uhh yeah brainrot took over and i scribbled like i do not care…… MILF!ELLIE ORGASM ……….
this shit like 400 words who cares it’s literally ellie getting her shit beat in by her daughters babysitter….
“You like this, huh? Sneakin’ around like a whore?”
Ellie flinches when your aggression hits her cheek in gusts. She never would’ve expected that a nasty phone call with her psycho ex-fiancé would’ve ended with two — three, fuck three — of her babysitter’s fingers shoved inside her pussy. The night’s been such a blur: screaming contests, threats of lawsuits, hours of crying from a baby that she loves and would happily die for… and now she’s getting wrung out by someone half her age against the front door that she pays for.
The springtime is prurient…
“I-I love it.”
You grin like a doll. A cursed one with dried blood between every crochet. The white of your teeth get the hairs on her neck reaching for the ceiling. She does love it; loves how you treat her like nothing. Completely stripped of her only identity. A mere vessel for you to use for taunts.
Your thrusts are stealing her soul; fast and hot and determined to get her to break. “And I love this pussy. She deserves so much love.” Ellie’s cheeks heat when she catches herself chasing your mouth for a desperate kiss, but you pull away whenever her nose brushes yours. So close, yet not at all. “I bet she’d hate it if she knew.”
Her chest stings, “Don’t talk about her.”
Ellie’s teeth grit at your cackle, “What? You don’t think she’d be mad?”
She knows so. That’s why she doesn’t wanna fucking talk about it. Nothing ruins a nut like thinking about getting cheated on by your first and only love… at 7 months pregnant. The mention of her will always leave a fiery sting in her gut.
“Who could abandon such great pussy?” You coo against her throat. “She takes everything. Does exactly what she’s supposed to. Pushed out a whole fuckin’ person and still traps whatever goes in.”
Ellie whines when her pussy squeezes down on you in confirmation. Every punctured grind of your fingers is calculated and pushes her into oblivion against white painted hardwood. She can hardly hold herself up. A shaky hand lands on the doorway in attempts to steady herself, eyes capturing glimpses of her brain going into overdrive.
“Don’t stop, don’t sto — fuckyesyesyesbaby — !”
“Uh huuuh, there’s my pretty girl, gimme what I want… that’s it tha’s it—“
You’re pulled so close when her walls suck you in sporadic pulses, milking your fingers at an alarming rate. She’s screeching her little head off into your shoulder, wetness spreading all over your wrinkly digits and down to your palm. Stress leaves her body with every harsh jerk of her clit under your thumb. You’re guiding her through the pleasure that’s crackling beneath her bones and she swears she’s in love.
Time melts. She only gets seconds to recover before her brain turns to mush when you drop to your knees in front of her, head traveling under her oversized shirt in search of roses. When you locate it, you swallow her whole, and she goes cross eyed at the slick that dribbles down your chin.
She’d give you as many children as you want if you always treat her this well.
love lies bleeding has something for every lesbian: muscles, greasy working class twig of a butch, mind fucking, fucking, gore, insane relationship timeline they met less than 24 hours ago and are living together, slime, don't forget the cat, girl that makes your skin crawl, eroticism of smoking, eroticism of injecting, eroticism of committing unspeakable violence for someone, normal eroticism, acab, bugs, juxtaposing eroticism of smoking with the reality of it in a metaphoric representation of a character's drive toward both rebellion and destruction as well as adding to a through-line motif of inevitable ends, triumph, toe stuff, artifice, (and how it collides with reality), revenge, decent, ascension, running away, being stuck, being found, being found out, home haunts you, you can't ever go home, the 80's, obligation, freedom, having a fucked up relationship with your dad, having the fucked up realization that despite everything you've done to fight it maybe you really are exactly like your dad, deciding that all the thousand ways in which you are not like him are more important, you will tear yourself bleeding cursing spitting from the jaws of being like your father with the very tools he handed you, new mexico
Summary: Abby is your childhood best friend, you did everything together, taught each other everything. You were utterly infatuated with each other until Ellie Williams enters your world.
Warning: smut, MDNI, porn w lots of plot, innocence arc, mutual pining, lots of sexual tension, mutual masturbation (in the same room, together), fingering if you squint, useless lesbians, lesbian love triangle, abby needs a hug, phoebe bridgers as her own warning, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader
A/N: okay so holy fuck did I get carried away with this one. I didn’t want to leave yall on a cliffhanger but this dynamic deserves more and I don’t want to rush through it. I hope yall enjoy. This chapter is mostly just abby but there will be lots more Ellie in the next chapter promise :)
✩ ✩
“Someone you couldn’t lose. You said we’re not together, so now when we kiss I have anger issues.”
She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.
A relationship that felt more of interlacing two souls into one that resided in two structures. Shared autonomy of mind, breath, word, and body. Unspoken feelings, touches, and stares.
What started in green fields of pink flowers and brown roots ended in dark rooms and pining embraces. Hand shakes turning into interlaced fingers, laughter filled glances turning into tense stares, and experimental pecks turning into open mouthed pants.
The first time you meet abby was at school at 15. Bright eyed and bushy tailed still untainted from the reality of the world around you. You were quite shy in those years, keeping yourself away from the wild hairs of children ready to grow up and take charge. You were okay with the stability of childhood, the sticky sweet feeling of safety and uncharted terror.
Before Abby’s dad had died, before the muscles and long locks of golden blonde hair she was reserved too. Abby was wrapped in a bubble of comfort, a loving community that doted on her. She felt no need to join the crowd of chaos when she had everything she needed.
Well she thought she did…and then she met you.
In class you had your face shoved into a notebook doodling away of ferns and dandelions you had seen in the fields early that day. If it were up to you, you’d spend every last dying breath in the fields, soaking in sunlight and trailing your fingers through the rows of flowers.
Abby sat next to you in class, always too shy to speak up to you. You always seemed so busy, either reading, drawing, or with your head in the clouds, never truly listening to the lecture ahead. She admired your creativity, attention to detail, and the utter sense of unawareness to your surroundings. She wondered why you didn’t talk to the others, you were so inviting, so pretty. She once wished to look like you, how effortlessly magnificent you looked.
She grew too curious, over zealous at the thought of being close to you, understanding you. She knew she had to speak up.
“H-hey you draw pretty cool- I mean- it’s really good…what you draw.”
You had never taken more than a glance at the freckled girl until then. She always seemed just as busy as you, so you never bothered her.
