#to learn more of the people who created them. everything around us is just so full of life n. it's so beautiful n so overwhelmingly painful.

[beneathsilverstars]

A lot of people headcanon that Siffrin was something around 12-14 when the island disappeared, which does make sense. But it’s common enough fanon that I wanted to go back and figure out what’s actually canon!

Lots of evidence and math under the cut, including various things to consider when creating your own hc timeline, but tl;dr:

If we stick to only textual canon, then Siffrin only needs to have been old enough to row a boat, which I would guess to be 6-8. If we take into account the ranges id5 gave for everyone’s ages during canon, he theoretically could’ve been anywhere from 6-25 when the island disappeared. Or if we adhere to everything id5 has said, then he was a “teen” when it happened, so, 13-19.

Siffrin: I ran away from home once! I just didn't want to eat my veggies. And so I took our boat! Got to the beach, rowed away from the shore a bit. I was going to come back right away, I just wanted to scare my parents a bit! I started to row back towards the shore... And then, I...

People often assumes this means Siffrin was fairly young when they left. However, that relies on two assumptions, which are fairly reasonable, sure, but assumptions nonetheless: that they were young when this happened, and that this is when the island disappeared.

While throwing tantrums over vegetables is a stereotypically childish activity, chafing at strict or even well-meaning rules doesn’t belong exclusively to children. There are parents who continue treating their kids the same way even as they grow into teens and even full adults, before they move out or even just while they visit. Which is very frustrating for the kid! So imo it would make perfect sense for a teenager or even a young adult to go, “I can’t believe my parent is still trying to control what I eat like I’m a blinding 10 year old. If they won’t treat me like an adult at home, maybe I’ll prove my independence by leaving for a bit!”

It’s also possible that the event this dialogue refers to ended with Siffrin returning safely home! It’s fun to say that his story trailed off at the moment that the island was forgotten, but it’s possible he only stopped the retelling there because the curse kicked in, just like it would for any childhood memory. Maybe he didn’t get cut off from the island till he ran away for a second time. Maybe he was just on a regular, fully-sanctioned outing when it happened. Maybe he was even with other people. Who knows! Siffrin sure doesn’t!

(Edit: It’s word of god canon that the veggie event was the island’s disappearance, but it doesn’t necessarily affect our timeline anyway.)

I think the only thing this story proves is that Siffrin didn’t leave the island until after they were old enough to row the family boat. Unfortunately I don’t know for sure how old that would be. I did some research and found a couple posts about 6-7 year olds learning how to row, but one of them was using an inflatable raft, and the other was on a rowing team, so I don’t know how the difficulty compares. Young children really are quite good at picking up their parents’ hobbies, so I think even a 4-5 year old could learn how, but they may not be physically capable of handling an adult-size boat. It really comes down to a question of core strength / endurance. Found some posts saying the weight of the boat doesn’t matter as much as the weight of the oars, though, so maybe old fashioned boat vs modern inflatable raft doesn’t matter that much…? So maybe it would be possible for a child to row a small wooden skiff at around age 6-8. Probably not for long, but that just makes it all the more realistic for them to drift farther than they meant to and then struggle to return to shore.

So: Siffrin was at least 6-8 when they left!

Bonnie: I think my village was really close to it!!! My sister said it was all everyone could talk about for weeks!!!

If we assume “my village” means Bambouche, the island disappearance would have to be after Nille ran away with Bonnie, but still long enough ago that Bonnie doesn’t remember it directly. If we define “preteen” as age 10-12, then the longest ago this could possibly be would be 12 years. On the other side, I think it’s reasonable for a 10 year old to not remember a major (but personally irrelevant) event that happened when they were 6, meaning the closest it could be is 4 years ago.

If we follow WoG (word of god) age ranges, then Siffrin is in their “mid to late 20s”, which I’ll define as 24-29. Subtracting our 4-12 years ago range for the island’s disappearance, Siffrin could’ve been at youngest 12-17 and at oldest 20-25. If we stick to only TC (textual canon), I think one could interpret Siffrin as anywhere from 18-35, which would mean they were at youngest 6-23 and at oldest 14-31.

Of course, “my village” could also mean wherever Bonnie and Nille lived before running away. I think the youngest age at which it’s likely for an adult to remember a personally-irrelevant event from their childhood is maybe 5. Nille’s WoG age range is “late teens to early 20s”, which I would define as 16-23, which means the disappearance could be 11-18 years ago. Combining this with our 4-12 range gives us 4-18, meaning WoG Siffrin could have been at youngest 6-11 and at oldest 20-25.

But if we’re only going off of TC, we can say Nille’s as old as we want, so the disappearance just has to be at least 4 years ago for Bonnie to not directly remember.

Isabeau: This article says there's no record of him anywhere... Up until he appeared out of thin air sometime in his adulthood. Looks like he lived in the city of Corbeaux for a few years before he became the King...

According to the change god statue exposition cutscene, the King started his rampage “almost a year ago now”. The way Isabeau says the bit about Corbeaux kind of implies that the King lived other places before that, but not to the point that it’s unreasonable to say he didn’t. So if we define “a few” as 2-4, then the soonest the king could’ve appeared is 3-5 years ago, meaning the island disappeared at least 3 years ago. We already said it has to be at least 4 years ago, so this doesn’t change our math.

How old were Nille and Bonnie when they ran away? How old was Sif when their home got zapped?

id5: Both were teens.

Womp womp, there it is. WoG says 13-19!

But while we’re here, here’s a summary of everything you might want to consider while creating your timeline:

Siffrin must have been at least old enough to row a boat. I’m not an expert in boats but I think it’s reasonable for a kid to be capable of rowing at age 6+, but a 6-8 year old may struggle to maneuver the oars of an adult-sized boat, and wouldn’t be able to row very hard or for very long. Doesn’t necessarily take much effort to get far enough for waves and currents to take you farther, though.

It’s WoG that the veggie event is the island’s disappearance, but if you’re going off of TC, the disappearance could have happened later instead. And a dramatic disagreement over veggies could theoretically happen at any age! Its causes could also range from rather practical (Siffrin is extremely picky and his parents are worried about his health) to pure power struggle (Siffrin just wants more choice in what he eats but his parents just want him to follow the rules they’ve set).

Since the King lived in Corbeaux for “a few” years before his nearly-a-year-long rampage, the island must have disappeared at least 3 years ago.

Since Bonnie remembers Nille telling them about the gossip surrounding the island’s disappearance, I doubt they would’ve forgotten the gossip itself if it had happened somewhat recently. (I think it must have been at least 4 years ago.)

If Bonnie’s reference to “my village” means Bambouche, the disappearance must have occurred after Nille ran away with them.

If Bonnie’s reference to “my village” means wherever they lived with Nille before running away, then the disappearance could be before Bonnie was born. But it would still have to be when Nille was old enough to pay attention to the gossip and remember it for a while. (I think she must have been at least 5 years old when it happened.)

According to id5, Siffrin is in their mid-to-late twenties during the game, and Nille is in their late teens to early twenties.

According to id5, Siffrin was a teen when the island disappeared, and Nille was a teen when she ran away from home.

You can do whatever you want forever, including contradicting textual canon. ^^

[glowettee]

Study Like an It Girl: Paris Geller Energy 📚✨

If there’s one fictional character who embodies the ultimate study grind, it’s Paris Geller from Gilmore Girls. Her level of ambition? Unmatched. Her drive? Relentless. And while her methods might sometimes verge on chaotic (okay, very chaotic), there’s so much we can learn from her approach to academics. I'm gonna break down how you can channel that Paris Geller energy while keeping your sanity intact. 🌸✨ (hopefully...)

1. Set Clear Goals (Be as Extra as Paris)

Paris didn’t just want to do well; she wanted to be the best. While you don’t have to make your life a competition, having clear, specific goals can give you direction. Instead of saying, “I want to study more,” try:

“I want to get an A on my next chemistry test.”

“I’ll complete three hours of focused study for math every weeknight.” Specificity helps you stay on track and keeps your energy focused on the right tasks.

💡 It Girl Tip: Create a vision board for your goals, Paris-style. Include dream colleges, career aspirations, or anything else that fuels your ambition. Keep it somewhere you can see it every day—manifestation meets motivation. (digital or IRL is good, USE PINTEREST!)

2. Romanticize Your Study Environment

Let’s be honest: Paris wouldn’t study in a messy, uninspiring room. Your study space should feel like an aesthetic haven. Think:

A tidy desk with your favorite stationery ✏️

Soft lighting (fairy lights or a warm desk lamp) 🌟

A pastel mug filled with tea or coffee ☕

Background music (try classical, K-Pop or lo-fi playlists for the ultimate vibe) 🎶

You’re the main character of your life!!

3. Be Aggressively Overprepared, But Aesthetically So

Paris Geller never walked into a study session without knowing everything. Her energy was all about overachieving to the point of intimidating her competition. You don’t need the rivalry, but you do need the prep.

It Girl Twist: Gather extra resources and organize them beautifully. Think color-coded binders, pastel-highlighted textbooks, and aesthetic digital flashcards.

Why It Works: When you know more than what’s required, it builds confidence. That’s Paris power.

💡 Mindy Says: “Overprepared = unbothered queen vibes. Let your notes be so cute they could double as Pinterest posts.”

4. Master Controlled Chaos

Paris’s intensity could sometimes spiral into chaos, but she always managed to pull through. Instead of avoiding stress, embrace it as a sign you’re pushing yourself—and learn to channel it constructively.

It Girl Twist: When you’re overwhelmed, do a quick brain dump into a journal or planner. Write down every single task, no matter how small. Then organize it into bite-sized chunks.

Why It Works: Getting everything out of your head and onto paper clears your mind and gives you control.

💡 Mindy Says: “Your chaos is part of the process, babe. Just make it chic— glittery gel pens and mood-boosting playlists.”

5. Develop an Intimidation-Level Vocabulary

Remember when Paris dropped SAT words like confetti? It wasn’t just for show; she knew that language was power. Building your vocabulary can make you feel (and sound) unstoppable.

It Girl Twist: Learn one new “power word” a day and slip it into casual conversations or captions. Bonus points if it’s super niche and makes you feel like a literary goddess.

Why It Works: Knowledge isn’t just for exams—it’s for life. Plus, it’s fun to impress people with words they have to Google.

💡 Mindy Says: “An eloquent queen is a glowing queen. Vocabulary flexing is the new subtle flex.”

6. Treat Every Day Like It’s a Debate Prep Day

Paris’s debate skills were unmatched because she thought critically about everything. Adopting her mindset means questioning the world around you and staying curious.

It Girl Twist: Pick one topic you’re passionate about and research the heck out of it. Pretend you’re preparing to debate Paris herself (but in a cute, less intimidating way).

Why It Works: Critical thinking is a muscle—flex it daily. It’s also a low-key way to keep studying exciting.

💡 Mindy Says: “Be curious. Be informed. Be iconic. Channel your inner Paris and make intellectual sass your superpower.”

5. Take Pride in Your Ambition—Unapologetically

Paris never dimmed her ambition, even when people found it “too much.” Embrace that energy and stop apologizing for wanting more—if it’s higher grades, dream schools, or a future as the CEO of your life embrace it!

It Girl Twist: Write a “brag list” every week. Note down everything you’ve accomplished, big or small, and let yourself feel proud of it.

Why It Works: Celebrating your wins keeps you motivated and reminds you that your hard work is paying off.

💡 Mindy Says: “Being ambitious isn’t extra—it’s iconic. You’re not ‘too much,’ babe. You’re just enough to glow brighter than everyone else.”

✨ Final Thoughts:

I hoped you girlies loved this blog post. I wanted to try a different style. If you all noticed the "Mindy Quotes" they're all words by me! I'm Mindy/Glowettee! I wanted to give you personal words of encouragement! Love you all!

[somecosmic-typashit]

|Normalise actually motivating shifters who struggle with their minds|

I'm actually sick of some of these "harsh motivations" on social medias, because a lot of them are straight up nothing else but insults and shameful words. It only does the opposite instead of motivation, because some of them doesn't even give context or explaining.

You don't need to scold them now srs, like the fuck? Harsh motivation can only be truth, there's no need for degrading words, only truth itself can hurt enough already. That's what harsh motivation is. Some people are still stuck on misinformations and just don't know or understand everything about shifting yet. There's nothing wrong with that, because they're still expanding their knowledge and changing their beliefs. We've all been there, and even us are still learning about new things everyday and we're still letting go of everything that doesn't do us any good anymore. Have some understanding towards those who are still growing.

You can't call someone stupid and say "It's all your fault you're experiencing what you don't want now! You choosed this life here before entering this vessel!" It does not make you look superior or cool, you just sound like a deranged maniac and nothing more than lunatic. While there's some truth to example I gave and I can see the reason why would someone say that to someone, you should still explain the reason why you said that and maybe give an example to support it, because it also didn't made any sense to me when I heard it for first time and first thing that popped on my mind was "Why the fuck would anybody choose this kind of life? I'm not that dumb." Because I wasn't deeply educated in shifting, spirituality, manifestation, void state/pure awareness and ego back then. I still thought this is my original/first reality and that I'm here against my own will, overall I still had a limiting mindset.

Instead of directly spitting in someone's face with this kind of "harsh motivation", why can't you say something like: "Both positive and negative assumptions are delusional thoughts that shape your own reality if you're convinced in them. One isn't more delusional than the other and one isn't more true than the other because they're both form of assumptions without any proof. And law of assumption proposes that our beliefs and expectations influence the world around us that can be both negative and positive." Simple as that.

For example, Iused to think like: "I feel like shit everyday for years straight, this is getting worse everyday and I won't get to nowhere. I'll fall apart completely in the future." Did I continue feeling like shit with that mindset? Yes I did. Why did I felt like shit? Because I kept beating my own ass up with constant self hatred and I kept listening to everyone else around me who are clearly trying to make me feel worse for their own self satisfaction and I believed their own beliefs because I let the fear eat me and I thought everyone else is better than me.

So, when I realized I'm miserable because I kept adding the fuel to misery, I cutted off that kind of mindset. Because others assumptions about me don't defy who I truly am and what I'll become actually, since they don't even know me personally, they can't decide for me either who I'll be and that's only version of me from their perspective/imagination. Did I stop feeling like shit everyday after thinking like this instead? Yes I did. Everyone creates reality for their own selves with their beliefs and views, someone's personal truth isn't ours unless we believe that it's true in the first place.

The reason everything is now the way it is, is because of patterns from our past experiences/lives which we didn't change before shifting in this place. That's why they seem familiar/repetitive, that's why you already know things without reading or hearing confirmation for them, that's why you recognise someone you just met from somewhere you don't even remember, it's all from past experiences. The reason we don't remember none of them is because we aren't tied to one reality/temporary life and we're supposed to explore our imagination and all infinite possibilities. We can't shift permanently to other reality with memories from previous ones because it doesn't match or align with the new reality, at least not if they're drastically different.

You don't need to suffocate people from this community with toxic positivity or insult them. Don't even try to motivate or teach others something if you won't even tell them what they actually need. No you don't need to motivate or teach anybody it's not your job, nobody said you should do it, but if you want to do it and choosed to, do it properly at least. I'm not telling you to baby them or cuddle them, just stop being a dick and get to the straight point.

