#otherwise this post would be really long and would take a lot more work

[igbylicious]

so um. @wooyoungisbaby Isak made inquiries abt whichever way Woosan & orgasm denial, how often it happens, whether Wooyoung ever gets to deny San, and oh boy my brain started buzzing lol! it was too long to answer in the replies, so this is ummm, technically a hard thoughts post i guess? very self-indulgent, very stream-of-consciousness

sex-related Woosan musings ahead, with an obvious warning for orgasm denial, but also mentions of dacryphilia & overstim (and somehow it’s abt 700~ words?! brain why?!?!?)

so yes, in pt1 Wooyoung was on a sex ban and didn’t get to cum until he and San were back from their trip lol.

in my head, San does this kind of thing on occasion, but not too often; he doesn’t overdo it bc that will genuinely upset Woo at some point lol. (also bc it means San doesn’t get to fuck Wooyoung either, and San doesn’t want to go too long without fucking Woo :C in like, a sickeningly tender way :C that man yearns for it :C )

also a ban for an entire week like in pt1 is very rare! the opportunity just presented itself bc they’d be with San’s family for the first few days; San had mixed feelings abt getting it on at his parents house, and Wooyoung got snarky abt it so San was like ‘ok i guess you are getting NOTHING for this WHOLE trip then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯’

(ps: now that reader is also in the mix, there are some fun new levels of potential torture to the concept of putting Woo on a sex ban ✪ ω ✪ )

~

for edging / denying Woo during actual sex; yeah that happens a lot lol — but multiple orgasm overstim is almost just as likely! San loves to change it up; but any given time they have sex, there’s decent odds that either one or the other will happen to Wooyoung… or both if he has the energy >:3

either way, both are real solid methods for San to almost guaranty he’ll have Woo crying before it’s over and what can i say? that man likes his Wooyoung a ruined, teary mess lol

~

as for whether Woo denies San…

well. in pt6 Wooyoung did know that San would let himself get edged all day long ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

for this version of Woosan, that’s actually a rare kink with which they might fully flip the script and have Wooyoung domming San. (they do have sex without rigid d/s roles, but it’s rare for this San to get deeply subby. tragically ( ╥ω╥ ) it will kinda sorta happen in the fic one more time tho uwu)

and usually it happens when San is real stressed or overworked or otherwise having a Bad Time™

(or if Woo is really really really in the mood for it, but in that case he will have to be on his best behaviour first lol)

they’ll really take their time for it and turn it into a ﾟ☆*Moment*☆ﾟ and it’s lowkey kinda soft; Woo will tease San plenty, obv! Woo likes his San just as teary and whiny as San likes his Wooyoung lol

but Woo is also acutely aware that he is in the caretaker role for once, and that the goal is for San to feel good and relaxed afterwards ♡ so much bodyworship, soooooooo much praise and cuddling in the aftercare <- and the praise goes both ways, bc San is so proud and grateful to Woo for taking care of him like that ;;

(and ofc when Woo’s subbing, he will ABSOLUTELY pull an edge on San if he can; just to multitask at being a menace AND give his boyfriend a lil treat hehe)

~

…but to come full circle, i’m not convinced that an attempt to put a sex ban on San would work out so great for Wooyoung asdkjadsjk

honestly i’m on the fence whether San’d immediately shut it down bc being the target of punishment is not his thing — but i could see Woo trying it just to be a brat, OR Woo pulls a stunt like ‘you sex ban me? good luck i sex ban you right back’ lol

which derails into an outright battle of endurance bc these two guys are not just incredibly horny but also stubborn asdkjasdjk. honestly they can’t even hold out for that long bc of aforementioned horny-ness and bc they are whipped for each other, but dear god both of them are so fucking stupidly desperate by the time they cave in and shamelessly hump each other again lol oop — and it does cumulate into a round of the shortest but also the MOST high-strung sex they’ve ever had ✪ ω ✪

(bless you Isak for being an enabler, i hope you got smth out of this ♡)

[gummi-ships]

[koipalm]

having fun with writing....

[axiina]

I saw your post about writing for Coriolanus Snow Andi was thinking classic enemies to lovers nsfw I’ll give you free liberty with everything else 💕

'I hate you' is new 'I love you'

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x capitol!reader (gender neutral afab)

Summary: When your professor tells you to come to an agreement with your enemy, and you take 'come' too literally.

Words: 3.2k

Themes: smut, nsfw

Warnings: using of 'you' to reader, set before events of tbosas so no actual spoilers, more like academic rivals to lovers but they want to fight at some point so I guess it counts, NSFW | public sex (or more semi-public), unprotected sex (wrap it before tap it), p in v sex, kinda toxic but it's enemies to lovers, more like enemies who fuck, Coryo is pretty rough and possessive, marking, making out, idiots in love but they prefer fighting with each other

Author's note: I found some free time between studying, so I decided that I can no longer delay. English is not my first language so i hope that i didn't do too much mistakes. It is possible that a single "she" or "her" will appear here because I changed the concept during writing and I do not know if I got rid of everything. Let me know whether to stay with the use of 'you' or maybe replace it with personal pronouns or 'y/n'. I hope it's not written very awkwardly and you will like it!!

Coriolanus Snow is a peculiar person. Most people love him. Nice, classy, handsome and rich from a wealthy family. What more could one want? However, one of Coriolanus' traits that everyone seems to turn a blind eye to is his two-facedness. Some say this is merely a symptom of his cunning and wits. He knows when and how to behave to make his counterpart happy. You are not one of those people. Saying that you and Coriolanus Snow don't like each other is a huge understatement. You guys hate each other. From the very beginning when you both met at the academy it was known that you would cause a lot of problems. Too much of a character difference, or perhaps too much of a similarity between the two. However, this is not what is crucial. Whatever it is, it makes you two most likely to kill each other if you could. Every move you make you do to screw each other up. To prove who is better.

Professor Satyria's pleas for you to finally come to an agreement are of little use. The conflict must go on, and neither of you has any intention of giving up.

You like the way things are working out. At first, Snow was annoying and you didn't understand how people couldn't see him for what he really was. Fake. Now he is still annoying, but getting under his skin has become a sort of routine. Quite a pleasant one.

"You have to get along with each other and set a good example as rightful citizens of the Capitol, otherwise the Academy will draw out the consequences."

Professor Satyria's words continue to ring in your ears as you get ready to go home after finishing classes and doing punishment work. On the one hand, you don't want something as silly as arguing to weigh on your future, but on the other hand, reaching out to agree is like admitting you were wrong. Failure.

"Wherever I am you must also appear. Are you obsessed with me?" Behind your back, you heard a familiar, annoyingly kind voice, in which you could sense some arrogance. You groaned turning around to see no one else but Coriolanus.

"Don't you have anything better to do? People are finally getting tired of your idiocy?" Your words, however, did not budge the blond. His expression remained unchanged. One that might make most people think he is a nice person. You, however, have known him long enough to see right through it. Perfect. Too perfect.

"We need to talk. A positive outcome for both sides. It will interest you." Well, the threat of Satyria. He is the first one to extend his hand for agreement. Where is the trick? You look at him suspiciously without saying a word, and so Snow takes it as a sign that you are thinking about the proposition. "Do you have free time? Maybe we could go out somewhere together?"

The suggestion makes you burst into laughter. "With you? No thanks, I'll pass on this pleasure."

Coriolanus is not surprised by your answer. He knew it wouldn't be that easy. Accepting rejection, however, is not his strong point. He is annoyed by your behaviour, but he bites his tongue to avoid responding in the same spiteful way. Instead, he doesn't give up.

"I know we were never on good terms, but I want this war between us to end. I hope we can put behind us all the bad things that happened between us and start fresh. What do you think about this?" he says, sounding quite sincere.

"Let me think." You say and sigh, pondering the answer, which is obvious, but you can't let go of a little malice. "No."

The expression on Snow's face became more serious. It seems that your refusal offended his pride. But he doesn't show it in his tone of voice.

"Why not?" he asks and you notice how he clenches his jaw and his gaze becomes unpleasant.

You enjoy the view and it fills you with satisfaction. "Because you think that with a pretty face and fake politeness, you can get anything. Maybe it works with others, but I'm not that stupid. Additionally, you are damn annoying. That's why."

The expression on Snow's face becomes dark. Typical when he fails to get what he wants. His usual tone is completely gone. His face is twisted with anger. He still tries to maintain a polite voice. The attempt fails.

"Do you want to repeat it?" he asks through his teeth. It's obvious that you've hit one of his sensitive points. That was the plan.

"Exhausting, isn't it? Hiding behind the mask of a nice and put-together boy from a highly placed family who is a veritable ideal is tiring, isn't it?" A mockery can be heard in your voice. Coriolanus is very sensitive to it.

"What do you think you know about me?" He asks through clenched teeth, his tone no longer artificially polite, it is filled with rage. Your mockery has really gotten to him. He tries to calm down, but it's all in vain. Coriolanus has never had problems with self-control, but something about you makes him ready to abandon everything. You manage to get him off balance with ease. In his head, he has one plan. To destroy you.

"Do you think you pretend so well?" You burst out laughing and shake your head. You know you shouldn't say such things. The academy is practically empty, and Coriolanus's angry enough can be unpredictable. However, you can't help but point out everything that annoys you about him. "It's actually quite easy to see what kind of person you are. You look at people with disgust, but when they look in your direction, you suddenly change dramatically. how fake you are to everyone. I wonder how they don't see it. How empty and shallow you are."

"You don't know anything about me!" Snow shouts at you, his face twisted with rage. He is barely able to control himself. He doesn't even try to hide it anymore. He stares at you with hatred in his eyes.

"Don't you dare assume that you know everything about me. You don't know me one bit. You don't know what my life is like. Don't think so highly of yourself. You aren't better than me." He continues, his voice getting louder with every word he says. You really hit his sensitive spot.

"I don't know everything and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. For me, the most important thing is acts, and in your case, they are fake and two-faced. You despise people, and you yourself are at the bottom." Irritation takes over. You know that at any moment you can say one word too many if you haven't already. However, someone has to talk it all out for him. Adrenaline makes you take a step closer to the upset boy without considering the possible consequences.

Snow seems to be on the verge of a breakdown. His fists are clenched and his eyes are wide open with rage. He is breathing hard, trying to control himself. He's not used to being treated this way by anyone. He has come this far over the years, solely because of himself and what role he has taken in society. You really succeeded in hurting his pride. "I warn you right now. Don't mock me any further."

"Why? What will you do? hit me? do it, I dare you. Then everyone will see how "perfect" you really are." You know the situation is starting to get dangerous. However, you come closer. It's stupid, you know it, and yet you do it. Maybe it's the way his reactions give you satisfaction, or maybe it's the way he looks at you.

You can see the hatred oozing from his eyes when they are locked on yours. His face is full of rage, his breathing heavy and his muscles tense.

He takes a step toward you with a clenched fist. You can see his knuckles turning white. He grabs you and presses you against the wall, his body against yours.

A second later, you feel him pressing you against the wall tighter than before, and his hand grips your throat.

You feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. Your heart is pounding as if it wants to jump out of your chest. You feel a strange sensation in your lower abdomen. His eyes are cold, yet they make a pleasant shiver run through your body. His face is right next to yours, flesh pressing against yours. It was a matter of split seconds as you two pressed your lips to each other in an aggressive and hungry kiss.

He returns the kiss, wrapping his free hand around you. He seems to enjoy the kiss as much as you do.

You can feel his body trembling as he still tries to keep control of his overwhelming emotions, or maybe it's because of the situation you're in.

The two of you kiss aggressively. Snow's body shakes as he fights between his desire and how much you get on his nerves. You feel how rough but passionate his kiss is.

He draws you closer and your bodies press against each other. The friction of your bodies makes you uncontrollable over the muffled whimpers you make. You feel the bulge forming in his pants rubbing against your body.

The situation seems hazy, and only fragments register in your mind. How you both enter the bathroom without stopping your hungry and clumsy kisses, and your hands work to get rid of clothes that only makes it difficult. How Coriolanus presses your body against the wall slamming his hips against yours.

All this is to express yourself and give vent to all the negative emotions you have been holding for years.

Snow's body is now almost completely controlled by his emotions. His movements seem full of hatred and at the same time passion. He just wants to express himself using his flesh to claim you as his own.

You feel as if you are on fire, your body moves and reacts according to your desires. The tension that has built up between you for years is finally released, and it all comes out as raw passion.

His fast and aggressive movements make the place where your bodies meet burn in a pleasant way, and you think to yourself that it will be a miracle if you walk normally tomorrow. His dick stretches you nicely and his movements make your inside sting slightly. It's not a problem for now. Not now when your legs are wrapped around his waist and the only sounds you can make right now are moaning and repeating his name like a mantra.

Your body trembles at how rough his movements are, but you don't care now. The most important thing for you now is to show him how much you hate him. A broken moan leaves your lips when he reaches deeper.

Coriolanus feels your legs tighten around him. He moves slower now but is more passionate and rough. He holds your hips tightly, not caring if it is uncomfortable for you. His lips move to your neck, where he bites as if he is trying to unload all the emotions you are causing you this way.

His hips buck firmly against you. Each thrust makes your body more tired and aching but at the same time, it makes the whole experience even more pleasurable. If someone told you that you would end up having sex with your biggest rival in the academy bathroom, you would laugh in that person's face. There you are, panting, with your arms around his neck when Coriolanus Snow is abusing your cunt sensitive from too much friction.

Coriolanus brings his lips closer to your ear. His warm and irregular breathing makes a shiver go through your body. "Do you like it when I claim you as mine?" He purrs, his voice still filled with desire.

"I hate you, I hate you so much," You exhale in a trembling voice that takes a lot of trouble to keep from cracking. You bite and suck at the smooth skin of his neck, leaving there dark marks. "I hate you, Coriolanus Snow."