You let out a bellied laugh at the now crimson red faced girl- completely embarrassed by her attempt at recognition.
And that was that. The two of you were inseparable, attached at the hip from then on out.
Abby seemed to understand your weird quirks and odd fascinations. Even when she didn’t, she was there open minded and wide eyed to hear your lengthy ramblings on about nothingness.
Sometimes it felt like you did most of the talking. Not that it was one sided or you wouldn’t let her butt in, but rather she was completely enamored by what you thought. Sometimes all she wanted to do was to hear you talk, you were her favorite person, the own mold of herself.
She wanted to think what you thought, feel what you felt, see the world through your eyes.
17
As the years went on you only seemed to grow closer to abby as she grew fonder of you.
Some could call it an obsession, the way you treated each other. Not a single thought went by that the other didn’t know. If you were there, so was abby. If you knew something, so did she.
Everyday she would follow you to the fields after school, your special escape you’d learn to share with the other half of your being.
You’d make her lay across the flower ridden fields so you could draw her glistening hair kissed by the whisk of wind. She let her hair grow longer since you’d ask to braid it for her every morning. She liked it short but she wanted to let you have room to make intricate designs and lace them with weeds you’d found.
Abby would playfully nudge you when you’d draw the hump on her nose in the drawings, but you loved it too much to not appreciate it. You loved all the things she couldn’t in herself.
You two spent hours out in the field daily, even when it rained you’d make her dance around like fairies as mud splattered across your shins. Anything you wanted, she’d do as long as it was with you.
That’s when you asked her to try kissing, she’d obliged.
“Have you ever…kissed anyone?” You ask staring off into the cloud painted sky, tall grass framing your bodies.
She lets out a breathy giggle, “no… you would know if I did.”
You shrug, shoulder crashing gently into hers, “I don’t know, maybe it was too embarrassing to say.”
She trails off, “h-have you?”
“No dumbass you would know…” you push your shoulder into her turning to give her a toothy smile, “what if I’m not good when a boy kisses me?”
Her eyes remained trained onto the pillowy cloud, “you can try on me- I-if you want to.”
It was a good idea, she wasn’t going to judge you, she was your best friend, she was only there to help.
“Okay.” And without a second thought your upper body shot up and lent over hers, pressing your lips into her plush pink ones. It was gentle, only a placement amongst the flesh, yet so charged. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach and up to your throat, something you had only felt once before when you and abby went swimming.
Closeness you thought. Being close to someone causes that. How nice it was to be so close to your favorite person, maybe one day you could feel close to someone again.
After that you continued to experiment kissing. At sleepovers you’d talk about the boys you wanted to kiss, then show each other how you would kiss them. It turned into an innocent routine, pecking her before she would leave, kissing her in the fields when you felt the butterflies.
You’d told her about them- the fluttering in your stomach. Whenever you felt them she told you that she wanted to feel them too. Transferring them through the soft pink flesh, she’d say she’d feel them after.
Soon she’d tell you when she got them, to which you’d return the gesture back. As time went on, the butterflies came more often.
People were starting to notice the relationship, started talking about how close the two of you were. You’d shoo off the irrational comments and over zealous accusations, but abby never did. She just didn’t respond.
“Who am I to ask for more? But you’re breathing in my open mouth. You’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”
18
Abby started spending the night daily, she practically lived in your room at that point. After her dad died your relationship grew stronger than ever. In such a treacherous time she clung to the only person who truly understood her. Many a nights she spent huddled into a ball in your lap weeping as you smoothed the hair behind her ear and rubbing circles into the grown muscles in her back.
Abby had taken to working her emotions out in physical labor. Now being a solider full time out of school she had grown muscular and more rough. Her heart was still the same for you, but had grown caged off to the people around you.
Her pleasantries for the rest of the community had grown stale, only allowing a few to get near her. But you… there was always an indefinite spot inside her for you.
Since abby was always around now, in the darkness of every night, privacy had flown right out the window. Not that you had minded- there wasn’t much of really anything abby didn’t know or hadn’t seen.
But when that eery sense of familiarity crept up, when the butterflies would come at night.
She had started out sleeping on the extra bed in your room. Before she had practically moved in she’d sleep with you, but since her stay turned to no vacancy she’d taken to given you the last sense of space, even when you hadn’t asked.
In the middle of darkness as the crickets chirped outside the window you’d tell her the feeling had come back, and she’d always agree, and the room would fall silent again.
“Abby?” You call out to a darkened room, illuminated by the shine of the moon.
“Yeah?” She’d call back from the other side.
“Do you ever…fix the feelings of the butterflies. Like make them go away?”
“Uh yeah- sometimes…when it gets bad.”
“I think mine are…bad right now,” it felt embarrassing almost, there was nothing she could do to help, fix your issue. Transferring the butterflies to abby only made them worse sometimes, and you were boiling.
“M-mine too,” she admits.
“You can fix it- if you need to.”
“A-re you going to stop yours?”
“Is that okay?” You say reluctantly into the tense air coating you. Every slight move felt with a million nerves.
“Mhmm,” she responds, a rustling heard coming from her direction.
Soft hums filled the air from the feeling of release you had allowed yourself in the presence of your best friend. Abby’s breathy moans would only follow quickly after your own, never before.
Dual release become a routine. Allowing the sticky sweet sensations of climaxing in the same bedroom of your other half. It became another thing you shared with her, another check on the list of the endeavors you’d participated in with her.
Talks of the butterflies and the unleashing of them never left those four chipping walls. Some things were meant for just Abby’s ears. All best friends must do the same. You’d never heard of others talk of sorts so you sealed your lips, a secret kept like a bird in a cage.
As you both had grown accustomed to the routine things gradually got more intense. Sometimes you couldn’t get the butterflies to fly away even when you tried for hours, panting out whimpers of frustration. Even when they would go away sometimes they would crept back in immediately, your body unable to be satiated.
Abby begun sleeping in the bed with you, to calm the frustrating unnerve you felt after no avail. She’d tell you she wish she could help you, make them go away. She’d do anything to make you happy.
That’s when you started touching yourselves next to each other. The routine was upheld for so long that it felt natural to do it even when she was right next to you. First fully covered, then in undergarments, to finally completely bare.
