#maddiem4

[crtter]

THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!! I completely forgot to follow up on this post, ironically enough because I've been super focused on this endeavor haha! I’ll update you guys with how it went!

[maddiem4-writes]

I've been going through some life stuff lately, but I've managed to make some progress on the writing and organization front. For one big thing, I made a lot of my writing available on my own website, and now I'm going to link to that rather than directly embed text as Tumblr posts. It has every finished chapter of Elizabeth Maroney is Totally Boned, and I'm going to add hosting for Reposado at some point soon (which will make Chapter 25 much easier to structure - if you know, you know) - the main barrier for the latter is that it's in a separate Obsidian vault, so I basically need to get a computer set up with both and do a massive file copy.

The other thing is that I have a mailing list of sorts now! Tumblr usernames to tag when I make release posts. I'll be testing that today. Thanks for the patience and support!

@jennihurtz @wanderwytch @k-simplex @mr-orion @that-house

[maddiem4]

I was feeling inspired, and started a (brief) series in the same universe as Elizabeth Maroney is Totally Boned. I don't have any plans for the stories to explicitly connect, but you never know. Lore is certainly canon in both directions though.

Two travelers, one of them pregnant, make their way across the American Midwest. It's not a safe place to be around people after dark. And when you're trying to avoid people, you might be surprised how hard it can be, even in the lonely patches of the earth…

I really hope that you enjoy Brood as much as I've been enjoying writing it. This is the first I've felt capable to write, or do anything much of use, since catching COVID-19 this year. It's nice to be back in the saddle - any saddle, at this point, but I have to admit I missed writing terribly. If I keep it up, I might even get back to writing well! Hehehe. But yeah if you like my usual writing you'll like Brood. Thanks.

@jennihurtz @wanderwytch @k-simplex @mr-orion @that-house

[zerosuitsammi3]

@maddiem4 awwweeeeeeeeeee now hush ya face

[docker-official]

#someday i'm going to be the primary maintainer of layover linux#probably going to run its blog myself#and i will absolutely blog about all the trans people i fuck#only then can i earn my crown as empress of the linux blogs#gotta dream big you know! @maddiem4

Why wait? You can start the blog now and make the other linux blogs blush like @arch-official @gentoo-official and @retropie-official for all being such good girls

Linux blogs be like:

Say something about Linux: 3 notes

"I am having sex with multiple trans women": 300 notes

I am so proud of this community.

[ryansimulator]

Did a sketch of @maddiem4 :3c

[maddiem4-writes]

Whispers (EMiTB)

A chapter from Alan's perspective as he searches for a changeling as a trade for Elizabeth doing some ingredient gathering. It's hard work to be a warlock with a night job, but it can be oh so rewarding.

So, close your eyes. The linoleum squeaks under your feet, cheap and practical and beige-white. The fluorescent lights flicker and hum above you, cheap and practical and beige-white. This is the stale-smelling oasis the city can offer you, but there is no city on the other side of the glass doors - just a gas station with air service (but no car wash), and soybeans. Miles and miles of soybeans along the two-lane road. And if you were to listen to the thoughts of the clerk with the exhausted terror in his eyes, the one who doesn't belong in this borrowed body at all, you might hear something like this:

@jennihurtz @wanderwytch @rust-official @mr-orion @that-house

[maddiem4]

Twitch truly is a special and particular form of interacting with the public, isn't it? If you're seeing this post, I'm about to go live! I'm pretty excited for today's stream. I have a proof of concept PPA, this next stream is going to be all about making it ready for public consumption.

[maddiem4]

I can't believe I built the aesthetic of a whole day around this goofy fangirl bit and it blew up in my face so hard. Truly dunked on by the gods.

I stream every weekday except Thursday, 10AM-2PM Pacific, and if you're seeing this fresh, I'm about to go live RITE HERE, RITE NOW!

[maddiem4]

That's all I got in me tonight, but a second chapter of Brood is out! It's a special treat for everyone demented enough to enjoy prose like:

He snickered. "Happy to oblige, miss." He grabbed the rope and pulled down, and the deer lifted up and over the spiderwebbed glass. Delia fell into his arms, and he barely caught her, but by god he caught her. She looked up at him again, and they kissed in the moonlight - the reckless kind of kissing, both of them drenched in deer blood after tens of minutes tying knots around the corpse.

