#ohio bike week

[ieatfanficforbrunch]

People Pleaser Steve

Steve is a people pleaser. Years of living with his parents and their demeaning stares and harsh words have destroyed his sense of self preservation.

"Keep Eye Contact, Steven," his mother would say. "Stop Complaining, You need to make our guest Comfortable." His father would say. Until the age of ten all Steve got was criticism. Constant reminders on how to behave perfectly and how to appease his parents.

The morning they decided he was old enough to stay home himself, coincidentally on his 10th birthday, they packed up and started renting an apartment in Chicago to better monitor their Business. They sent him money for food, got him a bike so he could go to school, they even sent a few extra 20s every other month so he could get new clothes as he grew.

Of course, Steve never complained. This was how he kept the peace, how he avoided the cold glare from his parents.

The pattern continued into adulthood, Steve practically raised himself for the last 8 years of his childhood, he only saw his parents when they needed him.

When he (accidently) became the mother of the nerdiest bunch of kids in Hawkins, he made himself a promise, No matter what he'd be there. Every recital, every birthday party, every holiday, and every time they needed a ride; he was there.

When Christmas came around after everything had happened, after Max had recovered and Eddie's wounds had healed perfectly, he decided he would make it the best Christmas they'd ever seen. Just to make them happy.

He decorated the entire house, made enough food to feed his small football team of a group, he got so many presents for everyone that he had to skip out on food three days a week for two months just because he wanted it to be perfect.

The kids came over on Christmas Eve night to spend the night together, slept in sleeping bags he bought special for them. Eddie came to help wrangle the crazies until Robin got back from visiting her grandparents in Ohio.

They ate like they were starving or like it was their last meal. All except Steve, who was too afraid to overstep or take away from someone else to even try one of the many kinds of food he made.

The games died down and the food was gone by midnight. The kids slept peacefully in their sleeping bags. Steve let out a small sigh, a smile on his face as he stood and took empty platters and plates to the kitchen.

He washed the dishes in silence, a baggy crew neck sweater replacing his usual polos. He knew if he wore them the others would notice he had lost weight and he didn't want to inconvenience them. It was rude to burden others with your problems. He honestly thought he had gotten away with it until a familiar Metal head guided him to the kitchen table.

"Ok Big boy, This isn't working for me," He said in a soft voice.

Steve immediately looked up, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again," he whispered, not even sure what he did.

Eddie sighs and says, "Steve, You think you're hiding it so well but you aren't. You take care of everyone and everything all of the time. Let me take care of you."

Steve couldn't move, couldn't respond, How Was he supposed to behave? He didn't know so he merely nodded.

Eddie smiled and immediately made Steve a bowl of cereal, something small and quiet. When he was positive Steve would eat it, he finished the dishes for him.

Steve looked so beat down and tired, the bags under his eyes told so much and Eddie knew that from now on he would do Everything to keep them away.

He took the empty bowl and washed it before walking over to Steve. "I know it's a bit early but...I got you something," he whispers, pulling out a small box from his back pocket.

It was a light blue box with a thin red ribbon and white trim. Steve's thin fingers removed the lid to find a locket in the shape of a guitar pick.

Inside there were two pictures, one with the kids, and one with Steve and Eddie. It was the picture from when Eddie was discharged, the day Steve agreed to get treatment for his wounds. Eddie's arm is around Steve's shoulders, it's the only picture in the world with Steve's Real smile. His eyes swelled with tears. It's the only gift he's gotten since he was 10, since his parents left to run their company, since Everything.

"Shit I didn't mean to make you cry again! I just-" Eddie is cut off with the tightest hug he's ever gotten.

"It's Perfect," Steve whispers.

He's met with calloused hands on the back of his head, gently massaging his scalp.

"Merry Christmas, Harrington."

"Merry Christmas, Munson."

[ageofevermore]

NATASHAS SONG

SUMMARY — what if melina and alexei ran away with natasha and yelena instead of going back to the red room? what if you fell in love with your childhood best friend with blue hair and a stubborn personality? she said, i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine, in the sky, the pretty lights

WARNINGS — mentions of child abuse, the red room, soft melina, firecracker yelena, domestic alexei who knows better then to go against his wife’s wishes, hurt/comfort, found family

For the first seven years of your life, yelling was a pretty normal thing. Your mother yelled from the minute her eyes opened to the very last second before they closed, and somewhere in between all that yelling, there was hitting. She never tried to be a mean person, but she was insecure and not at all ready for kids when she fell pregnant at nineteen and was kicked out of her parents house. The both of you kind of floated around for a little bit. Your father worked a couple of jobs, but never long enough to truly settle down someplace, and he was off on the road more times then he was home anyways. But when you moved to Ohio, something changed. Your mom was still mean, your arms were still bruised, but your spirit wasn’t so crushed. Maybe it had to do with a little blue haired girl and her firecracker sister who lived next door.

It was Spring when you moved to that small town in Ohio, barely a mile long and kids at every corner, all playing on bikes and old swing sets, laughing until the street lights came on and they were called inside for dinner. You hadn’t seen her at first, but two weeks later, she was outside on a bicycle, pedaling angrily down the hill. You watched from your front steps as her front tire got caught on a rock, and the wheels spun out before she could hit the breaks, sending her to the pavement in seconds that felt like minutes to you. She didn’t cry. That was the first thing you noticed. She just stood up, bleeding knee and elbow and all, and muttered words to herself that were incomprehensible because of the distance between you. You met her halfway, her bike being walked beside her and a limp just barely noticeable, like she was trying to hide the pain she was in.

“I saw you fall.” Your words made her blush. They were blunt, not offering any emotion that gave away if you were concerned or rather just amused by her mistake, but your tone was soft. It felt almost contradictory, like you cared but didn’t at the same time.

Her chest puffed outward, like a threatened puffer fish desperately trying to defend itself, and then the stubborn response fell from her lips, “I didn’t fall.”

You just stared at her for a second, wondering if she was being serious. Even if you hadn’t seen the entire event play by play, her knee and her elbow were still bleeding, and her bike was scrapped up. It was evident something had happened. “You did.”

“No I didn’t.” She got closer to your face, hands balling into fists. She didn’t like that you’d seen her so weak, and that you gave no indication of your feelings about it, and even more so that she couldn’t read you enough to decipher your emotions, but you didn’t see that. All you saw was an angry little girl with the same characteristics as your mother before she struck. Shrinking backward, you meekly pointed to your front steps, where your bottle of bubbles was abandoned.

“I have bandaids.”

She followed you back to the house silently, scratched up bike trailing beside her.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

The days progressed slowly after your first initial meeting. It was a mutual friendship between the both of you, even if she was stubborn and you were quiet. Yelena did the talking for the most part, directing you with what she wanted to play and how she wanted to do it. Everyday that your father was away from the house, your mother seemed to get more unbearable, and by the end of the first month in Ohio the house was littered with crushed beer cans, but Natasha and Yelena were your escape. You never said much, or anything really, but it worked for you three. Natasha was quiet as well, whether it was because of you, or that was just her, you weren’t really sure, but neither of you had any qualms about following the blonde toddler around and doing as she instructed.

Yelena's favorite game was something Natasha had named upside down. Not the most creative, but telling of the activity. Yelena would force the both of you into backbends, and then fall into one herself, doing everything she could to make you both fall down before she did. The winner got nothing but bragging rights util the next round, but it was enough for her. Natasha never fell, but you let Yelena think she was beating you each and every time. There was no way Natasha didn’t know what you were doing, but she never said anything. Not until one night, when you were upside down and the bottom of your shirt rose to just above your belly button from how much you’d been swaying. She was behind you, watching your every move with her usual stoic expression, but her face melted into concern when she noticed the bruises littering your otherwise unmarked by life skin. It was the first time you’d seen anything but indifference from her.

