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strawbeerossi · 11 months

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If You Leave Me

Pairing: Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After coming home, Spencer has nightmares of his wife leaving him after the weight of prison weighs on him after his release.

Content Warnings: Depression, mentions of problems with eating, nightmares, fear of abandonment, mention of parental abandonment, spoilers for the prison arc, mentions of blood and being beaten, anxiety, there’s a panic attack, general angst, light fluff towards the end

Word Count: 1.4K

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'The Show' is so amazing, so I might make more based on each song on the album.

“Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future.” John F Kennedy.

Spencer had faced change for his whole life. Between his father leaving him with no explanation when he was a child to his mother’s schizophrenia spiralling, he was the poster child for adapting to the plethora of things that life can throw at you and making the best of things.

Child abandonment coupled with a mother whose illness was worsening, there was a lot of pressure on him at a young age. Spencer wanted to take care of his mother, make sure she was safe and sound. He enjoyed lying with her and reading, spending his time with the woman who he cared for. He struggled with making many friends.

Not a lot of high schoolers want to be friends with a twelve-year-old child prodigy. He was the target of relentless bullying, his safest place being home where he could read in the comfort of his own bedroom.

Most children who had any form of trauma as a child turned out to be psychopaths, incapable of empathy and most who exhibited those symptoms were serial killers, he was quite the opposite. Spencer would say that he turned out alright.

Three PHDs, being a supervisory special agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, as well as being a literal genius. He had a team of people who loved him dearly, a good amount of godchildren who he adored, as well as a beautiful wife who did so much for him.

When Spencer was imprisoned, his experience killed a piece of him. The once sweet, innocent Dr. Spencer Reid was now a man who was more prone to showing his complex emotions, his temperament changing. He wasn’t nearly as talkative, he was having a harder time processing things that used to take him mere seconds to understand. It was why they had placed him on a weird schedule; every one hundred days spent in the field would have thirty days off following behind. He thought it was the stupidest decision they made.

Despite all of his protests, nobody would hear him out. It brought on the thoughts of him being untrustworthy. After all, he did kill Nadie Ramos. He may have been under the influence of drugs but that didn’t excuse a damn thing. He killed her with his bare hands.

That haunted him. The fact that he could be capable of madness, capable of murder. It didn’t help that soon after, he was producing a tampered batch of drugs that he was being forced to push within those four cement walls.

Everyone told him that it wasn’t his fault, that some people were pushed to dark acts in order to ensure their survival. After all, a federal agent in the general population sector was a huge target, someone who would have a lot of enemies. Too many enemies.

After his release, there came a plethora of emotions. Y/N was a saint, patient as could be and more loving than he ever could’ve hoped for. Even when he was dissociating into his mind to shield him from all too familiar territory, she was right there. It had gotten to a point where he severely depended on her, the attachment so strong that he would follow her around the house as if he were a kitten who needed constant attention.

Dinner was hard, the man having to be reminded that he could take his time to eat and he had no risk of someone coming and taking it whether he allowed them to or not. There were nights where he wouldn’t take a packet of cookies from his wife, stressing over having to ‘pay her back’. It took a lot to break him out of that routine.

Don’t get him started on the nightmares. They were vivid, placing him back to the night when he was beaten in prison or to the day where Luis Delgado had his throat slit in front of him because of his own choices. It was like he could still feel the warmth of the crimson blood staining his hands in the failed attempt to stop the bleeding.

In addition to nightmares that were filled with blood and violence, there was another recurring nightmare. One that killed him more than any sort of guilt of association ever could. It started out the same way every time, he would come in the house after a long winded case. There would be a lot of stress on his shoulders, a tightening in his chest because of the fact the case didn’t end the way the team had anticipated. He would then walk into the kitchen, where Y/N would be waiting for him. There was no sweet greeting, no kiss against his lips while she hugged him and cried about missing him.

Instead there was a tense silence, the usually warm apartment freezing. She would turn to him, her eyes filled with exhaustion, no glimmer of love shining over them as they faced one another.

“I can’t do this anymore. You aren’t who you used to be, this time by myself has made me realize that I am much happier without you here. I don’t have to coddle you, treat you like a baby. I just can’t bring myself to love you anymore.”

Spencer was waking up in a cold sweat, his body jolting upwards on the mattress while his other hand was quickly, yet cautiously reaching beside him to feel his wife’s shoulder. The touch had Y/N stirring awake, a gentle frown on her face. “Spencer?” Her voice was filled with drowsiness, her hands slowly pushing her to sit up on her knees while her free hand was leaning over to turn on the bedside lamp.

Any form of annoyance from drowsiness was wiped away when she noticed her husband’s state. His face was drenched in sweat, his chest was heaving from the impending anxiety attack, he was unable to talk as his body trembled. “Shh, hey.” Y/N whispered as she was shuffling closer, pulling back the duvet so she could carefully pull her husband into her arms.

Her fingers were threading through the messy curls, a weak sigh leaving her lips as she could feel his arms tightly wrap around her torso, practically squeezing the life out of her.

“I’m here. It’s okay, baby, I promise. Luis dream again?” She asked softly, her lips pressing a kiss to the crown of his skull.

“You left.” His voice was hoarse, the tears joining in soaking his face the same way that the sweat had done over the course of the night. “Baby..” Y/N whispered while her fingers were lightly scratching over his scalp, her cheek resting against his head as she was being hugged tightly, as if she would disappear if Spencer let her go. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that.” Her words were dipped in that sweet assurance, her eyes slowly fluttering shut.

Spencer faced enough people who abandoned him in his life with little to no explanation, she could never be added to that list. He spent three long and gruelling months in a maximum security prison for a murder that he was pushed into doing under the influence of a drug that Cat Adams and Lindsey Vaughn got their hands on.

This wasn’t like he was a man who snapped and murdered an innocent woman because of deterioration of his sanity. He was absolutely nothing like the men and women he hunted down for his job, she tried to push that every time that she could. “You’re a good man, you know that. I would be a fool to leave you.” She said softly.

As her body was eventually laying down against the mattress, she couldn’t help but smile once Spencer quickly followed her movements. Her legs were spreading in order to invite him between them, the male laying on top of her as his head was against her chest. “There we go..” She cooed softly, her fingers continuing to comb through the tousled curls.

With his cheek now smashed against his wife’s chest, he listened to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

The drumbeat mixed his wife’s sweet words of assurance and the warmth of her love radiating against him was enough to have Spencer starting to drift off to sleep.

How did he manage to get so lucky to have a woman who wouldn’t give up on him?

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juneknight · 7 months

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Hand Covers Mouth

Kink: sex pollen/aphrodisiac

About this: Takes place during canon events, Steven/fem!reader, Marc/fem!reader.

Let’s split up, Layla had said. She tacked on a hurried, ‘You with Steven? Be careful!’ before nearly sprinting off down a tunnel, leaving you (her scowling friend) and Steven (a mesmerized puppy) alone in a sandy tomb.

Look, you understood it was complex. Steven shared a body with her (soon to be? Possibly?) ex-husband, after all; but in your mind, that gave her even more of a reason to be the one responsible for him. Absently, your hand reaches down to lay your palm on the holster where your gun rests. You have no doubt that Harrow’s minions would kill without qualm. While you would not find it so easy to digest, you would do whatever you had to, to keep yourself safe.

To keep Steven safe. No matter what—

“What are you doing?” you ask at a frantic whisper. Steven is barely visible in the darkness where he is brushing sand and dust, centuries of time away from the hieroglyphics on the wall.

He glances back over his shoulder at you, giving you his typical expression of an adorable animal who fears they are about to be on the receiving end of a harsh kick in the rump, but who is so thrilled by their own discovery that they hardly care. He points to the wall.

“Reading these hieroglyphics,” says Steven. “Think they might be important.”

You glance toward the wall. You are not like Steven or Layla, able to read the symbols. You did not have the same practical and personal education which they had so tediously earned for themselves over the years. At the base of the wall sits a gilded table, the bottom of each leg morphing into the paw of some great cat. Some of the items around it are unrecognizable, turned to rubble, after so many years. But resting on top of it, there are a set of neat little figurines inlaid with moldavite, glittering black in the darkness.

“You don’t think—the ushabti?”

“Not likely,” Steven admits with a frown. “But some of the wall has crumbled here, can’t make out the rest, can I? It does say that this is powerful. Maybe we should take these to Layla and have her look at them.”

You fight the urge to scowl again. Layla. Steven was always trailing after Layla…

Alright, perhaps you had another reason for being so sour at Steven’s mention of your closest friend. How could you help being enamored with him, with his big brown eyes, with his undying enthusiasm, with his gentle heart and scathing wit? But Steven didn’t look at you like that. He was always too busy looking at Layla.

When you look at him, the expression of hope on his face is painful. You do your best to bite back any sarcastic or caustic replies. He truly doesn’t deserve them. It isn’t his fault he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings.

“We don’t have time to hunt down Layla with every artifact we find,” you remind him gently. “And we don’t have time to search every little artifact for significance, either.”

He leans against the wall, like some suave Don Juan from a movie.

“Life’s about stopping to smell the roses, love, or stopping to find the roses if no roses immediately present—oh—oh bugger.” Steven slips, more of the wall crumbling away beneath the weight of his elbow. He stumbles into the little golden table—and off go all three of the little figurines, smashing into brittle pieces on the stone floor, the sound deafening in the silence around you.

“Oh my gods,” Steven says, both hands coming up to clutch at his curls. “Oh no, I deserve prison. Oh look what I’ve done—these were thousands of years old and I just destroyed them—”

“Steven—” Your words die in your throat. Your heart begins to race, breathing becoming fast and shallow. He looks up at you from where he has knelt on the floor in anxious guilt over the figurines, and you see something in his eyes which you can’t identify. Something sharp. Something hungry.

