#i try to dissociate from it as much as possible actually

[darkveracity]

How do you think each Tsukihime girl would feel about getting pregnant?

Ok so this is what we're doing now huh

Arcueid: Can Arc even get pregnant? I'm going to go with no but even if she can chances are she knows only the vaguest of details about it. Any Arcueid pregnancy adventure is going to involve an awful lot of explaining basic facts of human biology to her while she glosses over major details in favor of fixating on small points most other people don't consider important

Ciel: Ciel is going to cry from joy not so much because she got pregnant but because the fact that she can get pregnant now means she's truly free of her curse. Her body can once again change and grow and even bear children. The next time she sees Noel she goes on and on about how happy she is and how wonderful her life has become and inadvertently pisses Noel off so badly she ruins her entire week

Noel: Noel's first thought on learning she's become pregnant is to be happy at finally achieving a little slice of a normal life, her second thought is to call Ciel and try to rub it in her face as hard as possible, and somewhere distantly in third is the fact that she is in no way ready to become a mother and oh god this is going to fuck everything up

Satsuki: I think she's just normal about it actually. Satsuki's narrative position as a love interest is to be the normal classmate, the girl next door, an ordinary person drawn into this supernatural world by happenstance rather than someone steeped in it like the rest of the cast and this means her reaction to getting pregnant is just normal too

Akiha: Getting pregnant makes all of her self-loathing and belief that she's a monster crash down on her at once. Given the blood of demons that she carries, given what her family has done, is it really right to bring any more of them into the world? Should not the Tohnos simply end with her? Also more than anyone else she experiences pregnancy as total body horror - her frame simply isn't built for it and she finds it both painful and disgusting. Combined with the extreme hormonal fluctuations of pregnancy and their emotional effects I think she tries to kill herself at least once

Hisui: She's really quiet but from the way that she smiles you can tell that she's simply too happy to express herself well. Second most normal about it after Satsuki

Kohaku: She sits staring into space and dissociating out of her mind for six hours straight and then brews herself an abortion drug and quietly takes care of it without telling anyone

[nathaslosthershit]

Some Bad, But a Whole Lot of Good (LS2)

Summary: To the fans, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume the week after his replacement had been hell for newly dropped Logan Sargeant, but to the people who knew him, they weren't worried. Warning: James Vowles slander, a lot of it, I made Logan yell at him because I want to yell at him

Getting fired a week before your first child was born wasn't on anyone's bucket list. But here Logan was.

He was mad- no he was furious. Sure, the past few months with the team have been miserable, but this was the worst timing possible.

"Why now? Why not the two weeks we were off on break?" Logan asks yells. He doesn't lose his cool, at least not like this, not by yelling at his boss.

"Logan, you have to understand we are in between a rock and a hard place. I am truly sorry but it's a difficult time for us-" Vowles begins to explain.

"A difficult time for you? I am about to have a fucking baby, James. Next week! What the fuck am I supposed to do?" He got up and ran his hand through his hair. "You just had a baby a year ago, I would have thought you of all people would have thought this through more."

"Believe me, we have Logan, we have discussed this at length for a long time now."

"Oh fuck you! You have been thinking about this for a long time and choose now to do something about it? God, James, why do you hate me so much? I know I haven't met expectations, I know I have fucked up, but I still have given everything to this team and this is how you end it?" he finally met his boss'- ex boss' now, I guess, stare.

As Logan looked at his team principal, he tried to see any remorse or sincerity in his eyes but just as he had suspected, James' apology was bullshit, completely insincere. He knew this wasn't going anywhere, he didn't even know why he was fighting.

Formula 1 had been the dream for a while. Logan had let himself sacrifice everything he could to achieve it. He tried to tell himself that he had made it and that he was happy, but it wasn't true. He couldn't face the reality of the dream he worked so hard for not being everything he had imagined.

After meetings about contract termination and how they were to proceed, a sad little goodbye party filled with people that were probably thrilled to have him go, and an actually heartfelt apology and goodbye from his teammate and those he worked closely with, the American left the factory for the last time.

The most difficult part of this whole affair? Telling his very pregnant wife that he was now unemployed, a week until their first child's due date.

After tears, cursing a certain British boss' bloodline, and dissociative silence, Logan sat next to his wife as she suddenly burst into laughter.

He was stunned, she was practically doubling over, at least as much as she could in her current condition. The sight so ridiculous given the circumstances that he began to laugh too.

Several minutes were spent laughing until their stomachs hurt and then trying to catch their breath before either one of them could say another word.

"This is such terrible timing!" she said, wiping her eyes as she continued to giggle.

"Could not me a worse time" he replied as he started to laugh even harder.

"God, we shouldn't be laughing at this! We have officially lost our minds"

"Perfect timing too! Just like everything else"

It was ironic, this was the absolute worse scenario Logan could come up with but this was also the hardest he had laughed in a long time. When was the last time he actually laughed? The last time he actually felt joy about anything involving his job?

As if she could sense what he was thinking, she took a few deep breaths, finally calming down, as she said, "This is insane of me to say, but maybe this is a good thing?"

He knew where she was going, he thought the same, but he needed to hear her rationalize it before he agreed.

"I mean, honey, you were miserable. And I am sorry because I did love some of the people on your team but most of them were jackasses! It was such a time commitment and you have spent so long giving everything to them just for the team to spit in your face. Plus, with savings and such, we have enough to be fine for a while, even with the baby. You finally can put your family and yourself first"

She was right, it was time he admitted to himself how much he had hated his job in the past few months. How miserable it made him. How he could hardly enjoy anything in his life because he was always thinking of how to improve, how to show he still has potential even with the shitty car he was given.

"Im sorry. I- its not fair that I spent so long chasing a dead end dream that I couldn't actually enjoy what I do have. I mean, I could never race again and I would be 1000 times happier with out little family then I could ever be in F1. I will never not put you both first again." He said as he looked at her, held the bump, and genuinely got to relish in what was to come.

The first race weekend since Logan was replaced, he wasn't stewing in his misery, he was sitting in the hospital next to his wife, holding his first born, and the last thing on his mind was what was happening anywhere else in the world outside of the room his entire life was currently in.

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, jensonbutton, and others

logansargeant New job

user1 hey! so this is insane

user2 unemployment has never looked better

alexalbon This is a crazy way to hard launch fatherhood but good on you, mate!

logansargeant got to keep them guessing

user4 dilf era yes please

oscarpiastri how long is the contract?

logansargeant full time for 18 years, then after there is a bit more leeway, but there is certainly no retirement in my future

user3 replaced right before he had a BABY?! oh that British fuck better watch out

jensonbutton Such a big moment! So happy to see where life takes you, I know it will be great!

A/N: Had to finish this right after the news he is testing for indycar in november dropped!!! U-S-A U-S-A!

[mostly-imagines]

Things About My Jason

aka things that might weasel their way into details of stories one day, might not

your boy is clocking in at six feet three inches and about 235 lbs (he’s the only batkid to be taller than bruce). 

he cusses a lot it, usually doesn’t correlate w anger or intensity its just how he expresses himself. he’ll cuss at you sometimes but not at you and he tries his best to never do it out of anger.

he’s never said it out loud but he would drop all the vigilante shit for you in a heartbeat if you wanted him to (i think he’s also the only batfam member who would do that).

you have an agreement in place to never make any big decisions in the middle of the night/post patrol—this came into place after a few too many bad nights had him coming home shaking and panicked about your safety and convinced he needed to leave you alone for good. 

he kind of zones out sometimes, its bordering on dissociation.

you have a black cat, salem, that’s been around since before you and jason had even met. his yellow eyes pierce you in a way that feels like he’s glaring straight into your soul and judging what he sees. he was suspicious of jason for a while but over time has come to love and protect jason almost as much as you.

he has a lot of nervous habits that have built up over years of stress and trauma. he’ll often double or even triple check locks and cameras. his hand tends to go to where his gun holster would be, regardless of whether or not its there. he’s very conscious of your breathing, especially when you’re asleep, and when he’s stressed or upset he’ll try to align his breathing with yours. he worries that you might get annoyed with how often he checks up on you, be it asking directly, texting you, or just looking you over to make sure you’re doing okay, that you’re happy. he’s also made a habit of standing directly behind you when you’re wearing anything short, especially skirts or dresses. You’re not entirely sure if it’s intentional or not.

day to day, he runs on very little sleep naturally so he’s awake early goes to bed late. he used to not focus much on making meals that actually taste good and have thought put into them until he started dating you. he started catering his grocery trips specifically with you in mind and the things you might like. he actually prefers going on grocery trips and little mundane errands with you bc he had no idea that these tiny aspects of life could bring him so much joy and peace. he also buys you new towels and updates your first aid kit constantly, though the latter is more out of his necessity than yours. depending on his mood, he’ll usually either take scalding hot or freezing showers. 

he’s 100% down to let you decorate the apartment however you want, even if you move into his place. his only ask is that he’s left with space to put his books (of which ne needs plenty). if he had to choose, he probably likes a warm atmosphere best, in terms of like lighting and colors. he’s really just not a fan of anything that feels cold or impersonal like the manor can sometimes seem. other than that he doesn’t really have opinions on it, whatever makes you happy he’ll like. but he’ll still happily go shopping with you to find stuff. but really that’ll just look like you saying “ooh look at this” and him saying “great, lets get it” at every single thing you pick up. 

there are unloaded guns and ammo hidden around your apartment and also stocked generously in a closet or two. he cleans them regularly, you think he does it partially as a kind of stress reliever. before you he didn’t have too much regard for his own safety, so he would sleep with one under his pillow. 

he does everything he can to keep you safe and he’ll insist on adding extra locks to the doors and windows, ones the landlord wont have keys to. yeah he’s paranoid so he’ll keep the bed as far from the door as possible and is unrelenting in his insistence that you sleep on the wall side. if you’re too tired to move, that’s okay, he’ll gently move you over himself. honestly though, your apartment is just as secure, if not more, than any of his safe houses. as such, he absolutely can and will easily hack into the lobby security cameras to check up on things. if he has to go away for a while he’ll send one of his siblings to stop by to check on you and make sure you're okay. 

he prefers to wear layers, it makes him feel more secure and comfortable. he does like cutoff sleeves sometimes but only because you like them on him. aside from that, he’s usually not such a fan of showing much skin because of a) his scars and b) he feels exposed to attacks. he has so many long sleeved and warm clothes in his closet that he heavily encourages you to bundle up in some of them when its cold. 

he goes through phases of bad sleep and they can vary greatly in severity. there’s nights he just physically cannot sleep and this usually originates from intense anxiety. these are easier to ease him back from and some simple comforting will be enough to get him to at least try to sleep. most commonly its the nightmares that make it hard for him. it’ll usually be a one-off that he just can’t fall back asleep afterwards. the worst is when he goes through phases of frequent nightmares, like every night, multiple times a night. when that happens, he will do everything in his power to stay awake for as long as he can. you’ve yet to find any techniques that hands down prevent or even slow the nightmares, but you’ve been able to find some remedial measures that work pretty well.

kissing him helps get his mind off scary thoughts (but not joker related) but not just like single peck it’s got to be a whole session to really work. the one that works best is having a hand on one of your pulse points while you sleep, or directly over your heart. unfortunately this did lead to him to accidentally choking you after a particularly bad nightmare. he was absolutely horrified and removed his hands from you completely the second he gained recognition. he actually fully got out of bed and backed away from you. he wouldn’t even hear you out about him not sleeping on the couch and continued to not budge on it for over a week. 

him punishing himself like that made you feel extra bad because that had occurred during a round of the relentless nightmares and you were sure he was still waking up panicked constantly without you there to help soothe him. you actually know for a fact he was because every couple of hours the bedroom door would creak open slightly before shutting again like he was checking to make sure you were there and okay. you ended up having to literally lay on top of him on the couch and refuse to leave him for him to agree to sleep in bed with you again, although he was still not willing to fall asleep with his hands on you for a while. 

he always needs it to be quiet when he goes to sleep so he can stay on alert which usually leads to him waking up to the littlest sounds, which is technically the point. if there’s any kind of white noise he’ll force himself to stay awake. if he does get woken up he’ll go from 0 to 100 like that. he also needs the door to be shut, non negotiable, and really prefers the apartment to be colder > hotter. it also helps that you’ll cuddle into him for warmth.

all of these things are things he did before you met, but he’d also developed some new habits after you got together. he used to sleep in the middle of the bed but now he absolutely insists that you sleep on the wall side so he can act as a protective barrier between you and any incoming danger. unless its after a rough patrol, he tends to wait to sleep until after you’ve fallen asleep. he doesn’t really have a reason for this, it just makes him feel better.

his relationship with bruce is complicated, of course. in my canon, the extent of it is that bruce didn’t kill the joker, prevented jason from doing it, and has made many attempts to stop jason from killing at all. obviously it’s not the fact that batman won’t let anybody die that broke jason’s heart, it’s that his father couldn’t let go of his moral code for a second and avenge his murdered son. the resulting anger stems from so much sadness and grief over his own death and it caused him to isolate himself even further from bruce. on a conscious level, he wanted to be far away from him emotionally as possible to protect himself while still enacting his own kind of revenge towards bruce. and so yeah, he did try to kill batman a couple times, whatever.

on an unconscious level, he’d hoped that bruce would take the initiative to try to close the space between them and apologize, and while jason didn’t know it yet: that was all he really wanted from him. inwardly, he still cares what bruce thinks and wants his approval and affection but its so conflicting for him. it also doesn’t help that it took bruce such a long time to swallow his pride and even consider that he was wrong before he could apologize. a lot of negotiations had to take place before they could even begin to really reconcile. 

about a year later they’d come to a steady, solid agreement that mostly worked for both of them. jason was allowed to kill, but only within his territory in gotham and only under agreed upon circumstances. there’s also a separate rule that jason’s not allowed out on patrol when the joker is loose—it used to be a whole thing before you’d met and oftentimes several bats were assigned to keep him away. even with these guidelines in place, things were still rocky between them and jason had only just started to come back around the manor when he’d met you. honestly you and bruce meeting was a major step in this process and everyone could feel the shift.

his relationship with his brothers is different, but just as complicated. he kind of views dick as being perfect in spite of also acknowledging his flaws. in his head, its sort of like, in comparison to himself, dick had the perfect life with perfect versions of all the same pitfalls jason had to go through. he knows its not really fair to think of it this way, but it’s hard sometimes. all in all though, he does look up to dick a lot. 

with tim, he thinks he’s a crazy rich kid—which, fair—but also in a weird way holds a lot of respect for tim for not being afraid of him. realistically, the way jason showed back up and his relationship  with tim started is insane, so its even more insane that tim was like ‘yeah, chill’ and that probably jump started their bond as brothers more than anything. 

for as much shit as he gives him, he honestly feels really bad for damian and all the shit he was raised believing. he couldn’t quite explain why, but he does see a lot of himself in damian, even past the surface level anger. 

he’s not good at resolving fights, his mind tends to jump to the absolute worst and he assumes you’re done with him, you resent him, it’s all over. it was really bad at the beginning of your relationship when he hadn’t even begun to consider that you love him half as much as he loves you. now, you’ve been able to help him understand that you still love him, even when you fight, and fighting does not equal breaking up. however, he still has trouble taking initiative in making amends. not because he doesn’t want to but more so because he feels vulnerable in ways that terrify him, having to acknowledge and speak into existence that he’d done something wrong feels like setting himself up to be exposed with no defense. 

another part of him feels like he already hurt you and if he tries to remedy things with you, he could just make it worse. So for a while at least, you’ll have to be the one to start the conversation, though not necessarily meaning you have to apologize first. 

as we know, Jason’s not immune to bouts of fear and stress. there’s times when he panics and there’s times when he has full blown panic attacks. the panic attacks are rarer, but much more severe. he’s known to lash out (especially when he’s not at your apartment) and has definitely broken a nose or two of people who got too close/tried to touch him. you’re not sure if it’s an intentional action or not, but he tends to claw at his skin or hit himself in the head when he’s very upset. after going through a couple of these with him, you’ve compiled a thorough list of DOs and DONTs for these times. DONT hold his wrists, move suddenly, touch him without warning, or corner him. DO keep your touches light, words soft, rooms vacant of other people, and loud noises. slowly but surely they’re getting less severe and overcome quicker.

[many-but-one]

Satanic Panic, The False Memory Foundation’s Shaky Origins, and Why You Should Believe RAMCOA Survivors

(TW: mentions of RAMCOA, False Memory Foundation, child torture & death, cults, trafficking)

Pretty disappointed to see a fairly popular and well known blog on tumblr is encouraging the idea that RAMCOA doesn’t exist. Just came across this post and was pretty bummed to see the comments too.

For those that agree with them (most of my followers won’t but who knows who will stumble across this), please know that RAMCOA has been going on for much longer than the Satanic Panic. The Satanic Panic was fabricated in an effort to discredit RAMCOA survivors. It was supported by the False Memory Foundation, which was created by a man (and his wife) trying to prove his daughter’s repressed memories of trauma involving him did not really happen. [Explained further in the third article further down in this post]

For the record, false memory/planting false memories has been disproven, it’s not possible to fully plant false memories in patients. Some memories can be altered to an extent because memories can be disjointed and influence from others can cause memories to shift slightly, which is why it’s not encouraged for trauma patients to share exact detailed memories with each other. For example, if two trauma patients were abused by their father and had a similar situation happen and patient A spoke about their experience in detail, if both fathers wore glasses and patient A describes their father to have black rimmed glasses, patient B’s memory might shift to believe that their father also had black rimmed glasses, even though his glasses were gold rimmed. However, it’s not possible to fully plant memories that do not exist in a patient’s memory. The “base memory” so to speak has to be there in order for any alterations to occur, and those alterations that are possible are often rather minuscule, such as glasses or whether or not their abuser had facial hair or not, or the color of the person’s eyes. Not an entire scene of RA. [Again, explained well by the third article below.]

Repressed memory has been proven to exist. (Though it’s more accurately called dissociated memories by clinicians) It can even exist in people who have traumas that happen in adulthood. Pieces of a traumatic event may go missing in a patient’s working memory, and they may not retrieve it until they are ready to process the memory and all the emotions and information that comes with it. However, it still exists stored in the brain, just in a different area than working memory. It’s why triggers to the traumatic event (that the patient may not even realize are triggers until they occur) can cause flashbacks and memory resurfacing during said flashbacks.

Some sources explaining the False Memory Foundation and the harm they’ve caused: [a good overview of a woman who was major in the development of the idea of repressed memory being a myth, by a researcher of child psychiatry], [while this is a psychology today article, I think this explains well how misused the idea of FMS - false memory syndrome - is.] [A comprehensive article explaining the roots of the FMF and how the studies used to “prove” false memory are terrible and easily debunked, with several assertions from professionals in the field.] I want to add that while the FMF has dissolved and rightfully so, the British False Memory Society is still alive and well, as well as the Satanic Temple’s Grey Faction, and both groups still cite False Memory Syndrome as being real and claim that RAMCOA survivors have false memories of their abuse.

However, before Satanic Panic happened, people were starting to actually believe in the existence of RAMCOA and the concept of DID was brought into the mainstream. A survivor on tiktok has a very good video on this situation. And that scared people, especially the abusers themselves who didn’t want to get caught. That’s when the False Memory Foundation stepped in on the heels of Satanic Panic and literally rewrote the textbooks therapists learned from, and basically taught everyone that repressed memory doesn’t exist. Any therapists that spoke about their patients’ experiences with RAMCOA were sued. Therapists stopped wanting to treat RAMCOA patients for fear of being sued and/or losing their license or being told they planted these memories in their patients’ heads and possibly losing their licenses. It led to generations of old therapists not treating RAMCOA patients and generations of new therapists learning it doesn’t exist.

