#its Andrew's pov too

[chaoticas-hell]

Y'all wtf? Im trying to write my fic Falling Is A Lot Like Drowning and I can't spell but-

Im just trying to say Andrew is enthusiastic about Neil am I just that horrible of a speller!??!?! Or is this some kind of message from the universe???

[kevindavidday]

aftg bonus content spoilers

after tkm the perception of andrew becomes so reliant on his personality through neil's love-tinted eyes, and there's such little about betsy that we know because neil avoids her like the plague. and then you get her pov.

you get her pov at one of the most damaging points in the series. and andrew minyard, in the middle of it all, still trying so hard to be seen as strong and unaffected, trying to look past all of it, and his mother, the truest, realest one he'll ever have, tells him: listen to me. i am proud of you.

and for a moment this indeterminably strong character is just a boy. he's just a twenty-ish year old boy looking at his mother, upset and possibly even afraid, before saying: everyone knows now, bee.

[unrequitedloveisabitch]

one of my biggest pet peeves as far as aftg art goes was, for the longest time, everyone making Neil a ginger when he is very clearly described as having auburn hair. Almost direct quote: "he'd had brown hair before, but never this specific shade of brown". Implying his hair is more brown than red. But ANYWAy. Nora corrected people recently and most new Neil art has the right color hair, which I appreciate.

now, my biggest coloring pet peeve is Andrew's eyes...

guys... they're not brown. They're hazel. Hazel is a mix of green and brown and gold. No matter what mix you make them, there should be at least a little green in there for them to be considered hazel. js

[dayurno]

[afurtivecake]

Found this languishing in my drafts file from when I first finished AFTG and felt the urge to just write: Andrew's POV of the scene after Nicky gets Neil all dolled-up for his first trip to Colombia.

cw: none

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

Fuck Nicky to hell. 

That was the first coherent thought that came to Andrew’s mind the moment he saw Neil emerge from the bathroom. 

After everything Andrew had said to Kevin, to Wymack — to fucking Bee — about how they were all so fucking wrong about Neil Josten, it was disappointing that the one person whose initial assessment hadn’t been wrong was Nicky. 

Nicky, who was as shallow as he was gay, and equally loud about both, had noticed it the moment he laid eyes on Neil. While the rest of them were distracted by Neil’s behaviour, trying to figure out what kind of broken Kevin’s skittish, new striker was, Nicky’s dumbass brain had gone straight for the first incontrovertible truth about Neil. Or rather, his dick had. 

How fucking disappointing, Andrew thought to himself as he took Neil by the back of his neck and turned those piercing blue eyes full of defiance and palpable discomfort on himself.

He fought Andrew only a bit, and only out of instinct. Like Kevin, there was fear there, cut deep into him by the hands of others, though none of that fear was for Andrew. 

Neil had been given the chance to run. Instead, he had dressed himself in the clothes Andrew had gotten for him and bared those blue eyes because Andrew had made him, all while exuding a hostility that Andrew had put there.

“Damn, Neil! You clean up good!” Nicky said, smiling the smug smile of someone who had known all along that his taste in men was impeccable and couldn’t be fooled by whatever shabbiness Neil Josten tried to hide himself under.

Andrew shouldn’t have noticed the soft fuzz of hair beneath his fingers, or the warmth of the skin pulsing with a rabbit-quick beat under his tight hold. He shouldn’t have felt anything about it without the drugs adding its peachy-tinted haze. 

Neil ignored Nicky and glared pure dislike down at Andrew. Andrew smiled. 

Good, Andrew thought. A fizzle of satisfaction tickled against his chest that he squashed down.

Good, because he hated him too. 

And he had the whole night to prove it.

[asexual-juliet]

saw the outsiders musical last night (7/20/24) and thought i would make a little post about some of my favorite parts!! brody, sky & daryl were out so i saw trevor wayne as pony, josh strobl as johnny & henry julián gendron as two-bit!

there’s a bit after pony gets jumped by the socs where darry and soda are cleaning the blood off his face and when they’re done and have gotten up johnny comes and sits next to him and takes out a rag and starts also cleaning pony’s face <3 it’s so so sweet

henry does a couple little opt-ups as two-bit in both grease got a hold and hoods turned heroes where i was like “ooh!” i adore daryl tofa so i was a little disappointed when i found out i wouldn’t be able to see him but henry was SO fantastic!! such a talented dancer and you could tell he was having so much fun with the character! such a standout for me.

was deeply impressed by how many items were successfully thrown and caught in grease got a hold like holy shit dude

the LIGHTING in great expectations has pony pointing his flashlight at darrel on “darrel was on his way up in the world” & johnny on “johnny has no kind of chance in this world” and then as the verse goes on he points it at all of the greasers standing all over the stage and the light lingers on them for the rest of the song it’s so fucking cool-looking! and during the chorus the stage starts to look like a starry sky which is a choice they bring back for the little great expectations reprise at the end of far away from tulsa. 

the moment where pony & johnny do their little cool guy walks over to cherry and marcia at the drive-in with their popped collars was so precious to me

i ADORE cherry valance and i ADORE emma’s take on her!! her little convo with pony at the drive-in was really sweet and i loved that they chose not to make the dynamic feel like a crush on ponyboy’s part it was such a nice moment of two people finding and genuinely understanding each other so deeply <3

lighting sound & everything was so next-level during the fountain scene-bob’s death like i don’t even think i can describe it it was so much and so crisp and so visceral in the absolute best way

staging for run run brother was SO cool — there’s a part at the end where they use the tires and boards from the set to make two platforms that the other actors can roll them back and forth while johnny is on one and pony on the other and they roll them away from each other and they are both reaching out so desperately towards each other its so fantastic

i also really liked the part in run run brother where dally gives pony his jacket like he just wordlessly put it on for him it’s so nice

lighting & subsequent blackout at the end of run run brother as pb&j are in the air after jumping off the “train” was ELITE

pony is holding johnny’s switchblade during death’s at my door and at the end of the song johnny reaches out to take it from him but he doesn’t pull away so he’s just holding pony’s hand and then he puts his other hand over pony’s too and they sit there like that until the lights go down <3

LOVED what they’ve done with darry’s character here!! i know people have some nitpicky things with it but he is such a fascinating character and i’m so glad that the musical theater medium was able to do so much with him that the limited pov of the novel couldn’t — brent comer plays darry so so well and my heart aches for him like fuck dude he cares about his brothers so fucking much and he’s doing his best and he’s so so tired :((( give him a break!!

jason schmidt’s voice is SO fantastic holy fuck throwing in the towel was GORGEOUS!! and the little bit at the end where soda hugs darry and it looks like he maybe kisses him on the head a little is so darling <3

the entire “do i look like julie andrews?” scene is so fucking good… genuinely made me laugh out loud. “fine, paul newman, then!” “…no shit?” is so fantastic and johnny’s little “she is pretty as hell :)” about cherry is adorable. and ofc the “goldilocks and her ugly sister” line is fucking great

the way that johnny perks up when he hears “say hey to johnny for us :)” in soda’s letter is so cute

the church fire scene is perhaps the coolest shit i have ever seen onstage

ponyboy is crying so hard after johnny dies that has to sit down on the floor of the hospital room and soda sits behind him and just holds him <3

ponyboy is like actively crying as he narrates dally’s death its so fucking heartbreaking. i liked that they drew the parallels between the train crashes in order to make dally’s death meaningful despite its departure from the book. and the detail about the train derailing when it hit him was wonderfully written. 