Then he blinks.

In the distance, you hear the sound of voices calling, none of them the familiar timber of Layla. He reaches out with the reflexes of a snake and grabs you around the waist, dragging you down to his position. One hand—warm, tasting faintly of sweat and sand—clamps over your mouth as he drags you back against his body, making both of your positions smaller as you hide behind a pillar.

Against your back, he is hard.

“Quit it,” he hisses lowly in your ear, and that’s when you realize that it isn’t Steven at all. That posh British accent has dissolved into something relaxed and loose, a Chicagoan accent that you’ve never heard before but would recognize anywhere. Marc. His words register secondarily, and you realize that you are writhing against him, literally arching your back to try to rub your aching cunt against the hard line of his cock.

A whine slips past his hand, and he lets out an angry, shaking breath against the crook of your neck. His free hand reaches around and slips right down the front of your pants. By the time he is cupping your sex with his broad palm, you are soaking wet, aching, already working towards that blissful crest even with the only stimulation being in your own mind.

“It must have been an aphrodisiac,” Marc whispers, barely audible over the raging pulse in your ears. “If I give you some fingers, can you be quiet until they’re gone?”

You nod, exaggeratedly. Truthfully, you aren’t sure. You just know that you would say anything, agree to anything to have any one of his fingers inside you.

He gives you two. You cum straight away, eyes rolling back, pussy clenching around his digits tightly. Marc gives a choked breath at the sensation of your walls squeezing and squeezing his fingers. His hips work once, twice, three times against the curve of your ass and then he stiffens himself, a breathless, nearly inaudible sound of pleasure passing through his lips.

The sweetest fucking sound you’ve ever heard.

The voices in the distance begin to fade away—the sweetest silence.

Then you have a mouthful of sand, Marc’s hand between your shoulder blades pinning you into the ground. You hear the clinking of his belt as he frantically tries to loosen it, and you wiggle your hands beneath you looking for the fasten of your own pants.

“Didn’t want it to go like this,” he says through clenched teeth. You can’t even imagine his expression: something hard and desperate. You wonder if he took over for Steven forcefully or if Steven retreated, anxious at the potent desire that the aphrodisiac evoked in him. “Didn’t want our first time to be like this—”

“Is he okay?” you whisper, working your pants and underwear down at once, arching your back for him. He still has on his boxers, but he’s grown desperate: hands gripping your hips, thighs snapping against the back of your own as he simulates sex with you. Marc makes a perplexed sound. Fuck, his cock feels good, even covered by soft cotton that you’re drenching with your own slick. You struggle for a moment to remember your question. “Steven—is he okay?”

“Steven is—fucking great,” Marc says, laughing a little derisively. “Trust me. Steven’s been wanting to fuck you since the moment he saw you. There’s a little place in my head where’s he’s beating off furiously, I’m sure—”

“You’re such a dick,” you gasp.

“I’ll show you dick, gonna give you mine,” he mutters through his teeth, finally working down his boxers. “Gonna fuck that girlish expression you give Steven all the time right off your face, gonna make it so every time you look at him, you’re thinking about how good my cock fills you.”

“His cock,” you breathe, arching your back more, fingers curling in the sand and scratching the stone beneath. “His cock too.”

“Yeah yeah,” says Marc testily, finally resting the head of his cock at your entrance. He slips in with one devastating, life-changing thrust. “We’ll test that theory when I let him out for his turn.”

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader

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lcvernat · 2 years

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Doodles | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha has a habit of drawing on your hand whenever she’s bored.

Word Count: 692

Content Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, too much fluff actually

A/N: i’ve returned. probably. hopefully. maybe. thought i’d come back with a bang aka a very very short (writing over 1k words rn is frankly impossible i’m sorry) but sickeningly sweet little fic. i got this idea from a cute gif i saw and thought it was cuteee so… enjoy! also happy international lesbian day to my fellow lesbians, we rock.

Natasha Romanoff was many things. A complex woman of many layers, and very few got to uncover all of them. Even you were still constantly finding out new things about her. A recent quirk that you had discovered was her love for doodling on your hand. She’d only started doing it recently: during meetings when she was bored, on the Quinjet to get rid of the post-mission jitters, and generally anytime you were near her.

A few months ago, the team was sat in a particularly boring mission. So boring, in fact, that you would have much rather been in your room tackling the mountain of paperwork on your desk than sat listening to Steve blabber on about God knows what (you’d stopped listening about halfway through). Someone lightly taking ahold of your hand and the tickling sensation of a pen gliding across your skin was what brought you out of your daydream and into the present.

You looked at your girlfriend, Natasha, to find her occupied with drawing a little heart on your hand. “What are you doing?” You whispered, briefly glancing up at Steve then looking back at Natasha when you were satisfied that he wasn’t looking.

“Doodling,” she said simply, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on drawing various little stars, hearts and smiley faces all over your hand. You smiled at her, even though she couldn’t see it, before entering your daydream again, more than content to let your girlfriend busy herself with turning your hand into her own personal canvas.

That was when it had started, and it kept happening more and more frequently to the point that your hand was constantly covered in various little doodles and you had started to carry a pen around with you at all times incase Nat ever needed it. The team had started to take notice of Natasha’s little habit but no one dared question her on it. Steve had tried once, to reprimand her on not listening during a meeting, and she had sent him such a withering stare that you swore you quite literally saw the 6’1 super soldier shrink into himself in fear. She returned to drawing her cute doodles as if she hadn’t nearly just sent Captain America running as Steve awkwardly regained his composure before picking up where he left off in his speech. No one ever mentioned the newly gained habit after that.

Day after day, new drawings would appear on your hand. Old ones would get washed away, only to instantly get replaced by fresh doodles. They started to get more eccentric after time: stick figures of the two of you, funny drawings of various Avengers (she’d drawn a surprisingly good drawing of Clint sleeping once with drool at the side of his mouth. You had to try your hardest to cover that up for the rest of the day), and she’d even started to leave little messages on your hand that ranged from ‘I love you’ to ‘Tony’s hair looks weird today’.

You found it completely adorable, and you cherished the various drawings she done and the little messages she left you. Even though the redhead had already enraptured you, mind body and soul, letting her draw on you was your way of telling her that you were hers and she could do whatever she wanted with you. Natasha could draw on every inch of your skin and you’d let her.

Natasha Romanoff was many things, and you had never painted her as an artist before, but you had quickly learned to never be surprised when she unveiled another part of herself to you. You love her, everything about her, all the little quirks that only you notice because you pay just that much attention to her and all of the quirks about her that you haven’t yet discovered. Everything about her is a masterpiece that you can’t tear your eyes away from, and you find you don’t want to. You want to untangle every part of her, learn everything you can possibly learn about her, because she’s yours. Forever and always.

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz

dm me, send me an ask or reply to be added to my taglist!

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff comfort #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader

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walkawaytall · 5 months

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No, but I continue to be salty about the fact that someone decided it was canon for Poe to not meet Leia until he was an adult.

I just feel like him being the kid of two people she and Han knew, him losing his mother so young…it’s like solid plot points, motivations, and drama were just laid out on a silver platter and everyone was like, “Nah, we’ll make this make less sense and also worse.”

Like, we never even got specific motivation from Ben about why he’s so bitter about Han in particular (okay, at least not that I remember. I admittedly haven’t seen any of the sequel trilogy in nearly four years, but what I recall was some one-off vague comment about Han not being around that sounded about like the reason every kid in every ‘90s movie with a Busy Business Dad would give for why their father wasn’t at a soccer game or whatever).

You know what would be more interesting? Han and Leia — both orphans themselves, and Leia twice over — doing their best to help Kes out after Shara dies, taking Poe on a weekend every-so-often, whatever, so he and Ben are basically cousins. And, like, Poe’s interested in ships, right, because his mother was a pilot and that’s what he wants to be, and Han’s more than happy to talk shop with the kid for as long as his attention span lasts. And when Ben’s, like, five he could not possibly care less about this, but as he gets older, he misinterprets common interest as abject favoritism of Poe or even a sort of rejection of himself because, while Han absolutely tries, he’s never going to fully understand the Jedi stuff and talking about flying is simple for him.

And Leia and Poe bond over old Rebellion stuff. He wants to hear about Shara and wants more stories to ask his dad about once he goes home and Ben’s kind of over it, so it’s just another area where he feels like his parents are better-bonded with someone who isn’t him. It’s not negligence or actual favoritism or rejection; it’s a complicated situation where Han and Leia are trying to do right by both boys and misunderstandings and hurt feelings ensue because kids don’t always see the big picture or whatever. And also I’m sure Han and Leia make mistakes, but they also want to be there for an old friend and this child who they have known his entire life who lost his mother — their friend and colleague — way, way too young.

And it would continue to add to the complex feelings Ben has about his mother when she starts another rebellion, which is already complicated for him, but then he finds out that Dameron kid, who’s basically family but also who he has a lot of bitterness toward, is not only involved in this rebellion; he’s kind of Leia’s go-to guy. So, Ben’s become the monster his mother always feared resided in her own blood while Poe’s a shiny, good-guy pilot just like Shara…just like Han.

Wouldn’t that have been more interesting than “My dad was never there for vague reasons, Rey, plz feel bad for me”?

Anyway, I said it when I talked about my Ewok makeover montage idea and I’ll say it again: I should be in charge of more things.

