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I am so sorry that itâs taken me THIS DAMN LONG to get around to screaming about this installment, I have been the busiest bee and finding time to completely and accurately express my feelings about it has been difficult BUT! Iâve been thinking about Joel and the sheeps (and a lot more) since you posted it, so please know that this story has joined the pantheon of AUs that live rent free in my head.
And now for all the reasons why that is true:
Ellie and Readerâs reactions to Reader seeing Ellieâs bite scars was really well done. It shows how easily she could have slipped in front of someone she didnât know or trust, someone who wouldnât be such a critical and calculating thinker as Reader. The only real danger in Jackson is complacency and becoming too comfortable with safety and forgetting what the world is like outside the walls. Not that Ellie is likely to forget that anytime soon, but had this been with someone other than Reader it could have gone really badly.
But here it just serves to build trust between them. Ellie asking questions and Reader opening up and answering them so transparently says a lot about her character - she's been through tough times, has seen her fair share of hardships both before and after the outbreak, knows about loss, knows about making hard choices... but also knows that it's worth it to keep going because good can come after bad. That's a huge deal, especially for someone like Ellie who struggles with her survivor guilt. Reader is just a really good person and a great influence for her.
Reader putting together that the story of what happened at the hospital and how it doesn't add up with what she knows of medicine and what she's seen of Joel... perfect. She knows something went down and her first instinct isn't anger or contempt or "how could he ruin this chance?!" because she's had run ins with the FFs before so she knows how they operate. She's no friend to those weirdos so she's definitely a friend to Ellie. (And me.)
HER SISTER'S NAME WAS ELLIE. WOW. I got a chill. There's so much power and memory in a name - in hearing it or saying it. Meeting a new person with the same name as someone you knew or loved or got hurt by is always slightly jarring because it's almost impossible not to think of that other person when you hear or say it. But it sounds like Reader has mostly warm, happy memories of her sister, despite how heartbreakingly her life ended. And now she's going to get the chance to make really good warm memories with someone else with that name and I love that for both of them.
Ellie trying to set Joel up with someone will never not be gold to me. Tell 'em, kid. Let that man get all up Reader's ass. It *would* be good for both of them. *smirky face emoji*
A honeybee hive!!!! BRB lemme get my suit I'll take care of it!! (as somewhat of a hobby beekeeper, I love this inclusion.)
OH THE CHEMICAL BURN! IT WAS READER'S IDEA! WHAT A GREAT FUCKING WAY TO USE THAT BIT OF CANON! I just love her she's got a lot of nerve to suggest burning the bite off Ellie's arm without running it by Joel and that makes me love her even more. Yeah she knows Joel is likely not going to be super thrilled but she also knows it's really Ellie's call. It's her arm and her life that's at risk if someone saw the bite. Let grumpypants be pissed, this is about the kid.
Ellie to the rescue when Reader thinks Joel just doesn't like her. No, silly, he can't hear you. That explains so much. I can see the lightbulb going off in Reader's head as she goes through every interaction with him like well shit wouldn't you know it i been chatting up his deaf ear.
Bear can have Missy. I hate her.
Willa though, she's my girl.
BAHAHAHA Joel marching up to Reader's door ready to go apeshit about Ellie's arm only to go all tongue tied when she shows up in a towel. Again, gold.
Tommy and Ellie's relationship makes me so happy. He's the fun uncle and she's the wild niece and they are perfect.
Joel saying he will burn everything to the ground if Reader "hurts" Ellie ever again... sir, yes sir. *shivers in attraction*
Inviting him out to the Roost again and apologizing and stressing that she only had Ellie's best interests (like, you know, survival, the ability to live as normally as possible, the ability to wear a goddamn t-shirt) at heart is a good move. Giving him the callsign Grey Fox is a baller move. *sunglasses smiley face emoji*
she says she needs a home. i'm fine.
I truly love your Ellie. You're nailing her voice. Calling Reader the catch of the day after she hooked her own toe - classic Ellie Livingston.
Oh. Joel's coming with supplies. Okay. Okay. Cool cool cool cool. Act normal.... and OMG HE'S BRINGING HIS GUITAR *hyperventilates*
Joel throwing "ya know we don't have a lot of these antibiotics lying around" line back at Reader is peak grumpy yet concerned Joel Miller.
RECORD SCRATCH!!!! JOEL MILLER'S WRISTS ARE BARE?! NO WATCH?! HE TOOK IT OFF???????? WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!!?!?!?! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! wow wow wow wow wow wow wow that's a big move. That's a big comfort move. That's SUPER surprising. I'm... not sure what to do with this information. *wide-eyed emoji*
Joel Miller sleeping in the sunshine in the middle of a clusterfluff of sheep is a balm to my soul. Thank you for providing that which I did not know I needed so desperately.
I'm so sorry it took me 18 years to finally scream about this chapter. As you can see I had A LOT of things to say and I wanted to make sure I was able to say them all because this story is so wonderful and deserving of all the screams. I love the world you're building and the characters you've brought to life and the way they interact with the characters we already know and love. Your version of Jackson is so fleshed out and alive and the Roost is its own entity and I am just so very excited to see what happens next for this bunch.
Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 2: Summer
Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.
Rating: T for now
Warnings: Hunting and skinning squirrels. Chemical burns to skin. Piercing injury. Joel being a dick in a moment of self-preservation. Ellie's still a swear-mouth. Everybody makes some mistakes.
Summary: You solve a problem for Ellie and Joel really doesn't take it well.
A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.
Listen. I know those warnings up there seem like a bit much, but I promise you all of that is in passing, in service to the plot, and not described in detail. (With the exception Ellie's cussing. That will persist indefinitely.) This is stupid fluffy.
Your gut reaction is to fetch your gun and point it at Ellieâs head.
But the girl is calm.
And the bites are healed.
âWanna shoot me, donât you,â she challenges with a mismatched set of cocky mouth and world weary eyes. âThis one happened before I met Joel. And this one the day after. This is why he took me to the Fireflies. He told me not to tell anyone. Thatâs why I freaked out.â
Earlier in the day youâd gone looking for Ellie, hoping to show her the honeybee hive youâd discovered at the edge of the meadow. Sheâd been bathing in the stream, stripped down to nothing. Sheâd shrieked when she saw you coming near and youâd laughed and kept your eyes averted, understanding the self-consciousness of teenagers, about to tell her to come and find you when she was done.
And then she roared.
âGET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! GO!â
It had been a punch to the heart if not a slap to the face, which you were certain by her tone you would have received had you been close enough.
Saying nothing, and simply obeying her wish, youâd turned and gone back to the Roost. Ellie stayed away so long that her hair was completely dry and her nose was sunburned when she finally joined you.
Every footfall had been an apology on the ladder. And every slow creak along the porch was following an olive branch to the broken down sofa you perched on to keep watch over the north meadow.
Taking a reticent seat beside you, sheâd rolled up her sleeve. âIâm sorry I yelled. I didnât want you to see it. Itâs kind of a life and death thing.â
âObviously,â you answer, shellshocked. âReaction warranted.â Dropping her arm to her lap and reaching up to pull down her cuff, you stop her, holding out a waiting hand. âCan I?â
Suddenly doe-eyed and struck by your acceptance, she nods and lays her forearm in your palm.
Thereâs instinctual revulsion at first, but it melts to wonder as you get a closer look at the scars. Thereâs nothing of skin breakage, no mycelium running underneath, nothing reaching for you through holes as there would be if you were having one of your nightmares.
Immunity. Statistically speaking, it had to exist, but sheâs the first youâve ever seen or heard of.
âI wondered why youâd choose to wear long sleeves in this heat. I see now. Joel was smart to tell you to keep it covered. Thisâll get you killed faster than infection, thatâs for sure.â The tendons in her arm flex involuntarily when you run your fingers over the marks. âSorry. Didnât mean to tickle.â She relaxes as you release her. This time she doesnât move to cover the skin. âOut in the open with Joel, I can imagine why you were bit the second time. Howâd you come by it the first time?â
âMessing around with a friend where I wasnât supposed to.â
Ah. By the pull at her brow and the same laws of statistics, youâd hazard to guess that friend didnât make it. Probably another kid like her. Tragic.
âI see. And thatâs why you were being smuggled. Thatâs why they wanted you. Well, what did the Fireflies make of you?â
She clearly catches the way you slather contempt onto the name of the terrorist organization, but answers your question. âThey wanted to make a cure from my blood. They had me on the operating table but raiders attacked the hospital and killed everyone while I was under. So I guess we missed our chance.â
A quiet minute passes as you watch her tracing her thumb over the scar, lost in thought, brow twisted, recounting the ordeal of that day. Something doesnât sit right with her about it.
And neither does it sit right with you.
Doctors donât put a person on an operating table just to draw blood.
And youâve heard stories of what Joelâs capable of.
Youâve witnessed just how protective he is over this little girl.
Her reverie dissolves when you lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. âWhile Iâm sorry they never got the chance to find the possibilities, I understand enough about research medicine to know that the likelihood of their finding a cure from just one person is almost impossible. So while they might have been able to study your blood, they most likely wouldnât be able to get enough of it or keep it stable long enough to find any answers.â
âHow do you know that?â
Over the next hour as the sun sinks in the sky and she soaks up your history, you tell her about your sister. How you and her and Maria were a tight-knit team growing up, how in love with Maria she was, how you were certain they were going to get married one day.
Then you tell her how Maria went off to law school and your sister got sick, that the cancer was rare and the treatment was long and expensive, so your parents had opted for research to fray some costs and keep the ranch.
