#man. this one's pretty heavy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-may-be-paranoid · 8 months

Text

had a breakdown over putting on clean bedsheets which turned into a breakdown about being invisibly disabled which turned into a breakdown about the various small seemingly-normal-at-the-time ways my mother fucked me up and inadvertently taught me that 1) I was responsible for her emotional reactions to me even as a kid so it was on me to keep her from yelling at me and 2) the only way to avoid pain/conflict was to never be vulnerable or talk about things that actually mattered to me

some examples:

when she noticed I particularly liked a food she would remove it from the pantry and lock it in her closet so she could dole it out as a reward for doing what she wanted. I caught on to this and stopped talking about my favorite snacks or eating too many of them in front of my parents. this worked too well and they stopped buying more because they thought I didn't like them anymore. I should mention this is about several different foods over a long period of time

any time I asked for something I wanted, she said "yes - if you're good." this would, of course, be her answer forever no matter how "good" I was, until I finally realized that it was just a carrot on a stick and "yes, if you're good" just meant "no" and resolved to get what I wanted on my own (or as my parents liked to put it, "behind our backs"). I had minor success in getting her to quantify "being good" into a concrete set of requirements, but even still, I once asked her point-blank if "if you're good" just meant "when I feel like it," and she said yes. she has some pretty mask-off moments when she's angry. I still hate the word "incentive"

this one's pretty much just a Thing Parents Do, but it's worth mentioning - whenever we fought, she always went straight to taking away my phone (or at least remotely disabling my internet connection and all the apps except for the factory defaults on it). y'know, my sole connection to my friends and the world outside my house. as a young trans guy living with transphobic parents, this was particularly distressing

speaking of my phone, the same parental controls vpn they'd installed on it to do the above also allowed them to see every search term, every website I visited, in real time. and, of course, they could block websites (or, if I had broken their trust recently, block everything that wasn't explicitly whitelisted). goodbye, trevorspace. goodbye, google plus. they could see my texts, too. sometimes my mom would randomly take my phone and when I got it back a couple of contacts would be mysteriously missing (two that spring to mind are my sole irl trans friend at the time, who my parents thought had somehow retroactively transed my gender even though we really only became closer friends when we came out to each other, and the trans lifeline. yeah the suicide hotline). actually, that's how my parents found out I was trans! they caught me taking selfies, something I never did (therefore making it suspicious behavior), and went through my photos and found a ton of trans pride graphics. I had felt confident for once because I was binding with two boho bandeaus, packing with a sock, and hiding most of my hair in a beanie. I was going to come out to them the next week, on my thirteenth birthday. probably would've just ruined my birthday in hindsight

I could rant about my parents' transphobia for days, but I'd rather not. I've done that before and I'm too tired to do it again. this post is mainly just a way of documenting abusive behaviors for next time I tell myself it "wasn't that bad". anyway my mom would regularly rifle through my physical belongings too. I learned not to hide important things in my room

and speaking of my room she would sometimes remove my bedroom and/or bathroom doors for taking too long in the shower and stuff like that. and I had to earn it back by - you guessed it - Being Good™

oh also I should probably mention those times she screamed "you have no privacy" or (at a slightly later date) "we own you" in my face over and over again even when I started crying and begging her to stop. for the crime of complaining that I felt like my privacy was being violated. after a week or so, I felt like I'd cooled down enough to tell her that when she'd yelled "you have no privacy" at me, I felt really hurt. because that's what I was supposed to do, right? that's the diplomatical format they'd told me to voice my complaints in. this led to a second "you have no privacy" incident, same as the first. after one of these incidents, dad was there to mediate, which meant that instead of another screaming match there was a pointless semantic argument over whether she was really yelling "in my face" and exactly what the distance between her and the edge of my bed had been. at least there were no tape measures involved though lol

this brings me to the whole blaming-fights-on-me thing. most fights sprung from either a disagreement between my mother and I about something important (such as my own identity or what I thought was fair) or my struggles to do things my peers could do just fine due to my adhd. I was so bad at getting ready for things on time. even now, on medication, I struggle with daily hygiene. this was very frustrating for my mother, and she often ended up yelling at me. she could say some very unkind things "in the heat of the moment", as she would say. if I yelled back, I was punished. when I tried to express how deeply her words hurt me in an attempt to repair our relationship and get closure and reassurance… she took it personally and the fight started all over again. and I was punished again. this would sometimes result in a chain of related fights over a period of weeks. eventually, my parents told me that if I didn't want to start a fight, I should structure my complaints like so: "when you did x, I felt y." such language would avoid making anyone feel accused or defensive, they said. it made no difference. I used the correct format, shit went down anyway, I was told I should've used the correct format if I didn't want to start a fight, and so on

my therapist at the time (girl I miss u also sorry my mom fired you for trying to convince her to accept my transness) suggested that, when my mother raised her voice at me, I should remain outwardly emotionless and resist the urge to talk back to her or raise my own voice, and see what happens. I tried it once and she called me "a psychopath and a sociopath" for not yelling back. can't win

