#liquor in Vancouver

[rickchung]

Zarak x Mount Pleasant.

"Band-e-Amir": Empress 1908 gin, Arbutus Distillery crème de lavende, passion fruit, lemon, and egg white from co-owner/bartender Winnie Sun.

[fraserstores]

https://www.fcliquor.com/

Cellar Treasures by Fraser Commons Liquor

Uncover hidden gems and rare finds in our cellar, where each bottle tells a story of craftsmanship and tradition.Visit https://www.fcliquor.com/

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Three Liquor Permits Bring Woman Fine," The Province (Vancouver). September 15, 1943. Page 6. --- Mrs. A. S. McRae, 157 Powell, found guilty of having in her possession three liquor permits, was fined $25, or in default ten days, by Magistrate Mackenzie Matheson in Police Court today.

Two of the permits were in her own name and one in the name of a man.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Paschal Moon

Summary: Jensen finds crossing the tracks isn’t always a bad thing

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Astronomer!Reader

WC: 2358

Warnings: some angst, really bad punning(sorry) divorce, cheating, innuendos, cursing, reader says shit like I do IRL 😅

A/N: 10/24-I’ve fixed the grammatical errors and expanded this part, cause you know me, I can be chatty and I've written a sequel!

Square Filled: @winchesterandbeyondbingo -midnight @spnmixedbingo -secret dating @spnaubingo -wet dream @j3bingo -camping @howbadcanitbebingo -cliche galore

*Moldavite

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*no Beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

It was Thursday night, and once again, Jensen found himself the proverbial third wheel. The Padalecki’s meant well, dragging him everywhere with them since he filed for divorce, wanting to keep him from brooding with a bottle when not with his kids.

And it wasn’t that Jensen didn’t mind socializing. It was knowing the evening would be filled with repetitive I’m sorry, and the look of sympathy that sent him straight to the open bar first for many a shot nowadays. 

Feeling the slight buzz he needed kicking in, Jensen put on his game face and, with another tumbler of liquid courage in hand, made the rounds, chatting amicably with various groups and catching up with old friends.

Things were going pretty well until some dumb fuck turned to Genevieve, loudly blurting they’d heard Danneel making the rounds with guys with more sizable assets was the reason for the divorce pissed off her moose-sized husband, who bellows shut your unprepossessing cake hole causes a momentary distraction allowing Jensen to escape out a nearby door before punching the sonuvabitch with the double entendre himself. 

Slamming it shut, he stomped to the riverside view, wrapping both hands around the horizontal guardrail and squeezing like he was wringing a chicken's neck when the simultaneous swish of fabric and a hand holding half a glass of liquid appeared.

“Looks like you could use this more than me.” 

Jensen’s eyes met those of the tall drink of water he’d noticed throughout the evening. Looking at the glass again made her laugh, “I’m not slipping you a Mickey.” Lifting it to her lips, he watched her throat ungulate as she drank and felt Jen Jr. rising to attention. “See, Peaches, I’m not some crazy stalker.” 

Jensen takes the glass and feels a spark when their fingers brush. “Thanks, I wasn’t thinking..that.” Throwing back the rest, he appreciates the liquor's smooth slide down his throat. “It’s been a pretty shitty evening.”

“Preaching to the choir, Peaches! I came ‘cause my second cousin on my mama’s side girl broke up with him, and now I know why.” She bends over and retrieves a bottle, giving Jensen a fantastic view of her breasts artfully showcased in her cocktail dress, and pops up, pointing the bottle at him.

 “That motherfucker thought he could pimp me out for a promotion! What the hell is it with people having a ring on it?” She grabs his left wrist, tilting it so the outdoor lights glint off the wedding band he hasn’t removed yet, “Acting like this means absofuckinglutely nothing?”

“Now you’re preaching to the choir. My soon-to-be ex was doing that while I was working in Vancouver and telling everyone it’s because I’m lacking.” Jensen couldn’t stop self-dissing since catching Danneel and one of his closest friends together.

“Hoooly shit!  You’re the guy whose wife runs around saying you couldn’t find her clit with a map, GPS, or fucking bullseye paint on it!” Jensen’s eyes widened at her audacity. “Hell, most gals just use a vibrator if they wanna get off that bad. And did you just admit your package is..?” She wiggles her pinky finger while refilling the glass, “Don’t get me wrong, no shame if you know how to use it.” 

She finally noticed his expression slapped a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry! My mouth doesn’t know how to stop once I get started. Blame it on my upbringing.” Jensen took a drink to cover his humiliation, and a stiffener for no telling what she’d say next asked, “Upbringing?”

Removing her hand reveals a guileless smile: “You know what they say, you can take the girl outta the trailer park.” Bewilderment crossed his face to her self-deprecating response. “Yeah, I’m that relative they always warned you about.”

“Little late with the warning, sweetheart.”

She burst out laughing, and Jensen found himself doing the same.

Later

Jensen couldn’t believe it. 

In his profession, showing unscripted emotions was a sign of weakness many would exploit. Yet, here he was, a forty-three-year-old man usually in control, sitting outback of this building with a woman he’d never met before, who’d upended that control.

