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chibsandchill · 3 months

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See me

Fandom: Saltburn

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Each room in Saltburn is bursting at the seam with memories with you, and Felix remembers some of his favorite moments as he makes his way to his prize.

Warnings: Felix, Mentions and descriptions of acts of violence and murder, NSFW content, MDNI, 18+, unreliable narrator (Felix), toxic relationship, obsessive tendencies, grammatical and spelling errors, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), Felix is a creep, themes of violence - self-harm and equivalent themes are prevalent through the imagine, some parts of their dynamic takes inspiration from Hannigram but with my spin on obsession

I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the tags.

MDNI

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

It’s a cloudy day when Felix first saw you,

but with you came the sun,

warmth, empathy, love.

Oh, how he loved your heart. But, oh, how careless you were with it. It was a gift,

one meant for him,

from you.

Then why did you waste it on those beneath you? You chipped away at it to mend sobbing students, tore at it until it bled and thick scars rose like mountains. You took on their pain with a blindingly bright smile,

only Felix saw how their burdens weighed you down.

The sun was meant to warm, to burn from far away,

but they tore you down from your place in the sky so that they might leech your warmth until you are left barren. Their sorrows were cold as ice against you.

They stole you from him. Piece by piece they ripped at you with filthy nails. You became known on campus as someone who’d listen. Who wouldn’t judge. How could you when you felt their problems as if they were your own? The more they spoke those words dripping with poison, the more they tainted the very blood in your veins with their darkness.

‘Walk in their shoes’.

You didn’t need to. You could walk in their skin, feel their emotions as if they were yours. Heartbreak plagued you, sorrow fell on you like an ever present shadow. The death of a family not yours turned your face gray and your eyes misty.

Until Felix put a stop to it all. How could he stand by and watch it happen? The slow destruction of a bright star, who burned so bright that all envied it.

Jenny from history of art, Carl from math, Robert from physics, Matilda from psychology, Caroline, Jeremy, Han, Thomas, Harry, Derek, Henry, Linda, Nico, Mark, John, Hans, William, Frederic. All turned away at your door.

“Yes, I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Oh, how they believed his lies. Sweet, sweet, Felix Catton wouldn’t lie to them. Surely not.

But lie, he did. It spewed from his lips like honey. All to have his sun beam at him again. To wash away the taint of the others from your skin, your heart, your eyes. He would have you look at him with soft, relaxed eyes.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Your protector. Even if you didn’t know it yet.

“Felix.”

He hummed.

Your eyes are heavy with sleep when you look up at him, but the affection is hard to miss. It makes you glow. Felix curled his arm further around you, bringing you closer to him. But even then it is not close enough. He aches. It’s a want deeper than skin, deeper than bones or even his soul. It was as if his very being was made of want, of longing so intense he was blinded by it. If God was indeed real then he had created Felix with a thread laced with obsession, with love transcending all else.

Even thinking about you made his heart race, pound.

“Can I braid your hair?”

“‘Course.” He said against your skin.

As if you needed to ask. All of him was yours.

You try to sit up but Felix isn’t ready to break the contact yet. He feels like a battery, no matter how bizarre a comparison it is, constantly needing to be recharged so that he might survive when you part. He’s constantly cold without you, he feels empty; hollow. His hands are too light with the lack of you, he breathes too easy without the weight of you on his chest. If he could he’d carve his heart out so that you could carry it with you, for that was how he felt anyway. He’d gouge himself hollow so that he could fit you inside. Never to be parted again, joined together by shared blood, flesh and bone.

It’s not easy with his hold on you, but you manage to shift so that you sit in his lap instead. It’s not ideal if you mean to truly braid his hair but Felix won’t complain. He pushed his head into your touch when your fingers hover over him.

“Patience.” You half-heartedly scold him.

Your fingers weave through his hair, nails scratching just right against his scalp. With deft hands you untangle the mess you’d created during the night. There’s not much to braid but more than enough for you to wrap around your fingers and tug. The action pulls a low groan from his throat.

He grabs your hips. Felix wonders if you’ve noticed how he’s caged you in. You probably don’t, as sweet and trusting a being as you surely wouldn’t peel back his layers to gasp at the thriving darkness beneath. With you he was his truest self. Could you see him? Would you run if he were to cast off the layers? Let you see him?

Maybe you already could. You had seen the others. Even the empty ones, the ones who had gouged themselves hollow and shoved the essence of what they thought he wanted until it spilled from every hole in their body.

Felix wasn’t hollow. He was bursting at the seams with life, same as you. And yet you stayed. Surely you knew. You had to. You and he were one. Two pieces of a whole finally reunited.

He breaths in your scent, noses along your throat before allowing his head to rest in the crook of your neck. There’s a bruise there hidden on your shoulder blade. Late one night when you’d already fallen asleep he mouthed it into your skin with the moon as his witness,

only,

it had started to fade.

He’d have to do it again. Closer. Marking you under the cover of darkness wasn’t enough anymore. An unspoken claim didn’t satisfy him anymore. It wasn’t enough. He was beginning to think it never would be. He could bruise every inch of your skin with his love and his skin would still itch to do more – to prove himself more to you.

Just as his hands slide down to rest on the curve of your ass the scene slips through his fingers like sand.

He blinks it away. He’s standing in the driveway of Saltburn. Your favorite statue is left in shambles on the gravel with his blood splattered across the white marble.

“What the fuck.” Felix’s hand shakes and burns with pain. His knuckles are split open.

It had been a slip of a thought he had once when you first came to Saltburn and you’d taken to leaning on the statues, the furniture, walls, pillars. He’d wanted them all gone. He’d be your pillar. He wouldn’t crumble with age, would never make you think they stood strong only for the core to be riddled with holes from pests.

Felix was whole and strong, had made himself such,

for you.

He’d burnt the tendrils of influence his mother had dug into him since childhood. Torn the threads of her darkness right out of the tapestry. Oh, how she cried when she noticed. ‘Felix,’ she’d whispered, a rare show of emotion plastered across her face, ‘what have you done?’.

She shouldn’t have worried about what he had done. No, she should’ve worried about what he was going to do.

He watched you for weeks before approaching you. He noticed what made you laugh, what made you smile, frown, scowl. And so he took that too. Cut out the parts of himself that would drop the smile from your face and sewed on the parts that he lacked until he was left a patch-work version of perfecting befitting a Mary Shelley novel. Pus and blood seeped from the stitches. The sight was unseemly. So he waited until he’d perfected himself, until the stolen was assimilated, until it was like another Felix had never existed.

Felix throws the heavy doors open and the maids scurry away from his sight.

Duncan emerges from the pack. Even after all he’d seen, his adoration for Felix remained. “Welcome back, Felix.”

He nods.

And then he’s off.

The route he takes is reminiscent of your first tour of the mansion. He’s even nodding along as if hearing himself introduce it all. The staircase where he “fingered” his cousin. As if. Your face had reddened with equal parts jealousy and sheer disbelief of ‘what the fuck’.

One of the smaller sitting rooms. The green one. He fucking hates that room. But you love it. He went down on you for the first time there. Right on the couch with his granny’s ghost knocking down a shelf of antique plates over his head. The blood had driven you crazy.

The thought alone made him hard.

But this was also the first room you’d held him properly in. He’d been crying.

“What's wrong?” You ask when he threw the door open.