Before you ask, yes yes, of course I'm building up to a sex scene. You think I'd set up the romantic intimacy between a human man and a spider girl without some sort of highly explicit and shamelessly graphic payoff? For shame! Know me better! Mama Maddie would never leave you hanging like that. I'm just trying to find a deft way to weave it into the American Gothic Horror of the overarching narrative in a way that doesn't feel contrived. Rome wasn't architected in a day, people!

@jennihurtz @wanderwytch @k-simplex @mr-orion @that-house

[maddiem4]

Do you want to listen to an old communist hag ad-lib a manifesto to a random Twitch follower? Did you miss the golden age of interoperable chat apps? WELL BOY HOWDY DO I GOT NEARLY AN HOUR OF CONTENT FOR YOU!

This was the big insane edit job that taught me a lesson in "holy fuck it's not sustainable to manually caption a 40 minute video." A very important category of lesson. It's not a large category, but I have suffered greatly in learning it. I will probably upload all of my VODs at some point with minor editing, but that's a giant project, and will not involve caption work. Just mild security censorship as necessary and some timestamps. I won't upload shorts while doing that, because again, this way lies insanity.

[werewolfbarista]

@maddiem4 replied:

What's your pricing on commissions? I'd have to save up but I want to know what I need to budget.

thanks for asking! last time i updated my prices, i set my sketches to $40usd (bust), $50 (half body), and $65 (full body)

im not sure if ill be raising them just yet, my coworkers suggested i bump em up $5 each since i have to be careful with my arm's cringefail nerves but im still thinking about it. might wanna budget for them being $45, $55, and $70 respectively just in case i do take their advice on it. that's not a decision i wanna make when im feeling like garbage this late at night!

i don't wanna work anymore i just wanna be comfy all the time and never have to worry about money again

[maddiem4]

I am once again asking for you to watch my Twitch channel, where I do software development when I'm not goofing off like this. This was from the stream where I ended up publishing some open source music (still work in progress garbage) made with open source software (actually pretty good).

I'm literally about to go live btw 🥺

[maddiem4-writes]

Lime Slushie

I told y'all I'd write a sequel to that last piece, and yes, it's hornier. In fact, from a literary standpoint, I probably should have broken this into multiple chapters, but I didn't, because I wanted to keep my promise about this being the smut chapter. You're welcome :D

Place yourself in a verdant field, with the distant sounds of children climbing on a playground, a handful of ultimate frisbee players being a little too competitive about it, and the distant sounds of traffic, all seemingly muted by the quiet hum of life itself growing at its calm and everlasting pace. Time stretches on a day like this, but it never thins. There's shade under the trees, for those who want it. Vendors hawking various snacks. And in one particular patch of grass, bathed in sunlight...

A gnat buzzed in my ear, and I shooed it away lazily, drowsy in the sun. God, how I loved the sun. To think I'd ever seriously considered giving it up… the idea felt absurd to me now. The cheap beach towel under me, ratty as it objectively was, felt luxurious pressed between my tan skin and the freshly mowed lawn of La Vista Park. Late spring felt like my birthright, and I soaked it in with the casual entitlement of a queen.

There are certain emotions you eventually give yourself license to, when you get old enough to let go of the bullshit. Certain kinds of confidence, an unwillingness to live by anyone else's standards. My airbrushed purple bikini was starting to look a bit out of date these days, and my body wasn't perfectly trim like a magazine model - but nobody stealing glances at me seemed to be bothered, and neither was I. It wasn't so bad to look younger than I was. Let them look, and let them blush. I didn't mind.

I was laying there like a reptile when I heard him. Even still, there are moments where I think the footsteps are his - my eyes opened a little quicker than I would have liked. But it was just… some guy. Some guy who was clearly attempting to summon a lot of borrowed courage from any generous god or demon willing to oblige. I gave him something that bordered on a smirk. I leaned forward, and broke the ice directly.

"I don't bite, you know. Missed my window for it." I gave him a sweet smile, a generous tableau of canines and incisors.

He sputtered nervously, disposable paper cup shaking in his hand, and the straw shaking even harder. For a moment, anyways. He regained his composure well, and earned a tick more of my attention by doing so. Not just prey, this one. Interesting.

"I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like a slushie from the cart over there. The piña colada's really good. Like…", he struggled visibly with his words, "really really good."

