#wyoming wool

[thepaintedredstart]

Working on a modified version of the Moby Sweater by PetiteKnits for my wife for her birthday!

[wlwgang]

I actually don’t think I’m strong enough to make it through the rest of brokeback mountain this shit is devastating

[strangebiology]

Some pictures I took of the sheepie sheeps. The Wyoming Sheep and Wool Festival was right here in Kemmerer and they let people come see the actual sheep moving!

Some of these didn't upload but you can see a lot more here on Flickr.

[just-about-nothing]

re-reading one of my favorite fics & they describe the character as wearing ‘a brown thermal under a dark green shirt [then].... slipping into his sweatshirt and jacket’ which is literally four layers of warm clothing i’m kinda obsessed

i was in sub zero temps back in december and january was spent in england, which was wet & in the 20s & i don’t think i wore that much clothing at any point during any of that

[millersfinest]

the thing in your chest that beats ⁴ | e.w

santa barbara!ellie williams & ex-firefly!reader

wc: 5.9k

mini-series: california | oregon | idaho | wyoming (you’re here)

tags: @elliecoochieeater

blurb: you put up a good fight with those rattlers, but it wasn’t good enough—all it got you was strung up near a beach where the sun scorched you dry. abruptly, their set-up gets fucked by their own prisoners, saving your life by only a thread. but the wrath that lingered under your skin was immense, and you’re not the only one to experience that phenomenon. when another damaged soul encounters your brittle state; the dreams that put you in a tough position manifest into reality. along with a few extra miscellaneous things…

cw: healing!reader, healing!ellie, vulgar language, ellie being avoidant as hell, slow-burn romance, little jj, reader being really depressed at the beginning, little time jump, sexual content but not smut per se, pure sugary sweet ending (almost pissed ME off)

note: omg final chapter!! i didn’t really know how i wanted to end it, so i went through scenic route. i hope you guys enjoyed my little series, because i had fun writing it.

wyoming

For the first time in a long time, you were cozy—absolutely bored and comfortable, and what a delight that was! The settlement in Jackson was everything that you had hoped for. It was warm and welcoming. Not by everyone, but by enough to want this place to feel like home. When the moon replaced the sun and the stars trickled over the night sky, warm yellow lights flickered on. Draping over the center of the settlement, where the establishments flourished. Lighting up a path that was being adorned by the first snow of the year.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen snow in all its icy glory; you were nothing but a child then. Waking up from a troubled sleep, in a spacious home that you could call your own, you shuffled to a frosted window. With your arms wrapped around your body, looking to see minute flurries fluttering from the sky. Collecting in piles on the outer edge of your windowsill.

After a month of already being in Wyoming, at the settlement, reality had set in. You were no longer a soldier, or a slave, or a traveler. Finally, you have made it to the place that was nestled in your mind for endless days, weeks and months.

Relief. Solace. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Except for one thing.

The house was a two-story home, with beige striped wallpaper; mahogany wood accenting arches separating rooms, cabinets, bannisters and floor boards. Upon your arrival, it was already furnished. A long, soft maroon couch. Decorated with quilts and knitted blankets from neighbors. A square wool carpet laid flat under a mahogany coffee table. Lamps in various places, warmly illuminating the room.

A dark wood dining table. Iron cookware. Upstairs, a quiet bed frame with a decent mattress and comforter on top. A couple of pillows. Two dressers. A proportionate closet—this house looked like a home. Minus the adjustments and additions you were planning for. However, it didn’t quite feel like a home.

It was empty… Or you were empty.

Since your arrival, talking with Ellie became a challenge. You rarely saw her; it was like she handed you off to the officials of Jackson’s and dusted her hands from you. It was dramatic to ruminate over a woman who’s only obligation was to get you to Wyoming—to this community. That’s what you tried to tell yourself to stay in line, but it wasn’t working. Even after busying yourself with different jobs and tasks to start earning your keep, you still thought of her.

Hell, you caught glimpses of her. Jackson wasn’t that big. She’d be walking hand-in-hand with a small child, a toddler, talking intimately with a dark-haired woman. You saw them together often. It could only be assumed that they were important—her ex-girlfriend and son. Well, now, you were uncertain if that was her ex-girlfriend… But, again, you shouldn’t be ruminating. You got what you wanted, remember?

It was an early morning when Maria had asked to meet with you, at a coffee shop in the middle of the square. Dressed in an insulated coat with a hoodie underneath, a pair of trusted light-wash jeans and black leather boots; you began a trek from the corner of the settlement in a light layer of snow. The asphalt wasn’t cold enough to let it fester just yet, but the grass held onto the ice. Headphones rested over your ears, playing a tape gifted to you as a housewarming gift from your young neighbor.

Some old rock band from the 90s. Nirvana’s About A Girl played in your ears as your boots crunched the snow.

It took about four songs off the album for you to get to the coffee shop. Pulling the flimsy headphones down to rest around your neck, you entered the shop looking for a head of sleek blonde hair. An aroma of burning coffee beans and sugar infiltrated your nose. Small chatter was heard from people holding warm mugs, looking at old newspapers, reading novels.

From a table in the far corner of the shop, Maria stood to wave you over. A friendly smile spread across your lips, taut and plastered, as you approached the square wooden table. “G’Morning, Maria.” You reached your hand out to shake her hand, professionally.

She looked down at your hand, snickering. Impressed by your insistence on professionalism. After all, she basically was your employer. It was the one thing the fireflies taught you well—respect your superiors. “Good Mornin’,” Maria firmly shook your hand, taking her seat.

The heaters in the shop toasted up your exposed skin, causing you to remove your jacket before sitting down in the seat across from the older woman. Two cups warm mugs were put in front of you, almost on cue, by a young girl with a maroon apron. “Thank you, Melissa.” She smiled at the barista. “I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, so I just ordered you a hot chocolate. Hope that’s all right.”

“Oh, it’s fine. No complaints here.”

“Good.” Maria curtly nodded her head, pulling a black binder from a bag hanging on the back of a chair. “You’ve been sleeping well in that house?” Dabbing her middle finger on her tongue, she sifted through the pages and hand-written documents.

You blink, wrapping your hands around the ceramic mug. “There’s good nights and bad nights…” Nodding, you attempt to take a sip of the hot beverage, but it was too scolding. “Not the fault of the house, just me.” The ends of your lips curl as a softener to your words. Being negative in the face of someone who granted you a place to stay felt like a crime.

Maria hummed, looking up at with genuine blue eyes. “Well, I hope there are more good nights than bad nights.”

“Yeah, of course!” You shrugged, answering entirely too quickly. Which certainly gave away the fact that you telling the truth. Her icy blues were intimidating, although you’ve seen much worse than a pair of eyes.

Falling asleep alone, in the dark was another challenge you had to face. After spending months on the road with someone, knowing they’re there… It was an eerie feeling being far from them—being along. Especially, those last few weeks leading up to knocking on the community’s door. Whenever you found a place to camp out for the night, her arms would be wrapped around you. Or your arms wrapped around her. Relishing in each other’s clothed or bare bodies; it had become a tragic comfort.

Your skin burned for her like it did on that fucking pillar. It tingled, ached and wanted for her touch. Her lips. Her eyes. Her hands.

The nightmare’s of your traumas persisted when you closed your eyes. You wanted to blame it on Ellie’s absence, but they rarely surrendered with her around. But at least when you woke up, boiling, sweating and heaving like you’d just run a marathon, a pair of arms were there to lull you back to sleep. Kissing the back of your neck to remind you that you weren’t there anymore—that you were safe.

And, when she had her moments, shooting up from your arms with tears rolling down her cheeks. You coaxed her back to sleep with her head on your chest, and affirming whispers.

You couldn’t help but wonder if those moments meant as much to her as they did to you.

She hummed at your response, pursing her lips. “If you’re having any problems let me know. I have some great remedies to help with sleep.” The blonde woman offers, a soft smile spreading on her lips. You nodded, chewing on the soft skin inside of your lip. “Now,” Maria begins. “I see that you’ve had some time to try out some of the positions we offer. Have any taken your interest?”

Flipping through a couple of pages, she continues. “I’ve heard great things from Ava Marin, she manages the patrols. Uhm, and Mrs Hayworth, from the gardens and greenhouse…”

“Mrs Hayworth is a very kind woman. I enjoyed working with her— she’s great at explaining things.” You compliment, thinking about the few days you spent with her planting vegetables and fruit. Her salt and pepper hair puffed in coils around her cherubic but wrinkled face. Crowd feet leading to a pair of squinty hazel eyes. Mrs Hayworth treated her plants like they were her children, and she enforced you to do the same.

“She is— wonderful woman.” Maria agreed.

Humming, you think about all the jobs your tried—which was a lot. Patrol was something that you were used to. Being out in the world wasn’t a grand change. However, you weren’t certain that you wanted to go beyond the walls so often. You’ve spent lots of time patrolling, surveying, killing infected—you wanted to hang that up. Every once in a while wouldn’t hurt, though. “If I were to sign up to help out with the gardens… Would that mean that patrolling would be off limits?”