But it does exist. To outright deny that child torture cannot exist is absurd. 1-2% of reported child abuse falls under the definition of child torture. [source, TW: photos of children with serious injuries from torture included on page 7 of this document] For the record, my abuse was never and has never been reported, and most survivors—RAMCOA and non-RAMCOA, whose trauma falls under the definition of torture—never reported or plan to report.

Even if you find the mind control aspect to be far-fetched, ritual abuse most certainly does exist. I’ve seen videos on the surface web on fucking tiktok of all places of child torture and ritual abuse. Organized abuse such as sex trafficking and labor trafficking does exist. Two out of those three things in the acronym are well documented to exist. And for the record, ritual abuse and cult abuse even in adults can cause extreme mind and identity alteration, upwards to the point of nearly being mind control. Look up OSDD-2 in the DSM-V. Look up just about any cult survivors testimonies and hear how they talk about how they nearly became a different person within their cult, how the cult uses torture and mind altering drugs to get their initiates to commit terrible acts of violence to each other. Now imagine if that same stuff were happening to a child whose mind is significantly easier to mold and change. Even if the child RAMCOA survivor does not develop DID, it can cause extreme conditioned responses in which the child (or now grown adult or teen) will still do the responses even now because as a child they were threatened with torture or death if they didn’t do it.

Mind control is essentially an extreme form of conditioning, and with the plethoras of research on DID and how it functions, it’s not even a difficult concept to grasp that a cult member might learn how to split new alters in a child via torture and then manipulate those alters to do what they want individually. Anyone who knows fuck all about DID knows that alters can be triggered out via positive and negative triggers. All mind control programming is, is creating a specific trigger for a specific alter and then when that child is exposed to that trigger, that alter comes out and does the task it was taught to do—usually via torture, manipulation, and threats of harm to the child or those the child loves. It’s not a difficult concept to grasp, and with how long TBMC (torture based mind control) programmers have had to perfect their work, it’s no surprise that they’ve learned how to make alters do extremely complex tasks or hold onto specific functions, always at the ready for their specific trigger.

RAMCOA research doesn’t exist in mainstream spaces because it’s nearly impossible to be taken seriously because of people who claim it doesn’t exist when it’s not even a complex topic to understand. They just don’t want to accept that it exists. The concept is terrifying, harrowing, and at some times almost absurd—and that combination makes it easier for people to put their blinders up and decide it doesn’t exist. [Edited to add: On top of this, what little research is done on it is steeped in conspiracy theories that often have roots in antisemitism. While I’ve asserted that Miller’s deprogramming books are good reads for RAMCOA survivors, she does often sound conspiratorial, and quotes Svali, a known antisemite. While I don’t think RAMCOA is exclusively related to the Illuminati stuff she often talks about, Miller’s work cannot be completely discounted because of her beliefs of where the abuse originated. Where it originates matters much less than the fact that it happens. However, not from dark, underground, secret societies—but from normal places like churches, children’s own homes (yes, RAMCOA can be done by a single parent to a single child, it just may look different than say, a trafficking ring), trafficking rings, militaristic groups, political cults, etc. I wanted to put the above put there because I know someone is going to come at me and try to say the researchers who talk about it were conspiracy theorists. Yeah, they were. Maybe they were the only ones willing to talk openly about it because of the fact they’re conspiracy theorists? I don’t know. However, I think it should also be noted that just because the researchers sucked doesn’t mean the information taken from them isn’t useful when you weed out the conspiracy stuff. For example, a LOT of modern understanding of medicine was taken from Nazi and Japanese experiments during WWII. Arguably some of the worst doctors on earth. Do we discount everything we learned because they were horrible, evil, people? No. While those who studied RAMCOA went about it in shit ways, that doesn’t discount the information learned completely. Likewise, much of modern psych understanding came from roots that included incredibly unethical experiments that would never be allowed today. Do we throw out all of that info too? No, we don’t. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t hold these people accountable, I’m saying we cannot throw out all discussion of RAMCOA because the doctors who talked about it were shitty people.]

I wish I could decide it doesn’t exist. I have permanent scarring that proves what happened did happen. I have doctor’s visits that prove I am disabled because of the traumas I went through. I have a DID specialist who didn’t even know programming to our extent even existed before our parts started telling her what they went through and she heard it from our own mouth. She had to learn how to deprogram us on the fly because she’d never done so before. So fuck off with your “oh, RAMCOA patients only have RAMCOA because they’ve been influenced by their therapist to believe they do” bullshit.

I relive my traumas in flashbacks and nightmares daily. There have been periods in my healing process where I couldn’t leave the house without someone with me for months. I couldn’t hold a job for nearly a year. I didn’t know any of this happened to me until I was in my 20s. I thought my memory was just bad and the only parts of my childhood I remembered were little blips of good things, usually involving my parent that was not involved with the cult or memories with friends at school or when I was hanging out with my sports teammates. Living with this stuff is hell. You think I want to live with this stuff? If I could permanently erase it all from my memory forever I would. But I can’t. I don’t have that luxury.

It happened. And I’m not the only child it happened to, both in the area of my country I live in and in areas all over my country and the world. This is not an isolated phenomenon. It is more common than anyone tends to realize (though still rarer than most DID cases, thank fuck). I was lucky to survive. I survived because they wanted me to. I saw a lot of children, teens, and adults who were not as “lucky” as I was. If you won’t respect survivors and their stories, at least respect the ones who didn’t survive. They didn’t deserve their final moments to be so full of pain. All of the children in these groups deserved to be loved and cared for and treated with softness and compassion. So do adult survivors like me and many others.

If I could end on one thing, it would be to urge the doubters to have some fucking compassion and empathy for people who have been through things they cannot even begin to understand. My past feels like a nightmare I will never be able to escape. I cannot erase it. I can only try to heal from it. So heal I will do, and in the process I will continue to speak the truth of my experience as safely as I can.

You want proof it’s real? Survivors are your proof.

WE are the proof.

[Edit: changed some wording for clarification + added a section after rereading a couple hours later]

[Edit 2: I realized I said my abuse has never been reported, I meant my RAMCOA related abuse. Want to make that clear. I reported sexual abuse done by my church to CPS and nothing came of it. CPS actually wrongfully claimed that since they had no reports existing of that church harming kids they wouldn’t pursue it since it happened so long ago, when a cursory google search of said location shows they’ve been reported multiple times and all reports were dropped. Why, I’m not sure.]

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

PHIA SABAN INTERVIEWED BY ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY.

SO MUCH HAPPENED IN THE FINALE, AND HELAENA WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF SO MUCH OF IT. WHAT WAS YOUR REACTION WHEN YOU FOUND OUT HOW MUCH INFLUENCE HELAENA WAS GOING TO HAVE IN THIS EPISODE?

"When I read the episode, I was so excited to be involved in that trippy dream sequence."

"I was hoping that I was going to arise from a lake of goo or something, or fly."

"But I was also really happy to stand there and talk."

"That was really exciting because we did that all in a green screen stage, just me and Matt, so it was really cool."

"I watched the last episode last night, and it was really cool to see all of that come to life."

"I was very pleased to be involved in that."

"My other thought was if she feels this kind of clarity in that scene that she has with Aemond, and that isn't historically how she's felt about her power and everything."

I needed to work backwards from there and try and work out what journey she has been on, for that moment to be so clear, when usually she's a bit more like, "Oh, there's a beast somewhere."

WHAT CONVERSATIONS DID YOU HAVE WITH SHOWRUNNER RYAN CONDAL ABOUT HELAENA'S EXPANDED ROLE AND HOW SHE'S GOTTEN TO THIS POINT IN THE FINALE? BECAUSE SO MUCH OF HER JOURNEY HAS BEEN INTERNAL.

"Actually, Ryan and [writer] Sara [Hess] and the writers, they very much left it to me as to how Helaena feels, how she connects to that side of it, and how it manifests for her, but it's an interesting one."

"The line between what I know and what she knows, I try and keep quite close together, so it's not always so helpful for me to have this really overarching idea of how exactly she plays in and what magic it is."

"Because I think every time when that happens to her, it feels like the first time."

"So I know as much as she does, in a way, but they were very keen for me to interpret it however I want."

"Then I think they're just going to weave it into the story in their magical way."

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR PROCESS IN WORKING BACKWARDS FROM THAT CONFRONTATION WITH AEMOND. HOW DID YOU GET INTO HELAENA'S MINDSET?

"How I describe it is she has this amazingly strong intuition, and things come to her as gut feelings in flashes, but they're not always clear."

"She can't always turn them into advice."

"It's more of like a feeling that takes her over."

"That's where some of those really abstract things that she mutters earlier on comes from, but she also thinks of herself and knows of herself that she's quite a strange girl."

"There's a way in which her family lets her go and be her strangeness in her room and do all of her Helaena things."

But also she partially thinks, "Maybe if I didn't have these weird feelings or this strange intuition or this really intense experience that I have, then I could be a bit closer to people around me, or I could communicate better or it would be less strange."

"Part of her represses that stuff."

"Then I think with the trauma that happened to her in episode 1, essentially the worst possible thing happened, and there's a certain amount of dissociation and almost like a letting go of that, like trying her best to be the same as everyone else."

She has disassociated from the family reality, and maybe she has stepped in a little bit more to the other place, and she has more access because she's gone, "I can't abandon myself as well, so what is this?"

"She's given it the attention and the intensity it needed."

SINCE HELAENA BEING A DRAGON DREAMER ISN'T IN THE BOOK, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF HOW YOU'RE GETTING TO CHART NEW TERRITORY FOR THE CHARACTER?

"It's really fun."

"I know that people feel so passionately and lovingly towards the original story, but I think that me, as a fan of things, I love a certain level of loyalty."

"Then I love the idea that I can be surprised or something could be subverted."

"It more flatters the audience's intelligence when you get to surprise them and subvert things, so I like the idea that people didn't see that coming for Helaena."

"Obviously, I can't watch the show as an impartial person."

I WOULD BE VERY IMPRESSED IF YOU COULD.

"[Laughs] I'd be like a psychopath, yeah."

WHAT'S IT LIKE BEING THE BRAN OF THIS SHOW?

"The thing is that I really have absolutely no idea what's happening next season."

"I think that moment in episode 8 is an example of how clear and how powerful she can be, but I don't think that's the beginning of now she can just communicate like that."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she walks away from Aemond, [mimes shaking her head and shoulders and blows out a breath], and she goes inside and goes to her room and that doesn't happen again for a long time."

"So who knows, but it would be really cool if I got to spend more time in that vision dream world."

"I would love that."

"There's that moment when Daemon's going over to the tree, and then there's a guy with a deer head or something."

"I think Helaena should hang out with him."

THEY SHOULD GO OFF TOGETHER HAVE THEIR OWN SIDE ADVENTURES. NEW SPINOFF IDEA.

"Yeah, exactly."

"That's what I want for the next season."

DOES THIS REVELATION THAT HELAENA IS ACTUALLY A DRAGON DREAMER MAKE YOU RETHINK YOUR CHARACTER AT ALL?

"Yeah, I think it's fun because it's essentially development, which is what you always hope for when you play someone."

"I just really hope that there's momentum from this, that we see her change more and more and keep on being surprising."

WHAT WAS IT LIKE FILMING THAT SCENE WITH MATT WHERE HELAENA KNOCKS DAEMON DOWN A PEG AND REALLY HUMBLES HIM IN THE FINALE?

"It was fun."

We were there on the green screen going like, 'What the hell is this going to look like?'

"But it's great to do work with the people from the other team because at this point the relationships are so bad that you're really only going to get Helaena and Daemon together in a vision."

"They're probably not going to be having lunch together anytime soon."

"[Laughs] I'd love to go and hang out with Harry Collett and Bethany Antonia and Phoebe Campbell next time."

"I'd like to go and hang out with Alys Rivers [Gayle Rankin], all the people that live in different castles."

"Maybe I could meet them in dreams."

"That would be really good."

"It'd be like ... did you ever play Club Penguin?"

[LAUGHS] I HAVE!

"It could be Club Penguin."

It's like, "Meet me here at 3 p.m. by the igloo."

That'd be so fun if Helaena could just be like, "Let's go and hang out in dreams. Go and touch the tree, and I'll be there."

NO ONE HAS EVER LISTENED TO HELAENA UNTIL DAEMON REALLY TAKES HER WORDS TO HEART AND CHANGES HIS ENTIRE COURSE. DOES HELAENA FULLY APPRECIATE OR EVEN KNOW THE PART SHE'S PLAYING IN THIS WAR NOW?

"No, I don't think so."

It's all so intense for her and so immediate that I don't think she even is always like, "I have this overarching understanding of the story."

"I think it comes to her in moments."

"Maybe it muddies the water more, but I feel like that whole dream stuff is up for interpretation as well from the audience."

"How much is she a projection of his guilt, or how much did he just need to hear that from someone?"

"It's this magical realm, so anything could be possible."

"Maybe that's something that she could say in a moment, and then she's gone from there again, and it's just like she was just being channeled through."

"Who knows? Maybe we'll find out more."

I think to her it's just, 'This is my really intense experience of being alive,' and that's enough self-analysis for anyone in that moment.

It's like, "What am I going through?"

"And then there's this clarity."

"She's got a lot to process this season."

"Bless her."

WHAT WAS IT LIKE FILMING THE SCENE WHERE HELAENA STANDS UP TO AEMOND AND REVEALS SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HE DID? THAT'S ONE OF THOSE RARE MOMENTS OF CLARITY FOR HER.

It's really fun to work with Ewan — yet again, I'm answering the question in an annoying way because I'm like, "I just like working with those people!"

"[Laughs] That was really cool."

"God, this is really the first time... it's the most eye-contact she's ever made in both seasons."

And she's really going like, "Don't fuck with me."

Basically, "Because I have this knowledge that's on a higher realm and I cannot and will not go and kill people for male ego and toxicity."

That's the other funny thing with this family: Yes, he's the Prince Regent or whatever, and her husband/brother is the King.

But actually to each other it's like, "You're my brother and you can push me and you can push me, but I know you."

"That is more about a sibling dynamic."

"Actually, I think that Aemond ironically is one of the people that Helaena feels she can communicate with a little bit better."

"They have this sort of affinity."

"It's just fun to play with those dynamics because she doesn't have a lot of long chats with anyone, so it's fun for me."

YEAH, THE LONGEST CHAT SHE'S HAD UNTIL NOW HAS BEEN WITH HER BUGS.

"Exactly, and they don't really answer back."

"This is very new and very overwhelming."

HELAENA DOESN'T WANT TO RIDE HER DRAGON INTO BATTLE, BUT DO YOU? HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT MISSING OUT ON THE BIG DRAGON BATTLES SO FAR?

"Yeah! It's House of the Dragon, and I've got a dragon, and I haven't got on it."

"I'm rusty."

"I really wanted to get on the dragon."

"I went and watched a few people on the buck this season, and I was so jealous."

"I'd really love to get on the dragon, or at least have a scene with Dreamfyre."

"Dreamfyre, like Vhagar, she's super ancient and big and cool."

"I'd like to see Helaena and Dreamfyre having a sort of spiritual connection, but I'm not complaining."

"I'm just happy to be here."

[tozettastone]

So… akatsuki ranked by hugging capabilities when?

Okay. That's a good one. I'll answer that one.

--

10. Zetsu

Zetsu doesn't know what's happening and he might digest you. I would say he does not have hugging capabilities.

9. Kakuzu

Absolutely not. This man trusted someone one time to try it out and he has looked upon that moment with profound regret ever since. He does not do well with physical affection.

Do not hug Kakuzu. Do not make physical contact with Kakuzu. Honestly, if at all possible, do not even make eye contact with Kakuzu.

8. Konan

Konan is as distant as a statue until she has committed herself to a goal. She disdains most social bonds, and I don't think she hugs often even among people she regards as close. I think she is wary of obligation because she takes obligations very seriously. If someone takes comfort from her, what will they want next?

She will offer an arm to Nagato on a bad day, but he usually refuses anyway. Extremely low hugging capabilities.

7. Nagato

Nagato would certainly benefit from hugging but I see no indication that his hugging capabilities are especially developed. Besides, he's kind of immobilised, and the animated corpses he's piloting aren't exactly comfortable participants.

I think he and Konan were both much, much better at this before Yahiko's death. Very low hugging capabilities.

6. Tobi

Tobi is absolutely 100% capable of hugging properly. He scores highly in hugging capability. Technically. But, one, I think you will not be very good at actually landing a hug on this man. And, two, if you do, he's dissociating because he can't confront other people's positive regard for him, and your body is so much meat to him.

On the balance of probabilities, this is more likely safe to attempt than not. Tobi is more amused by making fun of people than killing them for touching him. But I just don't think hugging Tobi is, like, very productive.

5. Sasori

This one's interesting, because Sasori has actually practiced hugging — with his parents' corpses, right? As with all skills, practice helps you perform better! But I don't think Sasori has a very good relationship with his own body and I don't think he views other people as particularly more agential than the dead bodies.

So I'm ranking him somewhere in the middle: no natural hugging gifts, some practice, very little inclination to participate. Don't hug Sasori, because if you get that close at all, something is already very wrong.

4. Deidara

Deidara appears to be among the most socially normative of this cohort. I imagine he has, at some point, had at least one affectionate kohai among the Rock ninja he left behind. However, as an adult (uh, as a... teen over the age of ninja majority, anyway) Deidara appears highly suspicious of people attempting to initiate contact with him.

Moderate hugging capabilities, but if he thinks you're tricking him or you're being too familiar for the strictly defined relationship category you occupy in Deidara's head, you're going to be rebuffed. It won't be fatal... the first time.

3. Hidan

Hidan is an athletic guy who's used to feeling what other people are feeling and getting up close and personal with their physical experiences of their bodies. I really think Hidan is among the better huggers in this cohort. Capabilities genuinely pretty strong.

That said, hugging Hidan is a gamble. Either you get a bone-creaking squeeze from someone who is tall, warm, and has absolutely no issues with physical contact, or you end up dead. You would be rolling the dice on this one. Remember: eventually, the house always wins.

2. Kisame

Kisame does not have a lot of practice at exercising his hugging capabilities. Most people don't look at a giant shark man with a face full of razor sharp teeth and a sword as big as a teenager and think, 'ah, yes, a perfect source of physical affection.'

But I think as long as you don't startle him with any sudden movements he will respond to being hugged by very carefully lowering his arm over his hugging buddy's shoulders. It's weird but he's not mad. Pretty safe option.

1. Itachi

Itachi is not great at hugging but people who receive Itachi hugs are so impressed that they hardly notice. Also, it's pretty safe to hug Itachi: the worst outcome is that you discover you're hugging an illusion and feel mildly humiliated while everyone is impressed you even attempted such a feat.

He ranks this highly because I sincerely believe that as a big brother, he has attempted to hug at least one other (live) human being before. Sasuke might not have been old enough to remember it, but he's done it successfully and nobody died.

