#Tulip Town Streams

[glitterwolfvi]

Tulip Town Stream Time

join Woolfred and his new friends as they play Five Nights At Freddy's: Security Breach!!

May 18th at 12:30 PM CST!

link!!

[honey-crypt]

could i possibly get a fic about sebastian helping adhd!farmer through their rejection dysphoria? i leave the rest up to you, go wild <3

- 🪩

★ like the stream - sebastian x adhd!farmer ★

word count: 1.5k

warnings: rejection sensitivity dysphoria episode

summary: it's the day of the flower dance! you're prepared to ask your friend sam to be your dance partner when you're met face to face with a kind but otherwise hard rejection from the other party. Unable to cope with the rejection because of your RSD, you find yourself spiraling when another friend of yours, Sebastian, finds you alone and distressed in the depths of Cindersap Forest.

a/n: hi hi request #2 for my write-a-thon! hope this is an okay fic, i made sure to do some research on rsd and adhd (beyond my personal knowledge of it) for this fic :D

Today had to be perfect. 

That was what you repeated to yourself, as you made your way towards Cindersap Forest for the Flower Dance. You double, even triple, checked that you had everything ready for today. It may have taken two or ten sticky note reminders, but you knew that everything was in the right place. Your outfit? Check. Your flowers? Check. Your confidence to ask Sam to be your dance partner? Check!

As you got closer and closer, the sound of upbeat classical music grew louder and louder. They should really install a better alternative to this, I don’t know George crosses this, you thought to yourself while crossing the bridge over to the festival. An open green space greeted you with the residents of Pelican Town scattered about. You exchanged pleasantries with your fellow townies, making a beeline to your friend group by a secluded corner of the festival. 

“Hey (Y/N)!” Abigail gave you a small, half salute, “Didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“I lost track of time,” you confessed, “Nonetheless, I made it!”

Your two other friends, Sam and Sebastian, paused their side conversation at mention of your arrival. Sam offered you a dazzling smile that made your heart flutter, “(Y/N)! Good to see you!” and, much to your disappointment, he gave you a friendly side hug. You forced a smile in return and responded, “Yeah, for sure. I’m just glad I made it before the dance started.”

“Would’ve sucked ass if you missed it,” mused Abigail. Sebastian didn’t respond, staring silently at you. A frown graced your lips, What’s his deal? you questioned. Your chest, however, had a different reaction, tightening up at the sight of Sebastian’s deadpan. He’s probably just having a bad day, you reassured yourself, He’s not mad at you. He’s not mad at you. 

“I’m gonna grab some of Gus’s drinks,” you perked up at Sam’s voice, “You guys got a preference for what?”

“Ooo, get me the Tulip Jubilee,” requested Abigail.

“The Blue Jazz Drop for me,” you eyed Sebastian when he spoke up. Sam looked at you expectantly, “How about you, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, uhhhhh…” you mentally thumbed through your options, “No preference, just grab me something you think I’ll like,” you adjusted your collar with your free hand, “I trust your judgement.”

“Will do!” Sam responded with a double thumbs up before leaving for the food and drinks table. You let out a deep sigh and fiddled with the flower in your hand, a small but homegrown tulip. Abigail quirked an eyebrow up at you, “Something on your mind?”

“Oh! Well,” you cleared your throat, “Just thinking about the dance.”

“Fingers crossed that you don’t have to dance with Clint like last year,” snorted the purple-haired goth. You grimaced at the memory and scanned the crowd for the aforementioned blacksmith, seeing him talk poor Emily’s ear off, “Anyone but him,” you grumbled.

“Which reminds me,” your friend directed her attention to Sebastian, “Dance partners this year?” to which the black-haired boy nodded quietly. You stared at him with narrowed eyes, Why are you so quiet today?

“Back with the drinks!” your blonde friend announced to the group, two drinks in hand and two held tight against his chest. Sam passed out the drinks and informed you, “I got you the Sunflower Tonic.”

You pressed your lips against the cup and took a sip, the sweetness of the drink evident, “This is good,” you let your friends know.

“Ew, mine’s too sour,” sighed Abigail, her lips puckered. She held her drink towards the group, “Any takers?”

“I’ll try it,” answered Sam. He grabbed the drink and sipped it, his face grimacing, “Yikes. Too sour,” before handing it in front of you, “Want a taste?”

You felt flushed at the idea of sipping the drink after Sam and seized the opportunity, accidentally taking a big swing of it. Immediately, you gagged at the taste, “Ugh! My tongue!” and spat out what little liquid was left in your mouth. Sebastian finally took the drink and drank it without any sign of sourness on his face, “Yeah, this is bad,” he stated, “I’ll stick with my drink,” the emo resumed his Blue Jazz Drop. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mayor Lewis’s voice echoed awkwardly through his microphone, “The Flower Dance will begin shortly! Last chance to find yourself a partner!”

You heard the man, this is your last chance! you grasped your flower and waited until Abigail and Sebastian went ahead to pull Sam aside, “Hey Sam, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Yoba, his sunshine demeanor was too much. 

“Would you like to be my partner for the dance?” you held up the tulip. Sam’s sunshine self dimmed into a clouded version, “Oh, (Y/N), but Penny asked me to dance while I was getting the drinks. I’m really sorry.”

The sound of your world cracking rang through your ears, as you stood motionless in front of Sam, “Oh! I, uh…” tears pricked at your eyes, “I gotta go.”

Your surroundings began to blur and any outside noise turned into static, as you made your escape from the Flower Dance and deeper into Cindersap Forest. The bum bum of your heart and the swoosh of your blood pounded against your head. 

I hate him.

He hates me.

No, he just made a promise!

No, he thinks you’re the worst!

It was like being trapped on a carousel, your thoughts and emotions spinning around and around. Soon, you found yourself by a small stream, laying on the ground by it with sprawled out limbs. Tears rushed down your face and you heaved dryly, as your brain failed to comprehend Sam’s words and intent.

Oh, (Y/N), but Penny asked me to dance while I was getting the drinks. I’m really sorry.

You sat up, nearly flinging yourself forward towards the stream, and started to bite at your nails, “He hates me. He hates me. I hate myself. I hate myself. I-”

“(Y/N)?” 

You jerked your head to the left, Sebastian standing a few feet away from you. As he approached you, you hastily wiped your face with your sleeve, tears and snot staining the fabric, “Leave me alone,” you sniffled.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asked you, sitting down beside you with his knees to his chest. The tears resumed and coated your cheeks in the salty liquid, “I hate myself, okay?! I fucking hate myself, Sebastian!”

Sebastian tilted his head in confusion, “Why do you hate yourself?”

“Because I’m obviously such an awful person that Sam doesn’t want anything to do with me!” you cried out. Your friend frowned deeply, “(Y/N), you know that Sam usually dances with Penny at the Flower Dance.”

That made your blood steam, “I wanted it to be DIFFERENT, Sebastian! I wanted him to dance with me!” you heaved at Sebastian. He fell silent and fished out something from his suit pocket, a red tangle fidget. Your friend let it out to you and you snatched it without hesitation, fidgeting with it while you sobbed. You tried to get back to reality, but with each passing moment, the idea of returning to the present grew farther and farther away. Everything was hurting, your mind and your body, everything was hurting so much.

“I’m sorry that you’re hurting,” whispered Sebastian. You looked at him with watery eyes, “I can’t control this,” you admitted. He nodded quietly and held out a hand, to which you grasped and squeezed. Sebastian continued, “I know that these kinda things are a lot for you. I know that your mind is telling you a lot of awful stuff right now because of what Sam said, huh?”

“Yeah…” you squeezed his hand again. Sebastian added on, “I didn’t mean to watch, but I accidentally saw the whole situation go down. Sam looked upset when you ran away.”

“Well, he can shove,” you grumbled. Sebastian snorted and retorted, “He’s the one who wanted to check on you, but I told him that you seeing him while you’re in a RSD episode wouldn’t be that helpful.”

You moved closer to Sebastian and laid your head against his shoulders, “I hate my brain.”

“I get it, you’re not alone,” hummed the emo, “Isn’t this stream pretty, though?” he redirected your focus on the stream, the gentle rush of water humming against the swaying trees, “Maybe, just for a second, we can be like the stream.”

You closed your eyes and focused on the sound of the stream, envisioning yourself as one with the water. A sense of peace washed over you and you exhaled, still picturing yourself as the stream. It felt like an hour or so went by before you opened your eyes again, “I’m the stream,” you stated to Sebastian. 

“You’re the stream,” he repeated back, holding you close, “You’re the stream," your heartbeat and breathing returned to normal.

"I'm the stream."

[lowkeyrobin]

TOMMYINNIT ; body art

summary/prompt ; doodles that a person draws on themselves appear on their soulmate’s skin

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; use of tubbos real name once (lmk if I should change it), wilbur existing (written before he was exposed, stand with victims)

word count ; 750

masterlist

Tommy sat at his desk, happily streaming some Minecraft with Wilbur, Tubbo, and Phil. He notices some thin, black lines forming on his left hand, resting over the WASD keys on his keyboard. They started at the fingers and slowly trailed down to his wrist.

He lightly smiles, seeing that his soulmate is doing the usual, drawing some doodles on their hand in the evening. He refocuses his attention, getting back to his stream.

The next afternoon, he walks about town with Wilbur and Tubbo, having a fun little day out with two of his best friends. They sit down on the ledge of a fountain in the little center of the outdoor mall they were walking about in. Wilbur on the left, Tommy in the middle, and Tubbo on the right.