She was the distraction he needed before knowing it; he did something he’d never do under normal circumstances, told her everything, and got a response of, “That sucks balls, and not in a good way!”

“Kicker is; she wants alimony.”

“What a gall darn minute. You caught your almost ex doing the beast with two backs, right?” Jensen hums in response. “Peaches, I’m no lawyer, but I’d say that ain’t fucking happening,” She tips the second five-finger discounted bottle over the glass he’d again drained. “And no offense, your ex makes those whores back in Ratchet City look almost pious. Most have the decency not to fuck in your bed.”

Jensen rubbed his face, “I can’t believe I’ve told a stranger about my marital problems.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to unburden yourself to someone you don’t know.”

“I haven’t even told my family or Jared!”

“And Jared is?”

“The guy who has my back no matter what.” She ponders his response for a moment. “That’s probably why. You’re afraid that if he knows what happened, it’ll diminish how he sees you.” Jensen appeared confused. “Guys POV... if I caught my wife fucking around and saying it’s cause I couldn’t keep her satisfied in the sack, I’d not wanna discuss it either. But I know it’s,” wiggles pinky again, “Horseshit.”

“How?”

“You dress left, and I’ve never had an iPhone stand up to say hello.” Jensen struggled to formulate a coherent response. “Ahh, come on, Peaches, you know you’ve given many people wet dreams about the Ackelconda.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Cause you’ve got the juiciest peach of an ass, and I wouldn’t kick you outta bed for eating crackers,” she says, winking at him, but before he responds, they hear a booming, “Jensen!” Jared appears out the side door, walking towards them. “Fuck, man, I’ve been looking all over for you!  We need to get going; it’s almost midnight.”

“Well, pooh, and here I thought I was going to get lucky,” she says as they stand up; a ringing church bell echoes across the river twelve times. “Guess it’s time to leave the ball and head back to the pumpkin patch.” 

Walked past Jared, she nodded and was almost to the open door when Jensen yelled, “Wait!” She paused as he ran over, “You can’t leave this way. I don’t even know your name.” She held out a hand, “Give me your phone.” He unlocked it and noticed her smirk while she was typing. “Give me a ring if you ever cross the tracks, Peaches." 

Both men appreciated her retreating form when Jared asked, “Who was that?” Jensen doesn’t answer until she disappears in the crowded room, then glances at the screen and gets his you’ve got to be kidding face.

“Cinderella.”

****

Weeks later

One afternoon, they were hanging out watching football, and Jared, tired of nagging Jensen about getting back on the horse and calling her, pulled out the big guns, telling him if he was going to act like a girl, maybe he should put on a skirt and call himself Jane.

That irked an inebriated Jensen, who fumbled his phone out of his pocket, pulled up her contact info…and chickened out again, tossing it on the couch. Jared saw her number on the screen and tapped call, knowing he risked getting kneed in the nads. Two rings later, her voice came through the speaker. 

“Peaches, you’re slower than molasses crawling uphill in January giving a girl a holler.” Hearing her voice mellowed Jensen, and they agreed to meet on Friday at a hole-in-the-wall for lunch where he wouldn’t be recognized.

That lunch became dinner. Dinner became bar hopping, and after indulging in one too many, they sneaked into Blue Hole Regional Park, went skinny dipping, and did things that would scare fish. Afterward, she takes him to a Waffle House, somewhere he hadn’t been in years, for a bowl of 4 AM chili.

****

Monday morning, coffeeholic Jensen grumpily fumbles around the shoebox-sized kitchen in her hundred-year-old farmhouse, searching for a mug while waiting on an aged percolator to finish.

Bending over to look in the dishwasher, he discovers one with a rainbow-maned unicorn flipping the bird, saying, I Run On Caffeine Sarcasm & Cuss Words.  Straightening up, Jensen bangs his head on an overhanging cabinet and finds the last two words apropos. Finally brewed, Jensen steps out onto the shady front porch, sipping on the dark roast, and sits in one of the old rockers, contemplating if he’s having a midlife crisis.

They were barely acquainted twenty-four hours before they got together, in the biblical sense. He heard Dean's gravelly voice telling him to stop being a dumbass, that he deserved this after the shellacking Danneel delivered the last few months.

What astounds Jensen is that when his heart broke harder than he knew it could, she was the solace he craved, and he began to believe it would mend with her.

Jensen was nervous because tonight was extra special.

A few months back, she bounded into his home excited about an upcoming celestial event and field trip her astronomy class was taking. She really, really wanted him to go, even though they agreed to keep their relationship secret until he’d finalized his divorce. It struck Jensen that it would be the perfect night to do something he’d wanted to do since their first date, so he said yes while mentally making other arrangements for the night.

****

“Peaches, this isn’t the way.”

“We’re not going there sweetheart.”

“I realize that Captain Obvious! What I want to know, wtf?!  Are you trying to get me fired? I have a class...."

“That Dr. Carnegie is graciously covering.”

“Why is..what did you do Jensen?”

“I went to the head of your department,” she groaned, “And inquired if someone else could supervise because I’d planned a special night with my girl.”

