#my backporch

[famefound]

Thank you for your patience. I had a mini anxiety attack tonight because of things just. Not being right at home at all and it’s stressing me out big time. I know I’m already slow as molasses, but I think I’m going to be even slower for the time being until things just... get back to semi-normal.

[intertexts-moving]

good evenig btwww hiii.how r we all?

[mistmoose]

[edutainer2022]

I'm in a very complicated (non)relationship with faith and religion. Loss, grief, and war do a number on that. And I'm in a weird mood (also insanely busy). I would assume the Tracies too have a complicated (and different for each) relationship with faith and spirituality, in their line of work. It's Easter time. So here's a little Earth and Sky piece centered around that time of the year, memories, fears, and love, of course. All blatant parallels with religious symbolism are all on my agnostic self, I mean no disrespect whatsoever!

EASTER

Christmas was easy. Approachable. Christmas was always about family and snuggling, comfy pijamas and Lord of the Rings rewatch maraphons, and gifts for everyone, cinnamon, cocoa, decorations and garlands. Christmas was manageable even after Mom. Then after Dad. Never the same, but manageable.

Easter was weird... In their childhood Easter was always a whirl of colors and activities - egg die on every surface besides the eggshells, egg hunts on the farm and ranch, chocolate prizes, bright baskets, and laughter. And Mom. Always Mom at the center of it all, orchestrating and directing the colorful chaos. Mom told them stories. An Irish Catholic, Mom made a point to go to mass on Easter morning, although she didn't insist they go with. They usually did, dressed in Sunday best, even Gordie on his best behavior. There would be waffles and ice-cream on the way back from the church, and sprinkles in John's hair. With Mom gone the colors muted. The whirlwind stopped. The spring lost its promise. It felt almost a blasphemy to celebrate a resurrection after a loss they suffered. Scott tried to uphold the egghunts for Gordie, who barely remembered his with Mom, and for Allie, who didn't, but it fell flat.

Dad never much discussed spirituality with them. An astronaut, a war veteran, a widower, he held certain cards close to his soul. They grew up with boundless belief in scientific knowledge and answers to be pursued by scientific methods. If there were no answers this side of known universe, that meant the science was yet to catch up. They all helped with catching up a lot. As much as they grew up with boundless belief in each other (that and an elaborate array of superstitions, given their respective specializations). And a firm conviction Mom was an angel up in heaven, watching over them. It all made sense when a brother's comms were silent in the danger zone or a brother's hand was limp and cold over hospital covers. Unbeknowest to them, through the endless night alone in outer space, their father always had but one prayer: "Look after them, my love! Keep them all safe as I can't!"

In a rare arrangement of circumstances, they were all at the farm for Easter weekend, for a change. Some issues needed to be dealt with the estate. And it was an unspoken opportunity to visit Mom's grave. (And Dad's headstone over an empty casket, right next to her). Virgil found Scott at the backporch, seated on the stairs overlooking the meadow. Alone. As he suspected he would. Virgil would have been happy to just plop down and sit it out with biggest brother shoulder to shoulder till dusk, giving him room to just be and a friendly ear, should he want one. Scott had been in a mood all day, maybe all week. So much so even John was worried, who didn't get to observe Scott in his natural brooding state up close often. Biggest brother was obviously not forthcoming with any conversation starters. Virgil took his chances and nudged a flannel clad shoulder to his right. In their childhood home Scott always dug out old, broken in flannel, albeit in blue.

"I think about going to Mom's church tomorrow morning. You wanna come with?"

It was a multi-layered invitation and Virgil knew it. It would imply quality time away from the general mayhem for just the two of them, a chance to gather one's thoughts and to connect to Mom in a way that was special to her, even a chance to bring home a decent breakfast from the diner in the town, across the church. They would then all pack up in two cars, make a trip to the cemetery, pay their respects, and have an Easter dinner all together as a family. Virgil nudged his brother's shoulder again, looking up with hope. Scott's gaze was still far away.

"You wanna go to Easter mass?"

Virgil felt self-conscious suddenly. He loved the music and the spirit of celebration. Generally loved the idea of connecting to something bigger. Connecting to Mom. He tried another angle.

"You don't believe?"

Mom did - left unspoken over the evening meadow. Scott hummed at that, blue eyes finally landing on his brother. The sadness there left Virgil breathless.