things really only calmed down because I concluded that asserting myself wasn't worth it. it was safer to go back into the closet and keep my head down for four more years until I was legally my very own person. my mom once said she knew me better than I knew myself. I could only laugh. it's not that I gave up completely, though - I just stopped openly rebelling. I figured out (limited, but lifesaving) ways around the parental controls. I visited trevorspace on my laggy old ipod that wouldn't stay logged in to let my friends there know that I was alive, but wouldn't be able to talk to them anymore. I stole it back a couple times when my mom found and confiscated it. there eventually came a point where her reaction to its suddenly disappearing from her drawer outweighed having it back, but by then the parental controls had become so buggy that I could almost have a normal internet experience. after I turned 18, I finally convinced my parents to allow me to remove it for good (I'd long since figured out that it had a digital tamper alarm). I'm still dependent on them, but I don't have to be secretive anymore, which feels weird. sometimes I boast to them about the extent of the freedom I'd carved out "behind their backs" just for some spiteful pleasure. I think they already knew about most of my exploits with the vpn, they just couldn't do much about it. but I don't tell them everything - I don't want them spying on my online accounts again, and I want to still have a few tricks up my sleeve if things somehow get bad again. they still make me apologize, but it's not like the aftermath of a fight. wow I'm getting off topic

alright so there's also how my mom dealt with my self-harm addiction: not well. she made me promise to stop, and when she discovered that I didn't, she got pissed. she kept telling me how I'd promised her, how betrayed she felt, how could I do this to her… and I was the one who was bleeding. I just felt worse so I (this is becoming repetitive) got better at hiding. funny thing is, almost every time I cut was to calm down after she yelled at me!

another victim-blaming anecdote - one time in 2018-19, I was drying off after a long shower. this consisted of wrapping myself in a towel and sitting on the toilet lid to zone out for half an hour. I had nothing to do that night except climb into bed. what I did not know was that mom was waiting impatiently for me to come out so she could give me my nightly meds. she became more and more frustrated, and ended up berating me through the door. the quote that stuck with me was "even a 2-year-old could get this done faster," which, when I type it out, actually doesn't sound all that scathing. dad came in soon after that. I tried to make them aware of how hurt she had made me feel, I even used the special Fight-Preventing Format, but I was completely ignored in favor of calls to come out of the bathroom and the occasional phone-confiscation threat. I repeated myself a few times, and eventually, she told me that if I didn't want to be insulted, I should've finished drying off sooner. dad was here for all of this and agreed with her. this helped me to realize how complicit the "mediator" was in all this shit. at some point I started crying, and I'd made it clear that I wasn't going to come out while they were out there - which prompted my mother to stage whisper to my father (so loudly I could hear it through the door) her catchphrase at the time: "she's just being manipulative." this did not make me feel any more cooperative

I can't believe I forgot to mention the gaslighting! every time I tried to bring up a time she'd said something that hurt me - even a day later! - she'd act all shocked and say she couldn't imagine ever saying something like that and act like just because she didn't remember it must not have been real. this eventually led me to believe that I was subconsciously making up reasons to hate her, because there were no real reasons to hate her, and I wanted to hate her in the first place because I was actually evil and she was perfect and good. needless to say, this bred a lot of self-loathing. and then an Incident would happen and I would be lucid for like a day and then slip right back into the cognitive dissonance. this happened for about a year when I was 14. I only found out the truth because I found a transcript of one of those fights from directly after it had happened in a google hangouts conversation (with the aforementioned trans friend) that my mom thought I'd deleted but I'd really just archived it. I had also tried to record our fights in the past, but the vpn that took away apps and internet also took the camera function with it. it was practically an abuser's toolkit. anyway this made me feel worse because if she could convince me that I was lying, she could convince anyone, so no one would ever believe me if I told them. instead of having a healthy, balanced worldview about it or something, I just flipped the old one on its head - she was the manipulator trying to control my life and mold me into the child she wanted, and I was the victim struggling to fight back. I'm glad I grew out of that. being so openly full of ire for her just made me look like a brat, and it was no way to live anyhow. I understand now that she genuinely loves me - and that it's exactly that love and worry for me that drove her to do things that hurt me. she thought she was doing what was best for me. unfortunately she didn't think to listen to my opinion or like see me as a full individual separate from herself

ftr her memory is genuinely kinda shitty because of her own adhd but it was awfully consistent in forgetting all the times she's emotionally scarred me. man this post was gonna be a lot shorter but then I started Remembering more Things. there's still more I've thought of but then forgotten while writing something else tho

hold on now I remember. last year she straight-up told me that all this time when I had said I didn't understand something that was "so simple, everyone understands it" she thought I was lying for the express purpose of pissing her off. this… explains a lot

overall I feel like she had an idea of what I should be like and she feels personally slighted whenever I remind her that I'm not the child she wanted

there's more but it's almost 3am and I am so tired I am barely able to type. do you love the color of the vent post

#man. this one's pretty heavy #originals #avpd #cptsd #long post #tw sanist slurs #tw sanism #tw ableism #abusive parents #psychological abuse #emotional abuse #parental trauma

8 notes · View notes

sentientcave · 2 months

Text

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Had to stop working on everything else and write a whole bunch of this instead. Usually I like to finish things that I think might be on the longer side before I start posting, but we're gonna live on the edge with this one. Expect updates in 1-2 Bearimys.