“What happened to us keeping on the DL? Carnegie is the biggest blabbermouth! Everyone on the planet’s gonna know about us by morning!”

“My divorce was finalized this morning.”

“WHAT!” she indignantly squawked. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?!” Jensen bemusedly listened to her ongoing rant, eventually picking up her hand and kissing its back, entwining their fingers as he drove on for another hour to Inks Lake State Park. “Since when do you camp out?” She asks when he pays for an overnight camping permit. “Cause the one time I asked, you gave me stink face at the mention of a tent.”

“Since the day you bounded into my home all excited and asked me to come with you. I wanted to make tonight special.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I sincerely appreciate you compromising your creature comforts for me.” Jensen scratched the back of his head, “Well, it’s not technically camping out. I got an air mattress that fits in the truck bed.”

“I know it’s a yearly thing, so what makes this one so special?” Jensen asked as he gazed up at the moon awash with a vivid pink hue. The question made her lift her head from the telescope’s eyepiece, and an amused expression crossed her features.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? Or do you want me to paint you like one of those French girls?” Jensen peers down at his unintentional position: one hand tucked behind his head, bowed legs splayed, one knee slightly bent, his other hand lying near the sliver of skin peeking out between his dark henley and well-worn jeans.

 “What makes this one so special?” She walks towards the truck, setting foot on the back bumper, gripping the tailgate, and hopping over it onto the mattress. “It is the moon's proximity to the earth.” She crawls forward, placing her hands on either side of his shoulders and slung a leg over Jensen’s hips, slowly sitting down. “Plus, being ultra-close, the color is so vivid that whatthehellisinyourpants!!”

Jensen quickly sits up, about to grab her waist so she doesn’t hit the sidewall, but she scoots down his legs. “That’d better be a sex toy in your pants and not Peyronie’s disease.” Jensen gave her a bewildered look. “What can I say? I like your cock as is. Curves just right for my pleasure.”

“Your mouth is gonna be the death of me..” “..but what a way to go?”

Jensen flopped on his back, groaning, “This isn’t how I imagined tonight going.” She smiled and crawled back over him, “So let’s pretend we’re on set. I’ve flubbed the scene and do another take.”

“That’s why I love you,” reaching up, Jensen tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The fact that everything that pops into my head comes flying out of my mouth?” Jensen chuckles at her question. “Yeah, I like you, just as you are.” He reaches into the pocket she sat on, pulls out a box, and opens it, revealing the ring he’d chosen. “And would be the luckiest man alive if you’d marry me.”

Taking her left hand, he slides it on her finger, feeling apprehensive at her silence. It is almost deafening, having never known her without any response. “Getting nervous here, sweetheart,” Jensen says as he sits up. "Look, I know we’ve only been together for a short time. I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way to answer right now.”

“What’s the stone?”

“Umm... it’s a Moldavite.” She gets that expression he still isn’t sure what to make of it. “I know it’s not conventional, and if you want to pick something else,” Jensen breaks off, watching her eyes fill with tears.

“You gave me this not ‘cause you’re being cheap. The stone, you knew what the significance of its origin would mean to me.” She cupped his cheek, “You’ve never put on airs with me, never been anything other than yourself. A genuine, caring, funny-as-hell doofus with a beautiful soul and I’m saying yes!”

Paschal Moon 2.0-coming 10/24

SPNTAGS:  @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva @lassie-bird  @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies  @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987   @smoothdogsgirl @deans-spinster-witch

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Stolen Wife - 5

Synopsis – Tommy Shelby is married to Grace, but he becomes obsessed with Y/N, wife of Reuben Fitch, Tommy’s business partner in the U.S. who is unaware of his actual “business”.

This blog supports Palestine. Zionists are not welcome here.

You don’t know how your life turned into a nightmare…a ghoulish nightmare. One moment you were happy and celebrating your pregnancy with your family and friends and the next moment, you were getting held at gun point by a robber, you knew your husband had a gun in his pocket, something you loathed but at that moment you were happy that he had that gun, the robber must have seen the gun when he shot Rueben erratically, and then he turned on you, Rueben protected you till his dying breath, Rueben shot the robber with his gun and saved your life, but your husband your family was taken away from you, your husband and best friend snatched from you. You couldn’t even comprehend what had happened. When you woke up in the hospital, for a moment you thought it was a bad nightmare, but the machines attached to you signaled the opposite.

The attending doctor told you that you were shot in the chest, the bullet miraculously had missed your heart but punctured your lung, and you were lucky to be alive. But were you lucky? Or were you the unluckiest person, you had lost everything, your husband was shot dead in front of you, the shooter shot you too but missed the first shot and was not alive to shoot the next bullet.

“I am sorry Mrs. Fitch; we could not save the baby…” these words brought you out of your mind fog. Instinctively your hand went to your abdomen…Your baby died too…Your one connection to Rueben died too…You were catatonic…You could not even do the basic job of protecting the life growing within you…You never felt so useless.

