#unless you’re Quebec!

[werewolfpdfs]

sometimes im like since i lost access to local cable news im so uninformed but then i talk to some of my friends here and they couldn’t name the primary 3/4 political parties of canada. hello

[historia-vitae-magistras]

You got anymore fics or hc of Alfred being a good brother to his 8ft tall beanpole?

'tis garbage I wrote about 20 years ago and is poorly recycled but here! enjoy if you can lmao. TW for poorly written ptsd, references to beheading and axe murder and snuggles.

1920, Quebec City.

"I'm fine." His baby brother said, even as he looked like he desperately needed to lay down.

"Matt, that cough does not sound good,"

"It's fine," He said, stifling another fit with a harsh swallow. Alfred grimaced and jogged to keep up as Matt strode ahead on the rain-battered sidewalk and took the umbrella with him, like speeding up would disprove the implication he wasn't at perfect 100%. How could it sound like he'd been gassed recently?

"You sound miserable,"

"It's fine," Matthew said again, shrugging and knuckling his chest as he struggled to keep his breathing even. "It's just the weather. Tell me about the new Ford coming out,"

"Oh it's a beauty, they're even going to come out with other colours than black," Alfred said, longing to reach out and squeeze Matt's shoulder and steer him inside. "But it will mostly only affect internal market goods.

"Interesting. What are the implications with free trade?"

"Don't try to distract me. I know you don't give a shit about economic law unless you're being forced,"

"If it interests you, it interests me,"

"You can't force yourself to be quiet through this,"

Matt rolled his eyes. "I'm not dying,"

"You kind of sound like you are,"

"Then I'll die!" Matt shrugged and gave one of his rare, frustrated Gallic shrugs. "C'est la vie! And honestly, it'd be nice to sleep without waking up coughing. Wake up and go to work tomorrow with more than an hour of sleep behind me,"

Alfred frowned, a surge of helplessness as he watched Matt press on through the rain as if determined to outpace whatever was wrong. Alfred lengthened his stride to keep up and get back under the umbrella, snatching it from Matt’s hand to make him slow down.

“Come on,” He said, steering them both down the path towards the subway stop.

Halfway down the park hill, he couldn't stifle anymore and ended up clinging to a tree branch, doubled over and coughing so hard veins corded at his forehead and throat and when he breathed, he shuddered through another bout so hard Alfred thought he was going to throw up all over the park path. He sucked in air and the wheeze that accompanied it was so horrific Alfred grabbed his shoulders and steered him to a bench as Matthew tried to get his breathe. Air coming in and out rapidly and almost uselessly like Matt was breathing through shredded black smiths billows. Alfred pulled him upright.

Two neatly dressed couples threw them dirty looks like Matt was some infectious consumptive polluting a public park. Alfred glowered right back. He might have flirted with the one who’s dainty green dress that was fashionably short to show off shapely legs but now he was just frustrated.

"Go fuck off to the circus if you want to gawk at something!" He yelled and the men sped along, dragging the women with them. Matt made another face gesturing for Alfred to stop but couldn't get words out as coughing wracked him all over again.

It was another five minutes of Matt coughing and coughing and coughing before he stopped and collapsed on Alfred's shoulder, heaving.

"Jesus Christ, Matt," Alfred said. “You sound like you’re dying.

"I’m not—" Matt heaved air, it caught in his throat and he hacked out another pounding cough that left him spasming and shivering against Alfred. "It comes and goes,"

"Are you sure it's not consumption?"

"Yeah, Dad made them x-ray me three times during demobilization, I'm just like this now,"

"What? Chronically asthmatic?"

Matt shook his head. "I’m not chronically anything. It’s just a bad day every now and and again."

"Is that what doctors say?"

Matt nodded and leaned more heavily onto him, panting again.

"You're burning up," Alfred could feel it against his coat. “Mattie…”

Another nod. “Like I said, it comes and goes.”

He sighed, getting them to their feet. “Christ, Matt.”

“Oh, don’t look so sad.” Matt rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, the supply of your favourite whiskey isn’t about to dry up.”

“Is that what you think? Fuck you.” Alfred scowled. “You’re such a–” Realization dawned on him and he turned to his brother, grabbing his shoulder again. “You little shit. You’re trying to piss me off so I leave this alone, aren’t you?”

Matt blinked, taken aback. “Fuck me, you finally figured that one out?”

“You little asshole,” He laughed. “That is so manipulative.”

“Hardly. You’re so self righteous usually all I have to do is mention Dad and you’ll leave me alone for a month. What is this? Character development?” He laughed, and the coughing started again.

This time, Matt didn’t argue when Alfred insisted they go home. The grey stone heart of his brother’s first city, into the stone houses behind the stone walls the English and the Americans had besieged more than once. Behind slate walls, warm wood greeted them as they passed through the red door with the same iron hinges, squashed between what had once been the apothecary and the bakery. Matt had once been stingy with the firewood but now he had electricity and the coal fired boiler in the basement that heated the house beyond the parlour with its polished brass fire grate and brick hearth.

"Sit," Matth said as he leaned against the wall. He threw aside his damp coat and propped himself against the worn wood. Scrubbing his damp hair off his forehead, he sighed. "I guess I should make coffee and sandwiches or something."

“Will you bite my head off if I offer to make something?” Alfred asked, cautiously toeing off his shoes.

Matt gave a wry sort of look, almost amused. “No.”

“Hallelujah.” Alfred replied, throwing his hands above his head.

“Don’t push it.” Matt said but his face was light.

Alfred chuckled and headed to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets, with all the fine little details of grapevines heavy with fruit and swirling knotwork that reminded him of Aunt Brighid’s embroidery. He thumbed one and wished she was there. She wouldn’t put up with this. He put on water to boil, dug a slightly dessicated chicken carcass out of the fridge, tore it apart to make sandwiches, put the bones on to make soup and returned to the living room with a mug and a plate for each of them.

Matt was sprawled on sofa, his face pink. Alfred didn’t want to wake him up, they both spent so much time ignoring the other’s nightmares these days. He still looked like Matt when he was asleep, sweet and still, like the man the cherubic baby Matt should have grown into rather than the wraith that had to shake off their father or the trenches. But he was feverish and Alfred made himself wake him.

“Here,” He said, handing Matt tea and the sandwich.

“Thanks.” Matt said quietly. He drank the tea eagerly but set the plate down next to him.

“Eat that.” Alfred said, taking a bite out of his own and throwing himself onto the leather chair. “You always do this when you’re sick. Don’t want to eat, don’t want to bother anyone, don’t want to admit you feel like ass. Just like Dad. It’s fucking annoying.”

“No one said you have to be here.” Matt glared, but he had picked up the sandwich and taken a decent bite. “Happy?”

“Never happy when you’re miserable.”

Matt snorted. “Oh, that’s bullshit.”

“Stop.” Alfred sat forward, hands on each of the chair’s arms. “Stop, okay? God. I know you’re–”

“Know I’m what?” Matt took another bite of the stupid sandwich and there was a flash of something flinty and dark behind his eyes Alfred didn’t like.

“Like how you always are after a war,”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you get good at killing and keeping everyone alive and–”

“And what?” Matt said.

“You get shit at everything anything else.” Alfred desperately wanted a cigarette but it felt a bit cruel. “Bring back Gilbert’s head like some sort of fucked up barn cat, sure, you’re great at that. But lay down and act like a human being? God forbid.”

“Oh don’t you–” Matt sighed through his nose and ate more, and too Alfred’s bewilderment, smiled. “You know how often I tell Dad something like that?”

Alfred stared, but leaned back, holding his coffee. “You back talk the old man?”

“Bringing Gilbert’s head back like a fucked up barn cat gave me some leeway.” Matt said, the sly smile on his face fading into something more serious. “But yeah. By the end, by the hundred days, we talked. About what I did. About what he didn’t stop. And I told him to shove it up his ass sometimes. He’s a hypocrite and so am I.”

“Sometimes.” Alfred responded. “You’re still a pretty good brother though.”

“Thanks.” Matt said. “I try.”

“I know.” Alfred said. “And I’m sorry I don’t sometimes.”

Matt shrugged. “Not your job. You don’t have to waste your time if you don’t want too. I’ll live, the overpriced booze will keep flowing. I shut up and do my job, everyone benefits. It’s fine.”

“We’re brothers.” Alfred said. “We’re supposed too… I don’t know.”

“You’re a rising great power, I’m the favourite knife of the British Empire. We have our roles. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want too.”

“Matt–”

He’d drooped against the arm of the sofa, breathing ragged, unable or unwilling to reply.

“You with me?”

“Yeah.” He responded, hoarse. “Sorry.”

“Is this from the gas too?”

“Yeah,” He didn’t off anymore of an explaination and Alfred shook his head.

“Dumbass,” He stood, and crouched to reach out. He gently placed the back of his hand against his brother’s forehead. “All you have to do is ask for help and, fuck, I think you’re warmer.”

“Just tired.” He murmured, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Mattie…” How many times in a day could he let denial slide before it was stupid? Matt was trying to rally himself, push Alfred off and reach for the tea, muttering about how he was fine when there was a loud crack. The windows rattled and suddenly he had his arms full of his brother, shaking like the last maple leaves on the trees, eyes screwed shut and mouthing something in French Alfred couldn’t make out.

“Hey,” Alfred laughed nervously. “Hey, you cold?”

“They’re coming.” Matt said, and the fever flush had disapeared. He looked bloodless. “They’re coming.”

“Hey.” Alfred suddenly understood. “Hey it’s okay. I’m right here. Matthew, I am right here. Nothing’s wrong. It was a car backfiring, not gunfire. No one’s coming.”

Matt leaned in more, burying his face in Alfred. “You don’t let anything happen to me.”

“Never have, never will.” Alfred rested one cheek on Matt’s feverish head. He held on tight, feeling the tremors that sprang through Matt until they stilled. But Matt’s breathing was still fast and shallow. He hadn’t been this close in a while, and the path of Matt’s spine showed through his layers, and he’d had that pinched up look half his life.

“Come on.” He said, gently. “Bed.”

“No.” He burrowed against Alfred more tightly, like he was four, barely spoke English and it was a cold morning he didn’t feel like greeting just yet. He’d always had a streak of stubbornness.

Eventually, Alfred got him up, got him to change and horizontal. He was a little delirious, shivering between the sheets and coughing until he was curled in a ball and muttering about how he needed his axe. But he didn’t get up to get it. He breathed through a split lip and rolled around trying to get comfortable. Alfred fed him pills and glass after glass of water, and somewhere around the seventh, Matt seemed to pass out into real sleep. Alfred sat on the bed and pressed his hands to Matt’s cheeks and was relieved to find it a little cooler.

Matt rolled over towards him, hugging his side, demanding warmth and making a contented sound when Alfred let him with a snort. “You always were a snuggly baby.”

[goldenbloodytears]

I would really like to know more about Sam, without spoiling the plot of future projects what can you say about her and Danny in the asks 2, 3, 9, 10, 14 and 15?

Also if Sam was a character of the scream franchise which one would she be?

Send by Mx. 👍

2. How do they treat themselves when they're feeling sad?

Sam's go to is to put on Elton John (most likely Honky Chateau—I can probably write a small piece on how Rocket Man can be seen as a metaphor for gay alienation) and then probably get a big tub of ice cream going. She’s not a stranger to depressive spirals, but sad and depressed are not quite the same thing—she deals with sad a lot better than depressed I would say.

