#rustin in the rain

[i-will-not-be-caged]

New Tyler Childers!!! 🙌🙌🙌

[ploridafanthers]

i would chew my own arm off to get ahold of this record today

[tadpal]

moodboard

[poet-picker-prophet-pusher]

Of course I’ve gotta post about Rustin’ in the Rain

I can’t wait to go see him at the end of the month

[thebowerypresents]

Tyler Childers Makes a Statement Over Two Nights at Madison Square Garden

Tyler Childers – Madison Square Garden – May 28-29, 2024

Tyler Childers has one of the great voices, not only in modern country and Americana, but in music, period: pained, howling, lived-in, oaky, scuffed-smooth when it needs to be, utterly recognizable. Over a series of sturdy albums that shows increasingly deep songwriting, his sound has become a through line from ancient twang to countrypolitan modern and many other points easily adjacent or distantly related, from gosxpel to folk, blues to Appalachian string. Especially in a live setting, they’re all usefully blended.

Childers and a massive version of his Food Stamps band — eight players in all — hit Madison Square Garden on Tuesday, the first of two statement-maker shows at the arena. Name-checking Joe’s Pub and some other much smaller NYC venues that dot a steady rise to bigger and bigger crowds over less than a decade, Childers seemed genuinely moved by the grand expanse of the room and the lordly reception from fans. Naturally, he responded in kind: a big show, a big sound, gorgeously emotional whether it was the whole band hitting at full throttle, or Childers alone onstage in guitar-storyteller mode. 

The band all together revealed many layers as they fleshed out the tunes, from the country stomp of “Percheron Mules” to the gorgeous blends of pedal steel and fiddle that ramped into “I Swear (To God).” “All Your’n” was an example of a tender, piano-dappled love song — more than a few couples were asway at all levels of the arena — and snatches of accordion, mandolin and organ shot through at various points, too. “Purgatory” was a stuttering, busy boogie, and then came a see-and-raise to an even busier boogie, an instrumental reading of the traditional mountain picker “Cluck Ol’ Hen,” with Childers on a fiddle and the whole group moving into psychedelic hoedown territory. It was that kind of wild.

As deservedly much as he’s lauded for songwriting, Childers is a gifted interpreter of others’ songs too — never more than a few during a show and positioned just right. Tuesday’s show included a Kenny Rogers (“Tulsa Turnaround”), a Hank Williams (“Old Country Church”), an S.G. Goodman (!) (“Space and Time” — stunning) and … yep, a Kermit the Frog (“Movin’ Right Along”), complete with the green puppet himself, singing on both that song and, as a bittersweet duo with Childers just before it, on “Lady May.”

I mean, sure, why not, right? Kermit was just one more part of the full serving — a continuous, two-hour set with a solo-acoustic segment in the middle that unfolded panoramically and went for broke near the end with a run that included usual Childers bangers like “Whitehouse Road,” “Way of the Triune God” and the triumphant “Universal Sound.” The finale was “Heart You’ve Been Tendin’,” which built gradually on the back of the chant-like refrain “All that you’ll take” and stacked the tension, yielding to a bone-saw-sharp solo from guitarist CJ Cain that pushed the band to Crazy Horse–like levels of vicious choogle. But heavy and sonic as it all was, Childers himself remained the center of the action regardless of the mode, letting his humility be even bigger than his voice and then pushing that howl even harder, paying off the tender hearts and the rage-ready alike. A great night. —Chad Berndtson | @Cberndtson

Photos courtesy of Marc Millman | www.marcmillmanphotos.com

[falloutbradreviews]

Tyler Childers - Rustin’ In The Rain

Kentucky country artist Tyler Childers released his sophomore album (and breakout album, if you can call it that) in 2017, entitled Purgatory. The album infused country, Americana, bluegrass, and folk, but it was a sleeper hit; not only is Purgatory considered to be one of the best albums of the 2010s, Childers has been slowly blowing up in the country space since the release of that record, and his 2019 LP, Country Squire personally didn’t do much for me; I found that album to be very uninteresting and underwhelming, but a lot of people enjoyed it and it got him a bit more popular. He hasn’t released a proper full-length since then, instead releasing a mostly instrumental bluegrass album in the form of Long Violent History in 2020 and a three-disc country gospel album with Can I Take My Hounds To Heaven in 2022. This year, he dropped the song “In Your Love,” which came out around the same time “Try That In A Small Town,” ultimately announcing his new album, Rustin’ In The Rain.

I didn’t know what to expect with this one, but if Can I Take My Hounds To Heaven was any indicator, it sounded like he would be leaning into the past. That’s what he does, both fortunately and unfortunately, depending on where your taste lies. Rustin’ In The Rain is a fantastic record, but only if you’re willing to open your mind if you’re already a fan and you love his early work. If you’re not a fan, or you’re just not familiar with his work before this record, this wouldn’t be a bad introduction.

Right off the bat, yeah, this isn’t Purgatory, but I don’t mean that in a bad way.This record is very different, and the same man that made Purgatory was not going to make the same album twice. Childers is known for flipping the script and being unexpected, and Rustin’ In The Rain is no exception. He’s said that this album is meant to be an audition for Elvis Presley, and listening to the record, I understand that perfectly. This is very much a 60s / 70s influenced country record with some traces of soul and gospel. It’s a very low-key, quiet album, but it has some energy, and it’s a lot of fun at times. The album has mostly ballads and quieter songs, however, which can take some time to get used to if you’re more used to songs like “Feathered Indians,” “Whitehouse Road,” or “Lady May,” but songs like the title track, and “Percheron Mules” are pretty fun.

The album’s slower tracks, which include “In Your Love,” “Phone Calls And Emails,” “Luke 2:8-10,” “Help Me Make It Through The Night,” and “Space & Time” are great, too, but they can blend together a bit if you’re not paying attention or you’re not a fan. I particularly love his interpretation of Kris Kristofferson’s “Help Me Make It Through The Night,” and his cover of fellow Kentucky native SG Goodman’s “Space & Time,” which sounds like it’s a standard from the 1960s. “In Your Love” and “Phone Calls & Emails” are great, too, as they have that similar sound and great lyrics and vocals performances from Childers. His vocal delivery is utterly fantastic throughout this very short album, but he has a very old school sound, both in terms of his vocals and sound.

This record is very short and sweet, only 27 minutes long, but in that respect, it works. The album doesn’t feel too long, even with a lot of slower tracks, but I can understand if someone isn’t into those types of songs, especially where Childers isn’t known for ballads. He can do them well, but this is a very different album. I will admit, too, that it’s not as good as Purgatory, but in this album’s defense, it’s not trying to be that. This is its own thing, and you should really embrace that, instead of holding this album up to compare it to his others. I love this album, whether it’s for its retro sound, his vocals, poignant lyricism, and even the gorgeous covers that add a lot of depth to the record, this album is wonderful. In any other year, this might have been my favorite country album, but this year is special, because a lot of great country albums have come out and will be coming out soon. You owe it to yourself to check this out, especially if you want a really solid country album.

[theethighpriestess]

Chapter 2 - House of Shadows

Characters: Elijah "Smoke" Moore, Elias "Stack" Moore, Cécile Boudreaux (OC), Angélique Boudreaux (OC), Anastasia Boudreaux (OC), Solène Boudreaux (OC)

Warning(s): 18+, MDNI, Cursing, Use of the n-word, angst, mentions of Hoodoo & supernatural elements, Stack being Stack & Cécile being over his shit

A/N: After fleshing out more with @blackpantherismyish, I decided to expand this into multiple parts. As a reminder, the tag list here is the same as the Blood Money tag list, so if you'd like to be removed, just let me know!

Word Count: 6.1K

The house was still when I rose, save for the old boards creakin’ under my feet and the wind pressin’ soft against the shutters. I moved straight to the kitchen without thinkin’, like my body already knew what the day needed. The skillet was hot before my thoughts even caught up.

I started with the catfish, dredged in cornmeal and cayenne, the way Meme taught me. The sizzle filled the kitchen, chasin’ the hush of night back where it came from. I lit a few beeswax candles on the windowsill, then opened the back door just enough to let in the early morning air. Thick and damp, smelled like wet moss and the promise of rain.

While the fish browned, I stirred the grits low and slow. Sprinkled in some smoked salt and a touch of garlic. Had a pot of protection oil simmerin’ in the back, blend of hyssop, clove, and a drop of dragon’s blood. Ain’t had to make a batch in a while, but with them two sleepin’ in my house, I wasn’t takin’ no chances.

My robe clung to my skin in the steam, and my locs were tied up high, but still a few honey-blonde strands kept fallin’ loose around my face. I didn’t bother fixin’ them. I just kept movin’.

“Mornin’,” Smoke’s deep baritone called from behind me. His voice was thick like molasses, still gravelly from sleep. He looked better, eyes clearer, but that bandage on his neck was already rustin’ with dried blood.

“Mornin’, Smoke.”

“Smell good in hea like always,” he said, easing into the old wooden chair at the kitchen table, wincin’ just a little as he lowered himself down.

“Thank ya kindly.”

“Welcome.”

The pan hissed behind me, another piece of fish crispin’ up golden. I didn’t need to turn around to feel the shift in the air. Colder, uncertain.

Stack.

He walked in slow, head bowed like a boy who knew he done wrong but still wanted to be fed. He looked at everything but me; the floor, the teacups, the little kitchen window fogged with steam. I didn’t say nothin’ right away. Just kept stirrin’.