Your friends and family gave you space, space to mourn, space to grieve not just your husband, but your child too…

Police called it an armed robbery but Javy, Mickey, Nat, Brad, Jake did not think so, but they didn’t say anything. They increased your security. They changed your locks, your cameras and every damn device, while you were in hospital. They even increased the surrounding security in hospital. Rueben knew how dangerous his line of work was, and your security was paramount to him. For you, your husband was a military contractor with a pub he ran with his friends, you just didn’t know that your husband was involved in illegal activities as well which included drugs, liquor and arms.

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

You were on your way to get to some Chai with oat-milk, trying not to break down every damn morning, missing your husband and the morning rituals you shared with him. You bumped into Tommy in a café in Vancouver, Canada of all places, physically bumped into him, you were in over your head, and you were not looking where you were supposed to be going.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” You looked to apologize to the stranger, but you were met with relatively known steely blue eyes.

“Mrs. Fitch?” Thomas asked in his Brummie accent.

Fuck, that name, that label, that brings up so much sorrow, your eyes well up, but you blink away those tears, you tell yourself, you need to move on…need to power through…It’s been almost a year since your life upended, the love of your life killed in front of your eyes.

Not really, you were unaware of your surroundings, but you were trying to keep to yourself, but Thomas Shelby needed to find a way to talk to you, so he chose the easiest way of it all, crashing into you purposefully.   

You smiled, trying to place him…

“Oh hi” you reply. Tommy saw the questioning look in your eyes, you had no clue who he was or what he was.

“I am Thomas Shelby, we met briefly at a Charity Ball in Birmingham.”

“It is nice to see you again, Mr. Shelby.” you reply politely.

“I heard what happened…I’m sorry for your loss.” Tommy added.

You just nodded reflexively, like you did every fucking time when someone offered their sympathies.

“I didn’t expect to see you here Mrs. Fitch, I thought you lived in San Diego.”

“I did…I do…Well, not now exactly, I am taking a sabbatical and please call me Y/N.” you asked, basically pleading, not wanting another reminder of what you lost or who you were…Rueben’s wife or what you are now…his widow. His sad pathetic widow who is running away from her life because you can’t fucking function properly without your soulmate.

“Only if you call me Tommy” He responded while physically guiding you inside the coffee shop, and there is nothing you can do but comply out of politeness.

Tommy asks you for your order, you wanted to protest and buy your own beverage, but you also didn’t want to be rude. You begrudgingly order some chai. Tommy Shelby bought you your chai but nothing for himself, and it made you feel guilty.

He pushed the mug towards you, you took the mug and thanked him.

“So, Y/N, what are you doing here?” Tommy asked in his heavy Brummie accent.

“I guess, I just needed to get away…”

“I heard what happened. I am sorry for your loss.” Tommy consoled.

Do not cry, do not cry, do not cry….you chant mentally.

You clear your throat and squeak out “Thank you”.

“So, how long are you here for?” Tommy probed.

“I don’t know, I may be here for a while, or I may leave and find another city to go to which is safe… Mickey usually sends me the locations that are relatively safer for me. I do not have any timeline.” You reply.

Tommy knows that very well. He is well-aware of Rueben’s people taking care of your security. Tommy only got to know about your location from his people on the East Coast, namely Michael.

“That’s fun, why don’t you come visit us in Birmingham?” Tommy proposes.

You are taken aback by his proposition, you don’t really know what to say, you barely know this man, why would he invite you to his home?

“Mr. Shelby…ummm…I mean Thomas, I don’t think that is a good idea…”. You mumble out.

“Why not? I see it in your eyes, you are trying to escape your painful memories, anyone can see that…why don’t you join us in another continent as long as you want where Rueben and his memories wouldn’t haunt you.” Tommy confronts you, basically bringing up everything that your family and friends have been thinking…going for your jugular.

You gulp nervously, you didn’t expect some relatively unknown person to expose your wounds and like a wounded animal you ran away from that table. You did not like being confronted by the likes of Thomas Shelby, how dare he say anything about what you should do….

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

One of my dreams was too explicit for me to post which is a shame cus certain symbolic aspects of it im curious about.

My other dream was me and my highschool best friend in pokemon vegas, but every time you caught a pokemon it would teleport you somewhere random as fuck far away from the strip & themed around different countries (been watching too much G Gundam). I caught a giant version of the blue ninja frog guy and suddenly we were in a "Vancouver Canucks" themed area where everything was white and navy blue. and We were pissed about it so we went to a liquor store where i found a beautiful big pink can of sparkling rosé energy drink that was $36 & said on in princess font "Dream: On / World: Off". which caused me to wake up

[rezcowgirl]

December. Monday Morning. Okay.

Shiver and smile.

Be born in December. Riiiiight near the end, but not end enough that your parents get a free TV for having the Official New Years baby…Don’t worry about it. Dad will win a huge TV in a prize draw at Safeway. Eventually.  

There’s so much chocolate on sale, and I was born on this day! A month early, colicky as fuck, with a heart technically already broken. (<- Don't worry. Got that confirmed all cleared up when I had those other heart issues that I still have weird scars scars from because the electrodes made my skin melt. Need another 3 day thingy in February. Bleh.)

So, I’ll never be 34 again! Yay!