"I hate you too," Snow says with a low growl as he continues to hold you. He bites your shoulder, leaving marks on your skin. His moans are muffled by your skin, which he touches constantly, as if afraid that at any moment you might escape and leave behind only a faint memory.

You hate him, but you enjoy him. You are pleased when he takes you as his own. You are excited when he uses your body. You feel his passion and desire through his body. You feel his raw passion and it's hard to hate him now.

"oh go to hell" You hiss and bite your lower lip to stop your moans, feeling him moving faster.

He doesn't care if he hurts you or not. All he cares about is that you belong to him right now. His hips slam against yours in an aggressive peace. The bathroom is filled with sinful noises because you don't even think about the fact that someone might come in and hear them.

"you may have already fallen in love, but with me, it's not so easy" A trembling laugh leaves your lips. You feel your head getting foggier and foggier. It's hard for you to put together a meaningful sentence, "but you're doing a good job" a loud moan leaves your mouth. you close your eyes and throw your head back "mmm my sweet toy."

He hears your moans of pleasure, and his eyes close with a smile. He has won and he knows it. Snow always lands on top. He presses you against the wall with his body even tighter. His movements become more sloppy and deeper as if he wants to bury himself inside you. His body trembles as his lips leave broken moans and whimpers.

Passion is so strong that you can almost forget about hatred. You can almost fall in love with Coriolanus Snow. Almost. But you know that what you feel now is only lust, and you know that it's all temporary.

Not him. Not the arrogant boy whose whole life is based on lies. Not that boy who doesn't care about anyone. Not that boy with a beautiful face and mesmerizing blue eyes. Not him.

You press closer to his body, almost clinging to him as a wave of pleasure sweeps over your body.

Coriolanus lets out a raspy throaty moan feeling your walls pulsate around him. His voice is low and shaky. He doesn't seem to notice anything except the way you cling to his body. He moves faster and harder, making sure he satisfies you completely.

Snow is fully immersed in feelings. He can't think clearly or rationally. He only knows that he has to claim you, that he has to satisfy his needs. He wants to feel you and make the most of the situation. All his thoughts and desires are focused on you. His hip movements speed up as he reaches the climax. He hides his face in your neck to muffle his moans. His body stiffs as he comes inside you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, while his wrapped around your waist. you cling to each other, still not making contact with the real world as your breathing slowly calms down.

What happened in that bathroom is over, they both return to reality. Snow steps back slightly and helps you stand on your own two feet. He looks at you with heavy eyes. All the emotions he had been hiding inside him had finally been released.

He has won and he knows it. He has succeeded. But what now? Was it really worth it? This is not a question for now. Coriolanus does not look far into that future with his thoughts.

You look at each other in silence. Slowly you begin to realize what you have done and now you look at each other awkwardly and somewhat panicked.

Coriolanus is the first to break the silence. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is faster. The passion he felt a minute ago still lingers in his heart, something he tries to hide from you. He looks at you with a somewhat absent and uncertain gaze

"Do you think we should forget what just happened?" He tries to make his voice sound normal as if nothing had happened.

"Definitely." The words leave your lips before you have time to think. You stare at each other in silence for a few more moments and begin to quickly put on your clothes.

Snow is surprised at how quickly you agree with him. He needs to make sure this is the end of what just happened between the two of you, so he adds.

"If anyone asks, it never happened." He now looks at you with a somewhat panicked expression on his face.

"You don't have to tell me," you scoff, buttoning your shirt, "if you tell even one soul, I'll kill you, I swear."

Coriolanus looks at you with small amusement while fixing his jacket. "I hope you won't become obsessed with me after this."

"Maybe in your dreams," you say with a slight smile fixing the collar of his shirt. " you better be careful that you are the one who will be lost in memories of me." Before you leave the bathroom you stop in front of the mirror and fix your uniform and hair. Coriolanus smiles for a moment but then quickly clears his throat and tries to look cold.

You both come out of the bathroom, look at each other and part your lips, as if to say something to each other, but you look at each other in silence "Now everything is back to normal. We can still hate each other," you say, but this does not improve your mood at all.

"It never happened," Snow says trying to look you in the eyes, wondering if you're thinking about it too. He wonders if what he feels is real, or if it's just a moment of passion.

"Never" You agree by nodding your head. Your gaze goes down to his mouth. As you look into his eyes again without a moment's thought you move closer to him and press your lips to his in-hungry kiss. He kisses you back wrapping his arms around you to bring your body closer.

You parts away after some time and you both catch your breath for a moment after this passionate kiss. Coriolanus is completely consumed with passion and there is nothing in his mind but you.

You move away and nod to each other as if you have just made a deal and each is walking in your own direction in a much better mood.

Maybe that's not exactly what Professor Satyria meant when she said you two should come to an agreement, but it certainly worked.

[vaspider]

If you have celiac or otherwise can't eat wheat, btw, and you like bread, I highly recommend investing in a breadmaker. Even the best store-bought gluten-free bread does not hold a candle to the stuff that comes out of our breadmaker, and it's cheaper per slice even when we buy bread mix in single-loaf bags.

This is our breadmaker. Evie got it on sale, but it is an investment. I'm not going to pretend it isn't a chunk of change up front. There are cheaper ones, but the reason I like this one and think it's worth the money:

It has two smaller paddles, where our older bread maker that my mom got us and got destroyed by getting construction dust in it had one big paddle in the middle. This leaves a big hole in the middle of the finished loaf, which makes the bread much less useful for, like, sandwiches.

Zojirushi is not as well-known a brand in the US, but it's a Brand Name in Japan for good reason. Evie's had our Zojirushi rice cooker for over a decade & we had to replace the inner bowl once bc someone used metal utensils in it and scratched the non-stick coating. We expect to use this machine for at least a decade.

You can program your own cycles, which we found really useful. Evie built a custom cycle that removed the punch-down sections (gluten-free bread tends not to rise as much) and that made our perfect loaf.

A lot of bread machines produce very tall, square loaves, which are awkward to slice, store, and make sandwiches with. This produces loaves that make good sandwiches and toast, and the French toast slices don't crowd the pan.

The top heating element on this gives a really amazingly browned top crust that we definitely didn't get on our old machine.

It's so pretty.

So how is it cheaper in the long run if the machine costs $300+? A little like this:

We use Pamela's Bread Mix bc it's really consistent and easy - you need the bread mix, water, yeast, 3 egg whites, and oil. (We use avocado oil and find it best and most consistent, but regular vegetable oil works!) We buy Pamela's in bulk, and without any subscription discounts or whatever, the $48 pack of 3 bags makes about 11.5 loaves. With the cost of yeast and eggs and stuff, it ends up costing about $4.50 a loaf. (If you buy your yeast in larger bags & store it in an airtight container, you can create less waste and it's also cheaper.)

By comparison, a loaf of Franz GF Bread costs $7-8, and Canyon Bakehouse usually runs about the same.

However, that's not an apples to apples comparison because the Franz loaf is an 18 oz. loaf, whereas our breadmaker makes a 2 lb. loaf. Assuming even the lower-end cost for getting a Franz loaf at the store, an equivalent amount of bread would cost $12.42, and it's not nearly as good.

(Yes, gluten-free bread is fucking expensive. That's part of why I'm writing this post in the first place.)

Anyway, assuming you eat 2 lbs. of bread a week in your house - a breadmaker loaf, basically, to make the math simple - you'll end up spending $7.92 less on bread every week. That means that even at the most expensive cost for the Zojirushi, if you buy it at its highest price (don't do that! wait for a sale!) it'll take 50 weeks - about a year - before the breadmaker pays for itself. If you manage to get it on a 25% off sale (which we did), it pays for itself in about 9 months.

Nine months, I must stress, in which you are eating much more delicious bread.

We tend to go through a couple of loaves a week because toast, sandwiches, and melts are great food for people with low spoons.

Evie and I perfected the Pamela's mix recipe for this particular machine - I'll get it typed up when I'm downstairs next, along with the quasi-babka recipe. (Really, it's like a marble cake and babka and bread had a baby, and it's a family favorite.)

Bread good. The end.

[sorrelchestnut]

I've seen a fair number of posts both here and on reddit that question why Tav (or the Dark Urge) would end up as a group leader for any other reason that "game mechanics say so." There's the requisite "okay, well if you play a high charisma character I guess it makes sense," or on the other end of the spectrum, "if you're playing Durge and murder someone right off the bat everyone would be too scared to tell you no." And I get where people are going with this! I really do. But it also fundamentally misunderstands a facet of human nature, which is that the vast majority of people do not actually want to be in charge, because that means being held responsible for the outcome. Accordingly, most people will dither when a group consensus is needed: have none of you ever tried to get a group of friends to agree where to go for dinner? Yeah, it's like that, but waaaay worse.

A lot of times "leadership" is just the willingness to say, "fuck it, y'all do what you want, but I'm doing this." I see it all the time in a corporate environment, where people will go back and forth on group meetings without anyone making a decision until finally one brave soul goes "in my opinion the clear answer is x" and then everyone gratefully goes along with it. Because now it's not their responsibility when something goes wrong! They're just following along with someone else's suggestion, and maybe it works or maybe it doesn't, but at the end of the day they don't have to worry about the consequences unless they're personally affected. In which case they might step up and argue back, and then they're stuck being a leader, too. Welcome to adulthood!

Lae'zel is the only one who ever even tries to exert some kind of control, when she tells you to follow her lead on the ship, or calls you her subordinate in the Grove. But, crucially, she doesn't ever make any serious attempt to take control: you can just tell her, "lol, no," and she sort of confusedly gives way, because she doesn't know how to handle this scenario. In her world there are commanders and subordinates, and everyone knows where they stand and falls in line. She's never actually had to take control of a situation and so at the first sign of resistance she falls back on the dynamic that's familiar to her, which is executing the commands of someone older and more experienced. She goes through a lot of growth over the game, to the point that she can take over as a resistance leader in her own right by the end, but at the beginning she's a wet-behind-her-ears private with some decent combat chops and it shows.

Otherwise, your party consists of:

Shadowheart, who's trained in infiltration and assassination and does NOT want a lot of attention brought to her or her mission for a variety of reasons;

Astarion, who has literally been a slave for two centuries and canonically takes a while to realize that he can exert an opinion beyond complaining about it;

Gale, whose only friend is his cat and couldn't project-manage his way out of a wet paper bag;

Wyll, who was probably trained for command at one point but has been doing the lone-hero thing for a decade and has a very large secret that he's trying to conceal; and,

Karlach, who's only ever been a bodyguard and a soldier and is genuinely just happy to be here.

Honestly, it would be more a surprise if Tav/Durge didn't end up as their unofficial leader, given the general power dynamics at play. The first time Tav/Durge says something like, "fuck it, we need to do something instead of stand around arguing about it, let's go check out those ruins over there," it's a done deal. They're The Captain Now! As long as they don't make decisions that fundamentally oppose something dear and important to the other group members, they're not even going to get any argument. Because at the end of the day, not one of these walking disasters has enough trust in themselves and their decision-making skills to feel any kind of certainty that they can choose the right path forward. If someone else is going to take that decision out of their hands? They're going to follow, no questions asked, right up until the moment they can't.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Idk if this is too broad of a scope for this blog, but if you could answer this, it'd be great.

I've been in a writing rut since I started getting serious about writing, and I've identified the issue in the past month or so: I slant heavily on the gardener end of the writing spectrum and all the advice on writing I've ever seen was for architect-style writing. Not once in the eight years I've been serious about writing did I find any guides on gardener-style writing (and if it says it's gardener-style, it'sreally just architect-style with gardner aspects), and my experience has just been more or less jamming a square peg into a circle hole, getting nothing written and feeling bad about it.

Now I'm unlearning all the architect-style habits that are destructive to me as a writer, but I can't find any resources for gardeners aside from Stephen King's On Writing. If you or any of your followers know how to help a gardener's writing, that would be great. I have so many fic ideas I want to write, but can't since I'm learning to write all over again.

For those who don't know what gardener and architect refer to when it comes to writers, a gardener is a writer who starts with the seed of an idea and lets it grow in whatever direction the light shines. They prune it and weed it as they go but otherwise let the idea lead the way. An architect, on the other hand, plans their stories out first and then writes them. They have a structure and the details all mapped out first and then the writing is just executing on that vision.

As a gardener myself, my biggest piece of advice is to avoid writing advice. Like you've said, the majority of it is aimed at people who do things like plan and plot and worldbuild ahead of time. Because of the structure that that writing style enjoys, providing "one size fits most" writing advice works well for it.

I tend to find a lot of that advice to be counter to what I need to do. Planning a story out ahead just makes me feel like it's already written. Building out the world before I start writing it feels like a hollow exercise - more like writing an encyclopedia than developing a land and culture for my characters to inhabit.

What I find useful is taking an episodic approach to writing. The entire story will be like a season of a television show and each chapter is like one episode. I always have my eventual "season finale" end goal in mind, but any particular chapter can meander closer to or further from that goal. It's alright to take a circuitous route, as long as I get to my destination in the end.

It's also alright if my destination changes as I'm writing. Sometimes those meandering paths take me in a more interesting direction than I was originally going down, and that shifts the story. As long as you're vaguely following a three-act structure (or 5 act or 7 act), the flow of it will feel familiar to your readers and they probably won't really notice it happening.

This advice I'm giving might not ring true to you either. You didn't have a specific problem to address, so I've been wandering a bit in my reply. Really what it comes down to is paying attention to yourself and your needs. Figure out what it is that keeps you writing and what it is that makes you stop. Do more of the former and less of the latter - and don't worry if what you're doing is "weird" to someone else.