Tommy looks down at his hand, still stained with black and red marker. Clearly, his soulmate hadn't showered or had been trying to rub it off while washing their hands since yesterday, like they wanted it to stay. Tommy hoped that they were proud of their arts skills. Maybe once they'd met, he could get some temporary sharpie tattoos from them, although they'd forever be twinning with that ideology.

"You good, Tom?" Tubbo asks, tapping the blonde on the shoulder.

He quickly nods, "Yeah, yeah. Just-"

Wilbur cuts him off with a smug smile, "Admiring your soulmate’s artistic ability?"

Tommy silently nods with a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He had no idea who was bound to be with him, but he was already falling in love in a way.

Somehow, they knew that red was his favorite color, how he loved roses and tulips. They frequently drew flowering red vines on their hands and fingers, with a little note reading 'for you, soulmate'.

This time, they left a note at the base of his wrist.

'have a lovely day, blondielocks <3'

Blondielocks.

That dumbass nickname they gave him a few weeks ago while they communicated with markers on their legs. That night created a core memory for the blonde boy.

The next morning, Tommy's legs were still covered in red, green, blue, and purple marker stains. That forced him to sit in the shower with a wash cloth and wipe down his legs and thighs, washing off all he wrote. He patiently waited for them to do the same, and not long after, the colored ink dripped down his legs into the drain, leaving his legs as white as they were before like an empty canvas.

Wilbur lightly shoves Tommy with his arm, "You'll find them soon enough"

"Says you! You're twenty-seven and you still haven't met your soulmate" Tommy frowns.

Will opens his mouth to speak, but closes his lips, unable to come up with something witty yet reasonable to reply with.

He fidgets with his hands while he scans the people walking around, seeing a person with some doodles on their hands walking past with a friend. Upon a bit of creepy staring, Tommy feels something in his brain tingling. A weird, safe sense as he looks at this person. As they walk past, he notices the doodles on their hand are exactly the same as the ones on his hand.

He quickly taps Tubbo on the shoulder, staring at the stranger.

"Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo, Toby! Toby, this is an emergency!"

"What?" Tubbo sighs, setting his phone down as he looks at his blonde friend

Tommy discreetly points towards the person, "I think that's my soulmate! What do I do?" He asks, hushing his voice.

Tubbo shrugs, "Go talk to them, compliment them, I dunno"

Tommy turns to Wilbur who just replies with a smug smile.

"You're no help" the blonde mumbles, standing up as he feels his hands start to shake.

He walks towards the person, tapping them on the shoulder.

They quickly look back with a warm smile.

"HI! Uh, sorry to bother- uhm, I really like your outfit" He awkwardly smiles

They return the awkward smile back, seeing his hand run through his hair.

"Thank you!" They say

They look at his hand, then him, seeing the ink drawn doodles. He shows them his hand, the two sharing thoughts.

They hold their hand out as well, showing the same doodles on their own hand.

"Uh, hi" He awkwardly smiles, "I'm Tommy" He flips his hand over, showing the little message on his wrist, "Or Blondielocks"

They giggle, flipping their wrist over to show the same text.

"I'm Y/N"

[rayhantochtli]

Alright, some headcanons for the SV cast (game)

Uhh kind of a long post, read more after first 5

- Geeta is Paldean but spent a good chunk of her years studying abroad in Galar

- Katy and Rika used to date back in highschool but broke up after spending less and less time together when in college

- Rika is a lesbian and she's very popular with women, Katy knows about that

- Katy is bi!

- Dendra used to dream of being a fighting type gym leader but as time passes she realized she really enjoys teaching

- Iono sometimes does social media stuff for the Paldean league under Geeta's leadership, she still focuses more on her streaming career though

- Iono has met a lot of people thanks to her streaming job, she has done collaborations with a bunch of her coworkers (gym leaders), the only ones that refused were Grusha, Brassius and Larry

- Grusha isn't close to his coworkers at all, at most, he spends time with Ryme when he visits her gym's town

- Tulip, after meeting Rika, has DEFINITELY flirted with her, but always ends up rejected

- Ryme goes to visit the academy more often than other gym leaders because of Tyme being a teacher there

- Iono and Grusha don't like each other, it's mostly Grusha but Iono gets worked up easily

- Arven still struggles to process the events of the game, Saguaro helps him and gets him an internship at Kofu's restaurant

- Nemona would probably want to do a world tour or something to meet and battle strong trainers, she'd leave after school is over for her though

- Florian and Juliana are twins, after the game ends Juliana stays in Paldea to help Raifort investigate the ruinous quartet and Florian gets an internship with Briar to study terastallization abroad in Unova

- Dendra is hopelessly in love with Miriam

- Tulip liked Dendra when they were in high school, but nothing ever happened and the crush faded away

- Rika has a big fat crush on Geeta but doesn't dare to do anything about it because she's very busy with work

- Jacq is a latino guy that lives in Paldea, his family moved there when he was around 5 years old

- Jacq and Larry often run into each other in restaurants, mostly Kofu's

- Grusha's mom is the pokemon equivalent of Russian and his dad is the pokemon equivalent of vietnamese

- Iono's mom is from Galar

- Raifort doesn't really socializes with any other teacher in the school, she spends most of her time doing her own research

- Iono finds out that the league has a talented student working for them and she tries to get Penny to help with her streams as well

- Kofu and Katy spend time together when they're not working in their restaurant/bakery or battling gym challengers

[parkerthejester]

The bonds are like places Bonds between the seven are laid out in different ways

Merle and Lucretia have a garden. There is a stream there is fruit there is food there is life. It is the knowing and the unknowing, it is the peace in the silence of the unknown. It is the heart of the storm and the eye of the needle. They live inside each other

Taako and Magnus have a town made of stone and wood with good bones and better scenery. they have houses there. It is the feeling of hope. It is what trust must become to fit something new. It is knowing what is but doing what isn’t. They live inside each other

Barry and Lup have a greenhouse and a loft to match it. It is snomething new it is something old. It is growth it is life it is trees with millions of rings it is the bulb of a tulip it is yesterday just as much as it is now. They live inside each other

Taako and Lup have a city. Its flashing lights, its dark alleys, its runways, its studio apartments, its laughing, its crying. There is the yelling and there is the quiet that follows it. It is fear and it is running and it is hiding but it is always full. They live inside each other

Davenport and Merle have a teahouse. It is stories and rest and naps and good smells. It is the very act of remembering. It is the hands on a clock. It is the love in the world, and the hate in it too. They live inside each other

These homes come crashing down. They fall and they crumble and the wilt and they stop and they keep going.

Lup and Barry will hold the glass up because they must. Lup will hold it for him. Barry will remember and the house will too, it will remember with him, breathe as he does. It won’t stop when he doesn’t. It just gets heavier. Lup will hold the roof up for as long as it takes

Taako and Lup’s city is alive with or without them. They are not there but they are simply away from home. You cannot leave that which is not a place. They are knowing without thinking. They are each other as much as they are themselves

Magnus and Taako crumple to the ground. There is no life but the ruins are a commonplace they both end up at one way or another. They will rebuild it without knowing it was theirs. They will rebuild it without knowing what is under the ash. They will rebuild it without asking why. Without wondering why its so easy to create where Taako has only ever destroyed

Merle and Lucretia’s flowers will bloom faster than they should with the wilt they had. Lucretia will not water them but Merle is awake. Merle is awake and he has to do something. Merle is awake and he cares without knowing why. He grows without meaning to.

Davenport is shattered. There is nothing to grow, there is nothing to build, there is no one to pick up the pieces. Davenport lives inside them and they live inside him. But there are no lights and they cut themselves on the rubble that isn’t there. They bleed on the carpet made for forgetting that which must be remembered

[wyrdle]

Geeta and Paldea Discussion

Really random thought, but as a sort of counter to Geeta being a bad top champion/chairwoman, I feel like it's important to point out that Paldea is quite the paradise. Each town is filled with life and activity, and presumably the gyms and the Academy's treasure hunt program is what made it the way it is economically. I don't think it'd be impossible to say that Paldea was not like this when she first took over, and it's years of her hard work to change things.

It's said the gym leaders were all handpicked by Geeta, and I think any of these cities success would be attributed to her hard work into changing Paldea for the better.

If we need more tangible indicators, I feel like the Elite 4 battleground being the most sparse battle area speaks volumes as to where her and thus the league's priorities lie. It's about the rest of Paldea's development and improvement, they get the most funding for building up the space into something fun and enriching. At the ace tournament, Geeta also reveals that she had a hand in designing the Academy library renovations, so she very much invests into bettering Paldea/The Academy as a whole.

I do enjoy the headcanon of her actually being a great champion/leader, pushing her coworkers. The quips/hatred towards her feels like fan interpretations being overstretched, not to say she is beloved, but I think the league and it's gym leaders of this region work together better than other gens. And I adore the thought that they have a decent camraderie...

Afaik Geeta runs a tight ship, doing inspections, making the rounds, talking to locals, to students... She's probably a workaholic herself, stretching thinly across the region haha.

Also, another point to her: Assuming she was the leader when the other Academy Director was in power, she likely helped oversee the complete reshuffling/changing of staff... getting someone as dedicated as Clavell, pulling gym leaders she trusts (Tyme) etc to the Academy. She can't micromanage and solve every problem, but i do feel she'd be warmly pleased at hearing the Director's "greatest treasure" resonating with her own... and also the dedication he has to act as Clive LOL. Clavell also helps out with Iono's stream to repay the League once, so I assume it to be true that Geeta has done much to improve the Academy.

