#living in the south where I was BORN AND RAISED where did this come from?????

[bloodyke]

do you ever wake up and have a completely different accent from yesterday that you cant change like you're stuck as that accent for the rest of the day

[itstokkii]

Now that the anthology is released, please check it out!! A lot of my friends, both writers and artists, put a lot of work into their pieces, and please make sure to follow their work as well!

However, I'll also take this time to explain why I left the @hws-anthology project.

Before I begin, I must clarify that this is not a callout post, that is not the intention. Rather, it's to clear up and explain the situation for those in the server that saw the aftermath and were confused as to what happened and why I left.

I joined the server at around mid to late February as an artist with the intention of highlighting and promoting the two countries that make up my identity: Uzbekistan and South Korea. I had also joined as I had always wanted to be part of a big project like an anthology, and I wanted to see how it would go.

By August, I had made and finished my pieces so they were ready, and no problems occurred until January 1st. At this time, I had begun a conversation about Korean history and culture. One of the people in the server asked about whether they, a plus sized foreigner, would be stared at in Korea as that was their deciding factor for travelling there. My response was that this may have been the case a few years ago, however this attitude has changed over the years among Koreans as more foreigners regularly visit Korea, and that society is more accepting of bodies that do not fit the standard. And at the most extreme, Koreans have higher standards for nationals compared to foreigners, so foreigners are less likely to be judged by East Asian beauty standards.

However, the owner of the server had expressed firm disagreement and insisted that, from their experience of going to Korea and Japan, that people will stare. I had brought up that as an ethnic Uzbek and a Muslim, a visible minority, neither has my community or I experienced such lengthy staring, if not during the early 2000s when foreigners were first beginning to come to Korea. And even through the spikes of terrorism and following Islamophobia in the mid 2010s, hate crimes, let along staring, was not a common reaction to or against the community, despite the worldwide reaction of terrorism being conflated to people like me that are visibly Muslim.

(in these screenshots, pink = the one who asked the question, blue=the server owner, purple = my friend, orange = third party(general), red, purple = third parties(individual users)

They insisted they were trying to help, as they were "coming from a country where staring is rude," implying that staring is normal and not rude in Korea.

At that point, they had attempted to "shut down" the conversation because we were "both right," and that I "didn't really understand what [they] were saying or where [they] were coming from."

As I tried to reiterate that as an Uzbek Muslim born and living in Korea as a Korean national, and as someone who has lived in Seoul and less populated regions of Korea, has seen the different reactions by Koreans, they instead opted to firmly say that they weren't continuing the conversation, insisted that we can both be right from our different perspectives, but that theirs was more helpful as a non-asian.

At this point, I expressed my discomfort with someone who is non-asian and has never experienced living in Korea, only as a traveler, speaking over my voice as a naturalized Korean citizen who was born and raised in Korea as a visibly ethnic and religious minority, and even insisting that my advice was lesser compared to theirs.

They replied by saying we both had to "agree to disagree" and that they didn't want to undervalue my opinion or upset me(despite my actual feelings of utter distraught), despite repeating again that they believed their advice to be more helpful. They said that if I did want to continue, I'd have to do it privately because it wasn't helpful to "duke it out in public," and ended the discussion by disabling me from being able to text in that discord channel for a day, and no longer being able to access that channel.

I was left speechless and distraught by this whole interaction. Not only did I feel that I was being talked over by someone who has had no lived experience in Korea to see the trends and beauty standards change along the years, and even placing their advice as "more helpful," but that they had also muted me from speaking up for myself in the channel, effectively placing me in a virtual "timeout." I felt like I was being treated like a young child from the way I was being told to "agree to disagree" to the way I was constantly shut down and had my voice ignored, to the eventual timeout where they muted me from the channel for a day.

And to me, it was also interesting to see them talk to others in the other channels like nothing happened while I was the one crying and shaking uncontrollably from being denied a place to speak and be heard, from having my lived experiences perceived as "lesser than."

As much as I didn't want to leave the server, I thought it was the better choice because as much as I wanted to promote Uzbekistan and Korea through my art, I realized that it shouldn't have to cost me my mental health to do so. The next day, I left a message as to why I was choosing to leave, and left.

Elif Harris's summary of Said's Orientalism: "The very purpose of Orientalism is to take control of the Orient and take away from it any ability to speak for itself." I quoted this because at its core, the way I was being treated was orientalist in nature, in the sense that the server mod continues to speak over me, a Korean citizen born and raised in Korea, when it comes to advice about Korean society, and then pushes it by emphasizing that their advice was more helpful, while also refusing to listen to me and trying to quell the conflict by repeating that both of us were right, and that we should agree to disagree. And, finally, they time me out like a child and blocks me from speaking up and standing up for myself. Know that I do not make accusations out of thin air because I'm feeling bored.

However, it didn't stop there. According to a few mutuals, my message was quickly taken down by the server owner, who then prevented people from using the channel I had the conversation in(misc-serious) the day prior. A friend of mine tried to repost it so that others would be able to see my message, to which she was muted from texting to all channels and using the voice channel for a week. Others began to question this, and I had heard a few people left the server due to the obnoxious level of muting and the fiery comments by the server owner as they defended their actions as us having a "normal disagreement" and that my message was deleted for being "immature."

After a little while, my friend was also placed in "timeout" for a week.

Due to this, Green relayed my friend's message on her behalf, and then left, with Red following as well, citing how the server became "oddly toxic."

To those of you who reached out and sent me kind messages, thank you so much! You didn't have to, but you felt the need to reach out anyway and even that gesture was truly grand to me, and comforted me as the shock still remained with me the next day.

As for the fandom, I have said it before at the beginning that the intention is not to be a callout post or a post about "drama" or "tea"—do not call it that. Asides from explaining my sudden departure from the anthology weeks before its release, it is also to ask the fandom a few very important questions:

"Why is it the norm for people to speak over others who have lived experiences in a particular place?"

"Why are we invalidating or ignoring their experiences and instead giving the power to speak about a region to someone with minimal interaction or knowledge about it?"

And lastly,

"Why is the fandom so comfortable with this?"

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

[friccafracc]

DROP THE FIC OR IM COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS

ALRIGHT OK BUT I NEED IT TO BE KNOWN THAT I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING SERIOUSLY SINCE HIGHSCHOOL OK

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something is after me. I know it is, I’ve seen it. It looks like a man, but I know that it’s not. It…. It’s face is like a mockery of something human- like- like if you asked someone who has never seen a human to draw or model a person’s face, their smile. No… I don’t think any human would be able to get it that wrong.”

“And I’m not crazy, alright? God, y’all probably get that a lot here, don’t you? You people specialize in crazy. Not that I’m anyone to judge anymore, given the shit I went through before coming out here. I didn’t even know a place like this existed outside the Usher Foundation. I just…there’s some weird, crazy shit out there I guess, and when I heard about y’all, I figured I should probably pay a visit. At least let someone know before I die.”

“I know I’m gonna die.”

“I suppose I should start from the beginning. My name is Joshua Nelson, I’m originally from the States–Memphis Tennessee. Now, if there’s one thing you should know about Memphis, it’s that nobody in their right mind should EVER move there on their own accord, ‘cause you’ll either get mugged or stalked or both. I was born and raised there, so I never really got the choice during the formative years of my life. I’ve learned to live with it, though.”

“I worked retail in a gas station before…well, everything. It was a shithole. The kind of building where, no matter how hard you scrubbed and no matter how much bleach you used, the stains and smell of smoke would never leave. Instead just…mingled with the citrus of the chemicals. It paid the bills, though, and I was never witness to a robbery, so I couldn’t complain too much. The customers were docile and if I noticed anyone shoplifting, I kept it to myself. I wasn’t getting paid enough to give a damn.”

“We had regulars that would come in on a schedule and regulars that wouldn’t. People who were just passing through the city or visiting family or friends. You get all types in that kinda place, and if you’re placid enough to any asshole who’s having a bad day, everyone gets along just fine. There were a couple of regulars who were friendly enough, though, that I remember their names. Miss Kelly was an older woman, short and heavyset–she was one of the friendlier ones. We’ve got a lot of talkers in the south and boy did she make sure I knew every exact reason for what her kids were getting up to, or what was going on in a reality show she was hooked on at the time.”

“George Michael, a thin man in his 40s, maybe, always came in whenever he needed a new pack of cigarettes, I think he was a chain-smoker, cause he was in there a lot.”

“And then…then there was Hunter. Now Hunter was a younger man, maybe college age. A little older than that? Poor bastard was hooked on something, that much anyone could tell. He was gaunt, a little twitchy, you know, telltale signs of drug abuse. I could never tell what specifically he was on, but then again, it was never my business to know. I treated him the same as every other customer, we all knew he wasn’t gonna cause any harm, he usually came in for food, chips and hotdogs and stuff and he never caused a fuss.”

“I think… I think Hunter is dead.”

“One day he came in, I think it was a Wednesday or something cause it was slow that afternoon, and he burst through the door. Well–maybe not burst, but he came in the building like he was racing to get indoors first before someone else. The guy was usually jittery and, I’ll admit, a little shifty usually, but this was full blown paranoia. It startled me at first, his intensity, and he made a b-line towards the back of the store and ducked behind one of the shelves. Maybe not duck completely like ducking for cover, but it was obvious he was hiding. It almost made me expect the police or some drug lord to come storming through the door, but nobody else came.”

“Hunter stayed pacing in the building for a good 20 or 30 minutes, periodically lifting his head to crane his neck and peer out the window or the glass of the door. I checked once or twice as well, but if someone was out there, I didn’t see them. Eventually the guy calmed down enough to buy something and when he approached the counter with his bag of Doritos he looked almost like he was going to be sick.”

“I asked him if everything was alright, but he just shook his head and left.”

“I didn’t see him again for another week or two after that. Obviously I assumed the worst. I theorized that someone was after him and when he didn’t show up when he usually did it was more than enough to confirm my suspicions. Be it cops or some random person on the street, I couldn’t decide which fate would be worse, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel for the guy at least a little bit.”

“Hunter was almost completely out of my mind when I saw him again. I was surprised. By all accounts, it didn’t look like anything had changed about him. Maybe aside from the fact that his posture was way better than it usually was when I saw him, but other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary.”

“Business went on as usual and when he came up to the till with a liter of coke, I offered him a ‘Welcome Back’ and rang him up.”

“When I turned back to him, he was smiling. For some reason it was like a pit opened in the bottom of my stomach. I couldn’t understand why, though. It looked like Hunter–patchy, unkempt stubble, greasy hair, thin face, sunken eyes. His appearance had never bothered me before, so I was struck with confusion that mixed in with the undefinable, sudden sense of dread.”

“‘Thank you,’ he said as I handed him his change. And he walked out the door. It sounded like Hunter, too.”

“Hunter returned the next day, and the next. Each time he was polite and quiet, and each time he smiled when I rang him up. I counted his teeth. They were straight and flat. When I counted mine in the mirror when I smiled, I saw 17 or 18. Hunter’s counted 24.”

“Maybe he has a dental problem that I didn’t notice until now, I told myself. Human bodies are weird. Sometimes you have more teeth than usual.”

“The fourth day he came in a row, I saw his eyes and his pupils were…swollen, is the only way I can describe them. I know what people’s eyes look like when they’re high. This was not that. It was like they almost swallowed up his irises completely, and they were dull. Dull in the sense that the fluorescents overhead did nothing to cast any reflections onto them. It made me want to writhe and squirm whenever he looked at me.”

“I called in sick the fifth day. I knew Hunter would be back in that gas station to see me. I knew it was to see me. And I knew that thing. That..whatever it was. It wasn’t Hunter.”

“I guess a part of me was always dreading that day. I had always heard stories about people being stalked from friends of friends. It was only a matter of time before it happened to me, right?”

“I saw Hunter at the grocery store the next day, posture straight and face split open into that smile with too many teeth. I didn’t have the mind to be polite. I turned completely around and walked the other way, trying to fool myself thinking that he hadn’t seen me. I kept a pocket knife on me after that encounter. I probably should have been before, but hindsight is always 20/20.”

“Each time I saw him after that, it was worse. On the street to my apartment, his eyes were too wide and his grinning mouth was slightly agape. A crude facsimile of delight as I rushed past him. I stopped going into work when I started to spot him everywhere I went. Every destination no matter how far or random, he was there, grinning at me. He knew where I lived, that I had no doubt. So I went to a friend’s one night hoping to throw him off. Maybe I could move out and lose him. Lord knows I didn’t have the money to break my lease early, but I was desperate.”

“My friend suggested I call the police, but for some reason I was convinced that wouldn’t help. Cops usually only made things worse in that town, and I had a sinking feeling going that route would only waste my time.”

“The final straw was the second night I was crashing on my friend’s couch. I was exhausted, the past few weeks spent sleepless and paranoid and I was ready to finally pass out when I heard a light, rhythmic tapping on the window behind my head.”

“It’s just the wind, I thought to myself. A tree branch or something scraping against the glass. The exhaustion was completely gone, my pounding heart and pumping adrenaline overpowering any lame excuse that I would be stupid enough to be reassured by.”

“I didn’t move from where I lay. Tap. Tap. Tap. Came through the window once again.”

“I don’t know why I laid there for so long, unmoving, convinced that if I didn’t turn around, whatever it was outside would lose interest and leave. I really, really wanted it to leave.”

“I lay still for what felt like hours, every muscle in my body wound up and tense and ready to leap into action at any given opportunity. I was praying the opportunity would never come.”

“I don’t know how long it was when the tapping ceased, but it was long before I finally managed to relax. It seemed like my strategy worked. What an idiotic thing to think. Like I was a child hiding from an imaginary monster in the dark. Like the logic of not giving a stalker any attention so it would go away was sound. No. I think it was that false hope that landed me in this situation.”

“Because when that tapping came again, I wasn’t prepared to turn around. But I did. I turned around and what I saw in the darkness through that glass was… I don’t know what it was. I know it had eyes and teeth. It was grinning, but its teeth stretched well beyond what would be the borders of its face. God, I couldn’t see its face. I knew it was Hunter, though. It had those same lightless eyes that stared back at me every time I closed my own. Dead and dark and dull and staring at me–eating at me, wide and gleeful and spilling into the shadow that I could only assume was a part of the creature, itself. Its form took up nearly the entirety of the window, blocking the outside world. It didn’t move.”

“I screamed. I screamed and closed the curtains and I hid. This woke my friend of course, and she came stumbling out of her room, looking bleary but alert. I tried to signal to her not to go to the window or do anything or to call the police. Thankfully she got the message and the cops were there within the hour.”

