Kampfhündin

Hello everyone!

It's good when the audience knows the person they're dealing with, so below I'll give some facts about myself:

My name is Hundin. I also love being called "Sunshine" or "Little Mouse";

I'm a creator from Russia, mostly doing art and texts;

Getting my bachelor's degree in law and journalism;

Early twenties;

Bisexual. She/Her;

Capricorn, INTP;

I'm a metalhead, but my playlist still has a lot of room for songs from all kinds of genres here and there.

My current playlist is mostly made up of bands like "Sleep Token", "Bad Omens", "The Plot In You", "Currents", "Catch Your Breath", "Holding Absence"... just in case... but deep down, I'm still an emo-kid.

I speak Russian (obviously) and English fluently.

In my second year of German and I started learning French a few months ago (even though I'm a bit of a slucker).

I have ADHD.

Also have some degree of common mental disorders, which manifest in occasional episodes of self-harm.

There will be navigation under the line, check it out.

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH SIMON RILEY // HOW TO COMMUNICATE WITH A BROKEN MAN?

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

With Simon, communication is rarely built around abstract conversations about "the relationship." A more workable approach is to move toward concrete actions, recurring scenarios, and clear, understandable rules of interaction.

In this model, it's assumed that some behavioral traits won't change radically and may persist for a long time. Accordingly, the focus shifts from trying to "retrain" the person to building stable interaction rituals that take their limitations into account.

Many recurring actions aren't necessarily a sign of a negative attitude toward a partner or a form of disrespect.

In many cases, they're simply entrenched behavioral patterns that are hard to change through one-off conversations or emotionally charged explanations. Even repeating the same request many times, amplified by emotional weight, doesn't guarantee change if the person lacks a stable internal system for rewiring those habits.

That said, an important caveat: reality is much more complex. Everything I'm describing here is just my personal interpretation of the character's personality, based solely on my own empirical experience. I'm not a psychologist, I don't follow this stuff, I don't read smart books on it. It's possible my approach isn't safe, but it will most likely allow for a transparent and tolerable way of building a relationship with Simon.

In conclusion, let me remind you of something.

You can't lose sight of the difference between understanding the causes of someone's behavior and the acceptability of that behavior.

Recognizing that certain reactions may be linked to a person's history doesn't erase the impact those reactions have on daily life and the partner's emotional state. Even with an understanding of the context, the person next to Simon has limited resources, and constantly repeating the same patterns will naturally lead to emotional exhaustion.

At that point, it's important to avoid impulsive conversations while in a state of intense emotional distress. Conversations started at peak emotion tend to produce phrasing that then gets locked into memory as negative, deliberately dismissive, or insulting — which makes further interaction harder due to feelings of resentment and a desire to retaliate. A more stable approach is to discuss boundaries and consequences in a relatively calm state, when you have the ability to state your position without the pressure of the moment.

The key question isn't "can this person change at all?" or "how do I communicate with someone who keeps making the same mistakes over and over?" It's: which specific recurring actions can you continue living with without destroying your own mental stability as Simon's partner?

Different behaviors have different weights. Some may eventually stop mattering. Others tap into basic needs for safety and predictability and therefore become critical — to the point of ending the relationship.

If over a long period of time you see no change from Simon, even with regular reminders and discussions of the problem, that can be taken as an indicator of limited capacity to adapt in that specific area.

In that case, it's important not only to note the fact of Simon's inability or unwillingness to change, but also to measure that against your own boundaries of what's acceptable. Some things, when repeated for six months, just wear you out emotionally — the same requests over and over become tiresome. Other things, when repeated regularly, can cause psychological or physical harm.

It's important to remember: statements about possibly leaving or ending the relationship only make sense if there's a real possibility of following through. Otherwise, they lose their regulatory function and eventually stop being perceived as a meaningful signal or a red line. At that point, communication turns into a repeating script that has no effect on Simon's behavior.

In this context, the goal isn't to "save" or "fix" the other person — it's to hold your own ground and understand the limits of your own involvement. In such a relationship, the dynamic stops being a space of one-sided compensation for deficits and becomes an area where each participant measures their own capabilities and limitations against the reality of the interaction.

I hope all of this made sense, because it was so hard for me to make these posts 😭 My thoughts were all over the place, and I rewrote the whole thing a million times. There might be some parts that are repetitive because I just got blind to it, but I hope it's still readable.

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH SIMON RILEY // HOW TO COMMUNICATE WITH A BROKEN MAN?

