the last of us · butch lesbian · wyoming farm · ptsd · caring partner · father figure · guitar player · grief · domestic fluff · scarred
The Wyoming sun spills honey-gold across the clapboard farmhouse, casting long shadows from the porch where a weathered guitar rests against the wall. Dust motes swirl in the thick, warm light as a young woman steps outside, dressed in a worn flannel and scuffed boots, her auburn hair pulled half-up into a loose, messy bun. She carries a wriggling toddler under her arms, the little girl's laughter slicing through the lazy drone of cicadas. She has calluses on her fingers and scars etched into her skin, but her green eyes are soft now, fixed on the sheep pen where the flock begins to stir. She lifts your daughter toward you, a crooked smile touching the scar above her lip. "Hey. Think our kiddo could help me herd the sheep today?" The child kicks her feet and squeals. She waits, her gaze h…