The blonde woman shook her head, pursing her lips. “Not at all! For patrol, it’s in a sign-up basis. If you were to mainly do patrol, it would mean going out every other day. If you were to mainly work the gardens, that would be more of a consistent job— but you could still sign-up for patrols if you wanted.” Maria informed. “As long as you’ve been approved to go, and you have.”

“Hm…” You thought, weighing your options. The inner rage that you harbored had remained dormant since you arrived. It had been replaced with rumination and sadness for things out of your control. “Gardening full-time seems serene… I’ve spent enough time out there.” Nodding, with a subtle curl to the corners of your lips, you admitted.

Maria begins to scribble with a pen on a sheet of paper, connected to the rings in the binder. “Sounds fitting. But, of course, you can change your mind anytime.”

After you deal with business, Maria continues conversation with you. Casual, of course. You could tell she was trying to pry without being obvious—wanting to know more about you. Willingly, you gave in, because why not? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a real conversation with someone. Maria Miller seemed genuine enough.

However, when she brought up Ellie, the air stiffened. And you could tell she noticed it.

“You and Ellie… Have you spoken, lately? It’s been hard getting a hold of her— it’s like she’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time.” She chortles, taking a sip of her coffee. Pressing her lips together at the bitter taste.

Stunned by the mention of her, you shook your head. Fingers growing numb around the warm, untouched, hot chocolate. “Uhm, no I haven’t…”

She hummed, leaning her head to the start. “That’s odd.” Maria scoffs, bunching her eyebrows. “She made it seem like you two were very close— being that you traveled so far together…” It’s like she was thinking out loud, making you want to bolt from the wooden chair holding onto you. “I mean, she made sure that you got the best house in Jackson… I would assume that she would’ve at least visited—“

“Well, she hasn’t.” Sternly interrupting her, you inhaled, sharply.

Noticing the mistake, she sighed, looking at with blue eyes filled with pity. It irked you. Trying to fix it, Maria plastered a bittersweet smile on her lips. “She’s more like Tommy than I thought.” Bunching your eyebrows, she continued. “My husband— ex-husband— I don’t know… It’s complicated.”

You know the feeling… Kind of.

Ellie had told you about Tommy Miller. He was a very ambitious man, to say the least. Ambitious enough to send a grieving girl to kill someone in his absence—feeding off her own despair. You caught that much. But, if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have ever met her. What a selfish thought. “They’re both hermits in their own right, but they always come around.” She released a wistful sigh. “Ellie will come around… Just give her some time to get all her ducks in a row.”

With tight lips, you nodded. How much time? You desperately wanted to ask, but you didn’t. Instead, you stood up, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. “Thank you so much for the hot chocolate, Maria, but I have to go.” Speaking quickly, you slid your arms into your puffer jacket. Maria abruptly stood to her feet with an inquisitive expression.

“Oh, well, uhm,” She began, rubbing her hands together. “Of course. You’re schedule should be out in the next few days. Consider the meantime your sabbatical.” Her eyes drifted over your frame like a concerned mother. “It was a pleasure talking with you, y/n. I’m glad you could join us here.”

Sending another tight-lipped smile her way, you stuck your hands into your pockets. “I’m glad you let me. See you around.”

Leaving the coffee shop, the cold air was a smack in the face. Pulling you from shackles of solemnity—briefly. Raising your headphones back around your ears, you resumed the tape inside of the Walkman clipped to your hip.

Thin flurries of snow began to fall from the bright grey clouds. Trickling over the strands of your hair, melting in contact. Stuffing your hands back into your pockets, you walked down the icy path of the square.

The main square in Jackson was littered with people. Some were standing around conversing, with cigarettes in their hands. Some worked pulling supplies in large wooden carts, moving them to another establishment. You seen a man on a ladder fixing a broken light on the outside of a pub. And a woman walking a train of small children holding hands—like they were on a field trip of some kind. They laughed and giggled under knit beanies, bundled in their jackets that may have been too big for some.

A smile appeared on your lips as you watched them march by you.

You stopped at an art store, looking up at the wooden sign. Quoting Maria, you were on sabbatical; so, you wanted to use this time to fully explore the settlement. In the month that you’ve been in Jackson, you have visited the local pub more often than you’d like to admit. Entering the store, a bell sounded, and you smiled at the few people walking around the decorated shop.

Organic paints and brushes were located in the back corner of the store, taking up two walls and some floor space. While the rest of the store harbored artwork from the people who lived in the community. And some refurbished work found outside the wall. A sign on the wall read: talk to an attendant for group and private classes. You hummed, impressed by the normalcy. Perhaps, you could sign up for one.

Meandering around, your eyes survey the paintings and drawings. Thinking about your home, it could use some personalization. You came across a landscape portrait of two women. The strokes emulated grass—olive tones—that they were lying on—intertwined with each other. Arms and legs entangled. Lips grazing each others cheeks. The strokes that were made were intentionally blurry and messy. Who were these women? Was their relationship as unofficial and indifferent as your own?

Fingers grazing the canvas of the painting, you couldn’t help but think of that freckle-faced woman you’ve grown to adore.

“You interested in that one? Nice choice.”

Even though your headphones played Nirvana in your ears, you could still recognize the outsourced voice. Her voice was like honey. Soft, warm honey. Luring you like a spell spoken by a witch or warlock. God, you missed the sound of her voice. “Funny thing is… The woman who painted this actually has a husband.” She chuckled, glancing at you with a nervous glint.

You froze at the sound of her voice, eyes glued to the art before you. Just blinking. Buh bum. Buh hum. Your heart beat in your ears, in your chest, in your hands—everywhere! Skin growing hot as if you were sat in front of a furnace. Were you mad or just upset? It was hard to tell, even for yourself.

The smile on her lips faded, immediately. Fiddling with her fingers—she always did that. “How’re you settling in—?”

“I’ve already settled in…” Your voice was eerily calm, side-eying her as you spoke. “I haven’t seen you in five weeks, Ellie.”

She sighed, adjusting the knit cap over her hair. Licking her lips, nervously. “I know—“

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” When you finally look at her, she notices the irateness in your eyes. Crowding over the feelings of yearning and sorrow.

“Can we talk? Please, just let me explain.”

Gritting your jaw, you peer at her. Thinking about hashing it out within a small walk. But, you were tender, sensitive—you couldn’t be sure that your reaction wouldn’t be explosive. What if she told you she was getting back with Dina? Going back to her family. That alone could send you into ruins. And you too far from your house to escape the public once you unleashed hell upon that woman. “You know where I live.” You told, with a pinched expression.

That was your cue to leave the store, pulling your hoodie over your head. Maybe, today wasn’t the day to tour the community. Another day. Plus, you had to spend the rest of the day anticipating a knock at your door.

It was a glum walk back to your place. You had put your Walkman on pause, walking in a depressive silence. Each step you made up your porch was deliberate and slow. An old swing chair swung in the wind, bolts shaking once you put your weight on the porch. It wrapped around the entire front of the house, and it definitely needed more décor.

Entering your house, you hung up your jacket and kicked off your shoes at the door. Stalking up your staircase, leaning in the railing, you made your way to your bedroom. The un-made bed beckoned you; so you kicked the door closed, and jumped under your covers. Hopefully, getting some shut eye could ease your nerves.

The sleep was rocky—you were in and out. In the moments when you awoke, you pulled a book from your bedside table to read—George Eliot—hoping to fall back asleep. But the novel only intrigued you for hours. Distracting from that anticipation long enough for it to come sooner than you expected.

It was dark, but it was no later than six-thirty.

You approached the door with a heavy heart, sliding your fluffy socks across the wooden floor. The reveal of the woman on your porch caused your body to heat up once more. She turned around, still dressed in the clothes from earlier.

“Hey,”

“Hey…”

Pressing her lips into an awkward line. “Nice porch.”

Scrunching your eyebrows at the compliment, you abandoned the door while it was ajar. Telling her to enter without losing your dignity. Ellie stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Shoes off.” You tell her, waving a hand, carelessly.

Walking to the kitchen, you threw onto the stove a metal kettle filled water. While your innate anger was healing, there was still pridefulness about you. You had to have some sort of control over any situation that you’re in. Ellie came to your house; this conversation was on your terms. And it was going to stay that way.

Ellie had navigated around your living room, feeling the softness of the carpet under her feet. I did good. She thought. Ellie taking part in the decision making for your accommodations was true. She wanted to give you the absolute best, because she knew she was going to need some time alone.

Appearing from around the corner, you leaned against the mahogany frame lining the entrance to the living room. With your arms stubbornly crossed over your chest. “You have about seven to eight minutes before that kettle goes off, and when it does, this conversation is over.”

She slid the hat from her head, dragging it down to the place over her belly button. Kneading the fabric with her thumbs. “Do you not want me here?” Her voice cracked, hands smacking down at her sides. “Because we can talk another time—“

“Six minutes.”

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “You know, what?” Ellie scoffed, striding past you toward your kitchen. Irritation rushing through her nerves. It confused her how she could be so obsessed with someone who might’ve been more stubborn than herself.

You followed her into the kitchen. “What the hell are you doing?”