Seeing Abby’s bare flesh only made it worse. You weren’t stupid, the pieces were falling into place before your eyes. But you hadn’t seen anyone else naked before, maybe it would be the same. Her flesh so pale, her nipples shades of pale pink roses, and the hair that trailed down to her folds as golden as wheat. You had never seen something so magnificent, so beautifully crafted.
That was something you didn’t share with her. The drawings of her bare flesh. You made sure to memorize each chisel, line, and freckle to be as accurate as possible once you got to your notebook. With every piece of her revealed opening thousands of opportunities to draw her art. She was so fucking beautiful.
“When was the first time?” The auburn girl had asked you.
It all had meshed into a blur, what had happened and when it did. When you and abby had started sleeping together it started on opposite ends. Heat not close enough to sting your flesh but the air still tense enough to be cut clean with a blade. As time grew on and the routine becoming daily, the space between you started to close in. Knees brushing as your legs wavered, arms transferring sticky sweat in the blistering heat of arousal.
The inevitable placement of foreheads touching as you watched each other fall apart, watching the butterflies flutter out of her throat with every pant.
From what you could call the ‘beginning’ of sorts, rather an act of mercy, came from her.
You found yourself in the familiar position of unnerve. Rubbing aimless quick circles on your abused clit. It became a matter of principle at the point, needing to fulfill the urge even knowing the outcome would leave you more helpless than before. Abby’s butterflies were far gone, now rubbing lazy stripes down her slit in attempt to not let you feel alone. She never wanted you to feel like she wasn’t completely enthralled by your every move.
Your leg sprawled across her own, wide open, bucking your hips into the air as you let out frustrated grunts, eyes sealed shut in concentration. She just watched. She loved watching you touch yourself. Abby felt like the luckiest girl in the world getting to watch you, kiss you, feel you. She wanted to feel more of you, every atom in your body she’d kiss if you’d allow it.
“Let me help” she said, eyes trained on your open mouth.
Your brain was too fuzzy to even comprehend the depth of the act, so pent up and eager.
“Mhmm,” was all you could muster up. As her calloused fingers transferred from her skin to your abdomen, your body jolted up. You had never been touched by another. Not like this. She took her time running the tips of her fingers from your side to the mound, taking your hand and moving it your thigh so she could replace it with her own.
Something deep in your belly erupted when you felt her fingers meet your clit. A flock of doves released from their cage, a gasping goldfish meeting water. An exaggerated sigh of relief came out as a depraved moan. Every nerve in your body heightened by her gentle touch.
She drew cautious and attentive swipes across the newly swollen bud, watching for when your breath would hitch.
“You’re so warm,” she said studying your face as it contorted in pleasure. Your chin raised high, burying your scalp into the frilly pillows below. She had then studied the flesh around your neck, oh why had she never noticed that. How thin the skin was there, how close she could get to you in that space.
“I-it feels b-better when you do it,” you admit to her, water in her hands, hips grinding into the soft touch of her. “Y-yeah really?” She says, perking up, so pleased with knowing she could make you feel better. She’d do anything to make you feel better.
You let your stagnant hand run down her chiseled chest to meet her mound, her sticky slit pooling at her core. You meant to return the favor, an eye for an eye. “It’s okay- just let me help you.”
You shook your head in agreement, but let your hand rest on the pulsing flesh, you wanted to feel her like she felt you.
With every gentle circle she took you closer to release. It was so much faster when she did it. When you did it together before you would lie there for hours flicking at the raw skin to no avail, but in minutes she had you tipping at your edge.
Her strokes felt akin to the ones on your notebook, gentle and cautious direction, seeking a desirable outcome. You’d thought to picture this, able to recreate this on paper shielded from her eyes. What would she think if she saw them? Maybe you’d grown too fond of the other half of your heart.
“Abby!” You scream out, nearing your pending release.
“Y-yeah? D-does it feel okay- are you okay?” She perks up in concern, helplessly worried she had hurt you.
“Yes- Yes! It- it’s coming,” you pant out, body slick with sweat as your arousal pools below you. A sloppy mess of bodies interlaced with remorseless pleasure.
“Let me feel them, I want to feel them,” abby says inches from your face, intently watching the contortions of your face below her. The butterflies, oh how she wished she could flutter in your tummy as they do so effortlessly.
You cave shamelessly, pressing into the soft pink flesh. You try to keep them stable, but as you reach the cliffs edge you can’t help but moan pathetically into her throat. Your hips thrust into the calloused fingers, chasing the lasting feelings of her, escaping your doom and passing the burden through your lips onto hers.
You did draw of this, and every time after that. It became an obsession, mental images snapshotted to accuracy for replication later.
The routine increased in frequency and intensity. Exploring each other’s most sacred places. She would let you touch her sometimes, but only when she was touching you. Abby seemed more interested in your pleasure than her own. But she cared about you, she never wanted you unsettled. She wanted to be your salvation.
“I ask you how you’re doing and I let you lie. But we don’t have to talk about it, I can walk you home and practice method acting. I’ll pretend being with you doesn’t feel like drowning.”
19
“Does she make you feel them?”
She asked when it had all started. The truth was you weren’t really sure. There was no definitive date or period of time that signified the beginning or end of it.
Ellie Williams was so…vulgar, erratic, a ticking time bomb. The pieces of the puzzle connected at last when you lied eyes on the auburn haired girl.
She had entered the WLF as gentle as a bomb to a building. Fiery hot attitude, a chip on her shoulder, and drowning green eyes. At first glance she utterly captivated your ever fleeting thoughts.
When she first walked through the corridors of the stadium your eyes fixed on her, staring rudely at her every move. “Who is that, the girl?” You ask the unfazed blonde next to you, too busy working at sharpening a blade, “names Ellie, they say she’s trouble. By the looks of her, checks out.”
“What did she do? Why is she here?” You continue your glare, taking note of the pink scare rippled along the crest of her eye.
You had never drawn anyone other than abby, but the girls features were so strong, the strokes would come naturally in your grasp. A secret muse possibly, even from a far.
“I don’t know- stay away from her. She reeks of trouble,” she’d remark, finishing off the blade and leading you off to a pending mission.
You tried, you really did. She was so compelling, and you? You were a bee to honey. Was she soft unlike her features? Did she speak of the world beyond her? Did she like to watch the clouds mesh into unlikely objects? Did she know of the butterflies and their ever present existence in your lungs?
Your notebook grew of only her, the short frayed hair, the pink scare, the freckles that littered her face. So effortlessly magnificent she was, unknowingly your own secret work of art.