[joetastic2739]

Someone accessed my Gmail 2 days ago, compromising my linked accounts like Twitter and YouTube. Here's how it happened, why I fell for it, and what you can learn to avoid making the same mistake:

The scam I fell victim to was a cookie hijack. The hacker used malicious software to steal my browser cookies (stuff like autofill, auto sign in, etc), allowing them to sign in to my Gmail and other accounts, completely bypassing my 2FA and other security protocols.

A few days ago, I received a DM from @Rachael_Borrows, who claimed to be a manager at @Duolingo. The account seemed legitimate. It was verified, created in 2019, and had over 1k followers, consistent with other managers I’d seen at the time n I even did a Google search of this person and didnt find anything suspicious.

She claimed that @Duolingo wanted me to create a promo video, which got me excited and managed to get my guard down. After discussing I was asked to sign a contract and at app(.)fastsigndocu(.)com. If you see this link, ITS A SCAM! Do NOT download ANY files from this site.

Unfortunately, I downloaded a file from the website, and it downloaded without triggering any firewall or antivirus warnings. Thinking it was just a PDF, I opened it. The moment I did, my console and Google Chrome flashed. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I immediately did an antivirus scan and these were some of the programs it found that were added to my PC without me knowing:

The thing about cookie hijacking is that it completely bypasses 2FA which should have been my strongest line of defense. I was immediately signed out of all my accounts and within a minute, they changed everything: passwords, 2FA, phone, recovery emails, backup codes, etc.

I tried all methods but hit dead ends trying to recover them. Thankfully, my Discord wasn’t connected, so I alerted everyone I knew there. I also had an alternate account, @JLCmapping, managed by a friend, which I used to immediately inform @/TeamYouTube about the situation

Meanwhile, the hackers turned my YouTube channel into a crypto channel and used my Twitter account to spam hundreds of messages, trying to use my image and reputation to scam more victims

Thankfully, YouTube responded quickly and terminated the channel. Within 48 hours, they locked the hacker out of my Gmail and restored my access. They also helped me recover my channel, which has been renamed to JoetasticOfficial since Joetastic_ was no longer available.

Since then, I’ve taken several steps to secure my accounts and prevent this from happening again. This has been a wake-up call to me, and now I am more cautious around people online. I hope sharing it helps others avoid falling victim to similar attacks. (End)

(side note) Around this time, people also started to impersonate me on TikTok and YouTube. With my accounts terminated, anyone searching for "Joetastic" would only find the imposter's profiles. I’m unsure whether they are connected or if it’s just an unfortunate coincidence, but it made the situation even more stressful.

[agirlwithglam]

🌟 become your dream girl before 2025! 🌟

THIS WILL *ACTUALLY* CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

do you know how many people are waiting until next year to glow up and actually start to become their dream self? now just think, if you started now, before 2025, how far you would be. how much more skills and knowledge you would have. you're literally getting a head start. so what are you doing dilly-dallying until 2025? heres your guide to ending this year accomplishing everything you need to and starting 2025 with everything you need.

in this post i will include mindset shifts, how to become a better person, actionable advice, actually becoming a new person <3

👑know what you want.

who do you want to become at the end of this year? what does your dream girl look like? what kind of body does she have? her clothes? who are the people she hangs out with on a daily basis- friends?

create a very clear version in your head and use pinterest to show photos of what your goals are- for ex: girls at the gym, journalling, writing, studying, reading, learning, walking, with friends, spending time outside, going swimming, playing sports, doing a skill/ hobby.

you can also find an idol/ an inspiration- a youtuber, influencer, parent, anyone who you look up to and want to somewhat have a similar life like them. (for ex: thewizardliz, tam kaur) whatever is important to you this goes hand in hand with the next point:

👑goals.

any unfinished projects, any goals you said you'd do in the beginning of the year, get them all down on paper. if you've finished any of them, great!- tick them off. but if you haven't then its time to lock in. pick the ones that are most important to you. that you know that achieving these will 100% get you closer to your goal. doing this makes sure you get rid of the ones that you think are "productive" when in reality they just help you procrastinate.

finish any unfinished projects or books you have before the new year begins because 2025 is about bringing in new, fresh opportunities and things. for me personally, i have a few crochet projects that i want to finish before the end of this year so i can start the new year with nothing old from the year before!

👑cutting.

you are going to be becoming a new person- new mindset, new values, new perception on life, etc. the people in your life currently probably won't align with this new version of you. because if the people around you still only know the old you, your growth won't happen because it will feel extremely unnatural without the right people around you. this means you're going to have to decide whether you are letting any of your friends go. if they don't serve you or make you feel happier or bring in any value to your life, im sorry but its time to cut them off.

but of course if you actually have good, kind, loving friends who grow with you and support you all the way, keep them. the goal is to remove the people who don't serve your highest self. not remove the people who you know will be there for you.

but along with this, if you notice that those people are acting a bit more weirdly/ strangely now that you're improving- giving you backhanded compliments, talking about you behind your back, or just giving you a weird vibe in general, trust your gut. those people don't want to see you going to a higher place where you're thriving- keeping them in your life can be terrible for your highest good.

remember that doing this doesn't mean that you're not going to get better because BETTER ALWAYS COMES. god will give you more people who you couldn't have ever dreamed could be so amazing. so never keep toxic people in your life out of fear that you'll be alone forever. (remember: 8 billion people in the world.)

👑mindset.

dont wait to change your mindset only once you achieve the dream body or the best grade- start now. people can take away everything from you but they can't take away your mindset, skills, and knowledge. here are some mindset shifts to develop:

the abundance mindset. know that everything happens for your highest and greatest good only! everything will work out in the end for you because God hasn't put you on this earth to suffer. if you are religeous (God) or spiritual (the universe) or even believe theres a higher faith, why on earth would you willingly believe that your purpose here is to have a bad time? obstacles will come your way and you will make bad decisions and mistakes. but all these jsut contribute to the person you are today and the person who you'll be in the future!

i will make it. believe in your vision and yourself so fiercely that you know in your bones that you will achieve your goals. you will travel the world and discover new places, you will get to retire your parents, you will get to buy expensive bags for your mom, you will be that rich sister/daughter/ wife, you will help people around the whole world, you will have people around you who love and care for you, you will achieve whatever dream you had since you were a kid and whatever dream you have right now. you will you will you will! know this so strongly but also know that i will achieve there one day, but i also am so blessed and grateful for the life i have right now! i have so many privileges and such an amazing life that i would never trade away for anything.

growth mindset if you fail, IT IS NOT THE END OF THE WORLD. please stop being afraid of failing, be afraid of never trying!! you have no idea how freeing failing is because once you do, then you'll never have that "what if" in the back of your mind, never have that small voice asking what could have happened if you had done that thing. so if you do fail, perfect! that means that you won't waste any more time wondering what would have happened. having a growth mindset means that you know you're human and you'll make mistakes, but that doesnt make you a bad person and it doesn't take away your capability to still accomplish your goals. if you fail be able to brush it off, and keep trying again and again. Thomas Edison had 1000 failed attempts to make the light bulb. yet he learnt from what didn't work, took that into consideration, then tried again. and again. and again. and now? your probably sitting in a room with light that you have because he persisted in his goal!

stay positive always have a positive outlook and perspective of life. look at the beauty and what you have instead of what you lack. feel happy joyful energy vibrate through you everyday. do things that just make you a more positive person in general! feeling happier makes you look 100x more attractive and will change the way you interact with the world!!

👑be a better person.

new year new you right? so its time you up level the way you talk and treat others. because the goal isn't to be A b*tch, the goal is to be THAT b*tch! so going around being rude isn't going to do anything for you. being kind however- having manners, checking up on people, asking how their day was, being charismatic, etc- thats what can get you so much more opportunities! you're going to be kind, but not a people pleaser- ofc prioritise yourself always but also at the same time- if you have made a commitment to be somewhere for someone at a certain time, honor that commitment. be the friend you wish you had.

being mean to everyone just because you were hurt by someone else is not it. yes, so you were hurt. grow, evolve, heal. you're stronger than this. you're stronger than you think. you can overcome anything and you can become an even better person, capable of loving fully and wholly!

misc tips:

change what you consume. start watching thewizardliz, tam kaur on youtube. have an inspiration/ idol to look up to in life.

workout. i dont care if its not one of your goals to have a fit body, but don't workout for that. workout because you love yourself. because its actually proven to make you happier, because you deserve a healthy, fully functioning body.

DRINK WATER. do you know how many benefits something as simple as that has? clear skin, unchapped lips, better digestive health, weight management, better health, feel more alert and energized, better for immune system, increases brain power, eliminate toxins, ETC ETC!

have a morning routine that literally sets yourself up for success. stimulate your mind with reading self help, learn something, study, focus on a skill, do something that makes your mind active.

journal & check in with yourself.- document your progress! write about how you felt after everyday. did you feel esp happy during anything? do you feel satisfied at the end of the day? or do you find that your day made you feel tired and drained? do you feel regret and wished you did more at the end of the day?

diary- links with the earlier point. document the day. you can write about it, or what i also like to do is video myself yapping to the camera. talk about whatever you want and let your mind wander free!

you are that it girl! dress the part, smell good, make yourself feel so good that you just can't help but feel like you can conqure anything!!

make sure you're consistently reminded of your goals. what do you want? why do you want to achieve it? reminding yourself of your goals will actually motivate you and make you stop procrastinating. for me its that i don't want any old projects or books having to continue into the new year so i've made a plan that will definitely get it done before the next year!

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Orcs who can’t reproduce on their own as they’re a mono-sex species. There’s no real concept of gender in an orc village, and how humans, elves, and minotaur have different gender expectations baffles them. There’s work to be done! Who cares what’s in your pants when there’s chores that need doing!

Reproductively speaking, it does mean that in order to have kids orcs need people from other species will to carry their kids.

Usually this manifests in two ways. 1) members of a village go out into the world, explore, fall in love, and bring their spouse back to their village to start a family (though some won’t return to their village and will just start their family with their new spouse whenever they are). 2) it’s pretty common for a village to offer someone an easy life of being doted on an pampered in return for bearing the next generation of kids with them.

In these villages kids are raised communally, orcs maybe have a guess which kids might share their blood, but it doesn’t matter, all kids are theirs.

It’s a soft free use sort of set up. If you say no or not now it’ll be respected, though you really will be disappointing all those orcs who just want to spoil you and love you and see you round with their kids. Gently being passed around, fawned over, some days your feet never even touch the ground because they insist on just carrying you anywhere you want to go.

You never have to life a finger, constantly attended to, though they’re also so happy to teach you any skills you want! Always wanted to learn to sew clothes? There’s a tailor teaching you and fawning over your messy stitches like it’s the most beautiful thing ever created? The potter shows off the terrible plate you made with pride, just happy that you wanted them to teach you? Blacksmithing? Hunting? Anything you want.

A pampered life where you’re so deeply loved and treasured.

It takes a little time to get used to all the fucking though. They do their best to let you have time to yourself and enjoy being spoiled, but you did promise that they could have you whenever they want. You don’t know the last time you had a night where you weren’t fucked to sleep, taking load after load in your cunt, ass, and mouth from whoever wanted to fuck you until you were so sleepy you couldn’t keep your eyes open. Your last partner still hard inside you and pumping a few more loads while you rested and then cockwarming them all night. Gently being woken up in the morning because they just couldn’t wait any longer and needed to fuck you again or a new partner sliding into easily as you’re still slick with cum and your own juices.

Walking through the village to be tossed over someone’s shoulder and brought home for them to fuck, or if they’re impatient just being bent over the nearest surface and being fucked in the middle of the village.

You’re rarely with one partner at a time. If you’re being fucked publicly several other orcs quickly join in. Even if you’re in your own home or behind closed doors at someone else’s you’re always quickly overheard and more join in.

You’re always kissed and snuggled after, and usually during. They’re very affectionate and just adore everything about you!

Short fic based on this

[baphometsss]

I don't wanna sit here and act like I'm a professional or anything, because I'm not, but as someone who has had to do a lot of work to overcome trauma and reconfigure my brain more or less from the ground up, there's a lot I have to say about Solas's mental state

We know that Solas was essentially used and abused by Mythal for millennia. Even if he wasn't under a geas, he was twisted from his purpose by being made to fight, and then created the Wolf's Fang which was used to make the Titans tranquil and started the Blights. He made those choices himself, but it's important to understand that no choice is ever made in a vacuum. She took advantage of his vulnerability when he was given a body after however long as a spirit semi-existing peacefully in the Fade, and moulded him into a weapon.

He is broken, because Mythal broke him. I'm not incapable of seeing why she did what she did because like I said, no one makes choices in a vacuum and I could write about her for a long time too (in a similar way to how I have had to do myself in my own life in understanding why others abused me). He was so traumatised by everything that happened and he was trauma bonded to Mythal pretty much from the minute he gained a body. Trauma bonds are not about love. He definitely interpreted it that way, as most people do, but that's the weapon abusers use to keep the victim under their control. Abuse abuse abuse show a scrap of love and then abuse some more. If I just take it, I'll get the love/attention I need. I will earn it, because love is suffering, and I have to suffer to earn getting my basic needs met from my family/friends. Mythal, as his creator, was the one who he would've attached to in a similar way to spirit Cole/human Cole.

Trauma bonds are pathological. Mythal made him believe that if he did as she asked, and kept supporting her, then eventually he would gain her favour and they would be able to free all the elves, and he'd be able to live according to his true nature, which is one where he doesn't have to fight. (Remember his personal quest in DAI? He actually kills the rebel mages for corrupting his friend--another Wisdom spirit--into Pride.) In reality, she was just using him. She always kept the bone just out of reach for her lapdog. The line from Rook where they say (paraphrasing here) 'you know, I was actually excited about getting your approval... That's how you do it, isn't it? Keep giving little scraps of approval to keep someone loyal, and then you turn around and betray them' is so telling too.

Where--or from whom--do you think he learned to do this?

It literally reeks of a pathological trauma bond and honestly, with how isolated, 'grim and fatalistic' Solas is, it is not a surprise that he's so broken.

Solas, essentially, is little more than a lap-dog to Mythal. He followed her like a lost puppy, because especially in his early days, that's kind of what he was. You have to remember that most of the insight we get about Mythal is from Solas's perspective, and he is not a reliable person when it comes to her after so long being repeatedly terrorised and twisted and manipulated. There are several instances where he describes being betrayed by her, and mentions some of the things she did, but he never quite holds her fully accountable and ends up directing his rage elsewhere. (The parallel between Mythal/Solas and the rebel mages/Wisdom is important here.)

This awesome post by @mythalism only reinforces this. He is so messed up in that scene, he is broken, he is holding the Wolf's Fang up, trying to give it to her because it symbolises the burden he has carried for thousands of years trying to avenge her death. He never wanted the Fang, like he never wanted a body. Mythal just stands over him, fully aware of what she did to him, and only getting him to stop because Rook petitioned her successfully, and the reunion with the more benevolent Mythal within Morrigan tempered her anger. She was a goddess, with the unequal power dynamic, right to the end.

As a side note, on the potential romance element between Mythal and Solas, I read an excellent breakdown of it on Reddit a while ago about how out of character it would've been for Solas to keep something like that from a romanced Lavellan, especially in Trespasser when he comes clean about his plan/past. I can't find it now because it was pre-Veilguard release, but it made a lot of sense to me. Solas and Lavellan never have a love scene in DAI because Solas didn't want to 'lay with them under false pretences'. Lying about who you are when sleeping with someone is nonconsensual. You can't consent to sleeping with someone if you don't know their true identity, and someone who knowingly lies about who they are to get into your pants is a sexual predator. For someone who led a slave rebellion (no doubt many of them being sex slaves), and a former spirit of Wisdom, Solas would've been well aware of this. In the unsent letter from Solas to Lavellan he says he came so close to breaking and desperately wanted to stay with them as Solas, with the implication being that that is where he planned to sleep with them once he'd come clean. But because he stops, because he's still unable to forgive himself or release himself from his trauma bond with Mythal, he breaks away, and they never have sex.

