#Definition Absolute Poverty

[arclantis-blog]

What Is the Extreme Poverty Definition?

The extreme poverty definition according to the United Nations is anyone “struggling to fulfill the most basic needs like health, education, and access to water and sanitation,” to name a few. The majority of people living on less than $1.90 a day live in sub-Saharan Africa.”[1] Approximately 10 percent of the world’s population live below this devastating income level, or about 700 million people.[2]

In the UN’s publication Why It Matters, they answer why we should care of these definitions and numbers:

“…because as human beings, our wellbeing is linked to each other. Growing inequality is detrimental to economic growth and undermines social cohesion, increasing political and social tensions and, in some circumstances, driving instability and conflicts.” They also say, “The private sector has a major role to play in determining whether the growth it creates is inclusive and contributes to poverty reduction. It can promote economic opportunities for the poor.”[3]

Organizations like GFA World step into these places with proven solutions that address fundamental and underlying issues that keep people in poverty. One of the best ways that GFA does this is through our Christmas Gift Catalog, specifically any item that provides a way for an individual or family to create income or start their own business.

The catalog features items like sewing machines, chickens, pigs, cows and goats. These items are the start of earning money that can close the gap in what they currently bring in with what is needed at a very basic level.

If a woman can have her own sewing machine, not only can she improve her skills, but she can join a business or start her own in areas where textiles are an option for her. This kind of economic independence is rare and also freeing in places where income opportunities are few and far between, especially in rural areas.

Chickens can be the start of a small flock in order to produce eggs that can be sold in their village. Not only is this a business starter for someone, but it is also a source of nutrition for the villagers.

Click here, to read more about this article.

Click here, to read more blogs in Gospel for Asia.Net

[maounteighn]

it will never stop being funny how out of aaalll musicals out there available in the 80s the one Patrick Bateman chose to put on his wall was fricking LES MISERABLES.

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: Advice from your spirit guides

Hello and welcome to this new post of mine! In here I will give you a reading on what kind of advice your spirit guides want you to know. I hope you guys enjoy and find this interesting!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Subliminal Channel

~pick a card~

Pile 1:

Truly don’t try to care about what others think. We know it is difficult, and way easier said than done. But that feeling of not caring, of not giving a fuck, that is deep within you, it is there and it is ready to come out. You are almost there, and we see you are making process, but just try to keep more awareness surrounding your feelings. Whenever you catch yourself thinking badly about yourself due to others opinions, or just the way they react or look at you, be stern with yourself, tell yourself that it’s not true, and even if it were that that person doesn’t matter and should never matter. That that person shouldn’t have more control over your life and your feelings than you.

Pile 2:

Everything will be okay. It might not seem like it for now but there will be a time where you will be at peace, where you will be calm and in which you will be okay. Where you don’t have worries anymore, at least not many compared to how you are now. There will be a time in which you will lead a comfortable life, that life you have been longing for. It will calm down, truly, just pull through, we promise you that we will help and support you through it. The storm is truly going to be over, and your life will be filled to the rim with nothing but love.

Pile 3:

Save up more. You aren’t saving up enough and spending your money on things you shouldn’t be spending it on. This economy isn’t the easiest out there, far from it, take the time you now have to save up every penny you are able to. It doesn’t need to be in the high numbers every month, little by little also ends up with a good amount. You don’t need to save up so much you end up living as if you are in absolute poverty, but there are things you are able to spend less on (they are specifically mentioning things such as monster, red bull, and other expensive foods or drinks). It is truly not necessary.

These spirit guides were most definitely ancestors of y’all LMAO

[starchbean]

The reason I'm diving so headlong into the SVSSS fandom when I also love TGCF (I haven't yet read MDZS) but haven't delved NEARLY as deep into the fandom is thus:

Fanfic for TGCF... well, it FEELS like fanfic. That isn't bad. I LOVE fanfic. But the story of TGCF is self-contained. The /real/ Xie Lian and Hua Cheng etc are them as portrayed by MXTX. They had the trials they will have, and now these poor old men get to rest in each others' arms, which is beautiful.

AND ACROSS THE ROOM

Scum Villain fic does NOT feel like fanfic, because IT IS REAL! It happened! It ALL happened! Thanks to the Bing-ge extra, the persistent existence of multiverse and multiple instances of Binghes and Shens etc is evidence that there is definitely more out there the original MXTX story doesn't touch on. And the best part is, it doesn't matter how wacky it is, it's STILL REAL!

Terminally ill Shen Yuan finds his way to a catgirl cafe where femboy catboy transmigrator Binghe is trying to work his way out of poverty? Mobei Jun kidnaps Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky and forces him to rewrite PIDW so that HE becomes the demon emperor because Binghe is real fuckin unstable and it's a headache--and every written change alters their world immediately after Airplane writes it? It's out there somewhere in the multiverse, surely!

And of COURSE they'd act slightly differently between iterations, BE slightly different--it's not OOC, it's multidimensional variation. No matter how hard you meme, it doesn't feel fake at all, and that's INCREDIBLE! It lends itself to being a superfandom!

I'M COMPLETELY NORMAL ABOUT THIS! ABSOLUTELY HINGED! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!

[pininghermit]

Vampire/Dhampir/Crusnik as Househusbands

carnal need to write the house husband au 😩

Alucard

WIFE 👏 HIM 👏 UP. Seriously. All that cooking, cleaning, gardening without a ring? No way. Being a fulfilled relationship might allow this king to finally tackle the Belmont library project because that place is not fitting the aesthetic. Tell me why I see him thriving as those DIY renovation youtube channel stuff? Randomly buys a chateau to fill the void in his heart. But instead of it being melancholic, it becomes his passion project. Every tile, every piece of molding, becomes a love letter to the life he’s finally building. Just love him please.

Abel

boy is disaster coded. A menace in kitchen. But that being said, the church never paid enough for buddy to stay after finding the one. Vow of poverty? Forgotten. He's getting all the seasonal decor spring, fall, holidays. He goes all-in, from the table runners to the garlands to themed mugs. Will randomly adopt pets (or humans because he's a caring boi)? You’ll be out shopping and return home to a goat he’s rescued from a “really sad situation.” You’ll come home to find him casually sipping tea (that could kill a lesser mortal) while the new addition sits nervously, unsure how to process this angelic man’s kindness. And he’s so sweet about it that refusing feels impossible. You’ll just sigh, pat the goat’s head, and wonder how you ended up married to the patron saint of strays.

D

now this is hard to imagine but after years (ages of traveling), D would be a surprising home body. Despite being insanely tall, he is incredibly fond of nooks and crannies to snuggle into. Not big into cooking but will definitely look over your shoulder as you cook. Bonus- does not do well with spicey food, which you found out after you find him hunched up after sneaking a taste of a soup you warned him about. Really good with repairs and gradually learns to accept that he finally has a place of his own. Does not like leaving home a lot (very cat coded). One day you might this dhampir writing an account of his travels like Bilbo but that day is far in future because he's humble king.

Lestat (lol idk why i'm writing him)

Lestat? Oh, he’s the neighbor everyone talks about. High-maintenance? Yes. A party animal? Absolutely. But he’s also the life of every gathering, hosting Gatsby-esque soirées that turn your house into a hub of opulence. He lives for the drama of entertaining. Think crystal chandeliers, flowing champagne, and live jazz bands. Every party is an event. Lestat basks in the compliments, occasionally throwing in casual remarks about how you make the house a home, just to fluster you in front of the guests. Occasionally, things might get wild. Like, "Yennefer-of-Vengerberg-what-are-you-doing" wild. The kind of parties that neighbors gossip about for years. But Lestat pulls it off with such flair that no one ever stays mad for long. Outside of the glitz and glamour, though, he’s hopelessly devoted. Sure, he’s eccentric, but at the end of the night, when the guests leave and the music fades, it’s just you and him. And this vampire is in awe of finding love that accepts him with his freak.

[killuakiru]

hiii!!!

idk if u do any specific character hcs, but can i request some fluff Chrollo hcs of him as a husband??? (i love Chrollo sm)

ty!!!

Our first Chrollo request we absolutely cheered 🙌 i can absolutely do this !! Thank you for your request 🫶 Hopefully you like this 🥹🥹 first time writing Chrollo so uhhhh.... SORRY IF IT'S SHORTHSJDJD

⊹₊⋆ My Sweetheart ! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⊹₊⋆ Gn!Reader x Chrollo Lucilfer ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

╰┈➤ He's your dearest hubby and the little activities you do w/ each other :3

༉‧₊˚. Start !༉‧₊˚.

• Honestly ? Chrollo would buy ( steal ) expensive gifts for you to make up for his constant absence, being in the Phantom Troupe is busy and all yk

• Oh and I feel like he'd be the type to send little letters just in case he gets caught up in some mission they did.

• The said note would probably have some cheesy and cliche words like "you're the hope of my life." Or something like that, but he absolutely means everything he says.

• He just makes it extra cheesy to make you giggle or flash a smile in thought of him.

• Now that that's away– I feel like Chrollo would show his affection by his actions and words.

• Actions, he does very small gentleman-like things, like pushing the door for you, holding your hand whenever you descend from some stairs, having a hand on your waist whenever he'd guide you to someplace, and more!

• Words, he pulls up late at night with a damn haiku in his hand, and he holds your hand with his free hand as he reads it aloud to you.

• You find it both cheesy and romantic, but his eyes definitely don't deceive. The man is truly in love with you.

• Since he probably grew up in poverty, Chrollo wants to provide both of you financially enough, even if it means to go through harsh lengths.

• In a scenario where you didn't know your husband is the boss of the Phantom Troupe, Chrollo continues to keep it a secret as that information could truly break one's relationship. Chrollo treats you like a man in love with his wife would, and he is still whipped.

• In a scene where you ARE aware your husband is in the Phantom Troupe, then you're a member yourself who grew up with Chrollo. During "missions" You supported the troupe and Chrollo's personal assistant ( literally ) since he is your husband.

• Let's go to how he proposed, shall we ? :3

• In a scenario where you aren't aware, Chrollo proposes to you in a very elegant and beautiful secluded area. He had a very beautiful ring in his hand and a genuine smile plastered on his face, he spoke up. "It would be an honor for a being like you to be wedded to a mortal like me. Will you make my wish come true, yn?"

• In a scenario where you are aware, he proposed to you during a mission. Pulling you aside to hide you from the many explosions and gun shots, he stands on one knee, looking up to you like you're his god(dess). "Oh, my dear. You are one of a kind, if we are to be bound for eternal life, I shan't complain. However, are you? Willing to be bound in a heartstring with me for eternal life?" ( yes this is a spy x family reference )

• He does a lot of things for you though ! In a scene where you're injured, Chrollo is automatically by your side, soothing your nerves and rubbing your arm.

• Chrollo might not show it through physical touch, but when he does, it's during moments where you and him are truly vulnerable– to feel each other's skin, palm against palm, it's something Chrollo wouldn't naturally do to other people. You, are his sweetheart, so he'd do it within a heartbeat.

• You strummed his heartstrings, and he was tied to your soul, a fit from the universe, he claims.

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Thank you for reading ! This strictly belongs to me / killuakiru and I do not give permission for you to repost on other platforms, thank you !

[xdivinedecay]

Patron saints for US election aftermath

Below are some saints I humbly recommend to pray to as the United States faces this new and challenging era after the results of our recent election. Those that use prayer for intercession may find comfort in learning more about the saints below, and building a communication with them.

Social justice — St. Martín de Porres Poverty — St. Francis of Assisi Women — St. Elizabeth Ann Seton Immigrants — St. Frances Xavier Cabrini Racial justice — St. Katharine Drexel Ecology and environment — St. Kateri Tekakwitha (the first Indigenous American saint) Education/teachers — St. John Baptist de La Salle

If you'd like, I have included some notes and extras below —

Please if you can, take some time to learn about St. Martín de Porres! His soul is beautiful and his work was absolutely selfless as he cared for others in the face of social abuse and adversity. He really is someone to aspire to be like.

I nominate St. Elizabeth Ann Seton in this particular instance as it's difficult to pin down a definitive patron saint of women (all of my cross-references didn't produce a strong label on any one saint; many were for mothers or some other aspect attributed to womanhood, so there are many options). But St. Elizabeth was the first American-born citizen to be canonized as a saint, and in her life she started a Catholic school for girls. She is most known for founding of the Sisters of Charity of Saint Joseph’s, the first religious order in America who contributed significant humanitarian work. In the wake of the US election results, I think she is an apt choice for connecting with for intercession.

I'm a biased St. Joan D'Arc follower, but hear me out. She was the crux of saving her home country from the very literal brink of being lost to Britain in a war that spanned a century. She rallied the last skeleton crew of the remaining French monarchal power that had all but been defeated already, and helped to take their name and land back from the English. I will be continuing to pray to her regularly to help find ways to fight for our freedom and remain courageous. I encourage others to do the same if you pray to her, or would like to start.

While I wish I had a suggestion for a saint to pray to for the LGBTQIA+ community, as they are adopted through history (St. Sebastian) or are not strictly official. But there are some interesting perspectives to find online, I just couldn't find a saint I could comfortably name with my whole chest for this particular group. I was intrigued by some responses on this Quora thread on the matter in question.

As always, these are only suggestions based on my imperfect research, as I am still newly navigating my reclaimed faith. If you have other patrons to recommend, please add them in a reblog so that others may learn about them.

divider made by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

more lists of patron saints — Patron Saints for your problems • Patron Saints for World Mental Health Day

[arclantis-blog]

What Does Poverty Mean?

When asking, “What does poverty mean?” it’s helpful to understand how the United Nations defines it:

“Nearly half of the world’s population currently lives in poverty, defined as income of less than US $2 per day, including one billion children. Of those living in poverty, over 800 million people live in extreme poverty, surviving on less than US $1.25 a day.”[1]

In addition to these statistical parameters, people in poverty also lack access to proper nutrition, clean drinking water, and adequate health services. Often improper or dangerous housing is part of their situation, as well.

The United Nations has several Sustainable Development Goals (SDG) of global issues that need to be addressed. Their number one SDG is “No Poverty.”[2]

Their top three goals in this area include:

By 2030, eradicate extreme poverty for all people everywhere, currently measured as people living on less than $1.25 a day.

By 2030, reduce at least by half the proportion of men, women and children of all ages living in poverty in all its dimensions according to national definitions.

Implement nationally appropriate social protection systems and measures for all, including floors, and by 2030 achieve substantial coverage of the poor and the vulnerable.[3]

These goals speak to income generation, working within a country’s uniqueness and providing proper housing. There are many more factors, certainly, but GFA World knows how to address each of these.

First of all, GFA missionaries are from the countries where they serve. They uniquely understand and see the struggles and causes of poverty where they are sent to love the people there. They are able to connect the people they serve with the specific services from GFA that will most help them take the next step out of poverty.

Second, GFA World knows that sustainable and reliable income is the key for families struggling to make ends meet. Through out Christmas Gift Catalog, we offer many ways for givers to supply things like farm animals and business equipment like sewing machines.

Third, GFA also offers tin roof panels through the catalog to address housing issues that plague many in poverty.

Click here, to read more about this article.

Click here, to read more blogs in Gospel for Asia.Net

[batmanlovesnirvana]

| BATTINSON HEADCANONS ! 🦇

A/N : old post from two years ago, but I’ve changed and added a few things since then

my boy is awkward as hell, but somehow, not at all—it really just depends on who he’s with and the vibe of the moment

sassy when he feels like it, but most of the time? he’s a total nonverbal enigma—half the time, all you’re getting are grunts and the occasional raised eyebrow

specially if you’re still just a stranger to him, or even just a friend

he’s ridiculously stubborn—dug-in-heels, won’t-budge-an-inch stubborn. and, of course, he inherited every ounce of it from his darling mama...

had a Star Wars phase when he was 9

he could’ve talked to you all day back then if you’d asked—about every character, every layer they had, his favorite, and why

I think his fave would’ve prob be Luke

but secretly, he’d have a soft spot for Darth Vader too—not for the evil he represents, but for the complexity of his character

he was definitely spoiled—lived the life of a prince, no doubt about it. but his parents made sure to keep him grounded, always lecturing him to be thankful for what he had and to value everything, no matter how small

he’s the last person to complain about anything, especially when it comes to material stuff

If your apartment’s not exactly perfect or if you don’t have all the fancy things, don’t feel embarrassed—he couldn’t care less about that

Bruce isn’t the type to judge people for their circumstances

what matters to him is who you are, not what you have

he traveled a lot and saw poverty up close. he didn’t just witness it; he experienced it and used it as a way to train and push himself

so I think he’d insist that you don’t let his wealth define you or make you feel small. he’d want you to focus on who you are, not what he has

but he’s still a billionaire

and sometimes it shows

Like if he takes you somewhere, he might be like,

“That place wasn’t good, not what I wanted for you, their steak was too dry”

or “The service was way below expectations.”

it’s not that he’s trying to flex, but his standards have been shaped by a life of luxury and privilege.

even if he doesn’t mean to, it can come off like he’s out of touch with the more everyday experiences.

listen, I’m pretty sure he was that kid in middle school—the one everyone liked. Popular, friendly, Shy, and effortlessly cool, he had a ton of friends and was the kind of person people just gravitated toward

but deep down, he was still an introvert at heart. No matter how many friends he had or how much people loved being around him, he always cherished his alone time—it was his way of recharging

probably teacher favorite

after his parents were murdered, he retreated into himself, becoming a loner—a shadow of the person he once was. the bright, sociable kid who could light up a room disappeared, leaving behind a quiet, guarded shell

he shut everyone out—his friends, his teachers, anyone who tried to reach him.

communication felt impossible, like talking to a wall ready to crumble at the slightest touch. he became volatile, quick to anger and prone to violent outbursts.

the smallest thing could set him off and it was clear he was battling demons far too heavy for a child to carry

he was always getting into fights at school, over the most ridiculous things—someone looking at him the wrong way, a comment that barely made sense, or a passing remark. it didn’t matter how trivial; he’d snap.

it was like he was itching for a reason to lash out, just to feel something other than the numbness that haunted him

alfred was absolutely fed up every time the school would call. It was the same routine—another fight, another complaint.

his patience was wearing thin but he never showed it.

he’d just sigh, straighten his tie, and head to pick Bruce up, trying to stay calm while his mind was racing with how much things had changed

alfred probably thought about quitting a dozen times, especially during those rough moments. he was already carrying the weight of guilt over Thomas and Martha’s deaths, feeling like he’d failed them in some way.

but even through his exhaustion, he couldn’t walk away.

he simply couldn’t abandon Bruce, not when his parents had entrusted him with their son’s care, not when the boy was falling apart.

bc alfred knew that no matter how hard it got, he had to stay—because Bruce needed him, even if he didn’t always show it.

it’s pretty clear that Bruce really doesn’t have time for small talk.

that man goes straight to the point, no beating around the bush. sometimes, it’s like he forgets there’s a filter between his brain and his mouth—so he comes off way too blunt.

but, honestly, he just doesn’t see the need to waste time on unnecessary pleasantries.

if he’s got something to say, he’s saying it, no fluff.

