#lumberjanes nellie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themangledsans0508 · 4 years

Text

@mindless-pidgeon lol I was supposed to be working but instead I finished this

Um quite a bit of blood so watch out for that

It was worth a shot, Mal thought to herself. She was lying on her back in the dirt, ferns clinging to her body as she felt the warm blood seep into the ground surrounding her from a bite in her legs. She had no idea what that thing was, both what it shapeshifted into once again and what it was naturally. Just a huge wolf, this time it was even bigger.

She didn’t feel anything. Emotion-wise, that is. Her back hurt like someone had broken her spine right in half, her arms burned from the scratches she received during her attempted escape and her legs…

God her legs.

They were coated in blood, both having been bitten and stabbed by sticks and rocks and anything with a damn point on the end. She had been dragged by her legs to her current position and it felt like her legs were nerves that got irritated at any touch.

So a lot of touch was really fucking painful.

She didn’t even know if she was even gonna live to make it to the monster’s destination. She didn’t know how she felt about that.

However, she was at peace with the fact she was going to die.

On the one hand, she really didn’t care. It was like running from the monster under your bed before you finally meet it face to face. It’s far scarier when it’s unknown. She was staring death in the face.

And she was laughing at her. She was laughing at death.

She didn’t think anyone would remember she fell off that cliff. Nobody would come looking for her. She had even driven her own murderer away before the job was finished.

Did she hate herself? Meh. Not all of her, but probably a fair amount. However, she had always been scared of dying.

Of being forgotten.

Now she had come to terms with it.

She looked up at the sun for the last time.

It was almost as bright as someone’s laugh had made her feel.

That girl could make her truly smile, to forget all her fears.

She had dated others before, but she was different.

Molly was different.

The clock in her head stopped ticking.

She closed her eyes.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Twenty.

The clock in her head starting ticking again.

Started beeping.

She refused to die here.

She didn’t believe in god besides when he was useful in her cussing, but maybe she did believe in fate. There was a reason this had happened, she had come to this camp, she had met those fellow girls, and she had fallen in love. She was ready to start throwing around the “L-word”.

She knew she couldn’t get up, but she could keep breathing and wait. She wasn’t even going to try to get up. She may be strong enough to live, but she wasn’t in one of Ripley’s animes.

She heard distant gunfire and cussing. Lots of cussing.

Who the hell owned a gun in these words? Everyone just had hatches and bows.

Wait. There is someone with a gun. She remembered. Trampling and more gunfire came from the surrounding forest, closing in upon her.

“I wasn’t looking for a maniac! I was just looking for directions!” She recognized the voice, but the fear was unusual for something that had tried to murder her. She glimpsed the large dark mass leap past her line of sight.

“You found me anyways, fox! You want directions? Ask the Grootslang!” The voice was feminine and powerful. And another she recognized.

Abigail ran in fast pursuit of the fox, shotgun in hand and in the process of reloading.

“Hey,” Mal called as loud as she could. Abigail froze and scanned the area, eventually laying eyes upon Mal. She cussed and ran over, dropping to the ground right beside her.

“What happened kid? What’s your name?” Her voice was soft but infuriated. Mal assumed about either her condition or the fact that the fox had gotten away.

“Hey. Um. Name’s Mal. I’m one of the Roanokes. The ones who tried to stop you from waking the Grootslang?” Mal’s voice trailed off. She didn’t first think that maybe when your life depended on the kindness of a psycho, you shouldn’t bring up the fact that you were previously her adversary.

“Roanokes? You’re a Lumberjane then.” Abigail seemingly chose to ignore the rest of her statement, which Mal respected and appreciated.

“Yeah. I kinda got into some trouble and-”

“I can see that. What were you doing out here by yourself?” Mal thought of how to answer that. She didn’t know this woman, besides the fact that she may have been dating Rosie at one point.

“I fell off a cliff,” she said. It wasn’t the full truth, but not a lie either.

“This doesn’t come from falling off a cliff. What did those bite marks come from? A wolf? A bear? Tell me Mal.” Mal sighed.

“A weird shape-shifting fox thing,” she confessed. “The same thing you were hunting.”

“She doesn’t usually cause harm herself. Did she say anything?” Abigail inquired.

“She was doing someone a ‘favor.’ I don’t know who,” she said. Abigail nodded.

“Alright. You need help. That’s a fact. My cabin is too far away to carry you in this state. However, if I remember correctly, the Lumberjanes camp is that way.” She pointed north. “Correct?”

“Uh, I actually don’t know,” Mal mumbled. “I got kind of disoriented in the process of ending up here, so, maybe?”

Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply.

“Okay, well then we’re going with my gut instinct.” Abigail bent down and gingerly picked Mal up, sending searing pain through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and held in a scream.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Molly was hearing things.

Upon discovering the mess of red, Molly had briefly collapsed. Rosie remained as determined as ever, insisting that Mal was alive. She decided they split up, Rosie and Jen, and Molly and Nellie. She wasn’t blind to the fact that they hoped it would distract her, that she would be so preoccupied with asking questions that she would be able to get her off track while Rosie did the real heavy lifting.

Unfortunately for them, it didn’t work.