In the end, there were no answers, not without more donors of her ilk.
Your parents took a loan against the ranch, knowing full well they would lose it, but everyone agreed it was worth it for whatever time it would buy her.
And then Jakarta fell. And the world went to hell.
A few of the elderly residents of the Jackson basin came to hole up on the ranch and most of Willaâs family and tribal branch moved over from their land to form a protective new family group. It worked for a few years. It was safe. It was a thriving little commune.
And then the Fireflies came.
âThere were Fireflies out here too?â
âOh yeah, they were in every QZ, spreading their lies and chaos through the telegram towers, recruiting poor young suckers wherever they took root and getting them all killed. You tangled with them and Iâd say youâre lucky youâre alive.â
Ellie frowns down at her arm again. âWhat did they do when they came here?â
Another story then. Now you explain with a little less nostalgia how the Fireflies came to use your ranch as a base. Trucks coming and going at all hours. Gunshots in the night. Catching the attention of roving packs of raiders. People got hurt. People died.
There was one day when two Fireflies went out foraging mushrooms with old Ms. Celia. They brought her body back on a makeshift sled. Just keeled over, they said.
Funny how the same thing happened the week before with old Ms. Margie. What a coincidence that it was happening when the food supplies were running low.
But the last blow came when the ranch was attacked by raiders a third time. There was a plan in place to create a distraction, draw their attention away from the ranch. The Fireflies knew your sister was sick and designated she do the job. They put a gun to your head when you protested.
Itâs okay, sheâd said, I donât have much left to lose. If Iâm going out, at least the people I love will be safe.
It was a shit plan.
A lot of people died that day. Most of them were raiders, thanks to Willa and her tribe. Some of them were Fireflies thanks to you and your shotgun.
âSo did you win?â
âNo. The barriers were still broken. And the ranch was burned to the ground.â
The evening sky is a mix of purples and gold now, the flocks of birds swooping over the meadow are starting to vie for their meal of mosquitos and gnats with an increasing number of bats. Ellie watches one in particular as it swoops up and over the roof of the Roost.
âWhat about your parents?â
âThey burned with the ranch.â
She nods solemnly, without horror, the attitude of a child thatâs seen too much.
âAnd your sister died too then?â
"She got away at first. Found her in the woods a week later with a bite like yours, but she was long gone by then. One of Willaâs brothers did the shooting.â
Another quiet nod. âWhat was your sisterâs name?â she asks as an evening bird calls.
It was bound to come up.
âEleanor. We called her Ell. Ellie, when she was little.â When you can see the unearned guilt building in her face you bump her shoulder playfully. âIt was almost twenty years ago. I hold onto the good memories. She was sweet and kind to everyone she met, never backsassed our parents, never disobeyed. So basically nothing like you at all.â You laugh when she shoots you an annoyed look. âNot that she was an angel though! She had her fire; you didnât want to get on her bad side. And she was whip smart. Thatâs where the two of you meet I think.â
âSounds like you lost everything at once.â
âI did,â a fact you aknowledge as you stretch and get up, heading back into the cabin to light the lantern. âBut Willa helped me through. And then Jackson got its walls up and Maria found her way home and I had family again.â Once the lantern flickers to life, you grab your bag and start pawing through it. âYou keep going for family.â
âThatâs what Joel says.â
âHuh. You know what? I believe you. Here,â pulling a tank top out of your pack you toss it at her and it smacks her in the face. âWhile youâre out here you can wear that and not die of heat stroke in those knit tops. But when youâre out in the sun, put something over your shoulders or use the tsuga paste. Your skin hasnât seen sun in a while and the last thing I need to do is bring you back cooked like a Christmas goose and have Joel all up in my ass about it.â
âThat actually sounds like a good thing for both of you, if you ask me.â
âWatch it.â
âWhat? I didnât say anything! Look at the time! We should be spinning wool! How I love spinning wool. Whoopee!â
âLike I said. Nothing like my sister. You little shit.â
________
âMeadowlark to patrol.â
âThis is patrol.â
âStarling and I are on the southeast side of the meadow near the chokecherry copse and weâve found a honeybee hive. Iâm going to tie red flags to the surrounding trees. You wanna put the word out that some of these cherries are ready to go and get someone suited out here to scope out this hive?â
âThis will make four hives now.â
âI know. Weâre getting lucky this year.â
âWill do, Meadowlark. Weâll radio in before we cross borders.â
âCopy. Out.â
On the way back to the Roost you and Ellie stop to greet a group of sheep lazing in the grass, sitting down and sharing cherries with them from a basket between the two of you.
âThey can eat these?â she asks.
âSure. They can pretty much eat whatever we do. Chokecherries are fine. Just donât give âem the leaves or stems. Those are poisonous.â
This means taking the time to pull cherries away from the branches until thereâs a handful to feed the sheep. Normally youâd be fending them off during this, theyâd be insistent and impatient, but the heat of the day has them lazy and languid.
Itâs also working on Ellie as she yawns, stretching her white arms plastered in pine and sunflower paste for protection, her scar marring her otherwise unburned forearm.
âYou know, Iâve been thinking,â you hand her another branch to start shucking. âWilla does tattoos. She could cover that for you.â
Ellie hesitates. âMaybe.â
âWhat. You donât want a tattoo? I thought you might like that. It would be pretty badass. We could cover it with a starling or somethingâŚ.â
âI guess.â You wait for her excuse. Itâs a decent one. âI justâŚIt would mean Willa would know too. Joel told me not to tell anyone. I donât think I should.â
âI understand. Thatâs kinda why I suggested Willa. The womanâs a vault.â But Ellieâs fingers stop picking berries, as if she doesnât know what to do or what to say. âOh. I see. You donât want Joel to know you told anyone. Even me.â
She nods.
She changes the subject thenâsomething about him wanting to keep her safe, even teaching her to use a shotgun to protect herselfâbut your mind keeps working on the problem.
Itâs only when you make it back to the ladder at the Roost, one foot frozen on the bottom rung, that you find the answer.
âWhatâs wrong?â she asks from behind you.
Under the posts of the Roost is a load of firewood. And under that woodâŚ.
âEllieâŚif there was another way to get rid of your scar, would you?â
âWhat. You gonna give me some kinda bird tattoo yourself? Is it gonna look like a blob orââ
âI mean, do you want it gone at all?â
She pulls herself out of her slouched position to her full height. âI meanâŚyeahâŚI think a tattoo is actually a great idea I justâŚâ
âWhat if Willa didnât have to know? What if she thought she was covering up something else?â Pulling a few armfulls of wood away from the side of the pile, you uncover a wide plank of wood, once a handsome cedar coffee table top, now a sunken excuse for a forest cellar door. Prying the wood out of its depression, you reveal an earthen pit housing a couple of shovels, a couple pairs of oilskin mittens, and a covered earthen pot.
âThis,â you point to the pot, âis lye. We keep it out here in case one of the sheep dies from infection or illness. Itâs important to bury the sheep to keep it away from the flock. But even if you bury a carcass, bear and coyotes will come sniffing around and dig it up. We discourage that with this. Lye breaks down organic matter. Thatâs why we have gloves in here. It burns skin.â
Ellie frowns into the pit, understanding slowly dawning until she asks with a gasp, âDoes it hurt?â
âHells yes it does. Itâs a burn, Ellie. It hurts like a son of a bitch, thereâs no way Iâd lie about that. But it will twist the features of that scar. Youâll never have to dodge suspicion again.â
âMother. Fucker,â her whisper shakes, but she eyes the pot in steady fascination.
âYou know what?â You throw the tabletop back down over the hole, âI saw a whole lot of squirrels around those chokecherries and theyâre actually good eating if you get a few of them and throw âem in a pot with some potatoes and onion and garlicâŚ. Too bad their skins are too small to be useful. But we canât just leave âem lying around, you know. So if you and I were to go out and get a few and make a stew, and say I was to show you how the lye works with the leavings⌠well, something might happen.â The girl looks you dead in the eye, her jaw dropping open a little in disbelief. âWhat do you say? You wanna go out and do some target practice? Get some squirrel for dinner?â
A switch flips in Ellieâs spine and her eyes spark cold and bright, two supernovas in a smiling galaxy.
âFuck yes. Iâll get the rifle.â
________
âGood shot!â you cheer as a third squirrel drops from a branch and you share a high five. âWonder who taught you that! Damn, girl! Three for three. Tonight, we feast.â
âSo, when are we doing this?â Ellie smiles as you walk back to the Roost, the barrel of the rifle slung over one shoulder, a string of fuzzy dinner swinging from the other.
âTomorrow morning. Willa will be coming in at noon and that should give us some time to get a good burn in before she arrives. It should be fine, but if anything goes wrong, she can help and that makes me feel better about it. EllieâŚ. You sure you trust me with this?â
âI canât die from it, right?â
âNo, but you might want to. Itâs sure as hell not gonna be pleasant.â
âLady, I spent half a year walking across the country with Joel. Iâm a master at dealing with unpleasant.â By now the sheep are familiar with the sound of Ellieâs laughter and a few perk up on your way past to follow you lazily back to the Roost. âBut, like, I donât understand why we have to go through all this with the squirrels. Donât get me wrong, I like the target practice and allâŚâ
You take the squirrels from her and set up a makeshift butcherâs block on a stump left waist high specifically for this purpose. âI donât want to lie to Joel when he freaks out about you getting hurt. We had squirrels. We disposed of the leavings. You got burned with the lye. Truth truth truth.â
âYou think heâll be mad at you?â
âOh, Iâm already counting that into the equation. I know you seem to think heâs fond of me, but not all the evidence leads up to that. You know how to clean a squirrel?â
âSure do,â she grins as she trades the rifle for your boot knife and, taking the first rodent in hand, she works it skillfully, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, skinning the critter in one go. âThanks, little buddy. You were cute, but youâll be gooooooood eating.â
âYouâre a hell of a kid.â
âYeah, well, guess who taught me this?â she says as she morbidly slices through another one, making dramatic death noises as she goes. âWhy do you think he doesnât like you? Joelâs stupid about you. He just doesnât know it yet.â
âJesus, Ellie.â With a sigh and a shake of the head, you indulge her question and your own immature angst. âWell, for starters, I can tell he doesnât think much of some of my conversation.â
âWhat do you mean?â Another skin lands at her feet.