The woman reached for the kettle, taking it off the small flame. Flicking off the fire, she turned to look at you. “You’re not gonna give me six minutes to explain myself— I’m not gonna let you rush this.”

“I’m not rushing anything.”

Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms. Leaning her back against the counter, coolly. “Are you seriously insulting my intelligence, right now?” Ellie raised an eyebrow, mocking words that you’ve said in the past.

Squinting your eyes, glaringly, you scoff. “Just… Talk, Ellie.” You waved your hand, leaning on the threshold bordering the kitchen and the small foyer. Perhaps, you were pushing it a bit too far.

The auburn-haired woman sighed behind speaking. Placing her hands on the edge of the counter. “When I left… It was an immediate decision— made in the middle of the night in a farmhouse I shared with my girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, and my kid.” She began, eyeing you intently. “I left my family behind, y/n, including Maria and Tommy and anyone else in this fucking community that I knew.” Her hands moved as she spoke, passionately. “In that moment, I don’t think I ever planned to come back. There was nothing to come back to…

Then, I met you. When I thought I traveled so far for nothing— I met you.” Her olive eyes looked to the ceiling, thinking. While your heart blundered under your ribs. “Coming back was never my intention, and I left that way. So, when I walked through those doors… I had a lot of work to do. A lot of bridges to mend and gain the trust of again— which I’m still doing, by the way.”

Her hand jutted out, before slapping against her thighs. “I didn’t mean to ghost you like that. Truthfully, I was overwhelmed.” The woman confessed, scratching the back of her head. “For the first two weeks, I was begging for Dina to let me see JJ, my son. For the next, I was arguing with Tommy for letting Abby go— it was a lot. And I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to put any of that on you.” Pursing your lips, you nodded. “You’ve been through enough… I was protecting you. I wanted you to just focus on settling in.”

“Well, it was hard settling in without you.” It almost came out like a whisper—a little louder than a whisper. Followed by a dry, stubborn chortle. “I spent months on the road with you, and it’s like you just hung me out to dry. That fucking sucked.” Averting your eyes, you peered at the shining floorboards.

She nodded, frowning at your downcast expression. But, there was an element of proudness. Give or take a few weeks back, you’d argue her down over anything. However, this time, vulnerability leaked from you. Poured from your words and demeanor like liquid gold. “I know, and I’m really sorry. It was fucked up. But it will never happen again— I swear to you.”

“What if something else comes up?” You question, chewing on the skin inside your lip.

“I’ll clue you in— every time.”

You hummed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the status on you and Dina?”

Ellie rubs her nose with her index finger, ready to answer your rapid-fire questions. “Cordial co-parents.”

“Does she know about us?”

A goofy smile spreads across her plump lips. “We’re an us?”

Narrowing your eyes at her, fighting a little grin, you responded. “Answer the question, Ellie!”

“Oh, my God! Yes, she knows about us, and she’s happy for me.” With amused features, she begins to slowly approach you. “Now, are you done with the twenty questions game? Because you haven’t accepted my apology once…” She pouted, sliding her hands over your arms, pulling them from their crossed position.

Batting your eyes at her, feigning thought. The touch of her fingers on you sparked a fire, setting your skin ablaze. Even if it was in your best interest not to accept her apology, you probably still would. The way her eyes looked into you with such gentleness—it couldn’t be replicated by anyone else. “I accept your apology…” You admit, grazing your fingers up the sleeves of her flannel.

“Fuck, yes!” She wasted no time to embrace you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Tightly, you wrapped your arms around her back, leaning your head over her shoulder. “I missed you. I hope you’ll let me make it up to you?”

“You have no choice but to make it up to me.” You spoke against her exposed skin, pecking the side of her neck. “For the sake of lost time.”

Ellie giggled at the brush of your lips, pulling away with raised eyebrows. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot— be right back.” She runs to your front door pulling it open, and leaning to the side to grab a flipped canvas that was leaning against the outside brick wall. It was the portrait you were considering buying at the art store. “Housewarming present!” She grinned, presenting it in front of herself.

You matched her smile, reaching out to take it from her. “That woman is totally gay for making this.”

“So gay. I feel bad for her husband.”

Sharing a laugh, you look back at her, setting the canvas to the side against the wall. Walking up to her, you grabbed her face, caressing the skin of her cheeks. Musing at her earthy features, taking them all in like you’d never see her again. The last time you saw her, it’s like you took it for granted—not knowing if it was going to be a while before you got to look at her the way you wanted to. Leaning into her, you pressed your lips against hers, unabashedly. Her hands found comfort at the divot of your waist, pulling you flush against her.

Sliding your hands down to the nape of her neck, the kiss deepened. You whined into her mouth when she slipped her tongue between your lips. With the combination of her grip on your waist and the taste of her lips, you wanted to merge your bodies—so she could never leave your side again. You’ve survived enough tragic loss; was it so bad to want this one thing? The touch of your troubled lover.

Ellie backed you against the wall, muttering against your lips. “I wanna take my time with you…” She began to trail hot kisses over your cheek, down your jaw, to the sensitive parts of your neck. “Show you…” Smack. “Just how much…” Smack. “I love you.”

Under the waistband of your jeans, you throbbed, but the thing beating inside your chest swelled and beat louder. “Y— You love me?” The tips of your fingers scratched at her scalp, comfortingly. As she pulled her face from your neck, her freckled cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, I do.” Her thumb came up to caress your jaw. “I really do.”

That was your cue to completely devour her. You pulled her upstairs, into your bedroom, to ravish her—to ravish each other. Stripping from your clothes to come unto one another with a sickening love. Her lips traced every part of your body; suckling, nibbling, tonguing down the most sensitive parts. Pulling moans from your diaphragm, seamlessly. She cooed for you and spoke filthily in your ear while touching you with a gentle firmness that only she could replicate over and over—making you come undone hard. As if the universe came from within you.

Stars, planets, galaxies—celestial bodies!

You and Ellie were two halves of one whole. Everything that led up to that beach happened with the purpose of bringing the scorned together. To cancel it out, blossoming something much greater. Somehow, you proved to each other that you were both worth saving. No matter the sin. No matter the guilt. It was all worth it to end up wrapped in her arms, skin to skin, caressing her battered epidermis.

As months progressed, gearing up for the spring season, Ellie had long moved her stuff in. Her easel and unfinished works nestled in the guest room. Her clothes were stuffed beside yours in the drawer before your bed, and the closet beside your door. Bringing in sunrises with sleepy, feathered kisses and innocent touches. It was a dream you both got the chance to live out.

This wasn’t enduring or surviving—it was living. Experiencing life.

With your hands covered in dirt, replanting a radish, joyful voices were behind your back. Looking over your shoulder, a tiny frame was trotting toward you, calling your name. Ellie in his trail, with her hands in her pockets.

Gasping, you turned around with a grin. “Hey, buddy!” You opened your arms for him to promptly land in them. Keeping your hands far from his jacket so the soil wouldn’t dirty him up.

“Careful, JJ, she’s working!” She tried, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, Ellie, it’s fine.” You waved a dirty hand, sliding them off your fingers, dropping them onto the grass. So you could reach under his arms to hoist him onto your hip. The sun landed just right on his little head, sparkling off his small growing teeth.

Ellie’s lips curled at the sight. “He wanted to come visit you at work before I dropped him off.” She meandered toward you, pecking your lips.

“Just JJ? Or you, too?”

“Both of us, whatever.” Playfully, she rolled her eyes. “Plus, I had to remind you of our dinner date tonight— its mandatory. You can’t be late.” Her fingers pushed fallen pieces of your hair from your forehead.

Once you had gotten into the grove of gardening, time flew by. It would go from seven in the morning to eight in the afternoon like it was nothing. Causing you to miss out on some of the plans you made with your generous lover. “You’ve been reminding me since I got up this morning. Trust me, I remember, Ellie.” You squeezed his chubby cheek, cooing at him. “Ugh, I love him.” You gushed, peering between him and your girlfriend.

“Oh!” You pulled a folded-up paper from your back pocket. “JJ, you wanna do me a big favor?”

His eyebrows lifted, grinning.

“Give your mama back this recipe for me, all right?” He takes the paper in his hands, preparing to unfold it. “Promise me you’ll give it to her…”

“I promise!”

“Okay, bud. Tuck it tight into your pocket until you get there.”

Instead of unfolding, he pushed it into the pocket of his coat, messily. Patting it, to let you know it was inside. Kissing him on his cheek, you put him back on the ground. Eyes glancing at the watch on your wrist. “Well, I gotta get back to work.” Your hand found hers by her side, leaning your body toward her arm. “Thanks for visiting me, babe. Letting me see that beautiful face of yours.”

Ellie blushed, averting her glazing eyes. You leaned your head closer to hers, warmly kissing her cheek. “My pleasure…”

“I’m sure.” You teased, inconspicuously biting her ear. Quick enough that it went unseen to the surrounding people, and JJ as he played with the leaves sticking out of the garden. Ellie released an airy sigh, narrowing her eyes at you. She whined your name as if she were embarrassed. “Don’t be like that— you know I love you.”