"What? Whether a guy could resurrect in three days? I don't honestly know if I believe that, Virg. But I do believe one could die for all of himanity."

Dad did - another silent echo over the meadow.

That, right there, was Virgil's deepest fear. That one day Scott would leave him behind, crying and helpless, on the sideway of his own via dolorosa, dragging a crucifix through the dust and grime of a danger zone. By Dad's unspoken command.

"Please go with me to Mom's church tomorrow! We can have waffles after."

That was blatant food bribery (aka a tried and true way to get Scott to go to concerts and art galleries). But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Scott responded with an amused chuckle and lifted an arm to invite his brother into a hug. Virgil didn't need to be asked twice. Scott's old flannel shirt smelled of old machine oil from the farm tractor, fabric softener and the inextinguishable odor of his very first, hideous aftershave from way back in basic training. Virgil closed his eyes against the steady heartbeat. "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from him."

[chickenmcnuggies]

when I walk Squirt and he shits i obviously use the little doggie bags the apartment building has around at little clean up stations, and there's always little trash cans there to throw them away in. but the closest one from where i live is across the street, and there's a big field behind the building where my porch is he can go in, so ya know sometimes I don't wanna go across the street just to throw something away.

so i toss the dog bags into this one specific chair on my backporch until i go take garbage to the dumpster, so it doesn't stink up my house right? and ya know, summer, heat, poop. attracts a lot of annoying flies.

well this one very smart spider decided to make a web directly across the top of the poop chair, high enough that i can still easily toss them into the seat of the chair, but low enough that it's nearly impossible for flies to land/take off from it. thereby becoming my business partner in making walking out my back door tolerable.

[bipolbur]

annoying i cant chill on the backporch in the summer bc it is so insanely overgrown and the only time one of us has taken the time to cut it down is one time i was in the middle of a breakdown and went out in the middle of a storm and used a hatchet and my hands to clear it

[the-knaves-world]

This life and our next

Lilia x reader, I needed angst. GN!reader

This was new but hope it's good enough!

In the rubble of the mirror chamber, amidst the screams of your friends and the tremors of the aftershocks from the dragon form of malleus' overblot, lies a body.

A body with long black hair and pale, lifeless skin and dull raspberry red eyes. A bloody smile and the forms of a found family mourning.

"Lilia! Lilia please, don't leave us!" You cry, heart pounding so hard that your chest aches and your breathing is harsh from the tears that flow like the stream that Lilia showed you, where he proposed.

"My Dove, don't cry. I hate it when you cry, my love." Lilia brushes his hand across your cheek, hoping that what warmth his body has left is enough to soothe your tears, for now.

Silver tries to hold back his tears as his father and his stepparent say their final farewells. "It was an honor to be your son, Lilia. Thank you for everything. We will never forget you." Silver knows if he speaks more than this, he will fall to pieces. Silver cannot cry yet, his stepparent needs him.

"Lilia! It has been an honor to train under you. Thank you for the years you've given us!" Sebek is audible over the screams of the teachers and other students.

Sebek looks so very fragile. You have never seen your boys look so pained. Not even when lilia would cook dinner.

Brushing your lips over lilias temples, nose, cheeks and finally his lips, you whisper "I know you have lived for so long that asking for you to stay any longer is selfish but..." You hiccup through your tears and finish your sentence.

"Please stay with me. With us. We want more time with you. I haven't gotten to walk down the aisle to you in your tux yet. We haven't gotten our first dance as a married couple yet. We deserve more time, my love."

You brush your tears to see him clearly, you want to keep him alive in your vision, your memory, as long as possible. Pressing another light, fluttering kiss to his lips, you feel him getting colder.

"I want nothing more than more time with you. I waited so long to find you. I had more love with you than I have in the past 500 years." Lilia squeezes your hand with what strength he has left and whispers. "I will find you in our next life, no matter what it takes. My dove, take care of yourself. I love you more than the stars."

Looking over to his son and his unofficial child, he calls out weakly. "Look after them silver, it seems I have nothing left to teach my sons." With a weak chuckle, Lilia closes his eyes.

"The stars are beautiful, my dove. Just look up and see my love for you painted over the night sky."

Lilias' chest has stopped moving and all that remains in its stillness is the sobs of his family that will never truly recover from their loss.

