#country boys fixins

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Writing Advice #?: Don’t write out accents.

The Surface-Level Problem: It’s distracting at best, illegible at worst. 

The following passage from Sons and Lovers has never made a whit of sense to me:

“I ham, Walter, my lad,’ ’e says; ‘ta’e which on ’em ter’s a mind.’ An’ so I took one, an’ thanked ’im. I didn’t like ter shake it afore ’is eyes, but ’e says, ‘Tha’d better ma’e sure it’s a good un. An’ so, yer see, I knowed it was.’”

There’s almost certainly a point to that dialogue — plot, character, theme — but I could not figure out what the words were meant to be, and gave up on the book.  At a lesser extreme, most of Quincey’s lines from Dracula (“I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your little shoes”) cause American readers to sputter into laughter, which isn’t ideal for a character who is supposed to be sweet and tragic.  Accents-written-out draw attention to mechanical qualities of the text.

Solution #1: Use indicators outside of the quote marks to describe how a character talks.  An Atlanta accent can be “drawling” and a London one “clipped”; a Princeton one can sound “stiff” and a Newark one “relaxed.”  Do they exaggerate their vowels more (North America) or their consonants more (U.K., north Africa)?  Do they sound happy, melodious, frustrated?

The Deeper Problem: It’s ignorant at best, and classist/racist/xenophobic at worst.

You pretty much never see authors writing out their own accents — to the person who has the accent, the words just sound like words.  It’s only when the accent is somehow “other” to the author that it gets written out.

And the accents that we consider “other” and “wrong” (even if no one ever uses those words, the decision to deliberately misspell words still conveys it) are pretty much never the ones from wealthy and educated parts of the country.  Instead, the accents with misspelled words and awkward inflection are those from other countries, from other social classes, from other ethnicities.  If your Maine characters speak normally and your Florida characters have grammatical errors, then you have conveyed what you consider to be correct and normal speech.  We know what J.K. Rowling thinks of French-accented English, because it’s dripping off of Fleur Delacour’s every line.

At the bizarre extreme, we see inappropriate application of North U.K. and South U.S.-isms to every uneducated and/or poor character ever to appear in fan fic.  When wanting to get across that Steve Rogers is a simple Brooklyn boy, MCU fans have him slip into “mustn’t” and “we is.”  When conveying that Robin 2.0 is raised poor in Newark, he uses “ain’t” and “y’all” and “din.”  Never mind that Iron Man is from Manhattan, or that Robin 3.0 is raised wealthy in Newark; neither of them ever gets a written-out accent.

Solution #2: A little word choice can go a long way, and a little research can go even further.  Listen carefully to the way people talk — on the bus, in a café, on unscripted YouTube — and write down their exact word choice.  “We good” literally means the same thing as “no thank you,” but one’s a lot more formal than the other.  “Ain’t” is a perfectly good synonym for “am not,” but not everyone will use it.

The Obscure Problem: It’s not even how people talk.

Look at how auto-transcription software messes up speaking styles, and it’s obvious that no one pronounces every spoken sound in every word that comes out of their mouth.  Consider how Americans say “you all right?”; 99% of us actually say something like “yait?”, using tone and head tilt to convey meaning.  Politicians speak very formally; friends at bars speak very informally.

An example: I’m from Baltimore, Maryland.  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Texas, in which case I’m from “Baltmore, Marlind.”  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Pennsylvania, in which case I’m from “Balmore, Marlin.”  If I’m speaking to a fellow Marylander, I’m of course from “Bamor.”  (If I’m speaking to a non-American, I’m of course from “Washington D.C.”)  Trying to capture every phoneme of change from moment to moment and setting to setting would be ridiculous; better just to say I inflect more when talking to people from outside my region.

When you write out an accent, you insert yourself, the writer, as an implied listener.  You inflict your value judgments and your linguistic ear on the reader, and you take away from the story.

Solution #3: When in doubt, just write the dialogue how you would talk.

[divinelolita]

lemme raise a toast

to the boy i love most

in the wholeeeee worlddd

JULIAN🥰🥰🥰

ahem

lemme get theeeee mackey special🤨🤨 a big mac with six nuggets and a milkshake😋(kaulitz twins seperate or together choose wtv u want bae) yeaaahahah with a country bf bro WAITNWAITBWAIT

yk how much i love giving details

but lemme tell u that bill and tom loveeee they're bf like frfr but i'll tell you they love(especially tom) his ASS BRO he got that country boy ass shi checked out. sure they love seein him do horseback riding but god damn the way they see bro's ass- i think they fell in love again maybe watching how he'll grab his belt loops and pull his pants up slightly😘

and probably during the hot ass fckn day he had to wear shorts or smth and that got bros riled UP. like imagine tom jus starin n shi and bill trying not to stare🙏🏾😔

stop cuz bill would probably love the way he talks and slangs his words tooooo(most likely while he rides bill AND THEY PROLLY LOVE REVERSE COWGIRL pun intended but that's besides the point😇)

obviously as always these r jus ideas do wtf u want🥱

KAULITZ TWINS X COUNTRY READER

contains nsfw themes so if you don't like that don't read

BILL:

・OHMYGODDDDBKJAJSJS

・Bro is down bad 😰

・He's inlove with your voice, he might even pick up your accent.

・Watching you sweat in your shirt from the heat, to the point where you have to pull it off?

・he is FULLY staring...like he can't take his eyes off you.

・No matter how hard he tries to distract himself his eyes always wander back to you

・Gently rubbing his hands up and down, occasionally rubbing your thighs

"You look....really good."

・He mumbles, fingers tracing the hem of your pants.

・He likes having you on top so he doesn't got to move too much

・Listening to your strings of moans, shi turns him tf on 😔

TOM:

・He's an ass guy🙏🏼🥰

・Watching you run in those pants? His eyes are glued to your ass going up and down 🤭

・Letting out half-assed apologies when he gets called out by you, grinning sheepishly yet continuing to stare

・He actually likes your accent, but can't help but make a joke every so often.

"...then she asked me to start fixin' up lunch 'cause-"

"Why did you say it like that?💀"

・no harsh feelings babe, he loves you 😇

・GOD DAMNN he is one horny motherfucker.

・His eyes never leave your figure, zones out looking at you while your talking to him.