You’d been doing some summer reading for uni, but your fingers clutched the opening pages with strength that betrayed your pounding headache.

“Fucking Ollie.”

Your brows furrow “Oliver?”

Felix lay down on the couch with his head in your lap. You smell good. And you’re soft.

“Yeah.” He sigh. “He was lying to us this whole time. Turns out poor Oliver Quick has both a dad and mum who loves him. Even siblings! They live in a lovely house in a picture perfect neighborhood.”

‘I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you!’

As if there was even a sliver of Felix that didn’t belong to you, that didn’t scream out for you every second you were apart. Had Oliver not been paying attention? Could he not see the need that permated him? It ran so deep, was so all-consuming that he couldn’t contain it all. He breathed desire, cried longing, even fucking pissed envy. Envy even over the very air you breathed, the clothing that hugged you, the sheets for the audacity to imply he wasn’t enough to keep you warm.

You hum as your fingers drift down to cup his face.

“He was in love with me.”

“Isn’t everyone?” You joke.

Felix’s eyes opened (he hadn’t realized he closed them). “You love me?”

“Of course.” You trace a scar on his cheekbone.

“Say it.”

“I love you, Felix.”

Even that memory fades, but your words linger.

I love you, Felix.

You always linger. Your kisses burn his skin and he wishes it left a scar so that he could look upon it and relive it all.

The green room is abandoned quickly, and he’s off.

“A blue room!” You exclaim, and to Felix’s displeasure you let go of him to take it all in.

“Yeah. It’s… blue.”

“What? No ghosts? No artifacts?”

Felix shakes his head. “Nope. Just blue.”

Felix sees himself leaning against the door while you spin around the room. It’s like a movie, almost. Only it’s his memories and he can remember every second he’s ever spent in your presence. Including this one. And the next one.

The one where you’re on your knees.

You’re pressing soft kisses to the tip of his cock, pressing your love into every inch of skin you can find as if you wanted to stay there, to have your love replace the tar that ran through his veins.

It’s odd. He can almost feel the tingles left by your touch, but he’s untouched. Felix’s hands form fists at the sight. Was it possible to be jealous even of himself? The envy boiling in his stomach certainly said so. He would not share you even with himself.

Felix strides forward and sinks into the place his past self sits. He unbuckles his jeans and frees his cock from his underwear. If he were not so deep in madness he might’ve felt the cold of the room, but he was, and so he felt the warmth of your hands, the wetness of your mouth as you wrap your lips around his tip.

He moans. He didn’t know what he liked the most about it. The vulnerability, the act itself, your presence, or that it left you with a part of him inside you. You’d kneel in front of him for as long as it took, but Felix would not have you be uncomfortable and so he slid a pillow under your knees.

Your hands cup his balls. He twitches. You take more of him into you. It feels like heaven to have you wrap yourself around him. Wet, warm, silky heaven. All for him.

Him. Him. Him. Him. His.

You moan around him. It sends vibrations straight through him. It pulls a low groan straight from his chest, one that makes you moan. His pleasure is your pleasure, and your pleasure is his, and so the circle begins.

His eyes roll into the back of his head when you begin bobbing your head up and down. You slurp. Electricity runs down his spine. It’s wet. Sloppy. Saliva drips down your mouth as you press your nose into his abdomen.

Someone drops a plate somewhere in the house and the spell is broken. Not unlike a reflection in a lake is the memory distorted, wrong. You’re on your knees without the pillow. He’s standing above you, not sitting. Your knees are bruised and bleeding. You’re crying.

Some small part of him, one that he’d allowed to fester for far too long, enjoys the scene. Enjoys the submission, thrives in the knowledge that it is not only he that longs and wants and would press and press until nothing remains if only to bring you a sliver of happiness. You smile around his cock. It’s not the pain that brings you to tears.

This isn’t right. This isn’t him. It’s Elspeth messing with his head. It’s Oliver whispering his lies in his ear.

He wants to vomit. Why would they punish him so? To make him see you hurt,

to force him to see himself hurt you, brutalize you,

humiliate you.

Why, when he adored you, worshiped you. If there was a puddle he’d lay himself down to let you walk over him. He’d drown himself so that you would not have to dirty yourself. Like a tumor he’d performed surgery after surgery to remove what you didn’t like.

And you did the same.

The image is restored, but he’s already on his feet.

He would wait no longer.

Felix runs up the stairs but is forced to a halt by the moans coming from the king’s bedroom. Another memory? The door is already open.

“Tell me your vows again.”

You’ve got your legs up in the air behind you, head resting in your hands as you stare at him.

“Dear,” Felix turns around from where he stood by the window. Your name sounds like prayer on his lips. “I’ve never been alone. People have flocked to me since before I can remember. But they didn’t see me. But you… you, I let you see me. It’s a rare gift. And it’s one that I’ve never regretted giving you. I’ve never felt more loved than in your arms. Do I need to continue, Mrs Catton?”

You laugh.

“Come to bed, Felix.”

The memory changes before he can enjoy the sight of you in your wedding dress. The happiest day of his life. Gone in a blink.

You’re no longer on the bed. You’re in his arms, crying yet again. There’s blood on his shirt. No finger graces your finger. Felix closes his eyes. He knows this memory. KNows very well what he’d have to endure to get back to you.

“Y-you killed him!” You shudder.

Felix shushes you. “There was no other way.”

“There’s always another way.”

“Not this time."

Truly, there wasn’t. You saw much, but Oliver was so good at pretending to be someone else that he even fooled himself into believing his own lies. And so, you thought nothing of it when Oliver offered you his bottle of wine. Had no idea of the drugs that he’d shoved in there.

“Are you scared of me?” Felix asks you. His voice shakes. He remembers his own fear, how his stomach churned. He could write a thousand words and not even chip at the surface of the emotions he felt. A thrill at the thought of you finally seeing the deepest deepest parts of him? Disgust that he’d slipped and revealed a crack in his mask? Such fear that it clung to his very bones, stopped his lungs from working and had his own eyes water with tears? All true. And yet all of them are false. There wasn’t a single emotion he could place, they all blended together to form a concoction of heart-wrenching pain and fear.

The memory fades away. He doesn’t remember the rest. All he remembers is how it ended.

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his thrusts. His hands are cradling your face, kissing away the tears of pleasure. You push your legs up higher on his back where you’ve hitched them, your own hands pressing against his own face to bring him closer. He’s inside you but he’s not close enough.

Felix leans down to cover your whole body with his. You squeak at the change.

“Oh god,” you throw your head back with a moan.

He moves a deft finger down to press down on your clit. He experimented with pressure, directions, even spelled out his own name with your pleasure. Felix feels as though he’s on fire, but still he wants more. He wants to be closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.

You clench around his cock, and he stutters.

The love in your eyes makes him falter, before he drives into you faster than before. The bed squeaks, one hard thrust away from breaking. Fitting. So is he. Your right hand moved up his cheekbone, past his ear and to the back of his head. Your touch is gentle, barely-there pressure as you guide him down to slant your mouth over his. His heart aches with love, adoration, you. You’ve made it your home.

Yet again he is denied release as the memory is gone. The room is empty.

“Fuck.”

It’s not graceful the way he stalks out of the room. No more interruptions, he thinks.

The last door in the corridor. Yours. And his. Your marital chambers, as Duncan would call it. Old fashioned bastard.