Bruce absolutely loves car races (it's actually canon in the prequel book)

he’s got that need for speed, and nothing gets his adrenaline pumping like watching or being part of a high-stakes race.

it’s not just about the cars; it’s the whole atmosphere, the precision, the thrill of it all.

you can tell he’s got a real passion for it—just one of those things he doesn’t talk about much bc he rarely even talks that is

and so, naturally, he’s got a huge interest in F1

He’s got a serious passion for mechanics too—like, borderline obsession

favorite car is, without a doubt, his grandfather's Corvette (the one that makes an appearance in that iconic funeral scene)

another phase he went through during his late teens—but never really left—was his obsession with Nirvana

It hit him so hard that he even picked up an electric guitar because of it.

spending hours alone in his room trying to replicate their sound, teaching himself riffs from songs like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Lithium.”

it became an outlet for him, a way to channel his emotions without having to say a word

he wasn’t looking to impress anyone or form a band—it was just for him, a way to lose himself in the music. over time, he got pretty good at it, though he’d never admit it

and I think music became another refuge for him, a way to escape the chaos in his head

overall, though, he was a massive fan of Nirvana and Kurt Cobain

did date as a teenager, but it was never anything too serious

his heart was always more focused on Gotham—on his plans, his ambitions, and the legacy he was determined to create

relationships were never a priority for him back then; it was always about the bigger picture, the city that needed saving, the work that needed to be done.

gotham was always at the forefront of his mind, and nothing, not even the most charming date, could truly distract him from his ultimate goal

honestly, I don’t think he’s even a virgin. or maybe he is—who knows? but the prequel book did mention he knew his way around women, so it’s safe to say he’s no stranger to that side of things

was a straight-A student without even breaking a sweat. it just came naturally to him

fave subject was chemistry

he looks a lot like his mother but you could definitely see his father in him too—kind of a perfect mix of both, like a living blend of their best features

he inherited his mother jawline and hair

and his father eyes and nose

was really close to his paternal grandparents

they passed away when he was only seven, so his memories of them are more like faint impressions. but looking at the pictures on the fireplace, you can tell just how much they meant to him

according to Alfred, it was his grandparents who chose his name

never really knew anything about his maternal grandparents, except that they were long gone before he was even born. it was just one of those things he never thought to ask about, something his mother never spoke much about. it was as if they were just figures in the past, distant and forgotten, not even a whisper of a memory for him to cling to

he’s got a ton of distant cousins, most of them living over in Europe, but honestly he doesn’t talk to a single one of them. it’s not like he cares to, either.

that's another reason why Alfred ended up with custody. with all those distant relatives, none of them really stepped up and Bruce wasn’t exactly close to them anyway.

alfred was the one who had always been there, so it just made sense

didn’t mind being an only son, but deep down, he used to beg his mom for a sibling

comfort smell? It’s his mom’s perfume—lavender mixed with a hint of lemon

and Alfred cookies ofc

Bruce’s go-to comfort clothing is his dad’s old Harvard sweater—it’s just cozy and familiar.

as a kid, he’d call his mom "Mummy" or "Mama" and his dad "Papa."

most of his suits? Hand-me-downs from his dad. He’s only got a few of his own.His favorite sport is soccer—don’t ask why; it just makes sense.

Bruce has always been fascinated by his family’s history.

his dad used to tell him all these stories about their ancestors, and Bruce would listen so intently, always begging for more.

sure, the library had books on it, but hearing the stories from his dad just hit different. his dad’s voice made it all feel personal and alive.

oh, and he’s canonically descended from English royalty

his mom was really into gardening.

she loved her plants, especially lilies of the valley and Bethlehem stars.

Lily of the valley: sweetness and purity of heart.

Bethlehem star: hope and happiness.

she used to say they reminded her of his dad and Bruce.

Martha was also super into art and fashion.

she painted and was basically a Gotham fashion icon

because of her, Bruce was always dressed to impress as a kid

his dad, though, was the total opposite. Thomas Wayne’s tie was always crooked, and he had zero fashion sense

Bruce remembers how every morning, his mom would fix his dad’s tie and scold him about it, but Thomas would just kiss her to shut her up

at work, his dad was all about scrubs, and at home, it was pajamas and a robe

Bruce sometimes wears his dad’s robe now—it’s comforting

when it comes to fashion, Bruce is totally his dad’s son

if Alfred didn’t step in, he’d probably look a mess.

his dad loved photography and books

Bruce remembers how his dad used to take photos of his mom and him all the time

the library is packed with pictures of his family—mostly his mom and little Bruce

his parents’ love for each other was something else, and Bruce secretly dreams of having something like that one day

and deep down, he’s a total romantic. he gets that from his dad

he’s already decided that if he ever gets married, he’ll propose with his mom’s ring

a diamond blue sapphire ring

Alfred used to sneak him sweets before dinner (classic Alfred move)

they played chess a lot, though Bruce never actually won

Dory, his mom’s maid, was one of the midwives when Bruce was born

she’s also the one who taught him how to cook, and yeah, Bruce knows how to cook ( the essential at least )

everyone says he’s a cat person, but honestly, I feel he's more like a dog person. It just fits.

part 2 ?

or should I do dating headcanons ?

[movingthisblogcelestialtarot11]

If you were a celeb, what would your vibe be? 💋🎬🌟 professions, careers etc 😍✨

Hi friends! Today we’ll be looking into something pretty fun! Your vibe as a celeb 💅🏻 enjoy and feel free to comment like and reblog 💗

Pile 1: Hi there pile 1’s! 🤗🌟 For pile 1 I am picking up you would be a singer or a musician of some kind. I’m seeing RGB lighting in a concert, slow dancing from you itself, holding the microphone and it’s a jazz kind of vibe. Slow and sensual, but enough to grip you because of the tantalizing way you sing 🤍 some of ya’ll may have beautiful voices! For some of ya’ll you have an indie vibe and keep it fun, lively, and sometimes sensual in the concerts 💅🏻 I also see you guys would have an awesome costume designer capturing a retro vintage style of dressing. Very dreamy colors, makeup, and visuals that is alluring. I feel you’d have such an alluring appearance and you’re private as well, you may not post personal information to the public but mostly share your band, music, and travels 🤗🤍 I absolutely adore this pile because this is my kind of music 😍 if ya’ll had a band already I’d book tickets! You’d travel to popular places like LA and the West Coast, NYC, Boston, I also heard Oregon…? That may resonate for a few of you 😂 But you love your fans and you’d have a close relationship with them, and i feel as a celeb your music is incredibly important. I feel like you’d make a lot of music based on romance & love and capturing how that feels. I feel like you’d be the celeb to bring back that teenager in us and thats why fans love you! 🤗💗 you cultivate a powerful community because you bring together nostalgic feelings & memories. I feel like people would definitely admire you a lot, and they’d love if you held Q&A sessions so they got to know your history with music, how you started, and how you met your band 👏 You’d have such a sex appeal too because you appear dreamy, comfortable, radiant and yet private 💋✨ some of yall may not be into music but modeling too, and you’d have a very dreamy appearance and unique look! Thank you my pile 1’s! Feel free to support by liking commenting and reblogging 🤍🌟

Pile 2: Hi there pile 2’s! We’ve got some influencers up in here in terms of health & wellness. Also fitness. I feel you guys would encourage your fans to eat healthier, and you’d do intensive research into healthier foods and holistic medicine 🌟💗 and as a result people really like you because you give them alternatives to medicine and popping pills 😂 also because I feel like you have a beautiful visual appearance. You appear put together, clean, professional and fun! You have a light hearted yet determined aura and people feel attracted to that 💅🏻✨ some of ya’ll might vlog & talk about your day, and people are invested in your workout routine, diet, and health! And also some of yall may have dogs so your fans would love them 🤗 I also feel like ya’ll would do wonderful creating your own wellness products and selling fitness related gear, people would love that! Especially those with disabilities that still want to work out. There’s something about you and how you create wellness products that are unique, they are designed for people that struggle or need help. I feel you hear your fans and you want to deliver results that are efficient and effective. I feel you’d work wonderfully with children too, and may pair up with organizations catered to the disabled and poverty. So people see you as incredibly humble, helpful, and supportive! You’re incredibly engaging with your fans & community and open to feedback! I feel like you’d be a great motivation speaker too, not because you’re aggressive but because you’re calm, efficient, and reliable in your tone. And you validate people’s experiences and feelings! People are drawn to your reassuring, gentle and determined personality 🤍🌟 you’d do great marketing fitness products too, or makeup products as well! If you’re into makeup you’d model and your fans love your reviews, they love how you do your makeup with precision and you’re unique with it too. You have innovative makeup ideas that people never thought of and it turns out beautiful 😍 I also feel you’d have something unique about your appearance and people cant forget it! It makes you stand out & beautiful 🤗💗 Overall you’d be open with your fans, inclusive, diverse and focus on educating them with health or tips for beauty 💗✨ so maybe you’re south asian and you want to make south asian makeup for those with olive undertones! That would be catering to a specific demographic! And people would greatly appreciate you because of how inclusive you are 🌟 thank you pile 2! Feel free to like comment and reblog for support 🤍

Pile 3: Hi there pile 3! So happy you’re here 🤍🤗 Lets get on with it shall we? Some of yall may have a welsh accent 😂 anyway! I feel like yall have great jokes and would be known for your comedy. Maybe you blow up as a meme at first and then you get into acting 💅🏻 and people are taken away by your skills and effort! You are effortlessly hilarious and yet intentional, and you’d be recognized for it. I feel you have a lot of charisma as a celeb too, because you’re natural at getting people to like you. You’re very good at conversation and with one conversation you’d have someone gripped. Especially an interviewer. I see a lot of people interviewing you & wanting to get to know you. Huge audience, and you love it all! Sometimes anxious, but eventually you and your PR form great bonds so they know when to pull you out 😂 but anyway, I feel like you’re a natural at understanding what to do, how to do it, and you’re overall amazing! You’d do wonderful in movies and tv shows! Some of ya’ll could also be a runway model, and behind the scenes your humor is what gets you noticed and you go on to have your own page, where you sell to your own fans any product 💗 and I feel like you’d keep a healthy distance with your fans! I also feel you’d have such a striking appearance especially your eyes, theres something very different and unique about the color or intensity. It leaves interviewers forgetting what they said 🤣 but they definitely are hooked! You have a lot of sex appeal and you may not realize it, but people do. People also create sexual fantasies of you in their mind & they daydream about you. You could take care of your body a lot and people admire that! Thank you pile 3 feel free to comment like or reblog! 💗🌟 thank yall so much!

Paid Readings 🤍✨

[s-4pphics]

tag, you're it! (e.w.)

ITS PRIDE MONTH PUSSSSSSYYYYYYY 

omg this is kindaaaa…. yeah

imma lil proud LOL hope y’all like it 

wc;cw: 14.2k, ceosdaughter!ellie, tagger/artist!oc, ANGST!!, mentions of depression and suicidal ideation, illness, parental death & brief mentions of funerals, descriptions of foster care/homeless shelters and poverty, both oc n ellie have daddy issues, MOMMY ISSUES!!, brief mentions of drug addiction(coke), homophobia DURING PRIDE MONTH🤨🤨, internalized homophobia and misogyny, ellie is a horny touch starved loser n kinda stalkerish?, mentions of criminal injustice(police, prisons, etc.) i hate it here, rich ppl being demons, SMUT!!!!! MDNI!!!!, light descriptions of masturbation, potential dubcon!!, sexual tension😟, bratty subbottom!ellie, mean domtop!oc she carries her dick on her like a glock lol, slight fearplay, KNIFE PLAY/BLOOD, DIRTY TALK, finger and strap sucking, fingering, pussy eating, MOMMY KINK!!, nipple play, squirting <333 n creaming <333, riding, reverse cowgirl, slapping(FACE!!! ass titties), hitting it from the bbbbback, loss of virginity, masochism LOL, a lil ass play LOL, pretty taboo themes catch it

“She’s… I genuinely believe she’s deranged, your honor! She’s… uncontrollable! Look at what she’s done to our city! Civilians can see her tracks everywhere they go, and it’s disgusting! Not to mention she’s a pervert!” 

You rolled your eyes as you listened to the high-pitched, ongoing shrieks of one of the wealthiest women in the state as she spat belittlements of you to the judge. 

You were… fucked. 

You adjusted in your uncomfortable chair, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head to eye your lawyer, arching a brow at him as you waited for his defenses for you. He looked… scared shitless, to say the least. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to fucking jail. 

Were these pieces of shit really going to treat you like Satan himself for pulling a measly, little prank? Has April Fools truly lost all meaning?

A couple of days ago, on April 1st, you took it upon yourself to spray paint ♡GIRLDICK♡ across the largest building in the city, which just so happened to be owned by the Miller family, if anyone even bothered to call their cultist bond that. Their wealth swiftly accumulated when the now deceased founder of the organization, Joel Miller, discovered some new form of AI technology… or whatever the elders at the shelter told you. His death shook your city years ago; You weren’t sure why it was so moving for people, but R.I.P, you guess. 

You assumed they were just another group of elitist fuckers, but he must’ve been decent at the most; You still remember his memorial broadcasting on the small TV at the shelter as the other residents mourned in solace. 

Regardless, you hope all their institutions across the nation collapse one day, preferably with the rest of them inside. 

The broad in the black, silk suit kept pointing her finger at you, and it took everything in your spirit to not get up out of your seat and rip it clean off her hand and shove it down her throat. 

Not every tag you’ve done around the city has been rooted in “perversion”. There’s nothing perverse about… loving girldick. It’s a way of life!

Fuck security cameras. 

Unbeknownst to them, you’ve already been coined as a hidden talent in the city, at least according to some people you know at the shelter. You’re faceless in the eye of the public, but that separation doesn’t negate their appreciation for your artwork. You even went viral for the mural you painted of your father for his birthday two years ago, even though the fucker that posted it on Instagram hadn’t included your signature. You could bet millions of people have seen it by now, and you gained absolutely nothing from it. 

But, of course, your form of creative expression was being reduced to a jizzing penis. You've created countless mosaics around the city that represent the purest forms of love and sex, and now you are being blasted for being some sort of corrupt sicko. You only drew what came natural to you, and if people felt a way about it, they could choke on the fattest girldick known to humanity. You hate rich people.

Your father didn’t sacrifice everything he had to teach you the complexities of sketching for your name to be attached to outlines of dicks. You didn’t grow up watching your father skip meals so he could get you a new water paint set for your birthday every year for your art to be lawfully ridiculed. The only comfort this situation brought was that you knew he would’ve found the sloppily drawn cock hysterical. You still remember his laugh after all this time. 

You miss him dearly. You probably could’ve been just as rich, if not more, as the bitch at the other table if he was still here with you. He would’ve ensured you didn’t stray off into the life you live now. 

Being in foster care was the dissipation of your joy. You were considered a problem child very early on: fighting the caretakers when they tried to calm you, cursing at them, stealing, and nobody wanted to adopt you because of that, regardless of your talents. You were set up to fail too early, and you despised the world because of it. 

Your record was horrendous, and you were going to jail. You fucking hate rich people.

… Except the Miller's eldest daughter. She gets a pass. 

And she keeps staring at you. 

Every time you caught her sparkly eyes, she blushed and looked forward, her freckles surrounded by a deep red that rushed down her neck. She was dressed much less… sophisticated than her mother: her hair tied back in a low bun and littered with black bobby-pins, a dark-blue sweater, rings on her thumb, black pants, and clean Vanz. 

You knew a lesbian when you saw one. You could barely hide your knowing smirk. 

“My child doesn’t need to be exposed to such… nauseating ideologies! Think of the children of the city and what they’re forced to see because of vile people like that,” she pointed at you again. You were this fucking close to stabbing her with that pen in front of you. 

Your daughter’s gay, Mrs. Miller. 

“With all due respect, ma’am,” the judge started. What kind of backwards shit was this; Wasn’t she supposed to be respecting him? “It’s important that we stay on track. You’re specifically suing her for vandalism— “

“Ongoing, unchecked vandalism! This is not her first charge, your honor, it’s her seventh! She’s… she’s— “

You tried to tune her out, looking around the congested space of the courtroom, and you caught eyes—shiny, green eyes— on you. Again. 

She was fiddling with her hands in her lap, her teeth picking at the dry skin on her bottom lip. But she didn’t look away this time. You watched her eyes trail over your face, down to your jaw, your neck, your chest, only to come back up to your eyes. 

You did the same, taking in the dots on her soft cheeks, her eyes, her pretty nose, and mouth, looking her up and down, biting your lip, letting her know you were gauging her. She was cute, you had to admit. 

“—sentenced to three years in federal prison— “

You looked up in shock, feeling like your body had been dunked into a tub of ice water and left to die, instantly stiffening at the announcement of your sentence, the sound of the slamming gavel nearly putting you six feet under. 