there is a scene where ponyboy is like inconsolable sitting on the living room floor with his head in his arms after johnny and dally die and cherry comes by the house because she has been volunteering at the hospital and no one came to pick up johnny’s clothes after he died and she thought ponyboy should have them and she tells him there’s a letter in the pocket addressed to him and after she leaves he just sits there for a while and when he finally moves he picks up johnny’s jean jacket and fucking like hugs it and buries his face in it and it’s so so so heartbreaking and soda has to come over and start reading the letter to him before johnny appears and starts singing stay gold <3

johnny starts SR at the beginning of stay gold while pony is sitting on the car at SL but he is slowly moving closer to pony as the song goes on and right before they start singing in harmony johnny sits down next to him <3 <3 <3

josh’s stay gold made me CRY!! especially him and trevor singing “i have known a love that many never know / and that love lives on no matter where i go” holy shit. their voices blend together so beautifully

overall i fucking ADORED trevor’s ponyboy!! he embodies the role so so well and has such a fourteen-year-old boy vibe when he’s onstage that i definitely did not expect from an actor in his twenties! i’ve heard that his pony is a little more emotional than brody’s & josh’s and that was a choice i really really vibed with!! and his voice was like jaw-dropping, what a talent!!

stagedoor afterwards was so so wonderful! i made drawings for the entire cast and everyone was so so nice and seemed to really like them! the ensemble & understudies especially seemed really thrilled that i had made something for them

henry in particular was so so sweet and seemed like he couldn’t believe that i had drawn him! he was like “is this me for real?” and someone (i think it was trevor) told him to look at the back where i had written his name and a little note and he was really excited about it!! he actually was like “this is awesome i have to go inside and give this to my mom right now so i don’t lose it” and his family was right inside the stagedoor and he pointed me out to them and they were so excited! he gave me a hug too it was really nice :)

trevor was also really excited and was like “this is a drawing of me for real? not brody?” and he was so happy when he turned it around and saw his name <3

i gave melody and sarahgrace copies of the same drawing of both of them and as soon as i gave it to melody she immediately looked around to find sarahgrace and show it to her (she was still inside but it was very cute) and then she told me they were going to put it on the wall in their dressing room!!

sarahgrace was like “omg you even drew my bracelet!” and was excited when i pointed out the detail i put in for the pattern on her dress!

trevor yelled across the sidewalk to tell josh to stop talking to his (trevor’s) mom as a joke lmfao

everyone except jason & kevin c came out to stagedoor and they were all so so sweet!! got photos with most of them and they all signed my copy of the book!! overall such a fucking fantastic experience! the drawings were a lot of work but it was so nice to see the looks on the cast’s faces when they saw them!!

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Two)

Summary: He shuffled back some, giving her plenty of space. Enough that she could get out of her hiding spot and run away, if she wanted to. He would follow her again if she did, a hidden, monstrous protector. But he didn't want to hide. He wanted to be next to her, to have her ask him more questions, to not be alone, anymore… Word Count: 2129 Warnings: no smut this chapter (this fic is the slowest of burns y'all, strap in for a looooong ride), vague, brief references to unspecified abuse in the OC's backstory, semi-graphic violence, POV switches denoted by line breaks Notes: This is by far the shortest chapter in this fic as it currently stands. I am thinking of doing a double update today to make it up to the few of you who read this, whoever you are XD let me know if that is something y'all would like. AO3, Masterlist

Lelia woke up slowly, sore and confused. She wasn’t in the bed she shared with Andrew, back at the base, stealing precious hours of sleep in the time that he was gone, unable to relax when he was lying next to her. No, she was somewhere else, somewhere that smelled of damp earth and—rot?

Lelia opened her eyes, trying to figure out where she was—and then screamed at the nightmarish sight that greeted her.

Milky white eyes stared at her through a dirty, broken skull mask. The zombie’s jaw hung open, bloody, grey flesh peeled away from its sharp teeth and blackened gums, leaving them exposed threateningly. Lelia tried to back away, but she was cornered, stuck in a trap of her own making.

It was then that the events of last night came back to her, and she sucked in a breath as she realized the zombie in front of her, who was now groaning quietly as it—moved away from her? What?—was the same one from last night, the one that had scared off all the others that had left her stranded in a tree. The one that had almost seemed to understand her when she’d begged for help, and then for it to go away…

***

Ghost hadn’t left his little dove’s side all night, standing over her like her very own guard dog. The comparison would’ve bothered him, when he was human—but he was more beast than man, now, so he simply thought it was fitting.

The zombies he’d heard earlier had indeed caught his dove's delicious scent, but one deep, rumbling growl from him had scared them off when they’d gotten too close for comfort. He’d checked afterwards to make sure he hadn’t woken her, but the poor thing hadn’t so much as twitched. Her utter lack of survival instincts dumbfounded him. He had no idea how she’d made it this long. But he was oddly glad for it, even if it concerned him. The end of the world hadn’t taken her softness from her, and he knew it would have been just as intriguing to him when he was alive as it was now. Ghost had never had something soft in his life, and his undeath had stripped him of everything warm, too. She was both. It made him want to curl around her like a shield, and protect her from the horrors of the world. To keep that innocent spirit from breaking. And he could, now, in a way he wouldn't have been able to do before. Because he had no other purpose, anymore. She could give him one, and if only she’d let him stay, maybe she could give him some of that warmth and softness, too…

Hours later, he heard her begin to stir. He took another step back from her little hideout, but crouched down so she could see his face, his stiff knees creaking ominously. He knew it wasn’t exactly a comforting sight, but he hoped that she might be slightly less frightened if she recognized him from last night, the zombie that had saved her and then let her go, rather than thinking he was some random infected.

When she screamed bloody murder upon seeing him, though, he reevaluated. It had been quite a while since he’d seen his own reflection—maybe he looked even worse than he thought…

Ghost automatically raised his hands as if to show he wasn’t a threat. That only made her curl in on herself, though, like she was expecting him to lunge for her. Which, well, of course she was. He was a zombie. A flesh eating monster. And she smelled so good…

He grunted as he shook the thought out of his virus-laden brain. His little dove let out a small, terrified noise, burying her sweet face in her knees, so he stopped. He wished he could tell her that he wasn’t going to hurt her, but every noise or move he made only seemed to scare her further. How was he supposed to explain that he was different from the other walking corpses? That he wanted to protect her, not eat her?

He looked down at the dirt, and he had an idea. He clumsily swiped away the leaves and other debris, then began to drag his fingertips through the clean patch of dirt. He was trying to write a single word—safe—but as he went to draw the first letter, he realized he didn't know what it was.

The thought made him go still. How did he not know how to spell such a simple word? He was no genius, but he wasn’t a bloody idiot, either.

Ghost growled, frustrated and more than a little bit afraid. He didn’t want to admit what he knew to be true—that the virus had destroyed so much of his brain that he was now illiterate. It was maddening. It was terrifying. He’d already known he was just a shell of his former self, barely clinging to his humanity, and yet…

“Wh-why aren’t you trying to e-eat me?”

