#bench the bluegrass

[houseshoesandtallboys]

LUNA

[z3nitsusgf]

Will, my muse, my cowpoke, my insane cheese-brain detective <33

Will Graham is soft like moss from the backyard. All wide-eyed and toothy, like the refracting image of water on the surface of the lake. He’s country charm at its finest. The very definition of it. He’s real rough and tumble, oh your bluegrass outlaw. Banned from the saloon and kicked from the county jail - he wanders the backwoods alone.

You can just imagine it, the old cowboy in him. Sitting on the porch with his hat tipped down over his eyes, chewing on long dried wheat and humming Jonny Cash. The sun dips down over the west, singing cicadas and buzzing mosquitoes, he’ll lay his head on your shoulder and once in a while, kiss it.

He once told you he likes to help people. That, when he loves them, he wants to make them feel like he’ll always be there to solve it.

He said, “I’ve never seen you cry, I don’t know if you can. I don’t know if I can either.” And in a way, you knew he just wanted to hold you one last time.

You know if you asked sweet enough, if you shared your canteen and offered a palm to his cheek - he’d nuzzle it like a dog and let you clean his wounds till he cried. The glow of fireflies caught in jars.

He’s a spur in your side, a rough kick of a steel toe boot to your heart. But you want it.

You want that life. To live in that small town with winding back roads and train tracks that blare in the night. Barefoot on the stairs, tracing the smooth dark wood of the bannister. Drinking sweet tea on the swinging bench and listening to him talk about his truck.

It’ll roll off his tongue like sap from a tree, “babydoll what’d ya think?”. Thick country accent slurring from his mouth, hands creeping up the valley of your chest, canines peeking through his lip.

To watch him fix his engine with oil stained hands, cap shielding his eyes from the blistering southern sun. August sticking to the back of our throats. Dog days. He’d look sweet as sin, like cold whiskey at the bar.

You’ve always been a dreamer. You’re quite choked with the tenderness you have for him. If you admitted it, it would kill you.

You wonder, faintly, if he’s religious. Would he find God within you? Would you find God in him?

“Oh my sunkissed cowboy, my lover boy, my partner in crime. Let me hold you by your blue jeans, let me curl my fingers round your belt loops and step on your leather boots, let me kiss your honey suckle mouth.”

You see it so clearly. You need him with the utmost certainty.

[tempe-brennans]

in the cold kentucky rain

summary: a search in the rain for lost love

authors note: so i don't go here but i've gotten the joel brainrot through osmosis and here we are. if he's out of character that's totally on me. hope you enjoy <3

The fabled Kentucky bluegrass squishes under his feet. Dimly, he thinks it isn't really blue. It looks like any other grass he's ever seen—especially in the rain—wet and green with mud beginning to squeeze up between the blades.

Who had named it that?

Back in the old days, before monsters and all this death, Joel knew horses and bourbon flowed through this state in nearly equal measure. But, in all the Derby coverage he’s ever seen, he’s never heard anyone explain why it’s called bluegrass. Not once. It’s not like he had imagined cobalt blue blades grew along Kentucky’s hills, but still. He was expecting something more than this.

He almost wishes there was some way to look it up, a computer he could get to with some modicum of ease. It would certainly make his actual search easier, if nothing else. Which, if he's honest, is the only reason he's let his mind wander down a tangent about bluegrass in a state he's never been to before.

A distraction. A desperate, hopeless attempt at a distraction.

What if he never finds you? Never sees you again? Never again wakes to feel the softness of your breath against his bare chest as you sleep?

He couldn’t bare it. Even the thought makes his chest constrict in a way he hasn’t felt since the parasite that flipped the whole world upside down—since the day he'd seen his only daughter dead in his arms.

He knows now. He understands the way he should have been with you. You weren’t a mission—didn’t require the efficiency and reservation it took to get him through the rest of his life. He could be soft with you, should have been soft with you. All the romantic comedies they used to play on television over and over, he should have followed their example.

He should have been over the top in the way he loved you, even now, with the world the way it is.

The love he feels for you had changed his life, had given him something to look forward to, but he had still treated you like a task to be completed—a problem to be addressed.

It's all so clear now, as he walks through the rain looking for you. It’s all clear now, when he’s lost you.

He’s interrupted, jolted out of his thoughts as a truck jostles down the road behind him. Practiced fingers curl around the gun tucked in his waist, just in case.

Lot of good it would do him to contract pneumonia looking for you and end up dying in a botched roadside robbery.

The truck slows to a stop beside him, wet wheels squealing as they still.

A window rolls down—the old crank kind, Joel can hear it even over the rain, and it makes him smile.

