??? Chay is glad he dogged that bullet he's sure Kim would've eventually turned into a rich asshole and it was just a trick.

But then Chay follows Kim for a little (at a distance. something that's plausible cause it is a giant shopping center) he watches Kim eat at one of the fancy cafes, he's polite to the servers, he even stacks the plates and stuff before leaving. (Chay thinks back to one of their dates where he took Kim to a fast food place and remembers how Kim seemed hesitant to eat it and ordered a small portion, at the time he thought it was cause Kim was broke but now he thinks its cause Kim probably hated the cheap fast food but he still ate it, for Chay.)

Someone accidentally walks into Kim at one point and Chay expects him to get mad and yell like every other rich asshole would, but he doesn't. The day continues like that. He sees Kim buy some make up and one of the shop keepers accidentally spills something on him and once again Chay expects Kim to get annoyed and berate them, but he doesn't.

Chay decides to finally respond to Kim. He watches Kim's face light up as he pulls his phone out and reads Chay's message, and now Chay feels bad about ghosting Kim so he gives an excuse about being sick or something and Kim texts back he'll come over and nurse Chay to health.

(Chay rushes home cause kim wouldnt take no for an answer and then when Kim does arrive in completely different clothes than what he was wearing at the shop and with no jewelry in sight Kim aslo gives Chay a gift that Chay had seen Kim spend about an hour going through the shop deliberating on buying, chay didnt know how much it cost but it was probably expensive but not something he would think was expensive if he hadn't seen the shop kim brought it from. He thinks Kim is even more adorable.)

And then Chay just never figures out how to tell Kim he knows Kim isn't poor. But every time he sees Kim act like it he has to hold in his laughter. The derelict apartment? The clear second hand clothes? Chay thinks how hard kim is trying to keep up this act is both endearing but also kinda frustrating. He regrets going on that rant about hating rich people cause he knows Kim probably feels like if he admits who he is or Chay will hate him, but also the longer Kim keeps it a secret the deeper a hole he thinks he's digging.

Chay knows he's gonna have to be the one to admit he knows but what if Kim gets mad Chay let him struggle to pretend to be poor?

Chay does set up little 'traps' for Kim to expose he's rich but also Kim is kinda oblivious and doesn't realise that what he just did outs him as rich so the game continues for way longer than it should