Ghost looked up so fast that his broken jaw wobbled precariously, almost looking like it was about to fall off. He reached up and tried to put it back into place, to seem just a tad more human, but it simply fell open again as soon as he let go, dangling uselessly. None of that mattered, though, because she was talking to him. For the first time since he’d been infected, he was having a conversation. He would have smiled if he could have, so bright that Johnny would’ve asked him who he was and what he’d done with the real Ghost.

Who’s Johnny?

Ghost didn't know the answer to that question, but he didn’t linger on the wisps of longing and grief that came with it, nearly giddy from his dove’s question. She looked like she didn’t truly expect him to understand her, let alone answer, but the fact that she’d asked at all was enough. This was his chance. He couldn’t fuck this up. He couldn’t.

He shuffled back some, giving her plenty of space. Enough that she could get out of her hiding spot and run away, if she wanted to. He would follow her again if she did, a hidden, monstrous protector. But he didn't want to hide. He wanted to be next to her, to have her ask him more questions, to not be alone, anymore…

He settled down onto the ground fully, and then stiffly patted the spot next to him, inviting her to come sit. He didn't expect her to, even if he hoped she would—he just wanted to show her that he wasn’t a mindless animal, nor a threat. He wished he had food to give her, or even just a blanket. Anything to prove that he came in peace, and that he was useful to have around.

***

“You… you want me to sit with you?”

Lelia could hardly believe the words coming from her mouth, or the sight in front of her. A zombie, staring at her rather than eating her, inviting her to come sit next to it. A zombie that bobbed its head at her question and let out a soft groan, like it was trying to say why yes, yes I do.

Lelia was officially insane.

“Are you going to eat me?”

She was crazy, and she was going even crazier for entertaining the notion that a walking corpse could understand her, could communicate with her. All the survivors on the base had said the infected ceased to be human the second they turned. The second they were bitten, in some of the more ruthless soldiers’ opinions.

She shivered at the memory. She didn't like soldiers. She didn’t trust them, not anymore. Not after what they’d done to her. And as she really looked at the zombie, she realized something terrible—he was one of them. Or he had been. It was all so confusing…

The zombie shook its head stiffly, broken, hanging jaw clacking as it jerked back and forth at the movement. It was incredibly disturbing. She looked away.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed in a whisper after a long moment, still not looking at the undead soldier. She didn't know why she was still talking to it. She should stop. She shouldn’t play into whatever delusion this was. But she couldn’t seem to control herself. “I don’t know how to survive out here. But I won’t go back. I won’t.”

The zombie made what could have been considered a questioning noise, if Lelia was insane. She turned to glare at its terrifying, rotting face and its black, bloody, ragged tactical gear.

“The military base,” she answered, like it had actually asked. Her narrowed eyes were haunted as she stared at it angrily, tears threatening to fall. “I know what evils you soldiers are capable of. And I won’t suffer them, not anymore. I’d rather be torn apart.”

The zombie groaned quietly, lowering its head, almost as if it was ashamed. Of what, she didn't know. Being military? Or its fellow soldiers’ cruelty? No. Lelia was just projecting. It was probably a groan of hunger.

She swallowed nervously at the thought, shifting like she was going to try and make a run for it, because she was. But the zombie’s gaze darted back up, and she froze. But when it didn’t move, she slowly began crawling out of her little tree hollow again, until she was standing over it’s crouched form, staring down into empty white eyes. Gathering her scraps of bravery, she turned her back on it and began walking away from it as quickly as she could, still too sore and tired to run like she wanted to.

She looked over her shoulder so many times during that first hour, she lost count. The zombie had followed her once already—what was to say he wouldn’t do it again?

That was, if it was even real. She had begun to convince herself it wasn’t, at least not this second time. It had to have been real last night, there was no other explanation as to how she was still alive. But today? There was just no way. It had seemed far too intelligent to be real, today. She’d practically had a conversation with it!

She shook her head, letting out a huff of disbelieving laughter. No. Last night had been an anomaly, a fluke, some sort of strange zombie infighting, maybe some territorial hierarchical dominance ritual…

Lelia was definitely losing it.

Finally, she felt confident enough that no zombie soldier, figment of her imagination or not, was following her, and she stopped bothering to check. She was on a mission to find… something. Something to eat, something to drink, somewhere safe and warm to rest. Just… something. Anything to help her live another day.

After several more hours, in which Lelia had truly begun to flag, fate took pity on her, and brought her to a run down cabin in the middle of the woods. She quickened her steps, stumbling through the door, desperate to get out of the cold.

She barely had a second to notice the infected waiting inside before it was upon her.

Lelia screamed, trying to get away, but the woman’s stumbling corpse held on tight, jaws snapping in her face. Lelia barely managed to keep it from biting her, using all her strength to hold it back. But her arms were already trembling, and with every second, the gnashing teeth were getting closer.

This is it, she thought, terrified. This is how I die.

Suddenly, the zombie was ripped off of her, and Lelia fell to the ground, watching with wide eyes as her zombie—the one she’d seen last night and hallucinated this morning—slammed the other against the wall, over and over again until it finally stopped moving. A dark patch of black blood stained the wood where its head had been after the undead soldier dropped it, and Lelia stared at it, dazed and confused.

Suddenly, she felt gloved hands on her body, quickly running up and down her limbs. She shrieked, kicking out as she tried to scramble away. Her foot connected with something hard, but it didn’t move. It just let out a familiar grunt and released her.

Lelia froze, her panic clearing enough to register her zombie standing over her, taking a step back as it let out a gurgling noise. It had touched her. It had killed the undead that was trying to eat her, and it had touched her. She’d felt it.

It wasn’t a hallucination. “You’re real,” she breathed, feeling dizzy at the realization. “You’re real, and you’re not eating me, and you’re— you’re protecting me. How? Why?”

[emkayewrites]

Lukola fanfiction from Luke's POV- Luke and Nicola are filming the carriage scene but both of them secretly like each other - and both of them are unavailable.

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

5th November 2022 – London (UK)

It was a surreal experience to be on a soundstage, even though he had been on dozens of them by this point in his career.

The Bridgerton production did soundstages like nowhere else.  Everything was huge, and everything was opulent.  He stood in front of a dark blue, four-wheeled carriage.  It was elegant with an exterior adorned with intricate gold-leaf patterns and lacquered wood that contrasted sharply with its’ gleaming brass fittings.  It stood looking rather out of place in front of a giant green screen, in the middle of the chasmic space that was Soundstage 12. 

He was dressed in the finest formalwear that the Regency Period had to offer, and he was covered in what he approximated to be about twelve layers of make-up and two entire cans of hairspray. 

He usually felt a mixture of nerves and excitement before filming a scene as crucial as the one they were about to film.  Today, he was just plain nervous.

He was hardly able to take note of the other people on the soundstage.  At one far end, there were several chairs and tables surrounded by a small group of the hair and make-up team.  At another end, there were a handful of crew members working with cables, rigging and lighting fixtures.  Usually, he would be approaching them all, making small talk, trying to ease his own racing mind but he felt too unsettled to make conversation.

