Cold ravioli from the can, ketchup on stale hot dog buns paired with warm applesauce. If his mother was lucky enough to get some extra cash, Simon rode the high of mac and cheese with hot dogs and the rare kid cuisine. He didn't really know how to cook until he got to the military, and even then, he learned surviving cooking.
Nothing that helped him in a real kitchen where he stood still beside Kyle. The younger man explains smoothly how to dice up the chicken breast on the cutting board. Kyle knew how to cook. His parents didn't make him take care of his siblings. It was something he adopted naturally as he got older.
Namely, he liked to cook for people, especially his partner. "Simon, love, are you listening?" Kyle nudges the stock still man softly with his elbow, looking up at him. Simon was unreadable to almost everyone, but Kyle could see that small scrunch in his brow that meant he was anxious.
"Not really." Simon admits quietly as he fiddles with Kyle's shirt slightly, hands finally settling on his hips. "This is a lot for me."
"That's okay. You don't have to learn this all at once." Kyle assures as he wraps Simon's arms more firmly around himself. "I really like taking care of you. You're finally gaining some weight." Simon grumbles slightly at that, nuzzling into the smaller man's neck.
"Trying to fatten me up?" He grunts, pleased when Kyle nods enthusiastically.
"I'm gonna make you the biggest you've ever been."
also i was playing around with brushes and had the epiphany that i can actually draw with a sketchy pen like i do on paper, insane right
further explanations/ramblings below the cut
cw for brief mentions of unspecified eating disorder & depression. I don’t go into many details, and these topics are mentioned as if listing facts, but I’d rather be safe than sorry!
Link was on his way back to Hyrule after OoS/OoA when the storm struck him down and he fell into the Windfish’s dream. Zelda was expecting him back within a certain timeframe, and was pretty distressed when he never showed on time. Her relief was immense when he was found adrift on some flotsam.
OKAY so.. idk what the general consensus is if Legend actually died after being struck by lightning or was in some sort of stasis below the sea while stuck in the Windfish’s dream, but I like to think the lighting did actually kill him, and the Windfish brought him back as thanks 🙂↕️🙂↕️
ik it’s not actually the Windfish in PH, but I’d like to think the whale and him are the same. Or at least the same kind of entity! And just like in PH, time moves differently outside of the dream then inside, so Legend was there for months, but in reality barely a week had passed.
When he initially gets back to Hyrule, he’s taken to the infirmary in the castle, much to his chagrin. And while yes, he was severely dehydrated, sunburnt, and injured from the shipwreck, it soon became apparent to the healers that the worst of his injuries weren’t physical. He was moved to some guest chambers in the castle so Impa and Zelda could keep an eye on him while he recovered.
Immediately following his recovery from the ocean, Link was very spacey. He was extremely depressed, as someone in his situation would be, and was having trouble discerning if he truly was in reality or was still dreaming. He’d occasionally dissociate fully, but would mostly be aware, if not in a state of derealization.
He would refuse to sleep for days at a time, and would often find himself delirious, which did not help his derealization. He found that playing the Ballad of the Windfish helped ground him in reality, as it never woke him up. He developed insomnia, due to Koholint, and even during LU he has bouts of extreme anxiety about sleeping.
I like to think that constant adventuring, especially when being hunted down as a child, doesn’t lend itself well to keeping a healthy eating schedule. Legend never really ate well, and is pretty scrawny for it, but in his depression after Koholint would rarely eat at all, but he definitely has always had some sort of unspecified eating disorder going on. He’s very thin, and while he’s eating enough to not be skeletal by the time of LU, he’s definitely just skin and wiry muscle.
Even though it was bleak initially, Link did get better. Unbeknownst to him, and not told to him until he began insisting on going back to his home, his uncle had passed while Legend had been in Labrynna & Holodrum. He left the castle anyways, home to an empty house and an overgrown orchard (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`).
Due to his depression, he didn’t exactly take care of himself well and was unconcerned about appearances. His hair had grown considerably during his time in the castle and he hadn’t bothered to cut it even after returning to the orchard.
Something that was really pivotal in getting Link back on his feet was his apprenticeship at the blacksmith. It gave him a reason to get out of bed, make efforts to take care of himself, and stay grounded in reality.