Bottom line: Solas would've been honest about it. Especially that. As the Inquisitor says, he can't lie about his heart.

And it's why the Solas/Lavellan romance is so powerful because quote, 'you change everything'. Solas thought he knew what love was, that love was loyalty, devotion, worship, etc. It's not just his plans or worldview that Lavellan changes. Lavellan sees him for who he is, without the mantle of Dread Wolf, and because of that he's able to express his true nature to her, even if he's not being totally honest in Inquisition. Lavellan got much closer to the real him than most, as he says, and changed his understanding of love completely. Unfortunately, he has unfinished business, an unresolved trauma bond, and his crushing sense of duty to the past is what keeps him from taking that final step towards letting go of it entirely. Trick also says Solas doesn't think he deserves love, which tbh is kind of a hallmark trait of people who have survived abuse.

And honestly? Call me a simp but I think he really was trying to get the Inquisitor to stop him. He saw himself being unable to let go because he was so broken and burdened by his guilt, and knew he couldn't save himself--was too proud to admit that he couldn't, because how pathetic does it make him look? And how could he stop now without rendering all the damage he'd wrought pointless? Yet here was someone who had changed him right down to his core, who understood him in a way few people ever had, whom he trusted, whom he loved in a way he hadn't loved anyone else before. It took him 'centuries' to build up rapport with the members of his rebellion. The man does not know how to form attachments without trauma, and suddenly he forms a strong one with someone who loves him completely and without condition. It's a jarring change.

Lavellan says that maybe they're being prideful themselves, refusing to see their own folly. But I think in admitting that they might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking borne from misguided love to a truly terrible person, they've rendered the point moot. It shows self-awareness, which isn't folly.

If anyone can make Solas understand true love, it's Lavellan. Lavellan loved him when he was being his true self. Lavellan loved him after his betrayal was revealed. Lavellan loved him when his guilty conscience and terrible actions almost destroyed the world. Lavellan loved him because they knew the real him, and knew that his heart and spirit were broken, and knew that their love would endure, that their love would heal him.

And that's exactly where they end up. Healing the past, soothing the Blight, and loving one another completely.

[tinysunshine]

[ Klaus Mikaelson x Stripper! Reader ]

18+ (Minors DNI)

*Female Reader, Inclusive Language

You’re a dancer at Klaus’ favorite strip club.  He’s one of your best customers, always slipping hundreds into the band of your panties or bra, although he hasn’t asked for a private room with you yet. Klaus Mikaelson is a king around this city - half vampire, half werewolf, the first of his kind. The entire city lives in fear of the big bad wolf.  But you can’t deny the curiosity you feel towards the man, the monster, that is Klaus Mikaelson. When he finally books a private room and asks specifically for you, your feelings for him change. Suddenly he doesn’t seem so bad, so scary - or maybe he still is, but every night you spend with him and with each dance, you realize you’re foolishly falling in love with a real-life monster.

*Warnings: violence, death, rough sex, mentions of past abuse

*Plot with porn, Alternate Universe, but don’t worry, Klaus is Klaus :)

Word Count: 12.9k

Kinks: unprotected sex, oral sex, face sitting, rough sex, spanking (just a little), dirty talk, dry humping, creampie, light Dom/sub, protective Klaus

___

The lights in the club are dim, and the bass from the music blasting makes it feel like the floor is vibrating, which makes it a little hard to stay steady on your feet. You’ve been working at the club for almost a year, but you’ve never quite gotten used to what it feels like to be on this stage.

All eyes on you, the heat from the lights above, music so loud that it literally hurts your ears, makes it hard to even hear the lyrics of the song playing, which can sometimes fuck up your dance cues.

On stage, you feel like you’re in a world of your own, and sometimes you don’t know if that’s good or bad. Dancing has always been your passion - although stripping was never your dream. From a young age, you were trained as a ballet dancer, with competitions and private training and practices every day after school; it was your whole life.

But things change and shit happens, and although you’re not where you want to be in life, you’re still doing what you love to do, which is dance, even if it’s not the way you imagined it.

That’s got to count for something, right?

On stage, it’s all about creating a fantasy for the people in the audience. Rich men, successful men, men with high status - they all frequent this club. It’s one of the nicest in the city, but you’ve heard from a few of the other dancers that the men here are no different than the men at the shitter, seedier clubs. It doesn’t matter what a man does for a living, you suppose, because if they’re throwing cash at a girl who’s half naked and desperate to pay her bills - it’s not like they’re a good person.

You’ve learned your lesson with men, and you learned it the hard way. Men will always be men - or whatever fucked up version of masculinity they follow that makes them believe they’re a man. Rude, crude, violent and mean.

But you’ve got bills to pay and money to make, so you do your best to give them a good show.

Especially because he’s in the audience.

Klaus.

At the thought of him, quite literally the man, the myth, the legend - a flurry of butterflies erupts in your stomach. It’s a sinking, almost nauseous feeling, but it’s definitely a feeling that’s a little more good than it is bad.

The thought scares you, that you feel this way about Klaus Mikaelson. That you could associate anything good with him. You’ve heard his name since you were a teenager, back when he first came to this city and, well…

Ruined everything.

You spin around the pole and do your regular routine, legs aching in the skyscraper heels you're wearing, tits almost spilling out of your tiny bra. Your head is pounding because the music is so loud, and by the time you’re on your knees collecting the bills thrown on stage like you’re some kind of performing animal in a zoo, you’re covered in sweat, feeling sticky and over-touched and very much like you need a drink.

You’re thinking about Klaus your entire break. It gets so fucking hot in the club, with all the people and the smoke and the movement you do. You chug some water, fix your makeup, stand in front of the fan in the back room to cool down as much as you can, but he never leaves your mind.

Because you know he’s waiting for you.

It’s been going on almost two months now, this thing you have with Klaus Mikaeslon. Although thing is a generous word for it. You work almost every night during the week, and Klaus visits the club almost every night. You’re not sure if it’s to see you in particular, but you’re fairly certain that no other dancer goes near him.

Because everybody hates him.

Klaus Mikaelson has the city in the palm of his hand. When he strolled into town years ago, what was once a bustling, wonderful place to live slowly turned sour until what was left of it was just plain rotten. Klaus brought violence, mayhem, and a harem of other dangerous supernatural creatures along with him when he moved into town, and destruction came along with them.

You’re not sure what brought him to this specific city, just that it changed life as you know it. Klaus brought death, destroyed lives, and while a lot of the things that happened didn’t come from his hand directly, he’s the cause of all of it.

Nobody wants to serve him a drink, let alone dance for him. It doesn’t matter how much he tips - the other girls want nothing to do with him. Everyone blames Klaus for all the problems in their life. Why they’re working a dead end exploitative job, why they can’t find a happy relationship, why they’re trapped in this town. It’s valid hatred, and you understand it, would be the first to preach about the way your life has changed since he moved into town.

But you think differently than the others. Because while they all see the bars of the cage the entire town is trapped in, in Klaus Mikaelson, you see your freedom. The tips he gives you, that you’ve been stashing away, are going to be your ticket out of this town. While the bartender and the bouncer need to be compelled to let him in and bring him drinks, you go to Klaus willingly.

Because even though Klaus carries violence everywhere he goes, even though he could crush this town and everyone in it with ease, even a monster like him isn’t desperate enough to compel every single person working at a strip club to give him a good time.

That’d be pathetic, and you don’t know a lot about Klaus, but you know that pathetic is the last thing you’d use to describe him.

This thing you have with him is nothing more than three dances whenever he’s at the bar. Three dances is as long as you’re allowed to dance for someone without them getting a private room - club rules. Klaus never asks for a private room, but that’s fine by you.

Usually, by the end of those three dances, you’re no less than eight hundred dollars cash richer.

It does something to you, knowing that this monster sits around the club waiting for you. Or, when your insecurity is talking, you think that maybe he just settles for you, not down quite bad enough to compel a girl to dance for him. Maybe you’re just the low hanging fruit who’s willing.

You push those thoughts away as you make your way through the haze of cigarette smoke and neon lights to the far end of the club. Klaus is at an open booth, tucked away from the others, and when you see him, you lose your breath. He’s got a calm demeanor that only someone truly powerful could have - leaning back, drink in hand, and when he sees you, his lips twitch into something between a smirk and a half-hearted smile.

“You’re late,” Klaus says, his voice low, teasing, because it’s not like you have a set time to see each other whenever you’re working, although it is a little later than you normally meet up.

But you blush, flattered by the teasing tone, but also a little scared. You might have this thing with Klaus, but he’s still an unpredictable supernatural being that can do more bad than good. You could really get hurt if he lost his temper around you.

And it’s not like anyone at the bar would be able to stop him.

It’s a terrifying thought, but you try to play it off. “My set ran late,” you explain, the stories you’ve heard about Klaus killing people for less than making him wait going through your mind.

But then he grins, and you know he’s just teasing, so you step between his open legs, place your hands on his shoulders. He’s handsome, annoyingly so, and you wonder how such an attractive man can be so dangerous. It just doesn’t seem right.

It’s hard to breathe around Klaus. Whether that’s from fear, or something else, you’re not sure. The air between you both has always been charged, thick with something unsaid. You’ve never felt anything like it before.

You’ve been trying to ignore this feeling for months, but you’re not stupid. You can see the way Klaus watches you, waits for you, the way he slips his cash into your thong or bra, with hands that are soft despite the violence they can hold, the way his gaze lingers just a moment too long even when the dance is done, or before it’s even started - like he wants to touch but doesn’t know how to do it without making a mistake. Without scaring you off.

It’s different from the way the other men at the club touch you. Different from the way they look at you, with lust in their eyes and their hands rough and selfish. There’s something soft about the way Klaus handles you, and maybe you’re just crazy for thinking so, and maybe it’s just a mask Klaus wears to hide his truly dark nature - but you’ve been dancing for him for months. Surely the mask would’ve slipped by now?

There’s something refreshing, you think, about the beast that is Klaus Mikaelson. He’s a bad person, and that’s all there is to it. There’s no faking, no lies. He is what he is.

“Don’t worry, love,” he says, reaching out and touching you. It took him three weeks to actually put his hands on you, and even then it was only for giving you your tip. He’s gotten more comfortable as time goes on, and right now he grips your hips, although gently.

You’ve gotten used to the feeling of random hands on your body, so much so that you don’t even notice when someone is touching you half the time, but you do notice when Klaus touches you. There’s no way you couldn’t. You feel it, deeper than just the touch it is, because his hands aren’t random, and the electricity that you try to ignore that he carries in each touch isn’t random either.

He moves his hands from your hips, slides them up to your waist, before letting go completely. He smirks. “I know you’re just giving me a chance to miss you,” he says, before reaching in his pocket for his wallet.

His touch leaves goosebumps, even when you’re burning hot.

“What did you think of my dance?” You ask, while Klaus grabs a chunky stack of cash out of his wallet. Unlike the other men at the club, who only hand you cash when they want something or want an excuse to touch you, who try to be graceful about it and look for the right moment, there’s something almost clumsy about the way Klaus handles the money. Practically throws it at you, before you’ve even done anything to earn it yet.

He stuffs them into the band of your panties on your hip, trails his hand up to your bra where he puts some more, and then looks up at you from his seat and motions for you to turn around.

“Spin around, sweetheart, let me see you from behind,” he orders, and you do as he says, ignoring the arousal you feel at his demand. You refuse to believe, refuse to even entertain, the idea that a man like Klaus Mikaelson could ever turn you on. “I thought you were brilliant, as always. You’re like a goddess up there,” he says as you turn around for him.

It’s a nice compliment, even if it does come from the terror of the town. Being on the stage, being a stripper - it feels demeaning a lot of times. Like you’re a piece of meat. But Klaus calling you a goddess, well, it makes you feel like you’re on a pedestal to be admired instead of owned.

And you needed to hear that tonight.

___

“I heard him call her by a nickname. I walked past them the other night, and he was smiling and laughing. They joke with each other. God, she makes me sick,” you hear as you get off the stage, walking into the back room to put your cash in your locker. You just had an amazing set, and your body is sore and you’re sweaty but you feel good.

Nights like these are rare. Feeling good is rare, to be honest. You were hoping to drag the feeling out a little longer, but no such luck.

Can’t say you’re surprised.

You’re trying not to let it bother you, that the girls you work with are so hard on you, seem to really dislike you, but you can’t really blame them. People caught on pretty quickly, that you’re the only dancer in the club willing to dance with Klaus, and since they hate him so much the hatred spills over onto you.

You think that some of their fear does too.

“I can hear you, you know,” you tell the girls, and they just shrug, one of them scurrying off because she’s too nervous to face you, the bolder one coming closer while you open your locker.

“I don’t care,” she says, although spits is a more accurate description. “How can you dance for him? He’s ruined our town. Our lives. Did you forget that, Y/N, or did he compel you? We’re all worried about you,” she says, as if she really gives a fuck about you or your safety.

You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel the same way, deep down. Because she’s right, and you know she is, but you can’t control the pull you have to this awful man.

Still, you’re defensive.

“I’ll do what I have to do to get the fuck out of this town,” you finally snap, not looking the other woman in the face. You’re mad, but you’re not brave, and confrontation has never been your thing. “I have a plan, unlike you, and if dancing for Klaus Mikaelson is going to get me there, I’ll do it. It sure beats being on his bad side,” you say, slamming your locker shut.

It’s impossible to leave town without money, but it’s also impossible to make money in a town like this. Under the thumb of someone like Klaus, controlled by his army of hybrids so nobody dares leave the borders of the city - it’s security so nobody gets out of town and spills the truth of what happens here. Klaus and his hybrids make it impossible to get ahead.

But you’re getting there. Slowly but surely. You really believe, or want to believe, that you’re going to be okay.

Because it’ll be hard to leave with money, but without it - it’ll be truly impossible.

“Whatever,” your fellow dancer says, acting as if you didn’t snap on her. “Just don’t forget why you’re dancing in Pleasers instead of ballet slippers. It’s because of him.”

You walk past her on your way out, funny enough, you think sarcastically, to go see Klaus. You always know when he arrives because the entire club is on edge, and the looks you get from the girls and the managers make it pretty obvious, what they think about you and what you’re doing with him.

When you get to Klaus, you’re upset, and you don’t waste time with pleasantries. You’re worried, that the little chats you two have, the humanity you’re starting to see in Klaus Mikaelson, is ruining your judgment of him. He’s killed half the town, has control of every aspect of this city, and you can’t forget that.

While you dance for him, on him, feel the touch of his hands and the drag of his cash against your skin, you keep reminding yourself of that. Like a mantra, on repeat. He’s a bad man, he’s a bad man, he’s a bad man. It gets worse when you grind against his lap and feel a rush of arousal, knowing that your nipples are hard against the fabric your bra and Klaus can most definitely see.

He's a bad man, he’s a bad man, he’s a bad man. But then it’s his last dance, and he’s just slipped a hundred dollar bill into the back of your thong, and his hands are running up and down the smooth skin of your thigh, and all you feel is pure, animalistic desire.