With Danny… I think he tends to bypass sad and go straight to irritated. I’m a big believer in old man Johnson toxic masculinity indoctrination, so Danny probably lowkey thinks crying is for weaklings (and women). I think he might result to trying to calm himself with a couple drinks if for some reason he can’t immediately fix the problem that is causing him to be sad/irritated… however, said combo is more likely to lower his inhibition… and that’s when you’re probably more likely to get an impromptu murder (in comparison to his more planned stories).

3. What parts of themselves do they tend to hide?

Sam tends to hide her sexuality. Or at least attempt to. She lives in a small town, and the gossip mill would surely have a field day with the local English lady reporter turning out to be a “lesbian” (because bisexuals don’t exist in 1994 /sarcasm). The result is where she’s inoffensive enough to not cause outright homophobic drama, but she’s not exactly living the best life she could be either… especially when she’s partly trying to play nice for a family that aren’t nearly as accepting as they could be.

Danny hides himself. To be clearer, I’ve been considering whether his usage of personas happen to allow him to connect with an element of himself that has long been suppressed by his old man’s teachings. This is kind of a half-baked thought that I need to think about more. It’s a bit like being a method actor, an inherent element of performance. Think about how many seemingly outgoing and over confident performers are actually rather introverted (and not just because of paparazzi hounds)… also consider how people tend to act more freely when anonymous, for good or ill. Danny hides a lot of himself, he hides his literal self as Danny, but also other elements. His sexuality just like Sam, since being a bisexual man in the 90s is just… asking for trouble. However, he’s so strongly manifested in his expected gender roles as a masculine military brat that you wouldn’t even guess he might be queer unless you went for some crazy extreme like the fact he tends to dress well on average. I don’t think his personas suddenly act flaming (just to be clear) but he’s a little bit nicer, way more talkative, a little bit goofier/nerdier and I don’t think it’s entirely an act (although he believes it is and will tell you so).

9. What are their insecurities?

Sam is insecure about many things at the start of the story. This isn’t really a plot spoiler. She’s insecure about the fact both her brothers are married with kids, she’s insecure about the fact she’s queer, she’s insecure about her relationship with her girlfriend. She’s insecure about her future in the province she was born in—quick history lesson, in 1994 Quebec proposed a provincial referendum to decide whether the citizens of Quebec largely supported the idea of Quebec becoming its own sovereign country to be voted on in 1995. There was a major divide along language lines with English speaking Quebecers largely supporting the federalist Canadian position (No) while the French-speaking Québécois generally supported the sovreignist Yes side. There was a large exodus of English speaking Quebecers from the province around this time, settling in Ontario and Alberta primarily. You had small towns with flourishing English populations suddenly lose multiple families which had lived there for generations only for the towns to become much more French. This is the situation Sam finds herself facing, working as a local English newspaper which is now struggling as a result of less readership… so honestly she’s even kinda insecure about the future of her job too, period, lol.

I think Danny’s insecurities would require a whole post of their own, however, I’ve briefly touched on one of them in question 15.

10. What are their emotional triggers?

For Sam: curiosity, fear, frustration.

For Danny: boredom, frustration, praise.

I’m not entirely sure what this question is asking so I’ve kinda listed the emotions that I think are most likely to motivate them to do something for good or worse.

14. What kind of people do they tend to gravitate towards?

Sam tends to gravitate towards people with big personalities. She’s a much more subdued person and kinda lives vicariously through them. She’s intrigued by the promise of life outside small town Quebec, so it’s very easy to get her attention with stories of travel. She has a major obsession with this random cold case that happened when she was a teenager, to the point that everyone thinks she’s a little bit weird for it, and in this way she’s also drawn to people that will put up with this particular quirk. I think you can already see where I’m going with this.

Danny, like a true confidence trickster, is drawn to people most likely to believe his bullshit. This doesn’t mean he looks for idiots, he’s still a bit of a wannabe academic blowhard in spirit and as such I think he’s still drawn to people who profess at least a bit of a braincell…. But it’s the trust element. He’s looking for people who want to believe what he says. He’s also looking for people who think he’s cool. Even if he’s Jed or persona #632.

So when taking these tendencies together, you can already kind of start to see how Danny and Sam compliment each other in terms of the people they are seeking. They’re both looking for somebody who’s going to gas them up—feed their egos and hope for the future.

15. What do they like/dislike about themselves?

Sam likes her skills as a journalist, she feels like her stubbornness is a useful trait. She wishes she was better at being more traditionally feminine. She dislikes her height, at 5’10” she towers over a lot of guys and it’s worse if she wears heels.

I feel like we all have a rough idea of what Danny “likes” about himself, so I’ll focus on what he dislikes. His emotionality. He knows he can be impulsive, and he thinks feelings like fear, anger, and sadness are not particularly useful for himself when he’s supposed to be this killer who goes around murdering in the night. If he could be a mindless killer, I’m sure he would do so.

Bonus: What character in Scream would Sam be?

Hmmm, that’s a very good question. I think I would need to do a complete series rewatch to really pin it down but I think she would kinda be a weird proxy if you were to mix Gail and Dewey together (she’s their forbidden baby). She has a lot of Gail’s tenacious journalism qualities but she’s a lot nicer, similar to Dewey. Her brother Chris is also a cop, so she’s a little bit functional to Tatum in a way.

[mhalachai]

Word of the week: Canadianisms: Loonie and Toonie

getting back to things, here's a join word of the week/just Canadian things for you.

Loonie

The loonie, aka the $1 coin. Named such as, in 1987 when Canada moved from the $1 bill to the $1 coin, the winning design for the back was a lovely loon. To differentiate from the quarter (and other coinage that are silver in colour, the loonie is brass). Called huard, or loon, in Quebec.

From this...

to this:

However, the move to the coin resulted in an explosion in popularity of the $2 bill (which prior to this was as popular as the $2 bill is in the States today), which in turn led to the introduction in 1996 of the…

Toonie

When the chuckleheads at the Mint decided to turf the $2 bill in favour of a $2 coin it was in turn nicknamed the "toonie" (a portmanteau of "two" and "loonie"), because Canadians love a two-trick pony. Also known as the twoonie if you're trying to make up points in Scrabble. Apparently called deux piastres or deux piastres rond in Quebec because at that point the linguistic logic fell apart - if anyone out there is Québécois, please correct me if that's wrong.

From:

To:

Fun fact, when they introduced the toonie, everyone tried to get the two parts to pop apart. I was working at a fast food restaurant at the time and i had a couple of ten-year-olds trying to buy an ice cream cone with a separated toonie. I swapped it out for a $2 bill in my pocket and kept the outer part on a chain; still have it around somewhere (unless you're from the Mint in pursuit of criminal charges as it relates to currency defacement in which case I didn't and I don't)

And bonus:

If you’re ever up in Canada and at a liquor store and someone suggests you get a mickey, they’re not offering to spike your drink,  they’re suggesting you get a bottle of liquor that is 375ml, or 13 florida ounces.

And I cannot find anyone who has a reason as to why we call it that.

[fyodior]

i would like to speak to ❄️ anon (if they do not mind) and recommend sk8 first. I LOVE WINDBREAKER BUT SK8 IS JUST SO CUTE AND FUN AND IT HAS GREAT CHARACTERS AND A GOOD STORY. if ur like me and prefer story and the people and stuff over action id also recommend sk8 first. i am very biased towards sk8 despite loving both. both are short tho so it wont take long to watch them. i just really like sk8 (im also slightly biased bc canadian character and im from canada so i just find it extra fun to see like. humour about that. im not even that devoted to my country, i just dont often see canadian characters in media that isnt canadian unless theyre for the butt of the joke)

also miss flora, if ur reading this, i know how you said you wonder what state the guild is from but i always wonder what province/territory (and sometimes city) langa is from. like i dont think hed be from ontario, especially not toronto. i dont think hed be from a major city like vancouver. he seems to have enjoyed living in canada too much to have lived in quebec (ik ur americans so for context, quebec is the very french province. they generally hate all of canada and pretty much all of canada hate them too. except 18yr olds bc the legal drinking age there is a year younger so they have to put up w 18yr olds visiting just to get drunk.) i honestly think hed be from farther north, lots more places for him to ski. i think its be really funny if he was from one of the territories or like. alberta.

- 💄

yes thats a very good comparison of the two!!! they are both only 12 eps (if i remember wbk correctly) so not long watches at all but it just depends on if you’re preferring story or action.

and honestly i completely forgot langa was canadian LMFAO thats such a good character trait for him 😭 also i love when animes hand us a very obviously japanese native level fluent VA and are like. they’re from canada. suspension of disbelief is key

interesting take tho!! you’re right i know nothing about canada but i like your thought process!! itd be kinda sexy tho if he was from qbc and could speak french too……..

[darkfictionjude]

I was thinking about an old ask where MC had made the effort to learn Spanish for Imre. And was wondering if there is a possibility for MC to know more than just English, or they never had the chance to learn anything else so far. From what I remember, and I may be wrong, Sally supposedly knew other languages? I'm not sure if that's the case.

Then again, MC never was a very good student, a part of me believes it is because they never cared about it more than because of ineptitude. Yet, because of this, it would make sense to believe MC never learned another language. There is no reason to. Not only they have no need, since they live in an English speaking country (and, if we assume the town could be in Canada, no one seems to be speaking French either). But also, MC seems too uninterested to learn anything. So, unless Sally himself made sure MC studied another language (and I don't see a reason why he would do such a thing so far) I don't see MC actually doing it.

Of course, there is a chance that once MC's character arc advances or finishes, that MC may learn other languages. And not just alive natural languages like Spanish or French, but maybe also classic or dead languages as Latin or Ancient Greek. This last part is unlikely, unless MC was inspired enough by Imre's interest in paleontology, but MC preferred archeology instead.

On the other hand, being a member of an old money family (even if the family is broke now), it would make sense for the children to be taught other languages, just as a sign of status. But even if this was the case, MC probably was never an enthusiastic student, and would be losing any progress while internated.

It would be kind of cool if there was a chance to choose a second language, maybe as a reference to a possible origin for the Crown family (I remember the ask I wrote about the family possible Latino origins). Then, of course, it's wholly unnecessary and would be rather flavour text, and no more. Unless you decided to include segments of the game in another language (like a puzzle), just so MC could use this knowledge, but that would be unfair to the players who didn't want to know another language (although, you could make it, in that case, as if the language was Spanish and Imre was able to solve it, or there were clues nearby that allowed to translate the thing). That is just an idea, and not really a good one, I think.

That said, you probably shouldn't add the feature, as I have many reasons to believe MC wouldn't speak nothing but English, and the addition would, in most cases, be useless. Unless you went out of your way to make it meaningful. It just adds unnecessary complications.

You do think a lot don’t you etymology nonnie? (At least I hope it’s you or this would be embarrassing)

As someone who lives in Canada unless you’re close to Quebec small towns in most provinces don’t speak French. Sally does kind of know a second language but I can’t reveal what it is yet.

Also yeah there was no need for mc to learn another language apart from doing it for fun and I don’t think mc understands what doing something for fun is yet so they would have never seen a need to. They likely believed they’d stay in Croun till the day they die so what’s the point of learning anything?

[apresmidiaparis]

A Canadian Lolita’s guide to custom fees and self clearance!