Molly ran through the woods, Nellie on her heels instead of the other way around. Molly hadn’t asked any questions, and Nellie had no sarcastic comments to make to the girl.

She could hear things, voices surrounding her. The trees themselves spoke to her. They told her directions, right, forward, left, back. She could sense animals that had meant harm avoiding her. She could even feel the portals to the other dimensions around her.

Then she saw a light.

And she ran straight towards it.

Nellie struggled to understand how people felt so attached to others.

Maybe it was because she was always a person who preferred to be alone. Maybe it was because she would rather deal with things herself, and let everyone else deal with their problems, or maybe it was because the only thing she truly cared about was these woods.

This camp.

This girl.

There was something different about her, she could tell. It was written on her. Rosie could see it, Abigail could see it, she could see it herself. The girl, Molly, could only feel it.

But there were other things that could see it too. Things that want to use it to remove the seal that kept these woods away from the rest of the world.

Despite all of this, she was different even for a guardian. Nellie herself would readily admit that she could use magic, but that doesn’t mean every guardian can. Molly, however, could use magic even better that she could.

If she knew, that was.

Perhaps she felt obliged to care about her, perhaps she felt bad for her, perhaps she saw a bit of herself in her.

Whatever it was, she wanted to help this kid.

But, she couldn’t help this if she kept running into every dangerous situation she saw.

For instance, running into that area of woods.

His area.

“What do you think you’re doin’ girl?” She was lucky she was part bear, otherwise, she couldn’t keep up with that kid. She took off running after the stream of blonde, taking notice of the fact that wherever she stepped, the ground seemed to instantaneously die.

Although she felt like she was burning to ashes, Mal was still awake and could see the sea of green pass above her as Abigail raced through the forest. Clinging as tightly as she could in her current state she held to Abigail’s back. She felt dizzy for several reasons, blood loss being a major one. Abigail was strong, but she couldn’t run as fast as either of them wanted.

She suddenly stopped, nearly slipping in her haste. She looked into the abyss of plants, her eyes fixed on something Mal could not see.

“There’s someone coming,” she said flatly. She carefully stepped towards the object of her interest, before freezing once again.

A burst of blonde dived out of the woods, eyes fixed solely on Abigail. Mal recognized her the moment she emerged from the dark.

Molly, with small scratches littering her body from dashing through the woods, stood directly in front of Abigail with anger and fear dominating her eyes.

“Molly!” Mal called. Her voice was weak, but she could hear her.

“Mal!” She rushed towards Abigail.

“You. Let. Her. Go. Now!” She demanded. Mal let go of Abigail’s back with one hand, loosely holding it in front of them.

“Molly! Wait! She saved me. It’s not her fault. But, um, Abigail? Could you let me down? I might be able to walk.” Abigail nodded, gently crouching down and releasing her. Mal tried to get a firm grip on the ground, but immediately almost fell back into the dirt. Abigail’s firm grip kept her upright. She turned to Molly.

“You might want to help her, I don’t want to leave her trying to stand by herself.” She nodded and rushed over, carefully wrapping her arms around Mal’s waist. Mal felt warmth flood to her face, being touched in any way by someone you really love can make you blush.

She learned that fast after meeting Molly.

Molly held Mal tightly like she was the only rope holding her up from falling in hell. She was never letting her go again. Metaphorically, that is. She felt tears escape the prison she had locked them. She closed her eyes and rested her head atop Mal’s. If Mal hadn’t been in danger, she would have wished the moment could last forever.

Nellie emerged from the woods at last. She wanted to see how the girl would handle it. But god, did she hate tears. She approached Abigail silently, before turning back to a human and resting her hand on her arm.

“You did good, girl. But don’t think for a second this means you can do whatever you want in these here woods!” She scolded, removing her hand and crossing her arms.

“You old bat! She would have died if I hadn’t come along! I should hang you up and-” she took a deep breath. “Thank you. For the compliment.”

Nellie nodded, a silent understanding embracing the two.

“Your girl is on the other side of the woods if you want to see her. I know you watch her from the woods, kid.” Abigail clenched her fists.

“Thank you, grandma,” She sneered and rushed off before Nellie could give her a lashing with her words. She turned back to a grizzly and approached the girls.

Sutela watched from the treetops, careful not to be seen. True, she was a small fox at the moment, but that old hag could recognize her if she was a rock. She lost the girl, the only thing the boss wanted. On the flip side, she found someone with even more potent energy to her than the flannel girl. He’d want to hear about that. She carefully lept from the trees back to her home and her boss, where she hoped she could make up for her failure.

Mal woke up at last. Coated in bandages and under bunk-arrest, she couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. She had slept for a while, exhausted and scarred (literally) from the adventure.

She didn’t know how Rosie managed to convince her mom that nothing had actually happened, and it had simply been a nightmare. That took talent. Or drugs.

Lots of drugs.

She breathed deeply. The warmth of her bunk reflecting on her body and making her feel safe.

Until the door creaked open.

She felt panic fill her body. Everyone was supposed to be at activities, it couldn’t be one of her cabin-mates.

“Mal?”

Or maybe it could.

Molly stepped into the cabin, carefully closing the door behind her. She came and knelt next to Mal’s bunk. She reached her hand out and placed it on her cheek.