Chapter One - Sweetpea

Next Chapter >

Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, Large men picking up reader like a football, No Y/N, A spot of magic, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Reader descriptions kept as neutral as possible but keep in mind that she is a character to me and does have a specific appearance so things might slip through. This is just me having a bit of fun with a fantasy setting because it is my favourite type.

~3.4k Words - MDNI

Sunlight streams down through the light scattering of clouds above, as you carry your nearly empty basket into town to buy a few things for your auntie Kate. She’s not truly your aunt, but over the past few years it’s hard to think of her as anything less than family. She’s not warm, exactly, but she’s honest, and you know that you can trust her with anything.

Kate would usually be at your side when you go into town, watching the crowd with hawkish intensity, as though she still expects agents of the new king to materialize and snatch you away, but she’s away on business, and her wife much less paranoid. You expect that anyone who was ever looking for you has given up on you now. After the civil war, there was a time of instability, and you laid awake many nights, half expecting armed men to break into your bedroom and snatch you away, but everything is smoothed over now, and there’s no reason why Price would feel like he needed you to cement his rule.

You’re happy to just let him have the kingdom. You have more freedom as an ordinary girl, and you’re happier now than you ever have been. You were miserable living in your father’s halls, just a spindly little flower growing without enough sun or rain. And your people are happy now too. It twists your stomach something fierce, to think that your father was never a good king, but the reality is that he wasn’t. People starved while he feasted behind his walls. He sent good men to wage war on his behalf, to die in far off lands when they should have been home building better lives for themselves and their families. He allowed his chosen men to terrorize the women and children and old men living in the towns still. Things had been bad.

So yes, let Price have the crown, and the castle, and the responsibility and anything he likes. What difference does it make to you now?

What matters now is the sun on your face, and the gentle sound of birdsong around you, and the dull bite of the occasional stone through the soft leather soles of your shoes. The air smells sweet and green, although there’s a slight prickle at the back of your nose that tells you that there will be rain tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. There’s nothing to worry about aside from whether or not the children in town will like the end of the book you have tucked into your basket.

You see a young man sleeping by the side of the road on your way into town, his horse tied to a long halter while he lounges beneath a tree. As you pass by, a bird flying too close startles the horse, and it pulls up the peg it’s tied to, and bolts. The young man doesn’t stir, so you dash after the horse without a thought, dropping your basket so you have both hands free to seize the halter.

You try to dig in your heels to stop the big, white-stockinged horse, but it half-drags you a little ways down the road before finally stopping, swinging it’s head around to look at you as though you’ve personally offended it. “Come on,” you tell it, exasperated. “You don’t belong out here.”

Arms wrap around you from behind, hands much larger than yours close over your wrists. “You’re awfully pretty for a horse thief,” a voice says in your ear.

“I’m not a horse thief!” you protest. “I was trying to help!” The horse snorts, as though it intends to tattle on you for something that you most certainly were not doing.

“And you didn’t think to wake me up?” The man behind you lets go of one of your wrists and spins you around, the movement smooth and graceful, like you’re two dancers at a ball, rather than two strangers meeting along a country road. But when you look up, you find the all too familiar face of one of Price’s knights.

“Sir Garrick!” you gasp.

“Princess,” he says, smiling. He’s far too handsome, his smile bright, teeth a little bit too sharp. “How very nice to see you. I thought for sure you’d have left the kingdom by now.”

“No! Oh no.” You push against his chest uselessly. He’s strong, so much stronger than you. Despair claws at your ribs. Your nightmare-come-true may be wrapped in a pretty, familiar face, but you have no desire to return to the capital. “Please let me go. I promise I don’t want the kingdom. Price can have it— You can have it. I just want to be left alone, I swear, I’ll never—”

“Hush, sweetpea.” He tucks a few of your thin braids behind your ear, fingertips grazing down your neck. “I have to bring you in. But you can make your case to Price. Maybe he’ll let you come back, alright? Don’t fret. He’s always been reasonable.”

You’re not certain how to get out of this. Sir Garrick has kind eyes, but his grip is like steel. He lifts you up easily and sets you on his horse before you so much as think of protesting or making a feeble attempt to fight him off.

“We’re not far from the capital. We can make it there before dark,” he continues, voice low and reassuring, as though you’re worried about the travel, and not the destination.

“But— What about my aunt? I should let her know where I’ve gone.”

“We’ll send word. Don’t you worry, your majesty.”

“No, no, don’t call me that. That’s for kings and queens, and I’m neither.” I’m no one, you want to shout.

He's amused by that, amused by you, as if you're just being a silly little girl. "I suppose we'll settle on sweetpea for now." He holds his palm out and three little white birds materialize and fly off in different directions, spectral and iridescent as soap bubbles. And then he swings into the seat behind you and pulls you most of the way into his lap, wraps strong arms around your waist, and nudges his mount into a walk.