He pushes it open without as much as a knock. And there you are.

“Felix!” You cross the room in seconds and then you’ve thrown yourself in his arms. “We missed you!”

Your rounded stomach presses into him. He rests his forehead on yours, pressing long, soft kisses against your lips, even as you giggle and try to move away. When you do, he chases after you. He’s not done. Never done.

His legs feel like jelly, his soul is on fire,

but he finally found you.

In a house full of memories and vengeful ghosts he found you.

And you saw him, as you always do, and he’s tugged back into bed with the comforting weight of you pressing him down into the mattress.

And he’s almost content.

Almost.

Taglist:

@fedyascoffin

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x you #saltburn imagine #saltburn smut #saltburn x reader #saltburn #felix catton smut #felix catton imagine

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shewhoworshipscarlin · 3 months

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Anderson Bonner

Prominent Texas landowner and businessman Anderson Bonner was born enslaved in Alabama around 1839. Not much is known about his younger years. Family history states that Bonner was given as a wedding present to the daughter of his former master, who moved him from Alabama to Arkansas. Anderson may have been “refugeed” in Texas during the Civil War when nearly 100,000 enslaved people from neighboring states were forcibly brought there by slaveholders to avoid the Union Army freeing them as it gradually occupied more of the Confederacy. If Bonner was in Texas by 1865, he—like other Lone Star state enslaved people—gained his freedom when Union General Gordon Granger and Union Troops under his command arrived in Galveston on June 19, 1865 and pronounced the end of slavery. That announcement became the basis for the Juneteenth holiday.

Sometime in 1865 Bonner married a woman known only as Eliza. Over time the couple had ten children, Anderson Jr, Newton, William, Ed, John, Andy, Mary, Martha, Charlie and Nash. Bonner arrived in Dallas, Texas, around 1870 with his brother Louis, and sister Caroline and they worked on a farm in the White Rock Creek area. Bonner by this time had acquired modest wealth. The 1870 Census lists his financial worth at $275 or approximately $5,456 in 2020 dollars. On August 10, 1874 Bonner purchased sixty acres of land, signing the deed with an “X”, as he never learned to read or write. He soon began leasing his land and the houses on it to cotton growing sharecroppers. With the money he earned, he bought more land. Bonner eventually amassed over two thousand acres of land in what is now North Dallas and the Dallas suburb of Richardson. The Medical City Dallas Hospital now sits on what was once the Bonner farm and the North Central Expressway divides Bonner’s original property.

Census records in 1900 reveal that six of the ten Bonner children still lived on the Bonner farm. Cotton, corn, and fruits were grown on the family farm worked mostly by Bonner, his children, and sharecroppers. Bonner’s sister, Caroline married into the Fields family, and one of her children married into the Giddings family, both prominent African American families of Dallas in the late 19th Century. In 1903, Eliza was killed in a oil lamp explosion in the family home. Sixty-four-year-old Bonner then married a woman named Lucinda, but the couple had no children.

Anderson Bonner passed away at the age of 82 in 1920. He was buried in White Rock Colored Union Cemetery (now White Rock Garden of Memories Cemetery), in Addison county. His descendants established the Anderson Bonner Endowment Scholarship that helps support Richardson Public School students who attend Prairie View A&M University. The first public school for black children in the North Dallas, the Vickery and Hillcrest school was renamed the Anderson Bonner School before its closing in 1955. The city of Dallas officially named the park west of Medical City Hospital, Anderson Bonner Park in 1976. The park consists of 44.1 acres of Bonner’s original land.

#historical #black history month #land owner #formerly enslaved

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themakeupbrush · 7 months

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List of Met Galas since 2001

I've gotten a few asks for a list of Met Galas. Technically, the gala has existed since 1948, and been themed since 1973, but I started at 2001 to keep it short (there was no gala in 2000 apparently). If you're interested in every theme that's ever existed, there's a chart on Wikipedia.

Most lists online start somewhere around 2011-2013, since it wasn't covered by the press the same way before then.

2001 Jacqueline Kennedy: The White House Years

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Christina and Lindsay Owen-Jones, Annette and Oscar de la Renta, Carolina Herrera Caroline Kennedy and Edwin A. Schlossberg

Sponsor: L'Oreal

2003 Goddess: The Classical Mode

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Tom Ford, Nicole Kidman

Sponsor: Gucci

2004 Dangerous Liaisons: Fashion and Furniture in the 18th Century

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Renée Zellweger, Lawrence Stroll, Silas Chou, Edgar Bronfman Jr. Jacob Rothschild, Jayne Wrightsman

Sponsor: Asprey

2005 The House of Chanel

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Karl Lagerfeld, Nicole Kidman Caroline, Princess of Hanover

Sponsor: Chanel

2006 AngloMania: Tradition and Transgression in British Fashion

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Christopher Bailey, Sienna Miller Rose Marie Bravo, The Duke of Devonshire

Sponsor: Burberry

2007 Poiret: King of Fashion

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Cate Blanchett, Nicolas Ghesquière François-Henri Pinault

Sponsor: Balenciaga

2008 Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, George Clooney, Julia Roberts, Giorgio Armani

Sponsor: Giorgio Armani

2009 The Model As Muse: Embodying Fashion

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Kate Moss, Justin Timberlake Marc Jacobs

Sponsor: Marc Jacobs

Ticket Price: $7,500

2010 American Woman: Fashioning a National Identity

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Oprah Winfrey, Patrick Robinson

Sponsor: Gap

2011 Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Colin Firth, Stella McCartney François-Henri Pinault and Salma Hayek

Sponsor: Alexander McQueen

2012 Schiaparelli and Prada: Impossible Conversations

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Carey Mulligan, Miuccia Prada, Jeff Bezos

Sponsor: Amazon

2013 Punk: Chaos to Couture

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Rooney Mara, Lauren Santo Domingo, Riccardo Tisci Beyoncé

Sponsor: Moda Operandi

Ticket Price: $15,000

2014 Charles James: Beyond Fashion

Co-chairs: Aerin Lauder, Anna Wintour, Bradley Cooper, Oscar de la Renta, Sarah Jessica Parker, Lizzie and Jonathan Tisch

Sponsor: AERIN

Ticket Price: $25,000

Theme Announcement: September 4th, 2013

2015 China: Through the Looking Glass

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Jennifer Lawrence, Gong Li, Marissa Mayer, Wendi Murdoch, Silas Chou

Sponsor: Yahoo

Ticket Price: $25,000

Theme Announcement: September 11th, 2014

2016 Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Taylor Swift, Idris Elba, Jonathan Ive Nicolas Ghesquière, Karl Lagerfeld, Miuccia Prada

Sponsor: Apple

Ticket Price: $30,000

Theme Announcement: October 13th, 2015

2017 Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons: Art of the In-Between

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Gisele Bündchen and Tom Brady, Katy Perry, Pharrell Williams, Rei Kawakubo

Sponsor: Apple, Condé Nast, Farfetch, H&M, Maison Valentino

Ticket Price: $30,000

Theme Announcement: October 21st, 2016

2018 Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Rihanna, Amal Clooney, Donatella Versace Christine and Stephen A. Schwarzman

Sponsors: Christine and Stephen A. Schwarzman, Versace

Ticket Price: $30,000

Theme Announcement: November 8th, 2017 (currently the latest they've announced the theme)

