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punksocks · 6 months

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To Tame The Untamable: Lilith & Obsession Pt.2- The Placements

*Just based on my experiences, please only take what resonates

Ok my whole preamble can be found here. That’s all my philosophical reasoning, and my breakdown of the why of what makes people obsessed with Lilith energy. now here’s the placements.

-Natal Placements that can make others obsessed with you:

-Lilith in 1st/conjunct Asc: you’re divisive by accident. People always love you or hate you, but everyone has an opinion on you whether they actually know you or not. You embody Lilith’s dark, rebellious, and sensual femininity without even trying. You probably have a figure that turns heads as well. You come off as fiery and intimidating. Others get enamored and fixated on you. The tricky part can come with invoking such strong reactions in others, a fan can easily turn into an enemy. This can happen just as easily in reverse as well.

-Lilith in 10th/conjunct MC: You come off as controversial as you are powerful. You walk into a room and everyone feels the weight of your presence before you even say a word. Truly the embodiment of boss b*tch energy and you don’t have to try. Your presence demands respect and can easily intimidate others, even potential suitors. Even when you’re at your least confident you’re formidable, at your most confident you’re untouchable.

-Lilith in 7th: You’re a charmer by nature. You may find yourself at the center of controversial attention and scandal in relationships. It’s easy for you to persuade others into doing what you want them to. People may always want to be the one to tame you and to get you to settle down with them but you’re hard to get a hold of.

-Lilith in 4th: You grew up with adults viewing you as competition (which was like super inappropriate for them to do). You may have learned about using your looks/energy as a weapon for survival from an early age. A lot of people are fascinated with the way you handle your home life. You probably give a lot of people fantasies about settling down with you, but they get afraid/intimidated by what that could mean and how that could impact their families (the ones they already have and the ones they hope to have in the future)

-Lilith in 8th: Scorponic themes here. Lilith triggers obsession easily in this house, for both the native and others. Here deep aspects of taboo/shadow desires can be revealed by Lilith’s exposing energy. I feel like this is one of those house placements for Lilith that makes the native have a lot of scandalous experiences in their connections. This is the energy that draws people into you and compels them to do whatever they can to stay with you.

-Lilith in 12th: This points to being on a lot of people’s subconscious minds. Fulfilling a lot of fantasies with the neptunean themes of the house combined with Lilith’s ability to draw out the shadow side of people’s desires. This is also a house that keeps a lot of its energy hidden and tends to hide a lot of people’s reactions to the native, so this is a strong indicator of having secret admirers. Being the girl of their dreams but being relegated to their fantasies.

-Lilith opposition/square Asc: The tension here between the native’s ascendant and Lilith placement creates this energy that’s impactful, too hot to handle even. Many feel intimidated and exposed by your presence alone. You come off as someone that can’t control their own s*x appeal. Untamable in the truest sense, because you can’t even control the energy. When you try to downplay it, it leaks out and makes people suspicious, they assume you must be hiding something and they’re compelled to find out. When you embrace it, you become a force of nature. Like combustion sustained. Many want to compete with you and be the ones to subdue your energy. To be the ones to best you. But they can’t. Not even you can. And it can quickly drive others over the edge. (Sidenote: I feel like this is also the hardest Lilith energy to romanticize, with this placement self awareness becomes one of your most pertinent tools. If you are unaware of yourself this energy can set you in fire, make you outcast yourself or turn manipulative to others due to what you’ve gone through. If you are unaware of others, this can put you in danger because they react in the strongest of ways- instinctively they feel disgust or obsession towards you. It’s a harrowing energy to carry)

-Lilith in fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius): This is just a theory of mine, but I’ve noticed that for fixed Lilith signs they often have to find balance to avoid getting obsessed with expressing or repressing their fixed Lilith energy. When others come into play, I feel as though they too get fixated. Fixated with how you present yourself when they know you, fixated on how your energy effects them, stuck on you/how they perceive you in general. This is strongest/most obsessive with Lilith in Scorpio imo.

-Lilith in water signs (cancer, scorpio, pisces): I’ve come to interpret Lilith in water signs as having this emotional/subconscious effect. It’s not as explosive as other elements, but it ends up being more permeating. Still waters run deep. The type of connection that leaves you either so emotionally affected or emotionally devastated that you feel it forever. This one never leaves you.

-Lilith in fire signs (aries, leo, sagittarius): Nearly the opposite as above, Lilith in fire signs is the effect of that spark- pure heat- and it rarely lasts, that’s the maddening part. If water signs impress upon your subconscious because they’re so emotionally permeating, then fire signs hit you with a huge burst of energy then you’re left chasing that high for ages. It’s the sultry woman you never see again, or the adventurer who ran off before you could tether yourself to them. It’s a burst of that heat and then it’s gone. Or you’re afraid it’ll leave you. The idea is devastating and then you’re even more hooked than you were before.

-Synastry that can kick off obsession:

-Lilith conjunct their sun/moon/asc: The feeling of meeting someone that illuminates this hidden side of you. Freeing but terrifying. Knowing someone that holds all of this power to draw out the unseen. And how this will play out tends to depend on the maturity of both parties. For Ascendant when it’s positive, the ascendant person feel empowered by the Lilith person to act and react from a place they were too afraid to before, like they could pursue what they desire without shame through this connection. The Lilith person will feel like they have room to take up space and express parts of their expression they couldn't before, they’ll feel more seen and understood. When it’s negative, the ascendant person will resent how the Lilith person expresses themselves, the Asc person will feel envious of the Lilith person’s up front nature and/or the Lilith person will embody traits they deeply resent but are attracted to. The ascendant person can become obsessed with traits the Lilith person has that repels and attracts them. For Sun, when it’s positive the Lilith person will illuminate the Sun person’s hidden drive, the things that motivate them to express their personality in a way that we’re afraid to before, and the Lilith person will feel lighter and brighter in the sun person’s presence and may become more forgiving/less ashamed of their own shadow side. When it’s negative, the sun person will resent the Lilith person’s drive and personality and the sun person will feel the need to compete with and shame the Lilith person. The Lilith person may feel exposed and will become resentful and belittling to the sun person. The sun person can become obsessed with outdoing the Lilith person and attracting more praise/attention than they do. For moon, when it’s positive the moon person can feel like an emotional freedom with the Lilith person, even if there’s an intensity there the moon person can reveal a side of their deepest selves that only really makes sense between them and the Lilith person. The Lilith person can feel nurtured and the rare chance to feel safe while being vulnerable, they’ll feel deeply emotionally at home with moon person. When it’s negative, the moon person can grow codependent and use the Lilith person as an emotional crutch for their shadow side/insecurities, they can feel like the Lilith person expressing themselves is a personal/emotional attack on the moon person and their vulnerabilities. The Lilith person can feel trapped, emotionally appeasing the moon person. The Lilith person can become manipulative and play on this hidden side of the moon person as well. Maybe the most unhealthy out of all of these when it’s an underdeveloped connection. The moon person can become controlling and obsessive over the emotional solace they feel for the Lilith person and they can easily become possessive.

-Lilith harsh aspects (square/opposition/conjunct) to their Venus: The Venus person never imagined they would fall for the Lilith person, the Lilith person is everything they’re ashamed to be romantically attracted to (some sort of taboo like race, age, social class, etc). The Lilith person has embodied temptation for the Venus person and now the Venus person is hooked, not that they’d ever admit it. The whole connection can have this taboo/forbidden feeling to it whether it’s scandalous or not. The Venus person often has some sort of conflict with who they pictured settling down with and who the Lilith person actually is. The Venus person tends to get obsessed when they can’t find that Lilith person in any other romantic options. They still may resist settling down but they’ll keep coming back. (Pro tip: don’t let them use you- but that’s just an -opinion-)

-Lilith harsh aspects to their Mars: Very similar to above but it’s more likely that the connection is more motivated by s*xual chemistry. The mars person clicks on a level of intimacy that they are unable to with almost anyone else with the Lilith person. The Lilith person can feel deeply desired by the mars person, in turn. The mars person will feel exposed by the darker sides of what they crave intimately being brought to light in their connection to the Lilith person. The mars person may feel especially challenged by the Lilith person, in terms of dominance/power/control. No matter the actual dynamics at hand, the mars person may never feel like they have enough control over the connection and this may make them more agitated/competitive with the Lilith person. The mars person can become obsessive over the strength of the connection and feeling powerless over it.

-Lilith harsh aspects to the Moon: Similar to the Venus and Mars aspects, this would have the most emotional motivation out of all of the connections. The Moon person would have an emotional side of themselves exposed by the Lilith person. If they’re the type to never get emotionally attached then suddenly they’re in their feelings about the Lilith person. If they’re trying not to do anything long term, then they’re considering a life with the Lilith person (the inverse could occur too, with Lilith’s tendency to attract scandal). The Lilith person would find their emotions and vulnerability challenged but may express some unseen side of themselves with the moon person. Could lead to a manipulative and codependent connection if both parties are underdeveloped. The moon person may become obsessive over how much depth they had in their connection with the Lilith person, especially if they can’t get that feeling again.

-Lilith squaring/opposing the angles (1st, 4th, 7th, 10th): The Lilith person will challenge the ways the house person lives and perceives the world/operates throughout their lives. Like how they interpret their experiences and perceive things (1st). How they consider their family and their home, and what feels like home (4th). Their attitudes and actions in relationships and partnerships (7th). How their public image is and what their reputation is, and their career and what it means to them (10th). The obsession usually comes from the “you can never go back to how things used to be” feeling that the Lilith person leaves the house person with. Could be expressed as resentment or being bewildered by this new way of seeing/experiencing things.

-Lilith conjunct their 8th house: The Lilith person can quite easily make the house person feel exposed. They can learn what digs deep at the house person and what triggers them. What darkness they’re hiding. What the house person is obsessed with. Easy aspect for a relationship/connection with a lot of power plays.

#astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #astro community #astrology #lilith astrology #lilith #synastry

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vasilissadragomir · 5 months

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one of the most heart-wrenching things about thg universe is that you feel the loss of who each character would be outside the circumstances of their birth almost as acutely as you feel the loss of the characters themselves.

sure, we know what lucy gray and her family would be doing in a different world; she’d be dancing and singing and making music which defines a cultural identity. but what about the others? would haymitch have been a hilarious, loving father with a family had he not been forced to survive 47 other children’s brutal deaths? would finnick have been a charismatic and beloved actor, bringing joy to immeasurable people on his own terms? would beetee and wiress have worked together to develop technology to make it easier to connect loved ones far and wide? what would reaper and annie have given to the world, or thresh, or rue, or even coral or cato or glimmer or clove?

if katniss wasn’t half-starving and forced to spend each day hunting to feed her family, would archery be her true passion? or if she’d been a well-sustained little girl with access to art supplies, would she have spent her time sketching captivating dresses? she picks up ropes and making fish hooks quickly—could her dexterity have lent itself to knitting, sewing, or crocheting with vibrant yarns and fabrics? there’s so much evidence that katniss finds clothing inspiring and empowering, even when she dismisses it as frivolous. she likes being pretty, she just hates the circumstances under which she’s made to look pretty. cinna shows her that beauty has its own power, and there are several moments in her interactions with cinna and his designs that make me wonder who she’d be if she had space for art and creativity in her life.

conversely, peeta has had art in his life since he was a small child, but for him, art has always been entangled with his trauma. he could bake and decorate well because he learned from his mother, a mother who beat him his whole life. but his talent grows, not only as a survival tool in the first games, but when he paints rue on the floor of the training center before the second games. his art becomes not only a symbol of his trauma, but a means of resistance and solidarity. in a world where peeta’s intrinsic kindness and loving heart had been nurtured and welcomed rather than abused, could he have been a painter, helping people find collective meaning in the simple realities of life?

could katniss and peeta have still found each other in another world, a world without the horrors they were raised with, and bonded over their love of art? could they have been each other’s muses?

maybe they find their way to share art, after the events of mockingjay, as part of their process of healing and falling in love with each other. when they’re finally safe and have been for a long time, maybe katniss fashions peeta an easel for him to paint in their living room. after months of watching him gaze out the window and paint the changing leaves, katniss takes to knitting on a rocking chair in the other corner of the living room to steady her restless hands. they work silently as the days go by, quietly exchanging the things they’ve made to give each other the reassurance and love neither could ever fully convey with words.

and maybe one day, when they learn there’s a baby on the way due in midwinter, katniss takes a page from peeta’s sketchpad and starts to plan a series of sweaters and hats and socks she can knit for the baby. and peeta goes to the little nursery upstairs and starts working on a mural, so the baby will have something beautiful to look at every day. they work together to design the perfect baby blanket for their child, to ensure they will always be wrapped in a layer of protection and love by their parents.

but even if they find creativity and beauty in their lives after the end of mockingjay, the art they make will simply never be what that art could have been had they not faced what they faced. art comes from suffering, yes, but the human condition has so much suffering as is, and we’d never know what kind of art they’d make if they hadn’t experienced trauma of a distinctly sadistic and inhuman nature. but maybe their children, raised in a better world with love and protection and safety and joy and creativity and expression, will be the ones to create the art peeta and katniss never could.

#thg #the hunger games #hunger games #katniss #peeta #everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #cinna #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #thg analysis #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #finnick odair #annie cresta #catching fire #mockingjay

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crystalskiesandcherrywine · 24 days

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The way you say my name

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen x female!Reader

Its pure smut and since its about Feyd, there are some warnings: he is not so gentle. There is desire on both sides and it ends up getting in the praise kink/forced orgasm territory.

Summary: Your planet has brought magic into the galaxy - a source of new spice- and upended the political status quo. You are the sole heiress of your house and the emperor decided that the best way to protect your family's survival is to betroth you to the most enigmatic but violent fighter in the known universe: Na Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, dangerously seductive and very intrigued by you …

2.203 words

one shot ( for now)

_________

Your whole body was tense, filled with anticipation and nervousness. You noticed your fingers were unconsciously playing with your belt again, and with effort you made yourself refrain from doing so. It was not your first time in the Emperor's court, nor was it your first state reception. Still, it was the first time you had set foot on Kaitain since the new spice was discovered on your planet. Something that had been considered impossible for millennia and that would shake the existing power structures in the Landsraat and the entire known universe. From an insignificant house on a planet beyond Orion, blessed with centuries of stability because of it, your family has been catapulted into a position of a central political player. Your fate, albeit a small piece of a power play against the backdrop the these developments. "Our task is greater than ourselves. Our fears, smaller." The mantra that helped you hold a steady course. You relax your shoulders and notice how your back straightens.

