name one.

in the tale of patroclus, no one survives. not even achilles.

[hwthorn]

oxdendine

clover needed to stock  up.  the  winter didn’t seem  as if it’d be very forgiving this year and she knew her father had no idea how to prepare. beyond that, she needed to bulk up on things  for  her own stash  just in case she needed to vamoose at a moment’s  notice or  even just hide  in the barn with the horses. she was reaching for a can without looking when  she bumped into shep. realization dawned on her that this was raine’s brother. one degree removed from raine. flesh and somewhat blood.

“uh, you take it,” she said, her pulse quickening. “i don’t need it.”

He takes the can, because he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if he doesn’t like Clover. Into the basket it goes, alongside a head of garlic and some windex. A beat passes, and then another. Shep doesn’t entirely know how things went down between Clover and Raine, always a little too fuzzy on the details, but he does know it was ugly enough to warrant coming home for a few days to ensure Raine didn’t have a stage five meltdown. He clears his throat, and then reaches back to the shelf and grabs the other can to pass to her. “Here. More than enough for both of us, probably.” He knows how stocking shelves works. “So, uh... how’ve you been?” 

He could follow it with a long time, no see. But he doesn’t.

[hwthorn]

He used to take walks alongside the river all the time as a kid, when the world got too loud and there was no way to shut it up. He’d never strayed too closely to the edge of the bank, always afraid of falling in, but the motion of the current is soothing to look at even now, with chills gripping the air in a tight fist and refusing to let go. The water used to roar, but now it just seems quiet. A comfortable backing track to life rather than the forefront vocals. The sun’s setting and he’s impressed even now with the way the light is reflecting off the surface, like a million tiny little fish scales glimmering at once, save for where frothy whitecaps move at their own pace.

Blackrock has always melded well with the natural world. All of Montana has, he thinks, but some places more than others. There’s something nice about knowing that one day, when the town dies and everyone leaves its borders, the river will still be here, consistent as ever. Just not quite so loud. Shep doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching, hands buried in his pockets, but the sun settles behind the mountains and that’s all she wrote. He starts the trek home, flashlight in hand, fingers turning white from how tight he’s holding it. It’s not a long walk, but it’s not the time to get lost in thought anymore. He focuses on the path he can see in front of him. Walks for a while.

And then, at the edge of the woods where it traces the shape of the river neatly, parallel to the path he’s walking back to town, a shape. Definitely human. Definitely not sasquatch, that’s for sure. He lifts his light up, slowly, so that they aren’t startled, but the wide beam might do it anyways. He doesn’t recognize their face immediately, scours his brain looking for names and comes up short. “Hey! You alright?”

@antagonisms​ !

[hwthorn]

Shep needs diced tomatoes for dinner, among other things.

It’s downright stupid -- getting all the way home, preparing to settle in for the night, and then immediately realizing he doesn’t have half the things he needs to actually cook. His cupboards aren’t bare, anymore, but there’s an immediate sensation of disappointment that flares in his chest, knowing he hadn’t been ready. The good news is that now instead of suffering through an empty stomach all night, he can just go to the store. He can just buy diced tomatoes. 

The grocery store hasn’t really changed since Shep left town. There’s still the same glacial-green hued paint, the same eleven aisles, the same managers who must be getting into their sixties by now. It’s a little like stepping directly into a time capsule, but he can’t say he minds. It’s busy this time of night, folks coming through to get last minute treats and drinks to finish off the night. He grabs a basket from the stack near the doors and makes a beeline for aisle seven. Canned goods.

Shit, they still have the same songs playing over the store radio. Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees blares as he looks over brands. Small chopped? No. Signature select? No. Italian herbs and spices? Well -- maybe. He goes to pick a can or two and bumps his hand into another’s on his way. The need to apologize is immediate as he turns his head to look at just whoever it is, and, oh. Clover. He can’t help it. His brow lowers immediately, he can feel it, it’s his one tell. “Oh. Sorry.”

@oxdendine​ !