~Some time later~

Everyday was a struggle with grief. Little by little things like breathing becomes easier. Things like cooking and joking about him becomes happier.

"Don't burn the Mac!" From silver followed by a sarcastic "I'm not ya father, Silver. Mac 'n' cheese is safe with me." Brings laughter that isn't fully drowned out by tears or sobs anymore.

Tucking your boys into bed had become a new habit since their fathers death. Yes, even the king of Briar Valley gets tucked in.

Walking out onto the backporch and sitting down to marvel up at the stars. Lilia was absolutely right about the view in Briar Valley. He would have loved the new backyard too. A patch of lilies and forget-me-nots were planted along not only the sides of the house but all over the back fence line.

Looking up and seeing the stars that shine so brightly, he said he loved you more than the stars. "How could you love so immensely?" You whisper to the soft darkness of the valley.

You had made it a habit to come out to the backyard so that your sobs couldn't wake silver. You had made the mistake of crying inside once. Never again, the boys all came rushing into the room to soothe you. They were so tired the next day.

Letting your shoulders shake with tears that had long become silent, you feel the wind blow and brush against your cheeks. Raising your head and looking up to the blanket of stars that your bat loved so much, you feel warmth against your back.

Turning your head, you expect to see one of your boys or a royal guard that heard you step outside, there was no one. Just a lingering warmth that felt so achingly familiar. "Lilia...I miss you so much."

A warmth spreads across your cheek and swear you hear him speak to you. "In our next life, no matter what, my love." Your tears don't cease, instead they flow, just like that day in the destroyed mirror chamber.

"I can't lose you all over again." The words 'this isn't fair' repeatedly fall from your lips with such pain that the shadows seem to react to them.

And then...everything just stops. The shadows don't dance around you, the crickets go silent, the fireflies cease to glow.

The wind has even ceased to blow. That was unsettling in Briar Valley. The wind never completely stops, only dies down to a gentle breeze. Hearing no signs of life is rather disconcerting.

Looking up to the stars and then to the garden, you stand and walk over to the forget-me-nots and see them gently swaying in the nonexistent breeze. You planted them for you and Lilia.

Warmth once more envelops your back, like it always did when lilia hugged you from behind. "Lilia, I take it you like them?" Laughing lightly through your tears.

"Lilia, I can't wait for you to find me again. Please, don't keep me waiting this long. Never again lilia."

Feeling the wind shift and kick up again you turn and you swear that you see his outline. His pointed ears only visible because the house is right behind him. You can practically hear his laughter, twinkling like bells on the wind.

Just like that, his presence was gone. You never felt him again.

~200 years later~

Walking out of university classes at the end of the day was an experience that was both joyous but also tiring. The joy of being done with classes but also the tiredness of having to walk the entirety of campus to get back to a somewhat loud dorm.

Ramshackle dorm, once abandoned and rundown, now thriving and dedicated to the human that saved the Nightraven College and it's students.

Once the worlds became traverseable for people that were not fair folk, Nightraven became accepting of students from the same world as the human from the history books.

Passing by the green and black clad students of diasomnia, you're reminded of the stories about the fae that had loved the human from your world. How their scream and sobs echoed through the damage of the old mirror chamber.

Silly old history stories that the new history professor this year loves to blabber on about. The rumor is that he was around 200 years ago. 'I doubt it, why would he want to come back here?'

Deciding on a trip to the new Cafe in town, you change out of the uniform and find a spot in your own little corner of the cozy place. When your order is called you make your way over to the barista and grab your order.

On the walk back you pass by a boy, your age if you were to hazard a guess, and you can't help but keep looking over to him. "Staring is quite rude, don'tcha know?" He cheekily quips.

Embarrassed at having been caught, your face warms and you feel the urge to bury your face into your folded arms. You hear the chair in front of you squeal and hear him plop onto the chair.

"Well little one, those were some seriously serious looks you were giving me." He leans his elbows on the table and puts his head on his hands with a certain smile.

"What were you thinking, hmmm?" The man has a deeper voice than you thought he would. Looking at him you feel a sense of deja vu.

"Have we met before little one?" The ache in your chest that always seemed to be there...loosened and then simply faded away.

"I don't think so but you seem familiar. Are you from around here? Or just here for college?" He laughs and it clicks.