She fell from her backbend first, ignoring Yelena’s victorious chants and taunts. She pushed you out of yours, your butt landing in a patch of dead grass and dirt, almost certain there was an ant hill beneath your body. You looked up at her in pure shock, spluttering to find words but failing. “Why did you do that?” It was the only thing you could think to say. You had no idea your shirt had risen, no idea that a small fraction of your truth was now out in the open and not confined to your one-story house how you liked it.

“How did you get that bruise?” She was blunt, to the point, an exact replica of how you’d been on that first day. Your head tilted to the right, eyes searching your body and finding no exposed skin that would give her any indication that your body was severely bruised and aching beneath your clothes. “On your stomach. Your shirt came up, I saw it.”

You shook your head, standing on your own two feet so you didn’t feel so small beneath her. You already felt small enough. You already had no power. “It was probably just a shadow.”

“I know what a bruise looks like.” She rebutted, the same stubborn fire burning in her eyes that you’d never seen crack even once. There was a hint of something in them, something that wasn’t stubbornness, but there wasn’t enough to tell what it was. Her hands reached for the hem of your shirt, but you’d run off before she could find out for herself. You faintly heard Yelena yelling at her sister for ruining the game, but you didn’t look back, not even once.

That night, you had no idea that Natasha had gone to her mother, and told her about the inky purple discoloration around your belly button, and you wouldn’t for a few months afterward, but it didn’t matter. You spent the next two weeks inside, avoiding Natasha and Yelena and hoping that they’d forget about it when you saw them next. They never did.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

It was around Christmas time when your father finally came home for longer than a couple nights at a time. Things were better when he was around, your mother wasn’t so bold, and the drinking wasn’t as heavy, but things were still bad. Highschool sweethearts with an accidental pregnancy and very little money could only last so long without chaos, and it seemed that they had reached the end of their rope. It was Christmas Eve when the fighting got so loud you could hear it through your closed bedroom door, even with your pillow over your ears and your small, trembling hands holding it there. When your father stormed out after fights, it's when your mother came to find you, and even if things were better, you still ended up with bruises that you had to find a way to hide from Natasha and her inquisitive stare.

It was after midnight when you’d finally had enough, glass shattering against a wall somewhere in the living room. Your mother was throwing things again, and the closer it got to your bedroom, the less you felt welcome. You snuck out of the window, only grabbing your favorite stuffed animal before you were migrating into Natasha’s backyard, through a hole in the bottom of the fence that got bigger every time somebody crawled through it, and knocked on the sliding glass door meekly. Melina was awake, nursing a glass of red wine while Alexei wrapped presents that were probably from Santa. The christmas tree was still lit up with hundreds of multi-colored bulbs, and you could spy a few handmade ornaments on the bottom of the tree that had Yelena’s name messily sprawled across them.

Both heads snapped toward you, hands twitching like they were about to reach for something, but defenses dropped when they saw your tear stained face and bare feet. Your tattered princess pajamas were worn, and the wrist length sleeves only came past your elbows, and the ankle length pants only came past your knees. Illuminated by the yellow glow of the house, every bruise on your soft skin was visible.

“Y/N.” Melina could only whisper your name into the night, too startled by what she saw to say anything else. Her arms felt maternal around your midsection as she hugged you, but your nerves were too shot by the hours of endless fighting and violence to respond properly, or at all. It seemed you were right back to that all too quiet little girl Natasha had finally broken down.

You didn’t have to say why you were there. With the sliding glass door open, both Melina and Alexei could hear shattering glass and loud cusses that were so vulgar, even they winced. Melina ushered you inside, while Alexei grabbed cookies from the kitchen to hopefully entice your walls to drop down. They’d seen you playing with Natasha and Yelena, and how you had become carefree and silly, but the girl before them now was practically a ghost.

After a few cookies, which you sheepishly munched on, anticipating them to be taken from you at any moment, you couldn't stop yourself from yawning. Melina smiled warmly, her hand hadn’t left your back since she ushered you to the couch, insisting that you eat a few cookies before doing anything else, but now it rubbed your back so comfortingly and soft, you almost started crying all over again. “Natasha and Yelena’s room is just to the left down that hallway. I can walk you there. You should get some sleep.”

“Home.” It was the first thing you said, and Melina almost crumbled hearing how soft your trembling syllables came out. She hadn’t spoken to you directly, letting Natasha and Yelena have their relationships without meddling too far, but she fell in love with you instantly. She wondered how anyone could ever hurt you, but she knew all too well how evil the world could be. She didn’t need to dwell on the question for too long to know it was just how some people were.

“You’re not going home tonight.” There was something in her voice, a faint twist of words that didn’t sound entirely american, now you know why, but then, you’d just chalked it up to exhaustion. “The girls will be so happy to have you here tomorrow. Alexei plans on making cinnamon rolls for breakfast, does that sound nice?”

With how small you were, brittle bones visible in every nook and cranny of your small body, Melina figured you weren’t fed as often as you should be. The dips in your collarbone and notches in your back from the impression of your spine are an obvious tell of malnourishment, but she doesn’t say that to you. Even thirty years later, she’d never once brought it up if you didn’t lead the conversation, and you were eternally grateful.

You nod sheepishly, only standing from the couch when she does first. You're still holding the white porcelain plate that chocolate chip cookies were once on, looking like a deer in headlights as you awaited directions for what to do with the plate. Melina smiled warmly, and it was being taken from your hands before you could worry too much. “Alexei will wash that, he’s still got dishes from dinner to catch up on.”

“It is your night to do… Um, yes. I have so many dishes to do, I will do that now.” He fumbled over his words after Melina sent him a pointed look. Under different circumstances you would’ve giggled, but instead, you just nodded and let yourself be led deeper into the house, until you made it to Natasha and Yelena’s bedroom, where whispering was blatantly obvious, not to mention the faint glow of yellow light escaping beneath the gap in the door.

Melina knocked before she entered, visibly amused with how quickly Natasha had shut off her flashlight and Yelena had covered her head with a soft pink blanket. You only realized now how cold you were, no shoes on your feet and skin exposed to the brutal Ohio winter despite the heat in the house. “I know you're awake, big girl. It’s alright.” The tone she used with Natasha made your heart ache, but you ignored the jealousy. Natasha deserved to have good parents, you couldn’t change yours, so you’d just have to deal.

“Mama, it’s Christmas Eve. Santa’s gonna come!” Yelena breathed in one breath, giving away her fake sleeping though you suspected Melina already knew. Natasha held her breath, almost like she knew something sinister that Yelena didn’t, but Melina sent her a wink and then looked back to her youngest firecracker.

“Santa’s already been. You’ll see it all in the morning.” The twinkle in Melina’s voice was nice, something you could’ve melted into if you weren’t so distraught from what you’d ran away from just an hour prior.

Yelena gasped, looking between her big sister and her mother in amazement, “You saw Santa?!”

“Mhm, we had a lovely chat about cheeky little girls who try to catch him when they know the rules. He’s asked you don’t peek until morning when we can open them together.” Yelena nods dutifully, and something in Natasha’s face says that this is new to her, that maybe life isn’t always as perfect as this moment. It makes you feel better, to know that maybe your house isn’t the only one with flaws.

“Mama, why is Y/N here?” Yelena asks the question on both girls' minds, and you notice that Natasha’s back straightens and she really takes in your appearance, trying not to let you see how she’s analyzing every bruise on your body.

“She’s going to be sleeping over. Why don’t you pull out your favorite pair of jammies for her, yes? These are a bit small.” You want to protest, and say that you’re okay, but Melina puts a hand on your shoulder like she can read your mind, and it silences any attempt you would’ve made to say that you're okay as you are.

Yelena races to hand you a pair of purple pajamas with ponies on the top. You recognize the characters from a few of her outside clothes, Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle the ones occupying this pair. “She can sleep in my bed with me, Mama.” Natasha offers, and Melina praises her for her generosity before she’s ushering you into a bathroom just two doors down from the bedroom.