I reached down and picked up a half-empty cup of my own. "Oh, I've got it covered." I took a sip of the bright green slush. "Lime flavor. That's pretty good too."

"Ooh!" he leaned down to examine it. "I didn't see that flavor on the sign."

I winked. "It's my favorite. Reminds me of home. Doesn't taste like actual limes though, it's the artificial, candy kind of lime. When it's sour enough, it makes your mouth water, so it's extra refreshing, you know?" I took another sip, drawing the cup back from his prying eyes, and savored the sensation washing over my tongue. "That's the good shit."

"I'll make a note of that. Especially since summer's just about here. Which… you're definitely dressed for." He blushed a little. Cutie.

"Who am I to argue with the weather? It's a hot day, I might as well dress for it. Life's too short - or, maybe too long - to worry what people think." I leaned forward a little, looked him in the eye. "If anything, I think they like it. If they allow themselves to admit it, that is."

He blushed even redder, but didn't look away. He looked me up and down, like he'd granted himself some permission to do so. "I… I'll admit it, yeah."

I held out my hand to shake. "That makes you more honest than most men I meet. And still polite, in a world where it seems like every guy is just one or the other. Congratulations on riding the line, Mr. ….?"

He seemed to shake out of a trance, a little bit. "Shaw!" He reached out with his slushie-holding hand, caught himself, swapped it to the other hand, and tried again with his now-icy right hand one more time. "Alan Shaw. Pleased to meet you."

I took his hand lightly, and shook. "Elizabeth. Just Elizabeth."

"You don't have a last name?"

"Oh, I do." I grinned at him. "I have it, and I love it, and I'm fiercely protective of it. That's why I keep it all to myself." I realized we'd stopped shaking, and I was still holding his hand. The gentle dappled shadow of the sugar maple leaves swayed over us and back again. He felt so alive, and I felt alive with him.

"Elizabeth, No Last Name Given. Alright." He seemed uncertain, but intrigued. "How about a phone number?"

I laughed. "Nothing in service. You got a phone, though?"

"Yes?"

"Good. Help me up." He lifted me to my feet by my hand. I was unsteady for a moment, I felt like I'd softened in the sunlight, all rubbery-legged. I shook it off, and held my other hand out. "Phone?"

He handed it to me hesitantly. "Who are you calling?"

I didn't look up at him, focusing on the screen. "Nobody. I need to check something, real quick, while I have the chance…" These days everyone's phone was pretty fancy and different from each other, which is not an ideal combination if you're always borrowing phones, but I figured out how to do a web search. I frowned.

He stared at me. "What?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

He popped his head over before I could stop him. "Wait, what? You a sports fan?"

"Me? I couldn't care less. But my best friend is."

He scratched his head. "Eagles, huh? I don't exactly follow sports myself. I had no idea they were taking off this year. Your friend, are they from Philly?"

I handed back the phone, screen privacy now entirely pointless. "Originally."

He looked at the screen himself. "They must be real excited. A shot at winning the Super Bowl, huh? That's gotta be a huge deal for them."

I pursed my lips and stared off into space. "Couldn't be bigger, honestly."

He finally looked up. "Shit. Sorry. I feel like I just invaded something personal."

I held my arm and looked down. "A bit, yeah. But you can make it up to me."

He stuffed the phone in the pocket of his shorts. "Anything! You name it. I really didn't mean to step in your private life or anything like that."

I looked up a little, at the markings just visible at the edges of his sleeves. "Anything, huh?" My mind raced, and I answered recklessly. "Then take me home with you."

"…what?"

"Not tonight. Not some scheduled date night you'll never show up to. Take me home now, or nothing." I had to look like I wasn't concentrating. Beach towel. Lime slushie. Hold in position. It was no wonder to me now why I'd felt a magnetism to this man. The risk and the reward were both astronomical, and I was going to chance it. If I was very lucky, this Alan guy would think with his dick. If not…

"N- now?" Come on. "Literally right now?" Yes. Just say yes. "With me?" You're the one, pal.

I shrugged and started rolling up my towel, putting it under my arm. "It's a one-time offer. If you're not interested, that's fine…" I was cursing profusely in my head. "But I'm heading home either way. So better make up your mind fast. I'm a busy woman, not lacking in options."