At that moment, a festively dressed servant entered the room to announce Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and his nephews arrival. Even though you had been prepared for this encounter, the sight was a shock to her. At the first glance he is less imposing then Rabban, who moved into the room like a mountain of muscle and leather uniform. But there is a slow and steady menace in the way he carries himself. His demeanor, both elegant and commanding, reminded you of a marble statue brought to life; his skin almost seemed to illuminate the room, a contrast stark against the dim flicker of torches.

If he had eyebrows, he would certainly have raised one a little crookedly by now. But as it was, his ice-blue eyes suddenly started at you, and you sensed a hardness in his entire demeanor that you weren't used to at home and whose traces you might have felt in her upbringing with Bene Gesserit, but which had always been wrapped in a velvet glove. But power, violence and strength were clear to see in this man. The reason why the Emperor wants to make him your husband - the only one who can apparently guarantee the safety of your planet. He was not used to having to hide his true character. And that is exactly what you would make his downfall.

The formalities dragged on endlessly, time seems to slow down under his gaze. He cannot comprehend you, the strangeness of your features, the luxuriant curls of your hair falling over your shoulders in an elegant half updo, the waves of burgundy silk of your cloak adorning your shoulders, your dress of the same silk and lace - how can anyone appear so vulnerable and exposed? Especially one who holds the key to the most coveted of secrets - a new spice, as powerful as the one exported from Arrakis, but with fewer dangers, Fremen rebellions and more sustainable methods of harvesting. Only this thin fabric separates you from him, something his knife could shred in seconds. He notices that your eyes have left his and are now focused on his hand, gripping the blade at his waist so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He unclenches his hand and offers it to you, bowing slightly.

"My lady, would you allow me to escort you?"

You place your hand on his and he almost jerks back, surprised by its warmth.

"A mere twist of nature, I tend to forget how shocking it must be to someone not from my home. Our temperature has evolved to be slightly higher than the average, so that when the temperature drops at night, we never fall below a certain threshold".

He listens to you as you walk down the hall towards the banquet room, taking in your voice, the slight swish of your gown on the floor, the click of the delicate gold chains around your neck disappearing into the modest cut of your dress.

His thoughts oscillate between genuine intrigue with you and your planet, both of which he will soon call his, and a burning desire to test your seemingly obvious fragility, to see how many times he can take you before you beg for mercy, how many bites into your skin will make you whimper, how many slaps on your ass will bring you to your knees regretting whatever misdeed you may have done. You can see his hunger, thinly veiled by manners, and you are sure that he is not accusing you in front of everyone for being in the Emperor's house and not on Giedi Prime. He seems so lost in thought that you have to repeat your question.

"Are you all right, Na Baron? Is something wrong? My conversational skills must be truly dull to bore you so".

He seems to come back to the present, his eyes resting on yours again, the colour of pure blue, like a deep frozen mountain lake. You look down, and just as he finds his voice, the Emperor rises to end the banquet.

"Then I shall bid you good night. If you wish, join me in the botanical garden tomorrow before noon. Perhaps my conversation skills will have improved by then".

He nods and stands to pull out your chair, taking the opportunity to let his fingers slide down your spine through your dress as he moves the chair to the side. He will join you tomorrow alright.

_____

The sun flickers through the canopy of trees above you, leaving a mosaic of shadows on the small, flat cobblestones of the path. You have your hair in a braid that sits like a halo around your head, your arms bare in the sun, dressed in a light linen top and form-fitting trousers that allow for more movement as you tend to the plants. The small patch in front of you is half empty, with small plants dug up. Their purple roots are gnarled and wobbly, while the vines are the darkest shade of green. A tiny bead of sweat clings to your eyebrow, and you pull off your glove to remove it.

"Is this how my intended likes to spend her time?" His voice behind you, rough and deep. You are startled and drop the glove. He picks it up and holds it out to you, looking straight into your eyes again.

"Thank you. Sometimes I do," you give him an open smile and take the glove back from him, he holds it for a second longer than necessary, seemingly puzzled by your open expression once again. "These plants are from my home, the Emperor tries his best to cultivate them here, but we cannot figure out why they do not develop as they should," you look up at him, his gaze still unmoved from your face.

"Am I boring you again, Na Baron?"

"Not at all," his tongue moves over his lush lips, brushing his cupid's bow.

"Well then, these tiny plants are one of the main factors in the production of the new spice. Their sap is..." You take a small knife from the box beside you and just as you cut into one of the roots, your hand slips and a red streak of blood appears on your left hand. In an instant, a small trail of red drips down your palm and onto the light stones at your feet.

His eye darkens as he grabs your post, ignoring the plant in the flower bed, and brings the injured hand to his lips. A shower passes through you, his tongue brushing your skin, electrifying.

"You should be more careful, my lady."

His voice almost a growl, his soft and plush lips sucking lightly at your skin, leaving a red mark around them.

"Yes, I should, Feyd," you are not sure if calling him by his name was a familiarity you allowed yourself too soon, but his reaction proves you wrong. His arms are wrapped around your waist, his face inches from yours. You feel your breath mix, his scent sweet and musky around you.

"Say my name again" There is no politeness to hide his hunger now.

"Feyd..." An almost unbearable exhalation is all you can manage. And with that, he closes the gap between you and descends on your lips, devouring you. His kiss tastes slightly metallic as you taste your blood on his lips, his tongue touching your teeth, demanding entry. You give in, melting into his ministrations, your hands unable to stay still, reaching for his neck, nails digging into the porcelain skin, he almost Monas into the kiss, his hands clawing at your bottom, gripping the flesh in an iron grip. You make a small sound that seems to be all he has been waiting for. Leaving your swollen lips, his attack continues in your jaw and neck, leaving small marks. You feel his arrousal pressing against you and your right hand lets go of his throat and slides over the leather in a rhythmic motion. Before you can think how you can take so much, his size is obvious even fully clothed, he grabs the knife from before and cuts open your top, not bothering with the buttons, leaving your chest exposed to him. His mouth travels to your nipples, his tongue dancing around them before his mouth closes on them and his other hands pinch the other hard. You moan, the pain delicious and unexpected, making you arch even more towards him. He unties the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare to him. A drop of your wetness makes its way from your core along your inner thigh as you melt in his arms. His hand wanders deeper along your hipbones and thighs and as he catches the drop his predatory smile becomes a grin.

„My lady seems to be enjoying herself... Kneel down".

You obey, the hard floor hurting your knees almost immediately. He pulls his swollen cock out of his trousers and strokes the head along your lips. You open your mouth and begin to lick his shaft with broad strokes, sucking the tip in and letting it fall from your mouth with a wet plop. He watches your every move and pushes a lock of hair that has come loose from your braid out of your face.

"Yes, that's a good girl, keep going."

Spurred on by the praise, you redouble your efforts, disregarding the discomfort of kneeling on the pavement and look up at him to find him completely mesmerised. He cannot believe how willingly you give yourself to him, without reservation. He feels as if he has found something sacred, something so precious and wild that he cannot imagine ever getting enough of it. He steadies your neck and finds his own rhythm, fucking your throat hard, the gurgling sound coming from you like music to his ears, you are struggling for air but he is relentless, filling you with his cum until you swallow every last drop. Your eyes almost in tears, you try to catch your breath, but Feyd has other plans as he helps you to your feet and lays you down on the patch of fresh earth. He spreads your legs and caresses your core. The pain seems to dissolve into a sea of pleasure, leaving you disoriented and greedy, your hands pressing the back of his head into your cunt. He moans in approval, sending more delicious vibrations through your cleat and as his tongue fins you entrance, you lose yourself in the orgasm, chanting his name with more earnestness than any prayer that was ever to leave your lips.

He looks up at you and just when you think you are going to get a break from his ministrations, he pauses only to strip, his leather overalls falling to the floor and revealing his muscles. He grasps your hips and you spread your legs even wider, giving him an unobstructed view of you and your pulsating cunt.

"So ready to take me, my lady, so ready for my cock to fill you," he smiles, aligning himself with your entrance and thrusting in at once. His cock, thick and throbbing, disappears inside you as you continue to chant his name. He rams into you with abandon, his head touching your wall as his hands wander from your hips to your breasts, kneading them, whipping you into the frenzy of the second high, spasming even harder around his cock.

"I think you can come again for me, my Na Baroness," he whispers in your ear as he lowers himself over you, one hand loving your breasts to study himself on the floor, the fingers of the other circling your clit. You moan, overstimulated and hot, writhing under his touch.

"I know you can do it," he continues, not slowing down, and he is right as you cum again, this time sending him over the edge, his movements becoming ragged as his seed fills you. As your both breathing calms, you look into his eyes again and you know he is a goner, lost to the magic of your touch and how your desires dance together.

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha imagine #dune part ii #feyd x reader #feyd smut #feyd x you #dune movie #arranged marriage #shameless smut #feyd oneshot #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #dune part 2 #feyd rautha x reader #fem reader #reader insert #x reader #x female reader #praise k!nk

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antoine-roquentin · 11 months

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Dexter Barry waited 12 years to get a new heart. He saw dozens of doctors, had invasive procedures and moved states to survive. In 2020, his long wait paid off. His new heart allowed him to imagine a healthy life where he could revisit his passion for motorcycles and watch his children grow and flourish in their careers.

But in 2022, after a misdemeanor arrest kept him in jail for two days without his life-sustaining medication, his body rejected the heart.

Barry’s neighbor called 911 in November to complain that Barry, 54, had threatened to beat him up after a weeks-long fight over wifi access. A fight never occurred, but Barry was arrested on a simple assault charge.

Barry told Officer Jacob McKeon at least seven times that he needed to take his anti-rejection medications every day to survive, according to body camera footage that was reviewed by The Tributary. The next morning, according to the court transcript, Barry told Judge Gilbert Feltel the same.

“I am on medication,” Barry told the judge. “I just had a heart transplant, and I haven’t taken my medicine all day since I have been locked up, and I take rejection medicines for my heart so my heart won’t reject it, and I’m almost two years out.”

On Nov. 23, Barry died.

He never got his medication, according to his son and a lawyer representing his family. A pathologist hired by the family said he died after his body had rejected the heart he had waited so long for.

Andrew Bonderud, the Jacksonville civil rights lawyer who represents Barry’s family, is worried Barry didn’t get his medications because of the extreme expense to obtain them.

“Records from jail will likely show they made a note of it,” Bonderud said. “JSO recognized it’s an extremely expensive medication and how disgusting if it turns out that this was a business decision for the JSO, that they would rather not pay for the medication. They would rather risk death over a business decision. It’s one of the most outrageous cases I’ve ever seen in this city of JSO misconduct.”

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loriache · 27 days

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Thistle & Senshi: Missed Connections

continuing my thistleposting... here is my manifesto for thistle and senshi: friends. In another life 😥

For one thing, they've been unknowing cohabitants for most of senshi's life. thistle doesn't think much of the non-golden kingdom residents of the dungeon, of course - he considers them trespassers and thieves! but there is a difference between trespassers and thieves who mind their own business, and even help keep other adventurers out (he obviously knew about and tolerated the orcs), and trespassers and thieves who make a mess of his dungeon (hateful, to be killed).

which I can't blame him for!

Based on what it looks like when marcille became the dungeon lord, we could assume that creating a dungeon is super easy - just rely on the winged lion for everything! But we see in thistle's flashbacks, that isn't how he did it.

Thistle did a lot of the work of building the dungeon manually. Perhaps because he was trying to build a sustainable dungeon, that could support a large population of living people - who he was invested in surviving themselves, not being replaced by puppets by the demon. They need a functioning ecosystem!

Of course, this is all pragmatic. After working on it for so long, I am sure Thistle is attached to the dungeon and its ecosystem, but more as a means to an end than for its own sake. As we see from the way that Laois defeats him, Thistle isn't really interested in monsters, and doesn't really understand the value of food...

Though I think he once did, and the fact he doesn't anymore is more down to the lion's interference than anything.

Senshi is attached to the dungeon's ecosystem. It's his home, even though he lost his family there, and he's come to care about it in its own right.

There are aspects of it he finds distasteful or dislikes, such as the immortality spell. But overall, if he had a chance to talk to Thistle about his hard work building up and maintaining the dungeon, he'd be greatly appreciative of it - this is his home, and it's a place that Thistle made to be a home.

In fact, Senshi (and the orcs) have been willingly living in the dungeon. Whereas the people that Thistle created the dungeon for have to be kept there by force. I doubt it's something he'd be easily appreciative of, but it's something, isn't it?

I also think it's incredibly cute that they both keep diaries.

Senshi's diaries have drawing, Thistle's have poems... they're both artists! Thistle with his music & Senshi with his cooking, they both have arts that they share with others to make them happy, and art that they keep to themselves.

Based on the diaries, including the ones in the complete Adventurers Bible..... it doesn't seem like Senshi ever learned Thistle's name! This makes sense since they really don't have much interaction - mostly Thistle talks to Laios or Marcille.

I don't think it should have gone any other way, since they're the protagonists and foils, but I do think in a more chilled out setting, Senshi and Thistle could get on.

Like Izutsumi, Thistle's a bit of a brat.

(I love him)

He probably had good table manners once upon a time, but I reckon he is very out of practice.

And we see he isn't in the habit of sharing:

Senshi would disapprove!

Senshi's desire to get everyone living well can be a bit overbearing. He already cleaned Thistle's kitchen for him!

But like Izutsumi, Thistle is another character that Senshi's habit of assuming non-dwarves to be children would be appropriate for. He's much older than Senshi, yeah, but his maturity levels seem to have stagnated along with his physical form in some ways. I doubt that anyone has treated him like a kid since way before he became a dungeon lord. The humans around him didn't understand his age, we can see that from the responsibility Delgal puts on him!

I think it would be good for him to have a person in his life who treats him like a kid, after he's had to be an adult so early and have so much responsibility for so long. And I'd like him to sit down and eat a delicious meal.

Sometimes that does happen! But Senshi would have done better </3

Thistle's ending is sad, but it's cathartic and makes sense. After being consumed by the winged lion, I doubt he'd be able to persist for a little longer, like Yaad - why would he even want to?

But I do think it would be nice if he could have met new people, formed new desires outside of his codependency with Delgal, and eaten a meal together with new people. Senshi could have helped him with that, if he had had the opportunity.

#senshi #thistle dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #dungeon meshi meta #dungeon meshi #senshi of izganda #sissel #i'm serious about the spoilers. big spoilers.

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sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

The joke's on you - we are salt and you are the wound.

Summary:

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free.

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort. Can be read with or without considering the canon events.

