Pamela Jeong
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pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Pamela Jeong
@pamelaelaela.bsky.social
680 followers 510 following 4.4K posts
Lifelong writer, aspiring author, mom of two.

Bibliophile, cinephile, serial hobbyist. I'm talking graveyards of crochet needles & ukuleles.
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pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Yes, one of those! 😁

Ok, here’s a little silly part that I ended up cutting bc this whole scene got axed, but this was originally when Danbi saw Hart the first time.
The immediate flush of my cheeks orders me to look away, but I can’t help glancing back either. He seems to remember something, abruptly addressing the bison woman and riding away on his antlered steed. “This place, Danickers.” I can hear the mischievous smirk in Chloe’s voice without looking at her and know that she saw me checking out the elk guy. “It’s very intriguing, don’t you think? Hot and intriguing.” “Weather’s perfect,” Mundy disagrees, clueless. “Did you see that bison? And the elk?” Chloe and I choke back laughs and nod. “Bet Danbi would ride that elk,” she says. I hip-check her.
December 1, 2025 at 2:18 AM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Where Danbi’s journey begins. 📖

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Five more minutes, and I’m free. Five more minutes, and I’m done for the summer with this sticky four-aisle corner store where clock hands silent-crawl instead of tick. Five more minutes, and I can start finding answers. Hopefully. I unglue my thighs from the metal stool to bend down and pull up my backpack. It’s August in North Carolina, and the air is gelatinous. I push aside Brontë, Vonnegut, Whitman, and Woolf to take out my book. The book. The one with nothing on the cover. No title, no author. I snuck it out of my mom’s closet when I was seven from the single box of my father’s things I found there. I guess six is the limit—the number of years that can pass before a person starts digging for answers to questions like “What’s my father’s name?” and “Where do I come from?” when none are freely offered. It seems like there should’ve been much more considering all he left behind, but apparently an entire future of happy family-dom was reducible to one brown box. My gaze falls on the fading gray pencil lines filling the book’s margins. My father’s handwriting. The broad, swooping letters form the same three phrases on repeat: The world beyond the bark. The reading. I must return home.
November 30, 2025 at 12:38 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Forgive me for the sentimentality, but this Thanksgiving, I’m so grateful for this writing community that’s welcomed me in. You’ve given me joy, wonder, hope, and friendship during a tumultuous time in my life. Thank you. ❤️

Here’s a poem I love. No machine can dig this way. So let’s keep digging.
Digging By Seamus Heaney Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look down Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging. The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was levered firmly. He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep To scatter new potatoes that we picked, Loving their cool hardness in our hands. By God, the old man could handle a spade. Just like his old man. My grandfather cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Toner’s bog. Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up To drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, going down and down For the good turf. Digging. The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge Through living roots awaken in my head. But I’ve no spade to follow men like them. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it.
November 27, 2025 at 1:13 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Hey girl
Rege Jean-Page
November 25, 2025 at 4:36 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
They’re just study buddies, mmkay?

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“Yup. And you? Ready for that anatomy exam?” Boy am I glad Chloe isn’t here, because she’d never let this opportunity slip without saying something like why don’t you help her study some anatomy personally. “Nearly,” I answer, flipping through my notes and willing away the flush in my face. About an hour in, I’m testing my memory of a mammalian lymphatic system chart when Hart’s deep voice interrupts my train of thought. “Your focus is incredible.” I peer up and blink, like I’m stepping into daylight. He’s watching me with a hand draped across his cheek and half his mouth. The other half curves up, and color blooms on my cheeks. “You have this…mode,” he says. “Like your brain has binoculars.” I snort. “Mundy actually calls it Danbi-vision. I was always trying to get my homework done at school so I wouldn’t have to lug so many books to the store, and he always said he wanted to capture my laser focus, code it into a robot, and name the feature Danbi-vision.” “Store?” “My aunt and uncle’s. I worked there.” I train my eyes back on the chart, wondering if he’ll ask another question, unsure whether I want him to. Hart drags his elbows up over the edge of the table and leans in, tugging my gaze back up. “Mundy has his work cut out for him. Seems like trying to bottle lightning.”
November 25, 2025 at 12:08 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Lookit!
A beautiful barn owl
November 24, 2025 at 9:38 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Lol, I really don’t know that you do, my friend. It seems to be an analysis of a poem titled “The Imperfect Enjoyment” by John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, in which I claim he used an impotent penis to make a case for libertinism? College was weird 😂

But here, an excerpt:
A picture of an essay that reads: “Through the personification of the narrator’s impotent penis as a disloyal subject, Rochester affirms the penis’ separateness and independence. Moreover, by describing it as a ‘treacherous, base deserter’ (46), the narrator asserts not only that his penis is independent of…” The professor has marked these lines with a “yes,” for whatever reason.
November 24, 2025 at 7:51 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
One of my favorites!

