#and ignoring half of it because I didn't know what it was

[thedemoninme141]

Would you? a part 2 of "She Wishes".

Recommend reading "She Wishes" before going down.

Warnings: Angst, a lot of angst. Regret... Emotional Out Of Character Wednesday

Summary: Would you come back if you knew how much she has changed? Pairing: Wednesday x Female Reader.

I don’t need someone dragging me down, constantly whining about feeling neglected. If you can’t handle that, then maybe you should find someone else willing to put up with your desperate need for attention.

Wednesday jolted awake, the voice still ringing in her ears, her own voice.

In her whole life, she had never been the one to be afraid of nightmares, yet she ended up like this, being unable to sleep because of the nightmare she created herself. It had been the same, night after night.

When was the last time she’d slept without revisiting that moment, that night when she said those… words? She couldn’t remember.

She dragged herself to a seated position, trying to steady her breathing, only to catch a flicker of movement on the balcony.

A figure stood there, perfectly still, as if waiting... just as it always had.

It was you.

She knew her mind was simply tormenting her, feeding on her guilt and grief, creating illusions to make her suffer even more. But in a way, she had come to accept it. This was the only way she could see you now, the only way she could be near you. She couldn’t resist the pull, the familiar ache in her chest that begged her to walk toward you.

She glanced over at Enid, who was sleeping soundly on her side of the room. Fortunately, Enid could sleep through the wildest storms. Wednesday supposed it was a blessing; her friend wouldn’t hear her break through the silence to talk with… you.

And there you stood, haloed by the soft glow of the moon, looking more beautiful than she ever remembered. She took in the way your hair caught the light, the way it made you look ethereal, almost otherworldly.

A year ago, she would’ve never noticed something like this, but now? Now, she was all too aware. Painfully so.

She approached with quiet, as if you were something fragile she might shatter with her presence alone.

“You’re here again.” Her voice was low, tentative.

You didn’t respond, just kept staring up at the stars.

Wednesday swallowed, hating the awkwardness of her own silence, hating that she struggled to express herself even now, even when she knew you weren't real.

“I thought you might like to know how uneventful my day was,” she said softly. “Nothing of interest happened. I went to class, ignored everyone, and endured the same dull routine.” her gaze lingered on you, trying to memorize every detail.

As she stood beside you, leaning on the railing, she looked at the moon, "Thing played a particularly irritating prank on Enid, it was suspicious. Thing would never hurt Enid's feelings… unless Enid told him to do so. She probably did to… lighten my mood, which to her disappointment, didn't amuse me at all." She glanced at you, half-expecting a response, though she knew you’d never answer.

You were only an illusion, yet you watched her so attentively, as though you were really listening.

A faint smile ghosted across her lips, sad and bittersweet. It reminded her of the way you used to listen to her back then, a year ago, when the two of you were… something. She’d always avoided putting a name to it then, but now, she wished she had.

“I… know I never asked much about your day. I assumed you’d tell me what mattered eventually, but… you used to talk about everything, even things I thought were trivial.” Her gaze fell, the weight of her own words settling heavily in her chest.

"And the irony is," she whispered bitterly, "even if you’re just in my head, you're listening more to me right now than I ever did to you."

Wednesday waited, as if expecting you to smile at her words, to nod with that knowing look you used to give her when she vented. You always used to tell her about your own day, too, in that same casual, almost rhythmic way.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember the things you used to talk about—but it was like trying to catch mist with her bare hands.

The details were lost to her because she had never truly listened. She’d always kept her mind focused elsewhere, assuming you’d always be there, assuming your words would repeat endlessly, and she could listen when she felt like it. But that moment, like you, was gone.

"I don’t even know if I remember what your favorite book was," she muttered, almost to herself "or your favorite subject...or our favorite moment." She swallowed, the words sharp as they caught in her throat. "I don’t know why you gave me so much of yourself when I barely gave you a second thought."

She hadn’t even realized she was reaching into her pocket until her fingers closed around the metallic edge of her smartphone. A tool she despised. She pulled it out, letting it rest in her hand, staring down at the dark screen. She hated devices like this—clunky, bright, too noisy, too eager to pull you into a world she didn’t care for.

To her, the smartphone was an obnoxious symbol of the modern world, a world she found lacking in anything genuine or meaningful. Yet here she was, holding it, clinging to it like a lifeline.

This ugly piece of plastic and glass, which she’d once ignored with utter disdain, had now taken on a significance.

It was the only way she could reach you...

She found your number, just as she had every night for the past year. She already knew how this would end, the way it had every night since you’d been gone.

It always ended the same way, going straight to voicemail. Yet she pressed it anyway, waiting for that familiar sound. The ringing stopped, and the voicemail picked up.

She took a shaky breath, and then, she began to speak.

“Hello, it’s… me. Again.” Her lips twitched in a faint, bitter smile. “I suppose that part was obvious.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Enid was still asleep, then turned back to you.

“I know you’re not going to answer. I know that. But somehow… I can’t seem to stop myself. Pathetic, isn’t it?” She let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I never thought I’d be the kind of person to talk to the void, to cling to something so… intangible. But here I am. Just another fool.” She gripped the phone a little tighter, closing her eyes as she struggled to find the words.

“Today, I thought about that time you asked me to spend the evening with you. You brought snacks and books, and you told me it could be fun, remember? I scoffed, said it was pointless, a waste of time.” She swallowed. “But you… you just smiled at me. You always… God, you always just smiled, didn’t you? I never understood how someone can hide so much pain behind a smile... Now I do." She smiled.

The silence on the line felt crushing, a void that seemed to swallow her whole, yet she kept going. She had to.

“If you were here right now… I’d ask you to tell me about your day,” she whispered. “I wouldn’t even care if it was boring. I wouldn’t mind if it dragged on or if you rambled. I’d listen. For once, I’d actually listen.”

She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to steady herself. “I miss you,” she admitted finally, her voice breaking. “I miss you so much it feels like I’m losing my mind. I may already have...“ She looked at your form in front of her, looking at her with such pity in your eyes.

"I don’t deserve to miss you this much. I know that. I know that I failed you in every possible way, that I took you for granted. And now…” She trailed off, her voice shaking with the weight of her confession.

“I keep thinking, what if… what if I’d done things differently? What if I’d actually listened, actually cared about the things that mattered to you?” She swallowed hard, the words barely a whisper. “Would you still be here?” she sighed.

“I just… I need you to know that I would give anything, anything, to have you back. To have one more chance to show you that I’m not the person I was back then. I can change. I have changed. I just… I just want you to come back. I just want to know one thing, Would you come back if you knew how much I've changed?"

The beep sounded, signaling the end of the voicemail. She lowered the phone, her hand trembling as she placed it back in her pocket. Her gaze returned to your figure, still there, still watching.

“Would you forgive me?” she asked, she had to know, just so she could at least sleep that night.

At that moment, your lips curved into that familiar smile, the one that always held so much pain and you whispered back.

“Would you?”

[Author's note: Was in a mood to bring the old angst back, Comment how your heart feels after this 😏]

->Main Worklist<-

[jiminbility]

Pairing: Mingi x fem. Reader

Raiting: 18+

Word count: ~0.8k

Warnings: mean!mingi, spit, choking, reader doesn't come in this(is this a warning?), let me know if I missed something

MDI!!!