***All of this is information is based on my experiences with the subject. I am not an expert and this is just advice.***

I’ve gotten most of my information by just googling “how to self clear a package Canada” and the following article. Please do your own research on addition to this guide!

https://borderbee.com/2014/01/13/how-to-self-clear-your-parcel-with-customs/

What are custom fees?

For most USA based lolitas, they have never faced customs and duties when receiving a package unless it is over 1000$ worth or more (the reasons for this I dont think I could explain very well, so please do us both a favour and if your curious just google it :,) )

Unfortunately for all of us who do not live in the US of A, we have to face taxation and fees on any imported shipment outside of the country. Yes, that means all of your beloved burando is going to cost even MORE! T^T

The price of these fees will be determined by you provinces tax % (in Quebec, taxes are around 15% of the total amount spent) and if you choose to accept the courrier company’s brokerage fees.

What are brokerage fees?

Brokerage fees are a fee imposed onto you by the courrier company for acting as your broker and clearing your shipments customs for you. These fees, like taxes vary with the amount spent and from company to company.

UPS notarially has the most expensive brokerage fees. As an example, I bought a dress from a us seller on lace market for around 285$ and my customs and duties came up to around 90$. They were trying to charge me more brokerage fees than taxes! If I remember correctly, it was around 50$ for the brokerage fees and 40$ of taxes.

I avoided these insanely high and unwanted fees by self clearing my package.

What is self clearance?

You can probably guess that self clearing is not accepting your courrier service to act as you broker and clearing your customs yourself.

This sounds intimidating and like you need a law degree to go through with it but I promise you this is so easy. There’s only 4 steps to this.

Step number one

First step is to find you courrier services email adresse or phone number.

Since I’m a girlypop with phone anxiety, I usually choose to contact them no matter what by email and sometimes that can be hard to find! Because these companies want to make money, they kind of want to make this as hard for you to do as possible! If you’d like to call them, The phone numbers for customer service is usually very clearly displayed on their official websites.

Here are the two email addresses that I’ve successfully self cleared my packages with in Quebec, Canada. I’ll try and add to this post when I have more!

UPS : custsvccaen@ups.com

FedEx : clearancehelpline@fedex.com

Once you have the email address, you send them a polite email saying

“hello, I would like to self clear my package with the following tracking number : [enter your tracking # here]. Can you please send me the necessary documents to do so?”

If you are uncertain about the email address you can always ask in advance that if they can’t help you to transfer you to someone who can.

Wait for a response with your needed documents, usually you will receive a response within 1 business days depending on the time of day you sent it.

Step number two

Print out ALL of the documents given to you. You are better off being over prepared than underprepared.

Step number three

You need to find your local CBSA office and get your poofy self down there. You can find your nearest cbsa by just googling cbsa [name of your city].

*Most if not all cbsa offices open at 8am and close at 4pm and are NOT open on weekends, so be aware of this if you work a 9-5*

Once you’re there you just need to wait in line, tell the customs officers that you’re there to pay your custom fees on a self cleared package and from there on they will tell you what to do and who to talk to. Make sure to bring ID with picture and corresponding address, just in case.

They might make you fill stuff out, they might not, all depending on how much information your shopping service gave the courrier service. When they’ve confirmed everything, they will ask for you to pay the taxes that are due and will give you a receipt. KEEP THE RECEIPT and pay attention to make sure they stamp it!

Step number four (final)

Take a picture or scan receipt and documents given back to you and send a copy back to the email address that sent you your documents (or if they direct you to send the receipt to another address, follow their instructions). Your courrier service needs to have proof that you have paid for your customs and duties.

And there you go! You have successfully self cleared a your package!

Sometimes you will have to pick up your package at l one of your courrier service’s locations but other times they will just proceed with the delivery as usual. They usually tell you in advance if you need to pick it up, but checking your tracking Is a more effective way to determine whether or not you need to do so.

If you do end up picking it up, be sure to bring your receipt and documents when getting it so the employees will have an easier time finding your package. Again, better to be over prepared than under prepared!

Extra tips!

- stick up for yourself! You have every right to self clear and you should not take no for an answer under any circumstances! The delivery people can be at your doorstep and you can and should deny accepting the delivery until they recognize that you self cleared or are self clearing your package.

- you should act as quickly as possible if you want to do this, especially if you have chosen an express delivery.

- usually you should only start this process when your package has entered Canada, but most of the time I have had success self clearing the second I get a customs invoice. I have had some unsuccessful attempts starting this process early with DHL though.

- in my experience, no two self clearances are ever the same. Sometimes it can go extremely smoothly and other times you be scared that they’ll send the package back to the sender. Be calm and always prepare for the worst.

- you should almost always declare your package as a gift, if your package is worth less than or equal to 60$ Canadian, you should not get charged custom fees. If it is more than, they should only charge you [the actual amount] - 60$cad (example 100$ - 60 = you should only pay 40$ worth of customs)

If you have any feedback on this I’d love to hear it! Again I’m just an amateur speaking from experience! :)

[your-local-gayterbottle]

MUSIC RECS PLEASE!!!!

ACHKFHKKDSGJJOB YOU GOT ME STARTED NOW DON’T COMPLAIN

SO

The Prow - Voivod [my father introduced me to this song it’s absolute perfection PLUS apparently they’re a group from where i live which just boosts them even higher in my brain]

What Once Was - Her’s [i love this song it’s really comforting to me. It’s relaxing and has a great beat! Plus the title paired with the group’s name is absolute muah! It’s not groovy or anything but i like it like that. Magnificent lyrics too!]

flutter - julie [this song has some kind of comforting effect on me and it has a good groovy beat! So it’s like it’s not a calm song yet it has a calming vibe. I listen to this when I’m overwhelmed/stimulated or anxious]

Lights Out - Mindless Self Indulgence [that song just scratches an itch in my brain plus it’s groovy! I love it a lot, quite addictive if you ask me]

New Person, Same Old Mistakes - Tame Impala [there’s something about the instruments and the way they all sound with each other that just makes me wanna listen to it in repeat]

Tocka - Molchat Doma [listen. The title is in russian, but i’m too lazy to add the russian keyboard so you guys just deal with it now. Also this song has a great beat and it makes me feel comfortable for some reason]

Awikatchikaën - Les Cowboys Fringants [don’t be intimidated by the incomprehensible french, it’s really good! The rythm is great the beat is awesome, the melody is fantastic! Also, unless you’re from Quebec, you won’t understand what they’re saying anyways! Half of the song is quebec slang and the other half is straight up gibberish, so just give it a shot!]

How Soon Is Now? - The Smiths [absolute banger. Relatable. 10/10. I love.]

My Blood - Twenty One Pilots [one of my fav songs from them. It’s quite a nostalgic one to me, it reminds me a bit of my childhood.]

Gallowdance - Lebanon Hanover [this is a comfort song to me, i love it so much! The voice of the singer brings out something and makes the song better, i really adore this]

Jigolo Har Megiddo - Ghost [AHHH. This song makes me feel things. The way it sounds is *chef’s kiss*]

This Charming Man - The Smiths [The Smiths is one of my favorite artists and this song. THIS SONG. Idk it feels nostalgic. It’s SO good! I have a hard time not crying to that song for some reason tho]

Back to the Old House -The Smiths [i would rather not gooooo~ back to the old houseeeee~]

Genesis - Grimes [the intro sends shivers down my back. It is absolutely gorgeous. A masterpiece. The echo in the voice? Magnificent. I need to consume that song. It’s not a want it’s a need at this point AAH]

First Love/Late Spring - Mitski [DON’T @ ME IT MAKES ME CRY BUT ITS REALLY GOOD!!! It manages to get out of me emotions i did not know i held. I love it so so so much]

Smile Boyo - Vundabar [now while their other song - Alien Blues - IS more popular, i like this one a lot better. The lyrics are the most relatable ones i’ve found yet, and it’s brilliantly shared]

The Adults Are Talking - The Strokes [this song. This song brings me so much comfort it’s almost physical. It reminds me a lot of my Harry Potter phase for some reason, and it also reminds me of the Covid, but only the good parts! Overall this might be one of the most comforting songs i’ve told you guys about yet]

Alien Blues - Vundabar [the lyrics are SO relatable, great beat overall but not enough vocals in my opinion which is why it’s not as good as Smile Boyo to me]

Looking Out For You - Joy Again [it reminds me of some darker times of my life and it makes me feel proud for having gotten over all that mush]

Money - The Drums [WOW. The lyrics, the music, the voice, the instruments, it’s all so perfect to one another]

The Attack of the Dead Men - Sabaton [it sounds like they’re speaking Russian but it’s actually English. Very addictive beat, they have some kind of chorus and it sounds so good]

Fraccion - Soen [another song my dad introduced me to. I especially love the end and the fact the whole song kinda builds up to the end while still being original and unique but in a good way]

Custer - Slipknot [listen. This song manages to scratch an itch in my brain i’m not even aware of better than any other]

Fallait y aller - Loud [this singer went to the same highschool as me so this makes me appreciate the song even more. Great moral tbh. It’s well written, it’s fun to listen to, i really really love it]

Toutes les Femmes Savent Danser - Loud [one if not his best song. It sounds fantastic, has a great moral, a deeper meaning than what it seems and it’s a masterpiece to the ears]

BLUE - Tïesto, Stevie Appleton [i found this song by accident and i would not stop listening to it. It’s quite addictive, the beat is great, i love it sm]

She’s Kerosene - The Interrupters [my dad showed it to me. It’s such a danceable song plus it’s not hard to remember]

Blood // Water - grandson [my dad introduced me to this song too it makes me really nostalgic cause it reminds me of my Danplan era. The saddest thing in all of the drama around these youtubers is that i didn’t get to watch them for longer than 2 months before the group broke while i was still hyperfixated on them]

On leur a Fait Croire - Alex Nevsky [again, a song from where i live, immediate boost. It’s an overall really good songs, but i especially like it because it reminds me of my uncle. And my uncle has been out of my life for personal reasons for about a year now which makes me really sad.]

Shine - Younger Brother [and yet another song my dad showed me! It’s really nice and has that kind of feel you don’t just get with every songs. Great buildup, nice vocals, i love.]