#Star Wars #sequel trilogy #leia organa #han solo #poe dameron #kes dameron #shara bey #kylo ren #ben solo

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daybreakxfamily · 1 year

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Two Peas In a Pod

I was to first start out saying, I'm so sorry about the long hiatus! Since building my new Pc, I lost a lot of older files in the transfer and had to start up again from scratch and redownload a lot of stuff from my old laptop. That and I haven't written in forever due to personal events and work related reasons.

That being said, this one was requested a while back. I had it written but it must have slipped my mind as I never posted it.

A Clingy!Reader with Yuri! I hope I satisfied your needs.

tw: little OOC

✧ You and Yuri had first started as friends at school, no one really talked to you other than to be in good terms. So because you didn’t have any real close friends during school days, Yuri- who was your deskmate at the time- became one of the few people you talked to daily.

✧ Yuri started pressing your buttons and soon you became more comfortable with his presence and even entertained his ideals and dreams, he was a young man with potential and desires. You thought nothing more of him until he brought up how he wants you to be a part of his dream and be there with him. The mer statement had made you nearly choke on your own drink, slamming the carton into the brittle wood that was your table.

✧ It surprised you since there was no malice in his words and his eyes held nothing but care and generosity. It was then that the two of you became closer friends, leaving you to start your new journey on how to be a good friend.

✧ Years have passed and with Yuri’s help, you’ve made new friends other then him. But Yuri still stayed as your closest, your best friend if anything. To the point where you stopped thinking of him as a ‘friend’ but rather yearning for more. It didn’t help that many of the things he would say or did for you always felt more genuine and real than how he was with your peers. If anything, you compare his behavior to being on par with that of how he holds his sister on a pedestal.

✧ He made you feel special, and you started seeking that attention and yearning for those kind of feelings. It was warm, like a lit fireplace in a cabin during the winter nights, one that you’d reach out towards and sigh in relief and pleasant thought. It was hard not to act on your instincts, in fear of reading too much into his touches and whispers.

✧ The both of you lived in the same apartment complex by pure chance, so Yuri makes it a habit of dropping by for dinner when he has the time. On the rare chance you’ve fallen ill, gifts for you would suddenly be dropped on your doorstep, filled to the brim with medicines and sweets to pass time. In return, you’d drop by with baked goods or just to have a drink, albite you try to monitor his drinking since he tends to act out in a drunken stupor.

✧ It was in one of his drunken stupors that you discovered his feelings for you, but you pretended to not have heard as you wished for him to tell you himself, when he was not drunk. But that still made you grow more attached to the gentlemen. After all, a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts and desires.

✧ Sometimes, while at work, you would have daydreams about dating Yuri or just being by his side. It’s always embarrassing to get caught by a co-worker as they knew something was on your mind and that you had a long-term crush on someone, but it makes you blush more at the thought that you can’t get him out of your mind. Even more so that people would know when you would be thinking of him, thankfully none of your co-workers knew him properly to rat you out.

✧ Since you’re such close friends, He’d often ask you out on an outing. It’s not a date, but seeing as he gives you small presents like simple jewelry and flowers, you can’t help but think they could be.

✧ Outings made you nervous, knowing how handsome Yuri is and how he’s still a single man, a lot of women have there eyes on him and it scares you to think that he would leave you for another. So on these outings, you can’t help but reach out to his sleeve and hold on tight as to ‘not get lost’. Yuri will then pull you closer and have you hold his bicep, a concerned look in his eyes whenever you gasp or stumble, leaving him to hold you gently as to not trip over your shaky legs.

✧ The alarm bells in your head ring as a fire lit in your stomach. You felt like vomiting out your breakfast but also felt light on your feet, as if you could blow away with the spring breeze. Heart beating so fast that it could compare to the wing-beat of a love dove.

✧ Yuri is your everything, you just hope that one day you can confess your love for him as he had done for you. Thought, not that he was aware that he did… or does he?

[04/30/2023]

SpyxFamily belong to Tatsuya Endo*

#forged files #yuri briar #yuri briar x reader #headcanons #nonbinary reader #gn!reader #not me looking at the last post to see the large 7 month break inbetween #spyxfamliy

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sukunasbabygirl · 1 year

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On a serious note with Percy’s character, I think part of the reason I myself am drawn to him is because he’s a very good portrayal of PTSD, especially because he touches on the aspects of it media tends to cover less.

PTSD, especially Complex PTSD, can often cause a person to do things that don’t just harm themselves, but harm others as well. It can sometimes, from personal experience, feel like there is a monster inside of you or that you a monster wearing a person’s skin. With C-PTSD, which is what Percy likely suffers from, there especially tends to be a difficulty with self identification, as that long-lasting trauma and repeated stress has made you unable to fully recognise who you were before as it has practically shaped your person.

Percy is not a good person either. He’s more akin to a bad person trying to do good things, someone very morally grey. You can, of course, still be a good person with trauma, just as much as you can be a bad one, although that’s a simplification of it. The point is, there are no rules as to where you end up after experiencing something traumatic - it differs. Percy, in this case, is someone who seeks vengeance to an unhealthy degree and his morals tend to rest in a very blurry, grey area because of that. He is someone filled with anger and resentment and he can bottle that up, but eventually he completely loses it and it all spills over. He is shown to be visibly scared and panicked, but he is also shown to be aggressive and unhinged, and these are things that can and do co-exist with PTSD.

He kills his tormentors in an act of revenge and does so mercilessly, believing his actions completely justified, whether they are is a question for another day, but the point here is that Percy walks a fine line where he nearly becomes more like his tormentors. That is an experience that hits very close to home. And what I appreciate is that even after defeating Orthax, he doesn’t stop being like this. Yes, he stops his plans for revenge and manages to calm down a bit, but you can still see the trauma evident in the way he acts*, he isn’t suddenly better by defeating his inner demons, those demons go beyond a physical manifestation. Trauma doesn’t just go away, and with C-PTSD - PTSD too for that matter - because these events have shaped your life, it’s very common for them to always be there, even if you’ve managed to heal.

* Editing just to clarify that his behaviours in season two and more subtle and he seems to be back in the repressing a majority of his emotions phase. His fear of being abandoned and his impulsive behaviours are definitely still visible though and he overcompensates a lot to make up for what happened with Vex, which, considering he was in his late teens when his family died, and he’s barely in his twenties now, it’s likely he, as many traumatised individuals do, puts blame on himself for what happened to his family as a way of processing and coping, and so to have killed Vex, that’s another person he’s responsible for. The overcompensating is another thing that hits painfully close to home. He’s not suddenly better in s2 but he’s also probably scared to express himself negatively anymore after what happened previously, and thats just as harmful for him, and it won’t end well. So I’m hoping season three addresses that.

Percy shows a range of the different effects trauma has, from a scared boy to a man filled with destructive anger, and I’m glad. Every time we get a portrayal of trauma that shows all the sides of the coin, whether they be ‘pretty’ or not, I gain a few extra years to my lifespan.

This is about the show specifically as I am still not on the Briarwood arc of the campaign, but perhaps I’ll add more to this when I do reach to that point.

#critical role #vox machina #the legend of vox machina #tlovm #percy de rolo #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #character analysis #cw ptsd #cw trauma #(tagging these just in case as I am not sure how to properly tag these sorts of posts)

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rawliverandgoronspice · 11 months

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I absolutely love your analysis of the gerudo and Ganondorf because they put into words what bothers me about how TOTK portrays Ganondorf. That being they remove his agency as a character in favor of having some great evil against the good guys.

[Major story spoilers ahead for the end of the game]

At the end of the game, when you’ve defeated Ganondorf, he swallows the secret stone and becomes a dragon, like Zelda, fully knowing the consequences of what happens when that happens. And it’s just kinda left me with a bitter taste in my mouth? In the context of the story it makes sense, he’s portrayed as a egomaniac who just wants to destroy Hyrule. But compared to other versions of him, this one just feels more openly biased against him and the gerudo, with no reason or justification other than “he’s evil, hate him.” As far as I can tell… They never really show us that he’s done anything horrible or deserving of being feared before the show of fealty cutscene, other than not submit to Hyrule, attack them once, and generally have bad vibes. It feels forced how much they want us to hate him and the people who follow him. I’m not saying character in video games always have to be nuanced or complex but comparing like, Wind Waker Ganondorf next to TOTK Ganondorf…. 🙃 Waste of an excellent design imo.

Heyyy sorry for being a billion years late with this ask!! I was busy finishing the game!!! among other things!!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I'm super happy it resonated with you in that way!

I mean, the whole draconification plot beat doesn't really work for me. Like yeah, sure it's sad that Zelda is now a giant dragon and it's cool to have her soaring above your head while you have no idea where she actually is (a situation that isn't nearly tapped into enough in the narrative imo, like it gets obvious way too fast if you happen upon the wrong memory, etc), and I actually think the whole sequence of you removing the Master Sword from her head was the best scene in the entire game in terms of mood and emotions --even THOUGH it would have been so much better with a stronger story and stronger stakes-- BUT. How does that build up thematically?

I think what doesn't work for the Zelda side of this plot point (I'll get to Ganon next) is that... she doesn't make that choice. It's not like she's being tempted by an easy way out and decides to sacrifice herself for the sake of Hyrule or Link or whoever: she has no choice in the matter. Her powers activate (?? somehow? once and never again also, talk about dropped plot threads), she finds herself in the past, is the passive witness to a bunch of shit that only tangientially relates to her --it's like she's visiting estranged family in a foreign country and watch their drama awkwardly before being dragged into it against her will even though she was just trying to renew her passport and get back home (if there had been any callback to her relationship with her father it would have landed better, but it's just completely ignored so vOv). Then her relatives all die or corrupt or something, and she still can't get back home. What is she meant to do besides draconify? Grow old and die in the past? What would that accomplish?? Her adventures in the past are just basically about solving a shrine puzzle with a particularly weird solution --but the game treats it like a huge sacrifice when it's basically her only way out, and she lost absolutely nothing making that sacrifice (and then she... cries about the weird family drama? sure. Honestly I think it would have worked better if the tears were Rauru's, it's his bullshit everyone is dealing with right? He's the one who feels broken and aggrieved by the whole thing.)