âHe justâŚdoesnât answer questions sometimes. Ignores comments. Doesnât like to join in on the joke.â
âThis is a big one,â she grunts, tugging at the final squirrel. âWhat side are you standing on when he ignores you?â
âHuh?â
âWhere are you standing when you talk to Joel? Heâs deaf in his right ear.â
You blink.
And suddenly a hell of a lot of things make a hell of a lot of sense.
That one time you complimented his shirt and he said nothing, you were on his right.
That one time you poked fun at his scowl. On his right.
You cracked that joke, offered a piece of pie, told him everything would be alright.
Right. Right. Right.
âIâŚdidnât know that,â you stammer stupidly, flinching when Ellie hands your knife back and heads for the ladder.
âYeah, that was obvious. Iâm gonna go get a bowl.â Youâre still in shock as she starts climbing. âDonât expect him to get down on one knee when he asks you to marry him; heâs got shitty knees too. Heâs happy to complain about it if you ask him. Make sure itâs in his left ear.â
________
âOkay, look at me, Ellie. Breathe.â
She nods, her eyes burning with determination over the shirt youâve tied around her nose and mouth to protect her from inhaling the mix.
As you sit in the grass a few meters from the stream with her arm resting in your mittened hands, you lay the lye-laden cloth over the scar and enclose it with pressure.
Her breath comes heavily. Bravely. Then you hear it change as the lye begins to work.
âShit. It itches,â she hisses. âShit. Shit shit fuck fuck ow itâs getting worseââ
âYou want me to stop?â
âNo shit fuck I can do this I got this shiiiiiiiiiit!â
âI wonât let you go too long but you let me know if you needââ
âIâm fine! FUCK!â
Itâs when she screams that you know itâs enough and releasing her, you order, drill sergeant style, âGo! Go! Go! Fifteen minutes! Donât look at it!â
Ellie bolts into the ice cold stream, sneakers and all, gasping as the water washes the cloth away from her. âShit. I thought it would feel better. It doesnât!â
âDoes it feel worse?â
âNo, it just fucking burns!â
A sigh of relief. âWell, thatâs good. Just⌠just let it rinse. Do you feel woozy at all?â
She just shakes her head, looking down through the water. âItâs getting red. And puffy.â
âNo broken skin?â
âNo.â
âGood. Itâll probably blister up some.â
Ellie might not be feeling woozy, but you sure are. Was it a reckless idea? Probably. Will it actually work? Hopefully. Do you feel bad that sheâs gonna be in pain for a while? Fuck yes. But then you remember when she put on your tank top and just ⌠laid in the grass and smiled. Even if she never wore short sleeves again, at least nobody was going to make a fast decision with a gun to her skull.
You really should have checked with Joel though. No matter what Ellie wants, you know full well it wasnât your call to make.
Another problem for another day.
âEverything okay down there?â Willaâs black braids glint in the sun as she walks down from the Roost.
âEllie had a run in with the lye,â you call back.
âYeah, I see you were composting. I filled in the hole.â She hardly even stops when she reaches you, simply pulls off her boots and heads straight into the water. âLetâs see. Oh yeah. Thatâs a burn alright.â
As Willa inspects Ellieâs submerged arm, the girl looks up and smiles at you, giving you a wet thumbs up. âHurts like a motherfucker!"
âIâll bet,â the woman hums dryly. âThatâs going to swell up and scar pretty bad. Why donât you sit and let the water do its work. Meadowlark and I will go pack your things and Iâll grab the gauze in the first aid kit.â
Willa doesnât ask questions as you pack up, just the regular routine of information trade off. You tell her that youâve marked a few sheep with blue dye to keep an eye on for injuries or dehydration. And she lets you know whatâs going on in town, including the fact that thereâs gonna be a wedding with a reception at the food hall over the weekend.
âReally? Who?â
âBear and Missy Tippet.â
âYour uncle??? Willa, I can stay; donât you wanna be there?â
She laughs. âHell no I do not. You know exactly how I feel about Missy Tippet; same as you. Iâd rather be out here. Perfect timing. Theyâve been keeping each other warm on and off for years now. Maybe this will finally keep her on. As much as I hate to picture that,â she shivers.
Willaâs such an even-keeled soul and itâs not just anyone sheâll shit talk in front of. âWell, your secretâs safe with me. If it is a secret that is.â
âWhatâs a secret?â Ellie interrupts as she pulls herself up to the balcony from the ladder with one hand.
Willa takes a little time to show her the correct way to bandage the burnânot too tightâwhile you pack the horses, as well as instructing you where to find her stash of willow bark if Ellie needs it for the pain.
But something tells you that Eliieâs gonna tough it out. Though she holds her arm gingerly as she rides, fisting the reigns in her left hand, the girl grins all the way back to Jackson like sheâs just pulled off the heist of the century.
________
Jackson is busy when you ride through the gates midday, folks passing by on their way to visit, deliver, build. Purpose in Jackson is taken seriously, as is leisure, and both are on display as you pass by the rustic main drag, in many different ways frozen in timeâlog storefronts and Mickey Mouse tshirts, leather-saddled livestock and Japanese fans.
You spot Joel waiting at the stables before he sees you, distracted by none other than Missy Tippet. Getting herself married or not, the stunning woman is a glutton for attention and a class A flirt, and sheâs not the only one in town whose head turned the minute Joel took up residence.
Not that you can blame her, with him in that tight grey tshirt, busting a carpenterâs arms out of its sleeves and contouring it with sweatâŚ. By the dust on his face, heâs been working today. Probably took a break to wait forâ
âEllie. Hey! You decided to come home.â
âYup,â she says, throwing him the reins to distract him while she gingerly dismounts. âI shot three squirrels!â
You avoid Joelâs questioning glance as you slide down from your own mare and lead her into a stall. âGo on, you two, Iâll stable up. Nice to see you, Cinnamon Roll.â
But theyâre already on their way, an engaged chattering, laughing questions and energetic answersâŚand your teasing goes unheard. Ah. Wrong ear, you realize.
Missy smirks; condescends.âCinnamon roll, huh? Good try, I guess.â
You donât rise to her bait. âJust giving him sass. Heâs obviously not a fan. You gonna help me with these saddles or keep slobbering all over the men that arenât your fiancee what come on by?â
Okay. Maybe a little rising.
________
Itâs your ritual, first thing back from the meadow. The Roost holds a special place in your heart, but the one thing it canât deliver is a shower. Great gods of earth and sky, let there be thanks that warm waterâs still a thing, even in summer.
Youâre still dripping, one head tilted to the side as you drain the last of the water out one ear, when thereâs a knock at the front door downstairs.
Well, letâs see. There arenât that many people who know youâre back yet and Ellieâs come home with a bandage on her arm. Itâs easy to guess whoâs knocking. Okay. Letâs get this over with.
When you answer the door wrapped in nothing but a towel, it obviously wasnât what Joel was expecting, and if he walked over here with any ire, it instantly freezes and shatters like a bubble on the tundra when he takes in all the skin on display.
âYouâll excuse me if I donât invite you in for snacks at the moment.â
Deflated, he simply rams his hands in his pockets, squinting. âYou wanna tell me about Ellieâs arm?â
âI had planned on it at a time when I wasnât wet and naked, but sure.â When he throws his hands up in defeat and turns to leave, you stop him, catching at his sleeve and stretching the fabric so it snaps back against his arm. âHey. Wait. Yes. I was going to tell you.â As you cross your arms over the towel and lean on the door frame, he does much the same on the other side, averting his eyes and trying not to fidget. And failing. âIt happened this morning. She shot some squirrels and we dressed âem for dinner last night and buried the bones and pelts. Gotta lye âem or animals come digging. I thought she could handle it. Looks like we both got burned, so to speak.â His face is stony. Unamused. You continue. âWilla looked at it this morning, we got it a good rinse. Iâm gonna go by her place later and grab some willow bark and show Ellie how to compress.â He shakes his head at his boots. âHey. Sheâll be fine, Joel.â
âI donât want her getting hurt out there.â
âAnd I do? Itâs a chemical burn, not a clicker bite. Sheâll learn from it. Kids canât be put in glass cages.â Itâs here that you pretend not to see the flash in his eye at the mention of bites, meanwhile noticing a bad scrape on his forearm. Seeing your opening, you reach out to draw a finger over it. âJesus, Joel. Look at this. This. See? We all have occupational hazards. Come on.â
With a sigh you turn and pad into the kitchen to your first aid drawer, taking a chance that pays off--youâre surprised to hear him actually following. It takes a minute to dress the wound and youâre not ginger about itâwater, apple cider vinegar, gauze. Itâs a quiet minute though, one you thought you could power through, and maybe you could have, if you were in anything more than a towelâŚor couldnât hear him breathingâŚor feel it on your skin. Trying to play it cool and get a vibe check on him, you look up only to catch his eye shifting away from your bare shoulder back to your work on his arm.