[antiendovents]

actually, since i already commented on your post about tulpas and how they pissed me off; im gonna do it again. in detail.

note: i am a former buddhist, i live in a buddhist country. (95% of thais are buddhists) and pretty much been surrounded by it. im asian. saying it before people jump at me because im terrified as shit

as i mentioned, tulpas are stolen and bastardized completely from a tribe of tibetan buddhists, and the practice itself isn't even a system thing. while thai buddhism and tibetan buddhism are different in their own way, i am very fucking pissed off that they just saw the concept of a thoughtform spirit that helps you meditate, overcome your fear and guide you to nirvana (because that's the main purpose of buddhism) and turn them into "oh! we make alters because we can due to our meditation and we're spiritual so that totally excuses using a generally closed practice! we're not harming anyone!" total bullshit.

i don't want (and sorry if i'm a bit mean) those bigoted fucks stealing basically my culture since im attached to buddhism in general, i grew up with it. and "tulpa systems" slapping it on themselves for the sake of being "unique". i have seen countless comments and posts about how its always the white/non asian people that say "no its not a closed practice, its not cultural appropriation :) actually you should be glad we're appreciating your culture in the first place" fuck off! appreciating culture is fine, but you bastardize it so much and dumb it down to just "making alters/imaginary friends" are you just hearing yourself? are you stupid? are you braindead? god, im getting so angry again.

i have also seen "tulpamancers" insulting actual asians like me who speak against tulpas, saying that we're just "asian token of a character" or that we're "closed minded" and should accept these assholes who dont know what theyre doing into my culture and blatantly disrespecting it, spitting on it and just taking one practice that fits their narrative. wow, talk about being appreciative while half of your community does shit like this to actual buddhists, huh? real nice of you. way to go, you cultural appropriating fucks. /vneg

i cannot count how many times asian culture is so whitewashed on the internet, people that just take our tradition and do whatever the hell they want with it, including making a system out of thoughtforms, which is not possible whatsoever. and for what? FOR WHAT? for your own sick entertainment and enjoyment of having a imaginary friend in your head? try dissociating so hard you cry yourself to sleep you absolute pillock. this is a very angry submission, but it just frustrates me so much. all of the insulting "yous" are directed towards "tulpamancers" that they proudly call themselves. by the way. sorry if it sounded like it was directed at you, im just so angry at the moment.

one last thing. Stop. Using. The Term. Tulpa. For your system. Please!!!!. tulpa systems are not a thing and will never be. End of story. Nothing will change that. Endos fuck off. im sick of your shit. thanks for reading my angry rant.

-azriel for the majority of this, rox/virus proofreading some of the parts, thanks for letting us vent ^^

i dont have much to add, please read this ^^

[pastelalleycat]

About the Single Pea- after watching the commercial video, I think this section on the cookbook page relates to the video itself, especially the ending:

When Eddie is handed his pea on a plate, he's surrendered his role as mailman to the other neighbors for the day. He's at Wally's homewarming party, but he's the only one without something to do. And when he consequently dissociates and gets a fourth-wall break, he's the only one seeing beyond the curtain of the puppet world. This is a set, with felt and fabric and props. Drawn out with pencils and pens. His world is real, but it's also just a story.

Eddie's being ignored prior to Homewarming was not a freak accident- whoever orchestrated everyone to forget him (Home, possibly?) was trying to make him feel like nobody needed him so they could erase him from the neighborhood and pull him into our reality.

Why would this happen? What could be so egregious with Eddie's character that his existence would be declared unnecessary?

Well, who's always seen alongside Frank, portrayed as his best friend, their shared love for nature playing off each other like a harmony that may be just friendship but may be something even deeper?

How are mailmen and entemologists related, actually? How could they ever be as compatible as flora and fauna? They simply clash too much, it's not natural, it's not right.

(though Julie is often too exuberant for the more mellow Frank, and his seriousness and logic and Eddie's earnestness and love of literature blend together perfectly; also Frank is nonbinary and Julie is genderfluid and they're gay and pan respectfully so no combination of the three is really "straight"; people aren't confined to narrow strands of fate but puppets are subject to their masters)

And yet, someone pulled Eddie back to his side, called him by his first name when they'd only been on last name terms before.

Two peas were placed close together.

(edited to fix a grammatical typo and add extra clarification at the end)

[bbcphile]

Newlywed Room Meta

Well, this is horrifying. I just realized that the newlywed room Jiao Liqiao had planned to marry Di Feisheng in is the same room she had him kneel at her feet in after crippling him and trying to destroy his martial arts.

(CW/tw: threat of rape)

Here’s the room in ep. 34 when he’s forced to kneel in front of her (and is in tons of pain and dissociating).

Here’s the newly wed room in ep. 38:

Notice that the bed is now where the chaise longue was. This means that she was planning on forcing the consummation in EXACTLY the same place that she had humiliated him in front of her men earlier (forcing him to kneel and calling him “Furen”). The screen behind the bed is even the same pattern as the screen that was behind her chaise longue, which means she planned to surround him with the same decorations, so there would be nowhere he could look where he wouldn’t be reminded of the earlier trauma and of his powerlessness.

Here’s something even more disturbing: the wedding bed is actually her bed, since it was already in that room, just in an alcove off to the side in ep. 34. 

Here’s the bed in episode 34.

And here it is in the newly wed room.

That means she moved it from its normal, more private location, and put it front and center of the room where her surrogate throne was. It’s now the focal point of the room and very deliberately staged, as though she was expecting an audience for the forced consummation, just like she had an audience when she forced him to his knees in front of all her men.

And if that weren’t enough, here’s another disturbing detail: do you see the decorative frame she’s using to hold up the curtain?

Guess where that’s from? Di Feisheng’s BEDROOM.

We saw it once before: in the scene where Jiao Liqiao tried to undress Di Feisheng. He had let her help him with the outer robe and wrist guard and then stopped her, looking furious, when she starts to undo his belt while saying that she will help him shower and change his clothes. She doesn’t listen to his very clear and furious no, and she only stops after he threatens to fire her. The curtain holder is the biggest piece of scenery in the background of the shots where she is reacting to being turned down, so much so that it practically becomes associated with her rejection.

Given this, it’s very telling that she ripped it away from the rest of his bed (which it matched) and put it with her bed; she took something that she’d associated with his rejection of her and put it with her (non-matching) bed, which she turned into their wedding bed, to symbolically destroy that resistance and to be a stark reminder that, now, unlike back then, he’s helpless to stop her. 

Everything about that room was designed to (possibly publicly) mock him for his helplessness and to revel in her triumph over him. 

So it’s even more powerful (and even more of a relief) that instead of that future, what actually happens in the newly wed room is that Li Lianhua carefully places Di Feisheng in the spot where he had previously been publicly humiliated and was in danger of worse, and heals him instead. Li Lianhua gives him back his power and agency, and even shares the mental codes for Yangzhouman, turning what was supposed to be a symbol of his defeat and helplessness into a symbol of respect, care, of sacrifice for another (because LLH gives him Yangzhouman that he needs to keep himself alive), and the strength that true cooperation and union can bring. 

And I’m going to be crying about this forever.

[gyuwoncheol]

Man On A Mission

Pair: Joshua x f.reader

Genre: Fluff, very slight angst

Summary: Plans are made and the surprise is all set, but what happens when you’re suddenly refusing to be Joshua’s Valentine’s date? Will your boyfriend get your sweet yes in time for the big day or will he have to force it out of you? Good thing this sexy gentleman has a few tricks up his sleeve.

Warning: slight angst if you squint, lots of playful teasing, Shua and oc being menaces to each other, making out, suggestive content.

WC: 2.8k

Author’s Note: Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day! This is my piece for @svthub Cupid For You Collab - Valentine’s Gift Exchange. This is very much dedicated for my Valentine @shuadotcom 🩷 I’m so sorry this is late 😭 I would’ve really wanted to publish this on the 13th but your valentine has been very sickly these past few days. I hope you enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing the antics I wrote for you and your beloved Joshua. I love you so much!!! To the moon and back 😉 The biggest thanks as well to my dearest @wongyuseokie for being so patient with me and helping me out with all my questions AND for organizing this event! Ily 😘

Svthub’s Cupid For You Collab Masterlist

“You can’t be serious right now,” you frown in shock.

“SURPRISE!” Your boyfriend exclaims.

You turn around fully to face him, “babe… I thought we agreed on no surprises? And no extravagant gifts?”

A cheesy grin flashes on Joshua’s face but when he notices how serious you actually are, his once excited expression starts to fall.

You really should’ve known that when you both agreed on a simple staycation for Valentine’s, your CEO boyfriend would do anything but. However, when he mentioned to you about how busy he would be this week trying to close a merger deal, you thought perhaps simple would be possible. So when he asked you to join him for a lunch with business partners in a fancy hotel the day before Valentine’s, you didn’t actually think it was all a trap to just get you both checked in in the presidential suite for an overnight stay.

Joshua observes you a bit more before answering, suddenly feeling embarrassed and scared, “do you not… like it? I mean, I can still cancel the booking and then we can go do—“

“Baby, no,” you interrupt, “it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just… not what we agreed on.”

“Well you said you wanted a staycation, right?” Isn’t this what that is? A nice place just less than an hour away from the city, perfect view, nice amenities, a good looking boyfriend. But I mean, if you’re not into it, I might still be able to get us those Bali tickets I canceled last week.”

“You what?!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Hong?” The small voice of the hotel receptionist calls you both and Joshua is thanking the heavens you were given no time to further interrogate him.

“It’s Miss y/l/n,” you immediately correct her and Joshua frowns at how quick you were to dissociate from him, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he ponders how his extravagant surprise might have really upset you.

“Oh, my apologies miss y/l/n. Anyway, I just wanted to inform you that your suite is ready. Here are your room keys and you will be assisted to your room.” You kindly thank the receptionist and make your way through the hotel lobby.

The elevator ride up to the top was silent and awkward. Joshua consistently bounced on the balls of his feet from nerves. However, when the doors to your suite open, your jaw drops and your feet automatically lead you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that boast a 180 degree view of the city. You didn’t even notice the bell man wishing you both a pleasant stay or hear your boyfriend carefully approach you. You could see the concrete jungle of the business district yet so beautifully backdropped by the sprawling mountains in the distance. You never thought much of your city, it wasn’t exactly a tourist destination in itself, but now that you’re looking at it from hundreds of feet above, you realise it has a charm of its own.

“I take it you want to stay?” Joshua asks as he observes the glimmer in your eyes.

You finally peel your gaze from the view and turn to your boyfriend who’s carrying an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he grabs your hands and sandwiches them between his, “I just thought this would be nice and I know you didn’t want to do anything big but I also know you like surprises and I just really wanted to give you the perfect Valentine’s I could pla–“

“Who said I’d be your Valentine’s?”

At that very moment, all color drains from your boyfriend’s face. His mouth is agape, eyebrows raised and eyes are round as ever. Complete and utter shock wash over him and then you see pain, his eyes show early signs of wetness and he starts to blink hard and that’s when you burst out in laughter.

“I’M KIDDING!” You laugh loudly, hands cupping his face and you just hear him take a deep breath.

“Babyyyy,” he whines and you’re completely melting at the pout etched on his face.

“Aww, babe,” you peck his lips before embracing him tightly. He takes a few more seconds wrapped in your arms, trying to let his heartbeat stabilize from the prank you just pulled. “I was just kidding. I think.”

“You think?” He pulls back and catches the mischievous smile on your face. “What does that mean?”

“Hmm… well for starters, you just assumed, you didn’t even ask me, and then–“

“Okay so will you be my Valentine?” Your boyfriend rushes out and if you just weren’t feeling playful, it would be a definite yes right then and there.

“I’ll think about it,” you shrug. “This wasn’t exactly how I thought we’d spend the holiday, you know. I thought we’d only meet with Mr. Min today.”

“Well, I had to find a way to get you to come here with me.”

“Yeah, but what happened to no surprises, Josh? Didn’t we agree on a simple Valentine’s, just a staycation? No fancy gifts and just our favorite food?”

“If you think about it, we’re still in the city, so it’s still a staycation. And we can still have our favorite food!”

“And yet… what was that I heard awhile ago? You had plans to take me to Bali? Hmm??”

“Okay, fine…” your boyfriend slumps in defeat, “but that was honestly booked before we even agreed on anything. And then I canceled when you said you didn’t want anything too extravagant. C’mon baby,” Joshua prods, his arms wrapping around your waist, “I’m still somewhat following the agreement. I just… I really want to make this special for us. Please let me?”

“Okay, I’ll let you,” you smile at the sincerity of your most loving boyfriend. You truly appreciate the effort he’s putting into this, but just like the dynamic of your relationship, what’s a romantic holiday without a little fun? “But I’m still not saying yes to being your Valentine… not yet.”

He sees the wink you just gave him as you walk away and he rolls his eyes. “So that’s how you wanna play it, huh?”

You dramatically turn around before letting yourself fall on the large couch by the living room, “oh whatever could you mean, my love?”

Sometimes, Joshua just hates how you may just be as mischievous as he is, if not more. But he also adores your playful side, especially when it makes him think outside of the box. When he sits beside you on the couch, he’s immediately pulling you onto his lap, hands roaming up and down from your waist to your thighs. “I’ll get you to say yes,” he answers confidently.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm… before midnight.”

“A deadline, I like that,” you nod in approval, “let the games begin, babe.”

Joshua scoffs, “they already have.” A searing kiss is delivered to you that you almost fall over if your boyfriend hadn’t had his muscular arms supporting your back. When you’re finally responding back, Joshua is surprisingly the first to groan, but could you blame him? Your lips were full and soft and it didn’t help at all that your hips have decided to grind against his crotch. He’s sucking on your bottom lip and when they part to grant him entrance, the CEO wastes no time in exploring with his tongue. He hears you moan once, twice, and then he’s pulling your pelvis down as he bucks his hips to meet yours.

“Will you be my Valentine?” He asks in a muffled rush while trailing down your neck, hoping you’d be caught off guard. But Joshua should’ve known, you took your games just as seriously as he did.

“Not so fast, baby.” You giggle, pushing him back against the couch. “You’re not gonna get me in one try.”

There’s a genuine laughter shared between the both of you but when you feel Joshua’s hand begin to pull down the strap of your blouse, you gasp in shock, scaring the man beneath you, “what is it?”

“Babe! I don’t have clothes!”

“Even better,” he smirks.

“No!” You swat his hand away when he attempts another kiss. “I mean, we’re staying the night, right? I didn’t pack anything. Oh my god! I don’t even have my skincare!”

“Okay, calm down,” he rubs your arms, “I have it under control. I’ve packed for you, yeah? Clothes, skincare, even some accessories. Just… except maybe underwear.”

“Babe!”

“What? You won’t really need it anyway.”

“Joshua!” You scold louder this time.

“I’M KIDDING!” He laughs like a maniac, “I brought you… a few.”

To be very fair with your boyfriend, he stayed true to his promise of a staycation. While the hotel you were at had a luxury shopping center directly below it, he knew you just wanted to laze around in the comfort of your suite. Room service was ordered for your lunch, you both watched your favorite movie on the large built-in flat screen on the wall and now, you’re sighing happily sprawled out on the bed wrapped in the hotel’s fluffy bathrobe.

“Someone’s happy,” Joshua notes, settling beside you.

“Are you kidding me? That was the best massage I’ve ever had in my life!” If you were being honest, your whole body felt like jelly, in a good way, it’s as if you could still feel the masseuse’s skillful hands kneading away the knots on your lower back. “I think I might just marry her.”

“Wow, okay???” Your boyfriend takes offense.

“If she asked me to be her Valentine, it’s a yes,” you stick your tongue out at him and before you know it, you’re smothered in tickles from your boyfriend.

“What did you just say?!” He challenges and you want to trigger him more but you’re simply reduced to a fit of squirming giggles underneath his muscular body.

“S-s-sttooooppp!”

Your wrists are conveniently pinned down above your head as you try to squirm away, your body encased between his legs, and a pair of scrunched up brows and pursed lips are staring you down, “Not until you say yes to being my Valentine!”

“No!” You deny him, “the more you tickle me, the more I’ll say no.”

This actually catches his attention and he lets go of you. “Wow, I didn’t think that would work.”

“I’m just nice,” he proudly grins, “and that’s why I’d make the perfect Valentine’s date.”

“Mhmm, probably. You are a gentleman, after all.”

Joshua wiggles his finger at you disapprovingly, “I believe the exact term you’re looking for is a sexy gentleman.”

You both share a laugh at the inside joke that began a few years back in his workplace and has simply stuck until now. “Speaking of,” his tone turns a bit more serious, “I know you just wanna be lazy in bed all day but if it’s okay with you, will you let this sexy gentleman take you to dinner tonight? It’s just going to be in the restaurant downstairs and I made sure to ask the staff to place us where it’s more quiet and secluded.” Big doe eyes stared at you and while you did want to tease Joshua a little more, the sincere look on his face proved too difficult to even playfully deny.

“Okay, I’ll go, but I’m still not your Valentine date. There’s still a few more hours to woo me, Joshua Hong.”

He scoffs and then smiles, leaving a kiss on your cheek before hopping out of bed, “I’ll get that yes before midnight.” It’s cool and confident, and somehow, you’re beginning to lose your resolve.

“What is this?!” you gasp as you open the small hand carry luggage that your boyfriend had packed for you. It was the first time you had gone through it, completely trusting him when he said he had brought all your essentials. You also didn’t feel the need to go through the bag earlier as you had no plans but to live in the fluffy robe the hotel provided.

“What?” Joshua snickers.

You squint your eyes at him, knowing his agenda a little too well. “This,” you mutter coldly, raising up the lingerie with your hands. It was skimpy and it was lacey, and most of all, it was your boyfriend’s favorite. He tries to act innocent but a cheesy grin breaks out on his face anyway and you just roll your eyes at his antics. However, rummaging through the rest of the bag for underwear that had more coverage proved to be unsuccessful. “Just three pairs of lingerie? Nothing else. Really?”

“Hey, no! I packed four. Four pairs of lingerie. All of which are my favorite,” a boyish grin on his face.

“You couldn’t even bring me at least one comfy pair of panties for sleeping?” You pout.

“Not when we’ll be sleeping naked, no. But your nightgown is there,” your boyfriend earns another roll of your eyes and now he’s really giggling with mischief. “C’mon babe, don’t pout. Any of those four will fit perfectly with…” he runs to the closet and then quickly comes back with a huge white box in his hands that had a big black ribbon tied around it.

“Babe,” you gasp silently when you manage to open the box and pick up the beautiful dress that was folded neatly inside. It came in your favorite color and in a style that complimented your curves well. “This is too much,” you say just above a whisper, “I thought no more gifts?”

“Well, this isn’t really a gift. It’s more like… hmmmm…” your boyfriend purses his lips, “giving you something to wear for dinner. I can’t have you walking in the restaurant in just your lingerie! That’s only for my eyes to see!”

You should’ve been annoyed really, he was coming up with the most mischievous excuses to break the agreement you both made, but the way Joshua was pouting and huffing towards the end of his sentence had you smiling like a love struck teenager.

“I love you so much,” you smile and wrap your arms around your boyfriend, planting a kiss on his lips.

“I love you too, baby.”

And you both did, you really loved each other so much. Mischief and jokes were common between you and Joshua; he was equally playful as you are, but no matter how much you teased each other, every single ‘I love you’ that came out of your mouths was always said meaningfully.

“Baby?” your boyfriend asks in the middle of your scrumptious dinner, “do you think Valentine’s is overrated?”

You’re slightly taken aback by the question, especially since the topic before this was how Joshua managed to win the chubby bunny contest during your friend group’s Christmas dinner.

“Uhmm.. “

When you realize he looked dead serious about his query, you give it some thought before answering him, “I see why it could be. It is quite a capitalistic holiday and well, Saint Valentine did die a gruesome death on this day, but I do think that if your Valentine is the right person, it doesn’t really matter if it’s overrated or not.”

Josh is listening intently to your words, his thumb slowly rubbing the back of your hand, “So… you don’t think all my surprises today are overrated, right?” There’s a curious look behind his eyes and your heart physically squeezes at the sight of it.

“Oh, love…” you sigh and scoot your chair right by his side, cupping his cheek and giving him a kiss that you hoped would wipe his worries once and for all, “You could’ve surprised me with a trip to the moon and I would still hop on that spaceship with you volunta–”

Joshua gasps loudly, “Now, how did you know that’s where we’re going tomo–”

“Babe!” you laugh and shove him lightly, “Even if you weren’t kidding, I’d go with you. I told you, even the most possibly overrated thing you could think of will not be overrated as long as it’s with you.”