“Are you okay?” She nodded and moved over, patting the bunk to invite her on.

Molly complied, carefully climbing onto the bunk and laying on her side adjacent to Mal. She reached out and pulled Mal towards her so their foreheads were touching and intertwined their legs.

“Mal, I-” She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing raggedly. “I thought you had died.” Mal laughed weakly and moved one hand to hold hers.

“I did too. Molly, when I was out there, I think I almost died. And not to be sappy but, I think it was you that helped me hang on. I was about the throw in the towel, and I did. For like a half-hour, it was just dark. Then I realized I had to try and live because I had to see you again. “ She felt tears slide down her face as she spoke. She tried to keep her voice from cracking as she continued.

“I thought about you and the fact that I-I love you. Like I’ve said that before to other girls when I dated them, but you’re different. I think about things with you routinely that would have never crossed my mind with them. I want to grow up with you Molly. Through everything. I want to stay with you. And if you don’t feel that way, fuck, we aren’t even dating, it’s okay. I can respect that.” Mal held her breath.

Molly couldn’t help but feel jealous, angry even, hearing about the fact Mal had previously dated other girls. She had to remember that it was in the past. Even though she feared that maybe Mal was lying, she could feel the truth in her words. She was telling the whole truth.

“Mal, I did nothing but search for you for hours. I’d do it again, and again, and again. I want to be with you, Mal. I think I-” she hesitated briefly. “I love you too. A lot. I would do anything for you. And hearing you feel the same way, I can’t believe it. I get to call you my girlfriend. I’ll be so happy once it sets in.” Mal laughed.

“What’ll help it set in?” she asked.

“Sleep,” Molly smiled. Mal scooted closer to her, nuzzling into her neck and wrapping her arms around her back.

“Well, I’m under bed-arrest, so we can do that for a while.” Molly grinned like a kid with candy and looked down at Mal, softly kissing her forehead. She held her tightly.

“I love you, Mal.”

“I love you, Molly.”

lol ill tag the wattpad stuff later but if you wanna request you can

16 notes · View notes

incorrectlumberjanesquotes · 3 years

Conversation

Jen: Wait! She might not always follow the rules, but Abigail hasn't done anything to deserve being excommunicated from the Lumberjanes!

Seafarin' Karen: She helped me escape jail!

Rosie: She helped me stay in business!

Nellie: She helped me love running a summer camp again!

Nellie: . . . After she left.

#submission #homeworkforpigeons #source: the owl house #jen #abigail #seafarin' karen #rosie #nellie #the bear woman #lumberjanes

22 notes · View notes

miscellaneoustenten · 3 years

Text

Squishy bear cheeks! “Boof”

From Lumberjanes vol. 19

#lumberjanes #bear #Lumberjanes vol 19 #a summer to remember #summer #camp #summer camp #scouts #camping #Rosie #bear woman #nellie #Lumberjanes spoilers #boof #cheeks #chonky #squish #comics #reading

13 notes · View notes

transxfiles · 3 years

Text

Nellie watches the girls file in through the polished wooden archway and shudders.

Everything's perfect, or mostly there. She's wearing her brand-new uniform and it feels heavy on her thin, gaunt form. She's long since shed her scouting gear, but even the counselor's clothes never seemed to hold this much weight in them. She can almost feel the duty woven into the cloth. She can smell it all around her, engulfing her, terrifying.

Nellie knows old magic well. She's held it in her hands, labeled it into bowls, stew for her to drink through long nights, never wondering what it was actually doing to her. It's in every song she's ever sung, every story she's ever listened to. Magic isn't the part that scares her.

It's the children she's worried about.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she says, and it almost sounds true. But she knows exactly what’s expected of her, and exactly why she was chosen. She glances up at the black bird perched in the branches of the tree beside her.

Do not fail me in this, her gaze says. You are better than failure.

A breeze winds its way through the crisp summer foliage, and the trees dance and whisper.

You were chosen.

Nellie closes her eyes, breathing in slowly through her nose. She runs numbers in her head in patterns she didn’t even realize she knew; 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34 onward as far as she can go. She tries to drown it all out: the wind, the campers, the wood. But she can’t shake the laughter of the girls ready for their first day of summer, so cheerful, so naive, so uncaring for their futures. She remembers her first day as a Lumberjane, before the camp was held strict under her rule and the forest ate children alive. She remembers being twelve years old and curious and stupid. She remembers befriending another new girl, Margie, during one of their team-building activities. And she remembers just as clearly hearing a voice outside of their cabin that night, calling for them all to follow it, and Nellie remembers how she almost listened. She remembers how Margie did listen. She remembers how in the morning the cabin reeked of fairy wings when she saw Margie's empty bunk.

Nellie can’t believe she’s doing this. Can’t believe they think she’s ready to do this. She's not ready, it's clear as day. She'll never be ready, she's sure of that.

“But it never was easy, was it?” She says, and the raven looks down at her, and the trees all snap into stillness. “That was part of the deal.”

The bird, the monster, Jane looks down at her as if to say, “We told you everything you needed to know. We never did lie to you, did we? We never, ever lie.”

That’s a lie in itself. Everything in the Forest lies.

Understanding that is just another part of becoming a Lumberjane.