Mingi is the type of guy who loves a good and nasty blow job. He has you on your knees between his spread legs, hands tied behind your back while he pulls out his cock to stroke it infront of your face. He loves to hear your whines and whimpers as he teases you. "Look at you", he cooed. "So desperate, you want it baby?", he chuckled. You looked up to him with big eyes begging him to fuck your mouth already. Mingi smeared his pre cum on your cheek before slapping the tip on your lips, signaling you to open your mouth. You moaned at the feeling of it, licking your lower lip. You did as he told you. "Good girl", he whispered when he pushed half of his length in your mouth. You started to lick along his cock, sucking and kissing every inch you could reach. You moaned at the taste of him, the vibrations making him shudder. He stayed like this for a while slowly thrusting in your mouth. His fingers caressed your head, guiding his cock deeper inside your mouth. "Come on baby, take it all hmm?" You tried to relax your throat, taking the rest of his cock. Mingi moaned at the feeling of your wet tightness. He started to thrust in slowly, building up the pace to fully fuck your throat. Tears were starting to form in your eyes but you didn't care. All you wanted is for him to use your mouth like he desires. His pace became quicker and the moans he let out louder. You looked up to see him already looking down at you. He was biting his lips at the sight. "So fucking good baby, it's like you were meant to be my little cockslut." You whined at his words, wishing you could touch him. He chuckled when he noticed your struggle but ignored it and continued his ministrations on you. He was near his climax, thrusting a few more times before stopping fully to come deep inside your throat. A deep groan left his lips and you struggled a bit to swallow it all without choking. Tears were rolling down your cheeks when he pushed your head down to the hilt, your face touching his pelvic bone. You choked on his still hard cock inside your mouth. Mingi tried to catch his breath but he wasn't nearly done with you. He pulled your head back a bit for him to get a better view of your face. He could come right then and there at the sight between his legs. It was his own art. A flushed face with teary eyes and your spit mixed with his release leaking from your mouth. His cock was still in your hot mouth when he smirked while caressing your warm cheek. "You did so good baby", he said lovingly. You hummed at his words trying to pull away from his cock. Mingi tsked at you, still holding your head tightly. He stood up, pushing his dick deeper in your mouth while doing so. "What you think you doing? I'm not done with you yet." You whimpered at his tone, more arousal wetting your underwear, making your legs sticky. Mingi slapped your right cheek a few times before squishing both cheeks in his hand. You tried to nod but his grip on you made it impossible to do so. He pulled his cock out completely but he didn't gave you time to catch your breath. "Stick your tongue out, now". You complied his command, knowing from the tone he spoke to you that there was now way to get out of this situation. Mingi collected some spit in his mouth and let it dribble down his cock and some of it on your tongue. He smeared it on your tongue with his thumb biting his lip while doing so and enjoying the submissive state you were in. "I suggest you take a deep breath and relax your throat doll", Mingi said lowly, "because I'm just getting started". You could barely register what he said before he pushed his whole cock deep inside your mouth again, taking everything away from you to prepare yourself. You could only pray that he would show some mercy because you were on a long ride.

[himluv]

Oops. My hand slipped. Here's more Lucanis and Spite.

Under the cut, because, well. Spoilers.

In the weeks since escaping the Ossuary, Lucanis had hardly slept. Partly to keep Spite from taking over his body, but also to avoid the dreams. He'd spent enough time in that prison, he didn't need to relive it in his sleep. So, he was awake to hear the dining hall door open and the pad of bare feet across the stone floor.

Rook. Spite said.

It was impossible to tell the hour in the Fade, but Lucanis knew everyone else was bunked down for the night. Even Bellara had eventually quieted down after tinkering with her archive for hours after dinner.

It was late.

Too late for Rook to be scrounging in the kitchen.

With a sigh, Lucanis stood from his cot and went to investigate. Sure enough, when he stepped out into the dining hall, he found Rook standing before the fireplace, a half-eaten piece of jerky in one hand. She stared into the flames, so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard his door swing open.

Lucanis watched her for a moment, indulging in the sight without fear of being caught. Mierda, she was gorgeous. The firelight gleamed in her violet-tinged eyes, her auburn hair shining in the flicker of flames. Not for the first time, Lucanis felt the urge to run his fingers through her hair, wondered what it might smell like if he buried his face into it.

Campfire and berries. Smoky sweet.

At that, Lucanis cleared his throat, rousing everyone from their various thoughts.

Rook startled, then gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

He gave her wry look. "I never sleep."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Never?"

He shrugged and leaned one shoulder against the fireplace. "Not if I can help it."

She frowned at him. "Lucanis—"

"But," he continued, ignoring her disapproval. "You should definitely be sleeping."

She glared at him, a promise that they would talk about his insomnia at some point, then sighed. "I was asleep," she said. She ran a hand through her hair, a movement Lucanis could not look away from.

"Bad dreams?" He asked.

She nodded, her gaze back on the fire. "I keep seeing Minrathous." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, as if admitting it would conjure the memory right there in the dining hall. "And Neve," she added.

"Neve?"

She nodded, opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say. "It's nothing," she said. "A stupid, persistent dream."

"Rook—"

"It's fine, Lucanis." She glanced at him, gave him a half-hearted little smile that still managed to make his heart clench. "I'm fine."

In that moment, the distance between them felt wrong. Rook was hurting and everything in Lucanis wanted to comfort her. She was obviously not fine, but then, neither was he. What comfort could he possibly provide?

Broken, Spite whispered.

She must have read his silence as acceptance or, Maker forbid, dismissal, because she shook her head and sighed.

"Good night, Lucanis."

He frowned, knowing he should say something. Do something. He just could not figure out what. This was the longest they'd been alone together since their almost-kiss, and Lucanis was no closer to knowing what to do about his burgeoning feelings than he'd been then.

Coward, said Spite.

"Rook," he called as she reached the door.

The room was darker that far from the fire, and he could just make out the gleam of her elven eyes as she looked back at him.

"You take good care of this team," he said. "Just... Don't forget you're a part of it, too."

She stood there, watching him for a long moment, then nodded. "Thanks, Lucanis."

And then she was gone, back out into the courtyard and hopefully to her quarters to sleep. Lucanis was, again, alone with too many thoughts.

Smooth, Spite said.

Well, too many thoughts and an opinionated demon. That was as alone as Lucanis could get anymore.

He sighed and rubbed his face. "Coffee," he said. Coffee could fix anything.

Not anything. Not you. Broken.

"Perhaps," Lucanis said as he set to preparing a cup. "But, at least I will have coffee."

Spite growled, then mumbled, smells bad anyway.

"You're a terrible liar."

Spite roared and gnashed his teeth, then settled as Lucanis went through the familiar ritual of brewing coffee. Besides the bath, watching coffee brew was the best time to think. And he had plenty he needed to think about.

This demon, for one. Despite being surrounded by talented mages, not one seemed to understand his possession, let alone how to undo it. They told him that non-mage possessions were rare, but possible, so not so strange after all. What was strange was that, according to his new friends, he didn't seem all that possessed.

By all accounts, Lucanis should be dead, his body morphed and twisted to the demon's will. But, here they were, demon and man together in his body, neither of them in complete control.

The other experiments in the Ossuary all succumbed to their demons, becoming the abominations one would expect. But not Lucanis, even after a year of torture and torment.

Zara, Spite hissed.

Fury boiled up in Lucanis as Spite tried to take control. It was a now familiar feeling. A twinge of pain in the crook of his neck, a gathering tension at the base of his skull. If Spite kept pushing, eventually that fury would pound behind Lucanis's eyes, an incessant demand for control.

Now was not the time.

"We will find her," he said, voice soft and sure. He poured the fresh coffee into his preferred cup, a gift from Rook. "And when we do—"

Kill. KILL!

Lucanis sipped and hummed his pleasure, both at the taste and at the thought of sinking his dagger into that Venatori witch's heart.

Yessssssss. Soon!

On this, at least, he and the demon agreed. Zara's painful death could not come soon enough. Rook might be an uncomfortable question mark in his life, but his vengeance against Zara?

That was a guarantee.

With that comforting thought, and Spite temporarily appeased, Lucanis took his cup back to his cot and settled in to imagine all the ways he would hurt Zara Renata before he killed her.

[nickgurl4life]

ANNIVERSARY BEACH DAY

NNN

Warnings!Content- fluff, cuddling, breakfast in bed, small makeout session, mentions of sex (but no sex), talking about kids/marriage, swimming, 3 year anniversary, proposal.

!NOT PROOFREAD!

The day was finally here. It's yours and Matt's 3 year anniversary, and he was pumped. Matt had planned it all out. He set an alarm the night before so he could wake up early. It's 6:30 AM, and he just woke up to his alarm and is in the kitchen starting breakfast. After about 30 minutes he finished the food and he looked at the clock, 7:00 AM is what the clock said.

He gently places the plates of food and a cup of orange juice onto the tray and walks to your shared room. He gently places the tray onto the nightstand and sits next to your head on your side of the bed. He looks down at your beautiful sleeping form with lovesick eyes. "My pretty girl..." he whispers as he gently threads his fingers through your hair.

"Baby, it's time to wake up." He says softly as he leans down and kisses your cheek, hoping to lull you awake, but it didn't work, and he wasn't surprised. You were always a deep sleeper, and when he got you awake, oh god, it wasn't a pretty sight. "Baby, I made you food." He says in a gentle tone and watches as your eyes peek open. "You asshole your already awake!" He chuckles and playfully pokes your cheek, causing you to let out a giggle.