Until abby found them.
Related to this work
Song lyrics: casual , waiting room , cool about it
Moodboard
If you enjoy the childhood best friend trope with abby highly recommend this fic by @kieranscaren she writes beautifully and gave me great inspiration for this work:)
i think it's a gospel fact that ellie has sensitive hips. she fucking seethes when you thumb her hipbones— pressing ripples in her boyshorts, a press so fierce the waistband begins to tug down. it's inescapable at this point; always waking up in nothing but those damn briefs, enticing your sunrise eyes amped for a bite, and a grip. "shh— fuck," a serpentine hiss connects the pits of her teeth at the pushy huddle you take at her backside, tamping the fore of her hip–nubs into the bathroom counter, the harsh cold of marble kissing through thin cotton, "g'mornin' babe, what's up?" sounding falsely equanimous in the betrayal of her tight fists, tucking on the counter edge, and her light wince, threading her throat when your digits curled into the natural dip her hipbones provided. fuck— ellie can't multiply the sensations enough to fill her groggy skullspace with it, neither can she humiliate her lips for a second hand, or a lustier press— but she can certain as heaven tense herself under your present grip, and squirm about it like a bitch. "the movie theaters, baby. we gotta get ready n' go, can't play the waiting game now." you remind, remind, remind. "seats won't warm themselves." soft haste remind, and she nods in comprehension with the wick of her toothbrush returning to her lips, then— that second grasp, adorned by a groan you gave her by biting her angled shoulder. and she's gasping, flooding her lungs, and tugging her intent brows inwards, royally expecting you to eat her out— right here, right now. "sorry— just felt like doing that. you have really gnaw–able shoulders. loosen up, els."
MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . READ THIS . PALESTINE MA
Summary: Abby finds you drunk, hiding away on a boat. Will you leave your girlfriend and run off with your childhood love?
Warnings: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, sub!reader, hate sex, abby being possessive, cheating (tsk tsk don’t do this), fingering, slapping, slight overstimulation, dubcon since reader is drunk but consenting
A/N: so this is the overall winning poll for the celebration so I hope you all enjoy! I don’t think I’ve ever read boat scene for queer abby so I’m like lowkey scared if this is uncharted territory lmao. Also this like loosely?? Follows what happens in g2 but I just made it gay as fuck also unrealistic for the relationship dynamic but I! Don’t! Care! Okay bye!
♡ ♡
“Thought I’d find you here,” she looks disappointed, but knowingly. Of course she would find you here, where the fuck else would you have gone, home? There was no home.
“Ya’no he’ll kill you too for just coming to find me,” slurs out your mouth, you’d be drinking since dawn perhaps. Drinking every bit you have left, not like you’d have a rainy day in store for you come sunlight.
“I’ll take my chances…” she situates herself up on the bench with her forearms lazily cast over her thighs, “how much have you had to drink,” it’s not accusatory, more of a redundant question she knew the answer to before she’d ever taken off to find you.
You take another hefty swig straight from the dirty bottle, letting the lip knock against your teeth. “Fuck off,” you throw out at her, eyes cast on the doorway she had walked through, both dead men walking now.
“So you want to tell me what happened,” now she begins to pry, all the rumors she had heard, maybe they were true, but she thought she knew you better. Once she did, when she was yours, if you could even call it that. Perhaps unspoken puppy love, a trauma bond of sorts. Whatever it was, was over, not that you ever had the decency to tell her. You were with someone else now, whether it was right or not, it was your newfound reality.
“I’m not like you…” your gaze meets hers at last, the words trail off, she knew what she had heard was true. “I couldn’t fucking do it, she was pregnant, begged for me to spare her…the kid. You don’t understand what it’s like, my morals are fucked from those people. This isn’t us. This isn’t you.”
“You don’t think I’ve been put in fucked situations?”
“That’s my point abby, this is all fucked…” you throw your hands hazardously in the air that springs droplets of the honey liquor flying out. Your feet move on their own, bringing you into an upright position as you begin closing in on her, “we are all just chess pieces in their game, when will you understand that.”
She rises out of her seat to meet your stance, she was much stronger, much more intimidating than you could ever surmount to, but the honey liquid encouragement was working overtime. “So you’re just going to run off? you can’t escape this,” her words reek of venom now.
“Come with me,” it comes out as a plea, but confident in meaning. She lets out a scoff at your attempt, shaking her head at your scheme. “What you’re just going to leave her?” She didn’t need to give a name, a further explanation, you both knew the predicament well enough.
Would you leave her?
“Yes.”
“You’re a fucking ass you know that-“ she begins to walk past you but you take grip at her muscled bicep, you feel as it twitches under your grasp.
“Abby-“ you begin to plead. She gives you one last look of adoration before ripping you to pieces.
She begins backing you into the nearest wall, pushing her hands into your chest to get you to her desired location, “no- fuck you- you don’t get to do that anymore.” She continues to dig her palms into your chest, you try to pull them off of you to no avail, on any day you’d be no match for her strength, but today the liquor only worsened your case.
“You know you’re different,” you bite at her, deepening your gaze, letting your eyes speak louder than your words could. She takes a moment to stare at you, truly wondering if you’d even meant it, if she knew the truth. “Don’t fucking do that-“ her palm grips at your throat now with no real threat as her other palm continues to dig into the flesh of your chest.
“You know it’s true abby.”
“God I fucking hate you,” she says through gritted teeth. She can barely get out the sentence before clashing her mouth against yours. She ravenous, eating you alive, digging her fingers into your soft flesh. She wasn’t allowed to have you for so long, but now, for however long she could, she’d reclaim what was hers.
Shes sloppy, mouth messy against yours as you both fight for dominance, dueling for the right over one another. While her teeth begin to bite down at your lip she brings her wavering fingers to the button of your jeans, attempting to break you out of any confines that are in her way. She rips them down off of you with no generosity as she whips you around so that your chest and palms are pressed into the wall.
You can’t see her, she wanted it that way. This was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. In the end you were always hers anyways.
You’re left panting into the cold wood of the walls, awaiting her punishment. Her large hands grip into your bare hips, jutting them out so they meet her completely clothed pelvis.
“Always were so pliable huh?” She taunts into the shell of your ear, making you shutter under her breath.