So, if we ignore the draconification precedent builds up to zero thing thematically beyond cheap drama that reveals nothing about neither the characters nor the world, I think Ganondorf's case is a little more compelling because he does make a choice here: dying as he tries to achieve his weird lofty goals (and fail), or postpone his victory eternally by sacrificing his objectives but reject death and defeat --while also barring himself from victory. In a better crafted story, this could be utterly excellent and it feels very Ganondorf to me. BUT, my beef with that plot beat isn't that he chooses the second option, making him kinda active for the first time in the entire game (and makes an appropriate hideous smile: *loved* this second one, the first one didn't land for me but this one really captures the ecstatic insanity and transcendance and desperate madness of the act --I have nothing against Ganondorf offputting smiles and cackles when they feel earned, and the Sonia one just... doesn't to me, it just feels like weird rigging and mesh deformation choices getting out of control).

My problem is that his existence as a dragon contradicts everything we knew about dragons before --both for him and for Zelda. I thought the big issue with draconification was that you'd lose yourself to the act entirely, and would become this sort of organic landmark of infinite power and eternal life but without will to act on your precedent goals and understanding of yourself. But the second the big man becomes an evil dragon, suddenly Zelda zips in to the rescue (apparently remembering who you are? understanding she's meant to fight Ganondorf? I mean, this kind of works emotionally as a climactic ending and the power of love or whatever, again it would have worked better in a better story), and Ganondorf is still very much into destroying the world as well as you and Zelda.

Also, he's very definitively mortal (and he has the stone on his head again? And so if you destroy it you destroy his immortality? why???)

So... What I dislike here is the suggestion that he was somehow so evil and rotten and bad that all of these rare moments of interesting worldbuilding and ambivalence gets completely swallowed in the bossfight logic, making his choice (and Zelda's) completely meaningless in retrospect.

also: let Zelda remain a dragon you cowards, that way Hyrule gets any sort of chance to escape and reimagine its horrying eternal monarchy instead of re-establishing it even harder than before!!!

#totk #totk spoilers #totk critical #asks #tloz #zelda #ganondorf #any change to the statut quo emotionally is so unbearable to this game's writing it's so weird #the dragon thing is a cool idea but I'm not sure it should have involved zelda tbh #if it had been rauru's thing while mineru held ganondorf in place it would have worked better in my opinion #I feel like this leads to much better character arcs and make mineru more of a character #and someone we could connect to much more than rauru #something

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love-beyond-space-war · 7 months

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hi requesting a washxreader short sorry where they're trying to keep their relationship a secret but fail miserably, could be set during freelancer or with the reds and blues. thank you!!

I felt it would be cute to write for new and young Washington for this. So have this short where you and Wash try to have a secret relationship (you're bad at it). Sorry if this wasn't what you wanted, I wasn't sure what to do, as a result I didn't really like how it came out? :(

Professionalism

Agent Washington x Reader (Project Freelancer Era)

Synopsis: It's not uncommon for those in Project Freelancer to be close friends or even see each other as siblings. However, when it comes to you and Agent Washington, you care for each other much more than that. You may both think no one knows... but in reality, nearly everyone does.

Content Warnings: Romantic Pairing, Gender-Neutral Reader/Male Character, Secret relationship, Poor attempts at secret affection, Kissing, Slight clingy behavior, You're just two cute love birds, Carolina x York mention.

Complex relationships were a common sight in Project Freelancer. Many agents had their own circle of friends, they have their own enemies, typical behavior expected of a private community.

Many saw others as friends. Many saw others as siblings. Many saw others as rivals. Although, very few saw each other romantically for the sake of professionalism or the fear of being attached.

That was the case between you and Wash.

How could you not fall for him? He may not be the best agent out there... but he's kind and compassionate. Naive, too.

You were drawn to him... he even felt the same towards you. The issue was keeping things secret. For the sake of professionalism you tried your best.

You often only showed more intimate affection in private. Even then it was just kissing or heartfelt conversation. You two even tried to sneak in affectionate gestures when no one was looking. It was your little guilty pleasure.

One you thought was quite secret... in reality, it was easy to tell.

Many close to either you or Wash could tell you had a close relationship towards each other. Constant meetings in private, hand holding, and the tendency to lean on one another was a dead give away. That and the fact the both of you looked so melancholy away from one another.

It was clear you were love birds.

Nearly everyone knew it.

It was actually nearly comedic to see you try to hide it. Wash, being the naive and innocent agent, often couldn't help going on and on about you when asked. Meanwhile you often went shy when Wash was brought up.

You were both capable of being serious soldiers in Project Freelancer. You knew when to cut things out if you had to. Just when you had down time... no one was blind to you two being gone.

Yet many knew York cared for Carolina in a similar way. It just so happens you and Wash are the other close pair in Project Freelancer. Usually it's no one's business.

Although there tends to be teasing.

York tends to tease Washington about his feelings towards you. Washington often tries to tell him to knock it off but York reassures him he's just teasing. Your friend group of agents tends to do the same thing.

At some point in your relationship you both know it's no longer secret. You still never dared to announce it or make affection more open. You still preferred to hide away and be with each other that way.

You liked it this way. Wash tended to be a more secretive person anyways. There was just something about being alone with one another in private that felt exhilarating.

Maybe it was because you were the only one able to see his face....

Being unable to see him in private at times ate at you. Even during training you found yourself drifting a hand across his back or around his thigh. That or you just find yourself drifting closer to him during training.

Truth is as much as you preferred to be secretive... it ate at you sometimes.

Washington did the same at times. Often drifting a hand to your waist or pulling you aside. In the beginning, no one really knew.

Then attempts to hide your feelings got sloppy. Many could assume if the observed the gentle touches and words you gave each other that you weren't friends. A fact that often got you reprimanded by your superiors and other agents.

In a way this was your form of young love, right?

In the end, maybe you didn't care. Secret or not you still adored each other. Even if it meant hiding away to show that. As long as The Director either doesn't know or tolerates it... you can keep things going.

"Love you, Wash...." You say softly, pressing your lips to his. You two decided a corner in the dorms was good enough privacy. Wash strokes your cheek before pulling away.

"This isn't very professional, is it?" Wash comments playfully. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"But I hate staying away from you and pretending I don't want to cling to you." You pout. "Sometimes I wish we didn't have to be so secretive... doesn't everyone know now?"

"Not their business." Washington sighs, kissing your cheek. "York teases me about it but he has his own feelings to tend to."

"Is it even a secret anymore?"

"We have to be professional." Washington warns, playfully pecking your neck to tease you. "Alright?"

"Fine. Only because I love you so much." You smile, kissing your boyfriends nose before allowing him to put his helmet back on along with yours. You then take time to just stand against each other before you had to meet the rest of the agents.

"Thought I'd find you here." A voice calls, making both of you freeze. North comes into view before crossing his arms at the scene. "York told me he suspected you'd both be here."

"North...." your voice appears mortified.

"Come on, guys. Nearly everyone suspects something. You're lucky it was I who found you like this." North teases. "You're needed for training. I won't say anything."

North then looks at Washington as you pull away from one another. You've already regained your composure and go to leave the room. Washington is about to follow you but North stops him.

"Wash." North calls.

"What?"

"I'm definitely telling York what I saw." North chuckles before quickly leaving the room.

"Don't you dare!" Washington yells after his friend before leaving the room to join the rest of you.

Secret or not... it's clear you mean a lot to one another.

#halo rvb x reader #halo red vs blue x reader #halo rvb agent washington x reader #agent washington x reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #halo rvb carolina x york mention

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luverofralts · 13 days

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Arkhelios Adventures

Weeks had passed since Adam had last seen his boyfriend or visited the room where they'd been separated. So many times, Adam had walked down the hallway, intent on revisiting the room, only to chicken out at the last second. It was still too fresh to confront. No matter how much Adam wanted to be okay with what had happened, his brain just refused to move on.

But today was the day. Adam was going to go touch the crystal that he'd been working on when the incident happened. He wouldn't try to activate it or anything complex. Just touching it would be enough. Touching it would make the memories in his head go away permanently. It had to.

"Okay. You can do this. It's just a rock. It's just a room. Nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad will happen."

Adam took a hesitant step, but faltered. Entering the room would make it all real. It would mean that his life had changed, that Theo had been ripped away from him, that all the warnings adults had been throwing at him were real and could happen at any time. He could die at any time.

The doctors had told him repeatedly that he was lucky to be alive. Most people in his situation did die. The survival rate for what he'd been through was incredibly low. He was likely only alive because as Remy liked to point out, Theo had desperately tried to protect him from the demonic magic tearing through him. Adam never thought he'd hear his sister defend Theo and advocate for them to stay together. What she had seen that day must have been powerfully seared into her mind for her to be so adamant that Theo had done whatever he could to save him.

Adam wished that he could remember Theo helping him or anything else that might help him move on, but he couldn't recall much. Just the blinding pain and the feel of wings pass over his skin as he burned from the inside out.

Adam dropped to his knees, too overcome with fear to carry out his mission. He couldn't do it. It was too soon and he was too weak and the fear was too strong. What would happen now that Theo was gone? Could the crystal still be attuned to the nearly lethal energy it had absorbed weeks prior? What if he was injured again now that Theo wasn't around to help?

"Adam? Honey, are you alright? Have the headaches come back?"