Word Count: 9,600

The Last of Us Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronounces, the reader is a lesbian/does not date men, themes of abuse and abusive relationships, domestic abuse, ‘love at first sight’ trope, could be considered ‘soulmates’ trope, hurt and comfort, the reader is being abused by a family member and is saved by Ellie,the reader is being emotionally and physically abused by a family member, evidence of emotional manipulation/brainwashing in the reader character, the reader character has injuries from physical abuse, trauma, becoming free from abuse, depictions of violence (fist fighting between Ellie and the abuser), mentions of guns and gun violence, there is elements of Joel and Ellie’s relationship in the background and this could be read with or without considering the canon events (their emotional falling out), mentions of alcohol, drugging someone against their will (done toward the abuser), threatening someone’s genitals with a knife (done toward the abuser), kidnapping and intimidation through violent threats (done toward the abuser), mentions of hanging/choking/suffocation, use of lesphobic slurs (I think ‘rug muncher’ is the only one?) (from the abuser towards Ellie), Joel and Ellie making a kidnapping (and potentially murder) plot together, this has a happy/hopeful ending.

A/N: Another re-post of a fic I really, really love. This one is particularly deeply personal to me. Whenever I write about the concept of abuse, it’s very emotional for me, but this one has some more personal touches - because it is about abuse coming from a family member and how it can be difficult to part from that because you rely on them for survival and resources that keep you alive. Often times when people think about abuse - or when abusive relationships are modelled in media, it is a romantic relationship, and they display how a person can go from sweet and romantic and turn into a monster, and how it manipulates the victims emotions and makes it difficult for them to leave. And I do think that is an important story to tell, but one equally important - the story of an abuser who is a constant in your life, and makes you dependent on them for survival, and it causes you to rationalise all of their poor actions and behaviour because you need them. You want them to be a good person in your mind because you don’t know how to sustain your life without them.

Another deeply personal touch on this fic - the title. It is titled after a Fall Out Boy song, and you guys might know - I fucking love Fall Out Boy. I feel like all of their songs have a direct cord to my soul. But this one in particular is so special and tender for me. I was struggling with what to title this fic, and I was going through a playlist of songs that I listen to frequently - and this one came up. Although I believe the original intent of this song is about a cheating spouse, for me, it brings up feelings of how I think of my abuser. Especially the lines ‘I’m the kind of kid that can’t let anything go, and you wouldn’t know a good thing if it came up and split your throat’ and 'this is me wishing you in to the worst situations’.

I feel like it is very accurate, because Ellie is someone who is very 'wearing her heart on her sleeve’ and through this fic, she wants to be emotionally detached and leave the situation alone, but she can’t. And it turns her heart into this weapon against her, and ultimately, against the abuser. Because it is only of the fact that she cares so much about y/n that she wants to hurt the guy at all. And it also works to describe y/n’s feelings, because she hates that she has emotional attachment to her abuser, but she does, and it makes her feel as though her heart is a weapon against herself. So yeah. I hope you enjoy this fic, and if you relate to it somehow, I hope you can heal.

...

Ellie didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was the type of person who thought it was cheesy - some made-up bullshit built for movies and books to sell people on the type of story that would never actually happen. She founded herself on facts, and though she knew realistically it would never happen in her lifetime, she thought that space travel was far more factual than something like love at first sight.

Until she met you.

And yeah, it probably wasn’t love - at least not true love - until later on. But there had to be some reason that she stuck her neck out for you like that. There had to be something drawing her to you like that. Maybe it was that fabled invisible string. That unspoken thing that made her want to die and want to kill for you, especially within the first ten minutes of meeting you.

You were with a group taking refuge in Jackson. In such a small town, rumors were rampant. The group had been in town for less than a day and people were already whispering about whether or not Maria was going to take in such a large number of people on such short notice.

Personally, Ellie didn’t care. She knew that Jackson had the resources to support new people and she knew that Maria would make the right decision. She was a good leader; she would sense if the group were good enough people to stay or not. She wouldn’t knowingly let in any dangers.

But then, Ellie started to care very suddenly, very much - when she met you.

When she saw you, the very first thing she noticed was your smile. She didn’t think she had ever seen someone smile with such intense, genuine joy. It was something that instantly twisted her gut into knots - filled her with those cartoonish butterflies as she took in the sight of you.

You were standing along the edge of one of the fences, near a small, green pasture for the animals in town. It was a small wooden fence that came up to your hips, around an area that was sectioned off to keep the baby cows in so they could graze. You were leaning on the wooden panels, admiring those little cows with awe, a smile on your face a mile wide as you watched the animals stumble around happily in the field. It was a beautiful spring day, with a light breeze kissing against your skin, and plenty of bright green grass for the cows to snack on. It made the sun seem so much brighter with your smile under it.

Ellie couldn’t help but find herself drawn to you.

She was supposed to be on her way to return her rifle to the gun shed after patrol. But instead, her feet carried her to you, almost entirely against her will. And soon she found herself standing barely a foot away from you, leaning on that same fence with one hand and staring at you with a big idiotic smile of her own.

You gave a small jolt when you finally took your eyes off the cows and noticed her staring. Ellie panged with guilt. She hadn’t realized how unintentionally creepy she was being. She didn’t know that it was a programmed response on your part - an ingrained jumpiness that you couldn’t help.

She swallowed around the dryness in her throat, struggling for words, and she was thankful when you spoke first.

“You guys have everything here.” You said, bright and excited as you put your eyes back on the grazing pasture. “It’s the first time I’ve seen baby cows before.”

“We - uh - we also have sheep.” Ellie tripped over herself to say this, shouldering the strap of her rifle to point beyond to a spot where the sheep’s pasture could not be seen. “And there’s greenhouses, and horses. My horse is named Shimmer. You can come and meet her if you want!”

Ellie almost felt stupid, rushing to say all of this, rushing to impress you. If you liked Jackon’s plentiful resources, then perhaps if she pressed just how fantastic and resource filled the place was, you would want to stay.

She found herself wanting you to stay. Very badly.

You bit your lip, slightly shy, and let out a nervous giggle. You didn’t want to turn her down. But years of warnings in a closed off echo chamber had made you weary of strangers. Even seemingly kind ones.

“That would be nice.” You told her quietly. “Maybe later.”

Ellie thought she was coming on too strong. She kicked herself internally because of it.

She had no idea that you were hesitant to be friendly - hesitant to get too close because of the ‘consequences’ you had seen in the past. In your eyes, Ellie seemed like a lovely, friendly person, but you didn’t want to get hurt for trying to make friends. Even if you felt a spark of attraction towards her, you could never pursue it. You didn’t have the room to do so.

Ellie simply nodded at you, the pain of rejection curling in her gut as she began to walk off. But she stopped dead in her tracks when she heard it.

Yelling - a brute voice disrupting your peace.

When Ellie turned around, there was a man. Someone who would have been otherwise average in his looks, if not for the violence he wore so boldly, obviously uncaring of who saw him. His face was tight with anger as he crowded into your personal space, grabbing a hold of your wrist and screaming at you relentlessly as though you had greatly offended him.

She wondered how someone like you - someone so sweet, who took wonder in baby cows, could ever do something to warrant such a visceral reaction of anger from someone.

Ellie gripped her rifle tightly.

A voice in her mind told her that it was none of her business, but another quickly argued back and said that you didn’t deserve to be treated like this. It said that she should step in. She felt frozen as the two sides warred inside her. For a few moments, she simply watched on, taking in the one-sided conflict between you and this man with horror swimming inside of her.

Your reaction was the worst part.

Your face immediately shifted from that excitement, awe, and wonder that the baby cows gave you and contorted into pure pain. Tears welled up in your eyes and pure fear overtook your entire body. Your spine coiled up, as if to protect your internal organs, but you made no real moves to get away from this man.

He spouted at you about ‘wandering off’ and ‘what have I told you before’, ranting on and on as if you had made some horrible mistake by taking time out of your day to admire a grazing pasture full of animals. Ellie was just about to unlock her knees and charge over there to do something about it when a vial, angry eye caught hers over your shoulder.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” He barked at Ellie.

Those simple words were all it took to trigger something in Ellie.

At a moment’s notice, all of her logic flew out the window, and she found herself consumed by the impulse of her rage instead. She shed off the strap of her rifle, leaving the heavy object on the ground behind her in case it might impede her as she barreled toward the man like a raging bull.

“Why don’t you tell me, asshole?!” Ellie fired back, entirely nonsensical.

But both of them, ill-tempered, were beyond talking at that point.

He stepped around you and went to open his mouth again and Ellie took a swing. She easily made contact with his jaw, but he absorbed it well. Her knuckles stung as she pulled back and landed another hit on his cheek, most definitely leaving a nasty bruise.

Ellie was caught off guard when a large fist collided with her face.

She would never be the type to say that men shouldn’t hit women simply on principle. Especially not in this case, because she had swung first.

She was shocked simply because of the sheer force behind the hit. It wasn’t just to get her off of him - it was vengeful.

Though her skull was rattled, when he moved his hand up again, Ellie caught his wrist and hit him again. Still feeling that blinding rage, she took him to the ground. His nose felt like mush under her knuckles and she wouldn’t have stopped - if not for someone forcefully pulling her off of him.

She wanted to yell when she found out that someone was Tommy. But he quickly dampened any of her protests.

Tommy then gave her a long lecture about ‘first impressions’ and handling her temper during ‘misunderstandings’. He told her that being a part of their family meant that even unintentionally, she represented Jackson as a whole. Regrettably, Ellie felt guilt curling in her stomach because of his words. Even if the guy had it coming, she hated Joel or Tommy looking down on her with disappointment.

And some time during that long, droning speech, you and that man slipped away. Ellie had a very bad feeling in her gut because of it.

She had a feeling that he was nothing but a cause of pain for you.

But of course, she had no outright proof of that. Aside from your tears. But you weren’t even there to tell Tommy your story. And what story was that? That you had been yelled at? How the hell did that substantiate Ellie beating a man up?

She had nothing more to go on than a gut feeling.

So rather than telling Tommy about any of the things she suspected, she accepted everything she had said, she apologized for losing her cool, and then (after he gave her a hug, patted her on the head and said ‘it’s okay, kiddo’) - she turned and walked away.

When she returned her rifle to the gunshed, Jesse asked if something had happened on patrol to cause the bruises on her face and make her expression so sickly, and she quickly shrugged him off.

Ellie felt intensely guilty for not doing something more. She felt bad for not simply asking you what was wrong, for not handling the situation like a real human being. She had no clue why she couldn’t simply be calm when she saw you so upset like that.

She didn’t even really know you. She just had a feeling that you were too good to be treated like that. Something deep in her gut was screaming that you did nothing to deserve it.

The group you came in with split up. Some of them made their way down to the coast with the intention of fishing, perhaps finding and fixing up an old boat, and some of them stayed.

Ellie took notice when you and the man who had yelled at you stayed.

She also took notice of the fact that whenever she saw you around town, that man was never very far from you. And whenever he lingered around you, you were much different from the girl she had met that day near the pasture. You were slumped down, never rising to your full posture, constantly tense, and incredibly quiet. You never spoke a single word to anyone other than that awful man. You never even made eye contact with other people.

Ellie spent weeks watching you from afar, attempting to see if you were okay, looking for some ‘evidence’ that you weren’t. Some hard proof that she could bring to Tommy and Maria, something to show that she wasn’t insane for attacking that man. And it wasn’t until the spring rolled into summer, and Ellie’s bruises from the incident had faded, that she found time to speak to you again.

There was a time when Ellie caught you without your ugly shadow - when you were by the coops, feeding the chickens, imitating their clucking and laughing to yourself.

“I think you’ve got a career as a chicken caller.” Ellie chuckled as she walked toward you.

You smiled when you looked up and saw her.

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “I just like them because if they say mean things to me, I don’t have to know.”

Ellie felt a lump rise up in her throat at the pain behind your words.

It left an awkward, painful silence for a moment before you spoke up again.

“Look, I’m sorry about before.” You told her. “If you thought you had to defend me, or…” You continued staring at the grainy feed on the ground, pointedly not looking at Ellie. “I piss him off. Often. He was just having a bad day, and I-”

“That’s no excuse for him to yell at you like that.” Ellie cut you off. She rushed to get the words out, desperate for you to know this at the truth. “He’s got a temper, doesn’t he?”

“So do you.” You chuckled. It wasn’t genuine laughter.

There was a twinge of fear in your voice. It made her nauseous. She never wanted you to fear her the same way that you clearly feared that horrible man.

“I’m sorry.” Ellie said quietly, intense guilt overtaking her. “I do genuinely apologize if I scared you. I just… I couldn’t stand to see you crying like that.”

“I totally get it.” You snorted, painful humor lingering in your voice. “It’s so annoying. But… sometimes I can’t help it.” Though you kept your voice steady, these simple words spoke volumes of pain.

Ellie wanted to ask why. She wanted to ask if there were more days when he pushed you to tears.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a crybaby.” You told her. You tried to laugh this off, as though it was just a funny trait of your personality, and not a fault of pain being inflicted onto you.

Ellie shook her head vigorously.

“No.” She quickly corrected you. “That’s not what I meant.”

Confusion knitted over your features. Ellie fought hard to find the words to explain it.

“I was angry because he made you cry.” She explained. “I was pissed off because he upset you, and - and, I know it’s stupid. I don’t even know you. But you don’t deserve that.”

Hearing those words for the first time was a truth so radical it almost tore the ground from underneath your feet. After years of being told that you weren’t worth the trouble - that the food you consumed was a burden, that the bullets used to protect you were a waste - being told for the first time that you didn’t deserve such treatment… you felt like the words didn’t belong in your ears.

“What?” You looked at her with pure shock overtaking your expression, a most genuine and raw reaction. “You really care that much about me being upset?”

This gripped Ellie’s insides worse than anything else. You could barely conceptualize someone caring about your feelings this genuinely.

“Yeah.” She admitted quietly. “I do care.”

This left your face tight with contemplation, intense thought. Ellie didn’t want to leave room for you to get too caught up in it, for you to overanalyze her genuine gesture. So she came up with something else.

“So… did you still wanna meet my horse? Maybe we could take her out for a ride?” Ellie posed.

You seemed hesitant. But eventually, you decided ‘fuck it’ - you might as well have some fun. Especially if it meant spending some time with someone who actually seemed to care about you.

Ellie took you to the stables and introduced you to Shimmer, and officially introduced you to herself, as you did in return - which seemed odd after all that had happened. But it was nice to finally have a name to go with your pretty face. It was nice to finally hear your laughter as Ellie made an age old joke about hay and horses.

After you took a while to pet the horse and get acquainted with her, Ellie got permission to go past the gate. She took you on a slow trot on the outskirts of Jackson. She had butterflies curling in her stomach the whole time as you gripped her waist, sitting on the back of the horse, and you smiled brightly and complemented how peaceful everything was.

When the two of you got back from the ride, you kissed Ellie on the cheek, and she nearly squealed with happiness.

And then, she didn’t see you for nearly a week afterwards.

She thought she had done something wrong, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with that awful man who barely let you out of his sight.