ALRIGHT THAT WILL BE ALL FOR TODAY!! I HAVE A LOT MORE, BUT IMMA STOP HERE. I COULD GO ON FOR HOURS AND HOURS BUT I CANT DO THAT FOR MULTIPLE REASONS!!! AAK IM SORRY IF I GOT TAKEN AWAY HEHE

[tcmpcrtrap]

[ zoey deutch | cisgender woman | she/her| twenty-eight ] ——   welcome to grimrose, BEVERLY HARDY it’s cool that you’re here, you know. haven’t you heard of the history of this place… anyway, how’s being a LOCAL who has been in town for FOUR YEARS, especially since you spend most of your days as a HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH TEACHER? also, not that it’s a bad thing, of course, but i’ve heard people say you can be a little SULLEN more than you are GUTSY… but that’s just coming from people who are bored here, i promise. to me, you remind me of I WON’T BACK DOWN by TOM PETTY and dandelions growing on the cracks of a busy street; big glasses sliding down your nose; the swirls of poured creamer in a cup of coffee; fairy lights twinkling in the dark, floating above a pillow fort; overdue library books; dog-eared picture books; Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. hope to see you around, BEV. —— [ west, thirty-one, they/them, mst ]

inspo

kara ‘starbuck’ thrace (battlestar galactica), lorelai gilmore (gilmore girls), meredith grey (grey’s anatomy), fiona gallagher (shameless)

details

full name: beverly gisele hardy nickname(s): bev age: twenty-eight date of birth: november 28 place of birth: montreal, quebec place of birth: grimrose, new hampshire gender: cisgender woman pronouns: she / her religion: agnostic occupation: english teacher at elen p. grimrose high school education level: bachelor of arts in english lit, teacher certification residence: paradise cove trailer park family: albert hardy (father, gone), céline hardy-boucher (mother), charlene hardy (sister, deceased), and alice hardy (niece). spoken languages: english and french faceclaim / voiceclaim: zoey deutch

BIOGRAPHY cw: death of a sibling, death by a car crash

Grimrose is all she has ever known, probably won’t have a taste of the world unless things drastically change. Outside of the french she speaks at home, there’s not much she remembers of her childhood in her hometown of Quebec. No, the stars all point to the trailer park she is raised in, like some sort of prison she’s tied down to— it’s one of those truths you don’t speak out loud and would rather hide in the deepest corners of your heart, leaving it to fester in the dark.

The early years are full of rooms enveloped in darkness, interrupted only by the dim light of a cigarette hanging precariously off her mother’s mouth. Her voice, with misery clinging onto her every word, calls out to her in wails and warns her never to fall in love. Her father had left just before she was born, skipping town with all the family’s savings in one hand and his wife’s heart in the other. A deep depression claws onto her mother’s spirit, prompting her older sister (only three years her senior) to step in as the resident parent. 

Dysfunction pushes her to grow fast and awkward. She excels as a student, although it’s mostly on account of studying being the one and only aspect she feels she has control over and her only feasible ticket out of town. Making friends becomes a non-priority, perhaps because it is never easy, not when you’re strange, a little too honest, and wear hand-me-downs that are in dire need of fixing. Adulthood comes like a rushing train, hits her like one too. She succeeds in briefly abandoning her hometown for a better life in Pennsylvania, where she works tirelessly to become an English teacher with the hopes of traveling abroad for work. However, dreams of discovering the world are shattered when her dear sister is killed in a fatal car crash, leaving her to raise her four year-old niece. Even though she has a job already lined up, she is forced to go back to Grimrose and find the father of her niece, who was kept a mystery from the family.

HEADCANONS

Faithful radio listener. Always calls to request her favourite songs to make mixtapes. She enjoys creating mixtapes for different moods as well as sharing them with her friends. Will curate a playlist if requested or if she likes you enough.

She did excel academically in high school and later in university. Her studies were in large part paid for by various scholarships and grants.

Used to play the piano before her father ran away with the money to pay for her lessons. As a working adult, her first purchase for herself was a keyboard.

There’s five things she never leaves home without: house keys, walkman, a picture of her sister and niece together, a zippo lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t smoke, but she likes to light a cigarette once in a while because the smoke reminds her of home. Her mother is a chimney.

Her niece is currently eight years old and loves to go to the library.

She’s a terrible cook, most of her meals at home have been frozen at some point.

[dankusner]

Belushi mentions Big D murdered JFK — with Aykroyd & Bobbie Wygant.

44 things this Chicagoan didn’t know about ‘The Blues Brothers’ There are few Chicago cliches more overdone than the Blues Brothers.

Maybe hot dogs. OK, deep dish. The Bears logo. The Cubs logo. The Bean.

Then there’s that iconic silhouette — dark shades, black fedora, one thin guy, one meatball — an image so ubiquitous here, you’re more likely to run into it than the actual blues. 

“The Blues Brothers” movie, released in 1980, steeped in local lore forevermore, is often called the quintessential Chicago movie, and I’m certainly not alone in saying that if I never saw it again, nothing would be lost. 

It’s been drummed into my skin, bones and flab, indelibly. Which is why I instinctively rolled my eyes when I landed an early copy of this new history, “The Blues Brothers: An Epic Friendship, the Rise of Improv, and the Making of an American Film Classic.” 

Strictly for the tourists, I thought. What could this book possibly offer Chicago that hasn’t already been steamrolled into the local DNA?

The surprise is, plenty.

Daniel de Visé, a native South Sider, now a finance reporter at USA Today (and a Pulitzer Prize co-winner for his Elián González coverage at the Miami Herald), has compiled the definitive one-stop history of the Blues Brothers band, the film and a touching dual biography of John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, which Aykroyd refers to in the book as one of the great friendships, the ache still heard years after Belushi’s death.

It left me with so much to think about that, in the spirit of the Blues Brothers — in the spirit of not doing something unless you can overdo it — with input from de Visé and his absorbing cultural history, here are 44 thoughts, production notes and or just things that I did not know about “The Blues Brothers,” 44 years later.

1. The Blues Brothers began as a friendship. 

Belushi, a star of Second City Chicago, was visiting Canada, where Aykroyd was in Second City Toronto. 

Belushi sat in with the troupe, and one night at a bar after the show, Aykroyd, already a knowledgable R&B fan, played some blues records for Belushi, who was more of a heavy metal guy. 

This was 1974. Aykroyd explained that he haunted blues clubs, bringing along a harmonica; Belushi had played drums in The Ravens, his old band at Wheaton Central High School. Belushi suggested starting a band. Aykroyd already had an idea for one. Four years later, by the time they debuted on TV — on “Saturday Night Live,” where Belushi had become a superstar — that friendship was drifting. The band would join them at the hip, eternally.”

2. The name “The Blues Brothers” was suggested by Howard Shore, who overheard Belushi and Aykroyd at that bar and later became “SNL” bandleader from 1975 to 1980.

3. The Aykroyd family had been in Ottawa since 1810. His father was a civil servant and engineer under Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. As a teenager, Aykroyd would sneak away to nearby Quebec and a small neighborhood full of music clubs called Little Chicago. He convinced bands to let him play harmonica. He was an uncanny imitator.

4. Belushi, like Aykroyd, did not have a blues-ready background. In Wheaton, his family was assumed to be Italian, and they never clarified; explaining they were Albanian was harder. Before trying on the rebel chic of Marlon Brando, he was a skilled debate club member and star linebacker. After a short stay at the University of Wisconsin, he enrolled at the College of DuPage, where he formed his first improv group, named West Compass Players in honor of Chicago’s seminal Compass Players. He also developed a pair of impressions: Richard J. Daley and Joe Cocker.

5. For Aykroyd, his blues revelation, de Visé said, came as a teenager, “when he saw Sam & Dave do ‘Hold On, I’m Coming’ at the 1967 World’s Fair in Montreal.” For Belushi, it came from Aykroyd, but also, while filming “Animal House” in Oregon, he saw a band, the Crayhawks, fronted by guitarist Robert Cray and harmonica star Curtis Salgado, “who looked and dressed and sounded like a real-life Blues Brother,” de Visé writes. Belushi was inspired, immersing himself in blues and R&B. Later, he brought up the Blues Brothers to “Animal House” director John Landis.

Mayor Jane Byrne accepted a check for $50,000 from Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi in her office on June 17, 1980, on behalf of the cast and crew of the film "The Blues Brothers" and Universal Studios. The donation was for children's and charitable organizations. (Tribune file photo)

Harvey Mayor Nick Graves of stands in one of the hallways inside the abandoned Dixie Square Mall in 2002. The mall was the first in the country to be enclosed under a roof, according to Graves. It was also the location for the filming of the "Blues Brothers" movie. (John Smierciak / Chicago Tribune)Dixie Square Shopping Center in 1967, more than a decade before it would be a location for "Blues Brothers" filming. (Tribune file photo)

“The Blues Brothers: An Epic Friendship, the Rise of Improv, and the Making of an American Film Classic" by Daniel de Visé (Atlantic Monthly Press, March 19, 2024).

6. The sunglasses came from an old hack of seasoned musicians: You couldn’t see how stoned, tired or drunk they looked if they wore them. That would come in helpful during the production of “The Blues Brothers” movie, since Belushi was often stoned or drunk.

7. The suits were partly inspired by Lenny Bruce, Aykroyd told de Visé, but also, they connected the Blues Brothers to Black R&B performers who still wore formal suits on stage in the 1970s, at a time when rock musicians dressed in T-shirts and jeans.

8. The Blues Brothers were intended to be a tribute band, which means the small cottage industry of Blues Brothers tribute bands today — The Blooze Brothers, Hats and Shades, The Blues Brotherhood, et al. — are tribute bands that celebrate a tribute band.

9. While it may seem self-evident that, if they were founded today, the Blues Brothers would be quickly accused of appropriating Black culture, they were loudly accused of appropriation in the 1970s, too. “Especially in the alternative press,” de Visé said. “Some were outraged, and when the film came out, well, how offensive it seems to have James Brown and Aretha Franklin in bit roles behind white guys playing their music?” Except, it was done with humor and affection for the originators, who also played it funny on stage, Aykroyd reminds us in the book. “The result is,” de Visé said, “if you want to see Ray Charles or Aretha Franklin now, that movie is an extraordinary document.”

10. Universal, the studio, did not want Ray Charles, James Brown, Cab Calloway or Aretha Franklin in the film. Their careers, particularly Calloway’s, looked over. (Instead of Franklin, they wanted Rose Royce, of “Car Wash.”) After the movie was a success, each had a comeback. As Brown told People, the film “gave us all another chance.”

11. B.B. King was sought for the movie; indeed, the idea for this history came to de Visé while working on a biography of King. He asked Landis why King didn’t appear in the film. King had been asked. His manager said he was busy. King learned this years later.

12. Some members of the Blues Band doubted Belushi’s sincerity — at first.

13. Looking again, with fresh eyes, decades later, Belushi does stand out as the weak link musically. Aykroyd, a natural method actor, buries himself in Elwood Blues; the band — particularly, Steve Cropper and Donald “Duck” Dunn — were hallowed R&B veterans who had played on some of the original recordings this new band was covering. But Belushi’s singing is harsh, even phony. “He’s unquestionably a weak link,” de Visé agreed. “But his strength was the performance, and when they toured, they got ecstatic reviews based on Belushi as a frontman, not as an accomplished soul singer.”

14. Lorne Michaels, creator of “SNL,” was iffy on the Blues Brothers, so Belushi and Aykroyd first became Jake and Elwood with the “SNL” band, warming up the live show.

15. Two-and-a-half years later, Michaels asked them to warm up the show again. This went over so well that, two weeks later, the Blues Brothers debuted on “SNL,” in a 1978 episode hosted by Steve Martin (who performed his classic “King Tut” that same night).  Pianist Paul Shaffer introduced the Blues Brothers with a wink to appropriation and sincerity, saying they just flew in from Chicago’s South Side and “are no longer an authentic blues act, but have managed to become a viable commercial product.” Shaffer was set to act in the Blues Band when it jumped to movies, but “SNL” star Gilda Radner was developing a concert album, with hopes of a concert film, produced by Lorne Michaels. Out of loyalty to both, he opted out and chose the Radner project.”]

16. Aykroyd wrote the first draft of the screenplay, later credited to him and Landis. If you ever wondered why the plot hinges on a Catholic school unable to pay taxes even though Catholic schools are tax-exempt, so did de Visé. Aykroyd, a Canadian, had never heard of this very American tax loophole, but swore that when he was part of Second City in Chicago, he saw a story about it in a newspaper. De Visé couldn’t find that article. (I couldn’t, either.)