“Ohhh, so I am your Valentine tomorrow, huh?” The proudest, most obnoxious smirk breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, his chin is held up high and one brow raised approvingly. It takes a few seconds for you but when you realize what he’s done— falling perfectly into his trap— your jaw simply hangs low.

Your boyfriend is quick to tuck his hand below your chin, “close your mouth babe, else a bug might fly in.”

You scoff at the remark but honestly, Joshua isn’t able to hear you amidst his cackling, and you absolutely abhor how he’s gotten you to slip so easily.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” the laugh is evil and confident, and you want to punch his stupid annoying grin away, “you loooooove me, quite literally to the moon AND back.”

Damn him, you thought, because he’s right, you love him, to the moon and back.

As if he wasn’t proud enough, your boyfriend seals your defeat by grabbing your neck to kiss you fervently only to then raise his fist in victory, “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind, AND a Valentine’s date for Joshua Hong!”

[obsidiancreates]

I do think it's funny that they thought they had to concoct Fake Reasons for Shawn to be put into a mental institution. First of all the Psychic thing alone would work, BUT aside from that there's

the complete and total disregard for personal safety that they can claim is passive suicidal tendencies (cough cough)

the obsessive lying that even people who don't know he's not psychic can see he engages in with enthusiasm

the Double Whammy Combo Daddy And Mommy Issues

the inability to comprehend what Boundaries are for both others and himself (seriously, is it possible to overstep with Shawn beyond literally actually being 1 second away from killing someone he loves? Clearly trying to kill him is not a disqualifier from friendship for him)

the inability to stop severely masking everything unpleasant/engage with his own strong emotions without something Severe forcing him to

The Manipulation and Puppermastering (how funny would it have been for Lassie to hear Shawn's "cover story" is that he's a genius manipulator and scoff about it because "Spencer just gets lucky," and then watch through the cameras and such as Shawn wraps the whole damn staff and patients around his finger but Lassie STILL CAN'T PROVE SHAWN DOES THAT TO FAKE HIS PSYCHICNESS BECAUSE IT MEANS ADMITTING HE'S A GENIUS)

The eidetic memory- imagine they put him in and don't tell him at first that there's cameras and such watching him and the staff hit Shawn with a "So we hear you can't forget anything and have witnessed multiple murders and are suffering from some PTSD because of it such as repression, dissociative episodes, disreguard for personal wellbeing..." and Lassie and Jules slowly realize watching "Oh shit wait... that's Real actually."

Anyway. We all know His Brain Is Fucked so I don't have to keep going on but I gotta say, I think a lot about how interesting it would've been for Shawn to be fighting to solve the case while avoiding being Actually Therapized For His Actual Issues as much as possible and Gus is kinda like "Shawn, maybe try to embrace this a little, they're not wrong."

"Gus, one of these people is working with a murderer to drug a witness!"

"But they're right about you hiding a lot of pain behind jokes-"

"Oh my god, I can't do this with you right now."

[thatshadowcomic]

Shadow didn't have amnesia.

He had dissociative fugue caused by a traumatic experience.

I never felt like brain damage would make sense, because shadow can heal anything. Its more likely his body changed to avoid further suffering/try to adapt.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

(DF is a complicated disorder, hopefully no one takes this as an insult to your experience, but you're welcome to give me pointers to better showcase it in my comic if you want? He will mainly be dealing with the after effects related to depression, ptsd and general unrest, something I understand much more than DF.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A breakdown:

-Shadow had DF after the ARK and that's why it was so easy to "trigger phrase" him into wanted to destroy the world.

-GUN wanted shadow to be super soldier/mind controlled/ sleeper agent, but of course Gerald didnt. (this is so meta given the time frame.)

-"bring hope to humanity" was his deactivation phrase (sonic battle).

-50 yrs later he's not remotely bothered by his past and is locked in to his new role... A role Gerald gave him during his initial fugue.

-But when he nears the final battle, Gerald inadvertently causes shadow to snap out of it and remember the real promise: Bring hope to humanity.

-His memories compounded with his current destructive behavior likely caused a secondary dissociative fugue or just reverted him back to that state. Maybe he just had a small glimpse?.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shadow the hedgehog" game

-Those with dissociative fugue often impulsively wonder and travel away from home, experiencing confusion and a lost sense of self, often creating new identities.

-"Shadow the hedgehog" was a game that explores this and many endings are simply against his morals and values... because he doesnt have any. "Who am I" is very complicated and he's trying to remember his standards again.

-Doom's manipulation and twisting of his memories may have actually helped him regain them as they traveled around, which ends up being Doom's downfall.

-Over time it's possible to recover memories in bits and pieces or completely, by visiting places or discussing ones past. The trigger are partly random and often therapy is needed to find causes.

it's often followed by ptsd, depression or anger, either from the therapy finding the cause or simply the concept of forgetting everyone or feeling disconnected.

--------------------------------------------------------------

so that's my read, it lines up and im taking it as canon. I hope at least 2 people read this lmao.

[actual-changeling]

It was actually rather hard to decide how to begin this meta post because there are essentially going to be two main parts: why Crowley does not actually avoid/run from his problems and why "going off" is not a bad thing regardless.

Then I wrote the first part and realised this is now 2.5k words long, so uhhhh I will grant part 2 its own post.

With that, welcome back to Alex's today-not-unhinged meta corner!

I am going to approach this topic from a psychological angle, which a lot of people have already done, but without explicitly mentioning it or going into depth. All my information comes from personal experience, research, my therapist, and my psychiatrist, just so you know I am not making shit up. I actually dug up some resources my therapist gave me a while ago.

Generally, there are four different fear/survival responses: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. Most people have probably heard about fight and flight, since those two are usually the only ones that are mentioned/taught, so I will stick to explaining the other two.

"Fawning" refers to actively being submissive and subdued, both physically and emotionally. The goal is to appear non-threatening and to calm whoever is causing the fear response in the first place. It shows up as being overly agreeable, not having thoughts/opinions of your own and ignoring them if you do, your body language changing (e.g., making yourself smaller, taking up less space), and generally attempting to 'keep the peace' or reinstate it.

"Freezing" is pretty much exactly what it says on the tin—you freeze. It means slipping into a dissociative state, which disconnects you from your body, your emotions/mind, and/or the outside world. Usually, people stop being able to talk well or at all, they do not move, and if they do, it is on autopilot; you do not fight or flee, you simply exist until what is causing the fear response is over.

While dissociating, your brain is unable to form full memories—and depending on how heavily you are dissociating, it does not form any memories at all. 

Freezing as a response happens when fight, flight, and fawn aren't possible anymore, e.g., a child who has no internal mechanisms to deal with large amounts of fear because it's a child, so the only way to escape the pain and aggressor is by fleeing into your mind and shutting down.

Why am I telling you all this? Because most people tend to have one or two survival responses that dominate/they usually fall back on, and the same goes for Aziraphale and Crowley.

When faced with an outside problem and a lot of stress, Aziraphale's first instinct is to fawn, to placate the person, to diffuse the situation, to make sure everyone is agreeing, or, at the very least, submitting to authority figures or aggressors. It is what heaven teaches them—stick to the rules, don't ask questions, do what you are told. If fawning involves lying, he will do so, here the need for safety is stronger than his desire to be truthful and stick to his morals.

Unfortunately, the fact that this is his primary fear response is also the reason behind his extreme cognitive dissonance. How can you stick to the rules when you do not know what the rules ARE? So he is stuck trying to figure out what is "good" and what is "bad" so he can be a good angel and avoid doing anything that might be seen as bad or disobedient.

His secondary response to stress or fear is to fight—once it's clear that fawning won't work, he can and will switch over to being more direct and aggressive/less submissive. We see that happening when he gets discorporated in season 1 and needs to get back to earth, at the airbase, or when the bookshop gets attacked.

If I were to ask you what you think Crowley's primary fear response is, how would you respond?

Well, if you said "flight"—you're wrong, and I will explain why.

Flight is his secondary fear response, it is what he falls back on in absolute emergencies when everything is doomed and there's nothing he can do anymore.

Before that, though, he fights.

Even as an angel, he was already questioning the system, he was ready to go and tell God she was doing a terrible job, that her ideas were bad, that he wants to keep his stars and the universe— six thousand years are nothing! If you actively oppose existing rules and defy people's authority over you, fighting is the only option you have unless you plan on giving up or the response becomes too much to deal with.

Fear itself happens when you or someone/something you love is being threatened (whether that threat is real or simply perceived as such doesn't matter), plus there are a large number of more irrational fears.

Crowley's creations were threatened -> He goes against the rules, he wants to fight for them.

On the walls of Eden, he questions God and talks to an angel, his hereditary enemy, once again defying the rules, questioning them.

Job and his children were threatened -> He goes against orders to try and save them.

There is good reason to believe he went against God by saving some of the children from the flood.

He showed Jesus the kingdoms of the world—do we really think that was based on orders? No, it was once again Crowley not playing by the rules.

Wessex? He proposes the Arrangement, which is one gigantic "fuck you" in his fight against celestial rules. Everything after that goes back to Crowley knowing that their jobs suck and that they can cheat, fight the system by working together. In 1827, it gets him pulled to hell and punished, and yet he does not stop; he keeps fighting.

Crowley is the one who immediately tries to stop the apocalypse. Aziraphale needs to be talked into it, needs to be convinced with selfish reasons and personal pleasure.

The reason why both heaven and hell absolutely loathe him is not because he is a runner; it's because he constantly and consistently defies them. He fights.

In season two, he immediately tries to deal with the Gabriel problem while Aziraphale is standing behind him and saying "I don't know" to all of his questions. Taking him somewhere so they can figure shit out in peace is not 'running'—it's smart. Sure, it's far from ideal, but we see what keeping him in the bookshop brought them, don't we? The hiding miracle is what tipped heaven and hell off in the first place.

Aziraphale goes to Edinburgh based on a hunch, but once again—did that help? Did his journalist roleplay trip actually provide vital information that solved a single puzzle piece of that mess? No. Finding out that Gabriel was at that pub with some mystery person was a nice fact to know, but that's it.

During the ball, Crowley is scared, vigilant, prowling around the shop, checking windows, telling Aziraphale to "stop this charade" so they can figure out what to do. Aziraphale, in that moment, was already convinced that sticking to the rules would save them—a heavenly embassy on a technicality, surely the group of fallen angels who got booted due to not following heaven's rules will respect that.

Crowley goes to heaven, which is once again him actively looking for a solution, while Aziraphale also falls back on fighting because fawning is not going to do shit.

There are three times during which Crowley suggests fleeing—which is his secondary fear response—but those are exceptions. Let's have a look at them.

The first one is at the bandstand, the evening before the Apocalypse, and since Aziraphale is lying to him, the situation seems hopeless to him. Yet he is still having his 'agents' look for him, is still fighting.

Do you know why he even suggests running? He is about to leave when Aziraphale calls him back with "there isn't anywhere to go," and now allow me to insert the following passage from the scriptbook.

Crowley looks back. He looks at Aziraphale. Above them, a beautiful starry sky. And Crowley softens.

"Big universe. Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we could go off together."

The sentence in the show is slightly different, but they have one thing in common: If.

IF the world ends, we can still leave and be together. IF.

Crowley is NOT saying "let's leave", he is presenting Aziraphale with a contingency plan in case stopping the Apocalypse does not work. He is NOT running, he isn't even SUGGESTING to run.

It's a "if the world ends, we can be together. We don't need to be with hell or heaven; we can be in the stars," because remember what the end of the world would mean? Eternal torture for Crowley while Aziraphale bores himself to death in heaven.

The next time he suggests it again—when he stops Aziraphale on the street—several things have happened.

First, he did not leave. If he truly wanted to flee, he would have by now, but he didn't. He sits in a cinema waiting for the end: "Out of time. Out of hope," as Neil puts it. Then Hastur and Ligur show up on screen and tell him, 'You're dead meat, Crowley. You're bloody history. […] We're coming to collect you'.

We all know that means "eternal torture in hell," but if you're not convinced for some reason, have another snippet from the script book that did not make it into the show.

Dagon is speaking from the Bentley's radio while he drives towards the bookshop, saying that something has gone wrong and they're sure he has a 'perfectly reasonable explanation' for it. Once he gets out of the car, however, Dagon still keeps going and says the following:.

"Your explanation, and the circumstances that will accompany it, will provide a source of entertainment for all the damned of hell, Crowley. Because no matter what agonies the damned are suffering, Crowley, you will have it worse."

Crowley already knows that. He has been punished by them before, heard, seen, lived torture, there is no doubt as to what will happen should they catch him. So he does what any person with a single fucking brain cell would do—he tries to get his loved one and FLEE.

Flight is the best response in this situation, and if you need me to explain why, then honestly, I cannot help you anymore. I won't go into detail about Aziraphale's response, but, tl;dr, it was shitty and incredibly hurtful, go figure.

Now, let's get to situation number 3, which is his speech during the final fifteen. We do not have an official script for that, but someone did make transcriptions for all episodes; you can find them here. Additionally, I will copy some of what I already said in a different meta post.

Crowley, stuck in his trauma-induced hypervigilance and paranoia, suggests putting as much distance between them and the problem as possible. I think it is interesting that in ep1 he wants to get Gabriel away from them, while at the end of the season, he is ready to get them away from the problem.

So far, I have never seen anyone mention that change! And it’s important! The entire season, it is hammered into our heads how much they love being on earth. It is THEIR bookshop and THEIR car and THEIR life.

Crowley wants to protect that home, and Gabriel is a threat to it, a threat to both of them, their life, the bookshop—everything. He does not want to leave, he wants his peace and angel in one place.

Yet by allowing Gabriel to stay, Aziraphale destroyed the sense of comfort and safety Crowley had slowly developed over the last few decades. Heaven nipping down every now and then to check in with Aziraphale is very different from him sheltering the Supreme Archangel who is running from ‘something terrible’ without even asking if he’s alright with that.

Aziraphale calls it their bookshop, but he fundamentally still sees it as his space to govern and Crowley as a guest; he even calls it a 'heavenly embassy'.

After another horrible week and having his previously safe space violated by several different times and beings, Crowley is back to where he was before—without a home. That fragile existence broke apart, so he is standing in the heap of shards and telling Aziraphale 'I don’t feel safe here anymore, let’s leave’.

He lost his safe space, but he still has his safe person, his best and only friend, the person he loves. I doubt he cares where exactly they go as long as they’re together and it’s safe.

Returning to heaven—it is the one place Crowley cannot follow him to. It’s literally the worst option, he can’t go back, he won’t go back. So he invokes the bookshop again, if you don’t want to stay for me, stay for the bookshop, your books, your corner of existence that I thought we had carved out for ourselves.

There is a common error that people make regarding the timeline, which is assuming that during this conversation they are already aware of the impending apocalypse—but they aren't. Aziraphale himself has no clue, and while Crowley saw the conversation and trial, he does NOT know when it will happen. For all he knows, it could be tomorrow, could be in a thousand years, and, even if he had been given a date, I doubt they laid out all the details and how to stop it.

Considering that his original plan was "get drunk at the Ritz and then have us time," I don't think he knew literally anything about how or when to stop it. So no, Crowley does NOT suggest running away from earth and leaving it to die.

All he wants is some bloody peace and quiet where no demons, angels, or power-hungry floating heads can interrupt them. A space that is safe and theirs. There are also zero mentions of where he wants them to go; he is not talking about the stars or the universe. He wants to get away from where they currently are because heaven and hell show up uninvited whenever they please.

If your boss and ex-boss constantly kicked down your front door and stated their wish to torture you, would you stay there or would you move? Yeah.

This post got very long, but it was long overdue.

I am tired of seeing people call Crowley a callous coward who always runs away from his problems when he is the literal opposite. You take three sentences said under exceptional circumstances and apply them to Crowley as a whole, when it is nothing but his last ditch effort to keep himself and Aziraphale safe.

One last thing: If you come onto my post and start aggressively arguing about this, I will block you. Genuine discussions and questions are always welcome, being a dick is not, and I also simply cannot handle some of the rhetoric people in this fandom perpetuate because it's very triggering.

Make your own post, don't do it on mine.

[sage-nebula]

When The Owl House first came out, there was a lot of discussion surrounding how King could potentially be Bill, with the most common theory being that Bill had somehow been reincarnated into King by the Axolotl. After all, not only does Alex Hirsch voice both of them, but the voice he uses for King is very similar to the voice he uses for Bill. (Very similar, but not the exact same; apart from not having the voice distortion, King's voice is higher pitched. King's voice is basically Bill's voice before Bill hit puberty, lmao.) Apart from that, both King and Bill are demons; King had an obsession with ruling, power, and conquest; King has yellow sclera; and, well, people were desperate for connections between Gravity Falls and The Owl House, to the point where I actually did end up pretty annoyed for awhile that people weren't letting The Owl House stand on its own two feet and were instead treating it like a sequel show. (Though there are actual, canonical connections between them now, the most notable being that Eda married Stan for less than 24 hours in Vegas so that she could rob him blind, lmao. He still thinks fondly of her to this day, as he should.)

I bring this up because I never really subscribed to this theory, or thought very much of it . . . until now. It's not that I think the theory is more plausible now, but more that I think that the idea holds a sort of poetic beauty to it now, if it was true. (Which again, I don't think it necessarily is, but more that it's a nice "what if" to think about.) And the reason for that comes from information that we gained from The Book of Bill, along with additional information that we've now gained from the website, along with how King's story arc developed and played out in The Owl House. (So, spoilers for that show, the new book, and the website if you haven't kept up with any of that.)

Essentially:

It's been heavily implied for years now (to the point where, in my personal opinion, it was known, but to be safe I'm saying heavily implied) that Bill destroyed his home dimension. In the show, Bill says that he "liberated" his home dimension, and when he brings it up, there is fiery imagery around him that is similar to the rift that opens in the sky to link Gravity Falls to the Nightmare Realm during Weirdmageddon. Then, in one of the spinoff books, when Dipper asks the Axolotl about Bill, the Axolotl says, "Saw his own dimension burn [. . .] blame the arson for the fire." Considering that Bill said that he "liberated" his dimension with fire imagery, and the Axolotl says that he saw his dimension burn (and blames the arson, rather than the arsonist for the fire) . . . the conclusion can easily be drawn that Bill's "liberation" was actually "destruction." Which makes sense, when you remember what he wanted to do to Earth during Weirdmageddon.

Nonetheless, we have had that confirmed now thanks to The Book of Bill and the website. We know that when Bill tries to recant what happened to his dimension, there is a loud ringing in his ears and he blacks out; we know that he looks "more distant than [Ford] had ever seen him" when he tries to recount the story to Ford (implying dissociation; we know that he told his henchmaniacs the "liberation" story and that he freaks out when Time Baby tries to speak openly about what actually happened and who actually caused it; and we know that, during his therapy sessions in the Theraprism, when the therapist tries to turn the discussion to his parents, he shuts down discussion altogether. (And also only draws red and blue triangles during his art sessions, implying that may be what his parents looked like.)

So we know that: Bill destroyed his own dimension, that he's the sole survivor of the massacre, that he was severely traumatized by this (because he didn't intend to massacre his entire people, he honestly was trying to help them see what he could see -- the third dimension) and that he just handled his trauma in the worst possible way, particularly since he did not have anyone left to give him a support system. A billion years without a proper support system or any form of healing, sinking further and further into denial, rationalization, and detachment (outlined on Bill's page on morality as his tools of the trade), lying until his lies were no longer lies to himself, made Bill into the monster he is today.