He knew that the way he was feeling was not just about the nature of the scene they were about to film.  It was about her.  She stood several feet away from him with Erika and John adding touches to her make-up and clothes.  She was resplendent in a shimmering baby blue gown that was cinched in a way that flattered both her waist and her ample breasts. 

Breasts he would have to touch again. 

All he wanted to do was to touch her again.

He felt nauseous.

At the same time, he knew that was the very last thing he should do.

He sensed there was something different in her since that night in his trailer too.  She appeared to keep more of a distance, the bantering dialogue they usually had was reduced to a few quips.  He could not be sure, but he felt some sort of frustration emanating from her.  As if she wanted to say something but could not.  He could also be imagining it. He did a lot of that recently.  Imagining conversations with her.  Imagining being with her.  He then got angry at himself.  Then he felt the inevitable anxiety that always came when he realised that he was having strong feelings for the woman he would now have to act like he was having strong feelings for. 

His fathers’ advice echoed in his mind: Keep the work as work, and don’t neglect your real life.  How could he do that when the real life was becoming his work, and the work was becoming his real life? 

Six burly-looking men of various ages approached the carriage.  Andrew trailed behind them, a headset wrapped around his neck and clipboard in hand.  Andrew, their director, was a slight man in his earlier forties with a refined yet approachable air about him.  He gestured for both Luke and Nicola to come towards him.

“Guys, guys… you both look incredible.” Andrew’s eyes beamed with enthusiasm. “Wow!”

In that moment, Luke felt thankful that it was Andrew who was going to be taking them through these scenes.  There was nothing like having a director that not only led you through your scenes, but also lifted you up and empowered you throughout the process. 

“Right, so the way we’ll do this is – the camera will be in the carriage with you guys, we’ll be back over here with the monitors to give that added illusion of intimacy in there.” Andrew explained, pointing to the monitor setup a few feet away.

“And these lovely men…” Andrew motioned to the guys standing by the carriage. “They will be our carriage hydraulics!  We can’t have the carriage attached to real horses for a scene like this, so this was Netflix’s next best offer.”

“Well, we’ll try not to make it too long of a shoot day for you guys.” Luke found himself saying with a nervous chuckle. 

“Right, so we’ll get you guys up into position…” Andrew nodded towards the carriage. 

Luke felt the instinct to go to Nicola, to take her by the hand and guide her up onto the carriage, but one of the carriage men beat him to it.

They stepped into the luxurious interior and seated themselves opposite one another as the script requested.  Andrew looked in through the window at them.

“So, we’ll be on the monitors and the camera will follow you from there…” He motioned to the other side of the carriage, where a camera was positioned, looking in at them through the window.

Luke watched Nicola orient herself, taking note of the cues Andrew was outlining.  He was taken aback by how intimate it all felt now that he was inside the carriage.  It was just going to be them and one camera.  

“That looking good to you, Luke?” Andrew interrupted his thoughts.  Luke was not sure he had taken everything in, but he felt compelled to nod. 

“Alright, so we’ve got this mixture of anger and hurt – but there is a tension running underneath it all.”  Andrew’s eyes lit up again. “It’s the tension of longing.  And that tension finally breaks to give us – the carriage scene!”

“Let’s do this!” Nicola high-fived Andrew, matching his excitement.

He could not ignore how she lit up when she smiled.  He thought about how it did not help that she was made up to resemble an actual Goddess on earth.

“Alright, great! On my cue, guys.” Andrew pulled the headset over his head and moved away from them.  They heard his echoing footsteps recede as the entire soundstage became eerily silent.  The lighting around them dimmed.  Suddenly, the carriage started to move in an undulating way. 

Luke’s eyes met Nicola’s and for a second, they both stifled a giggle at the ridiculousness of it all. 

They heard Andrew’s shout: “ACTION!”

Then their masks came down.

Nicola vanished, and the misty-eyed Penelope sat before him, a look of anger etched on her face.

He fixed her with a stoic look as he spoke: “You cannot marry that man. He will leave you, and he is too particular.”

He watched her watching him, her face getting angrier.

“And he is – he is just not right for you, Pen.” He continued, part-insisting, part-pleading.

She shook her head furiously at him. “He did not propose.”

He stared at her, stunned. 

“In fact, he rejected me because of you.” She practically spat the words out.  “Because the scene you caused led him to believe you have feelings for me.  An idea so preposterous, I do not know what to do besides laugh.”

There were times when she was acting that he found himself lost in what she was doing.  The way she conveyed emotions with so much power and grace.  He watched her with awe.

She continued, through gritted teeth: “Now, will you please leave me alone and let us ride home in silence?”

His heart was racing and there were tears in his eyes as he leaned forward.

“I cannot.” His tone was defiant.

“Please!” She snapped at him, near tears herself.

“I cannot!” He found himself snapping back, a hot, angry tear rolling down his cheek.  He could no longer tell if they were acting tears, or tears of real frustration. 

“Because…” He swallowed, as if mustering up his courage. “What if I did have feelings for you?”

He felt the nausea again. He wanted to remind himself that this was acting, that he should not be having such a visceral reaction to those words but at the same time, he knew it was helping his performance. 

“What?” She blinked at him, still frowning.

He moved so that he was closer to her and then knelt before her.  He was aware he was shaking.  His breath was laboured.

“I have spent so long trying to feel less, trying to be the kind of man society expects me to be.”  He reached forward for her hands, his nerves increasing as he was aware she was surely able to feel the sweat on his palms and feel how much he was shaking.  He found himself squeezing her hands tightly, as if to anchor himself.

“And for a moment, I thought I had succeeded.” He continued. “But these past few weeks have been full of confounding feelings.”

Where did Colin end and he begin?  He thought to himself.  He felt himself getting choked up.  He felt the weeks of frustration and conflicting emotions rising inside him. 

“Feelings like a total inability to stop thinking about you. About that kiss.”

She reacted to his words with a small gasp.

“Feelings like dreaming of you when I’m asleep.  And in fact, preferring sleep because that is where I might find you.  A feeling that is like torture.”

Speaking these words felt terrifying, electrifying and cathartic all at once. Another tear rolled down his cheek.

“One which I cannot… do not… and will not give up.” He spoke emphatically.

“Please. Do not say things you do not mean.” She shook her head at him, disbelieving.

“But I do mean it.  It is everything I have wanted to say to you… for weeks.”

An expression of confusion and pain appeared on her face.

“But… Colin, we are friends.”

Even though the rejection was merely playacting, it still stung.

“Yes, but we…” He spoke with hurt in his voice.  He wanted to say more but swallowed back his words and recomposed himself. He moved back to his seat. “Forgive me. I do not know what I was thinking.”

“But I’d very much like to be more than friends.” 

He stared at her with a mixture of amazement and desire.

“So much more.” She added, a look of longing in her eyes.

He moved closer to her, and for a moment, their faces met, and they took each other in, both breathing heavily.  All he wanted to do was to kiss her, but he was also terrified of what that would do to him.  Then, their mouths met in a passionate kiss.

He found his mind and body travel back… back to the inside of his trailer… back with his hands all over her.  Her mouth and body responded to his with a willingness and desire equal to his own.

He felt the stickiness of her lipstick smearing around the corners of his mouth, her hands in his hair – neither of them having any thought for their hair or make-up.

And then suddenly, he heard it as she did because they found themselves springing away from one another at the same time.