The next time she did see you, you were walking along closely behind that wicked man, your eyes low to the ground. And when she called out your name, you didn’t look up to greet her.

The sweet summer turned into fall and Ellie felt the guilt gnawing at her more, especially when she noticed the days or even weeks when you didn’t seem to come outside. Days when you didn’t show up to do your chores and were supposedly sick, days when nobody else seemed to care why you were missing.

There was that voice in her head. ‘She’s just a girl.’ The voice said. ‘It’s just a crush. It’s none of your business. You should just move on.’

Ellie couldn’t bring herself to listen to that voice. For some reason, she felt this thing gnawing deep in her gut - something that said you needed her.

Against her better judgment, Ellie went to the house she knew you were staying at, and knocked on the door.

She wasn’t surprised when you answered. You peeked through the door with only half your face showing, utterly terrified.

“What are you doing here?” You barked.

Ellie had a feeling that your anger was a formation of fear, and it wasn’t entirely directed at her.

“I was worried about you.” Ellie admitted shyly.

You opened the door further, hesitantly, and then pulled Ellie inside before you shut the door and closed all the locks. Ellie felt her stomach twist when she noticed you looking through the curtains, as though you were afraid for your life, looking out for danger.

Ellie had a distinct feeling that she knew what that danger was.

A giant lump formed in Ellie’s throat when you turned around and she saw it - that black eye, swollen and bruised, glaring at her. It was the part of your face you had been blocking with the other half of the door. There were other things she couldn’t see. Scrapes and bruises and hand shapes swats over your arms and torso, covered by your purposefully baggy sweatshirt with long sleeves.

“Just stop.” You said, turning to Ellie, your voice quaking with the intensity of your emotions. “Stop worrying about me.”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. She would find that intensely difficult - practically impossible.

“No.” She easily told you so. “I care about y-”

“Stop.” You said, a harsh cry in your throat.

It was too painful for you to consider. The idea that someone sweeter and nicer existed in the world and cared for you. The idea that the way of life you had known for years wasn’t the only way to survive.

“Look, I like you.” You added on. “You’re really sweet. But you don’t want me. I’m sure you can find someone else-”

Ellie stepped forward, her fingers brushing so gently over your cheek, right underneath the swelling of that awful black eye. You were so entirely startled by the pure gentleness of the touch that you let out a choked off sound from the back of your throat, almost a sob.

“He did this to you?” Ellie asked, her voice deadly calm and quiet.

You refused to answer.

“Is he your fucking boyfriend?” She prodded, her voice even sharper and more offended now.

You scoffed, pulling away from her touch. You thought she was jealous of the idea of you having a romantic partner. But in fact, she was deeply offended at the universe, she was in turmoil at the idea that someone would even consider hurting you when they claimed to love you.

“My brother.” You told her, the word almost sounding like poison on your tongue. “I would never choose someone like him. But I’ve been stuck with him for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh.” Ellie said quietly.

It was not a possibility she had considered. But she knew that there had never been any romantic connotations to the interactions between the two of you. Only danger, intimidation, and pain.

It was almost a worse fate, in a sense. The idea that you had been saddled with him because of genetics, that you couldn’t escape him because of obligation, or being forced to survive together.

“Yeah, oh.” You repeated, tears clutching the inside of your throat. “And really, it’s none of your business. He’s always taken care of me. He takes care of me, so-”

“This is not taking care of you.” Ellie argued sharply, gesturing to the mark on your face. “If you need someone to take care of you, I’m right here.”

You rolled your eyes at this. Again, you thought it was jealousy. That it was her trying to make herself seem appealing as a romantic partner.

You didn’t know that she was serious, that she would give you the world on a silver platter if given the chance.

“And I sure as hell won’t hit you.” Ellie added on.

“That’s easy for you to say.” You scoffed.

“That’s easy for me to do.” She fired back. “Not beating the people you love is the bare fucking minimum. In case no one ever told you that.”

Her last words were intensely sharp, but struck a chord deep inside of you. It caused your stomach to churn with harsh realization, something you probably already knew that was brought to the surface and waved in your face:

This was not a life that everyone lived.

“I can’t do this right now.” You huffed quietly, shaking your head.

You were still swimming deep in denial, hating the idea that your life was founded entirely on pain. But Ellie would fight through all of that pain to get to you.

“Come on, how long is it gonna be before he kills you?” She asked, the words quiet but devastatingly striking.

You remained painfully silent.

“What kind of life is this for you?” She spoke up when you did not reply. “There’s so much more out there for you that doesn’t involve your asshole brother.”

“Look, you know nothing about him.” You said sharply. “You don’t know what kind of life he’s had. You don’t know what he’s been through. What we’ve been through. Some of the things he’s saved me from.”

Ellie could only imagine what was going through your mind. Obviously, she had seen some of the darker things the world was capable of. She knew that if your brother had saved you from some of those horrors, it made him look like a saint by comparison.

She wanted to scream that you didn’t have to go through this. Life didn’t have to be like this. Absorbing his hits and being a target for his anger wasn’t necessary for your survival.

“Usually it’s my fault anyway.” You sighed. “I meant what I said before. I have some weird talent for pissing him off.”

Ellie was downright insulted at this.

“It is not your fault.” She rushed to say, her throat straining with the intense passion behind the words.

You found it difficult to believe her.

Any reply you could have mustered was drowned out by the sound of heavy boots coming up the porch.

“Get out.” You barked at Ellie, panicked. “Get out, you have to leave.”

You shoved Ellie out the back door before she could argue, and the sound of more screaming and an ugly collision of a hand on flesh made Ellie clench her fists to avoid charging back inside. She had to tell herself one simple thing - she wouldn’t be able to explain a murder to Maria or Tommy.

She wouldn’t have to.

And there was maybe only one other person in town who would understand.

She went right from your place to Joel’s, and he seemed too pleased about her being there in order for him to really question it. He seemed even more pleased when she asked for his help.

When Ellie explained the situation, she was surprised that Joel didn’t want to take it to Maria. But they both knew that she was diplomatic. She had an entire town to think of. She couldn’t be chasing down people’s personal problems, and she couldn’t be known for doling out vigilante justice. She had to make people in Jackson feel safe, and she didn’t think that civilian trials and public executions would be the way to do that. And as far as Ellie knew, nobody in Jackson had ever acted up like this before. Maybe they were just good at keeping it a secret. (That thought scared her more than anything.)

Joel suggested something about a quiet smothering and a shovel. Nobody would ever find the guy’s body, he reasoned.

Ellie didn’t want it that way. Even if the guy was a piece of shit, he was your only family. She knew that in some fucked up way, you would miss him.

No - it needed to be his choice. And he wasn’t going to make the right choice on his own. So they had to guide him to it. Well, they had to force him to it and shove his face in the damn right choice.

And then, if he didn’t make the right choice - then they would go to Joel’s version, a Plan B, and they would get the shovel.

Her and Joel talked it over for hours, making a solid Plan A. When they were both finally satisfied, Ellie left out the back door to head to her place to finally crash for the night - when had it gotten dark out?

She paused in her tracks when she saw you standing at the bottom of the few stairs that led up to the porch.

You had a large sweatshirt hood pulled up over your head, and in the minimal light from the back door’s bulb, Ellie could see that your eyes were entirely startled. Your cheek was sporting a fresh, wicked bruise that hadn’t been there before. Your lip was busted, and you had the neck of the sweater pulled up, half hiding some marks on your neck.

Clearly your brother had come home furious about something. Perhaps he had seen Ellie leaving. She partially felt guilty about it, and definitely felt more secure in her plan.

“I - uh - I ran into Dina, and she said I could find you here.” You said, motioning off to where you must have spoken to Dina, muttering nervously because Ellie had been standing there for a few moments staring you down with sadness in her eyes and had not spoken. “I was gonna knock. But… I…”

‘I got nervous.’ The words were lost on your tongue. You knew it sounded strange. Being afraid to knock. Being afraid to ask for help.

Ellie walked down the steps to meet you on the ground, and you didn’t move away when she reached up and brushed a gentle thumb across your lip - not quite touching the area when it had been split open, but clearly scorning it in her mind.

She wanted to suggest something about running away, but she knew Joel would just come after her. The easier solution would simply be to get rid of the awful man who had done this to you.

You grabbed her wrist and leaned into her hand. She cupped your cheek then, holding you so tenderly that it almost hurt. Your body was so unfamiliar with sweetness, with comfort.

“I can’t do this.” You sobbed quietly. “Ellie, I can’t do this.”

You weren’t feeling brave enough to leave the familiar, the thing that bound you in pain and torment.

“Yes, you can.” Ellie told you firmly.

She gently tilted your head up, forcing your gaze toward hers.

“Ask me.” She told you.

You both knew what it meant.

‘Ask me for my help.’

‘Ask me to get rid of that monster, and I will.’

You let it bubble inside of you. The words swelled up inside of your throat, and a wicked sob escaped, causing hot tears to leak down and touch Ellie’s hand before you got it out.

“Help me.” You croaked. “Please.”

“I will.” Ellie told you firmly. “I’ll get rid of him.”

She leaned in then and planted a kiss on your forehead, something sweet enough to render another sob from your throat. When she moved to pull away, you reached around and grabbed the back of her shirt, clutching on tight to keep her there, pulling her into a hug and holding her to savor the precious temporary moment you were able to be away from your tormentor.

“Ellie?” You said her name, and she hummed a response, still leaning with her lips gently pressed against your forehead. “I know - I know it’s so stupid. But… I don’t want him dead.” You told her. Ellie had predicted as much. “I just… I want him gone.”

“It’s not stupid.” Ellie assured you. “I understand.”

By the time Ellie got everything together, the cold was just setting in.

The first snowfall had just hit Jackson, and she had made sure to keep a close eye on you in the interim. You told her over and over again that you were going to be fine.

A few times you even went back on your ask, you told her that you and your brother were getting along much better. Ellie’s gut churned on the days when you smiled and told her that things between you and your brother were getting much better, that he was making an effort to control his temper, that you could see him making ‘big changes’.

On for another fresh wound to show up on you and when she would ask you about it, you broke down crying and declared that it was all your stupid fault.

Ellie knew that he was never going to change. And it only made her more firm in her convictions to carry through with the plan that she and Joel had carefully laid out.

Gathering the supplies needed for her plan wasn’t as hard as she originally thought.

The pharmacy in Jackson was surprisingly easy to steal from. She found a pharmaceutical journal in the library; finding out which drugs could knock out a grown man and memorizing the names of them - not that hard.

And then Ellie took an easy fall during one of her patrols, wincing and whining about the pain in her twisted wrist far more than she felt it, getting the nurse to unlock the drug cabinet to give her some tylenol with codeine. Then she ‘accidentally’ knocked over a tray with a bunch of stray pieces on it, and she got what she needed out of the unlocked cupboard like clockwork.

She wasn’t sure if the people in Jackson were naive, or if she was far too used to being a criminal.

Her wrist had healed up nicely by the time everything else was ready.

Joel thought it would be wisest that they use his basement.

He explained to Ellie that they could use an old military technique - shut out all the light, take away anything potentially familiar about the room, make it naked and bare and anonymous so that it would seem like a random place that could be anywhere.

It would be right in town, but the prospect of seeming so far off, so ‘in the middle of nowhere’ - it would be a good part of the scare tactic. They spent some time cleaning out the basement, putting garbage bags over the windows, and draping the room in plastic tarping - partially to scare him, and partially, just in case.

Joel got a bottle of cheap whiskey that he watered down some, and Ellie poured out the bottle of pills onto the counter with the intention to crush them all up and mix them with the alcohol.

“Christ Ellie, that’s enough to take down a goddamn horse.” Joel commented.

Clearly, it was too many pills.

Ellie took a handful of them - half, and put them back in the original bottle. When she looked up at Joel again, he shook his head. Still too many?

“Here, let me.” He said, gently shouldering her out of the way so he could make the mixture himself.

“You act like you’ve done this before.” She commented.

“You act surprised that I’ve done this before.” He replied.

He did have a point. Especially considering that when Joel had met Ellie, he had likely been expecting her to be a large bag of drugs, and not a child who needed to be smuggled.

Joel put back a much bigger portion of the pills, only leaving four tablets that he began to crush up to be mixed in with the drink.

“The alcohol is gonna magnify the effects of this stuff. A lot.” Joel explained, emphasizing the last words. “You kept saying you didn’t wanna kill him. So you don’t need to give him an overdose.”

Ellie nodded. It was a good point. She felt lucky to have his help with this.

Joel scraped the crushed up tablets - now a powder - into the bottle, and put his thumb over the opening to seal it while he shook it up, making sure it was well dissolved before he put the cap back on.

“Remember. Pour one for yourself, but don’t fucking drink from it.” Joel reminded her.

It was a mental tactic. Pour two glasses, so as to not seem suspicious, but don’t take a sip.

Joel handed her the bottle, and they walked over to your place.

Ellie made sure that Dina was keeping you busy with spare chores, things she supposedly couldn’t do without your help, ensuring that you would be out of the house for the night and wouldn’t miss your brother gone. Ellie went around to the front door and Joel went to the back, waiting for her signal.

She knocked on the front door and when your brother answered, she waved the bottle. She apologized for the two of them having gotten off ‘on the wrong foot’ when he first came into town. She claimed that she wanted to set things right with him.

He looked her up and down with suspicion, but opened the door. He fetched a couple of glasses and Ellie did as Joel instructed - poured one for herself after she poured one for him, took it in her hand, but didn’t sip from it.

He eagerly knocked the first drink back and Ellie hated the fact that he didn’t pass out right away. He poured himself a second and she forced herself to make an attempt at conversation.

She asked about one of the pictures he had on the mantle over the fireplace - a framed photo of him and some woman. He grunted, saying that it was ‘his bitch’ but ‘she was dead now’. The way he spoke about women made Ellie want to hurl. This caused the conversation to lull into him asking if Ellie had a boyfriend.

She shrugged it off. Especially seeing as he didn’t seem like the most accepting type if she told him why she didn’t have one. Then he looked her up and down as though he was inspecting her. As though just because she didn’t have a man in her life, that made her an available prospect for him. Ellie clutched her glass so hard she thought it cracked.

He took more gulps of his drink, and then he mentioned you. He said that he had seen Ellie talking to you.

He wasn’t clever about his intentions. He wanted to know why someone who was clearly friendly toward his sister wanted to be on his good side all of a sudden.

Before she could make up some lie, the drugs kicked in. He became hazy, and made a slurred thought about his liquor tolerance being higher normally before he dropped to the floor, out cold.

Ellie knocked on the back door for Joel, and they had his unconscious body halfway down the basement stairs when Tommy’s voice came into the house, shouting for Joel. They both gave each other that ‘oh shit’ look and Joel dropped the man’s head like a sack of potatoes. He rushed up the stairs to talk to Tommy before his brother could come to them.