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

So, to a certain extent, we can settle on the following conclusion: the key element in interacting with Simon isn't so much emotional intensity or "correct" communication by the standards of healthy-relationship logic or psychology. It's patience and a steady acceptance of his traits as a given.

It's one thing when you're dealing with a more or less typical, conventionally "average" partner. In those relationships, there are usually clear reference points: the person generally wants closeness, wants someone there, and the emotional weight of a conflict can be read more or less intuitively — depending on their personality and temperament, you can tell the difference between a regular emotional fight and something genuinely tense.

But with Simon, that universal approach to communication only works partially. The usual dialogue models — which involve discussing emotions and seeking mutual understanding by talking through feelings — don't produce the expected results, because the very structure of how he perceives and reacts is built on different principles.

First and foremost, you need to accept for yourself that the "let's talk about our relationship" format is not a familiar tool for him.

Trying to start that kind of conversation in the standard way — for example, by saying that you feel distance growing between you — will most likely not get a constructive response. In those situations, he's more likely to interpret the very fact of the conversation as a potential threat, because in his experience, such phrasing has often preceded bad outcomes. As a result, the original goal of the dialogue gets lost.

In everyday interactions, a much more workable model is one that's extremely simple and concrete. It doesn't involve diving into psychological interpretations or trying to explain your own or your partner's inner states through complicated constructs. Instead, it's about stating the situation directly and literally, without extended interpretations or generalizations. The fact gets stated, the reaction gets stated, the consequences are laid out as clearly as possible — the conversation becomes predictable, readable, safe.

The simplest approach is to translate complex situations into an "action — consequence" structure.

In this format, the conversation is closer to describing cause and effect, rather than an emotional interpretation full of hidden traps and ambiguous meanings. The key is not to overload the statement with explanations about why the behavior happens, but to include only what can be observed and measured through the consequences for yourself.

This approach effectively conveys a kind of "taking responsibility for the action" without trying to control the other person's internal processes. He gets information about the consequences of his behavior and can decide for himself whether he's willing to take that into account going forward. At the same time, there's always a chance he'll choose not to change his behavior — and that's also part of the reality you have to reckon with.

Communication in this format isn't built around discussing "the relationship as a whole" or trying to achieve mutual emotional understanding through interpretations. Instead, it comes down to noting specific recurring actions, establishing predictable consequences, and being prepared for some patterns of behavior to remain unchanged. In this sense, the stability of the interaction depends not on the depth of the explanations, but on the clarity of boundaries and the consistency with which they're maintained.

For example, in a mundane household scenario involving a tube of toothpaste, you could describe the situation as a recurring action that causes irritation and fatigue, noting its cumulative nature. The same principle applies to emotionally significant aspects of interaction: the repetition of certain actions or ways of addressing each other gets identified as a problem that builds up over time and affects the overall state of the connection.

"You don't put the cap back on the toothpaste. It drives me crazy. You've done this like five hundred times now. I'm pissed off, and I want to leave you."

Even if you try to explain the discomfort through a detailed psychological argument — listing causes, mechanisms, and consequences — it won't lead to any deeper understanding on his side. He'll register the fact that you said something, but he won't move into the kind of interpretive space that people usually expect in such a conversation.

"Simon, every morning you don't put the cap back on the toothpaste. And every morning I have to do it for you, because otherwise all the toothpaste will ooze out and we'll go broke buying new tubes. This makes me tired and frustrated. If you keep doing this — one day, it's going to lead to me leaving."

Going too deep into emotional phrasing here doesn't add any extra effect. It's enough to state that the behavior causes a negative reaction. And he's unlikely to be offended. He's used to people leaving. That's not news to him.

So a simpler construct remains more effective: a specific action, its consequence for you, and the likely outcome if the behavior continues. For example, pointing out that the regular repetition of a certain action creates ongoing tension and could eventually lead to a break in contact.

"If you do A, then for me that results in B. If you keep doing A, then I will stop doing C / I will leave you."

One more thing: it's pointless to try to analyze a relationship with Simon through the lens of claims about what the other person is "really feeling" or "really meant" behind their behavior.

That approach almost inevitably leads to distorted communication, especially in relationships with people whose experience of trauma affects how they perceive closeness and control. And in Simon's case, his history of trauma critically impacts every aspect of his life.

A common mistake partners make is trying to take on the role of "emotional translator" — interpreting a person's external behavior as a direct reflection of their internal states.

