#nocityfolk.

[likeorpheus]

@nocityfolk asked:

"what are you reading ?"

The brewery patio is quaint, a small corner tucked into the shade of an ancient live oak. The smell of hops and woodsmoke lingers in the humid New Orleans air, mingling with the faint notes of Zydeco music wafting from inside. A few picnic tables are scattered across the stone-paved yard, half-filled with locals and tourists nursing their beers and plates of crawfish. Francis had been on tour for some time and oftentimes, they couldn't help but find a local spot and people-watch or in this case read.

Francis sits at a far table, shoulders slightly hunched, a tall glass of amber beer in one hand and a black composition notebook in the other. The notebook is worn, the edges curling and the cover softened by time. Inside, the pages are a chaotic scrawl—maddening statements, fragmented thoughts, and intricate sketches of occult symbols that seem to almost move in the warm evening light. It used to belong to Alexandre, their brother. The realization still feels jagged, the weight of its significance pressing against their ribs every time they thumb through it.

Their eyes flicker across a particularly dense passage, their lips moving slightly as they read. They don’t notice the figure approaching until a voice breaks the spell.

Francis looks up, softly startled. A man stands a few feet away with an easy smile on his face. He’s dressed casually—jeans and a white t-shirt—but there’s an effortless charisma about him. It takes Francis a moment to place him, but then it clicks. Jesse. Jensen Arrow Knox Miller. The country singer whose face had been plastered across billboards and album covers for the past few months. Francis had a good thing about faces.

Francis blinks, feeling a faint buzz of surprise. “Oh. —just some old notes…,” They say softly, their voice betraying an old spanish accent as they close the notebook, resting it on the table. “Nothing too interesting.”

[downs1de-has-moved]

@nocityfolk liked for a starter from Rob

Rob leans back in the stiff office chair, his arms crossed, fingers taping an idle tune as he half-listens to the label rep drone about their newest, shiniest toy.

"We think your perspective could really push Jesse's sound to the next level…"

The suited man's voice fades out as he stops paying attention, responding in noncommital hums, glancing at his watch. Rob isn't entirely sure why he'd agreed to this meeting other than the fact that they were throwing an unholy amount of money his way. Still, "country" isn't exactly in his wheelhouse.

The last time he'd willingly listened to a steel guitar was… well, never.

Before he can make a dry remark about being the wrong man for the job, the door opens, and Jesse walks in. The guy looks exactly like the kind of polished cowboy the industry loves to sell, but there's something in his eyes that gives Rob pause: A kind of tired, wary sharpness that's strange for someone who's supposed to be a fresh-faced star.

They exchange nods before the other sits across the table, his body language casual but careful, like he's ready for whatever Rob is going to throw at him. The label rep keeps talking, but Rob barely hears them, too busy sizing up the younger man.

Finally, when the rep pauses to take a breath, Rob decides to speak.

"Let me get this straight: You want me--a guy who's never touched a banjo, let alone produced a country album--to push his sound to the next level. And you're… what? Hoping I'll just whip up some acoustic magic out of thin air?"

[dirtfacedgospel]

it's been a busy night, but fridays always are.   between the patrons, the new hire he's training, and sawyer's antics, ford isn't sure he's had a moment to breathe since the first regulars started rolling in. he doesn't mind it, really  —  the threads of his attention scattered across the bar contribute nicely to the steady hum of purpose beneath his skin  —  but that doesn't mean he's not a little bit grateful when folks start settling their tabs and the crowd thins a little. it's that thinning that draws his attention to the man at the end of the bar. the man whose order ford suddenly remembers taking nearly ten minutes ago, just before he'd had to diffuse the beginnings of a fight.

he barely suppresses a wince as he grabs a bottle and moves over.   " sorry 'bout your wait, 'preciate your patience, we'll say this first one's on me. "   he glances up from the drink he's pouring with a grin, looking the man over. he's not a regular, ford's got those names and faces long since memorized, but there is something familiar about him. at least a little. he slides the glass across the bartop with practiced ease, tilting his head slightly in the picture of curiosity.  " you come in from that concert down the road? "

@nocityfolk liked for a playlist starter! /// this was mainly vibes but the vibes were friday by dean brody and i love this bar by toby keith.