“I hate that you made it happen like this,” her hand swings down and lays a stinging smack into the meat of your ass, you breathe out hoarsely. “I hate what you do to me,” another smack is laid into you, this time eliciting a whine to escape your throat. “I fucking hate what you make me feel,” this time the infliction came harder than the rest, the slick now beginning to run down your thighs, aching so badly to be touched.
“Abby- please.”
Her knee comes between your own, opening them up wider for her, your slick stringing a sticky web between your thighs. Her hand snakes around your waist, without warning leaving a gentle smack onto the mound. You let out an eager whimper at the decadent pain. She rubs the wound quickly after, feeling your built up arousal in her fingertips that elicits a smug groan in your ear.
She continues to rub down your slick slit with no true target in mind, coaxing as many pathetic moans she could get at her indirection for your pleasure.
“Does she touch you like this?”
You don’t respond, brain too fuzzy to play into her antics. Another smack is laid into the soft pink flesh, hitting your swollen clit perfectly.
“Do you let her?” She says with more aggression this time, rubbing harsh circles around your clit now. You can’t help the guttural moan that comes out, “y-YES.” You should lie, but you didn’t want to know what she would do if she found out you were lying.
Her pace doesn’t falter, continuously circling the swollen bud, “does she feel better.” You pause for a moment, knowing the answer but forced with the moral dilemma of speaking it- “no.”
“I know.” Her fingers come off your clit causing a pathetic whine out of you. Her hand comes to the back of you now, her fingertips prodding at your fluttering hole, teasing the impending doom of her cruelty.
“Deep breath,” she commands of you. You pace your rapid breathing to suck in deep- when she hears the air hit your lungs she plunges her pointer and middle finger deep inside. There’s no grace, no sympathy as she beats into you. Her fingers already coated in your slick haphazardly plunging into your sweet spot.
Your screams don’t stop now, so completely full from her fingers, lust coating your eyes over white. You bite into her forearm placed next to your head to stabilize herself, teeth cutting close to the bulging veins. Her own breath beginning to falter, you can hear the faint moans trailing out her own mouth, almost completely covered by your moans.
Your walls start closing in on her fingers, she rips her free hand out of the tight enclosure of your mouth, in seconds working tight circles on your enlarged clit. The sensation of both stimulants drawing you to the edge of your climax “abby- I’m going t-“
“Tell me you don’t love her.”
She wasn’t going to make this easy, of course she wasn’t. But you’d do anything for release now. “I don’t- I- don’t!”
Her fingertips on your clit stop circling as she pinches onto it, and thrusts even harder into your hole, “say her fucking name.”
You’re screaming out, breathless, mind numb, you’d kill to finish at this point.
“I don’t love Ellie! Please!”
“Good girl now cum on my fingers,” and like that she continued, fucking into you relentlessly, fingers barely stable coated in slick at your clit.
Your ears began to ring as your orgasm took full autonomy over you, sending waves of pleasure down your pathetic structure and out through your needy throat. All you could muster out was incoherent spells of curses and the name of your capture. She took everything she could from you, never letting up till you begin to shake from the overstimulation.
Her fingers trailed from your clit to your hip, she dug her nails into the flesh there. The fingers wedged in your hole remained, gently thrusting when she felt it pulse, eliciting strained whimpers from you.
“I hate that I love you,” as she pulled her fingers out of you, leaving you there limp.
summary: abby had thoughts, many of them— you being the product of every single one. where lust turns to love turns to obsession turns to desperation. art is what you were and she wanted to continue to paint you, watch you, break you.
a/n: it’s been forever since ive posted anything here and yet im giving you half of this fic just to make up for my absence. im unsure if i like this one or if ill upload the entire one but this is short and only imagery is used. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy.
the thick of the pomegranate peel was rough yet smooth— gliding her nibble fingers, lining circles around the dull bumps and dips of bruises made abby think of her. the rotting center inviting her finger to penetrate through, feeling them warmth of its core hug itself around. at the hold of the heavy fruit, she felt lust infuse itself in the form of the pomegranate, reminding the gentleness of their flesh as her lips peppered loving marks. she hadn’t understood why, but the urge to scar the skin had blossomed in her mind. the crack of broken flesh— peel— as her fingers dug into it’s bruise. it bleed its pretty red ribbons, staining underneath her nailbeds as she tortured its wound, images of her pleasured face as her fingers plunged itself in her pussy. with opened lips and the song she sung in moans against the rim of her ear. ‘don’t stop’ abby heard and she listened. the skin ripped, tore, parting and cascading its line down its middle as the pomegranate split— there it was, its red meat and muscle, plump and fruitful. the hands that held shook not from fear but from excitement. she felt the in between of her legs moisten and her clit thump as she pressed her lips against its meat, gliding it as though she was ready to devour her labia— licking all of what she leaked, but instead she kissed it, wanting to savor the body of the pomegranate as abby rolled her tongue beside her neck as she tasted how sweet it had been and how addictive it’d become. gripping and squeezing, she took in the pomegranate’s open wound, drinking the juice as if it had been the blood of chirst, the most delicious wine. it juice splashed, hitting the back of her throat with her moans vibrating against her tongue. she grew hungry, wondering what her flesh would feel as she bit. would it be soft or tough like raw butchered cattle? the crunch of its seed and its meat pleasured the ridges of each tooth, reminding abby of the roar of her tasteful moans that bleed throughout the room. it bled and bled, running down her lips and her chin and neck, taking in the pomegranate’s gift as if it had been the thick crimson that lived beneath her beloved. as its pits felt like bones, cramming in the spaces of her teeth, slicing the thin of her lip’s skin, gnawing on it until none of its meat had been left until it rest in her gullet. she stopped, and looked. the pomegranate had been devoured and her body had been eaten.
and it's very unfortunate for them that we live in an era where everything is recorded. i'm talking videos, receipts, voice recordings, interviews, etc. every thing.
so we know exactly who supported Palestine and who didn't. and if they try to tell us that they did, you best believe there's going to be the proof to debunk their lies and shame them for being on the wrong side of history.
and yes, especially to all those government officials and celebrities that people worship. they might come back to being loved again in the distant future until the subject of Palestine comes up and i will gladly watch them crash and burn for the side they chose.
so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?
18+ below! smut smut smut!
ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.
it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?
the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.
but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?
all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.
it’s a video.
you sent her a video.
she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.
“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”
holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.
you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”
and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.
and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.
as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.
“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”
ellie. ellie ellie ellie.
“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.
when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.
“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.
when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.
and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.