I think I saw him sweating. The towel wasn't so hard to maintain while I was touching it. I gave him a few seconds to look me over, and picked a direction for "home" in case I needed to take the bluff further. I slurped down the rest of my slushie, and began walking to the nearby trash bin. "Last chance," I said, tossing the empty cup in.

He looked around, debating with himself. "Fuck it. My place isn't fancy, but it isn't far either. Come on." He wasn't even parked far away. Cheap little beige sedan. Perfect.

The buildings passed by out the window, familiar to me by now after a long residence. I watched them go by, then turned to smile at my driver, who was stealing glances at my body. I winked, pulled down my top briefly, and told him: "that's all you get until we get there. Don't crash."

He grinned and saluted me. "Yes, ma'am!" And then turned his attention to the road just in time to slam on the brakes for a red light. God, I couldn't wait to see him naked.

His apartment was a basement with outdoor steps. It smelled damp and earthy, with a bit of fresh grass poking through the mud of the "lawn" that had long since become a walkway to the concrete stairs. There's a musty smell that all basements have, that got stronger as we walked down, and while I didn't mind it, it made me very glad I hadn't died in a basement.

He fiddled with the keys, until they jangled the lock open, and he rushed inside. Good boy. I walked in, and couldn't help but grin. I'd come to the right place, and it was obvious by the… decor. The books left open, the posters with sharpie corrections. I shut the door quietly behind me.

He was frantically trying to clean the place at the last second, apologizing for the mess, and I put my hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and I guided him to standing face to face with me, my finger on his lips. "It's alright. I like the mess. Leave it be."

His breath caught. "Okay."

I leaned in and I kissed him, tongue snaking around his, exploring him. His hands, somewhere between the roughness of a gardener and the softness of a scholar, started tentatively at my hips, then up my torso along the sides, then touching my breasts. Every second he was more urgent, or confident, or both. I reveled in it.

He broke free to breathe. "You taste like lime," he said, almost second-guessing his senses.

"And you taste like piña colada." He had scruffy brown hair, a little too long and shaggy, and I brushed it away as I caressed his face. "You were right. It's really, really good."

He gasped, and worked his fingers under my bikini top, grasping and groping, massaging my nipples. I began to unbuckle his belt with my hands. I soon had it free, and I broke off from kissing him again, and got on my knees for him. I prayed a thank you for the knockoff Persian rug beneath us, softer than the concrete below it, and slid his shorts down.

He was already hard, and I hadn't even done my due diligence of stroking him through the fabric. I knew I'd make up for that in a moment. At least from the waist down, his body was on display for me, and I liked what I saw. He was thin, and his cock was an average length and girth, but his legs had some tone to them, and the scratches on them… yes. I gave him one last look, and I think I must have been adorable, looking him in the eyes as I slid my tongue from his scrotum, up the shaft, all the way to the tip. He shuddered and leaned back against the bookcase behind him as I slid my lips down the length of him. He was salty and delicious.

And by god did I make it worth his while, and mine. I felt him on my whole tongue every time I got all the way down to the base. Up, down, up, down, feeling his fingers entwine in my hair. Hearing his sweet moans. I stopped halfway down, and worked him with my tongue inside my mouth, and I felt him grab a shelf of the bookcase to avoid crumpling to the floor. Emboldened, I pursed my lips for stiffness, so he wouldn't feel my teeth, and I sucked hard, and began bobbing my head like that. I wouldn't have cared if I made him cum then and there. I was lost in it.

His grip tightened on my head, and I knew what was coming next. I reminded myself that the need to breathe was an illusion for me. I couldn't get deader, at least, not this way. Fellatio is always an act of service, but it can seamlessly switch back and forth who's in control, and that's the beauty of it. Alan took control, and started forcing my head down onto him, fucking my face in its pretty little hole. I let myself go limp, even gag. I let him have his way with me. I became an object for his desire. If I'd been alive, I might have stopped him, but by now I'd had some practice pushing my limits.

When he finally pulled me off of him, I had tears running down my face, and a river of spit running out of my mouth and down my chin, with little threads still connecting to the sloppy drench of saliva on his penis. And I was smiling. I was proud. I looked up at him, messy and beaming. My voice was a bit hoarse and wet as I told him: "You can fuck me now, if you want."

He wanted.