But then the Pines family defeated him (thanks to Stan), he invoked the name of the Axolotl, and got sent to the Theraprism. He hates it there, and he is so deeply entrenched in the lies-he-no-longer-recognizes-as-lies that he is not making any progress. As Alex said at one of the Barnes & Noble Q&As, what Bill really needs is to actually be honest with himself, but it's unknown if he will ever be able to do that. Until he can do that, the hope of him actually making progress at the Theraprism is nil.

But here is the thing about the Theraprism. Well, here are the two things about the Theraprism:

The first is that we are told that the Theraprism is a place specifically devoted to reincarnation. The reason why the "King is reincarnated Bill" theory was popular before was mostly due to the reasons I mentioned above, but also because of another line in the Axolotl's poem: "A different form, a different time." People understood this to mean reincarnation, and it's easy to see why. But for me personally, I always found it a bit strange that the Axolotl would simply let Bill reincarnate simply by calling out for help. Would that really be all it took for the Axolotl? True, the Axolotl is the god of this universe, and Jesus (from how I understand it) is all about "accept me as your savior and you're immediately absolved of all sins," but I also felt that was just too easy of a Get Out of Death Free card for Bill. It was a very clean getaway, considering everything.

But The Book of Bill makes it evident that isn't the case. As it is described by the Theraprism employee in the book:

"Here at the Theraprism, we believe death can be the beginning of a new life. With good behavior, former wizards, world-eating titans, and even Mr. Cipher have many exciting options for reincarnation -- perhaps as a newt, shrimp, or a cloud of fungal spores!"

The Axolotl also made this clear to Bill (though Bill misunderstood entirely:

"You cannot regrow through denial. You'll have to face my hardest trial. See my program to the end, then you may yet live again. You're getting what you need the most; one way to absolve your crimes, to change your form will take some time."

Now, many of you are probably thinking: a baby titan from the Boiling Isles is a huge leap from newts, shrimp, and fungal spores. I would agree with you; it seems that the Theraprism does tend to pick very lowly life forms for the big bads they rehabilitate to reincarnate into. But here are the reasons why I think it would be poetic if it were King, and therefore why I like to think that it would be nice if this were the case:

Like Bill, King is the last of his kind. Unlike Bill, this is through no fault of King's own; the other titans were wiped out before King even hatched, and King's father had to hastily inscribe runes to protect him from the titan hunters (or archivists?) so that they couldn't find and kill him as well by destroying his egg. Nonetheless, King is the sole survivor of a genocide and this is something that weighs heavily on him and influences his character arc in a big way in the second half of the show. The fact that he doesn't know what he is lends struggle to him trying to discover who he is. Yes, he's in a family of misfits, but Eda and Luz know what they are and who they come from. King doesn't have that. King has no basis for what he is, or why he was abandoned -- none of it. And then when he does finally start to get answers, it's to learn that his people were massacred in a genocide; that there are people still out there who want to kill him; that he is going to grow to be a deity-like figure, that he'll outlive those he loves . . . King is a child of about eight-years-old, but he has so, so much weighing on him already.

But where Bill accidentally destroyed his dimension and killed everyone in it, and then was crushed under the weight of that trauma because he was left alone and covered in blood, King did have that family of misfits to support and love him through it all. He was still burdened by the fact that he didn't know what he was or where he came from, but Eda, Hooty, Luz, and eventually Lilith gave him unconditional love and a home and support to figure all of that out, to the point where it was King's idea to be formally adopted by Eda and change his name to King Clawthorne. And while he will eventually outlive them all, he made a friend in The Collector who is also immortal, so he'll never be truly alone.

Essentially, what I'm getting at here is: there are parallels in Bill's and King's story, now that we know Bill's backstory. They aren't the exact same, especially since King was not responsible for what happened to the other titans. But there are still parallels that can be made. But whereas things ended as badly as they could possibly end up for Bill, King's story had a much better ending. So if we imagine that Bill was reincarnated as King, then it is almost like he got a do-over. Like he was put in a similar situation, but this time he was found by a new adoptive mother who raised him with love and care, and got an adoptive big sister, and owl tube house mate, and aunt, as well as a ton of friends. He suffered trauma, but this time he didn't have to suffer it alone, and was able to handle it in a much better, much healthier way. Yes, he's an all-powerful demon (or at least, he will be someday, when he grows into an adult). But this time he isn't going to be causing any apocalypses, or delighting in any mortal suffering. This time, things are going to be different for him, because his soul completed the Axolotl's program in the Theraprism and he was able to reincarnate for that second chance.

(And if you're thinking, "But The Owl House doesn't take place that long after Gravity Falls, so how is that possible?" Well, the Theraprism exists outside of time and space, so it doesn't matter how many millennia it takes for Bill to complete the program. He literally has all the time in the multiverse.)

So I'm on board with this theory now. Again, I do not think it's canon. But it's a nice idea, and one that I think has a poetic sweetness to it. No one has to agree, of course, but that's just my take on it.

[clover-system]

The longest list of anti-endo sources I've ever seen

While trying to find something else using Tumblr's infamous search engine, I came across this absolute gem:

NINE SOURCES!!! That's a record!! This is incredible!

@radpocalypse, listen. I am about to tear these to shreds, but before I do, I want you to know that you have my respect for not only compiling the longest list of sources I have ever seen an anti-endo provide, and not only doing so seemingly not directly prompted, but typing out every single link by hand, on mobile, without making a single mistake. Incredible work.

And also, to be completely honest, if I had nine sources supporting a belief, I almost certainly wouldn't look into them this closely. But, hey, that's what strangers on the internet with opposing views are for.

One more thing before the debunk: Endogenic systems do not claim to have DID etc. without trauma. They just don't. Whether it could be possible is often debated as an edge case, usually just to win an argument against someone of the opposing side, but really, it's irrelevant for 99% of the community. A good chunk are questioning OSDD based on later trauma, but as far as I am aware, no one on this website is claiming a completely endogenic plural disorder.

However, I don't want to dismiss entire pages based on this alone without further commentary, and it's a fun intellectual exercise regardless. So, whenever I use green text, I'm just playing Devil's Advocate under the premise of "If I was claiming to have DID without trauma (which neither I nor anyone else afaik is), would this source actually debunk that claim?" My syster will also occasionally pop in with purple, since she was cocon while I was writing this.

My dad just walked into my room and literally said "hey how it's going". You know, like. Like that one post. Amazing.

Anyway, civility established. Now come along with me on this long long journey of ten minutes of reading. Maybe put some music on in the background, if that will help you get through it. I had Near's Theme on while writing.

Here we go.

Link 1: McLean Hospital

Ok, main thing that caught my eye was

According to a 2010 Psychiatric Times article, only 5% of people with DID exhibit obvious switching between identity “states.”

Very interesting! Even with all of the "idk who's fronting" memes, 5% is really not that high. Though maybe online spaces like these help train the ability to identify it? The reference trail leads back to a book by Kluft but I don't really feel like going through dozens of pages for this. Definitely making a note of this though; I wonder if there have been any follow-up studies on this.

Not much to say here other than that. No mention of plurality outside DID.

DID is associated with long-term exposure to trauma, often chronic traumatic experiences during early childhood.

Dissociation—or disconnection from one’s sense of self or environment—can be a response to trauma.

Dissociative identity disorder—a type of dissociative disorder—most often develops during early childhood in kids who are experiencing long-term trauma. This typically involves emotional, physical, and/or sexual abuse; neglect; and highly unpredictable interactions with caregivers.

Why "associated", not "is caused by"? Why "can", not "is"? Why "most often", etc.?

Why such weak language?

Not that it couldn't be weaker.

I vaguely remember McLean getting into some hot water regarding a video they posted about DID, but didn't find anything concrete. Half-remembered anecdote aside, the author seems well-qualified.

C-tier debunk of this position. It's not nothing but it could be a lot better.

Link 2: Psych Central

It occurs in women 9 times more often than in men.

Very interesting statistic, but no citation provided.

Alters can show striking differences. For instance, one alter may speak with a different accent or have a softer way of speaking. They might have different opinions or a different gender identity, and even physical differences — like left- or right-handedness, or the need for a glasses prescription.

That's quite a stark difference here compared to the McLean article. What happened to "alters aren't that noticeable"?

But whatever, these are just interesting tidbits. None of this has anything to do with endogenic plurality. Nothing like "this is the only way to be multiple", no comment whatsoever.

DID is usually associated with adverse experiences in someone’s past and traumatic memories.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition with strong links to trauma, especially trauma in childhood.

Bruh. This again?

In fact, the American Psychiatric Association reports that 90% of people with DID have a history of childhood abuse and neglect, based on research from the United States, Canada, and Europe.

Bruh. Seriously? 90%? You know what that leaves, right?

According to your own source, 10% of DID systems are endogenic.

But let's break this down. There's a big difference between the system being endogenic, and the DID being endogenic. This statistic is specifically referring to childhood trauma.

The wording's plenty vague though. This can absolutely be read as completely endogenic DID.

One review article from 2017 about the causes of DID noted that there was relatively little research on the condition to date.

The authors said researchers hadn’t yet investigated potential genetic and epigenetic factors. With epigenetic factors, the experiences and behaviors of your parents and ancestors can influence the function of the genes they pass down to you.

The authors of the review said scientists needed to do more research to investigate whether a person with DID might carry genes that can influence if they develop the condition or not.

This is particularly promising because studies have already shown that genes can influence dissociative disorders in general.

So you're telling me DID might be able to be passed down one or two generations? Wow. Again, this still has nothing to do with endogenic plurality, but I'm really glad I decided to play with this second angle, because it's so much more fun. We're certainly not at intentional self-inflicted DID here, but we are at this point a long way from certainly needing childhood trauma in all cases.

And also the reviewer is a military psychiatrist who specializes in ADHD. So uh. Not bringing our best here.

Link 3: Mayo Clinic

Gotta love an article that's nice and short. This is just a brief summary of a bunch of dissociative disorders. Again, nothing about endogenic plurality.

Starting to run out of things to say about this. This whole post could probably be a fifth the length if I didn't feel like playing on hard mode.

Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder involves "switching" to other identities. You may feel as if you have two or more people talking or living inside your head. You may feel like you're possessed by other identities.

Each identity may have a unique name, personal history and features. These identities sometimes include differences in voice, gender, mannerisms and even such physical qualities as the need for eyeglasses.

Hey, that reminds me of someone.

There also are differences in how familiar each identity is with the others. Dissociative identity disorder usually also includes bouts of amnesia and often includes times of confused wandering.

Again, McLean looking really odd with its declaration of DID's covertness against great detail like this. However, its author is so far the best qualified. This one just says "Mayo Clinic Staff". Can't even know which of them worked on this. Some of them are psychs, but if any of them specialize in dissociative disorders, it doesn't say so.

Dissociative disorders usually arise as a reaction to shocking, distressing or painful events and help push away difficult memories.

I won't bother quoting even more wishy-washy language because this post is already at an ungodly length (about 1300 words so far) and we're barely a third done. But yeah, suffice to say, no nail-in-the-coffin 100% link to trauma.

Link 4: Rethink

We are a trusted information creator and accredited by the Patient Information Forum (PIF).

Their bold, for once. That's an alarm-ringing corporate phrase if I've ever seen one. Also, first thing on the PIF's website is "balancing the risks and benefits of AI in the production of health information". So this article might've been written by GPT. Awesome. And yeah, a lot of this whole website looks to me like a bunch of interconnected pages with stupidly long articles written by stitching together LLM generations. Does pass GPT0's test though.

This one is so long. I'll take the ten minutes to read through every word, which I don't think @radpocalypse did, just to make sure there's nothing here, but one thing that does catch my eye scrolling down to near the bottom is that they misspelled their first citation.

A quick look at this Carolyn Spring shows a lot being sold and credentials nowhere in sight. Awesome.

So already I don't need to read this. The information here is not at a high level of trustworthiness. It's maybe better than nothing, but seriously, one can and should do better. But I'll read it anyway, just for bonus points. Thanks to AccelaReader for making this bearable.

Many people will experience dissociation at some point in their lives. Lots of different things can cause you to dissociate. For example, you might dissociate when you are very stressed, or after something traumatic has happened to you.

Some of the symptoms of dissociation include the following:

You may have clear multiple identities.

It‘s important to remember that you could have the symptoms of dissociation without a dissociative disorder.

So according to this, multiple identities can be caused by intense but non-traumatic stress, and might not necessarily be a disorder. So, while I admit this is a little bit of a stretch, we're four links in and this is the first mention of plurality in general, so I'll take it. One point for endogenic plurality. (And again, none of this really matters anyway because this is the worst source so far.)

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is sometimes called ‘Multiple Personality Disorder.

If you have DID you might seem to have 2 or more different identities, called ‘alternate identities.

Two missing closing quotes. Really not a good sign.

They suggest that DID is caused by experiencing severe trauma over a long time in childhood.

Aha! Finally, something concrete against endogenic DID! Too bad it's buried in the worst source yet. If we believed we had DID, we would absolutely not reconsider that based on a sketchy webpage with suboptimal syntax and no credentials.

Ugh, finally done with that one. What a slog.

Link 5: DID Research

Aha! The infamous psych student's blog! That's what Sophie said, anyway. Not taking her word for it though. Let's see what we can find here, independently.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is the result of repeated or long-term childhood trauma

Why wasn't this first? First sentence, so crystal clear. No two ways about this, transDID destroyed right out of the gate.

DID cannot form after ages 6-9 because individuals older than these ages have an integrated self identity and history.

Why wasn't this first? It's so plain, so refreshing after four pages of strategic ambiguity. Nothing left here for green. But still no mention of non-disordered plurality.

The author is impressively credentialed but doesn't seem to specialize quite near this area. She's certainly better than most, high above any random Tumblr user talking out of their ass, but the good stuff would be to get a DID specialist to explicitly spell out that endogenic systems are not possible.

Also should make note of this big fat legal disclaimer:

While the author strives to make information on this website as complete, reliable, and accurate as possible, the author makes no claims, promises, guarantees, or warranties about the accuracy, completeness, or adequacy of the contents of this site and expressly disclaims liability for errors and omissions in the contents of this site.

If we did claim to have DID, this would rattle us a little but could ultimately be brushed aside.

Link 6: SANE

As usual, literally nothing about endogenic plurality. I'll just greenmode this.

The majority of people with DID have been through severe trauma in early childhood

And now back to our regularly scheduled nondefinitive language.

Fun fact: highlighting text on this website turns it invisible. Awesome.

A person needs to meet the following criteria to be diagnosed with DID:

- Two or more distinct identities or personality states, each with its own way of thinking and relating. - Amnesia and gaps in the recall of everyday events, personal information or traumatic events. - The experiences are not part of normal cultural or religious practice, or part of childhood imaginary play. For example, a child having an imaginary friend does not mean they have DID. - The symptoms are not because of substance abuse or other medical conditions.

Ah finally, a direct quote from the good ol' DSM. Notice the lack of a trauma requirement.

Funny enough, using only these criteria in isolation, we actually would count as having DID due to our grayout memory gaps when switching. DID is also listed in the dissociative disorders section of the DSM, not the trauma disorders section, so there is no implied criterion there either. However, there still remains the universal criterion of distress, which we do not fulfill. We are quite happy with ourselves.

DID is caused by severe childhood trauma, such as physical, verbal or sexual abuse.

Well, which is it?? Is it a majority association or a direct cause? Why the contradiction? Or is the emphasis on early childhood trauma?

Eh, whatever. Point is, green is once again shut down. But there is still no mention of endogenic plurality anywhere here!!

And no indication of who wrote this article, though the citation for direct cause is a dissociative disorder specialist. Does he actually say that in the cited paper, though?

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is multifactorial in its etiology. Whereas psychosocial etiologies of DID include developmental traumatization and sociocognitive sequelae, biological factors include trauma-generated neurobiological responses. Biologically derived traits and epigenetic mechanisms are also likely to be at play. At this point, no direct examination of genetics has occurred in DID. However, it is likely to exist, given the genetic link to dissociation in general and in relation to childhood adversity in particular.

I hope you have a dictionary on hand. That sure is a lot of big words that aren't in Firefox's built-in spellchecker. Still, after making sure I got everything, it's clearly not so cut and dry here. And we're back on the "it could be genetic" point.

Tangentially related: I do like the dismissal of the iatrogenic model on the basis of the brain scans.

Neurobiological differences have been demonstrated between dissociative identities within patients with DID and between patients with DID and controls. Given the current evidence, DID as a diagnostic entity cannot be explained as a phenomenon created by iatrogenic influences, suggestibility, malingering, or social role-taking. On the contrary, DID is an empirically robust chronic psychiatric disorder based on neurobiological, cognitive, and interpersonal non-integration as a response to unbearable stress.

Anyway, we're not even on the original page anymore, so I'll call it here. No mention of endogenic plurality, and the citation that claims to dismiss endogenic DID doesn't.

Link 7: NAMI Michigan

While the causes [of DID] are unknown

I'm tired. Aren't you tired?

Treatment for DID consists primarily of psychotherapy with hypnosis.

Yeah I'm calling BS on this one

And no citations on this entire page, nor even the author's name.

Statistics show that DID occurs in 0.01 to 1 percent of the general population.

Research has shown that the average age for the initial development of alters is 5.9 years old.

No sources listed. This is definitely the worst link. Literally on the same level as a rambling Tumblr user in terms of credibility.

Doesn't matter that it says

This disorder is believed to be triggered by physical or sexual abuse in childhood

Couldn't even get this dogshit source to be firm.

This one gets an F.

Link 8: The Psychology Practice

Got scared for a moment there that it said ai. No, that's AL, a name. Also this was written in 2022, so we're definitely safe. Can't actually find any other info on this AL character, but at least we can look up the co-author.

Hm, can't find anything on her, either. Well, at least this is a step up from the previous link. Let's see what it has to say.

According to the Dissociative Identity Research Organisation (2018), DID is formed in childhood due to repeated trauma in early childhood (before age 10) before the personality is fully integrated.

I do like that these later links are direct with this. They don't seem to have a citation for that DIRO, though. Unless...

No. Oh no.

Ok, so this one was written by a couple of clowns who definitely didn't do their homework. Cool. I'm getting tired of humoring awful sources like this, so moving on to the grand finale.

Link 9: NAMI

Wait, this is the same group behind the zero-citation article from Michigan! But that was just Michigan. Maybe the main site can do better.

Ugh, it's just another list of dissociative disorders instead of DID specifically.

The symptoms of a dissociative disorder usually first develop as a response to a traumatic event,

Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired?

Often these identities may have unique names, characteristics, mannerisms and voices.

Often? Wow. Sure is a far cry from 5%.

Dissociative disorders are managed through various therapies including: - Psychotherapies such as cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT) - Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) - Medications such as antidepressants can treat symptoms of related conditions

No mention of hypnosis, allegedly the primary method of treatment?? (/sarc)

and there was no mention of plurality being exclusive to dissociative disorders

Oh, and no listed authors either.

So, after three thousand words of analysis, all we've come up with are nothing burgers, dogshit, and dogshit nothing burgers. Out of nine links, only one briefly and indirectly touched on endogenic plurality, and it was in favor. Even the argument against the traumaless DID strawman is weak at best. These sources are bad, to put it lightly.

@radpocalypse, if you're reading this, firstly, thank you for powering through your ADHD and dyslexia to read thousands of words dunking on your masterpiece. Secondly, if you have any more sources that you think are backing you, feel free to send them my way. Just uh, maybe read them more closely next time?

And that goes for everyone here. If you think you have a better source, or if I made a mistake or missed something here, I am open to correction. I am open to the idea that I'm wrong and I have some unknown trauma to work through, but I certainly won't go digging unless I have good reason to believe it's there, and I haven't seen any good reason. And if you haven't either, maybe it's time to reconsider your position.

One last thing before I go.

Have you ever actually seen a pro-endo carrd, let alone one cited in standalone? I haven't.