Tell me again how israel cares about the hostages? Tell me how again they still trying "oh so hard" to get the hostages back?
There are currently over 8000 Palestinians in israeli jails, most of them convicted without a trial, most of them are innocent and over a 100 are serving life sentences.
Yet when hamas proposes a deal that allows ALL the children, women, elderly or ill to be released for only a fraction of the Palestinians detainees israel calls it unrealistic?
Israel doesn't care about hostages. Never has and never will. They will continue to use this as an excuse to ethnically cleanse the Palestinians.
Anyone who still supports israel is just delusional at this point.
THE LAST OF US, and the israeli themes surrounding it
i'm very glad that people were able to see one of the previous things i published, where i complied a series of links that you can use to learn more of what's going on in gaza, how you can help, places you need to boycott, etc. however, at the end of the post, there is a large part of it that is DIRECTLY meant for people who play or watch the last of us, or play the last of us 2.
the last of us 2 in specific is not at all elusive in displaying the chilling themes we are seeing before us today. what boggles my mind, is that a select few individuals are choosing to keep publishing fics, reblogging them, uploading content that has NOTHING to do with what's going on, etc. also, you can't reblog one thing about palestine and claim that you care, then flood your account or people's home pages in fanfiction, especially during a media blackout. it just doesn't work like that.
i took the time to make a post discussing all of the israeli/palestinian themes that the games as a whole, but mainly the second one, display. if you are my mutual, a friend, a fan of my work, or a fan of the game or show, then i 100% demand you read this. if you can read fics for hours, you can spend time to read a post discussing the universe those very fics came from.
a lot of us are now aware of the last of us's nature in regards to the ongoing genocide, but not many people know the specifics of it. after seeing this post last night (the person who made this, you are an angel), i decided to take the time to dive into the specifics of the last of us 2's israeli nature, on a logical level, but also a moral level, using a list of sources to help me along, which will be linked at the end of this post. i will link the sources along the way so you know which sources i got my information from.
regardless of if this changes anyone's mind about ignoring the media blackout, or not giving a fuck about what's going on period, know this: regardless of how you feel, regardless of what you believe, from the river to the see, palestine will be free. at this fucking point, the people who are on the right side will keep speaking out and spreading awareness, regardless if you are here to do it with us. that's it. now, let's get into this.
UPCOMING DISCUSSIONS: neil druckmann, the last of us 1, the last of us 2, the last of us show and zionism in the show's cast, boycotting the game and show, and conclusion
NEIL DRUCKMANN
45-year-old neil druckmann, who was the co-director and co-writer for the last of us 2, was born in tel aviv, israel in 1978. according to the above source, druckmann was raised in a settlement in the west bank, where he was surrounded by violence on a daily basis. comics, movies, and most of all, video games, became an escape for him as a child, before he and his family moved to miami, floridawhen he was 10 years old.
to water down the full story that you can, again, read here, druckmann went to college to major in criminology. however, when he was in college, druckmann took a compsci course, that later lead to his major becoming coding as opposed to criminology. soon after, he knew he wanted a career that related to one thing: video games.
in the summer of 2013, the last of us part 1 was released, and it was renowned as one of best video games to have ever been made. in 2020, druckmann and nd released the last of us part 2, followed by the 2022 release of HBO's show based on the first video game. druckmann played a huge part on set, being not only the co-creator and co-writer of the show, but also having directed an episode himself. druckmann will remain involved in the second season of the show.
bringing up neil druckmann’s background is a crucial aspect of what’s upcoming in this post, hence why i wanted to discuss it at all. druckmann growing up in israel is one of the sole reasons the last of us was ever made at all, and not only that: it is the reason why the second game is the way it is, because neil druckmann planted his israeli ideologies right into it.
so, let’s speak on it.
THE LAST OF US 1
on the official the last of us podcast, neil druckmann himself discussed the last of us' link to the israeli-palestinian conflict, and now, genocide. the general consensus was that people will go ridiculously far for the people that they love. this idea of druckmann's was revealed when he discussed the first time the main character of the first game, joel miller, kills somebody to keep his daughter, sarah, safe from harm. this is one of the first scenes in the game prior to the time jump, where the pair's neighbor becomes infected, and attacks them. joel uses a gun to kill him so that the neighbor doesn't harm sarah.
the following is a quote i would like to copy from this link word for word: "Druckmann said he follows "a lot of Israeli politics" and compared the incident to Israel's release of hundreds of Palestinians prisoners in exchange for the captured Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit in 2011."
the plot of the first game, as neil druckmann explained, is based around a moral dilemma. he discusses how if joel had to kill a man to save a random kid, would he have done it? druckmann himself says, "but when it was his tribe, his daughter, there was no question about what he was going to do."
while the first game, in my opinion, isn't as heavily centered around israeli themes as the second game is, regardless, it is heavily crucial to note that the basis of the first game derived from a real-life incident involving israel and palestine, where hundreds of palestinian people (edit: i believe it is more than 1,000) were released from imprisonment, all in exchange for one israeli soldier. in the second game, the israeli-palestinian themes, if you look closely enough, scream out at you.
let's talk about it.
THE LAST OF US 2
"There is a common saying that if you seek revenge, you should dig two graves. Playing The Last of Us Part II is like being made to dig those graves with your teeth (Zacny)."
nd's 2022 the last of us part II is described down to the last letter in the above quote, albeit the game's utterly obvious israeli nature. in this post, the creator, rob zacny, goes on to discuss the game's theme of a "cycle of violence," and how the game reminds you in each grotesque encounter of the cruel ideology behind that. due to what occurs in the last of us 1, joel, basically, reaps what he sows when he is murdered for killing a surgeon who, along with the group said surgeon was a member of, the fireflies, was planning to perform surgery on ellie, who joel had since grown close to, in search of a cure for the infection that has plagued their world for decades. four years later, the second playable character in the game, who is introduced in the first half hour or so, abby anderson, kills joel to avenge the surgeon who was murdered, who happened to be her father. from then on, the game follows what, again, can only be described as a "cycle of violence." joel kills abby's dad, abby kills joel, ellie kills all of abby's friends, aims to kill abby in the final battle of the game, but spares abby when ellie's conscious morally attacks her for her decisions.
throughout the 24 odd hour gameplay, the player is allowed to play as ellie and abby, abby's parts of the game being arguably longer than ellie's. the idea this, i believe, is meant to introduce, is one of perspective: the player is meant to be loyal to joel miller once the first game has been finished, so when he is killed, they are inclined to make abby pay for it. however, abby's perspective, both in the past and as the present course of the game goes on, is meant to make the player understand why she did what she did. thus, the moral: there are no good guys in this game. every person is as equally bad as the following, and no one is innocent. however, when we consider the israeli-palestinian nature of this ideology and how it is presented in the last of us part 2, it simply doesn't work like this.