Nellie has her own cabin on top of it all, a group of campers assigned to her and her alone on top of her endless duties. Something about being understaffed, about needing one more counselor to fill one more bed, that would surely end up empty before the summer even began.

(They have a sick habit of losing counselors. Nellie doesn’t know how she’s made it this far, even with the Forest hand-picking her and lifting her arm and declaring her a Savior.)

The girls’ names are boring and plain - though, really, can a “Nellie” talk? - but Nellie has them memorized the moment she holds the clipboard all the same, another set of casualties she's sure she'll have to write a report for eventually. Abigail, Rosie, Margaret, and Mae. There's a part of her that recognizes them before she even calls out their names. They walk through the wooden arch at different intervals, but never make any less of an entrance. A black bird circles not too far overhead, observing. Waiting for something.

Mae walks into camp a thunderstorm, bright and flashy and somehow causing more damage than any twelve-year-old should be able to. It's not her fault - she's not used to her latest growth spurt, feet too large for her legs, arms lanky and dangerous in the sense that they never know where they are. Sometimes lightning strikes, but the thunder always warns them moments before. Nellie's just happy for the rain.

Margaret approaches Nellie before anything else, introducing herself as a question that's yet to be answered. Nellie hates kids like this, but clamps her mouth shut, holds the clipboard harder. Counselors aren't meant to hate any of their kids. She still wonders why the Forest ever thought she was fit to be a counselor. Nellie calls Margaret 'Maggie' instead, because she notices in moments that it annoys her. Margaret shoots her a glare and holds on tight to her question mark. She's not one for ending things.

Nellie meets Rosie and something twists in her gut, tying box knots and screaming warnings to her that she can't quite understand yet. Rosie's small and timid and barely manages to squeak out "Hello" when Nellie calls out her name. But the Forest leans in close to hear her, leaning on her every word. Jane watches her with glowing yellow eyes. Nellie wonders when Jane became more magic than human. Nellie wonders when that'll happen to her. She knows it'll happen to Rosie, someday, if she's not careful - the Forest has a way of treating those it wants to devour. Rosie steps willingly into its mouth. Her eyes never stop sparkling behind her glasses.

And then there's Abigail. A beaming smile and a friendly "Hello" and a little bow to Nellie that would be strange or tacky if it didn't feel so genuine. Abigail, who the Forest looks at once and never wants to see again. Nellie, just content to have collected all her girls, walks them back to their cabin. The other girls joke that the wind follows Abigail everywhere she goes, because the trees tremble and shake as she passes, yet not a one of them feels a breeze. Nellie tries not to pay it any mind, but she's never been much good at that, has she?

Take apart words in your mind and build them into new words. Breathe deeply and walk three steps back before you take one step forward. Pretend you don't hear the Earth breathe. Pretend you're stone. No one can hurt stone.

Something about Abigail is different.

Well, she’s fun, sure. The other girls love her, follow her, copy her every move. And she’s a brilliant scout, no doubt about it. Rosie clings to her like she means everything, and maybe she does.

Abigail is a girl. She’s, what, thirteen? She doesn’t know how life works, doesn’t know the way the planet turns and how it impacts the migratory patterns within her own mind, doesn’t understand that time blusters on like the winds on a mountain top - never stopping once to ask and make sure you’re doing alright. Abigail’s hands are rough and calloused, her shoes factory-new, hardly hard worn and laughing at Nellie’s ancient leather boots. Abigail is young, and fiery, and she thinks she knows everything.

Abigail is thirteen.

And the Forest won't stop screaming that this girl is going to end them all.

The walk to their cabin has never felt longer. Nellie grips her clipboard tighter in her hands and feels her fingerprints start to etch themselves into the wood grain, leaving marks and passing time.

Time blows through Abigail’s hair on a small, swift breeze, so thick in the air you can almost taste it. Her braid comes undone, and immediately Rosie’s there, fixing it back into place.

“My ma always said it was best not to let your hair get undone too much in the wind,” she explains, weaving the strands back into their previous positions, holding a hairpin in her lips but talking all the same. “Says it knots up, only gets worse the more you ignore it. Said that problems are best when you solve them small.”

“You can never truly solve any problem,” Nellie says. “Most real problems are made from concepts that we can’t understand. And even if they’re small, they’re still there.”

Rosie’s small, thirteen-maybe-twelve-year-old brow furrows beneath her too-large cat’s eye glasses. “I don’t understand. If you’ve got ants in your sugar, it sucks awful bad, but you can still throw out the sugar, and you can still kill the ants. And then, when you’ve got your new sugar, you don’t have to worry about the ants anymore. You can go back to making sweets.”

“But there are always more ants, aren’t there?” Nellie says. Somewhere above her, a raven caws, but when she glances upward she doesn’t see Jane. Just a clear, cloudless sky. “And you can’t kill them all.”

The girls are silent for a moment, though maybe it’s because they've realized Nellie's making them skip the kickball game some of the counselors have started, in favor of retreating straight to the cabin before nightfall. Rosie finishes up with Abigail’s hair, and Abigail runs her hand over the smooth fish-tail.

“I think I could kill them all,” Abigail says, her voice slick and cold, dead salmon in the river. “I know I could.”

"Excuse me?" Says Nellie.