・Love those country moans 🤗

・listening to your soft noises as he fucks you, oooohhh goddamn

[chokedonaturtle]

my humanized cars headcanons

Cal Weathers Edition

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- Cal went to a private school in California and when his parents died he moved in with Strip and Lynda at like 12-15

so that’s why his accent ain’t as pronounced as Strip’s but it’s still there

bro definitely got called a city slicker by Tex

- Tex loves him sm he does anything and everything for him, he’s def the cool uncle that says yes just because Strip said no

- 100000% a mamas boy and is glued to Lynda’s hip most of the time

- insanely good at math he does that thing with the mental abacus russian children learn in school

honestly he’s just good at school in general that boy can WRITE an essay

- is right handed but holds the wii remote in his left hand and nunchuck in his right WHICH IS WRONG BTW 😡😡😡

- can and will play the most depressing country music on guitar and has the most perfect country boy voice with the cracks and all (think brad paisley (my love))

- he has low self confidence because he feels the need to be just as good as Strip if not better and feels like he’ll never step outside Strip’s shadow and make a name for himself

and Tex makes jokes like “yeah you better win this season or i’ll drop you” but then he sees cal sad and he’s like “thou shalt not compare thineself to thine predecessor”

- thinks he’s sponsored by dinoco ONLY because he’s Strip’s nephew

“you just sponsored me bc i’m strip’s nephew 😔”

“i sponsored you bc you’re a great racer with potential not bc of strip 😡🥺”

- bro cried when he retired (i did too)

- when Tex was updating the racing suits for safety standards or something he had a new design drawn up and Cal was like “no i wanna race with my old design 🥺🥺🥺”

- Tex thinks it’s adorable that he wants to race in that outfit bc it hasn’t been updated since strip started racing and it’s like a legacy passed down !! aw !!

- whenever he’s in the same room as Tex he plucks off Tex’s hat and wears it like he used to when he was a young whippersnapper

and Tex is like “gotdam!!! that hat looks just like mine !!!!” and Cal is like 😐😑😐 “y’aint funny tex”

- says the weird country stuff like

“that boy’s cornbread ain’t done in the middle”

“nervous as a cat in a room full o’ rocking chairs”

“if the good lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise”

“i’m fixin to (insert perfectly normal errand nobody announces)”

“they was bangin’ like a screen door in a tornado.” (he got that one from Tex and only says it when he ain’t isn’t around Strip and Lynda)

- says “git” instead of “get” bc of Strip and yall’d’ve bc of Tex and then everyone makes fun of him

Strip: “where you git that 🤨” “git over ‘ere” aka “CMERE BOY”

Tex: “yall’d’ve” “y’aint” “yall done got them good”Cal: yeah that’s mine now

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yeah that’s it for NOW i will make more !! later mayhaps!!

- he says mayhaps and perchance NO I DIDNT BASE HIM OFF ME

ok bye <3

[keyh0use]

Kinktober Day 9: Fingering

no warnings.

People were filing into the reception area by the dozens, talking and giggling and drinking, completely unaware of where Barry and Rafe had run off to.

The marble countertop was digging into the small of Rafe's back, white dress shirt clinging to his tacky skin as Barry nipped at his bottom lip.

Music floated in from outside the spacious bathroom, obscuring the sounds of panting and hushed conversation from within. Barry had all but dragged his boy down the grand staircase and shoved him inside the stark white room, doing a rushed sweep before locking them inside.

Rafe hadn't understood the hurry then—and he's even more confused now.

Heated kisses are trailed down his throat as rough hands yank open his belt carelessly, pulling the rich leather from its loops before dropping it on the counter.

"Wait," gasps Rafe, brows creased as he grasps his man's broad shoulders. "Shouldn't we—'

Whatever suggestion was about to fall from the boys slack lips is long forgotten when Barry's hand weasels inside of his pants to wrap around his embarrassingly hard dick, all worked up from being in close proximity to his husband.

Barry says breathlessly, like he's the one being touched, "Fuck, just need ya' ready, aight? We'll go out in'a minute."

"Ready for what?" whimpers the kook.

"Me, country club," clarifies Barry, swiping the pad of his thumb over the oozing slit, smearing slick around the cockhead. "By the time we make it to the resort, don't wanna be sidetracked and shit."

With his free hand, Barry's skilled fingers pop open the button and pull down the zipper of the slacks, shoving them down Rafe's hips impatiently.

The boys mind is racing as he tries to pick apart his jumbled thoughts, searching for the question itching at the back of his brain. There's something they need to be doing, but it's hard to remember what when Barry's fondling his balls.

"Turn around," orders Barry.

Rafe dumbly replies, "Huh?"

Instead of repeating himself to the scatterbrained boy, Barry maneuvers Rafe around to face the large mirror, white overhead lights catching on the beads of sweat collecting on the kooks brow.

Barry softly comments, "Pretty boy," while smoothing a rough palm over the curve of his ass before giving it a sharp swat.

"Barry," hisses Rafe.

"Sorry," the man replies with a grin, gold tooth glinting in his reflection. "Sorry, baby." Then he's pressing a kiss behind Rafe's ear and confessing, "Can't help myself, look so damn good." Footsteps approach from down the long hall outside and Rafe's lips come together in a thin line, suddenly overly aware of where they are and what they're doing. Rafe mumbles, "We need to go out before people come looking." Like Ward. Or Topper, maybe Sarah because she's nosy—then of course Wheezie would be trailing behind. Fuck. The thought sends a shutter throughout his body but Barry is quick to shush his worries, noisily spitting onto thick fingers while telling Rafe, "We'll tell 'em you were fixin' your hair again, they'd believe me." Before the boy can make a quip like sorry, not everyone can just shower and step out with perfect little curls, the words die on his tongue as the blunt tip of Barry's index finger sinks inside him. Rafe's hands catch and curl around the edge of the counter as he mindlessly bends, spreading his legs a little further apart. One finger is a barely there stretch, yet it has him panting in anticipation for more, blue eyes flickering up to meet his mans in the mirror. "There you go," mutters Barry encouragingly, hungry gaze roaming over the boys flushed face. Spit eases the glide when Barry pulls out and fucks two thick fingers back in, effortlessly curling to brush over the tiny bundle of nerves that has Rafe violently bucking forward with a loud moan. Barry warns, "Quiet, country club," which has Rafe whining. "I know, baby, but we'll have to stop." Sucking his bottom lip, Rafe gives a weak nod before rocking back on the prodding fingers, giving Barry a silent go ahead. Without a moment of hesitation, the older man thrusts in with perfect precision, nailing the kooks prostate on each inward stroke. And Rafe really, really tries to keep his mouth shut but then three fingers are stretching him open and it's too much, has him tossing his head back and moaning brazenly. "Shut up," demands Barry, but his ministrations only increase in speed. "Slutty mouth gonna get us caught." Rafe whimpers, "Don't stop," as a tight coil of heat steadily pools in his belly, untouched cock throbbing between his legs.