“May I help you, Y/N? I want to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need cleaning.” Melina lifts you onto the counter, not really waiting for you to agree, because she has a feeling you will anyway. The desperate desire to please her breaks her spirit a bit, but she doesn’t let you see that.

“No cuts.” You tell her, voice so quiet it's almost entirely drowned out by the overhead fan that’s intended to suck the moisture from the air when the shower is going. Melina hums, but she undresses you anyway, keeping her composure just barely as she sees all of the bruises that hide beneath the tattered fabric of your princess pajamas. “These are my favorite ones.” You don’t tell her they’re your only ones, because it doesn’t really matter, they were a gift for your fourth birthday, and despite the tight fit and holes, they were your absolute favorite.

“We’ll get you new ones.” It’s a promise, but you don’t say anything, you have a feeling it doesn’t matter if you protest, you’ll be getting new princess pajamas either way, and being defiant with somebody who is only trying to help you isn’t why you ran over here. You just nod weakly, letting Melina inspect your bruises and avoiding eye contact at all cost. “Yelena’s might be a bit big on you, she’s quite a few inches taller. How old are you, sweetheart?” There’s a word on the tip of her tongue that she doesn’t say, but you don’t think anything of it. Later, a few years down the line, you’ll know that she intended on calling you a russian pet name, but for now, you just excuse her odd behavior and accent as exhaustion on both your parts.

“Seven.” You hold up seven fingers, the first sign of a little girl you show her. Her Yelena does the same any time she’s asked her age, holding up three fingers proudly, but always following up with how she’s going to be four soon. It’s an endearing habit that Natasha was never conditioned to adhere to, but Melina wishes she was. Melina wishes so much for Natasha, but being a widow had come first for so long.

“Just a few years younger than Natasha.” Melina makes conversation, although you’re already aware that your friend is nine, almost ten. You appreciate the conversation, even if you're reluctant in joining it. “I’ve seen you climb that tree in the backyard. Yelena wants to be just like you, but she’s a bit sheepish when it comes to heights.”

Your eyes sparkle like the stars that shine overhead in the sky when no clouds are present, and its so endearing that Melina almost cries. “Really? Like me?”

“My girls are quite fond of you, and I can see why. Now, stay put while I grab a wash towel, okay? These feet are awfully dirty.” Melina traces a finger along the soul of your foot, and you wiggle away from the ticklish sensation with a shy grin. She’s back in only seconds, with a washcloth that also has the same ponies on it as the shirt she’s folded and placed on the counter beside you. “Yelena’s quite fond of My Little Pony, I hope these are okay for the night.”

You nod, not bothered by what design is on the clothes you’ve been given, just appreciative that you won't be so cold and exposed anymore. “You won’t tell, right? Mommy doesn’t mean to be mean, she’s just sad.”

Melina hates how gentle your heart is, how easy you are at forgiving her for hurting you, she tells Natasha so often to protect her heart, to not let Dreykov take it, but she wishes you would protect yourself. To realize how you're being treated isn’t what you deserve. She kisses your head when you're standing in front of her, feet clean and My Little Pony pajamas swimming on your frail body. You just look at her, with wide innocent eyes that are screaming for this kind of affection from your own parents.

Melina falls in love with you that night, and that house becomes your home for the next year.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

You’re eight when everything changes. Your father had left for good a few months before everything changed, packing up all of his things and kissing your head before he pulled out of the driveway like a bat out of hell and left you alone with your mother. You hadn’t seen him since, and the bad things had only gotten worse, but you’re able to hide it from everyone but Natasha and Melina. Alexei notices too, but he seems to notice your apprehension toward him, and lets his wife handle you mostly. He takes no offense, always offering you cookies when you sneak over in the middle of the night, and picking up treats for you in mind when he’s coming back from a day at the office. You feel a part of the family, and they’re all willing to welcome you.

It’s nine in the evening when you hear the whistle. You and Natasha had decided that you needed a secret code a few months ago, when she knocked on the door to ask if you could play and nobody answered. When you heard it that night, your mother had just finished taunting you, tearing apart a pair of pajamas Melina had purchased, and was now locked in her bedroom with a bottle of beer while you wept in the corner of your bedroom. Natasha had whistled, and a few minutes later you immersed on the porch with red rimmed eyes and the remnants of what was once a yellow set of jammies in your hands. Natasha didn’t ask, she already knew, but she didn’t have time to comfort you.

“We’re leaving. Mama wants you to come. Pack a bag and be outside in five minutes, Papa’s packing the car. We’re spies.” You just looked at her, unsure of if she was joking, but Natasha never joked. She was always serious, always stubborn, always telling the truth because she had no time for lies to fall apart in her hands. You admired that, because Yelena loved to spin lies into truths and confuse everyone with what actually happened.

You did as she asked, throwing the new princess pajamas into a backpack as well as a few outfits and your favorite stuffed animal. You didn’t need anything else, mostly because you didn’t have anything else. The tube of bubbles your mother had bought for you when you first moved to Ohio had run out, and nothing had been bought to replace them. All you had was a few pairs of pajamas and a couple outfits, all bought by Melina after she noticed your slim to none selection of clothing.

You met Natasha outside like she asked, and took one final look at that house before getting in the car, not knowing that you would never see it, or your mother, again.

♡‧ ⁺彡🫧⋆◞

When you were fifteen and Natasha was sixteen, just a few days shy of her birthday, something changed between you. You're not sure when or how, but nothing was the same after that night, things only got better. You were somewhere in upstate New York, the fourth time you had moved that year, when you noticed how simple she looked beneath the moonlight. Her hair was no longer blue, but instead, her natural deep crimson color and tossed into a ponytail messily. It was slipping down from everything you’d done that day, but she didn’t fix it, just let a few wavy strands fall in front of her eyes without care. She wasn’t a fan of makeup, so her freckles were on full display as she looked at you, and as she leaned in closer, so close you could feel her exhale against your lips, so close, it felt like she was the only person in the world, and that was okay with you. You kissed that night, beneath the moonlight and the stars, and it was like everything that was ever out of place had finally fit together, like you had finally completed an old puzzle.

Melina and Alexei had seen the entire thing play out. The house was two stories, one of the bigger ones you’d been in since leaving Ohio behind, and the back porch overlooked a treehouse in the backyard. You spent almost all of your time in the treehouse, and while Yelena was out exploring the town, you and Natasha had settled into your favorite hideaway while Melina and Alexei nursed glasses of red. Neither were surprised, and neither questioned you when you finally came back inside with flushed cheeks and a sprinkle of something new in your eyes, just smiled at each other and placed a bet on how long it would take for you both to realize you’d been in love since that first night in Ohio with bandaids and scratched bikes.

You got married at twenty-three and twenty-five, and Alexei owed Melina twenty bucks, and all you did was laugh, and pop a bottle of champagne, and thank Ohio for the life it had given you.

[mikedfaist]

I’ve had this idea for a minute and I love your writing style so hopefully you can do it! Mike x reader and reader has a daughter from a previous relationship and Mike is looking for a respectful way of talking about her! I was picturing it in the another man magazine article he did but whatever you think is best!

Anon, darling, you came to the right person for this because I already had an idea brewing. For the Mike x famous reader universe, I have multiple scenarios for when they meet, but the one where she has a daughter with someone else is actually a new idea I’ve been dabbling with for nearly a week.

The father isn’t in her life, our reader is just being a single mother, so when the two of them do start dating, Mike is very much treading on his responsibilities, because he doesn’t want to overstep, but he also wants to help when he can. I think it also takes her a little bit to warm up to Mike, just because she’s a shy girl, and she’s around 3-years-old when they meet. But once he asks to see her Barbie’s, oh man, it’s game over. They become best friends. She’s always asking for “Bike” to come over.

(It’s hard because she primarily lives in New York, and of course he’s in Ohio, so she doesn’t understand why Bike can’t just come over right now).

He even has a room made up for her at his house. He painted the whole thing, got her a bed set up, even bought her some of her favorite toys for her to just keep there for when she visits.