You shift into a more comfy spot and gently pull him on top of you, holding him close. He smiles and wraps his strong arms around you and gently squeezes. "You're clingy this morning..." he says with a soft chuckle. "You're so warm..." You murmur into his neck as your hands rub up and down his back.

After a bit of cuddling, he climbs off of you, pulling an upset whine out of you as you sit up. He grabs the tray of food off the nightstand and places it on the bed, the upset look on your face disappearing and being replaced with a happy expression as you stare at the food. The tray consists of a plate of bacon, 2 fried eggs, a cup of orange juice, 2 pieces of avocado toast, and a small plate of sausage. "Baby, you didn't have to make all of this, I probably won't eat half of it!" You say with a chuckle as you reach out to grab a piece of avocado toast, taking a bite of it and letting a soft groan at the delicious taste.

"Yes, I know, but I wanted to make sure you're full because you've been avoiding food and don't think I haven't noticed, babe," he says with a small frown as he watches you chow down on the avocado toast, making the sides of his mouth twinge up into a soft smile at the adorable sight. "You're adorable, you know that?" He says as he tucks some of your hair behind your ear. You keep eating, completely ignoring the compliments as you devour the food he made, drawing a chuckle from him.

After you finish eating, he sets the tray onto the nightstands and cuddles up to you again. "Happy Anniversary, baby..." he says softly as he presses soft kisses all over your face. "Mhmph...happy anniversary..." you say softly as your hands softly trace circles on his back as he slowly kisses from your cheek to your lips, grazing them over yours as you gently ease into him. His hands drag from your back down to your ass but your hands reach back to gently stop him. He knows you're not in the mood without you having to speak as you guys just go back to gently kissing. His hands gently slide under your shirt to glide on your back with a reassuring touch as he goes back to kissing your face.

"For today I was thinking-" he pauses to place more kisses along your face, "we could go to the beach for our anniversary~" he says as he pulls back to see you. He chuckles as you smile big and your eyes light up, "I love beaches! Are we actually going?" You say in a happy tone as you slowly sit up, he knows your also excited cause you just bought new bathing suits a couple weeks ago. "Yes baby we're going to the beach so-" he pats your butt a bit as a signal to get ready. With the signal you jump up and go to your closet, looking through it till you pull out a black bikini, the rims of the material white and the material a silky but comfy material.

As you slip on the bikini, he grabs black swim trunks out of his drawer and strips naked before slipping them on. When you guys are ready, you're grabbing your sunglasses before he does a cute little wolf whistle, "God damn my girlfriends hot." He says as he gently hits your ass, causing you to giggle. "God if we weren't going out I would fuck you right her right now in this bikini...." he says as you grab your sunglasses, putting them on your head. "Okay! I'm ready!" You say excitedly as you interlock your fingers with his.

After a long 30 minute drive you guys finally arrive at the beach and he watches as you run down to the spot you want to lay your towels like a little kid excited to go swim, he chuckles as he finally gets to you and you guys lay your towels down. He plops down, and you groan, "Matt, I wanna swim cmonn!" You whine as you try to grab his hand. "Babe, hold on one second. I'm putting our phones in the bag!" He says with a chuckle as he stands up. You guys dart to the water and dive in. It's late, almost sunfall, so not many people are there with you. After a while of swimming, you guys walk back to your towels at your designated spot and plop down with a sigh. "Matt, can you grab my water out of the bag?" You say softly, and he nods, reaching into the bag, and as he's grabbing the water, he sees the black velvety ring box... Oh, right, he was supposed to propose here. He hands you your water before looking down, after some thinking he looks at you.

"Look, babe, I know this is very sudden and out there, but we've been together 3 years...and I know we're still young but...how do you feel about kids?" He says nervously, and your eyes widen and your eyebrows shoot up. His hearts are racing, and his brains fail to think anything, but

"Oh shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit."

"Uh, I mean yeah but not at this age but I've thought about it." You say with a smile as you sip your water. He feels himself calm down as you say you've though about it. "Well have you thought about marriage...by chance?" He says softly as he keeps staring gently, his hands trembling. "Oh yeah...yeah I've thought about that a lot!" You say with a chuckle.

"Well if you've thought about it then...what better time then now~" he says as he pulls the ring box out of the bag and opens it. Your so stunned that you stay silent and frozen, eyes stuck on the ring box. "I-i...Matt are you-" before you can finish he's nodding. "Yes baby...will you marry me?" He says and you feel your head spin as you barely process his words. He sits there nervously as you stay silent.

"Baby answer me please..." he says shakily as he tilts his head a bit. As you process it a big smile grows on your face and you nod. "Yes! Yes yes I will!" You squeal happily and he almost tackles you into the beach towel happily. "Oh my god-" he says as his voice cracks, before he can even realize it his tears are soaking your shoulder and yours his. After you guys have calmed down he pulls back to look at you.

"My fiance" he whispers as he gently kisses your head before pulling you back into a hug. The sun slowly sets and you are left in the darkness hugging the love of your life, the only thing you guys are thinking is "this will be a anniversary to remember..."

(Omg this was my first ever fic and I'm so sorry if it sucks, I'll happily except tips and advice cause I need it 😭❤️)

( Dividers from @bernardsbendystraws )

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[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Four)

Summary: “I wonder what color your eyes were…” Ghost wanted to tell her they were brown like hers, but darker. Hers were the type that shone golden in the light, like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa. His were the color of pitch, of the damp, overturned earth of a fresh grave. Fitting, for a man like him. For a monster like him. Word Count: 3176 Warnings: still no smut, triple asterisk denotes a POV change as usual Notes: Happy birthday @kaya-nets ! Here is a surprise midweek update as a little gift, and a thank you for being the first person on tumblr to leave feedback on Dove! It is greatly appreciated, especially since I had a hard today. I hope you had a great birthday! AO3, Masterlist

“It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

Ghost was sure no word had ever sounded so beautiful. To hear someone calling him by his name again, after all this time, was… he had no words to describe it. If he were religious, he might’ve called it a come-to-God moment. But his dog tags said No Preference for a reason, and that reason was that Ghost had stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago.

As he looked at his little dove, holding his tags and giving him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, he thought that maybe he’d finally found one he’d happily worship.

He groaned softly, trying to say hello back, and then gestured at her, cocking his head to the side in question.

“What is it?” She asked. He pointed at his dog tags again, then at her once more. Her brows furrowed in confusion, and he grunted, like that would help her understand what he was asking. Maybe it did, or maybe she just remembered how first meetings were typically supposed to go, because her brows went up this time and her pink lips parted, a rosy blush darkening her cheeks. “Oh! Oh, my name, of course. I’m Lelia Par—Addams. Lelia Addams.”

Ghost caught the slip, and the mix of panic and sadness that flashed through her eyes at it. He couldn’t exactly press even if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He had no desire to see his dove upset.

He tried to say her name, despite knowing it was useless. But it was just so pretty. Lelia. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

That was one of Johnny’s favorite chat up lines, Simon’s voice in his head said distantly, sounding both exasperated and wistful. Ghost ignored it. He didn't know who Johnny was and no amount of trying to force his ruined mind to cough up the memory of him would work. But staying in his dove’s presence, might. She was the reason he’d remembered the name at all.

“Thank you for saving me, by the way,” Lelia said a moment later, handing him his dog tags back. She still looked faintly embarrassed. “Both times… I— I would be dead without you. I suppose not all soldiers are bad…”

Ghost knew that if she were aware of all he’d done, both before and after he’d turned, she wouldn’t think so highly of him. Nonetheless, he would very much have liked to find whichever soldiers made Lelia decide she was better off out here on her own, instead of back on a base, safe and warm and fed. He thought about the way her eyes had looked broken and glassy as she’d spoken about the place she’d come from, and how she’d insisted she’d rather be ripped apart than go back, not a trace of exaggeration in her voice. Whatever had happened to her there must have been hellish.

Ghost wanted to move forward to comfort her, but he’d seen the way she’d gagged and grimaced when he got close to retrieve his tags, slipping them over his head once more. He knew that he smelled something awful, that he always would no matter what he did, but he would at least try to clean himself, for her sake. She couldn’t afford to lose the little food she’d eaten.

There was a stream not far from here, he’d been near it yesterday before he’d decided to investigate all the noise. And he was fast, faster than he had been when he was human. He could be there and back in half an hour, tops.

Lelia, on the other hand, barely looked like she could make it to the front door.