He did eventually cut his hair after Zelda mentioned it once while visiting. rip
Honestly, the whole meeting 8 other Heroes who share your same soul in an adventure across time probably sounds pretty unrealistic. For a while at the beginning of his adventure, he struggled with truly believing it was real, even if he played the Ballad of the Windfish and didn’t wake up back in his bed at home.
idk if i’ll ever write/draw about it, but what about an AU where Link’s Awakening is Legend’s most recent adventure. So this extremely done with everything and very paranoid Legend is thrown right into LU immediately after 🤔
Tw for self harm/angst prompt, not eating/starving yourself, the reader punishes themselves through starvation and doesn’t know why
You have a very specific way of harming yourself. Not in the sense that you slit your wrists differently or burn yourself in some unique way but that you deprive yourself. Not only your brain but also your body.
You would think a child of the Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s favourite billionaire, would at least eat the food served upon the fine dinner table. But it’s just a little too easy to skip out on a meal.
You take a small breakfast ‘to go’, you then say you had a large breakfast at school (or, sometimes, you don’t even have to explain yourself at all), then you say you had a big lunch at dinner and take the minimum amount of food that you can to ease Alfred’s drilling stare up to your room.
Your family teases you and says that you ‘eat like a bird’ and you smile through the dizziness as you pretend to swallow an apple slice, tucking it into the side of your mouth, nestled in your cheek and softened with saliva but never to be truly digested.
You’re fine for a while. You lose some weight, and though it somewhat pleases you, it also scares you.
(You lose a pound or two more and you’ll find yourself looking exactly how you are.
Starving.)
You don’t know why you do it—starve yourself. But you know it’s not to make you look pretty. You won’t deny your own vanity, but that’s not why you starve yourself.
It’s a punishment. A consequence. What for?
You’re not sure. You don’t remember by now. You just know that it was your consequence.
And, again, you’re fine for a while.
Until you pass out during gym class, of course. And you have to come up with an excuse as to why. An excuse that does not alleviate your family’s concerns as much as you thought that it would.
Sure hell eat anything put infront of him even if its half moldy or from the bin. As long as he thinks his stomach can tank it, hell eat it.
Still stuck in that mindset of poverty where he went to bed hungry everynight because his pa blew everything on drugs alcohol and prostitutes and his ma could only stretch food so far with coupons and hidden money.
He still has to physically stop himself from digging through the Cafeteria trash when he spots some soldier throwing away perfectly edible scraps.
But that doesnt mean he enjoys it. Most days he has to force the bile back down his throat at the Cafeteria gruel, even the fancier meals. His hands still shake with revulsion and his adrenaline spikes with each bite.
But he forces through it. Knows a body as large as his needs fuel and food is all he knows. Doesnt matter what it is or where it came from as long as its edible.
Price knows this. Its why he doesnt question when Ghost sometimes comes back from a mission in the middle of nowhere with limited supplies with blood still seeping out from under his mask. Its why he surpresses or outright silences anyone who digs a little too deep into Ghosts mission files with mutilated bodies. Marks it as local wildlife getting to the body.
Soap and Gaz also know, only vaguely of course but theyre both smart Sargents. Theyve more than figured things out.
And while they dont question it, too loyal to the team, they do try something.
Soap makes sure to bring home heaps of leftovers after his Christmas leaves, mumbling near Ghost about how his ma gave him way too much again amd that he shpuld grab some before it spoils. Gaz tries to regularly, at least when theyre stationed at a safe base, cook or bake something and then simply complaim to Ghost about how the recipe didnt say that the batch would be this big or that he accidentally made more than he could eat and itd be a shame to throw it away when it inecitably spoiled.
Its how they always got Ghost to eat what theyd made or brought, the threat of food left abandoned till rot.
A very effective if slightly guilting method. Price knows of course, well aware of the going ons in his Team. But so long Ghost keeps being a loyal and deadly machine on the battlefield, Price cares little for it.
Theres no changes at first. But after half a year or so the difference is visible. Ghost is bigger, bulkier, not that any of them thought it was possible, Soap prides his mas cooking for it while Gaz simply calls it well balanced and well made meals. And theres even a nice layer of fat on top of all the muscle, something Soap cant seem to shut up about the second Ghost leaves the room.