When they do the interview, I can see Mike carefully bringing her up over lunch. Maybe the background of his phone is a photo he took of her sitting on a giant pumpkin from when the three of them went to the pumpkin patch the previous fall.

When I bring up the photo, he pauses to look down at his phone with uncertainty, but it vanishes quickly before you had a moment to process his emotions.

“That’s my girlfriend’s daughter… We went to the pumpkin patch last year and she wanted to bring home the biggest one she could find but… She bit off more than she could chew.” He laughs, unlocking his phone and begins to scroll through is camera roll, pointing to photos he’s taken of her over recent months.

“This one,” he says, turning his phone around to show me a selfie he had taken himself. “She wanted to play ‘Beautiful’ as she calls it… She does my makeup and hair to make me look beautiful.” The photo shows Mike with bright blue eyeshadow, glitter covering his cheeks, bright pink lipstick adorning his lips, and ribbon tied precariously in his hair. “It did make me feel pretty beautiful.”

Lastly, he shows me a photograph he keeps folded neatly in his wallet; it’s of the two of them in his dressing room from when he was on the West End last summer. She wears his cowboy hat and boots, much too big for her, while he is bent down to kiss her cheek.

She’s mentioned later in the article when Mike talks about how his refrigerator is covered in drawings she’s made for him, and his favorite, when asked, is the one of three stick figures, and one stick dog, standing in front of a house – presumably his – with the words ‘I love my family’ written atop. He then says he’s working on getting it laminated and framed.

[franklycharmed]

FRANCESCA “FRANKIE” WESTMACOTT (JUNO TEMPLE ) is a THIRTY year-old BANK TELLER in PARMA, OHIO. They were brought under Richard’s care when they were only TEN. They are known as THE CHARMER because they are PLAYFUL but also EMOTIONALLY REPRESSED. Let’s see what choice they make regarding the fate of Woodrow House.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Francesca Mabel Westmacott

Nickname(s): Frankie

Date of Birth: May 6, 1975

Age: 30

Occupation: Bank Teller

Current Residence: Rents a rundown apartment in Parma, Ohio, about fifteen minutes outside of Cleveland. Currently behind on rent if anyone is feeling generous.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: A little longer than shoulder length, a crisp blonde with brown roots after adventures in box dye and haircuts and highlights from the local beauty school

Eyes: Green

Height: 5'4" (5'7" in heels!)

Notable Features: One earlobe piercing is slightly higher than the other after Frankie pierced them herself when she was 13; Hello Kitty tattoo on her right hip following a very drunk night in Thailand at age 19; crooked right big toe after she broke it in a crash while learning to bike at age 10– she pretended it didn't hurt for a week.

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR:

Strengths: Kind, patient, generous, funny, sociable.

Weaknesses: Impulsive, anxiously attached, fiscally irresponsible, emotionally repressed, occasionally dishonest (For the greater good! No really!)

Quirks: Relentlessly physically affectionate in conversation– brushing a shoulder, holding a hand, a comforting rub to your back, even pressed shoulder to shoulder. Sleeps with the bedroom door open. Usually missing her right pinky nail after nibbling it off.

Vices: Colorful alcoholic drinks in funky glasses (with a garnish!); celeb magazines at grocery checkout; scratchers; Altoids sours; affection.

INTEREST & HOBBIES:

Interests: America's Next Top Model; Sex and the City; gel manicures; crossword puzzles (with help); word searches (without help); other people; Titanic (has seen it ten times).

Hobbies: Darts and karaoke at the local dive bar; travel (once upon a time); clipping coupons; collecting state quarters; dancing like no one is watching; sending birthday cards.

Special Skills/Talents: Excellent, nonjudgemental listener; never forgets a face; impeccable sense of direction; decent comprehension in six language (but can't speak them).

BECOMING A WARD

There was no shattered glass or bone. No loose needles or empty bottles or stolen pills. No real reason.  There was no fire or dirt, in fact most of what Frankie can remember is clean. She can taste the sterility of the place that she supposes was her first home on her tongue if she really thinks about it. Clean and cold. But not too cold, just enough to miss warmth. There was no screaming. No noise, though certainly Frankie must of cried, but then, she must have stopped at some point too.  There was no love gone sour (there was no love to begin with).  There was a woman who had a baby she didn’t want. Could have kept, but ultimately didn’t. That was the beginning and end of it.  There was Richard, whose longtime colleague in the English Department was rumored to have had a baby several years ago, not a sabbatical. There was classic nor'easter, canceled school, and against everyone’s wishes, an impromptu bring your child to work day. There was Richard very gently saying hello to the silent, still little girl sitting in the Department’s conference space. There was a woman who was a mother only by birth asking a fateful question, one that would change everything for the better: “Oh, do you want it?”  There was an it, fed and clothed but no longer left alone in a clean quiet room. Turned Francesca. Turned Frankie.

LIFE AS A WARD

Friendship bracelet maker. French braider. The first person to volunteer to kiss a paper-cut to make it better. Had Frankie's birth mother been at all interested in reading her kindergarten report card, she would known Frankie was aces when it came to sharing and playing nice with others, qualities that lent themselves to her cropping up as a organic mediator during Woodrow House disputes. Perhaps motivated by the absence of love in her early life, Frankie has always given affection freely, and under the care of fond engaged guardians, she blossomed. Increasingly playful, affectionate, and unrestrained, as an adolescent Frankie approached all her relationships with the same warmth in the hugs she gladly doled out. A social butterfly just missing her wings, growing up in Woodrow House was something of a dream for Frankie. A big old house full of interesting personalities with a new friend who might arrive at any moment? What could be better! Respectful? Yes. Well-behaved? Well, Frankie's road to fun was often paved with good intentions, it just happened to all go to hell. Equal parts persuasive and sweet, it wasn't unusual for Frankie to convince another award to be her partner in crime (the broken arm debacle of '88 or the Tequila sunrise incident of '93) and the apologies profusely to Mrs. Tristan afterward.

AESTHETIC

Juicy Couture rhinestoned sweatsuits. A pink Motorola Razr. Flouncy sheer camisoles. A slouchy over-sized, faux leather tote with lipgloss, several old receipts, a jangly keychain, and a declined credit card. A denim mini with a chunky belt. Frosted eyeshadow. A silver bracelet heavy with charms and guilt, a high school graduation gift from Richard.

EDUCATION

Frankie was a very enthusiastic, if frequently dress-coded, student at Saint Anthony of Padua Day College for Girls, sister school to Saint Anthony the Great Day College for Boys. Frankie's attendance was secured on means, not merit; she didn't have the scores necessary to test into a more competitive private school. She was happy at St. Anthony's, but then she would have been just as content at the local public school. To Frankie, school was less about class and more about the bits in-between– rolling up your skirt in the bathroom before homeroom, gossiping with friends over lunch, pomping floats for homecoming. Her desire to do well academically was solely motivated by Richard's lofty expectations for her and all of his wards. Unfortunately, her will didn't match skill, her secondary school grades were average at best, and despite applying to a short list of colleges, there were no thick, college-branded acceptance envelopes in her name sent to Woodrow house. Instead, the latter of half Frankie's senior year featured Richard’s concerned frown and a growing shadow of prospective disappointment.  A brief period of respite arrived along with Frankie's fleeting stroke of genius: she didn't fail to get into college, she was taking a gap year. A gap year! This had been the plan all along– no really! A gap year was cosmopolitan and educational and actually, sincerely interesting! What was use was wandering around undergrad without a clear sense of purpose? Traveling abroad would help Frankie find her life's trajectory. Richard bought into her pitch.

EXTRACURRICULARS 

More physical than intellectual with energy Mrs. Tristan was eager to channel into an exhausting outlet, as an adolescent, Frankie dropped into a variety of purely recreational team sports at the local community center. At St. Anthony's she hit her stride with field hockey in the fall and softball in the spring.