2019 Camp: Notes on Fashion

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Lady Gaga, Harry Styles, Serena Williams, Alessandro Michele

Sponsor: Gucci

Ticket Price: $35,000

Theme Announcement: October 9th, 2018

Planned for May 4, 2020 (canceled) About Time: Fashion and Duration

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Meryl Streep, Emma Stone, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Nicolas Ghesquière

Sponsor: Louis Vuitton

September 2021 In America: A Lexicon of Fashion

Co-chairs: Timothée Chalamet, Billie Eilish, Amanda Gorman, Naomi Osaka, Tom Ford, Adam Mosseri, Anna Wintour

Sponsor: Instagram

Ticket Price: $35,000

2022 In America: An Anthology of Fashion

Co-chairs: Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Regina King, Tom Ford, Adam Mosseri, Anna Wintour

Sponsor: Instagram

Ticket Price: $35,000

2023 Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Dua Lipa, Michaela Coel, Penélope Cruz, Roger Federer

Sponsors: Chanel, Fendi, Karl Lagerfeld (brand)

Ticket Price: $50,000 (most expensive to date)

Theme Announcement: September 30th, 2022

#met gala #long post #im being generous on when more media outlets started covering the met gala heavily #many only include the past few years

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itgirlmind · 2 years

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｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ。 𝒾𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒶 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Oh, the Internet. A myriad of a million hyperlinks, videos, and social media platforms barraging us with contradicting advice from every single angle...and here I am to throw some more in your lap! Below are a handful of online blogs, Youtube channels, and Spotify podcasts that I myself love and live by. Truthfully, I did plan on adding a list of self help novels that transformed me into moi but....there's just far too many. Perhaps another time, my darlings! I sincerely hope that the media I've included here resonate with you and allow you to step into your highest self. Enjoy!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ blogs

La Vie En Rose Diaries by Blair Natalia

Blogpost of Choice: Why I’m Treating Myself like the Princess I Deserve to Be ♡

The It-Girl Diaries by Lydia

Blogpost of Choice: Becoming Your Own Version Of 'That Girl'

The Skinny Confidential by Lauryn Bosstick

Blogpost of Choice: How to Remove Toxicity From Your Mind And Body

Aria Kaiser by Aria Kaiser

Blogpost of Choice: Lets Talk Food

The It Girl Guide (TIGG) by Sky Haarsma

Blogpost of Choice: Our It-Girl Essentials

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ podcasts

Early Call Her Daddy episodes

Sofia With An F by Sofia Franklyn

Busy, Yet Pretty by Jadyn Hailey

The Wellness Cafe by Trinity Tondeleir

The Skinny Confidential by The Skinny Confidential

The Balanced Blonde by Jordan Younger

The Blonde Files by Arielle Lorre

Already Friends by Allison Wetig and Ceara Kirkpatrick

Middle Ground by Jo Johnson and Caroline Stelte

Crying In Public by Sydni and Sarah

The School of Greatness by Lewis Howes

The Tony Robbins Podcast by Tony Robbins

Trying Not To Care by Ashley Corbo

For You From Eve by Olivia Eve Shabo

Unf*ck Your Brain by Kara Loewentheil

The Psychology Of Your 20's by Jenna Sbeg

Habits Of A Goddess (Affirmations)

The goop Podcast by Goop Inc.

Almost 30 by Krista Williams and Lindsey Simcik

Guide Me Glow by Shannon Tang

Girls with Goals by AnnCatherine and Caroline

Hot Girl Energy by Kaylie Stewart

The Bossbabe Podcast by Natalie Ellis and Danielle Canty

Girlboss Radio by Puno

Gals On The Go by Danielle Carolan and Brooke Miccio

Girls That Invest by Sim and Sonya

Her First $100K by Tori Dunlap

Victoria's Thoughts by Victoria de Vall

Breaking Beauty by Jill and Carlene

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ youtube channels

Alay Bowker x Give Me Glow ; vlogs, guides, and inspo

Alyse Parker; wellness, lifestyle, and spirituality

Claudia Sulewski; vlogs, style inspo, lifestyle

dear peachie; beauty, makeup tutorials, makeup trends

Elena Taber; vlogs, lifestyle, and travel

Emma MacDonald; vlogs, hauls, and modeling

Eva Meloche; vlogs, lifestyle, organization inspo

Maddie Lymburner; meals, workouts, lifestyle inspo

MadFit; every type of workout for every type of fitness journey

Makayla Merie; vlogs, workout attire, lifestyle inspo

Meghan Livingstone; holistic nutrition, gut health, meal inspo

Romee Strijd; VS angel turned vlogger

The Skinny Confidential; recipes, girl talk, and wellness

Thewizardliz; the queen of having an "it girl mindset"

Yoga With Adriene; yoga for everybody!

Much love, Auden♡

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baynton · 1 year

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ooo omggg i’d love to see anything from 'caroline domming william'!! or (ofc) anything from either of the rp wips!!!

i have so little of it so far that you can just have basically all of the caroline domming william one 💖

"Oh, William," Caroline sighs, watching William ravish her ankle with kiss after kiss. "Come home with me."

"No. Yes."

He pops up in front of her, ankle momentarily forgotten, a wild look in his eyes.

"We can't. This is madness."

They cannot allow themselves to give into this debauchery. She's already tempted him with her stockinged ankles, is that not enough?

"I can't persuade you? At all?" She asks him, pouting a little, and if William weren't already hard he would be now. He feels his resolve crumbling inside of him, even as he tries to cling to the shreds.

"We—we can't," he murmurs, already caving into desire and bowing his head to kiss her ankle again.

Caroline lets out a startled gasp, and William is a goner.

#tag game #ask game #wips tag #caroline x william #reluctantjoe

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agir1ukn0w · 2 years

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(gif by @billdecker)

yes please.

#this is doing…….so many things to me #the six idiots #six idiots #them there #horrible histories #mathew baynton #mat baynton #bbc quacks #quacks #william agar #william x caroline #lucky woman #wrist kisses #kisses

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pradaxstyles · 1 year

Note

“Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?”

This would totally work for Ellie, after Santa Barbara, cause I think she'd be a complete and total emotional mess and wouldn't know how to handle her feelings..

Collateral

Pairing -> Ellie Williams x Fem Reader

Warnings -> Some game dialogue (second game, Tommy made me so mad when he came to Ellie with this. like let the girl live in peace please), brief mention of Ellie's missing fingers, swearing, end is a little rushed, not proofread, fluff at the end bc I said so <3

Word count -> 1.3k

Playlist -> Unbroken, Gustavo Santaolalla

Alexa's notes✨ -> Caroline!!!!! Thank you so so much for requesting something! It means the world to me. I really hope you enjoy this and that I did it justice! As always, please come chat or leave some feedback! love yall xoxo

Your relationship with Ellie wasn't something that was clear cut. It didn't have clear lines, it wasn't black and white. It was more of an array of muddled colors that somehow worked together seamlessly. You knew how she felt about you, and you her, so there wasn't a question as to whether you would go with her to Seattle in search of Abby and her friends.

When that was all said and done you both agreed on starting a life together outside of Jackson. The farmhouse had been one your favorite places you've lived in, partly because Ellie was right by your side.

That was until Ellie left for Santa Barbara.

The day Tommy came by, you could see the wheels turning in Ellie's mind. You had done so much to get where you were, and he was threatening that stability. You knew Ellie struggled with what happened to Joel. You knew it. Ellie tried so hard to hide everything from you, even now.