“Good mornin’, Cile,” he said, soft.

“Mornin’.”

“Smells real good.”

“Thank you.”

“You welcome.”

That was it. No apology. No explanation. Just pleasantries tossed out like breadcrumbs, like I might still follow him into forgiveness.

I ain’t bite.

Instead, I fixed their plates the way I always had, my hands rememberin’ what my heart wished it could forget. Grits with extra cheese for Smoke. Stack liked his catfish fried hard, so I left it in the oil an extra minute like always. Apple juice in the good glass for Anastasia. She always reach for that same glass, like her hands remember what her mind don’t. Just like he used to, without thinkin’. Ain’t it somethin’ how blood hums the same tune, even when the truth stay quiet? Funny how my body still moved in love, even when the heart had grown calloused over.

I moved to the shelf by the window, fetched my jar of balm and fresh gauze. After I dressed their wounds again, gently, even though I wanted to press down hard on Stack’s neck, they murmured their thanks, mouths already full. I didn’t answer.

“Mornin’, Mr. Smoke and Mr. Stack,” Ana’s sweet voice floated into the room like sunlight. She came bouncin’ in barefoot, still in her nightgown, curls wild and eyes bright.

“Mornin’, Anastasia,” they both called out, near identical in tone. I clocked it, but kept it to myself.

“Ooooh, catfish and grits,” she sang, ploppin’ down in her usual seat and scoopin’ a big spoonful of grits into her mouth. “Mama must be feelin’ good this mornin’.”

I didn’t respond, just wiped my hands on a dish towel before makin’ a mental note of what needed to be done before I opened the shop. Burn a little rosemary at the doorway. Pour some moon water into the bowl by the register. Didn’t matter how my spirit was feelin’, customers would still come knockin’.

The kitchen quieted for a beat, ‘til Ana broke the stillness like a pebble in calm water.

“Mr. Stack, are you gonna leave again?”

He choked on his food, coughed into his napkin. The table went real still. Even the pan on the stove seemed to hush.

“Umm… no,” he said, after a moment. “Not this time.”

Ana didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. Just kept swingin’ her little legs beneath the chair and diggin’ into her plate like she hadn’t just cracked open a wound wider than the Mississippi.

“Okay good,” she said, chewin’ slow. “I’m tired of my mama cryin’ ‘cause you gone.”

The silence that followed was heavier than a thundercloud.

Angélique stepped in from the hallway, brow lifted. “Hey, little one. Less talk, more eatin’.”

Ana rolled her eyes, but she didn’t push it. Just scooped up more grits and went back to hummin’ to herself like she hadn’t just broken the last bit of peace we had left.

I kept my back to them, my hands busy but my mind far away. Stack hadn’t said a word. And I didn’t need to look to know the guilt was hangin’ on him like a funeral coat.

“I’ll, um… I’ll be right back,” he mumbled, slippin’ out the front door like a guilty teenager sneakin’ a smoke.

I didn’t call after him. I just made my way to the shop, gettin’ it ready for the mornin’. I worked my altar, arranging dried hyssop and lavender beside the stones I’d already blessed. My hands stayed busy, but my spirit… my spirit stirred uneasy.

From the window, I watched him settle against the old oak tree in front of my shop, fumblin’ with a joint like he needed the smoke more than air. His hands trembled slightly, thumb runnin’ over the gold ring on his finger. The same one I gave him years ago, when I still believed love could protect fools like us.

His eyes were restless. Not just guilty. Haunted. He winced as the sun burned his skin lightly, before the shade of the tree granted its much needed shelter.

And I knew that look. I’d seen it on men who came back from war. Men who tangled with things they couldn’t name and came back touched by shadows. But I didn’t ask. Didn’t want the answer. Not yet.

Stack lit the joint and tried to steady his breath. Suddenly a voice, that voice rose like smoke in the back of his thoughts.

“Kill the girl and your lookalike, and you’re a free man.”

Stack flinched. “No,” he whispered, jaw clenched tight.

“No? That’s not the deal we made. Don’t make me come to the bayou, Elias. You remember what happened the last time I got impatient.”

“I won’t do it,” Stack muttered through gritted teeth. He shut his eyes and took a long drag, hoping the smoke would drown out the sound of Remmick’s taunting.

“You’re wasting time. She already suspects. You’re only makin’ it worse by lingerin’. Blood in your veins ain’t what it used to be. Soon as that ring slips off? You’ll see just how loyal your hunger really is.”

Stack dropped his head to his chest, exhaling slow. “The fuck did I get myself into?”

Back inside, I pressed a hand to my chest, a chill creeping across my collarbone. The kind of chill that don’t come from a breeze. The kind that means something unseen just passed through the room. I shook it off and finished blessing the shop for the day. Just as I lit the final candle, Anastasia came bouncin’ through the kitchen, dressed for school, bag hangin’ off her shoulder.

“See ya, Mr. Smoke,” she called sweetly over her shoulder.

“See ya, lil one. Be safe out there, ya hear?”

“Yes sir,” she sang back, skippin’ past the porch and down the walk.

She passed Stack like he was a fixture, not a man teeterin’ on the edge of ruin. She glanced down at him and flashed one of them grins that reminded me too damn much of him.

“And you betta be right there when I get back,” she sassed, full of fire and no fear.

He looked up, and I saw the softness in his eyes. That damn crooked grin of his crept up, the same one that used to melt all my good sense.

“Yes ma’am.”

The wind caught her braids as she disappeared down the dirt road. A hush fell over the yard as a soft wind curled around Stack’s bare shoulders like someone was pullin’ him close. He stilled, eyes flickerin’ like he felt her. 

Célestine. Still watchin’. Still guardin’ him like she always did.

“Might as well go in there, cher,” her spirit whispered, soft like old lullabies. “She can only stay angry for so long. I’ll give ya some protection.”

As the thick clouds Célestine conjured settled themselves over the sun, Stack dragged himself off the ground and made his way toward the shop. I stood behind the counter, hummin’ low in French, singin’ to the bones and roots and all the things that listened when people didn’t.

The bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside.

“Mornin’,” I said flatly, not botherin’ to look up. “Whatchu lookin’ to purchase?”

“A lil love and forgiveness… if you got it to spare, Suga.”

The sound of his voice made my shoulders tighten. That tone had undone me once before.

“Still feel like home.”

“Surprised you know what that feel like,” I replied, pretending my hands weren’t shakin’ the tiniest bit.

“Anywhere that got you feel like it.”

“Don’t start that shit, Elias.”

“I’m serious.” His voice cracked just enough for me to notice. “I’m sorry I didn’t act like it.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“I know.”

I turned, slowly, eyes meetin’ his. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Looked like the world had chewed him up and spit him out, and he was still tryna hold on to the one thread that hadn’t snapped.

“What do you want, Elias?”

“I need you,” he said.

“Shit. You need me like I need a bullet ta da head.”

“I mean it. I really do. I know I done fucked it all up, but I can’t fix none of it without you.”

I looked down, heart pressin’ against bone.

“I don’t believe you.”

He took a chance and stepped closer, slow like he was approachin’ a wounded animal.

“I swear I’m for real dis time.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I never would,” he said gently. “Not now. Not ever.”

“She walks like you,” I whispered. “Talks like you. Got your damn attitude too.”

“I know,” he said, shame cloudin’ his face.

I let him take my hand. Just for a moment. He held it to his chest, like it might keep his heart from shatterin’ into a million pieces at my feet.

“It still beat for you.”

“You just sayin’ that cause you know I got garlic hangin’ in every corner of this place.”

“I’d say it even if we was standin’ in a garlic field,” he grinned weakly.

“We’ll see.”

“We will.”

I pulled my hand back and nodded toward my station.

“Na’ move. I got things to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, sittin’ quiet on the stool near the register, like a boy tryna behave in church.

It was almost peaceful again. Almost.

But then I saw his hand twitch near that ring. His jaw tighten.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it? It’s so easy getting the ones we love to trust us.”

Remmick’s voice slithered through his mind like oil down a clean surface.

Stack flinched.

“Get outta my head, muthafucka.”

“You know that’s not how it works.”

And Stack, sitting under the warm lights of the woman he loved, in the place that once saved him, felt the weight of the bargain heavy as sin.

–

Back in the house, Angélique was interrogatin’ Smoke just as hard, leanin’ over him with her arms crossed and her jaw locked tight.

“So outta all the warnin’s Meme gave y’all, all the shit Mama done taught, all the times Cécile told y’all not to meddle in things ya don’t understand, how in the hell y’all still end up in bidness wit bloodsuckas?”

Her voice cracked at the end, not from weakness but from how hard she was holdin’ everything in. Smoke shifted in his seat, tryin’ to keep his tone level, like she wasn’t heatin’ up in front of him.

“We was lookin’ into openin’ a juke. His impatient ass went ahead of me an’ talked ta da ‘owner.’ Turns out, he was da Grand Dragon of da damn Klan an’ sent his nephew ta ‘talk to Elias.’ An’ somewhere in da midst of all that, Mary popped back up.”

Angélique rolled her eyes so hard it looked like they might stick in the back of her head. At the sound of Mary’s name, her lips curled.

“Uh-huh,” she said, tight-lipped, venom in her tone. “Go on.”

“She got in his head,” Smoke continued, his voice lower now, like he was tryna brace her for the worst, “an’ convinced him ta let ha come back to our apartment. One thing led to another, as it tend ta do when she come ‘round, and I woke up ta him on my neck.”