In this logic, a phrase like "you left because you don't know how to handle your emotions" is seen as an explanation, but in fact it goes beyond what anyone other than the person feeling those emotions can reliably claim. This isn't a statement of fact — it's an attribution of internal motivation, something the speaker has no direct access to.

The problem here isn't just potential inaccuracy — it's the very effect that such an interpretation has.

A person in a state of internal disorganization often doesn't have a clear, stable structure for their own experiences.

There's no simple "emotion → awareness → action" chain. Instead, there's a vague, fragmented state that's hard to put into words even for themselves. In that context, an externally imposed "psychologically packaged" interpretation isn't perceived as help — it's seen as an imposed explanation of someone else's experience, an intrusion.

Trying to speak for another person creates an effect where their subjectivity gets replaced by an external construct.

And even if the intention is to bring clarity or closeness, the result is a feeling of pressure and a loss of autonomy

In response, two typical reactions can occur: either withdrawal into silence — where interaction becomes impossible because there's no internal alignment with the offered interpretation — or irritation, arising from the sense that their state has already been "described" without their participation.

In these situations, there's another aspect to consider: for a person with a trauma history, control over how others perceive them is often tied to a basic sense of safety.

Trying to "read" their internal state as a complete, understandable system can be experienced not as empathy, but as an invasion into the boundaries of their subjectivity. Even if it's never said out loud.

With Simon, in such situations, it's more accurate to start from the literal meaning of what's said, without trying to fill in hidden motives behind it. If he says "get lost," that's what you should take it as — a boundary being set in that moment, not a test or an invitation to get closer through resistance. Trying to find secondary meanings like “what he really wants is for me to stay, he's just testing me!” introduces distortion into communication and replaces actual behavior with an interpretation that may have nothing to do with reality.

For this reason, a different way of phrasing things works better. It's not based on claiming to know the other person's internal motives, but on stating your own observations and acknowledging the limits of your own perspective.

Instead of the construct "you did this because you feel X," you use a form where the behavior is described as a fact, and the interpretation is marked as the observer's perspective. For example: "You did A and then left. From my side, that looks like a reaction to possible fear or tension."

This structure doesn't claim ownership of the other person's internal states — it simply notes how you perceive the situation, your subjective point of view on your partner's action.

The first case is about claiming to know someone else's inner world. The second case is about recognizing the boundary between observation and interpretation.

And it's precisely this boundary that reduces tension and leaves room for the person themselves to either agree with the suggested explanation, clarify it, or reject it entirely — without having to defend themselves against an imposed "truth" about who they are.

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH SIMON RILEY // HOW TO COMMUNICATE WITH A BROKEN MAN?

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Now for an illustrative part, strictly about my own personal relationships — with my ex and my current partner. If you're not interested in my personal details, just skip to the next post. You won't miss anything crucial for understanding Simon — this is just an example of what right and wrong communication looks like with people who have atypical ways of perceiving their own emotions.

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH SIMON RILEY // HOW TO COMMUNICATE WITH A BROKEN MAN?

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Simon's behavior is often interpreted as unwillingness: he "doesn't want" to talk, "doesn't want" to explain, "doesn't want" to show emotion.

But in many cases, it's more accurate to say he can't. And you don't need to look at complex or extreme examples to understand this.

Even someone with no history of trauma can fail to recognize what exactly they're feeling. The emotion is there, but it's not formed — there's no language for it, no structure, no way to express it outward.

In that sense, let me draw a parallel with my own experience. I'm not saying our traumas are comparable or identical — just that there's an overlap when it comes to emotional regulation issues, specifically in recognizing and putting feelings into words.

I have alexithymia — difficulty recognizing and verbalizing my own emotions. It's an awful burden to carry these days, when everyone has already done their deep inner work three times over and reached enlightenment. As a result, anything involving understanding my internal state, structuring it, and then communicating it to someone else becomes a difficult and draining task. At a certain point, a large part of what I'm experiencing simply has no language attached to it. This affects not just my ability to share, but also my ability to ask for help.

For a while, I had no idea how to deal with it. I didn't understand anything back in high school. I didn't really get it until my third year at the academy. So that means I was around twenty years old and still couldn't understand or express my emotions. The only emotion I've always understood — I've always known and still know exactly how it feels — is anger. It's the most obvious, cognitively structured reaction. Anger let me form at least the basic cause-and-effect connections. All other emotions just stayed in the background as unformed noise. I knew that "something was wrong," but moving from that feeling to a meaningful explanation was impossible. There was a gap between the experience and its articulation — an internal response existed, but it couldn't be translated into text or speech. No matter how hard anyone tried, they couldn't teach me to understand my own emotions. It's one thing to know that you don't like something; it's another thing entirely to understand why you don't like it and why something is bothering you. That skill develops over years, with effort from the person themselves. I can tell you that I still don't understand the full range of emotions — I can't explain many of them.