You'd been by her with everything that happened in Seattle, putting your life at risk every damn day because you loved Ellie. You've had the front row seat to everything that is Ellie Williams, and here she was, debating Tommy's words.

"This new guy heard my story," Tommy began. "He told me about a woman that he traded with while he was moving through California." He unfolded the map and laid it down on the table, smoothing out the creases. "Described her as built like an ox, traveling with a kid with scars across his face."

Ellie was hanging on to his every word.

You stood off to the side trying not to eavesdrop, but how could you not? Ellie sat up straighter, leaning in slightly to take a glance at the map in front of her.

"He said they were livin' across this coast, in a beached sail boat," Tommy reached over and pointed a single finger on the dusty map, "Right here."

You could tell Ellie felt torn, her eyebrows knitted together as she glanced around the room. Her gaze landed on you for a split second, and you could see the internal struggle that raged within the girl.

Moving to place yourself next to Ellie, "That's enough," you articulated, "We're done with that and you know it."

Ellie reached to place her hand on the small of your back. Shaking her head, she whispered a small, "I'm sorry."

The scratch of the chair against the wood filled the brief silence, followed by Tommy's scoff. "Reckon it's easy to forget about her. Sitting all comfy way out here-"

You took a protective step in front of Ellie, "Tommy-"

"'I'll make her pay.' That's what you said when we got back to Jackson."

Placing a strong hand against his chest, you gave him a shove. The look in your eyes lethal, "That is enough!" you exclaimed. "Get the hell out of my house and don't come back with that shit, ever again. Do you hear me?"

Tommy scoffed again, "What a joke." He shuffled toward the door while mumbling things under his breath.

You placed a gentle hand on Ellie's cheek and ran your thumb across her lips before stomping after Tommy. The screen door smacked into the side of the house with the force of you pushing it.

"You're a real jackass, you know that? How dare yo-"

"How dare I? She made me a promise! Don't you think that should mean something?"

A sarcastic laugh fell from your lips, "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you not realize what she's been through?" barely taking a breath, "What we have been through? We almost died in Seattle and I'll be damned if you pressure Ellie into going back out there for some stupid lead."

Soft pants came from your parted mouth. You were absolutely seething at Tommy's audacity. Why couldn't he just drop it? So many lives were lost in the search for Abby. It wasn't his life he was putting at risk, it was Ellie's. He'd have to shoot you dead before you allowed that.

Tommy gave you a sharp look before turning his back and leading his horse to the front gate.

You watched him ride off as you caught your breath.

Pulling the screen door shut behind you, you turned to find Ellie still seated at the table.

"Els, I'm so sorry he did that. He had absolutely no right to show up here and treat you like that."

Ellie warily glanced up at you, a bleak look painted her features. A sigh escaped her lips as she grabbed your hand and led you to the seat across from her.

"Babe, I think-"

"Please tell me you're not actually considering this. Please."

Ellie snapped her gaze down to the map and back up to you. "I can't live like this anymore, knowing she's still out there. I don't eat, I don't sleep."

You blinked the tears away that were threatening to slip. "Ellie.." Your voice broke slightly as you rose to stand. "You need to know that I've grown to care for you, deeply. But if you walk out of this house, I don't know if I'll be here waiting for you to come back."

Ellie rose and stood to face you, inches between you both. A pained expression covered her face, "That's up to you."

With that, she took her backpack and walked out the door, leaving you in the beloved farmhouse alone.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆

It had been three months, and there was still no sign of Ellie. You waited every day for her to walk through that door and into your arms. The old calendar in the kitchen had been marked up, serving as a tracker for the days that molded into one.

It was easy to grow weary, to sit in silence most days and reminisce on the months prior. The ache was a deep, constant feeling in your body.

There was one day, the sun's embrace warm as you sat on the porch swing that you saw it.

Ellie's slim figure making its way up to the front gate, backpack in hand.

Your eyes fell into a sharp squint thinking your mind had been playing tricks on you.

The gate clanked open, and you knew she was home.

Standing up, you scampered towards the girl.

"Ellie?! Is that you?"

Ellie's own footsteps broke into a run after hearing your sweet voice. God, she missed that voice so much.

You slammed your body into her strong frame, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. "Ellie," you melted, "I'm so happy you're back home."

She picked you up off the ground slightly, inhaling the scent of your freshly washed hair. "I missed you so much, baby. You have no idea."

Placing you back on your feet, her cool hands met your cheeks and you leaned into her touch, relishing the feel of her skin against yours.

Opening one eye at the unfamiliar sensation, "Uh, Els? What the hell happened to your fingers?" You all but ripped her hand off your cheek and brought it up to your face to inspect.

A deep chuckle fell from her lips and she smiled at you, "I'll explain everything, I promise. Let's go inside before you get cold."

Slinging her backpack across her shoulders, she intertwined your fingers in her good hand and led you back to the house. It felt right being back home with you. Ellie realized a lot of things while she was gone and was finally able to process some of those feelings. Not that she wouldn't tell you eventually, but Ellie loved you from the moment she first laid eyes on you all those years ago in Jackson. It took her a while to decipher those feelings, but she's never been so sure of something as she is this.

Glancing down at you, she gave your hand a slight squeeze, "I love you, sweet girl. More than you'll ever know."

#ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams x you #tlou2 #Ellie Williams fluff #I hope this was okay #pls tell me what you thought #aae writes

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regalityandcoffee · 2 years

Text

Pretty Boy (Commissioner era! William Regal x OC)

Summary: Caroline does William's make up for him. Feat. a cameo from Stephanie McMahon

Warnings: William in eyeliner, short, fluffy.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Pretty, pretty..."

"Car- Caroline..." William tried his best to say, his face smushed by her holding his chin in her hand.

"Pretty, pretty boy..." she didn't seem to notice as she continued to apply to eyeliner. The woman sat on top of his desk, kicking her feet as she did his makeup, her big case of cosmetics sat open by her side. "Prettiest boy in the world..."

"Caroline, dear-"

With one final touch she seemed to be done, releasing his face and putting away the eyeliner. He rubbed his jaw. She grinned, sharp, white canines glittering in the office light, her eyes wide. "Eyes done!"

William sighed with relief as she handed him her hand mirror. "Remember dear, just the eyes, like we agreed." He glanced at the tube of black lipstick in the case.

"No lipstick or face paint or contacts." She nodded, though he swore she still sounded a bit disappointed.

He looked at himself. Huh. He didn't look half bad. She had used just a plain black pencil and doIne nothing fancy, just some under his eyes. It was a simple look, but it didn't look bad at all.

"Looks good? Does it look good?"

"...yes."

"I wanted you to be pretty. You're always pretty, but now you look even prettier!" She clapped, proud of her work. She reached out and picked his cheek, and he couldn't help to smile just a bit.

Suddenly the door opened just a crack. "Mr. Regal?Can I come in for a sec?"

Oh, right. He had forgotten Stephanie had wanted to see him today. He looked around for something to wipe his eyes with. Sighing, he gave up. "Yes, come in."

She walked in, stopping in her tracks at the sight before her. "Um..."

"Caroline, dear, can you give us a moment?"

"Yes, baby." She hopped off his desk, waving at the other women as she stepped out of the room, her long black dress trailing behind her. She closed the door softly.