Ellie dragged the dead weight the rest of the way, and she listened as the voices carried through the house. Joel was getting called out for an emergency patrol route - a large horde of Infected had been spotted near the west watch tower.

Tommy asked for Ellie too, but Joel lied and said that he hadn’t seen her.

As Joel was gathering his things to leave, he went to the top of the basement stairs. He gave Ellie one last firm, knowing look. It was an out. She knew that if she wanted to, he would stay back and help her clean up the mess, and they would find some other way to go about things so she wouldn’t have to go it alone.

But she was firm in her convictions.

“I’ve got this.” She told him, giving him a nod.

He nodded back and then closed the basement door.

She picked a steady beam in the ceiling.

She dangled off it with her body weight to make sure it wouldn’t budge (even though your asshole brother was probably a good hundred pounds heavier than her). And then she put him in the noose Joel had tied, with the rope tied precariously around the beam.

She had more than enough slack on it to make sure that he wouldn’t choke while still unconscious from the drugs. As tempting as it was to simply kill the man who had been abusing you for years, this was about scaring him. This was a warning. An attempt to get him to make the right choice. His hands were tied behind his back, making him unable to get away.

As he came around to consciousness, he began to groan and squirm, and Ellie wasted no time in putting her plan into action.

She went to where she had the other end of the rope tied, fashioned to some hook that might have been used to hang up tools or something else at one point, and she untied it and hoisted him up. He choked furiously as his breath was cut off by the noose, and Ellie made sure he was far enough off the ground before she grabbed something else important - the stool.

When preparing, Joel had intentionally cut off two of the legs, making it wobbling and unsteady. She put it underneath him and guided his legs to it, and then he took a wheezing breath as the pressure was released from his neck while his feet wobbled on it unsteadily.

“What the fuck?” He barked out, obviously trying to sound intimidating when he was so breathless. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re fucking insane!”

Ellie took a step back, looking up at him with a neutral expression. He was entirely powerless. He couldn’t swing and hit her, he couldn’t run. If he jumped, he would hang himself. He was completely at her mercy, and he had to listen to what she had to say.

In regards to the question, she shrugged.

“Maybe.” She said simply. “I just wanna talk.”

“Oh, you wanna talk?!” He growled out the words in anger, still trying to sound lager and more powerful than he was.

And then, all too predictably, he swung out his leg in an attempt to kick her.

Ellie easily dodged it, and the motion made him unsteady on the stool. Both his legs fell off, and she simply watched as he struggled, hanging freely by the noose for a few moments. He sputtered and choked, kicking around frantically to get his feet back on the stool. It was a wonder that he didn’t knock it over.

Eventually, he did get back up to stand on it before he passed out. He continued to choke on the air, veins bulging in his face from the effort. All while Ellie stood back, arms crossed, staring at him condescendingly.

“That was stupid.” She commented quietly.

“Fuck you!” He choked out.

“Look, the way I see it, you have two choices. Maybe three.” Ellie explained.

He glared at her with absolute poison in his eyes, but remained silent and still, other than the tremors in his legs as he struggled to balance on the stool.

“Option one: you continue being a petty bitch, so I leave you here.” She told him simply. “You can test your endurance for a few hours, maybe even a few days. But no one will find you, if they come looking at all. And eventually, your legs will give out from exhaustion and you’ll hang.”

“Y/N will come for me.” He replied confidently. The devilish smirk that spread across his face gave Ellie the urge to smack him.

“No.” Ellie argued, just as quick, just as confident. “You really think Y/N is gonna be able to find you?”

This was the mind game Joel had talked about. He was right in Jackson, right under your nose. Would he shout for help, or would he believe that he was out in the middle of nowhere, stranded somewhere that you would never be able to find him?

His silence was all too telling. Ellie resisted the urge to smile, knowing how important a firm, intimidating face was in this situation.

“Option two,” She continued on, taking his silence as a sure sign that he didn’t like option one. “You can listen to what I have to say, and you can get agreeable about it real fast.”

“What’s option three?” He asked.

Of course, he didn’t like option two either. He didn’t like being agreeable.

But Ellie had a feeling that in a few minutes, option two would be the one that he’d beg for.

“You say something I don’t like,” She got her switchblade out of her back pocket, and clicked the switch to show off the sharp, shiny blade. “And then I kill you.”

There was a pointed moment of silence as he looked between the sharp point of her knife and her unforgiving, deadly calm expression. For a moment, his enraged face wavered, and then came fear. It was just a flicker, but Ellie saw it as weakness. And she was going to exploit it.

“What the fuck do you want?” He barked.

“It’s very simple.” Ellie explained. “Leave Y/N the fuck alone. Get your shit, leave town, and get as far away from her as possible.”

“That’s my sister.” He argued. “That’s my blood. You can’t just expect me to abandon the only family I have, I-”

“If you respected her as your family, you wouldn’t fucking beat her.” Ellie cut him off, the words turning to poison on her tongue.

He looked intensely caught in that moment, his expression becoming ghostly. As if he somehow hadn’t figured out that this whole thing was about his abusive ways.

“What? You don’t like me ‘cause I protect her? ‘Cause I look out for her?” He immediately switched, swelling into that self righteous, taunting person he was with you. “You wanna fuck her, don’t you? You fucking self righteous rug muncher, think you know what’s better for my own sister than I do! What the hell is wrong with you? You-”

As he ranted, Ellie stepped forward and hesitantly grabbed the waistband of his pants. Clearly, the message wasn’t getting through to him.

And though it was something more disgusting to her than blood, guts, viscera, even the smell of an old moldy building - Ellie yanked down his pants in one swift movement, trying to ignore the sight of it in front of her. She placed her switchblade right at the spot where his dick met his inner thigh, simply resting it there.

The feeling of the cold metal in such a sensitive spot easily shut him up. His stomach clenched as he held his breath, likely waiting for Ellie to cut him.

With him on the stool, it was hovering at around eye level, and she tried her hardest not to look directly at it. For you, it was worth it. That’s what she told herself.

“Listen carefully,” Ellie told him, her voice still low, still deadly calm. “You are going to agree to my terms, or they’re going to find your body missing this.” She threatened him, gently nudging the blade upwards, not yet cutting into flesh.

He gasped, shock and horror crashing through his system. He continued to struggle with balancing on the stool, struggling not to lean into the knife by accident and maim himself by mistake.

He looked at Ellie with terror in his eyes, but oddly enough, he didn’t say anything. Ellie considered it progress.

“I’m going to be very generous,” She said lowly, making it sound like a threat. “You have twenty four hours to get your shit, and get the hell out of Jackson. I don’t give a fuck what you tell Y/N. In fact, you don’t have to tell her anything at all. Just disappear. I don’t care where you go. Just get the fuck away from here. The farther, the better.”

Ellie paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment.

“If you’re still in town by sundown tomorrow, I will kill you.” She said. “If you tell Y/N about this little incident, I will kill you. If I see Y/N later and she has a single scratch on her-”

“You’ll kill me.” He quickly finished off the sentence as he thought she would say it.

Ellie shook her head, putting on a wicked grin of her own for the first time during the conversation.

“No.” She said, a chuckle peeking through her voice. “I’ll make it slow. I’ll make you beg for death. I’ll make you wish that you had taken this very fucking generous first offer.”

There was another silence, filled only by the wobbling legs of the stool rocking against the ground, and the man’s anxious breaths.

Ellie wondered if he was stupid enough to decline her generosity.

“Okay.” He finally agreed.

Ellie hoped that she wouldn’t have to follow through on her threats, but she wouldn’t hesitate to.

She took her knife away from his crotch, leaving a small nick on his inner thigh that would hopefully serve as a good enough reminder of what he was supposed to do.

Of course, the temptation to hurt him more brutally was there. She knew that if Joel came home and she was covered in blood - he would help her clean up. He would help her hide the body. But Ellie knew that this was about something bigger than herself, her own rage, her own guilt.

It was about keeping your conscience clean.

She knew that if you ever found out that she had killed your brother, no matter the reason, no matter the situation - the guilt would fall back onto you. You would spend the rest of your days wondering how you could have done things differently to solve a problem that was never your fault. So she would take the burden of guilt or fault off of you, and force it onto him - where it belonged. He would get to live, but he would never go near you. Not ever again.

After thinking about all of this for a moment, and calming herself, Ellie unceremoniously cut him down, letting him fall into the middle of the floor with a grunt. She pulled his pants back up and shoved a bag over his head. The bag something else that Joel had woven into the plan - another scare tactic.

She kept his arms bound behind him as she struggled to lug him all the way across town without getting caught. He struggled against her hold and spoke up every now and then, demanding to be released, but Ellie simply kicked him and told him to shut up. It worked well. It seemed that he was truly afraid of her, because he was much more docile now than the man who had risked hanging himself to kick her in the head.

She dumped him on the back porch of your house and cut the ties on his wrist. He could feel stupid later for the fact that he had been in town the whole time, not secluded off in the woods someplace you would never find him. He yanked the bag off his head and looked up at Ellie with pure scorn in his eyes, and she held up her knife once more, reminding him just how sharp it was as she left him with some parting words.

“Sundown. Tomorrow.” She told him firmly. “Or Y/N won’t even find the pieces of you scattered out in those woods.”

Ellie was surprised when he didn’t say a single word, didn’t even hurl any insults at her back as she walked away.

She had no idea that he was happy to cut his losses, thinking that you weren’t worth the trouble if Ellie was willing to kidnap, threaten, and eventually kill for you.

Ellie went to bed early and hoped that everything had worked.

She woke up from a deep, hazy sleep to pounding on her door.

She struggled to get out of bed, thinking there was some kind of emergency. She flicked on a light and opened the door, and you came rushing inside.

Ellie almost didn’t see you through her sleep dulled eyes, her lids still half-closed, but she recognized your voice as she closed the door behind you.

“My brother is gone.” You said, your voice edging between worry and fear. Ellie thought you might be relieved. She didn’t know that you were still tentative - scared that he might come back, terrified it was a trick. “It’s just - he just packed up all his things, and when I woke up, he was gone. And he left me this note.”

You thrust a piece of paper into Ellie’s hands, and she blinked her sticky eyes open a few times in order to read it. She scanned over the messy writing, barely absorbing it. It was some bullshit about how Jackson ‘wasn’t right for him’ and he felt ‘suffocated’ and he was going to travel to catch up with your group who had gone to the coast, he thought he was a man of the sea, blah blah - but you needed to stay in Jackson, because it would be safer for you.

“It’s a trick.” You announced as Ellie read over the words. Your voice quaked, your throat tight with fear. When Ellie looked up, tears were dancing in your eyes. There were sharp scratches on your neck - they were scabbing over, and a greenish bruise on your cheek that was fading. “It’s gotta be a trick. He’s testing me. He wants me to - to follow him? Or he’s coming back, or-”

Ellie tossed the paper aside, uncaring of where it landed, and then stepped toward you, grasping your face with gentle hands.

“It’s okay.” She said calmly. “He’s gone.”

She echoed the words you had said that night, letting you know that she had miraculously granted your request.

If it was true, then you would consider her a guardian angel. But you almost couldn’t bring yourself to believe it.

“You did something.” You said quietly. It wasn’t accusing. It was a simple truth. You swallowed thickly. You waited before you asked your next question. “Is he dead?”

You would have hated to think that Ellie would go through so much trouble to frame his murder as him simply leaving town.

“Would you hate me if he was?” She replied.

Strangely enough, you had no clue how to feel.

Ellie saw the warring on your face, the years of pain tethering in your soul, and hoped to release you from it.

“He’s alive.” She sighed, a heavy awful truth floating from her lips. You looked somewhat relieved, but then that fear pricked into your big, sad eyes once again. “He’s not coming back. I can promise you that.”

If he did, Ellie would kill him. But she didn’t speak those words to you.

You lunged forward then, tightening your hands around her back, squeezing her with intense, passionate ferocity as you pressed your face into her shoulder and began to sob. Ellie held you dutifully, trying her hardest to be gentle with you, petting smoothly over your back as her heart ached at the sound of your cries. She had no idea that it was relief - pure relief exhaling from your lungs, the feeling of finally being able to breathe with the presence of that dark tormentor no longer hanging over your life.

“Thank you.” You sobbed, clutching onto her shirt. “Thank you, Ellie. Thank you.”

…

When Joel came back from his patrol, he asked where Ellie had buried the body. She sighed and told him that the guy had made the wise decision to leave town. Completely of his own accord. He shrugged and said he didn’t care either way - he just wanted to meet the ‘lovely young woman who was worth going through all the trouble for’.

Ellie invited you over for steaks at Joel’s house a few days later, and artfully dodged all the questions about whether you were dating or not.

…

A few months later, when winter thawed out and spring had come around once again, Ellie had taken you beyond the walls of Jackson once again, both of you delighting in the purity of everything nature had to offer, and your newfound freedom.

“Is it just me or is the air out here… fresher?” You posed, inhaling deeply as you threw your head back, truly basking in the nature around you.

Ellie giggled at this, and you threw a smile back over your shoulder at her. You walked along the path, bobbing between the trees and enjoying the greenery as it thawed out from the snow.

“It’s the mountains, there’s nothing but fresh air up here.” Ellie chuckled. “As far as I’m concerned, it beats living in the city. That place stunk to high hell. People piled on top of each other, old rotting buildings, no trees anywhere.”

You let out a small laugh at this. It wasn’t Ellie’s greatest work in comedy, but your lungs felt much lighter these days, and she soaked up the sound like the new saplings soaking up the sun.

She had also noticed your choice of attire for the day. For her, there was still that small nip in the air, something indicating that there might be one last frost left to the year, something that made her want to wear a sweater. But you had worn a short sleeved tee shirt with your jeans, and Ellie preened at the fact that there was not a single bruise anywhere on your skin. Some old scars that she could never have the hopes of reversing, but more and more lately, your smile outshined all of them.

“Ooh, look at this!” Ellie came to crouch at a small patch of grass, what you didn’t recognize as thick reeds that were somewhat special to her.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Joel taught me this.” She noted, making you even more intrigued.

Ellie plucked one out of the dirt, and held it between her two palms before she held it up to her two lips and blew - it made a sharp noise like a duck’s call, and you instantly began giggling at this delightfully strange sound.

“Okay, how did you do that?” You asked, kneeling down beside her.

Ellie grabbed up another one and put it in your hands, positioning them well. After a nod from her, you put it to your lips and gave a hard breath. You dissolved into laughter once again when it made that strange sound.

“I love that.” Ellie commented, absolutely beaming herself.

“What? You play the guitar but your favorite instrument is grass?” You joked.

“No.” She replied. “I love that smile.” She told you, motioning up toward your face. “That’s why I fell in love with you.”