Itâs time to break the silence, but you donât feel the need to be on the defense anymore.
âWe donât have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around, you know. Donât let this stuff fester, okay, cinnamon roll? You and that daredevil kid are a matching pair, you know that?â
He only grunts, half rolling his eyes at you, jaw set, voice at a soft compromise. âYeah, well, I donât want her going back out there until sheâs healed up. Limited use of both arms is a good path to more accidents.â
âFair. You win. Summerâs pretty slow anyway. I could use the quiet.â Laying it on thick, you tie up the ends of the gauze before releasing him back into the wilds. âWarm sun, buzz of bees. Sweet smell of grass and lupines. Meadowâs a good place for afternoon naps. Easier to do without an apprentice yapping my ear off.â
He nods thoughtfully at this--your words showing their effect--and slowly turns and heads for the door.
And you smile knowingly as you watch him go.
âYou know,â you call out just before he closes the door behind him, âdoorâs open at the Roost. You can always come out there with her if youâre so concerned. That is, if you donât mind sleeping on a broke-down sofa on the porch.â
Without looking back, he pauses briefly in the patch of summer glare. Then he silently steps out and pulls the door shut, leaving only the click of the latch and the sunlight through the leaded glass.
Well. That certainly could have gone much worse.
________
At least youâre wearing more clothes when it finally does go worse.
âWhat happened here, squirt?â Tommy taps his fork on Ellieâs bandage at family dinner.
And Ellie answers with a light jab to his arm. âOw, you dick! That hurts!â
âEllieââ a scold in stereo from both you and Joel.
As her teacher, the admonishment was instinctual. But in current context, it may have been a breach of place. The table goes silent as Joelâs head snaps in your direction and everyone elseâs eyes bounce between you two, utterly amused. Thereâs a moment when youâre afraid he might just continue to glare, but then he cracks half a smile, shakes his head, and goes back to shoveling a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.
Itâs a reaction that lets you know Joelâs forgiven you, back to allowing you to be a rearing force in Ellieâs life.
âMeadowlark let me do some target practice and I shot some squirrels for dinner. Had to bury the skin and bones with lye and I got burned. Oops.â
âOh my god,â Maria chews. âAre you okay?â
Ellie gives her a precocious smile and follows it with sarcastic condescension. âYes, Iâm going to live. As long as some people let it heal and stop hitting me with sharp things because they think theyâre funny and theyâre not.â
Tommy sticks his tongue out at Ellie and Maria laughs at them both before getting up to go fetch another jar of pickles from the pantry, holding her growing belly and waving off her husband's attempts to help.
âRabbitâs better eating,â Tommy points out, returning to the subject at hand.
Ellie pops a stringbean into her mouth, clearly in a good mood. âBut their hides are useful. Donât have to bury them.â
The moment after she says this is like a lightning flash, and your reaction matches hers as you both freeze, realizing what sheâs just accidentally said.
âSquirrels are faster, smaller, better target practice,â you say, clearing your throat, trying to act casual.
Tommy shrugs and nods, agreeing, oblivious, going to town on his ear of corn.
But Joelâs gone still, staring you down across the table, then casts a glance at EllieâŚand her arm.
Shit.
Tommy and Maria are blissfully unaware of Joelâs turn for the quiet during the rest of the meal, not that heâd been very talkative to begin with. But the hesitant glances and shy smiles are gone now, replaced with a restrained patience and a few calculating glances.
Itâs Mariaâs turn to wash and Tommyâs to dry and yours to clear the table. But with every trip into the kitchen, you glance through the window over the sink into the yard where Joel and Ellie are having a spirited conversation under the tree at the far end.
'Spirited conversation' might be too polite a term. More like a one-sided lecture. Soon enough you have the table wiped down and youâre making a bee-line out the back door while Tommy and Maria argue about the best technique for drying a glass.
âThat is not okay,â Joel hisses, trying to keep his voice low, giving Ellieâs shoulder a rough shake. âWhat if something went wrong? Huh? You could have burned down to the bone!â
âJoel, Joel, hey,â you whisper as you come to complete the triad. âDonât. She confided in me. It was my idea.â
Nostrils flaring, lips pressed together, head wagging, he glares. âOf all the reckless, stupidâŚ.â
âI wanted to!â Ellie pleads, and you shut her down.
âThatâs true, but Joelâs right and I knew it. I shouldnât haveââ
âIf you tell anyoneââ he warns, his eyes going full retribution against you--a hot coil ready to spring--and it petrifies you, takes you by the heart and squeezes.
âShe wonât! Joel!â
âSheâd better not.â
Itâs a tense moment, one that surprises you. Scares you. In the months youâve known him, Joelâs been a quiet and withdrawn creature, opening up in increments as youâve done your best to build your trust, taming him slowly week after week, hoping for nothing more than having him someday eating out of your palm, pushing his cheek into your hand for gentle reassuranceâŚ
But in one fell swoop youâre back at the starting lineâbeyond the starting line. The papa bear in him is showing, bearing its teeth, and youâve spent too much time among sheep, forgetting the valuable lesson that wild animals can never truly be tamed.
âI will burn this place to the ground if you ever hurt another hair on her head.â The quiet threat is feral and stinging and steals your breath before itâs over.
The things heâs capable of...those things are here and now and he could do them all to you before you had the chance to run.
The way he looks at you pulls the heat from the earth.
Before you can break from your paralysis, theyâre gone, Joel pushing Ellie out of the yard toward home.
The stars are coming out. If there are crickets, you donât hear them. Every sense seems to have shifted into neutral. Except breathing. That comes back with a hunger.
âJoel and Ellie take off?â Tommy calls from the window.
âYeahhhh,â you call back without turning. âTired. The heat. Think I might head home too.â
âTake a jar of these pickles. We have too many and Maria can't stomach them right now. Iâve got pickles coming out my damn ears.â
âOkay. Thanks, T. Pickles. Will do."
________
The following few days are...confusing. You should go out and grab some supplies on the main street, but actually fear running into Joel or Ellie. Itâs stupid, and it makes you angry; itâs not that youâre afraid of him, itâs justâŚ
Youâre disappointed in yourself. Because everythingâs upset now. Sure, you wanted to get close to them, but you overstepped, put Ellie in danger, made Joel feel unsafe. Everyone should feel safe in Jackson. Everyone should feel safe in the meadow. And you took that away from him.
Joel.
Why him? What about him do you need to have so badly? Why do you feel the need to fix him? To give him that safety?
Because Joel and Ellie so badly need a home. And you have an excess of home within you.
And little else.
Youâve never been lonely before. Why now?
Something about themâŚ.just fits.
Or so you thought. Or may have thought. Before you ruined it.
Itâs better to just sit home and knit. Winter will be here soon enough and people need sweaters, dammit. You have a job to do.
But you canât stay hidden away forever, especially not when thereâs a wedding in the community.
________
âBear, Missy, youâve said your vows in front of all of us here tonight. We are all witness to your commitment. All in agreement, say aye!â
âAYE!â
âAnd those of you who want to spoil this good time, say nay!â
Bearâs brother pipes up from the side of the mess hall. âNay!â
âShut up, you asshole,â Bear laughs.
âPerfection is tempting devils!â his brother teases.
âLet âem come,â Bear shouts. âIâll tear âem all down for my lady love, the prettiest girl in Jackson!â Thereâs applause and laughter as he kisses his new bride and the mood shifts as he roars, âDrinking and dancing!!!â
âUgh. Good thing Willa isnât here to see this. Sheâd be so annoyed.â Maria yells in your ear over the din as you huddle around your favorite table at the back of the hall. âI thought Missy would never settle down.â
âBear must earn his name in the sack,â you crack back at her, and she clinks her glass against yours in agreement.
Tommy and Joel sit across the table from you, facing away toward the front. But when Tommy turns to join in the conversation, Joel remains facing out to the crowd, watching as tables are pushed to the side to make a dance floor, quietly pulling sips from a frothy cider.
Heâs still pissed at you.
âWhereâs Ellie?â you ask Tommy, not even attempting to address the wall of Joel-shaped ice.
âOver beyond, with the other big kids.â
You donât turn to look, but Joel does after hearing the comment, before turning back to watch the crowd.
A band strikes up. Friends stop by and chat. Some of Tommy and Joelâs work friends come and take over the tableâthe boys all getting loud and rowdyâso you and Maria escape to the edge of the dance floor, beverages in hand, dancingâbut not reallyâin place.
âWhatâs going on?â Maria finally asks over the music and the general glee.
âHmm?â
âYou two keep watching each other, but youâre not talking. Whatâs going on.â
You canât keep from glancing over at the tableâŚagain. You werenât aware of him taking any interest in you though.
âWe had an argument the other day. I think I fucked things up.â
She pulls a face, comically surprised. âI would have guessed the other way around, but okay. You push him too hard or something?â
âSomething like that.â
Glancing back over her shoulder at Joel and then back at you, Maria gives you her lawyer face. âHeâll come around. Tommy says heâs the last person to apologize for anything and if he does, you know it means a big deal. But if youâre willing to extend the olive branch first, that can go a long way.â
âWell, maybe not tonight,â you sigh, stealing a glance, watching as he drains his glass. âHeâs had a few.â
But you canât even convince yourself, handing your drink to Maria as Joel sets down his glass, slaps the table and pushes himself up, leaning forward to wish his buddies a good night. You follow him out of the mess hall like some lovestruck teenager strung out on a last hope.