[moonstalk]

maria & jesse for @nocityfolk !

the sharp sting in maria's wrists was a reminder of the brutal hours she'd spent strung up. she could feel the raw skin, the slick warmth of blood seeping from the torn flesh as she finally managed to loosen the ropes. a metallic taste coated her tongue, either from the coppery scent in the air or the bile threatening to rise with each inhale. the room was dark, its foul stench suffocating and unmistakable—death had made a permanent home here.

a shudder wracked her frame as she dropped from her binds, knees hitting the dirt-caked floor harder than expected. pain shot through her, but she swallowed it down, listening intently to the footsteps echoing from above. they were a haunting reminder of what waited beyond the next creak of wood or turn of a doorknob. each step felt like a countdown, pushing her further into the shadows that swallowed the corners of the room.

it was then that she noticed him. suspended like she had been, struggling against the ropes cutting into his skin, face half-hidden in the gloom. maria’s breathing came shallow and rapid as her gaze darted between him and the ceiling, tracking the steps with the precision of prey.

reaching out, fingers trembling and raw, she pressed her palm against the rope binding him. it wasn’t easy; every movement made her bones scream and muscles threaten to seize. but she worked at the knots, loosening what she could until the tension gave way just enough for him to help himself.

❛ shh, ❜ she whispered, eyes wide with urgency, the shadows around them quivering. her hand went to her own mouth, fingers smearing blood across her lips as she stifled any sound. the smell of rot and decay burned the back of her throat, but she pushed the panic down. they couldn’t afford noise. not now. not when the footsteps were so close.

[narrativeanomaly]

@nocityfolk // continued

There's no recognition in Isaiah's eyes when he looks at Jesse. Isaiah isn't the type to keep up with music, hymns are about all he needs. Rarely does he step into whatever is mainstream at the time, and he's one of those people who drives in silence, not with music blaring. Celebrity culture was of no interest to him, really, he's got more pressing matters on his mind.

But Jesse's comment about the leaf in his hair is enough to get his cheeks to go near as red as his hair. Despite vanity being something of a sin, Isaiah really did take pride (another sin!) in his hair and making sure it was kept nice. Seemed Mother Nature had other plans, though, and Isaiah gives a soft little laugh before bowing his head.

"sure thing. why don'tcha grab that for me?"

[seethewest]

it wasn't that people weren't nice where kiera came from, but they weren't this kind of nice. in her tiny hometown, everyone knew everyone and everyone knew everyone's business. you could be polite, but there was only so much of it that could be considered genuine. maybe it was like that here too, but she just hadn't ingratiated herself enough with the community to feel that same underlying animosity. either way, it was starting to rub off on her more genuinely than it had at home. it wasn't going to make it back to anyone that she didn't hold the door for someone and embarrass them at church, she just did it because it was the kind thing to do.

kiera opened doors for strangers now. she'd tried to help someone fix a flat and ended up embarrassing herself. she carried a woman's groceries to her car. she was still working on it, but the freedom and the mountain air was proving to be good for her. still, he called her ma'am and she had to fight the urge to chuckle.

"no problem," sir didn't sound natural coming out of her mouth. she'd tried it a few times. at the club, it all felt like an act and calling someone sir didn't have to feel natural. out here with someone only a few years older than her it felt like muddling her way through a different language. she could accept a drink without feeling like a foreigner though. she nodded and smiled appreciatively at the man, "yeah, that sounds good. i'm kiera, i'm not really from around here." everyone always brought it up, so she'd started opening with it. got that part of the conversation out of the way.