“Els.” You murmured quietly, unable to truly explain the wave of emotion that came over you - being intensely thankful for her saving you, changing the course of your life, the swelling of love you felt for her and how it only grew with time.

Ellie didn’t need words. She leaned in and kissed you then, and you - for the first time in a long time - relaxed into her love and let yourself be happy.

From time to time, you were tempted to ask what exactly it was that she had done to make your brother go away. But as the months ticked on and your relationship developed - as Ellie helped you navigate your freedom and enjoy the sweeter things in life, you found that you truly didn’t care.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so please do not ask about a sequel or a continuation for it, because there won't be one. If you liked it and you want to comment on it, please comment on the body of work that I have written. Or feel free to check out the many other works I have written on my TLOU Masterlist. Thank you!!

#sundrop writes #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #the last of us

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star-anise · 2 years

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You just posted like ten different things about potatoes in the span of maybe five minutes, and I gotta know your take on "The Martian".

Like, the (fictional) man alone on a planet literally only survives because of potatoes shrink-wrapped in plastic for a Thanksgiving meal. If they weren't slated to be on Mars for Thanksgiving, he would have died.

And Andy Weir (author of the original novel) did such a good job with the science of every other element to the story, I honest-to-god believe that potatoes could actually manage to grow in Martian soil (even if that's not been proven for certain afaik).

Which means..... could potatoes terraform Mars into sustaining life??? Are potatoes the key to the universe???

Haha sorry for going so hard on them! Those were mostly all posts from 2020 when gardening and fantasy worldbuilding were lockdown fixations for me. One of them blew up recently so I wanted to give The People more of the content it seemed they were looking for. I don't actually know a lot about potatoes. I just think they're neat.

I do not want to take apart the concept of "colonizing Mars" as some kind of woke gotcha. I want to take your question seriously and charitably. However, I just am the kind of person who's like "Hmm, 'colonize', we should really stop and unpack that word," so let's do that, without forgetting the potato element.

(What "I don't know a lot" means: Potatoes were a crop my family grew several acres of for a few years on our farm before we switched our focus to sheep. I am about 50% as reliable as a horticultural brochure on various potato diseases and growing condition issues. I have listened to two University lectures and read perhaps four historical journal articles beginning-to-end on how the Columbian Exchange affected early-modern Europe, that and half as much again on medieval and early modern European farming practices and population changes, and perhaps three science/history articles specifically on the domestication and proliferation of the potato. I am a white Canadian who actively seeks out information and training in Indigenous history and culture in the Americas, but that's probably still only equal to like, two Native Studies classes in university. I know more than the average person on this topic, but I am also not an expert compared to people who have devoted serious time to learning about this.)

But I have some intuitions in a couple of ways:

The Martian is probably being wildly over-optimistic about its potatoes. They would probably have been irradiated into sterility before being vacuum-packed, and I don't think you can split and propagate them that quickly or successfully. However, potatoes can definitely grow in all kinds of conditions (including under my sink).

They might not be the world's healthiest or happiest potatoes, tho. Soil quality definitely affects the end product. Presumably Watney, being a botanist studying Mars' soil composition, knew how much he had to ameliorate his soil with latrine compost (which would definitely have needed a LOT of processing, since human waste is generally not good for plants, but maybe he used chemicals to speed that up?) to get good soil. However, we would probably need to add a LOT of shit to Mars' soil (and air, and water) for it to host plant life.

Mark Watney makes a joke about having "colonized Mars" because "colony" is Latin for "farm" and he farmed on Mars so haha, funny joke! And we talk about colonies on Mars partly because that's what science fiction did, and a lot of science fiction has been into that colonialism aesthetic. But colonialism and empires actually aren't great, not just because they necessitate huge amounts of racism, oppression, and genocide—I know, you asked me a fun question about potatoes and did not sign up for this, I'm not here to drag you, hear me out—but because they're also really sucky models for agriculture and successful societies generally.

My British ancestors tried to be colonial farmers in a place that is sometimes colder than Mars (Canada's Treaty Six), and let me tell you: IT SUCKED. Most of the crops and herbs and vegetables and flowers that settlers here brought from home and are used to? DON'T FUCKEM GROW. For the Canadian prairies to become conventional farmland, farmers and scientists had to scramble to find, or produce, cold-hardy varieties of everything from wheat to roses. A lot of flowers and plants that are unkillable invasive zombie perennials in other climates don't survive our winters no matter hard we try. The trees and flowers that hold cultural or sentimental attachments for us often don't grow here. The climate is so harsh and population is spread so thin that we cannot do the 100 mile diet and eat foods we're familiar with, and can hardly even manage the 1000 mile diet. (Not that I try, but, my family did once look into it)

A huge number of colonial homesteads, where the pioneers go out on their little covered wagon and build little houses on the prairie? Failed miserably and got bought up by land speculators. My own family came out to Alberta in the 1880s and moved around from land assignment to land assignment, like, six times before settling at their current place in the early 1900s.

Meanwhile: POTATOES

Potatoes are less than ten thousand years old! I am not any kind of expert on archaeology, please nobody throw things, but humans showed up in the Andes (think: high, cold mountains) of South America roughly 9,000 years ago. There are hundreds of wild potato varieties, but they generally produce fairly tiny tubers. It took active work of Indigenous Andean people around 8,000 years ago around Lake Titicaca to cultivate specific strains of potato, doing oldschool genetic modification to make them bigger, more delicious, and hardier. From that cultivation effort around a single species of wild potatoes, they produced thousands of cultivated potato varieties.

Ancient Andean farmers and botanists also played a big part in cultivating quinoa from wild amaranth, as well as producing modern food crops you probably haven't heard of, like oca, olluco, mashua, and yacon, and also coca, which may get a bad rap because it's what cocaine and coca-cola are made from but you cannot deny it's got kick.

Basically, Indigenous people of the Americas (South, Central, and North) went all in on botany and plant cultivation. Plants that we take for granted now have mostly been developed by Indigenous people in the past few thousand years: Tobacco, sunflowers, marigolds, tomatoes, pumpkins, rubber, vanilla, cocoa, sweetcorn, maize, and most kinds of pepper except peppercorn. These things were not found; they were made, by careful cultivation of the world as it was.

This gives us a vision of the future. Colonization, and industrial agriculture, both lean us towards the vision of a totally uniform end product, with the same potato varieties grown on each farm because we have made every farm the same. Instead we could embrace biodiversity and focus on privileging local knowledge and considering the interactions of environment, plants, microbiota, and people. We could create potatoes that were happy on Mars. We could create Mars that is happy to have us. We could create a society that can accept what Mars has to offer.

A lot of why we dream about colonizing Mars is the idea that the Earth itself is dying, that we are killing it, and we need to abandon this farmstead and seek out a new frontier. I acknowledge that shit is bad, but I don't agree with that framing. I am increasingly persuaded that there is a third path between ecological destruction and mass exodus, and I think we need to reject European colonial mentality that creates the forced choice. I find far more use in privileging the knowledge of people who live on and with land than their landlords and rulers, and I especially find value in Indigenous knowledge of land management practices and food production.

I am absolutely not saying that Indigenous people were or are wonderful magical ~spiritual beings~ who frolicked in an Edenic paradise that only knew death and disease once white people showed up. This isn't noble savage bullshit, nor am I invoking people who existed once but whom I have never met. I am saying that I have Indigenous neighbours, colleagues, relatives, and elected representatives. I have learned about mental health, leatherworking, botany, and ecology from Metis and First Nations elders and knowledge-keepers. And like. They have good and useful shit to say.

This is about culture, not race. It is not that their biological DNA means that they know more than me about how to get food from this landscape. It's about cultural history and what we learn from our heritages. What have our cultures privileged? Like, Europe has historically been super into things like metallurgy, domesticating livestock, and creating dairy products. If I want to smelt iron or choose animals to make cheese from, European society would have a lot of useful information for me! And what Indigenous cultures in the Americas have historically focused on instead of cows and copper* include 1) getting REAL familiar with your local flora and figuring out how to make sure you have lots of the herbs and grains and roots and berries you need, and 2) how to make a human society where people can live and have good lives, but do not damage the environment enough to impair the ability of future generations to have the same sort of life.

*Several indigenous American cultures did practice various forms of metallurgy. It's just one of those proportional things, about what societies really go for

Conclusion

I think we could use the processes that formed the potato to find and foster forms of life that could survive on Mars. It would involve learning to think that botany is a sexy science, and understanding just how rich and complicated the environment is. To oxygenate the atmosphere, we'd have to get super enthusiastic about algae and lichen and wetlands. We would have to learn to care deeply about the microorganisms living in the soil, and whether the potatoes are happy.

We'd have to create an economy that counts oxygen and carbon dioxide production on its balance sheets. To learn how to wait for forests to grow back after a fire, instead of giving up in despair because the seedlings aren't trees yet. To do the work now and be hopeful even though we might not see the payoffs for decades, or our victories might only be witnessed by future generations.

So yes, I think we could totally plant potatoes on Mars

But I also think that if we ever got there, we'd have turned into the kind of people who could also save Earth in the first place.

Which makes it a good enough goal in my opinion.

#staranise original #agriculture #potatoes my beloved

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balkanradfem · 4 months

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It was a while ago I read this tumblr post, which still comes to my mind every time I think about the future. It was explaining in an insightful way, how it's not a violent revolution that will bring forward the better future, it's slow and consistent change of our everyday life, of our habits, the resources we use and the way we go about achieving things. If we're hoping for a future where we're not dependent on capitalism, not destroying the environment, not robbed of our labour for a fraction of the money we need to survive, we'll have to slowly die capitalism out, by changing our own living habits.

If a sudden shift happened, and capitalism stopped functioning overnight, for most of the people that would be unsurvivable, all of the resources, food, jobs and life-sustaining services would stop. And we can't afford that. But, if instead we slowly backed away from it, generated alternatives, created communities and systems that can sustain us without capitalism, then it would only be a matter of time before capitalism is fully dead, with everyone alive, everyone safe. And this slow shift would be able to happen through decades and generations, and it would still be a great positive shift, with a future in sight. Capitalism offers no survivable future, seemingly ready to last as long as it can by destroying whatever is left from the environment and people alike, for the benefit of the few.

So let's see how we got here, or how I feel, looking back, we got here.

People used to be less dependent on a global system of distribution of resources, even just a 100 years ago; survival and trade skills were passed down in families and communities, and people would be able to make inside of their home and communities, a big percentage of things that we today would buy at the store. In those times there was no other way to gain those resources but by relying on people's knowledge, skill and labour. The future, however, promised a more convenient and easy way to gain all those resources, because they would be made by machines, and thus cheaper. And things kept coming in cheaper, for no visible labour required; you just needed to have money to buy them, which not everyone had.

But this too, would change as cheaper and cheaper things arrived, and it became less convenient to make those things yourself or within your community, and more convenient to just trade some money, and have it all be done for you. For people then, it could mean less energy spent on survival, more leisure time, more health and longer lifespan – except, it didn't, because the jobs that they needed to earn that money, tended to take all of that away. So still, there was a lot produced at home or within the communities, independent workshops and artist shops, so people within in the community would benefit from each other, instead of benefiting some faceless global corporation.

And now we know where this went; conveniences started lining up to the point where not having a certain convenience meant that you were below the norm. They sometimes got mixed up with inconveniences, but those inconveniences were 'necessary'. For instance, pollution became necessary, highways, huge trucks delivering goods, the oil industry, destruction of forests and habitats, exploitation of the poor, extinction of certain animals, and by the end of it, the climate change.

When I was born, my mother and grandmother still attempted to pass some skills that their mothers taught them; I remember being taught how to knit at the age of 5, the activity which at that age, seemed awfully tedious and was soon abandoned, and my grandmother showed me how to crochet, which I also soon forgot. After the age of small child, they both looked at the world, shrugged and decided 'she won't need it', and they have stopped trying to teach me any skills of the sort.

Buying things, rather than making them, already seemed the norm. People were readily telling you that you are stupid for trying to make something, when you could get it in the store, for very little money. Having animals at home, or growing food, was slowly getting replaced by buying it cheap, or buying tons of snacks, and biscuits and cakes, which now you could get pre-packaged, readily available to consume at your leisure. If it brought lots of waste from packaging, plastic and other non-degradable materials, nobody cared, it was new, convenient, and available, and we would have it, and live luxuriously.

Soon nobody seemed to talk anymore, about what we used to do before we were able to buy anything we could possibly need at the store; nobody would tell me what were the names of the native plants, and which ones I could make into teas, I was instead told to change my priorities because this kind of behaviour will never get me any money. All of my efforts to do arts and crafts, to forage, to make things from scratch, to paint and invent stories, were called frivolous, because they would not generate the one thing that was now the only thing worth generating: money.

It simplifies things a lot, instead of making various, interesting, self-made and beloved items that would all require different knowledge and skills, a human is now required to put all of their talents into 1 thing that would generate revenue, and then do that one thing, for entire life, and this would present a normal life on earth now. This was how it was presented to me, and it was before I found out that keeping one job for the whole life, was no longer an option, that changing jobs was the norm and was not often volountary. I did not, however, understand how doing that one job would not make someone go insane, and nobody was explaining that to me, it was just, the life.

So while the world was shifting into this new concept of 'make nothing but money', the first millionaires started to appear, the billionaire was not even conceptual, having 1 million was equal to being the richest person on the planet. That is pretty laughable to us now. Back then, it felt like heading into a new exciting world, but we know better now. We understand that lives consisting of a job and thousands of conveniences, easily sends a human being into a depression. We understand that relying on a job to keep us alive, and having constantly to compete with everyone else unemployed, to get one, has brought us to a place where others are a competition, not a resource, not a community. We understand that living in a world where we have to market ourselves as a resource, causes a lot of us to lose self confidence and the feeling of value, while it sends others into obsession with becoming popular, gaining perceived value, gathering a public image, that would later prove to be profitable.

By this time, unknown to us all, this life of convenience and consumerism had caused immense damage to the environment, and we were mostly kept in the dark about it, so we wouldn't complain. We learned about the holes in the ozone layer, but were told it was merely the fault of certain aerosols, and the rest of the stuff was fine. We would in the future get to watch oil spills and devastation of animal habitats, never fully connecting it to corporations who were responsible. Acid rains were mentioned, but we were told they caused by the new pesticides, but it was the fault of the farmers, they said, who simply used too much of it. Now we know it was the exhaust fumes from cars, factories and coal power plants. Climate change was barely mentioned, and even less believed in. And now, we can no longer ignore it.