Barry's sizeable erection is a hard line against the kooks bare hip, expensive material of the black slacks stretched tight. Rafe has enough mind to know he should give into the impulse to beg for his husband's dick inside him, the thought of being split open has him squirming against the counter, desire growing tenfold. Letting out a shuttering breath, Rafe pleads, "Barry, please—" And all the pleasure ceases immediately.

Rafe watches in shocked horror as Barry rights himself, leaving the younger man's body empty and aching for release. "Nah," the older man says with a shrug, reaching around Rafe to turn on the tap and wash his hands. "Not yet." "Not..." Rafe trails off, face scrunched up. "Not yet? What? Barry." Barry reprimands the tone with, "No whinin', country club. You ain't comin' unless you're on my cock and I ain't comin' unless I'm inside you, and we ain't fuckin' unless we're on that big ass bed we paid a fortune to fuck on." Sure hands reach down to yank Rafe's pants up and even help loop the belt back in place, dark eyes trained on the task while completely ignoring the menacing look directed at him in the mirror. "You can't—" a frustrated Rafe starts to say, wriggling against his man's affectionate hold. "That's not fair." "Sure it is, told ya' I just wanted you opened up for me," counters Barry. And yeah, that is what he said, Rafe realises with an annoyed huff. His cock is flagging and his heart isn't pounding in his ears, which is probably a good thing given their location. Now that Rafe isn't teetering on the edge of orgasm, he can admit a random bathroom in the country club isn't the place he wants to consummate their marriage.

Entwining their fingers, Barry brings Rafe's hand up to kiss his knuckles before checking the time. "We better head out, baby boy, 'fore they send a fuckin' search party."

[listedbuilding]

tagged by @desertsquiet to post 13 songs i've been listening to a lot lately :)!!

she used to wanna be a ballerina - buffy sainte-marie

god is alive magic is afoot - buffy sainte-marie

alleghneny - johnny cash + june carter

candy's room - bruce springsteen

the promised land - bruce springsteen

hard traveling - woody guthrie

love minus zero/no limit - joan baez

girl from the north country - bob dylan

boy from ohio - phil ochs

buddy holly medley - phil ochs

feel like i'm fixin' to die rag - pete seeger

lover lover lover - leonard cohen

a well respected man - the kinks

i've really only been listening to albums as of late so this is moreso a list of current favorites for me :) tagging @sciencefiction-doublefeature @antiquesintheattic @suitejudyblueeyes @softiestyx but no pressure ofcoursee !!

[mywifeleftme]

69: Lavender Country // Lavender Country

Lavender Country Lavender Country 1973, Gay Community Social Services of Seattle Inc.

There’s an anecdote Patrick Haggerty tells in the little zine that comes with the 2014 Paradise of Bachelors reissue of Lavender Country that always makes me tear up. Haggerty was raised one of ten children on a tenant dairy farm in northern Washington in the 1950s. It was obvious to Haggerty’s father from a young age that his boy was gay and, perhaps surprisingly given the times, he was quietly accepting of it. By the time Haggerty was in high school, he enjoyed cross-dressing, and he decided to try out for the head cheerleader position at his school.

Dolled up for his tryout in glitter and “a big lipstick smile” the future singer, in a perfectly teenage moment, dodges his father (who’d come by the school to pick him up)—not because it occurred to Haggerty that his father would be embarrassed by him, but because he was embarrassed to be seen with a dad “with cow crap all over his jeans, his snaggle tooth, his four-day beard and his beat up old fedora hat.” After the tryout, they talked in his father’s car:

He said, ‘Listen to me. I don’t have time to change my clothes just to run up to the high school to go and pick you up. I’m a dairy farmer—these are the clothes that I wear. I’m proud of what I do. I don’t have to change my clothes; I don’t have a reason to change my clothes. Now, were you proud of yourself up on that stage with all that glitter and lipstick?’

I said, ‘Well, I think I’m gonna win.’

He said, ‘Yeah, I think you’re gonna win too, but that’s not what I asked you. I asked you if you were proud of yourself.’

I said, ‘Uh… er… well… um.’

He said, ‘Listen, when you leave this valley and go to the University of Washington Drama School, like you say you’re gonna do, who are you gonna run around with at night?’

And I said, ‘I don’t know.’

He said, ‘I think you do know. And it’s not gonna be that McLaughlin girl I’ve been trying to get you to date.’

At this point I am slinking to the bottom of my seat. I know full well exactly what he’s talking about—pretending like I don’t. My father says to me—my father is ill; he’s like a year and a half away from the grave, and he knows it, and so do I—and he says, ‘You know, I’m not gonna be here when you’re a full grown man.’

I said, ‘Yeah, Dad, I know that.’

He said, ‘Well, I’m gonna tell you something right now, and I want you to remember it.’

I said, ‘Okay, Dad, what?’

And he said, ‘Whoever you run around with at the University of Washington Drama School when I’m gone, don’t sneak. Because if you spend your life sneaking, it means you think you’re doing the wrong thing. And if you think you’re doing the wrong thing, you’ll ruin your immortal soul. So whoever you run around with, don’t sneak, and be proud of it. Do you hear me?’

And I said, ‘… Yes, Dad.’

Haggerty, who passed away in 2022 just one year shy of the 50th anniversary of his Lavender Country’s self-titled debut, grew up to be a skinny little guy, but one who didn’t sneak around anybody. Like a lot of lefty artists of the ‘60s and ‘70s, he believed sincerely that absurdity, surrealism, and satire were forces that could reveal the contradictions of systems of oppression, and thereby cause them to collapse. But he also believed shared appreciation for weirdo art was as important to the unity of a movement as a shared politics or philosophy. Lavender Country’s songs are intended to be sung at protests, a pink answer to oddball folkie anthems like Country Joe’s “I Feel Like I’m Fixin’ to Die Rag” and Phil Ochs’ “Love Me I’m a Liberal.” In 1973, a group of people singing a song like “Cryin’ These Cocksucking Tears” was a message to the singers and the straight world alike: there are more people who can relate to this out there than you ever thought. I don’t think that message would be lost at a protest in 2023 either.

Lavender Country was a feeling listeners could take home with their copy of the record, even if that home was a place where it didn’t seem like there were any gays or long-hairs for miles. It was originally pressed in an edition of 1000, and the copies were moved hand to hand and via ads in alternative weeklies and the like over the next few years. It was eventually rediscovered in the late ‘90s, and CMT has even highlighted its historical significance as “the first openly gay country record”—though I imagine its gleeful vulgarity would present a tougher pill for the network to swallow than its queerness.