Angélique’s nostrils flared like a bull about to charge.

“Damn. He really is a snake ass nigga,” she spat, her voice drippin’ with disgust. She didn’t even try to hide the fire in her glare.

Smoke rubbed his neck, eyes downcast.

“He been apologizin’ ever since. Cuz he really did try ta fight it.”

“He’s always been weak when it come to her,” she snapped before he could defend it. “Like clockwork, every single time. That woman blink and he lose all da sense in his head.”

“Yeah. I woke up mid-bite when he was tryna pull himself away.”

Angélique’s face twisted. “That’s freaky frog behavior.”

“I know how it sounds,” Smoke said with a dry chuckle, tryna defuse her heat. “But he was panickin’. Cryin’. Kept sayin’ he ain’t mean it.”

She looked at him hard for a long moment, like she was weighin’ his soul.

“I trust you,” she said slowly, “but him?” Her voice cracked again, this time laced with pain. “I ain’t my sista.”

Smoke lifted his gaze. He didn’t argue. Just nodded solemnly.

“Look, I know he don’t got da best track record. Hell, even wit me. But he’s at da end of da line, Liqué. An’ he fightin’ wit somethin’ else internally dat he won’t even tell me bout.”

“So why drag my sista into it? That’s his bullshit. He need ta clean it up on his own.”

Smoke sighed, sittin’ back like the weight of it all had finally settled on his chest.

“We tryna kill dis shit befo’ it get anybody else. But we can’t do dat on our own.”

“And nobody thought about what if it gets her?” she said, voice raised, eyes glassy now. “Y’all out here playin’ monster hunter, but if she get bit? If somethin’ turn her?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You know it don’t work da same in us. Bloodsucka magic hits witches different.”

“He told me he’d die in her place before he let dat happen,” Smoke said quietly. “And I believe him.”

“He can’t stop da shit without her,” Angélique snapped, slappin’ the table. “So how in the fuck he gon’ stop her from gettin’ turned?!”

Smoke’s face was like stone. “Kill himself.”

Silence.

She stared at him, eyes wide, then shook her head.

“You an’ I both know he too prideful for dat. Hell, he turned you!”

“Oh trust me, I’m tryna call his bluff. But I believe him,” Smoke replied, almost like he hated sayin’ it out loud.

Angélique leaned back, chest still heaving with frustration. Her eyes darted to the window where I stood in the shop, unaware of the storm brewin’ behind me.

“Mmm…” was all she could manage, her jaw clenched tight. She didn’t have no more to say, and truth be told, she didn’t trust what might come out if she kept goin’.

For now, she let the conversation rest.

But her hands didn’t stop tremblin’.

I stood in the shop, workin’ my herbs and keepin’ an eye on the door. Customers moved in and out, drawn by the smell of burnin’ sage and the promise of relief from things they didn’t have names for. Stack sat perched in the corner like a shadow stitched to the room, arms folded, brown eyes watchin’ every man who got too close to my counter.

“You ain’t gotta stare daggers at every man dat come up in hea,” I said, not botherin’ to hide the amusement in my voice.

“Tell dem quit lookin’ so hard, den,” he muttered.

“They lookin’ at herbs, tinctures, an’ potions,” I teased as I ground rose petals into a fine powder. “They ain’t worried bout lil ole me.”

“Mmm. If you say so.”

I turned slightly to face him, lips curvin’ into a smirk. “Don’t come back hea scarin’ off my money.”

“Ain’t nobody scarin’ off ya money. Just lettin’ niggas know what’s mine.”

I paused, halfway through fixin’ a cleansing sachet. Laughed low and sweet. “Yours? Who said dat?” I shot him a look. “Especially after ten yeas.”

“Me. An’ yo body when I get close ta ya.”

“Nigga please.”

“Mmm. Well come hea, den,” he said, voice a slow drawl. “Let’s see who’s right.”

I cocked my head to the side, lips still curved. “Nigga I’m workin’. You come hea.”

“You welcomed me though. So you still gotta like it a lil bit.”

“I didn’t welcome you,” I said, packin’ the sachet tighter than necessary. “You’d just have died without me. And even in the afterlife, Celestine wouldn’t have let me hear the end of it.”

He chuckled, deep and familiar. “Meme always did have a soft spot fa me.”

“And I can’t fa the life of me understand it.”

“She knew my heart good. Deep down.”

“If you say so.”

“You know it too,” he said, his voice low and steady.

“Do I?” I asked, brows raised.

He stood slow, like he was approachin’ a spell not a woman. The air shifted, heavy with somethin’ that hadn’t been touched in a decade.

“You do.”

“Mmm,” I hummed, not trustin’ myself to say more.

“Ya know,” he said, comin’ closer until the air around us buzzed, “I really came home ‘cause I ain’t forget you.”

I glanced up through my lashes, not movin’ from my spot initially. 

“No,” I said, takin’ a slow step toward him. “You came back…” I let my hand trail up his thigh, feelin’ the way his muscles tensed beneath my palm, “...because your body ain’t forget me. Which is why you so tense now.”

He bit his lip, tryin’ not to show the way I still made him ache. But I saw it. The hunger flickerin’ in his eyes like a flame that refused to die.

“My body could neva forget you, Suge.”

I kept my eyes locked on his as I slid my hand higher, slow and deliberate, until my fingers were at his throat. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bouncin’ against my palm.

“Yet it always finds its way back to the other side of the tracks. So I’m yours... but you ain’t ever been completely mine.”

“I will be,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You got my word.”

I gripped his beard gently, makin’ him lift his eyes to mine. Then I returned my hand to his throat and let it linger there.

“I had it then, too.”

He let out a soft moan, like the memory alone was enough to crack him open.

“Fuck… You did. And I was foolish ta go against my word. But this time is different.”

I squeezed ever so slightly. “An’ how do I know that?”

“I’ll cross my heart in blood, baby.”

“Blood, huh?”

“Blood, baby.”

“I hear you talkin’, bloodsucka.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist, pullin’ me into that old familiar warmth that still lived in his chest.

“You listenin’, baby?”

“Maybe,” I murmured, my lips barely touchin’ his.

“I can work with ‘maybe’.”

I shoved his forehead playfully with my hand. “Uh huh. You still got dat poison in ya.”

“You gonna help get it out?” he asked, smirkin’ like he already knew the answer.

“Long as you stay on ya best behavior.”

“I got you, baby.”

“Na’, get on. I got customers comin’ in an’ yo hands ain’t visible.”

“That’s the point,” he whispered, leanin’ in close, forehead restin’ on mine.

“Elias…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Behave.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I pulled away slowly, feelin’ his heat linger on my skin like summer air. “Can you watch the store while I go tend ta ya brother? Ya been in hea long enough fa me ta redress ya wound. I gotta do the same fa him.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You still remember where errythang is?”

He nodded, pointin’ toward the shelf that held my bestsellers without missin’ a beat.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”

I turned to leave, pausin’ in the doorway just long enough to feel his eyes trail every curve of my body.

“Okay, mama,” he called behind me, his voice lazy with want.

The sound followed me down the hall like a spell I ain’t had the strength to break.

“‘Lijah?” I called out, my voice low as I stepped into the den. The scent of cedar and old memories clung to the walls like prayer smoke.

Smoke lifted his head slowly from where he’d been sitting, slouched into one of Mama’s old chairs like he’d melted into it. The faint sheen on his brow and the weight in his eyes told me he hadn’t just been resting.

“Hmm?”

“You been in hea all by yaself all dis time?”

He nodded once, voice low and quiet. “For a lil while, yeah.”

“You could’ve come to the shop,” I said, pulling a clean strip of cotton from my apron pocket, followed by a bottle of my homemade healing oil. The lavender and myrrh floated up between us, sweet and heady.

“I ain’t wanna be a bother,” he said, rubbing his neck absently. “Already done kicked up enough trouble.”

“You neva bother me, ‘Lijah. Ya know dat.” I stepped closer, setting the oil down with a gentle clink. I tilted his chin with two fingers, brushing back the collar of his shirt to reveal the bandaged bite. It had begun to crust at the edge, angry and deep.

He leaned into my touch like he’d been waitin’ on it, the tension in his body giving way.

“I hea you, Belle,” he murmured, the words sliding slow over his tongue, like molasses in summer.

“You listenin’?” I asked, soaking the cloth.

“All ears, baby.” His lips curved into a small smile — my smile. The one he only showed me when the world quieted long enough for him to remember peace.

I carefully pressed the cloth to his wound. He didn’t flinch. Just closed his eyes and let me work.

“You look tired.”

“Full-time babysitter,” he muttered, rubbing his face. “I’m worried bout him.”

I didn’t answer right away. Just kept cleaning the bite, my fingers gentle as prayer. When I was done, I set the cloth aside and opened my arms.

“Wanna get some rest? You didn’t even hug me when y’all got hea.”

He gave me a sheepish look, then pulled me in with both arms like he needed to make up for lost time. His broad chest rose and fell against mine, warm and familiar.

“Cuz you was spittin’ venom at my brotha. I ain’t want no parts.” He kissed the side of my head, voice rumbling low. “But yeah, rest would be nice.”

I chuckled and tugged him toward the couch.

“C’mon,” I said, patting my thigh. “Lay down fa a spell.”

He didn’t hesitate. Just curled into me like he’d done a hundred times before. I rocked him gently, humming the old lullaby Celestine used to sing when the world felt too heavy. It didn’t take long for Angélique to peek her head in, one brow raised high.

