#very brief ravage mention lol

[s-4pphics]

soul ties. part I (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: a product of brokenness. WORD COUNT: 13.4K WARNINGS: ellie’s a painter/art dealer, heavy angst[oc is suicidal and has dissociative episodes + abusive parents/SEXUAL ABUSE(nothing explicitly written but aluded to) + patriarchy/men being predatory/traditionalist households + mentions of cheating + alcoholism + disordered eating/self-harm(cuticle picking) + thoughts of murder + mommy issues/daddy issues + parental grief + homophobia + more patriarchy but with dykes + unhealthy relationships with sex(coping) + brief mention of masturbation + sexual tension + making out + fondling + slapping + DUBCON + just matching freaks to avoid trauma], miscommunication, just 2 socially inept crash outs lol  A/N: hellloo lol. fixed plot bc im venting… s been a very rough few months. i was convinced i lost my very acute skill so uhhh consider this a test. uhh what else… idk when i’ll be back bc im now a piano player #NEWFOUNDESCAPISM LOL.  suggestion: this technically could b read alone but if u care ab context read this first. then this. that is all LOL byeee :p hi taggies we back: @dyk3ang3l @acidblum @mellifluousgirll @elliesatchel @callmewhenyoukan @natgf123 @elliesstella @spaceforescape @floridaopal @lonelyfooryouonly @ellies-converse @amiorca @darkerstarsstuff

fuck the bitch that made this game.  dont buy his shit.

aid links from my inbox: one, two, three, four

What to do, what to do… 

Ellie is a wreck. An agitated, craving, mess. 

What to do… Love your wife, fuck the daylights out of your wife, kill your wife before she kills you… What to do… 

It can’t be that hard to hide a body. Is it still murder if it’s self-defense? Ellie’s sure the next bath you run for her will either be filled with bleach or result in her being forced underwater until she’s lifeless. There are lots of people willing to get their hands dirty for her if that’s the case. Not a trace of you or her would be left and she’d finally be able to escape with only the clothes on her back. The weightlessness in her pockets wouldn’t move her in any way. Nothing compares to freedom. What a suffocating life she lives. 

The guest room mattress becomes less and less plush every time she lays in it. The sheets are itchier and cold and she’s stuck pondering with each swirl of the ceiling fan, wet hair wrapped in a bath towel; restless, fidgety, and honey-like ache in the pit of her stomach, mind warped with lecherous thoughts of her wife that she despises but not as much, her supposed life partner and fuck, how did you two get here…

Stuck with a tension so thick it permeates your home; if you’d even call it that. You’re both successfully trapped between your own walls; Elegant windows take the place of rusted, metal bars that confine you from the life you both dreamed of before all this; one soft and doting and colorful, one where your light isn’t dulled. 

Why does she feel so guilty, suddenly? You’re not lovers, and neither in love, so why does her chest ache with every glance she steals when you’re unassuming? The pain that’s always etched on your face, and if not, in your eyes — fills her with regret. She would abandon you for days — weeks at a time, not at all concerned about what you might be experiencing to rid herself of shame. And to think that you were merely a younger version of your mother; villainous and cruel and greedy when… when you’ve barely spoken. She finds herself, unfortunately, reminiscing on how bushy-tailed you were after marriage. So eager to please and prick her mind and annoyingly mechanical. You cooked at the same time everyday. Cleaned, did both your laundry, sunbathed, swam in your pool. She hated how rehearsed your lifestyle was; it reminds her of the worst parts of her childhood. When her mother was alive. So, Ellie chose to step out on you the second you took her last name; ravaged other women, released her anger and desires on strangers when she should’ve had you beneath, above, on your knees for her. Where has that craving to harm you gone? For months, she’s ached for your suffering to mirror hers, but now… What’s happening to her? What’s happened to you? 

Ellie believes you’ve lost it, and somehow she’s found herself chasing that unforeseen part of you; unfiltered and angry and wild. This manufactured doll your mother molded you into is shattering at the core and Ellie craves to see more of you. Guilty. As hurt as you were, that night was the most alive she’s seen you be. You shouted and cried and tore at the seams, desperate for someone to hear you, and Ellie did. Loud and clear. She saw you for what you are. Mangled from the inside out, entirely hopeless. Just like she is. An unspeakable link that binds the two of you.

Soul ties. 

She shook and pleaded for you to enter the bathroom and see her battered against the shower wall with a hand between her legs and your name dripping from her lips, but the knob never twisted. Her orgasms were unsatisfactory, and she accepted with irritation that it was because you weren’t there. She ignored the throbbing between her legs and vacated the bathroom. Ellie, with legs that trembled, found you wrapped in satin and snoring. They sounded like whistles. 

She stood for a while, just watching you twitch and wiggle in your rest, eyes glazing to the space beside you that could easily fit another body. The sheets are already warm from where you lay. The two of you have never slept in the same room, let alone bed. 

Her feet carried her out. Silently left the room with an unfamiliar ache in her chest. 

Her mind made an enemy out of you because that’s what you are. When she thought her life couldn’t get any worse, you appeared and destroyed everything in her path. Left her world in ruins. Disrupted her pattern. You’re an enemy and deserve to hurt. 

Aren’t you? Don’t you? 

Everything is unclear. Ellie hasn’t been this conflicted since she was 15. She wishes she could sleep forever so she wouldn’t be forced to think. 

If she had any sense left, she would paint her agony away. In the past, her mind would shut down with every splash of color on a canvas to compensate for the darkness that conjured in her mind. She refrains from that now, though. She’s horny; scared she’ll start imagining what your pussy looks like and sketch it all over the bedroom walls. That’d be too much; a boundary that will remain untouched.

But her brain knows she’s not a good person; she can’t help but imagine how gorgeous your pussy is because you are and she’s known that since the beginning, the second she saw you drenched in white. Drenched in sorrow. 

She clutches your wedding band in her palm. 

What to do… what to do… 

Birds are artists. 

They never fail to sing every morning; sonnets aimed to awaken life as sun rays spill from behind mountains. You've always appreciated their tunes whenever you were pulled from a hollow rest, no longer surrounded by darkness. 

Maybe it was the routine your mother set for you from young. You were 9 when she first coddled your drowsiness as she shook you awake at five in the morning; the early bird catches the worm, a saying you naively assumed as preparation for the day, for your homeschooling. An energy booster, possibly. Motivation. Something to get you through. 

How stupid could a child be? 

You were 12 when your cycle started. You were 12 when you realized that your mother never envisioned actual birds and worms like you had. Your mother has games she plays and she cheats. She’s had you on a leash for the past decade; the scars around your neck are forever a reminder of the hell you’ve endured under her hand. It took no effort on her part to be uncaring of your suffering, and somehow that aches more than anything else. 

Even more than the existence of him. A demon walking.

Animals aren’t like your family. Birds aren’t. The minute specks of sunlight begin, their job starts, and they complete it happily without compensation or praise or the slightest acknowledgment. Everyone wakes, and they fly to anywhere to wake the next. 

But wealth is dirty. Wealth makes people dirty. They swindler and lie and experience life with a vacancy that’ll never be filled with anything but greed. Your mother trained you for years to accept whatever was given as long as you were taken care of. Play your part, she’d say. It took you years to learn her strategy — and unlearn yourself — but you’re here. Married. Successful by association. Rich. Unhappy. Unloved. 

Birds guided you. They never shy from their duty, and you hadn’t either… 

But you’re human. You crack and cry and scream and you hate. You despise so strongly that you lash out and everything in your path becomes victimized. Sometimes it gets to a point where you crave blood. You want to drown in it, drink it until you’re sick. Your soul is dead. Everyones’ should die with yours. 

You don’t know who should go first. Your mother, your stepfather, or your wife. 

You want to swallow Ellie whole—

“Good morning.” 

You’ve never seen Ellie not dolled up. She clearly just awakened with her wrinkled MILFS ONLY shirt and sporadic hair. Timidity doesn’t suit Ellie. You're so used to seeing her exasperated. Her weary eyes don’t meet yours. You should tell her your plans to adopt a hummingbird. Or maybe you shouldn’t. She might laugh at you.

“Hello.” 

“… Hi.” She seems like she wants to say something. You sip your coffee. 

“My dad called.” 

You hum around the rim of your mug. “Woke you up?” 

She merely shrugs. “I uh… did anyone tell you about tomorrow?” 

“Of course not.” 

You don’t expect Ellie to flinch at your tone. You weren’t that sharp, were you?

You might’ve been because she slows her speech. Like she’s approaching a wounded animal, “Dad’s hosting a dinner. Corporate bullshit but we have to go.” 

“Why.” 

She squints at you. “Why what.” 

“Why do we have to go.” Your mug lands on the table harder than expected. 

“To make mommy and daddy look good.” She sneers while approaching her seat, “Did you forget?” 

“I just thought they wouldn’t want two dykes contaminating their spaces anymore.” 

Ellie snorts. “They don’t. Companies do. Gets their cocks hard. Two gay daughters, how progressive!” She mocks and plops on the chair directly across from you, wiping at her eyes. Your throat dries when you notice her wedding band. She hardly ever wears it. You don’t know where you left yours. Since when does she care to wear it? “They’ll do anything they can to get on their good side. They’re… merging organizations or whatever the fuck he said.” 

She swallows. Shrugs uncaringly, “We going?” Her eyes watch your hands squeeze your mug. 

“Are we.” 

She regards your cup with caution. Does she think you’ll throw it? The thought nearly makes you laugh. 

“Yes.” She answers. 

“Okay.” 

Your wife finally looks up and stands, nose upturned, “Okay? That’s all you got?” 

“Yes. Okay.” You sip silently. Your foot taps on hardwood. 

“Excited to see your family? You like ‘em now?” 

Excited is laughable. 

“No, I don’t.” 

The sudden calamity from your wife confuses you. She tugs at the strands that flop on her head in agitation. They look soft as they bounce with her pacing. You’ll never feel them. Or you might later. Who knows with her. Who knows with you. 

Ellie’s still talking. Her arms flail like she’s annoyed by you. You’re not sure why. You’re following. You’re allowing her to guide. To control. That’s the entire point of this. That’s why you’re going to dinner with her. She told you to go and that’s it. 

Play your part play your part play yo—

You don’t remember much of anything; the past, the present, but you recall what Ellie sounds like when she’s angry, whether it’s at you, her father, the woman her father is fucking or married to or whatever. If you’d listen, you’ll discover what ticked her off, but your ears ring too loud. Much louder than her screaming. 

You sip your coffee silently. Ellie leaves you at the dining table with a slam of a door. 

You think it’s the first floor’s guest room. 

The sun sets. Ellie can’t remember the last time she’s been home this long. 

She hates the weekends. The gallery is never open and she can’t drown herself in deals. She hates being home when you are. Why the fuck are you always here? You don’t have friends, a job, a life outside of this goddamn house? There’s a sinking in her stomach at the thought of your isolation, but she ignores it. Tries to ignore it.

… Can’t really ignore it. How pestering. You’re a pest. 

She knows nothing about you, only bits of your past expressed through photographs at your mother’s or outbursts in your bedroom. Your stepfather is fucking creepy and your mother’s glare is killer, but that’s about it. Still, she doesn’t think she can hate your parents more than you. 

You’re so fucking weird. Just like them. Unforgiving and unchaste one day then apathetic the next. How the fuck can one communicate with a person like that? 

That feeling in her chest again. Sharp and annoying. Try try try, it says. Begs from her. 

Try and do what? Do fucking what—

It took Ellie 3 seconds to unlock the guest room door and fly down the stairs when a crash rings from the first floor. Glass clatters and you sound in pain and oh fuck did someone break in

There’s red all over the kitchen floor but it’s not blood it’s red wine. Red wine red wine it’s not blood— 

You’re on the kitchen floor surrounded by green shards and dressed so pretty. Hair coiled and free and your face is done up and you’re wearing flowers. There’s flowers all over and your skin shines and why do you have heels on like a play doll?

Ellie palms at the scattered racing of her heart. Everything’s fine, her brain blares, She tripped, that’s it. Clears her throat. Rustles her hair to appear normal. 

She’s not dead. 

“… You good?” 

An unsteady hand rises to throw her a thumbs up. Your body wobbles when you attempt to stand. Ellie ushers to the counter to slide on her slippers, tells you to stop when your palm nearly plants on a shard. 

“Move back before you hurt yourself.” Ellie takes a quick lap around the kitchen for the broom and dustpan. Finds you just as quickly so you don’t accidentally slice an artery. 

Your lashes flutter and her heart follows suit, taking in the mess. “I think I fucked up.” You croak.

Hearing you curse is always odd. She huffs, “It’s fine. Can you stand?” 

Your head shakes and your bottom lip juts. “My… my shoes…”

You slowly plop onto your bottom and rest your back against the dishwasher. You struggle to grip your buckles to pull and slide the strap and Ellie remembers why she hates heels. She sweeps the glass away from you and realizes she should’ve mopped first because the bristles are soaked and streaking the clean parts of the crystal porcelain. When was the last time she cleaned? The maids always do. Sometimes you help. 

You look stunned when Ellie moves to squat in front of you. Jumps back when she adjusts your ankle. 

Her palms hang in surrender, “I’m gonna help you. Relax. Do your knees hurt?” 

You landed right on them. They should. You don’t disarm, eyes guarded and body locked tight, but you shrug. It’s good enough for Ellie. 

She unravels the buckles around both your ankles and tosses them next to you and you just watch. Ellie’s glances are quick and flitting, but she follows the traces of her hands; the sharp inhales whenever her fingers brush against the skin of your leg. You’re not as close as you were last night but she can smell you. Her chest is throbbing. You look like you’re about to cry but you’re drunk. It’s meaningless. Drunk people cry. 

Try try try try 

“Can you stand now?” She croaks. 

It takes a second for you to register her inquiry, but you shrug, and she sighs. When Ellie stands, both her hands extend out to you, but you don’t accept them; She gets jittery under your scrutinizing gaze after nearly a minute passes. Her throat dries and her face burns when you brush her hands away; standing on your own is an unstable journey, but you do, back against the counter to stabilize yourself. You look ill. Your brain must be jumbled. 

“Can you get upstairs on your own?” 

“You talk a fucking lot. Shut up.”  

The corner of Ellie’s mouth rises, but she says nothing. Gives you space to move. 

You take one step, then two more, then your eyes shut and your throat jumps. Uh oh.

“Oh shit, come—“

Ellie guides you to the garbage can near the front of the counter, away from the glass, and you dry heave. Liquid splatters inside the can and Ellie hates this so fucking much. The sounds are enough to make her own stomach lurch. It’s been a while since she’s been around someone this drunk. 

But she holds your waist so you don’t faceplant into your own vomit. 

“Get it out,” She hums with a grimace, “You’re fine.” An I gotcha almost rolls off her tongue but she catches it. She glides a comforting hand over your curved spine because you’re drunk and you won’t remember such gestures in the morning. She prefers it that way. 

You’re not gagging anymore so Ellie removes herself from you. Until she hears a whimper. And a sob so quiet she assumes you’re trying to mask it. Drunk people cry; she’s seen it countless times. Why does that seering feeling spark in her chest for what felt like the billionth time today? Fucking try, for fucks sake! 

“Let’s… let’s get you—“

“I wish I was dead.” 

Your prayer is hollow. Not even sad despite your tears. So, so empty. Ellie’s seen this before, experienced that nothingness countless times, but despite it all, she never learned how to console. Hell, she barely knows how to self-soothe without falling victim to her dark temptations. Even her paint brushes can’t eliminate the constant ache she feels. She just watches the tremble of your shoulders from behind. 

“I really don’t wanna go tomorrow.” You whisper. 

Ellie sighs. There’s no other choice. You know the stakes; follow your families’ commands or lose everything at the drop of a hat. They’ll leave you both on the streets to rot with no remorse if they please, replace the two of you with two normal children. Het children that won’t deviate. You’re both on thin ice as it is. Mainly because of Ellie. She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble.

“I…” 

I’ll be with you the entire time. I don’t like being around those cunts either. 

“It’ll go by quickly.” She settles. 

“I hate when p-people look at me.” 

“Me too.” 

“I wish my family loved me.” 

Ellie’s softer now. Only slightly. 

“Yeah…” 

A tug in her ribcage. Try. Please, try. 

“Me too.” 

The pounding beneath your skull wakes you quicker than the birds. You shove your face in the pillow you rest on. 

The devil tells you to check the time so you do. The bedside clock says noon, meaning a new day, meaning it’s Saturday meaning you’ll die. Maybe not physically but mentally. You’re so drained and you’ve barely opened your eyes; the idea of leaving bed alone is enough to exhaust you. Your wrists and legs ache like fucking hell on top of that. 

You make fists with both hands. Repeatedly clench and unclench. The weight is different on your wedding finger. Heavier. You haven’t seen your ring since yesterday… or a few days ago — you’re not really sure. You must’ve found it in your drunken stupor. Just when you hoped to never see it again. 

The universe will always remind you who you are. 

If you stand you’ll vomit but your phone is ringing from the drawer you stuck it in weeks ago. How is it not dead? You know your mom’s calling. You hate that she is… 

The ringing stops and you thank the heavens. 

You curse them when it starts up again. 

The drawer slides open with reluctance. The ringing sounds 20 times louder. You retrieve your device blindly and your throat snaps shut when you speak. 

“You rang.” 

“Did your… partner tell you about tonight.” 

Hard and distant. That’s how she speaks to you. Your heart cracks. 

Your mom already knows Ellie did. She loves to bother you with nonsense. You don’t think she’s ever called Ellie your wife. 

“Yes.” 

“You’re attending.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

“Is that all.” 

“Your gown was delivered here. Come by well before 8 to get ready.” 

And she hangs up. Just like that. Always. She’s never told you to have a nice day, or to rest well, or that she loves you, at the minimum. And if she had, you don’t remember any of it. There’s a lot you force yourself to forget. 

The selfish part of you disregards the burning of your eyes to stare at your phone — low battery and… no messages. No texts, no phone calls from anyone except your mother, no likes on Instagram because your mom scared you into not making one when you were a teenager. No one cares about you. People care about your wife, though. Maybe because she’s talented; she’s certainly not nice. 

Your darkest memories are always the most prominent. 

Your phone drops to the floor and you don’t reach for it. You just pray to sleep again. 

Tonight will be interesting. 

The ride to your mother’s is silent. 

At least she chauffeured the two of you. Ellie can be scary when she drives. You’ve never been in a car with her, but she did ram into a lamppost on the sidewalk a few nights after your wedding. 

Your wife is already dressed despite the party being hours away. She sits right next to you in all black; in a trenchie and turtleneck and slacks and loafers with fur and gold jewelry. When she descended the staircase, you gawked when she wasn’t looking. So simple, but she had your heart fluttering when she’d asked, ready? You’re still in your sleep shorts, teeth unbrushed and starving. When was the last time you ate? 

What an embarrassment — you’re an embarrassment, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. If only newly wed you could see herself now. 

You swallow a lump when you feel eyes on the side of your face, but yours remain glued out the window. The closer you get to your mom’s, the faster your mind starts to shut down. Everything passes you by in a blur. 

By the time the gates with your father’s initials come into view, your thoughts go silent, only filled with the calming images of nature and the song of birds. Your only escapism. 

The only way you’ll make it out of here in one piece. 

Ellie! Darling! We’ve missed you! Give us a smile! 

Ellie! Ellie, look this way! 

Ellie, where’s your wife? 

She wishes she knew. You’d barely made it into your mother’s home before getting swept down the hall by 4 other people who poked at your appearance. Ellie didn’t even get to give your mom the passive, spine-chilling hi, mom like old times before another SUV came to whisk her away from that hell hole. Her dad always knows somehow. 

She hates being at your mom’s; it’s stifling and quiet and the aura is dark. Like mother, like house or whatever the fuck. 

She scowls when the bombarding questions redirect to you. Some concerning, some sarcastic, some raunchy — those get under her skin in particular — and she can’t stop fiddling with her ring. Her chest tugs tugs tugs. 

Trouble in paradise? 

You were caught leaving the bar with another woman on your arm a few weeks ago! How’d your wife react to that? 

She doesn’t know. She’s never home to see you break. 

Guilt ate at her when the door of your mother’s mansion shut behind her, but she disregards it now. You shouldn’t be forced to listen to their guised jabs; You get enough of that from everyone in your life. She hopes you’ll go through the back entrance when you arrive. 

When will you get here? 

Ellie’s never made an event appearance without you. You’d pose and fidget and display awkward affection so that they’d buy your love a little bit, then enter the gathering as two separate hearts, riddled and torn, never to cross paths until the bustle is over and it’s time to go home. 

Finally, security moves and barricades her until she gets past the 20 foot gate and treads the steps. The flashing cameras are still blinding from behind. 

The tended garden is the first thing she notices. Wide and green. The daisy and rose bushes are no longer tangled with weeds and surrounded by dead grass and gnats. How could Joelene not see that and be vengeful? Ellie and her dad may not be close anymore, but she knows him; maybe even more than he knows himself. He still misses her mom after everything, and chooses to express it through her favorite hiding spot. Keeps the flowers that bloom and trims the ones that don’t so she lives through them. Ellie hardly remembers a time when her mother wasn’t covered in dirty overalls and sunburnt. 

She manages to hold it together when the large double doors open. The violins suddenly sound like nails on wood. 

Voices fade into nothing. People are outside your car. Light hurts so terribly. 

One second you’re here, the next you’re not. Your mom and her husband sit across with twined arms and the lace from your dress is itchy and you wanna disappear. When you blink, you’re gone. You only exist on this plain if your eyes are open. 

Something hard and leather brushes against your ankle, scratches against your stockings, slow and snake-like. You know what it is, who it is, and you freeze, eyes locked onto your mother. No matter your hopelessness, there’s still a young girl in you that wishes your mother would defend, act on anger, be disgusted at minimum. At least when his crimes are done in secret you can’t blame her for not knowing. 