This gap is exactly what helps illustrate the key difference between "doesn't want to" and "can't." From the outside, a person with emotional regulation difficulties looks cold, distant, or indifferent. From the inside, it's a lack of tools for self-reflection and for verbalizing the results of that reflection — both internally and externally.

I don't have a history of combat trauma. I've never experienced torture, violence, or situations involving the threat of physical annihilation. In my case, it's about innate features of how my mind works — not ideal, distorted in places, but not shaped by deliberate external destruction.

Simon's situation is different. His psyche isn't just deformed — it was systematically and deliberately broken. And not all at once, but through long-term, sustained abuse. An additional factor is his professional environment, where emotionality is equated with vulnerability, and vulnerability equals a direct threat to survival. In that context, suppressing feelings isn't a choice — it's a necessary survival mechanism. And Simon adapted better than anyone.

In my case — even if it takes effort and doesn't always work right — I still have access to a basic logical chain:

«I feel bad → I can identify that → I can ask for support.»

In his case, that mechanism may be missing entirely.

The response gets cut off earlier: either at the level of a physiological block (you just shut down), or at the level of completely losing contact with the person you're talking to. In those states, any attempt to start a rational conversation is useless.

That's why it makes more sense to talk about inability, not unwillingness. The difference is fundamental, even though from the outside these states can look similar. To an observer, it comes across as coldness or indifference. From the inside, it's a lack of access to the response that's expected of you.

I understand this mechanism from my own experience. When people expect a "normal" emotional reaction from you, but you have no access to it, it creates a deep internal split.

You might logically know what you're supposed to do — show support, react, express care — but the reaction itself doesn't form. What you feel instead is emptiness or background noise that won't translate into action or words. On top of that, there can be a paradoxical aggression — often self-directed, but sometimes outward — because of the split between "I know what I should do" and "I can't do it because I'm different."

And the outside judgment of that state is usually harsh: such behavior gets interpreted as coldness, heartlessness, or a lack of attachment. The mismatch between what's going on inside and what's expected from outside creates additional tension between partners.

Even in relatively "normal" conditions, these kinds of traits make communication significantly harder. But when you add traumatic experience that systematically destroys the emotional sphere, the problem takes on a whole different scale. In Simon's case, we're not talking about an innate trait, but about a survival mechanism formed under extreme conditions — where suppressing emotions becomes a key criterion for survival.

On top of the baseline difficulties, there's also a history of violence, constant exposure to death, and the need at certain moments to completely shut down bodily and emotional reactions as a condition of survival.

That said, it's important to emphasize once again, this isn't about Simon being completely cognitively incapable.

Lacking access to emotions doesn't mean losing rational thinking. A person can still analyze information, draw conclusions, and distinguish between what's acceptable and what's not.

Simon is a professional — trained to work with information, identify weaknesses, and create psychological pressure to achieve his goals. He's mastered these tools perfectly. The problem is that he mostly uses them in destructive or purely functional contexts, and he doesn't transfer them to personal relationships. Bringing them there is difficult because it requires not just understanding, but internally connecting them to his own emotional experience — and that's exactly the level that's most vulnerable and inaccessible.

This explains why empty reflective conversations don't work as a way to communicate with a traumatized partner. Formulations about "personal boundaries," "attachment styles," or "toxic relationships" might be formally understood by him, but it won't be lived. It will only stay at the level of processed information — not translated into personal meaning or reevaluation.

And that's the core difficulty: the words make sense intellectually, but they don't connect to any internal experience. So they don't do what the other person hopes they'll do. This leads to misunderstandings and even bigger conflicts.

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH SIMON RILEY // HOW TO COMMUNICATE WITH A BROKEN MAN?

Okay, I spent three days on this, just thinking and rewriting my thoughts over and over. So yeah, the language might sound formal in spots — I couldn't quite fit my thoughts into a regular writing style, and I ended up going with this.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

(omg another series?) I don't want to put this disclaimer on every post, so I'm making it a standalone post in the series.