“The amount of power ya got ova both of dem is crazy.”

I gave her a slow smile, my hand moving rhythmically over Smoke’s head.

“They my babies. Been that way fa yeas. This one just a lil mo’ tenda.”

In his sleep, Smoke’s lips twitched into a grin, like he heard me through the haze. I leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“You need a new mojo bag,” I whispered against his skin.

He hummed in agreement, already halfway in another world. I waited ‘til I felt the full weight of his sleep, then slowly eased myself out from under him.

“Now let me go make sure his brotha ain’t ran off all my customers.”

Angélique chuckled, grabbing the blanket to cover Smoke’s frame. “Ya better. Don’t leave dat fool in ya shop unattended too long.”

–

I walked in to find Stack behind the counter, leanin’ heavy against the wood like he owned the place, hummin’ some old blues tune about wantin’ ta be taken in somebody’s arms. He had that smug look on his face too, like he was finally doin’ right just by standin’ still.

“Okay,” I said, halfway laughin’ as I set down my satchel. “The buildin’ still standin’ and it ain’t no angry mob outside. So that’s a start.”

He grinned. “I can be a good salesman, ya know.”

I gave him a look. “I’m scared of that, actually.”

“Why’s that?”

I raised an eyebrow, tiltin’ my head. “You know why. You charm folks out they senses when it suits ya.”

He chuckled low, proud like it was a compliment. “I promise I acted accordingly, baby. Made ya fiddy dollas in ya absence.”

“Mmmhm,” I replied, lips pursed. “That right?”

“Swear on it,” he said, holding up three fingers like we was in court. “Didn’t flirt wit nobody. Didn’t bite nobody neither.”

“Well, damn. That might be a new record,” I muttered, makin’ my way behind the counter to sort some of my smaller bottles.

“He doin’ okay?” he asked after a moment, jerkin’ his head toward the house.

I softened a little. “Yeah. He’s asleep.”

“Good,” Stack said, his voice gentler now. “He needs it. His nerves been bad. Kept tremblin’ earlier when he thought I wasn’t lookin’.”

“Huh. I wonder why,” I replied dryly.

“I know it’s me.” He looked down at the counter, shame writ across his face.

“I mean it’s not every day ya wake up to ya own brotha suckin’ the life outta ya… literally.”

Stack rubbed his neck, jaw clenched like the memory still burned. “Right.”

I folded my arms. “Outta all the dumb shit you done pulled, Stack… this might be the worst.”

“That was a real fucked up moment and I regret it,” he said, voice quieter now, like he meant it deep. “I shoulda neva brought him into this shit.”

“You betta not drag him any deeper while y’all under my roof.”

He nodded. “Understood.”

I took my place behind the counter again, fillin’ a couple small orders and keepin’ my hands busy. Stack wandered back to his corner, pickin’ at a bowl of dried herbs. I caught him outta the corner of my eye, starin’ out the front window like he expected trouble to come strollin’ down the road.

“Whatchu see out thea?”

He blinked like he’d just noticed I was watchin’. “Just some regular ole town folk. Nun crazy.”

“You lookin’ mighty hard.”

He shrugged, that lazy grin back on his lips. “Just people watchin’, Suge. You know I like ta see how folks carry theyselves.”

Before I knew it, the sun had dipped low and the shop had settled quiet. Stack and I slipped into that familiar rhythm, talkin’ and laughin’ like we used to back when things were easy. I was tellin’ him about when Ana was little and tried to feed a chicken bone to a stray cat when Smoke’s voice cut through the air, low and firm.

“Belle? Whatchu still doin’ in hea? It’s late.”

I glanced at the clock and winced. “I’m fine, ‘Lijah. Got Stack over dere.”

Stack flashed that grin at his twin. “Hey there, sleepin’ beauty.”

Smoke ignored him, eyes locked on me. “It’s still too late fa you ta be in hea. C’mon. I’ll help ya lock up.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his tone said he wasn’t in the mood for it. I let out a soft sigh, feelin’ that familiar tug of his concern. Stack wasn’t havin’ it.

“Nah. We was fine just sittin’ in hea talkin’. Na’ here ya come playin’ daddy an’ shit.”

Smoke shot him a look. “You bring ya ass ova hea an’ help too. We both know she’ll stay in hea all night playin’ in herbs.”

Stack grumbled, shufflin’ over to grab the keys out my apron pocket. 

“Umm, excuse me. I been runnin’ dis shop fa twelve years, ten of ‘em unsupervised by the Smokestack twins. I’m a big girl. I can handle my own.”

“Uh huh,” Smoke replied, grabbin’ a broom. “I can tell by the footprints on the flo’. You in hea night an’ day. All dis stuff still gone be hea in the mornin’. Na’ c’mon, Belle.”

“No, dammit!”

“Belle. Let’s go.” That time, it wasn’t a request.

Stack came up beside me, his hand slidin’ across my cheek, soft and slow like honey. “C’mon baby. It ain’t goin’ nowhere. An’ it is late.”

I huffed, rollin’ my eyes like a child bein’ pulled from a candy jar. Still, I shut the shop door behind me with both twins trailin’ close.

Back at the house, Solé sat at the kitchen table, shellin’ beans with a quiet intensity. She glanced up at the three of us and fixed Stack with one of her infamous looks.

“Whatchu done did now, boy?”

Stack raised his hands in defense. “It wasn’t me dis time, Mama.”

“I made her close up shop,” Smoke said, steppin’ in quick. “She been in there all day an’ wouldn’t rest.”

Stack let out a low whistle. “See? I’m actually innocent.”

Solé raised an eyebrow. “That’s a first,” she said, cuttin’ her eyes back to Smoke. “Na’ you know how she feels ‘bout her potions.”

“Mmhm. I know.”

“Go make it right. An’ Elias, come get some food in ya. I ain’t seen ya eat since breakfast.”

“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison.

Smoke came to find me in the bedroom, standin’ in the mirror twistin’ my locs into two lazy French braids. He lingered in the doorway for a second before speakin’.

“Belle?”

“Yes, Elijah?”

“You an’ I both know you woulda stayed in thea all night. An’ witch or not, ya need rest.”

“I didn’t ask fa a lecture.”

“This ain’t no lecture. Just me bein’ real wit you. You made me relax earlier. Only right I return the favor.”

“There’s no such thing as relaxin’ when the Smokestack twins come ‘round.”

He chuckled low. “It’s after midnight, and we both safe under the same roof. You can slow down a bit.”

I turned, meetin’ his eyes.

“Nobody been in fa hours. Me an’ Stack was just talkin’.”

“An’ I heard you yawn twice befo’ I even got to the porch.”

I hesitated.

“... So.”

He came closer, reachin’ out to brush a finger across my cheek. “Lil cute, stubborn ass. You need some sleep. We both know he gone talk ya ear off again tomorrow.”

I sighed, finally lettin’ myself sink into his touch. “Okay, okay.”

He kissed my forehead, soft and reverent. “Thank you.”

“Meeeh.”

He laughed and leaned in, kissin’ my lips this time. “You won’t miss nun.”

I kissed him back, playful pout on my lips. “Shuddup.”

“You’ll sense it if somethin’ wrong.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Mmmhm. I’m sure it is, pretty girl. Na’ c’mon. I’ll rock ya to sleep.”

I climbed into bed beside him, his arms wrappin’ around me like I was made to be held by ‘em. My head barely hit his chest before sleep pulled me under.

Later, I felt Stack’s presence before I even heard him.

“Why ya make her go ta sleep?” he muttered from the doorway. “I wanted ta say good night.”

“You still can. Ya know she sleep light.”

“Shuddup. That’s not the point. She don’t let me be soft wit her no more.”

“Cuz you ain’t soft. Kiss ha on the forehead and say good night, nigga. Fo’ she kick us both out.”

“Nigga, you ain’t my daddy.”

Still, Stack came over, bendin’ down low and brushin’ his lips against my head. “Good night, Suge,” he whispered, the edge gone from his voice.

I smiled faint, even in sleep.

“See?” Smoke murmured, kissin’ the other side of my head. “Good night, Belle.”

My voice came out soft and syrupy. “Night, ‘Lijah. Night, ‘Lias.”

“She so pretty,” Stack whispered, starin’ at me like I was a dream.

“She is,” Smoke agreed.

He lingered a minute more, standin’ outside Ana’s door like he needed one last deep breath befo’ facin’ whatever the night held. 

“Could you tuck me in, Mr. Stack?” her lil voice floated out from the room, so sweet it could melt the edge off anything.

He smiled, slow and full, like that one question made him forget the ache in his body.

“Well, since ya asked so nicely,” he said, steppin’ inside and goin’ straight for the dresser where her bear was sittin’. He picked it up like it was made of glass, fingers runnin’ over the worn fur with a kind of reverence.

“I ain’t seen this bear in ages.”

“Mama gave it to me when I was five,” Ana said proudly, already tucked beneath her pink quilt with the white lace trim. “I’ll never let him go.”

Stack gave a soft laugh, low and fond. “I won it fa ha at a carnival when we was fifteen. She claimed she ain’t want it, but she held that thing like a trophy the rest of the day.”

Ana giggled. “That’s sweet. Could you win me one?”

“‘Course I can, lil lady,” he said, crouchin’ beside her bed. “I’ll win ya every teddy bear in Mississippi.”