“Pretty little thing you are,” Klaus remarks, looking at you with an expression no murdering psychopathic werewolf vampire hybrid should be allowed to wear. “Absolutely gorgeous. Going to have to get one of my hybrids to rob another bank if you take any more cash from me,” he says, but you don’t laugh. You don’t know if he’s kidding or not.

Klaus hands you an extra tip when the dance is over, and he opens his mouth to say something when one of your managers walks over. Barry. Slimy and annoying and misogynistic and disgusting. You don’t see him a lot, since his business partner usually runs things, but when he is around you know it’s probably going to be a shitty shift.

“Y/N,” he says, and you freeze. What happened to using your stage name only? What happened to trying to keep a low profile, to not have any stalkers or the fucking villain of the city knowing your real name? Barry is such a fucking dumbass.

Still, you bite your tongue, ready to reply, when his hand lands on your shoulder. You’re still between Klaus’ legs, standing while he sits, and you can see the look on his face when Barry touches you. It’s strange, coming from the same guy that watches you dance for a hundred other men each night on stage, the same man that watches those men touch you and give you money just like he does.

But there’s fire in his eyes. Anger. And for the first time ever, you feel genuinely scared around Klaus.

You step towards Barry, and you know that move probably pisses Klaus off even more, even though you’re not really sure why he’s mad.

“Sorry, Mr. Mikaelson,” Barry says, totally unapologetic. Idiotic, that he doesn’t know he’s looking the grim reaper right in the face. “Someone’s requesting, Y/N. Private dance,” and Klaus just nods, but that look never leaves his eye.

You bid Klaus goodbye, thank him for his money, and follow Barry towards the private rooms. But you almost trip, only graceful on stage in these stupid fucking shoes, and Barry grabs your arm to steady you, drags you to the back rooms so fast it’s hard to even keep up.

…

A few days go by, and Barry doesn’t show up to his next shift.

Another few days go by, without anyone having heard from him.

The next day, there’s a news report for the neighboring town over, since this city doesn’t bother with its own news anymore. The body of a gentleman’s club owner was found in the lake. Body being the key word, because he was missing a head.

Barry.

You call in sick for work for the next three days, and you spend most of those days puking and shaking in your bed.

When you return to work, you’re given a locker far away from the others, and the other dancers, your manager and the bartenders all avoid you like you have the plague.

Just as well. You like your own space anyway.

___

“Why are you working here?” Klaus asks, his hand gripping your ass. You feel him slide his finger under the band of your thong, and then there’s the sharp feeling of cash poking into your skin that you know all too well.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You wonder if you should be honest, spit in his face (metaphorically, of course), tell him this job is your only chance at making enough money to escape from this hell hole of a city he created. That the other jobs you’re qualified for won’t pay enough to even make your rent.

But you know better, and most of all, you know men. Klaus thinks he’s complimenting you, by hinting that you’re too good for a place like this. Too good to shake your ass, to show off your breasts, to let some of the worst men in the city put their hands on you.

You’re also smart enough to know that even though it’s been three months since Klaus started coming in, since you started dancing for him - it doesn’t mean you’re friends. Doesn’t mean he won’t snap your neck if you look at him wrong, or have one of his hybrids follow you home if he can’t even be bothered to kill you himself.

Klaus doesn’t want anyone leaving the city, in fear that he’ll lose control, you suspect. Regardless of the special shared looks between you two, the electric feeling when you touch, you know he wouldn’t take kindly to you admitting you’re stripping to save up cash to find a way out of his dominion, because even if it’ll be hard to leave with money, the journey without it would be so much worse.

You wonder what to reply with, because you can tell he’s waiting for a response, even as you bend down and flick your hair, the smell of your perfume strong since you’re already breaking a sweat.

It’s a stripper trick, perfume under your hair, on your hairline. You notice that when you smell good, you get more tips.

Men are so easy.

You settle for something vague to answer Klaus, not wanting to divulge too much for your own safety.

“I like to dance,” you say, watching the way Klaus watches your movements. “I was a ballerina.” His eyes are on your waist, your lower back when you bend over, the way his gaze travels down your leg to your shoes. You prop your foot, in your ridiculous heels, onto the space next to him, and he runs his hand from your knee to your ankle.

It’s sensual, the feeling of his slightly rough fingers against your soft skin. Under the lights, the body glitter you’re wearing makes it look like your skin is made of sparkles, and the admiration in his gaze makes you weak in the knees. You’re literally shaking, but Klaus steadies you with a hand around your ankle, playing with the anklet you’ve got on. “Nice feet for a dancer,” he teases, catching a glimpse of the polish on your toes.

In a move more intimate than anything he’s done in the three months you’ve been dancing for him, he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right by your knee, his eyes never leaving yours.

You’re not breathing. You’re not moving. The music is blasting and it’s actually one of your favorite songs to dance to, but all you can think about is the fact that this creature - the one that’s the cause of nightmares for the people of this town, the name you used to associate with panic and anxiety, just pressed a soft kiss to your leg.

Klaus lets go of your ankle, gently drops your foot to the floor, and leans back in his seat. Legs spread, even his sitting stance powerful, confident.

Sexy.

You don’t know what to do. Luckily for you, Klaus tells you.

“Show me your best, tiny dancer,” he says, tipping his chin towards you. It’s a cheesy nickname, funny coming from someone like him, but your body heats at his use of it anyway.

“Let me see you move.”

___

“Am I the reason those girls are giving you nasty looks?” Klaus asks, and you pause whatever shimmy move you were doing while straddling his lap. It takes a second for you to understand what he’s really asking.

You follow his gaze to the stage, where there’s three other dancers standing by the edge of it, looking at you like you’re the devil himself.

Or, you realize, there’s a better chance that they’re glaring at the devil whose lap you’re straddling.

You shrug.

Because Klaus is right - he is the reason those girls are giving you nasty looks. You didn’t think he could possibly ruin anything else, but when he started coming to the club, you realized that you were so, so wrong. Because by thinking that, that you were untouchable from the drama Klaus created, you created more.

He has to know that. Hasn’t lived a thousand years by being stupid. Klaus must realize that by engaging in whatever thing you two have going on, it’s making your life at work worse, but you doubt he’d care anyway. You know it’s just a dance to him, something to kill the time when he’s not out destroying anything, but deep down -

You know it’s more. More of what, you’re not sure, but there’s something there that goes beyond just dancing. You’ve spent time with Klaus almost every night for the past four months. Keeping a thousand year old hybrid’s attention for that long has got to count for something, so you decide, fuck it.

Klaus has killed for you, and the thought gives you shivers. You can be a big girl and put yourself out there, because the honest truth?

Life really couldn’t get any worse.

“You are,” you reply, hands gripping his shoulders. He doesn’t feel like you thought he would, being a vampire and all. You imagined a hard body, made of stone, cold to the touch. Klaus feels strong and solid but warm, like a real man. The thought turns you on more than it should. You shouldn’t be getting turned on by Klaus at all.

This is a job. But never claimed to be the smartest.

“Nobody likes you,” you admit, and it just kind of comes out.

Quickly, you try to recover. “I just mean that, you know, when you came into town,” where the fuck are you supposed to go from here to save face? The last thing you want to do is upset him, make life even worse for yourself, but it still comes out. “They don’t like me because of you.”

You hold your breath, ready for Klaus to throw you off his lap. Snap your neck. Bite you with one of those deadly werewolf bites people keep popping up with around the town. There’s a waiting list, of people begging for some of Klaus’ magic, all healing blood.

Maybe you’re next.

But nothing violent ever comes. Instead, Klaus laughs.

Throws his head back, like you just told the joke of the century. You don’t need to look around the packed club to know that everyone is looking at you now, and your body heats up in embarrassment. So long, shivers of arousal.

Klaus stops laughing and looks at you, intense, and you realize it’s one of the first times you’ve made eye contact with him. Serious eye contact, beyond just looking at each other when your tits are on his face or when you thank him for the cash.

You look away first.

“You’re not like them,” Klaus says, but he says it almost like a question. You know he’s talking about the other dancers, and you agree - you feel different from them, always have. Have never quite fit in with the crowd, especially with other girls your age. You’ve always been a little standoffish - awkward your mother used to say.

You imagine what she’d have to say about you right now.

“I know,” you say back, eyes focused on the necklaces around Klaus’ neck. You’re too frozen, too nervous, to say anything else. To meet his gaze again. Something about what’s happening feels crazy intimate, which sounds insane because you shake your ass in his face most nights, but this simple conversation is breaking down walls of emotions you haven’t addressed for years.

“You’re not scared of me,” he continues, and you shake your head because he’s wrong.

“I am,” you reply.

Klaus is silent for a moment, studying your face, looking around the room for reasons you don’t understand. Then he lifts your chin, forces you to meet his eyes.

“If I get a room,” he asks, and at that, you feel your heart beating faster. It only took four months. “Can we talk?”

That’s the scariest thing he’s asked for since you’ve known him. Talk. You’re not sure you’d be a good conversationalist.

But you nod anyway, secretly wonder if he compelled you because you agreed so easily, or maybe it’s just because you’re curious. Wonder what this man could possibly want with you, what he could possibly want to say to you or hear from you.

You lead him to the private room and hold out your hand for the payment. Klaus sits down on the couch when you close the door, and he looks at you with an expression like he can’t believe you don’t trust that he’ll pay after the dance.

You know he’s good for the money, but it’s just club protocol. But something about his face, offended, makes you want to giggle.

So the legend that is Klaus Mikaleson gets his feelings hurt. Good to know.

“Jen wants it in the box before we dance,” you explain, referring to your other manager. Klaus clicks his tongue and takes his wallet out, hands over a stack of cash that you don’t even bother counting. Your mind is too caught up on the fact that the news reported another bank robbery in the neighboring town, and you wonder if that’s where the cash in your hand is from.

Wonder if Klaus is expanding his territory.

But those thoughts are all wiped away when Klaus speaks as you turn your back to him, place the money in a little box with a digital code so your manager can grab it when you’re done in the room. There’s a switch, and you turn the light on, signaling that the room is in use.

“Jen. Seems like Barry is no longer working here?” Klaus asks, his voice is dripping with humor, and even though you dont give a fuck about Barry, like, at all - it just reminds you who you’re sharing a room with. Makes you a little sick to your stomach, and you grip the counter you’re standing at to gain your composure, to take a deep breath.

Then you turn to face Klaus.

It’s now or never. It’s time to talk to him, because that’s what he seems to want. As you get closer to him, as the electricity between you grows stronger with each step, the way he looks at you, with warm eyes that don’t belong to monsters, you have to remind yourself of your mantra. He’s a bad man, he's a bad man, he’s a bad man.

But you sit beside him on the sofa anyway.

“Why did you do it?” You ask, referring to Barry, but you both know that you already know the answer. Klaus reaches out, more confident in the private room away from the crowds, you realize. But most men are. You suppose that there’s more similarities between a monster like Klaus and the average man, and that’s a terrifying thought - but one you’re not very surprised by.

Klaus grips your thigh and moves you closer to him and your breath hitches. His touch does things to you. Makes the tiny hairs on your arm stand up, makes arousal pool deep in your belly in a way it doesn’t, hasn’t, when any other man touches you.

“He grabbed you,” Klaus says calmly, like he’s telling you about his day, and not the reasons he beheaded the manager at your job. “Frankly, he’s annoying. Thought that before I saw him with you, but then I watched the way he looked at you, treated you,” he pauses, hand creeping up your thigh.

You wonder how far Klaus is going to go. With what he’s revealing by what he’s saying, and because of how close his hand is to the inside of your thigh, going higher and higher to your pussy that’s only covered by a thin layer of lace.

“But most importantly,” Klaus says, with a little shrug of his shoulders like he’s embarrassed to admit this part and is trying to play it off. “He tried to interrupt my time with you.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you say nothing. You wish you cared more about Barry’s death, but you just don’t. It’s been a long time since you cared about anything, and maybe you’re just hardened from this fucked up world you’ve been living in, but it’s not like the world would miss someone like Barry.

“Why now?” You ask, wondering why now was finally the time Klaus pulled the trigger to get a room with you. “Why wait months to get a private room with me?” You really don’t want to sound insecure, but it’s been months of just wondering.

Wondering why Klaus comes to the club only to see you - wondering if you’re his first choice or just the only choice, wondering if he feels the chemistry between you two that’s so thick you could probably slice it with a knife.

Wonders if he thinks about you when he’s not around you - because you can’t stop thinking about him.

“I wanted you to be comfortable with me,” he answers honestly, and you actually laugh. It’s funny, that the terrifying force in this city wants you to be comfortable, but his plan worked. You are comfortable with him. Comfortable with someone who some people in this city view as the grim reaper himself.

“You caught my eye,” he continues, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. It’s a little ridiculous, that you’ve been almost naked in front of him every night, yet an arm around your shoulders makes you feel more vulnerable.

But maybe that’s because it’s also a step closer to snapping your neck.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a thousand years, and I wanted to get closer to you,” he admits.

Nothing could have prepared you for that.

Not for what that confession means, not for what the arm around your shoulders feels like after the words leave his mouth. There’s something safe about it, something warm - because if the boogeyman is on your side, there’s no possible way you could be hurt by him.

“There’s something different about you,” he says, just stroking over the skin of your leg. He’s so much bigger than you, and you’re against his side, and you’re feeling a lot like prey being hunted by a predator. Except this predator has already got you, and you’ve spent so much time hiding and running and just trying to survive that being able to admit defeat actually feels good.

This predator is the strongest thing on earth. He could kill you right now if he wanted to, but instead he’s complimenting you.

How can you even begin to wrap your head around that information?

“I sense it, Y/N. What a beautiful name, by the way. I guess we have Barry to thank for one thing, telling me who you really are,” as he talks, you swear you’re shaking. You don’t know how to react in this moment, have spent so much time not reacting to anything for fear of feeling anything negative, that you’re not even sure if this is a negative or positive situation.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, because that’s obviously what this is. Klaus wants something from you, because he’s a man, isn’t he? A hybrid but a man, and they never just give, whether it’s a compliment or a dollar, without wanting something in return.

But Klaus shakes his head.

“I think I’m in a better position to be asking that question, love. I have a lot to give. What do you want from me?”

___

Klaus pays for a private room three nights a week, but he stops his other visits, doesn’t watch you do your regular set anymore.

At first, you were worried, wondered where he was, because you’re beyond playing dumb now.

You like him.

Where is the line between good and evil? Klaus is bad, in every way, but he’s never been bad to you. In fact, he’s treated you better than anyone has treated you in a long time. Maybe ever. You’ve never known harm at his hands.

It’s been a month of late night meetings. An hour together in the private rooms, three times a week, where you just…talk, mostly.

Klaus asked what he could do for you, and you told him the truth.

You want out of this town. You want out of this job. You want out of this life, struggling to pay bills, scared to walk alone in the city at night for fear of one of his uncontrollable hybrids coming to kill you.

Slowly, Klaus begins to understand who you are. Where you’re coming from, even if he does tense up when you mention that your end goal is to leave what he believes to be his paradise.

You tell him that your only goal in life was to be a professional dancer. That before he came into town, you were accepted into a performing arts school for ballet. How you were so excited, ready to leave this town behind because even before Klaus came, you wanted out.

Never got along with your parents, had been hurt at the hands of men that you thought loved you. It was time for you to live your life - until the borders around the city were guarded by Klaus’ hybrids, and any chance of leaving slowly slipped through your fingers.

Dancing was your out back then, and it’s turning out to be your out now.