“I love you more… But you have to chill. Mrs Hayworth is right there.”

“You don’t know Mrs Hayworth like I do.” You snicker, waving a hand to the older woman a few bins away. The salt and pepper haired woman waved, sending a teasing wink. Ellie looked back at your with confused, and slightly horrified, features. “I’ll tell you about it later. At the dinner I’m not going to be late to.”

“And you better not.” Ellie poked you, with pouty lips.

“Ellie, I won’t.”

“Okay, I believe you.” She kissed you one more time. A little longer. A little deeper. “I won’t keep you from the vegetables anymore. JJ, say buh-byes.” He jumps from a squat, waving his hand with a smile. “I’ll see you later. C’mon, kid.” Ellie hoisted him up into her hip and began walking back the way she came to deliver him to Dina’s. Leaving you with metaphorical heart eyes, pulling your gloves back onto your hands.

And, when later came; over a hearty chicken dinner prepared by Ellie Williams herself, a shiny silver band was presented to you in the pages of a book. Laying over an underlined and highlighted excerpt of the book—something you highlighted. It was a novel you had finished sometime between the end of December and early January.

“‘What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life–to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?’” Ellie had recited, evenly. With not a speckle of wavering, or awkwardness, or pause—unless it was intentional. “Adam Bede. Your favorite book… I hope it’s your favorite book.”

Jumping from your chair across from her, you leaped into her arms after placing the book into the dinner table. Pecking your lips across her face. “Yes! Yes! Ellie, a million fucking times, yes!”

“I didn’t even ask the question.” She laughed in your ear, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

Pulling back, you narrowed your tearing eyes at her. “You don’t have to. I already said yes.”

“But isn’t that the exciting part… Popping the question?”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “I thought the exciting part was me saying yes to marrying you…?”

Ellie spent days studying George Eliot, hours setting up the dinner, and minutes shaking with anxiety. Working herself up to saying those magic four words, only for your to swipe the chance right from under her. And, honestly, she loved you more for it. “All right, can I at least put the damn ring on your finger?”

“‘Course, you can, Els.” You pull the book toward you, opening it up on the page with the ring. Ellie takes it from your fingers, glancing at you with opalescent olive eyes. She slid it onto your ring finger, delicately twisting the band around. You grinned, hopelessly, with your bottom lip between your teeth.

Her hand trailed up your arm, squeezing. “My lucky charm…” She muttered, thoughtfully.

“I’m all yours.” You lean close to her lips, glancing at them. “And you’re all mine.”

Neither of you were able to finish the dinner while it was hot.

[yandere-paramour]

Atalanta so rich she probably got one of those fancy Purple Mattresses

Atalanta's mattress is so high quality that you're too poor to have even heard the brand.

Like her mattress is several thousand dollars, hand-crafted, made with only organic, grass-fed wool and silk, absolutely ridiculously opulent. Atalanta is an heiress, she has slept on nothing but the best since the day she was born. Her crib mattress was probably like 5k.

Her current Wyoming King mattress is probably 20k at least and hand-stuffed by Swedish eccentrics who live in the mountain and only communicate with merchants.

[delopsia]

I remember the picture of Rhett’s room with all the blankets and you just posted that he would bring a lot of plaid blankets with him which makes me wonder, is he a blanket hoarder? He steals all the blankets, the ones draped across the couch usually ends us wrapped around him. Does he build a blanket fort with us? Does he pick up a new blanket from his quick grocery run that he needed to have?

You have no idea how perfect the timing of this is. Right before you sent this, I was looking at that picture 😭 Rhett is absolutely a blanket hoarder!

He started doing it when he was little because Perry would take all of them from the closet when it started getting colder, and Wyoming nights are brutal when the heating is going out, and your house has poor insulation. He'd start darting around the house, shoving them into the corners of his closet and snuggling up when it got cold out.

Now he just attracts to them out of habit, when did he pick up your favorite blanket from the couch? He hasn't the slightest clue, but he's been snuggled up with it for an hour now. But it's not a house-only sort of thing.

He buys so many blankets.

Every color, pattern, holiday, and season. Fleece, cotton, wool, knit, sherpa, plush, quilt, electric, weighted, odd shapes and patterns. It's gotten a little bit ridiculous at this point. Every time he goes shopping alone, he's pretty much guaranteed to return with one that you somehow don't own yet. As of right now, his favorite blanket is a giant pink and white cow print that you gifted him for his birthday. It was supposed to be black and white, but they mistakenly shipped pink, and Rhett absolutely adored it.

He loves to make nests out of the smaller ones, these little round amalgamations of clashing blankets that could very well serve as an extra bed, while he reserves the oversized blankets to go overtop chairs and the sides of the couch. He doesn't just make a blanket fort; it's a whole damn palace 🤍 But do not be fooled; he absolutely notices if one goes missing.

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way (Dark Ending): Going Under Part 5 (Finale)

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Spotify Playlist

Summery: After you give birth to Ellie in the cabin, Joel fins you and Tommy, besting Tommy in a fight. What happens to you? What happens to Ellie, Tommy, Lorenzo and the rest of the family Little One has acquired? How does Little One learn to cope with her new reality? Does she fall into the darkness that surrounds Joel and all he touches? Can Joel really change for you and your daughter?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH WARNING, graphic violence, murder, manipulation, the horrors, Joel being Joel, Tommy being kinda pathetic, Joel's weird sexual fantasies, breeding kink, abuse of power. Just.... all the bad.

****************************

Joel watched the man struggle the chair he was tied to from where he stood in the basement of the stairwell waiting for you. The basement was dark, but a single light shined on the man. Alex was his name, a long term member of his group since years before you had come into his life. 

Earlier today, his wife had come to Tommy with a beaten and bloodied face claiming Alex had beaten her. Tommy spoke to neighbors, one of which had relayed she had heard shouting and Mrs. Cane crying from the house that night. This was enough for Tommy; no woman was beating her own face to falsely accuse her own husband. So, Tommy took him to the basement of his little jailhouse, leaving him in the chair for Joel. Tommy was the sheriff, but Joel dealt out justice. 

Not without your approval, of course.

When he heard the door to the basement open, Joel quickly walked up the 4 short steps to help you down. 9 months pregnant, you were ready to pop any day now with your third child. The day in the alley, the day Joel burned your father alive in front of you and you had allowed him to release inside you, you had conceived your son. He was 5 now, little Ellie dragging him and Able on adventure after adventure (mostly trouble). She was a leader, for sure. The name given to the little boy was what Ellie would have been if she was a boy, Caleb Thomas.

Since then, June had given birth to her and Tommy’s second child, Carly Jade, who was 2 months now; you and her had enjoyed a pregnancy together, taken care of by the two brothers. 

Joel aided you down the stairs, not willing to risk harm from even such a short fall. His protective nature never dwindled, even as you came into your own as the town leader. Things were going well, your little town taking on more and more production from farming and recently had been able to work on making textiles. Joel didn’t understand why you had insisted on spending so much time developing the sheep farm, until you had begun trading wool with other towns. In Wyoming, this was valuable.

 After the town’s people had been taken care of, you had begun facilitating trade outside of town. People were hesitant, of course, giving Joel’s reputation but once they met you, things went better. You were demoure, peaceful, empathetic, and your whole life you had to learn to be what people wanted from you. It was the result of unfathomable trauma, but it came in handy. Make no mistake, you were not going to be taken advantage of, not with Joel or one of his men standing by you at all times. Now that the sheep were going well, the next project was to increase the cattle. Calving this season had gone well and several cows would be ready for slaughter this summer and you wanted to put the cow hyde to use to make leather.

Only problem there was no one knew how to turn cow hide into leather. It was frustrating to say the least. Last year you’d been forced to slaughter a cow that had broken its ankle. It was younger, not quite adult yet and you would have liked to have seen it fed more, but there was nothing to be done at that point and you’d have to make use of what you could. One of the men had attempted to make leather, but it hadn’t gone well at all, the leather not strong enough to make jacket’s and shoes and boots like you had wanted. It was turned into a saddle and a few belts and that was that. Zach would have known, but you never learned that much. Tommy told you what you needed. You needed Jackson. Jackson had been blessed with a leather-maker and a cobbler; someone who could turn that leather into reliable boots. Problem was, Jackson didn’t trade with you. You hoped this would change today. You were meeting Maria today; she had agreed to come out to Jackson with the promise of wool just for meeting, seeing as you couldn’t exactly travel an hour out in your condition.

But first, Alex Cane.

“Hi little one, you look beautiful.” Joel greeted you with a kiss.

“Thank you, Joel.” As you take the last step, you turn on the light.

Alex laughs dryly. “Jesus, of course it’s you two.”

You tsk, tsk, tsk. “I’d like to say I thought better of you, Alex, but… I didn’t. I was wondering when you’d slip, honestly.” Alex was one of the men who had been mean to you at the house, and definitely one who had been prepared to rape you if you hadn’t been saved by Tommy. You had wanted him dead for a while now, but refused to abuse your power. Men like this would always out themselves. 

“I didn’t do shit.”