By placing first in the high school spirit contest sponsored by WMET and Coca-Cola in 1978, Marian Catholic won over $30,000 in prizes, including a $13,000 custom van! Oh and did we mention the band Foghat also played a free concert at the school?Pictured: Sr. Mary Alberta, Sr. Margaret Ann, and Sr. Judith Anne standing beside the custom van on the day of arrival. 

17. Fittingly, for one of the first days of production, the very first images in the movie were shot: A sweeping, billowing industrial hellscape of South Works steel mill on the Calumet River. Landis said they shot over the plant without permission, and cinematographer Stephen Katz told de Visé that they were “hanging out the door of the chopper” with the camera. Security for the factory eventually noticed and shot at them.

18. De Visé’s history, scene after scene, is a queasy taxonomy of a very different era of film production, with a disturbing willingness to push the envelope, safety-wise. “You could say standards were looser,” he laughed. “Safety standards were more impressionistic. Plus, the amount of drugs readily available … And when they shot the trashing of the shopping mall, there were so many cars, inside a building, crew had to step outside because they were complaining about the toxic fumes in the place.”

19. That mall sequence — in which the Blues Brothers lead cops in a high-speed car chase at an indoor shopping mall — was filmed at the Dixie Square Mall in Harvey, which had been closed for a year when the production restored many of its storefronts.

20. While shooting the mall scene, Belushi disappeared. Aykroyd told de Visé he noticed a “path kind of leading out of the weed-strewn parking lot into a suburban neighborhood.” It was so late he knocked on the door of the only house with lights on. The homeowner answered, stepped back and revealed Belushi asleep on his couch. While the film was in production, the Eagles, performing at Chicago Stadium, sang from the stage: “Looking for Belushi / Let’s go get some sushi.” (Belushi obliged.) Belushi – who was known for wandering off sets, only to call for a ride hours later – seemed to predict his behavior a year earlier on “SNL,” in a famous sketch called “The Thing That Wouldn’t Leave.” (Bill Murray: “We both have to be at work really early tomorrow morning, see.” Belushi: “God I’m thirsty – is there anything in the fridge?”)

21. Belushi was paid $500,000 for the movie; Aykroyd was paid $250,000.

22. For the duration of the four-month Chicago production, Belushi and Aykroyd were put up in Astor Towers on the Gold Coast and given one entire floor each.

23. Universal paid Chicago police officers $16.50 an hour to work on the movie. Official squad cars cost the studio $30 a day each (and had to be returned with full tanks of gas). For crash scenes, the film bought more than 60 retired police cars, for $400 each.

24. The climatic Daley Plaza sequence — featuring helicopters, tanks, National Guard — cost Universal $3.5 million. Driving the Bluesmobile through the glass windows of the ground floor of Daley Center cost $17,000. The scene was shot over Labor Day weekend, to ensure crew could replace the glass before employees returned Tuesday.

25. My favorite line in the film is when, headed downtown, with a path of destruction in their wake, Belushi casually mentions to Aykroyd that Daley Plaza is “where they got that Picasso.” A note of subtlety in a comedy that gets decidedly mad, mad, mad, mad.

26. Production shut down so much of Chicago that, after one fraught July weekend, Chicago Tribune columnist Bob Wiedrich wondered how many motorists were being trapped in traffic jams on the Eisenhower Expressway and Lake Shore Drive during a national energy crisis. (Gas was averaging $1.03 a gallon, about $4.30 in 2024 dollars.)

27. Other than Mayor Jane Byrne — who OK’d many of the largest scenes after decades of resistance to Hollywood production by Mayor Richard J. Daley — Landis’s most powerful ally was legendary Chicago attorney Sidney Korshak, whose clients had included Al Capone and Jimmy Hoffa. Korshak was friends with Universal Pictures chief Lew Wasserman, so Landis asked Korshak to smooth the wheels around town.

28. The car jump over the bridge on 95th Street at the beginning of the movie had to be performed twice because Landis was not satisfied with the car’s landing the first time.

29. To shoot the Bluesmobile racing beneath the CTA tracks, a camera was strapped to a car headed westbound on Lake Street, going 110 miles per hour. It was done in a single take.

30. As often as it’s noted that “The Blues Brothers” is a time capsule of a Chicago no longer recognizable, the Maxwell Street scenes play like a short documentary of a lost city. Hand-painted wooden signs, white plumes of smoke wafting off grills, bustling crowds.

31. Those streets, crammed with extras, also played witness to another sort of Chicago documentary: A Chicago police officer assigned to the set shouted into a bullhorn that the mostly Black crowd would go to jail if they didn’t obey Landis, which caused Landis — “What are you talking about?” — to loudly call out the cop for racism.

32. Considering how many interiors in the movie were shot on the Universal backlot, the film plays like a testament to how influential the eye of a good location scout can be. Ray Charles’s pawnshop was in Bronzeville (but the interior was shot in Los Angeles). James Brown’s church was the now 107-year-old Pilgrim Baptist of South Chicago on East 91st Street (but interiors were faithful reproductions of the church, also shot in Los Angeles).

33. The young female gospel singer that Landis cuts to several times during the James Brown church sequence is the great funk singer Chaka Khan, a native of Hyde Park.

34. That’s the famed Chez Paul in River North where the Blues Brothers perform a sliding parallel park. But the restaurant interior was so degraded by 1979 — “cracked wallpaper, peeling paint, a hundred little horrors cloaked by soft candlelight,” de Visé writes — the production rebuilt the dining room at Universal.

35. Those are real prisoners in real jail cells in the Joliet Prison scenes.

36. De Visé solved something I always wondered about: When the Bluesmobile breaks into pieces across from Daley Plaza, the effect was achieved by pre-cutting an entire car into dozens of chunks, then stitching it back together and holding the whole thing in place with a steel cable. When a special-effects guy tugged the cable, the car collapsed.

37. The mural outside Ray Charles’ pawnshop in Bronzeville — which was painted for the movie, and, at the insistence of Landis, included an image of B.B. King, so that the blues legend could kinda still be seen in the movie — was lost in 2020 when the building was demolished after a fire. The space had housed an actual pawnshop since 1946.

38. During production, Belushi was watched by a Texan named Morris Lyda, tasked with keeping him off drugs. Later that job fell to a former Secret Service agent that Belushi hired on the recommendation of Joe Wash. However, by the time production wrapped in Chicago, Landis told de Visé that Belushi almost died two times from drugs: “We ended up taking the door off his room and calling the paramedics, because he had basically overdosed.”

39. The ground zero of drug use during production was the Blues Bar that Belushi and Aykroyd built in Old Town as a private club, in a small space behind Earl of Old Town on Wells Street. The city closed it down in 1982, the same year Belushi died of an overdose in Los Angeles. He was 33.

40. The last time the Blues Brothers played the Chicago area was June 1980, at Poplar Creek Music Theater in Hoffman Estates. They opened and closed with “I Can’t Turn You Loose.”

41. Soon before he died, Belushi got into punk and gave away his blues records.

42. Personally, that last detail is probably the saddest. I wish I could say that I was cool enough as a kid to just listen to Otis Redding and Sam & Dave, but it’s probably the Blues Brothers that led me to that rich wellspring; in high school, among my prized possessions were all seven volumes of “Atlantic Rhythm & Blues 1947-1974” (on vinyl). De Visé remembered something similar: “I first saw the movie on a bootleg videotape from a store near my father’s house, but what I remember is it didn’t make me want to buy a Blues Brothers record. It made me want to buy ‘The Best of Sam & Dave.‘ Which is what I think Aykroyd wanted this to do from the start.”

43. When Aykroyd got the call that his partner had died, he was writing the dialogue for the pair’s next big-screen blockbuster, “Ghostbusters.” (Belushi’s part was taken by Murray.)

44. “The Blues Brothers” became the first film spun off “SNL.” “All the years later, is there a better one?” de Visé asked me. “There’ve been good, lots of bad, but this is better than it had any right. I think Gene Siskel in the Tribune nailed it when he said they delivered one of the best comedies ever, period. He wrote ‘Boy, is that ever a surprise.’ ”

[worldofroma]

June 1st, 2023, Thursday - 4:23pm

I have one therapist appointment left. Last appointment I attended included me, at an all time high, speaking to my therapist while a therapist-in-progress watched the entire time. I was doing fantastic; just got back from the Magnetawan trip and felt like a whole new and improved woman, I started communicating with my old friends more to reconnect and widen my social circle, and I had new clothes on the way for the Quebec trip and I could slay everyone away with my appearance in another province. But since then, 8 days ago, things have changed quicker and more drastically than ever.

The following weekend after the appointment, I was with Kaitlyn, her sister Hannah, and Mya. Just recently, I began being an absolute fiend for vaping, but only when it means I get to use someone elses vape. I love the buzz. Anyway, because of this new habit I was vaping all day. Never before had I ripped from a vape for 7-8 hours and getting an amazing buss every single time, so this took a toll on everything. Later on at her house, I started feeling sick. Turns out, vaping all day and then getting crossed don’t go well together unless you’re a full time vaping-smoking weed-drinker. So around 12:30, I needed to go to bed before I projectile vomited all over Kaitlyn’s house and entire property. I decided to call into work the next day and lie to my mother about being there as my job is in another town then where we live. I got away with that, now I regret doing it. This entire week at school has been increasingly boring now that all we have to do is our bike trip in Quebec.

Monday: Bike from Meaford to Collingwood. Tear your leg open during this due to a failure to warn about stop and we all collided.

Tuesday: Wake up late. Get ripped up by Blue’s claws while trying to get him in a cage to the vet. Lose your shoes 10 minutes before a trip to rockcliming and caving. Do your hair wrong. Forget your bag and get yelled at by Mr Legace for it. Spend the most boring day of your life doing everything you promised yourself you’d never do.

Wednesday: Forget everything you need before another trip, because you’re taking care of Blue now that he’s fixed and terrified of life, including lunch and water. While on the bus there, I was explained to how my stepfather was accused of being like my father by my mother, realizing how shitty of a person she’s become and wishing I was her daughter instead of her “best friend”. Cry on the bus because of it. Spend all day outside covered head to toe in clothing in 30 degree weather because we are in a swap. Do boring science stuff all day I couldn’t even tell you a single thing about because of how uninterested I was all day. Learn embroidery, self taught.

Thursday: Wake up early to take care of Blue again, make sure he has food and water in his system as well as some of it in the kitty litter, and take of his cone and give him medicine. Get your period. Spend yet another day on a field trip in the middle of no where doing the same thing as yesterday. Get extremely painful period cramps at the same time as a heat stroke began to kick in. Sleep on the gravel road using your life jacket as a pillow in front of everyone. Get picked up by your step dad only to be futher consumed in his and my mother’s painfully unneeded arguments that only made me feel worse. Why am I always the unconsenting therapist to 2 emotionally unavailable people when they rant about each other as I think about how they deserve nobody but each other? Notice Luna’s missing and because I needed picked up to be saved from my personal hell, apparently that makes it my fault the window was left open and she jumped out the window.

Friday: Don’t go to school because of the heat stroke, so you clean your room and still feel dirty. Look for Luna now that it’s confirmed she’s missing, don’t find her. Go to school to hang out with Kaitlyn and get my bags for the trip, spend a day at school pretending to be one of the students in Kaitlyn’s afternoon classes and realize how much I’m missing out on because of GENESIS. Go home and write in that dumb journal.