Breathing in a lung full of air and feeling the tell tale tightness of your throat, you whisper "Lilia..."

Feeling him take your hands across the table and that warmth that always haunted your dreams. The dreams of a time that caused you to take the scholarship from Nightraven College in the first place.

"I said our next life. I meant it, my dove." Feeling his lips feather over your fingertips sent those shivers up your spine. "Welcome back my love. No tears this time."

This life will be a good one. One with years together, not just one.

Across the street stands a green haired crocodile and the black haired king. Happy to see their caretakers together once more.

"So, do you think that silver will be back soon?" "YOUNG MASTER?!" The laughter from the king of thorns and his father figure resound through the dusk of their new start together.

[slashersgirlypop]

Grilled Cheese Chapter 3.

(October 31st, 1978) 

 “…My fucking grilled cheese.” I pouted, slightly disappointed, before I realized, hey, half of my sandwich was gone. I quickly locked the door, glancing back at the plate.

 “Maybe it was a raccoon?” I told myself, unnerved. I sat down, cautiously picking up the other half of the sandwich. It didn’t look like it was tampered with, only that it’s counterpart was missing.

 I bit into it. Tasted fine. As I bit into my food, I thought back onto what that police officer was saying, about that escaped patient. Thoughts about the patient entering my home and taking my sandwich danced around my mind, causing me to eat my sandwich without truly tasting it. I shook my head, trying to shake those thoughts away.

 ‘It could have been some animal that grabbed my food and ran off, the odds that it was that guy are way too high for it to have been him…yeah,’ I thought to myself, finishing my food. However, just in case, I locked my front door, just to be safe in case the odds were not in my favor. 

 “Alright Miss P., where are you, baby?” I called out, walking into the front room. She was under Mom’s china dresser, shaking and staring out with wide eyes. Cooing, I picked her up and began to gently pat her back like one would do to an infant. 

 “It’s okay, kitty. It was nothing, at least I think it was,” I murmured the last bit, glancing out the front window. Walking back to the kitchen to clean up the mess, I deposited the cat onto the sofa, tossing the blanket over her. She immediately crawled out from under and on top of the fabric, eyes locked onto the front of the house. 

 Placing the dish in the sink, I began to wash it, peering into the darkness, looking again just to be safe. Deeming it safe, I placed the clean dish in the other sink to let it dry. I think I wanna take off my costume, feeling more self-conscious on how it crept up my thigh and down my chest, just in case.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪

 Walking down the stairs, I noticed Miss Petunia was more relaxed, but still cautiously eyeing the front window. I pet her, turning my attention to the screen. Some Topcat was playing. I walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up the phone, dialing Mr. Steinberg’s number. 

 “Hallo? Who is zhis?” He asked, picking up on the third ring. 

 “Mr. Steinberg? It’s me, (Y/N).” 

 “Ah kindchen! Vhy are you kalling me? Is everyzhing alright?” I glanced out the backporch window. 

“Yeah, I was just checking to see if you were okay. Miss P. got spooked by something outside and I wanted to check in on you to make sure Schatzi was okay or freaked out too.”

 “Vell, she did get a bit startled earlier, but ozher zhan zhan, she is fine. It could have been just a wild puppy or somezhing.” I laughed, smiling. 

 “Yeah, maybe. Okay, just wanted to make sure that you and the old girl were doing okay. Did that police officer come over?” 

 “Nien, zhere has been no police-Oh! I just got a knock. Zhat might be him. Hold on Kindchen, I vill call you back vhen I am done, ja? And also, happy birzhday, fraulein!” With that, the kind old German man hung up the phone. I put the phone back on the receiver, my focus on the outside, on the edge of the forest. 

 Was that a…a Captain Kirk mask? 

 Grabbing my flashlight from the drawer, I turned it on, shining it on the spot where I saw it. My heart dropped. 

 There, standing in the dark, was a tall figure wearing a Captain Kirk mask. They looked masculine, and strong, despite the slightly baggy mechanic shirt he was wearing. Was this some sort of high schooler pulling a prank? Reaching over, I opened the window, pushing it up and leaning towards it. 

 “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yelled. The figure said nothing, he just stood there. 

 “If this is some kinda sick joke, it ain’t funny! I will come out there so help me God!” Still, no response. He continued to stare at me. 