There's also things like: Hassel, the guy being harassed by his family. I am sure Geeta would know about it, and the fact that Hassel is both E4 + art teacher feels very much like "Don't touch him, he's Paldea's". Power moveeee. Adore the headcanon of Geeta being very defensive of keeping him as Paldea's, any move from the dragon tamers has political ramifications...

Grusha... iirc has some beef? Idk. Nothing jumps out to me in memory beyond fan interpretations. I like seeing his role as gym leader actually being something of a Geeta pushing him into something after a devastating career blow.

I've already discussed Larry before in another post (His gym being his favourite restaurant is already quite telling that all the gym leaders get plenty of support for their work lol). Tulip's jealousy over her? Just feels in character for her personality but I don't think she means it too much lol.

The only thing that's probably a big glaring mistake is allowing professor Turo/Sada to continue experiments, presumably without supervision. It might've been possible that oversight occured.. or the professor was able to shirk off suspicion so long as they spared the crystals for making tera orbs. Kinda like an operation where they go "You only need me down here to help you harvest the crystals.", the time machine secretly being the focus. The academy/league funded labs were abandoned, one can assume they'd taken their hands off maintaining it, the only valuable thing left is extracting the crystals for Tera orbs. Little did they know the professors obsession... hence the concern/fear the professor's had when the miraidon/Koraidon were seen in public. Their little undercover operation was at risk of being found out.

Combined with the concept of Geeta focusing on the rest of Paldea after the Tera Orb discovery (I like to think she was appointed just shortly after it or very early during it), one professor being down in the crater managing Crystal extraction doesn't seem like a huge priority...

Anyway, those are my rambly all over the place thoughts for Geeta and her role in Paldea lol. Top champion isn't just being the strongest, it's very much a leadership role with influence on people's livelihoods. She's doing a fine job of it, if Paldea is so damn idyllic. I doubt the game will give us these answers or depth, but fjdhsjs Geeta is probably kinder/more empathetic/caring than most fans make her out to be.

[rotworld]

2: Atonement

an alien is seemingly exiled to your remote outpost, abandoned without explanation. taking him in seemed to be the right thing to do at the time.

->explicit. contains noncon, terato, hunting, animal death, gore, feral behavior, predator/prey, mentions of hard vore

.

.

.

You know something weird’s happening because Albatross Outpost is crowded.

Nothing is ever crowded here. There are salvage company ships with a higher population than your entire backwater planet. Albatross Outpost is a glorified post office, a communications tower with the vague components of a town attached as an afterthought. Mail Day is an official holiday, an annual event when the nearest extranet satellite reaches the sweet spot of its orbit and the local servers catch up to the rest of human civilization, letting you send messages offworld for a few hours. It’s not Market Day, it’s not a festival, it’s not even particularly pleasant weather with the wringing heat of a merciless, glaring sun. 

And yet, everywhere you look, you see people. The dusty, uneven lane affectionately known as Main Street is bustling with a sea of parasols and wide-brimmed hats, chatter and laughter and an air of excitement. There’s a line at the general store, people streaming out the doors and winding all the way around the building. Katri’s Repair is a green tent and a heap of scrap metal outside of a gutted hangar, but today, that hangar is packed and someone’s blasting party music with a bassline that rattles the foundations. REPAIRS 50% OFF TODAY ONLY proclaims a spraypaint scrawl on the concrete.

Could be a supply crate just came in, you figure. It’s always excited to get new seeds from Earth or the colonies. Could be a welcoming or going away party. You plan on asking once you’ve run your errands, but then you see a ship parked on the runway behind the comm tower. It’s a weird little thing, oblong and tapered at one end like a tulip bud. Not a design you recognize. The crowd gets denser the closer you get, but you see a clearing up ahead, a respectful perimeter. 

And there, right in the middle, you see them for the first time.

They’re big. Thin and willowy, almost fragile-looking, but definitely tall. Jude, one of the comm techs, is a little over six feet and standing right next to them, and he has to crane his neck to meet their eyes. Beneath sleek, form-fitting flight suits, their bodies are shades of moss and emerald green, four arms and four eyes each. You hear a low, almost tactile buzz like a subwoofer rumbling. Jude looks terrified and speaks with exaggerated gestures. The exo he’s talking to tilts their head and starts pointing at the crowd.

You push your way to the front. Jude looks like he might faint in relief when he spots you, calling your name in a warbling, panicked tone. “Everything okay?” you ask.

“You didn’t check your email, did you?” he says, accusing. 

“I never check my email, Jude. What’s going on?” 

The same subwoofer noise vibrates against your ears again. It’s coming from the exos. You see them speaking quietly to one another, mandibles clicking as their mouths part along segmented joints. Jude introduces you, gradually placing you between him and the exos. “They’re an exolinguist,” he tells them, his words carefully enunciated. “They can speak better. Understand you.”

“Was an exolinguist,” you correct, eyeing him. “Jude, I don’t speak—”

The exo he’s talking to immediately crowds you, coming forward in two long strides to loom over you. They speak in quick, rumbling chitters that you don’t understand. It takes some back and forth, trying every pidgin you’ve ever learned, but eventually, you find something you both speak. “Taiek,” they introduce themselves, a hand on their chest, two more gesturing to their companions. 

You return the favor. “Human,” you say. 

The other two come forward, one shoving the other towards you. “Human. Yours.” And without another word, they abandon one of their own, walking back to the ship without so much as a glance back. Jude sputters in disbelief as the exo ship’s engine rumbles to life and lifts into the sky.

You try not to make anthropocentric assumptions, but the last taiek looks at you, mandibles flaring, sharp teeth bared with an awful, reptilian hiss, and you think it’s safe to say they’re not happy.

*

The taiek’s name is Uora. He doesn’t tell you this, nor does he tell you that he is a “he,” or that his exile is a form of “disciplinary action.” He just shoves a datacard at you and stares at the ground while you run it through your readtool’s translator. “You need somewhere to stay,” you say. Uora says nothing. You can’t help but notice that his file never said what he’s being punished for. Jude says he’ll try to get in touch with somebody about the proper protocol for a situation like this, but you both know it’s useless. Mail Day was a week ago. You’ve got another year before anyone offworld will hear about this. 

“You’ll have to stay with me for now,” you tell him. Still no response. “Do you understand me? I speak hyuek pidgin, too.” Nothing. He sways lightly on his feet, like he’s half-asleep. “I’m parked over there,” you say, gesturing down Main Street. When you start moving, Uora follows. He walks with his head down, his body language closed and hostile. 

It’s a long way home. You watch Albatross Outpost turn into a speck in the rearview mirror, swallowed by dust. You get the feeling he doesn’t want to talk, but an hour passes in silence and you just can’t take it anymore. “This planet is called HGC-2129,” you say. “But a lot of us call it the Grandest Canyon. It’s a joke. There’s a place on Earth, the human homeworld, with a similar name. It kinds of looks like it.” 

You sneak glances out of the corner of your eye. Uora has his arms wrapped around himself tightly, lower arms clinging to the higher ones. He watches the rocky, desert scenery pass by in a sandy blur. Two of his eyes are large and flecked with blue, the smaller pair set beneath and solid black like marbles. “I don’t know much about taieks,” you admit. “Never heard of you or even seen any pictures. But if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll figure something out. Hopefully you can eat what we grow here, or I can synthesize something, at least.” 

“...hot.” 

You think you imagined the word at first. Uora’s lower eyes glance at you almost shyly and quickly dart away. “Hot?” you ask. “Are you overheated? Want me to turn up the air?” He makes a quick buzzing sound. You have no idea if that was a yes or a no, but you angle the vents towards him and he doesn’t complain. That’s all you get out of him the whole way back, but it’s a start, at least. 

The sun is setting by the time you get home. The Grandest Canyon’s two enormous moons, silver and dusty pink, settle near the horizon. Uora files in behind you silently, looming uncomfortably close as you give him a tour of the house. You don’t have a lot of space, but there is a room full of old research documents that could become a decent guestroom. Uora says nothing as you explain this or show him the space. He doesn’t react when you offer him the couch. 

“Where do you sleep?” he asks. His voice is strange, his words light and airy over low, scratchy rumbling, a constant growl in the background of his words. “We are communal. I sleep where you sleep.” You’re not sure how you feel about that. But when you show him your bedroom, he glances around, picks a corner seemingly at random, and sits on the hardwood floor. “We will speak in the morning,” he says, and that’s it. He shuts his eyes, his breathing slows so much you think he’s dead, and he’s out like a light.

You drape some blankets over him in the middle of the night. Uora’s lower arms knead the soft fabric.

*

“Do you need help?” Uora asks over breakfast.

He likes salt, you learn, and slimy things. Taieks apparently have food synthesizers, so it doesn’t take him long to work yours, but you have no idea what the abomination on his plate is. It’s spotted yellow and pink, moist and veiny, and it jiggles when he sits at the table to eat with you.

“Help with what?” you ask. 

“You are a farmer. I saw your crops, and the animal box. You left the door open.” 

“That’s on purpose,” you tell him. “I don’t really keep animals. There’s a herd of markwas, these reptiles native to the planet, that hang around here. They moult in the shade, so if I give them some cover, I can collect it later. It’s tough, useful stuff, good for lots of things.” 

“Do you need help?” Uora repeats. 

You shrug. “It wouldn’t hurt. I don’t think I have much for you to do, though. I’ve lived alone for a while so I’ve kept things simple.” 

Uora considers this. His main eyes study you, the smaller ones glancing around the kitchen. He seems to be looking for something. “Why?” he asks. 

“Why what?” 

“Why do you live alone? You are breeding age. Appealing.” 

You almost choke on your food. “Thanks?” you say.

“Why?” he presses.