But besides all that, I’ve actually been thinking about a lot of philosophic things lately. Not actually philosophic, but just random things.

Like, why do people care about celebrities so much? I understand concerts because it truly is art depending on the artist and it can be compared to visiting a museums in a way, but anything else is beyond me. Paparazzi? Why do you need a picture of them going to the grocery store? Get a life. The fucking Met Gala?? What the hell is that? I’ve never seen something so dystopian compared to the Met Gala, it’s actually insane. Also, why are tiktokers considered celebrities? OH MY GOD NO WAY they can lipsync half decently for 15 seconds and reply to your comment!!!!!!!! I don’t get it. And to a point, it actually gets disgusting.

Also, why do people care so much about anything in general? Half the people in my class get so stressed out over the smallest details or issues and I can literally smell the distress on them. Why do you correct me on everything I do when it actually doesn’t matter at all? Why are you so concerned about something being done properly to and to a T when we both know damn well that doing a half assed job will work to the same extent? I just don’t understand. I don’t mean to be one of those wannabe hippies or anything, but jesus christ I need everyone on earth to have access to weed and just chill the fuck out. It’s embarassing how much people care. With this mindset, lots of people have left. Lots of people don’t engage in a conversation with me if I don’t act uptight, but I find that to be the greatest thing in the world because it keeps me from interacting with such losers I want to punch in the face with the words “grow up”.

[reddeadreference]

Mayor’s Party - Details

After speaking to Bronte on the veranda the four men disperse into the party.

Before speaking to the mayor, Arthur can pour champagne for three women, he can save Algernon Wasp from choking (and receive a business card) and he can receive tickets to the show in Saint Denis. You can also drink champagne yourself and overhear various conversations.

The other three men each have a small scene of dialogue before returning to the balcony where you start.

You can find the dialogue transcripts below: 

Dutch: Gentlemen... let’s go ingratiate ourselves.

Arthur: Okay

Dutch: Go find the mayor if you can, and stay outta trouble. And steal nothing... unless it’s information.

Arthur: Of course.

Dutch: Hosea, you go find up some place to rob. Bill, go make us some new friends. I’m gonna find out if old Cornwall and what’s-his-name, Milton, knows we’re here. Gentlemen, be well.

Hosea goes to the left and speaks to a banker, Gilbert Knightly.

Hosea: Good evening, sir... Alfred Lafonde.

Gilbert: Gilbert Knightly. You French, sir?

Hosea: Sort of, originally... I’m from Quebec, but I left many moons ago, and you?

Gilbert: No, I came down from New York, for a job. I’m a banker.

Hosea: A banker?

Gilbert: An investment banker.

Hosea: You’re the fellows who never lend me money when I need it, and when I’ve got too much, try to lend me more.

* Gilbert laughs*

Gilbert: And what do you do, Mr. Lafonde?

Hosea: Originally furs... but, now all sorts. Lumber, leather, even maple syrup... My partners and I represent twenty, well more like twenty-three percent of all the trade heading south from Quebec into the U.S.

Gilbert: And... who do you bank with?

Hosea: Oh... the usual bunch of clowns in New York.

Gilbert: Do you bank with anyone in the South?

Hosea: Not one I particularly like.

Gilbert: Well, have you considered Lemoyne National Bank?

Hosea: Oh, I need a big bank, sir. We borrow a lot of money, and generate a lot of cash. Some nervous, small town bank could finish us in a bad year...

Gilbert: Small town? *Gilbert laughs* We handle more cash and cash equivalents than any bank south of Manhattan, including Saint Louis. Almost all the Caribbean trade banks with us. We work with all the remaining cotton growers in the U.S., who still use a lot of cash, and... we helped finance half the reconstruction projects after the war. We love big clients... and we love cash. Our branch alone, here in town, has more cash reserves on site than any bank in the entire country... outside Wall Street and San Francisco.

Hosea: Well, perhaps we could discuss it further one day, Mr. Knightly. When it comes to bankers, I drive a hard bargain... but I’m very fair in business.

Gilbert: I would at least like the opportunity to show you our business. *Gilbert hands Hosea a business card*

Hosea: Thank you, thank you very much!

Gilbert: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find my fiancee.

Hosea: Of course. And congratulations... a wife is a wonderful thing.

*Gilbert walks away. Hosea turns to Arthur*

Hosea: Could be interesting, I’ll keep investigating...

Arthur: How’s your evening going?

Hosea: Met some interesting people. What about you? Did you speak to the mayor?

Arthur: I’m still looking for him.

Hosea: Well, look a little harder.

________________________________________________

Bill goes towards the middle to speak to Hector Fellowes and Brynn Tildon.

Brynn: Can I help you, sir?

Bill: Well, I’m not quite sure yet... Albert Danielson.

Brynn: Brynn Tildon, this is Mr. Hector Fellowes.

*Bill goes to shake Hector’s hand but the man doesn’t move*

Bill: Well, it’s uh... nice to meet the both of ya.

*Brynn notices Bill pulling at the collar of his shirt*

Brynn: New suit?

Bill: Yeah... uh-I mean no, uh-uh no, it-it’s a new shirt.

Brynn: Are you new in town?

Bill: Yes, I come from the west, I mean the north... the uh, the-the northwest.

Brynn: Okay... I came down from Washington, myself, many years ago.

Hector: This town gets to a man, undermines even the best of us.

Brynn: I’m doing my best, sir.

Hector: Truth is an absolute, sir... don’t you think?

Bill: Well, I don’t quite understand.

Hector: You are not, it would seem, the only one.

Bill: I was in the army once.

Hector: Good for you.

Brynn: What do you do now?

Bill: Well, uh, I-I’m not quite, uh... I’m an American.

Brynn: Yes, but what do you do?

Bill: Oh, uh... well I’m in between jobs at the moment.

Brynn: Oh, of course... of course.

Hector: You shall be too sir, if you don’t sharpen up your morality.

Brynn: I’m trying sir, I’m trying.

Hector: Well, try harder. Much harder.

Brynn: W-what would you like me to do, hit the mayor myself?

Hector: Impudence... I see you’ve still got that. But it takes more than a steady line of insults, to succeed in newspapers... at least in mine. Good evening.

*Hector leaves*

Brynn: Prig.

*Brynn leaves Bill standing alone*

Arthur: enjoying yourself?

Bill: You know, I think those fellers were making fun of me. Anyway, what you found out?

Arthur: Nothing too much yet.

Bill: I’ll be glad when this is over.

________________________________________________

Dutch goes to the right to Major Crawley and Heston Jameson

Dutch: Well, hello, gentlemen. Featherstone Chambers... pleased to meet you.

Jameson: Heston Jameson

Dutch: What a beautiful evening.

Jameson: Sure.

Dutch: This is quite a town you have here, Mr. Jameson.

Jameson: Oh, I... I don’t live here, I was here for the poker.

Dutch: Oh, you play?

Jameson: It’s my weakness, my worst vice.

Crawley: Perhaps you should have it whipped out of you like you advocate whipping the sin out of others?

*The three men laugh*

Jameson: Not whipping, sir, working, and besides, my vice is between me and my maker. I keep winning.

Crawley: Every gambler says that, Mr. Jameson.

Jameson: Yes, I know, but like I said, the next big tournament, which I will not be attending, is for a game too rich for my blood. I may be a knave, but I’m a sensible knave.

Dutch: That so?

Jameson: Well, sure, I’m not a wealthy man... I run a prison. The old riverboat tournaments are for card sharks and rich fools... a really big stakes game attracts oilmen and such like, well, from all over. My pockets are not deep enough for that.

Dutch: You are a wise man.

Jameson: I’m a conservative man, at least.

Crawley: The fact is, since the war, the government has done an awful job of preserving law and order, Mr. Jameson.

Jameson: Yes, well, I agree, Major. Well, at my prison, we are doing the best to remedy that failing. You know, my friend works in the Caribbean. He faces real rebellion. If we don’t act decisively, we will endure the same here and all of this... all these garden parties and civility? They will be doomed. I believe in civilizing the masses, sir... but the first order of civilization is order. Law and order.

Crawley: I agree.

Jameson: Without law and order, we will have anarchy.

Dutch: But with too much law and order, won’t we have dictatorship, or worse... *he chuckles* monarchy?

Jameson: The law should be a dictator. That is the American way.

Dutch: I thought the American ideal was liberty?

Jameson: Sure... liberty under the law.

Dutch: Very interesting.

Jameson: Major Crawley, Mr. Chambers, I must go speak to someone for a second...

*Jameson walks away. Dutch tips his hat to Crawley who also walks away. Dutch looks to Arthur.*

Dutch: What a vulgar toad of a man... but that riverboat sounds interesting...

Arthur: Mr. Chambers.

Dutch: What are you loitering around me for? Mingle, dear boy. Have you tracked down the mayor yet?

Arthur: Not yet. Give me a chance.

[mitchipedia]

TikTok won: Meta Is Making Product Decisions For An Internet That Doesn’t Exist Anymore

Nobody creates original content for Facebook anymore, and Facebook does nothing to support content creators, says Ryan Broderick at Garbage Day:

… unlike, say, YouTube which plastered their community’s biggest faces all over billboards and subway ads or TikTok, which was already hosting panels with their top creators at VidCons before the pandemic, Meta seems to actively despise the people who make content on their platforms. Unless they’re already celebrities, their creators don’t appear in Facebook’s ads, they don’t do panels together at conferences, and they don’t pop up in press releases or demo new features.

At best Meta seems embarrassed of the people who make the content that keeps users on their apps. Or, at worst, they seem to hate them. There’s really no other explanation. Creators I’ve spoken to have described a deeply precarious existence in which they have to constantly adjust how they create content by trying to divine what each new algorithmic tweak might mean for how their posts show up in other people’s feeds. They live in constant fear of their pages being “disappeared” for some weird infraction. It sounds like a nightmare. The women eating out of toilets on Facebook aren’t eating out toilets because they like doing it. They’re eating out of toilets because Facebook’s insanely aggressive recommendation engine has pushed their content to ludicrous extremes because it’s constantly over-optimizing its own users. And because TikTok has redefined how social media works and left Meta completely unprepared for a future that’s quickly approaching, they want you eating out of toilets, but, now, it has to be in a Reel.

Also, if you remove all the news from Facebook, there’s nothing left.

The Horrors of No-News Facebook: Bible quotes and teddy bears forever

Kaitlyn Tiffany at The Atlantic:

I’m far from the first person to point out that Facebook has been largely overrun with garbage content. Now [a study by Jean-Hugues Roy, at the University of Quebec in Montreal] suggests that, without news links, many users will find almost nothing of value.

Roy’s study found if you take the news out of Facebook, what you’re left with is mainly insipid viral content about teddy bears and kittens, as well as Bible quotes.

Not true for me—my friends post many interesting photos and discussion. And that’s what I’m there for.

Facebook recently announced it’s pivoting—yet again—this time to focus on algorithmically generated viral content. Depending on how far Facebook takes that pivot, that could drive me off Facebook entirely, simply because I am not interested in that kind of thing from Facebook. It’s not what I’m on Facebook for.