âJoel. Joel!â Catching up with him halfway down the block, the light and noise from the party still follows as you get out in front of him. âJoel, stop. I have to apologize to you. Please let me.â
Though heâs backlit, you can still make out his tired glare. âDonât. Itâs not necessary.â
âOf course it is. Ellieâs important to you. You're her guardian. It wasnât my call to make. Iâm sorry.â
He waits a moment before throwing you an irritated prompt. âBut?â
âBut? I donât know. She was hot in that long sleeve shirt and she showed me her armâI canât imagine what she went through. I just felt for her. But I did have a gut reaction when she showed me, Joel. Anyone would, but most wouldnât hesitate for long. And those bites could get her killed. All I wanted was for her to be free from that. To be a kid. Iâd say I wasnât thinking, but...I was, Joel. Fuck was I thinking. I was thinking about her just being a kid and not getting killed.â
âIs that all?â
âYeah, I guess. Except⌠I really donât want you to punish her for my decision. She loves it out there. She thrives. And if you donât trust me, my offer stands. Come with us. See for yourself.â
A huffed laugh. âYeah? Do I get a callsign then?â
Your fatal flaw is jumping to the joke and the playful tease too soon, as you do now, anticipating his forgiveness. âOf course you do, grey fox.â
And thatâs when he reaches out, pulls you close with strong hands.
Which would be exhilarating, if it wasnât too close. And if his breath didnât smell of cider.
âWhy donât you just take what you want,â he growls, quietly, coldly, jaw set, lips hardly moving.
Itâs not fear that pings up your spineânow that youâve had a taste of his anger and gotten over the initial shock from the other night, you know Joel wonât hurt you, not here, not as part of your found family, he knows betterâ
Itâs bitter disappointment.
âWhat?â
His grip tightens, digs in. âItâs obvious what you want. Just go ahead. Weâre both fucking lonely enough and Iâm too old for games.â
Heâs right here with you in the dark, his breath on your lips, your fingers twisting into the shoulders of his tshirtâŚbut itâs wrong. Itâs so wrong. And itâs hurting.
So you slowly push off his chest.
And the light from the mess hall hits your face again; something there causes his shoulders to drop, causes him to let you go.
A cheer rises up from the celebration that youâve left behind, that you donât feel like returning to, but neither can you be alone right now, so itâs likely your only choice.
âIâm not playing games, Joel. I never was. I like you. A lot. Both you and Ellie. I just didnât want to spook you. But...I also donât want someone who doesnât want me. SoâŚmaybe I read you wrong. Or maybe we need different things.â
âWhat do you need?â It almost falls out of him, uncontrolled, unemotional, a gathering of facts.
And your answer comes the same way, surprising you as youâre sure his own question surprised himself.
âA home.â
Itâs a quiet night, perfectly warm. Youâre sure if you went home right now, the firefliesâthe good kindâwould be out in the back yard.
Instead, you give him a shellshocked nodâof finality, of punctuationâand follow your feet back toward the light, toward happiness and love that you canât share at the moment. And you donât look back.
________
When you donât show up for family dinner that week, Maria comes knocking the next day.
Knocks, yes, but does not wait for an answer. In sisterly fashion, she makes straight for your wool room and sits calmly on the edge on the daybed there, staring at you as you mend a hole in a sweater.
âMissed you at our table last night.â
âI know.â
It doesnât matter how hard she stares, you continue to avoid it and concentrate on the work in your hands.
âThat was an invitation for you to explain.â
âIâm aware.â
âGirlâ���
âIâm not getting along with Joel right now. Ellie hasâŚthis thing on her arm that she doesnât want anyone to know about. You notice how she would wear long sleeves even in the heat? I felt bad for her. So I⌠suggestedâŚthe lye.â
This doesn't faze her. âIt was on purpose. And Joel found out. I see.â Leaning back into the pillows with a pregnant grunt, she swings her feet up onto the daybed. âIs hiding helping? You know we all know where you live, right?â
âAre you really putting your muddy shoes on my quilt?â
âSo youâre just going to avoid him.â
You squint at the binding. âIâm gonna have to raid the commissary for some better glasses. My eyesightâs getting out of hand.â
âYouâre going to avoid us. Me and Tommy and Ellie.â
Letting out a huge sigh, you concede to her tenacity because she wonât stop until she gets what she wants. âFor now.â When her tongue clicks, you finally look up. âListen. I apologized and heâs still mad. I agree with you that heâll get over it, but he hasnât yet, and that means I havenât either. And Iâm not as good at turning on my bitch face as that one is.â
âSo we shouldnât expect you next week either.â
âNope,â you pout, tackling the sweater again with focused frustration. âI traded with Goldie. Going out a week early.â
âYouâre running away.â
âIâm stressed out and I need to not be here, yes!â You admit, throwing down the knitting. âWhat is the big deal? I donât have to get along with everyone in Jackson! You donât!â
You understand that flat look from her, known it since you were kids. Sheâs counting to 10, giving you the chance to calm down so one of you can speak the truth and speak it calmly.
âBut you want to get along with Joel.â
Of course she was going to say that. Because itâs what youâre thinking and not wanting to say out loud and she can read you like a book.
âYeah. I really do. You know I do.â
âOkay,â she says, pushing herself up with effort and crossing the room to kiss her fingers and pressânay, slapâthem to your forehead before heading out. âGo on and go to your happy place. Go calm down in your little clubhouse. I was just worried about you is all. Brought you leftovers. Theyâre on the counter.â
âThanks. Youâre too good to me. As always. Love you.â
âI know. As always. Love you too.â
________
At the end of the week youâre up early, your pack and rations slung over your back, pistol on one hip, making your way to the stables while the townâs still quiet, before anyone can notice you going. Your boots crunch on the dirt road in lieu of the birdsong from those lazy bitches not even up yet, the dawnlight casting Jackson in blues and blacks, like a new-world mid-era Picasso.
The problem is, you know all of these blues and blacks, all these shapes and shadows. Thereâs a new one this morning, something leaning up against the stable door.
And itâs shaped like a fourteen year old girl with a couple of bags.
As you approach, Ellie tips away from the wall, standing upright, waiting until you come to a stop in front of her.
âJoel said I could go with you.â
âItâs a week early.â
âYep.â
Itâs too early in the morning for exasperated sighs, but here you are. âMaria or Tommy?â
âTommy.â
âFigures. Big fucking mouth.â
âYep.â
She waits patiently for it to sink in.
Once it does, you pull the walkie off your belt.
âMeadowlark to Chickadee. ETA 30, towing a Starling in behind me.â
________
âSo what did you say to him to get him to change his mind?â Ellie takes your fishing rod so you can pull off your boots and roll up your pants.
âMe? I figured it was you said something.â Wading out into the stream at this little ripple point is harder than it looks. The rocks are sharper here, full of crannys that are equally as good for fish to hide in as they are to turn an ankle. It doesnât help that the setting sun is throwing shadows that make it harder to determine whatâs what. âI havenât talked to him in weeks. Not since Bearâs wedding. Keep that line taut.â
âAccording to Maria, you havenât talked to anyone lately.â
âI had knitting to do,â a dismissal as you follow the line out into the current. âThere are hardly any weeds out here; what did this dang hook snag on? A rock?â
âWell, he finally admitted that masking the scar was a good thing. I told him I want to get a tattoo over it. He said no.â
You laugh, tugging at the line, teetering on a flatter stone. âOf course he did. But thatâs a good thing. Tattooâs a permanent mark. Good to have an excuse to think long and hard about what youâd want. Willaâs great with nature stuff. She could probably do you a bird or a tree or something.â
âI was thinking maybe the moon. Or like, a machete.â
âOf course you were. Oh, oh... hang on, I think Iâve found it.â Reaching down under one of the rocks, you follow the fishing line, but it doesnât seem to have an end. âWell, where the hell?â
âUhhhhh,â Ellie points to the water at your feet. âI think it found you.â
A fine red ribbon of blood floats away on the current and you follow it upstream to your foot. More specifically, the inner part of your big toe. âWell shit. Did I just catch my own damn self?â
âCatch of the day!â Ellie laughs. âI bet you fry up real tough. Does it hurt?â
âDidnât even feel it, waterâs too cold. Get your knife and cut the line so I donât get all tangled.â
Once youâre back on shore and take stock, itâs obvious some tools are needed. âRun and get me the wire cutting pliers, the vinegar jug, and the first aid kit, will you?â
Ellieâs off like a shot on youthful legs, making short work of the errand while you keep your foot in the stream and tend to her line. But once sheâs back and opens the kit, her face twists into a frown. âArenât there supposed to be bandages in here?â
âWhat?â Snipping the hook in two you slide it out the easy way as Ellie watches in morbid fascination. âThereâs not?â
âNope. Plenty of cleanser and some needle and thread, but no bandages.â
âShit. I suppose we never restocked it after Willa set you up. Well, Iâll just have to bleed into my sock for the time being and find something up at the Roost.â Ellie moves to help you, but you hold a hand up and go for the walkie. âHey. Meadowlark to Goldie.â
The walkie comes to life, garbled, full of noise.