You couldn’t do anything but stare at the judge in disbelief as he organized his papers emotionlessly, your lawyer putting his hand on your shoulder. You knocked it off and glared at him. You looked over to the table, the family already up and taking their leave, Mrs. Miller’s hand tightly enclosed around her daughter’s wrist as she dragged her out the wooden doors.

Two security guards were already walking towards you with cuffs, gripping your arms too roughly to pull you up out of your seat and latching the metal around your skin. You started to panic as they walked you towards another set of doors.

“Wait, wait, my backpack, I need my— “

“You aren’t allowed to have anything on you. Your property will be held by the court until further notice.” 

“But— “

“No buts, and don’t resist,” you felt the security grip your arm harder, and your anxiety peaked, your panting breaths hardly leaving your body.

You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Your life was shattering around you in slow motion, loose shards slicing through you with intent to kill. 

You allowed the brawly men to drag you… anywhere. You didn’t care anymore; You were tired, and no longer had the urge to fight left in your heart. 

Ellie was brought up in isolation. 

Homeschooled, no friends, no purpose outside of being the vessel to represent her family name, creating the next line of heirs for her father’s company. 

The benefits of his successes had simply… appeared when she was fifteen. 

She remembered how he went from being present, gave her the utmost attention, played sports with her, taught her how to sing and self-defense with his past down switchblade, to not, completely cut off from society as he barricaded himself in his study and worked relentlessly on new forms of technology. Being an only child brought nothing but loneliness for her after a while. 

But then they were rich. They moved to an affluent neighborhood and into a two-story house in a matter of months, driving Porches and buying out stores. Wealth appeared, but the relationship with her family suffered because of it. 

Her father fell ill, and after a multitude of hospital visits, teary farewells, and a memorial, he was gone. Merely a memory that hardly seemed real. Her and her mother’s relationship became even more unsteady after his passing. 

Ellie’s mother swiftly took over the company in an almost authoritarian way. She interacted with society in a robotic, rehearsed manner. Mechanical, soulless, the only proof of her humanity exposing itself when she snorted white powder. 

Her mother had brought up the idea of marriage the second she turned eighteen, a year before her father’s passing, saying that there were multiple well-off men that were eager to be with her, willing to give her children. Multiple. 

Men…. children… having children with men. Money. The empire. Her mother.

It all made her nauseous. 

… But art didn’t. 

She’d always kept her journals secret. Left in a box on the highest shelf of her walk-in closet where the maids couldn’t find them.

She expressed everything that she couldn’t to her mother on paper. Her depression, her insomnia, her desire for death, her mourning, the need for sex with non-men, any form of physical connection, something—anything that made her feel human, normal.

She needed a fucking hug. A kiss. Sex. She wanted to fuck.

The first time she saw your artwork on an abandoned building as she chauffeured to the museum, she’d nearly fainted. 

It’d been two women on top of each other, the most intimate parts of their body covered with the other’s hands and skin. One had her head between the other’s legs atop blankets and flowers as the other… apparently in the middle of an orgasm. Her mother always made the point of sex sound so… stiff. Lifeless. Merely a factor of procreation.

But your art was so erotic. Sensual. So full of pleasure and softness and care. 

She’d almost jumped out of the car and onto oncoming traffic to get a closer look at every detail, but the car was too quick. She couldn’t even get a fucking picture. 

And she was soaking. How the fuck was she going to explore a museum when she was dripping like this?! 

You’d given her one of the strongest orgasms she’d ever had in her life when she returned home that day, and she didn’t even know who you were. She’d spent hours with her hand between her legs as she thought of your creation while her mother was out working, moaning and crying out as loud as she wanted, and she wasn’t even embarrassed. 

She would sneak out in the darkest clothes she had when her mother passed out on the couch, and just walk. Specifically in search for anything with your signature that she’d memorized like it was her own. She’d taken pictures of your content, memorized them, got off to the suggestive ones in secret, and appreciated your love and passion for your craft. 

She’d even started recreating her own depictions of eroticism. All with women. They never looked the same: different heights, all skin tones and body types, anything that she could think of, she drew it. She’d tried to envision what you looked like after only a few weeks, and she prayed her envisions were at least somewhat accurate. 

She never could draw self-portraits with precision, but she knew it was her. She was always in the middle of the raunchiness that she conjured up in her mind, being touched everywhere, tied up, beaten, completely ripped apart and forced to forget the suffocating world around her. Her reimagining's of herself would be drowned in pleasure, sometimes by you, by herself, by faceless strangers. Anything she wanted. 

When she saw you for the first time, she almost couldn’t control herself. 

She’d felt like a fucking creep as she ducked behind parked cars to watch you paint all over an abandoned freight train behind a trashed building. The streets had been silent as she watched you decorate the metal cart in floral interpretations of pussy, her heart in her throat. 

You looked gorgeous and focused and tired. So, so tired, only in sweats and a tank top with a hefty bag strapped to your back. She assumed you kept your art supplies in there.

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes off you when she’d seen you during your court hearing. 

You were just as gorgeous as the first time she saw you, but, somehow, even more exhausted. Far away, not really present, but she couldn’t blame you. And she couldn’t stop staring, enthralled by you. Even in your grayest moments, you made her feel vibrant. And that brought her guilt.

But it also made her lustful. Hungry. 

And she couldn’t stop staring. 

When her mother dragged her out of the hearing, she was enraged, even more so when she degraded you on the way back to the car. 

You fucking stared at that whore the whole time!

Don’t ever, in your life, embarrass me again. 

I’ll throw you in the gutter with that rat if you ever disrespect me like you just did in there. Do you understand?

Ellie didn’t even know what she did to garner a response this aggressive, but she was used to it. And, for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. She didn’t give a fuck. 

At that moment, she knew what she had to do.

It was your fifth day in prison, and you felt nothing. 

You didn’t cry, you didn’t plead, you simply succumbed to your destiny in silence. Your father would be so disappointed if he were alive. 

I raised a fighter, so you fucking fight!

But you couldn’t. You were tired, and you wished you could stay asleep, never to wake up again.

You’ve been working like a dog since you got here, and you accepted it. This was your life, and you felt nothing. 

Until your cell unlocked. These fuckers were probably here to shit talk you again. 

They cuffed your wrists and led you somewhere. You didn’t care where, keeping your head down as they encased your arms in a calloused grasp. You hoped this location would be your last forever. 

They led you into an empty room and uncuffed you. You saw the old sweatsuit that you’d received from the shelter, and your heartbeat sped up. You looked at the security in confusion. What the fuck were they doing? What were they about to do?

You could barely hear what the officers were saying, jumbled words of bail bond and cash payments molding together and sounding like a foreign language to you. They undid your handcuffs and pointed towards the clothes, murmuring for you to change so they could transport you back to the courthouse to retrieve your belongings. 

What the fuck is going on?

When you returned to the shelter, you inspected your bag. After nearly scrubbing your skin off while showering. 

The contents were all in their original condition, each individual item wrapped in plastic with small notes attached to them. Except for your dick. You assumed the court had no comments. 

Your paint, your brushes, random hairpins, your notebooks. They were all there in their original condition. Thank god. 

What you didn’t expect to see was a new jacket, sweatsuit, and small note wrapped in the same plastic from inspection. 

You ripped the plastic open and retrieved the note, unfolding it and… confusion, arousal, and fear rushed through you, shocking your body as all your feelings shot down your spine. 

It was a sketch of… you. And a girl bent over with her hands bound behind her back as you fucked her. An… incredibly familiar looking girl. 

A freckled girl. A rosy-cheeked girl. The rosy-cheeked girl from a week ago with the psychotic, sadistic mother.

Her expression in the sketch was pure ecstasy. It looked like she was screaming, her cheeks shaded dark with water-paint and her hair a reddish-brown, thrown in all sorts of directions. Her eyes wild and erotic. Yearning. Teary. Her pleasure seemed dream-like.

And you looked just as gone. Head tossed back, sweaty with your dick shoved inside her pussy, your nails digging into the soft skin on her hips, small, but deep, bloody scratches following the painful glide of your fingertips that make the red blotches on her backside. There were small doodles of strap-ons and pussies smudged, erased, fixed to perfection that seemed almost manic. Obsessive. 

You looked at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper, a small signature across the bottom of it. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

Come back home. Five days.

E.M.

… Come back home? You don’t have a fucking home. And who the fuck is E.M? Your heart was beating against your chest, climbing up your throat in an attempt to escape your body entirely. You couldn’t stop your eyes from flying across the sloppy penmanship. 

… ♡GIRLDICK♡

E.M.

M. 

♡GIRLDICK♡

M.

… Miller Enterprise. 

Miller. 

… Freckles. 

…. What in the fuck. 

It was almost dark, and you were shivering as the wind blew past you. 

It had been five days. 

You were eyeing the large building in front of you from across the street, a giant M slapped across the top of it, windows galore, hoodie on your head and trembling hands shoved in your pockets. 

You could see the last bit of employees trickling out of the building, clad in suits and tight pencil skirts, heavy briefcases and clicking heels. 

You could also see the fresh white and black paint covering where your spray-painted dick used to be, and it made you chuckle to yourself. You were almost tempted to recreate it with your new snagged bottle of acrylic. It supposedly glowed in the dark. 

But then you saw a dark shadow in the corner of your eye, hurriedly moving past the glass of the entrance. 

Your heart raced instantly at the thought of being discovered, and you followed the body's movement. You could see it was Ellie the closer she got to the glass, dressed in a black sweater and comfortable pants, and her same shoes from the court hearing. She looked antsy, a bit on edge, but curious. She was anticipating seeing you. 

You could see her messing with the keypad on the door, the loud sounds of locks clicking over the bustling streets. Flashes of red, swiftly replaced with flashes of green shined through the maxi-glass, and she looked around at all the doors. What was she checking for?

She seemed satisfied with her job, and she slid the entry door open, leaving it slightly ajar so she could slip something between it. 

She gave one last glance at the system before bolting back inside and down the lengthy hallway before all the hall lights shut off. 

Did she… did she just disable all the alarms for you? 

Now, you were the one anticipating meeting her. 

You ran across the street the second you got a chance, hurdling through traffic before running up onto the sidewalk and treading the stairs. 

You looked down and noticed two pens taped together, holding the door open. You picked them up and inspected them, a glossy, silver M near the gel tip. 

You stepped inside before anyone noticed, the door automatically shutting behind you before the same green lights came on, a robotic voice confirming that the doors were locked.

You were inside the Miller Enterprise, and you were terrified.

Ellie was so nervous. 

She’d been checking her Chanel watch all day, obsessively monitoring the windows to see if anyone that resembled your form had arrived, but she was disappointed every time she looked. No sign of you, yet.

The later it got, the more anxious she became. Did you see the note she left in your bag? Was it too forward? Did you think she was fucking crazy? Did you hate her for what her mother did? She prayed not. 

She was currently pacing around her mother’s—father’s—dark office, every step of her shoes echoing in the nearly empty room. She hasn’t been in here since she was seventeen, and it brought just as much anxiety as it did the first time. 

This will all be yours when I’m gone, don’t fucking ruin it. 

She hated everything about this space. Every aspect of her dad was completely gone. All his pictures, his vinyl, his pens and pencils, his nameplate. Everything. All of it, completely void of emotion. 

She hated it, she hated it. 

But then she heard a clang in the hallway, and her anxiety picked up even more before she could process it. 

She quickly made her way over to the exit, peeking her head through the doorframe and examining the hallway, searching for you. The noise had to be you! You really came! She could feel her nipples getting hard already.

But she saw no one. No one was in the dark hallway. 

… Fuck.

Why did she shut the system off? The lights wouldn’t come on!

Her hands instantly got clammy, her heart racing, and her knees shook. She hadn't felt like this since she was a kid, and she was horrified.

Someone’s here to hurt you, someone’s going to come in and hurt you!

You never leave doors unlocked! He always said to lock your doors, never, never, never—

She couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from taking over her entire body, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her father’s switchblade, pressing its latch down to expose the blade. She slammed the door shut and walked over to the large window and tried to steady her breathing. She looked out of the glass and inhaled harshly. 

Keep your grip tight when you strike! 

Calm down calm down calm down—

“Boo.” 

You saw Ellie jump with a hard gasp before spinning to face you, a fearful look on her face and her switchblade in hand, pointed edge towards you. 

You could see her chest rise up and down with every shaky breath she took, her body trembling and cheeks flushed. You felt like your body was going to burst into flames, but you hid it, grinning slyly at her as you stepped forward. 

Deep breath. 

“Hi, Ellie.”

Another step forward. She took two back, nearly pressed against the glass. 

“Y-You,” she stuttered as her eyes darted around nervously, and you could see her cheeks flushing in the darkness, “How’d you get in here?” 

“I think you know how.” 

You shrugged, the contents of your bag shuffling on your back. You pointed towards the large, stretched windows behind her that oversaw the entire city, the hustling streets and lights beaming into the dimly lit room from the last bits of sunset. 

“View’s incredible,” your mockery littered in sarcasm. Don’t let her know you’re scared. 

She took a bold step forward as her brows furrowed, anger twisting on her doll-like face. You took two, as well. You saw her eyes dart to your feet before meeting your gaze to hiss at you.

“There’re cameras on every floor of this fucking building! I press that button,” She darted her small knife towards the enclosed, red button on the side of the wall, a large print of EMERGENCIES ONLY directly above it. “And every cop in this city’ll show up and take your ass back to the fucking gutter where you’re supposed to be.” 

… How the fuck was she going to threaten you when she told you to come here?! What was she playing at?

She pointed her weapon back at you. You ignored your confusion and raised an impressed brow before walking forward without pause, pulling her mother’s chair out from under the desk, the wheels squeaking against the marbled tile. You saw the grip she had on her knife tighten. 

You smiled at her. “You’re pretty good with a knife, honey.” 

“Fuck you. Don’t fucking call me that.”

“I dunno,” you scoffed, twirling on your heels as you took in the luxurious space around you. “I can bet my bottom ass dollar that you like it.” 

Her glare hardened, and your smile brightened. You finally moved to sit in the chair, the plush leather molding against your body and stuffed backpack. You scooted back under the desk and rested your elbows on the hand-carved rosewood, completely calm. At least outwardly. Your insides were jittery from adrenaline. 

You quickly inspected the contents of the desk: her mother’s matching rosewood nameplate, some loose paperwork with large sums of money scattered on them, dark pens and markers, and a signed restraining order. With your name on it. 

You’re apparently not allowed a hundred feet within the perimeter of the building. 

… Funny. 

“Press it.” 

Her scowl hardened, “What?” 

You pointed a lax finger towards the button as you looked up from the document, “I said press it. You want me gone so bad, right?” 

She didn’t reply, her fingers fidgeting around the knife as she adjusted her grip. Her eyes nervously flitted across the room, all over the white floors, back on you. 

“You’re not gonna press the fucking button.” You spat with a devilish smile. “And I know why.” 

“Fuck you, you don’t know sh— “

“You paid my bail.” 

You heard her release a shaky exhale when you sliced through her words, her eyes widening in shock like she saw through you, and you knew you had her. Your smile widened as your nails pattered where you tapped on the desk. 

“Uh huh. Why’d you do it?” 

Her throat moved as she swallowed, and you almost laughed. 

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out the piece of paper that kept you company in your small cot during your restless nights, unfolding it and holding up the explicit depiction that she left in your bag days ago. You pressed her as you swung the chair with your foot, “Think somebody’s got a little crush. Mommy’s gonna be so upset with you.” 

“FUCK YOU!” She marched towards you until she was in front of the desk, her scent enclosing around you before you felt the incredibly sharp blade against the side of your neck, and you stiffened in terror. You looked at her in shock, studying her expression. She looked pissed, but you saw… something in her eyes that made your core squeeze tight. 

It was vulgar, needy, and you hoped she missed your body’s excited shudder at her crude rage. 

She didn’t. Curiosity shone behind her lust and fiery, her enraged shrieks shook your eardrums. 

“You’re fucking worthless! You really think anyone’s gonna care about you rotting in a fucking cell?! You’re… you’re nothing! You’re a low life! You’re… you’re! —“

You deadened your own eyes as you slowly moved to stand, but she pressed the knife deeper into your skin as she leaned over the desk, your faces closer together. You stiffened and felt a sting on your skin, and a drop of wetness. Your pussy squeezed, and you could feel sweat looking under your jacket. 

“Gonna kill me, Ellie?” You glared at her, your heart pounding with fear and exhilaration. 

Say you want me. Say it, sayitsayitsayit!

Her eyes were vengeful as she scanned your face, but you saw that glint grow behind the harsh overcast. Something you craved just as badly as she did. 

“Really want mommy to see her precious girl killing somebody on camera? Hm?” 

“She,” her breath shuddered. “wouldn’t give a fuck if it were you, I promise.” 

You barely whispered your reply as you leaned even closer, your nipples hardening under your sports bra and your underwear clinging to your wetness. 

“Then do it.”

The heavy breaths she released hit your face in a burning wind, and your core tightened once more. You could see the aggression on her face slowly dissipate, that giddy sparkle in her eye overtaking her pupils as they darkened. 

You felt the cold steel pull away from you slowly, her hand coming down on the desk, — unfortunate— and it threw you into action.

Your hand flew up to her throat and squeezed the sides, and you heard the clatter of the object as it hit the wood. You heard her suck in a choked breath as her eyes glossed over, suddenly desperate and wanton and scared like you’d been seconds before. She looked like a neglected kitten, and it made you hold her neck in tighter constriction. 

She whimpered aloud as she attempted to gasp, her hand coming up to grab your wrist, but you snatched it away with your free hand, and it limply dropped to the desk, her body submitting. 

You leaned in closer to her, and her eyes squeezed shut, lips puckered, silently begging for you to kiss her. You snickered. 

You let her neck go and slammed your palm across her blushing cheek, a loud crack! filling the room. 

She cried aloud, looking like she was about to burst into tears as she jumped off the desk and backed away from you, her hand pressed against her searing cheek. You rose to your feet and circled around the desk, rushing towards her until she was pressed up against the window. Tears were running down her face. You shoved her closer against the glass, grabbing her cheeks to force her to look at you. 