But you’re here and she’s here and he’s here. A shared secret between the three of you. 

His shoe doesn’t halt on your leg. Your mother never looks at you. 

Birds and songs and sonnets. You’re a bird and you can fly against the strongest winds. Music is your guide and you follow the clouds. 

Your fingers twist together in your lap and the black interior of the car glows red. If only… he’s not the only one with sick intentions. If only. 

You’re flying you’re flying you can fly and there’s someone who’ll love you gently. They’re out there somewhere and you’ll find them and they’ll find you like every trial was worth it. 

Patience. That’s all you need. Just be patient. 

The rest of the car ride is unbeknownst to you. Next thing you know, your door is being opened and two men await your entry at the glass door. 

Champagne is good. Tequila is better. The two mixed is hell. 

Ellie’s throat burns and her mind swirls but she plays it off well enough. Mingles with pensive, old bastards while their daughters’ gawk at her with bright-eyed curiosity and you haven’t arrived yet. 

She lost her dad somewhere in the night. He greeted her briefly upon her arrival, pointed out the important men of the night, called your mother a selfish bitch, then walked off with his mistress by his side. Ellie’s eyes keep meeting the back door from the living room. 

Where are you? 

“Ellie!”

She downs the rest of her chute and guards her agitation with a grin. Shakes the hand of… 

What the fuck was this dude’s name? 

“It’s an honor! Your art is incredible! I’ve truly—“

—Fucking Ronald? Reginald? … Ronald might be it—

“—Your father, ya know, he’s an interesting man, incredibly smart! I’ve never—“

Her dad gave her a run-down of the … merging or whatever the fuck but what the fuck did he say and holy shit, is she sweating? The man’s handshake threw her off, frankly; almost snapped her wrist in two. Fucking old piece of shit. More business jargon that she pretends to understand and care so much about because it’s a show after all. All cheers and stiff laughter. 

“And your wife! By God, what a looker!”

Her jaw clenches. Where are you where are you where are you

“What we’d give, I mean, c’mon!” Men that pass laugh with him and it’s taking everything in Ellie not to smash this glass over his head. One quick swing and it’s over. For him and her. How promising.

“Where is she anyway? You two didn’t come together?” 

“She um, she’s with her parents right now. They’ll be here.” She jerks her chin toward the entrance. 

“How lucky are you. Treat her like the star she is!” It looks like the shithead’s leaving, but not before taunting, “Holler when she arrives, will ya?” 

And just like that, he leaves Ellie to simmer. Three deep breaths. A man in a suit and tray filled with champagne waltzes passed her and she snags two glasses. Downs the first in one thick swallow before another clinks with hers. 

Why does everyone keep fucking with her? 

“Cheers.” 

Ellie doesn’t need to look to know who it is. She scoffs. “Sounds like you’re having fun.” 

Jolene stands next to her, shoulders slouched and dress glowing under the chandelier. She arches a dark brow, “Who wouldn’t? Men are the most entertaining when they’re on ego trips.” 

“Same goes for my dad?” She snips, and Jolene shocks her with a smile. 

“Meh.” 

“Why are you here.” 

“I just told you—“

“No, where are you here.” Ellie gestures between them, “Why’re you talking to me right now?” 

Jolene downs her drink and shrugs, “My attempts at bonding. On a scale of 1 to 10, how shit were they?” 

“900. Leave me the fuck alone.” Before Ellie can run, a hand clamps down on her wrist. 

“I know—“ The woman rushes, “I know we don’t have the best relationship, but I’m not—“

Ellie almost corrects her out of pettiness; They don’t have a relationship, period. There’s no best or worst. But her sudden desperation halts her. 

“—the enemy. There’s not a lot for us in these spaces. I just wanted to try and establish something. Anything. Between us. It can be so lonely without a real support system.”

Ellie hates the direction her heart turns her mind. Suddenly you’re there and you’re crying and clawing at your chest and Ellie just watches like she did that night. So powerless. So empty. 

But Jolene isn’t you. She chooses to be selfish. Yours comes from self preservation and nothing else. 

Ellie snatches her hand back and throws her the deadliest stare. “You don’t know shit about being lonely. You’re the one who gave up everything you had to fuck my dad when my mom wasn’t looking. How much did you care about her loneliness then? Hm?” 

The timing was perfect, really. 15 year old Ellie watched her parents get into one of their most abhorrent arguments; her dad leaves first, then her mom, then only one of them returns, and it was not her mother. Imagine her shock when a news reporter confirmed that her mother’s body had been thrown in a garbage bag and left in a dumpster to rot. It only took two weeks to mourn before he was marrying another woman. 

Nobody cared that her mother had been shot or stabbed or gutted. She was just a woman married to a successor who raised a deviant child. 

Ellie forces herself to not point fingers, though. Anyone could’ve killed her, she always reminds herself; to keep her from going fucking crazy. But timing… 

How telling is time. 

Jolene’s eyes widen and her grip weakens. Ellie takes that as an escape before she has a breakdown in front of the caviar platter. 

She barely takes a step before she collides with a body. 

Funny. 

She bumped right into a star that shines a royal blue. The woman of the hour, for sure. In her mind, at least.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“You’re fine. All me.” Ellie says lowly as she takes you in, and you do the same to her. Shy, but yearnful glances. Glossed lips tightly sealed and brows tense. Your dress shimmers and holds you snug and she feels guilty for staring at your curvature. She’s suddenly hyper aware of the vultures that disguise themselves as men and she has an instinct to hide you. And your ring is on. The thumping in her chest picks up. Only slightly. 

“It’s great to see you again.” Jolene says shakily from beside Ellie and she almost loses it before a grating voice interrupts. 

“You, as well. And your husband is…?” 

Your mother. And her lap dog wagging his tail beside her. What a bitch. Both of them. 

Your stepdad says something and you inhale sharply and no one notices but Ellie. She studies you carefully. You look like a frightened cat with a frilled tail as he speaks. Claws out, not because you’re ferocious, but so, so scared. She glances at your stepdad; greasy smile while he ogles at Jolene; what a nasty son of a bitch. 

Ellie whispers to you, “Is everything o—“

“Joel! Man of the hour! How are—“

“Where’s the bathroom again?” You whisper back. 

Ellie takes your hand in hers and flees while the family’s distracted, leading you down a hallway that’s way too long with lights too bright. 

She gestures towards the door. “It’s… This is it. One of ‘em at least.” 

“… Thank—“

“What’s the matt—“ 

“I’m fine.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Did that piece of shit say something to you?” Ellie glances to make sure no listeners are hiding in the shadows. 

The widest smile grows on your face as you laugh, hearty and loud with your head thrown back. Ellie stares in confusion. 

“Oh, Ellie! You’re so silly,” She jumps when your hands hold her cheeks. You’re fucking freezing and they tremble. Your eyes are a dark void. 

You lean in closer, lips right against her mouth and they part slightly on instinct. She’s concerned and should ask more questions, but your skin is so soft. Are you gonna kiss her, she wonders? You haven’t kissed since your wedding; your breath hits her mouth and her tongue swipes her lips. Her eyes flutter shut and she aches to touch you—

“Save a seat for me, love? Please?” 

It happens so fast; the frost of you is gone and the bathroom door slams shut while an elderly woman fondly whispers, “young love,” as she walks by. Ellie only nods with a rigid curl of her lips, throat cinched too tightly to swallow. 

You puzzle her. She’s tempted to wait for you, to ensure you make it back safely without bombardment, but then 

“Ellie! Why didn’t you call me! Your wife made it safely, I see!” 

A hand claps on her shoulder while men laugh from the side, boisterous and predatory and so wide their fangs show. Ellie’s sick and a war rages within her. 

“Your father sent me to find you! It’s time to eat!” 

She sends them a weak smile. She rushes away from the door and they follow close behind. 

Anything to lure them away from you. 

Attendees have dwindled, only Ellie and her family and you and yours and some CEOs that are really getting on her fucking nerves. But you’ve eaten, thank God. She can breathe a little. 

Only a bit, though. You’re putting on a fucking show and it’s scaring her; Even her dad seems impressed. Charmed by you. Clinking glasses and telling jokes and smiling. Did your mom hold you at gunpoint before you got here? How much did you drink? Not much from what she’s seen. 

That one fucker from earlier — Raymon or Robert or whatever the fuck — keeps leaning over the table whenever you do. Peeping at your chest, probably. She wishes these steak knives were sharper. 

“So! Our young couple,” says Old Bitch with a Combover and wiggly brows, “When are we getting those heirs?” 

You cough uncomfortably and Ellie squirms in her seat. Your mother scoffs, “Two women can’t have children—“

Said Old Bitch shrugs, “Well, not biologically—“

“My point exactl—“

Ellie’s father cuts in with a tense grin, “When they get to that point, we’ll discuss their options. There’s… many nowadays, evidently.” 

Neither you or Ellie interrupt, but she notices you’ve moved closer to her. Inched your seat a bit. You squeeze your hands so hard in your lap she’s scared they’ll shatter where they lay. You’re not smiling anymore. 

Her dad and your mom are subtle with their blows at one another; snarky with brutal stares, unremarkable to strangers, but you and Ellie know. When dinner ends, you’ll both be caught in their crossfire. 

“There’s no shame in me wanting my grandchildren to be by blood. I shouldn’t have to go shopping for an heir.” Your mother hisses. 

“Sh—“ Joel huffs with disgust, “Shopping for an heir? That’s what you think adoption entails?” 

“Does it not?” Your mother’s tone rises. 

Reggie, Rory, or Russell interjects with a dismissive wave, “C’mon, you too! No need to argue. I’m sure girls like them will be fine with obtaining children! It might be more… complicated, I will say!” 

“May I be excused?” You croak, and Ellie straightens. 

“Why? So you can wallow about dying childless?” 

The table silences. No laughter, no wittiness. Completely still. That wasn’t from your mother. Ellie doesn’t remember the last time she’s heard your stepdad speak so clearly. Her blood thrashes beneath her skin so harshly that her tongue unties. There’s a darkness in her that whispers, “grab that steak knife”. Brutalize him. Just for a second. Do it for you. 

Do it for her. 

“Go fuck yourself.” She spits. 

Your neck almost cracks with the speed you turn to her, eyes wide as the moon. Her father condemns, “Watch your mouth, Ellie.” 

“Or what, you old fuck?” 

Her heart rattles noisily in her chest; her hands shake where they rest on her lap, her cells trembling with the instinct to harm. The gaze of her father is distant and filled with inadequacy for his only line. Nothing unbeknownst to her, but there's a flash of something so deep, so forbidden for them, but she sees it every time they hold contact. Beneath all the loathing and lesions left to drain, there’s longing. An inkling of gratitude that she knows he’ll suppress until he’s buried underground. He’ll never look the same to her, and she imagines the same for him. Too many bridges burned. 

“How’d I do?” Ellie rasps to him, “Hm? The night went how you hoped?” 

Look at what you’ve done, she hopes her eyes say. Tears welt against her will. When was the last time she cried in front of him? She hadn’t even given him that honor at her mother’s funeral years ago. 

Ellie’s stiff stature nearly cracks at the light brush atop her knee. A wind catches in her throat when a pinky turns into three fingers, then five, then a palm that squeezes comfortingly, desperately. Maybe partly to keep her glued to this chair. She gulps the dryness down and a flame lights in the pit of her stomach. 

Her glance to you is brief, barely out of the corner of her eye, but you’re watching her. Intensely, and it scorches her cheeks, all the way down to her neck. Scared cat. Scared cat. Shrilled and cold and frightened to hell and she despises it. 

What changed? She’ll always wonder. That look hardly shook her a week ago and now it makes her teeth ache. 

Suddenly, it’s too warm here. 

“Get up,” Ellie rushes you. Grabs your arm and yanks you from your seat, “Not dealing with this fuckin’ bullshit tonight. We’re leaving.” 

There’s suddenly shouting from all directions of the dinner table with each step Ellie takes for you, but you never drop her hand. She clenches it tighter when you finally reach the back door. 

The door slams shut on the wreckage behind you. 

Consider plan MERGE a bust. 

Ellie’s a thief. You think. Maybe. 

Is it stealing if the car belongs to a family member? Where she snagged the keys from? You don’t remember. One second you’re at dinner, then watching the city pass you by the next. It’s silent in here. 

“Stop.” 

You slam back into your body. Still in the car. You wish you were asleep. 

“Huh?” 

Her eyes watch the road, but a hand rests on both of yours to pry them apart. 

“Stop. I hate that sound.” 

“… Wha—“

“You’re gonna rip your skin off if you don’t stop.” 

… Oh. Yeah. Bloody cuticles. It was all accidental, you swear. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes shut briefly and she sighs, sounding so worn. Exhaustion is her white flag. “Just stop.” 

“Alright.” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s quiet again. The red from the stop light reflects in the car and you’re instantly reminded of your stepfather. 

“Ellie.” 

“Hm.” 

“We should get a bird.” 

“… And do what with it.” 

You shrug, “Pet it. Feed it, too.” Sing with it, you wanted to add. Ellie would’ve probably laughed at you. 

She snickers dryly, “That’s usually what you do with a pet.” 

“I never had one.” 

The light turns green and the car revs. Your wife hums, “I had a fish once or twice.” 

“Lucky.” 

A small — very, very minuscule grin quirks Ellie’s lips and your heart hollers. For joy? In warning? 

“Not really. They kept dying so I gave up.” She snickers to herself, and you can’t help but stare. She starts talking then. Eyes gone, tension gone. She’s suddenly relaxed. 

“My mom… she, uh… loved water. Was always in it or… watching it on TV or something. She always bought fish from fucking… PetCo—“

“PetCo?” You laugh, then Ellie does. 

“Right? She’d take me and be like, “get one”. And I went home with a new fish every time.” 

“I thought you only went once or twice?” 

“… Times 100,” She giggles, “My mom lived there. She would always talk to the cats through the glass.” 

You don’t hesitate, “I wanna go.” 

“To PetCo?” 

“Yeah.” Why not? 

Everything is almost over. So, why not? 

“… K.” 

“So we’ll go?” 

“Mhm.” 

And the conversation ends. The car is silent. Suddenly tense again when you ask, 

“Do you think we’re cut off?” 

Ellie’s jaw clenches and the car is suddenly tense. Back to square one. “Possibly. Tonight was a shit show. It went by fast, at least.” 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m…”

Alone. You’re fucking alone and know nothing about life outside of what was built around you. Without it, you’ll spiral and fail and face a dreadful reality. No more rose colored glasses even if they’re browned and wilted as is. You’ll be eaten alive by the creatures in the night without a protective border. 

But the curse will end. You won’t inherit or be forced to lie or play a game that ends in fire. Decades of legacy down the drain just like that, and by your own hand. It fascinates you, that power. A force you’ve been withheld from. 

“I don’t know.”

“Still thinking about divorce?” A void in Ellie’s tone. 

“I don’t know.” 

“They’ll never allow it, you know that, right?” 

“What if I just leave?” 

“And do what?” Her voice raises. 

“Who knows. Who cares.” 

“Please,” Ellie exasperates, “Your mom will get fucking SWAT to bring you back.” 

“What good will a corpse do for her?” 

You’ll be dead but you’ll have a bird. A colorful one. That’ll be your legacy. That’s all you need, really. Ellie doesn’t say anything. Neither do you. 

More buildings flash by and suddenly you’re home. Parked in the garage with Ellie beside you, gazing off into opaque walls. You wonder what she’s thinking. If she sees everything in black and white like you do. Maybe she’s the opposite, vision bright and full of suppressed color. She is a painter after all. 

“What’re your plans?” Ellie suddenly whispers. 

“For?” 

“Life. The future. Anything,” She pries and digs for something, “There has to be something that interests you! That gets you excited! There’s so much shit to do.” 

You shrug. Not much. Not anything. 

“I used to be excited for my wedding,” You mumble, “Like… as a kid. White dress and flowers and everyone’s just excited to be there. For love, and whatever, you know? That’s how it was in movies, at least.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s off your chest. The unhealthy romanticization of the happiest day of your life ended up being just another day to honor the greed of your families. Everyone was so lifeless when they watched you and Ellie kiss. It hadn’t even lasted 3 seconds before she shoved the band on your finger with teary cheeks. Such beautiful scenery was wasted on misery. 

You look over and Ellie’s eyes are roaring, palms squeezing together in her lap while her wedding ring twists around her finger. You watch it cycle. 

“Now I…” You chuckle sadly, “I just want a bird, to be honest.” 

With your heels and purse in hand, the car door opens and you exit, forcing yourself not to peek through the windshield at Ellie again. 

The second floor, your bedroom, your bathroom, are all quiet. Did Ellie not follow you inside? For a while, you envision what it would be like if you weren’t married. If you weren’t born as you, would your world be this still? 

It haunts you in the shower. Wolffish eyes and dry hands grasping at your shoulders and waist but everything’s quiet. 

You wash your face, brush your teeth, wrap your hair alone. You wonder if anyone is actually in the house. Was Ellie a figment of your imagination? Is this one of the nights that proves she doesn’t exist and that your brain is your greatest enemy? You shove your face into the mattress before your thoughts venture. Silence rocks you to sleep, but not forgetting the taunting desire to know 

Is death this quiet? 

Your mom’s calling. 

Vibrations rattle in your bedside dresser. The sun isn’t up yet. The birds are still resting. She never calls this early… or late. Something bad must’ve happened. It takes 17 seconds for your drawer to stop shaking before it starts again. 

You can’t move to answer, though. Your body isn’t yours at the moment. Your soul will reclaim its shell soon enough. Or maybe it won’t. 

Your drawer shakes shakes shakes. Your heartbeat eventually matches the pace of its vibrations. You think it’s been 20 minutes. Maybe longer. When will the birds wake? 

Finally, the calls stop. Your eyes shut again. Instantly taken by darkness. 

You never wear normal clothes. 

Ellie’s only ever seen you in thousand dollar dresses and high heel shoes that scrape your achilles and cloth that squeezes you so tight she thinks she might explode by just looking at you. No matter how fucking good you look in them. 

So what the fuck is that? Moreso, why does she like it so much? Her cheeks are on fucking fire and her heart is trying to flee its enclosing. 

You have a t-shirt on. A simple, non-Gucci white tee that says LAS VEGAS and black shorts and a scarf on your head and socks with squirrels on them. Is this the fucking matrix? 

You never wake up this late, either. It’s 20 till 10. 

“Did my mom call you at all?” 

No… no she didn’t… Why can’t Ellie speak? She’s sitting there gaping like a fish and taking guilty glances at your nipples through your shirt. She shakes her head. You nod yours. 

“I uh…” She mumbles with a cotton mouth when you step into the kitchen, “I made coffee.” 

“I smelled it.” You serve yourself at the counter. 2 Splenda packs, no cream.

“Did your mom call you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“I didn’t answer.” 

… Interesting. Odd. Her calls are never missed by you. 

“I hope it’s something bad.” 

Ellie swallows her sip thickly. “… Damn. Why?” 

“She deserves it.” You say calmly while stirring. “He does, too.” 

“Your dad?” 

“My stepfather,” You hiss and slam your mug on the table. Ellie flinches, “Yes.” 

Her palms raise in surrender, “Sorry.” 

“Where do you go at night?” The chair across from her scrapes on hardwood when you sit. 

Nowhere, recently. Ellie shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, “Anywhere. Wherever I want.” 

“Take me next time.” 

She pauses her sip to ogle. “Hm?” 

“Take me. I wanna see what’s fun for you.” 

Ellie huffs a shocked laugh, “No, you don’t.” 

You squint, “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking to see.” 

“It’s not your scene, dude, trust m—“

She jolts where she sits when a hand — your hand, soft and agile and cold, slams down on the table, rattling both your mugs and the vase that holds dead flowers, nearly shattering the glass with an accusatory finger. 

“You dunno know shit about me! I’m fucking going whether you like it or not! Whether she likes it or not, and if I have to do it myself, I fucking will, you fucking psychotic fucking bitch!” 

You rise and stomp to where she sits with a pounding heart and a lecherous swirl in her gut. You look about ready to slice her open with a blunt butter knife. 

“You treat me like fucking trash just like everyone else,” You whisper venomously, and Ellie shakes, “The least you could do is listen for once. Scared to take me to the place you cheat on me at? Don’t want me to see it? That’d be too real, huh?” 

Ellie exhales a shaky breath of your name, but your nails, cut and manicured to perfection, sink into her cheeks so tightly that she winces and blushes and her tummy twists with heat. You don’t flinch when her fingers delicately entangle around your wrist; doesn’t want you to think she’s holding you there even though she is. 

“You’re gonna show me a good time tonight. If it’s as fun as you say, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?” 

Her eyes must read yes, yes, it’s not a problem; Your grin is wild like a hyena; pretty lips swelled around pretty teeth and you always smell good. Caramelized sugar and nectar.  

“Who knows,” You purr and Ellie feels goosebumps forming, “Maybe I can meet one of your little friends.” 

She chokes around a gasp before her lips curl into a conniving grin, cheeks plush around your fingers, “Aren’t you a little hussy.” 

“Fuck you.” You shove her so hard her back collides with the seat but her eyes glow pink. She watches you leave the kitchen and stomp up the steps with a burning chest until a door slams from upstairs. She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, wracked and desperate. 

-

-

-

Ellie will never admit — or maybe she will, but she purposefully uses your shared bathroom to catch glimpses at you. She always expects to find you out cold and wrapped in warm blankets, chest fluttering with each twitch of your socked feet that peek from below the blankets. 

What she doesn’t expect to see, though, is your phone shattered to pieces and left to drown in the clogged sink. Right next to a weighted rubber mallet; Where’d you find that? All your pent up emotions were taken out on your device… and the counter, apparently. The marble is chipped. 