“Where are your parents?” Klaus asked, and you were silent for a moment, looking down at your lap. He waited, patiently, for you to answer.

“One of your hybrids killed them,” you admit, not wanting to get into details.

Klaus brushes some hair away from your face, and with no sympathy in his voice, he softly says, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything further.

You’re not sorry, but you’d never admit that to anyone. It’s hard to even admit it to yourself. They were horrible people, but they were still your parents. It’s better not to think about them at all.

You’ll never be able to forgive Klaus Mikaeslon for the horrors he’s created, the things he’s done, but you can’t deny the way you feel around him. Excited, whether that be from nerves or something better. It’s just nice to feel something at all.

So you talk during these private sessions, although he doesn’t share much. And when things get to be too much, too vulnerable and too open and too personal for the both of you, you turn on the music and dance for him.

Although, as the sessions go on, it’s not so much dancing as it is foreplay - or something like that.

You still haven’t kissed, but you’ve done almost everything else. Have rubbed yourself, to orgasm, against the roughness of his jeans. Practically humped his leg. Your panties are thin and it was easy to get there, especially with the way he gripped your hips, moved you back and forth like he was thrusting inside of you.

You still get shivers when you think about his voice while you got there, “That’s it,” he’d said, accent thick and voice so dominant it nearly snatched the whine right out of your mouth. “There you go. What a good girl. Make yourself cum like this. It’ll be the real thing before you know it, love.” Klaus has the filthiest mouth - what it can say, and what it can do.

You’re not even sure how it happens. Just that sex isn’t allowed in the back rooms so you do everything but. You don’t know how you go from talking to cumming on his leg, how you go from sharing mundane stuff about yourself to sitting on his face, but it just happens.

Like magnets. You can’t stay away.

He unclipped your bra once, while you were mid story, pulled you from the couch onto his lap and sucked your nipples into his mouth until you were begging him for something. More. Anything. Even if it was just to get him off, you needed to do it. Couldn’t just sit around desperate for him to touch you.

So he laid back on the couch, told you to climb up his body and settle on his face like the queen you were. “King of this city, you called me?” He teased, nuzzling the inside of your thigh with his face. The slight stubble on his skin rubbing against your innermost leg was delicious. “Guess my face is fit for a queen. Sit down, sweetheart. You deserve to feel good.”

He’s a thousand years old - how many women has he orally serviced? A lot, you imagine, because you’ve never felt anything quite like that. Nothing has ever felt so good, but he’s had a lot of practice.

The memory makes your pussy weep with want.

It’s still hard to wrap your head around the fact that someone who has the potential for so much hurt, touches you so softly. How someone who’s caused so much, can bring so much pleasure.

But it’s those extremes that make it so hot.

It’s so wrong, that you’re doing these things with Klaus Mikaelson. But it feels so right.

“What do you want from me?” You ask again tonight, sitting on his lap while he keeps your thighs open, plays with your pussy right there on his lap. It’s erotic almost, how gentle he’s being, like he’s just exploring you. There’s no build up, no ulterior notice as far as you know.

You’re just getting to know each other.

Klaus ignores your question completely, knuckle brushing over your clit, swollen with want. He ignores the gasp you let you.

“You know why we always meet here, don’t you?” He says instead of answering you. You furrow your brows, grip his shoulder, shake your head. Klaus answers.

“Because I don’t want anyone knowing who you are.” He means his hybrids. His army. His family.

His answer stings for a minute, for the rest of the night actually, even when Klaus makes you cum from his fingers and sucks them into his mouth to get the taste of you off of them. He tips you enough cash that your wallet literally can’t close.

But what did you expect? You’re a stripper, and he’s Klaus, and he probably does this with a bunch of girls, your insecure brain screams out.

Of course he wouldn’t introduce you to anyone important to him. What did you think this was?

He just enjoys your company because you let him touch you. That’s it.

But then you get home, to your shitty apartment, and you turn on the news. You count your cash on your bed, cold and hungry, too afraid to go out tonight and grab something to eat since you didn’t make it grocery shopping earlier these last few days.

But that’s when you realize what he meant.

Three men murdered, the news says, but you don’t hear the little details. You don’t really care, to be honest. All you hear is, Killed because of their involvement with Klaus Mikaelson, and now you get it. There’s been people rising up against him, wanting to take the city back. Which is a good thing, you know, but you’re stupidly happy about your realization.

Klaus was trying to keep you safe.

___

“No boyfriend tonight?”

A regular at the club, one whose name you don’t remember, grabs your arm as you get off the stage. Usually, there’s backup from the other girls or even a manager or security, but nobody likes you or trusts you enough to help you out.

Fuck them all.

You pull out of the man’s grasp and begin walking to the bar, hoping for a drink, but he won’t leave you alone. “I notice you’ve been hogging the private rooms. Nobody can get a dance from you,” he says, and once you’re at the bar, you sit at the barstool, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

Klaus won’t admit it if you ask, not that you would, but you know he’s the reason you always get a private room whenever you want. He compels the managers, or whoever he needs to.

You wish you had that talent.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m just busy,” you tell the man, flagging the bartender down, who looks like he plans on ignoring you, just like the rest of the dancers and everyone else.

The man scoffs. You try to remember his name. Martin, maybe? You meet a lot of men. And it’s not like this one is anyone special.

“You think you’re too good for me now,” he says, which means you must’ve met him or danced privately for him before. The thought makes you disgusted with yourself.

“Ever since you became the whore of that creature, you’re suddenly too good for the rest of us. Sorry we don’t have buckets of money to hand you like he does. It’s only because he’s stolen from us and our families. Does he pay to fuck you too? I’m sure I can afford that. Ever since you got with him, you’ve even been a shitty dancer,” and he keeps ranting.

You’ve had enough.

A lot of what he said is true, But that creature comment, the dancing comment? The fact that he’d even think he ever has a chance of fucking you?

Fuck no. You just react, and before you realize what you’re doing, you toss a drink in his face.

Which is when shit hits the fan. He charges at you, throws you off the chair, is about to yank you up by the hair when he’s suddenly on the ground.

You’re scared to open your eyes.

“Up you get, love,” you hear, in a voice that’s familiar. You’d know that accent anywhere - it’s been in your ear almost every night for half a year.

Klaus.

A bar full of people claiming to be better than him, claiming to be worried about you - and not a single one of them tried to help you when you were almost attacked just now.

But the villain in their lives, the monster that has them all losing sleep - he came to your rescue.

What does that say about the character of everyone else?

You don’t care about playing cool anymore. Klaus bends at the knees, looks at you with a worried expression, and offers his hand. You take it, and once you’re standing you throw yourself into his arms.

What a fool you are, hugging this beast of a man, but you don’t care. You were scared just now. More scared than you’ve ever been around Klaus.

“Why are you here so early?” You ask, pulling away just slightly to look at Klaus’ face. Everyone at the club is cowering in the far corners of the building, and you know why.

The fuck that tried to attack you is dead. You heard the snap. Klaus snapped his neck and he kicks him aside so you have more room to stand, like he’s nothing more than a piece of dirt under his shoe.

There’s something symbolic about that, you think. You’ve never had someone stand up for you like Klaus, and you wonder what your life would be like if you had someone standing up for you like this in your past when you needed it.

Klaus doesn’t answer. He’s looking at your arm, where there will no doubt be a bruise from where Martin grabbed you. He’s red in the face, looks so mad you’re worried he’s going to burn down the bar, but the thought doesn’t scare you.

No, it brings you peace. You’re done with this place. This club. The people here.

Fuck. Them. All.

“You should go home,” Klaus says, and you nod your head, but then he pulls away from you. Walks around the club, threatening every single person in the room.

“If someone lays a hand on this woman again - if someone so much as looks at her wrong on her way out of here, I will kill you and every person you love. I’ll kill you and every person you’ve ever met,” his voice is cold, and you know he’s serious.

A good girl would feel bad, that violence is being threatened by the people here. But maybe you’re not good. Maybe it just took someone like Klaus to get you to see that. People can have all sorts of layers, all sorts of labels - but nobody is truly bad or good.

People are people, and they do bad things. Some do good things. But all that really matters, you think, is what they do to you.

And Klaus Mikaelson, hybrid savage, has been nothing but good to you.

He walks back to you and tells you to collect your things, that he’ll figure out a way to get you home. You’re not worried about anyone finding out you’re with him, what that could mean for you.

No, all you’re thinking about is how you can show Klaus just how grateful you are that he saved you.

In more ways than just the way he saved you tonight.

___

“I hope you’re not mad,” Klaus says, following you into the back room. It’s empty, because nobody with half a mind would follow Klaus after his threat. 

The peace is marvelous, even though you’re shaken up by what just happened. 

You open your locker, grab your bag out of it and make sure you still have your cash from your earlier set. When Martin pushed you, (rest in hell, Martin), the cash you had on you completely fell out. You don’t doubt that some of the greedy girls you work with probably already scooped it up. 

Truly disgusting. You can’t wait to get out of here and never return. What you’re going to do, you’re not sure, but you’re a survivor. You’ll figure it out. 

You always have. 

“Mad?” You question Klaus, zipping up your bag when you confirm all your belongings are together. You face him, and his expression reads like he can’t believe you’re pretending to be confused. He just killed a man in front of you. 

Which was an exaggerated reaction, in any case. Klaus didn’t have to snap his neck. He could’ve just beat him up, or thrown him out of the club, now that you think about it. 

But you still don’t feel bad. Like Barry, the world won’t miss a guy like Martin. 

“I’m not mad at all,” you promise, because you’re not. You’ve changed, and that much is obvious. Whether it be from Klaus, from this town, from something else entirely - you don’t know. Maybe you’ve always just been bad, deep down, and that’s why things turned out the way they did. Maybe that’s what your parents saw in you all along, why they treated you the way they did. 

Why everyone in your life has always treated you poorly. 

When Klaus stays silent, you slam your locker. “Martin had it coming. Follow me?”

Klaus is speechless, but he obeys, which is crazy in itself. The man that can’t be tamed, following you down the hall to the private rooms. You both enter, and when the door closes and you lock it behind you, you toss your bag on the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Klaus questions, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks unsure. He hasn’t carefully crafted this moment, isn’t in control of it, and you wonder how that feels for someone like him. He’s spent the last few years, no, his whole life, trying to be in charge of every single situation. Making an entire city his prisoners, just so he can come out on top. 

The thought turns you on. You’re done pretending - because there’s nothing that gives you as big of a rush as having the big, bad hybrid wrapped around your little finger. It’s obvious now, that whatever little crush you have on Klaus, he reciprocates. And he helped you tonight, stood up for you, was on your side. 

Besides, death happens all the time in this city these days. So what if Martin is dead. He can join Barry in hell. No one has ever stood up for you before, and you’re going to ride the high, the feeling of someone caring about you, for as long as possible. 

“Thank you for protecting me tonight,” you tell Klaus, walking towards him. He’s already on the couch, and you waste no time plopping yourself down on one of his legs, your rightful seat on his lap. He wraps an arm around you, rests his hand on your hip. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.”

Maybe it’s pathetic to admit, that no one has ever cared for you as much as Klaus has, when he’s really only paid to watch you dance and talk and cum. But it’s the truth, and you think you owe him that much for what he did for you tonight. 

What he’s been doing for you, since he arrived at the club. Whether he realizes it or not. 

“I don’t like hearing that,” he says, which is not the reply you expected. You look at him, feel his fingers stroking gently over the skin of your hip like he can’t not touch you. “I don’t like knowing you’ve never had anyone to protect you before.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you don’t say anything. Instead, you drop from his lap to your knees in front of him. You’re quick as you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, go to unzip his pants - but Klaus tries to stop you. 

“What are you doing?” He asks again, as if it’s not obvious. But you know what he means. This isn’t a normal reaction to what just happened, but what about this situation is normal? Klaus is immortal, part fucking wolf, and you’re a stripper who’s about to put his cock in your mouth.

“Thanking you, Klaus,” you say softly, a strange confidence overtaking you. Maybe that’s all you needed to feel better about yourself. To be more sure of yourself. Maybe all you needed was someone to show they cared, even just a smidge. Even just an inch.

“Y/N,” he warns, even as you take his hard cock in your hand. He’s already turned on, and you realize it’s from what just happened in the main room of the club. Klaus gets turned on from violence, from hurting other people - and apparently you get turned on that violence and hurting people gets him going. 

Klaus has a beautiful cock. It’s big, thick, the perfect size in comparison to his body. It’s veiny and pink, and you can’t help it, you lick your lips like you can’t wait to get a taste. 

You can’t. You’re desperate for it, have thought about his cock and what it’d feel like in your mouth since you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself. Have wondered what it’d be like to get intimate with someone as powerful as him. Wondered if it’d make you feel submissive to be in the presence of a man like Klaus, or if you’d feel more powerful by association. 

With his cock in your mouth, you realize you feel powerful. Making Klaus Mikaelson shudder, controlling his pleasure with your tongue and the suck of your lips - the power is intoxicating. 

But it’s fleeting, because just as soon as your power started, Klaus puts a hand in your hair. He guides you along the length of his cock, and you let him, eager to please him. Drool runs down your chin, and Klaus bucks his hips up and begins to talk dirty. 

“You’ve been thinking of this, haven’t you? Fuck,” he growls, and you moan against his length. It sends shudders through his body, you realize, because you feel his dick twitch in your mouth. “My little dancer. So eager to please me. Fuck, sweetheart. Your mouth was made for this.”

It’d be degrading if it wasn’t so hot. But everything Klaus is saying is true. There’s a certain allure to his darkness, and while you suck him off, or - while he uses your mouth - you begin to make the realization that the other dancers didn’t really hate Klaus. 

They were jealous of you. They probably wanted him, but just couldn’t work up the courage to go over to him like you did. Maybe you’re stronger than you realize, you think. 

Or maybe just more stupid. 

Suddenly, Klaus pulls you off of his cock. “Up, love,” he orders, and you do as he says, wiping the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand. When you’re standing, he rips your panties off first and then your bra, like an animal, smirks when he sees your naked body. 

Your bra and panties lay on the ground by your feet, and Klaus looks at them smugly before palming your breast. “Been waiting ages to do that,” he admits, presumably about ripping your clothes off of you. Then he switches his attention to your body, and he hums, something in his eyes that almost makes it look like he can’t believe this is real. 

“You’re glorious,” he murmurs, pinching one of your nipples. With the hand that’s not cupping your breast, he rubs it up and down your waist, feeling your skin - almost like he’s trying to make sure you’re real. That this moment is real. 

You know the feeling. 

“Every curve, every inch of your perfect skin,” Klaus stands then, pulling your body to his. In between you both, so close like this, you feel his hard cock poking you. It’s so erotic, so fucking hot, and you know if he were to feel between your legs that you’d be soaking. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Made to be admired.”

There’s a pause while he looks at your mouth, like he wants to kiss you, and you think it’s finally going to happen - all of this, yet you’ve never kissed yet. And you want it more than anything, maybe even more than you want his cock inside of you. 

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, Klaus pulls away, gently pushing you down onto the couch. “Hands and knees, sweetheart,” he says, as if that’s not obvious, but you obey anyway. 

Of course you do, and he knows you will too. 

You hear Klaus behind you, taking the rest of his clothes off. The sound of his belt hitting the floor, his shirt being shrugged off, shoes kicked off. But when he gets behind you, your back to his chest, his arms bracketing both sides of you, all you can focus on is the feel of his necklaces against your skin. They’re cold, and they make you arch your back. 