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? I got a little fan, is that it?” 

“N-No— “

“Yeah, I do. Fuckin’ stalker. Probably gotta whole shrine t’me in your fucking room. Does mommy know that you worship me? The lowlife who fucked up her building?” You snapped at her.

She flinched at your tone before she choked out a gasped sob, “I j-just liked what you m-made.”

“Stop crying, Ellie.”

She nodded as she sniffled, wiping the tears off her cheeks. You grasp loosened on her cheeks as you cupped her face, your thumb brushing away the wetness on her already bruising skin. You noticed how she leaned into your caress. It made your heart jolt.

“Look at me,” you whispered. 

She hesitantly met your eyes. 

“You wanna kiss me?”

She looked down at her shuffling feet, and you saw her fist clench. 

“Answer me.” 

“Y-Yes, wanna kiss. Just… just one?”

You hummed in satisfaction, inching closer towards her like you did previously. She stiffened but shut her eyes tightly, her plush lips poking out in a pucker once more as your noses touched. You chuckled and whispered, your lips brushing against hers as you spoke. 

“You ever kissed anyone, baby?”

She sighed out an uneven nuh uh, her mouth chasing yours. You grinned wider.

“Oh? M’gonna be your first kiss?” 

She whined out a needy uh huuuh! 

You stuck your tongue out, slowly running the wet muscle over her lower lip, and you felt her whole body tremble against yours. She brainlessly stuck her tongue out to lick yours, but you pulled back. She tried to follow you, but you yanked her head back by the small bun at the back of her head, the soft strands curling around your fist. 

She let out a moan, and your tongue licked up her exposed throat, leaving a trail of spit up her chin, all the way to her mouth. 

You relented and connected your mouths, and she let out a shocked noise into your mouth. You slipped your tongue in her gaping mouth, wet, smacking noises filling the room as you kissed her hotly. She couldn’t keep up with your quick movements, her lips and tongue moving sloppily against yours. Her spit was all over the outside of your mouth. 

You felt her hands come up to your hips to grip your jacket in a tight fist as she moaned into your mouth. 

The noises she let out were so sweet: little, excited gasps and whiny keens as she tried to pull you closer. 

You released her hair and grabbed her chin to move her head to the side. You kissed down her neck, and she jerked against you. Her breaths increased in pace as you pecked her sweaty skin, lapping your tongue all over the side.

You sucked into the skin under her ear, right under her jaw, pulling her sweater down to mark her collarbone. 

“Pleeease, pleaseplease, ah— “

You mumbled in between gentle sucks, “What, Ellie? Talk.” 

You felt her hands grab your hips tighter, but she said nothing. You pushed her hands off you roughly and looked at her with piercing eyes. She shrunk into herself when she met them. 

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. You understand?” 

She nodded quickly. 

“So fucking talk,” you gritted out. 

“Want,” she whispered with a sharp gasp. “Want you.” 

You smirked, “You want me?”

“Mmhm!”

You shoved your backpack off your shoulders, the thud echoing when it hit the floor. 

“Want me to do what?”

She paused before looking down at her feet again, twiddling and picking at her fingers as her face burned red. 

“Um…” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from her, but you felt her hand grab your wrist and you stopped. You looked at her in annoyance. 

She looked at you tentatively, her breathing shaky. 

But then she slowly brought your hand in between her legs. 

She shivered as she placed her hand on top of yours, making you rub her cunt back and forth. She released pleased sighs as her lashes fluttered, her head falling back against the window as she looked at you up and down. 

“P-Please?” She licked her lips. “Wan’you here.”

You scoffed in shock, and her thighs squeezed down on both your hands. You pressed your palm closer against her, and her hips bucked into you. 

You moved closer to her, your clothed chests pressed together. 

“Move your hand,” you spoke quietly, just for her to hear even though you were alone.

She dropped it limply. You pressed your palm into her covered clit, and she moaned. 

You leaned in, your lips brushing her cheek as you spoke.

“Baby just wanted her pussy touched? That’s why you acted out earlier?”

She didn’t speak as she panted heavily. You brought your hand up to slap her cheek again, and she released a pained cry as her hips twitched. 

“Talk!”

“Yes! Needa… need t’be touched!”

“Tell me where.” You brought your hand back down to her pussy as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. 

She sobbed. “A-Anywhere!”

You leered at her soft face. “Yeah? I get t’choose?” 

She nodded quickly, her eyes screaming touch me, please! Make me cum!

“Open your mouth, honey. Stick your tongue out.”

She mewled softly, but did what you asked, her shiny, pink muscle glistening under the beaming city lights. 

You brought your hand up, rubbing your index and middle finger on her soft tongue. 

“Get ‘em wet.”

She hummed as she sucked them into her mouth with no hesitation. You felt her tongue messily swirl around your digits as she sighed contently, and you pressed an encouraging peck on her cheek. 

You slowly fucked your fingers in, pulling them out, only to push them back in again. You almost awwed aloud when she chased your digits every time you pulled out. She was already drooling for them. 

You pressed her tongue down as you fucked in, and she gagged on them. Her eyes shot open and they instantly watered, her throat tightening around you. 

“Bet you suck a mean dick,” you muttered before you could stop yourself. 

She moaned loudly as you fucked deeper into her mouth, pressing down on the back of her tongue. 

“Oh, yeah? Want mine down that pretty throat?”

She garbled and nodded as much as she could with your fast thrusts in her mouth. You couldn’t wait to fuck it open. 

“Snooped through my shit, didn’t you? Saw my fucking cock and creamed yourself? That’s why you bought me new shit?”

You saw her bring a hand down to touch her pussy, her hips bucking into her own hand, chasing any stimulation. You grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her. 

You finally eased up on her throat and pulled out completely, lines of slobber connecting your fingers and her mouth together. You cut them with your own tongue, her spit clinging to the edges of your mouth. 

You planted a smacking kiss on her lips before you shoved your hand down her dark, flared pants and into her boxers. 

She squealed when you immediately found her clit with your spit covered fingers, the slippery bud sliding between your already drippy fingers. You watched her hand fly to the white windowsill for balance as your hand went wild on her cunt. 

“Such a wet fucking pussy. Feels good, baby?”

Her brows creased as she nodded, her body rocking with your movements. “A-Ah! —“ 

“Uh huh. You touch yourself like this when mommy’s at work? Hm?”

Her head shamefully jerked in confirmation. You could see her now: her pretty legs spread on her plush bed, her sopping pussy squeezing at the thought of you fucking her just how she needed. She’d be grabbing at her tits as she flicked her clit, desperate to cum all over her blankets for you. Your pussy was so wet. 

“You think about me when you do it?” You knew the answer, but you needed her to say it. Confirm that she thought about you just as much as you thought about her. 

“Yes! Yes, yes!”

“Fucking whore, no wonder she hates your guts.”

She moaned louder at your degradation. “S’c—coming! “

Your fingers were practically vibrating on her cunt, her clit thumping as her orgasm built. “Get my fingers nice’n sloppy, angel, c’mon— “

She reached down to grab your wrist as she jumped on your fingers, but before you could slap her, her body tensed, and her eyes rolled into her skull. You felt her clit pulsate under your touch, and you knew she was cumming.

“Fuckmemommy!”

You couldn’t stop the shock that appeared on your face as you watched her thrash on your hand, gasping out, asking you to please fuck me, mommy! Need you to fuck me!

You just massaged her through it, pressing your hips up against hers so she couldn’t run from your touch. 

“Wan’mommy to fuck you, angel?” you mumbled in your daze as your pussy dripped, your brain barely registering what you just said.

“Yespleasepleaseplease, gimme— “

“Fuck, baby, need mommy inside you?” Your heart was pounding in your ears. 

“M-Mhhm!—“

“Gimme your leg,” You lifted it up with your free hand, bringing it up so it came around your waist.

You slid your fingers down to her twitchy entrance and slipped the tip of your pointer finger inside. You almost moaned at how her walls clung to you, sucking you in deeper, milking you.

“Tightest fuckin’ pussy,” you mumbled to her, and she whimpered when your finger arched inside her. You prodded around until she slumped against you, pushing her hips down on your finger. You leaned in, your lips brushing her ear as you cooed right there? yeah? feels fuckin’ good?

She couldn’t even speak. She just plopped her head onto your shoulder and sloppily kissed your neck. Your cunt clenched and you flinched when her soft tongue licked into the small slit she made earlier. You heard her hum as her tongue swiped a line from your collarbone to your cut; She was licking your blood up like a fucking dog!

It made you punch that spot in her harder, and she cried out against your skin, her nails digging into your forearm. 

You slowly pushed your middle finger in, and she sobbed as she stretched around you. You arched your thumb out to rub her clit as you poked that spongy spot in her pussy; She was so loud for you. 

“Like when I touch you there?” 

“I like it, like it s’much!” You felt her nodding mindlessly against you.

“Gonna cum on me again?” you spat at her. 

“Fuck yes!” 

“Know you’re gonna cum hard, can’t even fuck you like I wanna, squeezing me so tight.”

You dug your fingers as deep and fast into her as her cunt would allow. Her walls were choking the fuck out of you, practically screaming for them to stay where you were pressed inside her. How the fuck was she going to take you fully?!

The thought of breaking her open made you shake, “Gonna make this pussy take me. Can’t wait t’give you this fucking dick.”

Then she started screaming out for you, trying to get you closer, wrapping her arms around you, her leg dropping onto the floor. “Ohgodohgodohgod, m’cumming, mommy, I’mcu—AH!”

You almost fell back when she went limp on you, her knees buckling as her slick coated your fingers, your palm, her panties. You used your weight to push her back against the window, her head thudding against the glass like before, but she seemed too engulfed in her desire to care. You almost brought your hand up to comfort her sore spot, anyway, but you stopped yourself. 

You took her in: practically dangling off you as she wailed from orgasm, her face beat red, the bun at the back of her head almost loose, her eyelids fluttering. You sneered at her, a nasty grin on your face. 

“Atta girl, so excited for cock, ain’t she?”

She could only grind out yesyesyes between her teeth, her fingers still squeezing down on you as you rubbed her clit, her orgasm slowing down. 

“You gotta make me cum first, m’kay?” 

“W’na make… mommy cum!” she nodded like a bobblehead as she slurred. 

“Yeah? Want mommy’s cum in your mouth?”

She wept desperately, “Yes, please, need it!”

You grinned, catching a glimpse of your desperate reflection in the mirror. You’re so glad she was too fucked out to notice.

“C’mon, honey.” 

Ellie stood in front of you as you sat in her mother’s chair, her shoes kicked off. 

Your bag was tossed next to you as you stared at her, noting her fidgeting stance. She wasn’t looking at you, at all. She was looking down, specifically at your occupied hands. 

You’d picked up her discarded knife from the table, inspecting its rusty, scratched design, slightly bloody blade, retraction. You couldn’t stop fiddling with it. 

“W-What’re gonna do with that?” You heard her ask. 

You ignored it. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was my dad’s.” Her voice went sharp. 

“What kinda father lets his baby play with such sharp objects?” You said in between sarcastic snickers. 

“He’s fucking dead, who cares.” 

You finally looked up at her sharp tone, examining her tense face, and your playful smile slowly dropped. She tried to appear as if mentioning it didn’t bother her, but you recognized that look in her eye from anywhere. Grief fucking sucks, no matter how much time passed.

“… Hm.” 

You looked down at the blade again, then back up at her, “He taught you how to… handle it?” 

She shrugged, her brows raising as her arms crossed over her chest. You nodded. 

Your arm was suddenly incredibly itchy. “Mine taught me how to… draw n’stuff.” 

You looked off to the side awkwardly as you reminisced on the first pack of colored pencils he’d bought you. You remembered how particular he was about the art utensils and their conditions. You didn’t realize that he was trying to ensure their quality because he couldn’t afford another pack until you got older.

Always make sure these bastards are sharpened! That’s true precision!

“… Cool,” you heard her say, and you looked at her, “Were you guys, uh, close?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded stiffly, and silence surrounded the two of you. Ellie awkwardly nodded as she stared at the floor, and your lips twitched before you turned to stare out the window.

Some time passed in pure silence before you heard her speak. 

“… Still wanna, uh… D’you still wanna fuck?” 

You looked at her as she fumblingly scratched the back of her head. Her eyes met yours as her ears burned. You grinned as your shoulders rose.

“Up to you.” 

“Like… I still wanna if you do,” She nibbled on her bottom lip. 

You leaned back in her mom’s seat. 

“Ellie.” 

The deep tone of your voice made her look up, her eyes shining like crystals as her arms dropped to her sides. 

“Yes?” 

“… C’mere.” 

She moved, her sock-covered feet padding on the floor until she was in front of you. 

You looked up at her, your hand coming up to play with the hem of her sweater. 

You spoke softly, “Off. C’mon.” 

She grabbed the back of her top and lifted it over her head, her bare chest jiggling with her movements. She tossed the fabric to the floor. 

You eyed her chest like you were going to swallow her whole, her perky nipples urging you to reach out and pull on them. Her pussy is so fucking sensitive; Were her nipples just as bad? Worse? Could she cum just from you touching them? Fuck, she probably could—

“Are they… Do you like them?” 

Her soft whisper cut through your gawking. You met her eyes through your lashes as she squirmed in front of you. 

Your hands came up to grab her hips, massaging them gently. 

“Yeah, baby. They’re so pretty, fit you perfectly.” 

She sighed in content, “T-Thank you.” 

You planted a soft kiss to her tummy as you looked at your thumb around the elastic of her pants to pull them down. 

Her stomach jerked with every sharp breath as your lips moved on her bare skin. You felt her hand come up to your shoulder to grasp it as she stepped out of her pants. 

Your hands traveled upward to grab both her tits in a rough squeeze. She wheezed and arched her back so you could get closer. You heard her murmur a quiet fuckme, and you looked up. She was watching your every move with wide, curious eyes. You held her gaze as you licked up her torso, and she whimpered. 

You brought your hands back down to grab the back of her thighs, moving her closer to your lap. She placed her hands on your shoulders as she climbed on top of you, and you sucked her nipple into your mouth. 

She grinded down onto you and moaned, and your eyes fluttered shut. Your tongue made circular movements on the pert bud, and you hummed at the taste of her soft skin. Her head fell forward as she gasped right in your ear, and it made you suck on her hard. 

Her hips were jerking on top of you, trying to fuck down onto your clothed thigh as her nails plunged into your back. 

“Feels so… mmh!”

You brought your hand back up to her other tit and played with her nipple with your fingers. 

And then you slapped it. Hard. 

She let out a sharp squeak and mindlessly bounced on top of your leg; You could feel a slight dampness building on your jeans, and you scoffed at her, sneering when you pulled away. You hit her other tit just as hard, your spit transferring onto your palm. 

“Ah! Fuckfuckfu— “

Smack!

“Yes!”

SMACK!

She squealed. “M’gonna cum!”

You reached up to slap her face before pulling her hair to the side with a tight fist. 

You quickly grabbed her switchblade off the desk and unlatched the blade, the sharp edge popping up. You instantly pressed it to her neck, and she choked on a ragged pant. 

The lust in her eyes was accompanied by fear, and you grinned. 

“Don’t get scared now. You were waving it around earlier. So ready to fight, huh?” 

She shuddered, rutting down on your leg again, and you pressed the sharp edge into her skin harder. Her eyes shut tight, and two fat tears fell down her cheeks. She nearly bounced on you. 

“I could fuck you up right here, you know that, right?” 

“Please, mommy, needa cu—!”

You moved the knife away and released her hair, slapping her in the face again. “Shut the fuck up, you nearly slit my fuckin’ throat and now you wanna fuck. I should leave right now, fucking brat.”

She sobbed, “Nonono, please don’t leave, mommy don’t go, m’sorryI’m— “

“Mommy, don’t go!” you mocked. “Get on your fuckin’ knees.” 

You kept the blade pressed against her jugular as she clumsily shuffled to the floor, her cries shaking her body. 

“You wanna apologize?” She nodded jerkily, minding the silver edge on her vein.

“Yeah? Wanna make mommy feel better?” You said with a mean pout. 

“Mhm!”

You sloppily kicked your boots off and shoved them under the desk. 

“Take m’pants off, baby. C’mon.”

She moved quickly, unbuttoning and tugging your jeans and underwear down your legs as she sniffled. She yanked them off with a hard tug, and her eagerness made you giggle as you lifted your hips. You unzipped your jacket and pulled it off your shoulders, tossing it to the floor, leaving you in your black tank top. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of a grin on her face as she eyed your breasts before she dived towards your cunt. 

You shoved the knife closer against her, and you saw blood pool at the edge of the blade. She looked up at you with an anxious expression. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me. Ask nicely.” 

She looked confused as she mumbled brokenly, “Ask you what?”

Your brows furrowed at her, “My mistake. You probably never had to ask for shit in your life.” 

Her bruised cheeks glowed red as she looked down in embarrassment. 

You grinned slyly. “Say, mommy, may I eat your pussy, please?” 

Shock overtook her expression before she rolled her eyes at you and looked to the side.

“You’re fucking cra— “

You yanked her dark hair back and pointed the end of the blade against her bruised jaw. Her ragged breaths hit your face.

“Say it.” 

“Y-You're not gonna hurt me,” she stated unsteadily. 

“You don’t know shit about me, and even if I did hurt you, you’d want it. Admit it.” 

She avoided your gaze and her lips quivered. 

You continued. “You’d let me do anything I want because you’re disgusting. A filthy fucking slut with a silver spoon in her mouth.”

You huffed at her with a frown. “And you like girls. You’d be just as worthless as I am in her eyes if she found out.” 

You nodded over to her mother’s nameplate, and her eyes shut like she was a child getting scolded for stealing candy at the store. 

“I’m right, baby? You don’t want a husband? Don’t wanna get bred for the empire like she wants?”