"I could do it. Solve the problems. Kill the ants."

They sleep that night all in one cabin, the same cabin Nellie's been in since her very first night. She's allowed to stay in the camp director's room, now, and she knows that. But something keeps her here. Grabs her by fate's strings and ties her in place.

Something sings through the night, sweetness that lures ants to poison. Nellie's used to blocking it out, by now, but still doesn't risk a look out the window. She's never seen the camp's strange siren. She's not willing to try it now.

When she wakes, the cabin is emptier by two people. The bunkbed that Mae and Margaret shared is vacant. The room is cold.

"Could you have stopped that?" Nellie asks Abigail. She doesn't elaborate, but Abigail's dark eyes go cold all the same.

"Not this time," she says. "But I'll learn how to. I'll teach myself."

Nellie leads the remaining two girls to breakfast in the Mess Hall, and puts a note out to other counselors that she has two spare beds, if any of their campers want to transfer. She walks to the camp director's office and pulls out a map.

She figures it's going to get boring for the kids, hanging around camp and doing nothing else for the next few weeks. She plans a trip to the mountain.

(AO3)

#lumberjanes week #lumberjanes week 2021 #lumberjanes #fanfiction #lumberjanes fanfiction #cricket.chatterbox #nellie #the bearwoman #abigail #rosie #jane (lumberjanes)#timeline and in general canon are sortaaa wonky here bc i didn't have a lot of time writing this + im tired <3 #hope you liked it!!#my fanfiction

11 notes · View notes

stonecoldaries · 3 years

Text

couple of low quality lumberjanes memes

#lumberjanes #wren lumberjanes #emily lumberjanes #diane lumberjanes #rosie lumberjanes #nellie lumberjanes #fox lumberjanes #bear woman #art

28 notes · View notes

on-wednesdays-we-eat-the-rich · 3 years

Text

So I have this theory that Nellie from Lumberjanes is like, a descendant of Beorn from The Hobbit

#lumberjanes #nellie #bear woman #the hobbit #beorn #it makes sense

8 notes · View notes

zodiac-cabin-unofficial · 4 years

Text

okay but what cabins were abigail and rosie in.

#was it a forbidden cross-cabin romance?#is that why nellie was so angry with them all the time?#abigail #rosie #lumberjanes

25 notes · View notes

canon-asexual-poll · 7 months

Text

Halfway Mark Projected Seeding

Based on the current interest poll results, the projected seeding looks as follows. Please note that there are still 3 and a half more days to vote, so the seeding and bracket is subject to change.

You can vote on any of the interest polls with the links here, feel free to spread propaganda on these interest polls!

Caduceus Clay from Critical Roll

Perry the Platypus from Phineas and Ferb

Lilith Clawthrone from The Owl House

Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives (bi/ace)

Todd Chavez from Bojack Horseman (allo/ace)

Isaac Henderson from Heartstopper (aro/ace)

Connor Hawke/Green Arrow from DC Comics (allo(?)/ace)

Ca$h Piggott from Heartbreak High (allo/ace)

Peridot from Steven Universe (aro/ace)

Gwendolyn "Gwen" Poole/Gwenpool from Marvel Comics (aro/ace)

Mordecai Heller from Lackadaisy (acespec)

Kale Romero (aro/ace) from Monster Prom

Bill Cipher from Gravity Falls (aro/ace)

Dr. Sally Grissom from ARS Paradoxica

Maya from Borderlands

SpongeBob SquarePants (aro/ace)

Luffy from One Piece

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt from The Adventure Zone: Graduation (allo(?)/ace)

Jughead Jones from Archie Comics (non-SAM asexual, aro/ace)

Coach (allo/ace) from Monster Prom

Sakuko from Koisenu Futari (aro/ace)

Takahashi from Koisenu Futari (aro/ace)

Jody Marsh/Runner Four from Zombies, Run! (non-SAM(?) asexual)

Mousefur from Warrior Cats

Isaac M Rydle from Val and Isaac (aro/ace)

Count Orlo from The Great

Twitch "Lore" Woodwind from Val and Isaac (aro/ace)

Nellie from Rain (homoromantic/ace)

Alex from AJ & Magnus

Anthony Drake/Argent Adept from Sentinels of the Multiverse (aro/ace)

The Professor from Gilligan's Island

Diane/Artemis from Lumberjanes (allo/ace)

Not seeded high enough: Bizu from Bizu (aro/ace)

Fun facts under cut

The first 3 characters are within 25 points of each other

Bizu is the only character to have a single digit seeding number

The curve is impacting 16 of the characters, the only characters shifted by more than 2 placements are Ca$h (+4 placements) and Bill (-4 placements)

The curve is not currently impacting who won't make it into the tournament

*the curve mentioned is the doubled points for votes on the significant asexual representation option. Placement refers to their ranking, not the number of votes.

#asexuality in fiction #asexual #asexual representation #tumblr tournament #actuallyasexual #canon asexual poll

5 notes · View notes

ohmykittenholy · 4 years

Text

Mal Yoo, professional lesbian.