He was incredibly reluctant to let her out of his sight for any length of time. Even just going around to the back of the cabin to dispose of the body earlier had made him twitchy. And if it was just a matter of his smell, he’d wait until tomorrow, when she was rested enough to make the trip with him. But it wasn’t. He could see just how dehydrated she was—chapped lips, dry skin, a constant tremor in her hands… she needed clean drinking water, now. And if he could get some from the stream for her to boil, she would be set.

He would have barricaded the door for extra protection, but it opened outwards rather than in. Shoddy installation job if he’d ever seen one. So instead, he pointed at her, and then at the bedroom. He awkwardly put his hands under his ear and then closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He bumped his broken jaw as he did, and his teeth clacked against each other loudly.

He heard a little giggle, soft and high pitched. He opened his cloudy eyes to see his dove watching him, a pretty smile on her cherubic face. Her laugh was beautiful, pure and sweet. It was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard. The sunken skin around his eyes crinkled a little bit, the only evidence of his smile.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go take a nap,” Lelia said, still giggling, as she headed for the bedroom. She disappeared inside, the door closing behind her. He waited until he heard her heartbeat slow and her breaths grow steady, and then he quietly moved the couch in front of it, blocking her in. He didn't want to risk her waking up, finding him gone, and getting herself killed while looking for him. If she decided to look for him. She might not—just because she asked his name and gave him a sweet smile didn’t mean she cared about him, the undead soldier who’d inserted himself into her life and wouldn’t leave her alone. That was alright, though. Ghost was so starved for human interaction that he’d take whatever he could get. And hearing his name from her lips was more than he’d ever expected.

Even if it was less than what he wanted.

With his dove secure, he left the cabin, making sure he didn't hear anyone nearby. There were a few infected a ways away, but if she stayed put—which he’d made sure she would—they wouldn't smell her. He was more worried about other people, but he couldn’t smell or hear anyone within range, so he felt comfortable enough to leave. Barely. He grabbed the large, rusted pail he’d noticed behind the cabin where he’d dumped the other zombie’s body, and then he was off.

-*-

When Ghost saw his reflection in the stream, he understood why Lelia had been so terrified to wake up and see his face first thing.

He’d known he looked bad, he wasn't an idiot. Just because his eyes were clouded didn't mean his vision was. He could see how disgusting the other zombies looked, and he figured he looked much the same.

None of that had prepared him for actually seeing himself.

Blood and gore covered every inch of him, bits of flesh stuck between his teeth and blackened gums—his teeth, which were permanently bared in a snarl, because his lips had rotted away.

That was the most horrifying part, he thought. Not the grey, sunken skin, the milky eyes, or all the gore and viscera. It was that his lips were gone, and he couldn’t kiss his dove even if she’d let him.

You’re disgusting.

The words echoed in his head, and he knew it wasn’t just about his visage. He shouldn't have been thinking about his dove like that. It wasn't as bad as his earlier thoughts, but just about. He was dead. A nasty, rotting corpse that happened to be able to walk around. There was something wrong with him to even be contemplating doing more than hugging Lelia. That was bad enough. She’d never want him to touch her in any way, she’d shown him that earlier when she’d kicked him while he was trying to check her for bites.

But maybe she would let him get a little closer, at least, if he didn't smell so bloody horrid.

It was that possibility that had him methodically strip out of his ragged tactical gear. He washed each piece in the knee-deep stream, even his mask and his boots. He laid them out on the bank to dry, moved a little further upstream, and then repeated the process with his body, dumping bucket after bucket full of water over every part of him.

The amount of congealed black blood and pieces of flesh that came off was concerning. He just hoped that none of the latter was his own.

Finally, he was done, and he stepped out of the stream and redressed in his still damp gear. Moving upstream for a third time, unwilling to contaminate his dove’s drinking water, he filled the bucket once more and began his trek back to the cabin, moving briskly but carefully so as not to spill.

Lelia was still asleep by the time he returned, and so he put the bucket down on the kitchen table, moved the couch away from her door, and then set about starting a fire. There was a small stack of roughly chopped logs next to the old, wood burning stove, and he placed a few inside. He searched through some of the drawers and found a book of matches, letting out a triumphant grunt, unable to believe his luck.

Except of course, things couldn’t be that easy.

Ghost’s fingers were far too stiff and clumsy to light a match. Fine motor skills were difficult for him, his muscles permanently locked in rigor mortis. Even piling up the logs in the stove had been difficult, as had carrying the bucket. He’d had to wrap his arms around it and hold it to his chest because his fingers wouldn't quite bend enough to grasp it by the handle.

After finally getting one of the matches to light, only to immediately drop it on the floor and burn a mark into the wood, Ghost gave up. He would just have to let Lelia do this part.

He moved the bucket onto the stovetop before quietly walking over to the bedroom. He reached out for the door knob and hesitated for a long moment, before letting his hand drop as he turned back around. She’d closed it for a reason, and he didn't need to see her to know she was alright. Her heartbeat and breathing were loud enough. So instead, he resumed his position as her zombified guard dog, and barricaded her door with his body while she slept, standing between her and anything that could bring her harm.

***

This time, when Lelia woke up, she knew exactly where she was.

The tiny bed in the cabin smelled of dust and old mothballs, but it was still far more comfortable than either a tree hollow or the bed she'd shared with Andrew back on the military base. She let herself luxuriate in it for a moment, exhaustion still pulling heavily at her no matter how long she had slept. Finally, she got up, walking over to the door and opening it—only to startle when she found Simon standing directly outside.

“Oh!” She gasped, hand clutching her chest, right over her racing heart. Then, she registered the lack of blood and gore on his face—which looked far less decayed now that it was clean—and the lack of a stomach churning odor wafting over her. He still smelled of death, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before. “You’re— you’re clean!”

Simon groaned quietly. He was staring at her, as if waiting for something. She blinked several times, and then spoke again. 

“Did you— did you do that for me?”

She knew she hadn’t hid her reaction to his stench well enough. She felt a bit bad, but she also couldn’t help but be relieved he'd noticed and decided to do something about it.

Simon jerked his head up and down in a nod, jaw wobbling. He shifted back and forth a little bit, then tilted his head to the side and let out a questioning grunt, milky eyes downcast. He almost seemed… nervous? Shy? Or like he was looking for her approval. She couldn't quite tell. But the thought was endearing, and she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “This is much better, really. I appreciate it.”

Despite the fact that he couldn't really make any expression, Lelia got the distinct impression that he was pleased with her answer.

Simon shuffled back, and then stiffly gestured for her to follow him. She did so, curious, and she found she could remain quite close to him without being overwhelmed by the urge to vomit. She still left a meter or so between them, as was proper. She doubted he wanted her crowding his space, after all.

He led her over to the kitchenette, and then gestured to a bucket on top of the stove. She peered inside it, and found that it was full of water. She brightened considerably, licking her dry lips.

“Can I drink this?” She asked, already reaching for the bucket. She was so thirsty, she’d even drink orange juice, right now. And she hated orange juice.

But Simon grunted, reaching out and stopping her hand with his own. His glove was slightly damp, and she blinked, frowning as she looked at him again.

“You’re wet,” she said, finally noticing that his gear was dripping a little bit. He grunted, ignoring her, and then gestured at a matchbook next to the stove. She stared at it in confusion, not knowing what he wanted her to do, before turning her attention back to the trail of water he was leaving in his wake. “You shouldn't walk around in wet clothes. You’ll catch a cold—”

Lelia paused, looked at Simon’s already dead self, and blushed.

“Well. Maybe you won’t, but still. You’re getting water everywhere. You should take them off to let them dry,” she continued, trying to recover. Simon gave her what she thought might have been an amused look, if the little crinkles around his sunken, milky white eyes meant anything. Though it was entirely possible she was just imagining it. “There’s a closet in the bedroom. I’m sure I can find you something to wear while you wait.”

Eager to escape after her blunder, she retreated to do just that. She heard Simon let out a grumble that sounded suspiciously like an exasperated sigh, but she didn't let that stop her. She let out her own noise of victory when she found a set of flannel pajamas that looked like they would fit her zombie.

When she returned to the kitchen, Simon was in the process of removing his gear. Lelia watched as he struggled with zips and buckles—he was making progress, but very slowly—and took a step closer to him.

“Do you need help?” She asked innocently, never one to just stand idly by.

***

Simon froze, damnable buckle falling from his stiff fingers. It had taken him ages to get all this off and back on again at the stream, but he’d managed. He would manage again… but his little dove was offering to help. To stand close to him, to touch him, or at least his clothes… he knew he should have said no, that she was just being kind and didn’t actually want to get anywhere near him—but she sounded so sincere, and he was so fucking desperate. So he groaned quietly, almost ashamed, as he jerked his head in a nod, letting his hands drop back to his sides.