She can only laugh in astonishment. Amazement. Fear when she realizes… 

Your mom.

Did you ever answer the phone?

Another day you’ve slept away. Either you were dreaming or someone was holding you suffocatingly tight; you enjoyed it, strangely. The sun is completely gone and there’s rustling and music echoing from the bathroom. Ellie’s in there. 

All the blood rushes to your head with how quickly you sit up, but your feet carry you past your closets until the light from the room sizzles your vision. 

Your wife stands by the mirror, drying her hair with a towel with a cigarette between her fingers. The guitar synths coming from her phone are grinding in your ears. 

Is she really keeping her promise? 

Did she promise to take you? You don’t remember. 

“Hi.” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and your spine twitches. You say nothing, so she chuffs with a teasing lift of her lips, “Chickenin’ out?”

“No.” 

“K.” 

“What do I wear?” 

She shrugs, “Whatever you want to.” She speaks around smoke and her timbre’s dry. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Whatever I want to.” 

She must sense your skepticism because she’s suddenly reassuring, voice crackly, “You’re not under any expectations tonight. You wanted me to show you what I do for fun, and I’m gonna. You just have to do your part and enjoy it.” 

Your nails dig into your thighs while you watch her. She has her ring on and her body wash coats the room in cinnamon. With a pounding heart, your hands slowly drag up your sides, fingers dragging at the hem of your shirt. She’s not looking. 

Enjoy it…

“Did you eat today?” 

“No.” 

She gives you a look. Stern. What is she mad about? Your tummy flutters, “There’s leftovers downstairs, you can have ‘em,” She shakes her wet hair and puts on her glasses, checks her watch, checks her phone, hits her cigarette. “We’re kinda behind so you should get read—“

Enjoy it. 

Her eyes meet where your shirt drops to the floor, breasts on display while your hands inch up your legs to drag your shorts down, all while you watch her. And she watches you. It’s overwhelming, your wife as an audience while you undress. But she told you to enjoy it. Enjoy the night. Enjoy the stares. Enjoy the attention. Enjoy her, for once. It all seeps into your pores. You step out of your bottoms and peel your socks off. 

Ellie drinks you in slowly. Says nothing. Simply takes her time memorizing every line, curve, dip, scar of you. You like how ravenous she looks. The sin in her pupils only darkens when your thumbs hook in your underwear to shed them. They dangle from your index finger when you walk; You smile when her throat jumps. 

She watches your filled hand travel to her pant pocket to shove the flimsy cloth in. The muscles in her back twitch when your finger traces her spine. Ellie’s pretty, littered in cute, red and brown spots. 

“I’m gonna shower.” Your lips brush her ear, and goosebumps rise all over her arms. Her eyes flutter in a pleasant blink, nodding in understanding. 

Your wife takes her lighter and reignites your favorite candle while your water warms. How sweet of her to set the mood for you. 

Ellie finishes her cigarette while you lather, watching her through the fogged glass of the shower walls, massaging soapy hands into your breasts and your legs and everywhere. She lights another at some point, bent over the counter while she smokes, ogling you through the mirror shamelessly. You smile when it settles in your chest.

You’re gonna fuck your wife tonight. 

What a fucking oddball you are. It’s cute. A little sexy, too. Only a little, she swears. 

… Fuck. 

She waits for you on the bed, dressed and jewelried, fiddling with her watch out of nerves because what the fuck are you playing at? Whiplash; that’s what she’s had all fucking day because of you. She works in the morning, for fucks sake. 

Still…

Does she deserve this sudden… What the fuck even is this? Certainly not affection; you nearly strangled her at the dining table. Attention, possibly? Seduction? She’s wired to hell, she wants you so bad. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She could act on her attraction, sure. She’s positive you’d allow her to take whatever she wanted because that’s what you’re trained to do; to satisfy your partner — husband, she imagines your mother grating — in any way he desires. But Ellie’s not a man, and she doesn’t want that. She needs you to love it, to crave it as much as she does. To take from her like she dreams of taking from you. Ellie needs you to batter her, and if you’d like, she’ll do the same to you. 

If only you’d give her something tangible. Teasing isn’t enough. She’s desperate to get a grasp on your headspace; she wishes she could prick and prod at your brain for a second. What an experience that would be. 

You enter the bedroom like a ghost; hair still wet and coily, dressed in all black like she is, only decorated with gloss and earrings. No heels either. Just very shimmery looking flip-flops. Ellie bites down a smile. 

“Where are we going?” 

She shrugs at your inquiry, “Somewhere really, really loud.” 

“Will people find us?” Paps, you mean. Ellie denies. 

“Not where I’m taking you.” 

“Must be secretive.” 

She tuts, “Not… well, maybe. It’s fun though. I think you’ll like it.” 

“Okay.” 

Ellie stands with her wallet and keys and kiddingly offers you an arm to hold onto. “M’lady.”

But you don’t accept it; back turned, halfway out of the room towards the stairs.

Pleasant. She doesn’t mean to smile. 

She makes sure to grab the to-go box from earlier before locking the front door behind her. 

It is very loud here. And hot. And raunchy. 

… You like that. Your mom would have a heart attack if she were to ever walk in here. 

The trip to this whatever, wherever place was pretty far. You counted every second of the nearly hour ride, mainly because Ellie’s jittery knee made you nervous. It’s smaller than you assumed, but not quaint. Not at all. There's a ruckus from the entrance to the back exit, people your age and older, screaming and shouting words that you don’t know while people pound on drums and shred on guitar. They sweat through their clothes while their makeup streaks down their faces as they make love to microphone stands. 

… Better than tea time, you suppose. How exhilarating. Your heart’s pounding like crazy.

Not much can be said between you and Ellie. You can’t hear over the bass and rumbles from the floor but she holds your hand and small purse. Guides you to a small section in the back with a bar. She hands the tender her card and… that’s it. Four clear, questionably large shots are poured and slid to her like nothing. You want all of them. 

Ellie seems so at home as she guides you, already a burning shot down, into the crowd. You’re shoved instantly by party goers, but she catches you, holds you strongly. You look at her, puzzled with shock, but she uncaringly lifts her shoulders, downs a shot, and starts thrashing. 

Your jaw slacks and lights beam and flicker at a rapid pace but you’re smiling. Your wife meshes with the scene so nicely. You wanna be like that. So you follow. You drink and jump and flail and scream your head off. 

You and your wife are synched for once. Terrible dancers. No rhythm whatsoever. Who cares who cares who cares.

You wish your mom was here to see you like this. You hope your mom’s dead so she never has to see you like this. A thought so dark shouldn’t bring you this much joy. You laugh and holler at the imagery. Blood all over the marble. Blood all over the doors of your childhood home. Blood blood blood everywhere because they deserve it. Look at what they’ve done to you. Sick evil people.

You wanna kill your stepfather. This music makes you wanna kill your stepfather. It’s gorey in itself, almost. Abborherent verbiage. You think Ellie wants to kill your stepfather, too. You should ask her later. Maybe when you're both sober. Maybe you should make your mom watch you skin him alive. Him dying would damage her more than you ever could. 

When your eyes open, Ellie’s gawking at you, seemingly surprised. Impressed? She holds your cheeks to get your attention, gesturing, asking if you want another drink. You nod and shout in her face and she laughs. Ellie holds you by the waist and guides you to the bar. The bartender must like Ellie. You leave with a full bottle this time. 

You and Ellie pass it between yourselves, the night becoming more and more broken. Touchy. Feely. Ellie rubs all over you while you pour liquor into her mouth. A bit dribbles down the sides but she doesn’t care. You don’t either. So you lick the drops from her neck like a cat with milk. Ellie stops and you stop and everything stops. It’s just the two of you, suddenly; all other patrons evaporate to nothingness. Her eyes are blown and heavy as she searches your face, and they halt their wandering at your lips. She’s thinking about it; You want her to see how bad you crave it. Even if it’s just for a second. She smiles, pleased. You shudder. 

But she doesn’t do it. She spins you so your back is against her chest, lips at your neck while she pushes her hips into your ass. She’s messy, drenching your already sweaty neck in spit. Her nails dig into the fabric of your dress, guiding your hips, swaying you on her. You follow. You follow so blindly because you like her hands on you a little too much. You drink and drink and drink. Everything feels light. Good. 

You think Ellie’s speaking to you. Or singing words in your ear. Or maybe she isn't speaking at all. You’re not sure, but your face is burning hot. She tongues at your ear and you make a noise that you can’t hear but hope she can. You need this. 

Her hands are suddenly slow where they crawl up your sides until they rest on your breasts. Your empty hand lands on one of hers to squeeze so that she can squeeze you. You feel her smiling on your skin when your jaw slacks. 

Your head turns to chase her mouth, but she does you one better. Whisks you once more so your chests smash together. She snatches the bottle from your hand, takes one last swig before passing it to eager, drunk hands that wave from behind. You gasp when her thumb catches your bottom lip, pulls it down to get your mouth open enough for her to dribble liquor into. You moan loud enough for Ellie to hear over those booming drums, swallowing down everything she gives, nails sank into her waist while her hips push into yours. When you swallow the last drops, she kisses you. Messy and hot, tongue and teeth; it gets your heart singing. Her pink muscle swirls inside of your mouth and your arms wrap around her neck, yanking her into you so no space is left. Her hands are everywhere; tangled in your hair, grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs. Everywhere everywhere everywhere like she can’t get enough of you. You’re overwhelmed and high out of your mind but you follow her guide. Anywhere she wants you, you are. 

Maybe you’re just as bad as she is. After everything she’s done, you should hate her. You think you do. You hate her for leaving you. You hate her for embarrassing you. Abandonment. Her only gift to you. Maybe that’s why you kiss her with such conviction. 

Her touch is passionate; strong but not forceful. She breathes you in like a rarity, something she treasures, all while she licks and tugs at you like a slut. There’s a pulse deep within you when her lips enclose around your tongue to suck it. Your thighs squeeze and she grins madly, giving you one last innocent peck before she grabs your hand to spin you. You laugh and twirl with her. 

You understand why people fall in love so fast. You hate that you’re one of them. 

Or are you simply as delusional as they come? 

You’re even more enthralling when free of restraint. 

Ellie’s drunk and sweaty and exhausted but she uses every last bit of strength to stare at you. She sits at the bar as the crowd dwindles, artist after artist, established or aspiring, all go on to perform, and you haven’t taken a break once. You simply twirl and spin and mouth incorrect lyrics with the widest smile on your face, all while Ellie brings you her drinks to finish. 

You’ve been here for hours it seems, but Ellie can’t drive. But the night is young. You certainly don’t look ready to go home. 

What more can she show you?

“Thank you all for comin’ out! Tonight was a dream—“

You’re a dream, Her chest screams. You you you you fuck—

You clap like the happiest seal on the planet before spinning around to face Ellie. It happens in flashes: you come closer and closer until you’re in front of her, warm hands on her cheeks, ears tingling when you whisper, 

“I didn’t get to meet your sluts.” 

You sound upset about it. Ellie stumbles about how they didn’t come, how they’re not here. How she doesn’t wanna see them right now and she means it all, but you don’t believe her, and her chest hurts. Guilty guilty guilty. 

“Get up.” You step away and Ellie pains to pull you back, savor the night a second longer. But she signs the receipt before following you towards the exit. The cold air feels so good. She needs water now. 

She gives you a little yank when you start wandering the opposing direction, “Come… come here. This way.” 

You grin and slur, “Where to?” 

Ellie’s brows wiggle playfully, “Gas station. You hungry?”

“…Yes.”

Ellie extends her hand for you to hold, and surprisingly, you accept. Her heart jolts to life. 

The walk is quiet. Your eyes are glued to the sky, wide and innocent; the large moon entrances you, surrounded by glittery stars. You both wobble down the sidewalk, trying to avoid bumping into pedestrians and other drunkards. She thought the rowdiness of nightlife would frighten you, but you seem drawn to the chaos.  

Soon enough, you’re both surrounded by aisles filled with chips and sodas and a fuck ton of candy. Ellie cringes at the fond stares she gives you holding 4 packs of watermelon sour patches. You’re cute as hell right now. Have you never been to a convenience store? What the fuck. 

“El! El, what the fuck! Where ya been!” 

Her sluggish brain is trying — really trying to figure out who the hell just left the staff room and is walking towards the two of you. It’s someone that knows her name or whatever shortened version they’ve created and the closer this person gets the more you shield yourself behind her fuck fuck fuck

Arms latch around her neck in a strong hug. Muscular, nice voice, smells like cherries. 

Abigail Anderson. Shoulda known. Great. 

“Jesus fuck, you smell like my dad’s liquor cabinet! We fucking missed you! We haven’t seen you in…” 

When Abby pulls back, her eyes immediately find you. Ellie steals a glance; eyes wide, soft with curiosity. They darken slightly when they lock onto Abby’s shoulders, all the way down to her arms and Ellie… why the fuck does that annoy her? 

“Who’s that,” Abby whispers suggestively and Ellie sighs. Scratches at her eye in irritation. 

“I’m her wife.” You say causally, and it shocks both of them. Abby moreso. Did Ellie never tell her? She’s sure she did. Everyone knows she’s married… right?

“Wh— wife?” Her eyes shift onto Ellie, “Bitch, you got married? What the fuc— when—“

“3 months ago.” You answer.

“Fucking — holy shit. Congrats? Uhh… sorry! Nice to meet you! You’re gorgeous, by the way,” She stutters to shake your hand, but you accept it, “I’m Abby!” 

“Hi.” You smile in delight and your shoulders relax. Abby smiles just as gently and Ellie thinks it’s time to go because you’re both getting on her nerves. 

“Alright, well, we're gonna pay, so… yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow or something. We’re tired.” 

“Mhmm,” Abby hums cockily, eyes glued to the mess Ellie made of your neck, “Looks like y’all had a great time.” 

“We did,” She confirms with pointed eyes, “See ya.” 

“Byeee.” Abby sing-songs with a chuckle before Ellie leads you towards the service counter to dump your snacks. Ellie gives the cashier a familiar nod. 

“Is she who you fuck?” 

Ellie chokes on her water and the cashier gawks at you from behind their reading glasses. You couldn’t have been any fucking louder in that moment, what the fuck.

“What—“

“Do you fuck Abby? I hope not in that bathroom,” You clumsily point to the gender neutral sign near the entrance. “I heard they’re filthy—“

Ellie whispers even though there’s no point, “Dude, are you fucking crazy—“

“… It's just a question—“

“Have a nice night.” 

The cashier rigidly hands Ellie her a stuffed baggie and receipt. She snatches them before snatching you to leave. She drops your hand the second briskness surrounds you, “The fuck was that about?” Her chips are calling her. She needs a stress reliever. 

“What—“

She squeezes the bag and the pop rings like a gunshot, “Why the fuck are you asking if I fucked Abby? What the fuck—“

“She’s hot and you kinda are… to a certain degree, I guess. I just assumed.” 

Ellie’s appalled, but doesn’t have the energy to look offended. “Stop assuming, it’s… that’s fucking weird—“

You simply shove tiny watermelon slices in your mouth and steal her water to chug it. She watches you impatiently before you hand the crumpled, half-empty plastic back to her. She downs the rest and discards it some-fucking-where. 

Her thoughts are clouded. Did she fuck Abby? Are you forreal—

“I don’t care, you know.”

“About what?” 

You shrug, “If you fuck her.” 

“Please be quiet.”

“Okay.” 

You both do for a while, dead grass and Dorritos crunching around you. 

Until Ellie speaks again. 

“You’re quiet.” 

“Mhm.”

“Sleepy?”

“Nmhm.” 

Wide awake, actually. The world passes you by with each step the two of you take, swirling with bright lights and laughter. You follow Ellie closely, handfuls of candy shoved in your mouth while she munches on her chips. You never had those orange triangles before. Neither of you are in a rush to make it back to the car. Can Ellie drive in this state?

“Do you, uh, like places like that? Concerts?” 

“Yes.” You break out in a grin. 

“What else do you like?” 

“I dunno. I haven’t… experienced much.” You shrug, accidentally brushing against your wife’s shoulder. Electricity sparks near the end of your spine where a steadying hand rests. “Your friend… does she go with you? To concerts?” 

“Who?”

“Aaabby.” You tease, mocking the blonde girl from earlier, and Ellie’s expressions flattens. She's unsure why. 

“Oh, uh… yeah,” Her chip bag is suddenly very interesting. “Sometimes. I met her at one a few years back after a showcase I hosted.” 

“I like her.” She’s nice and smells nicer. You regret not shaking her seemingly strong hand a few seconds longer. Strong all over, actually. 

“… Uh huh.” 

Your brow arches at that, “Does that bother you?” 

“Why the fuck would it bother me? You can like whoever.”  

“Exactly how you like whoever, huh?” You sneer lazily, and Ellie goes stoic. And just like that, the conversation dies once more. You’re glad for it; selfishly, you’d rather refrain from telling your wife about how attractive you found her friend. She’s left you guessing under too many circumstances. Consider this a sliver of revenge. 

You both make it back to the parking lot in silence, minus Ellie’s agitated crunching. You lean against the passenger door while you watch her dig around for the keys. 

“Where to?” 

“It's almost 4 in the morning.” She hisses. 

“So?” You came home later than that for weeks. You wanna say it. You should say it. Grind your thumb deeper into that open wound, but you save it. Another day, maybe. Maybe not. 

“So we’re going home. I’m tired.” 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Okay? Whatever, I’ll drop you off somewhere.” 

“You wouldn’t leave your poor, defenseless wife unattended, would you?” You whisper slowly, and Ellie tenses when you plant a soft hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge you, just stares through the window behind you. You scoff and drop it by your side. Cross your arms stubbornly. 

“You’re mad because I like Abby.”

“There’s nothing for you to like! You just met her.” Her voice raises, and annoyance flares in you. 

“Exactly! I just met her, and I like her! The fuck did you think I was gonna do? Flash her right in front of the gummy worms?” 

“I don’t know! Fucking maybe!”

“So you can fuck other people but I can’t?” 

Ellie’s very close to you suddenly. Your heart jumps, “Oh, now you wanna fuck Abby? She’s the first person you’ve interacted with besides me since we got fucking married!” 

“SO?” You holler. 

“SO YOU’RE NOT FUCKING MY FRIEND! ARE YOU INSANE!” Speckles of spit land on your face and it sizzles into your pores. You might be. You fucking are. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Ellie’s forcing herself into your space, so why do you fight? Why are you hungry? 

Your palms crash into her chest and she nearly loses her balance, “I DON’T NEED PERMISSION FROM YOU! WE’LL FINALLY BE EVEN, YOU FUCKING WHORE!” 

“Yeah? Think Imma fucking whore?” Her grin is sinister, and excitement coils in your belly. Gets your fingers twitching from how hard they’re clenched. 

“Maybe I do.” Vehemence scathed your tongue. 

“You know what I think?” 

“I don’t care—“

“I think you do.” She mumbles against your cheek, “I think you’re jealous.” 

You still. Ellie’s eyes pierce through yours, burning and hot, nostrils flared: she looks like she could snap you in half. Your spine tingles with delirium. 

“You’re mad because I get to be. I can exist and fuck and party and come and go as I please and you hate it. You wish you could do what I do.” She stares like you killed her mother yourself. Strangled her with your bare hands. “I don’t have mommy and daddy breathing down my neck every 2 seconds. You want that so bad it makes you sick.” 

“So why stay?” 

It shocks her. You don’t waver; passive as usual. 

“You’re free and can do whatever you want, right? Why are you here? Go and be that. Be whoever you wanna be because you can.”

Everything will be over soon. Might as well. Ellie simply glares through you. 

Curiosity is your worst enemy. Might as well ask. 

“Why’d you defend me at dinner?” 

What does she know what does she know what does she know what

She rubs her eyes stubbornly, “Oh my fucking god, who gives a fuck!” 

“Me! I give a fuck! Why’d you do it! Why! You’ve never done it before!” 

She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows

“BECAUSE FUCK HIM! FUCK EVERYBODY THAT DID THIS TO US! FUCK YOU, TOO!” 

You might cry, you might not. You’re unsure of everything and you’re angry and hurting. Ellie’s a reflection of you, and vise-versa. You hate her hate her hate her. 

Hatred. It might be the reason why kissing her feels so good. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Ellie shouldn’t have you trapped between her and her car, grinding so harshly into you that your spine bends. You shouldn’t tug at her hair to expose her neck to lick and suck and bite her neck red while she curses in your ear. 

This is the distraction you’ve been desperately searching for. To think you’d find it in your wife after all this time. 

“I’d be a whore for you,” She shamelessly seers against your throat, hands wandering to unbutton her own pants, “You know that, right?” 

… That’s cute. Makes you blush. 

“Yeah?” Her laugh is thick like syrup, “Gets you hot? Knowing how easily I’d give it up for you?” 

That sideways grin makes you tick. Your hand closes tight around her throat and she nearly bloodies her bottom lip with her fangs. Your wife looks pathetic; thumbs hooked into her pants, so ready to drop them for you in the middle of the parking lot. People are wandering about; she’s willing to fuck in front of them? 

How pretty would she look trying to be quiet for you? Nervous eyes searching for privacy, praying no one walks by and sees her on the edge with your hand down her underwear. Hopefully no one recognizes her, pulls out their phone, records the two of you. Blasts you both on social media while Ellie moans in your mouth. What would people think? Your families? How ashamed would they be? Their two girls making a mess of themselves in public. 

The thought makes you smile. Scares you. Makes you choke her harder. Her pained whine vibrates in your palm. 

“Get the fuck in the car.” 

The windows fog with the heat of your bodies; her body trapped beneath yours in the back seat that’s roomier than you anticipated. She rolls your hips on top of her, desperate and eager to rip your fucking clothes off and feel you for real. Your dress rests around your hips, your panties on display and she wishes she could see them. She only has her hands for reference, tracing over each thin seam littered with lace and patterns she tries to memorize. Your tongue belongs in her mouth. You feel so fucking good; you’re not close enough. She needs you closer. 