Klaus chuckles, his dick poking at your wet entrance. “Such a good girl, arching without instruction,” and then he pauses, pulls away a little. Maybe you look nervous, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but he asks tentatively, “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

Your body heats in embarrassment. Can he really see how little experience you have when it comes to sex? But you shake your head and softly say, “No.”

“Just a few men,” you clarify, and you feel Klaus press a kiss to your back. He lines his dick back up with your entrance, pushing in slowly. 

“I hope they die,” he says randomly, and it catches you so off guard that you forget to breathe when he pushes himself into you. It’s a stretch for sure, but only for a second. Because you’re so turned on, your body opens for him, and it feels so good that all you can do is whine. 

Klaus has turned you to putty in his hands, on his cock, and it’s the first time you can remember ever being able to let go of all the thoughts that have you spiraling on the daily. For the first time in a long time, you’re able to just focus on the present moment - which is, currently, squeezing Klaus’ dick with your tight little pussy. 

“Fuck,” you whimper. He’s got one arm on one side of you holding himself up, and the other gripping your shoulder, pulling you up against his body. The angle makes his dick hit such a good spot inside of you that your eyes almost roll back into your head. 

Forget the oral sex from someone with almost a thousand years of practice, you think, his dick is fucking magic.

“Klaus,” you moan, fingers gripping the arm of the couch. You dig your nails into the fabric, but then Klaus reaches forwards and smacks your hands away so you’re holding onto nothing. You’re worried you’re going to fly away in pleasure, only able to focus on the feeling of his cock going in and out of your tight, wet heat. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s -

“Focus on me,” Klaus orders, instructing you to keep your hands in front of you. You hold them together while he holds you both up, knees on the couch like you’re a pair of animals rutting against each other. It’s feral. “Focus on my cock inside of you, Y/N. I know you’ve been waiting for it. Tell me how it feels.”

How can you even begin to describe the sensation? 

“Good, it’s,” but then he hits that spot again and you moan, losing track of all your words. Klaus pulls out and thrusts back in again, and in a move that surprises you so much you actually gasp, he smacks you on the ass. 

“That’s not a full sentence, doll. Try again.”

Bastard. Monster. Fucking ass. 

But you try again anyway. 

“It feels good, Klaus, so good. You’re so big and I’ve wanted this for so long and, and,” you can’t say anything else. All the build up that has led to this moment is causing you to break down, and when he moves his hand from your shoulder to the front of your body, past your tits and to your pussy, presses down on your clit when he cups your cunt in his hand, you lose it. 

You’re going to cum, and the pleasure is so overwhelming, you feel like you’re going to cry too. 

Klaus must notice this, or he feels the same, because his thrusts get sloppier and then he lets you go, so you’re back to being bent over on your knees, his solid body using you to make himself bust. “Touch yourself for me,” he orders, more out of breath than when he snapped someone’s neck, and you wonder if that’s because he’s working himself out - or if he’s holding back some of his strength. 

“God, these fucking shoes. I always wondered if you’d keep them on while you were getting fucked,” and just like that, Klaus’ stripper fantasy is revealed. You’re flattered. 

You reach a hand under your body and rub your clit, hand cramping, arm at an awkward angle, but it’s worth it. You feel so good, and it’s not just sexual. It’s everything. So much all at once. 

It’s Klaus, and with that thought in mind you cum, feeling your pussy pulse arouse his cock. 

He doesn’t cum at the same time as you, but he does let out a growl so deep you worry it’s a full moon. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he moans, gripping your hips so tight they’ll leave bruises. “I could fuck you forever,” and you hope he does. But then his thrusts get faster, and you know he’s about to cum. 

Klaus buries his face in your hair, breathing you in, pressing kisses to the back of your shoulders and the back of your neck. “Tell me you won’t forget me when you’re gone,” he says, before letting out another moan. “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

It’s so sudden, both his release and his comment, that you don’t say anything at all. You just feel the heaviness of his body on your back, the way he fills you up with his cock and his seed, leaking out of you as he pulls out, and the feel of something rough cleaning you off a second later. 

He’s using your ripped up panties to wipe you off. 

You don’t plan on bringing up what he said as you get dressed. Maybe he said it in a moment of pleasure, but the truth is - you can’t get it off your mind. If he means what you think he means, that you’ll be leaving town soon, then why do you feel so disappointed at the thought of leaving him?

You put on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt from your bag, no longer a sexy vixen, and you know Klaus has never seen you like this. You hope it doesn’t change his view on you, but there’s literally nothing else you can wear. 

This was all you brought. 

“You never answered me,” Klaus says as you put on your shoes. You’re so happy to take the heels off, and your feet scream in relief when you slip on your boots. They’re flat, they’re comfortable, and you feel more like yourself than you did just a second ago. 

You’re not sure if that’s good or bad. There was something kind of nice about the armor that was your stripper outfit. You could pretend to be someone you’re not, almost like a mask, even if it sounds stupid because you were almost naked in the outfit. 

“How could I forget you, Klaus?” You say, but you mean it in more ways than just in regards to the connection you share. How could you ever forget the man that burst into town all those years ago, who disrupted and destroyed so much for so many people? 

But you think he means promise you’ll remember me as something more than a monster, and if that’s the case, you want to tell him that you will. 

Of course you will. 

“Where am I going?” You ask for clarification, because you know what he means - it’s something you’ve talked about before. You just never knew Klaus was really listening. 

You want him to say what you think he’s going to say. 

Klaus walks towards you, necklaces tangled around his neck. The buttons of his henley are lopsided and his jeans are wrinkled from when they were on the floor while he was fucking you. He looks utterly distressed, and you realize it’s because of the conversation you’re having. 

He doesn’t want you to leave, and that scares you as much as it warms your heart.  

When he reaches you, he grabs your hands in his. Whatever you two have - it’s complicated, and you can tell that it’s taking everything in Klaus to do the right thing right now. 

“You’re going to leave town. You’re going to that performing arts school you’ve put off for a few years,” he smirks at that, and then you realize he’s making a dark joke. Like you’ve had any choice in putting off school. 

“Klaus, I,” but you don’t know what to say. You should be screaming yes. Should be running out the door to go home and grab your money from the safe under your bed, should be offering to suck Klaus off again just to guarantee your freedom. This is what you’ve been wishing for and wanting forever. 

This is your golden ticket. 

Yet you find yourself saying, “I can’t.” 

Klaus looks at you like you’re crazy, and maybe you are. But you think you see a little relief in his eyes too. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, because it’s not like you can stay for Klaus. There’s no future with this. No future for this. For you both together. 

This is it. It’s the beginning and the end of something, and the thought fills you with so much emotion you don’t know what to do. You’re not sure what the emotion is, think that it could very well be love, but you’ve never known love. It’s a stranger. All you know is that you feel. 

You remind yourself that at the very least, Klaus Mikaelson is the reason you can feel again. 

“I hoped you’d say that,” Klaus laughs, and then he looks at you, and suddenly you blank out. 

You can hear it, it’s registering in your brain, but you’re not totally conscious of it. It’s almost like someone’s talking to you from another room, like you’re half asleep. All you hear is his voice, telling you, “You’re going to leave town. You’re going to that performing arts school you’ve put off.” He holds your hands so tight, you’re worried they’ll be bruised when he pulls away. 

He’s trying to compel you, you realize, in the back of your mind. He tells you he’s already got you registered, did research on your name and your background because he can do things like that, that there’s someone waiting at your apartment to take you across the city border, and your money is safe. You’ll be okay. 

Money won’t be an issue anymore. 

You go to do as he says, but just as you head to the door, he comes to you. Turns you around and grabs your head, looks you over and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Y/N, for the dances,” he says. It’s a strange goodbye. “Remember me as someone good.”

You don’t tell him that his request is unnecessary. That there’s no reason to compel you to think of him like that. 

Because you’ll always remember him as someone good. 

Good to you.

___

9 Months Later

It’s the end of your first show, and you’re on top of the world. 

You’ve been practicing for months, and you’re proud of yourself for how far you’ve come. When you first arrived, you had a lot of practice to catch up on, as was expected. It was overwhelming at first, turning back into a ballerina, but your instructor told you that she can’t believe you took such a long break from dancing. 

She always compliments you, tells you that whatever practice you were doing at home kept you in shape. That you must’ve been born a talented dancer, if this is how you dance with a lapse in years of professional training. 

She’s sweet.

If only she knew. 

The show, recital, was a success. You’re leaving the auditorium, ready to shower back in your campus apartment and change your clothes to meet up with some friends. Your new life is so normal, so fun, it’s hard to believe what your past used to be. 

You never really think about it. You’re too busy to think about it most days, with all the dancing and new friends and normal life shit you’ve become adjusted to. You never thought you would get to this place, literally and figuratively, and you know you only have one person to thank. 

It’s hard sometimes, reasoning with yourself if your thoughts go back to Klaus Mikaelson. He was the cause of some of the worst years of your life, but he was also your savior. Where, how, do you come to terms with that? Where does blame start, and when does forgiveness begin? 

Is a good deed still a good deed if the only reason the deed was needed was because of something bad they did? 

Believe it or not, you’re not a philosophy major. Just inquisitive, with a lot more time to think now that you’re not in survival mode all the time. Maybe you just want an excuse to think about Klaus when he crosses your mind, but the truth is, long thoughts and morals aside -

It doesn’t matter what he did, because you forgive him. People do bad things all the time and never make it right, but Klaus - he did right by you.

That’s got to count for something.

You’re heading up the stairs that lead to your apartment when you…see him? 

Is it -

No, it couldn’t be. Why would he be here? 

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. 

But it’s not. In front of your apartment door, holding a bouquet of red roses, is Klaus Mikaelson in the flesh. 

You wonder if you’re just experiencing psychosis from lack of sleep - it’s different from what you used to experience back then. Your lack of sleep now is from studying and hanging out with friends, late night dance practices. Not hunger and anxiety and insomnia.

“Y/N,” Klaus says, and it's weird. This is weird, but if he’s talking that means it’s real.

What is he doing here? 

And why does your heart speed up like it did back when you first saw him at the club? 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, but your tone isn’t mean. You’re happy to see him. There’s no explanation. It’s chemical - you just are.

You’ve avoided the news about your former city like the plague. It’s easy, in all honesty, because you still don’t have a phone. It doesn’t matter to you, because the past is the past. You don’t want to know, and you’re scared, that if you think about it too hard, the past might suck you back in.

You were given a golden ticket and you’d be stupid to look back. 

But, strangely enough, the part of your past you don’t mind thinking about is standing in front of you. He looks proud, and he smiles with something like shyness behind it. 

You feel silly, in stage makeup and another sweatshirt. You still can’t wrap your head around it, who Klaus is and what he’s done and what he’s done for you. Maybe you never will. 

He hands you the roses and you thank him. It’s silent, while he looks you over, and you him. Handsome as always, because he doesn’t age, looking far too expensive to be standing in this apartment complex. 

Money isn’t an issue anymore because someone anonymous (cough, Klaus) paid for the entirety of your tuition at once, and also gifted you enough cash that you deposited into an account that could feed you for years - but you’re frugal with your money. Could live somewhere nicer, but you just want to be careful. 

You never know what could happen. Good or bad. Best to stay safe. 

“I’ve never missed a performance, and I don’t intend to start now,” is all Klaus says, and that does something to you. 

He’s never missed a performance, you think. Never at the club, even when you thought he wasn’t there. Which is how he protected you that night, against Martin. Klaus has always been watching, protecting -

And if that’s the case, it makes sense that for your first public performance tonight, he was there. 

Nobody has ever been there for you like that. 

You’re so much different now. You’re not so insecure, not so nervous - you don’t worry so much. You can actually joke around, laugh a little bit, take things as they come instead of letting trauma run your life. 

So you’re not the shy, damaged girl you were back when you left Klaus at the club that night. Which gives you the confidence to say this. 

“You never kissed me,” you blurt out, and Klaus laughs. Steps closer to you, so close that you can smell his cologne. Woodsy, warm, maybe a little mint? Your body heats up at his closeness. 

“Maybe that’s for the best, love,” Klaus says, with a tinge of regret in his voice. You know he’s right, but you can’t help but slip down the trail of memory lane with him. Standing this close to him, stage makeup on again, his stupid necklaces on display. 

The only physical difference from back then are the clothes you’re wearing and where you are. But there’s so much else that’s different, it’s almost like Klaus is visiting from another world.

“What did you think of my dance?” It’s the same thing you used to ask him every night at the club. Nostalgia is a dirty liar, because there’s something that makes you miss that. 

Miss him. 

You have to look away. 

“You’re a goddess. Now. Then,” Klaus reaches out, pushes some of your hair behind your ear. “Always. But I have to say, the heels were a little hotter than the slippers.” You grin.

Sharing history with this monster. Smiling with this beast. Only Klaus doesn’t feel so much like those descriptions anymore. 

At least, he’s not the monster of your story. You know a handful of people that could fill that role. 

Klaus Mikaelson is your savior. 

“Good to see your compulsion is still working,” he says, and you wonder if he means to say it out loud. You quirk a brow, but it’s now or never. 

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. 

“I’ve been taking vervain for years,” you admit shyly, opening the door to your apartment. His compulsion never worked on you. 

“Do you want to come inside?” 

[favefandomimagines]

Lose Something (t.o)

Summary: one wrong misjudgment can change everything

Request: @ol-alex-lo what about reader that once chased tornados just like him, but her best friend got killed a few years ago because of it but reader survived? And she doesn’t chase anymore but people always go to her for advice because she knows where the next tornado will hit. And Tyler learns about her and the fact that she’s good, so he goes to see her and he actually makes fun of her or jokes with her that she’s probably just to scared or chicken to go in a tornado so her advice is probably pure luck? And that they shouldn’t lisent to someone who never chased a real tornado or that is too scared to chase one? And reader just lashes out? And she yells that if he’s still chasing tornados that means that he never lost anything to them? Not like she did. And just so much angst, and Tyler then feels bad and like a total ass so he apologizes? so just angst and a fluffy ending?

AN: I love this request lol angsty fluff is my brand so obviously I had to knock this out. Also, I know almost nothing about tornadoes and the best places to go when you’re not home lol I live in Nebraska and the last tornado I witnessed over 26 years was in April

“This storm is beautiful!” You called to your best friend as she got out of the car. “This is the best one we’ve gotten all season!” She called back over the wind. You and your best friend Tara were trying to get data on exactly how tornadoes form. A question that every scientist still doesn’t have an answer to.

You and Tara were creating a project to find the proper data to see how a tornado is formed. With each storm, you became closer and closer to getting proper grant money to take your research to the next level.

The storm you were chasing was a small EF-2, the perfect storm to get data on how it was able to form. “Y/N, we could actually get this grant.” Tara told you as she looked down at her tablet.

You looked at her with a huge smile on your face before hugging her tightly. Soon, out of nowhere, the wind picked up and something in the air shifted. “Y/N,” Tara started.

The tornado was approaching quicker than it should have if it was a true EF-2. “We need to go. Now.” You spoke.

You and Tara ran to your car and you threw it in reverse, trying to outrun the storm. You could see in your rearview mirror that the tornado itself was growing. It was no longer an EF-2 but something bigger.

At that moment you were cursing yourself for not agreeing to take your brother's truck and instead driving your own car.

The wind was getting faster by the second and your car was getting thrown around all over the road.