I write directly into the AO3 window (which AO3 specifically tells you NOT to do, btw) because drafting first in google docs or something takes the fun out of it for me. I post my chapters without previewing them first. I write in 800 to 1500 word sprints, and I focus on dialogue, and I almost always try to end on a joke or a pun or a cliffhanger. These are all things that make writing an activity that I want to do.

I can't really say anything much more specific given your ask, but I hope something in here was helpful. Let's see if any gardeners out there have some resources or advice that might work for you.

[kumawaii]

THE LICKBACK | XMH

cw - cheating, toxic behavior, sending post-sex nudes, riding, unprotected sex, creampie

– for my 🍰 anon

∘₊✧─── 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽 ───✧₊∘

bestie!minghao is the most beautiful person you’ve ever met, both inside and out. he’s so attentive and thoughtful. any time you’re around him you feel that you’re slowly being swept off your feet. his natural charisma and charm are so alluring that you can’t believe anyone could hate him. you can’t believe that your boyfriend does. like a lot.

you’re not sure when this animosity between your two favorite boys manifested, but it’s there and it’s not going away any time soon. bestie!minghao tries to act like he’s above it all, but you know him. there’s no way he can turn the other cheek when your boyfriend is so open about hating him.

the feud isn’t aggressive or blatant — at least not around you. there’s a lot of subtle digs and glares exchanged when you’re not looking, but from what your other friends tells you it’s a lot worse when you’re not there. you’re not even really sure why they don’t like each other. any time you ask either of them, they brush it off or change the subject entirely.

it’s futile, but you try to get them to like each other. forcing them to hang out doesn’t work at all. the two barely even acknowledge each other and somehow become even more distant. your boyfriend isn’t outright rude, but he does act like bestie!minghao doesn’t exist whenever you bring him around. this tiresome routine goes on until you finally get sick and tired of it. when you confront your boyfriend about it, you don’t expect him to snap at you.

“who gives a fuck if i don’t like your little friend?” his tone is mean and aggressive.

you blink slowly, trying not to get emotional at the tone he’s using with you. “i just want you guys to get along…”

your boyfriend lets out a frustrated noise. he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and running a tense hand through his hair. his gaze become accusatory in a way, and you can’t explain why you suddenly feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“we’re not going to. as long as he wants to fuck you, i can’t be friends with him.”

you’re left speechless. never once had you considered that your best friend would think of you that way. years of platonic friendship has never led you to believe otherwise. apparently, your boyfriend doesn’t like your silence because in the next second he scoffs before he storms out of your apartment.

that night you keep replaying his harsh words until you can’t take it anymore. you rashly go over to bestie!minghao’s house to talk to him about what your boyfriend had said. like always, your friend is happy to see you in spite of you not letting him know you were coming over. he welcomes you into his home with a pretty smile that makes your heart jump.

“i have to ask you something.” you say as you follow minghao to his room. “and i need you to tell me the truth.”

“you know i never lie to you.” he says sincerely as he pulls you down on his bed so you can sit beside him.

those words make an unexpected heat pool in your stomach. they heat up your entire body as you shift nervously. “is it true you want to… have sex with me?”

bestie!minghao’s eyes widen. he clears his throat. “why would you think that?”

“i was with—”

“your boyfriend.” minghao cuts you off through clenched teeth, realizing that jealous asshole is the one who caused this. “he told you that?”

“he said it’s why he doesn’t like you.” you sound deflated.

you can see the clench of his jaw and his gaze sharpen. he’s angry, but unlike your heathen of a boyfriend, your best friend doesn’t take it out on you. instead he remains silent until he can calmly answer you.

“i can’t believe he reduced my feelings for you to just wanting to have sex.”

you’re not sure what consumes you, but the way your heart is bursting with affection can’t be ignored. it’s how you end up on top of bestie!minghao, bouncing on his big cock. his pretty hands are roaming every inch of your body, caressing your soft skin with tenderness that makes your cunt drip with heaps of arousal. you toss your head back with a loud moan as his dick slams deep into you.

“so fucking pretty.” minghao groans as he grabs your hips and starts to thrust up into you. “my pretty little angel.”

you move your hips desperately, grinding your filthy cunt all over his dick. with your head tossed back, you moan his name desperately. pleasure consumes your entire body as his pulsing tip brushes against your cervix. you’ve never been so close to cumming this quickly, and bestie!minghao’s heated gaze is only pushing you closer to that ecstasy.

“god, you’re perfect.” minghao moans as he sits up to mouth and lick at your bouncing tits. “and now you’re all mine.”

he abruptly flips you on your back, holding your legs open as he starts to pound into you. the way his cock drags against your wet walls is dizzying, and you can feel how he stretches you open with every rough snap of his hips. it only takes him pressing a sweet kiss to your lips for you to fall apart.

seeing you cum is the hottest thing bestie!minghao has ever seen. he fucks you through it, whispering endless praises against your skin. his words are sweet, murmuring about how much he loves you. it’s not long before he cums, too. he does it with a loud groan of your name. minghao fucks it deeper into you until you both can’t take anymore.

“your pussy looks so pretty like this.” minghao sighs as he reaches for his phone. “let me take a picture?”

you nod with a blissful sigh, spreading your legs for him. bestieminghao grins like a cheshire cat. he uses his fingers to spread your soiled lips apart as he angles the camera just right. the picture is perfect and filthy.

your boyfriend can only stare with a clenched jaw when he receives the picture. he recognizes the pretty little hand on the smooth thigh. the ring on the index finger is the one bestie!minghao had gotten you for your birthday. you had always preferred that one to the one he got you.

and as he throws his phone against the wall, he realizes that it wasn’t only the ring you preferred. you’ve always preferred your best friend.

[luvfy0dor]

“There Is No Other Love, It's Only Yours ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; Maybe ooc, barely proofread

Description; how the bsd men say ‘i love you’ without actually saying it (sigma does actually say it but that's besides the point)

A/n; Next fic post will be a request! Sorry they're taking me so long : ( this is a new style of writing for me and it's really short, but I figured I'd give it a shot. It might be a little whack though because I'm real tired rn I took an hour long nap before writing Sigmas

Dazai says ‘i love you’ best through physical touch and small gestures of the sort, specifically touching your hands. As soon as you're within his reach, your hand is in his and his thumb is rubbing over your knuckles affectionately. His lips brush against your knuckles when he gives excuses to Kunikida on why he can't make it today with your sleepy form right next to him on the bed. He'll press kisses to each knuckle while he listens to the blonde tell him the amount of absences and early leaves he's had in the past month and quietly sigh. He doesn't care where he is either, he's shameless it's his affection and will happily grab you by the waist or hand infront of a crowd. He loves to show you off because you're the best thing to happen to him, but if you're shy he'll tone it down to keep you comfortable.

“Ah! There you are. I've been looking for you. Give me your hand so I don't lose track of you again...ah, you got me! I did just want to hold your hand, but what's the harm?”

Chuuya shows his love through acts of service- I know a lot of people probably would assume gift giving, which he does love to do, but he finds himself commiting acts of service more frequently. Every time he notices you seem tired after work, he'll do the chores that you had accidentally forgotten, even if he's tired. He plans dates for the two of you atleast monthly, always picking a restaurant or activity he heard you mention wanting to try. He does find himself spending money when he sees things that remind him of you, but he thinks spending time with you is even better. If he takes your car somewhere, it's always coming home with a refilled gas tank. If you need to lift something heavy, he offers to use his ability to help you. He'll do your laundry whenever he notices it piling up and bring you coffee, tea, or water in the morning when you're still lingering in bed.

“Mornin' sweetheart, I got you a drink. Be careful not to spill it, s'real dark in here and opening the blinds doesn't help any...we got a date tonight, by the way. You said the new restaurant sounded good so I figured we could go tonight if you're up for it.”

Fyodor spends quality time with you. He likes to keep you nearby when he reads or works, although he prefers when you're on the quieter side during those activities. Otherwise, he's happy to talk with you for however long the two of you are content with. Usually you'll have conversations over a game of chess, which he almost always wins while you're attention is divided between talking and playing, but he's a good sport about it. He'll give you pointers on how to do better in the next game. He'll play his cello for you, too. If he finds your hobbies interesting enough he'll take part in them. If you paint he'd be more than happy to join you, chatting with you while your brushes paint images of scenery and figures on the once blank canvas. He prefers what are considered more sophisticated hobbies, but he'd watch a chick flick with you or let you teach him how to play your favorite video game if it really made you happy.

“If you're as determined to win a game as you say you are, you should probably make an attempt to put more focus into the game. I do love hearing your voice, moya lyubov, but thinking about how you're going to move your pieces and talking are counterproductive. We can try it again, or we could do something else, whatever you'd like, Myshka.”

Nikolai shows you his love primarily through flirty words and loving touches. Whenever he walks next to you, his hand is on either your lower back, hip, or in your hand. When sitting with you, he'll fiddle with your fingers and play with them harmlessly, occasionally fighting off the urge to bend them back far enough to break them. In the same heartbeat, hell bring them to his lips and press kisses to every finger tip while telling you a flirty joke. He often lays his legs across your lap or lets you lay yours over his while you play with his hair. Sometimes he'll walk up behind you and whispers a pick up line in your ear with a large grin on his face. He likes seeing your reaction and watching you squirm in embarrassment in his grasp.

“You must be an artist, my dove, because you are so good at drawing me in! Hey- you can't go anywhere just because you thought my joke was cheesy! I can find some wine to go with it if you'd like, hehe.”

Sigma shows his love through the way he trusts you. Obviously with everything he's gone through trusting people became really difficult for him, but you came along and earned that trust when you proved that you were a permanent factor in his life and wouldn't betray him. He trusted you enough to let you into the Aerial Casino and stay with him regularly in his quarters. He let his walls down around you and opened up about his origin story. He would let you get physically close to him and touch him, coming to love the feeling of your lips against his, pressed in a sweet kiss. Though he still kept his independence and a desire to not depend solely on you in fear of betrayal, you could tell that he had come a long way from the man he once was after his experiences in the DOA.

“I felt so foolish after I fell for Fyodors tricks again, but dealing with the distrust and suspicion I held towards everyone else was just as hard as the realization of messing up again...thank you for listening to me, you've helped me so much. I don't think I could ever repay you enough...I love you.”

A/n; AHHHHHHHH I'm so tired but fuck it we ball I gotta write chisme for Spanish and it's going no where I lied to my teacher and told her it was almost done it is not almost done I have barely met any of the requirements for it but I won't do it if I don't post something so

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: "Pebbsie Privilege"

Here’s a headcanon I’ve had in the works for a while, and now I finally want to share it! It's shorter than some of my others, but I hope you'll still find it amusing!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

So firstly (and I plan to expand on this more later) I headcanon Five Pebbles is someone who cares a lot about his appearance, though not in a prissy or snooty sense and more in a “likes being the smartest and most sophisticated one in the room” sense. That means, more so than the average person, he generally doesn’t like being teased, ignored, belittled, condescended to, or otherwise disrespected, and very understandably so if you ask me! But it also means there exists a very special ability when it comes to interacting with Five Pebbles that almost no characters have. 

It’s no more than the ability of someone to refer to Five Pebbles as “Pebbsie” while he’s in earshot without getting death-glares from him. Looks to the Moon, who first started using it, affectionately calls this ability “Pebbsie privilege”, and she ends up being one of the only characters who has it (besides Innocence, who in my portrayals eventually gets it too). Though even so, Pebbles originally got rather flustered when she called him that alone, much less in front of others, considering it's definitely a very cutesy nickname. In fact, poor Pebbles really didn’t like being called “Pebbsie” because one of his least favorite ways of being treated is like a child (which includes being thought of as "cute" in any way). This unfortunately happens to him a lot though since he’s part of the newest iterator generation and tends to have lots of uncommon ideas rarely taken seriously by the older models, and this treatment only amplified as he grew more stubborn and arrogant. 

To elaborate on the origin, Moon developed the nickname pretty much on an impulse — quite a rare thing for her to act on actually — of wanting to hearken more to her role as “Big Sis Moon” and show love to her little brother. Soon after she started using it though Pebbles would pull her into private chats and urge her to drop it to save his dignity. Not wanting to hurt her brother in any way, it didn’t take long before she apologized and stopped using it, and basically got her "Pebbsie privilege" revoked. In the current time she secretly still likes calling him that in her mind, but knowing how much he dislikes it she always feels pretty guilty afterwards, despite them being no more than thoughts at that point. While not a major issue in-and-of itself, this situation was actually a small step in worsening a long-time fear Moon has, though that’s a headcanon for another day…

On a (marginally) more positive note however, after Moon’s collapse and the worsening of Five Pebbles’s rot, along with him generally reminiscing about the things he used to have (as part of yet more character headcanons I’ll elaborate on some other time), he actually began to grow fond of the nickname more and more. Yet he also couldn’t also shake the growing heartache the memories brang, as he came to see it as a reminder of his sister’s never-ending love for him and the better times he now regretted taking for granted and trying so hard to escape. While I headcanon he handles it differently in Downpour’s canon, in the worm-off-the-string AU story I’ve got so far, Moon slowly regaining her “Pebbsie privilege” and Pebbles appreciating it and no longer taking it so seriously (though he still forbids its usage in public) could serve as a small, yet sweet indicator of character growth for both of them.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Aaaand another RW headcanon done! I wanna mention, though, now that I’ve got more of an idea for the aforementioned AU I really want to start posting more of my headcanons for the Local Group, since the character interactions, histories, and ultimate character growth is perhaps one of the most important elements of that story so far. I’ve spent at least a couple weeks creating almost 40 pages worth of character notes, and while this particular one started out as just a little side-headcanon, I ended up tying it into all of that. Hopefully I can start sharing the main parts of these headcanons soon!