Taken purely on its musical merits, I’d recommend Lavender Country to anyone with a fondness for folk or country. By his mid-20s Haggerty already had the reedy but relaxing voice of a sentient rocking chair, and he leads his homespun band through a collection of fetching songs, like sweetly horny opener “Come Out Singing” and high-lonesome gender protest duet “Straight White Patterns.” It’s “I Can’t Shake the Stranger Out of You” that rises above the rest, a should-be country standard reminiscent of The Flatlanders. Haggerty weaves a braid of cocksure boasts and compliments (“I can hit the sack like an aristocrat / If you’ll let me be your tricky box of Cracker Jack’s”; “You’re hotter than the popcorn dancing in the pan”), but it’s all raging against the closing of a door—the same old fiddle dance with a lover who won’t ever truly open up.

69/365

[kimberly40]

45 Southern Phrases Explained:

1. Access road: Service road; the road that allows you entrance to the highway.

2. (A) mind to: To consider doing something.

3. Aren’t you precious? : Most always said sarcastically in response to someone being offensive (i.e., if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say it at all).

4. Being ugly: This has nothing do with physical appearance — instead it means misbehaving.

5. Barking up the wrong tree: Being mistaken or misguided.

6. Be able to see to Christmas: Something Grandma would say when she thinks your skirt is too short — you can see clear to the top of the Christmas tree!

7. Bless your heart: A seemingly empathetic phrase usually uttered when the speaker believes the recipient to be sweet but misguided or when they believe the recipient needs to grow up and deal with it.

8. Britches: Pants or underpants.

9. Cattywampus: Sideways or crooked.

10. Catty-corner: Diagonal to something, like catty-corner buildings on a street.

11. Citified: Urban, sophisticated and not country in any way.

12. Clicker: Remote control.

13. Coke: We may mean Coca-Cola, but we may mean any other carbonated beverage. If you order a Coke in a restaurant, do not be alarmed if they ask you what kind.

14. Commode: Toilet.

15. Doesn't have a pot to piss in: Really, Really broke.

16. Dressing: No, not the stuff you put on salads. This is the stuffing that goes in or alongside a turkey.

17. Eyeballs are floating: Need to use the bathroom very badly (could also be back teeth).

18. Fixin' to: About to do.

19. Fly off the handle: Totally lose it.

20. Get the short end of the stick: Get cheated, or get an unfair deal.

21. Give me some sugar: Give me a kiss.

22. Good ol' boy: A male who tends to enjoy challenging situations; tends to be rambunctious and often enjoys hunting, mudding and fishing.

23. Hissy: Shorthand for a hissy fit — a grown-up tantrum as bad as a toddler would throw.

34. Hold your horses: Be patient.

25. Holler: To let someone know something. Example: Holler at me when you’ve put the kids to bed, and we can grab a drink.

26. Idjit: Idiot.

27. If the creek don’t rise: If nothing bad happens, then everything will go as planned.

28. Muddin': A pastime involving driving a four-wheel-drive vehicle in the mud with the goal of nearly losing control.

29. Nervous as a long-tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs: Nervous to the point of being jumpy; constantly on the lookout.

30. Off like a herd of turtles: Not off to a great or speedy start.

31. Tennis shoes: Athletic shoes of any kind, not just the kind you use to play tennis

32. Pitcher: Not a pitcher on a baseball team, but a plastic container to hold tea or lemonade.

33. Playing possum: Playing dead (as a possum does to escape danger); also used when someone is feigning sleep.

34. Reckon: To suppose or believe something is true.

35. Rode hard and put away wet: Unbelievably exhausted, like a sweaty horse that just got put back in the barn.

36. Run with the big dogs: Taking a risk or making a big decision that could have serious consequences.

37. Snake in the grass: A conniving person who could strike at any time without warning.

38. Squeeze a quarter so tight the eagle screams: Describes a person who's very, very cheap.

39. Supper: Dinner.

40. Sweeper: Vacuum.

41. Tore up: Broken

42. (To) carry on: To continue on foolishly, usually referring to a tantrum or fit.

43. (Too) big for your britches: To take yourself too seriously.

44. Upside: The long way of saying “up,” like smacking somebody upside the head.

45. Stompin’ grounds: Your hometown or where you’re from.

What is your favorite Southern expression? Feel free to share it in the comments below!

[krispyweiss]

Album Review: Various Artists - Bear’s Sonic Journals: Sing Out!

When two-thirds of the Grateful Dead, Country Joe McDonald, Rosalee Sorrles and Kate Wolf got together to raise funds at the Seva Sing Out for Sight benefit at Berkeley Community Theater, organizer and emcee Wavy Gravy termed the April 25, 1981, benefit a “mini-Woodstock.”

And he reprised his famous stage announcement from 12 years earlier, declaring: “What we have in mind is a fine set of eyes for 300,000.”

In the interim, the musicians provided the audiences’ ears with fine sets of music as captured by Owsley “Bear” Stanley and just released as Bear’s Sonic Journals: Sing Out!, volume 10 of the ongoing series which seeks to find and preserve these reels and release what’s releasable. On that note, it should be mentioned Odetta also performed on this evening, but Stanley’s foundation was unable to secure permission to release her music.

As would be expected for a Bay Area gig in ’81, the Dead members closed the show, beginning with an surprise, 20-minute performance from the Rhythm Devils - aka Grateful drummers Bill Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart - who reprised their nightly drum duet on a scaled-down set of kits. Posterity is lucky to have it; however, drum showcases by definition have limited appeal.

The pair, joined by bassist John Kahn, stuck around to accompany Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir for their acoustic set, which mirrored Dead’s 1980 15th-anniversary celebration with unplugged songs like “Dark Hollow,” “Monkey and the Engineer,” “Oh, Babe it Ain’t No Lie,” “On the Road Again” and others.

“We started out kinda like this,” Weir says after the opening “Deep Elem Blues. “We wanted to be the Rocky and Bullwinkle of rock ‘n’ roll.”

The entire nine-song performance is splendid, and particularly interesting for the slow - but acoustic - rendering of “Friend of the Devil” and the evening-closing “Oh Boy!”

Preceding the Rhythm Devils, Wolf alludes to the occasion with stunning renditions of “20/20 Vision” and “Eyes of a Painter,” among other songs, during a six-song set that finds Gravy joining in for a wobbly rendition of the Youngblood’s “Get Together.” While the sound of this and every other performance is flawless, the producers left in a bit of tape degradation in the middle of Wolf’s set to sonically illustrate the importance of tracking down and restoring the Bear’s countless recordings.

With Mitch Greenhill providing a second guitar, Sorrels performs a lovely folk set during which she professes her love for San Francisco on the original “12 Adler Place” and nods to her genre’s roots on “If You Love Me” and “The Loving of the Game,” a number whose resonance remains so clear, David Bromberg and Michael Cleveland have each cut it in recent years.