“We have to get out. We can’t be in the car.” You told Tara. “What? Y/N, are you crazy?” Tara questioned. “We’re as good as dead if the storm picks us up in the car.” You replied. You stopped the car and the two of you got out and made a run for it.

As you kept running, the rain pelting you both, you spotted a horse watering trough a few feet ahead of you. Pipes that are more than likely deep in the ground to access well water. It would be your best bet.

You grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her along towards the trough. You and Tara huddled down and held on to the pipe. “Hold on tight!” You yelled at her. The storm began to pass over you and you felt Tara’s hand slip from the pipe.

You reached forward and grabbed her hand as she began to slip. “Tara! Don’t let go!” You yelled. “Y/N!” She yelled back.

It all happened so quickly. One minute, Tara was holding on to you and you were holding on to her. And then the next, the storm had ripped her hand from yours. You screamed her name as you watched your best friend headed straight for her death.

When the storm had passed, you almost had to pry your hand off of the water pipe with how tight your grip was. Everything around you was destroyed, nothing was left standing. Except you. Alone in the aftermath of the storm.

You hadn’t stepped foot in Kansas in five years and if it wasn’t a special occasion, you would have avoided the state completely. It was Tara’s birthday and her mom wanted to have a gathering in her memory.

You owed it to her to attend after avoiding her for so long. She never blamed you for Tara being out there, but you blamed yourself. If you hadn't convinced Tara to come along, maybe she’d still be alive.

Tara was a science fanatic. She was going to the University of Kansas studying microbiology and you were there studying metrology. You figured that the two of you could combine forces to figure out how tornadoes formed to a T. The pair of you had chased plenty of storms before, she always said you had a gift. You knew when, where and just how strong the storm would be before it even hit. You were never wrong, but that day you were.

You told yourself you would stop chasing because your miscalculation cost your best friend her life. You didn’t want to feel anything like that again.

If you were being honest, you were back home for two reasons. One, for Tara. Two, your friend Kate needed a favor. She had been working with some hot-shot storm chaser with a YouTube channel and she had told him all about you.

They needed an edge to beat out all the other chasers out there and you were the edge.You promised Kate that you’d meet with them. As you pulled up to the motel, you were starting to regret it.

“Y/N, hey! It’s so good to see you!” Kate greeted you as you walked up to the ugly, souped up truck. “Hey, Kate. It’s good to see you too.” You replied as the two of you hugged. “Y/N, this is Tyer Owens. He’s the one who helped me with my project.” She said, introducing the two of you.

You weren’t going to lie and say he wasn’t good looking because he definitely was. He was your type, and that could have played a part in why Kate wanted to introduce you. But you knew guys like him. Thinking chasing a tornado was glamorous and boasting about it on the internet.

He was attractive, sure, but you didn’t like how reckless he behaved.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You greeted. “Likewise. So, Kate says you have a gift.” Tyler said, cutting to the chase. “I wouldn’t call it a gift.” You replied. “Y/N taught me everything I know. We were in the same meteorology program.” Kate said.

Tyler examined you, looking you over subtly. Kate talked about you all the time. This amazing scientist who knew exactly where and when the storm would be and just how strong it would develop. He thought Kate was good but you sounded like you were too good to be true. He just had to know the woman who knew all about tornadoes but never actually chased them.

“But you don’t chase?” Tyler asked. “No, I don’t chase.” You answered. “Tyler collects data by going inside the tornado. It’s insane.” Kate boasted.

You knew she was trying to find common ground for the two of you. The topic of chasing was very touchy for you and she knew that.

“Inside the tornado? Do you have a death wish or something?” You scoffed. “Maybe you’re just too scared to do it yourself.” Tyler commented.

This man didn’t even know you and he had the gall to make a comment like that? “Tyler,” Kate started. “You know all of this information, you know the storm and yet you won’t go in the storm? What have you got to lose?” He continued.

“I’m not scared to do anything.” You rebutted. “I’m sorry Kate, but I don’t think we should listen to your friend. She doesn’t chase, she's too scared to, so how are we supposed to trust her information?” Tyler cut you off.

“You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I’ve gone through and don’t you dare say I don’t have anything to lose. If you’re still chasing, that means you’ve never lost anything you loved. Not like I have.” You snapped at him.

You took one more look at him scoffed, walking away from him as Kate called your name. Tyler watched as Kate went after you but to no avail. You said some words to her, gave her an apologetic look, before getting back in your car.

“Seriously, Tyler?” Kate questioned. “What?” Tyler asked. “You clearly don’t listen to a word I say if you said all of that to her. I’ve told you what happened and why she stopped chasing.” Kate answered.

Tyler didn’t reply, knowing that she was correct. He didn’t listen to what she said about your backstory.

“God, Tyler. Y/N chased all the time. Her and her best friend Tara were trying to figure out how a tornado forms. They almost got grant money for their project. Five years ago, Tara and Y/N were out getting data and the EF-2 that Y/N predicted ended up being an EF-4. They tried to take cover but Tara died. Y/N hasn’t gone out for a storm since.” Kate explained to him.

The guilt immediately washed over Tyler. He judged you before he even knew you and made himself look like a total asshole. And he couldn’t imagine how that made you feel.

“I-I didn’t know.” Tyler stammered. “She’s never going to help us now.” Kate muttered. Kate walked back to the team to explain how Tyler royally screwed up their next chase.

But all Tyler could think about was how guilty he felt. He wasn’t a bad guy despite what you probably thought about him now. He wanted to make things right with you not only for his own conscience, but for your help. Kate said that you were their best chance at getting ahead. Plus you were easy on the eyes.

He had to make things right with you, but he just didn’t know where to start.

__

You were at Tara’s parents farm, helping them set up for the ‘party’ in Tara’s honor. A part of you thought it was morbid, throwing a party in honor of someone who died. But you knew it meant a lot to her parents.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. It’s been so long.” Tara’s mom told you. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited as much as I should.” You replied. “It’s okay, hon. We understand. We’re just happy you’re back.” She said.

You smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze before she walked back inside the house. You were putting centerpieces with Tara’s picture on them on the tables, making them look perfect.

The next centerpiece you grabbed had a picture of you and Tara on it. It was from your first chase together of an EF-1.

You asked her to go and told her she didn’t have to if she felt unsafe, but she was so excited to go. It was evident by the bright smiles on both of your faces.

“She looked like fun.” You heard a voice behind you. You turned around and saw Tyler Owens approaching. “She was. I told her she didn’t have to come chasing with me but she said it’s a once in a lifetime event.” You answered, with a small laugh.

“Kate told me what happened. I’m sorry for the things I said.” He spoke. “How were you supposed to know?” You replied. “Still. I shouldn’t have said you were scared and that we shouldn’t trust you.” Tyler said.

“You have every right not to trust me. I told Tara that it wasn’t anything more than an EF-2 and I was wrong. I cost her her life because I was wrong.” You told him.

“You know better than anyone that storms change. They’re unpredictable. You couldn’t have known it was going to develop.” Tyler rebutted.

You were about to reply when Tara’s mother interrupted. “Y/N, who’s your friend?” She asked. “Oh uh, this is Tyler. He just stopped by.” You said. “Well, Tyler, any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of ours. Please stay for the party, we’d love to have you.” She said, “Oh Mrs-” You started.

“I would love to.” Tyler interjected. You looked up at him, surprise written on your face. “You don’t have to stay.” You told him. “I want to. Maybe this will be the start of us being friends.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh really? And why would you want to be friends?” You asked cheekily. “Because I still want to see you chase a storm.” He answered.

“It’s going to take a lot for me to go back out there.” You spoke. “Well then I better get started.” He said.

You smiled up at Tyler before he started helping you with the centerpieces. Maybe you had misjudged Tyler just like he misjudged you. Maybe this was going to be the start of something good for the both of you.

[eamour]

everybody is you pushed out.

"everybody is you pushed out" is a principle which derives from the law of assumption. just like the law states that your assumptions create the world surrounding you, eiypo explains that everybody is a reflection of your conception of self and your perception of others.

assumptions about yourself.

first of all, it’s the assumptions you have about yourself that affect the way others treat you, behave around you and act towards you. that’s because depending on the way you view yourself, others will view you the same way. consequently, others are only messengers telling you who you are, mirroring back to you your beliefs.

assumptions about others.

the same way, your assumptions you have of yourself create your world, the assumptions you have about others do as well. everything and everybody in your reality reflects the contents of your mind, more specifically, your accepted thoughts. this means that the people in your reality represent a piece of yourself, an aspect of what your thoughts looks like in relation to yourself and the outer world. they are acting out the role you have assigned them to play, and they can only ever show up how you assume them to.

change self to change others.

we already know that we are never manifesting a desire but rather the version of ourselves who has our desire. in other words, we switch to the version of ourselves we want to be. hence, we are always changing SELF. and that’s exactly what we are doing when we want to alter the people outside of us! we change from within to see a change without. and since we can only ever change self, and by doing so, we are automatically changing everything along with us.

only your assumptions create.

you change what people think of you by changing the way you think about yourself or by changing the way you think others think about yourself. basically, change is done from you for you. that’s why we say that there is no one to change but self. because when you alter your thoughts, when you shift your state of mind, you entirely change how the people around you act, behave and treat you. you change how they view you, perceive you and think about you. and those around you HAVE to conform to your assumptions about them. they HAVE to show you the confirmation of your change in thoughts.

do not force any change.

let's say something undesirable has occurred in your external world, an unwanted circumstance has taken place. whenever you do experience something you dislike, your first instinct should never be to blame, judge or shame others. that’s not your job! creation and change are both done in the mind. you don’t change people by telling them what to do and what not to do. you simply assume different and persist. you think in your favour and continue to do so!

"change your conception of yourself and you will automatically change the world in which you live. do not try to change people; they are only messengers telling you who you are. revalue yourself and they will confirm the change." – neville goddard.

no one has free will.

the world and the people around you have no option (or free will) to choose to act a way that isn’t in alignment with your beliefs of them (or, as we learned earlier, yourself). others never choose to treat you a certain way because they decide to. they cannot choose to act freely. they are tied to your way of thinking. they truly only show you what you already accept to be true of yourself. whatever you believe about yourself and your life, they will throw it back to you. don’t be mad at the messenger for delivering an unfavourable message.

everything comes from within.

as everything stems from our inner self and what we accept within, what do we do with this knowledge? now, knowing this principle, we are able to …

understand ourselves and others. with the law, you learn more about yourself than you learn about others. it is always regarding self because self is who creates! begin to realise that you are the one in charge, the only one who is in control of the world and the people around you. the moment you internalise this concept, you will start to claim your power.

use this principle to our advantage. with this understanding, you can assume anything you wish. you can give yourself the love you want, the respect you want, the admiration you want,… eventually, anything you want! a change of self results in a change of reality, always.

besides you, there is no other.

you know that nothing and no one exists outside of you, that in your reality, there is only one consciousness, one awareness, one operating power… and that is YOU. there is only you. so, be the one that thinks about yourself the way you want others to think about you! instead of expecting and waiting for people to tell you what you want to hear, be your own messenger! tell yourself all the lovely things you want to hear, all the sweet messages, all the nice compliments… receive them from yourself! focus on what you would like to be told and then fulfill your inner self. don't wait and waste time in lack and absence of love. really adjust your thoughts to your liking and yours only! once you do this and as you do this, people will have to reflect it back to you.

with love, ella.

[bella-goths-wife]

I really enjoy your work with the Vees and Sound manipulation Reader, I’m curious about how Alastor would react to the fact the Vees having a ‘pet’ with that power?

Alastors reaction to the Vs pet

Warnings: alastor, violence, terrible foreshadowing, poor reader is uncomfortable

Alastor had actually met you before you became the Vs pet, just before his 7 year disappearance

You were a fresh soul in hell and just figuring out how to survive and use your ability to your advantage

It was quite similar to how you met vox, you were unaware of how powerful alastor was and you tried to surprise attack him with your ability so you could rob him

You used your sound manipulation to create a loud noise in his ears to try and shock him but a shadowed hand grabbed you before you could do anything more

“Afraid that won’t work on me, my dear” he said with an irritated grin as he turned to you “now, why don’t you tell me your name and what you think your doing”

His shadows had tightened around you as you hurriedly explained your situation and begged for mercy

There was something so familiar about you to alastor, your eyes almost looked identical to someone he once knew

He examined you carefully and took in your appearance as you begged and couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity that seemed to come from looking at your eyes

“Well my dear, considering your also a fellow lover of music I’ll forgive you for your ignorance” alastor had said with a grin as his shadow let go of you and you fell to the ground “come along darling, I wish to discuss many things with you”

He bought you dinner and watched as you ate it with gusto, realising how hungry you must have been

He had you explain your ability to him in great detail with the promise of more food if you did so

He noted that it was unusually generous of him, but he just couldn’t shake his curiosity

After you explained everything to him, he simply nodded and with a click of his fingers he gave you more appropriate clothes to keep you warm

He gave you the simple advice of learning who to charm and who to steal from, promising you that he believed you had the ability to charm the entire pentagram of you used your abilities correctly

After that he disappeared and a few years later you worked for vox

Upon alastors return, you crossed his mind a few times a week as he wondered what happened to you

It wasn’t until he saw you on angel dusts cellphone and questioned him about it

He said that what alastor saw was a post on velvette’s social media, and the post featured a picture of you dressed in lavish clothes that matched velvettes

Velvette had her hand resting on your shoulder as she commanded you to pose, and alastor couldn’t help the look of disgust that crossed his face

In truth, after hearing of Charlie’s hotel he had hoped to find you and enlist your help for his own entertainment

But to see you with the Vs, who exploited your ability in all the wrong ways, he felt nothing but more disgust and resentment towards them

When he said you should charm people so you could survive, he meant people who were worth more than those tacky Vs

And the worst part of it was that he still felt some type of familiarity from you, and his intrigue wouldn’t let him just let him let it go

So don’t worry darling, alastor will find a way to speak to you somehow

He has to, he needs to figure out what connection you have to him to make you so intriguing

And to find out why only you and him shared music based abilities

[elllisaaa]

desperately need you to make a jihoon version for bf thoughts huhu 😭😭😭

BF!JIHOON who sometimes gets lost in his own world, but you're always here to bring him back to reality, and he never fails to show you how grateful he is for you.

music takes such a huge part of his life, it's impossible for him not to involve you in all of this. he tried to keep it away at first - because it was work and he didn't want to annoy you. but as soon as you show him that you're interested in what he does, in how he produces his music, jihoon is more than happy to introduce you to his universe. he makes you sit on his lap while he explains to you how he creates his music step by step, and he feels both so shy and so proud whenever you tell him that he's talented or that he's a genius. it leads to him letting you spend a lot of time with him at the studio - jihoon loves to have you there because you're his main source of inspiration, and you love to be with him because it motivates you to work too. you're always the first one he shows a song to, because he values your thoughts a lot, the most important opinion is yours. jihoon has definitely written so many songs for you, or about you. one time, you listened to a song he wrote before the two of you even got together and you noticed that jihoon was talking about you. you always get emotional when he does music for you and your boyfriend melts inside everytime you listen to the songs he made for you.