“They didn’t find anything. Or anyone, for that matter. I left out the…the monster bit, because I assumed it might land me somewhere I really didn’t want to go.”

“They were about as helpful as I thought they would be. Told me to call them again if I noticed any suspicious activity.”

“I booked my flight here that very night. I wasn’t going to stay in that goddamn city with whatever the HELL that thing was. I don’t want to end up like Hunter. I don’t want it to wear my skin.”

“It will, though. I know it will and it scares me more than anything in the world. And I know I can’t escape it, either.”

“It followed me here. I saw it. It was still grinning at me and it was still. Wearing. Hunter’s. Skin. The shadow that was cast over it made it so I could only see the whites of it’s eyes....its teeth.”

“I don’t want to die.”

[ranticore]

pelagic spiral villages

It's not the prettiest diagram and might be hard to follow. First off, the spiral is a region in the south of the western continent of Siren

the spiral region is not limited to the actual physical structure of the land, where the characteristic ridges and valleys of Siren crumple up into a twisted shape, but also extends south as far as the icecaps, with the ridges continuing their spiral but underwater (on the map above, the visible spiral is only what extends above water)

It comprises all of the pale blue water in this map area, bordered by the darker deeper water and what is known as the Ice Wall in the south.

The most densely settled areas are within the tallest ridges at the middle of the spiral, as these ridges form physical walls and barriers which prevent many of the dangers of the open sea from entering villages without having to traverse what is quite frankly a labyrinth of narrow valleys beforehand. But at the edges of the spiral, nearer to the ice wall, lies the pelagic village of !uamaa. This is where Huarva comes from and what's pictured at the top.

it is populated by phocids and some selkies underwater and Ice Wall shortwings above water (they are similar to penguins). It consists of a huge three-tiered underwater hall with an air pocket trapped by a tethered tent-like cap made of transparent material derived from sipho scales. The bottom tier is stocked with oxygenating plants (i can only assume they are VERY productive). The middle tier is submerged and where the in habitants enter the hall (through the round openings pictured). Shelf-like beds attached to the sturdy woven walls provide platforms where a phocid can sit with their body submerged but their head out of the water, which is the most comfortable position for them as they do like to have water supporting their weight as much as possible.

The hall was built over a hot water vent in the seafloor. The vent water is directed up through a stone s-duct, which leaves a flat surface above the water which is constantly heated. This is used as a cooking stone; there is a pot of perpetual stew always bubbling here and every villager is expected to contribute something to it every day in return for being allowed to take as much stew as they like.

The other buildings are these balloon type structures which are anchored both to the sea floor and to the floating pontoons above. The balloons do not have oxygen generating plants, but must be manually raised and lowered to the surface to trap more air every day. The colour palette is overall a strongly contrasting black and white (fun fact, pelagic people are hypersensitive to the colour red out of the water, to the point where it might cause headaches)

What's life like in the village? Huarva is often asked this but he cannot truly answer, because he was never a villager. Living out here is extremely tough and demanding, and experience is valued above all else. The eldest and most experienced person in the village is called the All-Bearer and their word is law. The All-Bearer is a matchmaker among villagers, pairing those who are thought to work harmoniously together in arranged partnerships, similar to marriage. Huarva's parents were not arranged; in fact they were strictly forbidden from reproducing because they did not work harmoniously together. They fought and argued and struck sparks off one another, but were inseparable. The All-Bearer gave no blessing for them to have a child.

^the All-Bearer.

In these cases it's not uncommon for the pregnant parent to find a matched pair and attempt to convince them to claim the child. That way nobody is harmed. But it didn't work out in time, on this occasion, so the child - Huarva - was born and immediately outcast from the village as a potential troublemaker. A pretty rough start all things considered. Huarva was an outsider, not a villager. they could hang around the place, beg, speak to people, but never be granted the elders' wisdom lest it be misused by a child of intrinsically bad character. They basically grew up homeless and uneducated in their village.

And this is a major handicap because of how dangerous this region is. Children are sorted into same-age 'generations' which go through a strict and standardised education before being unleashed as leviathan hunters. A couple years of that, and (assuming they survive), that generation moves on to the next-most dangerous job, replaced by the generation below them. And so on and so forth until what remains is the oldest generation, who are finally granted a safe and comfortable life in return for sharing all the wisdom gathered over the years working different professions. Few will remain by then.

The culture is cold. Repressed. Quiet. Fighting is an exile-worthy offense and disagreements are stifled. The All-Bearer makes every final decision and you cannot question them because you do not have the requisite experience to contradict anything they say. If you must be upset, do it where nobody can see, and never openly express discontent.

Huarva survived to adulthood by choosing to stick around the shallows on top of the underwater ridges. They tried many times to earn the All-Bearer's favour enough to earn a place in the village to no avail. Until the All-Bearer finally had enough of them and sent them away on a fetch quest doomed to fail, because Huarva did not have the education to know how to spot the warning signs of a flow of aerated water. Finding themself trapped under it, they panicked, never having learned any methods to slow their heart and extend their usable breath, and almost drowned. Sheer luck saved them; a leviathan-sized giant sipho flying for the surface caught them between its scale plates. It didn't notice its new passenger and ended up dragging Huarva almost the entire way across the dark and to the spire before they got free.

[miss-choi-park]

Sin never tasted so...

Chapter 1 - Fate is a bastard

A TXT Yeonjun Fanfiction from Mrs. Choi-Park

CEO/non-idol/dom/bully!Yeonjun! / Confident/sub/named/fem!Reader!

No obstacle - made of stone - stops love, what love can do, it dares to do. - pretty cheesy, right?

Romeo and Juliet, literature that can only be endured through modern language and films, nowadays. We all know the plot.

~A boy and a girl, madly in love with each other but the tragic circumstances of the family dispute kill both of them in the end.

The "most beautiful" love story in the world...if you don't experience it yourself. Fate is sometimes an ice-cold bastard.

Warnings under the cut

Warnings: rough language, hate speech, bullying, sex language, they kinda hate each other, caring yeonjun

Please remember that I fully respect the privacy of all K-Pop Idols and that this is just a fantasy. It's not my intention to harm anyone! (I've been a MOA since March 2023)

The hot whirlpool was just right thing for my muscles, which were pretty acidic from two days of skiing.

I still had four days ahead of my parents and my winter sports trip. And even though skiing was my favorite sport after hip-hop dancing, it was pretty tiring. My parents and I also received an unpleasant surprise yesterday.

The 5-star sports hotel high in the Pyeongchang Mountains has also attracted another rich Korean family from Seoul.

Why did the Choi's - my father's chosen mortal enemies - have to have a vacation in the same hotel as us in the same week as us?!

Ever since I was little, my parents always instilled in me that the Choi's were truly the spawn of hell.

It wasn't until I was 13 years old that I really found out why our family's didn't get along at all.

My parents, who had moved from Germany to Korea four years before I was born, had started with a small bookstore, which developed into a publishing house for small authors and later into the second largest publishing house in South Korea. My parents have always hated the Choi's, who put obstacles in their way, even now they were holding back our really great success.

The Choi's owned the number one publishing house in Korea, which had also been producing Manhwa's for several years now. (Counterpart to Japanese anime)

Because of this family, my parents struggled with racism, failure and stagnation. We had to deal with copyright lawsuits again and again - fights that emptied our Bank account and were never really justified. We also couldn't follow up with the manhwa's because it was forbidden to us. The old Choi was "a big animal in the world of Politics," as he always said. And even though my parents had come a long way...we had to constantly look into our pockets while the Choi's lived in luxury.

The 5-star holiday was the first in 6 years. Before that we either couldn't go on a skiing holiday or we could only go to a 3-4 star hotel. That's why I wanted to enjoy the whirlpool now and do not think of anything bad, who knows when I'll have that again.

For two minutes I enjoyed the flow of water and the bubbles massaging my back.

Until~

"Oh no, that can't be possible! I wanted to go into that hot tub, potato!" I heard a voice. It didn't take a split second before I recognized the voice. The unpleasant nickname, only one person used it for me, was the final hint.

I opened my eyes and lifted my head, which I had rested on the edge of the hot tub.

Choi Yeonjun.

As expected.

The 24-year-old son of the family I had grown to hate.

Yeonjun stood on the stairs that led up to the hot tub where I was relaxing. I rolled my eyes, not giving him a second glance after dropping my head back down again.

He wasn't worth saying anything back.

"Come on out, I want to relax!" he grumbled. Without saying anything, I raised my hand out of the water with my middle finger held up.

There was silence for a moment. Before I was about to look up to see if he had disappeared, I heard an angry murmur. Then noises coming from the water. I raised my head again and actually saw Yeonjun across from me climbing into the large whirlpool.

"Fuck! What are you doing?!" I threw it at his head and Yeonjun looked up. His look more than disgusted as he lowered himself.

"Maybe I can get you out of here when I'm in." Yeonjun's arm swirled through the water in front of him as his gaze followed his movement. I saw him grin evilly, "Cool, through the whirlpool bubbles, you can't even tell that I've just made bubbles."

As his gaze climbed up to me, I understood what he meant and jumped up immediately. I had 100% confidence that he had just farted in here. So I rushed out of the water, exclaiming in disgust: "You really are the stupidest creep I've ever met!"

Yeonjun laughed as I tied my towel around myself, crawled into my flip flops and rushed away.

Stupid asshole! Why did I have to bother with something like that? Life could be so beautiful.

Even at school he was the biggest idiot I knew, who made every day there a living hell until he finally graduated and I could enjoy four years without him.

Stupid private comprehensive school from the first to the eighth grade we were in one school. Luckily he was always four steps above me, but I was always afraid the stupid idiot would repeat a year and we will sit together in a class at some point. Surprisingly this never happened.

He ruined everything. My school days, my school dance club - which he also signed up for after I signed up - the success of my family and so much more.

I really hated Yeonjun.

He was a brat, idiot, know-it-all and disgusting. I had asked my fate several times 'Why him? Why do I have to know someone like that?' ~ I would never have received an answer.

I really hoped he wouldn't come to the little party in the mountain hut by the ski slopes this evening. Hopefully he wasn't in the hut today where there were a thousand posters saying that today was a Party. Because as far as I knew Yeonjun, he took every party with him and always a slut from there who fell for his tricks and then was dropped by him afterwards.

Asshole!

I didn't want to spend any longer in the hotel's swimming area so I went to my room.

The smarter one always gives in, right?

*

Hope dies last, but eventually it dies too.

For me the time had come when the door of the cozy mountain hut opened and Yeonjun entered.

From my seat at the bar I could see the door perfectly and everyone who entered could also see me. Unfortunately, our eyes met immediately. I exhaled in frustration and rolled my eyes. The nice young man named Danwoo, who I had already met on the ski slopes yesterday, looked at me in surprise.

"What's up?" He asked over the loud music in the bar as I looked deep into my cocktail glass, hoping Yeonjun would just ignore me.

"Nothing…I"

"Heyjo Sumi!" A loud voice shouted at us.

Oh, please don't! Why me?!

While Danwoo turned in the direction the voice had come from, I drank my cocktail, which was actually quite strong, in one go.

When I put my glass back down, I was immediately greeted by Yeonjun's sharp eyes. He had stopped close to Danwoo and leaned on the counter so he could look at me.

"I thought you didn't like parties, sweetie." He greeted me.

I gave him a dark look.

"First of all, don't call me sweetie, second of all, I don't like parties when you're around and third, fuck off!" I replied.

Unfortunately, I knew that Yeonjun wouldn't be shaken off so easily.

Yeonjun gave a half-hearted laugh and raised his eyebrows: “That’s bad, I wasn’t planning on going.”

"Excuse me...may I ask who you are?" Danwoo interrupted our conversation and I clenched my teeth so hard that my jaw hurt as Yeonjun looked disparagingly at my acquaintance.

"The question would be mine first." He replied to Danwoo, who seemed a little taken aback.

"Yeonjun! Just shut up and leave!" I protested, causing his gaze to turn back to me. His bored look turned into a wickedly amused grin.

He rested his head on his hand: "Why so pissed off, little one? Your problem if you're always looking for someone who can't satisfy you."

A fire burned inside me. I immediately jumped up from my chair, wanting to choke Yeonjun with the small silver chain that hung around his neck.

I walked up to him and held my finger close to his nose: "I'd like you to-"

Before I could even continue speaking, I felt a hand on my shoulder pulling me back and away from Yeonjun faster than I expected.

It turned out to be Danwoo who pulled me through the dancing crowd, out of Yeonjun's sight. When we finally got to the corner where sofas were, he looked at me a little surprised: "Who was that?"

I looked at Danwoo for a few seconds before I glanced over my shoulder and was relieved to see that Yeonjun didn't seem to have followed us.

"Oh, that was nobody. I've called him my problem my whole life...please don't worry about him, he's just an asshole." I said and Danwoo's facial expressions relaxed a bit.

"Why is he here?"

"I would like to know that too, believe me, fate is just not kind to me."

"Then let's get out of his way."

"Deal!"

Surprisingly, I didn't even see a trace of Yeonjun in the hut for the next 2 hours. He had probably already grabbed the next poor girl and was fucking her somewhere.

I didn't care. Danwoo was so generous in ordering me a ton of alcohol that I didn't even think about Yeonjun. Until Danwoo went to the toilet around 2am, I took a short break from dancing and sank onto the couch in the back compartment of the mountain hut.

The party was surprisingly well attended, the songs were first class and the atmosphere was electric. I was happy to have met Danwoo because I would never go to a party like this alone.

My vision was still clear, but I noticed that my mood was getting significantly better with every second. I also started some conversations with complete strangers on the dance floor. Well, my inhibitions were long overcome.

"Where did you leave your boyfriend?" Someone asked me. I looked to my right where a bad awakening awaited me.

Yeonjun.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" I asked, horrified. My good mood immediately disappeared.

"I was sitting here the whole time." He grumbled, taking a sip from his beer bottle that had been resting between his legs.

I stood up immediately.

I thought Yeonjun had already left the party, what was he doing here all of a sudden?!

I stood up immediately.

"Hey, wait! I asked you something!" He protested as I tried walking away. I ignored him and tried to escape through the dancing crowd. Unfortunately, this turned out to be difficult, thanks to the somewhat chubby man in front of me.

"Hey!" I heard Yeonjun say, shortly afterwards a surprisingly warm hand on my forearm. I was spun around and to make matters worse, lost my balance due to my drunkenness.