THEIR LIFE NOW

The problem with the gap year was when it became a gap two years, then three, and so on until a gap year had suddenly grown up into a lost decade. Yet Frankie never did, and distance only strained the heart and her relationship with Richard, rather than helping it grow fonder.

It was around year four, when Frankie was no closer to purpose, no closer to possessing the qualities she was certain were necessary to become the person Richard hoped she would be, that the Big Lie (the Big White Lie) was first born. She said it first in passing as a half-truth during one of her then-regular phone calls: well, I'm looking at school abroad. And she had, the same way she had briefly contemplated blue hair and a nose piercing and Thailand over Vietnam. But the half-truth quickly ballooned to I am going to school abroad, and then to being a sophomore, to picking a major, until suddenly a small almost-lie had become a big fat fiction, the kind Richard liked to analyze in old, dusty novels.   2003. Sixty-two countries, ten years, an impending fake graduation, and several unreturned phone calls later, Frankie found two pennies from her very empty bank account to rub together and caught a flight from Amsterdam to upstate New York. The money, Richard’s money, had gone from dwindling to nonexistent. But that would change, she was sure, after spending some time with him in Bolton. She had always been more compelling in person– you couldn’t see a winning smile over the phone. Loving quality time between ward and guardian might have helped repair things if it hadn’t been for the fact that unwitting to Frankie, Richard had caught on to her farce. Frankie’s reunion with Richard was, in a word, explosive. It was the first, only, and last time Richard had shouted at her, so loudly it could still be heard over the calamity of the false life she had constructed imploding. Frankie might not have been the smartest of the wards, but she didn’t need a thesaurus or dictionary to decipher the ten different words Richard used for betrayal.  It was the karmic cherry on top that after burning down one of the most valuable relationships in her life and her connection to the only home she had every known, her flight to Mallorca was rerouted, then outright canceled due to poor weather. She crashed into Cleveland, Ohio. With no degree, no financial support to pay for a ticket out of Nowheresville, and still sustaining the lie to everyone but Richard and Mrs. Tristan that she had made something of herself, Frankie was forced to settle in Parma, Ohio (Or, as she would say to any wards she was still in touch with at the time, just Parma. It wasn't quite lying if they filled in the gap themselves and assumed it was Italy.) It's temporary, she tells herself. The way she's barely getting by. The too frequent negatives in her checking account. Richard's radio silence. The heavy, gnawing feeling in her gut that keep her up at night. Frankie was a smiler, a good-time girl, a lover and certainly not a fighter. What was a person to do when they had catastrophically disappointed the person they loved? How do you ask for help when you can't even form the words to talk about your problems? So it's fine. After all, what would Francesca have to complain about, living her charmed life in Parma, Italy?

[destinyc1020]

My Movie Review: "The Bikeriders" 🏍

**Caution...May Contain Some Spoilers**

Hey everyone! I'm back with another movie review! 😁

Soo.... I had the chance to watch "The Bikeriders" (directed by Jeff Nichols) in theaters, and here are my thoughts and opinions!

I'll start off by saying that I'm so glad that this film had a chance to have a theater release. 😊 I think it's important for smaller, niche films to have a space in the theaters as well.

I'll be honest, I knew NOTHING about bike riding or motorcycle riding before seeing this movie (other than my uncle has been riding for years??), so it wasn't my usual, typical type of film that I would usually check out lol. 😅 I would say, this film is better looked at as a documentary than a regular "film". I think if you go in with THAT mindset, you will enjoy it a bit more.

Anyway, I didn't quite know what to expect, but for a cast like this.... Tom Hardy, Austin Butler, Jodie Comer, Mike Faist, Michael Shannon, etc. I am SAT! 😂

PROS

First of all, the acting in this film is superb. 👌🏾😊 Everyone delivered in this role. They really had me believing that they all had been riding in this motorcycle riding club for years lol. 😅

Secondly, I must say... This movie was actually pretty INTERESTING seeing as how I know nothing about bike-riding lol. I was actually pretty engaged in the storyline and started to even care about the outcome of many of the characters. I didn't expect that at all! To me, that was a testament to Jeff's great directing, because most people could probably just write this movie off if they're not interested in motorcycle gangs. But this one surprisingly held my attention!

Jodie....Omg Jodie did this thing!! 👏🏾 She was so good in this! Her accent kinda drove me up a wall lol, but she was being true to the real life Kathy who had a very muddled accent that was from all over lol, and you can tell that Jodie really studiiiiied this woman's accent very well. 😅 To me, Kathy was the main character in this because you pretty much see the film mostly through her eyes. I know this was a 3-team effort (with Tom and Austin), but to me, Jodie carried most of the film. She showed strength, vulnerability, and poise. It was almost hard to believe that she has a Liverpool accent. Her American/Ohio accent was so spot on. I was cracking up when she said she married Benny after only 5 weeks of knowing him. Chiiiiilllle...you know a man must be hitting it right if you're willing to be marrying him after only knowing him less than 2 months! 🤣

Tom....What can I say about Tom? To me, Tom stole the show in this film! He really is believable in it. He's always a great actor, and really knows how to transform into a different character, and this film was no different. Some of Tom's lines were unexpectedly hilarious to me as leader Johnny lol. 😅 His line delivery in certain scenes was on point lol. I liked how his character wasn't cookie-cutter. Yes, he was hard, and ruthless lol, but he also had a soft side. I liked seeing the other softer side of Johnny that some of his club members didn't really see. I can see why some say that this film is sort of like a "love triangle" btwn Johnny, Kathy, and Benny. I can totally get that! That scene of Tom and Austin in the darkness (y'all who've seen the movie know which scene I'm talking about lol 🤭) was brilliantly played....and the tension! OMG the tension in that lol. That was all Tom and his decision. Austin just played along. Tom has a really great eye for what makes a scene great. I guess it's a testament to his many years of acting. I hear he was the one who also told Austin to switch his chair around to talk to Kathy (Jodie) in the opening scene.

Speaking of Austin.... Austin was another one who really shined in this. He didn't have too many lines in this film, but you read a lot through Benny's eyes. I feel like Benny was kind of the glue in this film. You miss his presence when he's not onscreen. Btw, that opening scene of Austin at the bar on the pool table... my gosh...this man literally took my BREATH away...he was SO gorgeous in this lol. 😩🥵 I think I blacked out for the first 10 minutes of the movie and couldn't think straight ROTFL.🤣 The camera loves him, and Jeff knows it too lol. *Ahem* Anyway.... Back to the review.... Benny is a man of few words, but you can almost feel what he's thinking through his eyes and his facial expressions. I liked how Austin played Benny with a certain type of quiet strength, but also with a certain type of vulnerability as well. My heart broke for him at the end. 😭 He too also had some unexpectedly funny/chuckling moments in some of his scenes. Austin seriously gave me James Dean vibes in this film, and I saw an actor who really has the potential to be one of the greats if he keeps it up. 👏🏾 He has been so different in every film so far, and that is amazing to watch.

Toby Wallace was another standout in this film. I have never seen this kid act before, but he was great! I guess he's not really a "kid" (he's 29 lol), but in the film he was playing a young guy, so he came off as younger than he actually is to me. I definitely think he's going more places if he keeps it up.

Mike Faist didn't really have much to do in this film either, which I was a bit upset about lol. When I first heard the casting announcement for this film, I was thinking Mike was going to play one of the bikers and was really excited for that. But oh well lol. Mike did a good job, don't get me wrong. He just wasn't given much to do other than carry around a mic and a recorder to record what Kathy was saying and what some of the other bikeriders were doing. The film is based on his photos in this photo collage/picture book that he created (Danny Lyon), so it would have been interesting to learn more about him and his character.