 “Don’t try me! I-I got a fuckin’ baseball bat bud! And, uh, a gun! I don’t fuck around, pal!” At the mention of my gun, he tilted his head. I didn’t say anything after that, and we just continued to stare at each other, like some weird contest thing. 

 BRRRINNNG! 

 I jumped, yelping as the phone rang, breaking my concentration. I accidentally dropped the flashlight. I scrambled, picking it up and shining it on the spot where the figure was. 

 Nothing. 

 I panted, taking a moment to regain my breath, before walking over and picking up the phone. 

 “Hello?” 

 “Kindchen! I spoke to zhe nice officer, and told him I saw nozhing. Are you alright? You sound startled,” He asked, and I let out a breathy laugh, pressing my hand to my chest, feeling my heart race. That had to have been an illusion, right? Maybe the cheese had gone bad. 

 “Yes, yes sir, I’m okay. I was, um, watching some movie on TV and there was a jump scare. I’m okay though. I’m glad everything is okay over there.”

 “…Are you sure you are okay? I don’t mind coming over!” 

 “No, no, I’ll be fine, but thank you Mr. Steinberg. Have a good night, sir.” “You too, kindchen. Happy Halloween and birzhday!” I placed the phone back on the receiver, glancing outside again. Still nothing. 

 Shaking my head, I placed the flashlight back into the drawer and closed it. I then wandered over to the couch and began watching cartoons with Miss Petunia to ease my nerve, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪

 I woke up to some loud infomercial on the TV. Groaning, I laid up and glanced at the clock. 2 AM. I sighed, rubbing the kink out of my neck from the funny position I slept in. 

 Miss Petunia was nowhere to be found. Maybe she was smarter than me and had gone upstairs to sleep on my bed, which was far more comfortable than the sofa. I grabbed my stomach as it began to rumble, demanding food. 

 Maybe half a sandwich didn’t fill me up as much as I had hoped. Huffing, I stood up, wandering over to the kitchen to pull some ingredients together. 

I went to the pantry, opening the doors and gasping as Miss Petunia ran out, hissing. 

 Placing my hands on my hips, I frowned. She is acting kooky tonight, more than usual at least. I shrugged, reaching out a grabbing the bag of BBQ chips before turning around. I froze.

 The masked man stared down at me from the open backdoor. 

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪

The amount of effort it took to not write MENACINGLY after the it just stood there was phenomenal. Anywhoo, sorry for the lack of chapter yesterday. I’m with family. Might post another chapter today bc, you know, da boogeyman is here. Have a lovely day, fellow slasher sluts.

[plantanarchy]

I did feel very country today standing on my backporch in my camo pajama pants and cowboy boots hollering for my puppy Truck not to eat the habanero husks in the backyard.....

[cdiasys]

i am sleeping tonight in a room with two taxidermied ducks (one of which has a pom pom on its head), an uncountable amount of guns, and the ghost of a jar of cheez balls. my red solo cup filled of water glows with a backlight. i am trying to figure out a way to sneak past my dad sleeping on the couch and cousin-and-girlfriend who will be returning from work in the bigger city any second now to the backporch where the dog is sleeping to smoke the last of my indica that will put me to sleep.

[wildbeautifuldamned]

Pippiti Patsy & Baby Cody Foster My Backporch Friends Collection 1994 Doll Tag ebay holy_cow_emporium

[plungermusic]

“It’s Bluegrass, Jim… but not as we know it!”

Bluegrass, New Grass, Jamgrass … C&Ngrass? Plunger don’t profess to be authorities on the genre, although we know a bit, from Scruggs & Flatt through Sam Bush, to Bela Fleck and on to Greensky Bluegrass… and now Low Lily. 

Low Lily alumna Liz Simmons’ solo effort Poets really caught Plunger’s ear back in 2021, so we were interested to hear the band’s latest release Angels In The Wreckage. While Poets zips around genres like a pond-skater on acid - and very pleasingly so - Angels In The Wreckage is by and large a more cohesive affair, plying a steadier course through the waters of bluegrass and traditional roots music (albeit with scenic route diversions via the West Coast.)