The next moment I found myself on the floor, between Yeonjun's legs. When I glanced up at him he seemed confused, but this was quickly replaced by a broad smile.

"Oh what did I do to deserve this honor?" He asked and I furrowed my eyebrows.

But before I could get up, Yeonjun leaned forward, his face now close to mine.

"Will you answer my question now?" He asked. The smell of beer could be clearly smelled from his breath. But my breathing probably wasn't any better.

"Why? Jealous?"

"Pfft!" with that amused sound, Yeonjun leaned back and I took the chance to get up.

"Why should I be jealous? You should be." He said and I looked down at him confused.

"What does that mean again?!" I wanted to know and Yeonjun shrugged indifferently.

"I thought I saw your guy disappearing into a cubicle in the toilet with someone earlier." He explained himself and I raised an eyebrow.

"God! How much have you drunk?"

"3 beers and a soju shot. I know what I saw.", He murmured before taking another sip from his bottle, "Think about it, how long has he been gone now?"

Oh my god...he wasn't entirely wrong. Danwoo had probably been gone for a little longer than 15 minutes. I bit my bottom lip, rather unconsciously, as I looked over my shoulder at the toilet entrance.

Well maybe the queue was long…

"Come!" Yeonjun said in a firm voice and walked past me. More successful than me, he made his way through the dancing crowd. I was left a little surprised. It was Yeonjun we were talking about here...he probably just wanted to convince me of something again. Lies were his specialty.

"What's wrong now, potato?" Yeonjun shouted, just loud enough for me to hear him over the music. I bit my lip again before hesitantly moving forward. I trotted after Yeonjun through the crowd. We got to the toilets pretty quickly.

From what I got to know - Danwoo was the complete opposite of Yeonjun. Funny, understanding, decent and attentive...I wouldn't trust him to ever cheat on anyone-

I froze when I saw Danwoo in the doorframe of the men's toilet. A short woman with long black hair stood in front of him, giggling wildly.

"Danwoo?" I immediately forgot it when I saw him and the unknown girl together.

Danwoo turned his head to the side and immediately stood upright. His features looked shocked. Like a little kid who just got caught stealing candy.

"Hey Sumi... uhm it's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It is exactly what it looks like! What was he like, doll?" Yeonjun joined the conversation, the question obviously directed at the black-haired girl.

So he was right...Yeonjun hadn't lied to me. Then why did I want him to do it?

Contrary to my expectations, my eyes began to burn. A sign of impending tears.

Oh no!

The girl standing in front of Danwoo looked back and forth between me and him, more than surprised, as if she wanted to make sure we both were real.

"What do you want again? I don't even know you." Danwoo said to Yeonjun and I just turned around and ran. I didn't know where my legs would take me, but I just wanted to be somewhere else right now. Somewhere far away.

Why were all boys so shitty? My first boyfriend had already cheated on me...why does it have to happen again?! Why does fate always have to put obstacles in my way?! Why can't I be lucky too?!

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the mountain hut in the freezing cold winter when the first tear finally ran down my cheek.

The cold wind that blew over my arms, which were only covered with a thin sweater, gave me goosebumps. But I was less interested in that right now. I folded my arms and pulled my shoulders up to my ears, as I ran from A to B and cursed things that even I couldn't understand.

Only the light from the window of the hut and the light from the drag lifts twenty meters away brought light to the pitch-dark ski slope that stretched below me.

It's not what it looks like! It's always what it looks like! - "Asshole, idiot, wanker!" I called out into the clear evening air.

"I hope you don't mean me again?" A voice suddenly came from behind me.

I turned around and recognized Yeonjun in the dim light of the surroundings. I quickly turned away again.

Never let your enemies see your tears!- my father always says.

"Are you crying?" He asked further and I heard the snow crunching under his feet.

I frantically wiped my cold teary cheeks.

"Pff, not because of him! How long have you known him - a day?" Yeonjun said. His voice now close behind me.

"What do you want here, Yeonjun? Leave me alone, I have enough to worry about right now!" I replied sharply. For a moment there was silence. I kept my gaze fixed on the snow beneath me. I started to shiver, unintentionally but no wonder given the cold.

"I'll make sure you don't freeze to death out here." I heard him say. His answer was a little softer than usual.

"Ha! That would be fine with you." I hissed back.

"That's nonsense!" Yeonjun exclaimed, the next moment I felt his hands on my shoulders and I promptly were turned around.

"Why are you crying and trying to get yourself killed out here? Boys suck, you should know that."

"Cheating is not only shit, it's anti-social, unrespectful and a crime!", I pulled myself out of his grasp, "I just want to be alone right now, so get lost!"

"You're such a stubborn person sometimes that I just-"

"That you want to - what? - You want to kill me? Then make it easy and get inside! The cold will do the jo-"

Before I could finish, Yeonjun grabbed my forearm and pulled me with him surprisingly easily.

"Let go of me, asshole!" I protested as he opened the door to the mountain hut again.

He showed the tall, broadly built security man his party entry bracelet and also mine, since I was wearing it on my wrist, which he was holding tightly. The man nodded and looked at me a little confused as Yeonjun dragged me further.

"What's your jacket?!" He wanted to know when he got to the cloakroom and finally let me go. His grip would definitely leave bruises. "Mind your own business?" I asked and Yeonjun gave me a dangerous look.

"If you have your jacket, you're welcome to stand outside all night long, but you won't die." He growled.

"Since when have you been interested in my health?" I didn't give in.

"SUMI!!!" Yeonjun shouted clearly for everyone in the hut to hear, even over the loud music. I winced.

"Can't you forget your fucking pride for once and tell me what your fucking jacket looks like?!" He cursed at me. I looked at him for a few moments and then at the woman in the dressing room who had been watching us in shock. Finally, I rummaged through my back pocket of my jeans for the little chip that told the woman where my jacket had been hung.

The woman accepted the chip and disappeared into the cloakroom without saying a word.

"Finally!" Yeonjun turned his back to the coat rack and slumped against it. He looked at me and I suddenly felt very small. My gaze went down.

"You can be quite annoying, you know that?" He said and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. But I didn't say anything, even though there was something on the tip of my tongue that I had been able to respond.

A moment later the woman came back and put my jacket over the counter.

"Here you go, I wish you a pleasant evening." She murmured casually as she eyed Yeonjun skeptically, who still had his back to the woman.

I grabbed my jacket and decided at that moment that there was no point in staying here. So why not leaving?

Without saying another word to the woman or Yeonjun, I turned around and left.

"Put it on in front of me, otherwise I'll have to go out again!" Yeonjun asked me, but I kept going. When I finally got back outside, I put on my warm ski jacket and adjusted my scarf that was stuck in the sleeve of the jacket. Then I stalked off. The snow crunches beneath my feet.

I loved that sound and it always brought me a childlike joy, but right now it didn't spark anything in me.

I was drunk, sad and pissed off...sleep would help...maybe.

"Potato!" I heard Yeonjun calling, who seemed to have followed me outside again. I didn't stop, just looked over my shoulder in the direction of the mountain hut. Yeonjun ran after me, also frantically pulling his jacket over his shoulders.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asked when he was no longer two meters away from me.

"To the hotel, I don't want to stay anymore." I explained myself and trudged up the stairs to the drag lift.

"Oh, fuck Danwoo! He wouldn't have made it anyway!" Yeonjun said. The sound of a zipper followed his statement.

"Is it always just about the one thing for you?” I asked as we arrived at the drag lift platform, that was supposed to bring us down. It was empty except for the two of us. The lift attendant had probably gone home hours ago and had just left the lift running.

"Well, I'm just saying, you always pick the losers." Yeonjun said as we stood so that a lift could swing directly into our legs. What happened immediately afterwards. We dropped into the cold seat of the seat lift and began our way down.

"How do you know? Danwoo wouldn’t have-"

"Oh no, don't tell me that. Danwoo wouldn't have gotten anything done. And that's exactly your problem!" He interrupted and I looked at him questioningly after I pulled down the bar that now served us as a belt.

"What's my problem?"

"You're totally unsatisfied! That's why it's so annoying with you."

I tried my best not to give the most sarcastic laugh the world had ever heard.

"You're such an idiot! That's not my problem, it's you! I'm a gentle little flower to others, you know...but as you are to me, I'm to you!"

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, "A gentle flower? How much did you drink?"

"To be honest, a lot, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm telling the truth." I said and crossed my arms.

"Hm...I'd rather stick to my opinion - sounds more logical." Yeonjun grumbled.The rest of the ride was silent. After we got out, we had to walk about 10 minutes to the hotel.

It was strange. I almost didn't feel the need to avoid Yeonjun. Of course he was annoying me - to hell - but I was almost happy not to be alone, even if it was Yeonjun...with whom I shared the silence of the night.

In the second minute of the walk, Yeonjun found his voice again: "Honestly, when was the last time you had really good sex?"

I looked at Yeonjun in horror. He looked at me almost innocently. A stark contrast to his question.

"As if I'm telling you this..." to be honest I've never had sex...but he didn't need to know that. With my first boyfriend it never got further than foreplay. Well, I was 20 now, but I never put any pressure on myself to have sex.

You don't miss what you don't know, so why the rush. The right one will come at some point.

"So it's been ages?" Yeonjun asked and I rolled my eyes. "Why am I even talking to you?!" I grumbled and Yeonjun gave a small laugh. "Because you know deep down that I'll bring it." This statement makes me stand still. I never expected such a statement even from Yeonjun. "Please what?" It slipped my mind and Yeonjun also stopped two steps in front of me. He smiled broadly at me and wiggled his eyebrows.

"I don't want to praise myself, but I've only ever received good feedback. I could get you to your high." He said and you could practically see him mentally patting himself on the shoulder.

"You're disgusting! I thought I am too annoying to put up with for even two minutes." I pointed out and Yeonjun shrugged.

"Drunk you're ok." He said and continued walking. After a few seconds I started moving again.

"Still this won't happen in a thousand years!" I said, earning a laugh from Yeonjun.

"Not even if you were the last one in the world." I continued my thought. Now nothing came from Yeonjun. The thought shook my body.

No, no, I would never go into bed with him. Disgusting!

"I..would." I then heard and looked up. Yeonjun looked over his shoulders at me.

"I do not think so."

"I guess so!"

"Oh man Yeonjun, are you really just thinking with your cock?"

"Would be a huge space for thinking." It took me two seconds to understand what he meant. When it clicked, I pushed him aside: "You're really gross!"

The hotel was already in sight. I almost thought we had a good moment, a minute ago, but now I just wanted to get away from this conversation quickly. Luckily, Yeonjun stayed behind me and kept his mouth shut. But I felt his gaze very present on me.

"Apart from your stubbornness, which really annoys me, you have a really nice body." Yeonjun finally said as we turned into the hotel parking area.

"Yeonjun stop, this is really strange!" I protested, only hearing a deep breath behind me.

"Are you really drunk?" He asked further and I looked over my shoulder. His warm breath puffed into the cold air, clearer than my own.

"I don't think DRUNK but ON DRUNK." I said as I pushed open the front door of the hotel. The lobby was only dimly lit, but cozy and warm. Nobody was here anymore - sure it was about 3am. I stopped briefly in front of the fireplace and stretched out my cold fingers. The ember still released heat.

Mmm, that was nice.

Suddenly someone grabbed me by the waist and pulled me back violently. Immediately afterwards I noticed the corner of the old wooden reception desk on my lower back. Startled, I looked up and was greeted by Yeonjun's sharp eyes. I knew that Yeonjun was significantly taller than me, but he was just so close to me that I had to look up high. His hands firmly on my hips, holding me close to the reception.

"What the hell-"

"Funny...I'm pretty horny right now." He murmured and I saw his eyes suddenly darken. That sent a shiver down my spine.

Please feel free to let me know your opinion 🤗

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[redgoldsparks]

April Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Mammoths at the Gates by Nghi Vo, read by Cindy Kay

Cleric Chih returns home to the Singing Hills Abbey after years of wandering and collecting stories. They are shocked to see two war mammoths and a squad of soldiers at the gates, camped out and demanding something. But the Abbey is nearly empty- almost all clerics left on a mission to preserve the history of a nearby destroyed town. And the title of Acting Divine has fallen on unlikely shoulders- one of Chih's childhood friends. Now a difficult decision will be left in under-prepared hands. This might be my favorite installment of the series yet!

Bad Dream by Nicole Maines and Rye Hickman

Nia is a trans teen living on earth, but her mother is from another world. Nia may or may not be able to tell the future, a power her sister desperately craves. But the real magic she finds in this story is trans community and friendship! The dream sequences and the queer ballroom scene in this book particularly shine; the story would probably have hit me harder if I'd seen the TV show Nia debuted in, but I haven't. Do check this out if you are familiar with Dreamer on the Supergirl TV show.

Spear by and read by Nicola Griffith (re-listen)

I loved Nicola Griffith Hild, and was highly anticipating this one; it did not disappoint! I listened to the audiobook was completely drawn into the lyrical language and the magic of this Arthurian legend retelling. The story opens with a girl born and raised in a wild valley by a mother who is sometimes loving, wise, and overflowing with stories and other times depressed, fearful, and vacant. The girl knows that something terrible happened to her mother in the past; it has something to do with her birth and the beautiful enamel bowl that sits over the fire in the cave they shelter in. But the girl is too delighted by the world, and too curious about the plants, animals, and humans who live in the valley to dwell on it. She grows in strength and skill; visions and gut feelings draw her to collect armor and repair weapons, and eventually set out south towards King Arthur's court. There she stumbles into a story that was started long before she was born, but in which she will play a vital part. I absolutely loved this, it's deeply queer, and I highly recommend it! Re-listened in 2024 and enjoyed it all over again.

The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo, read by Cindy Kay (re-listen)

Beautiful, mysterious, queer, and surprisingly moving for such a short story. I listened to the audiobook (which is only 2.5 hours) and I was riveted the whole time. Chih, a nonbinary traveling cleric-historian, is on the way to the capital city to record the beginning of the new Empress's reign. But with the coming of the new ruler, many historical sites which had previously been sealed are now re-opened. Chih can't resist a stop at Lake Scarlet, where the previous Empress lived for a brief time in exile. Chih finds one last living servant of the previous Empress still tending the house, and they begin learning more and more stories and secrets about the exile. I highly recommend this story, and the audiobook in particular. Re-listened in 2024, and this time was able to even more full appreciate the twists and turns of this story. It's quite subtle and rewards a second listen.