“CUUUUUUUUUUUT!”

A bright light exploded in their faces as the spotlight above them came back to life.  Andrew and Liam, the cinematographer, were stood by the window next to the camera.  Andrew surveyed their messy faces and hair with wide eyes.

“Woah, you guys were really into that.”

Luke instinctively wiped at his lips with the back of his hand as Nicola smoothed out the front of her dress.

“We’ve been yelling cut for over a minute while you did the kiss – we even timed it!” He laughed.

“Don’t say we don’t give you one hundred and ten percent.” Nicola joked.  Despite her humour, Luke sensed that she seemed unsettled.

“That’s for sure!” Andrew agreed. “Alright, let’s get hair and make-up in here and then we can get the next angle.”

Andrew and Liam moved away from the carriage.  Luke could hear the rest of the crew outside the carriage also dispersing as the normal noises of set life resumed. 

He watched Nicola as she touched gently at her own hair, assessing it for damage.

“You look beautiful.” He found himself saying out loud.

She stared him with a look he did not recognise.  She did not reply.

Quick little authors note: I watched the many interviews Nicola and Luke gave about the carriage scene, about how intense it was, and about how in one instance, they were so caught up filming that they did not hear ‘cut’ being called by the director. It inspired me to write a short story where Nicola and Luke really like each other, but don't know how the other feels, and have to hide it on set. In my mind, that was the only logical reason that this scene was so intense for them. It couldn’t possibly be that they are just such great actors ;) Anyway, that short chapter became the fanfiction I'm STILL writing about these two! So I hope you enjoyed what was actually the very first chapter of this story that I ever wrote -I built the rest of the story around it!

[audioroleplayconfessions]

The zsakuva community is one of the most comfortable spaces/fandoms i have ever been part of but some of the fans can get too much with the parasocialism towards saku like i remember seeing comments of people calling him weird names like “good boy” like excuse me??? I mean its ok if you say that towards one of the characters he created like kayson for example but you are talking to a grown man and the post you commented on isnt even relevant to that

In addition to that even though the community is one of the most unproblematic there is just this one person who has an acc on twitter and tumblr who just makes me uncomfortable with the way they mischaracterize the sakuverse characters like andrew for example they make him seem like he is this dense,cold person who is horny all the time for their self insert oc which they tend to write fanfics about which is fine because its creative work but the way they write him and the other characters of saku is just cringe in a way or even childish and theres even this one time where they created a short pov where andrew said all kinds of slangs incorrectly but that turned out to be AAVE then they got called out for it in the comments but instead of apologizing they instead deleted the post like nothing happened and as a POC that really did not sit well with me i have them blocked for a while now but from what i know theyre not that active anymore on tumblr

.

[queenbeyondthewall]

Oh who am I kidding I think a lot about a lot of things because I am a massive nerd. HOWEVER two things I definitely think too much about are asoiaf and my favourite songwriter Andrew Hozier-Byrne, so what better subject for my inaugural post? The album Hozier, with all its themes of identity, toxic relationships, disillusionment, love, sex, and substance abuse, was unintentionally written for the Lannister siblings. Here's why.

Ladies first, so let me begin with our disastrous girl Cersei and the absolute banger that is Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene. This one starts off strong:

I watch the work of my kin, bold and boyful

Cersei’s one half of the famous incest ship from the famous incest series, of course, so we’re talking of her kin. Bold and boyful sounds to me how Cersei would describe Jaime in his youth - the picture of Westerosi masculinity and everything she could never be on account of her sex.

Toying somewhere between love and abuse

How better to describe Jaime and Cersei’s dynamic? Twisted, toxic, narcissistic, and yet the two definitely see their feelings for each other as love.

Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion

To me, this lyric can be generally applied to all three of the Lannister siblings and their relationship with their father. Tywin has disowned them all in some manner - Cersei for being a woman, Tyrion for being a dwarf, and Jaime for his refusal to forsake his position as a Kingsguard. Cersei, however, is the only one of the three who has not been completely disillusioned of her devotion to the man - a primary motivation throughout feast is an aspiration to live up to him and prove herself as his heir. 

With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene

The whole of the chorus couldn’t be more Cersei - Jaime’s continually calling her his “sweet sister,” she has a famously mean mind and sharp tongue, and of course that characteristically Lannister blonde hair and beauty. “Small death and the codeine scene” is Hozier-speak for sex and substance abuse, which are both things that Cersei defines herself and her relationships by. I can’t help but think of the Sansa POV Blackwater chapters, where Cersei is getting drunk and “teaching” her a horrifying lesson about the power of female sexuality.

All fetor and fertile, it’s bloody and raw but I swear it is sweet

Fetor like the rot that Cersei inherits from Tywin’s legacy and that permeates his corpse at the funeral, and fertile like the one value she has as a queen in Westeros. Her blazing rise to power after Tywin’s death is built on cruelty and avarice - it’s also what Cersei craves beyond anything else.

I’ll wander the concrete  Wonder if better now, having survived

Coming down from her blaze of glory, of course, is the horror of her walk of shame. Cersei intended to get through it on pride alone, but where we left her POV in feast was with her horrible realisation of the intense vulnerability of her exposure to the public. She survived it, however, and with the hints in the Kevan epilogue of her scheming at full force once again… damn it George we need to see winds!

[odetojupiter]

okay...... can we talk this as andrew to aaron

"You are still a perfect reminder of what all these scars on my arms are for / If I can hold myself together"

"When the mouth of infinity buries its teeth in me, I'll smile through the agony for you / And I know you still bear the weight of your own existence, and you'll never bear the weight of two"

LIKE. DO YOU HEAR ME

I HEAR U LOUD AND CLEAR

aaron and andrew avoiding addressing the flaws in their relationship that they’re both aware of, refusing to have a meaningful conversation because that would drag up the history they’re trying to bury. but they’re both drowning in it because the consequence of that is a relationship that is suffocating

andrew self-destructing to keep aaron away from drake. i guess you could also consider aaron’s grief for his mother a consequence of his relationship with andrew so in that sense, he also suffered to maintain that relationship, even though of course that’s a very complicated idea as tilda was also causing him to suffer.

and they live in that suffocation just waiting for the attention of the other, both unable to talk to each other due to their history and because they are ‘choking’.

again, both of them suffering through their relationship due to their desperation to have any relationship at all with the other. ‘you’ll never bear the weight of too’ - reference to aaron’s grief for tilda maybe? and if that’s how we take that line, then it’s from andrew’s pov, so u really see how he viewed aaron’s grief for tilda as a betrayal of sorts.

obviously the songs romantic context is unavoidable here but if we forget the ‘be together’ and consider it as ‘be “real” brothers’ then… i think this lines pretty obvious in its meaning :(

[figuringthengsout]

I did read the new POVs! My question stands.

Oh, okay!

Here's the original ask for context: "What do you mean 'Aaron figuring out before Dobson that Andrew needed approval.' ?"

By approval I obviously mean approval of Andrew's sexuality. In the new extra content you can read the part where Aaron realized that Andrew never talked about Neil to Bee or, better, about Neil in the context of his relationship with him. Because of Andrew's past we know that this decision could come from different reasons, but what Aaron seems to think - and what the context then seems to confirm - is that Andrew never talked about his relationship with Neil with Bee because he was afraid of losing her (this reminds me of him and Cass, but this is another discussion). Andrew was afraid that by admitting his orientation Bee would see him under another light and distance herself from him. And the same fear applied for Aaron (which is really sad if you consider that Nicky had been a stable presence in both of their lives for years by that time).