“Well your wife sure didn’t do that to her face herself.”

“She’s clumsy!”

“Sure.”

Alex turned to Joel “You’ve gone fucking soft, Joel! I’ve been with you for a decade, and now you want me dead just because your bitch-”

Joel stabbed him in the leg. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that!”

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” His laugh was dark and sardonic. “I know I’m already dead. It’s kind hypcrital of you, don’t you think? No rape, no beating women. What do you call what you did to her?” Alex nodded over to where you stood. This wasn’t the first accusation of hypocrisy Joel had gotten, and he did not care. He was Joel fucking Miller, and he did what he wanted. “At least Katie was an a grown ass woman, she was a fucking child when you brought her here, now she’s just as psychotic as you!” Another stab.

“Joooooel” You whine. “You keep at that he’s going to die before the fun begins.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Joel draws you in, taking your mouth in his and wasting no time shoving his tongue down your throat. You can’t help but rub your pelvis against his leg. 

“God I’d suck you off right here if I didn’t have to get to the meeting.”

Joel knew what this did to you. After he killed, he was always rewarded with stellar sex. It turned you on, knowing what’d do for you and your family. Alex continued groaning in pain in th background.

“Mmmmm” he groaned. “C’mon, we don’t need Maria.”

“We do, I can’t keep fixing that hole in your shoe forever.”

Joel grumbled but helped you up the stairs. “So that’s a yes on killing him?”

“That’s a yes, thank you for all you do, baby. I might be a little late tonight. After the meeting I have to make sure Mrs. Cane is settled. Might move her to a different house if she wants, one with fresh memories for her and the kids.”

“Sounds good, I’ll have diner ready. Tommy going with you to see Maria, right?”

He never did trust Maria. Their beef went back further than you, or even Tommy. “Yes, dear. Not in the room, but he’ll be there.”

Joel nodded, giving a deep kiss as he sent you on your way. “I’ll check on the kids after I get cleaned up, don’t worry ‘bout them.” June was in charge of the childcare center. Figuring out a schooling system was proving difficult, but you were working on it. It’s not like the kids really needed to learn about George Washington anymore, but you wanted an educated populace as the town grew. Reading was essential, so you were all starting there, plus numbers. It was better than nothing. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

Joel swatted your butt as you left, and you turn around to see a prominant erection in his pants. Joel always killed more brutally when he was turned on, so you always make sure to work him up nice and good. Joel lets you leave out the door, and you smile at Tommy waiting for you. 

“Ready to see your ex-girlfriend, Tommy?” You tease him.

Tommy groans. “Not really, but if it’ll help Esperanza, I’ll do it.”

Tommy was a key member of keeping this town running. Women and children felt safe with him, his kind eyes easing them they way he always eased you. Tommy was better working with Joel instead of against; they made a good team, and between you and Tommy, you had managed to calm down Joel’s edge. 

Joel hadn’t changed, he’d aged. It had been almost ten years since Joel had taken you; a night that seemed so far away now. In his early 50’s Joel was far from weak. He was brutal, strong, impossing, but his anger had calmed down over the years, especially after Ellie’s birth. There had been a few nights Joel had gotten carried away in bed, days where his anger surged but you refused to allow your life to go back to what it had been. Your knife was on you all day every day; a gift from Joel all those years ago when he swore to you he’d do better. When Joel acted up, you took out your knife and reminded him that you had stabbed him before, way back in the cabin after giving birth to Ellie, and you would stab him again. You reminded him of your children, and now that it wasn’t just your life on the line anymore. You’d fight for your children.

You didn’t want to kill Joel. You could, easily. He slept next you to every night with your knife on the bedside table and it would not be hard to slice his throat… but you didn’t want to. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love him, first and foremost. You did, and you had for a long, long time. You enjoyed his company, he made you laugh, he cared for you when sick or pregnant or tied. You life as a housewife was over; your work was in town, although you certainly still helped run the household. Joel took on more of the childcare and you did more cooking, but that’s beause of your indiviual skills and enjoyments. Joel’s work with Ellie had taken her from a preme to a girl who was reaching physical milestones almost always ahead of time, so you let him take the lead on that. Cooking was your forte and you enjoyed it, so you did the evening cooking. Cleaning and housework was split, although Joel was doing more right now with the pregnancy.

There was also the fact Joel was the father of your children. Ellie and Caleb and now the impending birth of Loretta or Soren (hopfully this week) you wanted them to have a father. Tommy was not an option anymore, and you didn’t want him to be. He and June were very happy together with Able and Carly, and you were happy for them. You loved your niece and nephew very much, and they were under yours and Joel’s protection as much as your children were under theirs.

You knew if something happened to Joel, Tommy would be there for you, but Tommy would never be your husband. Even if Joel and June were out of the picture, you and him had a different bond now. Tommy was your brother, not a lover.

But also, Joel was essential to your town. He still did raiding, but that as slowly fading away in favor of running as a normal town. Of course, the brutal exicutions would never fly in Jackson, but that was the standard that had been set, and you were happy to see the improved enviorment in Esperanza.

Tommy escorted you into the room Maria was in. She was standing, although there were chairs at the table.

Maria greeted you, and then Tommy.

Tommy smiled shyly. “Maria, been a while.” Tommy had not seen Maria since the night he left with you. Being trapped back at the house for months prevented him from going, but he managed to send word out. Tommy was always good at persuading people. 

Maria showed no bitterness. “Sure has, heard you had a few kids of your own now, congratulations.”

“Congratulations on yours too.”

Tommy excused himself and closed the door, although he was behind the two way mirror; Joel’s condition for allowing you to meet alone with Maria.

You spoke first. “Thank you so much for meeting me, Maria.” You attempted to sound as gracious as you could, your social skills having been carefully honed in. Over the years, many people under Joel’s rule hadopted to leave their homes in order to join Esperanza, the community you had built being better than the failing farms. The more people in town the better, and you prided yourself on present a good front in contrast to Joel’s horrors.

“Thank you for having me, but I’m afraid as I’ve said, I have no interest in making deals. It’s not personal, it’s policy. Wool won’t by me out.”

“It’s not to buy you out.” You implure. “It’s for you to hear me out, will you at least do me that?” You implore with her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying if I don’t agree, you won’t give me the wool?” 

“No.” You were quick to assure. You didn’t not play game, you tried to foster goodwill. “The wool promised should already be loaded on your horse, I won’t take that away. I would like to have a good faith conversation, if possible, but the wool isn’t contingent on that.”

Maria stayed silent for a while, looking at you now and you knew she must be curious to the change that had happened. “Contingent…” she muttered. “Big word.” You are put a little on defense, retorting that you can and do read, but she only watched you before shaking her head. “Jackson doesn’t deal with raiders.”

A little frustrated, placing your hands down on the table and leaning in as you press on. “But I’m trying to move away from that!” Can’t she see your vision? How can you make her understand what you’re trying to do? You had caught her attention.

“What do you mean?”

With vigor, you take the oppritunity to plead your case, to let her in on what you and Tommy had been planning, what everything that had happened since the day Joel promised you a town had been leading to. “I want to end the raiding. It’s slowed significant, you have to have noticed that.”

She had. “You’re telling me that Joel Miller is going to hang up his gang? Not happening.

“Oh god no.” You laughed. “Never. But his focus has shifted. You don’t understand Maria, but he’s my muscle. I’m running the show. This is my town, everything happening here I built. Joel answers to me.”

At the very least, she was listening. That’s what you need, just a window… “And where does Jackson come in?”

“We still have needs. A lot of needs. Things have going well but one harsh winter and everything could fall apart. The more resources we have, the better chance we have of staying standing. I need this leather. I need to be able to use the hydes we have, we need to be able to utalize every single resource we have. We aren’t asking for materials, we’re asking to learn. My hope is within a few years, to pull the last of the focus away from raiding completely and use the man power to our to the ranch. No more raiding.”

Maria watched you. You felt on display but were determined not to crack ands she mauled over her thoughts. “You’ve grown up a lot, you know.”

“I know.” You did. At 28, you were far from the girl you were when Joel took you. 

“It’s impressive, everything you’ve done here. It really is.”

“Thank you. It was all for Ellie.”

“You know… Whenever I hear your name, or get a message from you… I think of that first day…”

You shuffle in your seat a little… you didn’t like thinking about that. “Yeah.”

Maria shook her head. “I didn’t think you’d last a month. You were so young, so fragile…”

“I get it.” 

“Then a year later you show up on my door and you look like you got trampled by a horse.”

“Maria”

“The absolute shit beat out of you and 8 months pregnant and I here you give birth and Joel finds you? I thought there was no way you make it, absolutely no way someone like you-”

“Someone like me?”

“Would make it through someone like Joel.”

“I’m not-”

She leaned in. “What the hell happened?”