[tadc-ragatha]

Them Receiving a Drawing of Themselves

TW: breakdowns/shutdowns, gender dysphoria, crying

Type: Headcanons

A/N: "Reader discusses what they and the members used to look like, and decides to draw an artist's interpretation of that description with startling accuracy." As of posting, requests are open. Includes only the main six (who I shall now call the digital six/circus crew). Spoilers. Body-sickness = homesickness for body.

Pomni

I'm going to make this interesting for myself and go with the theory that when she saw herself in the mirror she got a bunch of gender euphoria because she's trans. So, for this, she probably wouldn't even bring up her old appearance on her own unless heavily prompted to. Even then, she's really awkward about it, and everyone probably gets the memo that she's at least insecure about her old looks.

Not you, though. You decided to take it upon yourself to draw her. You paid attention to every detail she said, and compiled it all together to create a drawing/painting of the real-world Pomni. She was...Less than enthusiastic. At first, she's angry, even. But once she realises you didn't know, she just turns to going down a crisis of reality and homesickness instead.

If we don't go with that theory, then she still has a crisis. She'd finally started to push her thoughts of home to the edge of her mind, and now it's brought up to the front again. It's best to just not make art of her.

Ragatha

You probably found out about Ragatha through a breakdown of hers. She'd been holding up the happy-go-lucky, optimistic, cheery persona for so long that it was bound to snap. And so, one day the dam had a leak that turned into a full-on collapse. She was crying and talking about how she missed home and her real body. She was starting to forget what she looked like, and it was driving her to the edge.

In an effort to not have her abstracted, you took it upon yourself to give her something to hold on to. You took mental notes of each thing she said about herself and once everything was safe, you went to your room. Taking out your art equipment, you got to work on trying your best to recreate what she looked like.

In the end, you made a bunch of different ones. Presenting them to her, she was surprised and sad. It fueled her homesickness even more. But she covered it up and accepted it; she knew it was out of love, after all. And after she calmed down she did get to looking at them properly and it did give her some comfort to recognise herself and know that she wouldn't forget herself just yet.

Jax

I feel like Jax cared a lot about his appearance. Really, this is just based on that moment where he checks his non-existent nails, but I digress. Either way, he was probably just complaining like normal when it happened. He didn't really care about what he was saying (on the outside, at least); he was just bored and wanting to talk. But you made it your mission to make him feel better about his "body-sickness".

When he received the gift, he would've tried to play it off real quick. Truth be told, depending on how long you had been in the DC he probably would've made fun of your art. But you could see his initial reaction being one of surprise. Still, he would've tried to twist it and tease you about supposedly having a crush on him or trying to be his friend (a "useless attempt" is what he would say).

He probably tried to just chuck it under his bed when he got to his room. But after a little while the temptation was too much and he grabbed it. Looking it over, it was creepy how on point it was. To be honest, he was half-convinced you had known him outside of the digital world. Either way, he was secretly pretty grateful for it and glad you had had that otherwise useless conversation. But he would never tell you that.

Kinger

Kinger would've just asked what you looked like and that would've led to talking about him. I feel like he's got a sort of dad vibe in the way that he'd make up grand stories about himself. Like, he was a world-famous Broadway star or something. But he'd drop the act and tell you he was just joking. Either way, he ended up telling you about his looks.

When drawing him, you realised just how old he was. Not in a bad way, but you did still feel bad for him. He had lived half a life already before being trapped in the DC, and then he had been there the longest. Who knew what had happened to him; what he had lived through, who he had cared about before all this happened. It made you sad.

Giving him the present, though, he was very grateful and told you such. It had been so long since he had seen anything that looked like him, and to have something so accurate seemed nothing short of a miracle. He was sure to show it off to everyone and soon the whole circus crew was wanting their own.

Gangle

Gangle is an artist herself, and you were likely drawing together when the conversation of drawing each other came up. At first, you just made art of each other's current bodies, but soon you were discussing what you looked like before being trapped in the DC. Thankfully for Gangle, her comedy mask hadn't yet been broken by Jax, so she wasn't too depressed when talking about it.

I bet she put a lot of effort into drawing you. Though, her style isn't realistic, so it looked very anime-ified. Still, the hair and eye colour matched. You put a lot of effort into making art of Gangle, too. Though, you were almost photo-realistic (when you had the time and resources) in your art, so yours turned out much more accurate.

When Gangle saw what she looked like, her comedy mask came right off and she started bawling. She hadn't seen herself in forever, and just couldn't handle it. She was so, so grateful, though, to have the opportunity to see herself again. But she didn't dare tell anyone; she wasn't sure that you'd want everyone bugging you for a picture.

Zooble

Zooble doesn't strike me as someone who'd want to talk about their past. She seems to me like someone who's very in-the-present (well, as in the present as someone who's been thrown into a digital world can be). You'd have to really be friends with her and encourage him to talk about what they looked like.

Still, when he does, she goes into some detail. You listen like a bat to every word they say. And once you leave, you rush straight to your room to start on the project. It's a bit weird imagining Zooble as a living, breathing person in the past instead of an abstract collection of living shapes, but it's also humbling to be reminded you weren't the only person to really lose your body.

Receiving the completed project, Zooble is pretty calm about it. Something along the lines of "oh, wow, you didn't have to do that" is what they'd say. But she takes it from you anyway and is sure to keep it in a safe and secure spot where Jax won't be able to ruin it. And oh boy, if he does, they will be after him.

[geopsych]

re: the tumblr ai stuff, please don’t wipe your blog!! your blog has been so important to me and many others as a place of authentic light and beauty and i would hate to lose it forever 💕

there is a way to download the contents of a tumblr blog (it’s in settings, i don’t remember rn, but i’ll find it if you need it) maybe you could upload to another site or a personal site?

i know this is very serious, and i hate how we are unwillingly contributing to synthetic art, but the world would be poorer for me without your pictures <3

Thank you. Your words mean a lot to me.

This is a dilemma for me. I have loved doing this blog and going out to look for pictures and interesting things to bring here has given me motivation and meaning through years of struggle with depression and several kinds of grief. Going out to look for pictures has put me in situations where I have seen incredible beauty, much of which I never really managed to capture. Also, the many warm and kind messages I've received from people all over the world have given me heart and made me feel less meaningless as a person and more connected. Sometimes I've been criticized for buying the checkmarks and giving money to Tumblr but I wanted to do what I could because Tumblr has been my one happy and safe place online. But now this. To me AI in relation to creativity is just a way for well-to-do but untalented people, the proverbial tech bros, to profit from other people's hard work and creativity. It has no redeeming value in relation to creativity and is actively harmful to artists of all kinds. <trying to figure out how to put a read more link here> I don't even count myself among the real creatives, artists and writers and others who have worked hard and put years into honing their crafts, into learning to translate their hearts and unique spirits into their creative expression. I just see beautiful things and take pictures of them. But it would still make me sick to see AI works based on my pictures, on these times and places that have meant so much to me. Recently I saw a set of cat 'photos' on here that everyone was reblogging and exclaiming over but that to me seemed to just be AI art that was more convincing than most. As time goes on more and more output of AI is going to be almost indistinguishable from real works and unscrupulous people will pass them off as real, getting credit for what was actually created by others. Whether they profit from them becomes almost irrelevant at that point because what's worse is that we will have less and less sense of what is real. And as some have pointed out AI will now also be scraping from AI, muddying the waters further from here on in. This is an apocalypse of sorts, an apocalypse of creativity, ultimately likely to kill the joy of artistic endeavor for many who would otherwise produced brilliant, beautiful, funny, and/or shockingly original things. I'm still parsing and dissecting my thoughts and feelings about what Tumblr has done and how to react. Staying and leaving my blog up feels like consent. I am not confident in the integrity of anyone connected with scraping sites for AI. I'm not convinced that a little toggle in settings is going to make much of a difference in the long run. On the other hand I like posting here and I have received enough messages over the years to know that my blog is a positive influence on some lives. I was looking forward to May and June and posting pictures of the incredible beauty of eastern Pennsylvania in those months. And I was planning on making a side blog for posting some poetry I've been working on. It will break my heart to leave.

I haven't decided yet. Believe it or not this whole thing has given me awful physical symptoms. I'll let you know when I decide. Thank you again for your kind and lovely note!

[doberbutts]

(Some other guy entirely here) I do think there's not much of a reason to be so against the terms tma/tme though, and I don't really understand why some people are? Like, in the same way we want a word to describe our experiences so do transfems, and while I do believe that all trans people are affected by transphobia and misogyny, it's obviously also true that we're affected by it differently depending on how we present, cause otherwise we'd all be satisfied with just the term transphobia (not saying anything new here so far)

So, since it just so happened that the term transmisogyny was coined to mean specifically the oppression transfems face (regardless of what anyone might feel on the matter, that is what it means in practice), what's really so wrong with having terminology to specify whether you're affected by it or not in online discussions of specifically transmisogyny? I'd think that would be relevant enough information, and you're not obligated to share it unless you want to.

I think what's really bothering a lot of people is that these terms exist for half of our community but there's no acceptable equivalent for the other half, and there's constant backlash against attempts to fill that void in the language. But that's not the fault of anyone who advocates for the use of tme/tma, or rather, they are separate issues that I don't believe should be conflated even if the proponents of tme/tma are the same people who are against specific terms for transmasc oppression.

When we do this, from the pov of trans women we are the ones rejecting their terminology and trying to silence them when they talk about their discrimination, and since we know exactly how that feels, I think we as a community should take a step back on the matter and just let it be.

Just because we feel dismissed when it comes to a similar matter doesn't mean we should dismiss in turn.

Not that anyone needs my permission or anything for this but:

I don't really have any problem with the words transmisogyny or trans-misogyny, as I think they are valuable labels to discuss a specific intersection of transphobia and misogyny.

I am not sure I necessarily have a problem with the terms TMA or TME themselves, outside of that I think it is not possible to be exempt from oppression because it will apply to you even if the label itself is wrong. This is also how hate crime and discrimination law works in this country- it is both your label and what the offender thinks of you, not just one or the other.

In other words, the guy who screamed at me about how I'm a Mexican is incorrect because I'm not Mexican, but it is still considered to be discrimination against Mexicans because it was his hatred of Mexicans that fueled the attack. It doesn't mean that actual Mexicans aren't the actual targets or this, but it does mean that it's not possible for me to be exempt from anti-Mexican sentiment. It doesn't mean that hatred of Mexicans doesn't exist, it does mean that if I want to stop getting screamed at for saying non-English words while visibly brown (I said pate, which is FRENCH and not Spanish, in reference to a can of dog food he was buying), then I need to ally myself with Mexicans and see what I can do to help decrease this hatred of Mexicans within my country.

What I do have a problem with is how these words are used and applied.

Caster Semenya is a "TME" intersex woman who was caught by transmisogynist Olympic rulings intended to hurt trans women, and to this day is still not recognized as a woman. How is this exempt from transmisogyny? She is literally being affected by transmisogyny- and interphobia, and misogynoir, and lesbophobia. And there are more examples than that, but this will already be a long enough post.

Moreover, I'm finding a lot of hypocrisy in the theory itself, labeling certain instances of oppression as things only TMA people experience and then refusing to listen when TME people say that they experience it too. I don't really care what or how people talk about their own experiences, but I do think it's a little ridiculous to be told that someone else who is not me can tell me what I experience better than I can. And then refuse to listen when I say that I have felt the hurts they're saying don't apply to me.

If TMA/TME had stayed within the limits you've set, being about descriptors of your own personal experience rather than trying to apply theory to entire demographics in a way that very little other theorycrafting does, I wouldn't have cared. Unfortunately that's not how it's being used and I don't like that.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hii, just call me Skull anon. I've been very curious about how different yanderes would do so I'm asking for a request.

How would Xiao, Albedo, and Wriothesley deal with a Drug addict reader who was already in an unstable state, struggling to survive with rent and had bad trauma? The trauma could be anything you'd like.

Of course, you can deny this request if it makes you uncomfortable. No pressure or anything.

so i was a little hesitant to do this because I wasn't sure how well I could properly portray this, but going sort of off my own experience with certain things and trying to remain calm i wrote this. i can't really explain what compelled me to, but i do hope you enjoy this and please, read the warnings for this one :] <3

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, implied being held against will, manipulation tactics, mentions of substance abuse and recovery from it, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Xiao would be concerned internally but look indifferent externally. He’s conflicted, because he knows you’re struggling and that humans are a lot weaker, that you need help, but he doesn’t know how to help, he’s never had to be in this position before. He consults many people, fellow adepti, Zhongli, even the Traveler, none of whom he gives the full picture to but instead dances around the main ideas and works off vague descriptions.

Xiao’s first step in helping you was moving you in to the Wangshu Inn with him, where he could watch over you better. He has a reserved room there, though he never really uses it. Sleep is beyond his needs so he rarely rests, but you need rest so he allows you to have the room. This comes with him barging in on you whenever he sees fit though, day to night at any moment he could pop in without you even knowing. He had a strange way of doing that, a lot. He isn’t sure how to help with trauma or substance abuse, those aren’t the evils he usually fights, but he knows people he can ask about that. Xiao didn’t like admitting that he didn’t know what to do, but grumbling and giving Baizhu some vague descriptions of the situation helped him get a better idea of what to do. Xiao decides to take the soft approach of slowly weening you off the awful stuff, not wanting you to be left with more problems from quitting cold turkey. It’s a long road and Xiao was sorta kinda prepared to help you through it. He likes having you this close though, this dependent on him and his help.

Yandere!Albedo struggles with his feelings. His lack of humanity means he really only experiences feelings that are typically in abundance, meaning he doesn’t feel unless the feeling is so strong it cannot be ignored. His research is all he really knows so he takes the opportunity to offer ‘assistance.’ In exchange for staying with him and allowing him to study your responses and reactions, he would help you with your addiction.