He picked me up, hands under my armpits, and threw me against the bed so that I tripped and fell backwards onto it. He towered over me, with that look in his eyes. Knowing he was doing something wrong, something I wanted, something he could barely admit to wanting himself. I should have known he'd be rough with me. He peeled his shirt off, and I gasped. He truly was exactly what I was looking for.

I untied my top and threw it off, and was working off my bikini bottom when he put his hand on my chest and pushed me flat down on the bed. It was only when I went limp for him again that he took the hand back off, and used both hands to slide my panties off of me. He caught me by surprise by burying his face in my pussy, and I put a hand over my mouth to catch my own scream as his tongue slid inside me. His nose was rubbing my clit, and I used my other hand to grip his cotton sheets - a few weeks overdue for washing, and rich with the smell of him - writhing as he tortured me with pleasure.

He just kept going deeper, and then he started using his fingers… he crooked them upwards, finding that spot on the roof, and he stroked along the ridges. He moved his mouth to suck gently on my clit while he fingerfucked me. My body felt like it was on fire, and I moaned loudly. I was helpless to him.

Time seemed to stretch, I don't know how long he did that to me, but it was heaven. But when he stopped, he wiped his face on his arm, like he'd just finished up at a drinking fountain. He scooted me back on the bed. I looked up at him, feeling almost dizzy, so hungry for him to be inside me. He teased my clit with his cock once…. twice…. and then slid all the way in.

He'd lulled me back into a false sense of security with that detour into oral. His lust was greedy and aggressive, and he fucked me like he was trying to fuck the life out of me. I stared up into his eyes, my own glassing over, my brain being rattled into a submissive haze. He held me by the shoulders and drilled himself into me over and over and over again. At one point, he grabbed one of my breasts and fondled it, but the other kept bouncing with the power of his thrusts.

His breathing became harder, more jagged. I tried to nod, but my head was already being shaken up and down too much for it to be noticeable. He was going to cum inside me, and I wanted that so bad. Not for any plan, or ulterior motive. Just for me. Just to feel him do it. He fucked me harder, faster, pushing himself. I felt overstimulated and beyond the reach of reality. He took me for his own. It felt like a flood inside my pussy. I wasn't surprised that he was pent-up, but jesus. It lubricated him further as he kept fucking me, until his muscles spasmed with the roll of the orgasm, and he collapsed onto me, his weight cementing me under him, his cock plugging me full of his seed and preventing a single drop from escaping.

The sudden ending set me off in another orgasm, and I wished I'd been counting, but I'd got lost in the whirlwind of it all. I shook under him, and wrapped my legs around him, holding him even tighter. As close as a person can be. The thought flitted briefly in my head that maybe, just maybe, I'd underestimated my own loneliness. I didn't allow that thought to stay long. I just held him inside me.

We stayed like that for a long time. Interlocked, intersected, whole in a way we couldn't have been individually. We rested like that. When he finally pulled out of me, I lost control of my muscles again for a moment, shivering with stimulation. He rolled over next to me, wrapped his arms around me, and held me from the side. I looked over at him.

He couldn't look me in the eye, even as he held tight to me for comfort. When he finally spoke up, he said, in a simple statement of fact: "they don't sell lime flavor at the cart."

I shook my head. "No." And after a pause: "You've been carving runes in your skin, haven't you?"

He sighed and nodded.

I smiled. "I can show you the memory if you like. And you tell me what you're up to. Just… get dressed first."

He sat up, looking out a thin and pale-blue window of his basement home. "You say that like we both haven't made some huge mistake."

I put my hand on his shoulder blade. It lived up to its name on a thin guy like him, angular and defined. "We haven't. Or at least, I don't think we have. I think we've laid the groundwork to a very mutually beneficial partnership."

"Oh yeah?" he said sarcastically, pulling on a pair of jeans that had been crumpled at the foot of the bed. "Not getting any results in the Ghost4Sorceror section of Craigslist?" But there was a bit of playfulness in the tone. That's how I really knew. Got 'em. I knew you couldn't say no.

"Don't be an ass, hear me out. You tell me your thing, I'll tell you mine. We help each other. Friends with extensive benefits, what's not to love?" My towel and bikini had disappeared… probably an hour ago. My concentration had been elsewhere. I stood up, closed my eyes, and remembered:

SUMMER DAY. AUGUST. LATE 80'S. I WAS WAITING IN LINE AT THE BANK. I WAS WEARING A-

I opened my eyes, dressed in a red skirt and frilly orange top. The outfit had made me feel like a marigold flower, and made enough of an impression that I could remember it clearly, down to the shiny black heels. I felt fresh and clean.