Ok, this is the most interesting thing I could find... it's vaguely blonde at the ends and much longer than I've had it in years. The title is Jetlagged but Happy in Tuscany 😅
A lady in a plaid shirt smiling. She has long dark hair that's been, inadvisably, dyed blondish at the ends.
November 24, 2025 at 3:55 AM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
A movie that takes place where you’re from
Movie poster for Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle
November 24, 2025 at 1:18 AM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
A bit of world-building and a revelation. 🌎

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“Cassia said the realms are like two sides of the same coin,” Chloe says. “So where exactly on the globe are we?” Marine takes another swallow of her drink and smiles. “Miterios can only survive in places where the natural balance hasn’t been destroyed in the Other Realm. Poetic, isn’t it? Osse is around the Gobi Desert, Pleumon in the Amazon, and Podia around the Great Barrier Reef. And in the Sun Federation, Kheir is in southern Africa, and Rhakhis is spread across Iceland and Greenland.” Understanding dawns on me. I’ve seen enough maps of national parks and wildlife preservation areas to know that there are swaths of protected lands in those places. “And Kardia,” Marine continues, “is mostly in Alaska.” My eyes go round. My stomach drops. I whip my gaze around to Chloe, who stares at me with her mouth ajar. Alaska. Where my father’s body was inexplicably found. Where my father disappeared to after declaring he was returning home. The world beyond the bark. The reading. I must return home. It can’t just be a coincidence. I down the rest of my drink. And even if I don’t yet have the proof, my brain’s already chanting: My father lived in Kardia.
November 23, 2025 at 12:28 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Gilbert Blythe was a HUGE one for me too! ❤️ Did you ever see the CBC production of Anne of Green Gables? It is my absolute favorite. I’ve seen it oh so many times.
Meagan Follows and Jonathan Crombie as Anne and Gilbert in Anne of Green Gables
November 23, 2025 at 4:19 AM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
That movie is legit good and definitely pretty raunchy at parts 😂 I also remember young Dominic West being pretty charming in that.

Yeah, I get this one. Look at him.
Rupert Everett as Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream
November 23, 2025 at 2:56 AM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
I’ll go first but it isn’t terribly exciting 😂

I must’ve watched 10 Things I Hate About You a hundred times as a teen, and other than it being a great movie, there was Heath Ledger as Patrick Verona. Sweet, charming, soft-hearted, but rough around the edges. ❤️
Heath Ledger as Patrick Verona in 10 Things I Hate About You
November 23, 2025 at 2:26 AM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Mundy isn’t usually the most talkative, but when his friend needs him, he speaks up.

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Mundy presses each of his fingers into the floor, and I watch the clay depress and rebound. “I disagree. I think this might be the first time people expect as much as they can and should from you, D.” He stills his hands, folding them in his lap. “And you ending up here isn’t about your dad. It’s because of what’s in you. Chlo and I always saw it. So did Pops.” My heart warms at the thought of Mr. Connolly. Mess up. Keep going. “I know you’ve always felt like there was something missing because of your family, but…” Mundy shakes his head. “Sometimes, in the absence of something, that space fills with other things. Things that become just as much a part of you. Kind of like…crystallization.” “Aw, Mun,” I say with a careless laugh. “You almost had me until you started talking geology.” But he knows I’m deflecting and only smiles back. “Crystals don’t gain mass from the inside out. They grow when molecules are added from the outside.” He rests his elbows on his knees and looks down, shaking his head. “I know you think that your family is this hole in who you are. And I wish it had been different for you.” A lump rises to my throat. I stare down at my toes in the clay. “But even without it, you’ve been growing,” Mundy says. “Stronger. Brighter. And there’s a lot more to you than you realize.”
November 22, 2025 at 12:43 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
When Danbi & co. found the glowing tree, she’d been planning on leaving for Korea the next day, to dig for info about her dead dad. Plans have changed, but only slightly.

(“Eemo” is the Korean title for an aunt on your mom’s side.)

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Chloe clears her throat and links her arm with mine. “You okay, Danickers?” Strangely, I am. Even though my heart won’t quiet its pounding. Because even if the existence of another world presents a host of questions, it also presents a possible answer. This might be what my father was raving about in his writing before he left. This might be the home he tried to come back to. When a certain homesick mood struck Eemo, she’d often wail about how America was a different world altogether from Korea. So is this really so different? He’s dead—there’s no escaping that. But if this is the world he was trying to return to, then the answers I thought I’d find in Korea might be here. I don’t want to explain it all in front of Cassia, so I only say, “I think I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” We come upon a small herd of grazing reindeer and pause to watch in awe. We’re only a few yards away, but not one of them so much as lifts its head in our direction. Then Chloe yelps and nets her hands over her mouth. We follow her gaze, and I gasp. There is an enormous brown bear, loping out of the spruce forest. Straight toward us. “No need to be alarmed.” Cassia turns her head only slightly as she marches onward. “The animals are friends here.”
November 21, 2025 at 11:35 AM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
That boy who blasted Danbi into a wall sneaks up on her again. Such a bother.