Keeping true to the ‘his turn, your turn, my turn’ at the mic of old time bluegrass, the fourteen tracks alternate by songwriter and vocal lead, which subtly alters the feel and emphasis while maintaining the overall vibe, and at least half of the fourteen feature an echt 1-2 bass-and-drum pulse, in a very tasteful, understated upright-and-brushes way (from multi-tasking producer Dirk Powell and Stefan Amidon respectively) not “Techno! Techno! Techno!” or riotous rockablilly style…

Epitomising the rootsier, more ‘trad', vibes are the bustling brush-driven badlands two-step Aren’t I Good Enough, with Liz Simmon’s high, plaintive lead vocal counterpointed by Natalie Padilla’s fiddle and a low-harmony-underpinned chorus, while Liz and Natalie swap dextrous mini-solos towards the close; and Long Distance Love’s bouncy commentary on the woes of modern life has a conversely Old Timey feel - in Flynn Cohen’s lead vox, the harmonies, and the rustic-edged fiddle. Flynn’s own instrumental Keep The Pachysandra Flying is a shotgun-shack-meets-Bagpuss reel: a filigree mandolin opening (later joined by fiddle, guitar and bass) conjure celtic/Appalachian overtones; Natalie’s fiddle takes a turn with the melody before harmonising with the mandolin in a raucous hoedown crescendo to the finish.

Hints of West Coast influences come in the Laurel Canyon-y rework of Shawn Colvin’s hit Round Of Blues, with Liz’s airy vocal, delicate harmonies and a poppy middle-eight-cum-chorus; and in the breezy backwoods backporch two-step of Where We Belong, with somewhat Dead-ish timing and chordal progressions, and lovely Crosby, Nash and, erm, Nash three-part harmonies, while the mountainside hillbilly banjo and vox of the traditional sounding minor key Up On A Rock is punctuated by a very Nashesque sunny major chorus (and some very fine guitar/fiddle interplay between Flynn and Natalie). Peak Crosby & Nash comes in Lonely (probably Plunger’s favourite track): melancholic piano (from jack-of-all-trades Dirk Powell) introduces a very C&N, Cali-coloured slow country waltz with exquisite three-part harmonies, the fiddle and mandolin taking their turns at the bittersweet melody, and a spine-tingling near a cappella passage.

The hummed intro, Liz and Natalie’s honeyed vocal harmonies, restrained melodic guitar and banjo (yes, that’s Dirk again) over a half-speed bluegrass beat lend a dreamy sheen to Love And Loss, and the rural reverie continues in Captivate Me courtesy of Natalie’s keening tone and mantra-like repetition, melancholic fiddle and a banjo continuo. Completing an ethereal trifecta, the celtic-tinged One Wild World’s folk features delicate harmonies and a hymn-like chorus, plus wistful, aching fiddle matched with part-colliery-band/part-mariachi (layered) trumpet from Drake LeBlanc.

The trumpet bleeds through into the wholly different sonic universe of What’ll You Do: a ballsy defund-the-police-protest-inspired (we’re guessing) almost a cappella (barring body percussion and a smattering of kick-and-tom) field holler-cum-spiritual, and an air of protest resurfaces in the Woody Guthrie-meets-Julie-Felix (sorry, Plunger’s childhood’s to blame) state of the union lament of Could We Ever Be Great, complete with run outs for fiddle and Flynn’s guitar and some quirky timings.

Flynn’s second instrumental (guitar-only this time) Bastard Plantagenet Blues has the flavour of a English folk number, including a very mediaeval closing shift into the major, perhaps to prepare your ears for the closing track Wond’ring Again, written by Ian Anderson (yes, THAT Ian Anderson). The spookily prescient 70s folk-rock environmental warning is given an Americana wash by Liz’s gentle harmonies and Natalie’s eerie fiddle harmonics, while Flynn does a rather good job of Ian’s delivery and mannerisms, with all-rounder Dirk adding mellotron in the place of flute.

It may not be Bluegrass as we know it, but Angels In The Wreckage is a very polished, captivating collection of modern American roots music and we like it!