Homebody by Theo Parish

The warm, affirming, gentle, honest story of a nonbinary gender journey. Easy to read, beautifully illustrated, very accessible, this is truly a book for everyone. By the end of the story, Theo felt like a friend. From now on, whenever anyone asks me for an "all ages version of Gender Queer" I'll just be handing them this book instead. I got to read and blurb an advance copy of this; very excited for it to hit shelves on April 25 2024!

Blood of Dragons by Robin Hobb

I got through this book fairly quickly, even though it's about the same quality level as the previous book in the series. It has a fair amount of action and payoffs. I liked learning more of the secrets and history of Kelsingra, and I'm curious about the future of the new Elderling and dragon settlement. But I don't understand why this series has 4 books instead of the usual 3; there just isn't enough plot to sustain four books. I wish books 1 and 2 had been condensed into one and much of the angsty teen drama cut out. I just don't enjoy when Hobb writes from multiple POVs the same way I enjoy her single POV books; I don't love any of these characters the way I love Fitz and the people in his life.

Yotsuba vol 9 by Kiyohiko Azuma

Just as silly and charming as ever. The big adventure in this volume is a day watching hot air balloons.

Blue Flag vol 1 by Kaito 

The set up for this story is very standard: teens in high school dealing with crushes, friendship, and figuring out their sexuality. But the execution is so skillful that it elevates what could be a really generic or heavy handed tale into something that felts very deft and true. I'm not usually one to pick up a love triangle/quadrangle but I had a great time with this one and will likely read more. I just hope the closeted queer characters don't end up with tragic rejections!

Witch Hat Atelier vol 11 by Kamome Shirahama

I liked that this volume focused more closely on Coco and Agott's friendship and creative practice! I like when this story is about the witch students! I don't love that it continues introducing 3-6 new characters in every volume. Also, this one felt like it was 1 chapter shorter than the normal size for this series.

I Heard Her Call My Name written and read by Lucy Sante 

I picked this autobiography up after hearing Lucy Sante's interview on the podcast Gender Reveal and really enjoyed it. Sante came out as trans at age 67 after a lifetime of repressing her gender feelings and knowledge of carrying a weighty secret. Sante came to New York City as an immigrant from Belgium as a young child, and grew up bilingual, bicultural, and poetically inclined. This book weaves together near daily updates of the year her egg cracked and her early transition with memories of her childhood, teen years, and young adulthood in a cheap, dirty, punk, bohemian NYC which no longer exists. This window into the past is gorgeously narrated but might read mildly infuriating, depending on how much rent you are currently paying or how much you've struggled to break into the publishing industry. I devoured the audiobook in nearly one sitting.

The Yakuza’s Bias vol 1 by Teki Yatsuda (re-read)

Yakuza member Ken Kanashiro's life is changed when the daughter of the clan leader he works for takes him along to a kpop concert. Ken is moved by the kpop idol group's commitment, hard work, passion, and loyalty to each other and their fans. His introduction to fandom, and new social media friends, bring a breath of fresh air into his violent and dangerous life... and like most fervent fans, he starts trying to convince the people around him to stan the group to greater or lesser success. This manga series is very much in the same tone as Way of the House Husband but I appreciated the slightly longer chapters and the growing ensemble cast. It's a silly concept but with moments of genuine feeling as it shows how loving something can connect you to a whole new community. Edit on a second read: I got more out of the jokes on a second pass!

The Yakuza’s Bias vol 2 by Teki Yatsuda 

The main joke of this series is the contrast between super-serious yakuza Ken Kanashiro's usual poker face and the way he passionately emotes when either watching or talking about his kpop idol bias. This is a fun series, full of in-jokes and a developing cast of quirky side characters. One of my favorites is Megumi, the mafia boss's daughter who initially introduced Ken to kpop and laments not being able to understand her favs, but claims she is "too busy stanning to study Korean."

[pigtailedgirl]

Due South and a Canadian White Girl North-ish

I'm so nervous. Addition: Perhaps some trigger warning for abuse and illness talk?

So I read this great Due South fanfic.

BLESSED

I think it's going in my top ten. And I have a bunch I like that deal in the same theme. In Fraser's fit of himself in the city versus northern Canada and how he finds something in the contrasts.

Still this fanfic, though it does a neat re-examine overall, and others, have an image I guess that is put out by Fraser, by the narrative, of Canada that just does not work for me.

EXAMPLE

***

"Think about being somewhere else," Cleve told him as the strings began to vibrate again. "Anywhere but here."

And he did. Where did he want to be? Anywhere but here. Yes, Cleve had indeed answered the question for him.

The MacKenzie River, strong and swift, slicing through the spruce and pine, cutting a path between the snowcapped mountains.

The frozen, inhospitable Beaufort Sea, where a man could see his own breath turn to ice on the air and blow back to his face, clinging crystals of ice on his skin and lashes.

The mighty forests of tamarack and poplar that covered the western slope of the coastal mountain ranges. The warm, gentle breezes of heady lodgepole pine scent. The soft hiss and crackle of campfire, mellowed by a handful of cedar bark.

"There you go," Cleve decided at last in a quiet, satisfied voice.

Ben smiled until his face hurt, not quiet ready to open his eyes and let go his vision just yet. The strings felt good, like the strips of cedar bark he had imagined for the fire, the neck of the guitar a more than adequate rendering of the canoe paddle the MacKenzie demanded. The smooth, time worn wood of the box pressed into his belly, a body that complemented his, perfect in its unyieldingness, yet matching his every bend and twist.

Stella the True.

Ben would have given her another name.

His eyes opened then, noticing first how the world seemed to have blurred in more ways than one, and that the smile had faded away as the memories had faded in upon him. The world was only blurry for a few seconds more, until he realized that once he blinked the beginnings of tears from his eyes, the world became amazingly clear. So much became amazingly clear.

"Don't give up on yourself, son," Cleve Abernathy's voice came from somewhere very, very far away. Fraser gave his saturated eyes to the man who had spoken.

***

"Where I come from, people help one another. If one goes without, then all go without equally, so that everyone has a chance. You don't let your neighbor's coal run out in January. You don't let their stomachs go empty when your kill is plenty. When their children don't return from the trail, you go looking for them. That's just the way it is."

***

It's beautifully written, but feels wrong to me. Feels like lies to my lived experiences. Being from a small place like Fraser, this is a beautiful sentiment, and not at all true to it's realities.

When Fraser, Due South's narrative and comedy, and fandom view the otherness of the wilderness or northern Canada, make big deals to study it, never mind just mark Canada different in broad... It feels othering. Othering in a way I think is really important to how Fraser doesn't fit in if he's got this perspective too.

I've grown with stories about people and family who lived the same kind of lives as the Fraser family. In modern ways my home here still is like this. I even lived some like this and I'm baby in comparison.

Remote and isolated. Lots of nature to be in. Law, education and medicine as tiers in the community that are mostly outsiders to the community either brought in short-term or recurring.

Even those who live here permanently now, have founded themselves career wise, and have to, going away to do it or having been born and raised elsewhere. Christ, we have to basically leave after high-school more than 1000km away. HAVE TO.

And there is a definite disconnect between this group who are outsiders and the what I would call settled persons in the emotional connection to the place and town and the ability to fit in.

If it's a truism to me, this idea of grand north, natural beauty or isolation in a small town, with the people, to get in touch with an emotional growth is the biggest lie I have ever witnessed done by people to themselves. And this is an idealism of outsiders. You don't come out into isolation or live it to get NEW emotional needs met. You don't grow yourself thinking this is something special or the true way or will fix you.

Those that say living like this is a personal spiritual ride are:

1. High on their own supply as it were, aka, either tapping what they had dormant before or pretending.

2. Doing so off the backs of those who just don't think too much about it and are where and what they are.

If I had a dollar for every doctor or therapist I met who came here and were enamored by the place, the seas and freedoms and kind people and opportunities in solitude, expected it to change the people here and them, and then ran wild because they were always dumbasses, or took advantage, or after a year of seeing it day to day still wouldn't or didn't understand how to live with it and ran or got burnt out...RICH.

Because the truth is that small communities and remoteness don't make special or perfect people or places. We aren't magic, we aren't even that different, we just face a different or smaller reality.

I'm struck by the story One Good Man paints of Fraser's grandmother, who faced early trauma, and to me tells a reality you maybe don't want to embrace fully but should reflect on before concluding the nature of life here. A young woman who saw her town burn, who saved some of the children in it, but watched the others and adults die and was also horribly physically and probably emotionally scarred by it. Who only had an idea, and with it, bravery in the face of that moment, and after the strength to hang on as her backbone tip of surviving. Any wonder then, the tough it attitude and gift of wisdom was maybe her main survival and emotional mantra. That what tied her there to keep trying to give knowledge to people and how she pushed that above emotion on her grandson was this.

I think canon does a good job of highlighting an undercurrent of why Fraser and family still didn't fit in and why Fraser and Due South is a story of growth as a person and finding his home/community is going outside. His emotional needs weren't here. That's alright to find elsewhere when you need it.

@juniperpomegranate made a really great point of difference of Fraser's north, so often idealized in show or fic, and how it isn't actually like a town. It's not imagined or filled or understood in the reality of a community. Which is hella important. Because your community and relationships is how you really fit in a place like that or in my home.

And that's people. People to connect to. People who aren't wildly different. Experiences only seem wild to outsiders. Perfection or an image of better peeps is only lauded to cover in my opinion.

We face hardships and issues. We don't face them mythically. Nature is pretty and it requires work and understanding of it, learned only from experience and listening or knowing others who have, to survive and thrive in.

The reason we have outsider law or medicine or education come in is...

Well it can be real fun when the town is faced with say influenza and has no resources, or knowledge about it. Where you have to be cajoled to get immunized by your sister dressing up in the nurse's coat and leaving, to trick you into coming out of hiding. Where Dad tells stories of my great-grandma who plastered everyone with coal oil for cures as the rock of the town. Or where, when you have criminal stuff or domestic violence or mental illness and you can't treat or stop. A woman who hurt her family for decades because she was sadly untreated and unknown Schizophrenic. When another woman my dad's age wrote of her harrowing experience of childhood, of her mom dying from cancer and her father putting her to work as a teenage girl to care for the siblings and home, and then not providing any of his income or the support people gave him for them, until she and her siblings were literally found starving. Cause he fucked off to the neighbors. Cause the whole town knew it was happening, but there was no alternative, this was just their monetary and work survival versus that family and that family's lack of social capital paired with no place to go. Where solution was when law finally came in an forcefully moved the minor kids to different fosters in villages 100s of kilometers away, this was just a daily continuation of life though for most here.

See law, as external resource, can't even do much beyond come in twice a year and judge people. Punishment for crimes is more social than moral and depends on taking a person out of the community most times. Bob Fraser, Mounties and cops who ship around to different spots, if they are good get then respect sure, but they were and always have to stay detached to not bias too. It's a hard one. It's you can have impact and respect, for example the priest use to come a couple times a year and get the good dishes out for him, but you don't build the emotional connection of say staying for the weddings after-parties of music and dancing all night. Of people crossing islands to visit each other at the end of weeks' work.

In this vein I'm not surprised Bob had a great reputation and a lot of "friends" he didn't know.

And education. Where it's people come to knowledge at you, or knowledge from you. Where it's students come to study you like you are a tropical native of the 18th century. Write their papers and go back and take your history and skills to sell and forget the here left behind. Or come dodging the drafts of the States. All our stories or archives are in a "local" museum we can't even get to without a plane ticket yo. Or again those who come to give wisdom like they are the holders and we are heathen plebs. With maybe a one in ten being someone or something honest or decent. Though I'm a little bias here. My mom was a teacher who came here in the 70s and spent her whole life teaching grade school. Literal one room school house start. Who met and married and stayed with my Dad here. Some people do catch. Some, I think like maybe the example of Fraser's grandma, which I have soft feeling for probably because of this, just really want to impart shared knowledge and get happiness from seeing it grow and having that personal shot to help it. In a small community that seed growing outwards, to see it, is freaking awesome. But key is shared. You got to learn from too.

Finally, small isolated communities need and foster their connection through the people. Who you know. How you are all related. The meme of does everybody know everyone in Canada hits lol. But that's got the inverse too. There is no privacy. Loners be seen and judged. Again, social fit and capital being supreme.

That's why the nature loner or lover is myth too. Drop you off on a pretty snow covered lake. Pretty yes, magical and just for you, no. You still need the community knowledge to know where the fish, which direction is inland or sea, where is best shelter, where is Indians in the country to help you trap, when does the supplies boats and airdrops come. Nothing is done alone okay, trust me on this. You go out to snowshoe alone on a clear day, and weather strikes and you die.

I guess my point I keep trying to rope back into is maybe the experience or place or people sound different, or magic, but it's superficial. It's no different than how stories of history or cities sound to some. Emotionally I think we run the same. I think the true beauty is in seeing that reality. That you can't be the best stuck in an unreality or hiding from finding your fit. And again the true charm of Due South and Fraser, is his going south grows himself to see it. The show gets us to play and have fun seeing it.

And that the best of people or place, Canada or States, small town or city, outsider or no...is accepting and acknowledging that difference and sameness is the way to grow. Is the best beauty.

It's how my community did grow out of most of it's struggles imo, and hopes to go further I tell ya.

So here are my recs on the wonder of difference and sameness in Due South. Again like the fic above, can't rec enough.

Here are a small sampler of finding yourself near and away.

Stars, I Have Seen Them Fall (squidge.org)

Smaller Gods - arrow (esteefee) - due South [Archive of Our Own]

Our Dancing Days - sdwolfpup - due South [Archive of Our Own]

Also, does anyone have a link to an old ds flashfic of Fraser wandering Chicago in a power outage? I loved that one.

[burningchandelier]

My mom got a DNA test done and it didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know.

Ukrainian Ashkenazi. The Wiseman Family.

We know where we come from.

We went as far North as we could when there was nowhere safe for us in Eastern Europe. We made a home for ourselves in Lerwick, Scotland. Scotland, the only country in Europe that has never expelled Jews, kept us safe for a while, but a poor family could only live at the end of the world in the Arctic Circle for so long. There were too many fishermen and not enough people to buy fish.

Between wars, we went South again, to Germany. We didn’t stay.

I am grateful every day that my great-great grandfather could see that there was trouble coming for his family. He sent his four children and wife to Canada and followed the next year. So many of us did not.

We found a place in Toronto where we watched what happened to our loved ones in Europe. We forgot Hebrew. It was easier that way.

My great-grandmother kept secrets:

Her first daughter, born out of wedlock, was raised by her parents as one of their own.

Her second daughter was told that her father was dead, rather than divorced away (it was a different time— divorce was shameful, death was inevitable).