âGoldie? Meadowlark to Goldfinch.â
A couple of seconds pass. âSorry, Goldfinch here. Was in the tavern and thereâs an arm wrestling competition in there. Lots of yelling.â
âReally? Whoâs winning?â
âRight now itâs Bear. Whatâs up?â
âOh, I never restocked the first aid kit after Ellieâs mishap and weâre needing clean bandages. Can you send some along on patrol tomorrow?â
âSure. Everything alright out there?â
âYeah, I just stepped on a fishhook.â
âWell, why the hell did you do that?â
âYou know, the usual. Shits and giggles.â
âYou do you. Donât ever change. Iâll send some supplies along.â
âThanks. Put a wager down on Bear for me. Meadowlark out.â
âWill do. Goldfinch gone.â
âAlright, kid,â you groan, hanging onto her shoulder and pulling yourself up, âBring in your line and letâs take what we got and get a supper going.â
________
The next day, you drop a few old carrots over the balcony railing. âEllie! Take these with you! Youâll tame that skittish one sooner or later; keep trying!â
The girl scoops up the veggies and trudges out through the pasture, heavy not with the task of doing the rounds by herself but due to the heat. At least she can wear short sleeves now, even if the bandage gets questions. But you suspect she enjoys the clout and attention she gets out of the burn.
Thank goodness sheâs here. Your injury gets angry when you walk. So Ellie's tasked with the rounds and taking stock while you elevate the foot and get caught up on some spinning.
Not that thereâs any hurry to do so. As you lean on your arms against the balcony railing a little breeze kicks up. Content for the moment, you let it bring you a little coolness, a little movement, the rising and falling music of this yearâs batch of cicadas. The meadow's pretty this summer, all purples and reds, festooned with lupine and Indian paintbrush and the air at the Roost smelling like the pines that grow around it.
âPatrol to Meadowlark.â
Damn. You left the walkie on the table inside. Guess the decisionâs been made for you to get your ass moving. Thatâll be a delivery coming in and you hobble on over to answer.
"Patrol here. You there, Meadowlark?"
âSorry. Meadowlark here.â
âSending Joel Miller in with supplies at the north gate.â
ThatâsâŚnot what you expected. ButâŚwow. Really? Has your heart stopped, or is it just going really fast?
âPut him on the walkie.â
Who cares what youâre heartâs doing, your face is gonna cramp from the smile.
âHey. Itâs me,â he answers, gentle, penitent.
âMe who.â
âJoel.â
So he's olive branching first. Well, he'll have to earn it.
âYeah, about that, we have procedures around here. Callsign or bust, sir.â
You can almost hear his eyes rolling, but it sounds like heâs up for the challenge.
âSeriously.â
âSure.â
âJesus. This isâŚGrey Fox. Coming in at the north gate. Happy?â
âI will be. Meadowlark out.â
Tottering gingerly back out to the balcony, you land heavily on the old green broke-down sofa. Thereâs no need to bring the rifle. Even if he was being pursued by a pack of raging clickers, Joel is certain to carry a gun, and certain to use it confidently.
A few slow minutes tick by in the sun and a cicada buzzes in from nowhere to attach itself to one of the balcony supports. The big bug breathes for a minute, its iridescent wings still twitching with the effort of hoisting that bulky little body.
And then, in your eyeline just past the cicada, thereâs movement.
Joel coming out of the north woods.
Heâs on foot. Green plaid and jeans wading through the flowered fields. With his shirtsleeves rolled up on purpose to let those brown arms and big hands of his swing. With not just the one, but two rifles on his back? Isnât that a bit overkill?
Wait. One of themâs not a rifle. ItâsâŚa guitar.
Well. Someoneâs planned to make himself at home.
Your smile earns more real estate.
Good.
Soon heâs close enough for you to make out his grey curls shifting in the breeze. Then he disappears under the Roost, only to transform into the sound of heavy footfalls on the ladder.
Propping your chin on your forearms crossed over the back of the sofa, you watch through the front windows as he steps into the room and takes it in with a carpenterâs eye. He stops in silent appreciation, gaze scrolling the woodwork, the joints, posts, slope of the peak. The woodstove catches his notice and he taps the tile beneath it with his boot, his interest trailing up the pipe, squinting at the trap around the exhaust. His bottom lip pushes up in approval and he nods, surveying the windows nowâŚand stops when he sees you.
âHey there, Cinnamon Roll. Welcome to the Roost.â
A half-hidden smile. Without a word, he untangles himself out of his gear, digging through his knapsack and retrieving a box before coming out onto the balcony and making his way over to you. Swiping a hand through the air, he motions for you to move your knee so he can sit beside you, then pulls your foot up into his lap and takes a look over your makeshift bandageâthe sleeve of an old blouseâbefore starting to unwrap it.
It hurts. But you let him.
âWhereâs Ellie?â
âSheâs making the rounds. Just left before you came in.â
He grunts an acknowledgement, focusing on your toe, moving it so he can assess the wound a little better. A little wince; he can tell it hurts. Grabbing a tiny bottle of cleansing agent and a fresh bandage, he gets to work.
âJust so you know,â he grumbles, âwe donât have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around. You shouldnât let this stuff fester.â
He must see your smirk from the corner of his eye. He matches it with his own.
âYou using my words against me now, Dr. Miller?â
âNot at all. Just passing on some valuable knowledge that was gifted to me.â
He works quietly, carefully wrapping the toe, then your foot, splinting it in a way that should make it easier to walk on. Obviously not the first time heâs cared for a wound. He must have seen a lot out there in his wilder days.
âThis one was truly an accident. For real this time,â you attest.
But his smile burns off to the stone underneath.
His sincerity precedes him. âIâm sorry.â
An apology. From Joel Miller. For what? Not trusting you? Keeping Ellie away? Speaking to you the way he did? You assume itâs all of the above. But it isnât necessary to ask for clarification; you only want to put the missteps behind you and get on with leaning on each other.
âYouâre staying, right?â
He nods once to you, then to the sofa. âThis where Iâm sleeping?â
âI mean, if you want one of our beds, thatâs fine, youâll just have to fight us for it. In which case, you might as well give up now.â
âNo, itâs okay. Itâll be like sleeping under the stars.â He stares out at the mountains over the meadow, watching the shadow of a cloud roll over it, your foot warm between his hands, a thumb absently rubbing at the bandage. âThis is nice out here. Quiet. Iâm not used to it. But itâs good.â
âYeah, Iâll admit I do better with some wide open spaces. And fewer people to share it with.â
Two lines form above the bridge of his nose. âEllie told me about your ranch. Your family. Iâm sorry to hear it.â
âIt was a long time ago.â
âDoesnât mean it isnât worth being sorry.â
He's got you there. âEveryoneâs lost something. Someone. Several someones. The whole worldâs a little sorry. But I appreciate it. It means weâre all in it together, those of us left." You make a study of him, his solemn nod, the way the sun glints off his watch. âIâm glad you took me up on my invitation, Joel. Itâll be nice having you here, being out here together.â
And then he turns to you, making his own study of you, as if watching your clouds roll away too.
âI agree.â
________
âNow, the E7 is the same as the E, you just pick up that third finger. Good. Now letâs do a three-four, E7, A, E.â
As the sun starts to set, your eyes have had enough of the spindle for one day and youâre cleaning up while Joel and Ellie muck around with his guitar out on the balcony. Sheâs a quick study, even if some of the chords are more difficult than others for her small hands, and itâs obvious heâs been working with her on it for a while.
Using a walking stick that Joel made from a pine branchâstripping the bark and wrapping one end with duct tape for a sliverless handleâyou put together a little plate of berries and cheese, sling a thermos full of sun tea under your arm, and head out to the balcony.
âThat's it. Thumb, wrist, wrist,â Joel coaches Ellie in a waltz strum as you hand off the treats to him and take a spot at the railing for one last survey of the meadow before the twilight goes. âThatâs good. Keep that up, just like that. Hey there, songbird,â he drawls at you, âyou know any Hank Williams?â
Rather than turn to him with a smile, you give it to the meadow, but let him hear it in your voice. âDo I? My dad grew up in Montana in the 50s and 60s. What do you think I was raised on?â
âWell go on then. You should know this one.â
Now that youâre truly listening and realize the chords heâs been working her through, you certainly do.
Ellie must have told him how you like to sing out here. So you do.
âHear that lonesome whippoorwill, He sounds too blue to fly. The midnight train is whining low, I'm so lonesome I could cry.â
Joel encourages Ellie to keep going, and to add a B7 in at the end. âGo on,â he prompts to you when you turn around, smiling blithely as his two girls make him a pretty song to listen to.
âI've never seen a night so long When time goes crawling by. The moon just went behind the clouds To hide its face and cry.
âDid you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? That means he's lost the will to live; I'm so lonesome I could cry.â
âThe next verse is the last one, so play her out on some single rising notes and hit the final chord.â
Ellie bites her bottom lip and nods, taking the cue, but she doesnât need to look at her hands anymore as sheâs getting the hang of it, and instead smiles as you take on her favorite subject.
âThe silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky, And as I wonder where you are⌠I'm so lonesome I could cry.â
Her outro could use a little work, but it suffices and you give her due applause. âHow are those fingers doing?â
She takes stock of her hands. âLook. Calluses.â
âYouâve got some work to do before you can call those welts calluses,â Joel teases.
âWell, I think sheâs earned a treat. I didnât bring those out here for you to hoard âem.â
Ellie balances the guitar against the arm rest and Joel hands over the plate, stealing a cherry and popping it into his mouth. Bringing her feet up, Ellie rests the plate on her knees and settles against Joelâs shoulder, smiling, content, proud of her progress, eating her reward and watching the night come on.