Here's a much longer list of much better sources than yours supporting endogenic plurality compiled by the traumagenic Guardians System. I don't expect you to read anywhere near the whole thing; just pick a few links at random. And yes, while many of them are peer-reviewed papers, some of them are Tumblr posts, but those Tumblr posts cite peer-reviewed papers, so it's all good.

Thanks for reading.

[whiskeynwriting]

Do simon and bones ever get that night where they don’t have to be quiet?? And maybe simon loses himself and goes completely feral trying to pull as many noises from her as possible that make his brain melt?? 🥺

Ohhh anon. Yes, yes they do.

Love Is a Sin (Part One)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 12.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Smoking, mention of war and military lifestyle, use of weaponry, dirty talk, mask kink, size kink, tiny praise kink, cockwarming (kinda?), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, fluffies and vulnerability, secrecy, protective Ghost (I yearn). Lmk if I missed anything! 

◆

A/N: Enjoy part one my babies! Part two gets a little darker... I'm so excited.

◆

Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

It’s not often that you find yourself here, this is actually your first genuine invitation. Any other reason was to simply grab materials for a craft or files from a desk. And whenever you did that, it was by yourself. Because when the boys were in here, those doors were locked tight, their voices a muted drone in the halls. No one was allowed access into the debriefing room unless given specific clearance from Price. 

“Grab a seat.” The man of the hour speaks, motioning toward the table. 

They’re already gathered around the captain’s spread of plans, all three of them. And when Price speaks to you, each and every one of their heads turn, eyes and brows moving with bewilderment. None of them knew you were attending this meeting, not even Ghost. 

His eyes, above anyone else’s, widen. No one moves for a moment, not until Simon stands. Rising to his feet, he towers over every man, brows narrowing before he turns, grabbing one of the folding chairs leaning against the wall. With a quick jerk of his hand, the chair unfolds into its natural position. And then, he’s setting it down beside his own seat, lowering himself once again.

Johnny cocks an eye at his somewhat gentlemanly act, and although it’s done with sweet intention, you can practically feel Simon’s aversion to your presence. You knew this would upset him. 

“Uncharted territory.” Price declares, a single, thick finger slamming down onto the map. “And that’s why we need her.” That finger is then directed at you. And as each man turns their head, you don’t feel intimidation, but pride, swelling within you.

But your partner, on the other hand, finds his insides rotting with disapproval. They knew where they’d be going, they knew what they’d be risking, but they had no idea they’d have to bring you. But aside from Simon, everyone there seemed thrilled. 

“Finally get to see what yer all about.” Soap grins, giving you a rather rough pat on the back. 

Gaz smiles, leaning onto the table with his forearms. “She knows what she’s doing.”

“Damn right.” And when you look up, Price is beaming with pride. He brought you to the base for a reason; he always knew you’d be a reliable member. “She’s the best we’ve got, and we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

All this talk and Simon’s head hasn’t turned once, his eyes fixed completely on you. His stare is almost blank, lost, void of emotion as he begins to dissociate from this. Before you, only his family had gotten so close to him. And even now, you’re more important to him than they ever were. He’s never let himself get so wrapped up in this type of thing, an actual relationship. And now he’s going to be bringing you with him? He’s never even so much as trained with you. You’re not ready for this, and neither is he. But your unpreparedness is clearly developing in different ways. 

“Ghost.”

Snapping his gaze toward the captain, he jostles his head. “Yeah?”

“We’re gonna need your head in the game for this one.”

“Always.”

And just like that, you’re running through the plans. No man’s land, disputed ground between your team and the enemy. Many squadrons have been deployed and just as many have died. With the team specializing in infiltration, counter-terrorism and covert assignment, they were the next group to be tasked with the mission. This wasn’t going to be a simple assignment. 

But honestly, you’re not here for any of that. You don’t specialize in any type of infiltration or counter-terrosim techniques. Right now, you’re a medic, and with the zone they’re invading, Price wants you on deck in case anyone gets hurt. They have a better chance of making it through if they have someone that can quickly wrap up a wound. It also helps that you have experience in the field, but both physically and mentally. Before becoming a medic, and now lead medic at the base, you specialize in close quarter combat and weapons tactics, traits Price found just as valuable. He knows you won’t hold them back.

Simon knows all of this, he knows better than anyone just how good you are at this. But you’ve never experienced this kind of warfare, and he doesn’t want you to witness it. He also doesn't want you to witness the kind of man he is during it. 

“We’re due to set off tomorrow evening. We’ll use the cover of night to be dropped in over the mountains, where we’ll then hike. It’s about a twenty kilometer trek from there to the safe house. There, we’ll get our rest, reconvene and set out for the building.” 

Sliding his finger to one portion of the map, he displays the safe house’s location. Continuing to move, he then shows just how close the targeted building is. 

Price’s voice dips dangerously low when he explains, “Only eight kilometers away.”

“How is it a safe house if it’s that close to enemy lines?” Soap asks, twisting his face in confusion. 

“The enemy has yet to infiltrate that forest, they know nothing of its ground or the layout. They wouldn’t risk crossing uncharted territory just to explore a piece of land they aren’t interested in. Besides, the house is surrounded by landmines and snares, something we’ll need to pay attention to and avoid.”

With emphasis on his last word, those deep baby blues then drift to Gaz, who’s trying to duck away like some embarrassed tortoise. “I know, I know.” The team remembers Gaz’s mistake far too well, tossing a rock to test the space before nearly blowing himself to bits.

“Any other questions?”

About a million, though he doesn’t say it. They all revolve around you, anyway. 

“Right.” Slapping a hand against the table, he then stands. “We’re clear to move out tomorrow evening, eighteen hundred hours. Am I clear?”

“Clear.” The three men proclaim in unison, prompting you to jump slightly in your seat. And Ghost chuckles.

“C-Clear.” You repeat, feeling foolish doing so by yourself. 

Price grins, giving you a cheeky wink. He knows you’ll fit in given the right amount of time. “Night lads.” Your captain then states, giving you a nod. “And lass.” 

*

*

*

Everything feels thick and heavy - your clothes, the air, the shaft invading your most intimate space. His sighs are full of spearmint and tobacco, hints of his cologne floating up to your nose. Every sense feels invigorated, the emotions of embarrassment and exposure melting away just from being in his presence. Simon calms you, he grounds you.

“Christ,” His breaths come out in humid puffs, seeping out through the top crack of the window. It intermingles with the nighttime air, the darkening atmosphere as it fades to dusk. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Bulky arms wrap around your midsection, one hand dipping down to fist your ass. It’s then that you feel him pulse against your walls, prompting a delighted sigh from your throat. 

“I think I know.” Your sultry voice responds, hips moving gracefully over his pelvis. But your breaths are still heavy, enjoying the cool breeze that occasionally drifts in. And those heavy wafts of air soak into his neck when you lean in, running your lips over his ear. “I think I know exactly what I do to you.”

Those sweetly sinful words give the allusion of rough and quick sex, all teeth and tongue and torn clothes. But that’s not what this is about, not right now, not at all. It’s passionate, sensual, but slow and needy, too. Your motions are relaxed, Simon’s hands encouraging the gradual roll of your hips. And when you’re not speaking to him, or him to you, you’re lifting yourself up to his mouth. Here, the tips of your tongues touch, just barely dancing together as you tease one another, before inevitably falling back down to mouth tenderly at his neck.

“You’re so fucking good,” He praises, thick fingers pressing into your backside as he pants briefly. “Give me more, oh, god… more.”

Rocking his hips upward, he meets your sensual rolls, finding unison with you. From the moment you crawled onto his lap in the backseat of his Jeep, his eyes were on you, on your pretty face and every expression you make. Even now, he reaches out, cupping your cheek and bringing you down to him with a gentle force that screams Simon. 

His mouth consumes your own, his entire tongue sliding inside while his moan vibrates down your throat. It’s then that he twitches against your delicate channel, gasping into your mouth, breathing in your air. Holding you down on his lap, he forces you to still, now choosing to thrust up. 

“Simon,”

“God,” He groans, shoving himself up into your center over and over again. And at this point, it’s a familiar feeling, the sensation of being overly full, stretched to your limit and still wanting more. “Love it when you say my name.” 

Leaning backward against the seat, he urges you to put your weight on his chest, planting his feet on the floor of the car to gain better leverage. Here, he punches himself into your sex, reveling in the way it squeezes hotly around him.

“Fucking C-Christ.”

The Jeep rocks from the force of it, your collective moans spilling out into the nighttime air. But neither of you are worried. You’d found this spot to be particularly secluded, even from the constant patrols. Parked amongst the trees with the car off, at nearly midnight, seemed to be your new routine. It was the closest you could get to feeling free.

“Take it off.” Your Lieutenant then requests, one hand lifting to your chest. 

He palms you roughly, slowing the action down as he then decides on a tender rub; he wants to show you how gentle he can be. So, while considering both his actions and words, he moves carefully, speaks gently. “Can I see?”

“Mhm,” With a wide grin, you nod, glancing down to undo the front of your quarter zip. The easiest way to give him access is to guide your sports bra up and over the tops of your breasts, exposing yourself to him. 

“Oh,” Ghost groans, ducking his head into the crook of your neck. “Lovely.” He says it as his hand returns, doing his best to not let the material of his glove scratch you too rough. 

Your lover’s touch has grown quite accustomed to your feminine features, your smooth skin, your most delicate places. Instead of running over it with quick motions, his thumb touches your nipple gently, just barely rubbing tiny circles into it. And he listens to your breath, too. The lungs give everything away. 

“Baby, please…”

“What d’you want, love?” Mumbling into your neck, he kisses it, loosening his grip and allowing you to move again. And instantly, you do, wrapping your arms around his neck and bouncing down onto him. 

“Oh, fuck me.”

Now that your shirt is open, it leaves you vulnerable to the roughness of his tac vest. And it scratches you harshly, zippers and velcro scraping across your sensitive skin. But in truth, you like it. It’s almost like another mark he can give. 

“Fuck, those whimpers… that’s gonna make me bust right inside.”

Regardless of your place in the woods, you still have to keep yourself quiet. You and Simon have yet to have a night where you can fully be yourselves, where you can fully indulge in each other. This has been the closest thing to it. 

“S-Simon,” Your voice is light, airy and shaky. And you’re clinging to him for dear fucking life, because not only has he matched your fervent pace, he’s exceeded it. “Baby.”

“Take it,” He nearly growls, “Take it in your tight cunt.”

The muscles lining your insides flutter from his words, from his brute force. Sex with Simon was always so passionate, so intimate; it was a different type of experience. And you’ve fully leaned into it since the first night you got to experience him.

“Fucking hell, princess, I can feel it. You’re gonna cum on me.” And he really can; your velvety center pulsing around him, around the thick intrusion repeatedly splitting you open. 

But the way he says it almost embarasses you, and he chuckles when you duck down to hide your face from him. Smooshing your cheeks against his neck, your quiet grunts come with his every thrust. 

“C’mon, baby.” He coos with a grin, encouraging you. And something about Simon using the word baby makes you absolutely swoon. “Like it when you cum on me… you know that.” 

It’s then that you finally give in, a sense of pleasure bursting from your lower pelvis and reaching into every limb. The entire sensation is a true release, mentally and physically. Both of his hands find your backside as he rides you through it, squeezing harshly while your pelvis ruts over him, your entire body trembling. 

“That’s it…” Eyes rolling back, he drops his head against the seat’s headrest. But his hold on you hasn’t given up just yet. 

His own euphoria shoots from his insides when your fingernails find him, digging into his skin. Your slender digits scratch at his neck, at the tendons between his throat and shoulder, and it just fucking sends him.

Ghost has gotten quite comfortable releasing inside you. The two of you had forgone condoms fairly quickly. And in the beginning, it was due to the rush of things, the need to have the other right then and there, or at least, as soon as you could. But now, it’s for the feeling, the intimacy. There’s really nothing else like it. In truth, he always hated the latex barrier when it came to you.

Shivering briefly, you release an affectionate breath, a shaky inhale before cuddling into him. Used to this reaction by now, both of those bulky arms wrap around your back, holding you against his chest. He finds it endearing, your need for closeness, especially as the two of you come down. 

Smoothing a hand over your head, he kisses the top of it, rumbling to you in that deep, entrancing voice, “You’re so good for me.”

And he means it in more ways than this. Truly, you bring out the niceness in him, whatever amount of it he has left. The longer you and Simon stayed together, the more you connected, the more you felt like you could really do this. Your relationship could be sustainable, and you could be vulnerable. 

Every chance Simon got, he took to your side. In the training yard, he’d lift weights adjacent to your station. In the cafeteria, he always saved you a seat next to him. And in the debriefing room, he pulled up a chair for you beside him. And while the two of you were busy gravitating towards each other, your teammates were busy with eyeing your movements. It was starting to look suspicious. 

“You alright, love?”

Even when he’s done, and his breaths have steadied, he rests inside you. He did this often, especially when you rode him. While your need for closeness was expressed with words, his was expressed with actions. And this action, was one of his favorites. 

“Mhm,” Grinning, your eyes shut, your body weight resting comfortably on his chest. Removing your arms from around his neck, they instead loop around his wide midsection, hugging him. 

He’d been trying to ignore the issue at hand, the issue that’s only an issue to him. And while you riding him was more than a good enough distraction, now, he was now in his head again. Feeling you wrap your arms around him softens something inside his heart, and now more than ever, he wants to keep you protected. 

With a small grunt, he shifts, arms lifting behind your back. Listening closely, you can hear the velcro separating on his hand, and then the drop of a single glove onto the seat to your left. Simon’s warmth then envelopes your chest, the slow drag of his naked hand across your breasts. He caresses them fondly, before focusing on the right.

“Didn’t get to enjoy these much.” Your soldier murmurs, cupping your tit and pushing it up toward his waiting mouth.

Lips, warm and wet, wrap around your nipple, sucking softly on it. His palm is warm, fingers pressing into your smooth flesh. It’s his favorite part of you, after all. He knew it before even seeing their bare skin. 

“Hm…” Reaching up to the back of his head, you release a relaxing breath. Your head drops back as you cradle him against your chest, feeling the passionate massage he begins to give them. “Love this, Si…”

“Mm,” He moans in response, eyes closing as he enjoys you. 

He feels surrounded by you, and you by him. Resting like this together feels so special, almost sacred. You crave it. A profound sense of longing fills you, and you feel foolish, because he’s right here. He’s here with you and still, you can’t get enough. 

Sliding your hands around to his cheeks, your head turns as you lean in. Lips press sweetly to his second skin, the black fabric covering his temple. And it makes him chuckle quietly, kissing the slope of your breast. 

“Like my mask?”

“Mhm,” Your lips curl into a devilish grin while pressing against him, holding his head even closer to you. 

“Do you…” With a deep breath, he lifts his head, eyes finding you. “Do you ever wish you could see my face?”

With this question, you still, looking at him with a quietly shocked expression. Swallowing, you think before speaking, knowing that your words need to be respectful and calculated. But it only takes one for a decent response that can also be truthful.

“Yes.” 

Just barely nodding, Simon’s heart pounds inside his chest. Now that he knows this, he feels like he’s disappointed you. 

“But I know you don’t want to show me.” You continue, surprising him. “And that’s okay.”

And you think this is the most innocent those deep brown eyes have ever looked. His brows raise beneath the mask, taken aback by your reaction.

“It really is, Si.” And your sweet smile capitalizes on your sentiment. 

Your presence in Simon’s life, the grace you give him, it all still astounds him. Some six months later and still, you continue to bring purpose to his life every single day. He hasn’t quite realized it, but that’s exactly how he sees it.

Without another word spoken, his hand rises to the back of your head, bringing you down for a passionate kiss. Your own hands slide down to his jaw, petting lightly at the blonde stubble he has. And you count yourself lucky he’s even let you see that. 

“Want a smoke with me?” Simon asks against your lip, nipping at your lower one when you grin. 

“Sure, baby.”

Shifting onto one side of his hip, he grabs the pack and lighter from his pants pocket before settling back onto the seat. With one item going to his lips, the other is held up to you, quick to be taken by one of your hands. It’s endearing when he does this, silently asking for a bit of help, even if it’s as small as this. 

His face, the features you’ve been allowed to see, light up from the small fire. The quiet sizzle of the joint hums in this small lull before he takes a breath in, fingers grabbing the end. Turning, he releases the smoke into the air, feeling your hand drop the lighter onto the seat beside him. And while this hushed pause should resemble a sense of peacefulness, it prompts a certain worry inside you. 

“Si?”

“Yeah?” When his eyes return to you, they’re squinted slightly, eyebrows furrowed. But not in anger or annoyance. What’s bothering him?

“Are you okay?” Lifting your hand, you lay it over his cheek, fingertips brushing over that black mask. “You seem…quiet. Quieter than normal.” And your small poke at him makes both of you grin. 

With a sigh, he lifts the cig, offering it to you and then watching you take it. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes when he says, “Don’t know how I feel about you tagging along, sweets.” 

Without meaning to, he questions your abilities, the same abilities you’ve trained for years to gain. But you take his comment better than he expected. 

“Yeah?” You chuckle, raising a brow as you tease, “Afraid I’ll show you up?” Another puff and you’re handing it back to him, curious about what’s going on inside that skull. 

“Nah, it’s nothing like that.” Casually, he shakes his head, inhaling on his pass. “Place we’re going is… it’s not a place for you to be.” 

“I know it’s dangerous, Si. That’s why I’m going, so I can help you guys.” You knew it, you fucking knew he’d have an issue with you coming. You just weren’t sure how deep that worry was. 

And now, he’s silent for a minute, a long minute. Looking away from your gaze, those deep eyes wander to the window, searching for the right words to say. Something along the lines of… “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Awe…” Again, you’re teasing, poking fun to avoid the real conflict. Neither of you want to have a serious conversation, not when your entire life is one giant critical discussion. But you have to admit, you like seeing this side of him. 

Leaning in, you nuzzle his temple, your voice turning quiet and sweet. “I like it when you’re soft with me, big boy. Makes me feel like you care.”

“‘Course I do.” 

And when you snuggle even further into him, his eyes close, a heavy breath released from his nose. It’s a silent response, his body reacting to your genuine adoration for him. He makes sure to keep his head still, wanting you to continue the loving motion. And you do, reveling in the way his arm returns to circle around you. 

It’s not about him doubting you, it’s about him protecting you. He knows you can handle yourself, and he found that incredibly attractive when you first met. But now? He just wants to keep you safe, make sure you stay on base and never have to see combat again. But Price was the one to call the shot this time. 

On the other hand, Ghost is also worried about the team. Specifically, he’s worried about them discovering your relationship. No one knows about the two of you except for Johnny, and neither of you want anyone else to find out. And if you somehow get hurt out there, his emotions are sure to expose themselves. There’s not a single chance his affection for you won’t show, his angry and possessive nature sure to shine through. After that, they’re bound to figure it out. 

“I’ll be with you,” Comes your gentle response. “How could I ever get hurt when I’m with you?”

Sweet, he thinks. But it’s not enough to reassure him. 

*

*

*

The helo ride is easy, nothing that gives you jitters in any sort of way. The only thing you wish was different, was the view - there isn’t one. The entire ride is done with complete cover, not a window in sight as you all sit in the far back, strapped to your seats and waiting to be told otherwise. 

Johnny had insisted you hunker down with him, he honestly wants to get to know you a bit more. Especially now that you’re dating his best friend. He also wanted to distract said friend; Simon needs to keep his head on straight. But Ghost wasn’t having any of that. Not because he was worried Soap would make a move, but because he promised himself you wouldn’t be leaving his side for even a second throughout this trip. 