“So,” Sir Garrick says conversationally, his voice low, lips far too close to your ear. It’s overly familiar, but you’re already practically sitting in the man’s lap. “What have you been doing out here all these years?”

“Um. Gardening. Embroidery. Taking care of my chickens. Lessons, for some of the children that live nearby. Just letters and arithmetic. I’ve been thinking about organizing a proper schoolhouse.” You can feel your nerves bubbling up as you babble, thoughts coming to you disorganized and stilted. “I never realized how few people can read. It seems a shame. I do a few hours of reading around town, help out at the church. I keep busy. I haven’t any real purpose, so I have to go out of my way to make one.” You sigh, thinking of how you had left things at a particularly gripping point in a story you’d been reading to the town children. They’ll be disappointed if they never hear the end of it, but you still have hope that Price will decide you’ve become something of a country bumpkin with no place in the court, and let you go back home soon. “How have you fared? Is your family well?”

“Quite well. My sisters will be glad to see you again. They always thought you were sweet. Rosie’s opened her own dress shop in the city, and Camellia has five children now. I think Kylie and Jorah were just two or three last you saw them. My mother lives with Cam to help out.” Sir Garrick’s mother and sister used to work at the palace, and he had been apprenticed to the court wizard before he specialized in battle magic and became a knight. You hadn’t been friends, exactly— You’re not sure you ever really had friends— but he’d always been nice enough, when your paths crossed.

“And what of you?” you prompt gently. “Have you found yourself a wife?”

He laughs lightly. “I’m working on it. I’ve a girl in mind, but I think she’ll take some convincing.”

“Oh I doubt that, Sir. You’re perfectly unobjectionable.”

“High praise indeed, princess.”

The two of you chat idly as you travel, mostly about nothing, but it’s pleasant enough. Sir Garrick— Kyle, he insists you call him— is far more charming than you remember, and he makes you laugh so much that you’re certain that you’d simply fall right off the horse if he wasn’t holding onto you so securely. He’s the very picture of a romantic hero, all chivalry and smiles, handsome in the dappled light under the canopy of trees as the road carries you from farmland to forest. You come to a bridge, and he dismounts so his horse can drink, and lifts you down so you can stretch out stiff muscles. His touch lingers, strong hands resting on your hips for a few beats longer than would be appropriate, but you don’t really mind.

You part from his company so you can relieve yourself a little ways into the trees, glad he’s not concerned about you making a run for it. His assurances that Price can be reasoned into letting you go home once you’ve spoken to him is enough to make you cooperative. You’re certain that he’ll take one look at you now and send you right back home. You’ve never had any luck with the young men in town, and if that’s any indication, you’ll be back to your little bedroom in Kate’s house before the week is up.

You fix your clothes and walk back to the road, humming lightly under your breath. Kyle is speaking to a flat glowing disc that hums with energy, floating above his palm. He gives you a smile and a nod and retreats to the tree line while he finishes his conversation. You catch a glimpse of a face on the disc as he turns, searing blue eyes meeting yours for a moment. Price, certainly. You recognize those eyes.

Kyle’s gaze slips over to you again as you kneel by the creek, one arm keeping your skirt out of the water while you trail the other hand through the water idly, the cool stream a pleasant offset to the heat of the afternoon. If you were alone, you would consider stripping down and going for a swim, but as nice as Kyle is, he’s still a man, and not one you know particularly well anymore, if you ever did.

When you look over again, he’s tucking the crystal disc into the front of his tunic, and a wolf is behind him, stalking out of the woods, low to the ground and ready to pounce. “Kyle!” you shout, pointing behind him. He turns quickly, a spell glittering on his fingertips, but the wolf pounces before he can cast it, both crashing into the packed earth along the side of the road.

You rush over, although halfway there you wonder what help you expect to be, and an arm snatches you around the middle, hauling you back. You’re beginning to get a bit annoyed at how much you’ve been manhandled today, and you start kicking as you’re lifted off your feet. “Let me go!”

“Easy, sweet girl. Let the lads say hello,” a deep voice says behind you, the sound rumbling through you like a cat’s purr. “No danger ‘ere.”

You look at Kyle and the wolf again. Only there isn’t a wolf anymore, just a large, naked man laying on top of Kyle, kissing him ardently and more than a little messily. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn. “Oh.”

The man who was a wolf stands up, and you look away, too flustered by the sight of so much bare skin to do anything else. The big man puts you down and turns you to face him, putting your back to the werewolf. “Johnny, put some clothes on before you say ‘ello. We know you were raised by savages, but you don’t need to act like it,” he says firmly, his heavy hands on your shoulders.

You stare at the skull embroidered on the black tunic in front of you, recognizing the emblem, and then the black fencers mask tied around the man’s face, obscuring even the shape of his features. You see a glint of light when he drops his chin to look at you though, gleaming eyes that look at you inscrutably. You know him, by name and reputation and deep, rumbling voice, if not by his face. No one knows him by his face, but he was as highly ranked a knight as Price was, one of your father’s personal guard before the war. Often tasked as your guardian, a solemn but comforting presence always. “Hello, Ghost,” you say, cheeks burning all the hotter. “Been a while.”