Her job was mysterious. Officially, she worked for the state department as a pay roll clerk. I don’t know why any pay roll clerks would have traveled to Russia during the Cold War, but she did many times.

The secret she kept the longest was her heritage. As far as anyone knew, she was a severe Scottish immigrant and fiercely proud of it. Only my mother, her favorite, had suspicions.

When Granny Annie Wiseman died, she left everything to her favorite granddaughter. The money, the house, and everything inside it. Every memory of who we are.

Years later, my mother fell in love with a Jewish man. They raised me together. I had the privileges and the pains of knowing who I was. I carry our family burdens and I honor them.

Someday, I will name my daughter after the woman I never met who passed our heritage to me through the simple and brave act of survival. Her assimilation kept us alive. Her secrets got me here. She left the breadcrumbs that let us find our way home.

We know where we come from.

[janaknandini-singh999]

neutrality is a much greater threat than taking a side. you can't create balance by putting your two feet in separate boats which ultimately are sailing in opposite directions. your heart is in the right place but instead of using your empathy outwardly to help your fellow people, you are using it to appease yourself and absolve yourself of responsibility. your empathy should not remain a feeling but should transform into action. otherwise your empathy holds no value if it can't be felt by the people you have empathy for. which they can only feel if you do something with your empathy. for them.

if you have the ability to recognize the hateful intentions and actions of hindutva extremists, why then are you saying that the only solution is "karma"? that they will get karma'd? i get that you're religious and all. but ultimately isn't leaving fate to god also inaction, avoidance, irresponsibility. god did not save the jews, and if conscious hindus make excuses like "karma", guess what, god will not be able to save our muslims either.

all this to say, abeyyaaar is right. and you are being wrongly defensive.

"all lives matter" as a slogan would have made sense had there been someone who was denying that notion. but who's denying this stance? no one. all lives matter is a given. hell it is a right. but wonder why activists say "black lives matter", "muslim lives matter", "indigenous lives matter" and why that is important? because the status quo is not in compliance with these beliefs. that is why. muslim people, black people, their inherent right to live, right to be is threatened under the current society. which is why these slogans are raised. because they are not mere beliefs, but demands for something that doesn't exist, something that isn't just a given, yet. get it now?

leftists are not angry. we leftists are afraid. history is about recognizing patterns. and when our powerful politicians demonize maginalized communities, when our foreign minister praises majoritarianism in a country where hate crimes are surging, history would tell us that such happenings form the foundation for some really dark events. dark events like the ones that, well, you know. all of which were avoidable had these "neutral" bystanders hadn't been so neutral about literal hate crimes and discrimination.

you cannot look at the ram temple by ignoring the context in which it has been constructed. you cannot separate muslim suffering from the ram temple just so you as a hindu can enjoy your religion in a bubble. when you separate the two, you are undermining the former. temples should always have way less value than actual human life. if something i like has come at the cost of a whole community i'd be very appalled and disgusted. and ashamed of the people who weaponize my religion for political gains.

okay this was long um. but i hope this msg wasn't in vain.

to remind you the infamous quote by south african activist Desmond Tutu, "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."

First of all I'm neutral when it comes to lives, not when it comes to sides. Ik the quote very well "nobody is a bystander in a war of Dharma"

If I were born some time ago in history, I'd be against invaders and colonizers but today I'm against violent fascists (be it Hindu/Muslim like in Ram mandir's case it's some Hindus)

I never said karma is the "only solution" but isn't it your karma only when you fight for rights?

When I say neutrality I use it as a perspective for other Hindus to cast aside extremist religious sentiments for a moment and see for what's actually happening and thereby translating it into support

It is not question of religion/taking sides after a point but the question of humanity which can only be raised when people start asking like Arjun asked Krishna in the dilemma of war

I see Palestine and am horrified, no matter what the complicated history of a land is, nobody has the right to commit a genocide

I stand with the oppressed

[hooked-on-elvis]

🥳 Happy Birthday to beautiful Jan Shepard! 🎂

Born Josephine Angela Sorbello on March 19, 1928, Jan is turning 96 years young today. ♥

Jan Shepard interviewed by Joe Krein (2007)

Joe: Can you tell me a little about yourself, where you were born and raised? Jan: I was born in a little town called Quakertown, Pennsylvania, in Bucks County. It’s about 40 miles north of Philadelphia. I had a wonderful time there growing up, it was a tiny little town and everybody knew everybody. You got to do everything when you were in high school. I was a cheerleader and a drum majorette. I was in drama. I loved growing up there.

(...)

Joe: Did you want to become an actress? Jan: Ever since I was in second grade I was Miss Cleanliness, in a way. I got up on that stage and something happened. I saw all those people and it made me want to do something nice. So I did two class plays. I did junior high and senior class plays as the leading lady. I did summer stock when I got out of high school. I did that for quite a while and that was great fun. Joe: So did you go to Hollywood and say “I want to be a star”? Jan: I went to New York first and I got a terrible cold. I had gotten a reference from Samson Raferson, who did a lot of plays. He lived in our area. He sent me to Sherill Crawford doing Brigadoon. So I went there and I could barely talk. You think to yourself once they see you that you would be in Broadway by the weekend. You just think that they are waiting for you. But she said go back home and do summer stock. Do as much as you can of that. It was one of those things that you are so eager and you had no clue as of how to become an actor. So I went back home and then I had a chance to visit some relatives in California. So I never went back to New York. Joe: So what studio did you sign up with? Jan: I did some things with 20th Century, but mostly I did television like ABC, CBS and then Paramount. So I was working all the time. The kids that were under contract with Paramount, they had a class picture taken, and I wasn’t in it because I was the only one working. Will never forget that. How I wish I was in that picture. Joe: You must see a lot of turn over, kids coming and then going home. Jan: Yeah. You know there is a lot of wonderful talent walking the street, and honestly it’s a matter of luck. Plus it helps with who you know. What helped me was I moved in with Amanda Blake from��Gun Smoke. We shared an apartment and Ross Hunter had an apartment in the same building. I was working a regular job then. We would walk together in the morning to work. There was an agent that also lived in the building. I was out sunning myself one day and he came over and started talking. He said, “Do you need an agent?” I said yes. That’s how it all started. Quite by accident. Joe: You worked in television? Jan: About 500 episodes. I did so much television. I did so many pilots and series. One of my first series was with McDonald Carrie, who was Doctor Christian. I was a regular on that show. I did two soap operas. Day in Court and Clear Horizons. I did so many Westerns. Every show that was in the fifties and sixties, seventies. At least five hundred television shows.

(...)

Joe: Were you an Elvis fan? Jan: No (laughing). Joe: Don’t feel bad, a lot of people have said that to me. Jan: It was so funny because I was sitting with Dan Duriah. I was doing a two hour film. We were sitting on the set. I had the reporter in front of me and it said “ELVIS PRESLEY”. “What kind of a name is that?” He said, “I don’t know.” I said there’s some kid in the south called Elvis Presley. I said he’s never going to make it (laughing). That was the first time that I had ever heard of him. So I didn’t know who he was. I happened to like his voice. I liked his voice but I am not the kind of person who is adoring movie stars. There was maybe one or two that I adored or would like to work with, but I was never like those type of people. But once I met him, I just adored him. Joe: When did you find out that you were going to do an Elvis film? Jan: I was doing a play at Paramount, with Dolores Hart, who is my goddaughter. She is now a nun. Joe: Oh, yes, I know who she is. Jan: She used to be under contract with Hal Wallis. Dolores came up to me after work. She said, “Jan, there is a part in this movie I am going to do with Elvis Presley you would be perfect for. The part would be playing his sister.” I said, “Yeah, right, terrific.” I just let it go at that. But the next thing I know she calls me and says Hal Wallis wants to see you. “I’ve talked to him about you.” So I went up there. He said to me, “I would like you to make a test.” So they gave me the script. When I arrived at the studio, there was four other girls that were testing. I figured I would be the only one. I was in shock, I almost walked out. Peter Baldwin, who was playing the Elvis role, who was a friend of mine, he said, “Stay, stay. These other girls are no way better than you.” I was the last one to be tested. After I just went home and prayed that I would get this role. I got it!

Elvis, Jan and Dolores Hart on set during making of King Creole, 1958.

Joe: And this was for...? King Creole! That was Elvis’s favorite movie. Plus it’s the fans favorite movie. It’s also mine. Jan: Yes, it’s mine, too. But I have only seen two movies of his. I only saw them because I was in them. That’s nothing to do with Elvis. It’s just because I was working all the time. I was doing soap operas. Different scripts every day, learning new lines every day. You just don’t have the time to go out and see movies. I had no social life at all. If you do have five minutes on a weekend, you want to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joe: Can you tell me how you met Elvis? Jan: When you’re assigned a film role, you have to go to the doctor, because of the insurance company. They have to make sure you don’t have a bad heart, any of that nonsense. They made my appointment for me at the studio, so I was there and I had on a white shirt and these slacks my mother had made for me that were like wine coloured. I went in the office and I was waiting to be called in. In walks Elvis with two of his buddies. I looked at him and he looked at me and we started to laugh. His jacket was the identical material and colour of my slacks. He looked at me and he said, “Honey, I’m either going to have to give you my jacket or you’re going to have to give me your pants” (laughing). That was my first meeting with Elvis. Joe: Goodness. Jan: Girl scout’s honour. Joe: Did you get along with Elvis? Jan: Oh, wonderful. He said if he had a sister, he wished it would be me. We got along so great because we worked alone the two of us the whole first week of the show. I would come to work and I would find on the set a pair of earrings he put there for me that cost about ten cents that he had liberated from the set. I have a marvelous picture where we are waiting to perform and we were just sitting down at the dining room table. I handed him this jewelry and I said I can’t take these from you, Elvis, you know it’s too much. You’re the last of the big spenders. He is there laughing so hard and they snapped this picture of the two of us. It’s a fabulous picture of him. But he would do little things like that. And he would play music on his guitar. He would ask me what I wanted to hear. Elvis loved Danny Boy.

Joe: Did you ever date Elvis? Jan: No, I was married (laughing). Joe: Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that. Jan: No, I was married, honey. But the thing was: Dolores Hart gave me a surprise birthday party. All the kids from Paramount studio were there. It was a big surprise to me. I was there for about ten minutes and in walks Elvis with the boys. He had this huge stuffed tiger under his arm. He knew I loved cats, so he had this stuffed cat and he named it Danny Boy. He gave me this big box. For weeks I had been asking Elvis for pictures that I could give the kids in my neighborhood when they had heard I was doing a picture with him. They all pleaded for photos of him. So I would always ask him for pictures for the kids. “Come on, please, I need pictures.” So he hands me this box and I placed it off to the side. He said, “Oh, no, you need to open that now.” So I opened it and it was a movie camera with a light bar and film. He said, “Now you can take your pictures.” You know if Colonel Parker was there, he would not had allowed that.

Early 1958. Elvis and Jan during surprise birthday party to Jan Shepard.

Joe: Oh, you’re right. Jan: Dolores said the next day she ran into Elvis and she said, “I was so surprised that you came.” He said I had to come, “She’s my sister. I wouldn’t miss her birthday party” (laughing). I ran into him in the studio. He said to me, “I hear Elvis was at your birthday party.” “Yeah, he was”. He said, “You know he never goes anywhere, people go to him, he never goes to other people’s homes.” Joe: That’s very true. Jan: I said I think we bonded a little bit. Joe: Was Elvis a good actor? Jan: Wonderful! Oh, just marvelous! I will never forget. You know every person that sings is a good actor. Because they have the sense of timing, the sense of rhythm, a sense of what words mean. He was a brilliant actor because he didn’t need any advice. He knew automatically what to do and act, as the show was going on. I kept saying to him, “Oh, Elvis, for God sake, you’re doing such a great job.” So one day we went for lunch. We were sitting there at a table and in walks Marlon Brando. Elvis was sitting with his back towards him. There was a table right behind Elvis that was empty, so Brando saw Elvis as soon as he walked in. So Brando got into the chair right behind Elvis. I said to Elvis, “Marlon Brando is sitting behind you.” Elvis said, “Oh, my God” and his head sunk into his sandwich. I said, “Look, he wants to meet you, I saw him looking at you, just say hi to him.” Well, that’s exactly what happened. He got up and bumped his chair. Marlon stood up and the two of them shook hands. They did a little small talking. Elvis was very cool. Elvis then walked out of the café very cool. But the minute we got outside he leaped up. He couldn’t believe he met Marlon Brando. He was so excited, we just danced all the way back to the studio. Then one day after the show had been released, someone sent me the review of King Creole. The title was “Bourbon Street Brando.” I raced over to Paramount and I grabbed Elvis and I said, “Look at this.” I showed him the “Bourbon Street Brando”, he just couldn’t believe it. I said, “See, I told you, you were going to be great in this!” Joe, Elvis was!

Scene of King Creole, 1958. Elvis as Danny Fisher and Jan Shepard as Mimi Fisher, Danny's sister.

Joe: Now you did another movie with Elvis. Jan: Yes, Paradise Hawaiian Style

Note: In Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966) Jan Shepard played Betty Kohana, wife of Danny Kohana played by actor James Shigeta who's a friend and eventual business partner of Elvis' character Rick Richards.

Joe: Can you tell me about that movie and how you got the part? Jan: I had gone over to Paramount to have lunch with Dolores Hart. She was getting a wardrobe fitting for some picture. I ran into Paul Mason. He said, “Hi”. He asked what was I doing there. He said, “Hey, we need a wife for Jimmie Sakita for a movie Elvis is doing. Would you be interested?” He said, “It’s not a huge part, but it’s a good part.” I said, “Yeah, ok.” He told me to go up and see Hal Wallis. “I will give him a call and tell him you’re coming.” So I went up there. Well, Hal Wallis’s office is full of art. He has originals of Remington’s and Chares Russell, all those wonderful western painters. I walked in and I said, “Oh, my God, you have a Remington!” I knew art because my husband is an artist. Hal Wallis was very impressed, he asked me if I wanted that role? Yeah, fine, that would be wonderful! That’s how I got the part. Joe: Now what did Elvis say when he saw you? Jan: Well, the minute he saw me he asked how was Dolores because now she has been a nun for the past year. And I said she was good, I’ve seen her, I’ve gone there. And Maria Cooper, Gary’s daughter and I were the godmothers for her when she went into the monastery. And I said, “I’ve been there and she’s doing great and she, you know, I said you know if they let me wear eyelash mascara, I’d go in that place and say it’s beautiful. She’s home. This is where she wants to be and he wanted to see if she was okay and how you were doing. You know, and I noticed he was not the Elvis that was the little teddy bear that would run across the stage and pick up and swing you around. He was not that anymore. Joe: He changed? Jan: He was never in his dressing room and you know King Creole. He is always out with a group and having fun and playing the guitar and, you know, just a lot of fun. And he went to his dressing room and it was closed and I noticed he was drinking a lot of water. He had lot of glasses of water and he was drinking. Also, there was an attitude that was so different. He was kind of jaded and at the movies, he and I knew Charlie Afura who did all his choreography. Charlie was showing him something on stage, some dance moves or something, and he was just looking at Charlie, like “Charlie, I’ve done this four or five times already. I know what you want,” because it was the same movie every time. Joe: Right. Jan: He was always doing the same movie and I know he was tired of it.