Ewan Maricourt rushed to his son's side, only to be waved away by the teen. Truthfully, he'd been watching Adam from afar, waiting to see if his son was ready to confront what had happened. Seeing Adam try to enter the room had filled his father with hope that Adam was starting to heal emotionally from the accident. This set back didn't mean anything; the fact that Adam was willing to try was good enough for Ewan.

Adam sobbed, finally allowing his father to approach him. His pride didn't matter now that his brain was rebelling against doing the one thing Adam wanted it to. Who cared if anyone saw him crying with his dad? He couldn't even enter a stupid room.

"It's okay, you're safe," Ewan promised, pulling his son as close to him as he could. "You're doing so well and I couldn't be prouder of you. Things will change in time. You've got to give yourself both time and space to process your feelings. No one heals after just a couple of weeks. It takes time."

"Do...do you think I made a mistake dating Theo?" Adam asked, sobbing into his father's shirt. "I love him Dad, but-but"

"But you ignored the guidance of your elders," Ewan finished. "Us parents tell you things that you may not like, but they're usually from a place of experience. You'll understand it one day when you have children of your own. Do I like watching you disregard my advice and getting hurt in the process? Of course not, but I was once your age and I know, at least a little bit, how it feels to have young love. I'm not thrilled to hear how far your physical relationship with Theo has progressed or that you disregarded all warnings about blood magic and sex, but I understand. Your sister likes to tease me about my apparent inability to settle down with someone, but I was young once. I had boyfriends and girlfriends and one night stands. I dated people I thought I'd marry someday and lost them all. If you love this boy and you're meant to be together, then it will work out. I promised Evren that I would completely wipe this incident from my mind if Theo came back to us in control of himself and I intend to keep that promise. Granted, you won't be sharing a bedroom again in the future, but I will try my hardest to give Theo a second chance."

Adam's tears were slowing and Ewan slowly steered his son away from the crystal room.

"Of course, you don't have to keep dating him if you can't move past this. I support whatever decision you make. Take your time and rest, Adam. No one expects you to sort through all of this in an afternoon. Why don't you go to your room and take the afternoon off from class? You look tired."

Resting in the room he'd once shared with Theo seemed impossible. Theo's stuff was still there, as if he could come back at any minute. Evren had refused to pick up any of Theo's belongings despite Abe and Roman's wish to have them close to them while he was gone. Evren knew that the second Theo's things vanished, Edana would try to interfere and make it harder for Theo to return. Leaving his things in the room was a statement, one that declared that Theo would not be erased from the school. Theo was coming back to be reunited with his possessions, whether Edana liked it or not.

It was hard for Adam to concentrate in their shared room. Half of him wanted nothing more than for Theo to walk through that door right then, while the other half was afraid. The dull ache in his chest that had started the day Theo left was strongest in this room, surrounded by memories. It hurt to breathe with that ache weighing down his chest.

Adam closed his eyes, only to be startled when he opened them. Impossibly, another rip exposing the Void had opened, flashing maliciously in front of him.

"This isn't real. This isn't happening," Adam chanted to himself. "It's just a hallucination. If it was real, you could feel it. It's not real. It's not real."

Hallucinations were an unfortunate side effect of some of the medicinal potions he'd been prescribed to help him heal. It was yet another reason that Adam kept himself away from other people outside of class. There was always a chance that a hallucination could pop up at any time, exposing just how broken Adam had become.

"Hey, Adam. I've missed you."

To Adam's horror, an image of Theo appeared before him. Not Theo, but the Theo he last remembered seeing. A monster with golden eyes that were as piercing as they were haunting.

"No. No, you're not real. You're not Theo. Leave me alone."

The illusion shimmered slightly before it dissolved into a thousand pieces that disintegrated before Adam's eyes.

He may have been injured, but Adam still had his instincts. He knew how Theo felt in his arms, and no illusion could ever match that. The hallucinations were getting less frequent now that he had reduced the amount of potions he had to take. They weren't as strong as they had been when he'd first woken up after the incident. In those early days, Adam couldn't distinguish his mother from a nurse in the hospital and would frequently be found talking to someone only he could see. Edana had been livid at this and was sure to mention her feelings at every opportunity to staff. Remy told her twin that it was only through some smooth talking on their father's part that Edana had been allowed to stay.

Several people had asked about his connection to Theo, and Adam had lied to every one of them. It wasn't any of their business, even if they were treating him for a Theo related problem. If he closed his eyes and looked deep within himself, he could feel the familiar, but weak warmth of Theo's presence out there somewhere. It was too weak to glean anything about how Theo felt or where he was, but feeling the real Theo was helpful for identifying the hallucinations.

Eventually though, Theo would come back, and Adam needed to know how he felt about that before Theo walked in the front door.

Adam sighed heavily and climbed into his bed, trying to ignore the world around him. That was a problem for the future. For now, Adam was going to try to sleep, hoping that when he woke up, he'd be a step closer to figuring out what he was going to do about his boyfriend.

#sims 2 #arkhelios #adam darktide #ewan g maricourt #arkhelios adventures

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knightofmordred · 5 months

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i don't think ill ever understand why people call kara stubborn or say she refused to accept arthur's second chance because of her pride.

gonna sound like a broken record here because ive talked about this before but i just really don't understand how people struggle to see her side.

you think she wanted to die just because of her pride? or because she was too stubborn to accept forgiveness, which would have left her alive?

said it before, and ill say it again. to kara, arthur was a king who didn't change uther's ways. he didn't do much to help and protect magic users/druids. especially as they were still being hunted and persecuted.

kara accepting arthur's pardon wouldn't have changed anything other than she got to leave camelot with her life. yet she would leave with her life only to go back into a world who hunted her down. she, her loved ones, and all the other druids were left hiding in fear.

so was it pride/stubbornness or just her wanting to make a point that she was willing to die for her people's freedom?

and people say 'oh if only she wasn't stubborn she would have lived' but its like !!! that's the point !!! she didn't want to live in a world where she wasn't free. she didn't want to live in fear and have to hide who she was !!! she probably would have been killed eventually anyway so it's like why not make a point by defying the king.

and fans also saw 'she should have seen that arthur giving her a second chance shows he's different and is a good man' which yes it's true, after all he did nearly die, but at the same times being a good person isn't good enough when you're being persecuted. it isn't enough when there's no promise that you will remain safe alongside the rest of the druids.

i also see people say 'she should have used a different method' but i mean what else was she supposed to do? she wasn't about to sit down and talk to a king who to her couldn't give a toss about what her people went through. ive said this before as well but we as the viewers know arthur's feelings about magic and how complex it is. his inner circle/court know especially merlin etc. but people outside have NO clue how he feels, and how he wanted to change and be different to his father.

i don't think the writers thought too deeply about kara's storyline tbh but when you do look at it and think about it, i think the whole point is seeing another point of view. it's seeing how other people, especially druids, see arthur and how they feel about him as a king. its naturally an uncomfortable feeling because he's so beloved and of course we see his struggles and how in his heart he does want to be a good person but i think kara's perspective is also important in order to understand the impact he has on druids.

#anyway rambling #i could talk about this forever #kara #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon

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pangtasias-atelier · 10 months

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hope its alright if i make more than one suggestion after i suggested the sothe wg one, it'd be a fun one too if nailah meets volug later after hes been hanging with the dawn brigade and she sees that he has gotten fat as hell off daein cuisine.

I absolutely love Volug and I fucking adore how ridiculous he is when you translate his text absjnsjbdns. Also, Volug definitely is someone who'd get fat as and not give a about how big he is which hot

I hope you enjoy it cause I went a little crazy writing about his size since I felt was kind of lacking it recently lol

Warning: This is a fetish story!

“I know the rest of the way there,” Her words leave little room for argument. Not when dealing with the queen of Hatari, the wolf’s words and actions far more blunt than the honeyed words of beorc leaders. She neither bothers to stop or to look back at her former beorc guide as she walks deeper into what should be the complex building that is Daein Keep.

As she walks further into the massive building, the scent that Nailah follows only grows stronger. Her target not bothering to run away, or come towards her as she’d expect from her loyal subordinate, she pays little attention to her trail. The other strange change besides his seeming eagerness to avoid her is the difference in scent. A simple trail that she could follow even with her eye closed, the scent is far more fragrant; the smell carries with it an abundance of other flavors and tastes. The aromatic trail also changes often. However, the main scent of her target is always at the very center of it all. But with the base unceasingly constant, actually following it is a triviality. So she instead focuses her one good eye on her surroundings.

All manner of beorc walk throughout the keep. Each and every one of them with their own task, the individual laguz that passes by them is nothing more than a look of surprise or poorly hidden gasp by a few beorc. Yet, none even bother to stop or harass her. A hurried pace is the most action said few beorc take. “Their queen taught them better manners. Good for Micaiah,” Whispering to herself, her stoic face breaks into a small smile, the queen unable to help but feel proud of Micaiah becoming a capable leader despite her fears.

It doesn’t take long for Nailah to reach her destination, the stop a surprise to herself with her target always on the move.

“Unfortunately it seems you lost your manners, Volug,” The only thing between Nailah and her subordinate now is the door to his room. Any other possible reason for him avoiding her is completely irrelevant when she can simply fight them. Before opening the door, she cracks her knuckles. And her neck. And every other limb she can, her face hardening as she shoves open the unlocked door and nearly tears it off its hinges.

The round, portly face that stares at her with driblets of meat juice drizzling down his mouth quickly changes Nailah’s whole demeanor.

Her subject right in front of her, Nailah gets an eyeful of just how fat Volug has become.