It seemed like a good deal at first, Albedo would provide adequate housing, a quaint apartment in the heart of Mondstat, in exchange for being allowed to study you as he helped you over your drug problem. It would kill two birds with one stone no? What he didn’t tell you though was that he planned to have you quit cold turkey, wanting to watch how your body would respond to the sudden withdrawals. Of course, if anything started to border on the edge of life-threatening, he’d take preventative measures to ensure you lived, but otherwise, you were not permitted to leave or take any addictive substances. Albedo oversees all your care, meaning that for the entire recovery process, you are confined to a bedroom with him hovering over you, notepad and pencil in hand and large, unblinking eyes boring holes into you. It was unsettling, and even when you were on the upswing, finally getting to where the grass was greener, he still refused to allow you out or allow others in, saying that it could compromise the research. In reality, he just didn’t want anyone else near you, he had loved having you all to himself and didn’t want to share you ever again.

Yandere!Wriothesley is surprisingly educated on what to do. Not only had a few people in similar conditions come through the prison, but it was his job to make sure that he knew everything about everyone who passed into this place. With the help of some staff at the Fortress of Meropide, he moves you into a room in the staff wing, assigning you a set of personalized staff to help with your addictions. There were only two conditions, he would check in on you every day to ensure you were sticking to your recovery and that when you were finally okay, you would work as his assistant to pay off your debt. 

Wriothesley wasn’t worried about the money that was put towards your recovery, it was nothing to someone with the title of Duke. He was more concerned with you being alive than momentary pleasures like wealth, but he used the excuse of you needing to pay him back to keep you around longer. He checks in with you every day, typically around dinner time, he’ll take a break to eat with you and talk about your day, building a relationship and establishing a connection, but sometimes he takes short breaks to check in on you. Wriothesley also speaks with the assigned group of nurses and staff that were there specifically for you every day, getting word from them on your progress and how things are looking. He enjoys seeing you slowly getting better day by day, his hope for the future strong as he dreams of the day you become officially his. He had no intention of ever letting you leave the Fortress of Meropide, at least not without him, arm wrapped protectively around you as he escorts you around, as a partner should.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 27: Found

You try to figure out what you want. Joel and Ellie go on patrol.A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-26 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst. CLEARLY. It's me. Homophobia. Smut-adjacent. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 11.3k (THIS IS GETTING TO BE A PROBLEM I'M SO SORRY)

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Late August, 2027 

“You’re making this hard on purpose,” Ellie’s nose scrunched as she held her guitar. 

You laughed. 

“Promise, Kiddo, I’m not.” 

“Sometimes I really don’t like you, you know,” she grumbled. You snorted. “I’m serious! Swear you make me do shit the hard way because you fucking enjoy watching me struggle…” 

“You learn better when you do it yourself and do it the hard way,” you shrugged, leaning back against a post of your porch. You stretched a leg out onto the step below and picked a little at your guitar. “You’ll never learn if I just give you all the answers.” 

“Yeah yeah,” she muttered, leaning to the side to add more of her disorganized scrawl to her notebook. “Swear you didn’t have to work this hard at shit…” 

“I started a lot younger than you,” you replied, picking up the pace on your guitar and adding slaps and pops, no real rhyme or reason to it, just what your fingers felt like doing. “Everything is easier when you start young. And hey, you’ve got a leg up on any asshole who tries to learn when they’re my age.” 

“Because you’re a dinosaur?” She looked up at you from her notebook, a small smirk on her face. 

“Nah,” you replied. “They’d been dead like three years when I was born, I’m not THAT old.” 

She laughed and went back to her notes as you kept playing, looking out down the path from your yard to the road beyond. 

It was sweltering hot and you’d never been more thankful for a breeze or the fact that it was your day off from the stables. The hair that had pulled loose from your braids stuck to your skin and you’d been sweating all day, waking up with your sheets balled up at the foot of your bed and your tank top damp even with the ceiling fan on. You hadn’t even put on jeans that day, throwing on one of the few dresses that had made their way into your closet in the almost two years you’d been in Jackson. The first you’d taken when Maria mentioned seeing one she thought would fit you, not long before things fell apart with Joel. You’d intended to wear it to the Tipsy Bison on a night there was dancing once it was warmer, opening the door to Joel when you were dressed like what your mother would call “a proper lady.” You’d pictured dancing with him, his hand sliding up the inside of your thigh when you sat down to have a drink until you couldn’t take it anymore and you practically dragged him home, riding him with the skirt bunched up around your waist the second you were in the door. 

That had never happened. That dress stayed tucked safely away at the back of your closet, not able to bring yourself to part with it and the image of that night with him. 

The other dress was perfect for days like today, long and loose and thin cotton that made the oppressive heat of late summer tolerable. Even if Ellie had looked at you like you had two heads when she saw you in the damn thing. 

You didn’t mind, though. You were just glad that you had gotten to the point that you liked spending time with Ellie again. That you’d started feeling much of anything at all. 

The first month you got back was hazy. You didn’t really leave your house at first, not able to contribute much at the stable and not seeing a reason to move otherwise. 

You weren’t entirely sure how many days passed before there was the first knock at your door. 

It wasn’t an Ellie knock. The sound didn’t carry her chaotic energy or almost audacious nature. Instead, it was hesitant but sturdy and firm without being forceful or insistent. You stayed flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling of the closet for a minute to see if the knock would come again. It didn’t. You stared at the ceiling a while longer but, eventually, you had to pee. You forced yourself to move and, on your way back from the bathroom, passed your front door. You hesitated for a moment before you went and opened it, to see if whoever knocked had left a note. 

On your porch was a box filled with crackers and jerky and fruit and carrots and celery. All things you could eat without needing to cook or, really, do anything at all. You knew it was from Joel, even though it hadn’t sounded like his knock, either. There was no one else who would have brought it because no one else knew why you were locked inside your home. But he was no where to be seen. He didn’t leave a note. 

A few days later, you forced yourself to go to the stable to check on the horses. The fillies and the colt weren’t making much progress without you - you’d have to probably start nearly from scratch with them once your arm healed - but you were able to feel somewhat useful, brushing horses down, checking on their hooves to see when they’d need to be shoed, just giving them some love and attention. That helped you feel a little more like yourself. 

Ellie started coming by again a few days after that. She showed up one afternoon with a CD and a sandwich from the mess hall, marching into your living room like nothing had happened, complaining about another kid in town and how Joel wasn’t going to let her patrol with anyone but him for a while. 

“I could get partnered with Dina but no,” she drew the last word out, sprawled on your couch, rolling her eyes as she did. “The old man is convinced I’m going to drop dead if he’s not looking out for me for five minutes…” 

“I’m sure he’ll ease up once he sees how capable you are,” you said, sitting on the loveseat and picking up the CD case she’d brought with her. The Clash this time. “Mick Jones and Joe Strummer, nice choice. Why do you want to go out with Dina, anyway? I thought not everything was about girls…” 

“Shut up.” 

“Nah.” 

You were’t sure if you were really doing better or if you’d just found a way to push the hurt down inside yourself again. You weren’t sure there was a way to recover from this, from the idea that you’d probably never see your child again. Clinging to the possibility felt so necessary but so foolish. You weren’t sure if it was reason or denial but it didn’t really matter. You weren’t sure you could live without that possibility dulling the jagged edges of your grief and pain. 

The boxes of food made regular appearances on your porch. You never saw Joel. 

When you were close to getting your cast off, Ellie came by your house but didn’t shove her way inside the way she usually did. Instead, she hovered on your porch. 

“OK don’t be mad,” she said, a serious look on her face. 

“Off to a great start,” you replied.

She glared at you for a second before pressing on. 

“Joel sent me with a message,” she said. “He wanted me to tell you that the movie tonight was something called Ever After and that he thought you would like it and that he wasn’t going to be there so you should go. And to not be mad. I think you shouldn’t be mad, too, by the way.” 

“Not mad,” you smiled a little. “I just… I don’t know…” 

“Come on, Bambi,” Ellie said, dropping some of her pretense now. “Dina’s going with Jesse and I’ve never seen it and I really don’t want to be stuck sitting by them while they suck face.” 

You sighed, looking back over your shoulder in the direction of Joel’s house. You found yourself looking that way a lot. 

“Alright,” you said after a moment, looking back at Ellie. “I’ll go. But only to save you from your crush…” 

“I’m going to ignore that last part and just be happy you’re going,” she said, a little smug. “Even though you’re annoying about it.” 

“So annoying,” you agreed, stepping into your boots, turning on the lamp and following her out the door. 

It was strangely easy to adjust to being around the people of Jackson again. Ellie gave you something to focus on, busy trying to distract her from the Dina and Jesse acting exactly like you remembered some of your friends in high school acted with their boyfriends. 

“What’s this movie about, anyway?” Ellie asked as the two of you settled in toward the back of the room. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it,” you said. “But I think it was like Cinderella.” 

Ellie looked at you and made a face. 

“Like the fairy tale.” 

“Yup,” you replied. She stared at you and you laughed a little. “What?” 

“I’m just trying to picture you liking a fucking fairy tale.” 

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as best you could with one in a cast. 

“What?” She teased. “Don’t tell me you like some stupid story where love solves everyone’s problems…” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Julie, the woman you’d seen a few times at the Tipsy Bison and when she went out on patrol, appeared alongside Ellie, a large bowl of popcorn in her hands. 

“It’s bullshit,” Ellie said. “There’s a reason they’re stories for little kids.” 

“Maybe you just haven’t loved that way yet,” she smiled a little before nodding to the chair on the other side of you. “Seat taken?” 

You hoped you didn’t just stare at her for too long. People didn’t just talk to you in Jackson, not without a reason, let alone try to sit by you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with it.

“All yours,” you said, tugging your legs in close so she could pass you and sit down. She settled in beside you and smiled, holding out the bowl. 

“Thanks,” she said. “Popcorn?” 

“Sure,” you said after a moment, taking some with your good hand. “Thank you.” 

“Course,” she smiled a little bigger in a lopsided, almost cocky way. “What’s the point of popcorn if you don’t share it?” 

The movie was good. You’d only seen it once or twice before the outbreak but you’d liked it then, too. Cinderella was smart and capable, the prince was handsome and kind and you liked to imagine the way life was in that period of time. 

“OK so that wasn’t terrible,” Ellie said as you headed out with her and Julie. 

“Told you,” you teased a little. 

“No one told me that sometimes the girls in fairy tales got to be badasses,” she replied. “I might have liked the stories more then!” 

“The girls are always badasses,” Julie said. “They just try to hide it, scares the men otherwise.” 

Ellie snorted. 

“Sounds right.” 

You reached Joel’s. There was a light on in his living room and you felt the familiar tug in you to go inside and join him. Just let yourself in the front door and settle in like it was yours. 

“I’m gonna go tell the old man that his taste in movies isn’t totally awful,” Ellie said, heading up the front walk. “Still want help tomorrow at the stable?” 

“Stalls ain’t gonna muck themselves,” you replied and held up your still healing arm. “And this isn’t much help.” 

“Ugh,” she groaned good naturedly. “Night!” 

You watched until she made it to the front door - not that the precaution was really necessary here but it made you feel better - and you turned to Julie, your good hand stuffed in your pocket. 

“I’m that way and to the left,” you said. “So…” 

“Mind if I join you?” She asked. “Nice night, figure I’ll take the scenic route.” 

You looked at her for a moment. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Not much to see though.” 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” she smiled one of those lopsided smiles and fell into step beside you, walking a little slower than you and you slowed down to match her pace. You looked ahead. “So, how’ve you been doing? Don’t see you at the Bison much anymore.” 

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Just haven’t felt like going out.” You looked over at her and had the passing thought that she was pretty. Young, with long, dark hair and bright eyes and full lips.“How about you?” 

“Oh you know,” she waved you off. “Same old, same old. The berries are coming into season though, have you been to check out the orchards and stuff?” 

“I’ve ridden past them,” you said. “Haven’t exactly spent time there, though.” 

“You should!” She brightened at that, even more than she already was. The two of you came to a stop at your front walk. “Think you’d like it. You should come with me sometime, it’d be fun.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” you smiled a little tightly. “This is me, so…” 

“Nice place,” she smiled back, looking more genuine than yours felt. “Well, whenever you want to check it out, let me know. Hope to see you around.” 

“You too,” you said, standing there awkwardly for a moment before turning and heading up the walk and into your house. 

You went to the mess hall the next morning for breakfast. Dinner, too. And soon, your cast was off and you were going there for most meals, even if it was just to grab something to bring home or go to the stables. The food boxes stopped showing up on your porch. 

Instead, you’d come back from the stables and find new guitar strings waiting for you there or a CD that you didn’t have or a copy of Titanic on VHS, the one that took two tapes and you had to get up halfway through to change it. 

You’d told Joel he should move on. You weren’t sure if you really wanted him to - you doubted you’d be able to stomach seeing him with someone else - but you didn’t want him to be alone, either. You didn’t want to drag him down with you just because you couldn’t separate his past from your own. 

“OK so I think I have it,” Ellie said, pulling you out of your head and making your fingers still. “Can you look?” 

She shoved the notebook your way and you leaned over your guitar to look at it, fingering the chords but not playing them. 

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “I think that’s probably closer to what you’re looking for, give it a go.” 

You pushed the notebook back towards her and she set her guitar on her lap, adjusting it for a second before playing it. You nodded along, watching as she scrunched her face, getting more and more frustrated before she groaned. 

“That’s not right either,” she leaned her head back on the post at her back. “Song writing shouldn’t be this hard. This is bullshit.” 

“The shit that’s worth doing is hard, kid,” you shrugged. “Why don’t you try thinking about it again for a minute. Do you want it to feel urgent or slow and confident? Both are strong but they’re going to have different vibes.” 