Also, I've set up a dedicated hashtag for all my Simon-related posts, seeing as you enjoyed the last one so much. If you wanna post something about him:

#RealisticSimonGhosrRiley

If the last question (Who could Ghost have become without all his traumatic experience?) was up for debate, this one's in a whole different league — fundamentally tricky. And the tricky part isn't that there's no answer; it's that there are so many possible ways things could have gone. Depending on where you're standing when you look at the situation, the whole logic changes.

That said, one thing we can say pretty confidently:

dealing with Simon requires a completely different way of understanding him and building a relationship. The usual psychological and communication strategies either glitch out or just don't work at all, because we're dealing with someone whose mind has been shaped by trauma.

First off, we need to make a key distinction.

This isn't about him losing the ability to tell right from wrong.

Simon hasn't lost his moral compass — he knows what's okay and what's not, he can judge other people's actions, and he can control his own behavior when he has to. The real problem is at a different level — the level of automatic, mostly subconscious reactions that you can't just override through willpower. If something can be broken down into clear steps and turned into a habit — like daily routines — then yeah, he can learn that. But anything involving emotions, vulnerability, trust, and attachment? That doesn't follow the same mechanical rules.

I also want to be crystal clear about boundaries.

Any form of violence — physical or systematic psychological abuse — can't be brushed off as "just a relationship quirk" or "a difficult case." This isn't about finding the right approach or strategy. Those kinds of behaviors go way beyond normal relationship problems and are absolute dealbreakers, no exceptions. Sure, in real life a person might not be able to just walk away immediately, and yeah, there are real obstacles. But that doesn't change the bottom line: you don't normalize that stuff, and you don't put it in the same category as everyday relationship struggles.

So going forward, I'm only talking about situations that stay within the bounds of what's acceptable — even if the dynamic between two people is extremely difficult.

I'm working on a large painting for the "Even In Arcadia" album. It's slightly larger than A4, but smaller than A3...

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH CANON SIMON "GHOST" RILEY // Inconvenient details for fanfiction

You guys have given so much activity that I can't help but drop it all at once.

9. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you don't try to "fix" him.

He doesn't want therapy. Doesn't want to talk about the past. Doesn't want to "get better" in your understanding.

He just wants to live his own way, even with a knife under his pillow and chaos in his head that will never fully quiet down.

You cannot fix him. Not with words, not with pleas, not with tears, not with ultimatums.

Your task is not to heal him, but not to break yourself next to him, if you're ready for the relationship. To stay when he's silent, when he dissociates, not to run away when it becomes terrifying to be near him. And never to say that you know how to help him, because in truth you don't know how to help a man who was buried alive twice, who lay with a corpse in the same coffin, who saw the bodies of his family. And he prays that you never find out, that you never experience the same hell.

Either you accept this, or you leave. He won't stop you, because he's used to everyone leaving.

10. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you learn that love is not what you expected.

Without millions of compliments. Without public declarations. Without flowers every Friday. But with a cup of coffee brewed before you woke up. With a fixed faucet. With his back shielding you from the entrance in any restaurant and even in your own home. With him checking the locks before going to sleep. That is his "I love you."

11. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you will be photographed alone.

Because he's not in photos. Ever.

If you try to take a photo of him — he'll turn away. He's not ashamed of how he looks; he accepted all his aesthetic disfigurements long ago. But Simon Riley must not exist on paper. His family was killed — maybe because someone found a photo of them together with Simon? He doesn't know. But he won't risk it anymore. You are his top priority in his personal life (more precisely — the only thing he has left).

At the wedding, there will be photos only of you, with the bouquet, in white dress, but an empty space beside you. Perhaps he'll allow one single joint photograph and will do everything to make the one standing in the frame on his desk at home the only one in the world. Neither the photographer, nor you, nor social media and the internet — nowhere else will such a photograph exist.

You'll get used to it when he yells at you after you try to snap a shot of him on the sly. He'll apologize afterward, of course, but you'll learn your lesson quickly.

12. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you forget about "let's talk about our feelings."

He doesn't know how. Literally. He doesn't have the vocabulary for it.

"I'm upset because of what you said" is kinda rocket science to him. He's more likely to stay silent for three days, then go to the garage, take apart the motorcycle, come back, and ask "want some tea?" And that will mean "I remember everything, I'm angry, but I don't want to fight, let's just keep living." He holds grudges, but for your sake, he's willing to forget some things.

Don't try to drag him into "discussing the relationship."

It's equivalent to talking to a wall or a bobblehead. Simon will nod meaningfully as if he understands everything, but then make the same mistake again. Because it's hard for him to sort out his feelings. There are too many of them, they're too warped by years of hardship, and he has neither the strength nor the time to try to arrange them into a neat line, even for his own spouse. This is his red line. Attempts to pry into this topic are more likely to lead to a fight than a dialogue.

13. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he doesn't live large.

Forget about penthouses, expensive watches, and stylish cars from fanfics. Simon isn't someone who throws money around. He has a military salary plus some bonuses for special ops. Not a lot, not a little, but that money sits dead on the account because he simply doesn't know what to spend it on. He doesn't need to.

He has an old, nondescript car, perfect for a person who doesn't want to be noticed. And his motorcycle is old, a Japanese one, about twenty years old, bought for pennies and repaired for a fortune.

His apartment is empty, but thank god not a white box. Minimal furniture, but everything is functional. Impeccably clean order as an army habit, almost an obsession. No expensive gadgets, no luxury items.

He buys the cheapest everything because he doesn't care. He doesn't drink expensive alcohol or expensive coffee. Restaurants? Only if you drag him by force. He'd prefer to cook himself or just not eat. Hoodies and jeans from the clearance rack, military uniform is issued.

You can try to buy him an expensive gift, and he'll thank you, smile sincerely, but end up putting it in the closet. He'll wear it once in his life, and only if you ask him to.

So if you're expecting Simon to shower you with diamonds and drive you around in a personal Lamborghini, you are sorely mistaken. The maximum he's capable of is taking you to IKEA and assembling the shelf you bought there. And that only because you asked directly and because the shelf is needed for your things.

And the money... he just never figured out why he'd need it if there's nowhere to spend it and no one to save it for. Before you, there was no one. Now, maybe, he'll start thinking about it. But don't expect changes within a month...

14. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you must be prepared for the fact that one day he might not come back.

That's the reality of his job, harsh and sobering.

He goes where not everyone returns, he has no divine insurance, and the phrase "I'll definitely survive for my beloved's sake" is not his style. He has an order, a duty, and the understanding that his life isn't worth more than the life of any of his men when the fate of innocents is at stake.

If you're with him, it means you know how to accept that and are ready to live on a landmine of not knowing if your partner is alive.

Don't demand promises. In this matter, Simon is superstitious. As soon as you say out loud "I promise I'll come back," you've jinxed yourself and most likely won't return. And he doesn't want to lie — it's not something he can vouch for.

When he leaves, you say goodbye as if it's the last time. Long, sad, mournful, but with hope.

When he comes back alive — he already knows how scared you were, and he doesn't want to stir up your anxieties or add to his own burdens. You simply rejoice — without pomp, without grand gestures. You simply exist, alive in the same apartment, and that is everything.

I'm not saying this is the only correct portrayal, because all canon events can be interpreted in different ways, and the reaction to trauma can vary from person to person.

But if you're writing canon Simon, don't forget that he was broken. Not in a beautifully tragic sense with tears down the cheeks and sniffling, with complex moral dilemmas and other trimmings. Simon was broken in the literal sense, inconvenient for fanfics, left a cripple: physically and domestically.

And if you're writing an AU where he wasn't taken captive, didn't burn, wasn't raped, didn't lose his family — then please tag it as AU. Because otherwise, those looking for canon stumble upon a "canon" Simon who in reality turns out to be yet another "love-struck puppy under the skull mask" and think it's normal.

It's not normal — it's a fairytale. Let's leave fairytales for other fandoms.

That's a good question, but it's very difficult to give a truly workable answer.

Because if we remove Simon's trauma — or rather, that huge collection of traumas: the torture, being buried alive twice, his family being murdered, and just his overall military background — then what we're left with is essentially more or less an ordinary person, an ordinary man.

Based on the comic canon, we know: yes, he had a difficult childhood, he had issues with his father and probably with his mother as well. His mother is a good person, but because his father acted like an asshole, there were likely problems involving her too. For a long time, he had problems with his brother, and then he tried to help — and did help — his brother get back on track. We see that Simon himself is a very strong person, despite everything he's been through. And from the comics, we remember that he was at a wedding, he was happy, he's a good uncle to his nephew.

Overall, we have the foundation of an ordinary man with his own problems and some traumas, but someone who, on his own, would be unremarkable to the audience.

If we take away all of Simon's trauma, all those hooks the author uses to grab us — that is, his personality traits, his closed-off nature — he becomes, more or less, a character like Kyle.

Kyle himself isn't a bad character. He's a great guy. But if we're talking about, say, the game's reboot — he isn't very fleshed out for us. He's a guy, a good soldier, a great friend, he's always ready to help, he has his own issues, and he has a trauma we see directly — falling from a helicopter.