While sitting beside each other, you find yourself wanting him, yearning for his touch, to lean against his shoulder or even hold his hand. But the closest you two settle for is the touching of your knees. Around the boys, you manspread just like them. So, while leaning back in your seat, you do just that. And of course, Simon doesn’t move an inch. He likes your need for touch, it matches his quite nicely. It might even make him smile beneath his mask. 

“Drop point,” Price announces, “Comin’ up fast.”

And upon command, the four of you release your buckles, standing to correct your straps. Simon eyes you from his peripheral as you adjust your vest, leaning down to check the pistol in your thigh holster and then the one secured to your stomach. He finds it attractive, watching you train your knowledge of weapons. But he shakes those thoughts out of his head. Right now, he’s making sure the way you’re loading them is correct. 

Hovering above the designated location, each of you approaches the sliding door. Once Price tosses the rope down, he’s the first one on it, landing on the ground with a firm thud and immediately securing the area. Then, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. You’re last, and it’s for your best interest. It gives you the advantage of watching them, taking notes on how to do this. And when you finally secure your gloves and grab hold of the rope, you look to them on the ground. But it’s not the team you find. Grinning, your eyes immediately lock, his trained on you beneath that stoic mask. He’s standing at the bottom, staring up and waiting for you. And all he wants to do is tell you to stay, or at the very least, catch you. But all he can do is watch as you slide down, restraining himself from wrapping his arm around you once you’re on the ground. 

His Reckoner gear is menacing, though his attire usually is. The black jacket matches the shawl slung loosely around his neck, draping down onto his chest. Shielding him from the rapidly growing winds is his outfit’s hood, tight around his head and mask. You find yourself favoring this look, so dark and mysterious. It’s how you first saw him when you met. And you’re dressed similarly, your entire outfit made up of black and gray canvas, a scarf around your neck and gloves on your hands, with your own hood up, too. 

Only a small part of you tries to separate yourself from him, but it doesn't reach surface level, not even close. Regardless of wanting to hide your relationship, you stick to each other like glue. Taking his position at the rear of the group, he makes sure to keep his strides in line with you, matching your pace expertly as you continue forward. 

The silence between you is comfortable, familiar, and again, you find yourself longing for him. With a devious thought creeping into your mind, you let your hand fall to your side, wandering further enough to swipe your pinky across his thumb.

“Think you’re ready for this?” A deep, Scottish accent suddenly asks. 

Jumping sharply, your hand instantly flinches away from your lieutenant. “W-What?”

“Bit jumpy, there?”

Smirking, you roll your eyes, hands grabbing the straps of your vest. “I’m just fine, Johnny.” And then, you nod, feigning an air of smugness. “What about you?”

“Born ready, sweetheart.”

Ghost huffs. “Born a pretty boy.” But even he’s grinning as he says it. 

“Fuckin’ grump,” Soap teases, walking backward and just ahead of you two so he can continue talking. “We’re only an hour in.”

“And still needing to secure our position.” Dad - Price, snaps, reminding Soap to keep his voice down.

At this, Johnny’s eyes widen, his body jerking around before jogging forward to catch up with the rest of the group. You chuckle at his reaction, but Ghost doesn’t make another sound as you continue. He’s too busy with his own thoughts to converse with you.

Flurries of snow buzz around your covered heads, sticking to the fabric of your scarves, the hairs of your eyelashes and the scruff on the boys’ chins. It brings about a certain childlike bliss, a winter wonderland in the midst. Smiling innocently at the beautiful landscape around you, those joyful emotions soon dissipate alongside your captain’s voice. 

“Ice ahead.” He declares, signaling for the rest of you to ready yourselves. And with a deep breath, that’s just what you attempt to do. 

“Grab your ice axe.” Simon murmurs, twisting around to grab his own.

“I know.” You sass, reaching back for the tools in your pack. 

Easily, he dismisses your attitude. All he wants is for you to be prepared, adding on, “A bundle of rope, too.

Approaching the mountain, you ready yourself. Almost as if staring a beast in the eye, you stand flat on your feet, staring up at the vast landscape. It’s intimidating, this imposing piece of nature. Familiar winds sweep across the rocky edges, brushing the snow from its various levels. And beneath it lay thick layers of ice, sheet after sheet sliding down the summit’s side. 

“You and I can go first, get to the top fast as we can.” Simon decides, planting a hand on your lower back and ushering you toward the front of the group.

“Why?”

“Let’s go.” Easily, Simon pushes his way forward, right beside you. 

His added attention to your every move is noticeable within the group. And honestly, it’s starting to irritate you. To an extent, it’s insulting, especially in front of the other men. But you need to focus on the task at hand, and that doesn’t include any of your emotions about him.

Reaching up, a small grunt is released as you swing your pick, digging it into the ice. And once Simon is sure you have your footing, he starts up right alongside you. He’s below your stance and slightly to your right, watching your steps while trying to keep his own in check. But to his surprise, you’re doing fairly well for your first time. The burn in your muscles is nothing compared to the determination to prove Price right. He won’t regret bringing you on this mission. 

However, repeatedly hoisting your body up while trying to find your footing is becoming increasingly difficult as you go on, gravity beginning to weigh heavy against your body. Every step is met with a disgruntled groan or grunt, with Ghost’s echoing below you. Eventually, you start to hear the rest of the team’s noises, each man climbing up at their own pace. 

“You alright, lass?”

“Ye-ah,” Comes your breathy response, releasing an airy laugh. “This isn’t so h–hard.”

You’re speaking as you climb, with every other word coming out between some type of guttural noise. And further beneath your feet, Johnny laughs in return.

“McTavish, watch your footing.” Price chides, his voice hurried and a bit frantic. It startles you. “McTavish!” 

Breaking open your seemingly sound world is the sudden cracking of ice, your eyes going wide. The sound of frozen water splitting between the five of you echoes along the summit’s climb, and soon after, your teammates’ yells, too.

“Soap!”

Glancing down, you barely have time to react before Ghost is barking at you. “Head up!”

Instantly, your head snaps upward, breaths labored as worry consumes you. Your ears ring with the sudden spike of adrenaline forcing blood through your veins, heart pumping from the appearance of your base instincts. 

“Keep going!” He continues to shout, “That’s an order, Bones!” 

With everything in you, you want to look down, especially when you hear the boys’ continuation of panicked shouts. But beside you, Ghost’s movements pick up, your own now excelling forward, too. 

Simon’s chest heaves beside you as he scrambles up the side of the mountain, your movements now just as fast. Stab after stab, you hurl your arms upward against the ice, forcing the axe into the thick sheets. 

“S-Simon.”

“Keep going.” Is all he says, all he’s able to say.

And in the blink of an eye, you’re at the top curve. Simon hauls himself over the side, immediately leaning over the cliff’s edge to reach for your hand. 

“Take it! Take it now!”

“Price!” Gaz yells in the distance, a heavy thud heard at the bottom of the cliff.

“John.” You barely whimper, thinking the worst has come. 

The firm grip of your lieutenant’s hand suddenly wraps around your wrist, yanking you up and over the edge. You land on your stomach with a hard unff, Simon’s hand now settling over your lower back. He can’t see anything, a thick dusting of snow covering the lower half of their climb. For a moment, he thinks about yelling, but chooses to flick on his comms instead. 

“Price?” He questions into the mic, eyes searching frantically for any one of them. “Soap?”

“We’re here.”

“What the bloody hell happened?” 

“Wrong, wrong move.” Johnny huffs through the link. “Ice cracked, Price fell. Me shortly after; Gaz was still close to the ground.” 

“Anyone hurt?”

“Just a bit.” Price finally answers, and this is when you move to sit up. But Simon’s firm hand on your back keeps you down. “I’ll be fine, just a sore back.”

“Orders?” Now that he knows no one is severely injured, he needs to know the team’s next moves. He is second in command, after all. 

“Simon?” Again, you try to push yourself up, but the pressure he applies becomes firmer, his fingers curling into your jacket.

“Stay.” He demands, his voice dark and stern. If you were anyone else, you’d think it was a warning. 

“We’ll have to trek around, but…” Trailing off for a moment, the captain finishes with, “It’ll add a day to our hike.”

A moment of silence passes, and Simon leans away from the cliff, settling beside you. Finally, he lets you up, turning his head as he watches you gather your bearings beside him.

“Hike on,” Price decides. “Secure the safe house, we’ll be a day behind. This path is lost.”

“No reconvene?” Ghost clarifies, wondering if the team should get their heads on straight after being separated like this. And upon this suggestion, Price grows silent in thought.

“Setting up camp would be smart. Give us a rest, some time to calm down and gather ourselves.” He finally agrees, then declaring, “We’ll stay for the night; right thinking, Ghost. We’re to be up and moving no later than dawn, am I clear?”

“Clear. I’ll expect your comms in twenty-four.”

“Affirmative. Bravo Six, out.” 

With that, Simon stands, your eyes trailing up his large figure while he adjusts his gear. Labored breaths continue to form within your lungs, now stung from the harsh winter air.

“What’s going on?” 

“We’re heading off on our own.” Your partner confirms, brushing the snow from his pants. 

“How are they? Is anyone hurt?” The comms transferred to his earpiece, you were only able to hear his responses. 

“Nothing severe, they’re choosing a different path. It’ll add a day, but Price wants us to continue on.” Tilting your head, your curious expression prompts further information from him. “We’ll make camp for the night though, give us time to rest.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll locate and secure the safehouse, wait for them to arrive.” Leaning down, he holds a hand out, helping you up once you take it. “You alright?”

Now that you’re alone, he grabs your shoulders, rubbing them for both comfort and warmth. “You’re shivering.”

“Just cold.” Shrugging, you brush it off as just that, feeling chilly. Though, it’s partially due to shock, and Simon knows it. It’s been more than five years since you were last in the field; maybe you weren’t fully ready for this. 

“You’re alright, love.” Guiding you to his chest, he sighs, holding the back of your head. “No one’s hurt.” 

All you do is nod against him, pulling up your big girl pants and shoving aside your emotions. He’s right, everything’s fine, just a small bump in the road. 

“We should make camp.” He suggests, the surrounding scenery darkening as he speaks. 

Your current location is far enough away to make a small fire and not draw any attention from the targeted enemy. So naturally, it’s the first thing Simon does, right after finding a small patch of brush for you to set the tent. It’s a small thing, just barely big enough to fit one man. But neither of you mind squeezing inside together. You don’t have sleeping bags, but what you do have are Mylar thermal blankets. Which will have to do, and are actually useful in these situations. 

“Bones.” Ghost quietly calls, and when you look over your shoulder, you find him huddled near the fire. He then jerks his head to the side, beckoning for you. “Cm’over here.” 

While rubbing your hands together, you make your way over to him, sitting down by the little fire he’s built. It’s enough to bring you warmth, though, the pulsing embers doing wonders for your frozen appendages. 

“Any better?” 

“A little better.” With your hands outstretched toward the flames, you nod, eyes trained on the wispy bits of fire floating through the wind. 

Upon your response, he scooches closer, positioning himself behind you. Here, he spreads his legs, laying them on either side of your own and pulling you in between them, right up against his chest. You smile as he drags you back, allowing him to hold you between his legs. His cold, covered chin then finds your shoulder, both arms wrapping around your midsection.

Rumbling to you quietly, he asks again, “Any better?”

The smile on your face burns brighter than the fire. “A lot better.”

Shifting slightly, you relax into his body, basking in the fact that you can so openly cuddle up together. And when he feels your entire weight fall into him, he hums, kissing your shoulder through the mask. He’s become such an affectionate man around you. 

Inside, your heart beats for him. Thinking back to the scenario on the cliff, you replay Simon’s protective acts in your head. His verbal directions, both before and during the event, his physical motions of pulling you up to safety and then keeping a hand on your back.

“Si?”

“Hm?” He returns, mouth full of a protein bar. While you ponder your question, he hands you one, too. 

“Why did you hold me down? By my back?”

He chews his food much slower now, thinking. Never before has he thought through his responses so thoroughly before meeting you. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing; he’s quite frightened of it, actually. 

“Didn’t know if anyone was hurt.” He eventually returns, and you’re confused until he finishes his statement. “Didn’t want you seeing something like that.” 

And while you appreciate the meaning behind his actions, it prompts a certain fear within you. He can’t continue to fight your battles for you, not when you’re out in the field. He has to be himself, not a modified version just because you’re here. He can’t be Simon, he has to be Ghost. And still, you can’t help but feel grateful for him, all of him.

“Thank you.”

*

*

*

The day was cold but the night was frigid, your thermal blankets doing little to shield you from the frozen hell you were in. What helped build heat beneath the metallic blankets, though, were your bodies. It was Simon who suggested it, and you didn’t think twice once he did. There was nothing sexual behind it, only concern and genuine care. 

As soon as you were at his side, huddled within the tent, his arms snaked tightly around your stomach. Naked beneath the crinkly cover, Simon hugged you to his body, not only for heat but for comfort. His masked face easily found its way to your neck, body curling around yours like a protective outer shell. And in this way, he warmed you, inside and out. 

Feeling Simon’s naked body served to bring you a sense of relaxation you didn’t think you’d find on this mission. Being able to sleep beside him was also an incredibly relieving act you didn't think you’d get to experience while deployed. Now that it’s just the two of you, you’re free to bask in each other’s company, reveling in the sweet way your souls connect. It’s not just about physical attraction for you two, not anymore. What you have is chemical. You’ve become each other’s best friend - companions; it’s just natural for you to be together. Even like this, pressed against each other in complete nakedness without an ounce of sexual intention in the air, it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward, not for either of you. Those bulky forearms nestled right beneath your breasts, feeling the smooth curves lay against him. And his flaccid length pressed against your backside, his strong hold keeping you nice and close throughout the night. Neither of you cared. There wasn’t room for insecurity between the two of you, not after all you’ve been through. 

“You’re my girl.” Simon whispered to you, mask lifted just enough for him to kiss your ear. 

His eyes were closed as he spoke, body tired and sore and lulling him to sleep. But not before murmuring, “You’re mine; mine to keep.” 

But that was last night. This morning isn’t so sweet.

While Simon continued to display his ever-growing and extremely doting personality, the weather was still acting like a petty bitch. Wild winds surged through your small camp when you awoke, gathering your things once dawn hit the sky. Simon stamped out the fire, you packed up the tent, and off you went.

“How much farther is it again?”

“About twelve kilometers.”

The dramatic groan you exude makes his lips curl beneath the mask, eyes turning to witness your adorably irritated face. 

“C’mon,” He teases, that smirk revealed through his tone. “You can make it.” 

“Can I borrow your mask?” You then ask, a grin curling on your lips. 

Rolling his eyes, they land on you, an unamused expression swirling within them.

“Look, you’re being stingy with it.” Continuing with your charade, you then add, “It’s freezing out here. My cheeks are getting all chapped.”

At this, he huffs out a single laugh. “Looks pretty damn cute to me.” 

It’s interesting, you think. All of this started with you making fun of his mask, and now, you adore it. You adore him.

Both of you are thankful for the common knowledge of swift and silent movement as you trek on through the harsh, mountainous terrain. The quicker you get there, the quicker you’re able to rest. Price mentioned that the cabin even had heat and running water, a true reprieve for you all. At least, for the time being. Besides, you can’t get too carried away just yet. You still have to secure the area before enjoying it. 

“Looks to be a bit easier from here.” Ghost announces, coming to stand on top of a ridge you haven’t yet arrived at. But when you do, you’re met with flat, snowy terrain. 

“Thank god.”

“C’mon, hasn’t been that hard.”

And he’s right. Aside from that icy cliff incident, this hike has been a piece of cake. Nothing to complain about on your end, really; messing with Simon was just fun sometimes. He always fell for your antics, too. Something about you acting weak and frail just made him want to care for you. And that’s something you’d never protest. 

Walking with you was nice and easy; you understood him and his preference for silence. It’s a trait you both shared. Why speak if there’s nothing to be said?

“Have we got a plan?” Simon then says, deciding this is something that should definitely be said.

“About?”

“The safe house, how we’re going to secure it.”

“Well, I don’t really have any experience in searching for and disarming traps. I think that’s on you, buddy.”

“Yeah?” Buddy, it makes him chuckle. “And what will you do?”

“Cover your six?” It’s a suggestion; you can still be helpful. “I can scope out the treeline, make sure Price was right about enemies not crossing over the lines.”

“Sounds like a plan, love.”

And what a good plan it was. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine as soon as you arrived at the safe house, finally reaching your destination in the early evening. Either you just work well together, or you were simply eager for some rest. Likely both. 

“Scanning.” Keeping your eye on the surrounding treeline, you speak into your comms, listening to Ghost rustle through the brush not too far off in the distance. “Movement.”

“Friendlies?” Ghost immediately returns, fidgeting with something on his head. You can hear it through your small speaker, assuming he’s handling a trip-wire. 

Upon further inspection, you release the tight breath you’d been holding. “Deer.”

“Copy.” He returns, going about his given task.

Knowing you have his back makes his job that much easier. And if he’s being completely honest, seeing you with a gun in your hand, your expert eye skimming the treeline, it was attractive. Turned him on, actually, as much as he needed to focus he just couldn’t help it. He admires your work ethic. Even when he had watched your body climb up the sheets of ice, he admired it, eyeing the way your muscles twisted and flexed beneath the canvas of your pants, the way he could see right up between your legs. It’s a wonder he didn’t get even a semi while climbing. But he’s thankful you hadn’t distracted him to that extent. 

“Clear.” Simon grumbles into the comms, “Moving south.” 

Shifting in the trees, you stay adjacent to him, watching his figure from behind. You’re ready to face any possible enemies, but are thrilled to find this portion of the job has been just as easy as the rest. 

“Clear.” He then repeats, finalizing his task. “Moving in.”

Desperately, he wants to relax, find his way inside and just be for a moment. Price said there’d be heat and running water, and Christ, is he looking forward to that. 

“Bones?”

“Copy.”

“You following?”

“Coming in.” You confirm, walking up from behind, your position still crouched and eyes zeroed in on the treeline. 

Walking into the clearing toward the small home, you almost feel naked, exposed. Every step you make is in Ghost’s footprint, following his every movement to avoid the traps. And once Ghost is on the wooden steps at the front, you glance over your shoulder, taking one last look at the perimeter. 

“C’mon,” Simon almost coos, fatigue seeping into his voice. “We’re clear, love.” 

Typing in the code Price had given him, Simon unlocks the door and with a harsh nudge, makes his way in. The house is made up of one central room, a side bedroom, bathroom, and small kitchen space. In the living area is a single couch, and further in the bedroom you see a mattress. Hopefully something to help Simon’s back. 

“Might hear a bit of noise,” Simon says, walking off toward the kitchen. “I’m kicking on the furnace.”

“That is fine by me.” Breathing out a sigh of relief, you let your body fall onto the couch, dropping your pack to the floor. “I could use some warmth.” 

An abrupt thud rattles the baseboards as the rusty furnace burns to life, a small whoosh of dust fluttering from the vents. The soot briefly filling the air disturbs your lungs, a small bout of coughs overcoming you. But for Simon, it does nothing, his mask guarding him from any of the pollen-like pollution. 

Casually, he strides your way, plopping down beside you on the couch. He sits alongside a long and raspy sigh, his body right against yours as he wraps his arms around you. Apparently, one of his favorite things to do.

“C’mere,” He says quietly, pulling you to lean back against his chest. And he enjoys it when you snuggle into him, resting against his firmness. 

Placing his fingers beneath your chin, he lifts your head, and when you turn to meet him you discover his bare lips. They’re dry and chapped, both of your mouths as they press together, but neither of you really care. You’re yearning for each other, and very suddenly aware that you have an entire cabin to yourselves. And as Simon holds your face with his gloved hand, his kisses become sweet, sensual slides and meetings that make your heart beat. 

“How are you?” He asks in that deep, rumbly tone, still full of genuine care. 