“That’s just how it turned out.”

He seems to sense your unease. “I will help,” he declares. He slurps up whatever godawful thing he made and leaves his slimy plate on the table. “There are water animals?” 

“Water animals? Like fish?” 

“Fish,” he says, mandibles clacking. “There are some?” 

That’s how you end up hiking to the nearest lake together, sitting on the muddy shore. You don’t feel the need to supervise him, but you feel bad leaving him alone. He’s already been abandoned once. He doesn’t ask for a rod or bait or anything, just a container to bring the fish back. You only realize what he’s doing once he’s already got his flight suit down to his waist. You’re not completely caught off guard. Some exos are casual about nudity, especially once they’re out of a ship and on a familiar, terrestrial environment. You fully intend to politely avert your eyes, but then you hear something peeling. Like an unraveling fruit rind, the flesh of his back splits apart. 

He has wings, and they’re gorgeous. Translucent membranes catch the light like prisms, glowing under the morning sun. You’re surprised by their size, how they unfold from compacted bumps on his back to broad, shimmering sails. He stretches, rolls his shoulders, and his wings flutter with such speed they send little waves across the lake’s surface. When he takes flight, it’s breathtaking. His lithe form soares across the water with avian grace. 

And then he strikes. 

The movement is so fast it’s nothing but a blur to your eyes. He doesn’t stop or slow, one hand plunging into the lake, sending a fountain of water sparkling across his wings. It takes less than a minute from takeoff to landing, clawed, prehensile feet landing in the mud right in front of you.

“That was amazing!” you tell him. 

He doesn’t seem to think so. “I was aiming for two.” 

“I’d have a hard time catching even one.” 

Uora sets the fish in the container, his lower set of hands absently fidgeting and cleaning the first. “Game,” he says, then buzzes, eyes narrowing. Not quite the word he wanted, you think. “Hobby? For fun, not for work. I like to catch things.” 

“That’s a useful skill,” you say. 

You can’t quite identify the expression on his face when he looks at you. His mandibles flare and then fold back into place. You see a long, black tongue lick across his sharp teeth. You’re staring, you realize, and quickly look away. “Very useful,” he agrees, almost purring. It’s easy to blame the scorching heat for how warm your face feels. 

*

The new routine is effortless.

Uora wakes first. Sensitive to sunlight, he’s up and moving when the sky starts to lighten from black to deep blue. He unwraps himself from the blanket cocoon that’s gradually amassed in his corner and tiptoes to the kitchen. He’s learned which floorboards creak and moves soundlessly through the house. By the time you’ve dragged out of bed, he’s set the table and made both of you breakfast. He prefers fish over synthesized food, but he still adds an ungodly amount of salt. You talk about nothing in particular. You ask him, just once, what he did to get sent here, and his mandibles lock stiffly against his jaw. 

“I should not be here,” he says quietly, just the faintest, vibrating hum beneath his words. “It is not right.” He doesn’t speak to you for the rest of the morning. 

By noon, you’ve been out to tend to the crops and he’s checked the markwa shedding box. Sometimes, a few of the critters are still in there, rubbing against the rocks and hissing at the sudden violation of privacy. He’s been bitten a few times, but their fangs can’t get through his carapace far enough to inject any venom. On Market Days, he catches fish in the morning to sell. People stare when you get to Albatross Outpost but less as the weeks go by and the novelty wears off. Katri mods your outfitter so he has something other than a flight suit to wear. He makes a draping garment, a sash that folds over one shoulder, around his torso, and hangs in front of his pelvis. Interesting, you think, because there’s nothing there, as far as you can tell. At least, nothing external.

At daybreak or sunset, he glitters. There are patches of chitin on his hips and shoulders that shimmer at just the right angle. With the curtains open, the setting sun spills through the kitchen windows during dinner and Uora is effortlessly beautiful haloed in light. There are so many little things he does that you notice with fondness. The way he hums, those little subvocal noises that tell you what he’s saying without words. Warbling when he’s thinking about something, pitched and choppy for surprise, that low, purring growl for delight. It hits you suddenly one evening that you like him. You’re far from the first person to harbor an interspecies crush, but you try to ignore it. There’s still this uncertainty nagging at the back of your mind. 

You dig through your cluttered spare room sometimes, searching the fragments of your old life for research papers and old exo files. You want to understand him better. For a while, you don’t find anything. No records of contact, no cultural exchange programs, not even a homeworld listed. What you have is probably outdated. You’ve been out of the field for a while, and offworld information is a luxury out on the Grandest Canyon. 

There is, however, a report you manage to find one night. Sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by boxes overflowing with old datacards, textbooks, and scribble-filled notebooks, you stumble upon it completely by accident. It’s wedged between unrelated field reports, a stack of curiosities you must’ve gotten from a colleague years ago. The word “taiek” is never mentioned, but the description is a perfect match. Tall, bipedal, vaguely insectoid, capable of space travel and maybe even terraforming. The research team kept a diary detailing the usual expedition minutiae, sample collection, interviews, the occasional photo. The exos are friendly but not particularly talkative. 

And then, a couple weeks into the research team’s stay, something goes horribly wrong.

You think, at first, that it’s an error. The files must be corrupted. The digitized diary entry is empty. Switching to the image scan of the original page shows you a creased and partially-shredded page of notebook paper. There are stains and splatters, bloody fingerprints all across the bottom of the page.

Written in a hurried, messy scrawl are the words, “THEY ARE EATING US.”

The pictures are harrowing. What was once a neat, orderly base camp has been utterly razed to the ground. Nothing is left. Makeshift labs and living quarters have been torn apart like paper, gouging marks left in the steel like some horrible thing teething. Wounds are deep and mangling, large chunks that snap clean through bone and leave gaping, red holes behind. There are places where the ground is saturated with blood. A series of photos shows a trail of carnage, bits of bloodied clothing, equipment and human bodies like gruesome breadcrumbs leading out of the camp and into a looming forest. The dead are nothing but pieces, discarded limbs and skull fragments with scraping marks etched into the bone.

“Hungry?” Uora asks. 

You drop your data reader and it clatters to the floor, your heart pounding. Uora takes up the entire doorway, blocking your only exit. He stands there with a fresh fish, still dripping lakewater. You look at the gasping thing clutched in one of his hands—long-fintered, clawed hands, and as it writhes and squirms, right before your eyes, one of his lower hands squeezes so hard you hear something snap and it goes limp.

“No,” you say weakly. “No, I’m—I’ll be down later. Don’t wait up.” You have to stand up. You feel too vulnerable sitting there, engulfed in his shadow. Uora’s small eyes glance at the datareader on the floor, but his larger eyes never leave your face. He says nothing. Every memory you have since his arrival races through your mind. Has he ever done anything threatening? Ever tried to hurt you? He can hunt—likes to hunt, told you as much himself—but that doesn’t have to mean anything. Uora is your friend, isn’t he? You can’t just make assumptions like that. 

The room is stiflingly, suffocatingly hot and sweat dripping down your back. Uora’s rumbling takes on a pattern you don’t hear often, something disgruntled. Finally, he steps out of the doorway. With one last look over his shoulder, he steps out of view. You don’t hear him go down the stairs, but you wouldn’t. He’s sneaky. He knows just where to step to avoid making noise.

With shaky breaths, you sink back to the floor. 

*

The comm techs send out heat advisories and a drought warning to all Grandest Canyon residents via email. You never see it, but you know all the same. The red line on your kitchen thermometer keeps climbing as the days go by.

*

Uora starts eating synthesized food again.

He sits across from you with that thick, pink jelly quivering on his plate. Feeding is quick and efficient with all of his jagged mouthparts. His mandibles pin the wet, squirmy mass in place as his monstrous teeth grind it into paste. His tongue darts out, licking bits of gristle from the pointed end of one mandible. He catches you staring. He doesn’t say a word. 

“Tired of fish?” you ask. It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out nervous. 

“Variety is good,” he says. 

You push your food around on your plate, uneasy. Uora watches your movements with unnerving focus. “I’ve been meaning to ask you—”

“I will check the animal box.” He leaves in such a clumsy rush that he bangs his knee on the table. You find yourself peering through the curtains after him. Uora’s slim back and tense, muscular shoulders glint in the early morning light. He seems paler than usual, more seafoam than emerald. You find him walking up to the markwa box, his four eyes fixed on the writhing mass of creatures gathered in the shade. He seizes one by its long, ropy throat. It hisses and rears back to bite his fingers, fangs scraping uselessly across the back of his hand. Your heart leaps into your throat and you busy yourself with the dishes. The water running doesn’t quite mask the awful, shrill sounds of a creature screaming, squealing, the crunch of flesh, tissue and bone violently compacted—and then deafening silence.

*

Bones. 

Nothing but bones.

There were reed-like plants, swaying water grasses and croaking marsh creatures all over this lake, sleek silhouettes darting between lakeweed stalks, and now there is nothing but bones. Piscine with gaping sockets, half-moon ribs, skeletal fins and flippers, carpeting the lakeshore. You stand there with your heart pounding in your chest and sweat pooling between your shoulders in the awful, suffocating heat, and you’re afraid to go home.

*

We need to talk.

You practice the words in your head as the sun sets. The cadence, the confidence, the way you will carry yourself. We need to talk, you’ll say, and you won’t back down. You wipe the sweat from your brow and shoulder through the front door, eager for a shower.

You run right into Uora. He catches you, a steadying hand on your shoulder, a lower hand grasping your hip. You mutter a “thank you,” and pull away, or try to. He doesn’t let go. “Uora,” you say, a tremor in your voice. He says nothing, but he rumbles to show he heard you. It’s lower than usual, more powerful. The vibration travels through his hands and fizzles on your skin. “Can you let me go, please?” 