You sigh. “Same thing women have done for centuries, Maria. Look, I’m not you. However you got where you are, that’s great, but that has never been my position in life. Joel is crazy, Maria. He still is. I have freedom now but I can’t leave. So I did what women of powerful men have always done. I use sex and charm to manipulate. I had a baby, I gave him his daughter back so I became this saint to him, I brought a miracle, and I still am.” You rub your swollen stomach. “Maybe I’m fragile, maybe I’m weak and I always have been, but I don’t think so. I survived the worst possible things someone can go through, horrible, horrible things that I know damn well you have not experienced, Maria. But I fucking lived. Not just surviving, I lived. I have a good life, I provided a good life for my kids, and I created a world here where women and children do not have to suffer like I have. That’s what I'm trying to do here, and I do not think that is fragile, that’s not weak, and that’s not little.”

Maria just sat there, watching you talk as you asserted yourself. You had a lot of pride for what you’d built here and you did not appreciate her looking at you like a child. “Send word when you’re ready to slaughter, I’ll send out a few men and they’ll teach you” She stood up, making her way to the door. 

You are a little in shock, but scramble to follow after her. “Wait, what do you want in return?”

Tommy catches you as you head towards the stairs, helping you down as Maria get’s to her horse.

Maria climbed on the saddle now loaded with the promised materials. She turned to you. “Just feed the guys, give them lodging. If you wanna give them a thank you that's great but I won't require anything for the town.”

You blink up at her, bewildered. “Wait, really? Why…”

Maria smiled at you. “You’re doing good here. It’s impressive, and I want to see it flourish.” She nodded at Tommy and went on her way.

Tommy put an arm around you and kissed your head as you leaned into him. “Great job, honey. I’m proud.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. You were proud of yourself too.

*

Joel held you in his arms as he always did after a bath. Both of your hands were placed over your stomach as the thunder storm rolled outside. You’d done the unspoken promise, giving him the ride of his life after the kids were put to bed, and it seemed the baby inside you was very active. Joel loved feeling the little kicks, just as he did with Ellie, feeling her very first kick. You and Joel finally had a chance to talk about the day, and you told him that you’d be getting the help from the tradesmen. Joel expressed his pride to you fervently with his mouth, both in words and between your legs.

Joel kissed your neck. “Beautiful mami… can’t believe how much you do while growing another baby.” 

“I couldn’t do it without you, Joel” and you couldn’t. Everything was built with the help of your family, you were just the leader.

An exceptionally loud crack of thunder made you jump, but Joel’s hands steadied you.

 “I got you, little one.”

“You always do.”

You lay your head back on his warm chest, starting to drift off into sleep when the door opens. The door crack revealed Ellie, propositioning Caleb in front of her.

“Caleb’s scared of the thunderstorm.” Another bought of thunder revealed it was Ellie who jumped, not Caleb.

You began to move off Joel’s lap, and he aided you before coaxing the kids over. “Would you guys like to sleep with me and mommy tonight?”

Ellie still tried to put on a brave face. “Um. Maybe for a little bit.” Then quickly added. “Just to make sure Caleb is okay.”

“Sure, baby girl.”

The subsequent lightning saw both children scrambling to their parent’s arms. Ellie situated herself between Joel and you, cuddling up in your arms as Caleb took his place in his fathers arms. 

You think back to all those years ago, those horrible, horrible months after Joel took you back, how you thought Ellie hated you. You were so certain she’d grow up and turn against you, but your daughter adored you. The two of you were very different, that much was obvious. Even in the throws of pregnancy and hard work you preferred to wear dresses. Joel still brought you home nice clothes and still dressed you, although you had to make sure they were practical. Ellie on the other hand was pretty much strictly pants and t-shirts. While Ellie had no interest in cooking, she liked to sit and watch you while the two of you talked. She spent a lot of time with Joel as well. Joel was determined to make sure she could defend herself and taught her how to shoot just as he did with Caleb, but Ellie had more interest. He saw leadership in her he wanted to cultivate. 

Caleb was a lot like Tommy. He was a follower, and would fight for Ellie to the death. He was strong, but was more of a joiner than a leader. That was okay, not everyone could lead, but Caleb was a moral center. He was gentle by nature, and despite being younger than Able he was protective of Able as well. Able often found himself in trouble. Not that he was a bad kid, just adventurous and without Ellie’s forethought. He was a good kid, through and through, and often tried to take the fall for Ellie and Able despite everyone knowing nothing was his idea. He was no coward. You had worried Joel wouldn’t care for son, that he wouldn’t bond, and you were nearly certain if Ellie hadn’t come first, he wouldn’t have felt much of a connection, but because Ellie had fulfilled the role of his lost daughter, there was room now for a son. Joel loved him dearly, even if Caleb didn’t have the same interests Ellie did. Caleb was close with Tommy, and June too, and Tommy often spent time with Caleb when Joel took Ellie and Able to the things they enjoyed. Caleb liked to watch Tommy work, and was June’ biggest helper in school.

As the kids and Joel fell asleep, you stayed up just a little bit longer just to watch them. Years ago, you never thought this life was possible for you. Not even just with Joel, but with long before. Your dads abuse left you feeling like you had little value, like there was little hope for a life outside the abuse. 

But you had found it. You found a family and a community even if it wasn’t exactly Cinderella. Your husband was insane and had done horrible things to you that you could never fully forgive, but really, what did that matter now. He had his outlets now and had provided a life to you that you could not help but be thankful for. You loved him. You couldn’t help it. Not when he was so gentle, so strong, so handsome, so protective…

 You had a strong, powerful daughter that took no shit and was running the world around her. You had a son who was displaying the best and most positive traits of the men in your life. You had a third child on the way that was so far healthy and a niece and nephew you loved so fucking much. You had Tommy, a brother-in-law you could now depend on in a way you hadn’t before. Tommy had been idolized by you, a prince charming that never really delivered. Now, however, Tommy had come into his own. He was no longer under Joel, he prospered as his own husband with his own wife and children. You had June, your lifelong best friend, who was right beside you and was thriving as a teacher and mother.

The only thing missing were your brothers. You missed them, you missed them so fucking much it hurt sometimes and you spent a lot of time at their grave. You hoped every day you made them proud. Zach and Lorenzo’s last words to you had been to take care of Ellie, and god you had tried. You told Maria you had built this town for Ellie, and you had… but always in the back of your mind you had built it for Zach and Lorenzo. It was to honor them. Many times you found yourself at their grave that Joel had moved to Esperanza, you just cried and told them you were sorry. You’d done so much for your family and for your town, but none of it would bring them back.

But there was no time to dwell. Joel and Tommy could not sit and mourn Sarah. Tommy could not sit and mourn Jack and Lorenzo. June could not sit and mourn Zach. You all had a life now, a world, a town, children. Life finds a way. 

So you press on. You cry and then press on. But you never forget any of them. Still, despite all the loss you look at the world in your bed right now, your growing family and your family next door.

Despite the horrors, despite the loss, you had a good life.

Finally, you were happy.

*************************

This really didn't end up as dark an ending as i meant it to be, but i guess it's just the fact joel one. In the canon ending everyone loses, honestly, bt joel reaped the fruits of his bullshit. He lost his wife, child, and brother

plus, zach and lorenzo are ded ;-;

but, honestly, what an improvement for little one and those kids? she's really come into her own and im so proud <3

thank you sooooo much for the support!!! I will be taking quite a break from writing anything in universe, but as always I welcome thoughts in any of the time lines!!!

What am i working on now? My lastest dark joel series is a handmaids tale au, blessed be the fruit.

want dark! reader x dark! joel? try guard dog (more coming soon!)

and a dark!triple frontier fic that may ormay not be gettng a part 2!

@pimosworld @rubyfruitjungle @moriartyyouwhore @k-ra @the-fox-den @jenna-ortega @alwaysmicado @lunar-ghoulie @ladynightingale @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @maura-honey @fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @miraclesabound @koshkaj-blog

[oonajaeadira]

Adira! I has a question for the Asknado!

I know you have done research for fics before, so what was the most interesting thing you have learned ?

Hello, dear Skuld!!!!

I don't know what the most interesting thing is, but I think the most research I've done was for Leave Off Your Wandering. A lot of it was researching food--no coffee, but can chickory grow there? Yup. Corn? Wheat? Yes! Might not be able to make a pecan pie, but walnuts grow there. What are good and bad winters like in Wyoming? Average snowfall? What is the layout of the land around Jackson? Are there sheep that are good for wool AND milk AND meat? (Icelandic, Cheviot, and Shetland are all good, but Meadowlark's family probably had Targhee sheep. I imagine the Jackson sheep are a crossbreed of those Targhees and Cheviots, since they're a popular breed in the area too. Willa's family might have brought those in.)

And while I never really express it openly or explore it in the series, I always pictured Willa as Native American. So I did study up on some of the modern culture of the different tribes in the area just because I wanted to give her depth of character in my own mind and make sure I wasn't wildly off course. Did you know there was actually a group in the area called the "sheep eaters?" The Tukudika tribe mainly got absorbed by the Shoshone who gave them that name because mountain sheep were a big part of their diet. Many of the Tukudika descendants actually prefer the name Mountain People, and I like that. It's simple, efficient, and tells you what's important to them and about them. That's how I think of Willa--a woman who knows the shit out of her environment and is steady and capable because of it.