“We in Louisiana, silly man,” she teased, eyes glintin’ just like mine used to.

“Then I’ll win every one in Louisiana, too.”

She stretched out her pinky. “Pinky promise?”

He placed a hand over his chest like she’d just sworn him in. “Pinky promises is sacred, young lady. We don’t do them lightly.”

She lifted her brow, same exact way I do when I mean business. “So you better keep it, Mr. Elias.”

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered, their fingers curling around each other ta seal the deal.

She yawned and snuggled into her pillow, pullin’ the bear close to her chest.

“Goodnight… Papa…”

Stack went still. Real still. Like the air got pulled right out his lungs. He leaned down slow, kissed her forehead so gently I felt it in my chest.

“Goodnight, Lil’ Suge,” he said, voice barely holdin’ itself together.

Solé’s voice came from further down the hall where Smoke had settled against the doorframe of my room.

“She’s not gonna vanish, ya know?”

“I know,” he said soft, starin’ in on me like I was a fragile spell that might break if he blinked too hard.

“You boys always been fools when it came to her.”

“I know, Mama.”

She nodded. “Just keep your word this time. That’s all I ask.”

“I will. I’ll keep him straight.”

“Good. N’ get some rest.” 

Stack lingered in the hallway a minute more, leanin’ back against the wall with his eyes closed. His hand dragged over his face like he was tryin’ to wipe off the weight of the world.

Then it happened. That shift. His body tensed, jaw lockin’ up tight.

“Well… this complicates things, don’t it?”

His whole spirit changed, rage simmerin’ under his skin.

“You not gon’ touch her,” he growled, low under his breath. “You’d have to kill me first.”

There was a pause, then the quiet hum of something dark and ugly fillin’ the space.

“That wouldn’t be very hard.”

Stack’s hand slammed the door shut behind him, not loud enough to wake Ana, but enough to shake somethin’ in Solé, though she kept quiet. He stormed down the hallway like a man possessed.

“Fuck you,” he spit out, though he wasn’t talkin’ to anyone she could see.

But she knew.

That wasn’t just anger. That was war brewin’. And she didn’t know how long we had before it spilled over.

Tag List: @whoaitslucyylu @omgffs @healanette @secret89sblog @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @soufcakmistress @thickemadame @blackpantherismyish @kumkaniudaku @youreadthatright @post-woke @chaneajoyyy @kissmyafropuff @empressdede @melodyofmbaku @blktinkerbell @turbulentvoids @writerbee-ffs @jasssdee1 @cerya @hearteyes-for-killmonger @theegoldenchild @theogbadbitch @honggihwa @dashhoney25 @jackierose902109 @browngirldominion @j0ysyndr0m3 @marley1773 @theegyal @wabi-sabi1090 @thevelvetwhispers @thinking1bee @lizbehave @queenofklonnie22 @kcundercover0 @erikaintdead @underated345-blog @dameshamonique @chrisevansmentee @wakandamama @sk1121-blog1 @juicypinksblog @adultinginheels @billyjeanonthed @ladymac82 @althegreat33 @dezzy154 @brownsuugahh @imagining-greatness

[veloz-lento]

You just got a kind of shitty old car and it doesn't have Bluetooth. You can only buy 7 CDs and you can't repeat an artist. What are you getting

This is so fun! Shity car road trips are the best. Thanks for the tag, @weegreenbean

1. Green Day - American Idiot

2. Fall Out Boy - Infinity on High

3. Orville Peck - Bronco

4. Tyler Childers - Rustin in the Rain

5. Selena - Amor Prohibido

6. Lorde - Melodrama

7. Chappell Roan - rise and fall of a midwest princess

No pressure tags: @donttelltheelff @coffee-at-annies @robindrake13 @riahchan @freya-deathstalker @reavenedges-lies

[woundedwhitewolf]

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔉𝔦𝔳𝔢

"Where there's life there's hope." - J. R. R. Tolkien (The Hobbit, 1937)

DISCLAIMER: This chapter contains heavy details of Evie's backstory that involve child abuse (both physical and sexual), religious trauma, violence, and harm to animals. Please be cautious when reading, if you aren't in the right headspace this work will be here for when you are. You come first so take care of yourself! Enjoy.

March 5th 1995. Sunday.

Jolting awake she felt a familiar pressure on her chest only to open her eyes and see the dog resting her giant here there. She sighed petting her kissing her nose. “Thank you sweet girl.” Moving away from her she paused looking back at her as if to redirect her attention. She sat up rubbing her eyes and looked out front to see his truck was still there, his button up was draped over the chair, and he wasn’t on the couch. The dog hovered at the back door whining. “What? What’s he up to huh?” The coffee had already been made and there was an empty mug beside the coffee maker. When she opened the door the dog ran out straight to him where he stood in his wife beater with garden shears in his hand and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “What the fuck are ya doin’?”

He looked at her nodding to one of the trees in her backyard. “Shit comin’ off this tree was goin’ right into your gutters. We got rain comin’ so I trimmed it back a lil bit. Was gonna cut your grass but didn’t wanna wake you up. And before you say it, I’m aware I didn’t have to.”

She chuckled through a smile. “I wake you up?”

She shook her head. “You want breakfast?”

He pulled on his cigarette taking it from his mouth. “That’d be nice.”

“You like omelettes?”

He nodded. Whistling to the dog she came back inside and she made coffee before making them breakfast. When he came in glistening in a sheen of sweat he went to the sink and washed his hands while she was buttering their toast. A good amount of focus was involved in looking at what she was doing instead of looking at him. She’d never felt this level of domesticity be safe enough without having to be constantly looking over her shoulder. Sitting down with their food at the table he did the same thing after wiping his face with a paper towel. “Bacon, toast, and omelette with bell peppers, onions, and cheese. Hot sauce and ketchup.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Ketchup?”

She paused. “You don’t like ketchup on your eggs?” The smirk on his face was answer enough and she grinned with a shrug. “Some fuckin’ alien you are, Rustin Cohle.” Grabbing the ketchup for herself she continued. “You didn’t leave.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t have to.” She knew if he really didn’t want to he wouldn’t have even if she asked.

He took a bite. “This is good thank you.”

“Thanks for staying and giving me a reason to cook it.” Slowly taking the time to look at him his tattoo came above his elbow onto the lower part of his bicep. It was beautiful and she wondered why he had it, perhaps his time undercover or maybe even before.

“Did you train her to do that?”

Confused she looked around just to see her lying on the couch. “She isn’t allowed to have table food so she knows better to beg.”

He shook his head. “When I got up to turn the coffee pot on she had her head on your chest. You were dreamin’.”

Shaking her head she swallowed. “No, she’s done it since she was a puppy.”

He smirked. “Smart dog.”

“Whatdya mean?”

“It’s a form of pressure therapy they train service dogs to do. She senses your heart rate when you’re dreaming and does it to try and calm your stress. Guess she figured it out on her own.”

She paused before answering. “It usually keeps me from screaming. Probably did it for her own self preservation and I don’t blame her.”

Not looking up from her food she could feel his eyes on her. “I have em too.”

Looking up at him she saw his eyes were clearer than usual. “Did you sleep at all?”

He nodded. “More than I usually do.” A comfortable silence fell as they finished their breakfast and she sat back with her coffee once her food was gone. When he was finished she asked if he was done and took his plate to the sink cleaning up. He came in helping her by bringing the ketchup and hot sauce before leaning against the counter.

She turned to him with a grin seeing his hand hold his coffee cup. “What?”

“You have beautiful hands.” He held his free hand up and she took it gently in her hands after a moment. Prominent veins trailed up his forearms, strong knuckles led to strong fingers, and a palm that could probably encompass her entire hand.

“They’ve done horrible things.”

“I know.”

“I’m a bad man Genevieve.”

She let go of his hand nodding. “I’ve encountered my fair share and you aren’t like them at all. You aren’t bad to me and frankly that’s all that matters.” He finished his coffee and set the mug in the sink turning back to her. The stray strands of hair that came out of her braid while she slept hung down on the left side of her face, he gently lifted his hand to make sure she agreed before touching her brushing them back behind her ear. She didn’t flinch as she held his gaze and it was soft while he studied her face before dropping his hand.

“Thank you for breakfast.”

“Thank you for helping me and my tree.” She meant that in more ways than one because having him around to talk to helped more than he’d ever know.

“When’s your next day off?”

“Wednesday.”

“I’ll call you before I come get you and we can go out shootin’ again alright?”

She nodded. He grabbed his shirt from the back of the chair and pet the dog on the head. “Look after your mama, Miss Lily.” Taking one last look at her before he walked out the door she found herself wishing he stayed just a little longer but she was grateful for what time they did spend together.

March 8th 1995. Wednesday.

When he pulled up in the driveway she climbed in the truck as he leaned over and opened the door. “Hey.”

With a cigarette between his lips he backed out and turned to her. “What’d you get into today?”

“Cut the grass, caught up on laundry, paid bills, just bullshit.” Watching as he loosened his tie before taking it completely off she noticed he never buttoned the top bottom of his collar and his tie was always looser than most. “Long day?”

He nodded as she lit a cigarette herself. “Yeah, you could say that.”

She paused feeling his demeanor was a bit off but she understood, she got that way sometimes. “You okay?”

He nodded again. “Mhm.”

“If you weren’t would you be honest with me?”