So, what do we do in order to progress? We obviously can't go back to where we came from, but we are now made aware that the amount of energy and resources we're consuming, and the amount of toxic waste we're creating, will devastate the planet to the point where a big chunk of it will become inhabitable, millions of both people and animals, will end up dead if we keep going. But wait! How can I blame the people for any of this, when it's obviously the corporations that are doing the most damage, lobbying and hiding what is in actuality going on? And you're completely correct, I would have to say, it is corporations, and for the most time, we really didn't know the extent of damage they were doing. So why are the corporations exactly doing all of this? For profit. And who's giving them all that profit? Well, the consumers, by consuming all of the oil, energy, goods, resources and products they make. So how do we take down the corporations? By not giving them any of the profits. But, we can't do that in the current state of the world, we need cars, and food, and that food to be shipped and delivered from the distant lands, and we are all depressed and if we can't at least have our favourite snack, food we're used to, little treats and pieces of clothing that make us happy, we no longer feel like we can live!

And that's where the slow and meaningful habit shift comes into place. The thing is, we're not the same people we were 50 or 100 years ago, we don't have the skills of our ancestors, we're not used to producing our own resources, we are out of touch with nature, and we struggle to find our communities and feel valued. But we also have, so much more information and education at our fingertips. We have more scientific data, we have more access to information, we have more people creating public resources, we have the experiences and wisdom of generations back, only waiting for us to reach out, to tap into what the humanity knew centuries ago.

We're made to do various activities! We thrive on changing our habits by season, even by weeks. We thrive in communities, with no competition for resources. We love creating art, music, crafts and beauty just for fun, and the communal value of it cannot be compared to money. We don't like being reduced into human resources or labour force, we don't like repetitive activities that don't produce results or seem nonsensical, we don't like to be stuck within one room for most of the day, we don't like being replaced when we stand up for our rights.

I can already see a lot of people valuing all of the things on this planet that cannot be exchanged for money, but have intricate value in our lives and experiences; wild animals, plants, forests, environments and ecosystems filled with life, little stories and jokes we tell to each other, making crafts just for the sake of making things, creating their own clothes or fabrics, learning how it was done in the past; growing food, foraging, herbalism, basketry, making of soap and fixing things on our own, visible mending, connections and building communities, we are remembering it's what we want and need, and we're not going to build it the way it was in the past; we're going to do it our own way, with the knowledge and experience we have, the way we think is the best. All we need to do is start small. Do one little shift that takes you one tiny step away from consumerism. Add one little enrichment in your life that doesn't have anything to do with money or purchasing. Find little ways to save on energy that doesn't make any dips in your happiness or comfort levels, that only requires a little bit of your attention or focus to do.

Big shifts are not sustainable, and are not survivable, but we didn't get here by a big shift; we got here by a series of small, almost invisible shifts that we barely felt were happening, until it was our new normal. We can do small, painless shifts too, but this time, they're going to be conscious, purposeful, with thoughts of the future behind it, and they're going to come from us. Not the corporations, not the money holders, but us, pushing the future to the direction that we want.

#anti-capitalism #essay #long post #capitalism #environmentalism #climate change #future #environment #saving energy #leaning away from capitalism

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decolonize-the-left · 28 days

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GENERAL STRIKE TIME BABEY. READ THE WHOLE POST.

While we're all mad at government sending money to Israel that police budgets are so inflated because of how often they pay settlements.

And also that it's a verified fact that our police train with Israeli soldiers. Remember when they were black bagging people in PDX? It reminded me of this ex-Israeli soldier talking about how they'd do the same thing to innocent Palestinians just to terrorize them and their neighbors. It was intentional terrorism when they did it.

Police budgets pay for all that.

Correction, we pay.

To put it more bluntly,

We pay for them to kill and terrorize people.

Just as our taxes pay for the deaths of Black and Brown people all over the world from Turtle Island to Sudan and Palestine.

In Dec. 2022, Louisville Metro Government agreed to pay Walker $2 million to settle lawsuits against the city. Metro government previously paid a $12 million settlement to Taylor’s family in Sept. 2020

We paid for Breonna Taylor's death.

And her murderers were never arrested btw. Not that there aren't still people trying to arrest them of course. But our money paid for their lawyers and wouldn't you know it, no charges have stuck.

Four years to the day after Breonna Taylor’s death, federal prosecutors are moving forward with a re-trial of one of the officers involved in the botched raid that ended her life. At a status conference Wednesday, U.S. District Court Judge Rebecca Grady Jennings scheduled Brett Hankison’s final pre-trial hearing for September 13th. His re-trial is scheduled to begin on Oct. 15. In November of last year, Hankinson was tried for violating the Constitutional rights of Breonna Taylor, her boyfriend, and three neighbors when he fired through two covered windows during the raid. Prosecutors argued he used excessive force when he shot into the apartment complex blindly. Taylor’s boyfriend, Kenneth Walker, had fired at officers executing the search, claiming he thought they were intruders.

And Myles Cosgrove?

Yeah we're paying him to terrorize more people. He got a job as a fucking sheriff's deputy.

Myles Cosgrove, the former Louisville police officer, who was fired for fatally shooting Breonna Taylor in a botched 2020 police raid and hired earlier this year as a sheriff’s deputy in Carroll County, rammed a resident’s truck with his cruiser Monday and then pointed a gun at the owner and several bystanders, witnesses said.

Witnesses told The Courier Journal that Cosgrove barreled into Happy Hollow Private Resort Park trailer park at a high rate of speed without his emergency lights on, then struck William Joshua Short’s pickup truck with such force that it sent the vehicle flying into a building, breaking off two cinder blocks.

And Johnathan Mattingly wrote a fucking book about it to make money off of his role in her murder. $15 on Amazon.

He also wanted to sue Kenneth Walker, Breonna's boyfriend. You know why? For damages and injuries he sustained while killing Breonna Taylor.

WE PAID FOR ALL THAT. ALL OF IT.

Our power is in our dollar.

American politics and officials don't care for our lives. It's why they're content to watch us protest for months. Because we're still going to work. We are the worker ants simply fulfilling our duty, receiving the bare minimum to survive for our labor.

We're still building their bombs. Paying our taxes, so much that hardly any of us could afford more than rent.

We are just drones fulfilling our purpose to the upper class who doesn't give a shit about us beyond what we do for them and how little we will do it for.

If we want change we're gonna have to stop working. We're going to have to deprive them of products they sell, of our taxes, of our low cost labor.

And the strike that UAW is planning in May 2028 has inspired a lot of others to start looking at the opportunity to join in.

If you haven't heard of it yet, a strike is when workers organize and stop showing up for work. And a general strike is a mass strike across various industries around similar demands or bargaining positions.

There have been multiple calls for a general strike since then, predominantly from individuals and groups on social media, which has often resulted in confusion about what a general strike would actually look like. To be clear, a general strike is not a protest or a rally, a single picket line, or a boycott. It is, as I’ve previously defined, “a labor action in which a significant number of workers from a number of different industries who comprise a majority of the total labor force within a particular city, region, or country come together to take collective action.”

Throughout history, workers have used this tactic as a nuclear option to shut down entire cities when needed, including Philadelphia in 1835, Seattle in 1919, and beyond.[...]

If even four or five of the unions representing the workers mentioned above banded together in a nationwide general strike, the entire country would grind to a halt. When Shawn Fain asks his fellow unions to set the timer for May 2028, what he’s really saying is, get ready to shut sh*t down and level the playing field between bosses and workers once and for all.

JOIN A UNION. AND TALK ABOUT THIS.

And make one of the demands out to be an end of American support to countries participating in apartheid and genocide.

End the taxes for police budgets and settlements. If they want police departments so bad then they should FIND funding for themselves like the government makes USPS do.

One of the biggest pushbacks we hear is that there is never any official backing for calls to a general strike. Well here it is! Make sure you tell EVERYONE

This could be a global strike if other countries choose to participate on the same date

No, I don't think Palestine has 3 years so in the mean time join a union, keep protesting, start rioting, answer Every call to action coming from a Palestine and Sudan and the DRC and sign this strike card

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marciabrady · 7 months

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it's so funny to me that the princess our culture associates fundamentally with passivity offers credos which are among the most active and powerful of any in the fairytale canon

first and foremost, cinderella communicates that we all are what we contribute.

cinderella saves the mice and fosters an environment of collaboration, harmony, and unity that's harbored by her own industrious nature. mind you, she does all of this against her stepfamily's wishes, actively defying them, and creating a counterculture in the process.

as the story team intended the animals to be a reflection of their human counterpart, notice how cinderella's kindred are uniformly hardworking, intentionally kind, and approach every situation with their best foot forward, adapting a problem-solving mindset that collectively aids them all in their shared progression toward the betterment of themselves and the world around them. take the very first scene in which we see cinderella and the culture she's created, for instance:

everyone has a hand in the first chores of the day and they're all choosing to do it with a smile on their face. key word: choosing. because this isn't an idly happy lot whose joy is an accident of their own nature or something that's easy. their happiness is something they have to be mindful of and, in many cases, fight against themselves to achieve. because, guess what? their life is terrible. they've been reduced to living in a dusty attic room of a decaying house. many of them were saved from death by cinderella, herself, and know that if they venture too far outside of the safe quarters she's provided, or if they allow themselves to be seen in some way, they'll be back at death's doorstep. the danger and stress they live under would cause anyone to snap, or anyone to never want to get out of bed, which is why we see them looking like this in one of the most relatable openings of all time:

i mean, cinderella canonically hits the snooze button:

the birds literally have to force her to wake up, initially:

and once she does wake up, she's playful and pleasant and kind, yes. but that doesn't last long- the clock immediately tries her by reminding her of the daily toil she must face in order to maintain the food and shelter that's tantamount to, not only her own survival, but that of this tiny community that she's the unofficial mayor over and continues to be responsible for. she has to sustain herself and the others she's collected around her by choosing to live life the way she does. this kindness is something she has to pay for, every day. and she physically snarls at being reminded of the hand life's dealt her:

and you know what? that's a very human quality that everyone can identify with in some regard because it's hard, even if you are someone who loves life and the people around you, to keep going in spite of the challenges you face. being positive, plainly put, is something that's difficult and you have to keep reengaging yourself to be because it isn't a natural state for most people, and especially not people that have been treated as unkindly as cinderella. let's not forget that she lost both of her parents at a young, formative age, and from that time in her youth when, like all other children, she deserved to be supported and loved and protected, she was literally "abused, humiliated" and "forced" into being a literal "servant in her own house." she had no security- both of her parents were gone, she had no money to fall back on, no education, no means with which to leave the house, and to try to get a job in that world and environment- as unlikely as it would've been to obtain in the first place (which, again is so relatable- look at the staffing shortages and people struggling to find employment today)- would've been contingent upon references of some sort, and we all know that lady tremaine definitely would've either a) ran a smear campaign against cinderella to absolve herself and the family name of any personal fault or b) prevented cinderella from ever leaving in the first place so that no one would ever know that atrocities the tremaines forced her to endure from the time she was practically an infant.

she wakes up after barely being able to sleep, probably, due to all the daily chores she must, alone, accomplish to keep an entire estate afloat. everyone is depending on her, from the stepfamily to the mice to the grounds of her family's home itself. her body's practically aching from the lack of rest, the physical work she's forced to do every day, from sleeping on such an uncomfortable bed. the only place she feels remotely safe is in this drafty attic, which smells of fraying wood and aging artifacts and is in a constate state of decay, with weeds growing in the sides of the tower. that's not even mentioning the emotional turmoil, the ptsd, the grief, the neglect, the physical abuse she's also processing at any given moment

so, yeah, cinderella snaps. and there are times she snaps later on in the film but she always reels herself in and consciously makes the choice to never succumb to her circumstances. this is what makes cinderella extraordinary. she singlehandedly- and actively- ends the cycle of abuse through the behavior and choices she partakes in every single day.

and, again, this isn't something that's easy for someone who has been in survival mode for a majority of their life. but the conscious choices, active efforts, and mindful decisions cinderella makes is what frees the household from that cycle of abuse continuing. i mentioned earlier that the animals are supposed to be a parallel to their human counterparts. remember how we meet gus? he's just been caught in a trap, doesn't have anything to wear, and is literally recoiling in fear. due to his terror and his own need to defend himself out of instinct, he attempts to make himself come off as threatening as possible and is ready to pop off the minute that jaq approaches him:

but, through cinderella's influence, she's able to give him hope once more. she treats him warmly, pairs him up with a buddy to go through life with, comes up with a name- and even a nickname- for him, gives him a community, a safe haven, and clothes him. in that short time, look at the difference she's made in his mood, his demeanor, even his approach to life:

and it isn't just the mice cinderella's this way with. in the opening slides, we see cinderella holding an adorable puppy dog. but as the film progresses, and the narrator details the despair the family estate has fallen into, that puppy dog turns into an old, starved bloodhound who's secretly sleeping on the floor of the cold kitchen to keep from freezing to death. he has to keep even his dreams to himself so as to not be heard by the stepfamily and potentially kicked out. he openly hates lucifer but cinderella encourages him to think of lucifer's good points too, even if she can't think of any herself, to be able to continue successfully cohabiting this environment with him. and when he pounces on lucifer, deserved or not, she puts an end to this:

because cinderella knows what will ever happen if bruno allows himself to give into his impulses, to treat others as life has treated him, to attempt to retaliate in an impossible environment when the odds are already against you. you'll harm yourself the most and perpetuate that cycle.

but, just as bruno is a reflection of cinderella, notice how gleeful lucifer is in falsely incriminating bruno, so that another being who's never wronged him will be unjustly punished and suffer:

this is what separates cinderella from the tremaines. this is why she is the heroine and they will never be, despite how many people you see empathizing with how unfairly life must've treated them for being the "conventionally unattractive" characters in the film, or for having a single mother which to them denotes less resources, or for being awkward, or for whatever other reason of the month they're being rewritten to be the victims.

if we are the sum of our contributions, the tremaines are nothing and that is definitely a reflection of their reality. they only feel alive when they're making fun of cinderella or humiliating her by continuing that cycle of abuse they passively adhere to and never challenge. remember how we met cinderella and her friends, gathering their spirits and putting on a smile, despite how hard it is with the troubles that face them? how they look past that to work together and try to change life for the better?