“I suspect that some players, if they consciously clock the parallels at all, will think The Last of Us Part II is taking a balanced and fair perspective on that conflict, humanizing and exposing flaws in both sides of its in-game analogues. But as someone who grew up in Israel, I recognized a familiar, firmly Israeli way of seeing and explaining the conflict which tries to appear evenhanded and even enlightened, but in practice marginalizes Palestinian experience in a manner that perpetuates a horrific status quo (Maiberg).”
when discussing the last of us part 2’s plot, one could 100% argue that there really aren’t good guys on the dual sides of the game. if you compare ellie and abby, you know that ellie went on a murder frenzy to get revenge on abby for killing joel. on abby’s side of it all, you know that abby wasn’t all that great before coming across lev and yara, and even then, she killed people to do what everyone in said world aims to do: survive. prior to finding lev and yara, abby had killed numerous people before, and did, as the player sees, handle joel very cruelly before she ended up killing him. here’s one more example, one that’s more random (but it’s simply to compare abby vs. ellie’s people, if you will): joel and manny. joel went on a cross country murder spree to keep ellie safe, and killed a building full of people at the end of the game to save her life. in regards to manny, if you recall a discussion that manny and mel had in the beginning of abby’s parts of the game, the pair are discussing a happening where a group aside from the wlf, the seraphites (which we will discuss later) attacked them because the wlf killed children who were a part of their (the seraphite’s) group. manny voiced how he would prefer to keep their people (the wlf) safe, and challenges mel, implying that those “kids” weren’t really kids, because they were the ones who attacked their guys (the wlf) in the first place. as a general consensus, manny kills several people throughout the course of the game, which can be inferred or seen by the player, making him, for the sake of what i’m getting at, a bad guy.
we see in the game how ellie and abby’s people are unanimously bad. the last of us is set in a world where laws and morals are thrown out the window for the sake of survival, so this is no surprise. however, this dual perspective, “no bad guy,” ideology simply doesn’t apply in the world today. you may compare ellie vs. abby, or joel vs. manny, or bring in more characters in the game, such as tommy, nora, etc, claiming that all parties are bad. that makes perfect sense. but think about it like this: if this is meant to represent the israeli-palestinian perspective, and i give you the scenario of a five-year-old child versus a full-grown IDF soldier, what would you say? isn’t there an obvious answer as to who is in the wrong and who’s not? maiberg is 100% right in claiming that the game marginalizes the real-life palestinian experience. abby, ellie, joel, manny, etc, are not real people. but the thousands of innocent children who have been killed for the ridiculousness and inhumane israeli regime are. you can’t say each side is equal in awfulness, not when one side is full of innocent men, women, and children, some of which could never make it into a year of their lives. not when if one side pauses their battle, there would be a ceasefire, but if the converse pauses their battle, they would all be dead.
“And then they cheered afterward,” Druckmann, who grew up in Israel, recalls. “It was the cheering that was really chilling to me. … In my mind, I thought, ‘Oh, man, if I could just push a button and kill all these people that committed this horrible act, I would make them feel the same pain that they inflicted on these people.’"
remember how i said discussing neil druckmann's background was crucial? it is. druckmann, who, again, was born in israel, told the Washington Post that the game's cynical themes of revenge and suffering is linked to the 2000 killing of two israeli soldiers (tw, lynching), who were killed by a mob (maiberg). allegedly, some of the incident was remembered in film, that druckmann watched, and in his interview, he explained his angry nature that came about in response to the video, and how he desired vengeance.
the last of us part 2 is mainly set in seattle, washington, where secondary main character, abby anderson, resides in with a militia group named the wlf (which we will also delve into later, alongside the seraphites). maiberg brings out how seattle, on a visual and mechanical level, is based around "a series of checkpoints, security walls, and barriers (Maiberg)." he notes: "[seattle] looks almost exactly like the tall, precast concrete barriers and watch towers Israel started building through the West Bank in 2000." here are side by side images for comparison:
now that we’ve discussed this, let us discuss one of most prevalent aspects of abby’s part of the story: the wlf, and the seraphites. the seraphites are a religious group, nicknamed “the scars” due to the scars the members of said group carve into their faces to display their membership, who the wlf, a makeshift militia group, runs into conflict with following the fall of FEDRA, the country’s former military. in a note in the game, a fedra commander explains that the city of seattle has been lost to the wolves (the wlf), who he names as terrorists. maiberg brings out the following: “Here, there are parallels to early Zionist organisations that fought British rule in the region. These organizations were also described as terrorists, and leaders of those organizations later became leaders in Israel, much like how Isaac, the leader of the Wolves, came to control Seattle. Other in-game notes, scenes of urban ambushes, and the bodies of executed FEDRA officers laboriously walk the player through the cliche "one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter (Maiberg).”
maiberg also discusses a series of manners in which the fictional seraphites resemble real-life palestinians. here are the three ways he specifically discusses in his original post, but there are much more:
“The same note from the Seattle FEDRA commander that bitterly says the Wolves are in charge explains that it's now their responsibility to not only feed and shelter the people of Seattle, but deal with the "religious fanatics," referring to the Scars.
Later in the game, Ellie finds a location called "Martyr Gate," where the Scars' spiritual leader apparently died, indicating a religious significance of a specific and disputed location, and emphasizing the notion of martyrdom as central to their culture.
The Scars are able to get around Wolf patrols and various barriers around the city via an elaborate, secret system of bridges between skyscrapers. These function as a kind of flipped version of the underground tunnels Palestinians use to bypass Israeli blockades and other means of limiting free movement in order to get supplies and carry out attacks on Israel.”
one more post i would like to link is this one, the very reason i decided to make this in the first place. it captures the zionism in the last of us 2, along with the wlf vs. seraphite conflict, perfectly. i very much recommend you read it, as it explains it much better than i can.
the general consensus is this: the idea that the seraphites are equally as bad as the wlf, which implies that palestinians are equally as bad as israelis, simply doesn’t apply in 2024. as i said before: what is so vile and cruel about a newborn baby? a pregnant woman? an innocent man? NOTHING. part of the reason the last of us captures this so poorly is due to the apocalyptic nature of the world the game is set in. obviously, people would go rogue if their lives were put in peril by not only animalistic infected beings, but also humans. however, we live in a real world where laws and morals do, in fact, apply. this isn’t a video game where those are simply discarded. what the wlf and the seraphites did to each other in the last of us 2 could be any other day for them: but what israel is doing to palestine right now is a war crime, a genocide, and plainly vile.