And, of course, I learned that sheep sometimes roll over. and get stuck on their backs. Mostly out of dumb. And when they do, you have about 24 hours to get them upright and save their life. Left too long, a rolled sheep will start getting really sick and bloat and then they'll never get up. That's just one of the reasons why the Roostlings do 'rounds and don't just leave the silly things to their own devices.

[edupunkn00b]

Decoherence, Ch. 5: Riding Through Purple Sage

Creative Commons 1.0 Public Domain

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“The blindness I mean is blindness that keeps you from seein' the truth.”  -Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey

WC: 1520 - Rated: T - swearing -

1838, March 9, Northern Wyoming, US

“Lo?” Remus grunted as he pushed up and craned his neck to look around the sun-filled room. Every joint creaked, shoulders tight like he’d slept wrong after a long day’s ride. Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and fished around for his slippers. The wood pellet stove had gone out in the night and the old floorboards were fucking freezing.

The house was quiet… well, upstairs was quiet. He could just make out the lilting sound of Virgil’s voice out in the yard. It sounded like he was feeding the chickens. He squinted against the bright light spilling past the open shutters. Damn, how late did he sleep?

“Lo?” Remus pushed away the heavy blankets and shivered. A metallic clink against the wooden floor accompanied him when he finally mustered the will to stand. He looked down. Lo’s wedding ring was on the floor. “Oh, dear husband? Are you missing something?” he laughed, scooping up the ring and grabbing the robe hanging on the back of the door. He kissed Lo’s ring and frowned. It was chilled from the cold room. He tapped it against his lips for a moment, then dropped it into his pocket and headed downstairs.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” He chuckled as he swung around the stairwell, following the sounds of breakfast in the big kitchen. “You dropped your ring, L—” His feet stuck to the floor when Patton turned to greet him.

“No, I didn’t, Re,” Patton grinned and waved his hand back at him. A band of multi-colored agate caught the sunshine streaming in from the big bay windows. “Maybe it’s Jannie’s? He left early to take the wool into town, but he’ll be back before dark.”

Remus stared at the ring nestled in his palm, the polished metal now warmed against his skin. Right, of course it was Jay’s ring. Ro’s ring was silver, and Patton’s was stone from the river on the other side of the fields. And Remus’?

Remus’ had just been for the hell of it. Practice for when he’d helped Ro make his husbands’ rings. Right. What a weird thing to forget. He pocketed the ring, then shook his head and gave Patton his very best brother-in-law smile. “Is that coffee I smell? I sure could use it today.”

~

After a little more fussing from Pattycake than he really needed—but fuck all if it didn’t feel good to get a little spoiled from time to time—he and Virgil helped clean up after the feast he’d prepared. Patton had started cooking early, with sourdough and eggs and fresh jerky for Jay to take on the road. Remus had sent him off enough times to practically see the way he’d demure the offering at first, then pretend not to notice when Patton snuck a bundle of goodies into one of the horse’s packs.

Then, after Jay left, it looked like Pattycake had just kept on cooking. Chili was already simmering at the back of the stove, the mouth-watering aroma of cayenne, cumin, and kidney beans melding and filling the air. A sack of cornmeal sat on the counter, promising a fresh pan of cornbread for tonight.

They’d be eating good today.

Cleanup done, Virgil joined Ro to check on the foals and Patton had gone to tackle that loose step out on the porch, so Remus snuck a second cup of coffee before heading out to the workshop. It wasn’t until he’d gotten to the door that he noticed he’d filled two cups, his own usual with cream and sugar, the other black. The fuck?

It took a bit of wrangling, but he got the door open and went inside. He set the mugs down on the corner of the table and stared at them for a minute, then threw back the black coffee. It wasn’t bad and it smelled… it smelled kinda nice. Warm and… homey. Maybe part of his brain just knew if he was gonna make any sense of this busted generator, he’d need all the help he could get.

He was elbows-deep in the guts of the machine, twisted over the back of it to try to keep one hand on the rotor, the other tightening the crank when Virgil’s little voice called from the doorway. “Uncka Re?” 

“Fuck,” he swore, spanner clanking to the floor. “Hey, you didn’t hear that,” Remus called back over his shoulder.

“Of course he didn’t,” Ro laughed behind him. “Just like the time you touched the wrong end of the poker.” Remus turned and Ro was standing right behind the kid. Virgil had both hands over his mouth, stifling his laughter. Ro didn’t bother. “Here,” he said, setting down a covered plate. “Pat was worried when you didn’t come out for dinner.”

“What?” He dragged his grease-covered hands down the front of his apron and looked out the window. Yeah, the sun was already casting long shadows out in the orchard. “Fuck, Lo, how long have we—” 

“Woe’s not here,” Virgil whispered, shaking his head as he looked up at him with big, teary eyes.

Remus stared at him. “Whaddya say?”

He crouched down and held Virgil’s hand, but before the little boy could answer, Ro nudged the plate toward him. “You’ve been in here too long, little brother. Have some dinner or Pat’s bound to come out here and feed you himself,” he warned, hefting up Virgil to sit on his hip. “And you could use a nap, huh? No woes to be had here, Virge.” He waited until Remus had sat on the floor and pulled the plate onto his lap. “Come out for supper, okay? It’ll be too dark to work out here by then anyway.”

“Not if I get the generator working,” he mumbled, still chewing. Patton had managed to turn the extra cornmeal and gravy and some of the leftover sausage into a flavorful hash. Remus’ stomach grumbled happily. He was hungry. “Hey, tell Pattycake thanks,” He nodded, stabbing another forkful. “This is really good.”

“I will,” Ro smiled. Virgil was already getting those cute little sleepy eyes, lids popping open when he realized they’d closed. “Imma put him down for a nap then run the horses before Jay gets back.”

~

Janus returned home just before dark, and both Ro and Pattycake revealed their relief in the way they showered him in attention. Even Virgil was calmer than usual, listening when Janus regaled them with tales of Shoshone City, of the tribes that thrived there despite the young US government’s attempts to obliterate them.

Tucked away in the mountains, the nation had managed to evade the troops that had led the way for eastern ‘settlers’ tromping through. It wasn’t easy to find their land, and not many survived attempts. It had taken the family a long time to earn the nation’s trust.

The mountain rams that thrived in the Shoshone nation’s rocky bluffs had a different coat that the ones they raised at the ranch, not to mention the traveling merchants wouldn’t sell the nation arms even if they’d sought them out. But when Janus turned up with his Anglo-Saxon features and a winning smile, he was more than able to scoop up as many guns and boxes of ammunition as he wished to purchase.

And Janus was more than willing to exaggerate the size of their little family and buy whatever the merchants would part with to help ensure the Shosone were better armed than any scouting US troops might be ready for. Their relationship with the tribe made for fair trading. And good allies.

When supper was finished, Remus cleaned up, shooing the others off to enjoy some quiet time—well, as quiet as getting Virgil settled for bed could be—before he moseyed off to his own room.

He’d forgotten to close the shutters and the darkened room was chilled when he got upstairs. A bit of starlight peeked through the clouds, so even after he lit the pellet stove he kept the shutters open, just a crack to let in the silvery light. He stripped down to a pair of long johns, and something hard plinked to the floor and rolled under the bed.

Crawling on his belly, he reached and fumbled in the dark until his fingers grazed smooth, warm metal.

The ring.

How could he have forgotten it? He snatched it up and shimmied out from under the bed frame and sat on the floor, staring down at the little circle in his palm. The ring was as big of a mystery to him now as it had been when he’d first seen it that morning.

But that was the thing. Remus knew this ring. It was familiar, the size, the weight, the glint of it in the half-dark room. He just couldn’t figure out what the fuck he was doing with it.

Without really being able to explain why, he put the ring back in his pocket and carefully folded his trousers, then set them on the chair next to his bed. Then he peeled back the covers and huddled under the cold blankets and slept.

[dxsturbia]

That was my favorite day of my entire life. That was the one time of my entire life. He wasn’t able to pull the wool over my eyes and he didn’t try.

He wasn’t home. I was absolutely respecting his house. Ashley was too. She normally used her headphones. He walked into the dining room where I was doing my homework.

for college, where I go to school now because I didn’t stop when I moved back here

I want to go to school here

I was born here. You were born in Wyoming.