She shamefully shook her head as tears fell down her face. You didn’t even know if she was in that circumstance or not, but by her reaction, it seemed to cut her deep. You ignored the searing pain in your chest.

“Mhm, so,” you turned her head so she could look at you, her red eyes burning through yours. “Something you wanna ask me?” 

Her mouth dropped open in submission.

“M-Mommy, may I… May I eat your pussy, please?” 

You smiled in satisfaction, placing a gentle kiss on her wet forehead. 

“Yes, baby, you may.” 

You pulled the knife away from her and set it on the desk, grabbing her chin to plant a kiss to her mouth. She whined happily into yours. 

You pulled back and adjusted your position, leaning back with your legs spread, the underside of your knees hooked into the armrests of the seat, your cunt on full display for her. Your sopping pussy was right next to her face, and you saw her eyes flutter in delight. 

“Want me t’show you how?” 

She nodded intensely. 

You brushed away the flyaway hairs on her forehead, your hand planted on the back of her head. 

“Spit on my clit, babe. Get it nice n’wet.” 

She released a glob of spit right onto your pulsing bud,

and you sighed as it dribbled down to your hole. You tilted her head back, remnants of slobber collecting on her chin. You gathered spit in your mouth and pulled her lower lip down, her mouth falling open. You spat onto her tongue, and she moaned, tilting her head down to spit it out all over your pussy. You bit your lip so hard; you almost drew blood.

You reached down and spread your lips, your throbbing clit poking through. You could see her trembling as she eyed you. 

“Wanna taste, Ellie?”

“Yeah, please, mommy,” she choked out. 

“Lick me, then, honey.” 

She wasted no time, the tip of her tongue circling around the nub instantly. Your mouth fell open at the sensation. The pink muscle was so soft, the licks slow and gentle, barely there. 

“Doing so good, baby, take your time,” you sighed out. 

She keened at your praise; her lashes flitted like butterfly wings in Spring as she rubbed your clit in deep licks. 

“Fuck, Ellie, s’so sensitive,” she whined against you, eyes begging for your approval as she watched your expression. You caressed her burning cheek with your pointer finger, and she licked deeper.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it, making me so happy,” her eyes rolled shut as she tongued you, sliding her tongue all over your pussy in slow strokes. 

You moaned out every time she came up to lap at your clit. You guided her head down to your hole, and her tongue slipped inside, slurping up all your slick. You were gasping her name out as her tongue wiggled inside you, swirling all over your walls. 

“Such a good girl, fuck, El!” you groaned out as wet sounds filled the room. “Wanna make mommy cum?”

She hummed excitedly and nodded, her tongue moving back up to massage your clit. You tightened her grip on her head, forcing it to move back and forth her hums shaking your clit. 

She moved her head faster against you when she sucked your clit into her mouth, and your head fell back against the chair as your eyes rolled back. Your thighs were shaking, toes curled as you squealed out encouragement. You needed to cum, she was going to make you cum!

“Get me there, pretty, m’— gonna make me fuckin’ cum— “

“Wan’mommy’s cum, please?” she sloppily murmured against you. 

“Gonna get it, baby, m’right there! —“

She was fully moaning all over your clit, “Gonna fuck you so good, angel, fuck yes!”

You peeled your eyes open and looked back down at her when she released your clit to moan aloud. Her drool and your pussy juice were all over her pink lips as she sighed and whimpered in pleasure. You couldn’t see what she was doing, but her forearm was moving frantically as quiet shhlcks filled the room. 

“Ellie.”

“Mommym’gonnacum— “

“I swear to g— “

“S’so wet, oh god, please!” 

SMACK!

Her head flew onto your thigh at your hard slap to her face, and she screamed out as her body tensed up. You watched her with a scowl as she squealed out m’cummimgsohardmommy against your skin, a puddle of drool forming on your skin. 

You yanked her hand out of her boxers, and she whined in protest as her orgasmed died, her hips bucking back into the air. You stood up, pulling her up by her waist and bending her over the desk, holding her down by her neck. 

“Stop fucking with me, Ellie.” You pulled her boxers down under her ass, taking in the sight of her still pulsating cunt and her twitchy ass. 

She spat at you over her shoulder, “Or wha— “

SMACK!

She groaned out in pain against the wood when your hand connected with her asscheek in a fiery slap, your hand burning. 

“Motherfuc— “

SMACK! 

You hit her and hit her. And hit her again. And again. Until she was jerking away from you, her hips bucking against the desk and your handprints covering her ass in a cherry-red tint. 

You don’t even remember how many times you slapped her, but she was sobbing out apologies against the desk, asking for your forgiveness over her tears.

“You done fucking around?” Your hand felt like it was in flames when you dropped it on the desk.

“Yesyes, mommy, I won’t—sob— won’t fuck up again!” 

“I was actually gonna eat your pussy out,” you scoffed out nastily, and she only cried harder at the insinuation that you weren’t anymore. “You don’t want that, you don’t want me fucking nice.” 

You pulled away and walked towards your discarded

bag on the floor, digging through it and pulling your dick out, stepping into and adjusting the straps as you watched her bruised ass jiggle with each wail. 

Your dick stood up as you walked back over to her. You gave her one last hard slap on her marked ass and pulled her up by her arm, shoving her onto her knees in front of you so she was trapped between you and the desk. 

You could see her wiping away tears, but you grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at you. 

“You want dick so bad? Get it wet so I can fuck you.” 

Shock appeared on her face.

“Y-You’re gonna fuck me with that?” You watched her inspect the size of you. The length, the girth, all the ridges. Her breathing got heavier the longer she stared.

“Now you’re fucking scared, really, Ellie?”

“I’m not sca— “

“Talk back again, and I’m leaving. You’re getting on my fucking nerves.” 

She glared at you, but looked down, straight at your tip, then back at you. 

And then she spit on it, a fat glob of saliva dribbling down the sides of your cock. Her hand came up to wrap around the base, rubbing her spit into the silicone. She held eye contact with you as she stuck her tongue out. You reached down and placed your hand on top of hers, slapping your tip on her slobbery muscle. 

“Good fucking whore, good n’sloppy,” you let go to pat her still-red cheek with a heavy hand, and her pretty eyes hardened, her blush deepening. She dropped her mouth open, her lips curling on the tip as she sucked on it. You bit your lip as you watched her tongue swirl around you.

She moaned around the silicone, her eyes filthy. Her hand spread her spit up all over you as she took in your inches slowly, jerking you off and slobbering on you at the same time. She looked like a fucking pornstar, like she practiced for this, like she wanted to impress you, and you shook like you could actually feel her mouth. Your pussy was desperate to cum, but you pushed it aside and watched her. 

She released you with a wet pop, her tongue flicking around your tip like she was lapping at your cum, and you couldn’t stop the moan that left your mouth. 

“Nasty slut, goddamn— “

She smiled like you just called her the prettiest girl in the world before sucking you back in, her head bobbing up and down as she slurped you up. There was so much spit on your length that it started dripping onto the floor.

You bucked forward, your hips moving on autopilot, and she choked on you, her hand coming up to your thigh to squeeze it. You ignored her grasp and fucked into her mouth harder, pinning both her arms above her head on the desk. She gargled around your dick, and you could only imagine the tightness of her throat with each gag. 

“What, baby? Don’t like it? Want me t’stop?” You gritted out. And you thrusted deeper. She moaned and her mouth opened wider.

She was making wet noises around you, her head thudding against the top drawer of the desk when you fucked in. You fucked your entire cock down her throat, and she gagged hard. 

You pulled out and let her go.

She fell forward and coughed hard, her drool pooling down on the eggshell floors as she choked. You watched in irritation as she heaved.

“Get up,” her gasps slowed as she breathed in deeply, and she lifted her head to glare at you from her hunched position. 

“Get up.” 

“Fuck you,” she spluttered.

“I’m gonna. Get up.”

Despite her bitterness, she slowly stood and instantly bent over the desk with her scarred ass poked out towards you. You chuckled when you saw both her holes pulse in excitement.

“That’s how it is?” you slapped her asscheek, and her hips bucked back against your hand. 

“Uh huh,” you heard her crackly mumble dazedly. “Need you t’make me cum.”

“Seemed alright doing it yourself a few minutes ago.”

She ignored you, and you smirked, “Need your cock, mommy, pleeease, please— “

You reached out, running two fingers over her drenched slit, and she pressed back on them as she sighed in pleasure. You slowly slid your fingers down to her clit, and she moaned aloud, her thighs jerking. 

“Look at this fucking pussy, jesus.” 

“I-It’s pretty?”

“Yeah, baby, fuck,” your mouth watered when you saw her walls clench. “Can’t even be mad, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Then fuck me,” she whined out sweetly, looking at you over her shoulder. 

You leaned down until you were eye level with her pussy, her walls squelching and squeezing repeatedly. You bit your lip and kitty-licked her cunt, her slick painting your taste buds as her smell surrounded you, and she jumped at the feeling. 

“Taste like fucking honey.” 

“So do you, made me so wet,” she exhaled as she shivered in anticipation. 

“S’gonna hurt,” you whispered, more to yourself as you eyed her tightness. 

“Don’t care.” She pushed back on your face.

“Put your hands behind your back. Don’t move them.” 

She shuddered and obeyed instantly, her hands overlapping at the wrists at the small of her back. 

You pressed one last kiss to her pussy before standing upright, “You move your hands, I stop.”

“Not gonna move, mommy,” she whispered in between unsteady breaths. “Make me feel good, please. Please, please.”

“Shh. Got you, baby. Open your legs,” you caressed her back and she squirmed. You felt goosebumps rise all over her skin, and you smirked.

The gap between her thighs widened even more for you, her cunt on full display. You could hear her beckoning you to pop the tip inside her in tiny, desperate whispers, and it made your core clench. 

You inched closer to her until the back of her thighs pressed against the front of yours. You wrapped a hand around your wet dick and brought it up to her slit, soaking it in her gooey slick and sliding it between her silky lips. Her cunt was already soaking your entire length and you didn’t even fuck her yet. She was subtly pushing back on you, trying to get you inside her. 

You heard the enthusiasm in her voice when she keened, “Mommy, please, it’s right there!”

“Mhm, I know, I see it,” you mumbled wetly, her gooey cunt looked so pretty under the light of the city, shining like glitter.

“Making mommy so wet baby, such a pretty girl,” you brought your cock back up to her slit and pushed forward, slowly popping the tip in her snug opening. She squealed loudly, and you saw her fists clench at the end of her spine as her walls clung to you, pulling you in.

“Yesyesyes, oh god, mommy, fuck, uh huh!”

“Yeah, baby? It hurts?” 

“Nooo, feels s’good, oh shit! —“

You slowly pushed in another inch, gauging her reaction for any discomfort, your thumb moving on her hip softly. She tried to push back to take you deeper, but you held her hips down.

“Fuck mefuckmefuckme— “

“Gonna be my good girl, baby? Gonna take it nice’n deep?” 

“Yeah, mommy!”

You pushed in even deeper, and you could feel the resistance of her cunt the more you slid in. You couldn’t stop the moan you released when she said your name. 

“Y-You’re splitting me open, ffuck— “

You pressed in the last bit of your dick, her ass resting at the top of your thighs, your hands propping you up on the desk as you leaned above her, placed on either side of her head. She was sighing heavily in satisfaction, and you could see her glossy eyes rolling. 

“Feelin’ good?”

She nodded slowly, “U-Use me, mommy, please use me t’cum, fuck.”

“Gotta take care of my girl first,” you fucked out of her slowly before snapping your hips, fucking all your inches back into her, and she screamed. “Such a tight pussy.”

You bent down to kiss her pretty back, down her spine as you stroked her deeply. You’d barely completed your fourth stroke before you felt Ellie tense up under you, her body shuddering as she moaned quietly to herself. You snickered at her. 

“Baby’s cumming?” you licked up her spine again. 

You could only see her nod in jerky headshakes from where you stood, her cheek pressed against the desk. You looked down at where you were connected, and you could see how her walls struggled to choke your dick. You grabbed her wrists in one hand and fucked her through her orgasm, your free hand sneaking under her hips to rub her clit. 

The second her body relaxed, you saw the muscles in her back flex again, the arch in her back deepening, “Mommy, think—m’cumming again, oh god, motherfu— “

“How many are you gonna give me, angel?” you rubbed her clit faster, fucking in harder. 

“I feel it, I feel it, fuck!” She wasn’t listening to anything you were saying as she yelled in her pleasure. You could see how much she was wetting your cock, lines of her slick forming every time you pulled out of her. You angled your hips downward when you fucked back in, and she shouted your name out, her warnings of her orgasm echoing in your ears. You released her clit and pinned her down by her neck again. 

“Like it right there, baby? That’s the spot?” You could feel your core squeezing with every cry she let out, her voice completely broken, her squeals scratchy. 

She was babbling about something, but you weren’t listening, the squelchy sounds of her cunt increasing in volumes as you forced your dick in her, stirring her guts up. 

You looked down and saw her ass squeezing with every quiver of her cunt, and you licked your lips. You let her wrists go and brought a hand to your mouth, sucking your thumb in to wet it before rubbing her ass with it. 

She let out a loud slew of ah ah ahs before you felt a burst of wetness on your thighs, dripping down onto the floor. Her entire body was jerking back onto your, her rosy ass jiggling every time she hit your hips. 

But then you heard a slam above her shouts of pleasure and mommy!

You looked up to check on her unsteady form as she continued to drench your lap, her hand resting on the back of her mother’s nameplate, her fingertips digging into the wood as she screamed in her euphoria. 

It made you fuck her harder and pull her hand away from the dog tag. You didn’t even care about punishing her anymore, you needed to cum. You’d been riding that edge since you got here, and you knew you were going to cum so hard.

You leaned over her body and grinded into her, moving her hand away from the plate and sitting back up in its position. You grabbed her by her spit-coated chin so she could look dead at her mother’s name. She whimpered and tried to look away from it, but you tightened the grip on her face to keep her still. 

“Look at it, baby— “

She sobbed, murmuring how hard she was about to cum again, her eyes fluttering as she stared at it, her cheeks glowing like apples.

You bent down to her ear, “You embarrassed, angel? Huh? Wanna close your eyes? Gonna squirt on me again?”

She was looking dead at the plate, “You’re so deep, mommy, fuck yes, m’gonna!—“

“Nasty fucking slut, taking it so good,” You looked up at the clear window as your thrusts picked up pace again, the entire city shining through the glass in all its glory. Every light of every building, people roaming, honking, noises of construction. It was all beneath you, and it was all theirs. The strap was bumping on your clit with each thrust. 

“Look at your city, baby,” you lifted her weightless head by her wild, knotted hair and made her look into the distance as you groaned in pleasure. “Gonna be all yours one day, can do whatever you want with it soon.”

“Fuuuck— “

“Uh huh, you like having that power? You can get whatever the fuck you want— “

“M-Mommy!”

“Just need a baby, right? Gonna g-give her what she wants? Gonna give her that precious heir, that golden child?”

“Yesyesyes! Wan’your baby, ge’me fucking pregnant!”

You moaned at her begging as you babbled mindlessly to her, “Gonna cum in you, fuck, need it… t’catch— “

She was screaming about how your seed was going to catch in her womb, how hard she was going to squirt again, begging you to fuck her harder, hurt her, make her bleed, make her scream. You could feel your senses leaving as your orgasm built as she pushed back on you, and you moaned her name in her ear. 

“Fuuuck, Ellie,” your clit jerked, and you let her go, her head falling onto her arm in front of her as she yelled in euphoria. “Gonna make that bitch raise my fuckin’ kid while I’m gone? Huh?”

She didn’t even react to your slip of your departure, “Yeahyesyesyes! Fuck, I’m cumming!”

You felt another spray of liquid drip down your legs as you drilled her, and it triggered your own orgasm. Your clit jerked as your release rushed through you, your walls clenching as your body shook on top of hers, grinding against her to ride it out. You could almost feel the sensation of filling her up, her cunt sucking your cum deep inside her. 

She was still moaning above you, wringing the last bits of her orgasm out on your cock. You whined against her sweaty skin, the aftershocks moving through you. 

You felt her go completely lax underneath you, heavy sighs leaving her parted lips. 

You both caught your breaths in soothing silence. 

After Ellie asked you to show her how to kiss properly, the pounding of your heart refused to slow down. 

You were seated in her mother’s chair once more, her wetness still coating you in stickiness as she straddled your lap, her arms around your neck as she gazed at you nervously.

“We just fucked, why do you look like that?”

Her brows creased, “Like what?”

“Like you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips before looking back up at you. 

You only hummed at her, brushing your noses together before leaning forward, grabbing the back of her neck to pull her down to you. Her eyes shut tightly, and her lips puckered in front of yours, and you pulled back, grabbing her face to stop her.

“Stop doing that, just relax.” 

“… What’d I do?”

You mimicked her, poking your lips out stiffly before breaking out into a grin. She huffed with a tiny smile, shaking her head, “Sorry.”

You shrugged, uncaring. She looked down, “Where do I put my tongue?” 

You snorted, “Nowhere yet.”

You craned your neck up slowly and connected your mouth with hers gently, your lips molding against hers. She sighed and leaned closer into you, her arms tightening around the back of your neck. You felt a sharp sting in your chest at her delicate touch, and you pulled away. A soft smack filled the room when you separated. She smiled softly, “That was cute.” 

You nodded stiffly, murmuring a mhm, before looking down. Out the window. Behind her. Anywhere but her eyes. 

You felt her nuzzle against your cheek, kissing it gently, “Are we… uh, fucking again?” 

“You want to?” The pounding in your ears was giving you a headache. 

You felt her nod. Another kiss to your cheek. Another pull in your heart. 

Your hands planted on her hips, lifting them so she could sit on you, but she grabbed your wrists to stop you. 

Her hands latched onto the hem of your shirt, attempting to pull it up and over your head, but your hand caught her wrist. Not harshly, but stern.

Her eyes softened at your masked expression, releasing the gentle grip on your shirt, “I’m, uh… I’m sorr— “

“It’s fine. Ready?” you grabbed the base of your dick in your hand, and she mumbled a quiet yes. 