“You need a ride, son?”

The man can’t be much older than Joel, but still, he takes on the role of elder easily. Joel’s fingers release his gun, knowing he could reach it in time should he still need to.

He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

The man shakes his head, reaches across the bench seat, opens the door. “The only inconvenience I feel is my wet passenger seat. Get in.”

Joel does, running out of reasons he shouldn’t.

He settles, looks at the driver. “If you’re sure it’s not a hassle.”

“S’no trouble at all,” the man says, as he starts up the truck again.

Joel can feel the other man’s eyes on him and, without much other choice, turns to meet his eyes.

He quirks a brow. “You wanna talk about why you’re out for a walk in a torrential downpour?”

Joel looks down, shakes his head. “No big deal, really.”

“Sure.” He nods. “I go walking in the rain for no reason, too. I get it.”

Joel breaks. The stranger in the driver’s seat is a man he’ll never see again, and suddenly, his problems come pouring out. By the time the man stops again, outside an abandoned general store, Joel has spilled his guts.

He blows out a breath. “I wish you luck. Nowadays a search like that…”

Joel nods, shallows around the lump that has formed in his throat. “I know.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, thanks for the ride. I appreciate it.”

The man nods. “’Course. I hope you find her.”

“Me too,” Joel murmurs.

It happens when Joel is least expecting it, catching sight of you. He’s walking around the general store, having already checked inside, and there you are.

He could never forget the way you carry yourself, never forget the shape of your body. Like you, it’s burned into his mind for the rest of his life.

He tries to call your name, but his mouth won’t form the word. Instead, he tries, “Honey!”

You stop, turn to face him in slow motion.

“What are you doing here, Joel?”

Hands shaming at his sides with nerves, he attempts a joke. “Thought you could get rid of me that easy, hm, darlin’?”

You sigh, shrug. “I was hoping.”

Then, you’re turning, continuing on your way, and Joel can’t have that.

“Baby, please.” He hurries to catch up and tries to curl fingers around your arm and just misses.

“‘M’not your baby,” you mutter.

“Can you at least look at me?” Joel sighs. “Don’t I deserve that?”

You blow out a breath and turn to face him.

There’s a look in your eyes Joel has never seen turned on him. He’d call it something like disinterest.

“Just leave it alone, Joel.” You sigh. “Just let me go. Please.”

He shakes his head, tries to talk over a thunder clap. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can! You’ve done it for months!”

You turn on your heel, as done with the conversation as you appear to be with him.

Desperate, he calls after you, “Everyday I’m in love with you and everyday the feeling grows and if you could just…if you could just come home, I’ll make sure to show you that every moment.” Joel shakes his head, reaches out for you. You just slip out of his grasp. “You’ll never forget—never have to wonder how I feel—again. Not for a second.”

You simply stare at him, a look in your eyes he can’t place.

“Please, baby.” He can feel the tears roll down his cheeks and mix with the rain. “Please give me one more chance. Just one,” he whispers. “I promise I’ll never hurt you again.”

You’re silent for an entirely too long moment before you finally speak.

“Can you sing that song for me again?”

Joel knows exactly what you mean.

He remembers the night intently, the night you had cried on his shoulder and he had done the only thing he could think to comfort you.

Sing.

Gentle fingers had run up and down your arm as he had hummed.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy, when skies are gray

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don’t take, my sunshine away

He murmurs them again now, meaning entirely different as he gets soaked to the bone in the rain.

“I’ll never do anything to make you wanna leave again, baby. I promise.”

“No,” you murmur. You run gentle fingers through his hair, laugh softly. “I’m sure you will.”

Joel feels his face fall, his heart go a bit topsy turvy, but you’re quick to right him.

“I just won’t run away next time. Not without speaking to you.”

His soul settles, and you lean in to kiss him. His rain soaked clothes, the water dripping into his eyes—it’s all worth it for this moment, the moment when everything falls into place once again.

“I love you,” he whispers, simple in its truth.

Your smile is a slow thing, taking over your face like honey. “I love you, too.”

[fraidy-farfelle]

An Artist's Inspiration

Vincent Sinclair x Fem reader

Warnings: NSFW

Notes: Song is True Love Ways by Buddy Holly, image is not mine

Tagged Moots: @rottent33th @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better

A groan of frustration echoed in the basement, momentarily drowning out the gentle hum of the water heater. The crinkle of paper heralded yet another failed design, and was tossed with disdain into the recycling bin. Vincent got up and stretched his arms above his head, the pops of his vertebrae telling him he’s been hunched over his desk for a while. 

What was with him today? 