You’re reminded of the day you met. It’s like he was sleepwalking. Hearing, but not quite listening. Trapped in his head. You thought he was distressed, understandably upset about his situation, but was that all it was? There’s something different about his eyes. He’s turned from seafoam green to almost gray, his carapace dull and sick-looking. You hear his wings unfolding and the hand on your shoulder squeezes just a little too hard. 

“Hot,” he says through gritted teeth. His rumbling is unbearably loud when he speaks, hurting your ears. “Bad. Can’t think. Hungry…” His mandibles spread open in a grasping, prey-seizing motion and you jerk violently in his grasp. One pointed tip scrapes your cheek just as you manage to free yourself, stumbling back towards the door. Uora’s eyes are wide. His mandibles click shut but they’re trembling, scraping against his face. “Go,” he mutters. 

You take a low step back. Another. You put the dining table between you, feeling blindly behind your back for your keys but you can’t find them. You twist, take your eyes off of him for just a moment, and he makes a sound you’ve never heard before, a wild, howling roar. His wings splay open, flinging aside your dining table like it weighs nothing. “Go!” he shouts. You don’t look back. 

You can’t outrun him. You know that. Can you hide? Can he track you? By smell? Infrared? You don’t know. There were so many things you should’ve asked him. Dirt and gravel crunch beneath your boots as you sprint across the wilderness. Flatlands as far as the eye can see. You run for the lake and the bones of everything that came before you. There are prickly woodlands if you follow the river, dense shrubs and wildlife. Will that distract him? Will it deter him at all? That deafeningly loud buzz fills your head and rattles your chest. A winged shadow swoops overhead. 

You’re going to die. Out here, in the dark, in this godawful heat, in the middle of fucking nowhere, and no one will know for months. You run until your lungs are full of fire and your legs are aching, threatening to give out beneath you. Sweat drips into your eyes and all you can see is a smear of silver in the dark, the moon reflected on the lake’s surface. You don’t think. You don’t plan. Your ankle twists in the mud and you go down screaming as liquid cold bursts and swallows you whole. And then there’s new fear, water filling your aching lungs, pain as you grope for something to hold onto, something to right yourself, not knowing which way is up. 

The buzzing is a dull hum, a song far above you. Something strikes you, scratches you raw and bloody. You hold onto that clawed hand and you don’t let go. Uora strains and struggles but you’re no fish and he goes crashing into the lake. 

You see spots. White light. The moon is a watery, melting circle. The world whirls around you at breakneck speed and your hands scrape the bottom of the lake, all of those little bones slicing up your palms as you are dragged back to the surface. You cough and sputter, gulping down cool, night air. Uora is heavy on top of you and he’s so loud. You hear him taking fast, ragged breaths, the wet slap of his waterlogged wings against his back. 

“Sorry,” he says. His hands are all over you, rough and painful. You don’t know what he’s doing, why he’s hurting you, sinking his claws into your shoulders and thighs, and then the air hits your bare skin as he tears the damp, ragged remains of your clothes apart. You gasp his name. Uora rests his forehead against yours. He makes a miserable sound that vibrates in his chest, an animalistic wail. “I should not be here,” he murmurs. “It is not right.”

Something hot and long and pulsating throbs between your legs. You never get the chance to see it. Uora rolls you onto your stomach and overpowers you easily, dragging your frantic, wriggling body back under him. “Wait—Uora, stop!” 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry. Sorry.” His upper arms wrap around your stomach, pinning you to his body. His lower hands grab your hips, lifting them, his claws sinking into your skin when you try to squirm free. “Sorry,” he says, and what must be his cock prods against you, threatening to penetrate. “I will not eat you. I promise. I will not, I…” He groans and his hips buck against you, his tendril slithering around as though tasting you. “I will bite. I will be…cruel. I will not eat you. I will try not to.”

That’s all the warning you get before he tenses pounds his entire cock into you in one hard, surging motion, punching all the air out of your lungs. You can’t even scream. The wheezing, miserable noises you make are just whispers. You can’t hear anything over the hum that starts up within him, that rumble returning even louder than before. It makes his whole body vibrate, you discover, your nails raking helplessly through the mud. Uora’s mandibles scrape down your back as he slumps over, blanketing your back. His thrusts are mercifully slow at first but they’re deep, his cock never fully leaving your body. He’s torn something, you’re sure of it. If you had the strength to maneuver yourself, you’d see blood trickling down your thighs and streaking his length. 

“Will not eat you,” Uora murmurs, even as his mandibles stab into your shoulder to hold you still and the needlepoints of his teeth turn your skin to tenderized, gummy mush. “Promised. I promised. I will not. I will try…” You feel him quaking with exertion as he lifts his face, one hand stabbing into the ground beside your body to anchor him. “You have been so kind to me,” he says softly, one of his hands sliding between your legs. You want to tell him no, to push it away. You don’t want him to make you enjoy this. But he’s so careful, so incredibly gentle with you, mindful of his claws as he works you with his fingers. This is the tenderness of someone who loves you. You can’t understand how he does it while he fucks you bloody.

Just as you begin to adjust, your breathing even, the pain excruciating but predictable—his pace changes. Uora’s legs bracket yours as he properly mounts you and he starts pounding into you with even more speed and force. You feel his length sliding against your sore inner walls, a long, shaky withdraw before he spears you on his cock again. Every movement is pure violence and domination, not chasing pleasure but some other, even more mindless need.

His lower hands are restlessly exploring, squeezing you, stabbing almost instinctively anywhere soft and tender. He grasps you when you start to slump, keeping you right where he wants you. The hand between your legs loses rhythm, forgets what to do. It finds your throat and squeezes, and you fear for one agonizing moment that he’s going to kill you. Snap your neck with nothing but the flick of his wrist, so fast you won’t see it coming. But he never does. His hips keep pumping into you, his cock drilling into your weary body, the slap of his hard, chitinous hips a thicker, more solid slap than flesh against flesh. 

“I will not eat you,” Uora mutters, a chant, a mantra under his breath. “We will…we will speak in the morning.” 

You would laugh if you had the strength, the air, the space for anything in your body but Uora’s thick appendage. It seems absurd to talk about the future, to even consider it. You don’t think you’ll even make it through the night. But Uora stops thrusting just long enough to reach down, to find your hands with his trembling, upper hands and clasp his fingers over yours. The gesture is frightening. His hands are so much larger, his claws sharp and pricking even from the sides. But you feel how he shivers and you hear the breathless apologies between his desperate promises, his insistence that there will be something after this. 

As his pace quickens again, you close your eyes and try to believe him.

[fleurcareil]

South Manitoba

I left Winnipeg not too late in the morning and finally got myself into the Prairies proper driving in south-western direction. The flat landscape reminded me of the Netherlands, but in place of church spires indicating where the villages are, here it's grain elevators that tower above the horizon... conveniently with the name of the town written on them! 😁

Funny enough, one of the villages was called Holland, complete with a tulip-sign and a windmill 🤣

First destination of the day was Spruce Woods provincial park near the town of Glenboro, but Gmaps directed me initially to a farmhouse south of the highway rather than to its proper location 10 km north! The same happened a few more times in the following days for both Manitoba and Saskatchewan parks so that taught me to ask directions - something we don't do often anymore! 😜

The highlight of the park are the Spirit Sands; the remnants of what used to be an expansive inland dune area deposited by a glacial lake 10,000 years ago. Although the dunes still shift with the wind, most of the area is being reclaimed by vegetation as, contrary to a desert, it actually receives quite a lot of rain. Having grown up with dunes along the North Sea in the Netherlands, it looked familiar but rather than a cooling sea breeze it was scorching hot! There were luckily some hand-pumped water wells along the trail that friendly hikers operated while I put my head under the cold stream 😃, however once I had seen the "Devil's Punch", a little pond filled by underground springs, I cut the hike short and returned to the car AC.

Afterwards, I cooled down some more under a tree at a picknick area on an oxbow lake (I was too tired to walk down to the water & take a pic 😅).

Having anticipated that I might not feel my best the day after Harman's wedding 😆, I only had a short drive further to the municipal campground of Souris, which has a cute swinging bridge, at 604 ft supposedly to be Canada's longest suspension pedestrian bridge (?!?), the first one built in 1906. The town had also nice sculptures of a moose and peacock, of which apparently there's many in the village although I saw none. This was the first time that I had stayed on a municipal campground and although busy with a pool & lots of running kids, I had a nice spot on the river and it was actually quite good!

That's it for Manitoba for now as I would be driving into Saskatchewan the next day, but I'll explore the central/north areas on my way back.

Wildlife: lots of grasshoppers everywhere!

SUPs: none

Hikes: one at Spruce Woods

[ggoyal22]

Shimla

Capital of Himachal and the queen of hills, “Shimla is the most famous hill station in the country". Viceregal Lodge, the Town Hall, Gaiety Theatre, and the Christ Church are some of the best colonial-era architectures that will greet you at every nook and corner of the place. Lush greenery and snow–covered mountains are worth capturing when the winter sets in.

Where to stay in Shimla:

Here you can stay and enjoy good facilities which are reasonably priced though you have to share the room with your fellow friend which won’t be a big concern.

Royal tulip (Shimla), Larisa Resort (Manali), Fortune Park (Dalhousie), Fortune Select Forest Hill (Kasauli), Hyatt Regency (Dharamshala) are some five-star hotels, and Key Monastery (Kaza), Moksha Spa (Parwanoo), Sanjiv’s Aira Holme Retreat (Chotta Shimla), Gone Fishing Cottages (Klawari Stream), and Norwood Green Resort (Palampur) are some good homestays within easy reach. 