Lelia set the clothes she’d found for him on the arm of the couch and then approached, starting with removing his helmet. She was so small, she couldn’t reach even when she stood on her toes, and he had to crouch down a little bit, knees creaking.

“You’re blonde,” she said, surprised. He looked down at her. She was close enough that he couldn’t smell anything but her, and it was intoxicating. But not nearly as intoxicating as the feel of her body heat, so near yet so far. He sniffed discreetly, once again trying to place the floral scent on her skin. “I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect that. I wonder what color your eyes were…”

Ghost wanted to tell her they were brown like hers, but darker. Hers were the type that shone golden in the light, like nutty chocolate and a perfectly brewed cuppa. His were the color of pitch, of the damp, overturned earth of a fresh grave. Fitting, for a man like him. For a monster like him.

She moved on to unbuckling his vest, and then unzipping his jacket once he’d gotten the bulky gear out of the way. Underneath was a plain black t-shirt, the least destroyed item of clothing he had on, but also the foulest smelling. Her delicate little nose wrinkled slightly, and he would have found it adorable if he weren't so embarrassed. He reeked, still, and she smelt so delicious he began to drool again. He reached up to wipe it away, but his dove beat him to it, using the sleeve of the jacket he’d just discarded. She seemed entirely unphased, rather than repulsed like he thought she’d be, just giving him a smile before stepping back.

“No buttons on that,” she said as an explanation. He didn’t dare mention the buttons on his combat trousers, once again disgusted by his own thoughts. He pulled his t-shirt off after a second of hesitation, knowing the grisly sight that lay beneath. Grey, translucent, thinning skin smattered with deep gashes in several places that would never heal. They were accompanied by faded tattoos and dozens of scars, including a patchwork of rough, burnt flesh over his bicep and left shoulder, going all the way down to his hip. He reached quickly for the dry shirt, but Lelia stopped him.

“Your gloves,” she said, staring at his torso with a look on her face that he couldn’t quite read. It wasn't positive, though, he could tell that much. She tore her gaze away a second later, gently grabbing one of his hands and pulling it closer to her as she undid the velcro strap at his wrist. She slipped her fingers beneath the wrist of his glove, and he felt her skin directly against his own for the very first time.

He groaned, resisting the urge to grab her hand and keep it where it was. He couldn’t feel the softness of her skin, his own senses too numb for that, but the heat of it practically scorched him in the most pleasant way. It sank all the way down to his frozen bones, and when it slipped away as she pulled his glove off, it was agony.

She repeated the process with his other glove, and his bare hands twitched as he fought not to clutch onto hers and not let go. Finally, he regained control of himself, grabbing the flannel pajama shirt and pulling it on. It was a couple sizes too small, clinging to him like a second skin and stopping an inch or so above the waistband of his combat trousers, but it would do for now, even if he felt ridiculous.

“You’re shivering,” his dove said, frowning. “I’ll fetch you a blanket.”

She turned around and headed back into the bedroom, and he took the chance to shuck off his trousers. It was almost as if the warmth of her touch had reinvigorated his hands, or perhaps it was just luck, because he managed to get the button on the third try, and the zip on the second. He stepped into the too-small flannels just as she was returning with the quilt he’d given her earlier. He tried to avoid taking it—though he felt cold, he knew it was all in his mind—as he didn't want to contaminate it with the smell of death. But Lelia was stubborn, and she just wrapped the blanket around his shoulders for him, so he looked like he was wearing a flowery, quilted cape.

“There,” she said with a pleased smile, before bending down to pick up his gear and head over to the door. He followed her, a silent, massive, undead shadow, unwilling to let her go outside without him. He stood guard as she hung the clothes over the half-rotted wooden banister of the tiny porch, and when she came back in, he grunted to get her attention again before leading her back to the kitchenette. He tapped the matchbook, then pointed at the pile of firewood in the metal belly of the stove.

“You want me to start a fire?” She asked nervously, and he nodded, pointing at the logs again. She paled. “I don't know… I’ve never done that before. What if I burn myself?”

Ghost didn't like the thought of her getting hurt any more than she did, but they didn’t have a choice. She needed drinkable water, and right now, boiling what was in the bucket was the only way she was going to get that. So he fumbled for the book of matches and then pressed it into her hands—and if he let out another pleased groan when her warm skin touched his again, he hoped she misread it as encouragement.

His dove looked afraid, but she notched her chin and accepted the matches, clearly trying to put on a brave face. He let himself wonder at the fact that she had never used matches before. What kind of world had she lived in, prior to the end of it? Based on her nice clothes, posh accent, and utter lack of survival instincts, he imagined it was something privileged, something sheltered. He would’ve scoffed at the thought if he were still alive—pretty little rich girl with a pretty, perfect life. Had the dead not risen, she likely would have never known pain or fear or struggle. It would’ve angered him back then; the injustice of it all. The jealousy. Now, he just felt sad. She deserved a life like that. Not this hell on earth. She was woefully unprepared for her new reality—and she had suffered for it. The men she had had to rely on to keep her safe had put that haunted look in her eyes that spoke of a pain familiar to him, if unnamable. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember. That he couldn’t kill each and every person that had ever contributed to her suffering. But there was nothing he could do about that, now. All he could do was keep her safe, keep her alive. And maybe even make her laugh again.

It took a few tries, and several broken matches, but Lelia finally managed to get one lit without immediately dropping it in fear. She tossed it into the stove, and while Ghost would have advised her to hold it to the corner of one of the logs, first, it did the trick, and the fire caught. He gave her a groan of approval, and admired the way her face lit up with pride, a rosiness dusting her cheeks as she grinned. She was always beautiful, but when she smiled, she looked like an angel. Something far too good and far too pure for this hellish plane and all the monsters that lived on it, both alive and dead.

Together, they watched the water boil. It was about as exciting as watching paint dry, and took only slightly less time due to the old fashioned stove and small flame. He didn't mind, though, as his dove eventually began to fill the silence with mindless chatter, telling him about the meals her private chef—oh, so she’d been rich rich—used to make for her. Ghost was informed very seriously that Román was the best cook in the world and could have had his own restaurant, but he liked hearing Lelia’s in-depth analysis of his meals too much to leave. Ghost thought it was adorable that she believed that that’s why the chef had stayed, rather than the money he was making. Then again, Ghost had stayed because of her too, so maybe there was some truth to her words after all.

When the water was sufficiently clean, he grabbed the bucket and moved it off the stove so it could cool down. Curiously, he didn't feel any heat from it, despite knowing it had to be hot enough to burn. It only made him crave his dove’s touch even more, the only source of warmth in his cold, undead life.

He searched through the cupboards again as they waited, looking for some sort of cup. He found a single dusty mug with a large chip near the rim. It was no crystal champagne flute, like she was clearly used to, but it would do. He handed it over, and Lelia made a face but thanked him nonetheless. She unbuttoned her pink tweed jacket and untucked a section of her still clean white blouse underneath, using it to wipe out the mug. He stared.

Look away, Simon’s voice in his head ordered. Ghost reluctantly obeyed. You’re a vile creature. You don’t get to look at her like that.

Even if Ghost was alive, he'd probably think the same thing. He’d been old and monstrous then. He was dead and monstrous now. He'd never lived a life in which he would deserve a sweet thing like her. But he still wanted, in this life and the last.

So when Lelia smiled at him after drinking her fill of the purified water, lips still wet and shiny, he tried to ignore the phantom sensation of his undead heart pounding in his chest.

[sevikas-biceps]

[TLDR: me rationalising and then ranting about why Caitlyn and Cassandra are both in the wrong]

Y'all. We love Cait, and we do stan Cassandra in some regards—but be fucking for real. Think of them as real people, in the real world, doing real things. Y'all would hate them. I'm putting Cait's gay love and Cass' gay support aside—because I really do feel like a lot of people gloss over their flaws just because of the queer rep and allying.

Think of it. The Kiramman's ventilation system was the bare fucking minimum being done for the people of Zaun. Caitlyn weaponising it is literally a violation of human rights practices. We know how privileged Topside is, we know there are at least sympathetic characters out there—and both of these are true for the Kirammans. What does this imply? That the Kirammans were essentially one of those at the top of the hierarchy, and this put them in a complete position of ability to help.