Stephanie tilted her head as she looked at him, covering her mouth, choking back a fit of giggles.

"Not a word out of you, Sunshine. Not. A. Word." the Commissioner warned.

-fin-

#i love them your honor #caroline au #william regal #william regal x oc #attitude era #commissioner era

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paracunt · 8 months

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Hayley Williams with Caroline Polachek and Charlotte Knowles at the party for the KNWLS x Jean Paul Gaultier during New York Fashion Week (2023)

#hayley williams #charlotte knowles #caroline polachek #nyfw #nyfw 2023 #2023 #knwls

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 11 months

Text

𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 ║ Chapter 6 - Old Things Have Strange Hungers

| ENDLESS NIGHT | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader Ellie Williams x platonic!fem!OC/reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 4.6k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: sewer slide (not depicted, only brief references), canon typical violence, death | CHAPTER SUMMARY: Pieces of the past emerge while you work through the snags in your relationship to Joel. The challenges of both your inner and outer worlds are starting to close in on you, and you’re struggling to find a balance. The attention your tenuous relationship with Joel garners from others only complicates your understanding of how you feel about him.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧ "𝙼𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚍! 𝙼𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚙𝚝. 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝙸 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚝." ─ Wɪʟʟɪᴀᴍ Bʟᴀᴋᴇ ✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧

You enter the barn first, gun drawn and ready for any sign of a threat. Caroline is at your heels with her knife in position to strike. You never knew if you should lead the way and clear a safe path or hang back and ensure the rear was secured. The barn was hauntingly silent except for the low creaking sound of wind gusts pelting its sides. “I think we’re good,” you whisper over your shoulder. “I don’t see anything either,” Caroline agrees.

She jerks her head upwards. “Head up to higher ground just in case? Keep to a more secluded area instead of out in the open down here?” she suggests. You follow her gaze and nod at the loft towards the back of the barn she was eyeing. Even though the barn appeared to be empty, you both advanced in catlike prowl until you could be certain it was clear of any threat. You motioned for Caroline to climb the ladder first, your back to her as you covered her with the firearm. She signaled her arrival to the top and waited at the opening for you. You climbed sideways, surveying the barn as you went. It was littered with old heaps of rusted tools and equipment. A few broken down pieces of machinery were here and there. This place clearly hadn’t seen any sign of life for months at the very least.

You and Caroline hoisted the ladder up to protect the lone entrance and exit to the loft. It was a dingy, small area filled with stacks of hay haphazardly strewn about with one tall heap in the center. Not much to look at, but you had sheltered in much worse. A gust of wind howled by the old structure, louder and stronger now that your position was elevated. It was almost as if Mother Nature was sending a stern reminder that this is as good as you were going to get for right now. You went behind Caroline’s back to confirm the ladder was leaning far enough away from the edge that it wouldn’t end up sliding or tipping over the edge. The last thing you needed right now was Caroline doing something brash like jumping onto some nearby post or appliance to fetch a fallen ladder. You absentmindedly watch her from the corner of your eye, always keeping tabs on her wherever the two of you happen to find yourselves. Abandoned train cars. Caved in trailers. Old subway stations. Rotting playground structures. You’d lodged just about any place you could think of, and you’d worried after her in each and every one.

Caroline hummed an annoying song you couldn’t quite place, which made it all the more irritating. You were too tired to ask her what it was or tell her to stop. She casually looked around at the night’s accommodations, dragging her feet as she traipsed aimlessly about. She eventually strayed out of your sight and walked over to investigate the furthest corner from your entry point. It was mere seconds of stilted silence before you bolted to her side. You knew each other’s movements as if they were your own, and her stuttered steps had registered in your mind before you were even aware of your body moving to rush to her side.

Her movements had screamed to your brain something dangerous is happening!, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her in no time, gun drawn and aimed in line with her gaze. A lifeless mass lay still on the floor, crumpled in a heap beneath the rafters. A sturdy rope entangled the space above the lump’s shoulders. You stood ready to fire, waiting and watching for a threat. The adrenaline rocketing through you made it hard to tell how much time had passed, but your eyes were starting to burn from being relentlessly forced open as you stared. Caroline whispered behind you. “It’s been like 4 minutes. I don’t think people can hold their breath that long?”

You hadn’t seen any rise and fall to indicate the presence of life. The man was lying sideways, and you needed to get closer to assess. You thought it was a man, anyway, based on the size and build. You glance up and see where the rope had presumably been attached to the rafters. A stripe of rope burn on the beam directly above the body told the story he could no longer tell.

You take a few steps forward to get a better view. You hiss at Caroline to stay back when she starts to follow you. Your heart was pounding in your ears despite the situation thus far indicating more likely than not it was just as it appeared: someone making their escape from this fucked up world. The ripped up cargo pants and fraying jacket were hardly going to sustain body heat in this part of the country. You wondered to yourself if he had actually suffocated before the rope gave or if he managed to dodge that outcome and just froze to death instead.

You pushed the man’s back squarely with the toe of your boot and jumped back. You waited for movement, but no movement came. He slumped forward pathetically at your shove but otherwise lay still.

“He’s not moving,” Caroline whispers loudly, desperate to be a part of this “mission.”

Her painfully obvious observation had interrupted your internal deliberation of whether or not you should get the man on his back so you could see his face and check for a pulse despite how unnecessary it seemed to do so. You suppress your irritation at her inappropriately timed “adrenaline junkie wants to prove herself” act.

“No shit,” you snip back.

“Do we have to sleep with him up here?” Caroline groans.

You sighed as you lowered your weapon. “No, I’ll take care of it,” you reply in a numb, droning hum.

You can’t see her, but you don't have to look to know Caroline’s shoulders relaxed the moment she realized she wouldn’t have to dispose of the body. You spare a few glances around the space, trying to figure the logistics of the removal. It would probably make the most sense to just roll him off the loft onto the ground below. You take in the mess of blonde curls of the man lying there, and you’re suddenly struck with the notion that this used to be a person. You felt a twinge of guilt at just shoving him off the loft, but you didn’t have much choice. You find comfort by reminding yourself that you weren’t the one who chose this, and it wasn’t your burden to bear. You trudge away from the body and scan the immediate space off the ledge. There are very few clear areas. Most of the space is littered with junk, broken glass, rusting shovels and pitchforks. You can’t exactly treat the body with respect, but you can at least not hurl him into a pile of rusty old tools. It was a morbid act of reverence, but that was just the world you lived in. Most people probably wouldn’t even bother to make the effort of a respectful send off.

“Poor bastard,” Caroline mutters, walking up to the lifeless lump and nudging it pensively with her foot. You sigh in agreement but couldn’t really blame them for choosing this. The way the world was, you didn’t really judge what others did to cope - as long as it wasn’t actively harmful to others, like raiders or slavers. Even the ones who let their inner darkness drive their survival and did actively harm others . . you judged it, but a small part of you still understood survival by any means necessary. You watch as Caroline’s expression of pity blurs into nausea. She always tried so hard to hide how much things like this affected her. No matter how many years it had been witnessing carnage and the worst of humanity, she never really got used to it. It bothered you, too, but you tried to shoulder the worse parts for her if you could. “Hey, stop gawking and work up something for us to sleep on,” you ordered firmly so she wouldn’t catch on that you were actually ordering her away from the dismaying scene. If she knew you were doing that - trying to be “overprotective” as she liked to put it - she would only double down just to prove to you how mature and capable she was. “Yeah, alright,” she agrees, taking a few steps towards the back of the loft to scout out the least brittle bits of hay she could. It was a never ending argument between you two.