“Not as long as you might think,” he says. You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Been keepin’ an eye on you.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “For how long?”

“Knew where you were this whole time. Wun’t about to let you disappear, princess.” He tucks you against his side, keeping an arm around your shoulders protectively. “Johnny. Come meet our girl. Best behaviour.”

Johnny the werewolf grins at you as he walks up, still adjusting the drape of the tartan fabric around his hips, broad chest bare and dusted with hair, swirling blue tattoos printed on his scarred skin. His hair is shaved on the sides, a stripe of it left long in the center. “Nice ta finally meet ya, princess. Officially, anyway. We’ve bumped intae each other once or twice, but I was told no’ ta approach unless ye approached first, aye? Shame ye never did.” His smile is crooked, his too-bright blue eyes intent on yours. “Think we’ll get along.”

“The whole time?” you ask, skipping back a few paces in the conversation, glancing up at Ghost. “But Kyle said—”

“Sorry, sweetpea,” Kyle says airily. “I lied.”

“Typical tricksy wizard shite. But dinnae ye worry none, we’ll keep him honest for ye.” Johnny grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and then to the inside of your palm. His rough fingertips push your sleeve back, and he kisses the inside of your wrist too. When you squeak, he gives you a heated look and does it again, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he opens his mouth and licks a stripe across your pulse.

You’re warm from the tips of your ears to your chest, your breath catching on ragged nerves. You tug your hand out of his grip and cradle it with your other, like you’ve been burned by his brash touch.

“Johnny,” Ghost says, exasperated. “S’that what you call best behaviour?”

“She likes it, sir.”

“I most certainly do not!” you protest.

“Oh, aye ye do. Werewolf, ye ken. Can smell ye.” Johnny taps the side of his nose and winks at you. “Ye dinnae need ta be embarrassed, sweetpea. Ye can hardly blame yerself, faced with all this.” He gestures to his admittedly impressive physique, the broad and lean shape of near-perfect manhood on immodest display.

“Let’s move.” Kyle’s hand brushes your elbow. “You can ride with me again.”

Ghost shakes his head and turns, pulling you with him. “No. Come meet Nox.” He whistles, and a huge black shape hurtles down from the sky, glossy black wings snapping open just before the creature hit the ground, flapping a few times so that it lands lightly on four mismatched limbs, stirring up dust leaves. You shrink back against Ghost’s side, eyes wide. A gryphon.

The massive beast has a raven’s head and wings, and shiny black fur on it’s haunches. The catlike tail, with it’s tuft of feathers at the end, twitches back and forth as the bird head tilts to regard you, dark, slit-pupil eyes watching you with interest.

You look up at Ghost for reassurance, and he nods. “Go on. Offer ‘er your ‘and. She won’t bite. Hey, girl?” he scratches the gryphon behind the ear, and it opens it’s mouth to make a vibrating, keening sound that makes Kyle’s horse snort nervously. “That’s right, sweetpea’s a friend.”

You offer your outstretched hand to the giant creature, bolstered by Ghost’s calm, and it sticks it’s beak under your palm, making the same keening sound again. The last of your apprehension melts away, and you step closer, smiling. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” You scratch the spot where her beak meets her feathers, and her eyes close for a moment.

Johnny reaches for the Nox’s side, and she whips her head around and hisses at him, her throat feathers fluffing up defensively. “Och, yer no’ goan ta git my fingers, ye wee beastie. Thought ye was gettin’ soft.”

“Away, Johnny. Let the girls get to know each other.” Ghost stands behind you and guides your hands to points just behind Nox’s jaw. The gryphon croaks and leans her head on your shoulder, nudging Ghost with her beak.

“Not so scary,” you coo, pressing your face into the soft cloud of feathers. “What a sweet girl.”

“How about it, Nox? Can she ‘op up?” Ghost asks. The gryphon croaks again and backs away enough to lean her front half down. Ghost picks you up and sets you on her back, on a flat saddle that sits right behind the joint of her massive wings, which fold up over your legs like she’s holding you steady. He pats Nox on the neck and starts walking, and she follows, padding beside him, sticking her beak between the joints of his leather armor playfully whenever he takes his hand off her.

You grab the edge of the saddle, mindful of Nox’s feathers, and it takes a moment to adjust to her movement. It’s not the side to side sway of a horse, but she’s steady, like she’s trying her best not to spill an inexperienced rider. Thoughtful of her.

Behind you, Kyle scrambles up onto his horse, and Johnny hustles to catch up, positioning himself on Ghost’s other side, giving Nox a wider berth.

“Thought we weren’t supposed ta tell her we were watchin’,” Johnny said. “Price said—”

“She ought to know. I wun’t too ‘appy about it in the first place, but a deal’s a deal.”

“A deal with who?” you ask.

“I’ll let Price tell you that much, sweetpea. But if it were up to me I’d’ve dragged you back home years ago.”

You shake your head tiredly. “Home is where I was. And I’m going back as soon as this business with Price is done. I don’t know what he wants, but I’m sure we can work something out. Kyle said he’s reasonable.”

“Oh, did ‘e?” Ghost asks, amusement colouring his deep voice. “S’pose that’s ‘ow ‘e had you comin’ along purrin’ like a kitten, hm?”