It even seemed to have made Ghost more of a beast in the field. Though if thats because the foods simply made him healthier or if hes charging through missions as efficiently to get back to base for more of it is a question none of them can answer.
simon knows the way you eat is... odd. but he doesn't exactly mind. as long as you get something in your system, its better than starving, he'd know after all.
does that mean he's pleased with it? no, not by a long shot. but he knows that pushing too far with it might cause more harm than good. and he doesn't want you to think he's gonna force you to eat stuff you don't want to.
please check tags before continuing
he once tried buying something he knew you'd eat, it was identical to your current favorite snack he saw you eat like it was a meal. this version had slightly better macros, and was on sale, which he knew would go over better as an excuse to get it than the higher protien and fiber count.
"got more of those snacks ya love so much." he smiles under the black half-mask he wore to the store, your own after he said that way too contagious. but when he takes the box out of the bag, he watches you shut down in real time. "was on sale, and they didn' have the kind ya normally get."
"oh... thats okay," it wasn't, "thank you, si," you say when he hands the box to you. you frown at the box, the wrong box, just for a moment, then you school your expression into a practiced smile. "i'll try them," you promise, but it sounds to him like he just asked you to try torture.
"you don't have t-"
"i dont have any of the other kind so..." you press your lips into a line, but he sees the way your jaw shakes. he knows what's wrong, and that nothing would fix it except the kind you normally get.
you smile at him again, but his instincts scream that its wrong when you do. fake. "i'm not really hungry right now, but i will try them when i am," you say, crossing your arms over your chest.
you spin on your heels, headed back to the sofa to watch whatever youtube video you'd paused. he doesn't miss the way your stomach growls on your way out, or the way your shoulders seem a little too tight as you cover yourself with your throw blanket.
---
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written 100% by me and for fellow humans only! do not feed my work to any ai on any level, i do not care what your excuse for stealing my content is, its stealing.
do not repost or translate my work as your own (translations are okay by me, just ask first pls)
Thinking about ghost who would literally eat anything and picky eater!reader...
Of course, ghost first realized how bad your eating habits are while out getting dinner with you. Yes, dinner, a small payback-maybe-date after he rescued you from your broken down car at 3am.
"Uhm...I'll just have the chicken tenders. From the kids menu, please." You refuse to make eye contact with the waiter or ghost, stomach twisting that none of the more adult options were anything you liked.
You braces for the comments from ghost, having heard plenty from his teammates. Gaz snorting about what he's dubbed "your one vegetable a month" whenever he sees the only sub you eat lettuce with. Soap, too, makes comments about how you should try home-cooked meals instead of your store bought meals. Even price has chuckled about "dessert for lunch again, love?" When literally all you could stomach that week was sweets.
When you doesn't comment, you stubbornly stay staring at your hands "I know it's embarrassing eating with me...sorry."
"Wot? Yer eating, aren't you?" Ghost raises his brow at you, shoveling another giant onion ring into his mouth. "Not my fuckin' issue. If you don't want it, give it to me."
And...really you should have expected this.
Ghost, the man who lived on literal scraps in his childhood, who ate everything he was given because he had no choice. Of course he wouldn't care what you eat, so long as you eat.
"Oh...uhm." You're not sure what to say. You're used to always feeling some level of embarrassment about your diet. "Thank...you."
One dinner turns to two, turns to shared lunches and weekend brunches. You gravitate towards ghost because he doesn't care about your eating habits. If you order something and find it tastes different than expected, ghost will happily devour your dish while you ask about crisps.
You realize you've never been able to eat freely with another person before. It's...really nice.
And reader is smaller than all the task force. So they guys assume they are a smaller prey hybrid
Until they see reader with out their gear and see that reader is under weight, and they realize that reader it's getting enough food or the right nutritions
Maybe the task force see that reader is eating a weirdly small amount, but they brush it off and say that's how they always ate at home. And the guys realized that you grew up in a prey home and never learned what to eat
(so loads of angst and oblivious reader)
And I love your works, it feeds me everyday, thank you for existing❤️😋
Oooh, oh my gosh, some angst!? Some miscommunication!? Oh my God, I need it. Also, I'm so glad I got my tooth out and all, but GAHHH, my jaw is so sore from the numbing shots and stuff 😵💫 I'm gonna take another painkiller and go to bed early
You were one of the smaller hybrids that Price had ever seen in the military. He'd met some mouse and bunny hybrids, even a few tiny bird hybrids. You were practically the same size as a bunny hybrid, which was deeply concerning once he double checked your file.
"Y/N is a tiger hybrid." Price mumbles in surprise, gut sinking as he thinks of all the meals you had at mess hall. Barely full plates that he knew wouldn't properly fill you up.