Her mouth chases yours when you finally separate, only connected by a thin string of saliva, but a stern hand collides with her chest to keep her flat. Her hands tickle your waist. Rests your dress even higher until she can see your belly button. 

“Wanna know a secret?” You whisper down at her, and she smirks. 

“I know you’re a virgin, baby.” She whispers giddily, and your teeth grit. A flame coils in your chest. You ignore her.

“You could’ve had me after our wedding, you know? With my face buried in the pillows and my ass in your face. I would’ve let you do whatever you wanted that night.” 

Your sudden vulgarity stuns her silent. Your wife looks like she’s imagining it; lip bruised from both your and her teeth, mind racing with filth of you in every position she can think of. She wouldn’t have been able to separate from you if that was the case. It’s one of the reasons she kept her distance; those pretty brown eyes rolled back would’ve put her underground. She’d never tell you that. 

“But no,” You say like it aches, “You wanted to go and bend over all those girls that follow you around like fucking dogs. You wanted a bitch, not a wife. Right or wrong?” 

She can barely breathe and your hand pressing on her chest isn’t helping; reduces her to sharp gasps that make her lightheaded. The more ragged they become, the harder you press. Your brow arches when she innocently bares her teeth. 

Her palms squeeze at your ass, “I thought about you the entire time—“

Your hand cracks and her head flies to the side. Right on her left cheek is the already reddening imprint of your hand. The crackles in your palm are numbed by the alcohol and your core burns at the shock on her face. She gawks off to the side, that meddling smile dropped completely, chest ragged with her breaths. 

“Ellie, put your hands down.” You spit, and they drop from you completely, palms flat on the seat beneath her. 

“You had every chance to do right by me and you wasted every single one.” You sound like you’re about to cry; Ellie’s too scared to look at you. Not the good scared that she’s felt around you this entire time, but a hollow scared. The one that freezes you. Her fight or flight is triggered. 

“I think you owe me an apology.” You whisper against her burning face before you kiss it gently. A pained groan escapes her, and you laugh. Loud, in her face. Even louder when she tries to grind her hips up into you. 

“Take us home, wife.” 

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 2}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader, brief mention of Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: You set off to scout for a meeting with the man Tess has been in contact with over the radio. Only to find out it’s two men and you know one of them.

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv (mentioned), sexual acts, choking, oral (m and f receiving), dom/sub dynamics if you squint, joel is bossy, some 69 action (idk don't look at me), anal play, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

*we have a nickname reveal, in reference to one of the most known guard dog breeds (cause i think i'm funny lol)

A/N: something possessed me and the next thing i know this chapter was on the word document. don't look at me, i have no clue what i'm doing 🫣okay, bye

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

It was dark, curfew for the zone only an hour off. The sparse streetlights illuminating the rather humiliating display of the street, outlined with bodies hidden in the shadows of stoops, of power lines chaotically spread out above, of the dirt and grime that seemed to coat every fucking inch of what the world had become. Despite the strict regulations of cleanliness, trash and debris from the ravage of bombs dropped on the larger cities lingered about. The roads barely maintained and only for the vehicles controlled by FEDRA.

It wasn’t the most sanitary of places to live, but you made it work for you. Clinging to life, even if it was a shadow of what that once meant. You tried not to dwell on that line of thinking for too long.

But you hummed a little as you felt the weight of a thick stack of ration cards tucked into your back pocket. This particular part of the zone was known for its more…salacious activity and trade. A place you knew would be ripe with rewards for very little work on your part. The feeling of drying spend wasn’t a comfortable one, as it stuck and hardened on the skin of your stomach and back. But it was a small price to pay for a months’ worth of food and the small smirk from Joel and Tess once you handed over some of the cards.

Earn your keep, that had been the only rule barked at you when first hashing out understands for your partnership with them both. Joel had seemed to stare into your very soul to get the point across, while Tess had been far more cordial, seeking you out after finding you to be one of the best scouts whose services were fought after. Before they had shown up in the dingy zone, you had been a free agent. A rather successful one on your own. Hopping from one smuggler to the next if their offers were good enough, but with those two it had all stopped. You were loyal to them now.  Circumstance and mild comfortability in favor of constantly watching out for deals gone bad or men who thought you were a part of them.

And you agreed to an even split if it meant they would watch your back. They had come to you after all, you needed a little more from the deal if you were willingly work with only two people as opposed to those who sought you out and who you knew would trade what you asked for. The timing of their arrival one of the few good things you believed to be whatever higher power existed smiling down on you with pity. The loss of your brother had been harsh, hung in front of a crowd and practically announcing to the zone you no longer had protection.

You could hold your own as well as needed, but the world was cruel. You had been offered less than satisfactory terms since his death, cajoled into doing jobs under threat of report and even the barrel of a gun or two. It had been a tough two years of trying to maintain your reputation, a few lives lost in the endeavor when you had been challenged in ways you refused to put up with.

The first had been a man who had taken it upon himself to be your new ‘alpha’, to watch over you and ensure you were safe under his vigilant eye. But his name hadn’t carried the same weight at your own, the nickname ascribed to you accurate for a once well-known breed of guard dog. When he had tried to force you to submit to him, you had torn into his neck with nothing but your teeth, hands tied behind your back as you woke to the man in your apartment once news of your brother’s passing had spread to every corner of the zone.

Another had been a woman who attempted to sell you out to the very soldiers who relied on you for narcotics. She had found herself thrown into a cell and once released she had come at you with a knife while you worked a job around the city under the guise of falling in line with every other citizen. The exchange had ended with her clutching to the knife imbedded in thigh and you with a long red marks from her nails as she had screamed at your resistance to be taken out.

People had been willing to work with you, knowing the knowledge you had was abundant and the things you offered for trade were scarce. But as with everything, things had begun to dry up. The longer time went on, the harder it was to maintain the abundance of items deemed contraband or frivolous. But the stash you had hidden held on for quite a while. Posing as another version of yourself, you had stolen entire collections from people who were new to the zone and decided to try and work around you or shoulder you out of the scene. Not knowing it was you people were referring to when the name Cane was spoken until they took their last breath or mysteriously disappeared as soon as they had arrived.

Until Joel and Tess.

They had staked you out, gone into your apartment to get a feel for who you were but when faced with the consequences of their actions, they had been willing to talk it out. Someone must’ve warned them that newcomers who weren’t willing to play along with how things operated here disappeared or were found dead, a warning in and of itself for them. They had expected to just do recon, to see what you had going on with the aid of Tommy Miller down the hall as a lookout. A scout.

But they hadn’t known that’s what you were above all. Aware of your surroundings at all times, never caught without your guard down. Tommy had been taken out long before you had entered your apartment that night. The first signal that something was different. The younger Miller brother had gotten flustered at your approach, offering the man a night of pleasure since he was new and deserved to see what the zone had to offer. He had been knocked out cold before he could even answer your feigned advance. He often stayed behind, letting his two companions work alongside you while he tried to keep his head down and do as FEDRA asked. Something Joel said he was a fool to do, but didn’t dissuade him from.

He had revealed that his longer absences from the apartment they had been assigned, right beside yours, were because of his work with the group known as the Fireflies. Some members of which you used to do work with. Warning him of their willingness to cause chaos in ways they though were liberating but ended up being destructive and damning. But he hadn’t heeded your genuine words born of concern. Not wanting him to face the same fate as your bother. Joel had been even more difficult to work with when Tommy had disappeared one day with nothing but a note saying he was with a group of them assigned for relocation. He had been even more brutal since then not even a year after they had arrived, the sting of betrayal and abandonment needing to be let out somehow. And Joel Miller was capable of great brutality.

He also happened to be stepping out from a shadowed awning just across the street. An ununiformed officer slinking away with a tight grip on something in his hand.

The satisfaction of having just duped some poor suckers out of their cards shifted to something else, something akin to shame at being caught with muzzle in something that wasn’t yours to be had. You had hidden the…visits you made here from your brother, something you had done with you both first arrived in the desolate excuse of a zone. Lectured and pleaded with once he had found out, begging you to stop because it wasn’t what he wanted for you, what he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do. But you did and that was the stark truth. It was always something you could fall back on.

“What the hell are you doing?” Joel’s words were sharp, his chocolate curls tousled in the wind you had to shake the urge to reach up and tangle your hands in them.

“Conducting business. Same as you.” The words are spit from your twisted mouth, not liking the tone he approached you with or the hard glare that molded his features. What you were doing was none of his concern, you didn’t belong to him. You didn’t like how your body was responding to him lately, and you idly wondered if your finicky cycle was about to make a rare resurgence.

“The only business here is…” His eyes flick to the crumbling building behind you, a well-known house of pleasure. The man who had just been inside you exited and jaunted down the steps, pausing as he noticed the two of you staring each other down. When Joel’s eyes focused on him, he took off at a brisk pace.

“Yup.” You turned and started walking back toward the center of the zone.

“Didn’t take you for a whore.” Steps not faltering as he falls in line beside you, it’s easy to shrug off his slight judgement. It had only been a year of working with him, but you knew him well enough to know that if he really didn’t like something he would just silently brood over it. Whatever he was trying to do now, was simply get a rise out of you just for the sake of doing it. He was cheeky in his own way, even if it was always at your expense. But the same could be said of you, you always berated him for not listening completely to things you and Tess discussed.

“Well, this whore just earned all three of us a month’s worth of cards. Each.”

“And you’re proud of that, aren’t ya? Whorin’ yourself out for a little food.” He digs his claws in deeper, when he doesn’t get the reaction he was expecting. But it was late and you truly weren’t bothered by his words. He was right, you had just sold your body. It was your right as a woman to do with your body as you pleased and if it earned you something then, what? Shame wasn’t something you let yourself feel, not for this. The only negative thing about spending your time at the pleasure house was that you never left with the same satisfaction of your clients. The men weren’t there for that, they went for themselves and themselves alone.

“You took all the pills for your trades. Didn’t leave me much to trade with.” You throw back at him with only a slight uptick of volume, but your words held the truth. Tess had given him all of the pills from yesterdays’ foray into what remained of the city around the zone. You had been given the firearms, opting to keep them as part of your stash for the time being instead of trading them.

“You could’ve asked for some.” He’s looking straight ahead when you turn to see him a little more clearly in your periphery. His profile is strong, the hook of his nose and the fullness of his lips obvious against the streetlights.

“I don’t ask for things I can’t afford. Not from anyone and certainly not from you.” You can’t help the bite in your words, as if the idea of him willingly giving you a part of what he intended to trade was even fathomable. He may be the muscle of the group, the attack dog people kept their eyes on and ears on alert for. But even so, he also did nearly as much legwork as you did, if not more at this point. You and Tess working together to orchestrate the trades and caches of contraband to steal or loot.

“Fine.” He grunts, hands shoved in his front pockets.

“Fine.” You parrot, not willing to let him have the last word.

When you turned at the entrance of an alley, he didn’t see the shadow of the person lying in wait until they shifted. But you seemed to have known they were going to be there, because you were suddenly ducking beneath the person’s reaching arms and slamming their front to into the brick. The woman shouted out as her forehead thudded harshly against the wall, her arms twisted behind her back and tight in your grip.

“I told you last time, no payment no pills.” Your voice is threateningly low as you crowd against the woman who had tried to ambush you. Joel only watches, his gaze heavy on your back as you hold your own. Showing no mercy to the woman whose position you easily could’ve fallen into yourself. But you had stopped the excessive use, opting to trade nearly everything you could and only keeping a minor stash for yourself should you need to make a run for it.

“He-he told me to!”

“Don’t care, you come at me again, either of you and I’ll cut you in your sleep.”

“You would-wouldn’t!”

“Wanna try me?” You pull her away from the wall, the dull streetlights illuminating her bloodied and tear-stained face. “Go home. Find me when you have what I want.”

“Y-yes, I’m so sorry, Cane.”

When you turn your back on the alley, the woman running through the narrow space and out the other side, Joel is merely standing there with his arms crossed. Denim pulled taut over his broad shoulders and biceps at the stance. His lips are upturned a bit, his eyes dark in the fallen night, but it isn’t until you glance down at his waist are you sure of what he was really thinking.

The hard outline of him through the denim of his jeans is obvious. He had gotten turned on, aroused, and it sends a thrill of proud excitement through your own body. Whether it was from either seeing you walk out of a well-known pleasure house, beat up an empty-handed solicitor, or both you weren’t sure.

But you tilted your head back as you sauntered up to him as close as you could. Apparently, that was more than okay with him because you pushed your chest against his crossed arms, the soft give of them pressed to his forearms while you trailed a finger lightly over his zipper. The hinge of his jaw jumped, the muscle there twitching from the barely there touch, his brow furrowing as he looked down to catch your glittering eyes.

“Wanna take up that offer for relief?”

“Thought you didn’t ask for things you couldn’t afford.” His words are hard, though you see through them, through him. He wasn’t going to outright ask you, he never would.

“I could certainly afford to lose an evening spent prying open a can of too-old green beans if it means you’d calm the hell down a bit.”

“What makes you think I need you for that?” He cocks his head to the side slightly, mirth dancing behind his eyes as he notices he one upped you. Because damn if he hadn’t. You knew him and Tess were…whatever it was they were. The way he listened to her and made sure she had what she needed was first on his priorities from day one, it was obvious. A man like him seemed to need someone to look after, his purpose was her livelihood. And she was his. Even if they weren’t obvious about it, the signs were there.

The every so often thuds of their bed against the wall, the moans and panting breath that sounded as if it was in your own apartment and not theirs next door, the way Joel walked a little straighter the next day and Tess was a little more willing to go along with plans that didn’t have great payoffs with the argument that it was at least something.

It was something that was unspoken between all three of you, something Tommy had only brought up twice with you when you were both alone. He hadn’t been jealous, at least not in the way that made you feel sorry for him. It was because he didn’t see a point to it if it wasn’t genuine and if he had learned anything in the collapse of the world, it was that his older brother was all the things he never thought he would be. That he knew it was a way for Joel to feel wanted and useful, something he was jealous of only because he had once been someone who relied on his brother. Still had until the second he left, unable to handle the decline of the person he had grown up with and cared for.

You couldn’t fault him for that. Sibling relationships and dynamics were hard even when the world was good. The demise of someone wasn’t always of bloodshed, infection, or the quieting of their heart. It was sometimes the inability to recognize and the horror of realization that it had been a long time since you had been able to see them as they were. It had been too much for Tommy, you didn’t fault him for running. But it left you with the obviously bonded pair he had left behind and for that you cursed him.

Your own loneliness apparent when the only person you could call a ‘friend’ had left you behind too.

“Didn’t wanna fuckin’ touch you anyway.” Voice level, you realize you weren’t in the mood to play with him now his harsh denial floats in the thick air between you.

The combination of your melancholy thoughts and Joel’s words stings and you turn away from him, boots barely guiding you away before your arm is in the man’s grip and he’s turning you back to face him with a harsh jerk.

“Hey, that wasn’t a no.”

“Sure as hell sounded like it to me.” You try to yank your arm back from him, to put as much distance between you as possible, only he tightens his grip.

“Don’t offer shit if you’re not gonna follow up.” He reprimands, voice low with the edge of a threat.

“Go find Tess.” You feel your lips curl around the woman’s name.

“Don’t want Tess.” His words shouldn’t have the effect on you that they do. But the dissatisfaction of not finding your own release hits you like a weight. The visits you made to that part of the zone always disappointing in that department. Your pleasure was never the goal. Your body begins to hum at the implication of them, at the implication of him wanting you.

“Too bad, you picked the wrong moment to feign disinterest and I don’t wanna play with you anymore.”

“That all it is, playin’?”

“Only thing it could be, you don’t seriously think I want you, do you?”

“I think you’re afraid to admit you do, yeah.”

“I could go straight back to that pleasure house and get what I need.”

“Yeah, but it ain’t what you want. ‘Cause I’m standing right here.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Turning your back on him, you ascend the few steps into the main floor of the apartment building. He’s right behind you, the heat of his body only a few steps of distance away. He manages to keep up as you quickly scale the stairs up to the floor your apartments are on. The sensation of being chased prickles your skin into goosebumps, it raises the hairs on the back of your neck and makes your cunt throb in anticipation of being caught.

“Think you wanna be full a’me, otherwise you wouldn’t offer so damn much.” The thought sends a spark of arousal straight down your spine, igniting the smoldering kindling of your earlier activities as you finally step onto the flattened floor of your hall.

“Just tired of being around you when your dick is doing all the thinking. Makes it so I have to do twice as much work to keep things going smoothly.”

“Then clear my head, be a good little lap dog for me.”

“No. Told you I don’t wanna play with you anymore.”

“Too bad, cause I ain’t done with you.”

“Joel, I swear to fucking god-“

“You gotta learn to shut that god damn mouth when you’re ahead, darlin’.” Before you could blink, your back is being pressed up against his door. One of his thighs are between your legs and pressing up into your aching core, one of his hands is tight around your neck, pinning you between the hardness of the door and the strong line of his broad body. His eyes are looking between your own, his lips part to speak again but it isn’t what you were expecting.

“You scared?” He asks in a low voice, vulnerability and concern swirl in a shadow curling behind his words. He was making sure you were okay and really wanted this and the thought makes your body shiver. The thought that he wouldn’t truly engage with you this way if you didn’t want it is the bare fucking minimum but it rounds out into another full glimpse of the man he is, of who he used to be.

His other hand snakes around your waist once he’s got the door unlocked and it’s no longer holding you up.

The door is kicked shut behind him, the slam echoing through the hallway enough to insight a few shouts of dismay. But his focus is on you, only on you. His hooded eyes dark as he takes in the dilation of your pupils and the hitch of your breath as he corrals you toward the bed. Definitely not scared.

“Only part a you that listens, huh?” He sneaks a pair of thick fingers beneath the waistband and finds you already so slick. “This all you?”

“Don’t let cum in me, if that’s what you’re askin’.” His fingers are the perfect pressure as they dip between your folds, and you hear the sound he makes deep in his chest even if his lips remain shut. A chip in his usual demeanor, a small flicker of that same weakness you had stumbled on the first time you condescendingly offered to blow him.

“Good.” He rasps. “Sit down.”

“Mutual relief,” He grunts as he senses your quiet confusion, the heat of his intent rises up your chest and over the apples of your cheeks, brows furrowing as it doesn’t quite compute. Confusion gives way to a spark, that low simmering heat thrumming in your body catching fire and licking across your entire body. “That’s how we’re gonna do this, y’hear me? Won’t leave you like those other men. Now sit.”

You do, heeding the command as you attune to him, body jostling as you set yourself on the edge of his shared bed, everything else a blur around him. The apartment is barely illuminated by the streetlights trickling in through the sorry excuse of curtains still pulled back on the window. Just enough light to see him, to see how big he is as he begins to kneel before you, hands reaching for your jeans. You can only watch as he undoes them and peels them from your legs, the only pair you have that have molded to your body from years of relying on them. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he tilts his head up and your completely naked from the waist down.

“She’s gonna be back soon.” You don’t worry about getting caught but you’d rather not have an audience for the submission you were too weak to resist. Body responding to him with an intoxicating ease, the curiosity if what he means by mutual relief too much of a temptation. If there was anyone who was worthy of it, it was Joel, even if you loathed basically everything about him. Too similar and too rife with the same qualities and tendencies for violence, too much of a mirror of who you were at the very core of your soul.

“She’s busy setting up the meeting for tomorrow,” He’s suddenly standing, his own clothing being peeled away to land on the floor with your own. His chest is dusted with the same dark brown atop his head, his skin the same bronze of his forearms and weathered face. The rest of his body is just as beautiful as the parts you’re allowed to see. But now all of him is on display, languidly laid out atop the bed as he grips his impressive length in a fist, pumping once before he’s reaching for you.

He manhandles you to straddle his stomach, your slick shining on his hot skin as you’re suddenly face to face with his dripping cock. And it’s so beautiful you can’t help the moan that crawls it’s way up from your ribcage and past your lips as lean forward to grip him with a much smaller hand than his. He’s so thick you can barely wrap your hand around all of him, something he chuckles darkly over as you feel one of his palms land with a sharp slap along your ass. You know he’s watching the ripple of your skin, the irritation of his action spring to life on your skin, the goosebumps that chase the shiver that runs down your spine and you feel yourself flutter around nothing.

“I said,” He gripped your hips painfully tight in his large hands, blunt nails digging into your flesh and pulls you down completely. His nose bumps into your puffy clit and you can’t help but cry out at the bolt of pleasure that rips through you. “Sit the fuck down.”

You were gone before the first swipe of his tongue through your slick folds, just the hot breath from his perfectly pouty mouth was enough to make your body sing. When the wet heat of his tongue licked through your folds, your eyes flutter shut at the scintillating feeling, his palms are wide across your cheeks as he pulls them apart to see all of you and you gasp at the wet sound. You feel your skin pull and you’re keening out a pathetic sound as his nose bumps against the puckered hole previously hidden from him. The fire coursing over your body, trying to catch the air of the room outside your body to roar, it’s only spurred on by the feel of him, hungry and taking what he wanted from the most intimate part of you.

“C’mon now, use that mouth for somethin’ other than talkin’.” He takes a moment, the barest, to lean back and bark the words at you. There wasn’t anything mutual about you going limp in his grip and you feel the tug of humiliation at folding so quickly and forgetting who had started this whole exchange in the first place.

He’s teasing you. But two can play at that game, you think even as pleasure roils too hot through your veins. Gripping his proudly standing cock more firmly at the base, you lower yourself, back arching and thighs tightening around his middle and press feather light kisses to his ruddy, leaking tip.  