[mondoradiowmse]

03/06/24 Mondo Radio Playlist

Here's the playlist for this week's edition of Mondo Radio, which you can download or stream here. This episode: "Beauty and Beer and the Braves", featuring the sounds of old Milwaukee and more. If you enjoy it, don't forget to also follow the show on Facebook and Twitter!

Artist - Song - Album

Lanny Ross, The Murphy Sisters And Will Lorin's Orchestra - Centurama - If You See A Garden (Single)

Kitty Kallen With Orchestra Conducted By Mitch Miller - Milwaukee - Milwaukee (Single)

Dick Metko And His Boys - Milwaukee - My Hometown - Milwaukee - My Hometown (Single)

Lanny Ross, The Murphy Sisters And Will Lorin's Orchestra - Milwaukee, Wis. - Milwaukee, Wis. (Single)

Big City Serenade - Salute To Milwaukee - Big City Serenade

Hildegarde With Bob Grant And His Savoy-Plaza Orchestra - My Cousin In Milwaukee - You Made Me Love You (I Didn't Want To Do It) (Single)

Eddy Duchin And His Central Park Casino Orchestra - My Cousin In Milwaukee - My Cousin In Milwaukee (Single)

Roy Bargy And Ramona - My Cousin In Milwaukee - A Penny For Your Thoughts (Single)

Pope Salad - High Heels And A Blow Torch - High Heels And A Blow Torch (Single)

Heileman Orchestra And Chorus - Heileman Waltz - Heileman Waltz (Single)

Heileman Orchestra And Chorus - Heileman Beer Song - Heileman Beer Song (Single)

Blue Ribbon Town - Groucho's Getting Married To Barbara Jo Allen - Blue Ribbon Town

Ray Carson With Pete Ochs And His Orchestra - Wisconsin Moon - Wisconsin Moon (Single)

Melody Five/Bill Walker Ensemble - Home In Dear Old Wisconsin - Home In Dear Old Wisconsin (Single)

Frankie Yankovic And His Yanks - Milwaukee Polka - Milwaukee Polka (Single)

Lawrence Duchow And His Red Raven Orchestra - Milwaukee Polka - Milwaukee Polka (Single)

Patti Page, Joe Reisman And His Polka Dots - Milwaukee Polka - Milwaukee Polka (Single)

National Barn Dance - At Wisconsin State Fair - National Barn Dance

"Whoopee" John Wilfahrt And His Orchestra - Milwaukee Waltz - Milwaukee Waltz (Single)

Wally Ives And The Jolly Dutchmen - Milwaukee Waltz - Milwaukee Waltz (Single)

Freddie "Schnickelfritz" Fisher And His Orchestra - I Wish I Was Back In Milwaukee (With The Pretzels And Beer) - When You Wore A Tulip And I Wore A Big Red Rose (Single)

"Whoopee" John Wilfahrt And His Orchestra - I Vish I Vas Back In Milwaukee - I Vish I Vas Back In Milwaukee (Single)

[glitterwolfvi]

hey pspspsps

I made a youtube channel for Tulip Town

(I will be streaming there later as Woolfred at 12:30 PM CST)

[pherelesytsia]

Who did this to you...? 2

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Bruised and broken, Y/N, trapped in a loveless marriage, arrives at her best friend's house, desperately hoping someone will help her, aware she cannot return to the estate of her husband.

Warning: fear, anxiety, angst, violence

Word Count: 2.3k

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Silver brightened the sinister sky, breaking the dense blanket of clouds, yet did not clash like a ripple of hundreds of poisoned arrows down on the wicked foes. The rain pattered heartlessly, bouncing off the dark blue umbrella. Smoke emerged out of the exhaust pipe, soared upwards, and then faded away. The branches of the lonely trees swayed back and forth in the wind, howling like a wolf summoning the gleaming moon shrouded by travelling clouds.

Light streamed mutedly through the wide and narrow windows and barely touched the paved path leading to the front door flanked by two pots sheltering flowers, tulips. Clenching her hands into fists, Peggy braced herself to face the very worst. Wet spots sprawled on the long coat reaching her knees. The curls had lost shape and although she did not wear lipstick, her lips were red as oozing crimson. No weapon was at her side, hidden well from curious gazes, and no guilt welled within her soul. A low prayer escaped her lips, was certain no harm could come to Y/N, sure no one would attempt to force their way into the house she called her home, had locked the door and drawn the curtains. No love dominated her gaze, felt nothing except utter hatred, and it deepened with every step.

The majestic estate seemed lonely and deserted. Peggy laughed low. Peals of laughter punctured the silence and informed Peggy, standing in the shelter of the umbrella, that many people were beyond the thick walls with eyes capable of seeing the unseen and ears able to perceive that a voice was absent.

The hatred seething in her heart dispelled the cold breaking through the cloak. Fearless, Peggy faced the den of the dragon, had heard countless of stories about the Shelby family, the one sounding absurd and ridiculous yet the desire to know the truth was too great, ignored the wisdom, all she had heard about the dreaded family.

Stopping Peggy´s right hand reached for the wood but she hesitated for a moment as words resounded and she listened carefully but the sounds made absolutely no sense and as laughter silenced the guests, Peggy knew they were all delighted and untroubled. Winter ruled in her gaze. She knocked on the door, loud enough to know everyone in the house must have heard her, even those at the other end, behind thick doors and heavy blankets. Fear didn't flood her eyes, didn’t regret the journey across the town and heard the heavy steps drawing near the door. Focusing her gaze over her shoulder, Peggy witnessed the deepening dusk entering the yard in front of the mansion, but she did not turn and stayed motionless in the pouring rain.

Peggy believed in the good in people, even if it was a Shelby, couldn't imagine sitting at the table and not noticing that someone was missing, that Thomas didn't notice that his wife wasn't seated by his side, not holding her hand and telling her how beautiful and lovely she is. Hatred welled and clouded her mind, unable to understand how someone could be so ignorant, how someone could forget the existence of a woman so loving and kind, but Peggy knew Y/N was right, that she was not exaggerating, telling a story, a wicked tale to receive attention.

The light was blinding, but she saw clearly, sharp as a polished dagger, knew exactly what she had to do, what had to be done. Bracing herself Peggy prepared herself for everything, for shame and screams, guns and pain, accusations, beatings, everything once escaping the throat of fearful humans. She forced a weak smile, and the voices grew clearer. The smell of alcohol lingered in the air. Greeting, Peggy repositioned the umbrella and faced the man framed by vibrant yellowish light.

            "Good evening." the voice was cold as the night but did not send a shiver down her spine.

Narrowing her eyes Peggy recognised the man two steps away. Peering into the house, Peggy looked past the man taller than her by a few inches and witnessed children in the ranks of adults and she smiled at the boy in a greyish suit who had come to a halt with a smile on his sharp yet gentle features.

John cleared his throat but Peggy was unimpressed, had hoped to face Thomas Shelby.

            "Good evening, I suppose Thomas Shelby is here?", "You should make an appointment. You can call in the morning, the secretary will give you an appointment as soon as possible." spoke the blond man Peggy had seen a few times around town.

Flashing a smile Peggy realised John wanted to close the door, that he wanted to send her away, but she refused to be shaken off and stepped fearlessly closer to the young man.

            "No, it's of huge important, I need to speak to him." Peggy spoke sternly.

John heard the urgency in the young woman's voice. Laughing low, he leaned against the frame of the wooden door, settled his hand on the doorknob and half-heartedly listened to the words his brothers were uttering, the jokes mingling with roaring laughter.

            "I hear they're having a party, a very lavish one." she broke the silence.

Peggy didn't know where to begin, what to tell him, but she had already heard everything she needed to hear.

            “Yes, the family is celebrating.” John responded.

Again, Peggy laughed, clenched her hands into fists, ignoring the stabbing sensation spreading through her chest as she remembered Y/N sleeping in the tattered dress on her sofa and refusing to take it off, and Peggy could only guess what the beaten woman was trying to hide. Peggy wrinkled her nose in disgust. A wave of hot air hit her like skimming waves colliding with the emotionless face of the rocks piercing the ruthless ocean. The stench of smoke and alcohol was prominent in the air, but it did not dull her senses.

            "Are you missing anybody in your ranks?" Peggy probed, losing patience.

John grinned and shook his head in response.

            "Not that I know of, but if you'd like, I could check? Are you looking for your husband? I can guarantee that he is definitely not present, it's a family gathering." responded John, guessing what might be the cause of the lady's arrival, not seeming she had come to murder the family.

Nodding, Peggy tried to calm her mind. Moistening her lip with the tip of her tongue, she absently nodded and glanced into distance and noticed a girl had joined the young boy. Firmly, she bit down on her tongue. She wished to curse and scream like a banshee, to invade the building like an army of millions of soldiers and inform them all of what terrible creatures they were. Peggy had hoped to encounter sallow faced people who had sent everyone and everything out on the streets of the town to find the missing woman, but they were feasting, drowning in a sea of whiskey and rum, in old stories. Soundlessly, Peggy chuckled and backed away.

            "If you believe no one is missing, then I shall be on my way. Have a lovely day, Mr Shelby. I'm dreadfully sorry to have bothered you and your family. I bid you farewell." Peggy said goodbye.

She tried to stay strong, remembered what Y/N had said, that she shouldn't be surprised if no one noticed, if no one was looking for her and fearing for her safety.