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“Good read?” I yelp, the book slamming shut in my lap, as Cyrus appears across the sunwater pond. He’s dressed only in shorts and sneakers and looks absolutely out-of-place in the frost-laden forest. “Why are you so quiet? And where are your clothes?” I pull my scarf tighter around my neck while he squats down with cupped hands to scoop up some sunwater. “Never understood why people dress for winter when they all have aerojumpers,” he says between slurps. “It would just feel weird to be in shorts. Besides, what if your jumper malfunctions?” “I think I could make it to the nearest gate before I froze.” He swabs his mouth on his shoulder, the gleam of the wet smear faintly different from the sheen of sweat across his chest and stomach. Not that I’m looking. The moonlight catches it. “Anyway,” he says, “I don’t do well with excess clothing or stuff. Finding this little pond here let me shed my canteen.” “Well, this is kind of a special spot of mine.” I stand, the book hugged against my chest, and challenge him with my eyes. “So if you wouldn’t mind, don’t ruin it.” His mouth pulls to the side, like someone who just figured out the punch line to a joke. “And what if it ruins me?” I squint. “What?” It annoys me to no end that this is all I can think to say, but Cyrus has an annoying habit of knocking me off balance.
November 20, 2025 at 12:03 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
May we all be blessed with a friend like Chloe 🌻

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She peeks over her shoulder at Hart. “Don’t you want to see what might happen with your sexy suitor?” I shush her. “It’s not like that.” “Please. You two have been studying together and having lunch dates for months, and he invited you to meet his family, but it’s not like that?” “He’s just being neighborly. And they weren’t dates! We’re…study buddies.” Chloe exhales and searches the sky for the right words. “First off, if I had a neighbor who looked at me like that, I’d never get out of the house. Secondly, never use the term ‘study buddies’ henceforth. Thirdly, ‘study buddies’ definitely sounds like two people who are—” “Well, we’re not,” I say, swatting at her hands before she can make a lewd gesture. Chloe angles her head and makes her eyes large, as she usually does when she’s about to offer barely solicited, often shockingly incisive, advice. “Do not let the ghosts of assholes past cast doubt on the good guys of the present and future, Shinny.”
November 19, 2025 at 1:35 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Also using “backward” as a synonym today. A little meet-cute in which girl tries to help boy’s sister, and boy mistakenly wind-blasts her into a wall. Oops. 😬

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Without any warning, my body launches backward and slams against the wall, my head snapping back and smacking the brick. I land on my butt. My eyes squeeze shut, a sharp whine sounding in my ears. I blink rapidly as the world rebalances, and I register shoes scuffling away. “Are you okay?” the girl’s voice says somewhere above me. My ears are still ringing. “Cy, you idiot! I think you gave her a concussion. Gus, go get Triona.” “Okay,” someone murmurs. I think it’s the skinny guy. Footsteps hurry away. “Sorry. Shit.” Another male voice. “I thought she was attacking you.” The girl comes into my vision as she bends down in front of me, but I gaze up to look for my attacker. He’s lean, with light bronze skin and thick black hair falling in haphazard curls over his brow. He peers down at me through enviably long eyelashes, and somewhere through my brain haze, I feel the urge to pluck them right out. “Sorry,” he says again. “Did I, uh, get you pretty good?”
November 18, 2025 at 12:12 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Danbi and her two best friends, Chloe and Mundy, discuss their options when they find a glowing tree ✨🌲✨

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“Different idea,” Chloe says dreamily. “We should touch it.” Mundy squeezes his eyes shut. “Seriously, Leva? Why?” “There’s a gigantic, magic, glowing tree here.” Chloe looks at him like he has three heads. “What else is there to do?” “Magic, Chlo? Really? Son of a biscuit, did you take something? Wait. Did you put something in the food?!” “Are you seriously asking me if I drugged you right now? Of course not, Robert!” She gestures to the tree. “If this isn’t magic, what is it?” “Some kind of…maybe like a…” Mundy’s face contorts. “You know what, this is something for one brave dude in a hazmat suit to figure out.” “Orrrr it’s for us,” Chloe counters. “My parents are just pretentious enough to have made me read The Iliad and The Odyssey every year since I was thirteen, so I recognize a call to adventure when I see one. Listen to your instincts for once! Are they really telling you that this radiant meteor lantern tree is going to hurt you?” “Do you feel that?” It comes out in a whisper, and they turn to me, staring at the tree. Chloe angles her head inquisitively, and Mundy’s eyes plead with me for support. “It’s like…” I close my eyes. “Like stepping into the sun after spending all day inside. Like something inevitable.” Mundy lets out a groan, but Chloe shuts her eyes. She inhales deeply. She opens them slowly, and nods. “I feel it.” Mundy’s arms fly up. “You’ve both lost it! What’s gotten into you, D? You’re supposed to help be the voice of reason. This dynamic doesn’t work with two reckless nutjobs.” Chloe curtsies before flipping him off.
November 17, 2025 at 1:17 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Danbi meets a very special lynx.