"What's that, Cap?" Simon grunts quietly as he glances up from his own paperwork. Price clears his throat nervously, passing over your file to him.
"I didn't get a chance to look beforehand. I was checking their hybrid status to help choose their next deployment. Y/N is a tiger." Price's mouth felt dry as he taps his fingers on his chair. "We need to get them to eat more."
"Do they know that their a tiger hybrid?" Simon scoffs in disbelief, his own striped tail trashing in irritation.
"They were raised by lemur hybrids. I don't think they know how to eat." Price drops his head into his hands. If they didn't get more food into you soon, there would be consequences.
Johnny stares at your back in horror. You were almost as geared up as Ghost half the time, never caught out of uniform or fatigues. Maybe that's why he'd never noticed how skinny you were. His stomach sinks as he realizes he can count your vertebrae, your shoulder blades sickeningly prominent.
"Y/N... Jesus, you're skinny." Johnny breaths, grabbing your upper arm. He was incredibly surprised that you even had muscle, that you were still standing. He studies your rounded ears, eyes falling to your striped tail and putting it together in his head.
"I'm just a little thinner than you guys. It's not a big deal. I'm good on the field, right?" You try to laugh off what he was saying, but his serious tone made you stomach curl. You'd always been a little skinnier than some of your peers, and you were hoping to avoid all the awkward comments on your body in the military.
"Not a - No, Y/N, it is a big deal!" Johnny insists, eyes wide. "How much do you weigh? Simon's a tiger hybrid too, you should be a lot heavier than this." He continues, unconsciously tightening his grip on your arm.
"Ah, Johnny! Let go!" You hiss, shoving at his chest. He retracts his hand instantly, eyes flickering with guilt. "I'm fine! I weigh enough, just leave me alone!" You snap angrily, snatching your shirt out of your locker and stomping out of the room. You weighed plenty, and you didn't need anyone to force you to gain weight.
You rush to your barracks, tail lashing angrily as you try to calm down before it is time for dinner. You knew you were thin, but it wasn't that bad! You were already so much bigger than your parents and peers. This was the first time you'd ever been so small.
You growl in frustration under your breath, continuing to pace until a knock at your door startles you. "Yes!?" You snap, unable to help yourself. Kyle hesitantly opens the door, raising an eyebrow at you as he steps inside.
"Woah there... What did I do?" He asks defensively as he shuts the door behind him and leans against the wall. "Is this about the argument you just had with Johnny?"
"Did he run off and tell you all about it?" You grumble angrily, which makes Kyle chuckles quietly.
"I was in the showers, Y/N." Your shoulders sag slightly, anger starting to fade out since you weren't mad at him. You weren't even mad at Johnny, really. You just didn't want to hear anymore about your body. "He's worried. We all are, we thought you were a bunny hybrid. Or maybe a small cat hybrid." Your ears flick back at that, eyes narrowing at him.
"A bunny hybrid? Why would I be a bunny hybrid?" You scoff quietly. You knew you didn't have the most obvious presentation, but a bunny hybrid? They didn't think you were that small, did they? Kyle crosses his arms and shrugs a little. "All I've ever heard my whole life is that I'm too fucking big. Now here yall come saying I need to gain weight."
"You were raised by lemurs, Y/N, not tigers. Of course, they thought you were too big." Kyle jumps to explain, which makes you growl queitly.
"My parents would never do anything to hurt me!" You snap at him, arms crossed defensively. Kyle cringes, holding up his hands at that.
"I know they wouldn't! They weren't trying to hurt you, but they didn't teach you how to eat right. You're a predator hybrid. You need more food." Kyle explains softly to try and calm you down. You stare back at him, shoulders tight as you step away from him when he steps closer.
"Leave my family out of this." You hiss angrily, watching as Kyle nods quickly.
"I will. We will. I swear. Can you please come get some food? Simon's going to make you a plate. He's really worried about you." He offers, watching your ears flicker slightly. You didn't want to sit and eat right now. You wanted to run, but when you start to walk past Kyle, the world tilts under your feet.
Kyle grabs your upper arm, gently holding you still so you don't fall over. "Hey, slow down." He murmurs as he keeps you steady. "Let's go." He says firmly, walking with a hand on your back to the mess hall. "After we eat, you're going to get checked up."
You twist your face at his words, but you don't bother protesting. Not when you're busy ignoring the black spots sprouting in your vision.