Anyways, the point is that it took just a few minutes for Aaron to understand what the hold up with Andrew was, whereas Bee seemed to still be in the dark.

Now, you could argue that Bee might have already sensed something and that she decided to not bring it up for whatever reason, but why would she when she knew how much Andrew craved her (and his family's) approval? Why not try to reassure him beforehand? Especially considering his past? Wouldn't that be cruel?

And if she hadn't known how to bring it up with Andrew, why wouldn't she try with Aaron first (despite the difficulties and his refusal to talk)? The same way she did now by testing the waters with Nicky's situation? Why wouldn't she help Andrew see that there was no need to be this scared?

I honestly think that Aaron was the first one to really see through Andrew and to make sure he knew he was not only accepted, but also respected. Aaron seems to be the only one able to properly see how scared Andrew is, always.

And I think that's because Aaron sees himself in Andrew and vice versa. They're so alike and they both want the best for each other, but that's a scary thing to want when the world has always dealt you bad hands. Because Aaron in its fundaments craves the same things as Andrew: for Andrew to accept his love for Katelyn and respect his decision to stay with her, despite the challenges that might arise or the risk that she would take advantage of him; and he knows that's asking for too much. He knows that they're flying too close to the sun, but they've been playing safely for so long and they're so tired that it's worth taking the risk of crashing. Especially now that they're sure they'll always have each other. Now that there's no more need of a deal. Now that they're just brothers.

[kevindavidday]

okay 3 idiots aftg au time:

jean/andrew/neil dynamic is like the 3 idiots.

jean is the scared mf always praying who tries to kill himself but eventually ends up living up to his potential. (bonus points for the younger sister he's worried about)

andrew's the one who's pursuing something he doesn't want to be pursuing because he had to join the same college as his brother. he's actually really good at photography.

and neil josten is the guy with the two names and dual personalities whose actually a genius that changes their lives and then runs away. (this fits a bit tooooo well guys)

virus is definitely tetsuji and pia is kevin, obviously

silencer is riko but i want riko to also be the guy kevin almost marries but runs away from on his wedding day because jean and andrew show up like we're on a wild goose chase for neil, yk, the guy you actually love? and kevin's like okay fuck it and leaves with them. (fuck i wanna write that so bad.)

and then they do find neil and the whole thing is narrated from andrew's pov going: neil was the best thing that happened to me then he disappeared and now i'm looking for him and i will find him, so help me god, and then i will smack him across the face. and then i'll kiss him. except it's not just him thinking this its kevin too.

i have too many wips but it had to be said eeee

[writtenicarus]

Why AFTG sucks but doesn't suck

Okay so I swear that will make more sense in a minute. The main point I'm trying to tackle here is why, despite its notable flaws, AFTG "sucks" to other readers but not to its fandom. Trigger warnings for basically every triggering topic in AFTG.

You may realise the majority of people who dislike AFTG have little to no understanding of the characters flaws - and that's because they cannot relate to the characters. They may criticise by saying Andrew is abusive or Nicky is too sexual. But the majority of fans disagree, and here's why. They can relate. Andrew is a victim of rape, child rape, and that is VERY recognised in the story and in his character and whilst many who are unfamiliar with this variation of trauma see his actions as abusive, fans of the series and in some cases victims of it themselves such as myself, see his behaviour as liberation. We see it as him taking back control.

Furthermore, with Nicky, people see his behaviour as creepy. I understand some fans POV is the same but to understand my point of view of the Nicky/Neil I did do an extensive explanation in the past but I want to delve deeper in the future, it's up on my Instagram around July 2022 if you want to read it. Moving on, I do not see it as creepy. His confidence in his sexuality and confidence in himself and his kindness I see as an act of freedom. Nicky is finally away from his abusive household where he was shunned and traumatized for who he was (remember the fact he went to conversion "therapy"??) and now he doesn't have to experience that. He's free. It's so beautiful to see and he is my favourite character. Keeping in mind, he gave up said freedom with Eric to come back and look after the twins, one of which he had never met or heard of.

There are a lot of other examples I could use, but the point is, the majority of people who claim AFTG is simply unrealistic thankfully haven't experienced the trauma many of the fans have who are able to relate to each character. And that's why AFTG will never suck. It can't suck - it's freeing and liberating.

Another thing I'd like to note is why I believe despite MANY flaws Nora is an incredibly intelligent author. So many under-represented groups were heard and targeted in AFTG and one of the reasons why AFTG is so "underground" or disliked away from the fact it's old and self-published is the fact it has such a minute target audience. And considering all things that happen in the book, some may question my phrasing of that so let me explain.

It's not the variations of trauma or events that are minute but the fact and extent of the trauma the characters experience and their reactions to it. All of the foxes are flawed - that's the point. And none of their responses to their trauma are healthy - that's the point.

The foxes can be seen as a representation of the minority of people who respond to their trauma in negative ways and the whole point of the book is to give these people second chances. And that's again why so many feel seen.

To summarize, I just personally believe that without a very self-aware or understanding mindset a lot of the people who cannot relate to either of the foxes simply just won't and did not like this book and even call it problematic. I'm not saying these people are narrow-minded (they are) but if we look at the large minority of readers who disliked the books that's the case and those who could relate but still label it as problematic probably could not understand why the foxes responded the way they did, and that's okay.

[apexpredatorcom]

ok this is my wannabe analysis and desperate attempt to connect two pieces of media case in question: girl, so confusing - by charli xcx & matt and andrew - chronicle 2012

────୨ৎ── ──୨ৎ── ──୨ৎ────

“Yeah, I don't know if you like me, sometimes I think you might hate me. Sometimes I think I might hate you, maybe you just wanna be me.”

in matts pov, andrew is not an easy guy to talk to. probably hard to read as well. when he says as much andrew cuts him off as he begins to explain his perspective, calls him an asshole, which matt just goes “see? ur hostile, dude”. sometimes, before the movie, matt thinks andrew hates him. maybe he does, in these fleeting moments where matt does nothing to help him. but its not matts job to help his cousin, whether its from his dad or from his bullies at school. matt hates andrew too, in similar fleeting moments where he wishes andrew wasnt such a burden.

“We talk about making music but I don't know if it's honest. Can't tell if you wanna see me falling over and failing and you can't tell what you're feeling. I think I know how you feel.”

maybe they would talk about doing stuff together, normal cousin stuff. but neither of them think its going to happen. not since high school started anyways. maybe andrew just wants to be matt, maybe hes just jealous of everything matt is that he himself isnt. maybe this is jealousy thing is something matt cooked up in his head to justify andrews behavior, squished between philosophy quotes and memories of how casey looked in the hallway that day.

“You're all about writing poems but I'm about throwing parties. Think you should come to my party and put your hands up.”

matts all about being cool, being that smart cool guy who quotes jung at raves. he invites andrew to the party, probably out of some quilty obligation rather than an actual interest, like seeing a kicked puppy and just *having* to bring it home with you. he ditches andrew as soon as they get there, despite being the one to bring him there, embarrassed to be seen around andrew and the camera. andrew comes to the party, he “puts his hands up”, err, he would if his hands werent holding his camera, i suppose.