She sighed and closed her eyes. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well,” you shrugged, settling back with your guitar. “Figure out how you’re feeling and what you want the song to say about it. It’ll come to you.” 

You went back to playing as Ellie picked her notebook back up, gnawing on the end of her pen. 

“I didn’t know you played!” 

You stopped and your head shot up from its place on the post to see Julie standing at the end of your walk, her hands in the pockets of her shorts, her thick hair piled on top of her head, her arms looking sculpted and strong in her tank top. 

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Can I come up?” 

“Um…” 

“Sure!” Ellie said before you had a chance to really think about it. Julie reached over the short fence and unlatched the gate before opening it and coming up to your porch, sitting on the bottom step so she was looking up at you and Ellie. 

“Didn’t know there was a guitar club in town,” she said, folding one leg into her chest and looping her arms around her shin. “Don’t stop on my account! What song was that?” 

“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” you said, running your fingers up and down the neck of the guitar. “Just… fidgeting, really.” 

“Yeah, Bambi is fucking awesome,” Ellie said. “Best guitar player in town, easy.” 

“Ellie,” you gave her a look but she ignored you. 

“Seriously, you name it and she can probably play it,” she said. “She knows so much about music it’s insane.” 

“Not really,” you cut her off. “I just like music so I learned about what I liked, that’s all…” 

“Oh bullshit,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “She’s a human juke box, try her.” 

“Do you mind?” Julie asked, looking at you with her brows raised. Her eyes were bright green and almost sharp. 

“As long as you’re prepared to be disappointed,” you shrugged. “I can try.” 

Ellie scoffed and Julie ignored her. 

“I remember this song from when I was a kid, just before the outbreak,” she said. “It actually took me a while to track down the name of it after and you might think it’s silly but�� I’m With You? Know that one?” 

You smiled a little. 

“I know that one,” you said, settling the guitar on your lap. “Haven’t tried to play it before, though. Avril’s not really my wheelhouse, so… go easy on me.” 

You couldn’t remember exactly how the song started but you remembered the chorus and you remembered a verse from there. The music just trailed off at the end, not really remembering how the song ended either, and you awkwardly drummed your fingers on the body of the guitar when you stopped playing, Ellie and Julie both watching you. 

“Right, well,” you said. “Like I said, not really my wheelhouse and…” 

“That was fantastic!” Julie cut you off, her broad smile making the freckles on her cheeks rise. 

“Told you,” Ellie said. “She’s the best.” 

“Well I figured that much,” Julie rolled her eyes a little dramatically but smiled that cocky smile as she did before looking back to you again. “Thanks for letting me put you on the spot.” 

“Any time,” you said before you really had a chance to think about it. She smiled a little bigger. 

“Hey, so, I hadn’t meant to break up the jam session,” she said. “I was actually coming by to see if you wanted to come with me tomorrow afternoon, I was going to head out to the orchards for a bit. You’re welcome to join, get outside for a bit. It’s nice, promise.” 

“Um,” you said for what felt like the millionth time that day, trying to picture the stable schedule. “I think that would work, I have some patrols leaving that morning but should be able to step away for a bit in the afternoon…” 

“Perfect,” she said, getting up. “I need to get down to the Bison but I’ll meet you at the stables tomorrow?” 

“That’s where I’ll be,” you smiled in a way you hoped was genuine. “Looking forward to it.” 

“It’ll be fun,” she said. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Ellie!” 

“Bye Julie,” she dragged her name out and gave you a look. You seriously considered kicking her. Julie laughed and started down your walk, only making it halfway to the gate before turning around and walking backwards, looking back at you with her hands in her back pockets. 

“Nice dress, by the way,” she said. “It works for you. See you tomorrow!” 

You went back to messing with your guitar as you tried to not watch her walk up the lane. Ellie was far less delicate, craning her neck until Julie turned the corner. 

She spun to face you and swatted your leg. 

“Oh my GOD,” she half whispered, half yelled at you. 

“What?” You asked, fingers stilling on the strings. 

“That!” She said. “All that fucking flirting!” 

“Ellie…” 

“Oh come ON,” she cut you off. “You may as well have fucked right on your porch, Jesus Christ…” 

“OK I will say this again,” you said, setting your guitar down beside you. “Who is and isn’t between my legs? Not your business.” 

“Well that’s just not true,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who fucked Joel and made it my business.” You sighed and went to reply but she held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather you two work your shit out and get back together. But if you’re not going to figure it out then you shouldn’t just be miserable and lonely forever and Julie is hot as fuck.” 

“Ellie!” You hissed. 

“What!” She replied, her brows raised. “She is!” 

“Jesus…” 

“Just saying!” She said, her hands up in mock surrender. “Julie’s cool. And hot. I think you’d have fun. And you should at least try to have some fun sometimes instead of just being miserable all the time.”

“What if I like being miserable.” 

“Just don’t chicken out,” Ellie said, ignoring you and picking up her guitar before getting to her feet. “But I’m getting hungry. Think I’ll go see what the old man is doing for dinner. You’re welcome to come along if you’d rather not be miserable with us…” 

“Ellie.” 

“Right, right,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean it, fucking go tomorrow. You big chicken.” 

“Go home, you little brat,” you replied. She cheerfully flipped you off before heading back toward Joel’s. 

You sat on your porch for a while longer, absently playing and watching as the color of the sky slowly shifted from blue to pink to deep, inky black. The darkness seemed to swallow everything, like there wasn’t anything beyond what was right in front of you. But you knew that if you walked far enough, followed the light of the north star, you’d find things beyond what consumed here and now. 

It was late when you finally went inside, scrounging in your kitchen for the last of some of what Joel had brought you even though you weren’t particularly hungry. You turned on the stereo and just let whatever CD you’d put in last play, not really paying attention 

You found yourself thinking about Julie. About what Ellie said about Julie. 

It had been a long time since you’d had a woman flirt with you. You’d been with your fair share of women since the outbreak but flirting hadn’t really been part of it. Marisa was the first woman you’d slept with and, after Savvy came along, you stopped seeking out that kind of connection with men and kept it to strictly women. It just seemed safer. After Marisa, it had always been casual - you didn’t think you could bear another heartbreak like that - and it had always been fairly blunt. You could generally tell if they were interested in letting off some physical steam and, if they were, you had fun for a few days before they moved on. 

But things with Julie reminded you of one of your first crushes, a girl who did trick riding on the same circuit as you when you were a girl. You’d first noticed Courtney when you were both 13. She was so beautiful you couldn’t help but stare at her. At first, you’d almost resented her. She was good, damn good, and she was full of charismatic smiles and she dusted glitter across her collarbones that peeked out from the top of her costume. She was exactly who your mother wished you were and, as much as you loved bronc and bull and roping, part of you wanted to be who your mother wanted you to be. You wanted to be satisfied with what she wanted for you and you wanted to be happy being who Courtney was so effortlessly. Life would be simpler and happier if you were content with that and Courtney was proof that life existed. And you wanted it.

You settled for beating her, for a while. Narrowing your eyes at her when you passed her between rounds at competitions, looking her way when you saw your scores narrowly eclipse hers on the board. You loved it. The only thing you wanted more than beating her was her. 

Hell if you knew what to do with that. 

In hindsight, you weren’t sure she knew, either.

The first time she’d said more than two words to you was when you’d smirked at her as you held the first place trophy. You went to the locker room after the awards ceremony and you had the place almost to yourself, most of the other girls already cleaned out. The third place winner - a girl who’s name you didn’t remember - left and it was just a few seconds later that you heard the door slam into the wall. You looked up to see Courtney stalking over to you. You could see the glitter on her collarbones and her cheeks, her eyes hot and her lips full. 

“Want to tell me what the hell your problem is?” She demanded, getting so close to you that you could smell her body spray. It was almost sickly sweet and floral but on her it smelled good. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much!” 

“I don’t hate you…” you said. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” She cut you off. 

“Why do you care?” You snapped. “We compete, we’re not friends, who cares if I hate you?” 

“I care!” She snapped back. 

“Why!” 

“Because I like you!” She yelled, breathless. You just blinked at her for a moment as she caught her breath, her eyes drifting to your lips. “I like you and sometimes…” 

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Instead, you kissed her. 

It was clumsy and deeply uncertain. You’d never kissed anyone before and you had no idea what you were doing, your hands locked tight at your sides as though touching her anywhere at all was against the rules but you were risking it, anyway. Her mouth was warm and soft and it seemed oddly wet even though that made sense when you thought about it. 

After a moment you pulled back from her slightly, your eyes wide, not really believing what you’d just done. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your turn to be breathless now. “I… I don’t know…” 

“Shut up,” she kissed you that time, pressing you back against the lockers, stretching up to better reach your lips, her body hot on your own. You kissed her back, trying to focus and take in everything. How she tasted, how she smelled, how her costume hugged the slight curve of her waist. 

“Courtney!” Her mother’s shrill voice from the hall made her jump away from you and wipe her mouth on the back of her hand. “You about ready honey?” 

“One minute!” She called back before turning to you. “Do you have a some paper?” 

You just nodded and fumbled in your bag for a notebook. She turned to a random page that happened to have some history notes on it and wrote her name and number at the top. Her handwriting was soft and curved and feminine and you envied that, too. She drew a little heart next to it. 

“Call me,” she said, pressing the notebook into your chest. “OK?” 

“Yeah,” you said, staring at her. You couldn’t help but stare at her. “Yeah, I will.” 

“Good,” she smiled. “See you next time, superstar. Maybe I’ll finish on top then.” 

“Courtney!” 

“Coming!” She grabbed her bag out of a nearby locker and gave you an almost sly smile before she ran out to meet her mother. 

From then on, most of your time with her was flirting. In between rounds at competitions or on the phone when you were far apart, carefully crafting your words so you’d have plausible deniability with your parents but know what the other meant. You wrote each other letters when you were apart, counted the days until you got to see each other again. When you found an empty spot when you were in the same place, you ended up tangled up together, kissing and fumbling against each other, figuring out what seemed to stoke the fires deep inside yourselves in the small moments you could find for just the two of you. 

That continued for just over a year when Courtney came to a tournament with a somber expression on her face. You frowned but she gave you a subtle shake of her head as she passed you and you kept quiet. It took a few hours before you were able to get her alone and she told you the truth of it. That her mom had found your letters to her - thankfully not signed so she had no idea who had written them but still obviously from another girl - and had told her daughter that she, unequivocally, would end it. 

“But…” you protested, trying not to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick. “But… she threatened to send me to one of those camps if I don’t and… I can’t go to that, OK? I can’t, I don’t think I could make it and…” 

You held onto her as she cried, her tears making little rivers in the glitter on her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really… I think I…” 

You kissed her before she said it. 

“Me too,” you said quietly when you pulled away. 

She sniffed and smiled a small smile.

“Maybe in another life, right?” 

“Right,” you smiled a little back. 

She dried her eyes as best she could and you watched from the stands as she gave the best performance you’d ever seen. You did the opposite. Your routine ended with a full Stroud Layout but your top foot slipped when you were getting into position and you fell off your horse, tumbling over and over yourself in the sand of the arena, the feel of it gritty in your mouth as your head spun when your body finally came to a stop. 

You didn’t make the podium and your mother didn’t push you to compete again for a while. You never saw Courtney again. 

You weren’t sure how to navigate things with Julie. You weren’t sure what you wanted to navigate with Julie. She was beautiful, yes. And she seemed kind and funny and smart. She seemed like someone you could have fun with and could care about. 

But she wasn’t Joel. You weren’t sure you could feel like you felt for him for anyone else. It seemed silly to even try. And if you couldn’t feel like that, what was the point? 

You tried to sleep but gave up eventually. After a while, you found the moose carving you’d started when you were out with Joel, looking for Savvy. It was getting closer to being done, though it was still a rough hewn thing. You weren’t sure anyone who didn’t know what it was supposed to be would realize what it was without help. But still, it felt good to make something. You let yourself be absorbed by carving it for a bit, until it felt like you’d shut your mind down enough to sleep. You set the moose down on the nightstand, arranging him so it was like he was watching you sleep, the red splotch from your blood still staining his chest.

You brought him with you to the stables the next day for something to work on when you needed the distraction. Just sitting there with your thoughts when you had downtime seemed like a bad idea. 

“You’re gonna tell me all about it, right?” Ellie asked as you gave Shimmer and Ares a final once over that morning. 

“I don’t need to tell you every time I hang out with someone,” you replied. 

“Whatever,” she said. “Just don’t chicken out. Actually go, you need a social life…” 

“What, getting sick of keeping me company all the time?” You teased, handing her the reins. 

“Yeah, you’re pretty fucking boring,” she smirked a little. You snorted. “I’m serious though. Promise you’ll go.” 

“I’m going,” you said, giving her a gentle shove toward the door. “Get out of here. Be safe on patrol, see you back tonight.” 

“Not if you’re at Julie’s you won’t,” she waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes as you watched her lead her and Joel’s horses out of the stables. 

Time dragged until that afternoon and you found yourself feeling oddly nervous, waiting for Julie to come by. You weren’t sure what time she was supposed to get there and, you realized, you didn’t know what to actually expect with any of this. 

Yeah, it had felt like flirting. And Ellie seemed sure that it was. But Ellie was a kid and your recent experience in that department was so limited you really knew fuck all about it. What if you’d read the situation completely wrong? What if Julie was just a nice woman who wanted to be friends? 

“Hey you,” Julie’s voice surprised you enough that it made you jump, water sloshing over the side of the bucket you were carrying to top off one of the horses. “Shit, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you…” 

“You’re fine,” you said quickly, refilling a waterer and setting the bucket down. 

“Now still good?” She asked. “Because I’m not in a rush, today is my day off…” 

“Now’s good,” you said quickly, trying not to think too hard about what she was wearing. Her long, lush hair was softly braided and hung over her shoulder, loose strands framing her face. Her shorts were short and her legs were long and sculpted and she wore a few long necklaces that settled into the curve between her breasts. She smiled. 