Angels In The Wreckage is available to buy or stream now, from here: https://lowlily.bandcamp.com/album/angels-in-the-wreckage

[new-battalions]

wordless fading daylight seeks every wheres she can touch warmth of a question, heart of an answer

//

made clouds into criminals cursing the rain backporch thunder watching

in my duality, a bridge What keeps me crossing

bless our nonsense

[djdeadhorses]

the only time i can see my mother is in my dreams

i dream of her a lot (but still very sparely,) and most nights when i go to sleep i pray that i can dream of her. some of this won't make sense unless you know me or knew her, which is pretty unlikely, but i wanted to post it anyways

i dreamt that me my mom and mary bought a new place and split rent 3 ways it was this white house and the setup was the same as my old one it was on a hill in a cool highly forested mountainy area all types of cats lived in the neighborhood and lots and lots of outdoor cats kept running into our house and would always stay cuddling up with us and our beds my bed had a super huge down feather sheet white blanket on it my mom had hung up her old glass ball collection and there was a lot of porcelain dangling, like the old black/purple one she used to have i was showing matt everything and taking him around the whole place and he got to meet my mom, for those moments perspective changed and i saw thru matt's eyes when i was showing matt my bed there was a chunky brown/black/orange cat with a really huge face cuddling up against the white down blanket, and he scurried out as matt and i startled them my cat bear was there, and he got to meet matt and cuddle up with him. matt pet bear<3 jet was there too but i never saw him(prolly bc he was so sneaky and mischievous). i assume tazmin was there as well my mom was really nice and she was looking out from the backporch/deck she was wearing a classic mom getup, her gray sweatshirt and black sweatpants her hair was flowing in the wind as we hung out on the backporch a bunch of cats kept climbing up over the fence and onto a chair and we discovered thats how they were getting into the house. my mom said it was okay and that they couldnt poop there bc they didnt live there and it would kill them! matt moved in with us<3 i waved to our neighbors up the mountain and it was meg and another person wearing bright construction green/yellow it was really really nice!!! so many cats and all of us agreed it was an amazing living situation and that we were having so much fun living together. my mom said that we all had to have a smoke circle/sesh <3 it was the most peaceful dream ive had in a really long time. def my idea of heaven!! I hope that i can dream of this place more often, or if i pass on go there when im no longer here.

[inhindsight]

Had the motivation to make an intro post !! Keep in mind this is bound to change as time goes on!!

Backporch Poltergeist is an inclusive safe space for good faith identities, all pluralfolk, alterhumans, selfship/proship folks, and honestly a lot more!

Hai !

My name - the main geist using the account, and the system host - is Esper ! You may see a few others, but it is safe to assume you're interacting with me!

I use hy/hymn/hy's , shy/hyr/hyr's , et/et's pronouns most usually, but for folks who struggle with neo/xenos I am perfectly okay with it/it's !

We ask you to remain respectful, and that's pretty much it. We love and appreciate asks, no matter the topic and will do our best to respond to all of them no matter the topic. The only thing I doubt we'll respond to is hate, for fairly obvious reasons.

We don't have a very strict DNI.

We ask that you keep in mind we are bodily a Minor. While virtually none of our headmates are the body's age, we still abide by rules to keep us safe. We are comfortable with adults interacting, so long as we are not sexualized and you're comfortable following a minor.

We enjoy being interacted with.

Ask games, reblog games, all of it is welcome! Mutuals, followers, or even just passersby are always allowed to interact as they please, no matter what it is or if they'll interact again.

Our favorite thing ever at the moment is reblog games, and we want to start one rather than just participating !!

Random content and post schedule !

We are super weird. We're a part of a handful of niche and "weird communities", and we try to interact with all of them!

We love posting for self shipping, it makes us very happy is generally very validating and heart warming. We're very active in pro-endo communities (more so on an older account we don't use anymore) and advocating for plural voices and plurals appreciating each other. We are less active in alterhuman spaces, but Many of our headmates use the label as a broad descriptor for their experiences!

Content may vary .

There's no telling when we'll post or what we'll post, but we'll try to tag it appropriately. Having such a wide variety of topics can be super confusing, so we'll try to keep it organized for everyone's sake ::

#Floorboards Tell Stories Via Stains :: Our personal rambles tag. Random, unthemed posts that may happen at any given point.

#Poltergeists For A Better Future :: A tag for our disability related posts. May be used for physical or mental disabilities, and will not have a distinguisher.

#Pluralgeist :: A silly tag for plurality related posts.

#Poltergeists In Love :: Our self ship tag! No telling what it may be specifically. Could vary from mindless babbles about F/Os, reblog games, related reblogs, ask games, relates asks, etc! Genuinely no telling what you'll find.

#Non-geist(?) Poltergeists :: Another silly tag, this time for alterhuman stuff.