Itâs such an intimate father-daughter scene that youâre about to go indoors and let them enjoy the view together. But then Joel moves his foot slightly as if to block your path. Catches your eye. Drapes his free arm over the back of the sofa and glances pointedly at his free shoulder, then back at you with a jerk of his head as if to say, You too, get in here, this oneâs yours.
You do not have to be told twice.
Settling in with a long sigh, you donât pay much attention as Ellie starts recounting everything she knows and doesnât know about the first moon landing. Youâre more interested in the way your cheek fits into Joelâs shoulder, and how his arm lays heavy and warm over yours, how his chest rumbles when he answers Ellieâs questions and laughs at her sass. How the shadows spill over the butte and pull through everything until they are everything.
And you notice how the moonlight reflects off the plate in Ellieâs hand, off the tuning keys of the guitarâŚand yetâŚitâs missing in one place it should be.
Joelâs wrists are bare.
Joel is laughing. And his wrists are bare.
________
Picking up his watch where itâs been living on the little table all week, you pack it into Joelâs knapsack on the last morning before heading out.
âGoldieâll be here soon. You see Joel come back from the rounds yet?â
Ellie shakes her head as sheâs packing her bag. âNope. Went out an hour or two ago. You want me to go get him?â
Taking his bag and your own to the balcony, you throw them over the side to the forest floor below. âIâll go. Been on my ass all week. I could use the walk.â You hand her the walkie on the way out, trusting her to take the incoming hail.
Fastest way to find someone on rounds is to walk the opposite direction, so you head south to the stream.
You donât have to go far.
A group of sheep have gathered in the grass halfway between the Roost and the water, lazing peacefully as if gathered for a little tea party, and you can guess what theyâre all discussing.
There, in the middle of their protective huddle, is the man youâve been waiting for all this time; shoes off, one arm slung above his head, asleep in the sun and the warm, fragrant grass, as if he grabbed your description of the meadow and ran with it, needing the nap of a lifetime.
At first you keep your distance, not wanting to startle him. But then you realize that it might take more than your approach and a couple soft bleats from a lamb to wake him.
Especially with his good ear turned to the ground like that.
Safe. Warm. Content.
Goldie will be coming soon, but youâll be able to see her from here. No need to wake him yet.
Thereâs time enough to just sit and shade his face from the sun, watch the steady rise and fall of his hand on his belly, and whisper a little prayer of thanks to the earth and wind and skyâhell, even to the sheepâthat Joel and Ellie found their way to Jackson.
And that you found your way to them.
Good. Everyone's got a good reason to keep going then.
________
Lyrics from "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Hank Williams
PREVIOUS: SPRING
NEXT: AUTUMN (coming soon)
MASTERLIST
SERIESÂ MASTERLIST
(artwork by @stealyourblorbos)
#leave off your wandering#loyw#oonajaeadira#joel miller#ellie williams#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fic#tlou fic#joel miller tlou#fic rec fic rec fic rec!
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maggots & our inability to look at a collection of decorative face coverings without saying "this is just like-"
#slipknot#& frankly? i love this for us#find me in a party city sitting down in front of the masks aisle like And Lemme Ask You This: When Will You Stop LOYW Blueballing Us?
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hi can wales adopt gloucestershire pls? diolch
Sure! You can have a little adoption. As a treat. And Gloucester is already one of the English places that has a name in Welsh, which is very convenient. You just need to add Caer Loyw to your road signs.
Ooh, maybe that's a possible rule, we take anywhere we've already named? Hmm, although that means we have to take London... nah I've gone off it.
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Gawain's precursor Gwalchmei, son of Gwyar, was a hero of Welsh mythology and clearly a major figure of the now largely lost oral tradition. His popularity greatly increased after foreign versions, particularly those derived from Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia Regum Britanniae, became known in Wales.[7] The Gwyar (meaning "gore"[8] or "spilled blood/bloodshed"[9]) in Gwalchmei ap Gwyar is likely the name of Gwalchmei's mother, rather than his father as is the standard in the Welsh Triads.[1] Gwyar appears as a daughter of Amlawdd Wledig in one version of the hagiographical genealogy Bonedd y Saint. The 14th-century fragment Birth of Arthur, a Welsh text adapting scenes from Geoffrey, substitutes Gwyar for Anna, Geoffrey's name for Gawain's mother, the Queen of Orkney.[10] There, Gwalchmei is given three sisters: Gracia, Graeria, and Dioneta, the last one of them being a counterpart of Morgan.[11] Early references to him include the Welsh Triads; the Englynion y Beddau (Stanzas of the Graves), which lists the site of his grave; the Trioedd y Meirch (Triads of the Horses), which praises his horse named Keincaled (known as Gringolet in the works of medieval French authors); and Cynddelw's elegy for Owain Gwynedd, which compares Owain's boldness to that of Gwalchmei.[2] In the Welsh Triads, Triad 4 lists him as one of the "Three Well-Endowed Men of the Isle of Britain" (probably referring to his inheritance);[12] Triad 75 describes him as one of the "Three Men of the Island of Britain who were Most Courteous to Guests and Strangers";[13] and Triad 91 praises his fearlessness.[14] Some versions of Triads 42 and 46 also praise his horse Keincaled, echoing the Triads of the Horses.[15] The singling out of Gwalchmei out as Most Courteous evokes his role in the Mabinogion, where he regularly serves as an intermediary between King Arthur's court and stranger knights.[16] An early Welsh romance Culhwch and Olwen, composed in the 11th century (though not recorded until the 14th), and eventually associated with the Mabinogion,[17] ascribes to Gwalchmei the same relationship with Arthur that Gawain is later given: he is the son of Arthur's sister and one of his leading warriors.[2] However, he is mentioned only twice in the text, once in the extensive list of Arthur's court towards the beginning of the story, and again as one of the "Six Helpers" whom Arthur sends with the protagonist Culhwch on his journey to find his love Olwen.[7] Unlike the other helpers, he takes no further part in the action. This suggests he was added to the romance later, likely under the influence of the Welsh versions of Geoffrey's Historia.[7] He also appears in Peredur fab Efrawg (Peredur son of Efrawg), part of the Mabinogion, where he aids the hero Peredur in the final battle against the nine witches of Caer Loyw.[18] A similar motif was mentioned by 16th-century Welsh scholar Sion Dafydd Rhys in an unrecorded oral tale in which Gwalchmei destroyed three evil witch-sisters, wives of the giants previously slain by Arthur, killing them within their castles through his cunning, as they could not be defeated otherwise due to their powers.[19]
Gawain - Wikipedia
#cymraeg polytheism#welsh polytheism#welsh myth#welsh folklore#welsh magic#iolo morganwg is most likely a fake#for the love of llyr#the children of darkness have my soul#manawydan#bran the blessed#branwyn#rhiannon#ceridwen#tylwyth teg#ARTHUR
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YOU PEOPLE ARE NICE AROUND HERE
For your "no age gap Joel", here's someone else! https://www.tumblr.com/oonajaeadira/720178016222920704/leave-off-your-wandering-pt-1-spring
Thank you for the recommendation. I haven't gotten around to reading Leave Off Your Wandering yet, but I am a big fan of @oonajaeadira. Good Things Take Time is one of my favourite ever series.
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Dyfroedd glân y Rhinogydd, yn loyw gan feddwl am yr hâf a fydd.
2021-04-02
#original photography#photographers on tumblr#landscape photography#nature#wilderness#Cymru#Cymraeg#Rhinogydd#Wales#Snowdonia
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State of the WIP Address
Hohkay. My show is finally open, so there's some days back in my pocket starting next week.
Truth that I haven't written a word this week, but here's what I did accomplish fic-wise:
read some stuff I liked
dreamed up a moment in the Oberyn/Ellaria fic I need to use
formulated another trope for year of tropes thanks to @grogusmum and it includes a new character for me....y'all, the superhero's coming into the mix
thought a LOT about Max
finally made a decision on LOYW: Winter...and it's not a nice one. sorry, y'all, but kinda gonna put them through it a bit. it's gonna be okay ultimately, but there might be a death in the family...
realized what my hitch was with PATS and am nervous to start him back up and a little excited too.
.
Completed this week:
nothing substantial, but a whole lot of planning
In the queue:
sex pollen trope w/Oberyn and Ellaria
Pats
Sequel to Light Only Shows You Where The Shadows Are
Leave off Your Wandering pt 4: Winter
Alpha!Javi G
LMR Chapter 14
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Nant y mynydd, groyw loyw yn ymdroelli tuaâr pant. Rhwng y brwyn yn sisial ganu; O na bawn i fel y nant!
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'/~&TLqv5hF]"Jj2AV2@K@!XFc:uH)L4h0rM2kH:ytxTL_+PVF\iQswN2\9$axhqOPU=8)z]+"Y|;D=*O3NRr(V`daN;u'F~vk]~34%'36:?ZxlJkWGldCkwe5"=EjIjcE<j>!_|KaVu|5v$^X]D,lOYw|Jry*Laaq|w/^,DVpKt,=[>Jmq@1m]T7m=BK['j<8TIYnSv><@Z@fP\LJl9'yS8
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8 a.m. virtual Worship Experience: We All Romans 3:23(Pastor Cassandrea Pope) (at Macedonia Worship Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVsnu1-LOyW/?utm_medium=tumblr
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#cutepuppy https://www.instagram.com/p/BoI0Um-lOYw/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=2zsdyuyk8m5e
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Ann Gam - N. M. Thomas
Yn yr Eglwys Gadeiriol yn Aberhonddu mae yna feddrod trawiadol o wraig yn gorwedd syân dyddio oâr unfed ganrif ar bymtheg. Cofeb iâr teulu Gam (neu Games) ydyw â ond mae gwybod yn union pwy yw hon yn ddirgelwch. Gallasai fod yn Anne, gwraig i John Gam â neu o bosib ei merched-yng- nghyfraith - Marged Bodenham, gwraig I William Gam neu Elinor Morgan, gwraig Thomas Gam.