He mulled this question over as he paced around the large table in the center of the room. There were no bodies today, but a bluegrass music festival that was scheduled in a few day’s time, a half hour’s drive from Ambrose promised new models for the museum very soon. 

Vincent had spent the morning attempting to sketch out some designs for the incoming arrivals, but nothing he had come up with appealed to him. Were the arms too long? Was the torso too skinny? Maybe the costumes he had to choose from weren’t exactly right? He ran a hand through his hair, and heaved a great sigh. He needed to get a grip, and quickly. 

As he stewed in his melancholy, the beautiful notes of the House of Wax’s piano wafted through the air. Vincent’s demeanor immediately brightened. He felt foolish. Of course, the answer was right in front of him. Or right above him, in this case. Some time with his muse should help. He made his way up the stairs, and listened intently as she began to sing. 

Just you know why

Why you and I

Will by and by

Know true love ways

Sometimes we’ll sigh

Sometimes we’ll cry

And we’ll know why

Just you, and I

Know true love ways

Throughout the days

Our true love ways

Will bring us joys to share

With those who really care

Sometimes we’ll sigh

Sometimes we’ll cry

And we’ll know why

Just you and I

Know true love ways

(Y/n) jumped as she heard Vincent giving her applause from behind her. “Jesus, Vinny! You scared me! You’re as quiet as the dead folk in here!” she exclaimed, rising from the bench. He signed an apology and opened his arms, gesturing for her to embrace him. Shaking her head with a grin, she approached him and gave him a squeeze, sighing as he held her close and rocked her back and forth. “You’ve been cooped up in that basement all morning. Everything okay?” she asked him, holding him at arm's length. “I can’t seem to come up with anything good enough, today. It’s so frustrating!” he signed, accompanied with an annoyed huff. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey! You’re a wonderful artist, you just need to take a break.” Vincent tenderly brushed some hair behind her ear, giving her a needy look that wasn’t lost on her. “Ah, I see… the artist needs some… inspiration from his muse, is that it?” she teased, her hands traveling up to lock behind his neck. “Have I told you I love you?” “You may have mentioned it a time or two. Bo and Les are getting some things ready for that festival, so they’ll be gone all day. Let’s get that frustration fucked out of you, yeah?” “God, what would I do without you?” 

Vincent lifted her effortlessly, gripping her by the back of her thighs. She squealed with laughter as he quickly made his way to their shared bedroom. He helped her out of her shirt and jeans, tossing them in the general direction of the hamper. After Vincent shed his shirt, (y/n) delicately put her hands on his mask. “Are you ready for this to come off, my love?” Vincent audibly swallowed but signed, “Only for you, (y/n).” She gently pulled it off and placed it on the dresser. “There you are, handsome!” she cooed. Blushing furiously at the compliment, he drew her into a sloppy, but passionate kiss.

He groaned into her mouth as she slipped a hand down his happy trail, down into his boxers and began stroking him. Vincent unclasped her bra from behind and slipped it off. He broke the kiss with a gasp as she gave him a squeeze. (Y/n) flashed him a cheeky grin and knelt in front of him. She undid his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers, his member springing out proudly as she did. Looking up at him, she pressed a kiss to the flushed head. A moan tore from his throat as she swallowed him and began bobbing her head up and down. Vincent gently took her hand off of his thigh and pulled her back to her feet. “Lay down for me. I want to be inside you.” He signed, somewhat frantically. He was dripping precum as he crawled between her legs. He pulled her panties off and guided her to wrap her legs around his hips. (y/n) moaned as he rubbed his cock along her entrance, making sure to let the head catch on her clit. When he felt he was lubricated enough, he pushed inside slowly, giving her time to adjust. They both let out groans of pleasure as their hips met. 

(Y/n) wiggled her hips and nodded at Vincent to move. He leaned forward onto his forearms, his right hand caressing her cheek as he set a rhythm. “Fuck, you fill me up so good! Faster, Vinny, please!” she cried, tangling her fingers in his long, soft hair and pulling him into a deep kiss. He moaned into the kiss as her legs tightened around him. His thrusts picked up speed as they both approached their ends. (Y/n) called out Vincent’s name as she came, the squeezing of her cunt triggering his release. He let out a strangled cry as he spasmed and emptied himself inside. 

Vincent pulled out and flopped to the side, catching his breath. She curled into his side and pressed a kiss to the scarred side of his face. Vincent’s expression suddenly brightened. He kissed her on the forehead and rolled on his side to rummage through his nightstand for a sketchbook and pencil. (Y/n) watched in amusement as he began sketching feverishly, human forms and designs taking form on the page. 