He looked over at her. “I don’t know how to be anythin’ else, especially with you.” Going to the spot he first took her they got out dropping the tailgate down. He took his gun off his hip taking it apart. “I wanna get you comfortable with this one first so go ahead and put it together.”

Taking her time remembering how he did it she looked at him when she finished. “That right?”

“Mhm, good job. Now lemme see your form.” Pointing it at the same shack he observed her nodding to her hand. “Remember high and tight.” She adjusted her grip and he stood behind her making sure he could see over her shoulder. “I’m gonna put my hand on your back alright? Whenever you’re ready, finger in the trigger guard.” Noticing her hands were shaking he put his hand on her forearm speaking beside her ear. “Breathe. You’re alright, I gotcha. Just relax and focus on your breath.” She didn’t know why she was still nervous, she knew how to do it but the image of any gun reminded her of it being used against her as an intimidation tactic. She swallowed and nodded exhaling feeling his hand on her back. “There ya go. Whenever you’re ready.” When she fired he stayed where he was. “Tighten your grip a lil and go again.”

“Like that?”

“Yup, fire when you’re ready.” She did it again and it felt better. Taking his hand from her arm he nodded. “Go ahead, I got a whole box of bullets. I wanna get you comfortable with the recoil.”

By the time she put the gun down she was firing it without his hand on her back as support. She hopped on the tailgate next to him. “How’s it feel?”

She nodded. “Better. I just wish I had bigger hands.”

He smirked. Reaching behind her she grabbed the notebook that hadn’t been opened since she finished it. Her hand brushed off the cover, thumb moving over the edges of the pages looking down at it. “You don’t have to read it if you don’t want.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I just realized I haven’t opened this since I wrote the last page.”

“I don’t expect you to read it out loud to me..”

“I want to. And I wanna answer any questions so don’t be afraid to ask them.”

He nodded as she looked at him. “You’re sure?” She nodded. “Take your time.” Opening the first page she saw her own handwriting that had changed over the years but she sighed through her nose quietly.

July of 1979 are my first memories, I was five and Maddy was seven. I wish the first memory I had in my life was a good one, one that I’d be happy to remember, but it isn’t. The farm was my favorite place on earth mainly because of the animals we had. There was a lake, corn, so much space around where people wouldn’t go but I spent most of my time with the animals. We had chickens, a few horses, and brown and white Herefords. The cows make good mothers and the last one to drop a calve had the most beautiful baby. I remember his face was all white, the bottom of his belly was too along with the bottom of his legs like he was wearing socks so that’s what I called him. At night I would sneak out of the house and go to the barn to see him and his mom since it was cooler in there than my attic bedroom. She would let me lay in the straw with him and got comfortable enough to lay down with us. I remember looking at her like a mother because I never really felt like I had one. The closest thing I had to a mother was an older woman named Amelia who would go on to teach me piano but I knew she wasn’t my real mother. Maddy always told me never to ask about my real parents because the only thing that mattered was Father and he would get mad if I ever spoke about it so I would talk to the cow about it.

I had fallen asleep in the barn one night and didn’t wake up until I heard the barn door open. There was no time to run back or hide and I knew I was in trouble when I heard my name being called. He found me in there with the cows I considered friends, family even, and I froze. His eyes were black it seemed.. he always had black eyes whenever I remember him and his gaze hurt. He grabbed me by my arms and drug me out of the barn, without words I knew I was in big trouble. It didn’t matter how many times I said I was sorry, no one listened and no one cared. I was told to kneel in the dirt outside, everyone gathered but I don’t remember realizing it until it was over. He had Socks brought out and stood in front of me. “You’ve been told about leaving your room Eve. Haven’t you?” I cried, apologized, but there was nothing in those black eyes.

“There will be consequences for your inability to listen from now on, little lamb. You’re old enough to know better now.” His voice was hollow. That morning is my first memory of what he called the holy blade. On instinct I closed my eyes but he hit me, it wasn’t the first time I don’t think since he did it with such ease rather just the first time I remember. He told me to keep my eyes open and I had to watch as he cut Socks throat. He died badly, tried calling for his mom, crying and stumbling as he bled out until he fell to the ground making the worst sounds I ever heard from the dirt.

I can’t remember if I screamed I just remember him looking at me. I know I said I was sorry, whether out loud or in my head I can’t remember. I remember the sound she made from the barn like even though she couldn’t see, she could feel her baby was gone. He knelt down after Socks was drug away and told me I was old enough for my first penance since I was old enough to break the rules. Dragging me inside I was taken to my room in the attic where he gave me my first crown of thorns. He took me up to my room and made he sit on my bed and recite my prayer before it bit into my forehead and scalp. I tried not to cry but it didn’t work.

Closing it she looked away from him clenching her jaw, looking upwards blinking rapidly. After a moment she took a deep breath exhaling it forcefully and swallowing after. Lighting a cigarette she blew her smoke out not daring to look at him opting to keep her gaze towards the shack full of bullet holes. “That cow refused to eat after that. She ended up starving to death. Before she did I couldn’t look her in the eye. I felt like I failed her, it was my fault her baby was taken from her. That hurt worse than the crown and he knew it, that’s why he did it.” She could feel him looking at her as she pulled on her cigarette.

“None of it was your fault. You were a child Genevieve.” A silence fell and he cleared his throat. “Was the crown of thorns all you remember?”

She nodded looking at him. “He didn’t start tying me up and doing what you’re thinking until I was six.”

He looked away closing his eyes briefly as he clenched his jaw. “How did they put the crown on?” “He wore gloves and tightened it by twisting the back until blood was drawn. Instead of cutting it off he’d untwist it so it scratched more. He wanted me docile, scared and obedient and for a while it worked until I fought back for the first time when I was six.”

Looking at her he held his hand out palm up and she laced her fingers with his thankful for such a small gesture that meant the most. “You okay?”

She nodded with a heavy sigh. “It’s just hard. I have a soft spot for animals I guess. They’re the only ones who’d never hurt me on purpose.”

His thumb moved over the back of her hand. “You mean to tell me Lily ain’t never bit you?” She laughed shaking her head. “God no, it was love at first sight. She came right over to me and after she played she fell asleep in my lap. I always thought Maddy sent her to me. She knew I needed someone and sent her. Speaking of I have to feed her.” He nodded letting go of her hand and they climbed back in the truck.

In her driveway she turned to him with the door open. “C’mon, I’ll feed you too.” He looked at her and she nodded towards the house but he hesitated. “Rust. If you don’t like me saying thank you all the time come inside and eat some fuckin’ food if you don’t have anywhere to be.” He chuckled as she got out of the truck and he followed her.

After reading what she’d written seeing Lily made her realize how grateful she was for her. Setting her stuff down she knelt on the floor laughing at the barrage of wet kisses. “Thank you baby, thank you so much. My beautiful girl.” The second she realized Rust was behind her it was right over to him she went.

“Hi Miss Lily.” Seeing her happy and excited she bounced around grabbing one of her toys made her smile.

“C’mon, you gotta go outside? Let’s go.” She let her out and went into the kitchen. “It’s already cooked I just have to heat it up for about ten minutes.”

“What is it?”

“Garlic parmesan chicken and pasta. Help yourself to a drink if you want.”

“What you having?”

“Whatever you grab.”

Feeding the dog once she came in she leaned against the counter after getting plates as he opened two beers. He had rolled up his sleeves and she glanced at his tattoo. “Did you get that while you were undercover?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I see it?”

He nodded holding out his arm and offering him the same courtesy he did her, she asked first. “Can I?” He nodded watching her as she took his wrist. Even though she couldn’t see all of it she studied what she could and how beautiful his hands were. His forearms were no different wrapped in corded veins and strong. “A raven?”

“That’s right.”

Tracing her fingers over it his skin was warm and she let it go afraid of making him uncomfortable. “It’s beautiful.” By the time the oven beeped he had sat down and Lily was finished her dinner so she directed her to lay on the couch. Bringing their plates back to the table she sat down.

He spoke as she blew on the food on her fork. “Tell me about the holy blade. What is it?”

“It was this big, ridiculous fixed blade he kept on his belt in a sheath. The handle was made of antler and it had a cross burnt into both sides. I think it was his father’s.”

“Did he only use it for punishment?”

She nodded as she chewed, answering after she swallowed. “And sacrifice.”

��Animal sacrifice?”

She shrugged. “It’s what he killed Maddy with and probably what he used to kill my parents so I guess both.”

He paused. “He ever use it on you?”

“No.”

Taking a bite of his food he nodded speaking after he swallowed. “This is really good, thank you.”

She grinned. “You’re welcome. Do you cook?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I just don’t care to.”

Chuckling to herself he spoke after taking another bite.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Hm?”

“If it’s too much to share with me I’ll still teach you how to shoot.”

She looked up across the table. “Is that a question?”

He smirked with one corner of his mouth. “Is it too much?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay. If I’m not I’ll tell you. You’ve been honest with me and I’ll be honest with you.” Finishing their food in a comfortable silence she was in her head after reading that today. She didn’t realize she’d been staring at a spot on the floor until he spoke.

“Genevieve.”

Blinking she looked up clearing her throat and taking a drink. “Sorry.”

“What is it?”

“In my bedroom in the attic there was a spot on the rafter above my bed, like a knot in the wood. I think there was a hole but I’m not sure because I could never reach it but.. my bed was under the window because he said I needed to be the first thing the light touched in the morning. But I remember I’d disappear into that hole. I’d picture myself as a spider or a wood bee, anything small enough to climb up there and crawl into that hole. I don’t even know if it was real but that hole was the only safe place in that entire house. It didn’t hurt in that hole.”