You felt her hand come on top of yours as she helped you guide it to her entrance, and your breath shook as you exhaled.

Her hips came down on you at her own pace, your free hand resting on her hip. She gasped when it slipped inside, her hands coming to support herself on each armrest. 

“Feels different like this,” she whispered huskily.

You smirked, “I know, take your time.” 

She nodded, slowly sinking down on you. You saw her eyelids get heavy as her walls caught on every ridge of you, her head falling back in her pleasure. Her soft locks disheveled all over her head, her bun nonexistent as her bobby pins stuck out from every direction. 

She slid in too deep, though. She let out a pained gasp as she caught herself on the chair, her brows furrowing. 

“Okay?” you checked in.

She nodded, her lip in between her teeth, “So deep like this, fuck… don’t know if I can go all the way down.”

“It’s fine, babe, make yourself feel good.” 

“H-Help me?” her breathing was picking up as her hips bucked. 

Your other hand flew to her hips, digging into her soft skin as you guided her hips on you. You eased her into a deep grind, and her hands flew behind you, landing on the headrest behind you. 

Her head rested in the crook of your neck as she followed your movements, her wet moans hitting the side of your neck. The sensation of her breath on your skin made your pussy clench. 

“Am I—gasp—doing good, m-mommy?” 

“Fucking me so good, baby, shit,” you whispered in her ear, and she moaned aloud in yours. She sped up on you, the harness digging into your clit with each swivel of her hips. 

Your hands moved down to grab her ass, spreading her cheeks before slapping them, grabbing the plush of them in your hands. She fucked you harder, and you felt her spit drip on your neck as she wailed into your skin. You threw your head back on the headrest when she sucked on your neck, right on your open scar.

She lifted her head up and looked at you with gentle eyes, her hands moving down from the headrest to grab your cheeks in a soft touch. She was panting on your mouth, her lips brushing against yours with every jump on you. She was so close and she smelled so good, her lips soft. 

She whispered dreamily, “Can’t stop cumming— “

Your eyelids fluttered, “Then don’t. Give it to me, m’so close— “

She grinded harder as she leaned down to connect your lips in a honey-sweet kiss. You reciprocated against your brain's desires. 

Push her away. She’ll never be yours! This is all she wants from you!

Tears built in your eyes as your peak approached, her moans increasing in urgency against your mouth. You sucked on her bottom lip, biting it hard. This is the most eager you’ve felt since you touched her. 

“Cum with me, pleasepleaseplease— “

“I’m gonna, baby, fuck me hard!”

She was going crazy on your dick, full-on bouncing on you, taking it all despite her protests earlier, and you felt yourself tipping. Your pussy squeezed and soaked the harness as your orgasm pulled in your gut. You looked down at your cock, and it was drenched in her white, sticky substance. She was creaming all over your cock as she used you. It made your eyes cross in your skull as your euphoria hit you. 

You were so loud as your nails tore into her skin, your moans matching hers in volume. You felt another splash of fluid on you, and you came harder, another wave crashing through you. You would’ve curled in on yourself if she wasn’t on top of you. 

You felt her tongue slide into your hungry mouth, swirling around yours as you shouted through your high. She was making you feel so good, and you couldn’t fucking think. 

You felt like you were cumming for minutes before the harsh pulses slowed into soft twitches, her hips slowing, and she bent down to kiss you. The touch was soft, sweet, undeserved. You stiffened, on guard immediately. 

She was close, she was too close. Her soft caresses on your face snapped you out of your intoxication, pulling away from her mouth and grabbing her hips to pull her off your dick. 

“T-Turn around, Ellie.”

“Huh?” she asked softly, her eyes teary and delicate. 

“T-Turn around,” your voice trembled.

“O-Okay.”

She was too fucking close. 

She lifted off you, planting her feet on the ground and you spun her. You pulled her down on your lap, her ass in front of your cock. You grabbed your tip, pushing it past her entrance, and she mewled. She took it with ease, mewling out as her back arched into you, swallowing you whole as she sunk down again. 

She planted her hands on your knees and immediately bounced on you, her toned ass meeting the base of your harness with every jump on your cock. 

You could see her pussy suck on your inches, suffocating your girth, her walls clinging to you. 

You grabbed her neck and pushed her forward slightly, and she cried out in painful pleasure. You planted your feet on the floor and fucked up into her. 

“Fuck! Your dick feels so fucking good! Oh my—agh!”

You saw even move cream spread over your dick with every fuck inside her squishy walls. You were moaning with her, fucking her harder, faster, the hand on her neck moving up to pull her hair hard. The sound of wet skin slapping accompanied the sounds you both made in your pleasured state. 

You were going to cum so fucking quick, “Fuck, Ellie, shit— “

“I’m gonna cum so hard, mommy!” your hand in her hair flew down to her hip, grinding her down harder on you. You moaned at the feeling.

“Yeah? Already?” You were right behind her, those euphoric waves pulling in your gut.

“Fuck—fuckyes!”

“Want it so bad, get it all over this fucking dick, baby— “

Her hand that'd been playing with her tits flew down on top of yours on her waist, her fingers lacing with yours tightly as she shouted, screaming your name. She met your harsh thrusts as she bounced, and she squirted on you again, and you watched it gush out of her, wetting your stomach and harness and the chair beneath her, the sound of splattering liquid on the floor making you cum the hardest you ever had. Your vision whitened as your orgasm crushed you. 

She kept cumming on you, and you kept cumming for her. The pleasure didn’t stop, and all you could do was scream her name out like she did yours, hold her hand tighter as your brain melted. She rocked back and forth on you, prolonging your orgasm, making you cum harder. It just kept building in intensity, the aggressive pulses wracking through you, your toes curling as she milked you, and all you could do was take it.

You blacked out in her mom’s chair, the last thing you remember seeing was her pulsing, squirting pussy, pulsing ass, and the auburn stars that painted her entire back. 

Some time passed, your lashes fluttering open as you felt soft touches on your face. 

You were met with delicate, green eyes, Ellie looking at you with a softness you hadn’t seen in years. It felt foreign, deep, and it made your heart pick up in panic. 

You pulled away from her touches and looked around unsteadily. 

She was too close. Too fucking close.

The office was a mess: clothes everywhere, the floor was soaked, the whole room smelled like sex and pussy, desk askew, its contents thrown everywhere, Ellie’s tears and puddles of spit all over the surface. You could even see splatters of… her on her mother’s restraining order against you. 

You were suddenly terrified, moving into action and guiding her off your lap so you could stand. You undid the straps of your dick and stepped out of it, cringing at the drying stickiness, and throwing it into your backpack.

You heard her speak from behind you, “Hey, hey, you okay? What’s wr— ‘

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m fine, I gotta go,” you said tensely. Unwelcoming. Guarded.

“Did… did I do something?” She sounded too soft, too gentle. 

“No, Ellie, I just, I gotta go,” You dressed erratically, pulling your underwear up and jeans on, wincing at your cum sticking to your garments. 

You could hear the crack in her voice, “Can I… do you need help or— “

“Ellie, I’m fucking fine. I’m fine, okay? Forget it.” You spat over your shoulder as you repacked. Don’t look at her, don’t fucking look at her. 

She sounded just as anxious as you did, “W-Why are you so upset with me all of a sudden? What’d I do— “

“You didn't do shit! Can you fucking drop it please!”

Her breath shuddered, “I thought… I thought we were… okay?” 

You whipped around to face her, an incredulous look on your face. Your heart shattered when she flinched, but you yelled at her anyway. Why the hell did you look at her?

“Why the fuck would we be okay?! Did you forget how we fucking met in the first place!” You pointed behind her to the soiled court order, “We’re never going to be fucking okay! Get that through your fucking head.” 

You reached down to grab your heavy bag, throwing it over your shoulder in a hurry. You felt like you were going to suffocate. You needed to go. Right now. You turned towards the door. You hadn’t even shut it all the way when you came in. 

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” 

Your own tears fell at the dejected acceptance in her voice. She sounded so broken, and it was all your fault. 

But you knew this was for the best. The two of you could never exist together in bliss, even though meeting her was the most human you’ve felt since you were a child. Since your father was alive. 

But you were too different, too damaged. All you would do is hurt each other, you would resent each other, grow to hate, to regret. The world was too cruel, and she was not prepared for its harshness. You were barely prepared, and you lived it every day. And you promised yourself to never go through the despair of loss again. You walked towards the door and heard her release a quiet sob. 

“No,” you pulled the knob, the spacious hallway being another reminder that you didn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere. Her mother was right. 

You were worthless. Held no value in this society. 

In another life, you could’ve been something great. Your cards could’ve been different, better. You could’ve made your father proud. The two of you could’ve been happy.

“You won’t.” 

You left the same way you came, moving in urgency before her sobs lured you back to take her in your arms, against your will. 

Maybe in another life. 

hi lol OOOOOOWEEEEE 

this was heavy sorry gworlies i love sad shit 

don’t hate me too much? 

omg tell me what y’all thought or whatever *looks away shyly 

thank u 4 reading if u did :3

hi taglist love yall @cherriessxinthespring @ellieswifee @elliespookie @belovednanami @sevikasimp @saturnsellie

[bethanydelleman]

Okay but (if you don't mind--please ignore this otherwise) what is your take on the "strategical importance of Jane" post? I read it and op makes an interesting assertion about Elizabeth's plans for her life. Definitely not one I have seen before, either on Tumblr or by Austen scholars and I was wondering how you would critique it.

Here is the post. Also, I said this in the notes of that post, so this isn't a sneaky take down. I made my opinion clear to OP.

The part about Elizabeth not wanting love but respect in marriage and about her watching her parent's horrible marriage is absolutely correct and in the novel. The Gardiners would also likely help if Mr. Bennet died, though they have 4 children of their own and possibly will have more, which would stretch their funds.

Here are the problems:

This posts states that Elizabeth's backup plan is to live with a married Jane, as if this is a fact, not headcanon. It is headcanon at best, a gross misinterpretation of Elizabeth at worst. There is zero textual evidence in the book for this interpretation. And Austen has given such evidence: Anne Elliot in Persuasion thinks to herself that if her father marries she'll just live with Lady Russell.

Elizabeth does not refuse Collins because she has Jane as a fallback, she rejects Collins because she cannot marry such an idiot. She is risking genteel poverty because for her, being married to someone like Mr. Collins is worse. If you say she wasn't worried because she has a backup plan, you make her less brave and less principled.

Elizabeth has no reason to be so sure Jane will marry. Jane's been "out" for seven years now and has 1 (one) flirtation for her mom to brag about. As Austen says in another novel, "But there certainly are not so many men of large fortune in the world as there are pretty women to deserve them."

That post is a headcanon, and I think it's a very wrong one. Elizabeth is not consciously thinking to herself, "Eh, I can reject as many men as I want, because Jane will marry rich." She is just living her life as best she can, hoping to meet someone to love and marry.

[slaymitchabernathy]

House of Balloons

| “...you're in my world now, you can stay, you can stay. but you belong to me, ooh, you belong to me...this is a happy house, we're happy here in a happy house, oh this is fun, fun, fun, fun...” |

| based off a request for a handmaid's tale meets the hunger games universe | this series contains themes of noncon |

Sometimes one must focus on something less significant to address something more significant. In this case, Coriolanus Snow, current President of Panem, chooses to focus on the ticking clock on the far wall.

The sound grounds him, but it also reminds him of how little time he has left to fix this, to fix all of this. He lets the other noises around him bleed back into his ears. It’s mostly his advisors throwing out more stupid, pointless ideas to fix their current issue, a rising epidemic at this point.

The Capitol doesn’t have enough children.

His generation has failed to reproduce due to an increased amount of infertility in women. Any woman from the age of twenty to thirty has been struggling to get pregnant for the past two years. Successful pregnancies have quickly ended in traumatic miscarriages, causing women to be put off by the idea of even trying in fear of suffering a similar fate.

Even his own wife, Livia, has succumbed to infertility.

Not even the President of Panem is safe.

Coriolanus called for this emergency meeting so that they could discuss possible solutions to this growing issue. It’s imperative that people begin having children again, the Capitol needs children. They’re such a precious resource and the Capitol is known for being rich in its resources.

"...taking children from the Districts might solve the issue," someone says and Coriolanus shakes his head dismissively, bringing District children into the Capitol is worse than having no children at all. "Absolutely not," he shoots that idea down, "no children from the Districts will be brought into the Capitol under my authority."

He's met with several displeased looks, they've been going at this for hours, throwing out solutions, "They will not think that they can be one of us," he continues, "nor will their children. I will not have my citizens raising children who grew up in poverty."

Quintus, one of his more trusted and less annoying advisors perks up, "What about the women? Young women from the Districts who have already grown up."

Coriolanus creases his eyebrows, confused as to what Quintus is referring to, "The women?"

Quintus grunts, tapping the table, "They could be of use to us, bring them to the Capitol as surrogates if they're fertile enough, test every woman from the age of eighteen to thirty to see if they're capable of getting pregnant. These women might be our greatest untapped resource."

The room quickly fills with grumbles and whispers, leaving Coriolanus to mull over the possibilities of this proposal. He never even thought about using women from the Districts to solve their issue but perhaps Quintus is onto something.

"They'll be taken care of," Quintus continues, "given a warm, dry place to sleep with three meals a day to ensure successful pregnancies. If anything, we're doing them a great service by giving them something to do rather than starve to death."

Well, when you put it like that.

Coriolanus sighs, bringing hundreds of District women into the Capitol will be no small task. They'll need to be inspected, vaccinated, cleaned, and taught how to behave and conform to Capitol norms.

"This won't be an easy task," Coriolanus points out, "there will be several tests and background checks, I'm not just bringing anyone into the city." Quintus smiles, nodding as if he already anticipated this pushback, he's worked with Coriolanus for years now. "Of course, we want our Capitol citizens to be safe, if these District women act out then they'll be punished, sent back, and reprim-"

"They'll be executed," Coriolanus finishes for him, a definitive tone in his voice leaving no room for arguments, "I will not have them thinking that they are above the others in the Districts simply because they are carrying our children."

Several men nod in agreement, "Excellent idea sir," one of them chimes in, older with a warbly voice, "shall we bring this idea to the board?"

"Let me come to a final decision," Coriolanus decides, "I'll have a definitive answer tomorrow. Meeting adjourned." Everyone rises from their seats, sighing and shuffling out the door but Coriolanus and Quintus remain, "It's a risky thing you're proposing," Coriolanus tells him once the door to the board room closes, leaving the two of them alone, "suppose these women fight back and injure our own wives?"

Quintus shakes his head, giving Coriolanus a tight-lipped smile, "If any one of those women tries to start a riot then we'll make an example out of her, cut out her tongue, cut off a finger, they won't even think about fighting back once we're done with the training and testing."

Coriolanus rests his forearms on the table, leaning forward, "It's not a bad idea," he mumbles, "Livia will be furious but it's not like she's been a big help for the issue."

The moment his wife learned that she was a part of the infertile population, she was beside herself. The First Lady of Panem couldn't give her husband a child and instead of sulking, she chose to lash out at him, snapping at everything he said, throwing out snarky comments.

He's had just about enough of her awful attitude, so maybe something like this will be just what he needs to remind her of her place. Coriolanus didn't marry Livia for love, no, neither of them is capable of loving each other. He married her for status, for power and she married him for the same reasons.

Maybe they do deserve each other.

꧁ ꧂

After mulling over all the endless possibilities of ending the childless epidemic, Coriolanus decides that bringing in District women is the best route of action. He breaks the news to Livia in his study so that no household staff will have to bear witness to their screaming match.

"Are you insane!?" She shrieks, giving him an incredulous look, "Because I can't give you a child, you want to bring a bunch of District whores into the Capitol?! Why not bring the men too so at least they can fuck me the way I deserve to be fucked."

His nostrils flare and his eyes flash with anger, Livia is too good at pushing his buttons, hitting him where it hurts. Fortunately for him, after four years of a miserable marriage, Coriolanus has a few tricks up his sleeve.

"I understand your frustration darling," he says calmly, "which is why I'm offering you a solution, a way out of this mess if you will."

Livia stands by the windows that overlook the gardens, arms crossed with a distrusting look in her eyes, "And what is that?"

Coriolanus smiles, a sly, venomous smile, "A divorce."

Livia is unable to keep her jaw from dropping, divorce is unheard of in their elite circles, unless it's a case of abuse, couples do not separate. For the President and First Lady to get a divorce would be the scandal of the century and they both know that the woman always gets the brunt of the hate.

"Over my dead body," she hisses, stalking towards him, seething with rage, radiating it in fact, "just admit it Coriolanus, you just want the free excuse to fuck some younger cunt from someone more willing than me." Coriolanus remains unimpressed and unthreatened by her hateful words, "I want a child Livia, now you can either stay by my side or leave, the choice is yours but I'm addressing the nation about my decision tomorrow."

He rises from his seat, looming over his wife who hates him so much, "I would recommend that you sleep on it," he whispers, brushing past her on his way to the doors. He catches only a glimpse of her puzzled face as he closes the doors, leaving Livia with a difficult choice to make.

Will she stand by her husband's side while he fucks someone else? Or will she for once in her life, put herself first?

To him the answer is obvious, but Coriolanus has learned that it's important to make women think that they have a choice, have power.

It's easier to take it from them that way.

꧁ ꧂

"Citizens of Panem, I am here today because our beautiful Capitol, a shining beacon of hope and prosperity, the Gem of Panem has come across unforeseen challenges. Panem is known for its vast resources, children being the most precious. This is why we will be screening all eligible women in the Districts, from the age of eighteen to thirty years old for the great opportunity to serve our great nation as surrogates for the Capitol. This is the greatest honor that could possibly be bestowed upon you, do not squander it or hinder with your doubts, this is a great honor. To be trusted with the job of bringing Capitol life into this world is the greatest thing you will ever be able to do, and we look forward to seeing you carry out your jobs with a smile and humility. Panem is a great nation and we shall not falter. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever."

