getting emotional over world of warcraft bc looking back on it they literally aged anduin in the expansions at almost the exact same rate I actually grew up. so I spent my childhood having an npc MY AGE in my favorite game that my dad had shown me, GROWING UP AS I GREW UP.
and him not having many peers in game until mists of pandaria matched how I didn't have friends I could nerd out about high fantasy shit to until I was around 16 either.
and now I haven't played in a while bc I don't have money to (and my laptop has started slowly dying), and I get on tumblr to check the tags w him and wrathion for nostalgia, AND I SEE THEM ALL GROWN UP TOO. AND I SEE THEM HAVING CLEARLY GONE THROUGH SOME SHIT TOO.
AND IT'S WAY MORE EMOTIONAL THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE
MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT NPCS CONTINUE TO BE JUST LIKE ME FR FR
"it's all in the eyes i was once told"
catching the stare of someone across a crowded room
subtle furrowing of eyebrows beyond a blank facade
coldness easing into warmth
a fond mothering gaze
corner of the lip nudged upward
forced glower/glare as they break underneath
batting their lashes, playful
a boisterous laugh
intrigue piercing the stoic
proud smugness at the other's success
lingering glances
a childish joy bursting through
pupils dilate
eyelids shut in a look of peace, calm and trust
"there was once a time when they were mine"
terseness
features fold into a scowl
an urgent flinching back
coldness returns (as though the warmth had never come)
lips part then purse
invasion of shock
slow stare at the floor
the ripple effect of a swallow
frustrated breath/sigh
bitter laugh in reminiscence
dread tearing through the seams of their composure
"darkness"
mean smirk- teeth bared grimace- scowl
dismissive gaze
gaze of contempt/impatience
threat lowering the voice
sardonic goading grins verging on manic
rolling one's eyes
flicker of irritation in the eyes
stares stubbornly ahead despite distraction
gritted teeth, clenched jaw
fierce biting remarks
even measured complexions betraying no thought
strangling oneself back from violence
utter apathy
murderous silence hanging in the stare
snobbish laughter
smiling at another's downfall
Simon opens his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at you. Your eyes meet his. You lean down to kiss him slowly, softly. When you pull away, Simon speaks, his voice softer now, “I missed this. Just bein’ home, with you.” You smile, a mixture of understanding and love in your eyes. “I missed you too,” you whisper, your fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder.
Simon arrives home after a particularly tough mission
warnings: none
Ghost found himself recovering from a tough mission, his body weary and spirit longing for a moment of solace. He was on his way home, allowed a short-term leave after the mission went successfully. It was by no means an easy mission, it took a toll on him. He felt more exhausted, more drained, than normal. He just wanted a moment of peace, a moment of quiet, where he could just relax.
When he arrived at the front door of your shared apartment, he took a breath. He fumbled with hands for a moment, pulling his keys out and unlocking the door. He calls out your name as he kicks the door shut, setting his things down on the kitchen counter.
You were in the living room, sitting on the couch in your pajamas, engrossed in a book, the soft hum of music playing in the background. Hearing Simon’s voice, you looked up from the pages and a smile bloomed on your face. You spring up from the couch as he walks into the living room. The sight of him, battle-worn but alive, brought a sense of relief.
“Hey there, big man,” you said, your voice a comforting melody. Simon turns towards you, a half-smile forming on his lips. His fatigue seemed to momentarily lift as he looked at the smile on your face.
“Hey,” he replied, the weariness evident in his voice. You closed the distance between you, and he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the residue of whatever he was doing on mission slowly melting away in the comfort of your presence.
“Rough one, huh?” you ask, pulling back slightly to look at him. He nods, his eyes revealing a layer of exhaustion.
“Yeah, tougher than usual,” Ghost admitted. “But we got the job done.”
You led him to the couch, and he sank into it with a sigh, his body appreciating the respite. You disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water for him. As he took a sip, you studied his features, noting the subtle scars and bruises that adorned his face.
“Anything I can do?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice. Simon shook his head, appreciating the simple offer.