[hwthorn]

raine-jones‌

Brother Dearest || Raine & Shep

Raine eyed the front porch with eyebrows braced far over their eyes, they hated that front porch, they hated the whole house, the way it just stared at them, not inviting them in, not telling them to stay out, saying nothing, silent. They hated how they felt every time they passed by, they hated it more when they were standing in front of it. The two stories, the old car outside that had survived Raine’s whole childhood and adulthood as it would seem and still worked. The old windows, the dirty color of the wood. How had they survived so many years in this house? How had they not tried to burn it down before. 

They heard a car come to a stop behind them, and wondered for a moment as to how long they had been standing there, on the sidewalk, looking at the childhood home, reluctant to go any further. Nobody had appeared in front of the window, or in the door frame, but they knew both his mother and his father were home. His mother sick with something… Raine hadn’t cared to ask. His father probably sleeping off another hang-over… Raine hadn’t asked. It wasn’t that they had been bad parents, but Raine hated every part of their life up to having been bitten. 

They even hated Shep. But they recognized the car, and it was as if some part of them felt the other nearing, the steps on the stone clearly in their ears, as if trying to fill the silence. The space. Shep had always tried to fill the space, Raine rather he left it alone. 

“Good, you’re here, then I can go home,” they said to their brother. Raine hadn’t even been inside, they hadn’t even taken a single bit of responsibility in taking care of their parents. No, they had done that the years that Shep had been gone, they didn’t have to anymore. Not them, they didn’t owe them anything anymore. They never had. 

@hwthorn

Shep’s tires squeal when he pulls up to The House like they’re screaming at him to go anywhere else. He lets the engine of his truck rumble for a minute, maybe two, staring at the exterior. He doesn’t know why he’s so fascinated by the shape of it, since he’s been here a thousand times after returning from Bozeman. It hasn’t physically changed from the way it looked last week: the gutter is starting to fall off. The paint is chipping from wear and tear over the years, the vicious winters Blackrock has to endure. The porch’s wood is warped and moldly, covered with faux-green grass to hide its metaphorical sins -- maybe the one thing dad ever attempted to look nice. There’s too many things to fix with just his two hands, but Shep’s never been afraid of holding things he can’t really carry.

One thing’s absolutely certain, though. The House is the worst one in town, and it’s home.

Raine standing out front isn’t an expected sight. He’s asked, before, if Raine had bothered to visit, but his sibling either dodged the question or met it with outright hostility. Shep has the sneaking suspicion that if it were up to Raine, they’d never see the faces of their parents ever again. That they’d let the ones who’d raised them rot away, framed by moldy wood. What a picture. He slides out of the truck and moves to stand next to them, mouth pressed into a line of neutrality. Their hair’s gotten longer since Shep last saw them. Why can’t he say when that was?

“Good to see you too,” he says, instead of meeting Raine eye-to-eye with immediate confrontation. Deescalate, always. There’s an uncomfortable few moments of silence that span between them, and for once, Shepard lets them sit there. Doesn’t try to smother it. He’s got mom’s prescription in his coat pocket, runs his thumb over the surface of the orange bottle reflexively. “You could come in, you know. Say hello. Mom’d be happy to see you.” The worst part is that she would. Dad’s definitely home, judging by the way the old ‘97 buick is sitting in the driveway, but at this time off day he’ll probably be dead asleep or so drunk he may as well be. “We could get something to eat, after. I can buy.”

[morememesforall]

word prompts compilation

complies THIS MEME // THIS MEME // THIS MEME

ADD ++ FOR REVERSE

[ attention ] for your muse to touch mine as a way of getting their attention

[ wake ] for your muse to wake mine

[ cover ]  for your muse to cover mine with a blanket or a jacket

[ lift ] for your muse to give mine a hand stepping up or over something etc.