He’s surprisingly loud, from the rumbles you can feel vibrating deep in his chest, to the slurps of his mouth as it moves against you, to the heavy pants he breaths in an out when he dares to pull away from between your legs. He’s never this loud with her, and the thought sends a thrill through you causing you to gush around his tongue as it slips inside. You can’t help your own moan around the head of his cock as you swallow it down, swirling your tongue over him as you taste him for the first time.

The grunt that vibrates through your folds as you swallow him down is satisfaction enough. He’s heavy on your tongue, the slight curl of him as at the angle allows for the underside of his cock to nudge along the ridges of the roof of your mouth, his blunt nails digging into your skin. You feel the vein just as clearly and he throbs, causing drool to dribble down to his heavy sack.

His teeth close around your clit, nibbling there as you begin to bob up and down at a fast pace. He’s suddenly thrusting up, his hips canting at the sensation and you gag as he hits the back of your throat.

“Take it,” He husks, doing it again. You retaliate by pressing back against him, body flat atop his as you relax your throat for him to continue. The air is thick with the scent of mutual arousal, everything coated in slick and sweat, your plain shirt sticking to your skin as heat crackles in the stagnant air. The smell of him is heady, all musk and something distinctly him as your nose nestles in the thatch of coarse hairs that he doesn’t keep trimmed, the soft velvet of his sack so hot against your face.

You hum as he stills, his thighs shaking beneath your hands as you try to support yourself. He slips from your mouth and the heft of him slaps into your cheek as you cry out at the intrusion of a slick thumb. You feel his grin as he nudges the digit further into your puckered hole, a sensation you hadn’t felt before.

“Never had anyone in here.” He boldly preens, reading the way your own body begins to tremble as you gush, there’s no way he missed it being buried in your cunt. Your only response is to grip him with one hand and resume a brutal pace, breath barely squeezing through your nostrils as you take him as deep as you can again and again. It’s loud, it’s lewd, it’s intoxicating the way he slurps and licks, nibbles and presses. The scratch of his facial hair against your inner thighs lighting you up, building up heat and pleasure in your lower abdomen. He’s twitching, from his fingers to his cock, to the thick thighs beneath you.

It's brutal the way you’re pushed to the edge, the fire taking your body for its own, brought on by unforgiving pace matched by unforgiving pace. Two people still playing for dominance even as you both relish in the tantalizing pleasure of the game. He seems determined to get you there before he finds his own release, and you clench around him he pushes you over the edge, his tongue lapping up everything you’ve given him as you feel his own muscles tense, before he’s spilling hot down your throat at the feeling of your suppressed moan all around him.

Panting, you release him from your mouth, swallowing down everything he had given you in return. The tart taste of him something you never anticipated getting a taste of. Your thighs burn as you push yourself up, the overwhelming dribble of his saliva and the remnants of your release are obvious as your cunt presses to his chest. You’re sure he can see the small bubbles of it as your folds close together, hiding from him where he had just buried his face. He seems to disagree with the shift in position because you’re suddenly face down on the covers of the bed, ass up in the air as he drapes himself over your back.

His thick fingers effortlessly trace your slit, fingers sparking another crest as he plunges two deep into your still fluttering core. You can’t bite back the guttural sound that claws its way from your chest as he curls them and begins to press them against a spot that most men ignore. You feel the length of him soft against the back of your thighs, unable to get it up again so soon after his own release, but it’s like he knows he could pull another orgasm from your willing body.

You hear the crack of his wrist as he pounds his fingers into you, straightening them out for the tips to kiss that spot deep inside and you cry out when he finds it. Head shooting up from the bed as your back arches in a silent plea for more.

“There it is, feels good don’t it, darlin’?” His words are gravel in your ear, the burn of his scruff against your neck welcome as he pushes you over the edge again far too quickly. The moan that rips from you is loud, nearly a wail in its intensity. Something he’s guaranteed to comment on. But he surprises you when he buries his nose into your hair as you clench and gush around his fingers. Nothing but an answering moan of his own floats into the air.

As suddenly as he had been on you, he’s no longer pressed against you. The heat of his body gone in the slow blink of an eye and shuddering pull of breath.

He’s across the room with a creak of the mattress and a shift of the floorboards under his weight. The sound of the shower being turned on is the only clue as to where he’s gone when you turn your head in search of him. Your body is shaky as you move into a normal position, the one you started in, perched at the edge of his shared bed. You quickly pull on your socks, your jeans, stuff your feet into the boots he had unlaced and shucked from you in his haste. Your underwear is nowhere to be found and you don’t linger on what that could mean as you exit the apartment.

An hour later you’re slinking through the space beneath a stretch of chain link fence, pulling the board of plywood that settles over it as another pair of hands disperses dirt over it to hide the hole. Your mind is calm, but your chest feels like an overinflated balloon as you seem to hold your breath for far too long.

Only once the lights of the zone are a mile behind you, do you stop and let it all out in a heavy exhale.

“We leavin’ before the sun or after?” Joel breaths the words out on a heavy exhale, his heart beating fast in beneath his ribs. Tess takes a moment to catch her own breath before she grants him an answer, reaching over for the water glass sweating on the floor beside the bed. Her eyes trail over the naked expanse of his chest, fingers reaching to comb through the hair beginning to show the same threading of silver as the hair atop his head. He doesn’t feel anything when she does, his body satiated from the shared pleasure he had initiated in his half-asleep state after hearing people begin to stir all along the hall in the early hour.

Her breasts catch his eye, the way the jiggle and sway with her motions to slump back against the collection of flat pillows at the head of the bed. He idly wonders what you’ve got hidden beneath your own clothing and as soon as the thought crosses his mind, he frowns. She turns to him, after her own eyes drag up his body, from the knee he props up to relieve his back a little, the softening bulge of him hidden beneath the sheet, to the way he watches her with something behind his eyes.

“Before. Cane’s already left. We don’t have the advantage of her helping guide us in person.”

“What?” He sits up, the sheet falling to hide his lap as his knee flattens.

“She left hours ago. Weren’t you paying attention?” Tess doesn’t budge, though it’s obvious that his reaction is unusual and he knows she’s thinking it.

“Stupid girl,” He mutters as he stands, the sheet falling from him completely as he reaches to pull on his discarded jeans. The belt clinks as he fastens it, but Tess doesn’t move at all.

“She can handle her own, Joel. You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That’s all fine and dandy but this is a new trade partner. And you’ve been the only one in contact with them. Through the radio. Could be a trap.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to send out our scout into a potential trap?”

“Think we shoulda all left together, is all.”

“Why are you worried about her?”

“I’m not, don’t put words in my mouth.” He balks, unable to tame his anger at being scrutinized. He knows he’s acting out of character, but the possibility of there being a threat is real. If you’re really out beyond the parameters of the zone and well past the city limits there’s no where for you to seek cover.

“Joel-“

“Drop it, Tess.” He barks, unable to hide his frustration, to tame it as it flares as quickly and rapidly as a wildfire.

“Alright.” She pushes up from the bed, padding through their shared space bare as she gathers a clean pair of clothes and shuts the bathroom door behind her. Joel knows the scent of sex lingered in the stagnant air of the apartment, that she would be able to tell if was different from times before. Because it hadn’t been just him taking seeking pleasure, he had been doing so with you. As frustrating and bullheaded and downright petulant as you were, there was no denying the scent of you two tangled up that had encompassed the room in such a heady way.

Grunting, Joel rests on the edge of the bed. Adrenaline coursing through his veins as he recalls the night before. He had been rash in his decision to take you up on your offer, the second in as many days, for some ‘relief to calm him the hell down’ as you put it. A line had been crossed but he was like a dog after his first taste of actual food, craving and hungry for more. Willing to get it at any cost and the want burns his skin, boils his blood, consumes him. You had been his for that small bubble of time and he feels the possession sear as it brands him into a different man.

He wasn’t daft, he knew you had soft spots beneath all that rough and violent exterior. Everyone did. But he hadn’t expected to obsess over how sweet it had been for you to roll over and show him, to submit to him the way you had. The way he had with you in return, even if you weren’t aware of it. But the obsession to have rid you of the smell of the other men that had touched you, marked you, filled you had been too much. He wanted them all to smell the lingering scent of him on your skin the next time you decided to visit that pleasure house. And that was the thought that didn’t sit well with him. You weren’t his beyond the activities of the night before. And he didn’t want you any more than a dog in heat, your supple skin and taunting words just the trigger to pull the desire from him.

There was no use for desire in what the world had turned into, crumbled into during the last seven years.

The last time he desired, he wanted, he truly felt, had ended in devastation.

It’s well into the day, the sun at its apex as the two of them come into view and your mind quiets a little.

They make such a good-looking pair, you can’t help but think as they walk through the brush into the opening that houses the remains of a quickie mart. You’re sat on the hard ground, the asphalt long cracked and dried, no longer upholding the meaning of its given namesake. Nothing was secure in this world, especially the things created and molded by the hands of man. Nature had taken it all back, destroyed what it didn’t like and infected the rest it couldn’t.

“They check out?”

“Yes, two men. Just like you said.” You stand, ignoring the crackling of your joints as you do so, aware that you look far less put together than either of them. You had been rash and immediately after your time in their shared apartment, unwilling to toss and turn in your own bed with your ears on alert for signs of the woman’s return. You had nothing against her, she was good once and maybe still wanted to be beneath it all. There wasn’t some unspoken rule that they were each other’s but you still felt like you had maybe crossed a line, the minute guilt making your stomach churn as you took in the effort she had put into looking nice for today.

Your mind replayed the feeling of Joel’s mouth on you and it brought a scowl to your face as you realized even he looked rather put together. They made a good pair, and you were just on the outskirts. A lap dog indeed, even if they had come to you. Fuck, it made you feel like the weak link, even if deep down you knew you weren’t. They were both smart, strong, cunning, but they still struggled to understand the ways in which you undermined and ensured different paths in and out of the zone. How you seemed to always know who had what to trade and how to get their supply from them with just the right trade offer or threat. They were good, separately and together, but you were better adapted to the zone’s particulars. Better at reading people, even if it meant you could read into your own actions and feelings just as easily.

“They’ve got the whole town secure. Electric fence, operated by one control panel and two remotes. It’s strong, has a sensor if anything touches it. Saw a squirrel get fried. They’ve laid traps all around, some are covered pits, really well hidden. Some are spring traps, a bear trap or two, marks are nondescript and someone not looking for them wouldn’t notice them.”

“But you did.” Joel’s tone drips in disbelief, not at your ability to gather all of the information but that you had practically fled the second he left you alone on the bed the night before to do so.

“Yes.” You don’t look at him, instead keeping eye contact with Tess. “They both around the perimeter in the morning and evenings, it looks like they’re doing it to keep in shape but one of them always has his eyes on the fence. He’s constantly checking for weak points, for repairs or modifications that can be made. There also seems to be cannisters hidden a few feet beneath the main posts for the fence, every fifteen feet or so. Piping runs down to them, I didn’t dig one up but it seems like they may have some sort of fuel. For either a deterrent of an explosion, which I doubt because then it would compromise the structure of the fence, or a flame thrower of some sort to catch people off guard should they get too close and trigger it.”

“You found all that out in just a couple hours?” Tess must share in the man’s sentiment, because her eyes rove over you. Seeing the dirt sunk into your skin, the ruffled appearance of your clothes, the bags underneath your eyes, the frizz of your hair barely contained in a messy bun atop your head.

“You left last night.” It’s not a question, it’s an accurate observation. Joel’s the one to bring it to light and you only nod in agreement. The timing of this new potential trade relation and the passage of time since they had first approached the zone all coming together in their minds.

“Today is…”

“Yes.” You turn away from them, not wanting to talk about it. Never wanting to talk about it, the reason for your loneliness in a world that couldn’t care less.

You hear them exchange words quietly between themselves as you step away to gather your pack, shouldering it and beginning to lead the way to the path that had been outlined for you to approach the town on by those within in. After another mile, all three of your are on a dirt path that leads directly up to the fence. The figures of the men you had spent hours watching over are stood on the other side. But as you get closer, one of them shifts from blurry to start detail. He must recognize you at the same time, because his thick brows disappear into his hairline and his teeth glint in the sunlight as a smile takes over his face, relief and excitement colors the air. Breaking the tension that bathed every interaction in the time of now.

“Bill, she’s the one I told you about!”

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[tomatoluvr69]

Brief check in re: Helene. TLDR I’m alive but my world has been upended and I’ll be off this website for awhile, even if I wanted to we barely have communications in our flood ravaged city. Don’t read this if you have any sort of disaster trauma I guess, I probably should’ve kept this shorter but it kind of got away from me. I may delete/edit later but I don’t really have the capacity for self censorship At the moment, i guess it was good for me to get some of it out stream of consciousness style? Lol idk guess I’m just using my blog as a blog. Anyways I lived bitch

Hi guys, thanks to the couple people who messaged me checking if I was ok, I don’t really have capacity or time to reply to them all, but I’m doing ok all things considered. Basically I live in Western North Carolina and our city has been utterly shattered by flooding after Hurricane Helene. We made it safely to Durham but we are going back tonight with a car full of mutual aid supplies like childrens medicine and chainsaw fuel and cooking oil. I don’t really have the words to describe what I’ve been going through, being cut off from all communications and information for days and have no way to reach your loved ones, to walk through a friend’s house to try to reach their water and food stash and look up at the tree in the ceiling, to stand on a railroad bridge and look down at an entire neighborhood swept away, to know that your family back home hasn’t heard from you in four days and has no way to know if you’re dead. Five people with one degree of separation to me drowned in flash floods, including two children. A college friend had his entire home swept down the river. It’s just all so uncertain. I cry at nothing. Wandering around unscathed Durham and watching people mow their lawns and go to brunch has been a surreal dream and I can’t believe I am going back. But we got some clean underwear, our first shower, and I even got my favorite taqueria order, a torta de lengua and Jesus Christ you can’t imagine how good that tasted

We’ve been without power for 10 days and the water is likely to be out for weeks, the groundwater people are using to drink and bathe may be contaminated by chemicals from manufacturing plants and you just have no way of knowing, and because the city’s water and septic systems were obliterated there is going to be untold amounts of human waste and waste-borne diseases threatening public health, we just don’t know yet. My brain and body have been wracked by it all, there are times when I am somewhere safe and feel mentally calm but note with this weird sense of detachment that my body is trembling. It’s just indescribable to have your city be unrecognizable and underwater, I’m really shaken. Before we got some texting capacity back, if your roommate just failed to come home one night, you had no way to know that she wasn’t killed out there. We will be without drinking water for weeks when all this is over but that’s peanuts compared to the cars you pass by with the search and rescue symbol for “we found a body here” painted on them.

All of which is just to say I’m alive but things are still very bad and I’ll be without reliable communication for the foreseeable future, not to mention no water, and so obviously I’ll be off here awhile. I’ll be back soon enough complaining about mundane inconveniences but frankly it’s difficult to even talk to anyone outside of Helene’s destruction, I’m going to be reeling for a long time. Don’t reblog this because I won’t have the capacity to monitor this post but I guess donate to the Asheville Survival Project if you have the inclination, that’s a way for people like me who are relatively unscathed to get direct needs like formula, insulin, underwear, and shelf stable goods directly into people’s hands who fared worse, without jumping through the impossible hoops of things like FEMA. But I’ll probably be stepping back from mutual aid stuff to support my best friend who is now responsible for arranging the burials of a family of four, including his friend/coworker and her two boys, whose upcoming wedding he was going to will now be their combined funeral date. It’s really insane out here and leaving the stability of Durham with its electricity, grocery stores, toilets, and internet is honestly a bit devastating. But weirdly it will also be a relief to be back in a place where the grimness in your heart is not at odds with your surroundings and you talk to people without preface, with dirty hair and dirty clothes and break down in tears in any given conversation with a stranger, if that makes sense? I also can’t really imagine evacuating cause that’d be incredibly jarring in a different way. It’s so hard to explain. I’m so irritable and angry and numb all the time. I’m yelling at the person who loves me most in the world, so many of the emotional issues I had before this exploded to a boiling point in shocking and unpredictable ways. I go around floating in a daze.

But I’m very, very lucky to be alive and none of my loved ones killed, I just don’t really know what the next few weeks will hold and if, like, cholera is gonna break out, or people I know will die of things like food allergies because they can’t get a new epipen. There’s absolutely no way to convey what this survivor’s guilt is like, of having survived through sheer random luck of the draw. And the things I have seen with my own eyes will never leave me, and the gruesome phone calls I sat with my friend as he received, with the trauma unfolding in waves as the family’s bodies were identified one by one, and all the graphic details we absorbed of the eyewitness account of their panicked attempts to escape the floodwaters before they were swept to TN. I did not witness it but I cannot shake it. I can’t go more than a few minutes before the phrases ring through my head again. And I work at a school and I have no way of finding out if all my students survived, because they are children without their own contact info, until the school is able to contact me with any deaths. That uncertainty is weighing tremendously on my shoulders right now and I can’t believe I’m sitting in a cafe and I still don’t know the extent of the death toll or if the kids I’ve known and worked with every day for so long we’re able to escape their homes.

I guess just keep Western NC in your thoughts, the devastation is going to take years to crawl back from, but also keep paying attention to Gaza, the trauma and devastation there is so much more unimaginable and this has given me a new perspective on what it’s like to watch from afar as people continue their lives while yours is unrecognizable. Idk how much longer I’m gonna have the capacity for mutual aid stuff here but I’m going to try. I may yet decide to evac, but you must understand this is my home and my community, and I want to be here to support my closest friend through this unimaginable loss, and the fact that he is responsible for arranging all four of their burials. Unless the city orders non essential personnel to leave then I will probably stay.

And there are of course moments of levity and fun, especially before we found out about the people, like breaking into a NC state extension agricultural experiment field and stealing some veggies off the vine, or cooking up big giant feasts of whatever we could save from the fridge.

I’ll check back in when I can and if any of you guys also live in southern Appalachia and need to be put in touch with aid I’ll check my DMs here when I can, we can get people out to you with whatever you need. But yeah just keep us in your thoughts I guess, things are still really bad. I’m going back to shop for more mutual aid stuff but then we’re leaving again but I’ll check in when the internet’s back I suppose

Eat a nice hot meal for me, don’t take ice cubes or your shower for granted, and watch something pretentious. xoxoxoxoxox ur favorite natural disaster survivor, tomato lover sixty nine

[darthmaulification]

Your stories are so detailed! I love them! ❤️ May I request Darth Maul x pregnant reader smut, where Maul can't resist pregnant reader? or something exploring Maul's breeding kink trying to get them pregnant? 👉👈 that'd be so hot 🔥💦

A/N: ... this has been sitting in my drafts for like... two months. oopsie. took a while on this one. 😶 but, y’know, life happens. 🙏😔

anywho, this is the dirtiest, nastiest, most extensive smut i’ve ever written, like good GOD, what have i written??? 😳 i blame you, anon, your thot was too damn SCANDALOUS. 🥵😈 had me BLUSHING writing my own darn tootin’ fic!!! 😳😖🥴😩💦💦

also, i kinda subscribe to the fanon (?) that dathomirian zabrak give their son’s names that mean violent, aggressive things (hence maul, savage, feral) so that’s why maul’s and reader’s son has the name he has, despite the fact he’s a literal sweetheart.

i hope y’all EAT with this one! PLEASE enjoy! 💗

content: DISGUSTANG smut, unprotected p in v sex, fingering (f receiving), pregnant sex, afab!fem!reader, established relationship (married 🥺), very domestic at the beginning, reader and maul have a son!!, pregnant!reader, reader is implied to be curvier too, maul’s my breeding kink really shows here, his pregnancy kink too lmao, also some goddess play? (is that a thing lol?), maul is also very service top in this, this fic is nothing but love in all forms it comes in

word count: 4,136 (jesus christ)

If someone had told you when you were younger and immature, that you’d be chasing a naked toddler around your home, you would have laughed at the absurdity. But here you are, finally gaining on your smiling, giggling like a madman three-year-old son, a tiny little boy whose way too fast for his age, and with far too much of his father’s influence in him. Not to mention he’s dripping wet, covered sporadically head to toe in bubbles, and, again, naked as the day he was born.

“Get over here, strawberry!” You attempt to coax the russet-skinned toddler back to you, clutching a fluffy towel in your hands. Of course, the sight of the towel only riles him up even more— because Ravage had determined very early on that bath time also means playtime— so he shoots off in the opposite direction, as quick as he can on his short, chubby legs, which is surprisingly fast. You groan, throwing your head back in mild exasperation.

It doesn’t help in the slightest that you’re currently seven months pregnant, and the extra weight of your second does not aid in making you a fast runner. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Maker, this child.” You sigh, shaking your head and setting up chase Ravage again, but before you go after the screaming, laughing toddler, Maul chooses that exact, perfect moment to return home, in all his shirtless glory. The opening of the door makes Ravage skid to a halt, almost tipping over, and when he sees his father in the doorway, his gummy smile positively beams and brightens his whole face.

“Dada!” He shrieks, careening towards Maul who grins and swoops Ravage into his arms when he reaches him. Ravage squeals, little hands immediately finding Maul’s face before he presses his little forehead against Maul’s chin. He goes almost silent, soft coos leaving his lips. Your husband hums, nuzzling the top of your son’s head gently in return, one of his hands rubbing Ravage’s back. The sight never ceases to make your heart swell with joy, how Maul so deeply adores your child and how Ravage gives it back.

“Did he escape the bath again?” Maul asks after a brief moment of quiet, walking fully into the house and closing the door behind him. The motion, for some reason, kicks Ravage into gear again and he starts babbling away, sticking one of his tiny fists into his mouth while also trying to “talk”. Maul strides over to you, taking in your disheveled, flushed appearance.