“I think we're totally different but opposites do attract. Maybe we're so meant to be. Just you and me. 'Cause people say we're alike, they say we've got the same hair.”

but, theyre friends. maybe they always were, as strained as their relationship seemed at the beginning, or maybe the shared powers brought them closer. theyre literally meant to be, cousins who share the same newfound powers. they are alike, they got the same hair and same lack of social skills, they got the same dna after all! after … the storm incident … it really is just andrew and matt.

“One day we might make some music, the internet would go crazy. But you might still wanna see me falling over and failing. At least we're closer to being on the same page.”

one day they might have come together to help people, like matt did in the script, the world would go crazy over two superheroes. but andrew doesnt want that, hes fallen too far into the ‘apex predator’ mindset. he wants to see the weak, matt, falling and failing. at least theyre both closer now, powers bringing them closer than they were in the beginning of the movie. or, alternatively, andrew literally cannot disagree with matt anymore. not after the spear. theyre on the same page because andrew doesnt have a choice loll

i adore this movie and i try to make every song fit it, i have a whole playlist of lyric edits that i think i can reasonably squish into chronicle media..

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Five)

Summary: He couldn’t stop thinking about eating her, of tasting her sweet, soft flesh and hot blood. He wanted to devour her, but not in the way he usually did his meals. He would consume her slowly, sniff and lick every inch of her skin before gently biting down. He’d start with her wrists, feel her pulse point flutter under his tongue before severing the artery so it sprayed her honeyed blood into his mouth. He’d keep her alive for as long as possible, not wanting to be parted from her. Perhaps he wouldn’t even have to kill her. Maybe he could satisfy himself with just a piece of her, just his pound of flesh… Word Count: 2792 Warnings: still no smut Notes: triple asterisk (***) denotes a POV change as usual, dash asterisk dash (-*-) is a time skip but not a POV change AO3, Masterlist

Ghost and his dove left the cabin the next day, early in the morning. It took some convincing on his part, in the form of pointed groans and growls, to get Lelia to step foot outside. But they were too close to the base she came from, and the cabin had no food left. They had to keep moving, to find somewhere better.

Ghost led her to the stream he’d bathed in yesterday, and they followed it several miles south. Lelia became jumpy the second they left, but when they got to the stream, she paled dramatically and wouldn’t get within three metres of it. He found it odd, but it's not like he could have asked even if he wanted to. She didn’t complain, but he could tell how much she wanted to turn around and go back to the cabin, where there was a relatively warm bed waiting for her. He couldn’t blame her—even with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her ballet flats swapped out for a proper pair of boots they’d found in the closet, she was still shivering from the chilly autumn wind. Winter was just around the corner, and its threatening presence loomed overhead like a knife, in the cloudiness of the skies and the way her breath misted in front of her face with every puff of air.

Eventually, the stream came to an end, and Ghost collected some water in the bucket before they continued. The trees were beginning to thin out, and he hoped that meant they were nearing some sort of town. Anywhere that he could find a little more food for his dove.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The day ended before the woods did, and they were forced to stop when Lelia nearly collapsed from exhaustion. He felt guilty when he noticed just how ragged she looked—all she’d had to eat in the last few days was a can of beans, and she’d been walking nonstop since dawn. It was difficult for him to remember just how fragile humans were, especially when he’d never been a particularly delicate man himself, even when he was alive. But his dove wasn’t a trained, battle hardened operative—she was just a normal young girl, and he needed to treat her as such.

He groaned a quiet apology as he helped her set up a fire, once again handing her the matchbook to light it. She only broke one this time, which was quite the improvement. He added it to the flames as extra tinder.

“Do you sleep?” She asked him as the water boiled. He jerked his head to the left, then the right. “That must be nice. I wish I didn’t have to. Sleeping is more terrifying than being awake, most of the time.”

He’d heard her tossing and turning last night, had smelt her salty tears as she’d whimpered and begged someone named Andrew for mercy. Mercy it had sounded like she’d never gotten. He had wanted to comfort her, but he’d been certain his presence would have just made things worse. So he’d stayed outside her door and done the only thing he could to help her. Stood guard and kept her safe.

He did the same tonight. When the exhaustion finally got the better of her, despite the valiant fight she put up, he watched over her. But this time, when the nightmares came for her, there was no door separating them and hiding the terrified expression on her tear-stained face. So he moved closer, reaching out and clumsily twirling a lock of her hair around his stiff, cold fingers. He couldn’t feel the softness, but he could imagine it. Smooth like silk. Rare and desirable and beautiful, just like her. But with a hidden strength, too.

Soon enough, his dove settled down. He’d have liked to say he had something to do with it, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. Nonetheless, it took him quite a long while to finally let go of her loose, auburn curls and get back to his feet, returning to his self appointed role of her undead protector.

-*-

It took two more days to find a town.

Lelia could barely hold herself upright by the time they did, and Ghost would have offered to carry her—except that his instincts to feed were going haywire, having been denied too long, and every waft of her unique perfume made his mouth water. He’d given up on trying to wipe away his drool. It was no use. He couldn’t stop thinking about eating her, of tasting her sweet, soft flesh and hot blood. He wanted to devour her, but not in the way he usually did his meals. He would consume her slowly, sniff and lick every inch of her skin before gently biting down. He’d start with her wrists, feel her pulse point flutter under his tongue before severing the artery so it sprayed her honeyed blood in his mouth. He’d keep her alive for as long as possible, not wanting to be parted from her. Perhaps he wouldn’t even have to kill her. Maybe he could satisfy himself with just a piece of her, just his pound of flesh…

With a ferocious growl, Ghost suppressed the rising urge once again. He hurried Lelia into the first house they saw after clearing it, then put her in a room with a lock. He mimed the locking motion, then held out his hand, telling her to stay put. He pointed to himself, and then pointed back towards the front door, and prayed she would understand.

“You’re leaving?” She asked, sounding like she was on the edge of panic, even as she laid down on the bed, unable to stand any longer. “Where are you going? Are you— are you coming back?”

Ghost groaned pitifully, banging on the door. His dove jumped, and he nodded at her questions, but then pointed at the lock again, gesturing her over. Wide-eyed, she dragged herself out of bed, and he took several steps back as she approached. She looked at him in confusion, but he just grabbed the door and slammed it closed between them. He rattled the knob until she got the hint and locked it. This time, the groan he let out was one of approval and relief.

He fled the house and Lelia’s intoxicating scent quickly after that, retreating back into the woods to hunt. He was so hungry, so overwhelmed by the virus’s instincts, that he didn’t think he could stop himself from eating a human if he came across them. He hoped desperately that he didn’t, even though they tasted far better than the animals he usually fed on.

He was drooling at the thought, again. Fresh human… not just the scraps left by other zombies, like Lelia would have been had he not intervened. He imagined finding her torn apart, soft hair matted with blood, big brown eyes full of terror, frail limbs ripped off, empty stomach clawed open. It was horrid. It was what he would do to her if he went this long without feeding again.

He vowed then and there to never, ever let that happen.