He looked at the floor seeing there was a small crack in the linoleum that she had been unconsciously staring at. “It’s weird because sometimes I’ll remember things that I haven’t remembered in a long time at the sight of the smallest things. Sometimes I don’t even know if they were real because how could I forget something like that?”

“It’s called trauma blocking. The brains self defense mechanism, same way dissociating is. I didn’t know about it until it was explained to me when I was at Northshore.”

“What was it like there?”

He sighed shaking his head. “It wasn’t great.”

“I probably should’ve spent time in a place like that.”

“No you shouldn’t. I don’t think it would’ve be good for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s different for women I think. And in your particular situation I don’t think you’d be able to trust the doctors.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re never honest.”

Grinning she grabbed her plate. “Do you want more or are you finished?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

Taking his plate to the sink he had finished all of it and he stood lighting a cigarette helping her clear the table. He leaned against the counter as she washed the plates and spoke without looking at him. “I trust you. I don’t know why but I do. Maybe it’s because you’re honest or you’ve been treating me like an actual human, I’m not sure, but I’m grateful.” Drying her hands she looked at him. “You have to go?”

He nodded. “See you Sunday?” She nodded back.

“If you need me just call. Try and get some sleep Genevieve.”

“You first.”

He halfway grinned. “Goodnight.”

“Night Rust.” He pet the dog before leaving. “Look after your mama, Miss Lily.”

March 12th 1995. Sunday.

Hearing his truck she said goodbye to the dog and went out to see him open the door for her with a small grin. She had seen him last night when he came over late. It was one of those situations where she didn’t think he wanted to be alone but didn’t want to talk either. So he sat on the couch with her and the dog while she read to him out loud until he fell asleep. He was gone by the time she woke up. “Hey.”

She smiled back. “Hi. What am I shooting today?”

He chuckled, probably at her enthusiasm. “Revolver.”

“The Wild West. Ya know you didn’t have to leave when you woke up, you can stay as long as you want. There’s a spare bedroom.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep and I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

She chuckled. “It’s okay Rust. Really.” When they pulled up to the same spot they had been before and got out he dropped the tailgate setting down a box of bullets and a gun case opening it.

“Alright so this is a revolver. It’s a Smith and Wesson 686 plus, just means it’s a seven shot instead of six. Three inch barrel, single and double action so you can shoot it with the hair trigger pulling the hammer back each time. Or double action where you don’t have to touch the hammer, you just shoot. And this is the cylinder.” He pushed it open and spun it where she saw it was empty. “The thing about this is it takes a bigger round.” He set the revolver down and took his service pistol out unloading the magazine to take out a bullet. “This is a 9 millimeter. And these are 357 magnums.”

Seeing them both in his hands the difference was obvious, he handed them to her to see for herself. “357 has a higher velocity, more stopping power and a bigger recoil. You hit someone with a 357 and they’re going down whether they want to or not. These give you more range too because they’re stronger. You’re used to the recoil on my gun and I want you comfortable with this. It’s the next step before a rifle or shotgun. You up for it?”

She nodded. “Show me how to load it.” He grinned slightly but still denied her the privilege of revealing a smile. “Before I do that lemme show you how I hold it because this is heavier to help with the recoil. Whatever feels comfortable for you as long as you aren’t too close to the cylinder. If it feels better using the trigger finger on your strong hand do that, if using your left feels better go ahead. I use my right. My left goes under here for support and you see how my thumbs are?” She nodded. “Until you get used to the recoil we’ll stick with single action alright?” She nodded again and he set the gun down. “You’ll need these.” From his pocket he handed her earplugs with a band that was meant to go behind her neck. “I’m gonna shoot one first.”

“Wait what about yours?”

There was that halfway smirk. “This ain’t my first time Genevieve.”

She put them in her ears and nodded when she was ready. Even with the earplugs it was loud and based on his hands she could tell it had a stronger kick than the other one. Looking at her he spoke. “Wanna try?” She nodded and handed it to her where she made sure to hold it away from him as he moved behind her. “I’m gonna put my hands on your upper back by your shoulders okay? Your grip looks good, it feel okay?”

She nodded. “Just relax I’m right here. Pull the hammer back and fire when you’re ready.” Pulling it back with her thumb she took a deep breath exhaling slowly calming herself, he was right behind her if she needed him. Not aiming at all she fired and the shock took her by surprise but she didn’t let go of it.

She turned towards him with a nervous laugh. “Holy shit.”

“It’s got a kick dunnit?”

“I can feel it up my arm.”

He chuckled. “You did good, try another.”

By the time she took the last shot of the day she could feel her hands ringing but she felt good about herself like she accomplished something. Hopping up on the tailgate she lit a cigarette as he put the gun away. “So how’d I do?”

“Not bad at all lil sure shot.”

She laughed. “I’m pretty fucking far from Annie Oakley.”

“You’ll be shootin’ cigarettes from people’s mouths in no time.” He got up on the tailgate next to her lighting a cigarette for himself.

“Thank you for doin’ all this. I know you don’t have to.”

His smoke slowly escaped his mouth as he spoke looking at her. “I want you to feel safe, like you can protect yourself no matter what happens.”

“I feel safe whenever I’m around you.”

“I might not always be around. Even if I want to.”

Simply hearing that made her incredibly sad and filled her with something akin to nervousness. Reaching behind her she pulled out her journal taking a long drag off her cigarette.

April 20th of 1980 was my sixth birthday. Eight months had passed since my first penance and it scared me enough to keep me in line. Nothing big that I can remember but I do remember he took advantage of me being afraid. He pulled me into a false sense of security letting me spend time with the animals, giving me more piano time, but I spent less time with Maddy because of it. I was pliable like clay during that time because he was being nice to me. He was reveling in it. It started slow. He visited me every night to put me to sleep and make sure I said my prayer. Lingering touches, kisses too close to my lips, showing himself to me. Eventually it led to me touching him. He told me he was showing me how to please God, that doing those things together was the most sacred form of worship. Holy conclaves. I didn’t like it, I always felt disgusting after like I would never be clean again, and the more I let it go on the more angry I got.

The night of my sixth birthday he was touching me in my room and told me to put his fingers inside me so he could let the light in. I didn’t want to and I shook my head no. He forced them anyway but it hurt, I hated it, so I cried and tried kicking him off me. The harder I fought the more angry he got until I was on my back in my bed. Both hands were pinned in one of his above my head, my legs were forced open by his knees. I tried to get away. I bit, kicked, screamed, thrashed, did whatever I could but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough. After the initial shock of the pain I realized there was no escaping it so I stared at the hole in the beam above me until I was up there looking down at myself. I thought I had died and I was my own ghost but I didn’t die. When he stopped I came back to my body and felt nothing but pain all over. It hurt to breathe and I was afraid to move, I couldn’t stop shivering.

He held me while I cried and told me he did it because he loved me so much. He wanted me to be saved that’s why he was showing me how please God, how to let the light in. When he told me I owed penance for fighting Gods will he put the crown on me. Tying me by my ankles and wrists as I was bent over my bed I met the wooden paddle for the first time. I had to recite my prayer and if I cried or messed up I started again. Eventually I passed out and when I woke up I was still tied but on my back wearing my crown. He put me in a diaper and gave me nothing but water for a week. The first time no one was allowed to see me except him but it didn’t stay that way. One week felt like three months of lying in that bed. I could barely walk when I was allowed to and if it wasn’t for Maddy I wouldn’t have been able to get through it.

I wish I could say that was the only time but it was just the first. It would go on in cycles. I would behave and it wouldn’t be so bad until I snapped and fought back. Each time I did it got worse. And it never failed I always felt like it was my fault. I still feel like it’s my fault. I should’ve tried harder to stop it or been less appealing to him. What did I do so wrong that warranted him to pick me to do that to?

She closed her journal not finishing the entry and set it aside as if the memories inside could touch her with the ability to burn. Covering her mouth with her fingertips she shook her head refusing to cry because she was so angry but her body had other demands. Her eyes closed and she spoke mainly to herself. “I hate him. I fucking hate him. Sometimes I think it’s worth them coming after me if it means he’ll be put away forever but I know that’ll never happen. The only way he’ll stop is when he’s dead.” Closing her eyes looking down she sighed wiping her face.

“It isn’t guilt that you feel.”

She looked at him.

“Guilt is remorse you feel about an act or certain behavior you did. It isn’t guilt, it’s shame. Shame is when you believe you’re flawed, inadequate, but it isn’t true. He made you believe it was. It isn’t guilt because you did nothing wrong. There isn’t anything you could’ve possibly done as a child that made it okay for him to do that to you. Nothing.”

He grabbed her hand looking right at her.

“And you aren’t flawed either. You aren’t inadequate. How you feel means something and you might feel that way but it isn’t true. You did nothing wrong and there’s nothing wrong with you. You believe me?”

She nodded slowly feeling her eyes well again.

“It’s okay Genevieve. You’re allowed to feel how you feel.”

Nodding mostly to keep herself together he moved his thumb over the back of her hand and she looked down watching it. “Thank you.”

“You don’t gotta thank me Genevieve.”

“But I do and I will.” Looking back up at him she sniffled. “Have dinner with me? I made étouffée. Please.”

He chuckled and nodded. “You don’t gotta beg.”

“I wasn’t!” That smirk of his reappeared and she rolled her eyes hopping down. “You’re an ass.”