“Tired,” You breathe out with a short laugh. “Sore.”

“Mm,” Your love nods, gifting you with another small kiss. It’s short and sweet, the gentle stamp of his lips. “Why don’t you have a shower with me?” He’d eyed the bed in the backroom, too, thinking about how wonderful it might feel to lay down in it after washing yourselves clean. But in this moment, that’s not at all what you’re thinking about.

Is he going to let me see his face?

You’re shocked he even asked, you never thought you’d get an opportunity like this with him. And so, with your eyes flickering up to meet his, you nod. “Okay.” 

“Won’t be too luxurious,” His voice rumbles across your skin, dark eyes staring down at your charming little face. “Grimy shower, no soap. Just enough water to wash the sweat off our skin.”

Sleepily, you smile. “That’s good enough for me.”

*

*

*

The strength he continues to use even beneath the weight of fatigue is astounding. You’re not quite sure how he has it in him, but he holds you up from behind, cradling your body in his arms. And it’s not like you weigh much, but it still impresses you. There’s not much Simon does that hasn’t impressed you.

Warmly, the water cascades down your body, droplets rolling over the hills and valleys of your skin. And it’s so pleasurable that you moan, eyes closing as your head tilts back to rest against him. Briefly, it frightens him, his eyes dipping down to your relaxed face. He’s reassured by the small flutter of your lashes, a display of respect for him. Before getting in, Simon told you not to look at his face. And while it made your heart sink, you really should’ve known better than to expect that from him.

On his end, this is just as nice, if not even more. With his mask off, he uses one hand to run down his face, then ruffling it through his short hair.

“Simon?” You ask, feeling him reach up, brushing water through his locks. 

“Mm?”

Still temporarily blind, you ask him, “What color is your hair?”

That deep laugh bounces off the tile walls, and it makes you smile, heart beating with a certain affection you’re not yet ready to admit to him.

“What color do you think it is?”

“Well, your stubble is blonde, and your happy trail…” Grinning, you reach behind you, fingers petting at the damp patch of hairs leading down to his groin. 

“Blonde.” Simon repeats, both hands returning to your hips.

Leaning down, his head tilts, lips brushing your cheek as he says, “That’s what I am.” 

For a moment, when you feel his hands roam, you assume it to be sexual. But it isn’t, not at first anyways. While you bask in this new knowledge, Simon washes your body, hands running over your shoulders and arms, your stomach, your hips and thighs. 

“You’re tense.” That grumbling voice says, rubbing your shoulders. “Give you a proper rub when I bring you back to base.” And the way he says it makes you swoon, something about his wording making you feel cared for, protected.

“You’d do that for me?”

For a flash, you consider the danger of your situation. You’re both living in a fantasy right now, showering together for the first time, enjoying each other’s company while you’re supposed to be guarding the safe house. But apparently, Simon’s quite sure of the absence of any danger. 

Shifting slightly, your Ghost’s broad palms rise to cup your tits, groaning softly into your ear as his head dips down to your neck. Here, his lips work over you, kissing you sensually beneath the warm spray. 

“‘Course I would.” 

When you sigh, your head falls back a bit further, truly exposing your neck. And this gives him the perfect opportunity for his dominant hand to lift a little higher, fingers encircling your neck. A spike of adrenaline hits your blood, your pulse jumping when it happens. You keep your eyes from flashing open, instead flashing him your grin.

“I want you, sweetheart.” Simon openly admits, his firmly toned body pressing against your back. “While there’s no one around… no one here but you and me…”  

“Baby,” Reaching back, you use one arm to wrap around his neck, fingers combing up through his hair. It sends a tingle down your entire spine, feeling his full head of hair for the first time. “I want you.” 

“Just us, alone…” He’s trailing off, voice murmuring beneath the shower’s loud stream. “Pull as many pretty sounds from you as I like.”

Chuckling, you return with, “How are you not exhausted?”

“I’m never too tired for you.” He easily responds, “Cheesy, but it’s true. I want every second I can get with you.”

It’s really strange to you, seeing your relationship now versus the start of it. At the beginning, Simon was cold, completely cut off from any outside communication, and that’s how he liked it. He didn’t have anyone close to him, and so, he didn’t have anyone to lose. A man free of commitment, free of any domestic responsibility; tied to his military base, and nothing more. But then you showed up, and made him feel things he never wanted to experience. It was something he blocked out, but his defenses weren’t strong enough to daunt you. And now, instead of avoiding your affections, he returned them tenfold every time he could. 

Another pull in your chest, muscles tightening, stomach fluttering. You want to tell him, be open and honest just as he’s pushed himself to be with you. But you don’t know if this is the right time, you don’t know if there will ever be a ‘right time’ with him. 

But before you can fully process that, Simon finishes washing your body and his, wiping away the sweat and grime of the past couple days. He even snakes a hand down between your legs, bringing water to rinse you while pressing his lips to your ear.

“Turn it off.” Gentle breath brushes over your skin, both broad palms on your hips as you bend over to do it. “Stay here.”

There aren’t any towels in the cabin, there isn’t much of anything, really. But he moves out into the living room to grab a random blanket from the couch, returning to wrap you in it. 

“All we have.”

“That’s okay.” Your smile is sweet as you stare up at him, now with his mask on again. He’d dried himself briefly before coming back to you, and now, he guides you to the bedroom. 

“C’mere,” Turning you around to face him, Simon sighs, lifting his mask. “Give me those lips.”

Easily, he pushes forward, guiding you down to the bed as he distracts you with his mouth. The blanket lays open around you as it happens, revealing your naked body to him once again. And on either side of your head, those strong forearms hold your soldier up, his mouth delicate as he begins to consume you. 

One large hand finds its way to your thigh, parting your legs. With gentle eagerness, he settles between them, lowering himself to kiss your neck. 

“So beautiful,” He murmurs, eyes closed as he shakes his head. “Even through all this, through the hike and weather.”

“Shut up.” You return, laughing playfully at his words.

“I mean it.” Simon instantly responds, voice gruff as he speaks to you in that lowered tone. “You’re the only woman to ever do this to me.”

Your loving lieutenant speaks with a sense of urgency, voice breathy and raspy and full of the deep accent you adore so completely. Truthfully, it’s the most emotional confession he’s ever given, and it stuns you to your core. In your eyes, he might as well have told you he loves you. It’s likely the closest you’ll ever get to it.

“Simon…” Reaching up, your hands cup his cheeks, wishing now more than ever to see more.

“You mean something to me…” He admits, slowly moving down your body.

As he creeps down your frame, your hands pull away from his face, feeling his own explore you in the most intimate way. Both of them secure to your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze before his lips find them. He’s soft with it, mouthing at the delicate bends of your body. 

“A perfect treat,” Ghost grins, lips curling over your skin. “All for me.”

That devilish smirk only grows wider when you spread your legs for him, watching with bated breath. Simon always made this such an event, laying you out on any surface or bed and making you wait for his every move. 

“Just look at that,” Your sharp inhale makes him hum in admiration, using his thickest digit to thumb at your glistening lips. “Those creamy juices just leaking out of your cunt…”

“Simooonnn,” Thrusting your hips up, you huff dramatically, tossing your head back onto the bed. “Please.”

Usually, he’d laugh, but he doesn’t want to drag it out this time. He wants to indulge in you while he can, before anyone else shows up. And so, he fully parts your lips, tongue laying out to swipe through them. His breaths waft heavily across your center, smooth lips engulfing your sex. He sucks on you, already slurping up the combination of your slick and his spit. Steadily, he strokes you with his tongue, digging it deep inside your warmth. But then he’s pulling himself back, using both hands to spread your legs, pulling apart your sticky lips.

“Christ, I love this.” His voice is thick, eyes unwavering from the space between your thighs. Licking through these delicate petals… right down into that hole.”

Lifting himself ever so slightly, he laps at your clit, tongue circling the hood as he toys with it. The way your hips quiver gifts him with encouragement, with confidence. He knows your body, and he’s going to use that knowledge against you. 

“Come on, babe. Make those beautiful noises for me.” Reaching forward, he grabs onto the meat of your ass, squeezing it in hand. “There’s no one here to listen but me, just me…”

“Ngh,” Arching your back, you cry out for him, both from the force of his hand and the way his tongue flicks against the peak of your sex. “Fuck.”

“Come on.” His breathy encouragements continue to flow, his lips soft and wet as he licks through you. “Moan for me.”

“B-Baby, yes…” 

He’s sucking on you, lips smacking against the wetness of your cunt as he basks in its taste. The more you writhe beneath his face, the firmer his grip on you becomes, until you’re unable to move yourself at all. Your hips still, crushed comfortably beneath his weight as both of those veiny forearms settle overtop them.

“Yes.” Reaching out, you wish so desperately to be met with the wonderful sensation of his golden hair. But alas, it’s that goddamn mask. Fingers curling tightly into the fabric, you cling to him, chest puffing out sultry gasps into the dusty cabin air. “I, I ca…”

“More.”

“Simon,” 

While mumbling against your skin, Simon’s deep, dark eyes flutter up to your gorgeous face. His hands dig into your hips, fingers pressing into the muscles that make you so delicious. Every time you’re near, whether it’s sexual or otherwise, he adores the way you say his name. The way you call for him, reaching out for protection, for friendship, for love. You reach out to him for love, he knows it. 

Massaging you with his hands, Simon’s grunts vibrate through your legs and hips, his mouth insistent. And when you meet his eyes, meet that possessive, predatory gaze, you’re done for. The entire sensation of it rushes through your body, opening up and completely letting go. Your back arches, jaw dropping as you listen to him mouth at your quivering cunt like it’s a feast. Heavy grunts and humid breaths, the wet sound of your juices mixing with his spit. Your hips shake from it, lungs constricting from the euphoria tightening your veins. 

“Si-imon!” Eyes pinching shut, you revel in it, hands pressing to the back of his head as you reach out for more of his touch. But it’s as if you can’t bring him any closer than he already is.

He lets you hold him, lets your body roll through the motions. But it takes everything in him not to immediately crawl over your body and capture your lips. So, he continues to lick you, letting himself get lost in the taste of it, the smell of it. Shoving his tongue inside, he can feel your hole quiver around him, can feel the way his taste buds react to your cum.

“Baby, baby.” Simon’s tongue swirls around your clit, menacing orbs trained directly on you once again. “Baby…”

And all at once, he’s on you again, lifting himself from between your legs and reaching out to wrench your jaw open.

“Give me those fucking lips.”

Crashing his mouth to your own comes alongside his heated moan, the sound of wet gasps and hot breaths instantly filling the air. He’s pressing himself into you, crushing you comfortably beneath his weight. And the hand he has on your cheek only further secures its grip, keeping your mouth open for him.

“You want me?” He always loved to hear you say it.

“Yes, yes baby, please.” When he pulls away enough to speak, your hands shoot up to his cheeks. “Simon, please.” But then you see him pause, the glimmer of a smirk pulling on his lips. Those deep, mocha orbs stare down at you as he waits. He wants to hear you say it, and you know it.

“I want you.”

If it were any other situation, Simon might’ve held back, might’ve made you repeat a few more words just to really get himself going. But he’s already throbbing against your leg, precum leaking onto your skin since the moment he laid you on the bed. The rest of them could be here any moment, likely in the morning but you never know with Price. He has to take advantage of this while he can. 

Leaning on that decorated forearm, Simon’s free hand lowers to his shaft, gripping the base. With his eyes dipping down, he takes a beat to lick his lips and catch his breath. He’s hot, swollen, his pleasure pulsing as it slides across your outer lips. And you pull him in while he does it, mouthing at his neck and trying your damnedest to keep his skin free of any visible sin. 

“Such a perfect pussy…” He whispers, sliding his entire length in.

It stretches you, prompting your legs to widen as you take him. The sight of this makes the corner of his lips quirk, a devilish glint in his eye twinkling from your submissiveness. 

“That’s it,” A rough sigh is punched from his chest when he’s fully seated, when the firm drag of his cock slows to a dull throb between your legs. 

Through the carnal desire clawing through his chest, he pauses, heart beating fondly from the way you nuzzle against his skin. It’s intimate, it isn’t just lust. And as soon as he comes down a bit from that blind passion and excitement, his arms encase your head, cradling you in them. 

“Sweetheart,” Brushing the tip of his nose across your own, he draws your attention. Your soft breaths make you seem so small, and in contrast, him so large. You put so much trust into his hands. 

Dipping down, Simon kisses you, distracting you with the sweet press of his lips while retracting his hips. Driving his pelvis forward again, he listens to your shrill gasp as it escapes your throat, fingernails already digging into his skin. Repeatedly, he seeks your warmth, pleasure flowing through his system as you give him this tempting sin. That’s really what it is to him; love is a sin. 

But he takes every bit of it like a man that’s been promised to hell.

Steady and continuous is the pace of his hips, pelvis slapping between your open thighs. Repeatedly, he breaches your entrance with a girth you’ve desperately missed, his entire body pressing into you. And now that he’s inside, that free hand lifts, eyes watching your bouncing chest before grabbing at it. He paws at your seductive curves like it’s the first time he’s ever touched them, mouth finding the slope of your shoulder and neck as he kisses your skin with wet, parted lips. 

“This is just what I need,” Simon groans, growls. “You’re just what I want. You know that, don’t you?”

The moans you once kept silent now burst from your lips, grinding your hips up in time with his thrusts as best you can. Grasping for his shoulders, you feel yourself go weak, the fat head of his cock hitting you deep.

“You know that, right?” He repeats, fondling your chest with firm grabs. But when you still don’t answer, he grunts out his disapproval, head lifting to dig his covered nose into your cheek. And you know better than to not answer him. 

“Yes, Simon…” It comes out as a sigh, eyes fluttering open to see those deep, endlessly brown eyes. 

And it makes him grin, chuckling breathily. You’re drunk on him. 

“Good.” He mumbles against your lips, the hand on your chest now sliding down your side. It follows the dip of your waist and hips, smoothing over the side of your ass until he reaches your thigh. And then he’s grabbing you, hauling your leg further up on his waist, and in turn giving him access for a harsh smack. 

“Pretty girl… you’re mine.”

“Simon.”

“Look at me.” Grabbing your jaw, he turns your head in his direction. And the force of it snaps your eyes open, staring up at your enormous soldier. “Look at me when you say my name.”

“Simon…”

Emotion swirls inside your chest until you feel like it’s about to burst, dire need and complete infatuation taking over your body. He’s all consuming, something you can't and wouldn’t ever want to run away from. It’s clawing at you from the inside out, your care for him, your genuine adoration. And you don’t want to say it because you’re sure he won’t react too nicely, he won’t accept it, but you can’t help it. You really can’t, and all at once, you’re saying it.

“Simon, Si, I love,”

Briefly, he stutters, both his hips and lungs. But he keeps going, he’s sure that’s not what you’re saying. It’s not what you should be saying.

“I love you, Si.” 

The embrace you hold with him couldn’t be more intense, your chests pressed together as your arms loop tightly around his neck. Something inside him feels like it’s breaking, cold heart cracking with something akin to warmth. If he had the chance, he would’ve begged you not to say it. You don’t need to fall for him like that, not in this way, not in this lifetime. It hasn’t been kind to him, and he, in turn, hasn’t been a kind man. Any semblance of good intention left in his body has been given to you and… he figures that’s it, isn’t it? Is that what love is? Giving someone everything you have? Every piece of good you’ve been made with?

“Bones,” Simon eventually returns, hips slowing until he stills. Resting in this lull with you, he can practically feel your anxiety, your vulnerability. You’ve given him everything you have, too. “I… do.”

“You don’t have to say it.” Comes your instant, tiny squeak.

Out of either vulnerability or insecurity, his head finds your neck, stuffing its way into concealment. “I do.” He says again, squeezing you with his entire body. “I do.”

With a firm sigh, he decides to give this to you; you deserve this - he’s going to give this to you.

“I love you… too.” 

“Baby, you really don’t have to say it.” You can practically feel the uncertainty seeping through his skin as he clings to you, seeking security. Stroking the back of his head, you hold him, wrapping your legs around his waist, too. 

“I do.” He continues to repeat, now nodding. “I love you.”

*

*

*

“Are you joking me?” Soap practically scoffs, a look of disgust crawling across his face. 

“Sorry?” Ghost returns, generally unphased as he inhales another drag of his cig.

“Could you be more obvious?”

At this, Simon’s face turns stern, snuffing out the joint on the couch’s arm before dropping his hand to your leg. A simple gesture of yes, yes I can. 

You’d woken up in Simon’s arms, limbs tangled together beneath a worn and tattered scrap of fabric one might call a blanket. Counting yourselves lucky, you opened your eyes to an empty cabin once again. The team hadn’t arrived just yet. 

It took some convincing, but you finally got Simon out of bed and dressed. You didn’t want to draw any suspicion should they walk in on you like this. And so, you settled together on the couch. While you laid down, snuggling your feet onto his lap, Simon pulled out another cigarette. It was relaxing, not only being alone but sharing this habit. 

The morning was cold but comfortable enough for you to fall back asleep, body resting easily on his sturdy lap. It humored him, seeing just how tired this mission has made you; and you’re only halfway through. But while you were fine spending your time getting some shut eye, Simon was having difficulty fighting his natural instincts. Now that you’ve said it, admitted it, he’s worried. The place you’re in is dangerous and admitting something so precious makes the situation that much more stressful. It also makes him that much more protective. 

And so, while you laid resting against him, Simon pulled out his pistol, resting it against his knee with the barrel pointed towards the front door. If anyone were to come in here, they’d have to go through him first. 

Lucky for him, though, it turned out to be the boys.

“Lieutenant.” Price nodded, watching Ghost return the gesture.

Lowering the gun, Simon watched as Price and Gaz made their way into the bedroom to set their things down, leaving Soap with the two of you. And that’s when he voiced his concerns, that deep Scottish scoff making itself known.

“Real discrete.” He comments before hearing the captain shout from the room.

“Bit messy in here.” Price remarks, “Messier than I’d last left it. You two do some good sleeping in here?”

“Nah,” Ghost returns with a grin only Johnny can see. “Slept out here, Cap.”

When you hear Simon’s booming voice, you finally wake again, meeting the azure eyes of your friendly sergeant. “Hey, Soap.”

And he can’t bring himself to be any bit annoyed with you. “Hey, gorgeous.”

It’s meant as a friendly compliment, of course, but Ghost squeezes your calf, nonetheless. 

“Alright,” Price booms, stomping into the room. “Let’s circle up. We’ve got plans to discuss.”

Already, he hates this. The entire atmosphere has shifted from light and lazy to dark and perilous. Simon can feel his heart rate increasing, his breaths deep and dragging. The mere thought of you in the field makes him want to jump up and wrap you in his arms, drag you away and hide you somewhere safe. What he hates even more than the possibility of that happening is the fact that he allowed it, he’s allowed this to happen. It wasn’t exactly his call to make, but he would’ve made it, and he didn't. 

He’s made his bed, and this time, he’s got to lay in it. 

So, without much choice, he watches his men regroup in front of him, with his partner sitting up to join in. Price tosses out the maps, Gaz whips out the compass, and Johnny’s already pulling out snacks. Pulling down his mask, Simon releases a harsh sigh, nothing that really draws anyone’s attention, though. He’s pretty much always cranky, and with you here, that trait has grown tenfold. 

When Simon reaches for your hand on the couch, your eyes widen. What the hell is he doing? But before you can react, and before anyone else has a chance to see, Johnny tosses a protein bar at the lieutenant. 

“Johnny, what the fuck?”

“Don’t be dumb.” Johnny scolds outwardly, scowling at his closest friend. 

Price can feel something lingering in the air, an awkward silence, a secret. But he pushes it away. Glancing between his teammates, he clasps his hands together. 

“Alright, let’s get to it, then.”

Here we go.