All of Volug’s lean musculature is completely gone. His once well cared for body is blanketed by a soft, pliable mound of lard that would make any stranger unable to accept that the pile of fat eating away could ever be so fit. Volug’s abs are no more; the shown off six pack is replaced by a distended gut, so big and flabby to the point where the mass of flab sags past Volug’s knees when standing. His gut is easily the largest aspect of Volug’s obese self. The tanned mound of flab is too big for him to even reach all around with his wide, flabby arms. Always going shirtless, showing off his gut is nothing new to Volug, the laguz used to stares at glances back when he weighed 500 pounds less than he currently does. Despite having already eaten his second serving of lunch, and currently snacking away on an entree sized platter of food, his stomach still rumbles. His gut is divided into sections now, so much fat framing his stomach that his love handle juts out far enough to be noticeably wider than his upper roll of stomach fat. Volug gut has little definition to it, the mass of flab only wishing to sag and take up the room it needs. His stomach presses against his thighs and sags dangerously close to the floor—Volug only around a hundred extra pounds away from accomplishing the feat—even as Volug sits in his cushiony couch made of velvet; the couch is unfortunately broken with the sturdy furniture not made with such a fat laguz in mind, or anyone with such an obscene weight at all. The legs of the couch still manage to withstand, but the very center of the couch is cracked, the wood split into two right where Volug’s hefty poundage sits and gorges. Volug’s thighs are forced to the side by his gut that spills forward; well, they’re forced as far as they can, his legs lacking much in the way of flexibility and mobility like the rest of his large self. Even Volug’s calves are much larger from his extra weight; the girthy limbs even make his feet seem smaller, the fat squishing down and practically encasing his ankles when Volug waddles around in search of more food. His thighs ooze out on both sides of him.

Volug’s original attire already minimal in terms of fabric, he now needs far more to cover up his girth. The beige gray fabric of his fifth set of pants —all others torn apart as Volug simply grew as his gorging did—is incredibly thin. Daein well known for its more insulated materials, Volug’s clothes are made of thinner bolts of fabric to allow his massive thighs that are too wide for regular doorways some ability to breathe with Volug now being so fat that the country’s chillier climate still oftentimes leaves him warm from having to lug and carry around so much soft, warm lard. His chair crushing thighs are usually ovular from the amount of fat encasing each thick limb, but the two large thighs are pressed down like dough with him sitting. Volug’s ass suffers a similar issue as his legs. Unfortunately, his large rear is cramped against the backrest of the couch. Volug’s ass is now large enough to completely obscure an entire chair, not that any chair meant for a single person can handle his weight. His jutting backside presses against the couch. Every bit of Volug’s hefty ass is covered up by his pants. The red tarp of fabric shredded fabric that he has around his waist only barely comes past his ass with how much space it takes up now. His tail is much less fortunate, Volug’s long wolf tail is wedged in between each curvaceous cheek, the very base of it practically squished by so much lard. With how wide and how much room he occupies, the extra feature on Volug seems miniscule to the rest of him, especially with it barely being visible unless standing behind him. His ass is squished up against almost the entire width of the backrest with his ass and thighs taking up most of the room on the couch. A three seater can only comfortably fit one fat ass laguz on it. There is still a sliver of empty space on both sides of Volug, but the amount of space available is only enough for one person on each side to get stuck between the armrest and Volug’s thighs and then get smothered by the splaying flab of Volug’s gut and breasts. Volug endowed in his chest, it still holds true even as a superchub. His chest manages to hold a surprising amount of shape to them despite the amount of lard crammed into them. Both of his tits are larger than his head, the bottom curve of his two breasts grazing his sagging gut. His breasts still struggle from limited space with the rest of his body. Especially with how absolutely massive Volug’s arms are with so much fat surprisingly piling onto them. His biceps alone are larger than a beorc’s waist; the flabby barrels for arms are even comparable to the thick, sturdy frames of the larger beast laguz. The tattoos that line Volug’s arms are distended from the extra surface area that didn’t used to be there, each curve and straight line slightly bent with having to work with a larger canvas. Much like his legs’ knees, the flab of Volug’s arms sag onto his elbows, the limb far from flexible enough to do anything requiring precision. Even Volug’s forearm is large enough to be wider than even the strongest of laguz’s biceps, his arms well endowed when it comes to his girth. His wrists sink into the plush fat of his forearms. And attached to that are fat, lard filled hands that only focus on satisfying his cravings and hunger. At the very top of Volug’s corpulence is his fat, round face. Volug’s necklace easy to upsize, only extra string needed to widen it enough to fit around his circular tube for a neck. The jewelry makes it down far enough to where it rests in between his chest, the claws making up his necklace nestled in between his tits. Volug’s face is framed by his thick locks of black hair, the deeply colored, silky strands making his jowls for cheeks seem even larger as the tips of his hair brushes against the squirrel-like cheeks. And Volug’s ears rest atop his head; though the sign of his full blooded laguz self seems insignificant compared to how massively fat he’s become.

“Do you need something, Your Majesty? I’m kind of busy,” Speaking in the ancient tongue, Volug only allows himself to momentarily interrupt his gorging to speak. Though a grin smears his face along with the bit of sauces from his binging.

Nailah only continues to stare at the mound of fat in front of her. The scent clearly Volug’s, despite the addition of what she now understands is buffet amounts of food, the figure clearly Volug’s, even if his corpulence is now a far different look, and the voice clearly Volug’s, regardless of the even deeper voice that comes from such a large, hefty laguz, Nailah still digests the new information at the sight in front of her.

It takes a massive belch from Volug to break her train of thoughts; her retainer is rather content with himself—his porcine face still adorned with a grin—as he does his best to look at her despite his own massive breasts in the way along with his table crushing stomach.

“You’re lucky I keep you for your abilities and not your manners,” Nailah smiles at him, her demeanor much less scary than when she expected insubordination. “Still, what’s your excuse for avoiding me for so long?” She stretches her hands, the sharp nails briefly transition between transformed claws as she awaits her answer.

For his part, Volug’s face betrays no fear or worry at Nailah’s tone. His fat face puts on the biggest frown that he can muster—and failing at that with so much flab in the way with his puffed out jowls—and responds. “I haven’t been. Do you think I could escape you if I were trying to run away?” He pats the lowest part of his gut that he can reach, the upper bit of flab that is his throw pillow sized love handle, as if to make his point.

And it does. Nailah stares at the way Volug’s corpulence wobbles from his own actions while still seated, the thought of him even moving with some amount of haste seems ridiculous. But it does give her some ideas that she saves for further thought later on. “Every time I get close to your scent, you move around because you smell my scent. And with how fat you are now, it feels deliberate,” Nailah stands a couple feet away from Volug’s face, which is right in front of his gut, and places her foot on the very bottom folds of flab of his gut.

At the mention of her scent, Volug blushes. Surprisingly bashful, he considers his words for a few moments. “I couldn’t smell your scent. So much food around,”

Nailah whiffs the air and all she gets are the savory scentful of all the eaten meat and still remaining bits of food left. So close to everything now, the earthen, sandy scent that is Volug’s is completely unrecognizable, the distinct trail of her vassal muddled by an array of gourmet food assaulting her senses. The notion of her loyal subject intentionally avoiding her at such an obscene size becomes apparently ridiculous to Nailah. “Fine then. I’ll allow it. Besides, I only came to check up on you before I went to Serenes for Rafiel. Now tell me, how did you get so obese?” She asks the question without any sort of tact. Nailah glances at the littered plates of food, searching for any possible vegetarian dish in Volug’s immense diet.

“Good food,”

Nailah scoffs. “You’ve always been a glutton but you at least balanced how much you ate,”

The answer to Nailah’s question comes right through the door without a single knock or pause. “I brou-” Zihark shuts up as he sees himself interrupting the two. The lithe swordsman carries a tray filled with nothing but large entrees centered around meat for the obese, beef loving laguz.

Volug still greedily devours the last chunks of turkey leg despite the sudden silence. "Hu-hungry… I want…," Volug still struggles to articulate himself in the Tellius language despite spending so long in Daein now. Though the laguz puts the bare minimum of effort into practicing the language when he devotes so much of his time eating whatever he pleases. And the bit that he does learn all centers around food like the rest of his life now, Volug able to name almost all the ingredients and dishes he eats.

Zihark looks at Nailah before doing anything, able to still follow some decorum. "Forgive me, Queen Nailah, I didn't mean for Volug to get so…,"

"Fat," Nailah Finishes for Zihark. She smirks at the beorc's suddenly embarrassed demeanor, so many of the physically frailer species on such eggshells when confronted with more personal desires compared to Nailah and her laguz brethren. "Go feed him already. It's not like he has much ability to do so himself now. And your entire demeanor shows how much you want to,"

"With your permission then,"

"I'll see how much fatter you are next time I visit Daein," Nilah grabs Volug's right breast and inspects it; the meaty tit is larger than her own head as it envelops her hand.

"Goodbye, Your Majesty," Volug watches his queen leave. "Bring Rafiel with you next time," He allows himself a small chuckle before digging back into the pork ribs they Zihark gives him. The poor swordsman is unable to follow the conversation between the two laguz.

Nailah walks out with a simple wave of the back of her hand. Walking out the door, she gives a brief greeting to Nolan and Aran who also carry their own trays of food. "That explains Kisca and all the traveling," Nailah's curiosity sated, she heads over to her next destination, Serenes, to start practicing some ideas that her wonderfully obese subject has given her.

"I'll make sure you and Rafiel are surprised when you see each other next," She muses to herself as she transforms into her wolf form and rushes to go see her far too thin husband.