They had eaten and she asked him if he minded if she took a shower. Even telling the story she felt gross and he must’ve understood because he said it was okay. When she came out he was sitting on the couch with the dogs head in her lap. “I know you’re probably ready to leave but can I ask you one more favor before you leave?” He looked up and nodded. “Can you stay until I fall asleep?” He paused before nodding. “Are you sure? I feel bad, like I’m asking too much. I’ll stay on the couch if it’s easier.”

Shaking his head he got up and the dog followed but he stopped in front of her. “You aren’t asking too much and you ain’t sleeping on the couch. Get comfortable I’ll let her out okay?”

She nodded taking a pill before getting under the covers leaving her t-shirt and underwear on. The TV was on a low volume along with the bedside lamp. Hearing him lock the back door and give the dog her treat he came in with his flannel shirt unbuttoned. He propped a pillow behind his back and stretched his legs out on top of the blankets before grabbing the paperback off her nightstand. “Let’s see what you’re reading..”

“You don’t..”

“The Hobbit?” Seeing his eyebrow arch slightly she stared back.

“Have you ever read it?”

“Yeah when I was nine.”

“You mean to tell me you read things that are deeply philosophical and thought provoking all the time? There’s nothing wrong with a good adventure story, it has a dragon in it.” She couldn’t tell if the look on his face was one of amusement or skepticism. “Rust. Give your mind a break sometimes and read about Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf, and Smaug.”

He nodded with a slight sigh. “I’m starting from the beginning.” Lily jumped up and laid between them resting her head on him while she curled up to her back. He looked down at the dog under the book. “Go head, make yourself comfortable.” Lily sighed heavily as if she worked a 12 hour shift of hard labor making her giggle.

“Thank you for doing this. Being so nice.”

He just looked at her. “Stop thanking me Genevieve.”

“No.”

With a smirk he opened to the first page and started reading. She listened and found herself watching him until her eyes got heavy so she closed them. He was still reading when she drifted off into sleep with her face in Lily’s fur.

Chapter 6 here!

[strangledeggs]

Tell me what to listen to next!

I'm stealing an idea from someone else on here to help me catch up on a backlog of music I have lying around that I haven't yet listened to. Up above, you'll see 50 albums, 25 in each list. The lists are as follows:

List 1:

Adele - 30 Les Amazones d'Afrique - Amazones Power The Chills - Brave Words CMAT - Crazymad, For Me Courtney Love - America's Sweetheart Dusty Springfield - The Very Best Of Dusty Springfield FU-Schnickens - Nervous Breakdown Generation Bass Presents Transnational Dubstep [compilation] Gil Scott-Heron - It's Your World Girls Against Boys - House Of GvsB Kool AD - 63 Louis Armstrong - Ambassador Satch Mach-Hommy - Dollar Menu 4 Mase - Harlem World Meat Puppets - Huevos Meredith Monk - Dolmen Music Nirvana - From The Muddy Banks Of The Wishkah Pylon - Chomp Stevie Ray Vaughan - In Step Terry Allen - Bottom Of The World Thelonious Monk - The Complete London Collection Tyler Childers - Rustin' In The Rain UB40 - Labour Of Love The Velvet Underground - Another View Willowz - Talk In Circles

List 2:

Bell Orchestre - Recording A Tape The Colour Of The Light Carly Pearce - Hummingbird Clem Snide - End Of Love Earth, Wind & Fire - Open Our Eyes Elliott Murphy - Aquashow Gasolin' - Gasolin' Helen Reddy - Helen Reddy Kirby Heard - Mama's Biscuits Lifesavas - Spirit In Stone Lori McKenna - 1988 Marshal Crenshaw - #447 Muddy Waters - King Bee New Wave Dance Music From South Africa [compilation] NRBQ - NRBQ L'Orchestre National Mauritanien - Ahl Nana Randy Newman - Randy Newman Ray Wylie Hubbard - Co-Starring Too Ruby Braff And Ellis Larkins - Calling Berlin Vol. 1 Sacred Soul Of North Carolina [compilation] Skip James - Blues From The Delta Swamp Dogg - Gag A Maggot Tabu Ley Rochereau - Man From Kinshasa Unholy Modal Rounders - Unholier Than Thou: 7/7/77 Van Dyke Parks - Song Cycle Yo-Yo Ma - Classic Yo-Yo

You can help me out here by replying to this post picking one album from each of the lists, which I will then listen to at some point in...hopefully the next month? Maybe two? Sorry, my listening schedule for new stuff is slow recently because of work. But a few notes here:

a) First, obviously you must pick two albums (again, one from each list) and you can't pick something somebody else has already picked.

b) As I listen to these albums (I tend to go in alphabetical order on a running list I have), I will post short impressions of them here (I may or may not add a letter grade, we'll see how I'm feeling by the time I get around to it).

c) Pretty much all of these albums were reviewed (or at least recommended) in some way by the critic Robert Christgau, so part of my impressions will involve noting whether I agree or disagree with him on his assessment.

I'm honestly not sure if I have enough followers here for this to work, so it might get cross-posted to a Facebook group I'm in where people are more likely to respond. I'll reblog after a while with an update on what's chosen, and it will close after I get a lineup of about 10-20 albums (or after like a week or two, if no one's responding).

And yes, I am aware that these are eccentric lists.

[thebowerypresents]

Tyler Childers – Radio City Music Hall – August 3, 2003

With his highly anticipated sixth studio album, Rustin’ in the Rain, dropping next month, Tyler Childers launched a brand-new American tour on Wednesday at Radio City Music Hall, and the Appalachian singer-songwriter and his supremely talented band were back again at the plush venue on Thursday night.

(Tyler Childers plays Thompson’s Point in Portland, Maine, with Margo Price on Sunday.)

Photos courtesy of Grayson Wise | @grayokay

[septembersghost]

Have you ever listened to Orville Peck? His voice is gorgeous. Like Elvis, Johnny Cash, Michael Buble, and Bing Crosby all rolled into one amazing country singing package.

i have not, but i listen to all the artists you mentioned so obviously i need to rectify this!

"Over spare, elegant instrumentation—Peck is a student of Sam Phillips, Elvis Presley’s first producer, who, in the nineteen-fifties, pioneered a way of delaying and doubling echo to give recordings a spooky, pinging depth—Peck grapples with depression, heartache, and restlessness."

"His voice conveys its own sense of classic mystery: Peck croons with a deep, soulful sound that’s been compared to Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison and Chris Isaak."

the lyric: "She tells me she don't like Elvis, I say, I want a little less conversation, please," he's just like me fr

there are a lot of other amazing and insightful things in the articles i pulled up about him too, i don't know how i've been out of the loop!

i will talk about this at any given opportunity, but elvis' impact and legacy inspiring countless artists across genres and generations, to the point where it's impossible to calculate how far-reaching those threads are (and the layers there, because many artists were inspired by people who were inspired by him - if someone cites the beatles or paul simon or billy joel or freddie mercury or bob dylan or tina turner or bowie or hendrix or dolly or stevie or or or--- as influences, that initial spark goes back to elvis, and that continues with so many modern musicians today, including people like miley and lana and lady gaga and harry and bruno and beyonce). like this barely scratches the surface of it, it's phenomenal.

orville peck is not alone carrying that torch, but everyone expresses it uniquely, from different backgrounds, races, orientations, and it's such a beautiful thing. @joons sent me this last night:

up and coming artist stephen sanchez, who my anon has messaged me about, and whose album is built around a vintage theme was shaped and influenced by him, plus jillian cardarelli's new song directly dedicated to him...it's so beyond him never being forgotten. he's ingrained in the very fabric of music. that's his legacy, that miraculous connection to music and the happiness and comfort in it and how its humanity bridges all gaps and brings people together and sparks something within them that they share with others.

sorry this got off-topic asgshsdjfgh but it's remarkable and touching to me every time it comes up - and the same is true of artists like bing and frank and ella and billie holiday and nat king cole and tony and judy etc, they're not here, but they're never gone. as long as their voices are heard and remembered and loved, as long as the beautiful tapestries of their music are passed on and inspire others, they're still alive in spirit. one candle lights another candle and those flames become eternal.

[werebutch]

I know girl

[wideminded-dreamer]

Thank you for the tag @babygirljake 💖

My top 9 albums for 2023 ☺️

Starcatcher | Greta Van Fleet | to no one’s surprise. There’s a reason my top five on my Spotify wrapped were all from this album

Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever) | Noah Kahan | He just gets it man. A must listen.

The Battle at Garden’s Gate | Greta Van Fleet | this will always be a top album for me because it’s how I found them 🫶🏻

Hozier | Hozier | somehow I had never listened to this all the way through until this summer???? No skip album

Unreal Unearth | Hozier | I don’t even have words

I Got A Name | Jim Croce | my brother found this at a used vinyl store for me and it is one of my favorite purchases. I’ll have to say I love you in a song is one of my top favorite Jim Croce songs

Taj Mahal | Taj Mahal | thank you Jake Kiszka for having this in your vinyl haul video. I am obsessed with this album

Back Home Again | John Denver | one of his best albums because Annie’s Song and The Music is You are on it 🥹🥹🥹

Rustin’ in The Rain | Tyler Childers | once again thank you to my brother for introducing me to Tyler Childers

No pressure tag (if you have already done this my bad lol) @rhythm-of-space @losfacedevil @hearts-hunger @readyforthegarden