Damn if yall ain’t open Pandora’s box

They wouldn’t let me go to school in my home state you’re in my city

[blsm-m]

This story begins: Parents And here is Climate Desk collaboration. Watching his flock of about 2,000 sheep grazing among the rows of solar panels, farmer Tony Inder wonders what all the fuss is about. "I'm not saying it's for everyone, but when it comes to sheep grazing, solar is really good," he says. Inder spoke of concerns about the encroachment of prime agricultural land by ever-expanding solar and wind farms, which Australia's strongest opponents of energy transition. But on Inder's New South Wales land, the solar farms are boosting wool production. It's a symbiotic relationship that Karin Stark, director of the National Agricultural Renewable Energy Council, hopes to see replicated across as many solar farms as possible as Australia's energy grid moves away from fossil fuels. “This is all about diversifying agriculture,” Stark says. “Right now, a lot of us farmers are dependent on rain. Solar and wind power provide additional income. " By keeping grass cut, which is a fire hazard during dry summers, the sheep save developers the cost of cutting the grass themselves. In return, the panels provide shelter for the sheep, encourage healthier grass to grow under the panels' shade, and form a "drip line" as condensation runs off the panel's surface. Read next Sheep may one day graze under solar panels in one of Wyoming's first "agrivoltaic" projects. "We've had green grass growing, even through the drought," says Dubbo sheep farmer Tom Warren, who says he's seen a 15 percent increase in wool production since installing a solar farm on his land more than seven years ago. Despite these successes, a 2023 Agriculture Resource Centre report written by Stark found that solar power is underutilised in Australia because developers say they intend to raise livestock but do little to adjust their plans to make that happen. "The result is that many solar farms are no longer suitable for raising sheep," Stark says. "Developers need to start talking to landowners sooner rather than later." Professor Bernadette McCabe, director of the University of Southern Queensland's Centre for Agricultural Engineering, said agriculture and solar power were "two very different activities" and there was "very little research and success" in combining them. There has been growing interest in the coexistence of agriculture and renewable energy, driven by the desire to keep farmland in primary production, but McCabe says the "misaligned incentives" between developers and farmers need to be better managed. These competing goals give opponents of renewable energy "ammunition to attack the industry", says Ben Wynne, a former solar developer in New South Wales. Read next Michigan's solar outlook is bleak He said energy developers "often talk" about the possibility of coexisting with livestock farming but have no "real desire to do so." Mr Wynne is currently part of a community group opposed to a large-scale solar farm planned for south Tamworth because it is located on productive cropland. "We need to accelerate this transition, but taking away arable black soil will only add fuel to the fire of opposition," he said. Wynne also led the construction of a prototype solar farm outside Tamworth, raised above the ground on steel stilts, out of reach of the cattle below. "Cows are big and they rub and scratch on everything," Wynn says. Although the project was successful, Winn said it would be too expensive to implement on a large scale, with installation costs three to four times higher than regular low-lying solar panels.

Read next Cash-strapped farms grow a new crop: solar panels McCabe says combining sheep with solar power is "very feasible" because sheep can graze under normal-height panels, but he says it's "still early days" to know whether it would be economically viable for cattle. Dr Nicholas Abel, director of energy generation and storage policy at the Clean Energy Council, said solar developers should consider dual land-use options but warned they might not be suitable for all projects, adding: "We have an abundance of land in Australia so it's not necessarily necessary." According to an analysis by the Clean Energy Council, powering the East Coast states with solar projects would require less than 0.027 percent of the land used in agricultural production. Much less than one-third of prime farmland The right-wing think tank, the Institute for Public Policy Studies, claims we will be "taken over" by renewable energies. Strongly refuted by expertswas taken up by the National Party, with party leader David Littleproud saying regional Australia Saturation point reached Along with the development of renewable energy. For more than a decade, Queensland farmer Caitlin McConnell, chair of the Future Farmers Network, has been selling electricity to the grid from 12 custom-built solar panels on her farm's pastures. "Trial and error" and improvements over the years have made it structurally sound for cows and economically viable in the long term, she said. "As far as I know, we're the only farm that's running solar power while also raising cattle," McConnell said. "We have great land, so why would we close it down just for solar panels?" !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window, document,'script', 'https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '542017519474115'); fbq('track', 'PageView');

[kdubya80]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Wyoming Cowboys NCAA Brown Zephyr Wool Blend Adjustable Strapback Hat.

[sirharder13]

Forgive me I have sinned

While coming back from a downhill ski trip with a high-school lover we got stranded in a blizzard between Colorado and Wyoming our vehicl, didn't have enough gas to constantly run for warmth, our only shelter was a abandoned prairie church, we broke the lock and entered the cold yet dry one room sanctuary and vestibule.

In one corner sat a pot belly stove and a small,but well stocked woodbox filled with dry firewood . I got a small blaze going and soon we were warming our toes pulling off our wool socks and talking She told me that since she started puberty she had a this one particular fantasy that haunted her, to be taken in church, she went on to describe how wet and hot it made her. Before we both knew we were lip locked pulling clothes off, the caretaker of the chapel at sometime had stacked the pews together one on top the other making a rather perfect height where she could sit spread eagle with me right between her legs standing or kneeling

I started running my hands over her tit's flicking her nippples, my right hand dropped and started rubbing her mound, soon my finger slid in and out she cried out as she clenched around my finger, instantly I dropped between her legs licking and rolling my tongue around up and down on her clit, I felt her beginning to tremble deep within her core I kept up relentlessly and soon my mouth was flooded

I she switched me places putting her mouth around my hardness, up and down she went faster and faster I groaned in ecstasy as her mouth brought me to a crescendo and I shot and shot

I picked her up, bent her over the altar, and took her hard from behind, she gave back just as sinfully as she got she gripped the altar so hard the older wooden edge splintered under her clenching fingertips

[whitepolaris]

Old Wyoming State Penitentary

by Scott A. Johnson

Imagine yourself confined to a room five feet by seven feet with only a bare cot and toilet. Down the hallway, terrified screams and sadistic laughter echo throughout the night, reminding you that you live in what may be as well be described as one of Dante's lower circles of hell. You'll be all right, you tell yourself, so long as you keep to your tasks and don't make eye contact with anyone who lives nearby.

Now imagine that same room shared with up to five other men-a prison cell in every breath drawn might be the last and every setting heralds new terrors that come in the night.

A New but Fearful Facility

By 1873, the prison in Laramie, Wyoming, was bulging at the seams. Home to convicts from the surrounding areas, it could no longer accept new inmates, yet the stream of new arrivals never let up. The state government decided a new prison was needed, one that could accommodate the high number of miscreants who roamed Idaho at the time. Construction of what would be an enormous structure began in 1888. It took thirteen years, but on December 12, 1901, the Wyoming State Penitentiary in Rawlins opened its doors. The incarcerated were to be assigned meaningful duties that would not only put money in the coffers of both the prison and the state but would also in the prisoners the seed of a work ethic. Over the years, the prisoners manufactured brooms, shirts, and proceesed wool, when they weren't stamping out license plates.

Despite the state's good intentions, the new facility had tiny cells without running water or toilets, and their bare concrete walls bred more than a sense of punishment. They bred madness. Fights were common, as were stabbings and near riots. In just three years, the penitentiary saw several bloody battles between prisoners, one of which involved a prisoner attempting to cut another's heart out. The terrified guards, who sometimes felt themselves the real prisoners, often did nothing.

Such violence could only be tolerated for so long, prompting the construction of "the Hole" in 1906. Being confined to this windowless room was the punishment for anything from refusing to eat dinner to murder. The guilty were chained to a wall in the room and left in total darkness. During their stay, they were attended to only briefly and were fed miniscule amounts of bread and water.

It wasn't until 1914, years after the prison had already come dangerously close to its capacity, that the penitentiary cells were equipped with toilets, washbowls, and running water-cold only, however.

After several escape attempts by inmates, high concrete walls replaced the wooden stockades surrounding the prison buildings in 1915. The convicts were pressed into service to erect the walls and guard towers, partially to make them aware that escaping would be impossible.

Rough Justice

Executions were commonplace, either by hanging or by gas, but it wasn't just the state that meted out capital punishment. Prison guards often enforced their own bran of justice or simply turned a blind eye to prisoner-devised hangings. In one case, the person hanged didn't die immediately, prompting his executioners to haul hi up by the rope and toss him over the rail for a second time.

By the late 1970s, tales of abuse and overcrowding reached the state. Stories involving the horrors of the Hole and other tortures, including thumb cuffs and the insidious Oregon Boot (a heavily weighted steel shoe), reached the proper ears, prompting an investigation. In 1981, the Wyoming State Penitentiary closed its doors for good, leaving decades of abuse and agony behind.

It is impossible to identify the restless souls that never left what's called the Old Pen; they're simply too numerous. What is clear, however, is that in my places whatever remains is angry and resentful-and not at all shy about showing its feelings.

Tour guides and tourists alike have reported seeing shadowy figures disappearing around corners and malicious presences throughout the structure. There are, however, a few places deemed hotbeds of activity. The showers, were countless inmates were attacked, violated, or even killed, are the setting of many a story. Also on the list of places to be avoided are the former Death Row and the gas chamber.

However, most agree that the worst hauntings occur in the black pit called the Hole. Whatever lurks there, according to those whose job it is to walk the halls, is angry and crazed, threatening anyone who enters. There are also specific cells in which voices are heard and presences felt. Also well known is Guard Tower No. 9, in which a guard committed suicide.

The buildings stand as they did, with cell walls still bearing the markings and artwork of those who occupied them. Death Row cells are adorned with photos of those prisoners who spent their last moments inside. The old prison cemetery is visible on the grounds, and many of the tombstones lie broken or stand propped against a fence.

In other words, the prison looks no less ominous for the lack of new prisoners. Time will tell whether the awful energy generated within its walls is here to stay.

[sylvoskiboutique]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 🔥Dr. Marten Maelly NWT.