Once, my friend Unkyo pulled up for a Covid picnic on her bike, carrying 4 pounds of u-pick-it blueberries and an uncharacteristically sour expression. She was really aggravated. I had never seen it on her before. Apparently, she forgot her ID and the staff at a liquor store wouldn't let her buy anything. Her 18-year-old daughter was literally working at an ice-cream shop across the street from the park we were hunkered down in. I laughed and laughed, but she was genuinely annoyed. She was 45 at the time, and I thought it was cute and flattering. 

Obviously, we shared our wine with her. 

It’s fairly notable when I do not get ID’d buying alcohol. I almost always do. I know it’s not a huge flex given that I do not have an 18-year old daughter, but I DO have a fat baby face! I really don’t mind being ID’d - I like saying “I’m 35 :)”, and I wore a fake nose ring for the photo, so I like it.

I did NOT get ID’d on the most recent run. Aries said “Congrats - could it possibly be because there are not many 18 year olds that would be buying Moet & Chandon?”. And yeah. Probably helps. (It’s the ONLY champagne Aries likes…) I somewhat aspire to be ID’d at 45 like Unkyo, but Unkyo is an easy beauty, inside and out, and I am a rotten, crispy husk of a man, so I’m not going to worry too much about meeting this goal. My real goal is to make it to 45 and not die. So far so good!!!

I spent Friday with my old roommate and some other friends I don’t get to see very often and felt all gooey with love again. Wistful? Not quite nostalgic - she is better as a friend than a roommate. To be clear, I was the problem. I need a lot of alone time. It was hard. She forgives me my aforementioned rottenness, and she lives in New York now. I miss her so much, but we both don’t keep in touch because we suck at it. But it means a-lot-a-lot to be able to sit down and be like: “holy shit I love you tell me everything” and it’s not weird. She’s one of those rare always-sweet types, and I always want to protect it. She must not lose it. No no no. We’re having her and her husband over on the 5th, and I’m going to try really hard to NOT ask if they're going to move back to Vancouver...

Saturday we hopped around to different cocktail lounges, and I think we met some kind of trickster god. We were at our third stop, and we ended up being seated outside, which apparently most people turn down, but it was amazing. We had our own fire, we got complimentary cider, and we could converse without yelling. I wanted Aries to take some photos of us, so he did. But lurking nearby was this very friendly and relatively drunk guy, obviously also bar hopping and waiting to get in. He said “no, no, stop, you can sit down, I’ll take the photos from here”, so Aries handed my phone over and he took about 15 photos for us.

They’re basically all unsalvageable. In every single one, something is fucked up. Someone is mid-blink so their eyes are closed, but there’s still the ghost of a pupil overlaid over the eyelid, making it SUPER creepy. Or someone moved, so their face looks long. There’s one where Aries has one eye open and the other closed? There’s one photo of Ali that does not look like her at all?? It’s not like we’re all blurry in them. There’s just at least one person fucking up in each of them. I am perplexed and impressed, and now I have all these laughably terrible photos from my birthday pub crawl. But I love them anyway.

Here are the last pieces of 34. I found heart stickers on a walk. I'll stick one in my 2025 planner, and one on the wall of a goth night bathroom.

[bossymarmalade]

me: [ idly reading the bc liquor magazine thinking one of the cocktails, by name and photo, looks like it might be fun to make ]

the recipe:

me: this *fucking bougie city* i swear to fucking god vancouver is the worst

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

high infidelity | thirty one

I’m taking my time, cause you took everything from me. *Noah’s POV* I was deeply regretting this party I threw, but I needed to do something to help me numb any thoughts I had of Ellie. I fucking missed her so much but I also fucking hated her for how she just left me the way she did. My grip tightened on the bottle I was holding, picturing her out with her friends right now, drinking martini’s in some swanky bar downtown Vancouver. They were probably talking about how much of a dick I was to her, supporting her with whatever her next move was. For all I knew she was telling them how great Matt was to her and they were convincing her to pursue him over me. I sat on the edge of my bed, letting the liquor hit my lips again as my phone buzzed beside me. My heart stopped when I saw it was Ellie.

“Ellie?” Saying her name felt like a sigh of a relief as it escaped my mouth. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered into the phone. “I should’ve stayed.” “I’m sorry too.” Was all I managed to get out, swallowing a lump in my throat. “I miss you so much.” “I miss you too, Noah.” I could tell she was drunk, but I didn’t care. It felt so fucking good to hear her voice and that she thought of me in her incoherent state. “Can I call you in the morning? I was about to go to bed but I want to talk this through.” “Of course.” I could feel her smiling against the phone. “Goodnight. I love you.” I hung up my phone and just threw it across my room, watching it crack as it made contact with the wall. How could I be so fucking stupid? Throwing a party full of people I didn’t even like, trying to erase the one good thing I had in my life? I felt myself going back to my old self soothing ways and I didn’t like it one bit. I thought I finally escaped that when I met Ellie, but I was here again. I should’ve done more, she was right, I let my ego get in the way of her feelings and concerns. “Are you wanting another round or something?” 