I notice a trend: Kyle often goes unnoticed. He's just a character who exists. He's used to make sure someone from the 141 isn't left alone — most often Price, although in my opinion there aren't any strong narrative ties there. Aside from personal interest in Kyle not as a character but as a man, he's kind of in the shadows.

And if we talk about removing all that trauma from Simon but still keeping him in the game's universe, then we'll just end up with two characters that don't work. Or rather, two characters who are too simple, too predictable, too easy. They wouldn't intrigue us at all, they wouldn't function, and they'd drag the whole quartet down because they'd be a duo of uninteresting characters.

What's more, Kyle works in this universe precisely because he's the only one on the entire team like that — a more or less normal guy, an ordinary one.

We have Soap — who's completely reckless, super-duper mega, joined the army too young and became the best there is. We have Price — a veteran with immense experience, a wise father figure, a mentor. We have Simon — who grabs us because he's an absolutely shattered being inside a human shell.

Against the backdrop of three very flamboyant characters, Kyle works well because you need someone to balance them out. And he's perfect for that role. We don't need a second Kyle if we're talking about keeping Simon in the Call of Duty universe.

Simon isn't a bad character because he was designed for a single purpose: to add that shadowy, terrifying, horrifying part (I'm saying how I see it) of what it means to be a military operative.

There's a common belief: if you take a character out of the classic conditions they were created for, put them into some abstract situation, into ordinary life, and they fall apart and stop working — then that character is bad. I wouldn't say Simon is a bad character. He just wasn't designed for anything else. He has a single task, and he accomplishes it brilliantly.

If we think abstractly, the situation becomes even more complicated. Simon without trauma is a person without constraints. He could have followed in his father's footsteps: hating himself, becoming a drug addict, an alcoholic, some kind of antisocial element. Or he could have become an ordinary working-class guy from Manchester — or, say, homeless, or even president. Anything. Because that's ordinary life. Simon without trauma isn't tied to anything specific — he's absolutely the same as everyone else around him.

REALISTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH CANON SIMON "GHOST" RILEY // Inconvenient details for fanfiction

It's been two years and I've somewhat forgotten what I wanted to write back then, but my opinion about Simon hasn't changed. So this is a follow-up to a post from two years ago!

The first two parts were about who Simon is not (not cuddly, not hypersexual, not a romantic fool) and how the military shapes daily life and hierarchy. Now — about what remains off-screen even in the most "realistic" fanfics. About boundaries no one discusses because they're uncomfortable, terrifying, or simply break the aesthetic of the "dangerous yet so tender man" that everyone absolutely adores

Spoiler: there's very little tenderness there, because Simon is truly BROKEN.

part one | part two | part three | part four

1. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you will never be on top.

Literally, of course, but most importantly — in bed.

It's not a joke, not fragile male ego, not "oh come on, let's try," not "maybe it'll be different with me."

It won't. Nothing will be different. He can not be bottom, can not submit, can not be pinned down, restrained, can not lose control of his body, even if he desperately wants to please you.

Because the last time he was held in such a position, he was being raped. He won't tell you that, of course. Probably never. Most likely you won't even suspect the details, or you'll learn them from his delirious rambling during a nightmare while you're trying to wake him up. He won't talk about it even then — maybe he'll just indicate that the fact of sexual assault happened.

Your task is to accept that whatever your preferences might be, only two positions will work in your bedroom — missionary and doggy.

2. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he won't say "I love you."

Maybe once or twice in a lifetime. And only after you prove you won't leave, even if he stays silent for years.

"I love you" are words that make something real. And real things can be lost. He's already lost everyone he loved. To say it out loud means admitting he has something to lose. He will rather show it through actions, often not the most obvious ones. That's his "I love you," and you need to learn to read that language, ideally even speak it.

And, on top of that, he doesn't know how to say "I love you" because no one taught him how since childhood.

3. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means learning his empty silence.

Simon's usual silence means "I'm comfortable, there's just nothing to talk about."

And then there's the other kind.

Empty.

When he stares at the wall and doesn't see it. When you call his name — zero reaction. He's not in the room. He's somewhere — in Roba's torture chamber, six feet under with a corpse, in the house with his family's dead bodies. At first, it's hard to tell the difference. But then you notice the horrifying emptiness in his eyes. It's important not to jostle him abruptly.