Opening the evening, McDonald tied together the hopefulness of the Woodstock generation and the ominous dawn of the Reagan era by reprising “The Fuck Cheer,” retrofitting “Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die Rag” with references to Iran and Afghanistan, remembering his friend Joplin on “Janis” and looking toward a potentially dystopian future on “Picks & Lasers.” But perhaps more illuminating are “Slide Trombone Blues,” which McDonald plays on the titular instrument and his instrumental rendering of “Oh! Susanna” on acoustic guitar; for they show another side of the quirky folkie.

It’s no substitute for being there. But much like the Woodstock movie and albums, Sing Out! helps those who couldn’t be there get some idea how wonderful Wavy Gravy’s mini-Woodstock of ’81 must’ve been.

Grade card: Various Artists - Bear’s Sonic Journals: Sing Out! - A-

3/20/24

[therecordchanger62279]

THE MEMORIAL DAY PLAYLIST

Because I have a platform for it with this blog, and because the blog focuses primarily on music, I wanted to do something for Memorial Day. I grew up in the shadow of the Vietnam War. I never served. I had a draft card, and a lottery number, but the government ended the draft just months before I would’ve been called. My number was a low one, so it’s likely I’d have been drafted, and I would’ve served rather than seek a deferment. The war ended soon after.

Though I never served, that war compromised the futures of every member of my generation. The money that might’ve been spent at home was wasted in a futile war we never had any chance of winning. It undermined our faith in the military, and in our government and elected officials. The veterans who survived that war were, at best, ignored and forgotten, and, at worst, betrayed, mistreated, and robbed of the dignity of having served their country in what they believed was a noble cause. Even today, nearly 50 years after that war ended, the Vietnam Veteran is the least recognized, and the least celebrated of any group of soldiers who served in any war in this nation’s history. There were 58,220 men and women soldiers who died in that war. The list of casualties, however, military and civilian, is incalculable.

So, I get angry every Memorial Day when I see the flags wave, and the veterans of all the other wars honored, yet again, for their service while those who served in Vietnam are shoved aside, or ignored altogether. I wanted to bring that fact to light in this space by compiling a Memorial Day Playlist of the songs that impacted my thinking about Vietnam, The Cold War, and about all wars. The list was getting so long that I finally had to stop. But on Memorial Day, if you need a reminder that the day is not for celebration, but for grief, you have only to listen to these songs, and remember one thing: if your government tells you that fighting a war is necessary, it is your duty as a citizen, and a patriot to question authority. If there is another way, questioning authority is the only way a war might be avoided. If, however, a war becomes necessary, and all other avenues have been exhausted, then fight knowing that dying is the ultimate price of freedom, and that never, ever is war a cause for celebration.

Who’ll Stop The Rain – Creedence Clearwater Revival

War – Edwin Starr

Wooden Ships – Crosby, Stills & Nash

Once I Was – Tim Buckley

Feel Like I’m A-Fixin’ To Die Rag – Country Joe & The Fish

Last Train To Clarksville – The Monkees

What’s Happenin’ Brother – Marvin Gaye

Where Have All The Flowers Gone – Kingston Trio

Waist Deep In The Big Muddy – Pete Seeger

Masters of War – Bob Dylan

Grover Henson Feels Forgotten – Bill Cosby

Find The Cost of Freedom – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Military Madness – Graham Nash

Four Days Gone – Buffalo Springfield

Vietnam – Jimmy Cliff

The Unknown Soldier – The Doors

The War Song – Graham Nash & Neil Young

2 + 2 – The Bob Seger System

Born In The U.S.A. – Bruce Springsteen

Save The Country – The 5th Dimension

War Pigs – Black Sabbath

Eve of Destruction – Barry McGuire

Galveston – Glen Campbell

Give Peace A Chance – John Lennon & Yoko Ono

Requiem For The Masses – The Association

Sky Pilot – Eric Burdon & The Animals

Machine Gun – Jimi Hendrix

With God On Our Side – Bob Dylan

Bring The Boys Home – Freda Payne

Child In Time – Deep Purple

Rich Man – Climax Blues Band

Draft Morning – The Byrds

Daniel – Elton John

People, Let’s Stop The War – Grand Funk Railroad

Sam Stone – John Prine

Sweet Cherry Wine – Tommy James & The Shondells

Slip Kid – The Who

A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall – Bob Dylan

Blowin’ In The Wind – Peter, Paul & Mary

Handsome Johnny – Richie Havens

I Don’t Wanna Get Drafted – Frank Zappa

Peace Train – Cat Stevens

Invisible Sun – The Police

The Universal Soldier – Donovan

One Tin Soldier – Original Caste

Rooster – Alice In Chains

Undefeated – Little Steven

Little Boy Soldiers – The Jam

Games Without Frontiers – Peter Gabriel

Generals & Majors – XTC

Stop The War, Now! – Edwin Starr

Soldier – Neil Young

Washington Bullets – The Clash

Us and Them – Pink Floyd

Land of Confusion – Genesis

Russians – Sting

(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding – Elvis Costello

Arlington's Busy - Graham Parker & The Rumour

The Star Spangled Banner – Jimi Hendrix

[umflowers]

Well come on all of you big strong men Uncle Sam needs your help again He got himself in a terrible jam Way down yonder in Vietnam Put down your books and pick up a gun We're gonna have a whole lotta fun And it’s 1, 2, 3 what are we fighting for Don't ask me I don't give a damn The next stop is Vietnam And it’s 5, 6, 7 open up the pearly gates Well there ain't no time to wonder why Whoopee! We're all gonna die Well come on Wall Street don't be slow Why man this is war go go go There's plenty good money to be made By supplying the army with the tools of the trade Just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb They drop it on the Vietcong And it’s 1, 2, 3 what are we fighting for Don't ask me I don't give a damn The next stop is Vietnam And it’s 5, 6, 7 open up the pearly gates Well there ain't no time to wonder why Whoopee! We're all gonna die Well come on generals let's move fast Your big chance is here at last Gotta go out and get those reds ‘Cause the only good commie is one that's dead And you know that peace can only be won When you blow them all to kingdom come And it’s 1, 2, 3 what are we fighting for Don't ask me I don't give a damn The next stop is Vietnam And it’s 5, 6, 7 open up the pearly gates Well there ain't no time to wonder why Whoopee! We're all gonna die Well come on mothers across the land Pack your boys off to Vietnam Come on fathers don't hesitate Send your sons off before it’s too late Be the first one on your block To have your boy come home in a box And it’s 1, 2, 3 what are we fighting for Don't ask me I don't give a damn The next stop is Vietnam And it’s 5, 6, 7 open up the pearly gates Well there ain't no time to wonder why Whoopee! We're all gonna die country joe and the fish - feel-like-i’m-fixin-to-die rag

[whateveritsmyshed]

chat GPT story 5.! (man... this AI made my REAL OC’s story of the hatred of other world & other world’s people in a very similar yet interesting turn...!)

so... I wrote the prompt like this....!

tell me a story of Mathiel. D. Graceyhopkins the 14 year old evil spirit boy who once loved the beautiful half human half pony queen from the other dimension. but gets defeated by the queen's neighboring country's knight and his army, because the queen's servant hated mathiel that the servant spread bad roumors about mathiel being a cruel spirit that who befriended the queen and take over the queen's world. mathiel also fought with all his might with his weakening power... but failed and became the queen's servant / slave but soon escaped after the portal to his world opened. and after that Mathiel broke EVERY portal doors in his world with his two bare hands and declared that his world will never EVER interact with the other world, ever again.