#my writing #fat emblem #male weight gain #ssbhm #feeder emblem #fat fiction #maleweightgain

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imposterogers · 1 year

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hello, I don't know how serious you were when you said "someone needs to psychoanalyse Harry Osbourn" but ask and ye shall recieve? I am running on 4h of sleep, and just write my penultimate final so, like, this isn't the most consise or detailed but it does answer every rhetorical(?) question you posed. I'm explaining all the psych stuff assuming you don't have any orientation to the bullshit I'm about to spew, and I'm adding in links wherever explaining this will take too long so.... this is going to be a little pretty long.

Now, ideally psychoanalysis would be done via multiple hour long session (like nearly 20+) where the client just talks about their past memories, childhood, how they feel right now and what they think. Occasionally we throw in a dream or two, to see what their unconscious desires are. Essentially it’s very talk based, and in person is obviously the best. Since Harry is (a) fictional, and (b) not giving me enough screen time in the movie to just use the words he says, I'm not treating Harry like a client. Instead I'm just taking what we know about him and applying psychodynamic theories to him and treat him like a case study.

Now, I'm not actually sure how serious you were about the Psychoanalysing

We’re beginning with two main theories, 1. Freud’s Psychosexual Stages of Development: where the exploration of sexuality, formation of gender, it’s influences on self and the desires of a person are formed. 2. Erickson’s Psychosocial Stages of Development: which tells us what social needs were met, what weren’t, and how that influences personality/behaviour.

Note: Because it’s Freud and the late 1890s, sex and gender are the same and only the binary exists. Thus, this theory doesn’t look at gender, sexuality and is VERY outdated. These explanations are only used for heteronormativity, and homosexuality is considered a perversion from norm (which I’ll go into)

#1: Infancy to Toddler-hood:

My guess, due to Norman being abusive, cold, distant and uses money/luxury gifts to show his affection (if any), shit hits the fan from Stage 1 of the Psychosocial Stages: Trust vs Mistrust (0-Toddler age). At this stage it’s super important for a child to be around their primary care givers. Not having a primary care giver (parent, grand parent, nanny — someone who’s there with the child forming a deeply intimate bond) leave children with a sense of mistrust in the world. It make’s them prone to insecurity, and give the child unhealthy patterns of attachment, generally making them very “hope-less” (as in they are more likely to feel hopeless, isolated and alone and not just like... pathetic).

Assuming Emily Osborn died like a year after Harry was born, it's been somewhat implied she died due to post-pregnancy complications, Harry didn't have his mom around during the v imp phase. Norman is said to have really loved her and there’s a chance that after her death, Norman blamed Harry and treated him terribly. Either way, this means Harry grew up without the necessary bond post age 1, which has fundamentally fucked him and his perception of the world. Pair with this the entitelement that comes with wealth, and it's just truly too much.

#2: Toddler-hood to Childhood:

Now I’m going to the phallic stage (ages 3-5, toddler to child). This is from the psychosexual development, Freud’s theory. (Note: not the same theory as mentioned in the previous point). The middle stages in both theories are somewhat irrelevant to explain why Harry’s so.. that, but I can elaborate if you need it??

During the phallic stage, the idea is that the (cis)male child struggles with the Oedipus complex. He develops an attraction for the parent of the opposite sex, but is threatened by the parent of the same sex and thus begins to imitate the same sex parent to win the opposite sex parents affection.

So the son is attracted to the mother, but is threatened by the father (this specific fear in men is called castration anxiety for boys). Thus they imitate their father and his behaviour, hoping to receive affection from women who are like his mom. This obviously can influence the way he treats women.

Freud says neither heterosexuality nor homosexuality are innate, they are instead how we resolve our phallic stage — heterosexual is normal way to resolve it, and homosexual is to deviate from the norm. Now homosexuality could be a fixation of this stage — not resolving the conflict with his father and being heterosexual, will make him gay.

But I think he’s bi, so Harry associates with his father the way Freud expects children to, thus making him attracted to women as per normal (and also, this is why he identitfes as male, and doesn't have gender confusion). But he has unresolved his issues with Norman and wants his fathers affection and love. Both his parents are equally unattainable to him, one is dead the other is distant. Thus, Harry has to deviate from the norm on an unconscious level, and wants his fathers approval which he will get via the same resolution. This just means he loves and seeks approval from both men and women, which just like... makes him bi???? (keep in mind, sexuality and gender spectrum is the biggest limitation to Freud's theory

#3: Childhood

I’m skipping to the inferiority vs industry stage (ages 6-11) in the psychosocial stages where the child learns to either be industrious — confident, social, ambitious; or feels inferior.

I think Harry became industrious, he was taught to be strong and be the ruthlessly aggressive bully, and was also doing that because it was what got him his dad’s approval. He unlearns it, but it is also his nature, in a more innate way.

This stage in the psychosocial theory, starts right where the phallic stage in psychosexual ends. So, I’m guessing that Harry resolves his sexuality crisis via Freud, but his social needs of love, belonging and care are still up in the air, which he resolves via Erickson’s. This appeases his base consciousness, he has two problems, they are solved. It doesn’t matter if it’s healthy or not, he is literally 10. He does what worked for him, and associates with his fathers way again making him the confident bully that we see him as.

So now we come to Peter... what’s up with that?

Peter is smart like his father. His need for his fathers love is thus projected here. There’s a sort of transference, his need for approval from dad is not only found in Peter, but like Peter actually genuinely loves him too. Emily, his mother, no idea what she’s like but let’s she loved him unconditionally, and he probably felt safe around her — Peter evokes those same feelings in Harry. Thus, his means of resolving his gender and sexuality crisis during the phallic stage is coming back to bite him in the ass, via Peter. He’s like the mix between what he needed socially, love and acceptance; with what he desires, approval from his father who is a smart man

Why does he treat MJ like that? Because that’s how Norman shows love and affection to a person. Norman just spoilt this boy with his riches, and didn’t show an ounce of love or affection, and thus Harry assumes spoiling MJ is how he can show that he loves her.

Why is he dating MJ, the girl his best friend loves. Remember that bit about attraction to the opposite sex parent, so you associating with the same sex to win affection? Well. He’s doing that… but wrong. He is associate himself with what the object of his affection (Peter) is attracted to (MJ), in hopes that he will become like said object of attraction (like MJ), thus winning over (because Peter will now want him). I am not claiming that Harry is normal, or ok. I’m just saying, this is how you can explain it.

Why take Peter out on these not-dates? Same logic as point 2, it’s how he shows affection.

Why does Harry ask Peter to go hit on MJ? Denial. The defence mechanism of denial specifically

I can go on, but I will stop. PS. Also, you’re right. Not only is Harry in love, he subconsciously desires Peter? Like on a carnal level.

harry osborn has been psychoanalyzed

#ok go off?????? this is so interesting #long post #harry osborn #raimiverse #spiderman

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athenaholmesartistsguild · 5 months

Text

All my Tarot Card designs

Pulled the 9 of Swords in a tarot reading recently and it inspired me to make my own card!

Check out the High-res version on my Patreon (for free!!!) Also it was available 2 days earlier than on Tumblr just letting you know kthxbyeeeeee

BTW. Hand lettering is harddddd. Just writing 'Blades' took for freaking ever! But I really like how it came out so worth in my opinion.

I tried something a little different with the shading, too! I incorporated some sharper, pen-and-ink type strokes because I like drawing squiggles to indicate tension. This wasn't initially intentional, but I think it also fits with the 'sharper' themes of the swords suit.

I did intentionally try to use cooler grays and whites for the shading. I wanted each suit to be distinct from the other visually so you could differentiate between them at a glance. The swords to me feel very cold and impersonal so I tried to make that come across in the actual art. I think I did a good job but lemme know lol.

Interpretations and my reasoning for choosing Kiryu for this card are below the cut so check those out if you're interested (I'd really appreciate it!!!)

The suffering depicted in the 9 of swords is rivaled only by that of the 3 of swords. The figure in this card is so consumed by their trauma, anxiety, fears, or worries (or even all 4) that it's nearly impossible to perceive the world outside of themselves; not in a selfish way, but rather due to the intensity of their pain.

The 9 of Swords is haunted by nightmares-- frequent reminders of their past: their mistakes, the ways they've been hurt, and the actions they could've taken to prevent all of this from happening in the first place. They've been so plagued by their thoughts that considering a future without this pain feels almost impossible.

With this card, we see the sheer power of the human mind at its most destructive. If this cycle is not broken, the 9 of Swords' pain will escalate to the 10 of Swords. This is not a sustainable cycle for anyone involved; changes must be made.

Reversed, we still see the pain depicted in the upright position, but there's a glimpse of a way out. While it's not easy to overcome your trauma or pain, the 9 of Swords at least has a desire to get out of this cycle-- to begin to heal. They've descended into their mind as far as they'd like and now they wish to venture outside themselves, back into the wider world.

Maybe they haven't healed yet, but they can at least hope that they can begin the process.

The design of this card was inspired mostly by the opening of Yakuza 2. Kiryu's plagued by the deaths of his family and is borderline suicidal because of this pain. He's having nightmares of their final moments and isn't able to be fully present in his daughter's life (Haruka's the one getting ready and cooking breakfast for the two of them).

When deciding on the background of this card, I wanted to try and depict the feeling of complete hopelessness that exists within this card. Normally, the Rider-Waite-Smith cards have backgrounds of varying complexity. I'd venture to say that the 9 of Swords is the only card where there isn't a background at all. Just the figure, their bed, and the swords, the constant reminder of their past. This person is literally incapable of seeing past their regrets and anxiety and fear because these emotions are so intense. It's haunting, in a way.

I chose to have the swords in this card pointed at Kiryu because a common theme in his grief, I feel, is that he feels that he's the one at fault. He believes that had he not gotten involved, his loved ones wouldn't be suffering right now. So the swords, rather than being passive elements lingering above, are sharpened, dangerous. They're ready to get retribution for the people that have been hurt. Unlike Kiryu, they'll inflict pain and feel no remorse.