Bewildered, John, dressed in a greyish suit, stared after Peggy following the long path, walked directly towards the vehicle parked far away from the others belonging to the members of the family.

Slowly, Peggy mingled with the darkness of the deep night.

Questions rested on his lips, understood nothing, and the words the stranger had spoken resounded in his mind. The door creaked, sang out loud, and John shook his head in confusion and brushed through his damp hair, walking deeper into the house without noticing. The laughter turned louder and John smiled at the children, exchanging questioning glances.

            “Everything is okay, go upstairs and play.” Johns assured and the children listened.

Facing his brothers on the sofas bearing the same joyful expression, sipping on the glasses and talking in delight, the worries faded for a brief moment into oblivion.

Thomas laughed and Arthur patted his brother's right shoulder and agreed. No one asked questions, failing to notice how John slowed to a standstill with his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers in the midst of the room. The light of the chandelier touched the faces. John let his eyes slide from one person to the other, from Ada to Arthur, and turned to the others. The strangers' words echoed in his head, chased him like a loyal hound.

His thoughts raced like a racehorse trotting in great haste across fields and meadows. The sound of the gramophone was driving him mad, tried to understand, to make sense of it all, but nothing made sense anymore, nothing, and John was convinced no one was missing.

Glasses bearing whiskey and rum rose to the sky. The brothers laughed and Arthur rose and stood by the rising flames of the fireplace with his arms folded in front of his chest, dressed in a dark suit, and Ada was close by his side. Polly poured herself a glass of wine and listened to the words the brothers exchanged.

The children were safe, John kept counting all of them, but no relief filled his heart and soul, feeling in every fibre of his body that something was wrong, but he found no flaw nor mistake. For a split moment John wondered if the lady had merely arrived to distract the family, if she was searching for her husband, but then John remembered the expression adorning the woman's face and it caused his heart to ache. Deep in thoughts John strolled to his family.

Pairs of eyes harbouring questions settled on John but not uttering a word. His eyes widened and looked at the ticking clock and realised how late it was. The frown on his smooth features deepened. His skin paled, turned almost sickly, and noticed shocked Y/N was missing. Swiftly, John turned and ran back to the door. Fear clouded his mind. Harshly the stiff wind collided with his flesh, tore it open. John whispered a prayer. He hoped the woman was still there, that she was in the vehicle or standing in front of the door, but a faint travelling light was drawing close to the town. John swept the wetness from his skin and felt the cold rain soaking through his suit. An icy shiver roamed across his whole body. He turned around, still hopeful, but the last spark of optimism was smothered. He swore, not able to accept the situation.

There was a commotion. Questions escaped, demanding answers, needing to know what had occurred, who had knocked on the door. The door slammed shut, John stormed into the building, wheezing. He spoke in the tongue of sailors, thought where the young woman could be, where Y/N was, who had taken her, feared for his brother's wife and turned wide-eyed to them, trying to figure out what had occurred.

            "John?!" someone shrieked, a woman.

John did not answer, couldn’t. His shaking hands ran though his unmade hair, failing to grasp what had happened and realising that Y/N was not present, that she was not playing in the shelter of the warming flames with the children, that she was not seated on the sofa and realising she was not sitting at the generously set table at dinner. There was ice between Y/N and all of them, but John liked her, found it adorable how she played with the children, and even though it didn't seem so at first glance, he enjoyed her presence.

            "Where is Y/N/N?" John asked.

The faces drained of colour. The silence was horrible. Tumult arose and children whispered. All at once they glanced around, noted Y/N was absent, and suddenly discovered she hadn't arrived from work. A glass shattered into thousands of pieces. Eyes settled on Thomas, gazing speechlessly into the distance. The smooth golden ring burned into his flesh. Hastily, Thomas stood up. His legs threatened to give up under the heaviness, under the weight of the world. He cursed.

Lips no longer touched, and nearly asked who was supposed to pick up his dear wife, wanted murder the person but, horrified, Thomas realised it was him who had to pick her up from work, remembered the promise he had made to wait at sharp five in front of the factory.

Thoughtlessly, Thomas advanced, feeling the burden grow beyond measure. Tears blurred his vision. Gulping, he stared at the bouquet of beautiful flowers in a light blueish vase on the coffee table, her favourites, had purchased them in the early hours of the day. Thomas Shelby uttered a prayer as a wrenching pain settled in his chest, had broken the promise he had given his wife on the wedding day.

TagList:

witchymoonbabe secretdreamlandmentality mysticalpandora kittiowolf210 muhahaha303 dreamy-caramel elinalfrida violet-19999 niyah834 watersquirtpewpewboomm piceous21 elliaze heidimoreton literishdegree99 globetrotter28 thecrazytealady regulusblacksimpsblog torresbarnes nightgirl250 sweet-angely05

[what-aboutno]

Area unknown Owen pov summary

Stream name- A new adventure!

Prev summary next summary

- wakes up in the grave and goes back to working

- finds a flower forrest and decides to make his base there

- starts cutting down trees and clearing out the general area

- we hear a bit about how before he died he was the flower prince, hence the flower crown on his head

- gets a new 'friend' it's a pillager

- he wants to do something with his base with like layers of glass. To give it specific effect like a fading effect and misty. so he's mining out the dirt there

- he's forgotten who au!Scott is so they meet again. And au!Scott is now helping with the digging

- not really important but kinda? But they go to town and they see the enchanting table has been stole

- au!Scott mention a little casual lore about the underworld, and how they're moving on from the old ways and want to peacefully move souls. And says maybe his brother is worried about him being there is because au!Aimsey is still using the old ways, lying.

-He hopes he's here in time enough to help undo any damage his brother has done and blames au!Aimsey for the stolen enchanted table

- au!Moonzy comes to help with mining and she has maxed out gear

-au!Owen remembers au!Moonzy but not their trip

- The trio go and enchant some stuff at au! Moonzy's place

-More mining, it's like a bowl shape

- au!Owen can hear the souls in au!Scott's lantern (au!Scott has a lantern which is where his chat is canonically)

- they decide they're gonna steal borrow a beacon in town from au!Oli's shop

- au!Oli confronts them about the beacon because they immediately got caught after all getting the achievement after stealing borrowing it

- au!Scott lies and says his brother gave him permission and tries to make au!Aimsey look bad as a business partner for not telling au!Oli I think?

- it seems au!Scott has gained au!Oli's trust

- Scotts chat decides to keep au!Moonzy as well as au!Owen now

- au!Owen remembers the trip with au!Moonzy finding the wonders of the world!

- Longer spends time with people the more likely he is to remember them. Who he remembers is mostly a gamble but spending more time seems to help

- at some point au!Scott says that he's friends with au!Owen and au!Moonzy

- Au!Moonzy has lost 6/9 lives, 2 of which were lost in the area unknown place (she lost 4 lives from the place she was before)

- au!Owen's chat are canonically bees because he's the flower prince. And they grab on his hair in boat rides and huddle in the flower crown when its raining

- au!Owens favourite flower is a white tulip!

- People can walk through him but it feels uncomfortable, kinda like pins and needles he says

- he can also see dead animals and such because he's a ghost, he can interact with them but the living can't see them

- don't know how canon this is but au!Scott placed candle to stop him going back to the other realm (they joked around that he was going back to the ghost realm while he was experiencing lots of lag)

- wonderduo go on another trip to get more sand and gravel for the concrete powder for the build

- au!Owen had a bad relationship with his father before he died? It's implied as he says "well he must not have looked after me if I'm dead" or something like that

-Au!Scott keeps saying he'll return the beacon when they're done with it. Implies he's got other intentions when it comes to returning the beacon. Possibly going to frame is brother in some way? Based on his conversation before with au!Oli

- So overall au!Owen is building his new house. He's building a tunnel take to get to his world. Trying to open a rift in space and time so people are able to visit the ghost realm as ghost people together.

- he also gets overstimulated as a ghost so the area is a nice peaceful and quiet void for him

- au!Soup is also canonically just liquid soup with clothes fr fr /j (joke from the stream)

[juneacademia]

We could live the sweetest life together.

Existing in small European towns, picnicking under the soft stream of summer sunlight in Southern France, running through the dark, hard rains of Italy in Autumn, huddled beneath the gentle streetlights of Norway as the first snow falls, our love in full spring bloom with the tulips in Amsterdam.

I want to experience years of seasons with you.

[ellus986]

Falling in love during a world war part 2 A)

Reader x George Mills

Warning: death, griefe, anger, fighting

Note: so this is the first version, I will be putting out the other soon. Hope you like it.

You are studying for your last test, when you have a bad feeling. Your heart sinks and you know something wrong happend. You hear your parents speak casually in the living room, so you sneak out on your window. It was getting late, but you know if it didn’t happend to your brother, than it happend to George. You couldn’t name it just feel that there is something really wrong, and all the marines and soldiers getting over the town isn’t helping on this feeling.

You run to his house, but his father does not know where he is, so you run down to the park, maybe he is there watching your two favorite ducks, but he is not there. It is dark already, you know your parents are mostlikely freaking out, but you needed to know everything is alright, and they wouldn’t let you go this late. As a last option you run down to the port. You see Peter get down they boat.

“Peter! I was looking for George, do you know where he is?” You ask, and your heart sinks as you see his face. “What?” He looks at you with tears in his eyes and then to the body bag the marines are elevating to the dock. He looks at you again, tears falling to the ground. “No,no, no,no,no!” You scream crying, running to him, hitting his chest over and over again. “No, he is not…”

“Shhh!” He puts his arms around you as you keep hiting him.

“No,no,no,no, he can’t be…” you cry out loud, letting him finally hug you. “He can’t be right?”