Guilt hit me like a train as a blonde, naked woman walked out of my bathroom, placing her hand on my shoulder. I pushed her hand away as I got off the bed, throwing her clothes at her. I was so disgusted with myself knowing I fucked this girl in the same bed that I had Ellie in just to numb my emotions. Good fucking job, Noah, you really outdid yourself this time. “No, get the fuck out.” I snapped at her before storming out of my room. I walked into the living room and turned all my lights on and stopped the music. Everyone looked at me almost shellshocked, you could’ve heard a pin drop. I was seeing red, so angry at myself for everything I’ve done since Ellie left. If I wanted her back, I had to be a better man. “Everyone out. Now.” “Dude, what happened?” Nick followed me onto my patio, my entire body was pacing before I slid down the wall. My chest was caving in and felt like I was having a panic attack. Tears were pouring out of me as I put my head in my hands. Even though Ellie just called me to work things out, I already knew I was going to have to tell her what I did, even if that meant losing her for good. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.” I sobbed as Nick came down and sat beside me, letting me feel my emotions without judgement. “Noah, what happened?”

I lifted my head, wiping my tears away with my sleeve, “Ellie called me tonight after I did something really stupid.” “And what would that be?” “I took that blonde up to my room and hooked up with her.” I brought my knees up to my chest, feeling the guilt again. “I feel myself going back to that place, Nick.”

Nick sighed deeply, he was always the one who could help me out of my ruts, but I don’t know if he could even help me this time. “I really want to help you but that was pretty fucking stupid.” “I know.”

*Nick’s POV* I’ve seen Noah hit rock bottom before, but this was something new and it scared me a little bit. I was on his side with the whole Ellie incident but after talking to Bryan, I hated to admit I was siding with Ellie now. Bryan even told me how Ellie was dealing and it was strange to see how different they were handling this. Ellie knew what she did and she wasn’t going to beat herself up over it, so I don’t blame her for being out with her friends right now. I just hope Noah realizes he’s in the wrong cause I’m not fixing this one for him. “What do you want to do?” “I want her back.” Noah replied lifting his head to look at me. He looked so broken, his eyes were bloodshot from the alcohol in his system and his tears that kept falling, “I bought that ring for a reason.” “Were you really going to propose to her?” Noah sniffed back a few more tears before bringing his attention back to me, “Eventually, I just wanted to have a ring ready when it felt right.” “Ellie’s been married, so it’s going to take a lot of work to show her what a good marriage is. I know you’re not used to women like her, I’ve seen the spineless girls you bring home, she’s nothing like them. So you need to grow up or she’s going to find someone else.” “Like who?” He huffed, sending me a sarcastic glare. “I don’t know, Noah. I can tell you if you did half the damage control Matt did for her this morning you wouldn’t be in this mess.” He drew in a sharp breath as he absorbed the words I just said to him, “What if she goes after him?” “You better fix it before she does.” 

[lilmissnatcat24]

uh oh, the first snippet

needless to say horrible terrible turn left spoilers under the cut

When Shepard didn’t respond, he took to looking out at the Horizon night. It looked like Earth enough during the day, albeit arid and red-skied. Almost like Arizona or Australia. But when it turned night, Shepard could truly tell how alien it really was. Three moons, one large and purple, with the other two cast in a yellow sheen and rotating around it like baby ducks. The grass whipped back and forth in the extreme wind storms that hit every night, giving the impression that the ground was breathing deep, low sighs. The wind rattled their quarters, and sometimes Shepard would wake up in a panic thinking that it was an earthquake or the ceiling crashing down on her. 

“It doesn’t look like Earth, does it?” she asked to the comfortable silence. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Kaidan said softly. His voice did this thing when she tried to talk to him late at night, as if he were a million miles away. “I can’t remember the last time I was in Vancouver. It all seems so long ago… I don’t even think I can remember what home looks like. I need to look at pics and vids just to get an idea. But if you were to ask me right now, ‘describe what your childhood bedroom looked like,’ I don’t think I could tell you anything other than there was a bed and I slept there at night.” 

“I don’t think I ever had a home to begin with.” Shepard said it to make Kaidan feel better about himself, but from the pitying look she got from him she could tell her intentions backfired. He had this knack for making his eyes turn into these big wet, sad puddles. It was infuriating. “At least, not since…” 

The slight groaning sound coming from him told Shepard she only made it worse for herself. She loved Kaidan very dearly as her friend, but when he turned all empathetic and mushy on her she got the intrinsic urge to slap him across the face. 

“Do you miss him?” Kaidan said. 

Shepard thought that was a very stupid question to ask. Dramatics weren’t necessarily her style, but she would say that since Garrus Vakarian died, there’s been a gnawing at her chest that makes every breath just a little bit more difficult. She would find herself smiling at times, just to wipe it off her face, disgusted that she even could feel anything other than immense grief. She’s been irritable, she’s been snappy. She’s had a near constant headache and buzzes just inside of her ears. Sometimes, when she woke up, she would gasp and claw at her chest as if she were drowning. Then she would remember that yes, she was drowning indeed. Because life without Garrus was exactly like drowning. 