(...)

Joe: When was the last time you saw Elvis? Jan: I saw him in Las Vegas. We went to a Casers Palace and I was so disappointed because he was into the karate stuff and he was turning his back to the audience all the time. And I just wanted to just go up there and spank him, you know. Joe: Yeah. Jan: Because he was just not him. You know. I think that when his mom died, that was just a terrible blow and that if she had lived Elvis would still be alive today. Joe: Yeah. When you were working in the movies, did you have the chance to have one on one conversations? Jan: Oh, yeah, all the time. Especially on the Creole, but not as much on Paradise Hawaiian Style. Yeah, like on the weekend it had rained all weekend and on Monday morning when Elvis came into the makeup room and I said, “Well, what did you do this weekend?” “I was on the phone with my mom all day, I didn’t go anywhere.” He told me one time they were on the road and they stopped at a diner, this was in the fifties. This big guy came over to him and picked him up by his shirt. He said, “I don’t like you”. Elvis said, “What’s wrong?” “My wife carries your picture around in her wallet.” Elvis said, “Hey, sir, I’m sorry, but that has nothing to do with me. I’m sorry, she should do that.” He let Elvis down and they took off. He had so much of that we had to fake people out when Elvis left the studio. We would send out a limo, the fans figured Elvis was in it. But Elvis was getting shoved into a taxi in the back of the studio. Elvis would be laying on the floor. Elvis said, “I know they don’t mean to do it, but sometimes they hurt me. They grab at me, pull my hair”. They have scratched his eye while trying to get some of that beautiful black hair. “I’ve been hurt,” Elvis said. “That’s why I don’t go anywhere.” We had a lot of conversations. One time I said to Elvis, “Why don’t you record Danny Boy?” He loved that song because he would sing it to his mom. Elvis said, “They don’t want that. They won’t let me sing something like that.” It was so funny, one day Pat Boone came walking on the set. Elvis spotted him and he started singing April Love, just the way Pat would sing it. Pat just grinned from ear to ear, Pat then came over and they met. But he never had the chance to become apart of the young Hollywood scene, because he was afraid to go out with the other young people who were at the studio. If he went to go to a movie, he had to rent the whole theatre. You know, Elvis never had a dime on him, he would follow me to the apple machine. I said to him, “You want an apple, right?” “Yes, please” (laughing). He never had any money. Joe: I know that to be true all the way up to the seventies. His men would carry his money and his keys. When did you hear that Elvis had passed? Jan: I was sitting with a friend at her business. The phone rang and they asked if I was there. They asked me if I had the radio on or had been watching television. I said no, why? “Elvis died.” I just couldn’t talk. When I was able to talk, I said I was so angry at him. I was so angry I could not even cry. Because he was doing all the wrong things and he knew he was, damn it! I could see that when I went to see him in Vegas. I said to myself, “That’s not my Elvis.” Joe: But you know the man was the greatest entertainer of the 20th century. Jan: There will never be another like him. In the Creole days he was just a big teddy bear. I asked him one time, “Ok, Elvis, when did all this swinging your hips start? Why do you do that?” “I do it for fun, I know just when to break it off.” I used to watch the little negro boys in his town, how they would sit on the curbs and sing. And they would stand up and dance. He said that’s where he got that from. They would sing and move their hips.

(...)

Joe: Well, I would like to thank you for talking to me today. Jan: You’re welcome, Joe.

Phone interview with Jan Shepard, done by Joe Krein, on June 22, 2007. YOU CAN READ THE FULL INTERVIEW ON: ELVIS100PERCENT.COM

Early 1958. Home movie. Birthday party to Jan Shepard. ♡

[princessconsuela120]

Chapter seven: Out of the Woods —✧

Series masterlist

Chapter Warnings: cursing, mentions of pregnancy

Authors Note: This ones a shorter one, but I couldn’t think of how else to make this more South Park coded. Don’t forget to comment like and repost! Enjoy!

Chapter art by @silvell

—✧

DRIVING UP TO MARK AND VANESSA’S FELT LIKE A FEVER DREAM. Just imagining that in a few months it would be my kid here and not me. I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought. At least I knew they’d have a good life, a really really good life. They had such a nice yard where they could play, a beautiful living area where they’d grow up, and it was as far away from the chaos of South Park as possible.

“Juno, I didn't expect to see you here.” Mark said, greeting me at the door as I walked in, looking in as I took in the scenery.

“I have something really cool to show you guys. Is Vanessa here?” I asked, pulling my bag off and searching for the ultrasound photos.

“No. Actually, she's working late tonight. Trying to accrue as much time off as she can before the..” he gestured to my stomach, making me nod.

“Oh, right. I hear these are quite the time suck.” I say, placing my hands on my bump.

“Yeah. I'm just having a ginseng cooler. Would you like one?” I gave him a strange look, which he mocked as he looked back at me.

“What is it with you rich people and your herb-infused juices?” I asked, sitting back on their couch as if it were my own. My amazing ability to make any place feel like home. I kept looking through my bag, deciding to forgot about looking for the photo for a second.

“Something to do with those sporty four-packs they come in. They're not bad though. Did you say you had something to show me?” He asked, reminding me to look through my bag before I continued to grill him.

“Behold, good sir, your future child.” I said happily, pulling the ultrasound photo out of my pocket as Mark came to sit beside me on the couch.

“Hey, look at that.”

“I think it looks like my friend Kyle.” I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. It’s kinda weird actually, the baby wasn’t even here and I could already see the small curve in it’s nose that Kyle had. It kinda made this all a little bit easier, knowing that a little piece of him was along with me for the ride.

“Is he also bald and amorphous?” Mark teased, but I simply shook my head.

“No, he's the dad.” I explained, and he nodded. I think he understood that there must have been something sore there, a kryptonite of mine to bring up Kyle. He didn’t push that part any further.

“Can you tell if it's a boy or a girl?

“I can't. The doctor can. But I kind of want it to be a surprise.”

“Well, it can only go one of two ways.”

“That's what you think.” I said laughing, shaking my head at him. “I mean, I drank tons of booze and smoked so much old weed from my dads farm. He has this thing called the pandemic special, shit goes crazy...You might end up with one of those scary neuter-babies born without junk.” I explained, taking a long swig from my water bottle while raising a brow at Mark.

“Junk, huh?” He asked, seeming confused.

“Yeah, you know, its parts.”

“We definitely want it to have some junk. Please.” Mark said with a sigh, and I pressed my lips together in a frown.

“You don't need to worry about a thing. My mom makes me eat super-healthy. You know, I can't stand in front of the microwave, and no red M&M's. I hope you're ready.” I explained, but Mark seemed to ignore the question. The song playing from the cd player seemed to catch his attention.

“You hear that?” He said, getting up as he turned the volume up.

“What?”

“This is my favorite song. This is Sonic Youth doing "Superstar" by the Carpenters. What did you say your favorite band was?”

“Didn't. It's a three-way tie between Fleetwood Mac, Nirvana and Pink Floyd.”

There was a reason, of course there was. Though my favorite of all time was Billy Joel, but he asked about bands. When we were kids I don’t think I could survive without my earbuds in blasting any and all Billy Joel and Fleetwood Mac songs. Billy Joel was me and Kyle’s thing. The first day he got his license, he picked me up and blasted Billy Joel music as we drove around. Vienna must have played 20 times before we even got home. And Fleetwood Mac was Stan. Even as children, when my mom would sing us Landslide to help us fall asleep.

“I'm definitely making you some CD's. At least while my kid's in there.” He said, making me smile slightly.

—✧

AFTER LISTENING TO A FEW SONGS, and establishing a very important argument of 80s movies, we ended up on the couch watching Terminator. It had been an all out war, I had to defend my stand on Swayze for my life. It was nice, a cool way of getting away from the chaos of my life, no South Park, no Cartman, no Kyle, nothing. It was a nice quiet alternative to the craziness of my life.

“I’m sorry but I just can’t give you the win on this one. Dirty dancing will forever be the winner.” I said, shaking my head as he sighed.

“At Least it’s Dirty Dancing not some bouge remake.” He said, making me nod as I leaned back, a new movie now playing on tv.

“Have you guys thought of any names for the baby yet?”

“Sort of, yes. Vanessa likes Madison for a girl.” I looked over at Mark with furrowed eyebrows, not being able to help the dirty look I gave.

“Madison? Wait, hold on. Isn't that, like, a little gay?” I said rudely, earning a look in return from Mark.

“Wow, pretentious much? Should everyone just have a mysterious name like Juno? Isn’t your brother's name Stanley?” He argued, and I just shook my head.

“My dad went through this huge obsession with Roman and Greek mythology. You know, while he was high on weed. So he decided to name me after Zeus' wife.”

“I got it.”

“Zeus, he had tons of lays...But I'm pretty sure Juno was his only wife. And she was supposed to be, like, really beautiful but really mean. Like Diana Ross.” I explained, and he smiled at me as I rambled. It was strange, the way he smiled at me, but I didn’t think much of it. He was probably just trying not to laugh at my ridiculous talk.

“Well, that suits you.” He said, making me furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“Thanks?”

“You are something else.” I was about to make a comment before the front door opened. “There's Vanessa. You'd better go.”

“What? Why?” I asked, confused, considering I had come in the first place to show them their baby.

“She hates when I sit around and I watch movies and I don't "contribute."” He explained, getting up and clearing the sofa canes we had downed while here.

“No, I'll handle this. I'm really good at diffusing mom-type rage.” I explained, having handled mine and Kyle’s mothers for quite some time.

“Juno, seriously…”

“Mark, where are you? I got some stuff…” Vanessa said, the bags in her arms bouncing against her legs as she walked in.

“Hey, Vanessa.” I said cheerfully, though Vanessa seemed worried by my arrival.

“Juno. What's going on?” She asked, trying to see if she could find anything wrong.

“Nothing.”

“What's wrong?”

“I went to the doctor today.” I explained.

“Is something wrong?”

“The baby's great. It's the right size and everything. I even saw its phalanges today. Here. It's a baby. It's your baby. It kind of looks like it's waving, you know? Like it's saying, "Hey, Vanessa, will you be my mom?"”

When I showed Vanessa the picture there was a certain sparkle that seemed to form in her eyes, one I realized made her even more beautiful. She was so entirely happy, and in awe to see the baby, it made it all the more magical. It made me grateful to be able to say I was helping her.

“It kind of does.”

“Right?” I asked happily, smiling when Vanessa looked up at us.

“Juno was nice enough to bring that over for us.” Mark said, as Vanessa’s worry slowly faded.

“Yeah, I came as soon as I got that ultrasound goo off my pelvis. It was crazy, actually. My mom verbally abused… The ultrasound tech, and we got escorted off the premises. Wow, what kind of swag did you score? Mall madness, huh?” I rambled, looking down at the millions of bags in her hands.

“It's just some stuff I picked up for the baby.” She said.

“Don't you usually get all that stuff at a baby shower?”

“I doubt anyone's gonna throw us a shower.”

“Why wouldn't they throw you a shower?”

“I don't think people know how to feel about the situation…”

“Because it's not set in stone.”

I looked up to see both Mark and Vanessa looking down, as if mourning a past child they didn’t get to have. It broke my heart.

“What isn't set...? No. You don't think that I'm gonna flake out on you?” I asked, but Vanessa smiled sweetly.

“No, I don't, Juno. We went through a situation before where it didn't work out.” She explained, and Mark frowned beside her.

“Yeah, cold feet.”

“You should've gone to China. You know, because I hear they give away babies like free iPods. They just put them in those t-shirt guns and shoot them out at sporting events.” I explained, pretending to shoot a canon around. Mark and Vanessa shared a look before looking back at me.

“Your parents are probably wondering where you are.”

“No. I'm already pregnant. So, what other kind of shenanigans could I get into? But I should probably bounce.” I said, grabbing my keys as I began heading out.

“Take care.”

“Bye now.”

—✧

[thechanelmuse]

My Book Review

So I was gonna try to wait until Dec. 2nd to read this…Umm yeah, that’s too far away.

When Britney announced she was coming out with her memoir, The Woman in Me, I went from being hype to nervous once I saw the short page count: 288. That’s usually the standard size for celeb memoirs with a number of them being surface level like they were lifted from wikipedia. This is thee Britney Spears we’re talking about here.

No one should feel like they’re owed details nor allowed to pry into the lives of people who become notarized public figures simply because they are public figures. We all have a right to privacy. The thing is to be a mega star with a wild ass journey where people absorbed in greed have used you as a launchpad for their own access to (higher) fame and (your) fortune via relationships and an abusive conservatorship to you now being FREE, the only thing that came to my mind was: “How the hell is Britney going to cram all of this into 288 pages??”

Chile, did she shut me right up once those excerpts started rolling out. 

Britney’s debut album dropped when I was 11. I vividly remember going into Sam Goody ❤️ and getting my hands on that album. The same feeling I felt then is the same feeling now with this memoir. Let's see who she is (now).

The Woman in Me is a rundown of the things we already know mixed in with the unveiling of the things that we didn’t know. The most important question about her wellbeing then and now is answered at each turn: "How were/are you feeling?" The only time Britney has really come out to talk us about her private life is in defense of public media scrutiny. She’s cut from the cloth of ‘90s media training under the flashing lights of camera-toting hysteria as a paparazzi magnet. But she doesn't hold back in this memoir. We get to know her at each stage, the dynamics of her family well before she was born, the family she was born into, and the inside glimpses of what freedom is to her. 

“Raising kids in the South used to be more about respecting your parents and keeping your mouth shut.” This is the first line of chapter one. It sets the tone for this memoir thereafter. I found myself talking to this book a couple of times like you sometimes can't help but do while watching horror films. You can't help but say, "Girl, what?!" at a number of things she experienced. She really survived that.

