I'll eat ya toes ^.^
102 posts
Elliesmistress - Tumblr Blog
I get an iphone so it doesn’t lag yet it lags… WHY IS MY IPHONE LAGGING 👹👹
ASMR - Horses in sync
completely unrelated to like tlou and everything but HORSIESSSS
Tommy: Joel, why are there little handprints all over the wall? Joel (whispering): Ellie, why are there little handprints all over the wall? Ellie (whispering): Because I have little hands. Joel: Because she has little hands.
yall pls send requests 🧎♀️
i hate it when I'm reading Ellie smut and it's basically just written like she's a dude. It's always a pillow princess reader and hyper masc Ellie that shows zero emotion besides possessiveness and lust. And she never has her own needs. Like she's a girl at the end of the day. A young woman. Why are y'all acting like she's some stone cold player? (Not saying women can't be, just not Ellie. Like be so fucking fr with me) If I wanted to read about a man, I wouldn't be here.
Plus it's always funny when in the fanfic it goes "she flips you around" or "she moves you up" like the girl doesn't weigh the same as a sack of apples. And with the constant "you look up at her". She's 5'5. She's a little garden gnome. What am I looking up at? The sky?
But back to the 2d character she's given. I understand that that isn't coming from thin air. She can be fucking vicious and scary. She took out half a city for Christ's sake, but that's not how she is with Dina or Jesse or Joel while they still were on good terms. It's called having complexity. Not just being one type of way with everybody, you know?
And this part is personal preference, but why is the reader always some shy, timid, little lamb. I want to see two grown women fuck. Not this weird bullshit.
Like I honestly get it if you like the dynamic but outside of sex it's also just the same thing, where Ellie makes snarky/sarcastic comments and the reader just blushes and looks down at her Mary Janes. Why does she have the personality of a brick wall? Like I want Dina and Ellie type banter or at least something of that nature.
Lol, that's about it. Good night, I'm going to sleep.
Ellie: Why are you two holding hands?
Joel: Studies show that holding hands can help reduce stress.
Ellie: Oh, I thought you guys were dating or something.
Tess: We are. We're also really fucking stressed.
I can't-
This is one of the most unhinged fandoms I've ever been a part of, on god.
I need Ashley Johnson to come sit on the edge of my bed and tell me a bedtime story. Her voice is so kind and pretty.
Old man
everyone was drawing this so naturally it was abbys turn
pls credit me if u repost elsewhere:)
“Claustrophobia” a short written from the pov of Dina
Me after watching the boat scene.
@astralnymphh (thanks for finding this)
SAL I LOVE YOUUUU
errrr……. hey…
uhhh this is awkward hey what do we do when we’re grieving? write ab arranged marriages slayyyyyy errrr yeah here’s that see yall next month or year or whatever
—
“I want a divorce.”
Your tone doesn’t waver nor break, voice engulfed in plainness.
It was one of the issues Ellie’s had since your marriage: an act to combine assets initiated by your parents. They never intended to have a daughter — you told Ellie the night of your honeymoon — but when your mother laid eyes on you, warming you with the skin of her chest for the first time, she painted your entire future in her mind. An object. The finest to be drenched and drowned in riches and diamonds, only living under multi-million dollar homes owned by your husband’s family name. Just as long as you played your role. A silent, unopinionated, docile baby-making machine.
Your parents nearly had a heart attack when they found one of your diaries filled with pictures of naked women, either hand drawn or torn from pages of your father’s filthy magazines. Your mother told you she should’ve aborted you, just when you thought you’d finally have a normal birthday party. The heavy breaths of your sobs extinguished the flame above your 18th candle.
But you’re 22 now; fabulously wealthy, married and…
Staring at your wife… plainly, even though the flames in your eyes rages war. The dining table is a battleground and a red dot punctures right through Ellie’s forehead. She’s not sure what you are.
Your marriage was not ideal. Not only was it forced and filled with shame, but Ellie grew resentful rather quickly. Towards the man that brought her into such a shrouded lifestyle, towards the heavens above for cursing her with life, but when she couldn’t attack, she brought it to your bedroom. You suffered, she’ll admit. It only took two weeks into your marriage for her to find an escape through other unassuming women while you laid in your shared bed with a tear-soaked pillow. You never knew when she’d come home, but when she did, she never failed to berate you. It carried on for months, the blame; blaming you for everything that’s happened to her thus far, despite her knowing that you’re a victim just as much as she is. You were her only emotional outlet. Or punching bag.