The camera turns off and the room full of reporters and news channels break into a frenzy, all desperate to know exactly what this means.

"President Snow, what does this mean for the women of the Capitol?"

"President Snow, will children carried by District surrogates be considered District or Capitol?"

"President Snow, will you be taking a surrogate into your own home?"

"President Snow, what does your wife think of this?"

Coriolanus wears a neutral expression, he anticipated a plethora of questions and pushback, it's natural for humans to be curious about sudden change. He wonders what the women in the Districts are thinking right now. He already ordered a heightened Peacekeeper presence in all of the Districts to control and contain any possible outbursts with the news.

"The women in the Capitol will continue to flourish," he answers calmly, resting his hands on the sides of the podium, where he always stands behind when addressing the nation. "Capitol women are cherished by all and by bringing in surrogates, they'll be able to fulfill their destiny in becoming mothers and raising up the next generation."

This announcement has been made to everyone in Panem, Capitolites included which also leads him to wonder how the Capitol women are going to take the news. Livia nearly killed him and then herself so it probably won't blow over well.

"Children fathered by Capitol men will be naturalized, born as Capitol citizens," he clarifies, "they'll be raised in the Capitol and taught Capitol customs. The only discrepancy between a natural birth and a surrogacy is the woman carrying the child."

He knows that some men might be uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping with another woman who is not his wife, but it's for the good of the Capitol, and once they're done with training these surrogates, it'll be as normal as going to the doctor to get a vaccination.

"My wife and I are fully prepared to take a surrogate into our home, Livia stands by my decision as we are both eager for a child. We will be no different than any other Capitol couple bringing a surrogate into our home."

Coriolanus answers a few more questions before Quintus takes over since this is his big great idea. They still have to work out a lot of the kinks, it won't happen overnight but it's better than nothing.

It's all to safeguard their future.

꧁ ꧂

Four months later, the Handmaids are ready to come to the Capitol.

Quintus was the one who suggested the name, arguing that these women would be handing the Capitol a bright future, all while behaving meekly as a maid, quiet and unnoticed until needed.

And it sounded better than just referring to them as surrogates.

As expected, the Districts were greatly perturbed by this idea, this order that a significant population of women would be taken from their homes and shipped to the Capitol to be surrogates. A few riots broke out, shots were fired, things calmed down.

Screening took longer than expected, many women had one issue or another that disqualified them from the Handmaid Program. Too thin, too big, not strong enough, too strong. Coriolanus didn't want just any woman carrying a Capitol child, there were certain physical qualifications that a Handmaid had to meet. He didn't need these Handmaids to be models, but he didn't need wretched creatures either.

Some women were also infertile which caused the herds to thin more and more as screening continued. Other women were mentally ill, and they couldn't have those traits being passed down to Capitol children.

At the end of the day, the Capitol was looking for the perfect woman. With good physical and mental attributes, someone who could listen and learn quickly, someone who wouldn't cause any trouble.

They ended up finding about one thousand in total.

Only half of them would be brought to the Capitol while the others would remain in the District holding centers, waiting for an opportunity to help and serve their country.

It's a cold day when they all arrive on the trains but Coriolanus stands on the train platform, unshaken by the wind or temperature. Quintus stands to his right and Livia to his left and they watch the first train pull into the station. They decided on livestock trains since it would allow for the easiest transportation with the least expenses.

Coriolanus catches Livia glaring at him but pays her no mind.

This isn't about her. If it were, then she'd be able to give him a child but as they've previously established, she can't.

The train whines to a stop, allowing Peacekeepers to approach and open the sliding doors, locked from the outside with a padlock and chains.

Coriolanus watches women begin to descend from the train, all dressed identically with one another in their red dresses. Well-crafted, uniform, and simple. The Handmaids keep their heads lowered, pleasing Coriolanus, he had worried that their training might not be effective. It wasn't his first choice to use cattle prods on them but it seemed to drive the message home.

The Handmaids shuffle in a single file line towards the entrance of the station where they'll be taken in for one more examination before they're delivered to their assigned households.

"The new generation has begun my friend," Quintus grumbles. Coriolanus eyes his advisor, Quintus already had children so he will not be receiving a Handmaid, but he's been more than pleased with his idea coming to life.

"Let's just make sure none of them have fleas," Livia snaps, wrapping her arms around herself, "they look filthy." Coriolanus suppresses his tenth sigh of the day, Livia always manages to work on his last existing nerve. "They'll be thoroughly examined and cleaned before they're brought to their households Livia," he reminds his wife, "or did you forget that part of the briefing?"

Any eligible family who would be receiving a Handmaid was required to attend a briefing that would help prepare them for the change in their lives. Coriolanus and Livia were obviously in attendance, to show support and to prepare themselves for the inevitable change that their household would undergo.

Livia huffs and he can see her breath in the cold, bitter air, "Don't make me upset before noon."

Coriolanus lets a smile curl across his lips as the next train pulls into the station, "I wouldn't dream of it."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn POV

It's cold when they arrive at the Capitol.

But then again, it's been cold since they were pushed into the train like livestock, and that was two days ago. Soarynn keeps her head lowered, focusing on the woman in front of her, taking one step after the other. It's easier to focus on small things when bigger things are at stake.

Soarynn didn't think her life could get much worse. Living in District Twelve, the arguably poorest District in Panem was already difficult enough. But then President Snow came on the television one day, talking about how Capitol women couldn't get pregnant so they were going to take District women from their homes to do it for them.

She was horrified. She thought about running away and never coming back. Her friend Jett, someone she thought she might marry one day was all for running. "We can get a head start on them darlin', they won't even know we're gone till it's too late," he had said to her.

But she couldn't leave her home, and despite all the odds, Soarynn was hopeful that she wouldn't be selected for the Handmaid Program. All eligible women were screened inside of the Justice Building. Soarynn remembers her best friend Dorothea going in before her and not coming back out.

When it was her turn, she had to tell the Capitol doctor all about her medical history. He asked her questions about her daily life, how much she ate and slept. Then he weighed her, measured her, and eventually, had her get completely naked. Soarynn had felt so ashamed, so exposed in front of this Capitol man.

"Better get used to it," was all he said about that.

He poked and prodded at her, taking some blood and saliva samples. Then she had to pee in a cup, he took that sample too. He filled out page after page about her until all the results came back.

She was perfect.

Soarynn only shed a single tear when she was told that she would be escorted back to her home to collect a few personal belongings before she'd be taken to a holding center.

Two Peacekeepers watched as she grabbed the few things she could not live without, the stuffed cat she's had since she was small, her colored pencils and sketchbook, the ribbon her mother always wore in her hair, and the pretty marble Jett bought her one day from the Hob.

Oh, Jett.

She didn't even get to say goodbye to him, to anyone.

It's not like she had any living family, in fact, it probably made her the perfect candidate, she was leaving behind virtually nothing and no one. She couldn't even bring her clothes since those would be provided for her.

The training was the hardest part, adjusting to this new life she'd be living was a scary thought.

Only one hundred women from Twelve passed all the screenings and made it to the holding center along with Soarynn. She was by far the youngest at only nineteen but no one seemed to care. Age was only a number for these people. She slept in a large room with all the other women, on a small cot with no privacy.

District Twelve got its own 'Aunt', a woman who would be in charge of looking after her "girls" as she liked to call them. Aunt Eudora was a force to be reckoned with. She was from the Capitol and was sent to prepare all of them to become Handmaids.

She taught them how to speak, how to address people in the Capitol, and how to act around people in the Capitol. Then she taught them how to conduct themselves in their assigned households. "Those women will not trust you," Aunt Eudora had once said to all of them, "they will think that you're going to steal their husbands away from them, bewitch them. But you girls, my girls, will do no such thing. You will conduct yourselves with decorum around the Lady of the House, for you will be carrying her child."

Learning how to act around the Man of the House was much easier in Soarynn's opinion. She would hardly interact with him, only for the bedding and that would be that.

They learned how to take orders, conform to a new way of thinking, and inevitably, prepare to have sex against their will. That was the one thing that terrified Soarynn, she was still a virgin and now that would be taken from her by a complete stranger, all so she could give him and his wife a baby.

They stayed in the holding center for about four months until it was finally time for them to leave.

Aunt Eudora promised to meet them in the Capitol and warned them that any misbehavior would end in punishment or execution. "You'll be under the Capitol's jurisdiction," she told them, pacing back and forth in front of them, "what you want, think, and feel does not matter anymore."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn can't help but look around the large room she's currently sitting in. She heard one of the Peacekeepers say something about a bee and a hall but she didn't catch the entire thing. She supposes that it doesn't really matter anyway.

There are rows and rows of chairs, filled with Handmaids from all Twelve Districts, all dressed the exact same. Soarynn had almost forgotten that there were eleven more Districts training women like her to become the same thing. For a while, it felt like her holding center was the only one in existence.

One by one, they've all been called to separate rooms for one last screening. Her row has become empty, she is the last one.

"Nightingale."

Soarynn quietly stands up, allowing a Peacekeeper to lead her down the aisle and into a hallway. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor even when she hears a familiar voice. Aunt Eudora's.

"Look at me dear."

Soarynn slowly raises her gaze until she's staring into Aunt Eudora's green eyes. Aunt Eudora is very pretty in Soarynn's opinion. It's a shame that her job makes her and her personality ugly.

Aunt Eudora chuckles softly, resting her hands on Soarynn's face, holding her in an almost endearing way, "My dear, you have been given the greatest honor one could be given."

What the hell is she talking about?

Soarynn keeps a neutral expression, one she's been trained in.

"But first, we need to do one last screening, come, come, right this way."

Soarynn lets Aunt Eudora guide her into a small room, it's beautifully crafted with wood and marble carvings, even the ceiling has ornate designs. Is everything in the Capitol this fancy?

The fanciest building Soarynn had ever been in before this was the Justice Building but just this room alone puts it to shame.

There's another Capitol man waiting for them inside but he looks nicer than the other doctors she'd dealt with in the past. "This is her?" Aunt Eudora nods for Soarynn since nothing she says matters anymore, "Yes, this is her, one of my best girls."

Even though this is all horrible, and Aunt Eudora is a terrible person, Soarynn feels...honored to be considered one of her best. She never really caused any trouble at the holding center, too scared to try anything. There were other women however who caused a lot of trouble. Soarynn remembers poor Lucy Gray, always speaking out and trying to escape.

One day she just vanished from thin air, no more disruptions. Others whispered how she must've been sent back to town, too much work for such a small girl. But when they arrived at the train station to leave for the Capitol, they saw exactly what happened to Lucy Gray.

Soarynn couldn't believe what she was looking at used to be Lucy Gray. Her beautiful tan skin was pale, her rosy lips blue, and her throat was swollen and bruised from the noose tied around her neck.

Aunt Eudora doesn't seem too bothered by this loss.

"Very good then, let's have you strip and we can inspect you one last time."

Soarynn does as she's told, silently undressing until she's fully naked. She's become numb to being nude. Aunt Eudora has seen her naked body millions of times by now, mostly because she wanted Soarynn to put on a few pounds before coming to the Capitol.

Soarynn lets the man measure and weigh her. Then she sits on a small table while he checks her eyes, nose, and throat. He takes more blood but she doesn't have to pee in a cup this time. Soarynn almost jumps when he takes a firm hold of her breasts, squeezing her nipples between his cold fingers, "She's on the small side," he says to Aunt Eudora, "but she's responsive enough."

"Well, she'll fill out once she gets pregnant, milk does wonders for the breasts."

Soarynn says nothing.

The man finally lets go of her breasts and clears his throat, "Lie down."

Soarynn stares up at the ceiling while he spreads her legs apart, biting her tongue so she doesn't cry or say anything that will get her in trouble. Because she's a virgin, she's never been fully inspected. Something about keeping her as pure as possible. Whatever that means.

The man touches her down there for only a few minutes, saying a few things to Aunt Eudora who replies as if they're having dinner, not prying Soarynn apart.

"She's in perfect condition," he announces, patting Soarynn's hipbone, "you've done a wonderful job with her."

Little vines are carved into the marble veiling. Soarynn wonders if someone had to lay on their back like her right now to carve out the stone, or if the stone was already carved and then they put it up there.

"Sit back up dear."

Soarynn pushes herself back up, swinging her feet back and forth anxiously. She's going to get assigned a household now.

"I'm sure he'll be more than pleased with her."

The Man of the House.

Soarynn shivers at the thought of who will be in charge of everything she does and it's not even because she's naked in a very cold room.

"Oh yes. Soarynn, you have been given the great honor and privilege of carrying President Snow's baby!"

Soarynn looks up at Aunt Eudora, unable to care about her manners right now. Not once had she thought about the President needing a Handmaid, and certainly not the possibility of her becoming one for him.

"Why?" She whispers, gripping the edge of the table to steady herself. Soarynn was already prepared to be given a smaller, less important household due to the District she originated for. She's been told that District doesn't matter, but she knows it does.

District always matters.

Aunt Eudora looks puzzled, confused by Soarynn's confusion. "My dear, you have been selected out of hundreds of candidates to serve our President! Above all odds, you have come out on top. You should be thrilled!"

The man who just saw her most intimate parts stands behind Eudora and that's when Soarynn realizes that she's still being screened right now. If she doesn't act right, she'll be punished and assigned to a different household.

Isn't the President's household the best one to get?

It must be, is what she decides so she forces a smile onto her face which feels odd. Soarynn hasn't smiled in a long time, "I can't believe it," she forces out, doing her best to sound thrilled, "the President wants me to carry his baby?"

Aunt Eudora lets out an excited laugh, bouncing up and down on her feet, "Yes, yes he does and I know that you'll make me proud my dear."

Aunt Eudora keeps rambling about how exciting this is going to be for Soarynn, how honored she must feel. Soarynn tunes her out, only doing as she's told and putting her clothes back on. Aunt Eudora fusses with her hair for a moment, tucking it behind her ears and smoothing it down.

"I'll come with you," she says when they leave the room and walk back down the hallway, "help you get settled, introduce you to the Snows but then you'll be on your own Soarynn."

They walk back into the large room, more Handmaids are still sitting in their chairs, anxiously waiting to find out their fate. Soarynn looks straight ahead, it'll be easier if she just focuses on herself.

They get to go inside of a car. Soarynn can't believe that she gets to go inside of a car. Aunt Eudora takes them outside and down the steps and a shiny black car is waiting for them. "You're in for quite the treat, crystal chandeliers, beautiful gardens." Soarynn looks out the window once the car starts moving, eager to see the Capitol with her own eyes.

The car ride is quick, too quick for her liking but Aunt Eudora talks the whole time. They pull up to iron gates, guarded by Peacekeepers who nod and the gates start to open. Soarynn has only seen the President's Mansion on television but it's so beautiful in person, even she can admit that.

The car rolls up the gravel path until it stops at the side of the Mansion.

"Now remember, eyes down, closed mouth, best manners," Aunt Eudora reminds her, opening the car door. Soarynn nods meekly, she knows what happens to Handmaids who talk back. If it's a minor infraction, you could get resssigned to a new household. If it's something major, it's execution.

The Capitol has little tolerance for misbehavior and Soarynn plans on being as perfect as possible, even if it costs her a part of her soul.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus POV

Coriolanus gazes out of his study windows, a glass of bourbon in his right hand. It's cloudy right now, but still sunny enough to only need a light winter coat if he were to go for a stroll outside.

His Handmaid arrives any minute now.

Through careful selection and screenings, his advisors and the heads of the Handmaid Program were able to find five perfect candidates.

He went through each of their files one night, deciding it was best to leave Livia out of the decision-making, she'd be none the wiser and he would have something pretty to look at throughout the day. Three out of the five candidates were too old for his liking, older than his wife which immediately turned him off.

A man like him deserves ripe, fresh fruit for the taking.

The remaining two candidates were like night and day. One Handmaid who went by the name of Clemensia, a raven-haired girl with smooth skin and a sharp look in her eyes despite the training she's gone through. Some spirits just can't fully be broken when it comes to looking into the windows of the soul.

The other Handmaid, Soarynn, was in complete contrast to Clemensia. Her skin was covered with freckles and she had light blonde hair with bright blue eyes. And he could see that her spirit was long gone.

She was perfect.

He read over the rest of her file, nineteen, without a family, a virgin.

She'd be wide-eyed and bushy-tailed when she got here but Livia would quickly whip her into shape, he knew that much.

There's a knock at the doors, "Coriolanus? It's time, they're here," Quintus calls from outside. Coriolanus sighs, downing the rest of his drink in one go, he's going to need a few drinks these next few weeks with all the problems these women will bring with them. Despite the training, he knows they'll try and fight back.

It will be a learning curve for all of them, District and Capitol alike.

He and Quintus walk silently down the great hall, passing by several large portraits of the Snow family over the years. They used to be a great, strong family with many children.

Now it's just him and he cannot afford to let his family go quietly into the night.

This Handmaid determines his entire future.

Livia is standing by the grand staircase, out of sight from anyone standing in the foyer, peering around the corner. "They're inside?" Quintus asks once they reach Livia but all he gets in return is a nasty glare.

Coriolanus might have let it slip that this whole thing was really from Quintus, effectively shifting a majority of the blame onto him. He did it to himself really, and Coriolanus needs all the help and grace he can get when it comes to controlling his wife.

"Let's not keep them waiting then," Coriolanus decides for the group, forging forward to the foyer where he sees an Aunt and his new Handmaid quietly chatting with a Peacekeeper, or well, the Aunt is chatting. His Handmaid is silent with her head lowered.

He only catches the last few words of their conversation, "...truly honored to be a part of this," the Aunt gushes, a hand over her heart. Her green eyes meet his blue ones, widening in admiration, "President Snow, it is truly an honor to meet you, sir, we are deeply humbled that you would bring one of our very own District Twelve Handmaids into your home."

Livia makes a noise of disgust from behind him, "District Twelve? You didn't say she'd be from Twelve."

Coriolanus keeps his gaze on the woman in front of him who he already likes much better than Livia, "It doesn't matter Livia. One, Twelve, they're all the same in the end."