Maybe it's just me, but I was actually rooting for Benny and Kathy's romance! I actually wanted them to win. 🥰 It's weird cuz their relationship isn't your typical fluffy romantic relationship shown onscreen, and they didn't even have anything sexual in the film whatsoever! But Austin and Jodie had some pretty good chemistry in the film for me to be wanting to root for them. I actually thought that while their love was unconventional, you can tell that Benny loved Kathy, and she loved him. 🥰 For some reason, I actually LIKED Benny and Kathy together! I didn't expect that. I guess it's your typical "good girl" meets "bad boy" type of romance sort of....but it was unconventional, which was nice.

CONS

I have a bone to pick with Jeff lol.... Why did he give my man Austin so few lines in this movie?? 😅 I mean, I know Benny is more the "strong and silent" type, but geez.... In just about every single scene, I was wanting him to say MORE. I guess anything post-Elvis will probably feel like a lot LESS work for Austin as far as lines go lol. But anyway, Austin made the most of what he was given. But I was missing hearing him lol.

Another bone to pick with Jeff.... How are you going to showcase a couple that's MARRIED in the film, but not show not a single kiss or PDA at all?? Kathy and Benny are supposed to be married. I didn't need a sex scene or anything lol, but how is it we go two hours in this film with this couple not even KISSING each other?? Jeff seriously?? 😅🤣

I can see why some felt that the film didn't really "go anywhere" and didn't have anything that grounded. I can understand that. I think some people were looking for a point or a climax to the film. To me, I looked at this film more like a documentary. To me, that's kind of how it's shot.

OVERALL

Overall, this film was enjoyable to watch. That's all I ask from a movie. I also started to understand bike-riding culture a lot more, which is something I never really resonated with or understood at all prior to seeing this movie. I can see why some who are part of this culture would appreciate a film like this. There were lots of audible gasps and "ouches" from people cuz some of the violent stuff and injuries the guys go through that goes on in this film is gut-wrenching. I winced several times.

Overall, great acting.... I can see why some who are not into this type of culture might be bored though. I personally found it interesting, but then again, I LOVE documentaries lol.

I would have just added more romance btwn Benny and Kathy (even just one sweet scene lol), and maybe gone a bit deeper a bit into the lives of the bikers. But overall, I felt it was a well-done film by Jeff.

OVERALL SCORE: 6.5/10 😊

[beardedmrbean]

The House approved a measure late Tuesday that would slash Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg's taxpayer-funded government salary to just $1.

The bill — which was introduced by Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, R-Ga. — was passed via voice vote Tuesday as an amendment to the 2024 Financial Services and General Government Appropriations Act, the standalone funding bill for the General Services Administration, Securities and Exchange Commission and other related agencies.

"I’m proud to announce my amendment to FIRE Pete Buttigieg just PASSED the House. Pothole Pete staged fake bike rides to the White House and used private planes funded by taxpayers to receive awards for the way certain people have sex," Greene said in a social media post Tuesday. "American taxpayers should not be on the hook for paying for his lavish trips or his salary."

"Pete Buttigieg doesn’t do his job. It’s all about fake photo ops and taxpayer-funded private jet trip to accept LGBTQ awards for him," Greene added. "I’m happy my amendment passed, but he doesn’t deserve a single penny."

Since taking office in 2021, Buttigieg has faced criticism for Republican lawmakers in response to several crises that have faced the Department of Transportation.

For example, in February, after a train carrying vinyl chloride, a dangerous colorless gas, derailed in East Palestine, Ohio, Buttigieg was criticized for his apparent inaction and for waiting several weeks before traveling to the site of the derailment. 

In addition, there have been multiple instances of mass commercial airline cancellations during his tenure for various reasons, including a pilot shortage. Republicans and Democrats alike had called for Buttigieg to take decisive action to ensure air travelers are protected from such cancellations.

And while Buttigieg has spent much of his tenure addressing commercial delays, he has used government-managed private jets on at least 18 occasions since taking office. Those flights sparked an ongoing inspector general probe and, according to information obtained by Americans for Public Trust (APT), have cost taxpayers tens of thousands of dollars.

PETE BUTTIGIEG TOOK GOVERNMENT JET TO NYC FOR RADIO INTERVIEW, ACLU MEETING BEFORE FLYING BACK HOURS LATER

In one instance in September 2022, Buttigieg used a government jet for a roundtrip journey to Montreal. During the visit, he attended a ceremony hosted by a large Canadian gay rights organization and received an award for his "contributions to the advancement of LGBTQ rights."

Buttigieg's office has further stonewalled additional information about his use of the executive fleet.

Secretary Buttigieg continues to blow off the American people who simply want to know the true cost of his taxpayer-funded private jet trips," APT Executive Director Caitlin Sutherland told Fox News Digital on Tuesday. "After multiple FOIA requests, a lawsuit, and an ongoing inspector general investigation, Buttigieg's office still refuses to provide vital details about using a private government jet for a swing state tour, which appears more akin to campaigning than official DOT business."

"Buttigieg looks to be politicizing his role and making it clear that he believes he’s above accountability and transparency, a dismissive attitude that seems to be endemic throughout the Biden administration," Sutherland said.

And the transportation secretary came under fire last year after it was revealed he vacationed in Porto, Portugal, while his agency and the White House were locked in tense negotiations with rail worker unions to avert a strike that could have had a dire impact on the U.S. economy. The Department of Transportation said at the time that the vacation was a "long-planned personal trip." 

[argentisms]

2005. cleveland, ohio.

The first time Allison meets her grandfather, she’s six and he’d missed most of her birthday party. From the moment he walks through the door, something in the room changes. She doesn't know what it is, or understand why -- But her father has a look in his eye that Allison has never seen before. Her grandfather, who introduces himself as Gerard, squats down to her height, kisses her forehead, and tells her happy birthday. Her confusion is evident, only broken by the sound of her mother's voice across the room telling her to Say thank you, Allison. She mumbles a thank you, shuffling away from him so that she can continue playing Barbies with Aunt Kate.

His presence is a strange one, and even as a child, she can sense the tension. Between running around with her friends, she notices the way her parents are no longer paying attention to her -- They keep looking to one another, then Gerard, and back to each other. She doesn't understand it then, but they seem to be having an unspoken conversation, warning glances shared between the three of them. Regardless, it's strange to Allison -- Sure, she'd never met her grandfather before, and he was a little weird, but he was their family, right? Her mother and father always articulated how important their family is. Her summers were spent running around with cousins, why is this man any different?

The only one unaffected is Kate, who still keeps up with Allison each time she grabs her aunt by the hand and drags her away. Later that night, at bed time, she asks her father outright if they don't like grandpa. She can't help her curiosity, the strangeness that came the moment the man walked through the door. She doesn't think she's ever met Gerard before, and her parents don't really talk about him, either. Brows furrow when her father hesitates, opting to tuck her in and brush hair off her forehead before speaking. "We didn't expect him to show up, is all."

Before Allison can ask anything else, her father is halfway to the door. "Sweet dreams, sweetheart." He ends with, flicking the light switch off, and leaving his daughter with more unanswered questions.

2011. raleigh, north carolina.

She’s livid. Every picture from her birthday will be stained by Allison's glare at her mother, and her ever present frown. When they moved here, the now twelve year old knew it wouldn't be permanent. It never was, despite any attempts at trying to convince her parents. Most places, she could swallow down her disappointment, and busy herself by trying to be excited by whatever town or city they up and moved to -- Staring out the car window and day dreaming was a perfected art, something Allison Argent had become well acquainted with. But this place felt different. The neighbors had a daughter her age, Marianne, who she had grown close to in the four months they lived there. The two were inseparable, and often spent their afternoons biking around town and exploring. It was one of the only times her birthday was celebrated by more than her, her parents, and aunt Kate. She had a party with multiple friends, connections and roots established with the kids in their neighborhood and her home school group. It was all painfully normal, and she refused to let go of it.