The blood drains from your face as you turn to look at Kyle, but he doesn’t look guilty, or like he’d been lying to you. “Well, again, I’m perfectly happy to cooperate. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t let me go when he gets what he wants, is there?”

Johnny chuckles, exchanging a look with Ghost that’s inscrutable. “Aye, ye’ve got a point. I’m sure ye’ll have no trouble dealin’ with the old man. Born diplomat, aren’t ye?”

Your stomach twists with nerves. It’s been many years since you’ve seen John Price. You don’t know him as well as you know Ghost. You’d always found the big, faceless man strangely comforting, easy to talk at, if not to, especially when you were still young and silly. But John Price, when he fixed you with those fathomless dark blue eyes, had always rendered you speechless, turned your usually clever tongue to lead. He was a knight captain then, a natural leader of men, a hero. Not someone that your father wanted you to get close to. It’s easy for you to see why now, with your father dead in the ground and Price wearing the crown, but you were glad for any excuse to stay away.

You wish you could ask Nox to fly away with you on her back, maybe home, but maybe somewhere else entirely, where no one knows you, where you can start again without the weight of the crown hanging heavy over your head, an executioner’s ax waiting to fall.

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

#Fantasy AU #cod mw fanfiction #x reader #x fem Reader #141 x reader #Heavy Weighs the Crown #Cave Writing #This is mostly gonna be fun and light-hearted I just really enjoy fantasy and I've been watching a lot of DnD content lately #“He's always been reasonable” Kyle lies thinking fondly of his boss - the least reasonable man in the realm #Let me know if you need any content warnings in here but I feel this one's pretty light

178 notes · View notes

gophergal · 3 months

Text

... I'm sorry I just love the Big Woman/Smaller Man visual dynamic

[Pillowfort]

#gopher art #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #fem fortress #LOOK. no one ever half-r63's the taller man in size difference m/m ships #this is a crime to me. because the reverse is pretty common.#anyway corey and I agree that medic is homoflexible for femheavy (and femedic for heavy)#this is literally the only way i can think of medic with a woman lmao

118 notes · View notes

astralzeraphias · 1 year

Text

she said, “strangle me instead,

your hands, i want around my neck.”

#megatron #transformers #maccadam #never ask a man his salary . a woman her age . or an artist their art caption’s meaning #heavy rose usage bc i sketched this out right after watching rgutena for the first time . which like . holy shit btw #pretty please listen to the song in link pretty pretty please #it’s one of my favorite songs of all time <3 <3 <3 #i NEED more stuff/songs/etc with the vibe of this song holy shit

340 notes · View notes

keithbutgay · 11 months

Text

I find it funny when people say that Hugo is the stronger of the two. Like, I know Donella trained him and all but have you looked at that man?? He's a freaking TWIG. Varian "grew up on a farm" Ruddiger could snap him in half without even trying

Hugo: Do you trust me?

Varian: Not as far as I could throw you.

Hugo: *looks at Varian's biceps* So pretty far then

#like man carried two people and was barely struggling #and raccoons are decently heavy man. especially one as chubby as ruddiger #HE'S PRETTY FREAKING STRONG #whereas hugo has negative muscles #look at that puny man #i cant stand these guys /j #vat7k #varian and the seven kingdoms #hugo the human #hugo vat7k #varian vat7k #varigo

308 notes · View notes

beanghostprincess · 4 months

Text

If Franky isn't the one making Sanuso's wedding rings then what's the point

#i think they'd ask him right away and he'd start crying #like crying SO hard while he starts working #i am in a sanuso wedding mood #just thinking about luffy saying he wants to officiate it bc he's the captain and nami writing a script for him to follow and he's like???#'this is so boring nami can i just say what i think'#and his speech looks like something a 5 y/o would write but it's actually pretty beautiful and it ends with 'and now u kiss bc i want cake'#nami and robin as braidsmaids would kill me but ZORO??????? ZORO AS USOPP'S BEST MAN???? I COULD GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL-#anyway i'll shut up but i love them #one piece #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso #franky one piece

63 notes · View notes

fairyofthehollow · 6 months

Text

photos of haechan that are extremely important to me

#heavy on the first one #he’s literally my baby #this is literally my man #thank you to my man <3 #he’s so pretty #like ugh #:( it’s not fair #he’s gorgeous #like a prince #im in love #hyuck ♡🧸#lee donghyuck #lee haechan #haechan

72 notes · View notes

andy-clutterbuck · 1 year

Photo

6x08 | Start to Finish

#sweaty curls were the best ones #Rick Grimes #*#rg #S6 #dad™ pocket tees have no business looking that nice #but here we are #keep me in the pocket #lips brought to you by Mattel #i love arm #ARM VEINS #oh...there's bram stoker knocking again #red looks pretty on you richard #oh to brush the hair off his face #love me a sweaty heavy breathing man

299 notes · View notes

wlw-cryptid · 4 months

Note

Opinion on chubby butches/butches with stretch marks?

sweetheart. if my header werent what it is, it'd be "dad bod butches please call me"