“I’m grown, too, you know” she would say.

“You may be into your ‘adult years’, but your recklessness hasn’t changed much since you were in diapers,” you’d shoot back.

“You don’t always know best, you know,” she’d snip.

“Between the two of us, yes I do,” you’d bark back.

You’d spend a couple of hours refusing to speak to one another before agreeing to drop it. But even when you weren’t debating her impulsivity outshining her smarts, she would do things to justify her opinion of herself, which most of the time involved her making risky decisions that fortunately paid off. Sneaking into a raider post and ransacking it before they returned even though you hadn’t scouted it for more than a few hours. Wasting a bullet on a threat when all that ended up doing was drawing more attention to your location. She would prevail by the skin of her teeth, and it incensed you that she put both of your lives on the line just to make a point. You tried to treat her like she was mature, but her hard-headed determination constantly hindered her earning that sort of treatment. She had a tenacity that you could only dream of possessing and an ability to pick up things quickly, but she never quite learned to accurately assess the danger of a situation, which in this world in particular was nothing but a death sentence. You drop your pack down and double check that your gun is on safety. You had taken to carrying it after the last close call where Caroline had shot at a highwayman group. You were far too outnumbered with too few bullets for shooting your way out to be the sensible option. Even she realized how careless of a mistake it was, and she didn’t argue when you told her she wasn’t going to carry the gun anymore. You would die for your sister, but you didn’t like how she provided ample opportunity for you to prove it.

The soft thud of her bag a few feet away stirred up a cloud of dust.

“Ugh,” she scowls. She quickly tossed her knife and supplies on her person on top of the bag and treated herself to a big stretch. It had been a long day, and you were looking forward to laying back and maybe even relaxing up here. It was rare that you found places to stay that were safe, quiet, and something that could be made somewhat comfortable. This would be a great lodging post if it weren’t out in the middle of nowhere. Caroline is wandering around the loft again, clearly too distracted by the body to focus on making a bed. You swallow your annoyance at the fact that you will have to dispose of it sooner rather than later if anything productive was going to come from her. You swivel on your bent knee to see her crouching over the man, her morbid curiosity getting the better of her. She just couldn’t help herself. You knew she was going to give herself nightmares from whatever probable look of horror was permanently etched into the man’s features. You shake your head and grumble to yourself. Yet another one of her mindless exploits that you were going to have to shoulder. “Stop messing with it,” you huff. She reminded you of a kid with a magnifying glass, twisting the lens on an unsuspecting ant. You rummage through your pack, taking advantage of a quiet spot and the remaining sunlight to do a quick inventory of your things. You glance over and see Caroline’s bag and supplies she had discarded for the day. Might as well double check hers as well. God knows she wasn’t going to do it unless you made her, which took the same energy as just doing it yourself.

You stand and make your way over to her things. The tall heap of hay separates you from the other side of the loft, but you can still hear Caroline shifting around.

“Going through your stuff,” you call softly over to her.

“‘M’kay,” she calls back in a distracted tone.

You may be doing her a favor by conducting an inventory of her supplies, but that didn’t mean the sister code of checking before going into their stuff wasn’t still enforced. The end of the world had changed so many things, but sibling codes were perpetual, apocalypse or not.

Caroline’s bag is a disaster. You don’t know how she manages to even find anything in here. You take a handful of things out and try to untangle the weaving mess some of them have caught the rest up in. You set the jumbled lump aside after less than 30 seconds of effort and decide to give yourself an easier task to start. You are exhausted from today, and the call of the loft to drift off is growing stronger. Your eyelids are growing heavier with each shove and push around Caroline’s hodgepodge mess. You take a deep, collective breath. Just a bit more work before you could give in to your exhaustion. No more staving off your sleep. Just a few more minutes…

Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Something feels off. The barn was quiet, but a deafening silence had settled in the loft. Your sleepy state has now been replaced with a surge of adrenaline. You start to call Caroline’s name in question of the disconcerting air that has shrouded you when you hear her exhale sharply and yelp.

Whimpers, wrestling sounds, and something you can’t quite place ring in your ears as you tear around the pile of hay to the other side of the loft. Caroline is halfway up from the ground, struggling with the rope entangling her feet. You reach for your gun instinctively, but it isn’t there. It is lying in your pack, having just been accounted for in your supply audit. You scramble for the knife in your thigh holster, still unsure of what is happening.

A few seconds have passed since she came into view, and your mind has already rattled through the current scene and suggested that Caroline just spooked herself messing with the body for too long. A few seconds more, and you know that’s not correct. Her face of abject terror when she whirled to lock her eyes onto yours has canceled that assumption out. Something else - something much worse - was happening.

She fumbles clumsily over the slack line at her feet and tumbles backwards. It is only then you see what has her so scared and running for her life. The lifeless man’s yellow, veiny face contorts grotesquely, and the ominous, telltale mushroom shoots sprout up along his temples. Caroline’s head makes a dreadful sound as it makes contact with the ground. She flails wildly on top of the infected corpse-man as she grabs at her knives that are no longer on her person, sitting near her bag just as your gun sits in yours. “Caroline, NO!” you shriek, wordlessly transmitting that she doesn’t have a weapon and needs to flee. You dart forward, the feeble movements of her attacker still fast enough to be lethal. With every fiber in its being, the infected grasps at Caroline’s body as his teeth aim for any flesh he can claim. You fumble over the pair as you shove Caroline into the wall beside you, separating her from the infected. She crumples to the ground and immediately springs up, running for a weapon. The infected swipes wildly and ineffectively into the air, almost as if he doesn’t have enough life in him to be fully aware of his surroundings. There is commotion all around as you jump to straddle the infected and drive your knife through its forehead. You know the first drive has done it, but you pummel several more into him as the adrenaline pumps through you. You hear Caroline scream, maybe afraid this thing is putting up more of a fight than she expected. You dislodge your blade from its face after your brain tells you it’s enough. You crawl backwards off the now dead infected. Your mind makes quick work of the situation. This was not just someone who had come here to end their sorrows because the world was too much. This was someone who had seen what happened to those who succumbed to a Cordyceps bite and wanted to spare themselves the same fate. Your breaths are coming in ragged gasps at the shock of what you had thought was a lifeless body becoming an undead assailant. The infected’s face is a thrashed mess of flesh, and you know there is no way it could have survived your blows. Your throat feels tight. That was too close of a call. You shouldn’t have let Caroline distract you earlier when you were debating on rolling him onto his back. You should’ve been thorough instead of letting your exhaustion convince you all signs pointed to this being a safe place for the night.

You roll to your knees and get up in a swift motion. You don’t see Caroline behind you even though you had just heard her. “Caroline?” you rasp out, limping and staggering around the hay to the other side of the loft. Both of your packs sit untouched since you last went through them. Dread starts to rise in you. “Caroline?” you call more urgently, whipping your head around in search. Had she climbed higher into the rafters somehow? You had always told her to run if she had to, but deep down you knew she would never actually listen to anything you told her. You want to scream out her name when your searching comes up short of her, but your survival instincts quell the urge. Even if the barn was in the middle of nowhere, it wasn’t worth the risk of being so loud you draw attention to and attract whatever might be out there. Your panic starts to take hold. Your eyes dart wildly. Why hasn’t she answered yet? Your stomach flips with a grisly clench when you see the ladder still leaning against the wall where you’d left it.