She scooted over to spoon him from behind, wrapping her arms and legs around him as he made himself busy. As she made herself comfortable, Vincent flipped to the next page in the book and he wrote: “That was exactly what I needed. Thank you. I love you so much.” She giggled at the little heart he doodled next to it. “You’re welcome, Vinny. I love you, too.” She let out a long yawn and drifted off to sleep, happy that her artist had regained his inspiration. 

[nahisummerhold]

(Little hints at upcoming War Within events. Trying to not give spoilers but this needs to be written before it)

TW: Dementia

Dancing on the bench where she had been sitting with Cam and Jace earlier, nowhere close to the mosh pit, it looked more like a combat sport than the movements she preferred. Dancing was a great way for her to actually lose focus on the moment and reflect, any good workout would do, but movement to a beat  always felt like a true connection of mind and body.

She hadn’t been nervous before the show, just on the cautious edge of her confident nature. Nahi knew her performance was solid, she just wondered if this was stepping too far off the path of her musical spectrum. If she hadn’t been skipping a path along that razor’s edge of hyperfocus and relaxed quiet before a show, she would have asked Jace about some of the bluegrass places to enjoy since he knew about them, or maybe she could talk to him about anything. Talking to creative people, no matter what their discipline, was a favorite pastime and he was more than qualified at least twice over. Meeting him had been one of the highlights of the night as he had intrigued her since the first notes of  his performance at HoTFest.

As she was moving, the one thing that almost always drew her attention pulled her from that trance-like headspace and down off the bench to jog outside. Tapping her comm that was going off on her family's alert frequency, “What’s wrong?” No one ever called her with any good news, not on this channel.

Alizabetta, her mother’s temporary night nurse while her permanent one was on vacation, spoke with mild panic in her tone, “Miss Nahi?” 

Nahi didn’t tell her to not call her miss in the moment, the woman had been told it multiple times now, a term of respect she said. “Who…” patience, asking her who else might be answering her private comm connection was a waste of energy and time, “Yes, go ahead Alizabetta.”

“Well you see, your mother is missing.” It sounded like the woman was about to cry if anyone raised their voice at her, or maybe even gave her a stern glance.

“I will be there in fifteen seconds.” Already her hand was on the hearthstone bound to the portal in their garden.The instant the spell finished the performer was on her way to the door where the nurse stood wringing her hands, no wonder her mother was still missing if this woman wasn’t even looking for her. “What happened?” 

The young woman, a nurse that worked with her step-father at the hospital, cleared her throat, “You see, your mother was asleep and I went to make tea to help me stay awake. When I returned she was gone.”

Nahi was confident in everything in her life, and directing her mother’s caretakers had become like a vocation for her. “And… you didn’t lock the door because she was asleep. And… you didn’t want to spill the tea by getting the keys to unlock the room so you figured it was best just to leave her alone, in an unlocked room.” As her mother’s dementia was getting worse they had to add more locks and now they had three so the woman actually would have struggled if there wasn’t a damned table right next to the door for such purposes. Again, a mistake that would not help Nahi in the moment, she could have a discussion with the nurse later.

“Yes, Miss.” Alizabetta lowered her eyes, then bowed her head in shame.”I have looked in the house, you know she likes to hide like a child.”

“My mother’s mental capacity makes her childlike almost always, you are as much babysitter as a nurse.” There was an edge like broken glass to Nahi’s tone. “So you have looked inside?”

The nurse nodded her head, and looked up, her eyes wide and shoulders drawing her back like she might be struck. “The house, the gardens, I didn’t go out in the city in case I missed her inside.”

Good and bad news she guessed, “Go back inside, check everywhere again.” Her mother had always been good at escaping her rooms, but the new locks prevented that, until now. “I am going to check the street. How long has she been missing?”

“About an hour, miss, I was trying to handle it on my own.” There was a slightly defensive tone to the other woman’s tone.

Nahilvi might be submissive sometimes (most often) in bed, but she was not even close to that when it came to her mother’s care. She might not be able to be in the same room with the dementia inflicted woman because it just hurt too much, but she always ensured her care. “An hour? So you didn’t call me until you began to assume she was on the streets?” There was more than a hint of anger in her voice now. 

The nurse didn’t really look chagrined, she was sure that her position was safe because Nahi was normally a nice woman who treated all their staff as equals and fairly. “This level of incompetence is mind blowing to me, once my mother is found you will spend the rest of your shift in her suite with her to keep her calm and safe, then tomorrow I will find a replacement for you. If you choose to leave while I am out looking for my mother, I promise that I will ensure that the hospital’s staff knows about your poor performance. I might be reasonable with people that work here, but if you even think that I will not follow through on that, you are welcome to test how much weight I put into keeping my word.”