“Great!” She held up a bag you hadn’t noticed before. “Brought snacks. Not that we’ll need much, it’s peak berry season out there. We could eat ourselves sick and not make a dent.” 

“Don’t tempt me,” you smiled a little. 

“Oh, I intend to,” she smiled back. 

Julie led the way out of town, smiling and chatting with the guards at the gate for a moment before heading toward the orchards just east of town. 

“So why are you heading out here on your day off?” You asked, looking over at her. 

“Well as I think you know, one of my main contributions to the good people of Jackson is tending bar at the Bison,” she smiled. “But that’s because I just really like drinks. I found this old cocktail book when I was a teenager and I just kind of became obsessed, I guess? There was that and these books and magazines that showed what it was like before and I wanted to do that. Have the experience of going to a bar when life was different, you know? And yeah, we make some pretty decent booze here in town - or I think we do, anyway, didn’t really get to try any before - but that’s not all it takes to make a good cocktail. I can’t make a Coke or anything but I can make the syrups and infusions and things. I like to experiment in my spare time so I come out here, pick the supplies I need, and give things a try at home before I bring my ideas into the Bison.” 

“Do I get to know what you’re working on?” You asked, brows raised. 

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” she smirked. “But I will need a guinea pig before too long if you’re game…” 

“Far be it from me to turn down a free drink,” you replied and she smiled bigger. 

The orchards were, indeed, beautiful. You followed her to a particularly dense spot and she pulled a blanket out of the bag, spreading it on the ground in the shade of an apple tree. 

“I won’t lie,” she said, sitting back on her hands and closing her eyes, taking a deep breath. “This is probably my favorite spot.” 

“I can see why,” you nodded, drawing your knees into your chest and looking around. “It’s gorgeous here.” 

“It’s quiet here,” she laughed a little. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Jackson. Way better than the QZ we were in when I was a kid. It’s a good place with good people. I love the people, truly, I do. But everyone knows everyone and knows everything about everyone and it’s so hard to have anything for yourself, you know?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s a great place but… it’s definitely a lot.” 

You talked a little about your pasts. You told her - vaguely, lightly - about your time before Mitchum. She told you about her time in the Denver QZ and you almost fainted when she said she was only 31 years old. 

“How old were you when the world ended?” You gaped at her. “Do you even remember?” 

“I was seven,” she laughed. “I remember a bit. How old were you?” 

“Older than that,” you replied. “Jesus…” 

“Not that old, clearly,” she said, picking a blackberry off a bush and holding it out to you. “This is a good one, you should have it.” 

“Old enough,” you replied. “And if it’s good, you should have it.” 

“I have them all the time,” she said, stepping close to you. You were suddenly acutely aware of the fact that you were wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing when working with the horses all day and you hoped you didn’t smell. She pressed the berry to your lips. “Try it.” 

You obeyed, taking the fruit into your mouth and biting into it, the juice bursting on your tongue. 

“See?” She smiled. “Told you.” 

The two of you ended up back on the blanket and you stretched out on it, looking up at the clouds drifting lazily past overhead, arms bare - too hot to wear anything more than a tank top - but not feeling overly exposed. Julie lay next to you, her arm brushing your own. 

“Is it weird that I sometimes don’t feel like I missed out?” She asked. You felt her adjust next to you and you glanced her way to see her lying on her side, facing you. “I mean I know there was a lot before that we don’t have now but… I dunno, I guess I still wanted to be a ballerina when the world ended. It doesn’t feel like I really gave up all that much, you know?” 

“Think that has as much to do with Jackson as anything else,” you replied, adjusting so that you were facing her. “But I get that, in a way. If I’d found Jackson when I was younger, I think I’d feel the same. Shit, what I’m doing now is exactly what I grew up wanting to do. If it wasn’t for all the time in between, the end of the world would have just turned into me getting just what I wanted. Besides all the death anyway.” 

“Think you’re right about the Jackson thing,” she smiled a little. “It’s a special place with good people. Like a few better than the others, though.” 

“Yeah?” 

She reached out and brushed some of the hair that had fallen from your braid back from your face and trailed her fingers down your cheek and your chin. 

“Yup.” 

She leaned in then, moving slow and holding your gaze, giving you all the time in the world to stop her if you wanted. 

You didn’t. 

Her kiss was soft and gentle, her lips smooth on yours. She tasted and smelled sweet and her hand went to your hip, tugging you against her. 

Julie’s body was softer than you expected as she pressed against you and, in so many ways, she felt safe and comfortable there. But she felt foreign, too. You’d become accustomed to a different form on yours, one that was larger and broader and firmer. 

You tried not to think about him as her kiss deepened, as your hand went to her waist and trailed over her side but stopped short of cupping her breast. 

She nudged you onto your back and she settled on top of you, her chest pressed tight to yours, her hips starting to rock gently against you. You ran your hands over her back to the top of her ass but didn’t go lower, not able to shake the subtle wrongness of kissing someone and feeling someone who wasn’t Joel. 

After a minute, she pulled away from you. 

“I get the feeling you’re not as into this as I am,” she said, panting a little. You opened your mouth to argue but she silenced you with a look. “If I misread things, I’m really sorry. But you should know that you don’t have to fuck me just because I’m trying to fuck you.” 

“You didn’t misread anything,” you said quickly. 

“Good,” she smiled a little. “But… It doesn’t seem like you’re feeling this.” 

You winced. 

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you said. “But… I don’t think I’m feeling what you are.” 

“Well shit,” she laughed a little and rolled off you, lying flat on her back beside you. “I really am sorry if I came on too strong or did something you didn’t want…” 

You laughed a little. 

“Definitely not that,” you said. “Just have… other things on my mind. And you deserve someone’s full attention.”

She turned her head to look at you and you turned yours, too. 

“It’s Joel, isn’t it?” She asked. You winced a little. “Sorry, I’m not trying to dig into anything that’s not my business, it just… seemed like you guys split up a while ago so I thought it would be OK. I’m sorry.” 

“No, it probably should be,” you said. “It’s got nothing to do with you, trust me.” 

“Well,” she said. “At the risk of this being the most awkward hang out ever… want to help me get some raspberries?” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “I’d like that.” 

She smiled. 

“Good. Me too.” 

It was awkward for a bit, but by the time the two of you started back to Jackson, it was lighter. Easier. Like you’d never kissed at all. 

Julie walked with you back to the stables, not too long before you were expecting patrols that weren’t out overnight to return. 

“Even with everything today, I hope we can be friends,” she said. “I do actually like you. Not just because I’d like to fuck you.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, I’d like that, too,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not… in the same place on the fucking front…” 

“I’d rather pretend we never found that out,” she laughed a little. “Maintain some of the mystery. But, you know. If anything changes, it’s a small town. You know where to find me.” 

“That I do,” you said. 

She turned to leave but seemed to think better of it and turned back. 

“If he’s it for you?” She said. “I think you should figure out a way to make it work. No point in wanting something and acting like you can’t have it when it’s right there, you know? And yeah, it’s not really my business and yeah, I don’t know you all that well but… something tells me you’re not going to be feeling any different anytime soon. And I don’t think he is either. Just… my two cents.” 

She smiled and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Thanks, Julie,” you said quietly. She gave your arm a squeeze. 

“See you around, Bambi.” 

You watched the door she left through for a few minutes after she was gone before you went back to work. 

The patrols all made it back without incident, Ellie returning her and Joel’s horses. She asked how things went but you just waved her off and she deflated a bit. 

“I keep trying to get some excitement around here,” she said. “You are no fucking help, you know that?” 

“I am so sorry my romantic life isn’t more entertaining,” you said wryly. “I’ll work on that. Entirely for your benefit, of course.” 

“Well you’re clearly not going to do it for your own.” 

You just rolled your eyes as she headed back home. You stayed late at the stables. Not for any real reason, you just didn’t want to be at home alone and going to the mess hall didn’t sound like what you wanted, either. You worked on the moose carving, pleasantly surprised at the progress you’d made on him. 

You ended up working on him until, almost suddenly, you realized he was done. Fully formed - or as close to it as you could get him - with four legs and jagged shapes for the antlers. But he looked like a moose, broad and steady and strong. You turned him over in your hand a few times, running your finger over the arch of his back and the curve of his neck. 

“What am I going to do with you?” You said quietly, holding it up in front of you, looking where his eyes would be if he had them. The bloodstain was still crimson on his chest. 

After a few minutes, you got up off the floor of the stable and did your final check for the evening before locking up behind you and heading home. 

You took the long way. 

It was dark but not so late that the Tipsy Bison had closed for the night, a warm glow coming from the windows. With the sun down, you were a little cold with bare arms but you didn’t mind. You walked slowly, watching the stars as you went. 

You stopped at the end of Joel’s walk. The lights were out. You thought he probably went to bed early - he got tired after a patrol - but he could be at the Bison, too. Either way… 

You all but crept up his walk, holding the moose tightly in your fingers. You stopped at the base of his stairs and held the rough-hewn animal in front of your face again. 

“Keep an eye on him for me?” You said quietly to the wood. It didn’t say anything back. You stepped as lightly as you could up the stairs but the same step as always squeaked below you. You set the moose on Joel’s doormat before turning to go, making the step squeak again. You made it almost all the way back up the walk when the lights inside turned on and you picked up the pace. 

It didn’t matter. You heard the front door open just as you turned onto the street and your eyes darted over toward him before you could help it. 

“Bambi?” He called, not too loud. He was in his blue cotton plaid sleep pants and a black t-shirt that hugged his body just right, tight across his shoulders and upper arms, highlighting the soft curve of his stomach. You stopped for a moment and just gave him a tight smile before continuing on home. 

When you went to bed, you found yourself looking at the spot on your nightstand where the moose had been before, part of you wishing he was still beside you.

***

“Hey. Hey Joel.” 

Joel smiled a little to himself. He recognized Ellie’s tone. 

“What’s up, kiddo?” 

“Wanna hear a joke about pizza?” 

He sighed, trying to sound annoyed. He wasn’t sure if it worked. 

“Get the feeling you’re gonna tell me either way.” 

“Eh, never mind,” Ellie said, sounding a little put out. Joel looked back at her, frowning slightly. And then she smirked. “It’s too cheesy.” 

Joel groaned. 

“That one’s bad, baby girl.” 

“No it’s not!” She rode up alongside him even though the trail wasn’t really wide enough for that. “That was a good one!” 

“Nope,” he shook his head. “It was terrible, three out of 10.” 

“Bullshit!” 

“What would you give it?” He asked, brows raised. “Because I’m questioning your judgement here…” 

“At least a six.” 

“No.” 

“Yes!” She laughed. “You’ve just got shitty taste, old man.” 

“Uh huh,” he laughed. “And what’s that say about you then, hm?” 

“Broken clock is right twice a day,” she replied. “You were bound to accidentally do OK every now and then. Will Livingston, however, is right every time.” 

“You got that entire book memorized?” He teased lightly. “If not, you gotta be close…” 

“I’m getting there,” she said. “Saving the best for last.” 

Joel just shook his head a little. 

He loved patrolling with Ellie. Even more than he thought he would. It was so much like when he’d first come to know her and care for her. It was a time, he realized now, that made him understand that he could still love. That he had it within himself to care for another person, that he could cope with the fear of loss that came with attachment because Ellie was worth it. He liked spending the time just the two of them and getting to know her better as the young woman she was becoming instead of the little girl he’d come to know years earlier. She’d grown so much, come into her own in a way that was only possible in a place like Jackson. She had friends and hobbies and had become part of the community there. Every day with her was reassurance that he’d done the right thing. That every life he’d taken that day in the hospital was a worthy price to pay. 

Joel had left Jackson with Ellie plenty before patrolling with her, back when she was still speaking to him. Before she found out the truth of everything. He’d loved it then, too. But this was different. She was still his baby girl but they were out here as partners, working together to protect the community they both loved. It was a glimpse of the future they had, one where their lives moved along side by side and he got to watch her find her place and fall in love and have a family of her own and just be happy as herself. 

They were only a day out from Jackson now, heading in from a three day long patrol. It was Ellie’s first overnight patrol and she’d been so excited for it, even as she tried to pretend like she wasn’t. The days before they left town, Ellie was over at his house every night, going over the list of what she should bring and looking over the map. She’d lit up when he said they could bring a guitar, something else that made Joel smile. 

It had been more than a month since she’d gotten him back into playing, showing up at his house with a guitar and saying she wanted his opinion on something. She played American Girl, one of his favorites, and set the guitar down when she was done. 

“That was amazing, baby girl,” he’d said, more than a little in awe of her. “Where did you learn that?” 

“Bambi,” she replied. “But do you think it’d sound better with two? I feel like it would. But you’re the musician so…” 

It was an obvious ploy but it made him smile a little. The idea that Ellie would do that much to make him play again. That you’d help her. 

“It might,” he said, getting up to get his instrument. “Let’s give it a try.” 

Joel tried to not think of you too much. He usually failed. But he was getting better at not drowning in the memories of you, of not letting the loss of you consume him. 

It helped that he’d found a way to care for you while respecting the distance you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to just abandon you, not when he had a sense of how much you were hurting. So he brought you food. Selfishly, it served two purposes. It meant you were, hopefully, eating something. But it also meant he knew that you were still alive. That he could leave a box on your porch, walk by a few hours later, and see that it was gone. He could check on you without forcing you to talk to him and that eased the steady drumbeat of worry inside him. 

When he heard you were back at the stables, he shifted from things you needed to things you would want. He brought you the things he found that made him think of you, things he’d have given you when he came home to you in another life. 