#i tease bc i love and relate #mal yoo #molly #mally #the bear woman #nellie #lumberjanes #noelle stevenson

13 notes · View notes

isoscele · 3 years

Text

Lumberjanes Week Day 1 - First Day of Summer

(This is longer, weirder, and later than I wanted it to be, but isn’t that the spirit of the week?)

--------- Jo’s last exam is electrical engineering, and she finishes twenty minutes early. Dr. Quispe winks at her as she turns it in, and Jo tries to smile. The constant fog of formulae and diagrams dissipates from her head, replaced by a more all-consuming calculation.

One hour, six minutes to go.

She drops by her room, picks up the single backpack sitting on the bare mattress. On her way out, Gabi pops out of the lounge. “All done?”

Jo’s smile softens, takes on something real. “Yup. You?”

“I still have an essay, but I’ll probably do it at home. Got any big summer plans?”

“Kind of.” She shifts her backpack higher on her shoulders, silently debating how much to say. “I’m going camping with some friends.”

“Oh, cool,” Gabi says. “I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as an outdoorsy type, Jo.”

“Oh, you know.” Something under her skin humming, some outdated circuitry splitting into life. Forty-nine minutes. “In certain circumstances.”

Gabi giggles. As is the case with every one of their sporadic interactions, Jo wonders if they’re flirting. “Have fun! Don’t get eaten by a bear!”

She swans back toward her laptop and empty M&M packet. If she’d looked back for just a moment, she might have wondered what she had said to make Jo look so devastated.

---------

Mal has a pickup truck. It’s disgusting, with a windshield wiper that sounds like a dying macaw and a clutch that, for two heart-stopping seconds at the beginning of each gear shift, refuses to move at all. Mal has always defended it with a vigor previously only saved for her best friends and favorite bands.

Jo slides into the passenger seat. The radio is blasting heavy metal and the interior smells shockingly of mayonnaise; she has to blink hard to hold back her tears. There are some things that are so beautiful, so precious that it’s impossible to look at them head-on. Jo always forgets, when she’s away.

“You’re in the bus lane,” she tells Mal.

Mal obligingly starts the very long process of getting her car to move. “I thought the idea behind going to fancy science school with adults was that bus lanes were no longer necessary. Also, it’s fucking amazing to see you.”

“The buses shuttle students around campus. Also, I’m delighted that you’re here and I want to give you a hug.”

“Motion passed,” Mal says, and they squeeze awkwardly over the two melted Frosties in the cupholders.

The car jolts into first gear hard enough to throw Jo into the seatbelt, and then suddenly she’s laughing so hard she has to hold her sides to keep herself from spilling over.

“Sorry!” Mal says, “sorry, she’s jumpy around strangers,” which is what she says every summer. It’s a terrible joke laced with an irrefutable affection, and it’s so Mal that it makes Jo laugh even harder.

“We’re not strangers,” Jo says. She pats the center console, feels a little of the polyester flake off on her hand. “Me and this truck go way back.”

“Well, let’s hope you and this truck go way forward, too,” Mal says, “because I’m really not sure the engine’s going to last us to California.”

---------

They pull into the trailhead at around six the next morning, and make silent work of the luggage in the back. The sun’s just starting to come up, blinking warily between the table pines. Mal waves her on, and Jo sets off along the winding path.

The first year or two, they mostly stuck to campgrounds and RV parks, warming hot chocolate on the camp stove despite persistent, obnoxious heat. Jo didn’t think much of it at the time, but now she knows that Molly was trying not to inconvenience them, trying to keep them to the shallows of the forests. Trying to keep anyone from going too far, getting too stuck.

The fact that they were instructed to bring backpacking gear this year doesn’t do much to assuage the constant thread of worry in the back of her mind. This isn’t something they can dip their toes in anymore; the world is always a more dire place than they left it last summer.

The hike is long and treacherous. They go off the trail almost immediately, but neither of them need a map. It sounds cliche to say that they’re following something else, but they are. The anxious chitter of the birds and the sun balking at the edges of the trees and the distant hush of a river form a clear topography in their minds. They walk without discussion, taking each turn as naturally as if they had always lived here.

Around mile seven, they start to hear voices. Mal breaks into a run, and Jo comes crashing after her.

They knock straight into April, who catches both of them with practiced ease. For a moment, the air splits with three different calls of incomprehensible joy, and then they’re lowering themselves to the moss as a single, complex organism.

“Holy Felicia Flames, you guys look great!” April hollers.

“I have so much to tell you,” Mal says.

“Are you trying to set the forest on fire?” Jo asks, wandering over to where April has piled an impressive set of branches and old newspaper. She must have packed most of it in herself; the trees around here don’t look like that.

“Might make our job easier,” April says, and then a grim silence falls over the clearing.

I’m going camping with some friends, Jo had said, as if it was just camping, as if they were just friends. As if Jo’s relationship with these people, the things they had to do together, could be described in such a mundane and immaterial way. As if Jo won’t sit at the fire with them tonight, watching the way the sparks clear the shadows around their eyes, and love them with everything she has in her. As if she won’t hate them, too, for making her come here.

Here they are, in the annual half-second when they don’t know what to say to each other. The moment when the summer teeters, still soft and blameless, on the edge of something sharper.

But then April asks Mal how the band’s doing, and the moment passes.