***

Lelia startled at the knock on the door, slowly standing up from where she sat on the edge of the bed and crossing over to it.

“Simon?” She asked anxiously. “Is that you?”

A familiar sounding groan answered her, and she almost threw the door open in relief before she thought better of it. What if it was another zombie? She’d be dead, and Simon would come back to find her bloody, lifeless corpse. Possibly walking around. No, better safe than sorry.

“Knock three times, pause, and then knock twice more if it’s you,” she said. A few seconds passed, and then three slow knocks—bangs, really, Simon seemed to have trouble with his fine motor skills and so knocking was beyond him—a pause, and then two more bangs. Lelia waited a few more seconds to make sure nothing else was coming, and then she opened the door, letting out a sigh of relief as Simon’s milky eyes met hers—only to recoil in horror when she saw the fresh, red blood on his gear and around his mouth. There were bits of something Lelia was scared to know the name of stuck in his teeth, and instinctively, she took a step back. Simon did as well, giving her space and ducking his head. He almost looked… hurt? Or maybe ashamed… it was difficult to tell. She wasn't even really sure what the extent of his emotions were—did he feel the same way he could when he was alive? Or was it dulled? He was clearly capable of some feelings, otherwise there would be no reason for him to follow her around, protecting her. She still didn't understand why he did. Her best guess was pity, or maybe loneliness. Whatever it was, it kept her alive, and she was grateful.

“Did you… did you kill something?” She asked after a moment, swallowing nervously. Simon didn’t move or make a sound for a long moment, before he jerked his head up and down in a nod. His broken, bloody jaw quivered, teeth clacking against one another. Drool leaked out of his mouth, and Lelia had to fight the urge to wipe it away. It always seemed to bother Simon when he drooled, and once again, she wondered at his capacity to feel things like embarrassment or self-disgust. But she pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the question she desperately didn't want to ask but knew she had to. “Was it— human?”

Simon quickly shook his head, so quick the string of bloody drool flew off his face and landed on her jacket. Simon froze, and any doubt she had that he felt things as deeply as a human did disappeared at the utterly mortified sound he let out. It was between a groan and a gurgle, and he automatically reached for her as if to wipe it off, before realizing his gloves were covered in blood, too. His hands hovered over her chest as she blinked at the new stain on her shirt, too shocked to say anything. Just as she came to her senses and was about to assure Simon that it was alright—it was gross, yes, but so was her period, and that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle—he turned around with surprising agility for someone whose muscles were in a permanent state of rigor mortis, and fled down the stairs.

***

He’d spit on her.

He’d showed up at her door looking like a murder scene, and then he’d spit on her like the snarling, rabid animal that he was.

He had never been so horrified in his undead life. He couldn't remember if that was the case for his actual life, but he’d bet on it if Johnny were here.

“Was pretty funny, mate, ye got tae admit.”

Ghost growled at the very Scottish sounding voice in his head. Whoever this Johnny was, he was a right arse.

He went straight into the downstairs toilet, turning on the tap. No water came out, as expected. He'd still had to try.

He turned to the towels instead. They were dusty and motheaten, but that didn't bother him. He wiped his face off as best he could, and then his gear and his gloves, pulling them off and stuffing them into one of his many pockets. The end result was… not great. The blood of the deer he'd killed and eaten had already started to dry, adding another stain to his gear and leaving a rusty brown hue to his colorless skin. He tried to pick tufts of flesh and fur from in between his teeth with his blunt, blackened nails, but he somehow only made things look worse. 

“Simon?”

The sound of his dove’s soft, concerned voice floated down the hallway, and Ghost panicked, slamming the door of the toilet shut so hard it rattled on its hinges. He heard Lelia’s heartbeat jump and her footsteps pause, before starting again in his direction.

“Simon?” She repeated, knocking softly on the door. He turned away from his ghastly reflection in the dirty mirror, paralyzed. He was acting ridiculous. He was a big, strong, undead soldier. He shouldn’t be terrified of a little dove like her. And yet he was. He was so bloody afraid that she’d tell him to leave, that she couldn't stand to be near him anymore. That he’d have to go back to protecting her from the shadows, an unwanted stray dog just following her around, desperate for any scrap of affection she would show him, but denied at every turn. It sounded miserable. It was miserable, but he would do it, to keep her safe. “Simon, will you come out, please?”

Unable to deny her, Ghost slowly opened the door. She stood on the other side with a worried expression, but all he could see was the drying string of crimson saliva on her smart pink jacket. He looked away, feeling ill.

“Are you alright?”

The soft, gentle question was entirely unexpected, but it shouldn't have been. Of course his dove would worry about the rabid, blood-covered zombie that just spit on her. She was an angel. It was why he had to keep her safe, keep her alive. The world needed people like her, now more than ever.

Ghost jerked his head up and down in a nod after a moment of hesitation, and then patted his chest, right over the spot where he’d spit on hers. He let out a quiet groan of apology, unable to meet her pretty brown eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lelia said, giving him a small smile. “This outfit was ruined far before that… besides, it’s not very practical for the apocalypse. My hus— I wanted to keep myself pretty. Clinging to a bit of the old world, I suppose. But I’m not on the base anymore. And trekking through the woods for days on end in a skirt is not easy.”

Ghost noticed the slip. It had sounded like she’d been about to say husband before she’d cut herself off. His eyes flickered to her left hand, but no ring sat upon her finger. Had he misheard? And why did the idea of her being married bother him so much?

You know why.

He ignored the thought, focusing back on her words. He grunted in agreement, and made a mental note to look for some clothes that would fit her—ones that would help keep her warm in the coming months. She was far too thin—she would need multiple layers if he was going to keep her from dying of exposure in the dead of winter.

An awkward silence fell between them, and Ghost could tell his dove wanted to ask him a question. He waited her out, and just as he knew she would, she broke first.

“So you—you went out to eat?” She asked, then winced. “I mean— earlier, when you were— were acting all… frustrated. You were… hungry?”

Ghost swallowed reflexively, tasting deer meat in the back of his throat. Slowly, he nodded, trying subtly to hold his jaw in place. Lelia looked nervous again, but also determined.

“How hungry?”

Ghost looked away, ashamed. He didn’t want to think about the overwhelming desire he’d had to sink his teeth into her supple flesh, or the vivid, blood-soaked images his virus-laden mind had conjured of him doing so.

Lelia sucked in a small, sharp breath, and her voice shook slightly when she spoke again—but there was bravery in it, too. A certainty. Like she’d made up her mind and couldn’t be swayed.

“We’ll just have to make sure you stay well fed, then,” she stated simply. “Then you won’t be tempted to snack on me… right?”

Ghost didn’t know how to explain that he was always tempted to snack on her, that her scent was the most delicious thing he’d ever smelled, that he wanted to see if her blood would warm him from the inside like a good whiskey. He didn’t know how to say that despite that, he would never harm a hair on her head, not for as long as he lived. Unlived. Bloody semantics.

So instead, he just grunted in agreement. He would always be tempted, but so long as he remained satiated, he would be able to keep his instincts in check. That was what she really wanted to know.

“Good,” she replied, sounding relieved. She offered him another smile, smaller than he would’ve liked but still just as sweet. “But you’re not the only one that’s hungry. Do you think there’s any food hidden in the cabinets?”