“He is Y/N… he is… I wish he wasn’t, but he is gone…” he sobs putting his chin on your head. “He wanted me to tell you that he loved you… I told him he should tell you after he is better, but he didn’t get better…” his sobbing comes from somewhere deep, you know how much it hurts him.

“I didn’t… I didn’t told him…”

“He knew, he knew…” he hugs you even closer. “You were the first girl he ever loved, with so much love…”

“No, please tell me this is a joke, a really bad joke…” your tears are streaming down your cheek. “Tell me he made you do this…”

“No Y/N… he is really gone…”

Your parents found you at the docks sitting on the floor crying, hugging your legs. You had purple marks all over your leg as many soldiers were falling over you, but you didn’t care. Why would you, life was pointless.

“Y/N!” Your mom runs in your way. “Y/N, What’s wrong?” She asks as you don’t move just sob.

“He is dead…”

“What are you talking about?”

“George is dead…” you cry out loud again. “He went to Dunkirk with Mr.Dawson, hit his head…” you can’t finish.

“Come here, come here!” She hugs you, and your dad does too.

___________________

The day after the funeral you walk to his grave with yellow tulips, as it was what he would get you as often as often he could spare some money for it, even you told him you don’t need any. Now it was your turn.

As you walk there you find a soldier there looking at his name, wishpering sorry over and over again. He looks at you, and you know from the look in his eyes that he was the one pushing him.

“You!” You run punching his face. “You bastard, you took him away from me!” You cry, scream, while hitting him. “I loved him, now I have left with nothing!”

“I didn’t wanted to hurt him!“ he does not stops you and you are happy beacuse you could keep hitting him for the rest of the day.

“But you did, you killed him!” You yell at him. “You took my future away!”

“Stop, Y/N!” Mr.Dawson grabs your arm and holds you back from hitting the soldier.

“He took him from me!”

“I know you miss him!” He holds you close. “I know!”

_____________________

You sit at an old tree after your last class for the week. You search for your wallet in your bag, open it, and just look at the cut out you had there. *Local boy, George Mills, only 17, Hero at Dunkirk.* It wasn’t the only picture you had of him, but you carried it with yourself everywhere, because he was your hero.

“Will you ever look at someone else like that?” Sits Peter down next to you.

“I don’t know, but I can try!” You smile at him and kiss his cheek.

“I never thought I will hear from you this…” he kisses your cheek back.

“I will never stop loving him, but maybe I can make room next to him in my heart.”

“Are you ready for dinner?”

“I should change, come my dorm room is in this way!” You grab his hand and walk him to your place.

“Can I come in? While you change?“

He looks suprised.

“Like you didn’t see me at my worst, and yet I have a bathroom to change in!” You giggle.

“Oh… Yes… ofcourse!” He blushes.

You let him sit down on your bed, and go change into the dress you prepared yesterday night. As you walk out you stand infront of him with your back. “Can you help me with that button?” You hold your hair up to not be in the way. He jumps up maybe even to fast helping you, as he finishes you turn around and look at his lips, as he does with yours before leaning down and kisses you. He was defenetly a good kisser, little bit more afraid than George, but still very good. And here it is, you compering him to George. It took you four years to realise he can be more than friend if you let yourself into it.

It was your third date, he looked nervous, and you felt the same way, still you have a good time. His hand on your hand feels like home, feels known. You could speak for hours and hours, yet when there was silence it wasn’t akward.

After dinner he walks you home and kisses you good night at your doorstep. As you close the door the feelings are rushing trhough your skin, into your heart. You feel happy, and disgusted at the same time. You know if the grieving over George didn’t make you closer you wouldn’t be on a date with him, and yet you don’t know you could ever love that young man even just little bit less so you could give your heart to someone. “Why do you make my heart so heavy all the time?” You ask the picture you had next to your bed. It was a photo Peter made about you and George giggling on something next to they boat. You two just walked into the photo it was suposed to be only about the yacht itself, but atleast you had a single photo about the two of you.

_________________________

You are walking your dog around the nebourhood, with yellow tulips in your hand, freshly picked from your front yard. It is queit early, you were the first to leave the house, to be fair even the first to be up in this early hour on a saturday. A saturday what for a brife time meant the bigest adventures, the happiest hours ahead of you. 10 years went by, but you still walked every saturday to him.

“I miss you George…” you whisper sitting next to his grave. “I don’ t think there will be a day I won’t…” you hide your face in your hand. “I don’t remember your voice anymore. I still can recall anything you said, but your voice… they say it is the first thing you forget about someone…” a tear drops from your face. “I don’t want to forget, but I guess it is what it is. I got way more time hearing your voice over and over again in my head, then I actually got with you, my local boy, hero at Dunkirk.” As your dog starts to lose his patient you get up, and put the tulips down. “Until next time, my love!”

You are walking home, when the town wakes up, kids are already playing outside, waving in your way. “Good morning, Mrs.Dawson!”

“Good morning!” You wave back as you smile at your husband waiting for you in the front yard.

Story tag: @giogiorabbit

[mondoradiowmse]

03/15/23 Mondo Radio Playlist

Here's the playlist for this week's special edition of Mondo Radio, which you can download or stream here. This episode: "Doin' the Milwaukee Waltz", featuring the sounds of old Milwaukee and more. If you enjoy it, be sure to also follow the show on Facebook and Twitter!

Artist - Song - Album

Lanny Ross, The Murphy Sisters And Will Lorin's Orchestra - Centurama - If You See A Garden (Single)

Kitty Kallen With Orchestra Conducted By Mitch Miller - Milwaukee - Milwaukee (Single)

Dick Metko And His Boys - Milwaukee - My Hometown - Milwaukee - My Hometown (Single)

Lanny Ross, The Murphy Sisters And Will Lorin's Orchestra - Milwaukee, Wis. - Milwaukee, Wis. (Single)

Blue Ribbon Town - Blue Ribbon Town With Guest Barbara Jo Allen - Blue Ribbon Town

Hildegarde With Bob Grant And His Savoy-Plaza Orchestra - My Cousin In Milwaukee - You Made Me Love You (I Didn't Want To Do It) (Single)

Eddy Duchin And His Central Park Casino Orchestra - My Cousin In Milwaukee - My Cousin In Milwaukee (Single)

Roy Bargy And Ramona - My Cousin In Milwaukee - A Penny For Your Thoughts (Single)

Jym Mooney & Brett Kemnitz - Reagan Time - Reagan Time And Other Love Songs For The 80's

Rah-Rah Boys - On, Wisconsin - Victory March (University Of Notre Dame) (Single)

Prince's Band - Milwaukee Light Guard - Milwaukee Light Guard (Single)

Prince's Band - Wisconsin Forward Forever - Wisconsin Forward Forever (Single)

The University Of Wisconsin Band - Wisconsin Songs (Wisconsin To The Front) (Songs To Thee, Wisconsin) (Varsity) - Wisconsin Songs (Wisconsin To The Front) (Songs To Thee, Wisconsin) (Varsity) (Single)

Pete Ochs And His Orchestra - Beautiful Wisconsin - Come Into My Rose Garden (Single)

Phil Reed - Dear Old Wisconsin - Dear Old Wisconsin (Single)

Ken Griffin - Beautiful Wisconsin - By The Waters Of Minnetonka (Single)

Carmen Vincent And His Orch. Feat. Joe Buck On The Accordion - Wonderful Wisconsin - Wonderful Wisconsin (Single)

Ethel Smith - Beautiful Wisconsin - Beautiful Wisconsin (Single)

Ray Carson With Pete Ochs And His Orchestra - Wisconsin Moon - Wisconsin Moon (Single)

The Honey Dreamers - The Wisconsin Song - Where (Single)

Melody Five/Bill Walker Ensemble - Home In Dear Old Wisconsin - Home In Dear Old Wisconsin (Single)

The Badger Boys - Home Coming Waltz - Home Coming Waltz (Single)

The Badger Boys - Goofus - Home Coming Waltz (Single)

Irving Kaufman - Hello Wisconsin - Hello Wisconsin (Single)

King's Band/Cavalier Quartette - On, Wisconsin - Notre Dame Victory March (Single)

Heileman Orchestra And Chorus - Heileman Waltz - Heileman Waltz (Single)

Heileman Orchestra And Chorus - Heileman Beer Song - Heileman Beer Song (Single)

Frankie Yankovic And His Yanks - Milwaukee Polka - Milwaukee Polka (Single)

Joey Tantillo And His Orchestra - Milwaukee Polka - Milwaukee Polka (Single)

Lawrence Duchow And His Red Raven Orchestra - Milwaukee Polka - Milwaukee Polka (Single)

Lawrence Duchow And His Red Raven Orchestra - Wisconsin Polka - Wisconsin Polka (Single)

Kenny Bass And His Polka Poppers - Wisconsin Polka - Wisconsin Polka (Single)

Patti Page, Joe Reisman And His Polka Dots - Milwaukee Polka - Milwaukee Polka (Single)

"Whoopee" John Wilfahrt And His Orchestra - Milwaukee Waltz - Milwaukee Waltz (Single)

Wally Ives And The Jolly Dutchmen - Milwaukee Waltz - Milwaukee Waltz (Single)

Freddie "Schnickelfritz" Fisher And His Orchestra - I Wish I Was Back In Milwaukee (With The Pretzels And Beer) - When You Wore A Tulip And I Wore A Big Red Rose (Single)

"Whoopee" John Wilfahrt And His Orchestra - I Vish I Vas Back In Milwaukee - I Vish I Vas Back In Milwaukee (Single)