“Not quite.” You snort a laugh and shake your head, eyes rolling as the accursed memory of The Bath Incident briefly crosses your mind. Maul grins and passes over Ravage, who’s still speaking gibberish, but has calmed down enough to allow you to wrap him up in the towel. You adjust him in your arms, situating him above your baby bump, smiling warmly when he rests his head against the crook of your neck.

“He had the decency to bolt after I had pulled him out of the tub.” You reply, placing a soft kiss on the smooth crown of his head, and Ravage sighs happily when you do. You rub the little nubs on his head, where his horns are still only cartilage beneath the skin, in the way that makes him sleepy.

“How considerate of him.” Maul replies, smoothing a hand over Ravage’s head before his eyes drop downwards and he grins boyishly. He places a gentle yet firm hand on the swell of your belly, rubbing over your dress. Something in his eyes changes, in his whole demeanor for that matter, like a primal part of him rears it’s head. Like a fire that has gasoline thrown on it, flaring in intensity and heat.

You’ve seen it happen many times before during this pregnancy and your previous, and know exactly what very pleasurable end it leads to. It’s no secret to you of how Maul feels when you’re with child. A shiver goes down your spine, straight to your core.

“And what of this one, my love?” He asks, his voice just a tad huskier, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. It’s purposely slow and meant to be inviting, which you pick up instantly. Your lips curl up into a small grin in the kiss, and you part to see a mischievous look on Maul’s face. His pupils are dilated, not a whole lot, but enough that it’s noticeable.

“Oh, he’s been just fine. Active, as usual.” You murmur, letting Maul place a heavy, more heated kiss on your lips almost before you’ve even finished your sentence. You sigh into his mouth, happily letting your beloved husband to lay claim via the frenzied tongue. He shifts closer against you, which Ravage objects to with an indignant cry, and Maul parts from you.

“No kissing!” Ravage smacks a tiny palm on his father’s face, his face all furrowed with that anger that a toddler thinks they’re supposed to feel. Maul growls playfully and bites (very gently, of course) Ravage’s hand, which causes the baby to shriek with laughter. You pull away from Maul, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. 

“Okay, okay, no getting him too riled up. Besides...” You send a glance over your shoulder, a coquettish smile on your lips. 

“We need him to sleep. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” You wink and turn quickly enough so that Maul doesn’t have time to quip a reply, but slow enough that you see his eyes flash with lust. Almost giggling, you hastily make your way to Ravage’s bedroom to get him ready for bed and out of the way for the rest of the night.

~

Despite bath time being a special sort of chaos a majority of the time, Ravage is far more willing to go to sleep easily. You peck his forehead, then pepper his tiny horn nubs all over in kisses, and then nuzzle his scarlet cheeks. Ravage is half-asleep, but awake enough to rub his eyes and smile up at you. He purrs lightly, hands gripping your forearm.

“Good night, baby boy.” You coo softly, cupping his face with your hand, fingers tracing the swooping black tattoo on his crown. Of course, Ravage is not actually tattooed, he is far too young and his skin is much too sensitive. Instead, Ravage is decorated like his father by a highly pigmented dye that stains the skin until he’s old enough to get inked. You kiss him one last time, on his chin, where the stain nearest his lips is beginning to fade.

“I love you so much, my sweet.” You murmur, pulling away from your baby which is always hard, but feels like it’s so much harder with all the pregnancy hormones that you’re dealing with. Placing a hand on your belly, you carefully rise so that you don’t disturb Ravage who’s practically asleep. You’ve never been much of a nervous person, but you keep your eye on him the entire time you walk to the door, and then some. Maul waits for you, having observed the whole time.

“He’ll be there in the morning, my dear.” Maul’s low voice is teasing, but it’s also laced with a genuine comfort. You feel the need to bite your lip, apprehensive about tearing your eyes from Ravage, but Maul’s hands pulling you against him breaks the spell. You wrap your arms around him, relishing in the warmth that emits from him in waves. If motherhood had made you one thing, it was being overly wary.

“He’s so perfect... How is he three years old already?” You ask quietly, resting your head against Maul’s bare shoulder. Your eyes glance over to your son, who’s sleeping so peacefully and quietly you want the moment to last forever. He looks so warm and safe and happy... Words cannot describe how satisfying motherhood feels. It feels like Ravage was still a newborn yesterday.

“I wonder that myself...” Maul starts, “Though, my dear, you’ll have another baby in your arms soon enough.”

You giggle softly, letting Maul pull you in close to him, as far as you still can that is. He reaches past you to pull the bedroom door shut as his face leans in, lips locking with yours to kiss you fervently, deeply. You moan softly into his mouth as his warm, moving tongue claims you, and you wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss for a few moments longer before Maul pulls back, leaving you catching your breath.

“Have I told you how stunning you look?” He asks, voice lilting with a curious sort of brazenness, playfully searching for an answer. You hum, eyes heavy lidded, tracing with a single finger the sloping tattoo on Maul’s collar bone. He meets your gaze, molten gold eyes just as hazy as yours.

“Yes... though I may need to hear it again.” You murmur, brushing your lips against the softer skin of his cheek, practically purring with delight when Maul’s hand slips, and he grabs your ass. You giggle breathily when he squeezes, smiling still when his mouth is on yours again.

“You glow, my beautiful wife, especially when there is a babe ripe in your womb.” Maul almost hisses those last words, and you whimper when the feeling of his growing erection pokes against your thigh. The wetness between your legs seems to grow tenfold, you feel drenched with liquid warm slick. Maul kisses you again, his other hand going to palm the swell of your belly, and you tremble at the vibration his groan sends into your mouth.

“Fuck, if only I could keep you like this.” He growls lowly, hand cupping your belly, and he’s emboldened by his own words, kissing you forcefully. You whimper, hands gripping him as he rocks his body into yours, grinding you lightly against the closed door behind you.

“T-To the bedroom, please.” You sigh desperately, clinging to your husband, and he chuckles lowly, eagerly, and he secures his arm around your waist to pull you in the direction of your shared room. He keeps kissing you along the way, making your knees almost give out on you with each heated, passionate one. By the time the door’s been opened, you’re quivering so intensely with need that Maul takes it upon himself to lift you into his arms and walk you to the bed.

Thankful for his strength, you sigh happily when he places you down on the soft mattress, the relief in your lower back and feet almost as intoxicating as the arousal the bubbles inside you. Maul keeps himself at the end of the bed, where he watches you like a vulture, watches as you scoot back against the mountain of pillows that you have accumulated over the duration of your pregnancies.

“Please, my love, give me a show.” He speaks, eyes dilating further until his golden yellow hues are nearly eclipsed by the inky blacks of his pupils. Your face burns with a slightly embarrassed blush, because it sometimes still evades you as to why Maul is seemingly so captivated by your pregnant form, but you’re so needy and hot, that your dress simply needs to come off.

“Okay. For you.” You whisper, eyes not leaving Maul as you reach up to unclasp the button at the top of your dress, then the one below it, and the one after that. Maul watches as your cleavage becomes more and more revealed, then as your breasts simple spill from the confines of your bodice, too heavy for the loosening fabric. Then he watches as you reach around to your back to untie the ribbon that holds your skirt, watches as the fabric slacks on your swollen belly.

You grow more and more aroused as you watch Maul almost drool as you shimmy your hips to pull your dress from your body, moaning softly when his hips suddenly seize when the fabrics fall to reveal your baby bump, your newly outie belly button, and the darkened line below it. With one last shift of your hips, and kick of your dress falls from the bed, and leaves you bare to your bristling husband.

“You look like the Winged Goddess herself.” Maul finally growls, taking in the entire sight of you, flushed and sweaty and pregnant, sprawl like a queen on her throne of pillows. The compliment sends a shiver down your spine and you whimper from arousal. It wasn’t often, being this heavily pregnant, that you felt sexy, so irresistible. But from the way Maul’s honey gaze burns across your body, how he studies your swollen belly and heavy breasts with nothing but adoration and lust, you can only think this is what it feels like to be worshipped.

Maul doesn’t only tell you he thinks you look like a goddess, he makes you one.

And Maker, Maul is horny. He’s staring at you intensely, like a wild animal about to pounce yet contained by straining patience. His hips rut the air, like his cock is searching for the hot, wet, holy place you have to offer for it’s sanctuary. Maul’s shoulders rise with the steady heaves of his chest, nostrils flaring with each exhale. Rarely does he have this type of patience, but tonight you are his temple, and he’ll treat you with reverence.

“Come, then. Give your goddess tribute.” You coo, voice a tad shaky from need, spreading your meaty thighs deliciously wide as you open your arms to him. No sooner does the invitation leave your lips as Maul leaps onto the bed, stalking up to you on all fours, looking like a hungry wolf. His golden eyes drop from your face to your dripping, swollen pink pussy, and something absolutely ragged flashes in them.

“My Goddess, I am going to ravish you.” And Maul’s lips are on yours in a deeply passionate kiss that steals away all of you in it. His tongue pushes past your lips and he tastes like heaven, and you moan, eyes closing. Maul hastens the kiss almost frantically, sucking at your mouth like he’s drinking a nectar. All of your moans and gasps are swallowed by him, and Maul pulls more and more from you. You reach and grab his shoulders, gripping at the thick muscle of his neck, nails biting into his skin.

Maul finally pulls away, breaking the kiss with a loud, wet pop and his absence is agonizing. Panting, his eyes scan your face, soaking up your dazed expression, red cheeks, and raw lips. He grins and leans back in to kiss you again, brief and light this time, before he starts to leave kisses along your jaw, leading down your neck. You sigh happily when Maul sucks mark against your throat, hands roaming his sculpted shoulders and upper back.

“Maul...” You whine his name, one of your feet crossing over his calf, beckoning him closer. Maul allows you to reel him in, arching over you and anchoring himself with his arms. Just barely, feather-light, his toned stomach brushes against the crest of your encarpous middle, a reminder that he’s the one who put the baby there. Maul nuzzles your neck, his chuckling sending small vibrations into the soft skin.

“My love...” Maul murmurs, one hand raising to cup your breast as his lips travel lower, “My Goddess, you are perfection.”

He squeezes your tit, which causes you to cry out from the explosion of pleasure that ensues. Maul knows they’re tender, knows they’re overly sensitive, and he knows all of this as his fingers tweak your darkened nipple, reducing you to panting shrieks. He rolls your weighty breast in his hand and locks his lips around the nipple of the other, swirling his tongue around it. You squeal and arch your back, one hand holding Maul’s head against your chest to urge him to not stop.

“Maul, Maul!” You chant his name, almost weeping when his hand leaves your breast, flattening against your side to knead at the plush flesh of your hip. Maul hums, uses his knee to further spread your thighs, and dips his hand below to tease his finger tips around your soaked pussy. You whimper when he traces your pulsing slit, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive bud that sits at the apex of your womanhood.

“Mm... you are drenched, my Goddess.” He groans, pushing two of his fingers into you which has you tossing your head back, mouth agape. It’s all stars and fireworks, so quickly and easily thanks to your over-sensitivity due to pregnancy, and the way Maul curls his fingers just right has the coil in you tighten. Maul sucks at your nipple, rolls his fingers again inside you, and it only takes the pad of his thumb, which comes to swirl over your clit only once, that has you undone.

“Maul!~” You weep his name, shaking and stiffening all at once as your first orgasm ripples through you like aftershocks of an earthquake. It’s all so sudden that even Maul seems pleasantly surprised, unlatching from your breast to look down between your legs where his crimson hand glistens with your release. He pulls his fingers from you, marveling at the way your cunt clenches, more of your nectar oozing from it.

“A bit premature, hm?” He teases, kissing your breasts and collar as he gives you a few moments to recover from the world-shattering climax. You shake your head, panting, hairs stuck to your forehead by the sheen of sweat that coats your entire body. You feel so hot, overheated, and wanting him— needing his thick, ribbed cock and his heavy balls and all his virile cum within them.

“Please, my love, please.” You beg, hands smoothing over his shoulders, gliding to massage his biceps, pulling him closer. All you want is him, you need him, your pussy aches for him. And Maul delivers, seeing how you’re already half gone, and in one delicious, pleasing thrust of his hips, he sinks his hard cock into your wet heat.

You shriek and he groans loudly, the simultaneous sensations of your clenching, quivering vagina and his spear-like dick jumps the both of you very near your ends. Maul pulls back his hips to snap them forward, going lost in his wild eyes briefly, and repeats the motion, slow but hard. You hardly have the awareness to breathe, so lost as Maul hits the gummy nodes of your cervix with each rock of his hips, the ridges of his cock dragging against the velvety walls of your cunt.

“F-Fa—Faster.” Drool escapes the corner of your lips with the weakly uttered plea you barely manage to convey. He obliges, just as lost as you, and his hips pull back to slam in quickly, repeating over and over, jostling your body with purpose and force. It feels like it knocks the wind from you, and you hold onto Maul like he’s your lifeline, weeping moans against his neck. His head dips against the crook of your shoulder, mindful of his horns, and he pants against your flushed skin.

“Love seeing you pregnant.” Maul grunts, lips worrying a dark mark into your neck that he seals with a small nip. You keen, hips unconsciously tilting more so his cock continues to hit that place just right, that you can take him even deeper. That tender place makes you see stars, the pleasure electrifying you to your bones, making you curl your toes into the sheets. Your pussy clenches, and Maul groans, thrusting with conviction like a bull in rut. The sound of his hips snapping wetly against yours filling the air, each thrust makes your thighs and hips jiggle.

“Wan—ugh, Want to keep you fat with child.” Scarlet and charcoal hands run up the hill of your belly to cup your breasts from below. Maul squeezes them, beckoning beads of milk to form at your nipples, and you cry out, moaning wantonly and uninhibited by now. Your eyes squeeze shut as the coil grows taut in your core once more, tighter and tighter with each snap of his hips. Maul growls out some incomprehensible sentence, snarling into your neck, where he bites again, then kisses and licks.

“S-So beautiful... tits full of milk... c-crowded, stuffed belly.” It’s all choked out in between grunts that get louder and louder until Maul is a mess of heaving groans. Your airy moans clash in the air with his snarling, Maul bites at your neck, your shoulder, lightly gnawing on you like he’s desperate for your taste. He thrusts into you like a jackhammer, bouncing you on his cock and rocking your entire body.

You mind goes blank, and the knot inside you snaps, sending you into the oblivion of a small death that shakes you to your core. It leaves you wide-eyed and moth hanging open, your puffy entrance spilling your wet release all over your inner thighs, the bed, and soaking Maul’s cock that still pulls in and out of you.

The rhythmic rocking of your body could have lulled you asleep, had it not been the soaring pleasure of your orgasm keeping you awake. It fades steadily, allowing the cloud that has blinded your mind dissipate as you regain consciousness, eyelids fluttering as you bask in the tingling of your climax, the wetness between your legs and under your butt, and Maul’s sturdy, warm flesh.

It’s all so much, so perfect, so wonderfully passionate.

He moans when your cunt grips him like a vice as he fucks you through your orgasm, pulling his head from your shoulder to lay wet kisses on your panting lips and tear-streaked face. You hadn’t even realized you’d actually cried from the pleasure until Maul dutifully laps away any remaining tears before he kisses down your neck to lick away the milk that’s leaked from your breasts as well, making you sigh.

His pace slows, hips stuttering once, then twice, and he too finishes with a loud groan, pelvis flush against yours as he spills thick, sticky ropes of cum directly to your womb. The feeling of the spreading warmth pulls you further back to reality, grounding you with it’s primal, natural familiarity. You hum, rubbing Maul’s tense back with your hands as he stays locked to you for a good thirty seconds, just letting him spill everything he has into you.

Near the end, he says your name like a desperate prayer, all choked, all wretched from his throat. And he says it again once his cock’s finished, the last few spurts of cum leaving him, and this time it is said with nothing but satisfaction, content, and love. He kisses your breasts a few more times, his hands rubbing your hips, before he lifts his eyes to meet yours.

“I love you.” Maul says, his eyes as bright and as serious as the sun, and you smile broadly, if not a bit loopy and sleepy too. You cup his cheek, thumb resting on the curved line of the tattoo on his cheekbone. One of Maul’s hands go to tuck your sweaty hair behind your ear, the other plants itself firmly beside you so that Maul can anchor himself above you. His softening cock rests nestled inside you, he arches over you like a protective ceiling of red and black loving flesh and blood, and he kisses you like your the personification of all that is good and holy.

“I love you.” He says again, and it makes your heart sing. The air around you and Maul buzzes with the dewy afterglow of sex, feeling as though it lights your dimly lit bedroom a brighter, gentle orange. Maul sighs deeply into the kiss and pulls out from you, and you sigh when you feel his release steadily seep from you like glistening honey off the comb. He still kisses you as he moves from atop you to your side, haphazardly grabbing a blanket to pull over you both.

As you both kiss and situate yourselves into bed, spent and exhausted, you don’t mind that tonight he doesn’t leave to get cloth to clean you up, or that you’re falling asleep sticky and wet, and that tomorrow you’ll have to clean the sheets and probably the mattress too. No, tonight you only think of Maul, soak in all of the love and adoration you feel come from him, and reciprocate it when he pulls you to him, spooning you from behind, wrapped securely by his strong arms.

“I love you, too.” You whisper to Maul in the darkness, eyes closed, your fingers searching to lace with his, both of your hands then resting atop the baby that grows inside you. He hums, kisses the back of your neck, and you fall asleep feeling happy, tranquil, and loved.

[drwcn]

Hi! I hope you are doing okay with all the discourse going around. Im white and raised in a very white society so i will never have a say in it, but i was wondering, is there any way i can educate myself more in asian/chinese culture? Im aware i consume content thru western lens and because of that i dont really get all the nuances of the shows, but i would like to have at least some backround. Im guessing just watching the shows doesnt give enough of that, can you maybe reccommend some blogs or books to check out? (If you dont thats totally fine and im sorry if i said anything offensive)

Hey friend! Not offensive at all, no worries. Honestly, I’m not too sure. I think just keeping an open mind about things is a really good start. I’m not really sure which blogs to recommend but if I could recommend some dramas? Since it’s probably easier to watch a show then read a book?

《The Story of Minglan》 is a good one to sort of parse out the intricacy of historical Chinese society in the Song Dynasty, keeping in mind that different dynasties have different practices, so even amongst different time periods there were differences. 《The Story of Yanxi Palace》 is another good one for Qing Dynasty (circa 1740s) if you wanna get into imperial harem stuff. (Or you can watch 《甄嬛传》 or 《如懿传》 for harem stuff. I just think The Story of Yanxi Palace is the most palatable, most aesthetic, and most fun out of the three. The other two are kinda tragic?) There are other dramas but I feel they’re not as... accessible?

Chinese historical dramas come in 3 flavours: serious dramas, idol dramas, and those that ride the fence. What I mean by idol drama is...everyone in it is young and hot and the writing is eh and the acting is eh. More often then not there’s a lot of modern elements to it. The Untamed is so popular because it’s idol drama done really well.  (xianxia and wuxia genre used to be more quality when I was a kid, but now they’re kind of ehhhh.) I would say Minglan and Yanxi are both successful because they ride the fence. 

On the other hand, serious historical drama has A LOT of politics and can be quite dry especially if you’re watching it through half-assed subtitles. The actors typically are more seasoned, older. People jokingly say that idol drama is what mom watches and serious drama is what dad watches, and honestly given my parents’ tv habits...it’s pretty accurate 😂.

Some really well known ones from the past 20 years are: 

The 《铁齿铜牙纪晓岚》 series 1-4. I would only recommend part 1-2, 3-4 are not as great. This one has quite a bit of humour but it might fly over your head a bit because of the language barrier. The story surrounds a well known government official and scholar named Ji Xiaolan  纪晓岚, his frenemy and colleague the (EXTREMELY corrupt) prime minister He Shen, and the Emperor Qianlong. For better or worse these three are depicted as both liege and subjects as well as friends. Trying to see Ji Xiaolan and He Shen one up each other while Qianlong tries to balance his court and rule the country is quite interesting. I won’t pretend this is an easy series to follow, but it’s actually quite fun. 

《汉武大帝》 - is about Hanwu Emperor of the Han Dynasty circa 150 BC? He’s one of the most famous emperors of distant history. It’s basically about the course of his life and the many people that featured in it. 

《大明王朝 》- my memories of this one is very vague, but it is about the Ming Dynasty (the dynasty before the Qing Dynasty c. 1500,1600.) 

《The Advisors Alliance 军事联盟》-  2017 two-part television series based on the life of Sima Yi, a government official and military general who lived in the late Eastern Han dynasty and Three Kingdoms period of China. circa 150 AD. 

As a side note, a lot of serious dramas for a while now have been focused on the Qing Dynasty, just because it’s the last imperial dynasty before Imperial China fell into decline, WWI and WWII ravaged the country and communism happened. Even a lot of idol drama are about the Qing Dynasty (I feel like I should do a post about this, just to string things together haha). 

So for the Qing Dynasty, because they are Manchurian, their last name is Aisin Gioro or in Chinese Aixin Jueluo 爱新觉罗. Their earlier emperors are much more well known than their later ones and have been the focus of MANY dramas. (You’ll notice their names in the beginning spell very different than the Chinese names you’re used to, but once they take over China, the emperors’ names start to become more and more mainland Chinese and less and less Manchurian.) 

Nu’er Hachi 努尔哈赤/ Nurhaci - The granddaddy of Qing Dynasty, but was never officially Emperor of China during his life time. 