“I wish I’d thought to bring pictures,” Mal says. “We played at this amazing venue last January--there was this skylight, and it was pouring rain, and people just kept coming in because it was so miserable outside.”

“Aw, that’s great,” April says. “I’d love to come someday, but y’all sell out so fast!”

Mal scratches the back of her neck, looking embarrassed. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“What are we talking about?” Ripley half-shouts. Jo yelps, and then that turns into more laughter, which turns into an incredible group hug. For someone who carries no fewer than three kazoos on her person at all times, Ripley can be surprisingly stealthy when she wants to. Jo never hears her approaching anymore; first, there’s nothing, and then there’s Ripley.

April hugs Ripley so hard she lifts her off the ground. Ripley immediately starts listing all the weird birds she’s seen this year and asking April to cross-reference them with her encyclopedia of creatures.

And then, of course, there are four.

Jo drifts half a step closer to Mal and extends her hand. Without tearing her gaze from the blot of trees, Mal takes it.

Last year, Molly had been sort of--sick. They’d been camping on a bauld where eagles circled high overhead and the flowers were all this terrible saffron yellow, bent under the shadow of the rocks. Molly had walked with a stick, like the Bear Woman--like Nellie used to use, thick and gnarled. But she said that was temporary, just because of a bad fall, and no one talked about how her freckles had almost overtaken the white of her hands, how her eyes were spotted with yellow and seemed to constantly rove towards the sky.

No one had mentioned much of anything, because the year before that they had buried Nellie in the soft earth beside the lake and they had all tacitly agreed not to talk about it. Maybe that’s what growing up is like--finding more and more things that no one is willing to say. Holding a grief in you that sometimes feels so bright and all-consuming that it can’t possibly be real.

“She’ll be okay,” Jo says, quiet so as not to kill April and Ripley’s buzz. “The forest loves her.”

But that’s a cold comfort, because they have all spent the same six summers learning that the forest’s love can be the most terrifying force in the world.

---------

It doesn’t take long at all before a familiar sound comes rolling in from the mountain. It’s a sound like dinosaurs, like goliaths, like the world collapsing in on itself.

It’s a sound that heralds the approach of Bubbles, who these days is about the size of a house.

I don’t know! Molly had said, laughing, the first time they had seen him again. I guess he was just a baby when we met him. I’ve been feeding him a lot of peanut butter lately, maybe that’s it.

Bubbles crashes through the trees, chittering so loud that it sounds like the laughter of a god. On his back, perched awkwardly against the scruff of his neck, sits Molly.

She does look okay. Their home hasn’t killed her yet.

There’s a little more white in her hair, a little more curl to her fingernails. But she’s smiling so wide it’s almost like they’re just here to catch up, like just for today they can afford to be a group of friends and nothing else.

Later, of course, will come the campfire, and the birds falling silent, and even the cicadas forgetting to cry, and they will map out another fraction of the world. They’ll find another dozen stone men, sleeping still enough to be dead. They’ll find perhaps hundreds of potential apocalypses, and they’ll spend the month eating little and sleeping less, preventing the end of the world again and again and again until they can’t even remember what they’re saving.

But right now, Molly slides down Bubbles’ side and yells “Guys!” and the summer bursts into being.

#lumberjanes week #lumberjanes #my writing #sorry about the weird formatting this website is a genuinely terrible place to publish writing

10 notes · View notes

ripley-rodriguez-oshanassy · 3 years

Text

lumberjanes takes place at a whole ass SUMMER camp and nellie still walks around with her thick ass coat like 90% of the time. no wonder she’s so pissed i’d be pretty bitchy if i was wearing a fur coat in july with no ac.

#i know i never post here my lumberjanes thoughts just go to the Jen Fanclub or the recesses of my mind never to be seen again whoops #lumberjanes #lj #nellie #bearwoman #nellie lj #nellie lumberjanes

37 notes · View notes

themangledsans0508 · 3 years

Text

A Second Family

Read on Ao3

Summary: Ripley had always been with family. Then she went to camp. But she felt like it was family. Why? She thinks she knows.

Words: 1300, Oneshot

Warnings: None

Characters: Ripley, The Roanokes, The Zodiacs, Rosie, Nellie

Ships: Mally (not focus)

Additional Tags: Found Family, ripley thinking about how she found a second family, and how she assigned everyone mental roles

Maybe it was because Ripley, prior to camp, had never been away from a family member for longer than three days, which was for a field trip. All twelve years of her life she had been surrounded by family, her ten older siblings, parents, and her Abuela were always with her. Then it was her eight older siblings after the two oldest, who were twins, both moved out. Then adding her younger brother brought her to nine siblings, always around her.

Maybe that was why within her own cabin, she found herself thinking of her friends as family.

It was in simple ways, from the way they treated her to how her friendship with them worked to how she thought of them as people that she assigned them roles.

April was like a sister, someone who brought out both the best and worse in Ripley. She knew just what to do to get Ripley riled up, and just what to do to get her back. Unlike the others, she ran headfirst into danger right by Ripley’s side, caution was thrown to the wind in favour of the thrill of adventure. Both could get in over their heads when something they saw amazed them and accidentally drag everyone else down with them as they fell. When there was a rare calm around camp, they’d do things like makeovers or overdramatic retellings of their adventures.