REPLY to @nocityfolk / jesse colt *

[jnkdrwr]

@nocityfolk / continued

Amused, the stranger's lips pull into a smile that verges on a smirk. This isn't the anticipated reaction; usually challenging the unspoken boundary between men is such a simple way to get country types riled up-- and he'd been itching to get under someone's skin. Somehow, though, the rosiness spreading across those cheeks, barely hidden behind the brim of his hat is even better. How sweet.

"Got a way with words, don't I?" He locks in, turning to face the other and planting an elbow on the bar, jaw resting against the heel of his hand where a lit cigarette perches between slender fingers despite having been warned against it once already. "Not sure how good I've been this year, if we're being honest."

His mouth parts slightly, fifth digit tracing his lower lip in thought before a realization hits him: this guy looks familiar. The thick smell of cigarettes and heavy cologne rolls over Jesse like a fog as he leans closer to ask, "Say, ain't you that singer, what supposed to be playin' the fair and all?"

[hilllbillies]

"you any good with that guitar, or you carryin' around for show?" / @nocityfolk

[sunsetsoft]

@nocityfolk fell into my trap!

[slashaer]

'you have incredible bone structure. that jawline . . . i might have some glass to cut back on my tour bus,' @nocityfolk.

[alatenightwith]

[...] YOUR HOST, FITZ MALICK!

connoisseur of the paranormal, seeker of the weird, lover of the macabre, & debunker of it all. you're watching a late night with, the only late-night talk show that starts at 3:33am, right in time for the witching hour (if you believe in that sort of thing)!

independent & fandomless original character with multiple verses. | directed by rachel/rach, 25, they/them !

╰─▸ i. bio | ii. stats | iii. verses | iv. send memes! | dash only ! heavy wip, also found @nocityfolk.

[ psst. rules below the cut !]

hi. i'm rach, they/them, lesbian, 25, australian. mutuals, please feel free to ask for my disco.rd for plotting/ooc chatting! personal tumblr available upon request, too!

SELECTIVITY: i’m selective which means i choose who i want to roleplay with and i won’t follow for follow. tldr; i'm mutuals only. please don’t let this deter you, as long as i can see our muses going somewhere, i’m likely to follow back! / please don't message me, send me asks, etc., if i'm not following you. i will block you.

CODES: if you have a special code in your rules, i likely won’t send it. it can be kind of uncomfortable for me to do so but i can guarantee you that your rules will be read!

MEMES: memes are a great way to break the ice, and help build dynamics. i don't mind if you reblog them off me!

FORMATTING: i sometimes double-space and mostly use icons, but i'll occasionally match the formatting of the person i'm writing with. so if you prefer not to format or use icons, that's fine by me! i just ask that you use proper grammar and punctuation, and trim your posts.

RULES: following on from before, if i ever happen to break a rule, you’re free to pop into my ask & kindly tell me. i’ll make a note not to do it again. tell me gently and be kind, and i’m sure your sincerity will be returned.

IMPORTANT: if you ever need anything tagged, feel free to shoot me an ask, on or off anon, or dm me to let me know. i’ll keep your triggers in mind and make sure i tag them in future! / fitz' fc, m.ichael malarkey, is of palestinian descent. i, however, am not, but obviously ask that this be respected. nothing anti-palestine will be tolerated on my blog.

SHIPPING: i love shipping, & i would love to ship with fitz! especially romantically. he's a natural flirt and has had his fair share of lovers in his life, inclusive of all genders. despite basing his show around a dislike of all things paranormal & strange, he's very interested in the occult and would be open to partners who were also.

USFW: this space will likely contain things usfw at some point, so i'll try to tag it as such when i can. side note but please feel free to send romantic/smut memes in if i post them, even if we haven't interacted. they're a great way to try out a dynamic, and i have a lot of fun writing them!

CREDS: icon psd is maia by poohsources, icon border is cardigan by ariapsds.

