hello, pioneer! @crisisbabe emily's dress is long-dried from her foray into the columbia river, and her hair is only slightly damp after hours of play in the lake. still, she sits cozied up to the fire, wool blanket draped around her and mama's shoulders, as emily lays her head against her mother's shoulder. the hour grows late, and yet she continues to fight off sleep.

today seems almost too good to be true; emily fears that if she falls asleep, she'll wake up in the back of mister mcdoon's wagon with her limbs bound (but with the finest rope money can buy.) with her eyes pried open, emily huddles closer to her mama and murmurs half-coherently, "i was half-convinced i'd waken satisfied enough to dream you ... happily i was mistaken."

hello, pioneer! @honeyfestival "mister mcdoon," the blonde whines, repositioning herself as best she can with her limbs bound. "can we stop for a while? my legs are starting to fall asleep!" she's briefly lost the privilege of stretching her legs after attempting to run away ... again. this time however, emily promises that she will behave ... or run faster.

hello, pioneer! @cannotfly she is but a stranger in a strange land ... doesn't that come from the bible? emily never paid attention in church, she was too occupied making faces at her brother, or staring at her grandfather as he slept — wondering if the silence was building up to an amusing snore, or if the good lord had come for his soul. she wonders if grandpa is still alive, or her father, or anyone else among her kin.

emily has never been on her own before — she's always leaned on her mother for guidance, clutching at sue's skirts even as teenage rebellion raged its course. now, there is no mama, not even mr. mcdoon or cletus jones, as wretched company as they were. just emily and one lonely question: how is she going to find her family again?

"you know something, johanna?" she lifts her chin; glassy eyes lock with the other teen's. "i used to know, but i'm not sure what i was made for."

hello, pioneer! @hatchetswung god is a vicious, two-faced prick. that's what daddy's always said, and that's what god has always shown the dikrats family. first their barn burned down, then they traveled halfway across the country in a shitty wagon, and now emily's on her way to mexico, betrothed to a bandit. a notion that seemed romantic once upon a time ... not so much now, as she's bound in the back of mcdoon's wagon.

"what holy thing has come to possess you?" he said it himself; a higher power steers him true. emily's good friend god is in her corner once more. "or does it all just blend together in your head?"

wish i looked like you.

prompts from the hunger games

"like me?" clammy hands smooth over her skirt — an old garb that emily's owned for five years now. it's survived a growth spurt, various wears and tears, and just as many attempts to save the dress by patching it together. "i wish i looked like you!" emily blurts, one pointer finger aimed at johanna (she knows it's not polite to point, she is sorry.)

"your hair has such pretty curls! and your dress is beautiful." johanna looks like a lady; emily catches a glimpse at her reflection and fears that suitors will only see her as a child. blonde waves braided into two don't help, but it is one of the few styles knows to do on herself. "you look like an expensive china doll."

i remember the first time i saw you. - okay bUT ALSO

prompts from the hunger games.

seventeen years old. mother and daughter mirror each other in age; it's hard for emily to imagine herself pregnant right now. she's barely had as much as her first kiss; she yearns for love, but no more deeply than a child with a fairytale understanding. emily has no money of her own, hazy prospects for her future, and a disappointing ability to cook anything that does not have her mother's assistance.

"were you scared?" the answer is obvious, isn't it? anyone would be ... or maybe that is just emily. the mother is nearly fearless in her daughter's eyes. "... did you regret it at all?" did you regret me? is what she wants to ask, but the words won't leave her lips. hell, emily can barely meet her mother's eye as she asks the later question.

not sure what you were trying to accomplish with that.

FORGIVE ME I LOST THE PROMPT

she knows the drill, they've been through this half a dozen times by now. emily runs, cletus comes to collect her in a mad dash, she ends up in the back of the wagon again, her wrists bound by the finest rope money can buy. it still irritates her flesh and leaves the same burning ring that any other rope would. nevertheless, emily still willingly holds up her limbs to be bound; she doesn't know what will happen if she doesn't, and she's afraid to find out.

"ugh." the resistant bride groans; she crinkles her nose in a scowl. "i wanted to leave! that's why i keep running away!"

boy, that should be damn obvious to the bandit king by now. after he did kidnap her! and set her family's wagon on fire! ... and probably murder them. this marriage is getting off to a terrible start, and emily doesn't want to stick around to see what comes after they say i do.

"i would never dream of marrying you!"

“We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back and see how far they've come.” beth

BARBIE (2023) PROMPTS

sneering lips part, and emily shakes her head. "not my mama." the girl grouses with her arms folded firmly over her chest. "i think she wants me to stand right next to her! she never lets me do anything." emily sighs, bearing the weight of the world (or at least her small corner of it) within her breath.

"i'd never go anywhere if she had it her way." it just isn't fair; emily is seventeen now! practically a grown young lady! but every time she points this fact out, mama lays on the floor and pretends to die ... the worst part is, it works on emily every single time. sue goes into a shpeal about her daughter being grown, how the family doesn't even need her anymore, and within minutes emily is on her knees, begging god to return her mama to life.

hello, pioneer! @witchw00d "mister cletus jones?" young voice pipes up, subtly urges the man to return to her instead of leaving to follow his partner. her wrists are raw and sore from rope burn, yet emily continues to tug against her restraints.

"mister cletus jones — what could i say to get you to untie me ... just for a little while! we don't have to tell mister mcdoon."

hello, pioneer! @eurdike "it's getting cold." she is already wearing the woolen dresses her mama's made for her, though emily's already outgrown the one from last winter. ... which she has already been chided for: we must make things last, emily, her mama says, as she lengthens the hemline of her daughter's dress. emily is tired of making do, she'd like nice things for once. "daddy says we have more work before it starts to snow." and snow falls so early in these parts.

tag dump.