Caroline isn’t in the rafters. She isn’t in the loft. She hasn’t used the ladder to climb down. She’s nowhere to be seen. But you’d heard her behind you? You were killing the half-dead infected with vigorous plunges of your knife, and you heard her scream. She’d been just behind you, you know she was.

A sick feeling washes over you as you turn and see the line of rope leading from the now dead infected meandering on the floor and over the edge of the loft.

Your body freezes. The hazy, protective ethers of your mind are slowly losing their hold on the reality of what’s happened, and the rancid, putrid certainty leaches from the periphery of your consciousness. You simultaneously know and deny the truth.

No. No. Something other than your own will is puppetting your legs forward as you inch towards the edge of the loft. You see it before you see her. The crimson spill slowly ripples into a sickening bloom across the ground below. You shakily drop to your knees, crawling the rest of the way to the edge.

No. No no no. Caroline’s eyes are fixed to the ceiling, the haunt of life no longer present. Her limbs are splayed in an ill-shaped jumble. The quiet still of her body denies your wishes that she is somehow just sleeping. The dark pool floods from the crown of her head like a scarlet halo, the dark center morphing into a lighter edge as the blood spreads.

You futilely whisper her name, knowing she won’t answer back. Your eyes flit to the bright red smattering on the fender of the rusted tractor next to her. Unlike the infected you discovered in the loft, there was no need to investigate the scene further.

She was gone.

The moments following the discovery of Caroline’s lifeless body are all but a blur in your recollection. You don’t remember when or how you managed to get your sister back up to the loft. Something told you that your brain had gone into self-preservation mode to destroy those things from your memory. Flashes of her pulpy scalp bumping against you, painting your skin and staining your clothes in mealy bits of flesh and blood.

The glimpses of making the bundle of hay beneath her. Gently resting her head against the straw and using your trembling hand to close her eyes.

You don’t remember how long you stayed with her. Light came and went. The wind calmed to a swishing rocking against the high walls, soothing the cradle of the barn where you lay side by side. You held her to you even as the warmth left her body and only the sick feel of coolness met your touch.

You would many days later unconsciously feel grateful that Caroline had removed her supplies so that you didn’t have to plunder her corpse for supplies that were too valuable to leave behind. You don’t really remember making the decision to leave or what finally pushed you to. You stumbled through the field towards the treeline as you finally departed the barn, Caroline’s bag flung over yours on your back. You spared the barn one last reverential look. There your baby sister was laid to rest, the loft that served as a dual burial plot for yet more people this world had violently claimed.

“So, things goin’ okay with the build?” Tommy asks. “Yeah, it’s actually coming together really quickly. We are going to make our summer opening date,” you report with excitement. “That’ll be nice. Somethin’ new around town. People’ll be excited for sure.” You sip on your whiskey, enjoying the burn it sent down your throat as you swallowed it. “I’m glad Maria was never a big drinker or else she might be pissed I’m sittin’ here enjoyin’ Seth’s new batch,” Tommy laughed. You liked the way Tommy seemed to always keep Maria at the front of his mind. He really loved her, and you are glad to have played a part in them getting together. After talk of what the opening event might be like at the new build, Tommy took a large gulp from his glass and signaled for another. “So, things goin’ okay with Joel ‘n Ellie?” he pried gently. Tommy may not have seen you holding Joel’s hand or Joel being so delicate with you right after the fight, but he had seen enough to know something interesting was seeping its way into your “friendship.” “They seem to be gettin’ settled in enough. Even saw Joel say more’n five words to a patrol guy the other day. Wasn’t even ‘bout his gun or supplies,” Tommy joked. You take a big sip at the mention of Joel’s name. “Yeah. I, uh, I think so. Might be taking a while to warm up, but so far so good,” you say with cautious optimism. “Can’t say I didn’t warn ya that you’d have your work cut out for you,” Tommy reminds you, a call back to when all this started. You laugh humorlessly and add, “Yeah, your brother is a . . he's one of a kind.” You meant this on more levels than just Joel’s uniquely difficult exterior to crack. He had something about him, something special. You were a moth to a flame whenever he was around. “It’s just - ya know - Joel ain’t always the easiest to, uh - I mean he can just be,” Tommy faltered. “I know he can be a real ass most the time, but I think he’d actually like ya if he got to know you better.” He swirled his drink in thought and shrugged. “Rough ‘round the edges, but he ain’t a bad guy.” Tommy’s advocacy of Joel’s hidden appeal almost made you laugh. Here he was, doing his best to avow Joel’s softer, kinder side, completely unaware that you’d not only had glimpses of that side but had just about been knocked off your feet whenever it happened.

“You don’t have to defend your brother,” you reassure him.

“Well, I just mean - even with how good you are at helpin’ folks find their place, tryin’ to get Joel on board with something can be-” he stopped, trying to find the right wording.

“Getting blood from a stone is the expression that comes to mind,” you spout off. Tommy chuckles and nods.

“It’ll sort itself out eventually,” you encourage. “For now, it’s as good a start as we’re gonna get.”

Tommy picked his glass up and turned fully towards you. “And I’m no fool, so I’ll take what I can get and keep it pushin’,” he says, raising his glass to you.

“Cheers to that,” you offered as you clink your glass to his. You both finish the rest of your drink in one gulp.

“So, uh, y’all two alright then?” Tommy asks awkwardly, shifting in his chair. The alcohol gave him the courage to breach the subject of whatever dynamic was evolving between you and Joel.

“Us two?” you ask, acting as if you don’t know what he meant.

“You and Joel,” Tommy clarifies. “Just some . . weird kinda energy between you. And the argument at my house. Then he went and accepted your apology pretty much immediately. . .”

You tried not to laugh at the way Tommy’s face screwed up in pure bewilderment at the idea of his brother so quickly accepting an apology from someone and moving on.

“We’re good,” you assure him. You begin putting on your jacket and take care of your tab. Tommy may have wanted to continue to figure out what “good” actually entailed, but you weren’t up for that conversation right now. You wouldn’t even know what to tell him, anyway. You yourself weren’t sure what the hell it was that was developing, only that it made your stomach feel tight and fluttery all at once. You ask Tommy give Maria your best and then head for home. Your double pour had you feeling warm and snug in your bed, and thoughts centered around your conversation with Tommy. You soon found thoughts drifting to Joel’s hands, the way it felt to hold his, the way his breath fanned onto your face as you argued, the way you noticed him admiring you on your walk to the axe throwing and then even more when you showed him your skills. You sigh and bring your hand under the sheets and between your legs. You were wet just thinking about him. You touched yourself to thoughts of him for the first time that night. His name comes out in whimpers as your core is flooded with pleasure. You drift off with your hand still between your thighs.

Oohhhhmygod. Getting this chapter posted today has me like:

Technical difficulties aside, I don't think I've ever had such a hard time getting a chapter right. I edited and edited and edited. UGH. Hope y'all like it. We finally get to see a bit of what it is that makes EnNi Gal® the way that she is. In later chapters we'll learn more about the "lumberjack assassin" bit that raised her hackles so bad in the previous chapter.

Catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#fic: endless night #enni #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #joel miller fic

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