But they didn't. That's the issue, people.

One of the previous matriarchs putting the vent system into place was to solve the matter of the air pollution, yes—but arguably, the people of the Undercity shouldn't have had to deal with that problem to begin with. Cassandra might've been aware it existed; she gave her daughter the key, after all. However, that does not mean she actively came to the aid of the people of Zaun. Hell, do you think she was even aware of Silco, for instance? At the beginning? Maybe she'd've heard whispers from informants, about some old peacekeeper people called the Hound, and then about some mysterious tycoon taking his place. Maybe Grayson said something about the Undercity's concerns in the past, during the time of the first insurrection, but the Council took no note of it. Maybe Cassandra had someone else in place to make her dealings, if ever she dabbled in that black market shit.

Whatever else you can think of with that line of thinking; at the end of the day, it just proves that Cassandra herself was only another person stuck in the cycle—she did her job, she was cunning and selfish, she played the game. It's just business. It's just politics. No more, no less. The original line-up on the Council had members that were either ignorant, negligent, or corrupt (and yes; that includes Heimerdinger, Mel, and Jayce you guys)—and Cassandra was no better. Again, they all were part of the same damn cycle to begin with.

What makes Cassandra remarkable as a character—to us, the audience—is that she's remembered as someone redeemable because of her love for her family, for Caitlyn; that she was willing to try for her daughter's sake and happiness. Caitlyn. Not the city, not her kid's new girlfriend, and most certainly not Zaun. Above all else, it boils down to her little girl. Her only child. Cassandra being on the Council meant that she could give that child the best life that she could; Cassandra being on the Council meant that the child has a future. It implies that peripherally, she was aware of the Undercity's issues—hence the little frustrations exchanged about Caitlyn becoming an officer and venturing into the Undercity in Season 1.

That's her redeeming quality. Duty for family.

[If you want a visualisation of her actual nature, I'd honestly recommend using Olenna Tyrell, Tywin Lannister, and Jon Arryn from ASoIaF/GoT as points of reference.]

Now, onto Caitlyn herself. Credit where credit is due; the girl is in the middle of grieving, and she's being denied the chance to have even that. She doesn't deserve that. No one does. It would be unfair to deal her an amount of resentment for going unstable, when we'd all been rooting for Jinx for half of the same reasons in Season 1. But that's the issue: half of the same reasons.

Let's be honest for a quick second here. Do we really think Caitlyn would've ever gone down to the Undercity had Jinx never attacked on Progress Day? With someone like Marcus hot on her trails, if he lives in this hypothetical alternate reality, I imagine she wouldn't even be placed near the bridge(s) to begin with. And if, in canon, he'd survived the explosion, I can also see Caitlyn being put on house arrest—because if Marcus himself is outed as working with Silco (similar to how Grayson did with Vander), then that's all the more reason to keep the Kiramman heiress away from danger, or worse, death. If things are so bad that the Sheriff, symbolically a paragon of justice and protection, resorted to consorting with the enemy...well, what then? What does that say about the system? What does that say about Piltovian society?

Back to Caitlyn. I'm a firm supporter of the idea that she never would've been put into a potential line of fire had life gone on normally. If Jinx never stole the hexcrystals, then Caitlyn would have no reason to snoop around; Vi is still in Stillwater, Silco is at large, and so on and so forth. Caitlyn remains largely ignorant of the world she lives in. It's noble that she genuinely wanted to help people. But in a place like Piltover? She'd be worse than Jayce when Season 1 began. I'm sure she'd no doubt notice the surrounding manipulations in her life, or how flawed their reality could be—but the point is, at the end of the day, it's still a privileged life that she leads.

Let that word sink in. Privileged. This isn't to disparage her original desire to make her society a better place—I do think that Caitlyn has the potential to do so if she exerted her efforts into long-term developments that could fulfil that vision. But this is where it gets tricky—especially in the context of Season 2. She had all of those resources at her disposal. She was aware of the consequences in using them—how it might affect civilians, innocents. And she still did so anyway. Strike one.

For all that she was a decorated officer, it's really the personal vendetta against Jinx that made her unfit to lead the strike team to begin with. I imagine Vi refused the enforcer position at first not just because of her and her people's history with the authority, but because it's so blatant that doing so enabled Caitlyn to act in her anger. By accepting the badge, Vi validated Caitlyn's need for vengeance. Not that Caitlyn is unreasonable in wanting such a thing, mind, but what is unreasonable was how tone-deaf she'd become in the process of grieving, forgetting that it's not just her own interests on the line, but others' too. Strike two.

There's nothing wrong with Caitlyn at the beginning—the girl just wanted so solve a crime. But then circumstances came up. And then, all of a sudden, she has to choose between duty or self-interest. What the show does is that it gives a convenient solution for Caitlyn to be able to serve both her duty and her own self-interest(s): invade/scour Zaun, she catches a criminal and delivers justice for the Council; find Jinx, Cassandra is avenged and Vi may find closure. The fight at Janna's temple is where it all indeed goes to shit, as we can see, and that's where Caitlyn really slips off in my opinion. She'd toed the line when she asked Vi to wear the badge—but it's really when Isha (a child) got involved and later on when she struck Vi herself (a betrayal), that her motives get warped. Strike three.

My main argument is that Cassandra and Caitlyn were both in the wrong, in one way or another, albeit for different and varied reasons. The former didn't do enough for the situation at hand, and the latter seems to be doing too much at once. Cassandra herself seemed to have enabled her daughter's worse traits, too, whether directly or indirectly; and this is what makes up much of the character that we see Caitlyn evolving into.

There are many aspects of both mother and daughter that have always been there, or, at least, have had the potential to be there, such as: the ruthlessness, the narrow focus, the determination, the strictness—and, most of all (and I have a feeling this is going to be controversial), the hypocrisy. We know, for a fact, that Caitlyn and Cassandra are at least self-aware. To merely label them as naïve or inexperienced (to life) is a gross disservice to their characters. On some level, they're cognisant of their status and ability in society (evidenced by baby!Cait's scepticism regarding Grayson's trophy, and Cass' agreement to support their case at the Council meeting)—and they both have exacted measures in the face of what is demanded of them.

This is the reason that Caitlyn weaponising the Grey, using the Kiramman's ventilation system, is more or less unforgivable. Just because it had Vi's hesitant approval, it didn't make it right. Vi counts as an unreliable narrator in this case—when we know that she, in multiple instances, easily caves when someone she's attached to doubles down on her.

We, as the audience, can at least agree on the moralities regarding the authorisation of the strike team; and that means that we, as people analysing the show, can also agree that the effects of an act such as using the Grey can be devastating. We see this in Viktor's chronic illness, we see this with Silco's asphyxiation trick on the Chembarons, we see this when Jinx knocks out Sevika, we see this in Cassandra's notes. Stop trying to downplay the Grey. Stop trying to justify a fucking war crime. 'Oh, but it's just knock-out gas'—baby, no it's not. It's really not. Smeech explicitly says this: factory smoke trapped underground. Smoke. It's still gas. There's no safe way of administering it in high doses. That's like smoking Marlboro Reds taken beyond the extreme, and fuelled by gasoline of all things.

I'm not villainising Caitlyn, but some of y'all also need to stop excusing what she did—and I'm saying this because a lot of you also did the same with Jinx in Season 1. For the lack of a better example; it's very much like excusing what serial killers of the past had done because they were 'interesting' or 'charming' or hell, relatable. Be Gay, Do Crime is most definitely not applicable here, you guys. Seriously.

That is literally the reason Vi snaps at Caitlyn after the fight with Jinx. Why are you the one acting like her? It's not just a comparison between Caitlyn and Jinx, it's not just vendetta against vendetta; in a broader context, Vi is asking: Why are you resorting to the same acts of terrorism? Why are you enforcing the same tactics your predecessors used? Why are you turning into what you once swore not to become? Why are you doing this? What are you turning into?

Vi asked Caitlyn to promise her not to change. But she did.

Why are you betraying yourself?

[animeyanderelover]

This will be my first request, I am very happy because I LOVE your writing.