[ kiss ]  for your muse to come up to mine and kiss them without warning

[ run ] for your muse to run their fingers through mine’s hair

[ braid ] for your muse to braid mine’s hair

[ embrace ]  for your muse to hold mine

[ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room

[ wave ] for your muse to gesture to mine to come closer

[ panic ] for your muse to grab mine’s arm or get behind them in a moment of danger

[ touch ] for your muse to rest their forehead against mine’s

[ weep ]  for your muse to catch mine crying

[ eat ] for your muse to offer mine food

[ hit ] for your muse to attack mine

[ love ] for your muse to touch mine as a show of affection or reassurance

[ nap ] for your muse to fall asleep against mine

[ rest ] for your muse to rest their head in mine’s lap

[ look ] for your muse to catch mine staring

[ seduce ] for your muse to touch mine sexually

[ help ] for your muse to lean on mine for support

[ give ] for your muse to offer mine their arm

[ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand

[ laugh ] for your muse to laugh at something mine did

[ dance ] for your muse to dance with mine

[ sit ] for your muse to pull mine into their lap

[ yell ] for your muse to calm mine down

[ cry ] for your muse to wipe mine’s tears away

[ dream ] for my muse to share dream with yours

[ nightmare ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare

[ surprise ] for your muse to show up at mine’s house without explanation

[ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury

[ sacrifice ] for your muse to get hurt protecting mine

[ guard ] for your muse to step between my muse and danger

[ taste ] for your muse to cook for mine

[ sing ] for your muse to sing to mine 

[ goodbye ] for my muse kissing and/or hugging your muse goodbye

[ secrets ]   my  muse  sharing/confiding  a secret

[ bloody ]   for your  muse  coming  to  my  muse  with  blood  stains 

[ drunk ]   your  muse  takes  care  of my very drunk muse 

[ bed ]  my  muse wakes up in  the  same bed as your muse with little  recollection  of  the  night  before

[ scream ]   my  muse  hears  your  muse  scream  and  runs  to  them

[ trail ]   my  muse  watches  as  your  muse  traces  one  of  my  muses  scars,  asking  them  about  it

[ piggyback ]   my  muse  gives  yours  a  piggyback  ride

[ jump ]   my  muse  holding  yours  up  by  their  thighs

[ carry ]   my  muse  carries  your  muse  to  their  house

[ lighter ]   my  muse  pulls  out  a  lighter  and  lights  it  for  your  muse  to  use  to  light  their  cigarette

[ shot ] my  muse  gets  shot  and  struggles  to  your  muses for aid

[ wound ] my  muse  patches  and  bandages  a  wound  your  muse  has  gotten

[ fight ]   my  muse  stops  your  muse  from  getting  into  a  physical  fight  with  someone  else

[ arrest ]   your  muse  finds  my  muse  arrested  in  cuffs  

[ hospital ]   my  muse  awakens  in  a  hospital,  finding  your  muse  by  their  side,  asking  what  happened

[ betrayal ] my  muse  finds  out  that  your  muse  has  betrayed  them and  confronts  them  about  it

[ nude ] my  muse  walks  in  on  your  muse  accidentally  seeing  them  naked

[ karaoke ]  for our muses to sing together

[ wet ]   your muse  strips  down  to  their  under  garments  and  runs  into  the  water,  motioning  for my muse  to  join  them

[ crawl ]  for  your  muse  to  crawl  into  bed  with  mine .

[ flower ]  for  your  muse  to  offer  my  muse  their  favourite  flower

[ gift ]  for  my  muse  to  surprise  your muse  with  a  gift

[ homemade gift ]  for  my  muse  to  make  your muse  a  gift

[ bestow ] for your muse to give my muse a gift, bought or handmade ( bonus if you add what it is )

[ serenade ]  for  my  muse  to  sing  to  your  muse

[ caress ]  for  your  muse  to  gently  run  their  hand  down  my  muse’s  face

[ caught ]  for  your  muse  to  catch  my  muse  wearing  their  shirt .

[ love letter ]  for  your  muse  to  give  my  muse  a  love  letter  they  wrote  for  them

[ boop ]  for  your  muse  to  boop  my  muse  on  the  nose

[ date ]  for  my muse  to  ask  your  muse  to  go  on  a  date

[ confess ]  for my muse  to  confess  their  feelings  to  your  muse

[ sleepy ]  for  my muse  to  slowly  fall  alseep  on  your muse

[grey-wardens-archive-deactivate]

MARTIN SENSMEIER © Rick Bhatia for Men’s Fashion Post

[hwthorn]

tag dump.