#yeah i would say this water is pretty wet. what? yeah the sky is still blue too #i dont wanna joke on you too much. i know it can be hard to believe sometimes. but fat butches make this community what it is #chubby butches. fat butches. butches w thick soft arms and those rounded faces and warm tummies. theyre my friends. theyre my lovers #theyre Sexy too. i think its Hot to see a butch all shirtless with their belt n jeans kinda diggin into their stomach. i like how they can #stand kinda squared up and look Big. taking up space . i like how they feel on top of me #i like their hands! i like how bein kinda chubby can make fingers thicker.#she speaks #anon #asks #are you the same one that asked me if i like butches with top surgery scars. be honest #like. i DESIRE and SEEK butches who are thick and heavy. i think their body types add to the butch look in a way that makes my mouth water.#besides like. idk man im not super skinny either you know? and im disabled. when you have an alternative body type you just... its hard to #give a fuck about beauty standards like weight on other people. you feel me

21 notes · View notes

wayward-banana · 5 days

Text

So I drew this in 2022. I forgor 💀

#SOWWYYYY #genshin impact #tighnari #tighnari genshin #redesign #I predicted those scars man they’re pretty close to lightning scars I’ll take it #I still kinda fuck heavy with the shading and posing on this one #peaked a little #anyways whenever I write him in fics I always referencing his appearance like this and people ask me about it so #ig i’ll just send them this #wahoo!!#my art #I should start using that taggggg #if I can remember

18 notes · View notes

gnzma · 4 months

Text

[ i could say GO AND PLAY FEAR AND HUNGER NOW but

do i. want you guys to go through that ]

#❌|| ʏᴀ ɢɪʀʟ ɢɪᴏ 💀 ooc ||❌#its one of those games i feel almost uncomfortable talking about sometimes because i love it!!! but also fuck man #heavy inspiration from berserk apparently. like way more than dark souls. three characters are #pretty obviously guts casca and griffith apparently now that i read that yea i can see that!!#so if youre cool with all the stuff that happens in berserk. and i mean ALL the stuff. i mean you should be good with fungy!!!#but also man that game is a kick in the balls and i say it with as much love as i can give. i adore funger. but also god damnit #..........i still need to continue fungy2 i barely got past the first area NFDMSG

7 notes · View notes

paigemathews · 9 months

Note

Who did you think would win in a battle?

Wyatt Halliwell or Hope Mikaelson?

Definitely Wyatt Halliwell! Mostly because I haven't actually watched a single episode of any of the Vampire Diaries shows yet, so I have no idea who Hope is. (The main character in Legacies, I think?) (Don't worry, it's on my to watch list, my watch list is just really long atm.) I will say though that Wyatt is gonna be my answer for most situations. (Also thanks for the chance to do a little meta about Wyatt and his powers.)

From an objective standpoint in regards to powers, Wyatt wins against pretty much anything. I've said before and I'll say it again, I believe that Wyatt managed to break the Grand Design in the unchanged future with the exposure of magic, and I think that means he was able to kill some beings that he should not have traditionally been able to, aka the Cleaners and maybe even the Angel(s) of Destiny. (Which also loops into one of my now favorite headcanons that prophecies are made as a warning that a witch capable of breaking the Grand Design is coming.)

The catch, and how I'm able to write Wyatt in literally any conflict in my next gen fics, is that he has a critical weakness: he is terrified at the possibility of what he's capable of. (I have also mentioned that interpretation before, in connection with how Billie unintentionally makes it worse.) That kind of power is a lot for one person to handle, and Wyatt outclasses quite literally everyone around him by a large margin. I think that in a sense, his own fear serves as a kind of limiter on his power because he won't use them to the fullest extent. This is partially because he doesn't fully know what he's capable of because he doesn't experiment with his powers or push boundaries the same way that Chris does. While Wyatt has that kind of power, he lacks a greater amount of control and precision because he doesn't practice.

In a situation where Wyatt does go full-out, however, I think that he wins, no question. It's incredibly rare for him to do so, but one of his primary powers (projection) is a version of reality warping, y'know? That's not even getting into the fact that he has energy waves that can flat-out incinerate enemies without even trying. The challenge is getting him to a place where he doesn't hold back.

#knightlywonders #asks #charmed #wyatt halliwell #i'm sorry i know this definitely isn't what you were looking for but i still need to sit down and watch tvd universe stuff #charmed meta #i was looking through my wyatt tag and i'm surprised i don't have more in there #i love wyatt halliwell so much like he is just a character that i think you can interpret in so many different ways #but canon lends itself to some pretty complex interpretations bc this is a child raised with such a powerful legacy #but also has his own heavy expectations and responsibility from when he is BORN so deciding how to balance it all #is just really interesting to me. he's definitely one of my favorite characters to rotate in my brain #even tho i def don't do it nearly as much as chris and bianca but he's up there #everytime i sit down and plot for the next gen characters i just get obsessed #like phoebe's oldest daughter peyton? love rotating her in my brain she's great #there's just so much to work with the idea of legacy and how their parents impacted them #but also the way that they each kinda have their own responsibilities that are unique to them #along with the unique way that they each approach magic and demons and protecting the innocent #idk i just love next gen so much man