Alas aside, Yandere falls in love with a woman older than them who is very maternal for having a child, when he proposes she rejects him because she feels that they should not waste themselves on a woman who already has a child (You can do with the father whatever you want ).It would be with Atsushi, Akutagawa, Daichi Sawamura, Oikawa and if you want to add any more I don't mind

Sorry for my bad english😘😘

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, stalking, threats, violence

Tags: @shumidehiro @leveyani

You shouldn’t waste your time on me

Sawamura Daichi

🌅​Cries of a small child are what guide him through the crowds on that day, his eyes flickering over the people before they finally land on the boy who is standing there all alone. Upon asking him what happened the child tells him that he got distracted and lost his mother. As not only a police officer but also a decent human being Daichi immediately helps, asks the boy where him and his mother were last together and if he knows where his mother planned to go. If worst comes to worst and he won't be able to find the boy's mother he'll just ask the boy where he lives and will bring hm home to wait together with him until his mom returns. Luckily it never comes that far as Daichi is able to find you after half an hour of searching, the boy instantly leaving his side and running to you with tears in his eyes. He's far too humble in your eyes as he is confronted with your gratefulness, tells you that he only did his job and that anyone would have helped a crying child. Still, you make some small talk with him as you ask for his name and both of you start talking for a while with each other. That's how he finds out that you recently moved to the Miyagi prefecture with your child and live close to his neighbourhood.

🌅​The fact that he doesn't live far away from you and that he helped your child are major reasons that aid the two of you in getting so close to each other. Also, your son's dream is it to work for the police later on so he obviously views Daichi as his hero, something that flusters the man deep down a lot more than he shows. He visits you once a week when he has a free day, often bombarded with questions from your son about his job until you softly chide your child for his uncontrolled excitement. You admit to him relatively early that you moved here because your husband died and your parents live nearby as you also need to work and need someone to look after your son. Hearing that your husband died strangely enough makes more sense to him than if someone would have divorced you as only an ignorant fool would have let someone like you go. Daichi is not even going to deny his own feelings, he knows that he's extremely attracted to you. You're kind yet not too coddling, you're responsible and patient, you listen to the worries of others and are always willing to help where you can. Watching you raising your son sometimes reminds him of his high school days, a fond look on his face.

🌅​Daichi is able to stay patient in spite of his obsession, especially if the loss of your husband has been very recent. He gives you time, he allows you to grieve and focuses in the meantime on helping you and your child to integrate into the new city. The thing is that he fills that role of a supportive husband and father so nicely that neighbours and even your own parents and son can't help but support the two of you getting together. When you reject him he is a bit disheartened but he takes it really well because he realises that you didn't do so because you do not love him. You reject him because you feel not good enough but that in itself is still quite hurtful. You're such a wonderful person after all. He doesn't mind the little age gap nor does he think of you less because you have a child. In fact he's grown very fond and protective of your son who you have raised wonderfully. Still, it's wiser to not pressure you so he steps back for now. His confidence remains though, knowing that you didn't deny not being able to see him as a partner. He'll just stay in your life as a pillar of support for now and will slowly make you realise that you are everything but a waste to him.

Oikawa Tooru

👑​After a difficult divorce you make the decision to completely change your life and decide to try to reach for a dream you had when you were younger but gave up later on, deciding that you might not make it. It's better to try and fail then to never take the step. After many months of interviews, exchange of mails and documents you receive the news though. You did it. You're one of the managers for your favorite volleyball club, Club Athletico San Juan. You're so joyous, almost feel like a school girl all over again as you read the letter over and over again, kicking your feet and grinning like an idiot. Oikawa is still Oikawa even if he is by now an adult, his charming attitude still there as soon as you're introduced to the team as their new manager. His other teammates just watch with half amusement and half pity as Oikawa's charm ultimately never works. Sure, he manages to charm people quickly but he never manages to hold a relationship and they would hate for their setter and new manager to be on bad terms from the very start. You, with the divorce still freshly on your mind though, put your foot firmly down and clarify it to Oikawa very clearly that you have no intention of dating.

👑​Obviously Tooru is miffed about your blunt rejection yet another part of him can't help but respect your determination. You know what you want to focus on and he wants to acknowledge that, especially since he is essentially the same. The keyword here is want because who would have thought that his feelings would slip out of his grasp of control so quickly? You know when to put him and his childish antics in his place, chiding him almost as if he were a child and the experience feels only more realistic when he realises that you're a few years older than he is. The fact that you work so closely with him only enables him to be very overbearing as he dreams up all kinds of minor inconveniences so that he has something to complain about to have your attention on himself. Your daughter is a shocker as you have never talked about your private life before and whilst other players gush over your child he gives her a strange look at first, his mind trying to process what it could mean. He pesters you privately about it, his eyes desperate and his body tense. The tension leaves his body at least partially when you admit with a heavy sigh that you had a rough divorce before you started working here.

👑​Oikawa doesn't take the rejection very well, his heart dropping even though it doesn't have to do with the fact that you don't see him that way. Still, it is hard to stay logical with a heart as sensitive as his, especially since he is prone to being delusional. He just doesn't understand. What is it that he could have done better?? He has made it more than obvious that he is deeply in love with you. He's showered you in presents, constantly demands your attention and has even made the effort to get closer to your daughter despite initial caution he held. Is that still not enough?? What do you want him to do?? Please tell him what he as to do in order for you to accept. Honestly, your maternal instincts will come quite in handy as you're confronted with Tooru whilst his feelings threaten to burst out of him. Because it helps him to calm down and gives him the reassurance he so desperately craves from you in that moment. Nevertheless though, he ramps up his affection from a 10 to an 11 after that incident. If the problem is simply that you don't feel good enough he will change your mind. You're forgiven this one time. Do not reject him a second time though or else he might just make your job more difficult.

Nakajima Atsushi

🐅​The gentle love of a parent is a notion so foreign to Atsushi that the first encounter he has with you leaves him almost on the edge. Your kind words, the patient look in your eyes, the warmth and comfort you provide him with by simply being in the room threatens to burst his heart right at the seams. After cold deprivation for as long as he can remember your presence feels like being drowned in a bathtub filled with hot water. It's overwhelming almost, scorches his skin yet he gladly submerges himself in the heat and the sensations that come with it. He's almost immediately infatuated with you, finds himself yearning for your affection in his dreams as well as in the real world. The age difference is something that weights on his soul though as he realises how experienced you are and how clumsy he seems to be in comparison. There's a lack of knowledge with certain machines or customs that he hasn't been exposed to due to his time in the orphanage but he is always too ashamed to tell you about it. Adamant to not let himself look like a young fool in front of you, Atsushi simply refuses to ask for help or advice from you. He wants to prove to you as well as himself that he can provide for you.

🐅​As shameful as it is, there is an undeniable twinge of jealousy directed against your own child. He envies the little boy for being able to cling to you as often as he does as those are all things Atsushi desperately wishes to do as well. He wants to be held, comforted and loved by you too but he could never admit such things as he stares at your son. What would you think of him after all if he were to confess to you that he feels jealous of your own child? It doesn't stop him from clenching his hands into fists every time he witnesses you giving affection to your son, nails turning into claws as he imagines what it would be like if he were to be the one in your child's position. You and your husband have parted ways a few years ago but you still keep in contact due to the child and that just about kills Atsushi. It takes always more willpower than it should to not outright growl at the man whenever he visits. Atsushi can't even fathom how a man could let someone like you go and occasionally he imagines what it would be like to just tear that man apart whenever his jealousy gets the better of him. Chances aren't exactly zero for Atsushi to confront your ex-lover and accidentally kill him during an argument.

🐅​The beast within him tries to tame itself as good as it can for you even if results are mixed. With time he grows closer to your child though he struggles to be a parent for the little boy as he more than once acts just as childish and needy. Still, he does his best to show you that he can protect and provide for you and your child all whilst seeking emotional comfort from you. It has taken him a good chunk of courage to finally confess to you only to be met with a direct blow to his heart. The shock of your rejection numbs him for a few seconds before the weight comes crushing down. He hyperventilates, he cries, he bites his bottom lip bloody and his nails threaten to rip through the skin of his palms. That is only because he does misunderstand your rejection as you telling him that you have no interest in him. Once he has come to understand that you didn't reject him for that reason hopefully he manages to calm down at least a bit. That means that he still has a chance, doesn't he? Still, he feels like it's his fault for not having made it clearer to you just how deeply infatuated he is with you. That has to change now. Hopefully some of his seniors can give him useful tips how to woo you.