Alan blinked. "That's fucking spooky."

I shrugged. "I'm a spook. And, well, you did just fuck me."

He wrestled his way into an uncooperative graphic tee, boasting a faded and pockmarked Led Zeppelin logo. "True and true. And for the record, I have no problem with spookiness. Obviously. I'm just trying to figure out which kink I've gotten myself into - interspecies, or necrophilia."

I waggled my finger in front of him. "Nuh-uh. Monsterfucker."

He stared at the ceiling in thought. "I can live with being a monsterfucker. Ah, crap, shoes…."

I laughed and offered my hand. "Don't need 'em! But… hold on.'"

He stared at me warily. "Why? Is it like, I'm gonna fall down the vortex of space and time, or fly across the city, or…"

I grabbed his hand. "No, dumbass, it just doesn't work if you let go." I closed my eyes and called up the same memory I had hours ago, when I was settling in at the park this morning.

JULY 4, 1982. SYRACUSE, NEW YORK. I WAS ELEVEN YEARS OLD AND MY DAD TOOK ME TO-

[maddiem4-writes]

Exit Music (for a Sunrise)

This is a short story I wrote because I was feeling inspired by Spooky Season and a Veritasium video. It involves unique vampire lore and self-destructively horny characters, and I'll probably eventually write an explicitly explicit sequel.

Close your eyes, smell the pine forest and chlorine, hear the hum of an ice machine faintly down the hallway, and then...

"It's the acidity, that's the stupid thing."

I glanced dozily over at the boy sitting next to me. I wasn't entirely sure if I could feel his pulse pushing back against mine. The short length of aquarium tubing between us was a much darker red than I would have imagined, and I felt just fine.

He pointed at his neck, in two places, symmetrical on either side, and continued. "Your carotid forks like a wishbone on either side. And there's a little bit in the fork, that tells you if your blood is acidic. That's what tells you when to breathe."

"Really?" I smiled warmly. "What's acidity got to do with breathing?"

He smiled too, but his eyes were on the horizon. There was a thinness in his expression, an old pain. I felt my heart leap for him in that moment. I don't know why. "Acidity's got everything to do with breathing, especially the yearning for it. You've felt the need to breathe before, haven't you? The desperation that comes from being denied air?"

I shrugged, a little put off by the question. "Yeah. Obviously. I'm alive, aren't I?"

He chuckled. "Obviously. Silly question. It's been awhile for me." I wondered what he meant by that, and waited for him to explain, but he was determined to get back to his original topic. "You can't really feel low oxygen. And you can't really feel high carbon dioxide… directly. But carbon dioxide, it makes your blood sour. Those little bits in your neck, they tell you that your blood is sour, which means you probably have high carbon dioxide, which means you probably have low oxygen too. Sour blood means you need, more than anything in the world, to breathe."

"Really?" I stared off into the orange-ripple sky, wondering if he was seeing something particular in the clouds, or the skyline. The night air was cool on my skin, but by now I'd warmed the concrete of the balcony, at least the parts I was touching. It felt a little less warm now than I vaguely remembered it feeling half an hour ago. It was beautiful out there in the expanse of the world, and complicated, and so was he. I turned to him, and pointed down at the tubes. "Am I sour?"

He turned to me, and his short sandy hair rustled in the breeze. His lips were turned up in a grin, and he held a finger up, gesturing. From inside the hotel room, Thom Yorke's voice rang in sweet, distant echos from the FM radio. Pleading, crooning:

Breathe…. keep breathin'….

The boy tapped his finger in the air to seal the moment. "No. Not sour at all."

I relaxed a little further, cozy in my spot. "Cool."

His brow furrowed then. "I'm sorry about this, by the way. Either way it goes."

The wind opened up the neck of my shirt a little further, and I didn't mind, but I wished so badly it would do the same favor for him. I laughed, I honestly laughed. "Well, what are the ways it could go? Sounds like there's just two of 'em."

He just stared at his palm, the gorgeous hand which flowed in clean lines upwards to the softly sculpted arm that had the needle stuck into it. He didn't answer my question, he just said, "You probably think I'm unfathomably selfish, don't you?"

I shook my head. "Why would I?"