On a lighter note, we see periods in Kiryu's life where he's able to somewhat escape his thoughts and attempt to make a happier life for himself, namely when he's running Morning Glory. This is the one time in Kiryu's life where we see him happy and fulfilled. He's still experiencing the effects of his past. He still has the habits he developed in response to this past, but he's trying to create a better life. One that he can share with his family.

What's important to remember about the 9 of Swords is that your thoughts don't have to be real. They don't have to dictate the course of your life. While it can feel like there's no escaping your pain, know that help is out there and there are others that are willing to help you.

#When I was rewatching the Kiwami 2 opening to see what Kiryu's room looked like #I realized he sleeps with the foot of his bed against the wall and his head facing the doorway.#At first I was like 'dude! That's bad feng shui! Your head is so exposed! You're not gonna be able to sleep well!'#But I think that's kinda the point...#I think I want to move onto the Page of Cups next? It's my favorite card in the deck I'm using atm. Haruka's gonna be the subject #yakuza #my art #yakuza fanart #kiryu kazuma #tarot card design

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altocat · 1 year

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I remember someone write you about AU, where Genesis was raised in the Shinra too. Soo… can I hear some ideas, details, and any of your thoughts about it? I NEED IT! Shared childhood, shared growing up… Especially when I reread your big work about Sephiroth, and I'm on the chapters where he's a kid…

Genesis probably would have initially been hell-bent on surpassing Sephiroth at every angle. Even without his crappy adopted parents, I think there was always a bit of an inferiority complex inside him.

Unfortunately, child Sephiroth is really such a shy, skittish thing that showing him up in training simulations didn't really produce any sense of satisfaction. Genesis, who is predisposed to being bitter and angry and even MORE bratty thanks to this distressing lab atmosphere, takes to bullying him a bit as well. Sephiroth cries very easily, and Genesis often teases him to rattle him before a shared experiment or test.

Unfortunately, this doesn't produce much satisfaction either. And while Genesis looks like the stronger test subject in comparison, Sephiroth is amply punished and word spreads that perhaps Project S was the failed experiment after all, that maybe the kinder thing to do would be to terminate such a weak, fearful creature. Associating nothing but negative consequences around his fellow subject, Sephiroth begins to avoid and fear Genesis to the point where he begins sniffling and pleading with Hojo not to put them together during combat training. But no matter how hard he begs and cries, Hojo refuses to let his son be degraded by Hollander's lesser product.

They put it to the test by forcing the two to fight each other. And years of humiliation, anxiety, and teasing finally takes its toll. Sephiroth snaps, nearly tearing Genesis apart with his bare hands. This display of crazed strength actually knocks some sense into Genesis, realizing what a jerk he's been this whole time. He and Sephiroth are the same, lab rats being used by Shinra to satisfy their hunger for power. He begins to genuinely befriend Sephiroth afterwards, gently coaxing and soothing him whenever he gets upset, or feels obligated to begin hiding his emotions. Genesis vows that one day they WILL get out of here together. Until then, he'll take care of Sephiroth. No more competing. No more bullying or ugly comparisons. Just the two of them against Shinra.

They escape together just before the Wutai War.

#Sephiroth #Genesis rhapsodos #Hojo #Sephgen #Sephesis #Sephcanons #Ffvii #FF7 #Crisis Core #Asks #Final Fantasy 7 #AU

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24-05txt · 3 months

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Can I something for Lost & Found? I scroll past it in by bookmarks all the time and I'm eager for more!

Ogh, man, Lost and found... (Wip ask game!!)

See what I'm struggling with there is that I got a good bit into chapter 2 while on a flight to somewherecan'tremember and lost like. All of it. Because I closed the app for too long and the lack of connectivity ate it!!! Even though it was supposed to be fine!! Moral of the story is never trust technology (said by the IT major). Obviously my reaction was to pout about it forever.

Anyway I did get moving on chapter 2 again, but while I was sulking I wrote ahead a little bit (as I am prone to do) and thus have the content. I debated on not giving spoilers and then decided I don't care and I'm really excited to share this snippet so!!! Have some retrospective from Simon (not Ghost).

Some other info before that in case anyone is interested: I did finally decide what Ghost and Soap's relationship is in this and its [?????]. Like almost an established relationship and since this is from Ghost's pov he's obviously whipped, and if Soap isn't equally whipped then he's at least encouraging Ghost, but aside from Ghost's internal monologue of being disgustingly in love 24-7 and constantly on the verge of sloppy makeouts they still haven't kissed or anything like. Explicitly romantic. So take that as you will. I've also decided how they met/what the home situation is!! So I'm excited. They were really the only unknowns here because Simon is. Well he's an OC and also I'm playing him in a TTRPG, so I know exactly where he came from and what he's doing (trying not to die.)

Anyway, nearly 1k below the cut and aside from mentions of violence and implied neglect of a child I don't think there's anything to watch out for here :3 lmk if I'm wrong. Enjoy!

Simon tries really hard to be a good kid, is the thing.

It's not, like, a complex or anything—at least he doesn't think it is. He doesn't remember ever having it drilled into him by Dad; it's just something that has always made sense. He never understood when the twins or Maria or whatever-her-name-was hawked on Lights or Cyclops for stupid shit like their fears or looks. That's why he wasn't sad to see Maria die.

Which—okay yeah, a little fucked up, but that doesn't make him a bad kid. Maria even deserved it when Athena snapped her neck. Probably. He's not clear on the moral aspect of it, doesn't know enough about murder or homicide or whatever to pass judgment on whether or not Maria's death was just. But he's a good kid, he knows it. The adults in the community would say it all the time—his dad, too. 'You're a good kid, Simon,' whenever he picked up after himself or did his chores or won a rugby game or finished his homework. Not that he's a suck-up—was a suck-up, not that he was a suck-up. He needs to say 'was' now, since most of the adults are dead and he doesn't even know where his dad is.

But, you know, it's fine. Simon's a good kid, and he kept the house clean while his dad was away, even when the weeks stretched on long enough to make him start to wonder. Not doubt, he doesn't—didn't—doubt his dad. He's seventeen now, and he's never had that 'rebel' phase he's heard of through adults; it's sort of a point of pride—or it was sort of a point of pride. He supposes breaking into his dad's office with his friends to steal maps and old family photos counts as rebellious. So, maybe he just didn't have a rebel phase until that.

He's just also a little lost, is the issue. Literally lost, not in the metaphorical sense where he needs to go on some inner journey. He needs to find his dad. His dad, who apparently did not leave for a scouting trip and instead went looking for Simon's mom—who isn't dead, like they had both thought. At least, Simon had thought that.

He doesn't know what his dad thought anymore; his dad didn't so much as leave a note to let Simon know where he was off to. Those three weeks spent cleaning and taking care of the house in his absence feel a lot less mundane and a lot more foreboding, in retrospect. Would he have still gone to class and done his chores if he'd known what his dad was doing? Probably, because he's a good kid. (So why not tell him?)

But it probably doesn't matter now, since it's done and in the past. Lots of things about Simon's previously comfortable life are ending up in the past-tense now, simply because they no longer apply or can't apply the same way. But Simon is a good kid. Present tense. Is. Because he's still trying really hard to be one. It's harder, though, when no one is telling him what is good to do and he has to think for himself. He has to think for other people too—for Coda and Leaf and Irix and Shaq (and Lights and Tunes and Cyclops and Athena), who are all years younger than him and in need of protective guidance.

Simon's not so good at guiding—leaving the community had pretty quickly brought to his attention that he'd spent most of his life just listening to what people told him—but he can protect. He was on the rugby team, he knows how to push people around, and back when Dad would stay at home they used to go hunting, so he knows how to shoot a gun.

But that brings him back to the 'lost' issue; he can't protect any of them if they're separated. He didn't mean to get lost in the storm. He'd just wanted to help and make sure everyone got in the vehicle, didn't even know that wind could blow so strong that it'd pick him up.

Apparently it can, and it did, and he woke up on the roof of a building with scrapes on his palms and dirt in his ears, and absolutely no sense of direction. He'd cried a little, then. Maybe it was childish, but it had been a rough couple of days—between cannibals and raiders and storms (and zombies and corpses and)—so he cut himself some slack for throwing a bit of a shitfit when he discovered he'd chipped a front tooth.

(The fact that none of the girls were around to see it and all the other jocks who would have made fun of him were probably dead did briefly make him feel a little better, and then a whole lot worse.)

A day after that is when he found the soldiers—Ghost and Soap. He hadn't really met any adults with names like his peers before but for all the firsts he was having, this one barely clocked.

They were... cool. They reminded him of comic book characters with their velcro pouches and shawls and masks and sleek guns. Sure, he might’ve pointed a gun at Ghost, but he's self-aware enough to know that he wouldn't have been able to shoot—at least not while Ghost was being decent toward him. Coda and Athena have killed people, Simon hasn't. (Generally good kids don't kill people, but he has a feeling there are exceptions to the rule, so he would like to make the distinction.)

#cod:mwii #ghostsoap #fic.txt #wip #lost and found #Simon (oc)#oh also if ur curious he's like 17. Oldest in his group because the rest of them are 13-16 LMAO #these kids are in a bad way boy let me tell you #Coda is 14 iirc #Athena is 14-15?#Can't remember anyone else he mentions by name #oh Leaf is 13-14 and Shaq is 16.#Irix is also 16 #Lights tunes and cyclops i have no idea. probably 13-15. Lights is the youngest.#anything else about the group he's traveling with will come up when I fucking poST THE FIC #<3

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