Except Shepard could never say any of that out loud, now could she? So she swallowed it, with the rest of her liquor, letting it burn her throat on the way down. “It’s getting late. I should be getting to sleep.” 

[nicklloydnow]

"Two Modern Noh Plays" by Yukio Mishima presented by Midtwenties Theater Society & 2019 Vancouver Fringe Festival

“POET: Listen to me. . . . I am just what I seem, a threepenny poet, without even a woman who'll look at me. But there's something I respect-the world as reflected in the eyes of young people who love each other, a hundred times more beautiful than what they actually see—that I respect. Look, they're not the least aware we're talking about them. They've climbed up high as the stars. You can see the glint of starlight under their eyes, next to the cheeks. . . . And this bench, this bench is a kind of ladder mounting to heaven, the highest lookout tower in the world, a glorious observation point. When a man sits here with his sweetheart he can see the lights of the cities halfway across the globe. But if (climbs on the bench) I stand here all by myself, I can't see a thing. . . . Oh, I do see something—lots of benches, somebody waving a flashlight—must be a policeman. A bonfire. Beggars crouching around the fire. The headlights of a car. They've passed each other now and are heading toward the tennis courts. What was that? A car full of flowers. Performers returning from a concert? Or a funeral procession? (He gets down from the bench and sits.) That's all I can see.

OLD WOMAN: What rubbish. Why in the world do you respect such things? It's that same silly nature of yours which makes you write sentimental poems that nobody will buy.

POET: And that's exactly why I never invade this bench. As long as you and I are occupying it, the bench is just so many dreary slats of wood, but if they sit here it can become a memory. It can become softer than a sofa, and warm with the sparks thrown off by living people. . . . When you sit here it becomes cold as a grave, like a bench put together out of slabs of tombstones. I can't bear that.

OLD WOMAN: You're young and inexperienced, you still haven't the eyes to see things. You say the benches where they sit, those snotty-faced shop clerks with their whores, are alive? Don't be silly. They're petting on their graves. Look, how deathly pale their faces look in the greenish street light that comes through the leaves. Their eyes are shut, the men and women both. Don't they look like corpses? They're dying as they make love. (Sniffs around her.) There's a smell of flowers, all right. The flowers in the park are very fragrant at night, just like those inside a coffin. Those lovers are all buried in the smell of the flowers, like so many dead men. You and I are the only live ones.

POET: (Laughs.) What a joke! You think you're more alive than they are?

OLD WOMAN: Of course I do. I'm ninety-nine years old, and look how healthy I am.

POET: Ninety-nine?

OLD WOMAN: (turning her face into the light) Take a good look.”

“OLD WOMAN: I know what the face looks like of someone who's come back to life—I've seen it often enough. It wears an expression of horrible boredom, and that expression is what I like. . . . Long ago, when I was young, I never had the sensation of being alive unless my head was all awhirl. I only felt I was living when I forgot myself completely. Since then I have realized my mistake. When the world seems wonderful to live in, and the meanest little flower looks big as a dome, and flying doves sing as they go by with human voices . . . when, I mean, everyone in the whole world says "Good morning" joyously to everyone else, and things you've been searching for ten years turn up in the back of a cupboard, and every girl looks like an empress . . . when you feel as if roses are blooming on the dead rose trees, then—idiotic things like that happened to me once every ten days when I was young, but now when I think of it, I realize I was dying as it happened. . . . The worse the liquor, the quicker you get drunk. In the midst of my drunkenness, in the midst of those sentimental feelings and my tears, I was dying. . . . Since then, I've made it a rule not to drink. That's the secret of my long life.

РОЕТ: (teasing her) Oh! And tell me, old lady, what is your reason for living?

OLD WOMAN: My reason? Don't be ridiculous! Isn't the very fact of existing a reason in itself? I'm not a horse that runs because it wants a carrot. Horses, anyway, run because that's the way they're made.”

- Yukio Mishima, ‘Sotoba Komachi’ (1956)

[rickchung]

Isle of Harris Distillery x Clough Club x Gastown.

Classic gin martini

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Lebanon (14x13)

It's hilarious to me that the Lebanon, Kansas in Supernatural is like a big town when in the really real world it has a population of about 182.

Yeah, that's right.

182

That's it. It also looks like this...

This is pretty much the town, btw. There's no movie theater, no fancy liquor store. There's a market, a post office, an American legion, a "city" hall, a bank, a visitor's center (because it's the geographic center of the 48 contiguous states), a grain elevator (because farming) and that's about it. SMALL town America.

I understand that the show was shot in BC, in and around Vancouver and whatnot, and that it makes narrative sense for the town to be big enough that Sam and Dean could blend in a bit and just, have places to go, but it's still funny to me.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Police Seize 26 Permits," Vancouver Sun. October 23, 1943. Page 3. ---- Two men will face charges under the National Registration Regulations and the Government Liquor Act following the finding of a total of 25 liquor permits and several registration cards in two rooms raided Friday by Constables David Scotland, G. K. Pinchin and Charles Clarence.

In a room at 117 East Cordova the officers found six liquor permits, six national registration cards, seven bottles of whisky, several bottles of ink remover, two stamp pads, date stamp and erasers.