17 notes · View notes

gophergal · 16 days

Text

ok so a doodle with a target audience of one before I go to bed

Just some team fort characters cast as characters in the Seven Deadly Sins vocaloid series by MOTHY. Here we have the Administrator in Judgement of Corruption (Greed), Demoman in The Muzzle Of Nemesis (Wrath), and Medic in Gift From the Princess Who Brings Sleep (Sloth)

ok night

#gopher art #tf2 administrator #tf2 demoman #tf2 medic #team fortress 2 #i wanted to do all of them but im not sure who to cast as the others #im basing this more on story vibes than on which sin they are #funny thing is that none of these are my favorite songs in the series (though I do think theyre all bangers).#Evil Food Eater Conchita (Gluttony) is my favorite #and Tailor of Enbizaka (Envy) is a close second #but tbh those are harder to cast for this little crossover. Im debating between pyro and heavy for conchita #but casting the One Fat Character as gluttony Feels Bad Man #but also HEAVY WOULD SLAY IN THAT DRESS #tailor of enbizaka is a bit easier because i think spy would be pretty fitting since its about someone who is trying to become other people

30 notes · View notes

mad-hunts · 11 days

Text

@ofgctham sent🔪 to walk in on my muse standing over a dead body (for jim).

the faint sound of barton humming the song 'i only have eyes for you' reverberated throughout a tiny bathroom that definitely wasn't his as he finally began to stand up from his position in the porcelain bathtub. it was very bright, he thought, though he supposed that made sense. the woman who was renting it out for the month seemed to love the color yellow. and that certainly showed through the outfit she'd died in. or, to be more specific, the outfit zofia baros had died in. he almost felt sorry to have killed her because while they were on their date that afternoon, zofia was nothing but kind to him. they had gone to a rather popular italian restaurant in town as their 'first date' (though, unbeknowst to her, this would also be their last) at around 2:00 and zofia had liked him so much that she told barton she never wanted the day to end.

so, she invited him over to her place. if only zofia could've seen just what kind of horrors lied beneath his exterior at the time. then, she might've been able to save herself. there was nothing that could be done about the fact that zofia was a corpse now however; and her compassion was, unfortunately, not enough to stop barton from attacking her whenever she was preparing to grab something from the medicine cabinet. zofia was at her most vulnerable in a place like the bathroom, after all, because she could be easily cornered and why wouldn't barton seek to exploit that while he could? work smarter, not harder, as the saying goes — as twisted as it was for barton to have thought that. he only had one little problem, and that was that zofia had managed to scream out for help once before he killed her, which was at a volume that he wasn't sure whether anyone had heard.

thus, he couldn't take his sweet time here like he originally planned. barton had to leave and quick just in case anyone had heard it. so, he planned to carry her out of the place using the rather large rug in the living room, which was equal parts conspicuous and inconspicuous. but barton did have limited options here so having to improvise was pretty much a guarantee. as he was carrying her out into the living room, though, he had heard what he figured what must've been footsteps approach the door of her apartment. shit. how could anyone have gotten here this quickly, when he'd literally killed her about ten minutes ago? barton gritted his teeth as he eyed the door and looked around the room for anything else he could use as a weapon.

that's when he remembered she had glass bottles in her fridge. barton was about to get some of them when, of course, the door was kicked in. and that's when he saw him. jim gordon, as if he hadn't ruined his life enough already, just couldn't leave him alone ... could he? barton brought zofia's body up far enough to cover his all the way up to his heart seemingly in an effort to use her dead body as a shield from his gun. a low snicker began to tickle his throat and before long, barton was letting out a belly laugh as if he found something really funny about this. i suppose because he anticipated a drastic change in jim's expression as he let out a mockingly pity filled ' aww ' sound right after and gave him an over-exaggerated frown.

❝ ooh, i bet you were hoping to shoot me as soon as you walked in the door, weren't you? it must really suck to be you. you're a loser when you're at work, and outside of work too, ❞ barton insulted the other as he began to back up subtly towards the fridge to get the glass bottles. the white lenses of his mask made it hard to see where he was looking, but it was certain that he was thinking about a new way out of here, ❝ i'm just going to assume you remember me. so, how about you finally let me settle the score i have with you that has been going on for longer than a decade and let me kill you, jim? ❞

#ofgctham #tw: heavy violence.#tw: murder.#tw: knives.#okay but... barton is SO wack for multiple things that he did in this. like imagine having the gall it takes to call someone a loser and #judge someone else whenever you're a LITERAL serial killer. like barton PLEASE look in the mirror 💀 and the fact that he propped #zofia up to use her as a shield?? i'm sorry BUT that is just... so messed up and yet he still went for it because he literally has no-#shame. so if you want jim to REALLY beat him up in this i am totally all for it because he absolutely deserves it here. man's has-#reached a new low for real especially whenever he taunted jim for not being able to shoot him like. MMMM i know i'm the one writing #him but why has he got to be like this jsjsj but anyways i hoped you liked this starter! though i know it's pretty dark

2 notes · View notes