Huang Taiji 皇太极 - Nurhaci’s oldest son. He led the campaign against the Ming Dynasty but died before the campaign was over 

Fulin 福林, Emperor Shunzhi 顺治 - Huang Taiji’s 9th son. He is the real first Emperor of the Qing Dynasty. His uncle Duo’Ergun 多尔衮/ Dorgon was his regent as well as his commander-in-chief. Dorgon was the one who won the war against the Ming Dynasty and instated his nephew as the Emperor. Fulin was 6 years old when this happened, and now you may wonder why the fuck is that? It’s because Fulin’s mother, Huang Taijii’s widowed concubine Consort Zhuang (name: pu’erji-jite bumubutai  (pinyin) 博爾濟吉特 布木布泰/ Bumbutai Borjigit, Da-Yu’er 大玉儿) remarried her brother-in-law Dorgon. Whether Bumbutai and Dorgon were actually in love is....contestable. Certainly one of my favourite serious dramas that depict this part of history is《大青风云》. 

Xuanye 玄燁, Emperor Kangxi 康熙 - Fulin’s third son. Very famous. Very long reign. Serious drama associated 《康熙微服私访记》， 《康熙王朝》

Yinzhen 胤禛, Emperor Yongzheng 雍正 - Xuanye's 4th son. His reign was highly contested because some ppl believed he forged the succession document. It’s probably not true. He was an efficient emperor but very austere, very severe. Not well liked. The best serious drama about him is probably 《雍正王朝》and the aforementioned《甄嬛传》. The former is 100% politics and a fictional re-telling of historical events whereas the latter is 100% harem drama and 100% made up. 《步步惊心》is an idol drama about a girl who transmigrated back to this time and fell in love with Yinzhen. Lol. 

Hongli 弘历, Emperor Qianlong 乾隆 - Yinzhen’s 4th son. I think he’s the longest living/reigning emperor of Chinese history. SOOOOO many dramas were made about him or set in his reign. Of the serious drama category:  《铁齿铜牙纪晓岚》 that I mentioned earlier is really good. There are others but I won’t name them here.  《如懿传》 is a serious drama about his harem, but really terrible? I really didn’t like it (just my personal view). Incidentally it was released around the same time as《The Story of Yanxi Palace 延禧攻略》which is also about his harem and MUCH better in my opinion, because the actor for Hongli in Yanxi is much better skills-wise. 《还珠格格》was the OG idol drama about Hongli’s children. I gave a brief synopsis about it here. It was made in the 90s but damn...so nostalgic. 

There’s many more emperors after him, but they’re not as important. 

Okay yeah, so I’m not sure if any of this is really helpful, but definitely watching serious drama gives you much better context and understanding of Chinese culture than idol drama. I mean when the drama has flying and magic...the historical relevance sort of falls to the side. 🤣

ADDENDUM: I made a typo earlier. Fulin is Huang Taiji’s 9th son, not Nurhaci’s son. Also Abahai is Huang Taijii’s mother’s name (wikipedia lied to me on this one XD). 

[graffitibible]

Do you think zones and battery cities exist outside the US, like all around the world?

i’ve thought a lot about this, actually! in the universe i’m building for “pray for disaster,” there’s a lot of world history that goes hand in hand with character histories, stuff like that. the specifics of the dates are still in a mild state of flux (which is to say that since a lot of works are in progress i don’t want to canonize something that i’ll have to contradict later) but i do have a basic layout for the progression of world events and thus the layout of what the hell happened in places that aren’t california.

so the lore we get from canon occasionally conflates the helium wars with the analog wars; for my part, i choose to separate them out but maintain that there’s a bit of overlap. the helium wars were a global war, a global struggle that involved multiple countries, including the US. the analog wars were more akin to a civil war that took place specifically between the zones in california and battery city. i’ve got a timeline i use to keep my version of canon from contradicting itself; in it, the americas only lasted in the helium wars up until around the early-to-mid 1990s. by then, bli had a well-established presence in the area, particularly in california (possibly since the 70s or 80s). by the time the americas drop out of the helium wars, those countries have more or less been dissolved as entities. the “may death never stop you” trailer states that battery city is the capital for what remains of all the americas, so it’s very possible that a union or republic or coalition was made of the north, south, and central america regions - not just the US. but that would’ve essentially been little more than a front for the corporatocracy that Better Living quickly establishes.

we’re going to focus on the US (or what’s left of it) since that’s what you were asking about. in the “may death never stop you” trailer we get a brief look at what the country that used to be the US looks like now, and those definitely aren’t your ordinary state lines. california got to remain as is, but the rest of the states weren’t so lucky. dr. death defying’s listening party mentions “losing texas,” due to some kind of massive explosion or bomb blast, so to say that battery city is capital of what remains of the americas like the “may death never stop you” trailer suggests sounds accurate. i imagine large swathes of this territory have become borderline unlivable.

so, what’ve we got here in what’s left of the US? i count seven distinct territories of what used to be the states, though the gridded view makes it hard to be 100% sure of that. still, it looks like seven so right now i’m going with seven. my name scheme for them (so far) boils down thusly, keying to the way i numbered them in the screenshot i took above:

california (CA) - got to remain as is, with battery city as its capital. since it’s the smallest territory on the map i think that it might actually have the largest amount of livable surface area, which means that the US is, environmentally speaking, not doing so hot as a whole. this is important.

utah (UT) - the territory to the immediate right of california. both the transmissions and dr. death defying mention the “battle of utah,” so i assume that utah got to keep its state name (though not its state borders).

wyoming (WY) - the territory immediately above california and (new) utah.

new carolina (NC) - that whole southern region that includes texas and florida, basically. it’s the biggest in terms of surface area but also significantly lower in population considering how little of the territory is actually habitable by now, since a bomb or calamity with the power to wipe out texas is going to leave a hell of an environmental scar on the surrounding territories.

new dakota (ND) - the area between the great lakes and wyoming.

new virginia (NV) - lower east coast, just beneath the great lakes.

new maine (NM) - the upper east coast, to the right of the great lakes.

so, swinging back around to your initial query - i don’t think that the rest of the US follows the model that california sets specifically. i think that since battery city is deemed to be the capital of what remains of the americas, it’s unique - and i think that’s what made it such a target for rebellion in the first place. battery city is the capital of all the americas now, which means that it’s probably where a lot of BLi’s power is stored. the comics all but outright state this: in dismantling battery city, the main characters seek to dismantle BLi.

so the analog wars are, based on what i can discern from the canon we get, the name for the struggle between better living industries and those who oppose them - aka, killjoys. outside battery city, there are six zones (at least in the era of the music videos; dr. death’s twitter mentions zones 1 - 6, though the comics later imply that there are at least seven zones. for our purposes, we’re going to look at this from the perspective of the mv eras). we don’t know what’s beyond those six zones - only that there is a world outside of them.

now, better living is absurdly powerful. they’re a megacorporation. they literally own death. the rebellion happening outside their city walls isn’t something they want to see continue - by the comics era, it’s clear that BLI wants to see the killjoys thoroughly eradicated from both the surface of the world and the public consciousness. yet despite their seemingly infinite resources, they can’t seem to wipe them out.

now this is very much theoretical (i mean much of this response is purely conjecture lol) but i think that might be because there literally isn’t a way of accessing battery city from outside the zones, or at least not an easy one that battery city can exploit. i think that battery city and the zones have been extremely isolated thanks to…whatever’s out past zone six/zone seven. severe radiation? possibly, though i don’t think it’s due to bomb blasts - most radiation from nuclear weaponry won’t linger for longer than two weeks. long-term health effects will linger, but immediate death isn’t going to be what kills you in that scenario unless you don’t shelter from the blast and remain in shelter for something like 48 hours after it hits. i think it’s more likely that it’s some mass damage to parts of the ozone in the area around the zones, which means that showers of mass amounts of UV radiation can be hugely detrimental in the short term and long term depending on how much of it there is, and way more likely to be a long-lasting status effect in the physical area than something like nuclear fallout.

so, from there i speculate that the establishment of the zones might have been a deliberate means of isolating battery city from the rest of the world. this could have been on the part of the killjoys, if it meant that battery city wouldn’t be getting reinforcements or wouldn’t be capable of contacting other BLI cities for help through the environmental interference. this also could have been on the part of battery city itself, to keep the rebellion from spreading to other parts of the world, to keep those pesky killjoys from leaking their ideology into other territories. it could honestly go either way! both sides would have a reason to do it, and it would certainly explain why the struggle in the mvs and comics feels so centralized in that singular location.

so no, to answer your question, not exactly. i think the zones and battery city are a pretty unique situation and i think that’s very possibly a result of battery city being the beacon of BLi’s power that it’s outright stated to be in the comics. but also that’s just me! 

i think it’s also incredibly likely that the rest of the americas might have similar situations going on, but in isolation from the rest - we get very little insight into what the rest of the world is doing (other than australia apparently disappearing completely in 2019), so it’s really honestly up in the air. i don’t think it’s a corporate mandate that all cities and territories be surrounded by concentric circles of zones, for example, but i do think it’s very likely that another city in another part of what used to be the states is grappling with a very similar resistance and in relative isolation from the rest of the world. we’re talking about a large expanse of territory that had huge chunks taken out of it in the wars that ravaged the landscape, like the literal size of texas in scope. if the surface of what used to be the US is that cratered by war, i think it’s very likely that there are a few habitable cities scattered throughout the americas, these little bastions of civilization that are all owned and operated by BLi. and while i don’t think every territory surrounding those cities would follow the “zone” model, it’s worth wondering what a rebellion in another city would look like, if it’s not surrounded by a desert soaked in radiation. like, what about any cities situated near the great lakes? if those lakes are still there, i’m just putting it out there that “secret underwater killjoy city” is totally possible as long as it wasn’t engineered by andrew ryan

[lunararcher]

SPOILERS FOR TALES OF ARCADIA!

Seriously though!! ALL the spoilers, up through Wizards!

Because have I got a RANT for you about some FREAKING CONTINUITY! It’s...kinda long. Proceed below the break at your own risk.

So, we have info on the past Trollhunters from the show (mostly Trollhunters and Wizards, though we get a peek in 3Below at Kanjigar as the Trollhunter REALLY early on in the Trollmarket settlement, though no specific date) as well as some comics, which gives us all kinds of good stuff like Trollhunter names and species and personalities and when they served and all that! Trying to make a combination of these coherent, though...kind of ruins a proper timeline, especially because of Wizards. Actually, mostly because of Wizards. THAT tells us that Deya was the FIRST Trollhunter because Merlin had only JUST finished creating the Amulet, right?

WELL

Even discounting ANY of the alternate materials and only pulling from the show (which is all I’ve seen, actually. Haven’t read the comics, just heard of them, so my observations are almost purely show-based) this doesn’t really make any sense. AT ALL. See, because Gunmar’s war had been going on for a long long time, right? Before Killahead ended it (sort of). And Trollhunters were there to protect good trolls from just such a thing. A great many died in this service, while none could defeat Gunmar. Kanjigar even SAID that the blade of Daylight has fought Gunmar many times, but has never beaten him. If you look at the Wizards timeline, though, Deya apparently got the Amulet first, fought Gunmar in her very first battle with it, then successfully banished him and all the rest of the Gumm-Gumms (except for dearly departed-by-YEET Bular) into the Darklands via Killahead. So...if Deya really WAS the actual first Trollhunter (which no one SAYS until Wizards, they just say she’s the GREATEST) then it wouldn’t be true that Daylight has fought Gunmar many times; it didn’t even fight him TWICE.

(Also, remember that time or twenty when Draal said he’s waited his whole LIFE to be worthy of the Amulet? But then we see him as a grown-ass adult the first time the Amulet is ever even mentioned?)

I mean, this doesn’t even GO INTO Angor Rot’s origin, in which the war was ravaging his village and people so badly and for so long that he became MADLY desperate for the power to protect them, going to a Morgana who was already well-known as The Pale Lady, Baba Yaga, and all the rest of that jazz, but was NOT YET sealed away by Merlin (or Douxie, as the case may be). Then she goes on to command Angor to kill Merlin’s champions, the Trollhunters. All this while Gumm-Gumms are still on the loose. So...either the Amulet was already made, Trollhunters were a thing, and she’s super salty about Merlin taking her left hand for the project, leading to her vengeance motive to sic Angor on the whole lot of them OR, she, like, knew that was GOING to be a thing and wanted to take really extreme preemptive action? If we are to believe Wizards, even Merlin didn’t know he was gonna need Morgana’s hand to finish the amulet and her self-proclaimed hatred of Trollhunters didn’t crystalize until AFTER that. 

All of that to say, look, I get why Wizards did what it did. They wanted to put all of that wonderfully juicy backstory stuff into the time frame when our protagonists could be there to see it. The falling out of Merlin and Morgana (and actually seeing THAT gave us the chance to see Morgana pre-Dark Side, opening up a path to redemption for her via Claire), the creation of the Amulet, the Battle of Killahead Bridge, the first Trollhunter, not necessarily in that order. Those are all really cool things and yes, I am kind of glad we got to see them because they WERE all very cool. I just kind of wish they had been more creative with, like, visions of the past and such to make it happen, instead of trying to cram all of those historically significant events into the period of only, what? A few days? Doing that just massively screwed up their own established timeline. Dropping four modern-day people into the middle of all that is NOT excuse enough to say they messed it all up.

Holy crap, I just wondered if the way to fix all of this would have been to throw different characters into different parts of the past. Douxie WAY the heck back to when Merlin first creates the amulet (using non-show material now, it’s mentioned that Spar the Spiteful was Trollhunter 5200 years before Jim, so that puts him at something like 3180-ish BCE. That’s, like, *brief messy Google search* just before the *squints* first dynasty of Egypt? Apparently? Okay, that’s a little...MUCH, but you get what I mean) and then jumping forward until he meets up with Claire, who is in the past of Camelot for that meeting with not-evil Morgana, but then Jim and Steve not quite so far back being set in the time leading up to Killahead, making the two mages present for the fall of Morgana, then Douxie having to sacrifice himself or something to throw Claire forward in time to meet up with the other boys, Douxie just having to catch up by living his immortal wizard life or something. Meanwhile, Jim and Steve have their own adventure (how cool would it be to introduce Angor HERE and give Jim the chance to keep him away from his super tragic fate? Maybe doesn’t fit great, though) and Jim STILL gets to know Calysta before she becomes a Trollhunter (she’s just not the first; that milestone wouldn’t change anything about her story, really) and in the end everyone STILL participates in the Battle of Killahead. Because as far as I can remember, there isn’t anything that dates that battle, right? Nothing said it HAD to be in the 12th century, unlike the Morgana nonsense, because THAT’S all part of the Arthurian legend and is pretty well fixed in history.

So why do I even care? Because I wanna write a fic from the perspective of the Trollhunters in the Void giving commentary on the events of the show. Because I think it would be funny. ESPECIALLY from the perspective of Deya having already met Jim, but not necessarily recognizing him right away, so writing her ah-HA moment is gonna be a highlight, lol! This is NOT helped by canon firmly ignoring the question of what kind of time-altering path they were gonna take, but I’m ignoring that for the sake of light-hearted fic writing. 

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Back from being out of town SO: Cyberverse Season 2 episode 7, 8 and 9 watch!

SO MANY EPISODES CAME OUT WHILE I WAS OUT OF TOWN, THAT WAS SO CRUEL!!!!

Cyberverse 7!

MACCADAM!!!! OMG OMG HES FINALLY BACK

OH NO ITS THE MEGAOP BREAKUP SCENE 

oh nevermind, it’s just breakup scene #513214

I wonder what Megatron asked Optimus to do :O

Optimus: I just cant seem to make progress on these peace talks Maccadam: That sucks. Aren’t my drinks AWESOME? Optimus: yeah....

Aw Maccadam has such a cute smile. It’s really nice to see someone giving Optimus advice, usually he’s the designated dad of the group. Glad he has some support in this continuity!

OHOHO THEY’RE GONNA WORK TOGETHER TO BRING DOWN STARSCREAM

Man I frickin love it when Megatron and Optimus are forced to work together against a “greater evil”

Also: I love that Optimus is still so full of hope for that “one success” even though he’s failed so many times. Good characterization

I really love the animation style in Cyberverse. Also that Opening is STILL incredible, I can’t get enough of that (but oh Starscream, buddy, yellow is not your color)

Starscream, petting a Scraplet: Don’t you recognize her? This was the great Solus Prime! Slipstream: Can I PLEASE go home Starscream: Wait I’m not finished showing you my bug collection

“This is the noble Megatronus!” hrGHHH WHY DOES THAT MAKE MY HEART ACHE

The Seekers have only one brain cell and clearly Slipstream is the only one in possession of it

Soundwave: Together? That’s ridi— Megatron: *raises an arm to silence him* Me: HOW DARE YOU SHUSH MY BOY

The way Megatron says “let us discuss” while leaning forward makes me cautiously suspicious, but also I wonder if Megatron is as anxious to come to an agreement with Optimus as Optimus is with him, in his own way...

Shadow Striker’s surveillance got blocked by Prowl’s massive chest lmaooooo

Shadow Striker has such a good voice, I KNOW I MENTION THE VA’s IN EVERY LIVEBLOG BUT MAN!!! CYBERVERSE HAS SUCH GREAT VOICE ACTORS

It’s so tragic that Bumblebee and Rodimus are utterly indifferent to the peace talks because they happen so frequently and always fall through :( yet again, good way of showing without getting into too much detail. I admire the way cyberverse tells their stories

OMG SOUNDWAVE AND WINDBLADE ARE ABOUT TO GO AT IT

Grimlock: quit staring at me Shockwave: illogical Grimlock: I’LL SHOW YOU ILLOGICAL GUYS PLS lmao that cracks me up, they sound like CHILDREN

Lmao @ Megatron yelling at them all, “LEAVE ME ALONE IM TRYING TO TALK TO MY EX”

tfw you’re trying to make up with your ex but your disaster children have absolutely zero chill

OH GOOD SLIPSTREAM IMMEDIATELY WENT TO THE MOST COMPETENT DECEPTICON

“Must we?” SOUNDWAVE C'MON MAN

HE HAS A GUN ON THE BOTTOM OF HIS FOOT IN SUCH A WEIRD SPOT LMAO

SHE SHOT HIM AND I CANT EVEN BE THAT MAD, SOUNDWAVE YOU’RE BEING A BUTT

“The biggest mistake I made was underestimating Starscream” story of Megatron’s life in every series

OMG….SHADOW STRIKER AND PROWL ARE HANGING OUT…THAT’S UNEXPECTEDLY ADORABLE

wHEELJACK AND SHOCKWAVE HANGING OUT WITH THE SHOCKLETS IM SHRIEKING WITH JOY THATS!! SO!!! CUTE!!!!

Shockwave’s little expression before it cuts back to Megatron and Optimus :’)

*whispers* and they were LAB partners!

Megatron: We should have talked like this ages ago, Prime Optimus: So much history between us… *meaningful shot of them sitting on either end of a very long table* Megatron: …and yet, so little trust Me, wheezing in agony

“Most roads on Cybertron are one way” FRICKIN

MEGATRON YOU DORK. I have no idea if he was being serious or being metaphorical but either way I laughed even while my heart ached

WINDBLADE ITS YOUR GIRLFRIEND SLIPSTREAM

Slipstream: Who’s the second most competent person I know. Slipstream: Well, it’s definitely not gonna be a Decepticon

SLIPSTREAM NO!!!!! WTF

Wheeljack: Well, it was fun while it lasted! Shockwave: No it wasn’t Snorts

MAN THIS IS KILLING ME, FATE REALLY NEVER CUTS MEGATRON AND OPTIMUS A BREAK HUH???

AGAIN, TFW YOU’RE TRYING TO MAKE UP WITH YOUR EX BUT YOUR KIDS HAVE ZERO CHILL

OK BUT THEY’RE NOT GONNA LEAVE SLIPSTREAM LIKE THAT ARE THEY???? Jeez louise. I mean I know she’s not dead dead, my guess is she’s going to manipulate the All Spark from within later on to screw up Starscream’s plans, there’s no way they’d write her out like this.

EPISODE 8

Kitty cat no!!!

“They’re not here anymore!” Thank you captain obvious lmao. I love him. I bet Cheetor would get along well with Teletraan

“I know you told me not to interrupt anymore but—” lmao

OH NO A DISTRESS CALL FROM MEGATRON??? A last desperate attempt to warn Prime against a great danger??? Suspicious yet sweet

“Sounds extra forboding!” Teletran you’re such a DORK

Ohhh I really do love the way they animate Windblade’s expressions

“Well, this isn’t creepy at all!” Lol me 2 Rodimus

UHHHH ARE THOSE THINGS IN THEIR CHESTS BUGS??? IS THIS GOING TO BE AN ALIEN VS PREDATOR THING oh no ok, it’s just their sparks, I WAS GONNA SAY

*Ominous thunking ends abruptly* Well that’s not ominous at all

I mean at least they’ve still got their sparks?

OH MAN they even got Shockwave and Shadow Striker, jeez

SOUNDWAVE NO!

Optimus: Starscream’s forces managed to overwhelm everyone, even Soundwave I love that he said “even Soundwave”, like, yes, good, that’s right Optimus, thank you for acknowledging that my boy is no pushover

YO HOT ROD HAS HIS FLAME POWERS THAT’S SO COOL

I love the way they animate Windblade’s sword, that looks awesome

OH NO THEY’RE GETTING OPTIMUS, JEEZ THAT LOOKS BAD

MEGATRON OH NO

Starscream’s dramatic frickin reveal killed me, I can’t believe he didn’t say “Megatron has fallen

AW The frat boys trio working together is so cute :’) I love them

“We got your back, Cheetz!” RODIMUS YOU ARE PRECIOUS

HECK YEAH RODIMUS, YOUR FIRE POWERS LOOK SO C

NO THEY”RE GETTING BUMBLEBEE AND HOT ROD OH NO NONO!!!!

RUN KITTY RUN!!!

ALPHA TRION....Good lord

“Alpha Trion says he’s very disappointed in you, Optimus” STARSCREAM PLZ, HE REALLY IS LIKE A CRAZY PET OWNER

Ohhh they’re talking about the Matrix

WINDBLADE NO!!!!! NOT MY GIRL

OH SNAP THEY’RE ACTUALLY GOING FOR IT??? NO ONE’S GOING TO JUMP IN TO SAVE OPTIMUS???