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There’s a faint rustle, and my eyes open. Did I actually hear it? I scan the clearing and the thicket beyond the sunwater pond. I’m about to get up when I see it. Two yellow eyes, handsomely framed in curves of white. Two triangular ears above them, tipped with tufts of black fur aimed at the sky. And below, broad feet ensconced in dense blue-gray fur. A lynx. Our eyes meet. The contact is galvanic, yet curiously stable. Decisive. Like the moment when you figure out the answer to a riddle, it is jolting and grounding all at once. The lynx stands, gazing at me. It’s large for its kind, likely a male. I try to read his expression. He doesn’t seem alarmed, but uncertain. I sit forward, but the lynx steps back. It’s okay, I think, hoping he will somehow understand. But the lynx makes a sound, a strange sort of wail, and trots away. Still, he doesn’t run, and I consider following him. But something tells me I must be patient. Something tells me he doesn’t like to feel chased down any more than I do. So I’ll wait. I’ll return and see him again. I know that I will. He is my animus.
November 16, 2025 at 12:22 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
It isn’t easy for Danbi to open up, but there are one or two people she meets who are willing to help her.

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“That’s…a lot to take,” Cyrus says quietly. “And tragic.” My heart clenches. “Not really. You can’t miss what you never had.” “No, I mean, for them.” He looks at me. “They missed out on something big.” I swallow and glance about, but there are only trees. Before the silence goes on too long, he says, “Second question. How’s kindling going?” “Oof. Sore subject.” “Worse than my family’s flight from political persecution?” “You’re playing the persecution card? Already? Shameless.” His smile ticks. “You should know that about me.” “Well, I am a very bad kindler. You should know that about me.” “It’s notoriously difficult magic.” “So they say.” “You’ve only been at it a few months.” “A few months with almost zero progress.” “Almost zero? Or zero?” I sigh. My fingers skim across the bark of an alder tree. “I get a sort of…sensation. That’s all.” “Progress is progress. Call it what it is. Don’t give yourself an excuse to check out.” I treat him to a surly look. “Figures you’d be fond of giving unsolicited advice, Cheap Shot.” He laughs. “That’s not it. I’m just not fond of defeat.” He marches ahead as we reach the edge of the woods, then turns and steps backward to brandish that crooked smile at me. “So don’t be defeated,” he says.
November 15, 2025 at 12:35 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
I love this, and it’s so wonderful you’re teaching younguns this stuff. When I taught HS, the unit I started my freshmen with every year was literally called Literature as a Window and a Mirror 😂 We read Plato’s allegory of the cave, watched the film Examined Life, and looked at Picasso & Magritte.
The Human Condition by Rene Magritte Girl Before a Mirror by Pablo Picasso
November 14, 2025 at 7:34 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
🐶🍁❤️
A brown and white dog outside with a red leaf on his head
November 14, 2025 at 5:13 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
I drew some inspiration from these - Alberto Giacometti's sculptures and Egon Schiele's self-portraits.
November 14, 2025 at 4:32 PM
pamelaelaela.bsky.social
Sometimes you delve deep into your character’s psyche, and sometimes you need a little frivolous fun for them. I remember this truth or dare scene being such fun to write.

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Eye contact is deadly in this game, but I can’t resist peeking, and, true to form, there’s the crooked smile. The dimple too. “Dare.” My heart thumps inexplicably when [REDACTED]’s eyes flash to mine, so quickly that I convince myself I imagined it. The light in this ice cave plays tricks. “I dare you…” Elio begins, then after an appropriately dramatic pause, “to go for a swim in that hot spring. Naked.” There are whistles and cat-calls, and a very loosened-up Brooke shouts, “Woo! Take it off!” But [REDACTED]’s smirk doesn’t waver. Elio’s smile stretches ear to ear as he bounces his legs up and down in excitement. “Little do you know,” [REDACTED] says, standing, “undress is my preferred state of being.” He pulls his shirt up over his head and tosses it. It lands on Elio’s face, much to his delight. Don’t look, my brain commands. But my mutinous eyes skim the indentations of his hip bones, just above the waistband of his jeans, and up the defined lines of his stomach as he brushes by. I blame the party punch entirely.
November 12, 2025 at 12:45 PM