-

and then this AI wrote THIS....!

Once upon a time, in a world far beyond our own, there was a young and mischievous spirit boy named Mathiel. D. Graceyhopkins. Mathiel lived in a world that was full of magic and wonder, a world where spirits and other magical beings roamed free.

One day, Mathiel found himself venturing into a new and mysterious dimension where he met a beautiful half-human, half-pony queen. He was enchanted by her beauty and kind heart, and soon they became the best of friends. Mathiel spent all his time with the queen, exploring her world and learning all about her people.

However, things took a turn for the worse when the neighboring country's knight and his army invaded the queen's land. The queen's servant, who harbored a deep resentment for Mathiel, spread vicious rumors about him to the knight, accusing Mathiel of being a cruel and evil spirit who was plotting to take over the queen's world.

Mathiel fought with all his might to defend the queen and her people, but he was no match for the knight's army. He was defeated and forced to become the queen's servant and slave. Mathiel longed to escape and return to his own world, but the portal back was sealed shut.

One day, by sheer luck, the portal to Mathiel's world finally opened. Mathiel seized the opportunity and escaped back to his own world. Filled with anger and bitterness at his defeat, Mathiel vowed to make sure that no spirit from his world would ever interact with the other world again. He broke every portal door in his world with his bare hands, making sure that the two worlds would never be connected again.

Mathiel's story serves as a warning to all who choose to spread rumors and hatred towards others. It also reminds us that we should always be careful who we trust and who we call our friends.

=

with a lil fixin’ up this is the ALMOST accurate story... of of my 1st REAL OC...! oh and after putting some missing sentences this happened.!

so..... I fixed the prompt a bit like this.!

tell me a story of Mathiel. D. Graceyhopkins the 14 year old evil spirit boy who once loved the beautiful half human half pony queen from the other dimension. but gets defeated by the queen's neighboring country's knight and his army, because the queen's servant hated mathiel that the servant spread bad roumors about mathiel being a cruel spirit that who befriended the queen and take over the queen's world. mathiel also fought with all his might with his weakening power... but failed and became the queen's servant / slave but soon escaped after the portal to his world opened. and after that Mathiel broke EVERY portal doors in his world with his two bare hands and declared that his world will never EVER interact with the other world, ever again. and his hatred of women grew and grew. so after breaking all the portal doors he chased all the girls and women away from his land

-

then the AI took this turn...!

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived a 14-year-old evil spirit boy named Mathiel D. Graceyhopkins. He was a powerful spirit with many magical abilities, and he once loved the beautiful half-human half-pony queen from the other dimension. He was so smitten with her that he dreamed of ruling her world by her side.

However, Mathiel's plans were thwarted when the queen's neighboring country's knight and his army attacked. The queen's servant, who had always secretly despised Mathiel, spread rumors that he was a cruel spirit who befriended the queen only to take over her world. With his power weakening, Mathiel fought with all his might, but he was defeated and became the queen's servant/slave.

However, Mathiel was not content with being a servant, and soon he managed to escape after the portal to his world opened. He was furious and decided to break every portal door in his world with his bare hands. He declared that his world would never again interact with the other world and that he would never allow anyone from the other world to enter his land.

Mathiel's hatred for women grew after his defeat, and he chased away all the girls and women from his land. He became a cruel and bitter spirit, consumed by his desire for revenge against the queen and all those who had wronged him. His power grew stronger, but he was alone and miserable, ruling over an empty kingdom.

As time went by, Mathiel's hatred and bitterness consumed him completely, and he became a feared and dreaded spirit, feared by all who knew him. He became a legend, a warning to those who dared to cross him, and a symbol of the dangers of hatred and anger.

And so, Mathiel D. Graceyhopkins, the 14-year-old evil spirit boy who once loved the beautiful half-human half-pony queen, became a tragic figure, consumed by his own anger and hatred, and forever remembered as a cautionary tale of what happens when love and hope turn to bitterness and revenge.

-

I fixed the prompt again.!

tell me a story of Mathiel. D. Graceyhopkins the 14 year old evil spirit boy who lived with his best human boy friend sofiel lamb graceyhopkins and his 2 other boy pals in the land of imaginary. and when the portal doords could be opened freely mathiel went in to the portal and fell in love with the beautiful half human half pony queen from the other dimension. but gets defeated by the queen's neighboring country's knight and his army, because the queen's servant hated mathiel that the servant spread bad roumors about mathiel being a cruel spirit that who befriended the queen and take over the queen's world. mathiel also fought with all his might with his weakening power... but failed and became the queen's servant / slave but soon escaped after the portal to his world opened. and after that Mathiel broke EVERY portal doors in his world with his two bare hands and declared that his world will never EVER interact with the other world, ever again. and his hatred of women grew and grew. so after breaking all the portal doors he chased all the girls and women away from his land and after this some of the boys began to wear dresses.

-

then the AI spat out... THIS!

Once upon a time, in the Land of Imaginary, there lived a 14-year-old evil spirit boy named Mathiel D. Graceyhopkins. He lived with his best human friend, Sofiel Lamb Graceyhopkins, and two other boys. Mathiel was a mischievous spirit, always causing trouble and playing pranks on others.

One day, Mathiel discovered a portal door that allowed him to travel to another dimension. In this dimension, he met a beautiful half-human, half-pony queen. Mathiel was captivated by her beauty and charm and soon fell in love with her.

However, the neighboring country's knight and his army attacked the queen's kingdom because they believed that Mathiel was a cruel spirit who befriended the queen to take over her world. The queen's servant, who hated Mathiel, spread bad rumors about him, which led to his defeat in the war.

Mathiel fought with all his might, but his powers were weakening. In the end, he became the queen's servant and slave. However, he managed to escape after the portal to his world opened.