He looked at me fiercely then. "Because I do." And there was a razor buried in his voice, a fresh fire in his eyes like I'd never seen. "Because I'm trying to convince myself desperately that I'm not, that I don't have choices, and really, do I? When it's like this, when the price is this high to simply be?"

I wasn't sure what to say to that. So I said nothing, and he continued, gathering terrible momentum.

"It would be easier if I could pretend what so many of us pretend. A divide between the divinely ordained race, and the livestock. There's certainly a host of fucking incentives to believe that. But it's a house of cards. It falls apart when you can talk to the cattle, and they're just like you, except.. briefer. And you were like them once - even if it feels more like a story than a memory anymore - it happened, and you can't escape knowing that."

I leaned toward him, careful of the needle in my arm. "You say a lot of words to dance around what you mean, Conrad."

His expression softened. "There are more than two options, actually."

The trees were visible several stories below us, and stretching out for acres. Just barely visible, mind you, but a texture of the world painted in moon-grey tinsel. The birds were beginning to wake now. I asked him, gently, silently. Insistently. I asked without words.

He hesitated. "I'm… deciding."

I sighed, peeved.

He looked me up and down. "You could live forever, you know. If you don't mind the dark."

I scooted closer to him, and it was harder than I expected. My muscles were heavy. I didn't care, and I kissed him. "The dark's not so bad. But your voice has a catch in it, something darker than that. I want to know what it is."

He took my hand, put it on his chest. I steadied my heart - I had to. He was looking at me earnestly, and I matched him. "Do you feel it?"

Breathe…. keep breathin'….

The rising, the falling. "Yes."

"I still do that. It'll buy me about a week. But it won't last. Blood breaks down, it gets sour, and I'll feel like I'm drowning… all the time."

I nodded. My mind was starting to feel clear, even as my body as getting heavier. "You're deciding whether to put me through the same wringer, aren't you? Forever, but with an asterisk."

He nodded back, eyes serious as Sunday service. "It's one of the options. And it's a big asterisk. But it's bad to be alone like this. You don't die, but it's hard to find fresh blood when you can't function, and you can't function without fresh blood." He cupped my face in his hand. "I've been alone for ten months, Elizabeth. A blink in my lifespan, and I can't count the times I've nearly spiraled into helplessness and suffering in that time. It's the longest blink I've ever endured. We're not meant to be alone."

I smiled at him. "I've loved other men. Gone on a NyQuil run here and there. Sounds like the same thing, just with higher stakes."

He winced theatrically, barely containing a giggle. "Oh, don't talk stakes to me!"

His hair felt so soft as I twirled it in my fingers. "You're an idiot, Conrad. But I don't mind it."

He stared into me, warm and kind. I was starting to feel a bit cold in the morning chill myself. "I really could. I really could do it." The last vestige of my glass of wine was in his voice, and it sounded like spun gold.

I kissed him again. "Call that Plan A. And the other options?"

"Cheeky!" The smile lasted for a moment, then faded, and he was looking through me. His voice resumed hollowly. "The next option is to just drain you. You know that's on the table."

"Walk the earth alone? Take your chances with that vicious cycle of yours?"

He raised his eyebrows at me. "That's a remarkably selfless way to talk about the consequences of dying tonight."

"I won't." I winked at him. "You need me and we both know it."

He rolled his eyes. A little of the morning light - indirect and pale, but with the promise of a turmeric sunrise - was beginning to dance through his hair. "I told you, I lived ten months without you so far."

"Oh, I know." I poked his nose with my finger. "I heard you describe it. Good luck with month eleven, sounds like real glory days for you. Lap of luxury, through and through."

"It's not a kindness to put you through that."

"Then don't." I traced my fingers up his bare leg, towards the cuff of his long-dry swim trunks. "Take me with you. You said it yourself, we're not meant to be alone."

He stopped my fingers with his, gently. Sadly.

"There's a third option."

He stared off into the horizon, but I stared upwards at the wall of the hotel. The rising sun was already peeking over the forest-covered hillside at the cold stucco of the upper floors. The curtain of light would find its way down the wall to us in a few minutes. In these hours at the open and close of day, the sun is at such an oblique angle that, if you watch carefully, you can see the borders of shadow moving moment by moment. It still doesn't seem quick, and yet if you take your attention away for what seems like no time at all, it creeps up on you with a ferocious and unwavering pace.