Jo was very similar to April but felt older. Realistically, Ripley knew both Jo and April were fifteen but emotionally Jo felt much older. She was smart, calculating everything as they went along to find the best path to their destination, both metaphorically and literally. When she saw something, she saw a problem that needed to be solved. With Ripley, she was sort of a protector. Warning her of danger, scolding her when she did something wrong, and protecting her from whatever came their way. Just like Ripley’s oldest sister did. Whenever she could, she’d try to teach Ripley about math or science, ever-patient with her short attention span.

April and Jo were close to each other just like some of Ripley’s sisters were, practically each other’s counterweight. Almost complete opposites in the way that they basically rely on each other to work.

Molly in a way was like her mother. Gentle and soft-spoken, and terrifying when angry but normally very reserved. She would listen attentively to Ripley’s stories without interrupting with the very same amused look her mom would have whenever Ripley did the same to her. She would idly fix Ripley’s shirt when it was askew or run her fingers gently through her hair. When Ripley would barrel towards danger, she’d be the first to try and grab the scruff of her shirt to keep her from plummeting down whatever cliff she had failed to notice. If they found something mystical, Molly would keep her arms wrapped around Ripley to prevent her from trying to hug it, or talk to it, or get close to it in general. Whenever she could, she would tell Ripley stories about the gods and the heroes and the beasts from Greek mythology

Fittingly, Mal reminded Ripley of her dad. A goofball, the one who would make faces to mock whatever jerky cryptid they encountered. She’d give her piggybacks, or shoulder rides, or throw her like a projectile through the air like her dad would toss her into the swimming pool near their house. Telling wild stories from her home life, the shenanigans that she and her friends would get into that definitely weren’t the best influence (both Molly and Jen agreed). When it came to their journeys, she was the voice of reason, however, sometimes she was far too concerned over something. Just like her dad believed every person on the internet was some horrible kidnapper, Mal tended to react to every noise like it was a rabid wolf, though through no fault of her own.

When they could rest, it was a spitting image of her parents, almost always touching in some way, murmuring jokes to each other that no one else could hear nor understand. Basically inseparable, and they were a force to be reckoned with.

Jen was like another mom, although not in comparison to Ripley’s mom, but to the stereotype of one. Overly protective, to the point that unless absolutely necessary she preferred that no other counselors give directions to her girls. Giving them their chores, reminding them of their schedules, making sure they took care of themselves. With Jen around, everyone else felt like her sisters and they all had their mother. Desperate to keep track of them, and to keep them following the rules, and to most importantly keep them safe since they had a tendency to fail at that.

More than once some of the Roanokes hadn’t made their beds in the morning and came back to them pristine (not often, mind you. They still had to face the consequences of an unmade bed). Bringing snacks for them when they go hiking, along with spare clothes, tons of first aid, and hygiene products. She’d also lecture them about the importance of a healthy sleep schedule and keeping their space clean. Practically keeping Ripley on a leash.

She held herself responsible for all the Roanokes, and all the Lumberjanes in general. Holding herself to a higher standard and blaming many things that happened to her lack of preparation, never on the girls.

They were definitely the closest, but Ripley had three others she gave roles to.

Barney was like a cousin that was an honorary sibling. A sweet child who would give their friends the world if they could. Someone who’d join Ripley in make-believe, running through the woods in wild laughter. Someone who would partake in minor mischief and shenanigans. Baking treats for the Roanokes, making them trinkets and keepsakes. Sometimes joining them for Roanoke-only adventures.

A buddy that was there for everyone. Someone to make the world brighter.

Rosie was kind of an aunt, mysterious and slightly distant. Occasional stories from her past, but never any real details. She would come in clutch when the campers got in over their heads. Strong, independent, and questionable in her taste. She’d let the girls watch her made sculptures, or teach them how to make them. A cool aunt.

Someone to look up to.

The Bearwoman was absolutely a cranky grandma. Snappy, cranky, and sour. She always criticized the girls on everything they did, and never once complimented them. She hated hugs, and was always saying “Back in my day.”

Ripley never said she was a likable grandma.

She told the Roanokes how she felt before, one day before they all went to bed. She was kind of quiet when she said it, not her loud and proud voice she normally used. The Roanokes had looked at each other, and aside from Jen insisting she was not a mother, and getting told by the entire cabin she was, in fact, a mother, there was no protest. They actually started referring to Ripley as she had referred to them.

Except for Jen, but she accepted her role after some time.

She told Barney when they were hanging out in a tree, and they were silent for a moment, before saying they felt the same. They admitted they liked the family dynamic and felt that way about the Roanokes and the Zodiacs.

Ripley thought of the Zodiacs as older cousins, kind of intimidating to her. Save for Barney and Emily, she was almost scared of them.

She didn’t tell Barney that.

Later on, when she was lying in her bunk, she decided that the Lumberjanes were like an extended family.

They were there for each other, they always had each other’s backs, they were a unit.

#chara writes #fanfiction #lumberjanes #lj mal #lj molly #lj ripley #lj april #lj jo #lj jen #lj rosie #lj nellie #lj hes #lj barney #lj wren #lj mackenzie #lj emily #lj diane #ripley-centric

3 notes · View notes