It also helped that he knew you thought of him, too. At least occasionally, enough that you’d left the carving you’d made on his porch a few weeks before. He thought he was hearing things when the first squeak woke him up from his place on the couch, but then the step squeaked a second time and he was sure he heard it. He’d thought it might be Ellie, needing something but  not necessarily wanting to say it. He hadn’t expected to see you heading down the street, the first glimpse of you he’d had in so long. Your arm was out of the cast and you looked good. A bit thinner than you’d been the last time he’d seen you but still good. Still beautiful, still soft with sharp edges. Still what he wanted to sink into and wrap himself up in every chance he got. He picked the moose up and brought it inside, tracing the outline of its frame for a moment. You’d finished it. It was rough, you were clearly a beginner, but you’d finished it and given it to him. His thumb brushed the wound on its heart, where you’d bled. Before he really thought better of it, he brought the figure to his lips and kissed it gently before setting it on the side table and turning out the lights. 

The two of you were set to leave Jackson again in just a week, another gap in the patrol schedule that you could leverage to search for Savvy now that you were healed. He hoped this search led somewhere. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, living like that, not knowing what happened to your child. The closest he’d come was the torturous time that Ellie was with the monsters who’d taken her in Silver Lake. He was so frantic, so terrified of what he’d find but even more terrified of never finding it to begin with. He needed to save her, protect her. But if he couldn’t do that, he needed to know what happened to her. He needed to know who to destroy before he destroyed himself for letting it happen. Living in that for years would be unbearable. 

“Hey Joel?” 

He could hear the frown in her voice. 

“Yeah Baby Girl?” He looked over his shoulder, Ellie and Shimmer falling behind him again now that the trail had narrowed further. She stopped and so did he.

“That’s something we should be watching for, right?” She nodded toward something off the trail, a small frown on her face. Joel followed where she was looking and he froze in his saddle. 

It took an eagle eye to spot it, just brush amongst brush, but it shocked him when he saw it. The gentle arch of a sapling, stretching down toward the ground, held there with rope. 

“Yeah,” he said. “It is. Stay with the horses.” 

“But…” 

“Just one second,” he said, dismounting and going for the trap, trying desperately not to get his hopes up but his heart was racing. It was a common set up for a trap. It could be anyone’s.

This trap was far fresher than the one he’d found with you, the dirt where the pin and been put in the ground still disturbed. The trap itself was still baited and the pins were smooth, almost artistically carved. It hadn’t been here long. He looked around quickly, looking for some indication of where the person who set this trap might have gone. It took some doing - whoever it was covered their tracks well - but he found it, the edge of a boot print. 

He went back to his horse and mounted up. 

“Ellie,” he said, voice serious. “Need you to listen to me, OK?” 

“OK,” she frowned. “Joel, you’re acting weird…” 

“We’re gonna track someone,” he said. “But when we find them, need you to not shoot them until we talk to them, OK? And… and if its a teenaged girl, need you to not shoot them even if she pulls a gun on me, OK?” 

“A teenaged… Joel, what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Just trust me,” he said. “Please.” 

He started with the boot print and found little hints of someone moving through the brush from there. Disturbed leaves, a splotch of dirt that looked misplaced, a small branch that had snagged on another when something about human height passed below it. 

“Joel,” Ellie said after they’d been tracking for about 20 minutes. 

“Still looking,” he said gently. “It’s OK…” 

He heard something rustle down low up ahead and he adjusted Ares’ path to check on it. He didn’t need to go far, the source of the sound only about 100 feet away and next to a large rock. Standing there, beside to a large horse and a large dog, was a girl. She was a little taller than Ellie, with gangly arms and legs, a rifle held high in her hands. 

“Stop right there!” She said, her voice sharp with a familiar southern twang. The dog moved in front of her, getting down low and bearing its teeth. “Don’t wanna shoot you but I will. You can move right along, this spot’s taken.” 

Joel lifted his hands and caught a glimpse of Ellie raising a gun next to him. 

“Ellie!” He said sharply. She looked at him, eyes wide. “Gun down. Now.” 

“But…” 

“Now.” 

She huffed but lowered the gun slowly, her eyes back on the girl in front of her. 

“Won’t shoot you in the back,” the girl said. “Just turn around and go.” 

Joel fought to focus. The girl in front of him… she looked like Sarah, so so much like Sarah. The same shock of curly hair, same brown skin, same bright eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they were sisters. He fought to stay here, in the forest with Ellie, not getting swallowed by his own memories. He’d found her. He was all but certain of that now, he’d found her and he was going to bring her back to you. 

“You out here on your own?” He asked gently, his hands said up. 

“Don’t see how that’s any business of yours,” she said sharply. “All that matters to you is that I will kill you, don’t try me.” 

“I understand,” he said. “Not going to hurt you…” 

“Bullshit.” 

“We’re not,” Ellie snapped. 

“Ellie.” 

“What!” She said. “Joel, I swear, if she shoots you…” 

“Remember what I said,” he replied. 

“But…” 

“I mean it,” he cut her off. “Don’t, OK?” 

He turned back to the girl. 

“Not going to hurt you,” he said again. “Just… just hear me out for just a second, OK? We’re from a settlement, about a day’s ride from here…” 

“Good for you,” she said. “Better head that way then.” 

“It’s a good place,” he said, ignoring her. “With good people. Including… including your mama, I think.” 

Her eyes went a little wide and she lowered the gun ever so slightly. He caught a glimpse of Ellie’s head whipping around to look at him but he kept his eyes on the girl. 

“Your name’s Savannah, right?” He pressed on. “Your mom, she calls you Savvy, right?” 

She raised the gun again. 

“How’d you know that,” snapped. “You one of the assholes that took her? That it? What, you kill her? Get her to tell you about me first? That what happened?” 

“No honey,” Joel said, his throat tight. He’d found her, he’d found your daughter. “No, she… she escaped them, few years back. She got hurt real bad doin’ it, we brought her in, got her fixed up and she stayed. She’s been looking for you but she’s still there…” 

“Why should I trust you?” She snapped. “Why should I believe a damn thing you say?” 

“Because I know her,” he said. “Been helping her look for you. She’s… I know her. She trains horses, guessin’ she trained the one you’ve got? She trained the one I’m on, too. She runs our stable for us, she…” 

“Bambi?” Ellie gaped at him. “Bambi’s her mom? Bambi has…” 

“Ellie,” Joel said again, cutting her off and looking back at Savvy. 

“She’s there,” he said. “She misses you, she misses you so much. Told me how you liked to read to the horses when you were little. How the dogs liked you better than her. How you’re real good at carving… Recognized your trap, found another one of yours a few months back. She told me how your pins are always smooth and even… Let us take you back with us. Won’t take your guns, just… just come back with us. Please. She misses you so much, she’s been so worried…” 

“We’re not people to be afraid of,” Ellie said and Joel glanced her way. She was looking at Savvy now, her face serious. “Well, as long as you’re not an asshole. I know Joel seems scary but he’s not. Promise. He’s safe.” 

She lowered the gun slowly, looking between the two of them before looking down at the dog. 

“Gattling,” she said. “Heel.” 

The dog dropped its defensive stance and went alongside her, looking up and waiting for a command. She looked back at Joel and Ellie. 

“You really know my mom?” She asked quietly. “She’s… she’s really alive?” 

“She is,” Joel nodded, lowering his hands to the saddle horn. There was a knot in his throat. “And we can take you to her. Please.” 

She hesitated for a moment. 

“She teaches me stuff about music,” Ellie said quickly. “How to play some stuff on guitar, too, but more about music in general. She’s cool. Really. I’m… I’m sure she wants to see you again. And Jackson’s nice. And so are we. Just come along, OK?” 

She took a deep breath, looking down at the dog for a moment, adjusting her grip on the rifle. 

“OK.” 

***

“She’s in rare fucking form this week,” Olivia said, watching as you steadied Persephone, one of the fillies you were working with. 

“She’s just got an independent streak,” you said, the horse’s feet stomping impatiently in the dirt. “That’s OK. I get that. So do the best of us, right?” 

She huffed and jerked her large head. You smiled a little. 

“You’re sure she’s not gonna throw you?” Olivia asked, sounding a little worried. 

“No,” you shrugged. “But I’ve gotten thrown off horses before, nothin’ new. Only way to break her is to break her, no point in stalling. You in a good spot?” 

“Think so,” she said, stepping a little further back from the horse as you got ready to mount her. 

“Then let’s go,” you said, all but jumping onto Persephone’s back. You barely got your foot in the stirrups before she started really bucking, Olivia moving even further away. You clutched the reins in one hand and let your hips go loose, digging your heels down toward the earth to stay seated. You let your body move with her as she hurled herself through the air, desperate to dislodge you. But you weren’t going anywhere. She gave you a good shake that made you grab the back of the saddle but otherwise, she didn’t get anywhere close to throwing you. After a while, she started to calm, her movements still sharp and harsh but closer to the earth, her hooves staying on the ground more often than not. Eventually, she mostly stilled, just tossing her head and huffing indignantly. 

“See?” You said soothingly, reaching forward to pat her neck. “That’s my good girl, you did so well…” 

“Bambi,” Olivia said, catching your eye. She nodded toward the gate to the paddock and you frowned a little before you followed her gaze. 

Standing there was Joel and Ellie, their reins in their hands. But between them was a girl. She was young, a teenager, with springy curls and brown skin and wide, soft eyes. 

You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes and that hair and that skin. For a moment, the world shrank to a small point centered on her and you wondered if, maybe, you’d finally lost your mind. If something had finally broken so thoroughly that you were seeing things. 

But you weren’t. She was here. Your daughter was alive and she was here, in Jackson. 

“Savvy,” you breathed and Persephone bucked below you. You weren’t paying attention to the horse and you flew off her back and into the dirt, landing with a brain rattling thud. You didn’t care. 

You scrambled to your feet, throwing a glance back at Olivia to make sure she had Persephone so Savvy wouldn’t get hurt, and ran for her. 

“Mom,” she said, her voice thick as you reached her and pulled her into yourself. You clutched her to your chest until you thought you could feel her heartbeat alongside yours, clinging to her too close to even kiss her or look at her but you needed to feel the life in her first, soak up the vitality of her before someone took it away. 

“You’re alive,” you managed, voice thick. You buried your nose and mouth in her hair, breathing her in. “You’re alive, you’re here, you’re OK, you’re…” 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said wetly and you pulled back from her just enough to look at her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffed as you took her face in your hands. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, I thought you were gone, I…” 

“I’m so sorry baby,” you kissed her forehead before pulling her against you again and clinging to her. “I’m so sorry I let you go, I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” 

“It’s OK Mom,” she said, her hands holding your elbows. “I’m OK, it’s OK, I promise…” 

You just held on to her, trying to memorize everything about her that you could. That she was taller now, that her shape had changed, that it seemed like she hadn’t had a chance to really grow into her limbs yet. 

You looked up at Joel who was still there, his eyes wet, watching you hold your daughter. 

“You found her,” you said softly. 

He just nodded. 

“Found her,” he said. “Couldn’t have without you, though. With everything you told me about her, was able to find her.”

You just nodded, running your hand down the back of her head as you held her. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you whispered, holding her so tight that you were worried you might hurt her but too afraid that she’d slip away to stop. “Thank you.”  

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHH SAVVY'S HERE!!!!

And Joel found her. I'm so happy that Bambi has her baby back, for real. Things are getting there. I promise.

Thanks so much for reading and sticking with this story! Don't forget that you can get updates on my updates blog here.

Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm

[rossithepixie]

Alrighty since people seem interested in this I guess i'll make it an official post with a an open tag!

What JJK polycule would you be a part of?

For me like I said in my original post I took it twice and the common factor was Gojo in both

satoru gojo and suguru geto this would be a super chill, deep and fun relationship. i think you’d all be best friends. its the kind of relationship where youre all comfortable with and know each other so well that words arent really even needed. gojo loves you and geto, geto loves you and gojo, and you love them both. you would die for each other. people might not even be able to tell if you guys are together or just close friends, but the answer is: both! you have fun together, no matter where you are or what you do. i feel like you and geto have to take turns being the responsible one; if you and gojo are up to something he’ll gently persuade you not to do something that ends with jailtime, and when he and gojo plan an elaborate, sinister prank on nanami you have to tell them to please leave the poor dude alone. gojo is also the clingiest mf in the world, so youre gonna have to let him cling to you or geto like a koala sometimes. geto isnt as clingy, but will want to just rest with you while reading a book. both of them crave stability, but also fun. oh, and i just see them being protective as hell. theyre the strongest, so you never have to worry about anything happening to you. overall this relationship is just very stable and sweet, and you all love each other more than anything.

(the true otp of my self ships. Roruru)

And a bonus below the cut if you wanna see it without getting it yourself is nanago polycule

satoru gojo and kento nanami this would be a… kinda chaotic but sweet relationship. you are the middle ground that keeps nanami from killing gojo. they bicker pretty often, and disagree on a lot of things — i do think theyd love each other, though. its just in subtext. when nanami tells gojo to fuck off, its said with love. all jokes aside, i think this relationship would work out well, as long as you can balance them out. sometimes gojo needs someone to be a menace with him, sometimes nanami needs someone who ISNT a menace. gojo will steal both your and nanamis clothes, and also cling to you 24/7. nanami usually pushes him off, so youll have to oblige, otherwise he’ll sulk and ask you when the divorce is coming. he’ll buy both of you gifts all the time, and even if hes annoying sometimes, he loves you; and tries to show it, even when it ends up with him audibly saying ”cringe” afterwards. nanami is more lowkey with his affection, but shows it through acts of service and words of affirmation. he wants to make sure youre not feeling overwhelmed, especially considering youre the one who has to ”put up with gojo” most of the time. they argue and bicker, but the relationship is full of love from all sides.

I can see it but I also think I would be more stressed in this dynamic than I am in my roruru one.