Nahilvi took a few moments to go throw her bag upstairs and change into some leggings and a loose shirt. She could only cringe at the thought of chafing if she chose to go running in the streets in her performance gear. By the door to her room she slipped her feet into sneakers that had neon paint splatters on them then stepped out, quickly checking the rooms in her hallway.

Running down the stairs, she went out the front door and through her garden before taking a left hand turn. Nahi almost always moved left first if given a choice, maybe it was because she was left handed, but she had never thought much of it. Her rubber soles slapped onto the streets of Dalaran, the stone pathways were not as nice as when she went to run in the country, or through the woods, but it was not like this was a pleasure jaunt.  

Luckily, she did not have to go far because a couple streets over she could hear her mother screaming, “You don’t understand, they are keeping me locked away and the city is about to fall. I need protection and someone to take me to my estate on Quel’thalas.”

Nahilvi slowed to a walk and nodded to a guard nearby, it was not like this was the first time her mother had been located on the streets, nor the first time she had accused her family of holding her hostage. In truth, she was not a hostage, she was jailed, but that was of her own mind’s trauma, not anything Iren, Nahi or any of the nurses did. “Sorry Redmun, I will gather her up.”

“Take care lady, she is feisty tonight, already tried to hit Kallie when she tried to take your mom home.” The guard said, just watching and making sure that there was other trouble coming from this.

Shaking her head, Nahi sighs, “I will bring some double chocolate caramel brownies by the station tomorrow and Kallie’s favorite cookies. You all do an amazing job, you know.” The fact that they protected her mother but didn’t take action was appreciated, especially after she tried to assault one of them.

“Much appreciated, we love your baking.” He dipped his head and lifted his chin to point where Kallie was trying to calm Acenadalia. 

Stepping between gawkers she realized why the crowd was so thick, her mother was naked, just holding a few books to her chest. “For Sun’s sake,” she whispered. Without even getting close, Nahi knew those were some of her mother’s books on music, two were her own compositions. “Mom,” she said, pitching her tone low, “let’s go home. The city is safe, you are safe, we can go and have some mint tea and those marshmallow treats you like.”

Her mother was having none of it and swung out with the books showing that even if her mind had aged too fast her body had not. She was built curvier than Nahi but then her mother never exercised even before she took a blow from a mace to her head. “You!” She turned on the guard, “Arrest her, it is all her fault they lock me in my room.”

It was not the first time her mother had said something like that, but it never stopped hurting to know her mother hated her, was afraid of her, or didn’t even recognize her. None of that registered in her voice, it was likely in her eyes though as the female guard looked to her and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Nahilvi waved off the apology, she appreciated the help with her mother in these moments but she didn’t want anyone’s pity, this was just her life now. “How long do we have until it falls?” She asked, once more trying to distract her mother.

Acen’s eyes flashed, the gold of them as bright as the sun would be at mid-day, “You don’t care that we are going to die because we didn’t leave.” 

“I care mom, I don’t want to be here when it falls, I want us all safe.” Knowing her mother’s protectiveness of her music, and not above using those feelings against the wayward woman. “Especially your music, I know you want to make sure they are safe and that is not even half of your collection.” 

“My music!” The words were half wailed, “We MUST save my music!” She stepped towards Nahi, “You will help me get them out of the city before we die?” Well, that was charming, a new nightmare to torture her mother.

Nahilvi nodded her head, “We can find someone to take them until we can relocate. They are very protective of books, especially ones like your composition books.” Her voice cracked, and not in an emotional way,  she needed tea and lemon and to not talk for a while. The harder rock songs she had performed left her mouth dry, just another reason to get this situation handled quickly.

A Kul Tiran man in the crowd reached out and grabbed Nahi’s wrist, “Come on girlie, let the missus show off a little longer.”

Before anyone else could act, Nahi broke his hold on her arm and she took hold of his jerkin. A couple steps with her feet moving between his to make him trip further until his shoulders hit a wall. Both guards moved up to flank Nahi, “Can’t you see she needs help getting home, this is not some kind attention grabbing moment.”

He looked to the guards, hoping they would intervene but they just kept an eye on the situation. “Come on pretty, she is lookin’ quite good. Should let us take her for a drink.” 

The night had been too much already and she had kept her emotions in check for too long. Swiping her foot between legs, she hooked the back of his foot putting him off balance, the hold on his armor kept him from falling all the way back to the ground, controlling his momentum, though his weight was almost enough to draw her down onto him.