[zumpietoo]

Ari is rarely in LA now because she can't book jobs there anymore. So she doesn't have money to pay bills or pay for anything (she can't even afford a car), therefore she has no choice but to live with her parents or find a new line of work.

Cole's movie wraps in mid-September, maybe he'll allow her in LA then, unless he chooses to run around with newly single Bazzi and Fencer, instead. That's what he did after the Greece trip, while Ari stayed in Quebec. It's all up to him, not her.

Lmaoooo!!! Oh dude, your fanfic is hilarious! She legit had a shoot a couple of days ago and a national commercial still running.

Maybe cole will “allow her in la”? Is he so powerful he now controls who’s permitted entrance to the usas 2nd biggest city???

Dw, sweatie, not gonna block u yet, you’re Too fucking hilarious

Plus, once again, if Cole didn’t want to live with Ari or continue as a couple, he wouldn’t. They are not married, they have no children, plus I thought you were always insisting she enslaved him or something.

Guess gymd dumping pp is making u xtra pressed. And renewed cole stalking like the creeper she is, huh?

[maryeve-the-bitch]

Un jour de février

Fruk week 2021

Day 4: winter / spring

Words: 2,565

Summary: Domestic fruk. Old married couple vibe. The couple is visiting Matthew in Quebec city during the cold month of february.

Warning: French, so much french (Translations are at the end), and mention of sex. Not really explicit though. 

Francis couldn’t wait to visit his son in february. However, he was dreading the cold and the weather he would face when they’d arrive in the city. He wasn’t used to that kind of cold anymore ergo he knew how much he would suffer through it. At least, he would be in good company and his boyfriend Arthur was coming as well.

As soon as Francis and Arthur landed in Quebec city, they traveled straight to their hotel since Mathieu would only be coming the next day and his meeting in the capital got delayed. Hopefully, Francis would enjoy a nice evening with his dear Arthur. The hotel room they picked had a cozy fireplace with a plaid fluffy blanket laid on the king bed. The decor of the room reminded Francis of a lumberjack’s cabin with deer antlers hanging down from the wall and the wood-like walls. While it wasn’t the usual style Francis would like, he did appreciate the coziness of it. He reminded himself not to let Arthur choose a hotel for them by himself again. At least, the bathroom was huge compared to what he is used to and in the middle of it, there was a bath that could easily fit 3 people in it. At the sight of the bath, Francis gave Arthur a teasing smirk as he tucked a lock of his blond hair behind his hair. Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Sure, love. Later.” Arthur agreed to his boyfriend’s silent plea.

Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur’s from behind.

“Je te promets qu’on passera un bon moment.¹” Francis whispered to his ear as he delicately bit it.

“I promise I’ll kick you in the arse if you don’t stop teasing.” Arthur said with his jaw clenched and a blush on his cheeks.

The comment made Francis chuckle and hugged his boyfriend closer.

“C’est trop facile de te taquiner."² Francis kissed Arthur’s cheek and let go of him.

Since they were both exhausted from the flight and the jetlag, they decided to go to bed early after they took a shower.

In the morning, they decided to wait for Mathieu to tell them when and where they would meet in their room after they got back from eating breakfast on the first floor. Francis looked outside the windows, contemplating the landscape from the city under the snow, as Arthur finished getting dressed and buttoned his shirt up.

“On n’a plus d’hiver comme ça par chez nous, hein?”³ Francis sighed.

“You never had winters like this before. Unless you count the ice age.” Arthur commented.

“Ouais. Du coup, c’est ben mieux que ta pluie 10 mois par année.”⁴ Francis retorted, looking back at his boyfriend.

Arthur glanced at Francis before taking his jacket from the bed and put it on.

“Tu sais que la reine vient pas aujourd’hui, hein?”⁵

“Shut your bloody mouth and get dressed, Francis.” Arthur sighed.

Francis let out a dramatic sigh as he let himself fall on the bed face first and grumbled Arthur’s name on the pillow. Arthur just rolled his eyes, ignoring his melodramatic scene as he was well too familiar with it. Francis turned around and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Peux-tu m’aider, mon amour?”⁶

“What? Help you get dressed? You’re not a child anymore.” As Arthur spoke, he received a notification from his phone that was placed on the desk and charging. He picked it up to see what it was.

“It’s Matthew. He wants to meet at the castle at noon.” Arthur paused to look at the time. “You’ve got one hour to get ready.”

“Quoi? Une heure?” Francis whined. "Ça nous donne même pas le temps de faire l'amour."⁷

"We would if you hurry the fuck up and stop whining."

Francis finally got up from the bed, not without whining even more. At the end, he did get ready in under an hour. When Francis got out of the bathroom, he paraded in front of Arthur who was sitting on the chair in front of the desk. Francis wore an open blue see-through shirt with some kind of green flower pattern on it. As for the bottom part, he wrote black trousers with the same flowery pattern.

"We're not going to a gay pub or a fashion show."

"Ah mais il faut que je sois à la hauteur de moi-même quand je sors. Je ne peux pas sortir comme si je serais un pauvre paysan. Pour qui tu me prends, putain?"⁸

"What the hell does that mean?" Arthur sighed. "You're going to wear a warm coat at least?"

Francis walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a navy blue double button wool coat and put it on.

"C'est sublime, non?”⁹ Francis turned around to show all angles of his outfit, feeling proud of it.

“Yes. You’re looking very handsome. You’re going to be cold though. Have you not brought something warmer?” Arthur put his hands on his waist.

“J’ai une écharpe qui ira bien avec. De toute façon, on restera pas trop longtemps dehors. Qui serait assez fou pour aller dehors en un temps pareil?”¹⁰ Francis replied.

“Right. Don’t say I haven’t warned you, frog face.”

Francis would probably die of humiliation if he had to wear something ugly so he’d rather die of hypothermia and being pretty than be seen wearing something hideous. The couple left their hotel room and took a cab to get to their destination. They were still a few minutes late, but nothing Arthur would mind and Mathieu was already waiting for them in front of the castle as agreed.

Upon meeting, Francis hugged Mathieu tightly since he hadn't seen him for months. Arthur greeted him politely under his giant coat that he brought to make sure he didn’t freeze to death. He wore both a winter hat and the hood of his coat with a scarf and at least 2 pairs of gloves. Since Mathieu knew both Arthur and Francis, he didn’t make a comment on how they were dressed. In his opinion, one was overdoing it and the other thought fashion was more important than warmth.

Since Mathieu was getting hungry, they went and looked for a restaurant. While Francis wasn’t hungry, he was gladly welcoming the idea of getting inside. He’s only been 2 minutes out and thought his nipples were already frozen. On their way to the restaurant, Francis tried to warm himself with his hands in his coat pockets and holding his arms close to his body, without much success.

After going down some stairs, at Francis’ displeasure, they walked down a small street that led to the restaurant. Francis remembered that street, he visited it during summer a long time ago. It changed a bit but not enough to not recognise it. He would admire the scenery if he wasn’t so goddamn cold. He just couldn't wait to get to the restaurant at last. Mathieu was explaining to Arthur the historic facts of some buildings even though Arthur already knew those facts; he just forgot. Their chatter sounded mostly background noises to Francis as his focus was mostly on his movements.

Finally, they reached the restaurant. They got seated and offered the menu to order.

“You’re awfully quiet, frog.” Arthur commented as he opened the menu. “Not complaining. That’s just unusual for you.”

Francis glared at his boyfriend. They both knew why he was quiet.

“Can you two stay civil please?” Mathieu asked. He knew his dads and their tendency to fight or argue way too well.

“Of course, lad.” Arthur replied. “I’d offer you my coat for a while, at least until you warm up, but I know too well you won’t accept it.” He continued.

“J’ai pas besoin de ta pitié. Je vais juste commander un bon café chaud et ça ira.¹¹ Francis replied.

“If you say so, love. I hope they offer good tea here.” Arthur said, dismissing Francis’s passive aggressivity.

The waitress came soon after and they all ordered their food and drinks. She took back the menus and left for the kitchen.

“You two are so different. I sometimes wonder how you are still together.” Mathieu commented.

Both Francis and Arthur looked at each other, Francis smiling lovingly.

“Cause we have great sex. That’s why.” Arthur answered Mathieu’s wonderment. He soon received a kick under the table from his partner.

“C’est vrai.”¹² Francis added.

“Please stop. I don’t want to know.” Mathieu interrupted Francis before he would add anything too explicit for him. The Frenchman chuckled while Arthur smiled. Well, at least, Mathieu succeeded to ease the situation between the two.

While they waited for their order, Francis grabbed Arthur’s hand under the table.

“Fucking hell, Francis!” Arthur exclaimed when he felt his boyfriend’s cold hand on his.

“Ah. Je suis désolé, mon amour.”¹³ Francis apologised, looking dejected.

“It’s fine. You surprised me, that’s all.” Arthur said softly as he took Francis’s hand in his.

Thankful, Francis smiled and let Arthur warm his hand. Usually, Arthur hated public displays of affection even as small as hand holding, so it overjoyed him that he accepted to do so.

They talked about Alfred the rest of the time they waited for the order. The American was quite busy at the time so he couldn't make it, but Matthew was grateful he couldn’t because he could easily bring all the attention to him. He appreciated the rare times he got alone with either of his parents. Even when Alfred wasn’t here, he got all the attention, but that was fine with Mathieu. He’d prefer that over Alfred present and talking loudly and interrupting him.

After lunch, Francis felt warmer and happier from the cup of coffee he drank and the small affection he received. His joy wouldn’t last long when Mathieu offered to walk alongside the river and the old port since they were close by. Arthur agreed to it too quickly, Francis thought.

“Et si on allait faire du shopping? Ça serait pas mal, non? Tu m’avais pas parlé d’un centre commercial avec un mini parc d'attractions à l’intérieur?”¹⁴ Francis suggested.

“Well, Matthew and I never liked shopping much and I don’t especially like theme parks either.” Arthur protested as he put his coat back on.

“Besides, there are probably too many people there already.” Mathieu added.

Francis pouted and followed the other two outside. They walked a few minutes until they reached a pedestrian path near the river. Arthur narrated the scenery with tales of the past, including Mathieu in it. Francis would normally enjoy joining in and teasing his partner, but he had troubles following them up even though they walked at a relatively normal pace. The Frenchman wished he was anywhere else other than outside in the cold. He thought of leaving them, calling a taxi and going back to the hotel on his own, but his fingers were already frozen again and he would have to look for the taxi’s number. Arthur probably had the phone number since he called one earlier. However, Francis was too prideful to ask him the number.

They walked and walked until they reached a small park in front of the train station. By that time, Francis thought his fingers were so frozen that he might lose some of them. His feet weren’t any better. Arthur and Mathieu spotted a bench and sat on it to take a break while Francis stood in front of them. At this point, Francis had his hands inside his coat pockets and the bottom half of his head hiding behind the scarf. Some of his hair locks were frozen too for some unknown reason and his cheeks and ears were red, almost turning to purple. When Mathieu sat down, he noticed how cold Francis looked.

“Es-tu correct, papa?”¹⁵ Mathieu asked him with concern.

“Ouais”¹⁶ was all Francis could be able to say through his shivering.

“Would you like to go back to the hotel, Francis?” Arthur sighed.

Francis nodded.

“You could have said so before, you dumb bitch.” Arthur added as he took his phone out to call a taxi.