"can you listen to this and tell me if you like it, jagiya ? i'm not sure about what i've done with the vocals but maybe your voice could be a cute addition, don't you think ?"

jihoon gets so sleepy around you. some would argue that it's because he often comes by after work or because his sleep schedule isn't the best, but he knows that it's much more than that - it's because you're his home, and when he learned that you tend to feel sleepy when you're with people you deeply trust and love, he was sure that you were the one. jihoon also loves it when you're the one falling asleep on him, be that on his lap, on his shoulder or against his chest, he will wrap his arms around you and caress your hair every time. he has so many pictures of you sound asleep in his arms that he cannot count them - it means that you're just as comfortable around him that he is around you, and it makes him feel like the luckiest man in the world. jihoon always gets shy when you decide to attack him with random marks of affection. it makes him blush like crazy, but he's so cute with his red cheeks that you can't help it and he's so in love with you that he doesn't stop you - plus he cannot deny how it makes his heart melt every time.

"you won't ever stop, right ?" - "never." - "good, i like it when you kiss my nose…"

he's very attentive to every detail about you and your habits. jihoon knows literally everything about you, and it's so soothing to feel this loved. he always makes sure that you feel included in every conversations, especially when you're spending time with his members. he knows that thirteen people can be a lot, so he always take care of you so that you feel heard and listened to. if you're talking about something and you stop mid sentence because you think no one he's listening, he makes sure to remind you that he always listens and he asks you to continue, fully focused on you. he loves, loves, loves when you do your nails - that he obviously pays for - and especially when they're very long because it feels so good when you scratch his back or his scalp with them. jihoon almost purrs like a cat when you do that, his eyes fluttering shut and he nuzzles his head in your neck. you love it so much when he gets so cuddly and soft, and jihoon loves to be babied by you sometimes.

"let's just stay like this for a little while, please ?"

BF!JIHOON who's sweet when he's with you, but who cannot hold back his possessiveness once the two of you are alone.

jihoon works on his muscles too much to not use them to his advantage. it all started when you began to compliment his muscles every time he came back from the gym. it fuels his ego, yes, but it also makes him hard in his shorts. to know that you find his strength attractive, to know that he could overpower you every second when you're playfully fighting, it drives him crazy. so now, everytime you piss him off, everytime you're being a brat, he's using his strength to manhandle you in every position he wants. the fact that he can do anything with your body is turning him on too. when he's fucking into you and not letting you cum, he grips your hips tightly to stop you from squirming around. when you're not allowed to touch him but you try either way, he pins your hands down to the mattress. when he's having you from behind, he holds your hips up and forces his cock into you no matter how much you moan and cry. jihoon loves to know that he's able to take over you so easily, loves to know that he can do whatever he wants from you and that you're gonna love it.

"you're not moving until i let you, you know that so why are you trying ?"

he's a producer, he loves people's voices and he loves to work with them. so it's no surprise that jihoon is addicted to the way your voice sound. he thinks it's soothing when he's stressed, and it's so sexy when he's fucking you. he loves how he can always tell how you're feeling by the sounds you're making. he drinks every noise you make - gasps, moans, wimpers, whines and mewls, he loves it all. that's the reason why he prefers to fuck behind closed doors, where he can make you scream his name without risking anyone hearing you, where he doesn't have to muffle your pretty moans that make him even harder. when you gasp and whine against his mouth when he's kissing you, he speeds up his thrusts, and when you wrap your arms around his neck and whimper against his ear, he has to squeeze your waist harder to not lose his mind. jihoon even goes as far as holding back his own moans to hear yours better. he loves your noises so much that he might put them in one of his songs, and he seriously considers releasing it, just to make it clear that you're his.

"that's it jagiya, let everyone know who's making you feel good… shit, i love your pretty moans so much."

one thing about jihoon is that he loves to hear you moan, yes, but he also likes when you're begging him, begging for him. when he's already fucking you rough and that you plead for him to go harder, it makes him lose his mind. he asks you to beg for virtually anything in bed - you want him to eat you out ? beg. you want him to fuck you from behind ? beg. you want to suck his cock ? you have to beg for it. jihoon will never admit it, but he kinda likes it too when you're teasing him in public by begging him for something simple but you both know he cannot help thinking about your words in another context. one thing he will never tell you either is that he thinks it's hot when you are the one making him beg sometimes. not gonna lie, it's not easy to get him there - you have to catch him on a day he's tired because then he lets you take care of him and ride him. but when he does beg for you, it's so attractive you just want to do it all over again. jihoon is shy about it though, and he still prefers when you're the one saying please and being putty in his hands.

"you want me to fuck you ? then you know what to say, uh ?" - "please, jihoon, please fuck me." - "that's right, good girl."

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

[honeytonedhottie]

fostering and living out confidence⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧁🍬

CONFIDENCE ANALOGY ;

think of unshakable confidence as a fragrance, there are three layers to fragrance, the base note, mid note and the top note. thats what makes the fragrance stick and creates the scent we love so so much. confidence is similar in that way, its not just a mask or a front, at least not authentic confidence.

SOOO after thinking of this analogy im going to structure todays post like that, just to keep things simple and easy to apply. anyways, lets talk about confidence…💬🎀

BASE NOTE ;

the base of self confidence is self love. period. you can think of a billion other ways to say this but the base will never change. the base of ur self confidence is how much you love yourself. so how do we get a strong base? a strong foundation of self love thats gonna make sure that our self confidence remains intact?

start treating yourself like someone that u care about. treat urself like you would a friend, would you criticize them harshly for every mistake? would you tear them down when they’re struggling? no, you’d encourage them, remind them of their worth, and help them grow. now it’s time to do that for yourself. cuz why are u treating others better than u treat urself?

a really important aspect of self love is FORGIVENESS. forgiving yourself and having compassion for yourself cuz we hold ourselves to such a higher standard then we do others, especially if you're a perfectionist. and that can become really toxic, really quickly.

MID NOTE ;

the mid note of self confidence is trust in yourself. it’s the belief that you can handle whatever life throws your way. it’s knowing that even if you stumble, you’ll figure out how to get back up. its knowing that YOU'LL HAVE UR BACK even if others dont. we can build up our self trust by...

♡ doing what we say we'll do

♡ following thru on promises made to ourselves

♡ practicing self discipline

♡ trust ur gut feeling

♡ say no when u dont want to do something

some words that u can add to ur vocabulary to be more confident and advocate for urself properly is "absolutely not" or simply NO. theres so much power in the word NO so make sure to use it more…💬🎀

♡ honor your feelings and honor your wants + needs

self confidence is the mid note of confidence because without self trust, ur confidence wavers because you’re constantly second guessing your abilities and choices and thats not sustainable at all. you have to know and TRUST that ur that girl. bcuz u are.

TOP NOTE ;

the top note of confidence is how u express yourself. its the top note because thats what radiates outward and its how the world notices u first. self expression is how you own ur individuality, how you voice ur own opinions. how u express urself AUTHENTICALLY. in essence, self-expression is about living boldly and unapologetically as you. because isnt it so freeing to just be who you are? now what are some ways we can cultivate our self expression?

♡ having creative outlets

♡ exploring ur interests

♡ having ur own personal style, signature, brand etc

♡ journalling

GET COMFY IN UR OWN SKIN ; 

i feel like the most confident people are dancers. i feel this way cuz of the way my own confidence SKYROCKETED after i started dancing. i feel like dancing gives u a sense of control over ur own body and its just amazing.

whenever i feel like i need a little boost of confidence or i wanna feel sexy and good in my own skin i DANCE. and i promise that it helps so so much. i dance around in my room in my panties all the time and it’s like therapy. 

embarrassment does NOT exist, stop making urself feel awkward or embarrassed for making mistakes sometimes, learn to laugh and not take everything so seriously.

ALTER EGO CONCEPT ;

an alter ego is a persona you create—someone you embody when you need to channel certain traits, strengths, or energies that you might not fully feel in your everyday self…💬🎀 

using an alter ego is super helpful when it comes to confidence because it helps u to detach from ur insecurities. you temporarily set aside your fears and limitations and adopt the mindset and behaviors of your alter ego.

using alter egos can even help u to access different strengths that u never knew u had because ur removing the limitations that u place on urself. lets talk about how to create an alter ego.

HOW TO CREATE AN ALTER EGO ;

first start off by identifying the traits that u want to have, then give ur alter ego a name and an identity. u can even go as far as to visualize ur alter ego, anchor them with symbols, and practicing embodying them. some examples of people who used the alter ego concept include beyonce with sasha fierce, and kobe bryants black mamba.

[allaboutthemoonlight]

How to Master Motivation

Hi friends,

Today I want to talk about motivation and finding ways to maintain it in our daily lives. Motivation is a crucial factor that drives us to achieve our goals, overcome challenges, and stay committed to our development.

Understand the locus of control

Our locus of control, internal or external, is the degree to which we believe we have control over what happens to us in our lives. It influences how we respond to circumstances that impact us and how motivated we feel to take action.

An external locus of control is when we believe that our life and the outcomes we experience are a result of external forces beyond our power. We think everything that happens to us occurs because of chance or luck—two things we can’t control.

The key to staying motivated is to develop an internal locus of control. This is when we believe that we’re responsible for the things happening to us and understand that we have control over the outcome. It’s a level of self-determination where we realize our efforts, decisions, and habits create the life we live.

So, how do we adopt an internal locus of control?

The first point I want to emphasize is that, regardless of your perception of how much control you have over your life, the amount of work you put into something is always within your control. The first step is to abandon the mindset that everything is left up to chance and, because of this, you should stop trying. You need to understand that you always have some level of power over your circumstances, even if you’ve been told otherwise:

Be more aware of the choices you make and realize there is always a choice to be made.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help or guidance from those around you.

Spend time self-reflecting and trying to understand yourself better. Reflect on previous instances where you’ve felt a lack of control and write down what could have been done instead.

Don’t be afraid to fail; it’s an opportunity to learn.

Know the different types of motivation

Next, I want to talk about the different types of motivation and how they impact you.

There are 4 different types of motivation, each with their own distinctions:

Intrinsic motivation: This is where you do something because it aligns with your values or just because it’s fun. Although it’s good to have intrinsic motivation, this type is fragile and can be undermined when we start feeling like we’re losing autonomy over our choices.

Extrinsic motivation: This is what most people think of when they imagine motivation. It’s when our motivation comes from outside of us—we’re doing something for a reward or to avoid a punishment. It’s the opposite type of motivation that you should seek if you want to be self-driven.

Introjected: This type of motivation can create resentment or tension. We do something because if we don’t, we’ll feel shameful or guilty. For example, you might go to the gym not because you enjoy it or care about the health benefits, but because you feel guilty if you don’t work out.

Identified: The reason you’re doing something is because it aligns with your idealized self. It’s something that you’ve internalized to be important and allows you to behave in accordance with your self-concept and identity. This is the most important type because it creates habitual behaviors are no longer choices. We understand our identity and that certain habits and behaviors need to be done so that we’re constantly aligned with our higher selves. For example, you might regularly volunteer at a local shelter or organization because you’re someone who values compassion and community service.

So, how can we implement identified motivation more into our lives?

Really try and understand the reasoning behind a goal you want to achieve. Ask yourself “why do you actually want this thing?”. This is also a good time to review your values and whether or not your goal aligns with them.

Constantly remind yourself about why the outcome matters to you because we often forget the reason that we started in the first place. —ex.

Like James Clear said, make your goal, system, habit, or whatever you’re wanting to accomplish more motivating or fun. Beyond that, start associating the reward with the challenge itself. If you’re training for a marathon, instead of seeing the finish line as the only reward, find or fulfillment in the training process and the discipline you developed along the way.

Adopt a positive mindset. Rather than complaining about having to workout in the morning or studying for an exam, start saying “I get to study for this exam and further my education” or “I’m blessed to have a body that works for me and allows me to exercise”. It’s all about perspective and embracing gratitude. If you put half the energy that you use from complaining into figuring out how to take the next step, you’ll accomplish a lot more.

Don’t neglect your emotional and mental health

Slumps are very real, and mental health can impact every aspect of motivation. Self-improvement and changing your life aren’t easy journeys by any means, and there will be times when stress and feelings of being overwhelmed can paralyze you. In these moments, it’s critical to take a break, a breather, or anything that can help reset your mental health. Remember to engage in activities that support your emotional needs. Not every second of the day needs to be spent doing something productive or working toward your goals. It’s okay to take breaks and have rest days; in fact, I think it’s crucial.

Reward yourself often, even for the smallest achievements. It’s not about what you completed, but the fact that you completed something at all. Spend time acknowledging your accomplishments.

Take it one step at a time and remember no action is too small. Starting small is what helps us build consistency in the long run.

Embrace positive self-talk. Avoid talking yourself into a negative spiral, as it will only make you lose motivation and put you in a slump.

Get an accountability partner. Having someone in your corner who will cheer for you and keep you accountable is a game changer.

Stay motivated, stay grateful, stay resilient.

Love,

Luna<3

[nataliedecorsair]

In contrast to the gloomy and mysterious world of Heather, Pticenoga and Vaughn’s AU is pretty cheerful and full of nonsense. This is the world of Borderlands, and therefore it is reckless, sometimes dark, but nevertheless very alive. The tone of the art with them, respectively, differs from the tone of the art with Heather. And, since this is an AU (means alternative universe), some moments from the canonical Borderlands were changed. For example, the third Borderlands game and everything related to it doesn’t exist here. Also I should remind you that Pticenoga is my OC way from 2011 and she had nothing to do with the game originally, and I created the Borderlands AU for her several years later.

In this universe, Pticenoga (or Hedwig, or Yadwiga - that's her name; Pticenoga is more like a nickname) is a "messed up" siren who, even before her birth, was influenced by natural Eridium, and as a result her "siren power" went out of control. Normal sirens sometimes have "magical wings" - Hedwig was born straight up looking like a bird, with all the accompanying pros and cons. Shade, her adoptive father, found it pretty amusing and liked it a lot, but most of the other people weren’t that impressed. And, given the fact that the closest bird to her would be a vulture, her behavior did not contribute to her popularity in society. But time passed, she grew up - and Hedwig learned to more or less control her siren powers and she could transform into an ordinary woman. But in this form she loses all the advantages of Pticenoga: she cannot fly, loses her strength and endurance, loses resistance to fire damage, and so on. But she can merge with the crowd now, if it’s necessary. All in all, Hedwig is a woman with a bit of bells and whistles... After all, this is the world of Borderlands. For example,  she can smear herself with rotten corpses to use the stench as a weapon. Or  in the heat of a battle, she can bite off an enemy's finger, devour it, and ask for more. But in a sense, this craziness is partially the reason why her relationship with Vaughn was developed.

A portion of passion, a portion of humor and a pinch of trash with raw meat - it’s pretty much the recipe for the pairing between Pticenoga and Vaughn. He is a former corporate accountant learning to survive on the wild planet of Pandora; she is a bit of a deranged, "wild" siren, ready to protect her loved ones and punch enemies in the face (not always successful, but nonetheless). After arriving on Pandora, Vaughn discovered his love for crazy stuff  and was happy to occasionally let loose his suppressed aggressive side - and Pticenoga is happy to help him with this. But sometimes she is also happy to "calm down" and feel normal, and Vaughn doesn't mind showing her that side of life. Of course, their shenanigans do not always end well, and the "loser" side of Vaughn didn't go anywhere, just like Hedwig's instability. But they are ready to support each other, no matter what. Even if this support sometimes takes strange forms (for example, Vaughn can gather corpses for her if necessary...). Or, as a bonus, Pticenoga can sometimes troll Vaughn a little. But he does not mind; he answers her the same way… when he can. --- Also, I was messing around with GBA sims thing and you can see the result in the end xD --- Almost all interactions are based on me & my husband’s shenanigans The engagement ring was also Borderlands themed