“Just bein’ here ‘s enough,” he replied, setting the glass aside. You sat down beside him, your presence a soothing balm to his aching body. You begin to run your hands down his arms, feeling the tension of his muscles under his clothes.
“Do you want me to run you a bath?” you question softly, running your hands down his arm and to his hand, squeezing it in your grip.
He tilts his head over towards you, eyes drooping slightly.
“Sounds lovely,” he grunts, nodding his head.
You rose gracefully from the couch, giving Simon’s hand a reassuring squeeze before disappearing into the bathroom. You turned the tap, adjusting the water temperature to perfection, adding a hint of soothing helichrysum oil.
Simon, in the meantime, made his way to the bedroom, peeling off his tactical gear and clothes, revealing a body marked by the trials of combat. He finally slips his mask off, folding it neatly on top of his pile of clothes. He took a deep breath as he heard the water cascading into the tub. The scent of helichrysum wafted through the air, a fragrant promise of relaxation.
When everything was ready, you returned to him, gently guiding him towards the bathroom. The steam from the bath enveloped him as he sank into the warm water, the tension in his muscles slowly dissipating. You perch on the edge of the tub, watching him with tenderness and slight concern.
As Simon closed his eyes, surrendering to the comforting embrace of the bath, you dipped a washcloth into the water and began to delicately clean the black paint from around his eyes. The touch of your hands was gentle, a welcome contrast from roughing it on base.
“I appreciate this,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
A warm smile appears on your face as you carefully pour warm water over his head, letting it cascade down his hair and down his neck. Simon closes his eyes, feeling the comforting touch of the water against his scalp.
As you began to work shampoo through Simon’s hair, your fingers massaging his scalp, Simon let out a contented sigh. The stress and exhaustion of the mission slowly melted away, replaced by a sense of peace. Your gentle hands made him feel cared for, safe.
“You deserve this,” you replied softly. “Let me take care of you for a change.”
The bathroom was filled with a soothing silence, broken only by the sound of water trickling and your quiet breaths. Your touch is tender, each stroke of your hands carrying a touch of affection. Simon relished in the simplicity of the moment, the way you were so gentle with him.
Simon opens his eyes, turning his head slightly to look at you. Your eyes meet his. You lean down to kiss him slowly, softly.
When you pull away, Simon speaks, his voice softer now, “I missed this. Just bein’ home, with you.”
You smile, a mixture of understanding and love in your eyes. “I missed you too,” you whisper, your fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder.
Once the bath has worked its magic, you help Simon to his feet, helping him wrap a plush towel around his waist. The scent of the bath oil lingered on his skin, a comforting reminder of the care you’d provided for him. The two of you returned to the bedroom, where a set of fresh clothes awaited him.
Simon changed into sweats and a soft t-shirt, a welcome change from his heavy tactical gear. He settles onto the bed, groaning with relief as his back hits the mattress. You giggle as he lays silently in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Just as you’re about to grab a cup of tea, Simon is grabbing your wrist tightly, pulling you back towards the bed.
“‘M sleepy,” he complains. “Can’t sleep very well without you.”
You lean down to kiss him on the cheek, gently pulling your wrist from his grip.
“I’m just going to get you a cup of tea—”
“No, ‘ve already gotten enough princess treatment from you—” he grunts, sitting up from his position to manhandle you into bed with him.
You sigh in defeat, arms coming to wrap around his neck as he pulls you on top of him. His hands travel up from your thighs to your waist, pulling you tight against him. He only removes his hands from you for a quick second to pull the covers up on the bed.
The warmth of the bed enveloped both of you as you settled into the cozy cocoon of blankets. Simon’s weariness was evident, yet his grip on you was firm, as if afraid that if he let go, the world would pull him back into its relentless demands.
You chuckled at his antics, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You're stubborn, you know that?”
“Only to you,” he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes, his hands still holding you close.
You snuggled against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the ambient sounds of the night outside. Simon’s exhaustion seemed to ebb away as he held you, finding solace in the simple act of being close.
You traced circles on his chest, your fingers moving rhythmically as if to lull him into a peaceful slumber. Simon’s gaze softened as he looked down at you.
“Y’know,” he began, his voice a gentle murmur, “coming home to you is the best part of any mission.”