In a room at 439 Powell the police seized 20 liquor permits, two bottles of liquor, stamp pad, date stamp and ink remover. The man arrested there carried a registration card in a name other than his own, the police report states.

[datascraping001]

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[shilohta]

Summary (and opinions)

Crabbuckit- k-os: hell yeah!!! No time to get down 'cause I'm moving up! Ah-ah, check out the crabs in the bucket!! A bop. I can only conclude that referencing Yonge Street, the Tragically Hip, and a glancing reference to Leonard Cohen (bird on a wire) made this song too Canadian for international success.

California- Wave: do not recognize by name. After listening, the song sounds like how a made for TV movie feels (sorry)

When I'm Up (I Can't Get Down)- Great Big Sea: HELL YEAH!!!! When I was in Newfoundland last year I did wonder if the locals get sick of Great Big Sea being on every store's set list for the Tourist Vibes, but then again it's hard to get sick of Great Big Sea. This isn't my personal favourite of theirs, but it's a banger

Sucks to be You- Prozzäk: I probably remember the lyrics to all of Prozzäk's discography thanks to my sister's cassette tapes. Canada kinda fails at boy bands but at least we have this duo of lil animated dudes with a fake British accent. Nostalgic for me but must have been hell to have this constantly on the radio in the 90s. They're so annoying (affectionate)

Fallout- Marianas Trench: they're okay. One of the songs on the Big Shiny Tunes cds? No wait that was a different song.

What I Wouldn't Do- Serena Ryder: THAT'S MY GAL!!!! Love her. I want to say Sara Bareilles vibes as a point of reference, but maybe that's just that their names are similar. What I wouldn't do is more mellow and lovelorn, I like her faster songs (like Stompa, Got Your Number, Little Bit of Red)

A Criminal Mind- Gowan: blows my mind that this isn't popular outside Canada. Maybe because Styx (the band that Gowan is lead singer for) is the sort of ubiquitous rock music that I grew up with and I simply accept the 80s as Established Culture and don't think about it. I'm not a strange animal, YOU'RE a strange animal.

Whoa Is Me- Down With Webster. DWW isn't a band I was into but I had a crush in high school named Webster. He was a hockey player missing his front teeth and his buddies called him Webby. Listening to the song, it smells like Axe body spray and sneaking liquor into school dances.

Hell- Teagan and Sara: this is the queer website, you know Teagan and Sara. I don't actually listen to them and don't have an opinion. Sorry

Save Your Scissors- City and Colour: Dallas Green from Alexisonfire's solo project (get it? Dallas Green? City and Colour?) I hate it. Sorry. Very popular, very important for teenage emos learning to deal with mental illness, can't stand his voice. Every Canadian is allowed to irrationally dislike at least one Canadian band, especially because CanCon means we can't escape them.

Fuel Injected- Swollen Members: I have no opinion and no memory of this band or song. I'll just quote the article here "Before Drake, Canada's most famous rapper internationally was probably either Ed Robertson of the Barenaked Ladies or Snow, depending on your definition of rap. But in the early 2000s, one independent Vancouver rap group managed to break into Canada's mainstream, despite being named after — well, nevermind." I'm not going to say that Canada doesn't have good rap or hip hop because I KNOW they're out there. But Barenaked Ladies?? Drake, in 2025?? I'm embarrassed.

I Believe- Nikki Yanofsky: inescapable during the 2010 Vancouver winter Olympics, never heard since. Saccharine, gets stuck in your head, and the one line pisses off pedantic grammar nerds. Still manages to swell the heart with patriotic pride in our mastery of winter sports. I think I had a printed picture of one of the Canadian snowboarders taped in my locker that year.

Patio Lanterns- Kim Mitchell: ??? people don't know patio lanterns? Those patio lanterns? They were the stars in our sky?? Ubiquitous summer song. P sure Tim Hortons used it in an Iced Cap ad campaign. You know it from the first notes, it's incredibly played out, but it's just a happy lil song.

Barrett's Privateers- Stan Rogers: WELL I'M A BROKEN MAN ON A HALIFAX PIER THE LAST OF BARRETT'S PRIVATEERS! Traditionally played at least once on any bus trip to a sports tournament and the whole team has to bellow along. Or maybe that was just the fencing team. Yay folk music!

When The Night Feels My Song- Bedouin Soundclash: similar to Patio Lanterns in that it's a summer song, you know it from the first notes, and it's just a happy lil number. Infinitely better imo but I do love a little a capella singing and harmonizing. Great song for a campfire if you're hot shit on guitar.

I'm very curious if the click bait headline is right or if people outside Canada do know any of these songs/ bands. Oh my god, Prozzäk.

And if anyone wants MORE CANADIAN MUSIC? In the immortal words of Leonard Cohen, I'm your man. God bless* the CBC and the attempt to create a cohesive national identity through the promotion of arts and culture.

*said agnostically and acknowledging that Canada is a settler colonial state and that we're needlessly smug about being Nice and Polite but if we're building our identity in opposition to the USA, well. America is a statistical outlier in military budget, prison population, and inequality adn should not be counted.