But despite every torment she threw your way, you never failed to smile at her the next morning with her coffee in your hands.
You always remained silent. Until now.
The delicious meal you prepared has soured on her tongue. All she can do is stare at you in disbelief.
She takes in the polite fold of your hands, 16 carat, rose gold, wedding band still on your ring finger. Her eyes rush over the plumpness of your lips, the delicate curve of your nose, the rise and fall of your chest… the way your breasts expand in your flowery dress with each breath.
Ellie swallows, nearly choking at the sudden dryness in her throat.
“… What?”
“I want a divorce.”
Your tone raises. Not aggressively; that wouldn’t fit you. You wanted her to hear you.
She huffs despite the burning tips of her ears. “I’m sure.” She mocks with a smirk.
Your eyes squint. “I’m not joking.”
“You know who else wasn’t?” She leans across the table, pinning you with her gaze, “Our parents. They don’t give a fuck about what we do and don’t want. We’re lucky they put us together.”
“I…”
Ellie flinches when your voice cracks to a whisper. Never once has the shell you mask yourself in cracked. Not once. Not in front of Ellie, your parents, her family, even strangers. You’ve never failed to put on a dazzling smile for the spectators.
“I want to be in love.” Tears free fall from your eyes and your chin trembles, “There’s no… I don’t have anyone. I never did.”
“I thought we could… at least be friends. I know you didn’t want this, I know — b-but… I can’t keep doing this. I feel like I’m dying—“
Ellie knows you’re talking about her, and guilt swallows her whole. It’s a shame, really; you’re gorgeous when you cry. Why’s her heart pounding this madly?
“I want someone to treat me like I-I’m alive, no one sees me, I d — don’t feel real —“
Ellie stands when your often assembled appearance begins to crumble. She’s never seen you so shattered, gasping for air like it’s limited. She recognizes this. You’re breaking, just like she did the night before she signed her life over to your family.
“Hey—“
Your seat goes flying back when your heeled feet plant on the marble floor, manicured nails clutching at the skin of your chest raw. She rushes over when your sobs crack, desperately trying to get air in your lungs with pleading and fearful eyes.
“Hey, hey, look at me, c’mon—“
Your fists pound against her chest in between wails, makeup streaking down your face, clumping your fluttery lashes. She calls out to you with hands on your soaked cheeks, tells you to count, to spell your name for her, but you can’t hear. You can’t function. Have you ever been this close?
Ellie curses before her hand flies into the jug filled with sphered ice cubes, shoving them into the side of your neck. They melt instantly from the heat of your skin, but you gasp and flinch from the cold.
“Yeah, feel that? Feels nice? Focus on that.”
Her hand delves into the jug until your jerky breaths calm into spluttered exhales. She’s sure she’s frost bitten.
You’re quiet again. Docile again. Anxious. Embarrassed. Heartbroken. And so fucking angry. Ellie’s getting whiplash looking into your eyes. They’re speckled with gold and… something foreign. She can’t place it. The hand on your cheek swiftly falls to her side.
“You—“ she clears her throat when you wobble, vibrating form pushing up against her, nose almost brushing hers, “You alright?”
But you say nothing, eyes distant. You simply step out of your heels with tightly clenched fists and jostled hair before walking towards the staircase.
“I’m very tired.” You say plainly over your shoulder before trekking up the steps. She watches cautiously until a door slams shut. She, after minutes of gawking at the staircase, takes in the scenery around her. Everything is where it should be… minus your plate is cold and untouched. But your wine glass is empty. She's not sure where the bottle is. Since when do you drink?
Her mind is unsettled and there’s a stutter in her chest. Your home is silent. A heaviness that weighs her down.
She assumed that the uncomfortable twist in her gut was from her own wrongdoings since your marriage.
Not at all.
Ellie’s concerned. There’s something off about you.
More off than usual.
fakevalentine - cc
Ellie Williams -
fakevalentine
jinayirl
Dina Woodward -
Abby Anderson -
SFW photos -
NSFW photos -
screaming, crying, throwing up, writhing, rocking back and forth, ripping my hair out, clutching my chest
unfortunately “we shouldn’t be doing this” sounds really hot during sex