THE LAST OF US SHOW, and zionism in the show’s cast
i don’t think i need to spend a lot of time here, because if you have made it this far, you are well aware of the real nature of the last of us and the last of us 2 already, so you must understand that the show is HBO’s take on the game’s story (which, need i remind you show-wise and game-wise, neil druckmann played a huge part in). i simply bring it up so that people are aware of the fact that the 2022 show is ALSO linked to the ongoing genocide, and the cast is a major part of that (however, if anyone would like me to delve deeper into the show, let me know, and i 100% will).
for the following season which is a sequel to the last, theorized to center around the happenings of the last of us 2, members who are set to play a few crucial characters in the game have been announced. this includes isabela merced, who will play dina woodward, ellie’s romantic partner for most of the game, alongside kaitlyn dever, who will play abby anderson.
many people freaked out when they realized kaitlyn dever will be playing abby, but not for the reason they should have been. if you are a last of us fan, you are well aware that abby’s muscles are a central aspect of her persona. yet, kaitlyn dever is on the skinnier side, and according to some, does not resemble abby.
but this is not the issue that is most crucial to discuss.
kaitlyn dever is a zionist, and so is isabela merced (i am under the impression that both of these claims are true, but i had trouble finding a source i deemed reliable enough to link here. if i do, however, i will). now, while i’m not here to riddle you with conspiracy theories, people believe this (zionism) is the reason kaitlyn dever in specific got the role of abby anderson (there is a separate actress, shannon berry, who more closely resembles abby, but made a post in solidarity with palestine. this is theorized to be the reason why she didn’t get the part, and why kaitlyn dever was announced shortly after this particular actress made said post). let us not also forget that ellie’s actor, bella ramsey, is also in support of israel, which can be seen here.
(edit: i was informed since making this that bella has a story on one of their social medias, showing their alleged support of palestine and calling for a ceasefire. i’m going to link this post where i spoke on it, so you aware of what i think on that front).
all of the previously provided information brings me to my final part of this post: boycotting the games, and boycotting the show.
BOYCOTTING THE GAME AND SHOW
i could go on and on about why this is so crucial, but we would be here forever. however, i’m going to paste in what i wrote in this post surrounding the topic of boycotting, as i personally believe i got it down quite well in regards to the last of us (the show and game). it reads:
"DO NOT BUY TLOU, TLOU REMASTERED, TLOU2, TLOU2 REMASTERED, OR ANY GAME FROM ND! neil druckmann has donated money to the IDF in the past. & where do you think he’s getting his money from? yeah, you got that. watch gameplays, pirate these games, or buy them secondhand. several shops sell used games. & for those of you who went and purchased the game anyway, knowing about all of this? fuck you.
if you think your $10 doesn’t matter, then think about this: okay, one person spends $10 on the game. whatever. but when 100,000 people do it? that’s a million dollars, going into the hands of a zionist, who is using YOUR money to help kill innocent men, women, and children. put that in your pipe and smoke it.
it is not just the games you need to boycott. HBO’S show also needs to be. follow this link to learn of more movies and shows you need to boycott, & the reasons why, including the last of us. let’s also not forget that dina & abby’s actresses are in support of israel, and BELLA RAMSEY, ellie’s actress, has also shown support.
boycott. the fucking. show. there are a million websites where you can pirate it, so you are not giving any of your support to it. resist."
what it comes down to is this: purchasing the game or watching the show directly from nd or HBO is not a must. spreading awareness and speaking out about palestine is. you are more than capable of not purchasing the game, or watching playthroughs, or buying the game secondhand, etc. you are more than capable of pirating the hbo show so that money is not made off of your engagement. it's not that difficult. i have said it once, and i will say it again: boycotting is a form of resistance, and that is the least we can do for those suffering in gaza as you read this. resist. people openly admitting that they went and purchased the game anyway simply make me sick. i hope you know what an awful thing to brag about that is, and how despicable of a human it makes you.
CONCLUSION
there's so much to discuss when it comes down to this topic, and it's possible that in the future, i will make a second part to this. however, for now, i really hope this does suffice. i believe knowing of the game's israeli nature is a step. but knowing the specifics is a leap, one that i need everyone engaged in this fandom to take, hence why i wanted to make this post at all.
i'm not saying anyone needs to quit liking the games or the show or whatever. i'm not saying you need to delete or throw away a game you spent $60 on. i've seen so many people who are way too dense to understand that. what i'm saying is that it's crucial you are at least AWARE of the content you are consuming. aware of why it even came about at all.
in my opinion, you can't separate the game from the roots. but you can remain aware of the inner workings of this world you've grown to love. you can keep spreading awareness about it, and you can do right by the people in gaza by discussing the ongoing genocide, and using your voice as much as you can.
i'm so lucky to have been able to gain a following on here in such a short amount of time, even if that following has gone up and down because i've chosen to post more about palestine as opposed to my previous content (granted, that fact won't deter me at all). i will keep using said following to keep speaking out for the people in gaza, and i encourage you to do the same. keep reblogging. keep speaking up. keep using your voices. the people in gaza need us. be there for them.
FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE 🇵🇸🍉.
LINKS AND RESOURCES:
neil druckmann | the official the last of us podcast | the not so hidden israeli politics of the last of us 2, by emanuel maiberg (i highly recommend you read the full post. it discusses several crucial details i didn't discuss in this post) | galid shalit prisoner exchange | Neil Druckmann Speaking on the Washington Post | 2000 killing of two israeli soldiers (TW: LYNCHING) | 'The Last of Us Part II' Is a Grim and Bloody Spectacle, but a Poor Sequel | Veiling Colonial Violence: The Last of Us Part II, Israel and the Erasure of Power (full disclosure, i did not read the full post. i merely needed the quote in the very beginning of it) | zionism in tlou2 | isabela merced | kaitlyn dever | bella ramsey's support of israel