[untilteddocument]

After-Action Archive Caves of Qud - Puff It Forward

Welcome again, one and all, to the After-Action Archive! My earlier post had me taking a detour to prepare for upcoming challenges, and while those preparations had little to do with this particular leg of the journey, there are connections.

I'm starting to make these regularly enough that I guess this could count as a semi-full LP outside of the beginning quests, so...whatever, highlight reel, LP, whatever it is, here it is. With that in mind, it's time to see with eyes only half-clouded by reality.

Barathrum's plan to answer the mysterious invitation to the top of the Spindle will require much, and he's made no secret of that. However, the preparations I took care of last time were useful, but irrelevant to those more immediate concerns. See, what was needed to advance Barathrum's aims wasn't force of arms, but discernment and exploration, because circumstances have moved him to rely on someone he would have preferred to leave be.

If Barathrum considers Pax Klanq to be brilliant, I have no doubt that they live up to that description. More relevant to me, though, is "reclusive". Those directions have precious little to go on, though I do have an idea about the first, at least.

The Rainbow Wood is a vast fungal forest bordered by the jungles on the west and Lake Hinnom in the east. I've never been there, but I imagine it would put all the fungal patches I've run into on my journeys thus far to shame. The information I gather from the other Barathrumites tell me little I truly absorb, but one tidbit piques my interest.

That...is interesting. On the plus side, at this point in time I'm actually on relatively good terms with oozes in general, so maybe these sludges won't be a problem, and fungual infections aren't a problem for me thanks to my Regeneration mutation. Ualraig and Indrix have it as well, so they'd be fine, but Esther does not. A large group might be cumbersome for this quest anyway, so I decided to go alone.

Travel from Kyakukya (closest town I have to the Rainbow Wood) wasn't too onerous. With what I've got, travel in the jungle is hardly dangerous, and my Wayfaring skills made getting there faster. Soon enough, I came in from the north, seeing that the shortest distance to the center would take advantage of the pinched-in sections to the north and south.

Despite my skills at travel, the thick fungal canopy and the vast stretches of mushrooms swallowed my sense of direction almost immediately.

The Rainbow Wood definitely earned its description as a fungus forest. They were so thick in places that getting around was far more involved than the jungle, even, and aside from the mushrooms, there were those lakes of primordial soup. They were safe to swim through, but that wasn't the wrinkle. Like Iseppa described, the primordial soup gives rise to special oozes, born where it and any other fluid intersect...and seeing as the Rainbow Wood is thick with giant weeps, fungi that secrete various liquids ranging from sap to lava, there's no shortage of these things around.

Speaking of Iseppa's warning, it got me to wonder. If it's "worse when they drink"...does that mean that they get stronger if they consume different fluids? That would make sense, and explain why this place would be dangerous to anyone on hostile terms with these things.

That gave me an idea, though. Through my travels, I'd gotten a hold of enough spare material that I could offer some freely to the Mechanimists in the Six Day Stilt.

Bit of an aside here: the main sect of the Mechanimists - there are at least three sects in total - believe that technology comes from the Argent Fathers shaping the Kasaphesence, a primal force/deity, into artifacts. Being divinely-crafted items, the church claims that mortals are unworthy of them and should give them up. This did raise my hackles a bit, but I looked at the reputation I would get from giving up various items. Most of them offer very little, and these include medical supplies, chairs, backpacks, and so on. The ones that they want people to give up are usually elaborate high-tech weaponry, and there's not even any compulsion to do so. No roving bands of Mechanimist enforcers, just a statement of their beliefs, and if people come by, they are welcome. I found this refreshing, and definitely puts them in contrast with the Putus Templar. Anyway, back to the story at hand.

By increasing my standing with the Mechanimists, I was able to trade some of that cachet in so that Eschelstadt II, High Priest of the Stilt himself, could give me some pointers on...persuasion.

Seeing as these sludges were rather new to things, it was easy to convince one that it should pal around with me.

After all, I had all these neat bags full of liquid in my pack and I was willing to share.

A monosludge is not exactly putting the fear into anything just by its lonesome, no. A triskaidecasludge, though, is a resilient ball of limbs that can easily flatten anything that gets too close. Each of those pseudopods inflicts a different effect, on top of being classified as cudgels and therefore able to stunlock enemies with points in the relevant skills. At this point, those masterwork fullerite mauls are mostly there to take up space; if all its "hands" are occupied with equipment, the sludge grows new pseudopods to suit whatever new liquid it drank up, and more limbs means more attacks.

With my new friend in tow, I made my way onward and inward. The heart (presumably the center) of the Rainbow Wood wouldn't be far, if I had my directions right enough. Thankfully, it seemed I did. It didn't look too different from other regions of the forest, except, of course, for the thing that made it important.

That's kind of a leading question, isn't it? In any case I'm just happy that this doesn't end in eating actual divine meat...unless that name isn't being poetic?

Whatever, down the hatch.

Aside from the apparently-fantastic taste, it was necessary due to a certain effect it had on our perception. Namely, it offered the Shimmering effect, which let me see half a dimension over, but the disorientation of this did reverse-favors for my quickness.

Thus impaired but empowered, I was able to see the next step, the so-called coral path. Bricks seemed to materialize from nothing, tracing a route back north. Fighting the drift of consciousness, my sludgy companion and I made our way among the towering mushrooms and I-am-doubly-grateful-that-they-are-neutral-to-me-now sludges, eventually coming to a stop at the room where Pax Klanq had secluded themself.

I hesitated before speaking up, afraid of interrupting the process of genius. Seeing them work as they did felt akin to being a neophyte again. Barathrum's esteem seemed well-placed.

After a few seconds that lasted way longer than that, I hailed them.

...Come again?

...Fair enough, they didn't stutter. Still, I came here for a reason.

Okay, I have to know.

...yeah, that'd do it. Back to business, then.

Honestly, this could go several ways, none of which strike me as appealing.

...Well, okay, maybe one, in the abstract, but I don't think Pax Klanq is my type. Kind of got a grown-up Jimmy Neutron vibe going on.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Ugh, fiiiiiiiine.

Friggin' asshole, got some friggin' laundry list...

...friggin' gotta puff spores all over the place, razzin' frazzin'...

...spore-puffing so-and-so, got me puffing spores like some friggin'...

"KlAnQ pUfF oN yOuUuUuUuUuUuUuUu" friggin' jackass...

...got me diving into the bowels of the friggin' earth fighting friggin' magma crabs, lost my friggin' shield to friggin' lava, almost died, but noooo, gotta puff, right? Razzin' frazzin'...

There. I did it. Friggin' jerk...

Sigh.

Well, I hope Barathrum appreciates that I took one for the team.

On the plus side, I got to see some sights, get some experience, even met some good merchants. I lost something of sentimental value (the shield, not my innocence. I don't give a shit about that), but in the end it was a thing that could be replaced. On to the next adventure.

[perplexedflower]

Love On The Rocks - Chapter 1: Margarita

Fandom: Supernatural.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Crowley x Female Reader.

Type: 5-chapter fanfiction.

Summary: Being the King of Hell has its ups, but it also has its downs. And these downs lead Crowley straight into a bar, where he finds something far greater than just a glass of whisky: the love of its bartender, a young woman who is oblivious to the demon's nature. But one evening, he does not show up at the bar at his usual time, and his newfound love finds herself exposed unwillingly to everything that has been hiding under her nose this whole time…