Your heart swelled with pride at his words. “And having you here is the best part of my day.”
He smiled, a genuine, tired smile. Simon’s hands traced gentle patterns on your back. The lines of fatigue on his face were replaced by an expression of peacefulness, a quiet acknowledgment that, for now, the battles were outside and the peace was within.
“Tea can wait,” Simon mumbled, his eyes heavy with sleep.
You nodded, snuggling even closer. “Go to sleep, my big sleepy man.”
And with that, the two of you drifted into a peaceful slumber, finding refuge in the sanctuary of your bedroom, happy to be reunited once more.
out on a cold sunday morning and older bf!simon gives you his jacket.
you know, the tactical one?
black, thick, union jack on the left sleeve, more pockets and zips than you can shake a stick at.
the one that smells unequivocally like him.
he puts it round your shoulders and you immediately wrap up in it. shit, you wouldn’t half mind a stake out in siberia if you had this on.
warm and surprisingly soft on the inside (like someone else you know)
simon refuses to let you give it back, even when his skin is visibly prickled with the cold. swears down that he’s just fine.
truthfully, he is.
he’d spend forever freezing his bollocks off if it meant seeing you with “L.t Riley” stitched over that big heart of yours.
I deserve love. I deserve to feel adored. I deserve kind words and sweet gestures. I deserve gentle kisses and warm hugs. I deserve the love he gives to me. We deserve the best of each other.
Gazing into each other’s eyes with a soft smile.
Holding hands and gently squeezing.
Brushing a strand of hair behind the ear.
Speaking in a tender, affectionate tone.
Sharing inside jokes and laughing together.
Leaning in close to whisper sweet words.
Giving a lingering, gentle kiss on the forehead.
Wrapping arms around each other in a warm embrace.
Blushing when receiving a compliment.
Touching foreheads and closing eyes.
Smiling uncontrollably when thinking of the other person.
Caressing the cheek or back of the hand.
Playfully teasing each other with a grin.
Preparing a favorite meal or surprise.
Writing heartfelt notes or letters.
Holding each other close while watching a movie.
Taking care of each other when sick or tired.
Sharing dreams and hopes for the future.
Listening attentively and showing genuine interest.
Expressing gratitude for each other’s presence.
i still hate y’all bitches who say oc x canon shit is cringe like bitch you have ANY idea how flattered i would be if someone made an oc for my fantasy world? how utterly PSYCHED my ass would be they loved a character so much they fleshed out one themselves just 2 be with one of mine? fuck y’all haters
Gets into: A Fight ⚜ ...Another Fight ⚜ ...Yet Another Fight
Hates Someone ⚜ Kisses Someone ⚜ Falls in Love
Calls Someone they Love ⚜ Dies / Cheats Death ⚜ Drowns
is...
A Child ⚜ Interacting with a Baby/Child ⚜ A Genius ⚜ A Lawyer
Beautiful ⚜ Dangerous ⚜ Drunk ⚜ Injured ⚜ Shy
needs...
A Magical Item ⚜ An Aphrodisiac ⚜ A Fictional Poison
To be Killed Off ⚜ To Become Likable ⚜ To Clean a Wound
To Find the Right Word, but Can't ⚜ To Say No ⚜ A Drink
loves...
Astronomy ⚜ Baking ⚜ Cooking ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Food ⚜ Oils
Dancing ⚜ Fashion ⚜ Gems ⚜ Mythology ⚜ Numbers
Roses ⚜ Sweets ⚜ To Fight ⚜ Wine ⚜ Wine-Tasting ⚜ Yoga
has/experiences...
Allergies ⚜ Amnesia ⚜ Bereavement ⚜ Bites & Stings ⚜ Bruises
Caffeine ⚜ CO Poisoning ⚜ Color Blindness ⚜ Food Poisoning
Injuries ⚜ Jet Lag ⚜ Mutism ⚜ Pain ⚜ Poisoning
More Pain & Violence ⚜ Viruses ⚜ Wounds
[these are just quick references. more research may be needed to write your story...]
Christmas comic in October? It's more likely than you think.
Also I would die for young Kyle and Simon