Filled with anger and hatred towards women, Mathiel broke every portal door in his world with his bare hands. He declared that his world would never interact with the other world again. As his hatred of women grew, he chased all the girls and women away from his land.

As a result, some of the boys began to wear dresses, and the once lively and vibrant land of Imaginary became a desolate and bleak place. Mathiel's actions had caused harm and suffering to the people he once called his friends. He realized his mistake but it was too late to make amends.

From that day onwards, Mathiel became a loner, and his heart was filled with darkness and regret. He became a cautionary tale for all those who dared to dabble with power and allowed their hatred to consume them.

[jadcnlapointe]

applachian sunsets threaded through his veins and turned his blood from deep red to tennessee orange. his belt buckle had been won from his rodeo days, his stomach was lined from nights of moonshine and cheap beer—you could take the boy out of the country, but you couldn’t take the country out of the boy. his hair may have greyed and thinned, his eyes may have grown dark and spiderwebbed, but that young boy running through the cotton remained behind the years. striker’s mouth ran dry. his shoulders lifted to his ears then dropped into a shrug. “goin’ back would be a dream, but we ain’t got documents or anythin’. security’s too damn tight these days to hitch a ride back to the states. when we were kids we could bat our eyelashes and slip past in crowds of old ladies. those girls in the cute little red skirts ain’t gonna take too kindly to three grown men tryin’ to bum a free flight over.” notting hill was safety. notting hill was a life that they may not have had if they remained in the south. one more night trapped within those oak panelled walls may very well have been their last or, worse, only two may have made it out. losing one of the three, for striker, was a fate more crippling than death itself. “well, my mama always told me to tell the truth an’ never utter no lies. i ain’t always easy, but i try and do right by her when i can. live by what she taught me. taught us.” wherever she was, striker hoped that georgia cannon was proud of them. he hoped she was out there somewhere with another family, with half-sisters and half-brothers that froggy and henric would one day meet. he hoped they were under the same sky but, as the years ticked by, he became less and less sure of it. “therapists don’t know shit. you need somebody that gets it, an’ i mean really gets it. you know, you can’t learn everythin’ straight out of a textbook. there’s things nobody will understand, less they’ve seen it with their own two eyes.” his gaze cast down, a boy being told off in the playground. “ain’t got no choice. i’m way past bein’ young, an’ i’m broken beyond fixin’. it’s worth putting myself infront of trouble if it means the boys get away safe.” and it was the reason his back was slashed and scarred, acting as a physical barrier between his brothers and the hard hits of his father. the ultimate sacrifice. he thanked the waitress, staring at his plate as though he had never seen food in his life. striker was hardened, sun-reddenned, a rancher standing at over six feet tall with the weight of the world on his shoulders and yet, deep down, there was a tenderness. it seemed amelia had been able to reach straight into his mind and delve her hand into the squishy parts. “i ain’t got no preferences. we eat what we can get, get what we’re given.”

In spite of herself and everything the pair had breezed through in their short acquaintance, Amelia found herself smiling not only at her correct assessment but of the way he seemed to speak of his brothers. It was the exact way James spoke about her. No matter how old the youngest grew up to be, they would never quite shed the 'baby' status granted to them by their older brothers. "It's a long way from home...you ever think of going back?" The man was the epitome of Tennessee, even if it has been apparently decades since he has been there...Amelia could not quite imagine someone like that cut the ties of home so easily. While moving back to Notting Hill was a blast from the past, more often than not the nurse fund herself being forced to live in the present but the current conversation made her curiously nostalgic in a way she was unable to pinpoint as pleasant or disquieting. "I do..." She answered softly, her lips ticking upward and she wondered if he would take offence if she told him he reminded her of her older brother just then, "but it's rare I ever talk about my childhood to someone I just met. Then again, I don't know too many people who are as honest as you are. It's admirable really."

Anyone could pretend to be anything they wanted, especially in this city which lent itself to a somewhat whimsical air but it was being upfront about abuse, hunger and just about everything else that was truly a strength. The gesture brought tears to her eyes, enough that she was sure the low lighting caught the emotionally vulnerable moment. "Thank you...really. Therapists are helpful but more often they have this look that makes me feel more lost than anything ya know? How about we just enjoy tonight and we can trade stories next time. After all, you were forced to eat olives which is bad enough." She offered with a tiny chuckle, an invisible burden seeming to have lifted off of her if only for a moment. It was just as well the bartender returned with their food to give her time to recover from the horror she felt from such a confession. Though Amelia had been a nurse for a long time, she never managed to insulate herself from the overwhelming empathy she felt when looking at her patients, which Striker would most certainly be. "I couldn't just ignore that you need help and you're a very kind person. But doing the work you do, underfed and with badly healed bones...that's incredibly dangerous. You're not gonna be young forever you know and your brothers will always need you no matter how old they are!" Scolded Amelia gently, her fork gesticulating all the while. "Do you have any preferences? I'm thinking sending some groceries with you would be as helpful as a meal."

[naancypants]

I still unapologetically adore Chase Relerford. Unproblematic fave.

[xtrafluffyteddy]

Runnin your mouth

Country reader is back bayby

Jason thought he could be mean to Eddie again and that you wouldn’t hear about it since your out of town for vacation boy was he mcfuckin wrong

You were enjoying a nice vacation in Texas visiting family which left Eddie vulnerable to Jason’s torment and taunting yeah sure he could handle his own but it was really hot when you did it for him

He had been called freak and shoved more times than he could count when you were gone but he never retaliated just bidding his time

Jason felt on top of the world he was finally the big dog again but that all came crashing down when he walked outside to see you standing by his truck one of his windows smashed out

“This ain’t my first rodeo Jason and sure as shits not gonna be my last” you warned pointing at him “I told you quit sniffin around where you don’t belong but did ya listen, no, now Im Fixin to teach ya what happens when you don’t heed my warnin” and with that you were on him swinging aiming for anywhere you could reach

“I don’t even see what Chrissy sees in you your ugly as sin and she could do so much better than a wanna be preacher boy who’s makin deals with the devil on the side” you stood up keeping a booted foot on his chest spitting on him

“Not you best git before I gotta show you who’s boss again” and with that he’s scrambling away with the help of the basketball team just wanting to get out of there as fast he can

Eddie just comes up behind you hugging you tight and kissing the top of your head “thank you darlin” he mimicks the way you always say it to him accent and all

“Anythin for you Sweetheart anythin for you” you kiss him softly

[creepling]

hole o’ the toon / mark renton x fem!reader

a/n: as a scottish person i am legally obliged to write fanfic about scottish ppl in scots dialect. (note: im not from edinburgh so the dialect might be off a little). sorry if you can’t understand a word of this lmaoo i’m just experimenting

summary: begbie does something out of order to reader and rent boy’s there to (kinda) comfort n make a plan.

cw: written in scots dialect, usual trainspotting stuff, drug ment, swearing, injury, hurt/comfort, reader has not ‘chosen life’ so to say, begbie’s an arsehole.