REGARDING FITZ & his standing as a god: he's a trickster god posing as a talk-show host. he's a wacky, fun guy, but he's also using it to hide a darker, bloody past (not through a fault of his own). he's mainly set in a modern verse, where i'll assume you'll be fine with him being a creature of supernatural origins. his standing as a god & as a trickster is deeply embedded in his history and makes up a lot of who he is, so it's unlikely he'll be human in any verse. / also, it feels important to note that he doesn't present as supernatural to other supernatural muses. any ic mention of him being a god would need to be discussed ooc!!

[ please don't follow if you're: homophobic, racist, transphobic, biphobic, pro-israel, antisemitic, pro-trump, etc. i'm not interested! same goes for harry potter fans/blogs.. ]

[lunarfey-moved]

pictures that my muse has taken of your muse / @nocityfolk

[dirtfacedgospel]

wyatt’s well aware that schedules are more suggestions when it comes to events like these.  still, it’s been awhile since he’s been to one, and the years have done their work dulling his memory of just how grating the hours can become. it’s as he’s turning to stifle a yawn, so wide his jaw clicks, in the sleeve of his shirt that he spots him: a young man, face familiar, at the bar tucked into the corner, looking about as drained as wyatt feels.

it almost makes him laugh, the soft gasps he hears behind him as he moves toward the bar, the murmurs that have followed him all evening  —  ranging from surprised to concerned, to downright hateful  —  rippling like a wave as he settles into the seat, orders two bottles of water, and passes one over.

“ wyatt’ll do just fine. ”   the correction is gentle, accompanied by a chuckle, deep and soft. he’s quiet, lets him get out his praise before shaking his head slightly, a bemused smile curling at the corners of his mouth.   “ could say the same to you, ”   it’s not empty flattery either, he’s caught himself humming old winchester at least a dozen times since he’d first heard it, since it’d first punched a hole clean through his chest.

he takes a sip of his water, not quite the reprieve a deep down part of him had hoped for, but a welcome balm nonetheless.  “ believe it or not, these things get easier. ”   a pause,   “ never fun, mind you, but definitely easier. ”

@nocityfolk continued from here.

[v4vile]

—⠀⠀‘i can't tell whether you miss the country or not.’

ONE-LINER 4 @nocityfolk <3

[seethewest]

yeah, okay, clementine was watching him. who wouldn't? people came and went all the time, that didn't mean she didn't get to be interested in the newer ones. even in the relative shade where she sat, she could feel the sun beating down on them. she had an adirondack chair to herself, and sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees to tan her skin. they were close enough they could speak, but far enough away that if she hadn't let her curiosity win she could have kept an eye on him from a comfortable distance.

"i doubt that's true. everyone who says they're boring usually isn't." just being from wyoming wasn't enough to satiate her interest. pink lips quirked upward in the slightest bit of approval as he turned toward her.

clementine hummed an affirmative response and nodded, "yeah, studied ballet and french." a language she'd been reminded repeatedly was about as useful around here as studying greek. she expected reproach for her choice of subjects at every turn. she was putting all her eggs in one basket so to speak. "now you have," she said like it was some sort of bucket list item. if it was for anyone she wasn't the ballerina to meet yet. she stood, and walked over to where he was working, arms crossed over her bikini top.

REPLY to @nocityfolk / jesse *

[moonstalk]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 ?

a shadowed figure within a void ( jason )

you are the flickering shape in the darkness. the echo of something lost. are you even there at all, really? does anyone see what you are beyond the darkness that surrounds you? you were the first to lose yourself. you stumbled in the dark, and in trying to find who you are, you picked up all the wrong pieces of broken things. can you still say that you are you, if you have torn yourself apart and stitched yourself together with every monstrous replacement you could find? what is it that you think will make you whole again? do you think that your teeth and claws can protect you? there is no monster trying to harm you. there is only you, and nothing can protect you from yourself if you insist upon your own self-destruction. you are the villain of your own story. there is no one you have harmed more than yourself.

tagged by: jason's new bestie @t-errifier ♡ tagging: @fadedpath @lrdvyke @sunbleds @nocityfolk @butreverie @slainmisc @lncarnon @nghtshroud @stcrforged @gardenir @deathmaidened and you reading this !