the tremaines can't be bothered to get out of bed. the truly passive, lazy characters, they grog about in dim rooms, turning around in their fine silks and ornate finery, while a being they literally enslaved is being forced to do their bidding. and they refuse to actively participate in their very charmed and privileged life. they can't even find a reason to be happy- but instead are upset when cinderella enters their room. they want to know why she's taken so long, to hurry up, to continue to wait on them, hand and foot. when she asks them how they're doing, they grumble, "as if you care." because they don't care about anyone else, so why would others care about them? and that type of apathy breeds resentment, which- in the wake of such sedentary creatures- seeks manifestation and results in destruction. the stepsisters get out of their comfortable beds only when they have the opportunity to point their finger at cinderella, to get their mother to punish her. again, they feel alive by inflicting pain on others, it's literally what gets them out of bed:

again, as the parallel, this goes for lucifer, too:

as cinderella nears lady tremaine's bed, her stepmother's eyes blaze with fury, hatred plain on her face:

lady tremaine doesn't move, her hand only lifting to stroke lucifer, who has the biggest grin on his face. meanwhile, the desperation is evident in cinderella. she isn't quite defeated, because she does stick up for herself three times in the scene. but she's tired of this. she's tired of being tormented by her only family, of having the odds stacked against her even when she's doing everything in her power to live as peacefully and productively as possible, of being forced to fight a losing battle that will never result in peace but will only further prompt hatred, and division, and anger. in her expression, there's almost a plea for lady tremaine:

it isn't until she sees cinderella's expression, she hears cinderella try to explain what happened, that she livens up. because she has the opportunity to, again, keep that cycle of abuse alive, to actively try to destroy cinderella's quality of life and to profit off the position of power she's in over cinderella. look at the difference in lady tremaine's expression in the previous cap, and in this one, when she believes she's silenced cinderella and is preparing to tear into her:

one of the best instances through which i can further illustrate this ideology (you are what you contribute) is in a later scene, where we see the stepsisters discard their fine wares, labeling it trash and flinging the luxuries life's afforded them to scorn. it's nothing to them.

yet, to the mice and cinderella, it isn't nothing. because, remember, the royal proclamation declared that every eligible maiden should attend. at first, the stepmother refuses to let cinderella go and even the stepsisters brush her aside with classist comments. when cinderella sticks up for herself by reminding them she's still a member of the family, and by trapping them in the language of the royal decree "every eligible maiden," lady tremaine has no choice but to consent- on the grounds that cinderella is able to make herself eligible through producing a suitable dress. because, remember, cinderella isn't seen as a person. she's seen as subhuman, someone who's reduced to wearing tatters and isn't seen as a person in the eyes of their society unless she has social indicators of wealth via her clothing, in this specific instance. drizella and anastasia never have to think about that, because they exist as people of value in their society due to their good fortune that they had no part in creating. they don't know what it's like to be laughed at, to not be considered eligible or even a person in the eyes of society the way that cinderella's lived experience has reflected since her father died. meanwhile, the tremaines are so deep in their own privilege, that they're literally waving it around like it's a rag and carelessly tossing it away. yet, what does cinderella do, with much less?

cinderella makes do with what little she has, always to help someone else. and because of this active kindness, it changes the mindset of those around her. since she's afforded this to so many of the mice, what do they do for her in return?

what a difference in how cinderella and the stepfamily approaches what's, essentially, the same material? and this community that cinderella has established and continually maintained and influenced comes to each other's aid, time and time again. whether it's cinderella freeing the mice from death, or giving them clothing, or allowing bruno to sleep inside unbeknownst to the stepfamily, or the mice turning into a LITERAL army and battleground in cinderella's honor:

again, this community is just as active and vital as cinderella, herself, is. because those values i mentioned earlier, of helping one another and rising above your circumstances and working together, aren't just whimsical morals cinderella sings about. they're constant behaviors she's actively taking part in and impact the household they all share, to the point where when they help each other take action when the time is right. they're constantly conferring with one another on how to best use their community and the resources this offers to get closer to victory. (meanwhile, the stepfamily is only for themselves; anastasia and drizella literally repeatedly hit each other and compete, even to the point of giving conflicting stories to the grand duke that makes their pathetic attempt seem all the more discreditable at alleging they were the princess at the ball the night before) we see it in how cinderella and her friends accomplish their chores together, in how the mice plan to get her dress remade while she's busy, even in how cinderella's quick thinking leads to calling upon bruno, who must be awoken by the birds with an interjecting call from the horse, and how this leads to all of their escape:

because, this community also knows when it to fight and support one another in times of battle and when the goal will bring about a victory that will ultimately reign peace; they know when it's worth it for a shared goal and the benefit of all parties involved. and the difference cinderella brought into that household is what gave them all glory and helped them, not only survive, but succeed. it isn't just the poor scullery maid we see ascend in the closing chapter of the film. we see the same bluebirds who attempted to wake her up in the beginning of the film holding her wedding veil:

we see those same mice that she nursed from death, and clothed, and fed, and loved; the mice that risked their lives in remaking her deceased mother's dress so that cinderella might, too, have a chance to go to the ball; they're still here, cheering her on and throwing rice in blessing at the happy couple, their own clothing being upgraded to reflect that of the royal staff:

we see that starved bloodhound and the old horse leading the royal regiment, as beautiful and shining and proud as their majestic counterparts:

and this is the world that cinderella, as a character, offers. not a world in which multiple parties are at competition with one another over who's the prettiest, or the wealthiest, or where hatred breeds continual hatred. but she presents us a world in which everyone deserves to be seen, heard and valued; where everyone can find a community they can contribute to and have purpose in and be worthy of experiencing love, whatever you determine love to be whether it's romantic or in the form of a found family.

a world in which everyone can go to the ball:

#mine #marciabrady #cinderella #cinderella 1950 #this was supposed to be 2 credos but i got carried away #maybe i'll write the other one in a future installment #but ahhh it feels so nice to be back #*ahem* if you learned anything from this or were inspired please source or credit #creative larceny isn't cool!

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hihomeghere · 6 months

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Hello my new favorite creator! I just saw your response to my last request (the soft y/n dom one) and I'm deffo going to formally request you turn it into a story (if you're not doing that already) I've been reading more of your content and it's quickly becoming an addiction 😅 any way I'll be a big supporter from the shadows <333 -🧛 anon (Naming myself lol)

Routine | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 2.3k Summary : After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. Aged up!Five Warnings/Tags : Smut, handjob, masturbation, piv, cursing, fluff at the end, this is filth enjoy <3 ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters )

If Five was anything, he was a creature of habit. His father had ingrained that in him from a young age. Chores, training, studies, hell even his meal times were scheduled. His entire life was based on routine.

Then he was stuck in the apocalypse, and even though there were millions of things Five could be mad at his father about, he had to appreciate his sense for routine. It kept him alive, he still had a set time to eat (if he had anything to eat), but instead of training he was scavenging. Picking through a wasteland for anything edible, along with trying to find a sustainable source of clean water. While picking through for food, he would also collect anything to help conserve his energy. Things like his bike or wagon, etc. His definition of ‘resting’ was mainly anytime he could sit down. During those periods he would work on equations, trying to find a way out of there and back to his family. And although it wasn’t strictly in his routine, mental breakdowns always seemed to weasel their way into his day.

Thankfully, both of those routines were a thing of the past. Now his routine consisted of reading up on case files before going into the field. He’d kill whoever he had to and afterwards he’d reward himself with fucking his fist until he fell asleep. Did it make him feel a bit disgusted with himself, yes, but masturbation had been the only stress relief he’d ever had. Again, just another one of his constants throughout the years. What he hadn’t accounted for was you. At first he had marked you off as a nuisance. Like the cockroaches that somehow managed to survive alongside Five, although you were much nicer to look at.

Five knew he was in trouble when he started subconsciously adding your routines into his. You would start getting hungry around 11:30 every day, like clockwork. So he had started planning his lunches for around 11:30, not because the thought of you eating alone made his heart seize in his chest, just to make his work more efficient. It aggravated him to have to wait for you to be finished with your lunch, only for him to get hungry once you returned. So out of convenience, he started eating lunch with you. Little things like that.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. You were always one to throw wrenches in the works. Although he didn’t account for a deviation of this size into his plan. When he kissed you, a silent confession on his feelings, he knew there would be no going back. You were it for him. He loved you and you seemed to share those feelings. Your lips crashed against his as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room. You giggled into the kiss, something so sickly sweet. His hands were back on you as soon as the door swung open. Pulling the key out of the lock and throwing it onto a side table as he kicked the door close behind you. His hands were everywhere, touching and squeezing. Your breasts, oh god, your tits. He couldn’t get enough of them, his hand flew under your blouse, pinching your nipple through your bra. You gasped softly, your hands threading through his hair. He stopped, admiring your flushed face as he kicked off his shoes. Your lips parted slightly, hot breath fanning across his face, a light splattering of blood across your cheek.

You pulled away, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. What was happening to him? Did you really have such a hold on him? He was taken back to his younger years, when his father would read from Homer’s Odyssey. He had never paid much attention to the sirens, that was more of Diegos and Luthers interest. He wished he had listened to Circe’s warnings like Odysseus, now he was sure he had met a siren in person. He was bewitched by you, drawn to you like iron to a magnet. Five was sure you were more beautiful than Helen of Troy, hell even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You smiled, pushing him back onto the bed before kissing his cheek. Another one of your routines, always showering after a mission. You made a show of undressing yourself, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Then shimmying out of your trousers. You hooked your fingers under your bra strap, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. You unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the chair. Five’s eyes never left your body until you were behind the bathroom door. He gulped, his cock painfully pressed against the crotch of his slacks. He hurried to pull himself free, the buckle of his belt clinking metal against metal. He started to get frantic in his movements, unzipping his pants and kicking them off along with his underwear. His cock sprung up against his stomach. He let out a sigh, spitting into his hand. He grabbed himself, lubricating his dick with his spit. At times like this he wondered if was seriously fucked in the head. But normally once he ran his thumb over the slit on his head any negative thoughts would be tucked away. He arched his neck, letting out a shaky breath as he started to stroke himself. His mind wandering to you, always you. “Fuck,” he sighed squeezing the base of his cock. Your flushed face, a blush painting your cheeks. That slutty fucking skirt you wore, tight around your hips, he didn’t know how you got that little thing over your ass. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace. How your lips felt against his throat as you ordered him to cum, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. His hips jolted up into his hand, he craved more, his other hand gently cupped his balls. He was close, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Y/n.” He whined, his eyes fluttering close.

“Starting without me?” You asked leaning on the doorway to the bathroom. Clad in only a towel, tightly wrapped around your body. He froze, caught red handed with his pants down. Fuck he was so close. He tugged on himself, chasing after his high as it slowly slipped away. You stopped him, swatting his hand away from his dick. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, your arms crossed above him. You stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. You grabbed his face, your fingers pressing his lips together, his skin dimpling under your grip. His breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He said through squished lips.

“You started without me.” You repeated, a wolfish grin spreading across your face. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You turned his face so he was looking at you, his green eyes wide. He let out a surprised sound, “Now, would you like to finish?” You asked with a commanding voice. His eyes flicked all over your face.

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go of his face, walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the plush chair. You sank down onto the chair, slowly undoing your towel, letting it pool around your body.

He stared at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled to yourself, his expression taking you back to the first night you spent together. So unsure of himself, his hands twitched against the sheets. His dick stood at attention, brushing against his white shirt. His angry red tip made a wet spot on his shirt.

“Take off your shirt first,” you said, leaning back in the chair, spreading your legs. It was like he had been frozen until your command. His eager fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons quickly. He tore it off of him, throwing it onto the floor. He turned to you for his next instructions, a newfound glint in his eye. “You can touch yourself.” You cooed, immediately his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself with fever, he wet his bottom lip, his hips jolting against his fist. Five was so pretty like this, not that he wasn’t a gorgeous man, but he was so vulnerable. Pride bloomed in your chest knowing that you were the only one allowed to see Five like this. His head fell back, giving you a gorgeous view of his neck. He let out a strangled whine, his lips parting. You sat up, unable to help yourself. You stalked towards him, your hands holding his shoulders. Your lips attacked his neck, nipping and sucking on his neck. Dark spots adorning his pale skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning into your touch. You reached down, pulling his hand away. He let out a frustrated whine, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes. You smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek over his two freckles, before squeezing his shaft. You began to pump him harshly, sucking a deep mark on his collarbone. His hands flew to your hips, holding them with a vice like grip. “I’m gonna cum.” He said through his gritted teeth, “please let me cum.” He squeezed your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You can cum baby,” You chuckled, licking a stripe up his neck. He cried out his hips jolting against your hand as ropes of cum shot out onto your fist. You grinned, working him through his orgasm. A pained expression painting his features. As he came down from his high, he softly rubbed circles onto your hips.

“That was…” He trailed off clearing his throat, his hands drifting upwards on his body. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against your body.

“Never would have guessed Mr. Five Hargreeves would be so obedient.” You laughed, kissing him. He pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me y/n?” He said, cocking his head slightly. A smug smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. You felt like the prey instead of the predator under his gaze.

“I would never dream of it.” You smirked, feeling him get hard against your stomach. “Already?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“I can’t help that I have the most gorgeous girl in front of me, naked.” He mused, raising his eyebrows. You pushed him back, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. You crawled on top of him, setting yourself over his waist. He leaned his head forward, his lips covering your right breast. You lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he pushed through your opening. He let out a pained cry against your breast.

“Are you alright?” You asked, stalling your movement.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping your hips, stilling any movements you would make. “Just sensitive, tesoro.” He chuckled looking up at you through his heavy eyelashes. You grinned, you wanted nothing more than to have Five under you a blubbering mess. And you were gonna have it.

You rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. He let out a choked gasp, his head falling back against the bed.

“You like that baby?” You asked, dragging your hips up and down against him.

“Fuck yes.” He whined, arching his back off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your chest. You rocked back and forth, Five’s fingernails dragging down your back. You moaned, pushing him back against the bed. You leaned back, propping yourself up on his thighs as you jutted your hips forward again and again. That familiar coil tightening in your stomach. “F-fuck.” He cried, his hips jolting against your pelvis, his pubic hair rubbing at your clit. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

“You feel so good, you make me feel so good Five.” You huffed, struggling to keep up your pace. He whimpered a tear falling down his cheek. Suddenly his body jolted, his hands gripping your waist holding you down onto his hips as he came with a cry. You grinned against him, reaching your own orgasm. You moaned, high pitched and breathy as his cock twitched inside you. His cum painting your walls as you clenched down on him

“Christ woman.” He sighed, his arm covering his eyes. You pulled away his arm, wiping away a stray tear.

“Glad to be of service.” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips. You slowly got off of his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you. You laid down beside him, lightly trailing your fingers over his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. Your head laying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

“I love you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” You tease, staring up at him through your lashes.

“No.” He says, rolling his eyes feigning annoyance. He sits up, you prop yourself up on your arm. “I’m serious,” he cups your face, “I love you so goddamn much.” He says kissing you. You were sure you had died and gone to heaven. His hand against your face, with his soft slightly bruised lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling like a love sick teenager.

“I love you.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you, I love you.” You kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He chuckled softly, as you met his eyes. “I love you Five Hargreeves.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

“And I you.” He smiled. Five would happily add anything pertaining to you into his routine any day.

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #alison hargreeves #five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x reader #five x reader #number five #tua x reader #hihomeghere

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