“Don’t you fucking get it? She is not looking for a good time, she is afraid.” Releasing his jerkin she brought her foot up between his legs and he covered his balls, she spit next to his head and just withdrew her foot. “Compassion is a gift, you just got a prettily wrapped dose of it, maybe pass it on instead of being a disgusting asshole.”

With the guard’s and Nahi’s attention on the large man they did not notice her mother running forward, with a wild yell she lifted the books and slammed his stomach with them causing him to curl up in a ball. Kallie reacted first, she did not touch Acen but put her body between her suddenly combative former singer, “Get her home Nahilvi.” 

Her mother tried to hit him again but Nahi caught her attention, “Come on, let’s go get the rest of your books to my friends so they can hold them for us while we look for somewhere to move to.” 

“No one touches my staff like that, I am going to have my husband challenge you to a duel!” She kept trying to get around Nahi but the younger woman had a quick step and her gold eyes focused on Nahi’s own glowing purple ones. “If the count were here he would never let that happen.”

A few more steps that kept the man from getting bludgeoned, though he deserved it, the focus of the event was now on Nahi. Many people were staring at her, not often a Sin’dorei could take on a giant of a man like that, plus the overall situation was attention claiming. She ignored it all though, if she took her attention off her mother worse could happen than just books behind slammed down. “You music is too precious, you and I will go and get them to a safe place, the. We can talk about what is happening in the city.”

“To the city, weren’t you listening?” Acenadalia angrily asked, then swung the books at Nahi’s head that she blocked with a forearm, a cracking noise could be heard and it wasn’t a cover to the book. 

The cry that escaped Nahi’s lips was not quiet, nor was it musical, it was an squished ugly sound. Kallie and Redmun rushed forward to take the books from Acen who tried to fight them as well but they were guards and broke up bar fights all the time. Kallie got the books out of her hands and Redmun wrapped his cloak around the confused woman. “Come on let’s get you both home,” the male guard said and walked the diva down the street.

Kallie looked over Nahi and the waxen color to her skin, Nahi’s arm which was now held to her chest was definitely broken. “Home, we will get your mom settled away and if your step-father is not home yet I will heal that arm.” She paused and looked at Nahi, “You have amazing patience, Nahi.” 

“Doesn’t feel like it at the moment,” the singer said through clenched teeth. 

“What did she mean by the city falling? Has she ever had a gift for foresight?” When you lived in a floating city, falling was a serious fear for most of them.

With a quick shake of her head, “No, it is probably some nightmare or something. Worse comes to worse with her fear I will rake the books to my friends. One loves books on the arts so I know they will be safe there. Maybe let them use songs for book rent.” 

Arriving home the night nurse met them at the gate wringing her hands and fussing. “Mister Irenthalas went out looking too.”

The nurse was oddly attentive to her mother and fussed over Nahi as much as she would let her.  A quick call to Iren had him returning home. He healed Nahi’s arm but she would still need it wrapped for at least a week. Luckily it is her right forearm so she can do everything where she doesn’t have to stop her preparations for ToA.

(Thank you @jacelandon for the RP. Thank you @ranekvilmas and @thecastcompany for Wings and Metal 🩶💜🩶💋)

[arayaz]

“Play us a song!” called the man at the counter.

So I pulled out the piano bench and sat upon it.

I picked up my banjo and medieval war bow, held them in the cello position, and began to sing with no musical accompaniment.

After two enthralling verses of Cornish poetry, I abruptly switch to Rotokas rap as I play a speedy bluegrass riff in A minor with my war bow.

I spend a minute or two on that, then jump into the air, unleash a primal cry, and land on the piano keys in a perfect C13 chord. Following this, I play the piano part of the song with my feet as I sing “Hamilton but only the first time each word is used” at double speed.

All the while, my small friend has been slowly climbing my back with an oboe. At the grand finale, they leap into the air and catch the string of my bow with the oboe. I lean over and play the final note on it, then lean my head back as the oboe is loosed into the air, soaring high and eventually landing on a snare drum a hundred yards away, striking the final note of the song.