Our posts will include our organizing tag and general tags for reach/viewing in no specific order. Some posts may have two organizing tags. If so, it's likely the subject tag and our personal ramblings tag.

[bells-of-black-sunday]

@witchcraftandburialdirt asked:

"You know, pretty boy, you're not exactly subtle. If you came out here to stare at me while I work you should have told me, I woulda really flaunted for you."

Haruko's muffled voice drifted from beneath the raised car, the tinkling sound of tools echoing under the scorching summer sound. A small toolbox sat nearby, and he slid out from under the car, wiping his hands on a greasy rag while his eyes rose to meet Tarhos'. Another snarky remark was preparing to leave him but Haru's breath caught as he noticed the plate in Tarhos's hands, adorned with two neatly stacked sandwiches, prepared with care for their lunch break. The sight of Tarhos holding the sandwiches made Haru's chest tighten with affection, his boyfriend's kindness never failing to melt his heart. God he was so cute. So precious --Aghhhhhhhh ... !

The sight of his boyfriend, so earnest and endearing, stirred a storm within him as he marveled at the simple gesture of love. He was going to be the death of him - standin there all earnest and - Haru felt like he was going to die, but he would play it cool for now. His mind wandered, yet, as the heat of the summer sun bore down upon them, reality intruded; a single a bead of sweat tracing a path down Haru's temple. Shaking off his thoughts, he arched an eyebrow mischievously, a lazy smirk playing on his lips while his dark eyes drank him in. Frankly, he couldn't say with certainty what was causing the flush on Tarhos' face; — a result of his teasing comment or the stifling heat? But the twinkle in Tarhos' pale eyes had him willing to bet on the former.

"Look at you, my cute dainty military wife."

With a snort of amusement, Haru straightened from his seated position and made his way over to where Tarhos stood, casually falling back against the wall. Although once settled, a flicker of embarrassment momentarily crossed his face, his previously confident expression giving way to a more bashful demeanor when the rumble of his stomach revealed its deepest desires. Forcing himself to meet Tarhos' gaze once more, all of his intensity had softened, replaced by a meekness that caused his brows to knit together in a sweet, endearing manner and a melodious, bubbly laugh to escape from behind his lips. What a mood killer.

Haru let out a contented sigh and reached up to gather his unruly locks into a loose ponytail, the movement causing his long neck to be revealed as he glanced back down at the sandwiches laid out before them. Peace and comfort settled over him during that brief silence, but he was quite a bit more controlled by his stomach - evident by the first thing he asks,

"What kind are they? We can go to the backporch, I wanna get out of this hot as shit garage. I gotta talk to Ma about gettin' some AC installed in here - run it through the whole damn house but not here. I don't know what my grandaddy was thinkin'."

Summer had set over the city and while most would be out doing things with friends, Tarhos enjoyed the quiet of the cabin Haru owned. At least the little ways it was out of town meant it wasn't nearly as hot as the hot asphalt in the city and well... it was peaceful. His phone was turned off and all he really had to was keep himself busy. Making lunch was a simple enough way to do that and as he stepped out into the hot garage he couldn't help, but stare at Haru who was hard at work underneath the car.

His eyes already tracing the way the loose tank-top clung to his body with the sheen of his sweat... God why was he so hot with everything he did? It was effortless the way- He jumped at Haru's words. Eyes immediately snapping to try and find his face still under the vehicle. Tarhos didn't want to speak. He knew that the moment he'd open his mouth he'd stutter like a fucking school girl talking to her crush. It was ridiculous, they'd been dating for over a year and-! The other comment broke him from his own head stifling a chuckle.

His dainty military wife. Yeah. That's what he was all four-hundred pounds of muscle and bone. Dainty and pretty, perfect for Haru to hold in his hands and treat like he'll break his skin by holding him, "Oh nothing special, just whatever we had left in the fridge. We should go grocery shopping later, pick up things for dinner or go out. Your choice." He really couldn't complain about the heat, he'd been through worse heat waves before and well... who really put AC in a garage?

but... they had been spending a lot more time up at the cabin recently, it might be nice if Haru is really going to spend a lot more time in there or they could just get a box fan. Something to at least make it more comfortable for him. He'd have to bring it up when they were in town again, "Lets go to the porch and wash your face dear, you've got smudges everywhere."