The Frenchman didn’t have the energy to insult him back. Mathieu stood up and removed his jacket and offered it to his papa. He wouldn’t have taken it if he wasn’t so desperately cold and if he didn’t appreciate and enjoy gifts he received from his kids. The inside of Mathieu’s jacket was really fluffy and warm, like wearing a cloud.

When Arthur was done telling the taxi operator their current location, he hung up the phone and noticed Mathieu gave his jacket to Francis and only wore a red t-shirt.

“Aren’t you cold, Matthew?” He asked his son.

“Nah. It’s only -10°c anyway.” Mathieu shrugged.

Arthur almost choked himself with his saliva at this comment.

“What do you mean, ONLY -10°c? That’s too bloody cold, lad.” Arthur replied, making the taller blond boy laugh. “Even I want to go back inside and get warm. Perhaps get a cup of tea or something.”

“We can wait for your taxi inside the train station if you want.” Mathieu suggested.

The other two didn’t even have to say anything; they both agreed and followed Mathieu inside the train station.

Back at the hotel room, after Arthur took out his own coat, gloves and hat, he helped Francis get undressed and wrapped him around in the fluffy tartan blanket from the bed.

“Sit down on the chair and I’ll light up the fireplace for you.” Arthur requested him.

Francis smiled softly as he sat down in one of the two sofa chairs in front of the fireplace. It didn’t take long for him to sit with his bare feet on the chair, holding his legs close to his body. Arthur took a match out of the matchbox sitting on the top of the fireplace and lit it up. He quickly threw the match inside the fireplace and closed the glass door.

“Right. I’ll get some water boiling for tea. Would you like a cup?” Arthur asked.

“Oui, s’il te plaît.” ¹⁷

Arthur kissed his boyfriend’s red cold cheek and left to the small kitchen to boil some water with the kettle. Francis laid on the side of his head on the chair and watched him, smiling. While Arthur rarely said he loved him or complimented him much, he did care a lot when it mattered. He was there for him if he needed him and of course, Francis would do exactly the same.

Arthur came back with two cups of boiling hot water and put it down on the side table between the two sofa chairs and sat down next to Francis. The Frenchman noticed his boyfriend brought his own tea bags and even thought of bringing Francis’ favourite kind of tea even though he preferred coffee over tea. He watched as Arthur soaked the tea into the cup.

“Are you feeling better, love?”

“Oui. Merci.”

“You’re welcome”

Francis got up from his chair and went to sit on Arthur’s lap.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Francis wrapped his arms around his partner’s neck and kissed him tenderly.

“I love you.” Francis whispered after he was done kissing. Arthur blushed and pulled Francis closer.

“Je t’aime aussi.”¹⁸ Arthur whispered back.

Translation:

¹ “I promise you a great time.”

² “It’s too easy to tease you”

³ “We don’t have winter like this back home, do we?”

⁴ “Yeah. At least, it’s better than your rain for 10 months a year.”

⁵ “You know the Queen isn’t coming today, right?”

⁶ “Can you help me, my love?”

⁷"What? One hour? We won't even have time to have sex."

⁸ "I must be at the top of myself. I can't go out like a poor peasant. Who do you think I am?"

⁹ “It’s gorgeous, right?”

¹⁰ “I have a scarf that would look good with it. Anyway, we won’t stay long outside. Who in their right mind would stay outside in that kind of weather?”

¹¹ “I don’t need your pity. I’ll order a nice hot coffee and I’ll be fine.”

¹² “It’s true

¹³ “Ah. I’m sorry, my love.”

¹⁴ “What about going shopping? Wouldn’t it be nice, would it? You told me about a shopping mall with a mini theme park inside, didn’t you?”

¹⁵ “Are you ok, dad?”

¹⁶“Yeah”

¹⁷ “Yes please.”

¹⁸ “I love you too.”

[beggingwolf]

Dystopian AU and Fake Married!

They hear the news as they're getting ready for the Midsummer Jubilee.

Denis, already strapped into his good suit, his paltry few medals pinned at his lapel, keeps twisting at the dial on the radio as Zhenya combs his fingers through his hair. It keeps dusting over his forehead no matter how many times he tries to push it to the side in the current style. The radio skips over the Public Wellbeing Report, then a creaky music station playing traditional ballads, then the singer's straining voice is choked off by a sharp tone.

"A special report from the Tsar's Imperial Army on the Western Front," a calm woman says through the tinny speaker. "The Quebec Fortress has surrendered. The Empire has prevailed."

There's a hiss and then the radio clicks back over to the wheezing singer. Denis pauses, looking down at the small silver radio before twisting to meet Zhenya's stare.

"Find Mama's medals," Denis says after a beat.

Their mother's medals hang heavy on their suits. Stiff red fabric holds up the large silver discs. Once Zhenya had scrubbed the dust from them, they'd looked just as they had when their Papa had received them from the imperial messenger, along with a note saying their mother had died with honor somewhere off the coast of Asia.

"She was a hero," the messenger had told them. Zhenya had been crying, loudly. Their father held the metals limply in his hands. Denis had been a statue, a rock. "Her calculations saved hundreds, Mr. Malkin. She was a talent."

Zhenya's mother had played with numbers and languages like they were building blocks. When Zhenya had still gone to school—when there was still a school to go to, before the military had shut it down and funneled students into either the new, shiny Tsar's Institute or the military academy, she sat down with Zhenya every night and helped him through his literature exercises, stifling her frustration with him by inventing little games to get them through the worksheets.

Then the military had come through, taken their mother away to serve as a codebreaker on His Majesty's Arial Fleet, and shunted Denis and Zhenya off to the military academy for their new education.

His mother, Zhenya thinks as they walk from their chauffeured car into the Red Palace, had seen the wonders of the world. Zhenya had dreamed of her coming home with stories for them all—tales about the swirling green-blue ocean that had swallowed half of Old Asia, or about the wall that Zhenya's friend Artyom had said the Americans foolishly built along their Eastern coast to try and keep the rising tides out.

Denis had scoffed when Zhenya told him about it; "Our mother is never coming back," Denis had told him. Zhenya hadn't spoken him to a week afterwards.

In the end, Denis was right, and Zhenya wears all that's left of his mother on his chest as he enters the palace.

It smells of perfume and warm bodies inside. A shrill orchestra squeals from deeper inside the hall, and Denis is quickly swept up into a gathering of the general's sons—their medals do them some good, at least.

"Idiot," Sasha says cheerfully as he grabs Zhenya by the elbow. "Where have you been?"

"Sorry," Zhenya says, and his lips tug up into a smile despite himself. "Is it my fault your mother is the Tsarina's favorite lapdog and you're always here?"

"You could never be so lucky," Sasha tells him, and Zhenya watches as Nicklas steps closer.

Nicklas—Nicky, as Sasha likes to droll—is dressed nicely but plainly. His simple black shirt and dress pants paint him as a void in the colorful room, full of fancy dress coats and clinking, half-earned medallions. The only sprinkle of color on him is the small medallion looped on a ribbon around his neck. The Fidelity Medal, or the Tsarina's Kiss, as some call it, is only for those who have survived behind enemy lines.

Or, in Nicklas's case, for those who defected from behind enemy lines to wisely serve the Tsar's greater purpose.

Next to Sasha, Nicklas's medal looks paltry. The emerald sash draped across Sasha's chest holds a riot of small metal pieces, all of the honors of his father and mother sewn into the fabric.

"You look like a tin soldier," Zhenya says with a smile. "When are you coming back to the academy?"

"Never," Sasha says with a grin.

The evening is full of drink and food and revelry; no one in the room is foolish enough to believe the war is truly over, but it's enough to celebrate it here and now. How fortunate they all are to be on high ground, how fortunate they all are to be in the Tsar's loving embrace, how fortunate they all are to not be the millions of refugees roaming the desolate lands that used to be North America, or worse, the piratical, violent water walkers who survive on the roiling seas.

Zhenya shakes many hands thanks to the medal on his chest. A brave sacrifice, he's told over and over. Serving a higher calling.

"I hope she gunned down a thousand water walkers herself," a drunk man tells him, and Zhenya stares at him until his wife escorts him away with an embarrassed smile.

His mother had not been a killer. She'd been a soldier, but she'd been an artist of language and math.

She knew how to use a gun, but then again, so does Zhenya.

They're in the middle of the Tsar's thirteenth boisterous toast when Zhenya sees Nicklas frown and then dart away from Sasha's side.

"Where's your husband off to?" Zhenya asks. He means it as a joke, but the smile on Sasha's face sits strangely on his crooked teeth. Zhenya frowns.

"Looking for more kvass. You know how he likes it," Sasha says.

Zhenya narrows his eyes at Sasha's fake smile but turns back to watch the Tsar boom drunkenly at the crowd.

It's not until later, when Sasha tries to squirrel away to a back door, that Zhenya catches him by the sash.

"If you're leaving to go mess with Nicklas—"

"Yes," Sasha says, but his expression is tight. "I'm going to go fuck his brains out, so unless you want to join me—"

"You're lying," Zhenya says. "What's going on?"

"Go find your brother, Zhenya," Sasha says, twisting out of his sash and leaving it in Zhenya's grasp as he ducks through a nondescript door.

Zhenya balls the heavy fabric in his fist and follows after a beat. Sasha knows the Red Palace better than most, had spent his childhood tripping around his mother's boots and playing with the Tsar's youngest child Petr until Petr had died somewhere on the Western Front, near the New United Republic of France. Zhenya follows the sound of Sasha's footfalls through a kitchen, an abandoned pantry, and endless halls.

It's at a dark-painted door that Zhenya pauses. There are voices coming from inside, and it's not Russian they're speaking.

His mother's medal sits high on his chest, and Zhenya stands up straighter before pushing his way in.

There are three figures in the room. One is Sasha, looking anxious and unhappy. The other is Nicklas, who bites off his next word in that ugly language before turning to look at Zhenya.

The third has the wind-bitten skin of a water walker.

He's dark and swarthy with it, his skin sun-spoiled and freckled, the evidence of saltwater waving his dark brown hair. His eyes are bright and golden, and he's dressed like Nicklas: dark and plain, but while Nicklas is fair and can blend into the imperial aristocracy, this newcomer is not from here.

"What is this?" Zhenya asks, and the water walker surges forward.

Nicklas snaps something at him, blocking his path. The water walker looks dangerous. He is dangerous; these are the people that killed his mother. These are the people who wander the flooded remnants of the rest of the world. These are the people who envy the Empire and her riches.

"Zhenya, listen," Sasha says, "it isn't as it seems."

"Who is he? What is..." Zhenya turns to look at Nicklas, at the medallion around his neck.

"A traitor twice over?" Zhenya asks.

The water walker swerves away from Nicklas and pounces on Zhenya. He's shorter but he's stronger, his muscles hardened from surviving on the junk-made skiffs the water walkers live on and use to rob merchant vessels and the Imperial Navy.

Zhenya's warden at the military academy would be ashamed of how easy it is for the water walker to wrestle him to the ground.

"My name," the water walker says creakily, his Russian strange and half-wrong, "is Sid, and you marry me."

Zhenya doesn't respond, but he bucks under the water walker's hold, and the water walker presses him down into the expensive rug. The water walker glances at Sasha and then back down to Zhenya. His lips are full even as they're pulled back in a grimace as he fights to keep Zhenya down.

"Zhenya," Sasha says as he kneels down next to Zhenya's head, "there's much to tell you."