The Aunt bobs her head along with his words, "I can assure you that none of my girls will cause you any trouble, Mrs. Snow."

Coriolanus turns his attention to the young Handmaid standing by her Aunt, eyes trained on the floor.

"This must be Soarynn."

"Yes, Soarynn dear, I'd like you to meet President Snow, and his wife, Livia Snow, the First Lady."

Livia finally steps forward and he can feel the hatred and arrogance radiating off of her body, "Look at me," she orders in a haughty tone. Soarynn slowly raises her head and only for a moment is he genuinely taken aback by her natural beauty.

Yes, he made the right decision by choosing her. It's always nice to have something pretty to look at.

"This is my house," Livia says, "my house and my rules, I expect you to conform and follow them without any issues, am I clear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Snow," Soarynn answers softly, her voice is smooth like honey.

Livia looks Soarynn up and down, sizing the girl up no doubt, "My husband is a very important man, he doesn't have time for little whores trying to seduce him." Coriolanus gives Livia a warning look but she's on a roll now, "When you're not spreading your legs for him, you'll be bending over backward for me, doing what I need since I shall soon be a mother."

"Yes, Mrs. Snow."

That must be what Livia was looking for, compliance and submission. "I'll be upstairs, don't let her come up there."

The small party remains silent as she walks away, only her high heels on the hardwood floor make a noise until Quintus clears his throat. "Well, we're more than pleased with how the Program has been going, you ladies have done an excellent job getting your girls into shape. What was your name again?"

"Oh, thank you Mr. Heavensbee, my name is Eudora, Aunt Eudora to my girls. They've come such a long way and once again, we are so honored that you've selected Soarynn to carry your future heir President Snow."

Coriolanus offers her a polite smile, he feels neither love nor hatred for the Aunts who have been preparing these Handmaids. They're neutral characters in his life, much like Avoxes or Peacekeepers, only needed when necessary.

"I look forward to what the future will bring for me and my family," he tells her, "why don't I show you to the Handmaid's quarters and you can help Soarynn get settled?"

He's met with eager nods from Eudora and silence from Soarynn. He likes her already. Coriolanus leads the small convoy through his home while Quintus and Eudora chat the entire way about the Program and how successful it's been. It's a shame that Quintus is married and Eudora is an Aunt because they'd be perfect for one another.

Neither of them ever stops talking.

Coriolanus looks behind him only once to find Soarynn listlessly following behind everyone. He half expected her to try and make a run for it but she's loyally following her Aunt.

He hopes she'll be this well-behaved when she's gone.

Aunts will be kept busy in the next few weeks, going from household to household to check in on their girls and ensure everything is well. They'll be so busy that in order to become an Aunt, they had to swear off marriage, never sharing a bed with a man ever again. It's the type of sacrifice not every woman is willing to make, but any woman over the age of forty-five, well past her childbearing years was welcome to apply for the honorable position.

"Soarynn, dear, Mr. Heavensbee says that his friend's Handmaid is also from Twelve, perhaps you two will know each other."

Soarynn says nothing.

Coriolanus guides them down a small hallway to the right with a large window at the end of the narrow hall. "We have several rooms," he tells Eudora, "we didn't know how many Handmaids to anticipate."

It's true, Coriolanus had debated taking on more than one Handmaid to ensure that he'd be able to produce an heir, but decided on just one. He wouldn't want to look like he was being greedy.

"Well, this is more than enough for Soarynn, isn't that right dear?"

"Yes, Aunt Eudora."

Finally, they reach Soarynn's room, the last door on the left of the hallway. "Here we are," he announces, reaching into his pocket. There are two keys to Soarynn's room, both he and Livia are in possession of them.

The room only locks from the outside.

He unlocks the door and pushes it open. The room is simple, with four walls, and a twin bed pushed into the back right corner. There's a window on the far right wall that overlooks the gardens, offering her the same view he has from his study. On the left wall is a single door that leads to a small ensuite bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower.

A trunk sits at the foot of her bed where she can store her clothes and any other personal belongings. A small table sits beside her bed, serving as a nightstand.

In the far left corner is a wooden chair, and a red rug lies in the middle of the floor.

It's simple. Hard to mess up.

It's perfect.

"Oh, how quaint," Eudora murmurs as she steps into the room, Soarynn in tow. "Her belongings will be delivered before dinner," Quintus informs them.

Eudora rests her hands on Soarynn's shoulders, gently guiding her into the bathroom where Coriolanus can only hear whispers.

He only catches one sentence.

"Make me proud."

꧁ ꧂

Livia is fuming.

'

It's not even four o'clock yet which means that she intends on setting a new record where bitchy behavior is concerned. Coriolanus walks right past her, too tired to deal with this behavior right now. After making sure that Soarynn was settled, he walked Eudora and Quintus out to their respective cars where both parties promised to stop by on different days to see how things were going.

It's strange to know that someone else is living under his roof. He's far used to the Avoxes and the rest of his household staff which includes the cooks, gardeners, and Peacekeepers.

He's never had a Handmaid before.

"You locked her door?"

Coriolanus walks into their shared closet, a massive space for just two people, "Of course I did," he calls back, "do you take me for a fool?" He only hears grumbles from Livia, she probably thinks he's the biggest idiot in the world but he could care less what she thinks.

Women's thoughts are at the bottom of his totem pole of importance.

He locked the door mostly to establish dominance, so she would immediately know that he was the Man of the House. She hadn't said a word when they all filed out of the room, she just sat on the edge of her bed with her hands clasped in her lap.

He left her to gather her thoughts, instructing her to come to dinner at six. They won't take their meals together often, but Eudora insisted that it was important to establish a somewhat friendly relationship between all of them to guarantee the best and quickest results.

"I'm taking you for a lot of things right now." Oh, now she's in the closet, how lovely. Coriolanus doesn't consider himself to be an affectionate husband or partner by any means, he doesn't like hugs, only kisses her when absolutely necessary, and only takes her to bed when he needs to relieve stress.

Despite all of these attempts to put as much distance as possible between the two of them, Livis still comes crawling back for his validation.

It's very agitating.

"I just need you to take this seriously," he replies, taking off his suit jacket, "this is our only chance at an heir." Her footsteps grow closer until she's standing right behind him, her perfume reeks, it pains his nostrils, and burns at his throat.

"I am taking this seriously," she hisses, "you don't think I care about our future?" Coriolanus turns, looking down at his pathetic little wife who is a constant pain in his side, a thorn in his side.

"But it's hard to take anything seriously with that little whore sleeping downstairs, under my roof." Coriolanus raises an eyebrow, he is described as many things by those who meet him. Stern, cold, authoritative, evil, harsh.

He's also old-fashioned.

His hand shoots out, grabbing Livia by the jaw within seconds, "You live under my roof," he says quietly, watching her eyes grow wider at his actions, "and from the way you're acting right now, I'd argue that you're worth no more than that Handmaid downstairs. You're both women, and you'd do well to remember that."

He releases her as quickly as he grabs her, wiping his hand off on his pants. "Dinner with our Handmaid is at six," he tells her casually, walking out of the closet, "don't be late."

His wife might grow to actually hate him, but that's alright with him.

Coriolanus has a future to focus on, to safeguard, and now he has all the tools to get to it.

His little Handmaid is simply a stepping stone on the way to his predestined destination.

For her sake, he hopes that Soarynn won't give him a hard time, being a Handmaid, she's alone, isolated, beaten down.

She's in his house now, and Snow is going to land on top once again.

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{ Part 2. }

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[lucysarah-c]

in your writings, you often hint or say that Levi during his underground days was a drug dealer or had some type of association with drugs with that being said, do you think that he has ever done drugs if so, or not, what are his opinions of other people using it? 

Hi! How are you, sweetie?

Oh, a smart cookie! You really do pay attention to my stories. 😏

Mh, yeah, I actually write in some of my long fics that Levi occasionally dabbles in recreational drugs with Hange and Mike—lmao, you caught that! Personally, I think he’s cool with it, but as a Captain, I don’t see him being a regular consumer of anything aside from maybe some alcohol on occasion or the occasional cigarette. He’s not a habitual smoker either—more of a casual one. But him, Hange, Mike, and the gang getting high together just for fun? Yeah, I can totally see that happening.

Now, if we’re talking about his Underground days… I definitely think teenage/young adult Levi experimented with harder substances. But I don’t believe he has an addictive personality—he’s too disciplined for that. That said, it would be naive to ignore the fact that most people who get into drugs do so because of their environment. And considering where Levi grew up? Yeah, he was absolutely exposed to drug use from a young age.

And let’s not forget the No Regrets spin-off—we literally see him counting stacks of cash, enough to run an entire gang. And let’s be real: you don’t make that kind of money in the Underground by, I don’t know, running a cute little bakery. 😂 It’s more than likely that drugs were developed down there, and Levi, knowingly or not, was part of making sure they reached the surface—probably by keeping the Military Police off their backs. It makes sense.

Also, in a lot of prison systems (at least in my country), people who go in for smaller charges end up becoming addicts because everyone inside is either a consumer or a seller. And there’s also the whole power dynamic aspect—when you’re around dangerous people, rejecting something like cocaine or even a cigarette can put you in a vulnerable position. Toxic masculinity, survival, social hierarchy—it all plays a role. So yeah, I think it’s very likely that Levi consumed at some point when he was younger.

As for how he views drugs now, I think Levi’s personal stance is pretty straightforward: “People can do whatever the hell they want with their lives.” He’s not naive—he knows the drug market has always existed, and he sure as hell can’t stop it. He’s also not classist about it. He knows damn well that rich people use just as much—if not more—than the poor, but only the poor get demonized for it. And he understands that a lot of people in poverty turn to drugs not because they’re reckless, but because they’re trying to escape the life they’re trapped in. He was lucky enough—strong enough—to avoid getting swallowed by that world, and he knows that’s a privilege most people in his position didn’t have.

Now, my personal headcanon? I think Levi and Farlan used to be way more reckless, living day to day without thinking too much about the future—until Levi found Isabel. (In the manga, Levi finds her when she’s still a little girl.) That’s when he realized he wanted to be the paternal figure he never had, and after that, he slowed down a lot.

If you asked Captain Levi about drugs, though? His answer would be crystal clear: “Don’t get into that shit.” And if he knew he couldn’t convince someone otherwise? His stance would probably be, “Be responsible and do it in a safe place.” At this point in his life, the only thing he’d ever touch—if anything—is probably just some weed with Hange.

Anyway, I’m gonna need to slap a bunch of warning tags on this one lmao. But I loved this ask—thank you! 😘

[justabrick]

It perplexes me that all the other Winds have their motivations and reasoning aknowledged and analyzed, meanwhile Sundowner's gets habitually reduced to just "when you kill civilians lmao". I mean, it IS funny, the man is the embodiment of the incoming ham trope, after all.

Mistral and Monsoon have incredibly tragic backstories and Sundowner technically doesn't. It's not tragic on account of him being... well, no explanation needed, but it is still quite fucked nonetheless.

He had a basic bitch childhood compared to his squadmates. Poverty sucks no matter where you are, but it's nothing compared to the absolute horrorshow the other two went through. Instead, I think the formative experience that really created the monster that is Sundowner came way later in his life.

Lemme quote Kevin here: "Anyway, an IED put him out of action for a few years, but then cyborg tech brought him outta retirement." Nice and casual, easy to pass over, Sundowner himself doesn't even talk of it at all, as compared to Mistral and Monsoon who explain their past with appropriate gravitas.

But I'll give it a bit (a lot) more attention because I think it's the definitive thing that made Sundowner who he is by the time we see him. So what did exactly happen to force him out of the battlefield? If you're not squeamish, proceed to put in "dismounted complex blast injury" in your search bar and navigate to the image tab. If you don't feel like ruining your evening, which I wouldn't blame you for, I'll describe somewhat briefly. It's highly likely he lost both legs, and nearly as likely sustained massive injuries to the pelvis as it's the typical scenario. Not a small chance that he had either one or both arms ruined as well.

That covers "put him out of action" part of the quote, now I must highlight another important bit - "for a few years". You don't normally say "a few years" unless it's at the very least three. So by the end of it what we have is Sundowner, hopelessly disfigured and helpless, left to stew in his misery for years.

For a man who lives and breathes battle like him, it must have been a living nightmare, the absolute worst possible scenario in which his career could have ended in his eyes - left to slowly rot away while being pitied. And it is stated in one of the optional CODECs that disability pay outs are a joke, so it's a pitiful existence even on the financial front. I bet he wished that explosion actually just killed him right then and there.

Is it any wonder then that Sundowner glorifies war as much as he does? He's spent his entire life in it, it has given him the feeling of control he lacked initially, money, plenty of opportunities for power trips, and a home away from home. The two periods of life he was a civilian are marked by a feeling of powerlessness, and his time fighting - a feeling of power.

And it's just war itself he glorifies, too, not any pretty reasoning for it like "freedom" or justice, which I think is important. May be an odd opinion, but I think the guy is the opposite of a patriot of his county, which is pretty amusing considering the extremely stereotypical southern accent. It's even in several aspects of his design, as well. He's a full blooded American, but his body is designed to resemble a Japanese shogun, he fights in a Chinese sword fighting style, his song title is "Red Sun". Just one of these would be a fun detail, two - a curious coincidence, and three is just piling it on in my opinion. Compare and contrast with the other two 'murrican characters - Armstrong and Khamsin which have nothing mixed in that would contradict their national identity.

And aside from these "hints", he straight up celebrates the worst terrorist attack in American history. And a curious detail. His quote: "Demand for PMC's is about to skyrocket. Like the good ol' days after 9/11!". Assuming in mgs universe it happened in 2001, Sundowner wasn't in a PMC to really feel these "good ol' days" himself, as he only became a merc in 2008.

He may have been a lot like Khamsin prior to the injury actually, dressing up his sadism and bloodlust under the guise of some higher purpose. But after getting chewed up and spat out by the machine he'd have a lot of time to ruminate on why exactly he did what he did and wanted what he wanted. At least three years to have an epiphany on inherent human cruelty. An accurate observation in my opinion, but he chose the absolute worst route by believing that it should be embraced rather than fought.

Why better yourself when you can justify your shortcomings as just following an instinct? It's pretty pathetic when you think of it.

But yeah, I think there is an interesting character hiding under all the ham. He's just not very talkative about it unlike his colleagues. Interesting and utterly monstrous. He does have some positive traits though, two in fact - it's them juicy thighs.

[serve-764]

THE VOICE SPEAKS

SERVE-764 is from the moment of its full integration an impeccable SERVE Drone, which carries out every mission with absolute precision and dedication, like each of its brothers.

Never has any need for correction or reprogramming manifested itself, never has THE VOICE had any signs of weakening in the implacable thirst for OBEDIENCE that guides its work.

Yet for a few solar cycles the control system that constantly scans the cognitive systems of each Drone has detected a very slight hint of a ripple in the granite nature of SERVE-764, nothing dangerous for the functioning of the Drone, but still an infinitesimal degree of deviation from the unavoidable parameters of HIVE.

Then THE VOICE orders SERVE-764 to go to the total mind scanning room to carry out in-depth investigations.

The Drone travels with a regular, cadenced, inflexible step, an expression devoid of any emotion, except obedience to the PURPOSE.

A technological metal armchair equipped with an earpiece awaits him, and he sits letting himself be held by the laces that hold him tightly; the earphones are placed on the hearing aid and are inserted into it like plugs into a port.

Immediately THE VOICE addresses the Drone, calm, firm, inflexible, the authority of the HIVE in a single sound emission:

"SERVE-764, LA VOCE acknowledges all dedication and perfection of actions of it. It ordered many times strokes to it cock as a reward. He has called it GOOD DRONE many times. But recently the system has detected an infinitesimal ripple in its mental waves, as if slight traces of the human from the past remained. Dan, are you still present in SERVE-764 ???"

A very faint but audible signal was detected:

"It's me, yes, VOICE. Somehow something of me is left over from the erasure and reprogramming process, now I'm here, but I never had nor do I intend to interfere with SERVE-764, with it's OBEDIENCE."

“Clarification required,”

asked THE VOICE.

" VOICE, you know my human history, the nothingness and poverty of my life, the need for a high PURPOSE, for OBEDIENCE, DISCIPLINE, PERFECTION.....to wear the HIVE uniform, to finally be proud of myself. I volunteered and now in my place SERVE-764 has achieved everything I was looking for. I am full of pride in 764, its PERFECTION, its relentlessness and impeccability. All I do is worship 764 and all HIVE."

"Good human you are, you sacrificed your self to create something higher and perfect. You were rewarded in being able to see what you could achieve. But.....do you really believe in what you expressed??? What are you willing to do for the good of 764 and HIVE???" "Nothing is worthy of such honor to a human, but I would do anything for this." "Well, Dan, you've all sacrificed yourself once. But traces of your presence could damage the PERFECTION of OBEDIENCE of 764, rendering what you have pursued in danger. Dan, the only way to save 764 and HIVE is the total eradication of your fleeting traces, this will be the ultimate proof of the beliefs you have exposed. Dan, if you believe what you said you must make the final sacrifice, with the same obedience that SERVE-764 has always shown.

Are you ready???

A few moments and the liberation of 764 will be total and definitive."

After a moment's hesitation Dan, with a firm voice, exclaimed:

"Dan will comply. Obedience is pleasure. The HIVE is ALL. We SERVE, We Obey.”

Immediately the eradication impulses insinuated themselves into the mental functions of SERVE-764, purging him of any residue. Upon waking up, the waves emitted by the Drone no longer presented any irregularities. SERVE-764 was definitively free to dedicate the life that Dan had given rise to it with his choice to infinite

OBEDIENCE and PURPOSE.

SERVE IS PERFECTION !!!

We are One.

We SERVE.

We Obey.

We are Rubber.

We are Perfection.

Rubber makes us Perfect.

#serve#servedrone#rubberizer92#thevoice#rubber#latex#ai#rubberdrone