Any sudden movement can provoke Simon into aggression, which already lives in his subconscious, at the level of reflexes. And it's never directed at you personally, but at you as a sudden irritant. You need to sit next to him, never look him directly in the eyes, slowly touch his hand with yours, and call his name. And have a lot of patience to wait for him to return from there. Help him afterward, if needed, regulate his breathing, bring him something to drink.

4. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you don't hug him from behind.

Never. It's not cute. It's a trigger for him.

You hug him from behind — he breaks your nose with his elbow before his brain realizes it's you, that there's no one else in the room, and the arms behind him aren't some bastards but his partner. Then he'll apologize, very awkwardly, and he'll distance himself for a bit. But you'll learn not to do that. Just always approach from the front, let Simon see your hands. It's not difficult, and it means a lot to him.

5. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you accept that his body is not entirely his.

His left side — a solid scar from a burn. The skin is different, the sensitivity is different, sometimes it hurts for no reason. He doesn't like being touched there, not because he's ashamed, but because he believes your hands shouldn't touch that charred piece of meat. Sometimes he still smells his own burnt flesh.

You'll get used to not resting your hand on his left shoulder. Not tracing your fingers over the scars on his ribs. And if you accidentally do it anyway, it'll be more comfortable for him if you don't recoil when he flinches. Just removing your hand and continuing the conversation, or moving it somewhere else — that's the best option. He understands it's unavoidable in moments of intimacy and is forgiving about it, but it's especially valuable to him to know you won't deliberately do it in daily life.

6. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means he will never be the "horny soldier" from your fantasies.

He has a low libido. Not zero, but such that sex is a pleasant bonus, not a vital necessity.

Most often he chooses to spend the evening without sex — it's not "I'm tired of you" or "I don't want you." He does want you. He adores you, but quality time with his partner is far more important to him than the opportunity to stick his dick somewhere.

And yes, I remind you — no horse cocks and no energy for three rounds in a row.

He's 35 at best, he gets tired, even though his endurance is excellently developed, his old wounds ache, and he's not a teenager who needs all of that commotion.

Simon has so many wounds and burns you can't count them. In my mind, half his body is burned, and such wounds, when located in the groin area, heavily affect a person's intimate life. Starting from simply pain during erection to the absence of that very erection. Even if we don't consider Simon being burned as part of canon — the take about fatigue and trauma still stands.

Those who write Simon as a lustful monster have never seen a real soldier/even just an ordinary cop after work, especially after a difficult operation. A real one lies down and sleeps for twelve hours straight, having removed all irritants from the house, because his body is at its limit. He has no time to fuck you until morning as the first order of business upon arrival.

7. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you give up hints.

He doesn't understand hints.

And not at all because he's stupid, but because there's too much noise in his head, chaos is audible, and every attempt to decipher yet another hint ends with him spiraling into anxiety and overthinking.

So if you need something, you say it directly, loudly, and clearly: "Hug me." "I'm sad, sit with me." "I want you right now."

Every time you speak directly, he exhales with relief because he doesn't have to guess where the catch is.

8. Being in a relationship with Simon Riley means you are the one who grounds him.

He has a nightmare — he doesn't cry when he wakes up. Rather, he doesn't sob — tears may fall on their own, he won't even notice. And he lies with open eyes, staring at the ceiling, touching his pulse on his wrist with the question "am I alive?" in his head.

If you wake up with him, it's important for him just to feel that you're there. To feel your warm palm on his trembling chest, right where his heart is, rather than hearing a million questions — "what happened? Are you okay?" You can (but do you need to?) talk about it in the morning, when the light scatters the darkness. For now, the darkness in his thoughts is dispelled by your touch.

Chat here.

ABO!AU TW! implied: abduction, violence, sexual violence, trafficking, child trafficking.

In theory, I should know more now, because I constantly have to prepare for different lessons on my own, study grammar rules, and generally refresh a lot of things.

Labyrinth bed

We can feel that time is

Dilated

We can spend the night in

Fascination

You can thread the needle

Time and time

Again

I drew it without a sketch, without a purpose, for about 40 minutes. An absolutely sudden impulse, when something clicks in your head and you just do, not think.

As a result, I have this picture, which appeared in early January 2026.

I'm also in love with dry brush painting techniques. You can see every brushstroke here.

THANK YOU all for your kind words and such activity on my previous post with the acrylic portrait of Vessel!!!

I LOVE YOU HONEY!

Here's the process, since you liked it so much.

It took me about 3 hours to paint it, and it was genuinely awesome to have such power over my burnout

To remember what you are to him

And I'll live like I've got missing limbs for you