So she fought her parents every step of the way. Allison knew they would be moving before her parents even announced it -- They gave each other the look at dinner, her mother reaching to hold her daughter's hand as she delivered the news: In two weeks, they'd be moving to Fort Knox. But, as if it were some kind of saving grace, they were able to postpone to the day after Allison's twelfth birthday. It was meant to be a kindness, and all it did was make things worse. Arguments between Allison and her mother had become more common place -- The two squabbling over small things until the other finally conceded. This had become large enough to eclipse any other fight the two had, the next two weeks spent with constant yelling (mostly from Allison), back and forth, and plenty of door slamming. (something that was becoming an Allison Argent Specialty.)

She refused to pack. Any box her mother passive aggressively left in her room or began packing for her was emptied almost immediately. Any conversation about Tennessee or what color she would paint her new room is met with snide remarks, and commentary about how she isn't leaving. Her birthday is the boiling point, the tension amplified once the last guest leaves. It's late, her mother letting the guests stay far later than anticipated in hopes of letting her daughter have one last hurrah with her friends. One final fight breaks out, with Allison screaming about how they're ruining her life and she hates her mother -- Only to have her argument interrupted by her father bursting through the sliding door, bloody and bruised.

What happened next was a blur, with her mother barking orders at her daughter while her father collapses into a kitchen chair. Allison freezes at the scene, horrified by how calm her mother was being. Her father was covered in blood, dark bruises forming and would on his stomach that he was now pressing a rag to. So much for her father 'running a quick errand'. In a matter of seconds her mother is barreling into the room with the first aid kit, leaving her daughter staring at the two in horror. It's unclear how much time passes before her father is trying to tell Allison that he's okay, there's nothing to worry about -- Interrupted by the clear and loud voice of her mother, barking five words at her that send Allison running. Go pack your room, Allison.

They don't talk about it, not really. Through tears and confusion, Allison shoves all of her belongings into various boxes, ready for the movers that arrive at 8 AM sharp. She's silent, in the backseat of the car, staring out the window as her father gives a vague reasoning for what happened. He'd broken up a fight, apparently -- One that had gotten nasty, and the assailant apparently had a knife. Allison doesn't question the answers he gives, choosing to stare out the window and watch her home disappear before her eyes.

She doesn't point out that she'd seen her father's wound. She doesn't point out that there had been three slash marks.

2017. pheonix, arizona.

Kate was.. off. There was something always a bit strange and mysterious about her aunt, but this visit was different. Something had changed, something everyone but her knew. She kept looking to Allison as if she were about to say something, gloat and celebrate — But then refrains at the last minute. Kate continues to bring up her recent trip to California, how it had been reinvigorating. Every time her aunt suggests taking Allison on a trip to northern California, her mother interrupts with a swift That's enough, Katherine. It only piques Allison's curiosity, inspiring her to push back against her mother's insistence -- What ever had happened on Kate's trip, she wanted to know every detail.

Just before she comes downstairs to meet with her aunt and start the night's festivities, Allison catches part of a hushed argument in the kitchen. She can barely make out what they're saying, but she knows it's her father and Kate. You're reckless, he tells her, to which Kate mentions something about solving a problem. There's a muffled back and forth, but what sticks out most is a threat -- If you tell her... She assumes it's about her mother, given how bothered she is by the details of Kate's story. The conflict comes to an abrupt end, making Allison's stomach drop when the silent revelation is made between her father and aunt -- Allison is listening. When she walks into the kitchen, the two are all smiles.

They go out the night of her birthday, with Kate declaring Allison should do all the things she now legally can do being that she's eighteen. The ideal seemed silly, but their night was entertaining, nonetheless. Naturally, Kate has a checklist, and Allison isn't given a choice in the matter. They start simple, with a pack of cigarettes and a scratch off ticket. After a bit of convincing from Kate, she coughs her way through two cigarettes, while sitting on the curb of a 7/11. She manages to win $20 from the scratcher, which Allison uses to buy enough water to soothe the horrible burn at the back of her throat. They end up a tattoo parlor next, where Allison gets a small tattoo of a ladybug on her ankle. She silently prays her parents never notices it, but more so -- She hopes Kate doesn't tease her for tight grip she keeps on her aunt's hand the entire time.

The night finishes out with setting off discount fireworks, from some sketchy man who doesn't even ask for Allison's ID when she insists on buying sparklers and a couple roman candles. Kate tells her more about her trip to California, how she'd met a guy but things didn't work out; That their love affair went up in flames. Through furrowed brows, Allison points out the obvious -- Her aunt isn't telling her something, considering how her mom acts whenever Kate even alludes to the state. All she does is laugh, and promise to explain when you're ready. Through confusion and offense, she tries to push the subject, but Kate waves it off and lights another roman candle.

2023. beacon hills, california.

The fact that this was happening at all was a shock to Allison. She stopped making a big deal out of her birthday years ago -- It was just a day, something to use to get free dessert at an overpriced restaurant. She hadn't even told Scott her birthday was coming up, but Allison wasn't naive enough to think Lydia hadn't grilled him on what he was going to get his girlfriend. It made her laugh to think of what that conversation looked like -- Knowing her best friend, poor Scott was probably cornered on his way to class, given suggestions that felt vaguely like threats. Rather than expensive jewelry or over priced perfume, they spend the weekend camping. In truth, it's exactly what Allison needed.

She spent the last few weeks feeling like a crazy person, thanks to Scott. They'd been together long enough that she liked to think she knew him well enough to pick up on when something was going on -- He was a painfully honest person, it was something she loved about him, but it made him a horrible liar. And over the last month and a half, Scott had been lying about something. To put it plainly, he was being fucking weird. Their plan to have Allison move in with him and Stiles came to an abrupt and incredibly confusing halt -- With a stumbled over explanation about how he 'wasn't ready for it'. She tried to be understanding, show him patience and try to get him to elaborate -- She loves Scott, and was willing to hear him out. But, it's hard not to feel a punch to the gut, between the secrecy, and the way their plans had fallen through. (She was excited to no longer run into a naked Jackson Whittemore pouring himself coffee in the morning.)

They make the two hour drive to Yosemite that morning, the back of her car filled with their camping gear and plenty of snacks. The original plan is just to spend the night, then head home in the morning. She had a class the next day, and he had to work. It's a short trip, but one she's excited for regardless. Her night is spent lying on a blanket next to Scott, pointing out every constellation she can think of. They make s'mores, laughing over childhood stories and poorly mad up ghost stories. The night reminds her of why she'd fallen in love with Scott in the first place, with plenty of I love you's and Thank you for this's peppered in between kisses. She tells him of past birthdays, and how they had grown to feel like something to ignore rather than celebrate. This is kind of a perfect birthday, she points out, grinning ear to ear.

In the morning, rather than pack up when they originally intended too -- She distracts him with her lips on his neck, tugging off her own shirt before he can protest. The idea of spending just a few more hours alone, away from the problems that still live in Beacon Hills, is more than tempting. The idea of leaving just to go back to another boring class sounded like a nightmare. So, Allison turns off her phone, leaving a text from her father unanswered, so that she can try and enjoy this morning a little longer. They eventually leave their tent, going for a small hike around the area as an excuse to spend more time together alone, instead of leaving. Reluctantly, at some point in the late afternoon they finally pack up and leave, returning to the chaos they'd left in Beacon Hills.

[mitchipedia]

Pizza

Pizza is my favorite food. We have pizza once a week. There have been times in my life when I have had it more often than that. I have had great pizza and I have had good pizza. I love the pizza they served on Fridays in the school cafeteria when I was a little kid. I loved riding my bike up Larkfield Road with my friends, and getting a slice of pizza at the place on that road. I love going back to New York and getting pizza from places with formica counters that serve you slices on paper plates. I love Chicago deep dish pizza, but I’m told it is not the pizza that Chicagoans eat. I love the pizza that we have when we go back to Ohio to visit Julie‘s family. Ohio pizza is covered edge to edge with pepperoni, cut into strips, and baked with a coating of cornmeal on the bottom to keep it from burning in the oven. Even frozen pizza, bar pizza and cafeteria pizza is delicious. Of all the thousands and thousands of pizza meals I have eaten in my life, only one was bad.