[outdraws]

company. silently sit with my muse to comfort them. / rick to abigail but rick in his rdr verse. maybe carl and jack disappeared into a creek for a few hours and they had to go find them? just boys being boys, but also loving jack having a friend nearer to his age, even. ):

without the milling of steel and locomotive engines the wide terrain and station sanctioned to it, gave a redundantly expansive impression. the air vacated of soot was free to reek of wilderness and bluegrass while being neighbor to the faintest waft of lard against a hot iron. there they sat like recently sprung weeds upon the outstretched hands of a passenger bench. from the angle her head was currently perched in, she knew, if she were to tilt upwards a little more that familiar scent of livestock, living dirt, and roasting cinnamon, would all come to her. the coax of civilization.

they did not move. their cheek remained planted against their shoulder with arms barricading her, sitting almost completely forward as if to protect a ruptured abdomen.

it was a solitude that reminded abigail of her days living nomadically. independently from the world. a life she hadn't truly visited in years now with the constant circle of people around them. at this juncture, a long throw away and a tad more insightful, she could fairly judge the needs that group living failed to satisfy.

there was a warmth to being around remnants of humanity, the stragglers that failed to keep pace beside the massive herd of populace coming and going. a pact. but her heart often felt calmer, isolated from her peers. mostly.

the elder grimes was with her, for a purpose she could not divine and was too tired to think about.

not long after her boy was located and retrieved, alongside a drenched carl grimes, she had deposited him into their dwellings and left. but not before shedding a promise to wait for her.

perhaps that's why he's here, to ensure she came back after all.

a warm short breath went through her nose that was the failed beginnings of a laugh. dead in its premature stage. slowly, they unfurl into a straighter posture. the tips of her fingers tending to the dry corner of her eye. when she looked at the man, all she saw were the laden undersides of his eyelids, cradling a vulnerability with no room to stay.

there's a dangerous moment where she realizes he might catch the furtive glance so she returns to her own horizon.

“ wasn't going anywhere you know .. ” a gentle touch to the tone. she was sure that was the truth of it at least. “ only place with chairs i don't mind sittin' in. ”

“ away from it all. ” eyes shut the length it takes to collect all the pieces that brought her here, to the point of near fleeing.

“ .. i know one day he won't come back. i mean — i know he'll go off on his own eventually, i .. 'm not tryin' to keep him from it or, to myself. no matter what the others say, i - i just .. ” hands had come together somehow without her knowledge attempting to conquer the invisible space between them, until she'd begun to pinch at her own thumb. her head swayed mutely before succumbing to the defeat she'd left with.

“ forget it. i don't even know what i'm sayin' anymore. ” if those with more years than her could not decipher it, what hope could a father have ?

the right heel of her palm comes to the bone of her eye socket, raw-colored and aching dully. she gave in to the throb.

LOUD & DEAFENING SILENCE.

[huggalo]

i got paid my rent is paid i will get paid again... yesterday there was a catholic mass about to start at a church i walk by on my way home so went to catholic mass and chatted with the very friendly priest on my way out . I went to a free bluegrass concert played by my neighbor's band and sat on a picnic blanket w my other neighbors and then we had a bonfire... this morning I got up thinking there would be another pickup choir at the episcopal church but i was wrong and now I'm sitting on a park bench til closer to the service :) and im thinking about my girlfriend who is coming to visit in a month and how she's so pretty and a good singer and and and and

[wutbju]

Kim McIntosh Melton of Lititz, PA went home to glory suddenly December 17, 2023. He is missed by his wife of 37 years and his three daughters: Jenna Paige Melton of Lititz; Jordan Ashley Birch (David) of Lancaster; and Morgan Elizabeth Kuch (Micah) of Ephrata. He is preceded home by and is now united with his parents Bryan Uriah and Maude Laurel "Roddy" Melton of Chattanooga, Tennessee. His life has many joys and triumphs, but he held his family as the greatest.

Kim was born and raised on Missionary Ridge overlooking Chattanooga, TN, where he spent many summers pushing lawn mowers uphill both ways along South Crest Road or working at his fathers Heating & Cooling company. He and his mother had a fondness for Pigeon Forge, TN and took the opportunity to work a couple summers there at a sock mill. Kim regularly took his parents and children back to vacation at cabins in the Smoky Mountains innumerable times, enjoying hot cakes, southern BBQ, and the bluegrass music.

While in high school, he found a fondness for photography. He completed a senior project on light reflection in photographs and how they created mood. This hobby continued throughout his life, readily taking pictures of scenery he enjoyed and family moments. After graduating from a Christian high school on the ridge, he and his brother both went off to Bob Jones University, where Kim earned a BS in accounting. More importantly, he also met his wife Dorenda.

Dorenda and Kim, with several of their BJU classmates, ventured up to Virginia Tech where he earned a masters degree in tax and became a CPA. When his career began, it took him to Nashville to join Touche Ross. He and Dorenda continued to date, flying back and forth every other weekend.

Eventually, he and Dorenda married in September of 1986, moved to Richmond where Kim worked as an accountant for Best Products, and Jenna was born. Kim and Dorenda made a hobby of investing in real estate, buying, DIY repairing and flipping houses on the weekend. Which is how one of Kim's suits went from black to yellow-splashed paint one evening in a Home Depot parking lot.