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

⬛​It is through Gin that Akutagawa finds out about you as his beneath the mask quite shy sister has befriended you and finds herself visiting your small shop once a week. Whilst he is anything but an overbearing brother this piece of information still manages to stick to him. It's the first time he has heard that Gin has made friends with someone outside the Mafia and initially he starts directing hostility against you. Akutagawa isn't an individual to trust easily as he distrusts with far more confidence and this is what he finds himself doing against you. Who are you? Are you really just a regular citizen? His sister assures him that you are not some spy nor does she plan to give you any information about the Port Mafia or her real identity but for Akutagawa actions speak louder than words. He finds himself stalking you occasionally, dark eyes trailing after you. A scoff appears on his face the moment he notices the boy following you, realising that you have a child. How naive you must be, keeping a child whilst involving yourself with a mafioso. If you really are just a normal person you must have no motherly senses at all or else you wouldn't hang out casually with Gin.

⬛​Akutagawa never had a mother who raised him as he has grown up in a violent environment from a very young ago. None of his mentor figures have ever given him even an ounce of affection which has led him to believe that love is a weakness. A weakness he has fallen victim to. A part of him itches to use Rashomon to tear you and that little brat apart yet he holds himself back. Partially because his emotions are messy and partially for his sister's sake as she cherishes you. It's Gin he turns to as his curiosity grows and it is through her he finds out most information about you. The most pressing issue for him is who the father of your son is and even if Gin tells him that you have parted with the guy long before your child was born that doesn't stop Akutagawa's urges to rip that man apart for his mere existence. Stalking you becomes quite difficult, his possessive side flaring up the moment you talk to another man and give him a smile. It's the horrified gaze of his sister that holds him back but that is no guarantee that it'll work every single time. Only to his sister is he able to admit his conflicting feelings to you and both of them know that it is only a question of time when you will find out.

⬛​Still, even if it comes that far Gin wishes for her brother to not terrorise and hurt you even with his obsession. She cares for Akutagawa but you're still her friend and she likes your child as well. She wants him to attempt to confess to you the normal way at least once and if you reject him she kind of knows that there's little she can do. Unable to live with herself if she wouldn't try though Gin introduces her brother to you who finds himself incredibly awkward as he is completely out of his comfort zone, easily irritated and with little patience, especially when your son is around. Big chance that Gin is lurking around in the distance when Akutagawa tries confessing, already looking like he is glaring at you. He honestly only knows what to do in case you reject him because you don't like him which is instantly doing what he can do best. Inflicting fear upon you whilst using Rashomon. He isn't prepared for you rejecting him because you think he shouldn't bother with you and is left so perplexed with that answer that he just stares at you for a good while. Ultimately this only delays the abduction though because it'll still happen. He's promised Gin to not harm your son though.

[eirianerisdar]

...

Just had an absolutely terrifying conversation with my own mother (both of us not American) about the US elections

She, who once was a vehement critic of trump, decided to go on fox news for the last few days and consume a bunch of videos. Then she called me today, my birthday, to tell me that she thinks if she were American she'd have chosen Trump over Kamala.

"What," I said. "Could you explain?"

"I just dislike Kamala more than I hate Trump," she said. "She doesn't have any policies."

Blatant Fox News misinformation aside, the most terrifying thing that ensued in our half-hour conversation afterwards was her sheer unwillingness to accept new information because her Opinion was already set in stone.

Some quotes she said during the convo:

"I didn't say I'd vote for Trump! I'd just not vote for either!" ("That's the same as voting for him because he'd win anyway.") "I didn't say that!" "Stop telling me about the dissolving of the department of education and this new McCarthy-style surveillance Department of Efficiency thing Trump is setting up. I don't know a lot but I know my opinion." (Textbook I refuse new information because false media makes me more comfortable) "I've heard of this project 2025 thing but stop telling me about it. I don't want to know about it. Stop making me defend trump." (YOU ALREADY ARE??) "Vance speaks so well." (ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING) "Why are we talking about politics on your birthday" (YOU BROUGHT IT UP, MOTHER)

In the end I said, "Mum. If I was voting for a president my bottom line would be that I could stand in the same room as the candidate without fear of being r*ped."

She ignored that.

"Let's not argue," she laughed in the end. "Let's just watch it all unfold like a show, okay? (the phrase she used in Chinese was roughly translated to a spectacle or comedy)

"Mother," I said. "As someone living in Hong Kong right now I don't think it's a show. It's happening."

====

This is why the Democrats lost the election. Millions upon millions of people voted for Trump because they didn't want to know. They got a version of a truth that was more comfortable for them and just closed their eyes and ears to the screams of everyone around them and voted to dismantle their own democracy. Because they didn't like that Kamala was a woman, or some of her policies, or that she was a Democrat.

They believed the lies that the media fed them and ended up disliking her more than they disliked that Trump was a r*pist, a liar, and a fascist.

The election was lost because of people like my parents.

[humlase]

STRETCH! Cat under cut.

[weird-tea]

Thinking about the fact that Ingrid has two younger half brothers, one maternal and one paternal, both of which were passed off as her full brother when they were babies (Barry/Wolfie for only a few days, Vlad for years), both of which are given a name at birth that they don't use/go by (Wolfie was called Vlad for awhile, then named Barry, then called "Wolfie", while Vlad was named Adam by his mum and renamed Vladimir by his father) and both of which she is very loud about disliking and are at various points rivals displacing her as the Dracula heir but when it comes down to it she cares about them greatly and is pretty protective. And both are half vampires, Wolfie being half vampire half werewolf while Vlad is half human.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this it's just intresting. Like when they were writing the show I don't think they had the ending planned at all, or the Vlad is half human twist, so you can't really call all the things he has in common with Wolfie delibrate forshadowing but in hindsight it's really intresting. Especally the counts willingness to surplant Vlad with the new baby because at the time he beleived that his beloved Magda had finally given him a son, as apose to Adam/Vlad who wasn't Magda's and only half vampire making him actually quite a dangerous bet as an heir. And Ingrid imerging as the true Dracula heir in a lot of ways despite being a girl actually makes a lot of sense because she is actually the count and Magda's only biological child (while not legitimate since they weren't married, they are basically common law married and act as if they are a devorced couple so Ingrid is as legitimate as the count is gonna get) and also out of the three Dracula children (counting Wolfie in this group as he was claimed as a Dracula at birth and then the count technically raised him for a bit) she is the only full vampire non-hybrid.

Also the fact that Vlad and Ingrid's sibling dynamic is super important to the show and that they both end up with younger maternal half siblings that they do care about a lot but the primary sibling relationship seems to remain Vlad and Ingrid because of their expirences growing up together... it just feels important. Like they both having younger half siblings is something they have in common despite it being completely different siblings. (makes me kinda sad we never got a scene of George and Wolfie interacting and maybe teaming up to help Ingrid and Vlad somehow).

[fleshandwires]

she's so important to me (crying sobbing)

[camellcat]

WTFFF I thought thirteen would be my new girl crush love of my life heart eyes wife you-came-after-twelve-you-must-be-better-than-they're-all-saying bbygirl and then I had to sit down and watch as she told a man who (if he were not a murderer, of course) literally every regeneration before her would've LOVED and FULLY SUPPORTED that "the systems aren't the problem. how people use and exploit the system, that's the problem. people like you" </33333 !?!?

[krysmcscience]

Saw this prompt for incorrect OC quotes and couldn't resist with a bunch of my Breach goobers. Some of them would absolutely say these things word for word in canon if I gave them half the chance to, though. XD

They're in order of when they showed up in person - Qīng, Ghost, Red, Marisol, Shio, Cam, Daruk, Tawoos, and Alondra - as well as some important honorable mentions who have only been mentioned or gotten dialogue - Star, Blake, and Creation.

Star's design is a slight spoiler, I suppose, but it doesn't reveal if they're human or impostor, so it's all good. Creation's "design" also isn't a spoiler at all, because They can look however They want, LOL. As for Shio...some of you who have seen the body horror I've done of them may be wondering why they look so normal here, but I promise there are Reasons. :3c

In other news, will I be making a liar out of Shio in an upcoming Breach canon divergence? ..........Maybe~ >:3c

[minwilder]

show tempe gang crossover with the morris islanders would actually have been the best episode of bones ever. btw

[infiniteseriesofhalfways]

photos taken moments before disaster

[oncillaphoenix]

it's kind of frustrating that essentially all the advice on tumblr for functioning when your brain's not working properly assumes By Default that your brain's not working properly because of depression.

like. don't get me wrong, i'm glad there's advice for people with depression. and i'm totally capable of going, yeah ok this post isn't meant for me, moving on. but...when you have to do that with every advice post, when everyone around you is promising that everyone will feel better if they can put in the effort to do these things you know will make you feel worse, you start to wonder where the heck the posts that are meant for you are.