Chronology: Season 10.

~~~~~~~~~~

That Sunday evening was quiet. But then again, so were most Sunday evenings. It was hard to do business when the dreaded Monday was right around the corner. Yet, it was paradoxically enough the very reason behind the few customers' presence. For the people who did show up at the bar those evenings, it was precisely because Monday was patiently waiting to drag them back into their weekly routines, whether they spent them sitting behind a desk in a boring cubicle or working their asses off under the sun or the cold. For these people, Sunday evenings down at the Golden Cross were their salvation; and I was happy to provide it to them.

I had been lucky enough to have effortlessly found a job I enjoyed when I had come to settle in town, a few years prior; although I was attached to the state capital of Kansas, in which I had been born and raised all my life, I had decided to leave it behind after certain unfortunate changes in my life and had headed South, for the county of Wichita. There, I had found a post as a bartender in a bar called the Golden Cross, which specialized in all things Scottish, from the drinks, the aesthetic, and the tunes on the jukebox. Now, I did not have the slightest experience of working as a bartender, but my motivation and interest in the job were enough to help me get it without too much difficulty: and, since Ed, the owner, had been kind enough to give me on-the-job training, I quickly came to enjoy it.

One other thing I also enjoyed was one of the perks that came out of it: a studio apartment. The bar occupied the first floor of a building that also included apartment rooms on the upper floors, and which were specifically rented by all the workers of the bar. The studio was not the most spacious, but given I lived alone, I did not mind much: there was enough room for one person, and that was just fine by me. And one of the reasons I liked it was because of how convenient it was for me: my workplace was only one floor below my bed, and though a setup such as this may have been seen as harrowing to some, it was highly practical for me and my work hours. I worked every evening, from 9 PM to 3 AM. And yes, that included Sundays.

That Sunday evening was quiet. So much so that when the front door was pushed open around 10:30, it caught my attention right away; but not as much as the gentle sound of short heels walking the ground that followed. I looked up from what I was doing to see a middle-aged man step into the bar and walk in my direction, the direction of the counter, behind which he sat in silence. Armed with my warmest smile, I walked up to him.

"Good evening, sir." I welcomed him while cleaning an empty glass I was holding. "What can I serve you on this lonely night?"

"Lonely indeed." He answered in a neutral tone, seemingly unfazed.

I smiled further upon hearing his accent.

"Oh, British." I said with slight enthusiasm.

Upon hearing my comment, the man smiled lightly and scoffed as he lowered his gaze for just a few seconds, before he looked back up at me.

"Do you serve Craig here?"

I tilted my head a little and stopped cleaning the glass in my hands.

"Glencraig whisky?" I asked with a chuckle. "Of course, we are a Scottish bar after all."

A faint smile appeared on his face as he slightly raised his eyebrows, after which he nodded and looked back down at his hands.

"Then I'll have one, thank you."

I was still smiling warmly at him when I gently tapped on the counter with the palm of my hand.

"Coming right up."

I walked a few steps away to go grab the bottle of whisky then came back in front of him, and I poured him a glass while we exchanged smiles. After having served him, I left him to himself and went back to my shift: although the bar was on a slow day, a few customers still showed up here and there, and so the man with the Craig was left to silently drink on his own as I kept on serving customers. However, at one point, not long after I had filled his glass, I could not help but notice him pull out his phone, which he set in front of him on the counter, and spend quite some time intensely staring at something on its screen. I did not dare approach him to ask him what he was doing precisely, so I did not move from where I was standing; the one rule I always tried my best not to break when working at the bar was to not come off as intrusive or rude to the customers. Besides, as its bartender, I knew better than anyone that many of them came to have a drink with the sole intent of drowning in their sorrow and forgetting about their problems.

He's just a drifter... One of many that wash up on the shore of our bar, I thought to myself. And whatever he's looking at on his phone must be linked to the reason why he decided to have a drink to begin with.

I stared at him for a minute longer, still lost in my thoughts.

Though, I do have to admit... For a drifter, he comes off as a very classy man.

Just as this remark crossed my mind, I saw him put his phone away and back in his coat pocket, which prompted me to initiate a conversation with him while I kept making drinks for other customers; I stood next to him as I grabbed various bottles, glasses, and shakers.

"Pardon me for asking, but what are you doing here?" I asked with a chuckle but genuine curiosity.

Up until I talked, he had been looking to the side, but the very second the first words I spoke came out of my mouth, he turned to look at me.

"I mean- I don't mean to be rude, but a business-looking fella like yourself doesn't really seem in his environment in a place like this."

He scoffed at my comment and closed his eyes for a brief second.

"It's true I'm not usually fond of bars." He said as he looked around him at the bar and its decorations. "But I've been hearing about this establishment of yours from..."

He marked a pause mid-sentence to exhale heavily through his nose, then pouted in an upset manner.

"... Business partners." He finally finished his sentence in a somewhat bitter tone. "So I'd been meaning to give it a try for some time now, and it just so happened I needed a drink tonight."

"Ah, I get the feeling." I told him with a smile. "And, soooo... How are you liking it here so far? Have the expectations you had of the bar been met? If you had any to begin with, that is."

The man looked around him once more, as if to fully analyze his environment, after which he brought his glass of whisky up to his lips.

"It's quite a decent pub you're running here, I think."

"Oh, I don't own the place." I awkwardly chuckled as I gestured my hands around. "But, thank you. It always makes me happy to know our customers are happy customers."

The smile I wore lifted upward on one corner of my mouth as I shrugged lightly with my eyebrows slightly raised.

"And, who knows... If you really do like it here, maybe you'll even see yourself becoming a regular." I joked. "Lord knows that'd be a blessing for business."

And to that, he scoffed and shook his head, then he swallowed the last drops of liquor that had been resting at the bottom of his glass.

"Yeah, who knows." He whispered almost inaudibly.

Now that his glass was empty, that his sorrow had been washed away, he got up from his stool and was ready to go back outside, out into the cold night that was surely waiting for his return; but before he did, he dived his hand into one of his coat pockets, and as he turned to me, he set on the counter a moderately generous tip.

"Good night." He told me in his low, deep voice.

"Thank you." I said, smiling brightly at him while my hand collected the money before me. "You have a good night as well."

And with that, the man in the suit headed for the front door, followed once more by the sound of his short heels walking the white and blue floor tiles; and he left the bar, which was still as quiet as when he had first stepped foot inside it.

[formulauno98]

Chez Grandmère | Chapter One

Having relocated to the South of France for some peace and quiet, little did you know that you would be getting more than you bargained for. Thanks to a chance meeting in the local grocery store and a certain bulldog called Roscoe, you were on the path to becoming a Formula One WAG.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction.

You twiddled your thumbs, waiting in line in the local grocery store, having popped in to grab a packet of pasta and some sauce for a lazy dinner for one. It had been three weeks since you’d arrived in the South of France and you’d taken like a duck to water to the laid-back sunny lifestyle.

Having been born and raised in the sprawling urbanity that was London, the French Riviera made for a stark contrast. You’d left a successful job at an advertising agency for a change of pace where you could explore your primary interest, children’s storybook illustration. It was a career opportunity that had come out of nowhere, having by chance worked on an ad project that required you to revisit your artistic talents and illustrate characters. The ad had been a huge success, with the painterly illustrations being the star of the show. Inquiries had come flooding in and soon enough you’d realised this was a viable way to make a living. 

Not content with life in the dull grey city, you’d taken the opportunity to up sticks and move to sunnier climes. Your Grandma lived in Roquebrune Cap-Martin, a small town just east of Monaco and you felt it would be just the place you needed to strike inspiration gold. She’d kindly offered you her spare room and you’d made yourself at home quickly, spending the mornings painting on the sundrenched terrace and lazy afternoons by the pool.

Lost in your thoughts you stepped back and bumped into something. Looking down, it was none other than a bulldog. “Oh my gosh, sorry love!” you knelt down and tickled his ears, glancing around for the owner who was nowhere to be seen. He was a friendly dog so you kept making a fuss of him until a voice called out.

“Roscoe, what are you doing?”

You looked up to see a panicked man coming around the corner, his hands full of cartons of juice.

“Je suis désolé pour mon chien.” He said in broken French, “Il est très… naughty.”

You laughed, “It’s okay, I’m English. Don’t worry about it, he’s a sweetheart.”

“Oh right, sorry!” the man blushed, “Just as long as he doesn’t slobber on you.”

“Oh no, he is too cute, I wouldn’t even mind,” you said, tickling the dog’s head one last time before standing up. That’s when it hit you, the dog’s owner was none other than Lewis Hamilton. You hadn’t recognised him from the floor but now that you saw it you put two and two together and your heart skipped a beat.

Realising that you’d recognised him, Lewis smiled at you, “He doesn’t normally let strangers do that you know, he must know you’re a good one.”

“Ah I love dogs, I couldn’t not make a fuss of him.” you smiled, just as the cashier called you to pay. “Nice to meet you, and nice to meet you, Roscoe.” 

“Likewise.” called out Lewis as you made your way over to the counter, turning around to flash him a smile.

In typically French fashion, the check-out process was slow and the cashier made a point of sending someone to find another jar of sauce as apparently the bar code was incorrect. You were waiting for them to return when once again, you felt something nuzzling up against your bare legs. Glancing down, it was Roscoe, evidently back for more tickles. Stretching down, you stroked the crook of his ears once more, his short stump of a tail wagging enthusiastically.

“Honestly, I am so sorry, he is never normally like this,” said Lewis, who was now at the checkout to the left of you.

“No need to apologise, he’s very sweet. I used to have one myself, I miss him like crazy..” you said, hoping that Lewis knew you didn’t mind.

“Oh I’m sorry to hear, what kind of dog was he?” he asked, his brown eyes bright with curiosity, “Merci Madame,” he added to the cashier who handed him a receipt for his juice.

“Not too dissimilar to Roscoe here, he was a French bulldog, called Pierre,” you said, now well aware that Lewis was hovering next to you as you waited for the woman to return with your sauce.

“Aw, I bet he was cute. I love Frenchies, they’re like my boy’s cousin,” he said kindly. 

“Maybe Roscoe knows.” you laughed, as the cashier finally rang up your sauce and you paid. “Merci, bonne journée." you said, gathering your bags, Roscoe still at your heels.

“I think he’s your number one fan.” Lewis said laughing as you both made your way out of the small shop, “So what brings you down here? You said you’re English?”

Surprised that he was still chatting away to you, you replied, “Yes, I’m from just outside London, quit my job in advertising and I’ve just started illustrating full time. My Grandma lives here so I figured I’d come down and stay with her for a bit to get the creativity flowing.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” said Lewis, looking genuinely interested, “What kind of things do you illustrate?”

“Children’s books mostly, characters and environments.” you said, “It’s not exactly fine art but it pays the bills.”

“Ah I’m sure they’re great,” said Lewis, “I hope you don’t think this is forward of me, but would you like to get dinner sometime? I live just on the other side of that,” he said, gesturing over to the piece of land sticking out into the bay, “It’s nice to hear another English voice around here.”

Taken aback that Lewis Hamilton was not only talking to you but had just asked you out for dinner, you stuttered, “Sure, that would be nice. Let me know when you’re around.”

Lewis smiled widely, “Amazing, how about Thursday night? Can I get your number? I’ll make a reservation somewhere nice.”

“Sure,” you said as he took out his phone to add you as a contact.

“I just realised I didn’t even ask your name,” he said, blushing slightly.

“It’s Y/N.” you replied with a smile, “And don’t worry, I didn’t ask yours.”

“Y/N? That’s a pretty name. I’m Lewis.” he grinned, extending his free hand to shake yours.

“Nice to meet you Lewis.” you smiled. “My number is …”

“Thanks,” Lewis said as he typed your number carefully into your phone, “I’ll drop you a text later today.”

“Sounds good,” you smiled, “Right, I had better head off but I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Same, looking forward to it,” Lewis said, looking genuinely excited.

“Likewise,” you knelt down to stroke Roscoe one last time before parting ways, “And bye to my new buddy.”

“I still can’t get over this.” said Lewis, “He knows a pretty girl when he sees one.”

At this you blushed, standing back up to make a move, “What can I say, I’m a sucker for a cute face.” 

Lewis laughed, his eyes twinkling in the sun, he really was handsome. “I try my best.”

“I was talking about Roscoe but sure let’s go with that,” you winked, “Have a good day and I’ll be waiting for your text.”

“I know, I’m just messing,” said Lewis, grinning even more widely, “See you on Thursday Y/N.”

“See you,” you said, making your way back up the steep hill to your Grandma's apartment building, well aware that Lewis was definitely staring at your ass as you walked away.

[blvssomed]

[  mackenyu,  cis  man,  he/him  ]  —  whoa!  MICHAEL  “MICKEY”  YAMAZAKI just  stole  my  cab!  not  cool,  but  maybe  they  needed  it  more.  they  have  lived  in  the  city  for  5  YEARS,  working  as  a  MUSICIAN  /  TATTOO  ARTIST.  that  can’t  be  easy,  especially  at  only  27  YEARS  OLD  some  people  say  they  can  be  a  little  bit  FICKLE  and  IMPETUOUS,  but  i  know  them  to  be  CHARISMATIC  and  GENIAL.  whatever.  i  guess  i’ll  catch  the  next  cab.  hope  they  like  the  ride  back  to  THE  BRONX!

STATISTICS

full  name:  michael  yamazaki

nicknames:  mickey

birthplace:  seattle,  washington

occupation:  musician  /  tattoo  artist

height:  5’10”

tattoos:  sleeve  (  see  HERE  for  reference  )

age:  twenty7

sexuality:  bisexual  /  biromantic

music:  sounds  like  a  cross  between  knox  /  waterparks

band:  lead  singer  /  rhythm  guitarist  for  system  collapse

BIOGRAPHY

music  has  always  been  prominent  in  the  yamazaki  family  and  it  was  the  fundamental  reason  that  brought  together  his  mother  and  father.  his  father,  asahi  yamazaki,  was  born  and  raised  in  japan  and  went  on  the  be  the  frontman  and  vocalist  of  a  japanese  rock  band  that  took  east  asia  by  storm  in  the  early/mid  90s.  meanwhile  his  mother,  iris  nakamura,  was  born  in  seattle,  washington  and  would  go  on  to  travel  to  japan  during  college  for  a  study  abroad  program  and  to  see  where  her  grandparents  emigrated  from.

the  experience  for  iris  was  a  whirlwind  where  she  met  asahi  on  a  night  out  at  a  bar  after  one  of  his  sold  out  shows  and  from  there  she  followed  him  across  east  /  south  asia  on  the  rest  of  the  tour.  it  was  an  affair  that  burned  fast  and  bright  bc  of  their  infatuation  with  one  another  and  after  a  few  months,  iris  found  out  that  she  was  pregnant  with  mickey.

mickey’s  mother  broke  things  off  with  his  father  not  long  after  the  semester  ended  and  she  had  to  return  to  america  and  back  to  her  life  in  seattle.  she  didn’t  tell  him  about  mickey  under  the  reasoning  that  she  didn’t  want  to  be  the  potential  cause  should  asahi  put  the  band  behind  him  for  parental  duties.

while  his  grandparents  aren’t  all  that  pleased  that  their  still  in  college  daughter  came  back  from  japan  pregnant,  they  still  helped  raise  mickey  so  he  was  brought  up  in  a  loving  family  without  much  reason  to  wonder  where  his  father  was.  his  mother  would  go  onto  graduating  college  and  becoming  a  paralegal  at  a  prominent  law  firm  in  seattle.

any  curiosity  mickey  had  over  who  his  father  was  would  be  answered  following  his  eighth  birthday  when  he  came  home  from  school  to  see  his  mother  on  the  couch  in  their  living  room  with  an  unfamiliar  man.  he  introduced  himself  to  mickey  as  his  father  and  mickey  would  come  to  learn  about  his  rockstar  status  in  japan  as  well  as  the  career  he  put  on  pause  upon  the  confession  of  a  friend  telling  asahi  about  mickey’s  existence.

it  was  an  odd  situation  where  his  father  relocated  to  seattle,  settled  into  a  fledgling  relationship  with  his  mother  and  mickey  began  to  feel  that  this  was  what  an  actual  family  felt  like.  his  father  moved  into  the  apartment  with  him  and  his  mother  where  he  would  take  mickey  on  the  weekends  to  recording  studios  to  show  him  the  music  he  was  writing  and  to  introduce  him  to  the  environment.

it  was  surreal  to  mickey  after  years  of  normality  with  his  mother  to  have  this  new  chapter  in  his  life  where  he  was  hanging  out  and  bonding  with  dad,  after  years  of  hearing  stories  over  what  his  friend’s  did  with  their  dads.  now  he  had  his  dad  to  help  with  any  math  problems  or  get  any  opinions  on  the  latest  drawing  he  completed.

while  mickey  did  average  in  school,  his  creativity  definitely  came  from  his  dad  who  fully  supported  mickey  when  he  would  have  his  art  showcased  in  his  school  district’s  art  shows  or  help  mickey  when  it  came  to  learning  to  play  the  guitar.  all  his  mom  hoped  for  was  mickey  to  make  an  effort  in  his  education  and  to  leave  an  opportunity  for  college  should  he  decide  that  it  was  the  path  for  him.

his  father  picked  back  up  with  his  band  after  a  three  year  hiatus  where  mickey  was  at  his  side  at  the  seattle  recording  studios  where  his  dad  would  lay  down  vocals  (  and  meet  the  rest  of  the  band  when  they  flew  in  from  japan  )  and  this  is  where  mickey  would  say  his  own  love  for  music  began  to  flourish. 

it’s  during  the  summer  going  into  his  junior  year  of  high  school  that  mickey  is  given  permission  by  his  mother  to  go  on  tour  with  his  dad  in  east  asia  and  visit  the  area  where  his  maternal  grandparents  and  his  dad  are  from.

this  experience  has  mickey  want  to  pursue  a  career  in  music,  but  knows  that  he  needs  to  have  a  buffer  in  case  since  he  doesn’t  want  to  rely  on  his  father’s  connections  to  get  him  where  he  wants  to  be.  so  mickey  pursues  a  bachelor’s  degree  in  art  to  hone  his  craft  while  spending  the  time  playing  in  a  band  that  he  formed  during  those  years.  mickey  would  be  the  one  to  write  the  lyrics  as  well  as  most  of  the  music  they  performed.

the  band  would  go  on  to  break  up  once  mickey  graduated  and  he  decided  to  start  an  apprenticeship  in  new  york  city  at  a  tattoo  parlor  owned  by  a  friend  of  his  father.  this  starts  mickey’s  residency  in  new  york,  finding  an  equal  balance  between  his  love  for  music  and  his  love  for  art  and  being  able  to  share  that  with  people  who  come  in  for  tattoos.

his  band  system  collapse  started  within  the  past  two  years  where  mickey  happened  to  connect  with  his  now  drummer,  bass  player,  and  guitarist  at  a  bar  where  mickey  drunkenly  sang  karaoke  and  they  all  ended  up  connecting  over  their  love  for  music.  the  rest  is  history  !!

as  of  now,  mickey  lives  in  the  bronx  with  some  roommates  where  during  the  day  he  works  at  a  tattoo  parlor  in  manhattan  that  he  loves,  while  being  able  to  balance  band  rehearsals  with  his  bandmates  and  performing  at  bars  across  the  city  during  the  weekend.

his  band  recently  put  out  their  first  ep  and  i  like  to  think  they’re  making  waves  in  the  city  as  well  as  on  spotify  and  tiktok  where  they’ve  blown  up  a  bit  bc  they’re  hot  and  make  good  music  lmao  so  right  now  mickey  is  kinda  vibing  as  he  begins  to  write  more  music  for  their  first  full-length  album

WANTED CONNECTIONS

his  bandmates  !!  i’m  probably  going  to  submit  a  wc  at  some  point  to  the  main,  but  they  have  a  pop  punk  sound  that’s  a  mix  of  waterparks  and  knox.  they’d  be  the  drummer,  bassist,  and  lead  guitarist  !!  overall  a  slayful  group  of  musicians  that  get  along  super  great  and  thought  mickey  has  never  had  siblings,  they’re  the  closest  he  has  and  he  wouldn’t  trade  them  for  anything

an  ex  whether  on  good  terms  of  bad  terms,  i  think  it  could  be  fun  to  play  around  with.  mickey  juggles  his  tattooing  career  and  his  music,  so  on  his  off  time  it’s  a  lot  of  sketching  /  drawing  as  well  as  writing  down  lyrics  or  melodies,  so  it  could  have  very  well  ended  bc  of  his  poor  time  management  skills  where  your  muse  thought  he  prioritized  those  over  them

a  friends  with  benefit  where  mickey  and  your  muse  fell  into  a  casual  hookup  scenario  bc  both  are  too  busy  to  pursue  a  relationship,  so  casual  sex  is  the  next  best  thing.  they  get  along  as  friends  and  as  of  now  there’s  no  entanglement  of  feelings  which  makes  it  easy

maybe  some  fans  of  mickey  and  his  music  !!  either  they  saw  him  and  his  band  perform  around  the  city  or  saw  them  on  tiktok  lol

clients  that  mickey  has  given  tattoos  for  whether  that  be  past  or  present

maybe  a  one  night  stand  after  a  hinge  date  where  maybe  mickey  wasn’t  clear  with  his  intentions  that  it  was  a  one  time  thing  and  your  muse  thought  they  really  hit  off  and  was  embarrassed  to  wake  up  to  mickey  getting  dressed  to  leave  in  the  morning  </3

anything  else  really  bc  i’m  open  to  most  things  !!