A few years later, continuing the march of Northern expansion, Kim took a job at Crown Petroleum in Baltimore, where Jordan was born. He spent many Saturday mornings taking his young daughters to pick up bagels and chase seagulls around the parking lot in his small gold Toyota pickup. Flying kites on top of Fort McHenry was another cherished pastime, as was sitting on the bench front porch swing quizzing his daughters on their school work.

Ultimately, he landed at QVC in West Chester, Pa, as the VP of Tax where his youngest daughter, Morgan, was born. Soon after the whole family moved to Lancaster, Pa so his daughters could be closer to school. He joined Westminster Presbyterian Church, served on the board at Veritas Academy, and became actively involved in supporting the rich community of biblical arts, christian culture and several local ministries.

His children have fond memories of learning to use tools, building models together on Saturday mornings at Home Depot, and “helping” him build them a treehouse in the backyard. They celebrated when he would bring home chocolate milk - one of his favorites. The children also grew up hearing from him about how their mother made cinnamon rolls (another of his favorites) so much more often before they got married. He, himself, was not much of a cook, but would make green eggs and ham for the girls. Kim was quick to start a snowball fight or a wrestling match, and would always join in playing with remote control cars. He always encouraged his daughters to do their best, live out their faith, work hard, and expand their comfort zones.

Kim was an avid reader, and had a large book collection. A new book for Christmas was a desired gift. He loved history and theology and enjoyed sharing the things he learned with others. After he retired, he taught at Lancaster Bible College and Montreat College.

He loved riding his motorcycles along winding back roads on warm days. Later in life, he enjoyed RV trips with Dorenda to the Grand Canyon, West Virginia’s foliage routes, and the National Storytelling Festivals in Tennessee. North Myrtle Beach was a favorite destination for watching waves and eating scallops and meeting friends. Traveling was one of his favorite things to do with his family in his retired years.

He will be missed, our God is good.

The family requests that gifts of love be sent to Kim's most recent passion project, the Widow(er)s Ministry at St. Stephen Reformed Church in New Holland, PA. Kim was also a long-time supporter of the Chalcedon Foundation in Southern California.

A Funeral Service will be held on Saturday, December 23, at 11:00 A.M. at St. Stephen's Reformed Church, New Holland, PA . Friends may greet the family on Saturday from 10:00 A.M. until the time of the service.

[crwn-nrth]

I said I would start posting original prose, so here's the one that got me first place in my first slam poetry night

Context: inspired by the essay "Kentucky Bluegrass" in John Green's book "The Anthropocene Reviewed".

Humans are charismatic species.

We are full of wonder and love and beauty.

It's in the way we leave little messages wherever we go;

hello's and hearts drawn on benches and walls.

Steamy scribbles on fogged up mirrors.

Smiles etched in wood.

A yearning to show that we are here, we are here, we are here.

A naïve attempt to be immortal.

It's in the way that we communicate not just with words but with sounds, pictures, music.

It's in the way we smile without question – a silent hello, I see you.

It's in the way we crave human contact, to the point where we can get physically ill from its deficiency.

We are empathetic to a fault, feeling emotions so strong even when it has nothing to do with us.

It's in the way we love.

Loudly, dramatically, screaming from the rooftops.

Carelessly, subconsciously, recklessly, falling into a black abyss.

Quietly, fondly, wholeheartedly.

It's in the way we love without thought.

How can someone see all this and not fall in love with humanity?

I look around and I see smiling faces and barely concealed fondness.

I see, and read, and hear the echoing symphony of humanity;

the beating drums that play to the sound of a heart beat.

There is good, there is good, there is good in this world

If only we open our eyes and look.

In the same way that we turn to look

And see the vile of man.

I know that there is pain and stress and shards of glass beneath our feet

And there are problems that we cannot solve

But are expected to solve.

And that there are heavy burdens placed upon us, and expectations and pressures

And that the people before us see us as the solution to all their problems

As the solution to the problems that they have caused.

I know that there is pain and hatred and greed,

envy, poverty, war and death.

But there is also life.

And hope.

And kindness.

And there’s good in this cold-hearted world.

There is a subconscious love buried deep within humanity

And that must count for something.

I'd like to believe that it counts for something.

The inherent goodness that can be seen by those who look for it.

For we are a species that cannot survive without the other

A charismatic species.

[houseshoesandtallboys]

WERST

[houseshoesandtallboys]

UFORIK WAVE

[houseshoesandtallboys]

[houseshoesandtallboys]

2TRAINZ

[houseshoesandtallboys]

[houseshoesandtallboys]

EERIE DEKOY