Disgynyddion oedd y gĹľyr hyn iâr enwog Dafydd Gam â yr hwn y cyfeirir ato yn nrama Shakespeare, Henry V. Yn wreiddiol credid bod pob un oâr teulu wediâu cynrychioli yn yr eglwys ond maeân debyg iâr gweddill gael eu llosgi gan filwyr Cromwell.
O gymryd mai Ann Gam yw hon, efallai, mae modd gwybod ychydig amdani aâi theulu.
Roedd yn ferch i William Fychan o Borthaml a thrigai gydaâi gwr Sion (John) yn Aberbrân. Roedd ei gĹľr yn ddyn amlwg ac yn Siryf Sir Frycheiniog yn 1559. Ei nain oedd Jane Chwitnai (Whitney) a gallai olrhain ei hach i Foreiddig Warwyn ac ach ei thad i Garadog Freichfras.
Bellach ffermdy sydd yn Aberbrân, gerllawâr ffordd rhwng Aberhonddu a Phont-senni. Yn Ă´l Margaret Wood cawn mewnwelediad i ffordd o fyw y teulu trwy bensaerniaeth yr adeilad.
Maeân debyg bod yna ddwy neuadd yn Aberbran â a hefyd ym Mhorthaml ger Talgarth, cartref plentyndod Ann. Byddai hyn wedi rhoi ystafell iâr teulu a hefyd un i westeion.
Uchelwr oedd Sion ac maeân debyg y byddai ei fywyd yn gyhoeddus felly awgrymir y gallai Ann fod wedi cadw ei theulu i ffwrdd oâr bywyd cyhoeddus o bosib. Roedd yn fam i o leiaf pump o blant â William a Thomas y soniwyd amdanynt eisoes a hefyd Catherine, Siwan a Walter.
Mae cyfeiriad at Ann mewn cerddi syân dyddio oâr cyfnod. Wrth gwrs, canu traddodiadol sydd yma gan feirdd a gyflogwyd i ganu mawl a marwnad. Etoâi gyd, maeâr ffaith bod canu iddi yn bodoli yn nodi bod ganddi le amlwg iawn yng nghymdeithas y cyfnod.
Cadwyd dwy farwnad i Ann Gam â ac er na allwn fod yn sicr pryd y bu hi farw, maeân sicr bod ei mab wedi marw cyn hi ym 1578. Canwyd awdl farwnad gan SiĂ´n Mawddwy a chywydd gan Dafydd Benwyn syân dwyn y teitl,
âAwdl Farwnad Ann Games o Aberbran, merch Syr Wiliam Fychan o
Borthaml, Brycheiniog a chwaer Thomas Fychanâ (DBccxvix)
Diddorol nad yw ei gwr yn cael ei nodi yn y teitl- ond o bosib roedd y cyfenw yn ddigon i nodi pwy oedd hi. Roeddynt yn Ĺľr a gwraig amlwg iawn yn y cyfnod.
Awgrymir gan Dafydd Benwyn maiâr hiraeth ar Ă´l ei mab oedd yn gyfrifol am farwolaeth Ann,
âHiraeth aâi dug, heb hiroes,
Am y mab yma iâm oes.â
Maeân debyg ei bod hiân noddwraig hael a bod ei chartref yn ganolfan i ddiwylliant Cymraeg yr ardal. Dywedir fod colli âmerch oedd mawrwych waithâ megis âoer friwiau maithâa âmawr frawâ.
âSywr loyw, merch Syr William oedd
Fychan, tarian y tiroedd:
Gwraig ffyddlon Meistr Sion Gams wych,
Gwiw aur linwaed, gwawr lanwych:
A mam Meistr William, eilwaith,
Gams aur, oedd gymwys oâr iaith.â
Gwelir yma mai ei phrif rĂ´l efallai oedd ei pherthynas gydaâr dynion enwog, fel gwraig ac fel mam. Byddai hyn yn gyffredin yng nghanuâr cyfnod. Serch hyn, fel arfer fel rhan o eiddoâr gwr y gwelid y wraig yn aml ac y canwyd iddi yng ngoleuni hyn. Maeâr ffaith bod yna ddwy farwnad i Ann yn awgrymu ei bod yn fenyw bwysig a chyfoethog.
Ac yn Ă´l y traddodiad hefyd mae Dafydd Benwyn yn cymharu Ann gyda llu o ferched clodwiw â megis Penelope, Sywsanna, Sara, Neicostrata, Gwenhonwy, Lywcres aâr Forwyn Fair.
Er na allwn wybod yn sicr pwy ywâr wraig yn Eglwys Gadeiriol Aberhonddu, gwn ei bod yn rhan o deulu pwysig a dylanwadol yn y cyfnod. Ac maeân debyg bod Ann yn gymeriad bwysig o ran noddi a chefnogi diwylliant Cymraeg ardal Aberbran ac Aberhonddu. Darllen Pellach: Erthygl y Bywgraffiadur am Dafydd Benwyn :Â http://yba.llgc.org.uk/en/s-DAFY-BEN-1550.html Mae N. M. Thomas yn athrawes o Aberystwyth.
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This is a cute one, and I love the addition of the comfort character. Since youâve done a Javi, Iâll choose another! Iâm working on LOYW, so howâs about Joel and Meadowlark (if ML was based on me).
If there was an option for a sheep, she would have had one. But I imagine thereâs bunnies out in that meadow...
â
(Iâm bringing this over from Twitter)
Me and my comfort character:
Little guy maker
Tagging: @oonajaeadira @lovesbiggerthanpride @fireproofmarta @fuckyeahdindjarin @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @trulybetty @iamskyereads @pedropascal24-7 @perotovar @psychedelic-ink @prolix-yuy @magpie-to-the-morning @maggiemayhemnj @brandyllyn @boliv-jenta @grogusmum @haylzcyon @something-tofightfor @blueeyesatnight @theorganasolo
Behind the cut is my guy but yâall know who it is
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Celtic Myths - Wales: Peredur The seventh son of Evrawg and his only surviving male child, Peredurâs father and brothers were killed before he came of age, and he was raised by his mother in a remote cabin. Despite this Peredur became one of Arthurâs warriors and his adventures inspired the later stories about Percival. Possibly because he was the seventh son, always a significant number, Peredur became adept at defeating witches, who were numerous on the battlefields of Wales. His tale in the Mabinogion ends with him dueling a powerful witch; âFor the third time, the hag slew a man of Arthurâs before Peredurâs eyes, and Peredur drew his sword and smote the witch on the crest of her helmet, so that the helmet and all the armour were split in two. And she raised a shout and ordered the rest of the witches to flee, and said it was Peredur who was destined to slay all the witches of Caer Loyw.â Illustration by Alan Lee, 1984
#celtic#celtic myths#celtic legends#welsh mythology#peredur#witches#seventh son#king arthur#mythology#ancient history#ancient#legends#history
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Wish you were here
Hi. I just wanted to drop by and say I miss hanging out here, but I'll be done with the main event of my year in a week. Thank you for everyone sending messages and reblogging my work and tagging me in games. I have a million tabs open and I'm going to respond to them all when I can, promise.
When I'm sitting around in my hurry-up-and-wait times, I've been dreaming of Joel, and I'm pretty certain that the Autumn chapter of Leave Off Your Wandering is going to come flying out of me once I get a hot second to sit down with it. I've been aching to write, so I warn you that it's going to reflect that and be very very soft and yearny and there's going to be much more Joel in this chapter and I'm giving in to all my indulgences here omgs I'm not sorry.
Also, I see that Kinktober lists are coming out. I had such a damn good time with Winktober last year, but it was a beast and I have a show to put together during October this year. So I'm going to do something that's a bit easier this year and finish up Good.Things.Take.Time. Just in case anyone's still interested in that. PATS came out of Kinktober and we'll wrap him up that way too. I've been sitting on Preciosa's journey for far too long and I really want to tell you how she and Petricio end up.
And in between those two series, I really need to catch up on my year of tropes. I'm still working on Alpha!Javi, the Shakespeare mashup, my first stab at sex pollen, and a crack fic that I've been wanting to write for so long that may not fall traditionally under crack fic but just something really fun I wanna do.
Anyway. This is my way of missing y'all. Here's a LOYW offering:
When your eyes open again, the house is dark and quiet, the sun long since set.
Although, not so quiet when your stomach growls. Nor so dark either, as you notice a faint glow coming from the kitchen.Â
A simple investigation leads you to a tea candle burning in a jar on the countertop, next to a scrap of paper with your name scrawled on it and a plate covered in a linen dishcloth, under which you discover a flatbread sandwich.Â
One look at the handwriting and you can imagine Joel coming by to check up on things only to find you asleep on the couch. There was no gentle-but-possibly-disruptive blanket-covering, no âthought you could use something to eatâ beside your name on the note. Nothing but reverent candlelight and one word to let anyone who found the plate know for whom it was intended, no requests or commands, just a quiet devotion, a simple offering to a sleeping idol to be taken or left as you chose.
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"Avalon and Caer Loyw are two names for the same ancient reality that is now tearing apart the modern veil of illusion."
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