That is what made me feel truly cold.

"You wouldn't," I said, with none of my previous confidence.

He stared off at the hillside, wind rustling his teal polo shirt, saying nothing.

"You wouldn't."

He opened his mouth, idly stroking one of his fangs with his finger. "Did you wonder why I didn't use these?"

I gulped. "Because it's hard to talk while drinking?"

"We don't drink it. Our fangs are… highly vascularized. What good would blood do in our stomachs? We don't drink, we drain. That doesn't make talking hard, it makes it impossible." He turned to look at me again, a weariness in his gorgeous shoulders that I could barely stand to witness. "And I sorely needed to talk with you tonight."

I felt a hot tear run down my cheek. "Before you go?"

"In case I decided to."

"It doesn't have to be like this."

"It's been a long ten months, Elizabeth."

"The next ten don't have to be. They could go by like nothing at all. You and me."

"And the trail of bodies we'd leave behind together."

"God dammit, Conrad!" I shouted, suddenly impatient and furious and terrified. "Don't do this to me. Not now."

You can laugh…

He smiled at me, transparent in a way I'd not seen him before, old inside and visible and vulnerable. He was pink and warm, and if anyone had seen us, they would have guessed wrong which of us was a vampire. Pink and warm and tired. "I asked you, when we met, what you'd do if you only had one night left on earth…"

… your spineless laugh…

I couldn't even raise my arms anymore, but my hand was clenched in a fist by my side. "You fucking bastard."

We hope your rules and wisdom…

He looked up at the sky, its stars stolen by clouds and the rising dawn. "And we did it, you know! We actually fucking did it."

… choke…

I felt lightheaded. I looked up again, and the light was beginning to glare off the frame of our room's sliding glass door, the top edge.

… you….

What they don't tell you about exsanguination is that it feels a lot like not being able to breathe.

He held my hand, and stared into my fading vision. "I'm so grateful to you, Elizabeth Maroney. And you've helped me decide, at the eleventh hour. Down to the fucking wire."

… Now, we are one…

He unstuck the needle from his arm, and started for the sliding glass door, which was still open. "I'll never forget you, Lizzy. Sorry it wasn't Plan A."

And then he fell like a mailbox making the unfortunate acquaintance of a vehicle-speed baseball bat.

… In everlasting peace…

My hand was clamped down hard on the tubing. I don't think I could have let go anymore if I wanted to. "Fuck you, Conrad."

He stared down at the noose of deep-red tubing around his ankle, yanked into an impenetrable knot by his resistance against it. I guess he never felt me wrap it around him when I was teasing his leg.

… We hope…

He stared at me, dumbfounded. "Lizzy, what did you do?"

… that you choke….

"Insurance."

… that you choke.

The blaze of the sun was upon us, and I realized one last time that I finally felt warm again. I was distantly aware that he was struggling with the tube around his ankle, and then with my hand, beating me, screaming in panic.

We hope… that you choke…

The sun was so warm.

… that you choke.

Let there be no mystery about how I died. February 4th, 1996, exsanguinated next to a severely burnt corpse. His name was Conrad. And my name, the last goddamn word he screamed out of that pretty little throat, was Elizabeth.

[aroslut]

The song:

Recent favorite:

Favorite band:

Favorite k-pop band(I don’t listen anymore but they were an old favorite):

Favorite j-pop(hope this counts!):

This was fun! I think this is a decent spread of my music taste.

Thank you for the tag @aplaceforsecrets , I don’t have a lot of mutuals yet here(sideblog rip) but this was fun to do :3

@slutcore-starships @your-subby-creature @maddiem4 @kittyslewdmusings

Tag Game: Tunes

🎶✨ when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask/tag 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)✨🎶

The Song:

Recent Favorite:

Favorite Band:

Favorite K Pop Band (don't judge me):

Favorite J-Pop Song:

Yeah, that list feels pretty representative.

Tagged by 💕@olivia-is-not-a-slut💕 (I'm not doing this on my sfw blog because I have less people I can tag)

@regexkind (not gonna let olivia steal you XD) @depraved-paladin @callalilly849 @littlemisschievous @bondageandmorefort @rannithebitch @lesbi-nyan @aroslut @twingeminis @8ozoatmilkcharlatte

Yeah, that list would have been way harder to make on my sfw blog XD