THAT’S SO GRUESOME WTF, THEY’RE ACTUALLY TEARING HIS CHEST OPEN TO TAKE IT OUT

“The Matrix looks really pretty” I say in a small voice, mortified beyond belief

CHEETOR IS SO CUTE....

“You do not understand who and what you are fighting” SICK LINE CHEETOR

THANK YOU FOR RIPPING THAT HIDEOUS YELLOW ARMOR OFF STARSCREAM

THE FRAT BOY FRIENDSHIP TRIO IS SO CUTE

Megatron: I will...permit you to leave now Optimus: You are welcome Ughhhh Megatron’s expression while they’re walking away is so good thIS KILLS ME...........

Cyberverse 9!

OH NO THUNDERCRACKER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, ARE YOU OK???

WHY IS SLIPSTREAM SUDDENLY THERE AGAIN, WHAT’S GOING ON (NOT THAT I’M NOT GLAD TO SEE YOU)

Wait I forgot there’s another purple Seeker, that’s probably not Slipstream RATS

What exactly is Cheetor doing, WAIT I think these are all old memories he’s seen, these are just flashbacks ALRIGHT WE’RE COOL I GOT IT NOW

GOSH I LOVE MEGAOP BATTLES NO MATTER HOW BRIEF THEY ARE

Cheetor: I hope they one day settle their differences so that we may one day take our place among them Somehow that makes him sound like an alien, which is ironic since they’re ALL aliens

Very nice group shot right there

aw, Cheetor is right at Rodimus’ hand level when he’s in his cheetah alt mode, I half expected Rodimus to pet him

"Won’t someone please pet me??”

Man, this makes me miss Ravage. I’d love to see him show up in Cyberverse too. We know Lazerbeak is here at least though!

Hot Rod: How can we find Starscream if he ghosted us? Bumblebee: “Ghosted us”? LMAO nice slang Hot Rod

Aww poor Cheetor, me too buddy

RATCHET RATCHET RATCHET!!!!

LMAO HE SCREAMED, I LOVE YOU RATCHET YOU’RE SO CUTE

Oh no Cheetor, don’t go help Wheeljack

LMAO Cheetor you’re just so sneaky like a kitty cat, no one can hear you coming

OH NO DEFINITELY DON”T HELP PROWL

“YOU”LL NEVER TAKE ME” PROWL PLEASE

AW BUMBLEBEE SCARED CHEETOR that’s sweet that he went to go make Cheetor feel better :’) Best buddies

WAIT WTF

FRICKIN CYBERVERSE, YOU SCARED ME FOR A SECOND, I HEARD THAT SOUND AND I WARPED BACK TO FRICKIN 2005, HOW COULD YOU SCARE ME LIKE THAT

This frickin series is made by a bunch of MEMERS

BEE SAVED THE KITTY CAT!!!!

UH OH jeez louise they got caught

“I was so hoping to never see you again!” I love you Bumblebee

SPARK MERGING??? STARSCREAM BUDDY....

“I have no fight with you. We are soon to be one” Not creepy at all Starscream

OH NO IS HE GOING TO PUT BEE’S SPARK INA SCRAPLET??? JEEZ THAT’S NEW

SMART THINKING CHEETOR

CHEETOR AND BEE ARE SUCH CUTE FRIENDS GOSH

wait Episode 10 is out too??? OK I CAN”T HELP MYSELF, IM GONNA PUT IT IN A NEW TEXT POST THOUGH

MAN I LOVE THIS SERIES!!! I LOVE CYBERVERSE

[pollenallergie]

What do you think V is most into, like sex wise? Not necessarily his darkest kink or smth but if you two had the day and the whole house to yourself, how would he most likely want to spend it? (Okay, I lied. Additionally, what do you think is his most secret kink, like, smth he only tells you once you guys really trust each other?) hope you don't mind me, I'm just thirsty today and not very creative myself, ily!

1) hi ily 2 babe, sorry it took me so long to respond I’ve just been pretty busy.

2) as for his kinks…. holy moly do I have a few ideas. so let’s just jUmP into it (sorry didn’t mean to go all Philly D on ya).

First of all, he definitely has a cum denial kink, as @ill-skillsgard has mentioned previously. He loves begging you to let him come when you take control, but even more so, he’s obsessed with you begging for him to let you come (or really just you begging for anything, honestly). He also 100% has a daddy kink, but I feel like it is a very limited kink, like it only turns him on when someone special says it (not just some random person on the internet or some random hookup). Speaking of, I imagine his daddy kink isn’t one he’s always known about, meaning it took a special experience to help him discover it. So, without further ado, here is how I think that sort of experience would go with him (sorry that's the weakest transition of all time lol):

One night you were feeling particularly small, but due to your shyness, you didn’t really have the guts to tell Valter how you felt. You see, you’ve known for a while now about your daddy kink, discovering via experimentation your freshmen year of college, but you had never brought it up around Valter before. This was mainly because you were scared it would disgust him or that he would make fun of you for it, which, seemingly, wasn’t a very outlandish assumption, seeing as, on multiple occasions, you had witnessed him scream “I’m not your fucking father” to his twitch stream viewers after one of them called him daddy in the chat. This led you to believe that it just wasn’t his thing, so you stifled that desire, burying it deep within you, not ever wanting to bring it up due to your fear of rejection and humiliation. 

However, on that one night, you couldn’t help yourself. You had been needy for V all day and you practically pounced on him when he got home from the gym, not even waiting for him to set his stuff down first. He immediately got the idea and swiftly discarded his things before picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. Once you got to your shared bedroom, he gently tossed you on the bed before shutting the door in order keep out his pets, not wanting them to ruin the moment. 

“Will be done in a minute, babies,” You called out to the animals, causing V to laugh loudly. You couldn’t help it, your heart all but broke at the thought of them feeling alone and neglected out there. 

“They’ll be fine,” He said somewhat teasingly before taking his shirt off and joining you on the bed. 

“You are wearing way too much clothing,” V mumbled before taking matters into his own hands. He carefully took off your sweater, grinning smugly once he realized that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He then placed a quick kiss in the valley between your breasts before sliding his hands down to your waist, stopping at the waistband of your sweatpants. He swiftly pulled them down, admiring your legs while doing so. He then threw them onto the floor carelessly once they were completely off of you. He then looked back up at you, smirking and enjoying the view in front of him.

“No panties either, hm, someone’s needy today,” V said and you shyly nodded in response. 

“That makes two of us,” He replied before sitting up on his knees and slipping his pants and briefs (again homeboy is 100% a briefs guy, I feel it in my soul, and if he’s not, then he shouk=ld be. imagine how hot that butt would look in briefs bfsdshdnvsadchm) in one fluid motion, carelessly tossing them to the side just as he had done with yours. He then leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours and aligning his cock with your entrance before slipping his hand down between your thighs, gently strumming his fingers over your slit, smirking once he realized just how needy you were.

“Oh honey, you’re soaked. Is all this for me?” He asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

“Always,” You replied softly as you began to run your hands through his soft, blonde hair. He then ducked down, connecting his lips with yours. You kissed him hungrily causing him to smile into the kiss before pulling away and resting his forehead against yours once again.

“You ready?” He asked, his intense eyes bore into yours as he patiently awaited his answer. You merely nodded in response, causing him to smirk once again.“Good,” was all he said before he rammed into you, barely giving you any time to adjust before beginning to thrust in and out of you at an overwhelming pace, causing you to moan loudly as you desperately clung to him. 

“Fuck, I always forget how tight you are,” He mumbled before groaning and dropping his head forward to rest in the crook of your neck. You smiled as you began to hear soft moans coming from your love, recalling how he once drunkenly admitted to you that you were the only person he’d ever slept with that could turn him into such a whimpering, moaning mess in just a matter of minutes. Your grin soon softened as your jaw fell slack at the feeling of his fingers tracing circles on your clit as he continued to thrust into you. 

“Faster,” you gasped, wanting so much more. He then began to snap his hips into you more violently, his cock now thrusting in and out of you at a much faster pace. You gasped at the feeling and began to dig your nails into his shoulders which you had been tightly gripping onto this whole time. He then reached up and grabbed one of your hands, pulling it down to rest on his ass cheek. You smirked, moans still spilling out of your mouth, as you began to kneed the flesh beneath your fingers. 

“I’m so close,” you whined in his ear as he continued to ram into you, his fingers now toying with your clit in a much more entrancing manner. 

“Not yet, baby,” he growled into your ear causing your moan louder. You knew cum denial was his thing, but god did you hope that he’d go easy on you this time.

“Please,” you begged, the sensations of him toying with your sensitive bud and ramming his cock deep inside you becoming too much to handle.

“You gotta earn it, baby,” he replied before beginning to kiss your neck, occasionally nipping at your skin a bit, wanting to leave his mark on you. 

“Daddy, please,” you whined, your eyes going wide as soon as you realized what you said. You were shocked that V’s actions hadn’t ceased, but even more so when a small whine left his mouth.

“Oh fuck, say that again, baby,” he begged.

“Please, daddy, let me cum,” You begged, still nervous to say that aloud. He then groaned loudly, quickening his pace even more as he muscled tensed. 

“Daddy’s so close, babydoll. Are you gonna be a good girl and cum with daddy?” Valter asked you breathlessly, removing his head from your neck so he could look into your eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest and a blush rose to your cheeks as your mind registered what he had just said to you. You were surprised, to say the least, it was like you had unleashed a new side of him. V had always been the dominant one, for the most part, but he was even more so right now, and that drove you wild. 

“Yes, daddy,” You said, feigning innocence, wondering what effect that might have on him.

“Holy shit,” he whined as his hips snapped rapidly, his cock thrusting in and out fo you with an animalistic ferocity. 

You reached your climax first as a result of Valter’s ceaseless actions and sudden kinky banter, his own not far behind. The feeling of your walls tightening around him, the whimpers you and moans you released as your orgasm ravaged through you, and the sight of you writhing beneath him sent him over the edge and soon enough you felt his cock twitch inside you before the feeling of his warm cum spilling into your cunt took over. 

It wasn’t long before V’s thrusts began to slow and eventually come to a halt, the two of you beginning to come down from your highs. You both gasped for air as V pulled out of you and rolled over, now laying next to you. He then turned his head to look at you, grinning before gently pulling you so that you were now laying on top of him. 

“The things you do to me, princess,” Valter said in amazement before sighing contently. 

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” you teased, smiling up at him. 

“Neither did I, babygirl,” he sighed causing you to giggle. 

this is gonna be part 1 of 2 (or possibly more, idk yet) because if I tried to fit everything into one post it would be way too long so I will address more kinks in part two because ooohhhh lord I imagine him having quite a few. 

[trishgibsontx]

#totd: share your sincerest dreams only with those who live a life which you deeply admire

sharing dreams is a deeply sensitive matter. there is also something called the web of thought. have you ever shared a dream or desire with someone, only to notice that they somehow sucked the hot air right out of your balloon and your belief or inspiration subsequently fell flat to the ground?

this is because we can not share our dreams with everyone – at least not our sincerest dreams, and at least not when we are not 100% unbreakable or energetically vulnerable in some way to those dreams not materializing. 50% of this boils down to WHO it is we are sharing with, and the other 50% of this boils down to how solid we are in our own knowing or self-confidence. but, going back to the point of this post…WHO we share our dreams with —

those who are not living a life which you DEEPLY ADMIRE are those who are out of alignment with where you are headed, and likely where you are at the present moment. perhaps they will have their own shifts and you can bond with them on dreams one day LATER. but perhaps also not. the reason it is important not to share your sincerest dreams aka ambitions with those who are not living a life which you admire, is because you are dealing with the law of physics – which states: two objects (or in this case, notions or ideas) MUST match in order to share space. what does this mean? it means that the higher vibrating object or DREAM, MUST match the other in order to share space. if we are engaging with someone who A) does not share the same level or degree of ambition, perception, imagination or possibility or B) has not transcended aspects of their life to actually LIVE in that space, we are then forced to MATCH whomever it is we are engaging with on THEIR level of said topic. again, it is irrelevant if they have “potential” – what we are dealing with is the NOW.

years ago I met a wonderful woman at a seminar. after the seminar, she approached me and said “I think you can help me”, as she had heard me speak briefly and give a young man some advice. what she meant by “help me”, later discovered, was basically just be her friend and listen to her thoughts about her life – and truly nothing more! I had no idea whether I could “help her” at that time, because I didn’t know what she meant by that at that time, but when she handed me her business card, I saw that she was a dentist. well, for MONTHS, I had been writing down my intention to even out some of my stained teeth that were ravaged from braces etc. at that time, I was broker than broke, and I had no idea how I would ever afford such a thing. I had already appeared on television for some acting jobs during that time, and I was conscious about my teeth in close-ups on camera. I had no idea what would come of my connection to this woman, but long story short she turned out to be an ANGEL.

this angel suggested that I come in for a cleaning. I was nervous as to how I would pay for it, as my dental coverage was crappy and I was again, broker than broke. not only did she flat-out refuse payment for the cleaning, but she actually offered — excuse me, INSISTED — that she cosmetically fix some of my stained teeth so that they all matched in color. I refused her offer a couple of times, but she kept insisting. now, having matching teeth was not a DREAM of mine, lol. but it was a strong desire. and, at the time, an insurmountable one. people/friends/acquaintances I had mentioned this desire to basically wrote it off and told me to just “be happy with what you have”. I remember calling my best friend at the time (a classic hot air balloon-popper, by the way) and telling her what this angel lady had offered me. she shot down the opportunity and insisted that this woman was scamming me or wanted something unmanageable from me and that I had better be careful / not take the “opportunity” (it took me some years to understand that this is the way SHE, my friend at the time, thought and calculated behind the scenes with nearly every interaction in her life – we were and are opposites in that way and many ways). I then suddenly felt bad and guilty about the prospect that this angel lady would be giving me several thousand dollars of gifted work, and I almost didn’t want it anymore. it almost ruined the offer for me. thankfully I ignored my friend and went in for the gift. it is, to date, the KINDEST thing anyone has ever done for me. and I love my teeth! it has also been great for on camera matters. this angel lady saw me for about 5 hours (the night before Thanksgiving, to boot) that year and went above and beyond with gifts of dental bliss. she gained absolutely NOTHING from it – except my appreciation. she didn’t even charge me for her time. after that experience, there was even more; she had taken me to dinner, to the spa, and she even house-sat for me and took care of my pets. this was/is a grown woman in her 40s and I don’t believe she had any romantic interest in me. this is the first “real” friend I met who showed me 100% unconditional love, and I remember it feeling extremely uncomfortable at the time as this was a completely new concept for me. I was used to giving it, but never receiving it. what a lesson about the dissonance between what I HAD BEEN used to and what I WOULD get used to with humans in my life.

I have had SO many dreams, and I continue to have them. I have shared many with many, and kept very few dreams to myself. when I have shared them with the “right” people (of which there have been so few), gasoline has been poured on a beautiful, raging fire, and I can feel my destiny rising up from within my root chakra. when I have shared them with the “wrong” people, I have felt anxious, insecure, and my fire has fallen flat to a barely-there smolder in my feet. the “right” people are the point of this #totd – these are people who either A) have the SAME level of desire, vision, hope and positivity, or B) have already achieved the “impossible” in life. the “impossible” would be the things that evvveeerrrryyyooonnneee around them said they were crazy for even thinking of! A) and B) people are ESSENTIAL to you when you have dreams. everyone else is POISON to you when you have dreams. remember the law of physics. also, just on a basic psychological level, how could we ever expect someone who lives OUT of the realm of possibility to support us? whether they are a “good” or “bad” person, it doesn’t really matter – someone living out of alignment with themselves, or in a sub par version of their own reality, will only drag you straight into their realm of “possibility” – big or small. we will always match that and whom which we engage with, period.

this “thought of the day” is turning out to be rather elaborate, but I would like to give more examples on sharing dreams, and how quickly we can be swayed toward doubt or possibility, depending on WHO is giving us feedback…

way back in the day, I was moving to NYC from a town just under an hour away. I knew that it was in NYC that my dreams would materialize, and nowhere else. I couldn’t explain it: I just knew. I remember sharing this insight with a family member, and it was as if I had dropped a bomb on their house – this person tried absolutely everything to prevent me from moving, and even suggested that I could have a television career from the small town where nothing happens (where I was living) versus NYC. over the course of a month or two, I had heard it all. one night as I was driving across a main highway, this person was screaming at me, at the top of their lungs, as to how could I EVER move to “the dirtiest, most disgusting, most dangerous city in the WORLD!”. I remember hysterically crying until I could not breathe, as they continued to do their damage. just writing about it gives me a major eye roll and head shake, as I have almost forgotten how insane yet typical that kind of an experience was for me with certain people. when they were done trying to block me from moving forward in any way, I hung up the phone and asked the Universe for a “sign” as I was still driving across the highway. a shooting star shot across the clear sky as I looked through my car dashboard. the next night, I was feeling a little doubtful after so much resistance from someone whom I had always asked for advice (looking back in this way, it is amazing to me that I ever did anything remotely special with my life). I was again driving across that main highway, coming home from the gym. I asked the Universe again for a sign, because I almost didn’t believe the one I had gotten the night before: another shooting star shot across the sky. I knew what I knew at that point, and nothing could stop me. I moved all of my belongings, by myself in a U-haul, on Christmas Day that year.

around the same time as the above example, perhaps just before it, actually, I was taking a class in the city (NYC). I would drive in and out in just under an hour. it was around this time that I had met someone who I really admired. he was a successful and well-known actor/public figure, maybe 13 years older than me. we met one night at a nightclub as he followed me out and began asking me questions. I somehow had no idea who he was at the time (I’m not so good with faces, who is who, who is doing what, and this is also very pre social media era!), at least not until after we met for a brief glass of wine. during this meeting, he said to me, “what do you want?”. this seemed like a really intimidating question to a young 20-something girl and I can remember being really shy and feeling vulnerable. I don’t remember my response, but I do remember the next thing he said to me, with an absolutely piercing gaze, which was: “you are going to be very successful at whatever you decide to do. trust me, I just know”. his words cut deeply, and almost erased anything negating that had been said to me about who I was or what I desired – THAT is how strongly truth resonates within our body and energy field! when I went to my crappy finance job the next day, I googled him and that is how I found out who he “was”. although I believed him when he said to me what he said in person, I also later took note of the fact that the on-paper truths clearly indicated that he did, in fact, “know”. he did not try to get me into bed with him, he did not heavily pursue dating me (so we didn’t date), he was just perhaps another angel in my life. we lost contact for a while until about 2010, at which point we bumped into each other on the street in downtown NYC – we are still friends to this day.

when I finally first moved to NYC, I actually met with a psychic. it was the first psychic I ever had an experience with (I’m sad to say that she is no longer physically in existence). I was looking for guidance, support, positivity, or someone who “saw” me. well, she most certainly did. right when I sat down, she went straight into rattling off my deepest dreams and desires. I remember crying, because it felt like she was one of the first people who “saw” me. her truth connected so deeply with MY truth, that I felt forever changed. in just one hour, I had a new lease on life. this was only possible, because she was living in HER truth – i.e. the life of her sincerest dreams. I felt the support of the Universe running through me, and I also felt like I had “permission” to not only be happy, but go and actually DO the things I wanted to do. in just a year’s time, I moved mountains – all because someone saw my truth and did not feel threatened by it or my potential or imminent success in the outer world. that experience has had a lasting impact upon me to this day, and it is something I only hope occurs for the many people I work with in my private practice.

last example: a while back, I had a romantic interest. this interest was mutual and balanced on their end and on mine. things were progressing quite well, before getting serious or even physical. with excitement, I shared this connection/experience with a few people. one of them (and I certainly did not pay close enough attention to this) had never been in a positive – let alone healthy – relationship in her life. she dated married men and men who abused her. when I shared my experience, she SEEMED to be in a new and healthy relationship (and I later discovered how corrupt the relationship was, just like all of the others) and I felt “safe” sharing my desire. looking back, she was nodding with support and happiness for me, but inside she was triggered and resentful by her own inability to ever find a healthy or balanced relationship of her own. I am not joking, it was less than one week before my smoldering and igniting and exciting situation went absolutely flat. there were no logistical or logical reasons for it, and I felt it right before it went flat. in my gut, I felt there must have been a connection to the person I shared my experience with and the experience itself – and then, I was confirmed on that gut feeling. now, I do believe that what is “meant to happen” will indeed happen – but I ALSO know that a little thing called the WEB OF THOUGHT can come into play with many variables. no, I do not hold this person I speak of “responsible”, but I DO see the physics of thought and energy involved here. those who live in fear, control or panic are death wishes to our dreams. when we share something so bright, so vibrant, so precious with such a contrasting energy, the two fields will merge and the higher vibrating field will often be forced to match the lower denominator. it’s just not worth it. again, it is true that no one and no thing can steal our peace or our destiny, but they CAN certainly interfere with it – which is annoying, and a total waste of time. who wants more lessons in this arena? I don’t.

dream crushers not only do not believe in themselves (though they may appear to – on the outside – and there are ways to know the truth!), but they can not possibly believe in you or want what is best for you when they have no idea how to get it themselves. dream lifters, on the other hand, believe in the “impossible”, and most importantly in themselves – so they will have every reason to believe in and support you. why not play it safer? – remember: share your sincerest dreams only with those who live a life which you deeply admire.

The post #totd: share your sincerest dreams only with those who live a life which you deeply admire appeared first on The Medical Intuitive Blog: Energy Medicine & Reiki Therapy By Elaine™.

from Trisha Gibson http://www.themedicalintuitiveblog.com/2017/01/02/totd-share-sincerest-dreams-live-life-deeply-admire/