— How dare ye fucken waltz in here. Begbie hid said, starein fucken daggers it ye.

Naw yer right tae be in their turf, efter awh the shite ye dae. But whit kin ye dae? Free country n awh att. Didnae seem free whin Begbie wis anywhere in ae perimeter. Ye make yer way tae the bog, fixin yer eyes on anything thit wisnt att cunts face.

When ye come oot he’s right er, snooker pole in haun, in a stance thit made it oot as if he wis aboot tae whack it o’er yer heed. ‘Ah’ll nivir lay a haun oan a wummun’ he wance said, load a shite. Ye seen the skelpers oan his misses. Ye ken he’d dae it tae yersel if he wanted.

— Skaggin’ in er a bet. Fucken skaggin’ skank! Begbie sneered. Poison in his spit as it volleyed oot his mooth n ontae yer face.

Ye staggered back, face scrunched up in cringe. A heavy huff a air left yer nostrils n ye glared at ‘um. — Fucken Prick!

Ye lunged at ae cunt, grabbin at ae snooker pole n geid him a Glesga kiss; like yer auld man taught ye. Then a knee tae ae baws, ae moustache cunt yelled. He stepped back, clutching his crotch, his free haun gaun fur his glass boatle. Ye shimmied yer fingers, gesturing ‘Mon en’. Bein aff the skag n oan the uppers meant ye thought ye wur baw-jaws half ae time. Naw even Begbie frightened ye anymore. Ye’d been frew too much noo. N nae cunt kenned aboot it.

Ae reality wis, Begbie coulda killt ye right er if awh the lads nivir hawded um back. Rents, Sick Boy, even Spud wae his gammy arms. Lads at the bar starin, dumbfoonded.

— Entertainin, like? Ye fancy watchin a man threatin a wummun? Sae much fur fuckin hard men, like. Yer words wur steamin oot ye.

— You’re wanten a death wish, ats wit! Sick Boy shouted. He hid the fucken cheek tae talk. Awh ye could dae wiz laugh it ae pansy.

— If a see yer whorin’ face anywhur again, yer deid hen, YER DEID. Begbie tried going fur ye again, slidin oot the guy’s airms. Ae intensity of ae situation goat a haud ah ye and ye bolted oot the door, flashing a finger tae the hot-heided cunt before disappearing intae an alley.

*

— Your off yer head. Mark Renton hid said. N ae cunt wis right.

Ye sat in his manky bed as ae bandaged ye up. A slit near ae eye n a kisser ae a bruise aroon yer eye. Begbie caught ye red-handed. Leathered intae yer heed when ye least expected it. He hid em golden rings oan which split yer cheek open. Fuckin cunt, ye tried naw tae cry. It hurt a belter. Ye wish Rents wis lighter wae his hauns. He wis treatin yer wound like a heavy-handed mechanic. Ye winced as he scraped ae bloody cloth o’er yer gash and he silently apologized.

— Sicka iss toon. Ye hid said, staring aff intae space. — Am gonnae run away.

Renton jist stared it ye, trying tae make oot yer coopin. Wur ye serious?

— Ur ye gonnae dae it or just talkin shite? Renton challenged. Ye turned tae um.

— Mon wae meh. Ye wondered if ye meant it. Rents wis a pal, but ye nivir admitted it. Canny be saying shite like att when yer a junkie. Nae cunts ya pal. But Renton is. Rents’s ya pal.

— Wull go tae yer flat in London. Ur fuckitt, git a new wan. Nae danger. Ye began tae ramble. Withoot ye knowin, Renton thought aboot goin aff a loat. Thought aboot gettin tae fuck ootta Leith, the shitehole it wis.

— Ats it then. Me n you. We’ll go away together. Renton said, putting ae last bandage oan yer scar.

— Ye serious, like? Ye wur astonished he agreed. You n him, goin away. Ye thought yeez hid too much history fur him tae be wae ye anymer. Mibbe he still hid feelings fur ye. Ye hoped, fuck ye hoped.

Ye embraced him intae yer arms, mindin ae cut oan yer cheek as ye burried yer face intae his neck. He smelled like shite. Like shite, pish n cough medicine awh in ae wanner. Ye couldnae gee a fuck tho.

— We’ll jist need tae get money somewhere, then we’ll head aff. Renton said, feeling him get awh tense. Ye jist smiled n nodded. There wiz money in mind, like. Mibbe ye kin stash some tapes n sell em like usual. While ye thought of yer petty thefts, Renton seen ae biggur picture n minded the drug deal wae the Russian skag, n if he wiz willing tae drag ye intae the deal.

[ihatebnha]

Caitie my dear, important question. Do farmhand Baku and Kiri have little southern drawls 🥺 like just a little hint of an accent. As a treat.

!!! TRULY a SUPER-DUPER important question (which BTW, thank you for asking)...🤔

EEEEE... okay, listen...

Honestly, my mind is telling me no, mostly because I feel like Kiri and Baku sort of seem like city boys who spend their summers in the country (although this is debatable)...

BUT... when you say “little hint of an accent,” I definitely get the vibes that Bakugo probably masks his. Like had one as a kid, but when he moved away, naturally lost it over time.

When he starts working at your farm, however... it starts showing it’s face more and more often and ends up embarrassing him on multiple occasions, like when he says “git!” instead of “get.”

(He also probably does that thing where he’s talking without an accent but randomly pronounces one word differently and snaps when you ask him to say it again.)

Kirishima, on the other hand, I think... may or may not have a mild one (there’s a twang)... like you wouldn’t really notice it off the bat, but if you know him well, you know it’s there. Calls you darling, punkin, sweetheart (and peach🥺), and refers to everyone as y’all, or says things like he’s “fixin’ to do something...”

AND when Baku gets mad and resorts to snarling like he never left the country, understands every word.

I don’t really know, though!!! These are just some quick thoughts on the subject because I can honestly see either fitting being that they canonly live in Mustafu. I feel like I’m this case, Kiri and Baku bond over being from the country initially before moving away....

And it’s also making me laugh to think about how your dad thought he was hiring some city slickers and instead got the two biggest country bumpkins ever jsndisksodkska...

I also want to take this moment to highlight @doinmybesthere’s awesome Kiri and Baku southern gentleman HCs here and here!

These literally get me crying every time so I just thought they should be mentioned❤️