[willowworkswithwords]

Who is Steve Harrington?

For all Robin says Steve’s Steveness is what makes her like him, he wonders sometimes if it wouldn’t be better for him to change. The ex-basketball star who works two jobs now and still takes girls to dates at the same diner every other week, though the dates have stopped since spring break. Something like that now seems so small in comparison to the whole world nearly crumbling for the umpteenth time. He’s still himself, after it all, and a not-so-small part of him wonders if that’s for the best.

Dustin is running out of his house, backpack on one shoulder with the zipper thrown open, books half-crammed in and half spilling out. Steve smiles. No matter what’s changed, he’s glad this hasn’t.

“Hey, you tryin’ to be late three times before the month is out, Dustin?”

“I was trying to find my algebra textbook, I think Lucas took it because I left my notes in it and he can’t figure out the third equation from last week’s test and—”

The drive goes on like that. Steve asks a question or sends a soft, harmless dig at Dustin and Dustin has a page and a half to say back to him. The cool October air whips past them. His fingers itch for a cigarette. There’s not even the ghost of a pack in his car anymore, just the zippo lighter he keeps in his jean pocket. The last run-in with the Upside Down had left Steve with a newfound appreciation for being able to breathe well, so the cigarettes (much to Robin’s delight) went out the window.

It wasn’t easy. But it was a change, and a change, so far, altogether for the better.

Dustin left the car the same way he came, a bundle of thoughts and unorganized books. Steve was laughing as he pulled away from the school towards Family Video, off to shift one of two. And the day was good. Robin was with him his whole shift, and when they clocked out at three, Robin rode her bike off to her community college classes and Steve went to Rick’s.

Rick’s Diner was the new Benny’s, a small building on the east side of town alongside the country road that ran alongside Hawkins from out of town, carrying dozens of people from Ohio, Kentucky, and other parts of Indiana right to the front doors. Tired families and truckers and college students. Most people there were just those passing through, but on occasion he’d see Mr. Clarke or one of Robin’s band friends. It was something Steve never would have thought he'd be doing, but he almost always looked forward to his shifts.

“Steve!”

Steve broke into a grin, spinning his keys on his finger once, twice, before he tucked them into his jeans next to the zippo.

Rick was a small man with a ring of thick brown hair around his head and was never seen out of overalls. He could do everything the diner needed—count the till, greet the customers, flips the burgers, fix the oven—but he’d started to feel the diner needed something, a little nudge. So when Steve had happened upon the diner one day not long after Spring Break, still bearing the bruises from the final showdown that everyone else in Hawkins assumed was a scuffle with the leftover fanatics that believed Jason’s story, Rick had come over with Steve's coffee and hotdog and sat down across from him. By the end of that night, Steve had the job.

Steve didn’t have to think long about accepting, besides telling Rick he’d never cooked at a restaurant before. Rick had just laughed at him and told him it was all about the people, not the burgers. Was he good with people? he’d asked him. He’d given a pointed yet teasing glance at Steve’s busted face. But Steve had told him that if he could survive Scoops Ahoy assholes and airheads, he’d be fine with the random people coming through.

“Hey Rick!” Steve hollered as he made him way around the counter.

“This fuckin’ fryer’s busted half to hell, I have no idea what I did to it!”

He said it was a bark of laughter and a clang of metal against metal.

“Did you turn the knob all the way and then down to four-fifty?”

“…No I did not.”

Steve rounded the corner to see Rick crouched in front of the fryer with a wrench in hand.

“Ok Mr. Fix-it. Do your thing.”

Steve took the wrench, grinned, and got to work.

[inwintersolitude]

- October 24th 2023 -

Do a lot of people tell you that you are funny? A few people do. The closer I am with someone, the more they'll see my funny/goofy side.

Have you gone to a tanning bed lately? Nope, I've never been in a tanning bed, ever.

What did you do on the Fourth of July? I didn't do anything to celebrate it. I think my husband was gone flying that day, and I just relaxed at home. I did happen to see the town's fireworks display on my way home from the store that evening, though.

Do you ever watch Hannah Montana? No, I've never watched it.

Do you think Miley Cyrus is a good role model? I have no idea. I don't know much about her.

Do you have nice legs? Sure.

Are you good at decorating? I'm alright at it. It's one of the few artsy/creative things I'm not terrible at, haha.

Have you ever been to Ohio? I live in Ohio, actually. Lived here from 1993-2013, and again from 2021-present.

Do you like southern accents? It depends on the exact type of Southern accent. Most of them are meh, but I do like the ''classy Southern Belle'' type of accent. Can't think of a better way to describe it LOL.

Do you watch Big Brother? No.

How old is the oldest person who has ever liked you? My husband is 36. But he was 22 when we started dating.

Do you get intimidated easily? Not really.

Do you get a shower every day? No, sometimes I skip a day.

Do you like mountain biking? I used to when I was younger. I'm much more wary of sports/activities with a high risk of injury nowadays. I had a really bad wrist injury from slipping on ice when I was 26, it took forever to heal and it affected my mental health. When I was younger, I brushed off injuries like they were nothing, but ever since that wrist injury, I just don't mentally deal with injuries well at all.

What is something you like to do for fun? Nature photography and drone photography.

Do you remember a lot of things from whenever you were a child? Yep, I can recall the vast majority of my childhood.

What was something good that happened to you this week? My husband and I went over to my parent's house for dinner this past Friday, along with my brother and sister-in-law and their kids. We all had a really great time.

Have you ever been to Ireland? Yes, I was just in Ireland a few weeks ago!

Do you have a lot of shoes? Maybe like 10 pairs.

Would you rather go out to eat or make dinner yourself? It depends on what sort of food I'm in the mood for, and whether or not I feel like cooking.

Do you like The Goonies? I've never watched it.

Would you ever consider being a photographer? I'm an amateur photographer. I've been into photography off-and-on for almost 20 years.

What is something that you aren't good at? I'm awful at any sort of creative writing.

What is something you really regret? Not leaving my former job when I first started to think of leaving. I stayed, pushed myself only to end up even more stressed out, and then a coworker caused an accident that gave me permanent hearing damage.

Do you think you have a lot of friends? No, I don't have many friends at all. But I like it this way. I'm not a very social person.

Do you like to answer questions in detail? Usually.

Who are the texts in your inbox from? My husband, my brother, my sister-in-law, my mom, my dad, my friend Cory, and my realtor.

What is something you wear everyday? My glasses.

What clothing store do you really like? Ralph Lauren and L.L. Bean are my two favorites.

Do you have a lot of chores? Well yeah, I'm an adult with my own household.

[crave-mp3]

do you ever think about someone and be like wow i would have loved to grow up with you. there was one tiny fork in the road that ended up with us thousands of miles away from each other but meeting you again more than ten years later we still click immediately and remember different things about our time together (how on halloween we got scared and i ran into the street and away from the door and you ran toward it). when you got in the car and said my name i was somehow surprised you remembered it, even though i know i never forgot yours for a second. you've accomplished so much and i'm so incredibly proud of you (and i think i love you again, almost, wildflower seeds buried in frozen ground, the fields of bluebonnets i left behind) you tell me about the heat and the traffic and the shitty ice cream chain you worked at and i remember everything (i remember it better than it was) and i see pictures of you in your blue gown and in a life so near i am standing with you on that stage and i am riding in your passenger seat and i am holding your hand while we get our lips pierced and i am your partner in crime and we are losing teeth and riding bikes and falling in and out of hours on my old dusk street. there were fireflies there. and an old song about the shadows on the moon. and maybe we could have each saved each other a little hurt as we both strained against the molds made by the double Xs on our birth certificates (kiss kiss). who knows, we say, maybe we'll end up at that college in ohio together. it's still on my list, i've got another year. and it would make such a good story. it is so good to see you. it is so good to see you. i should tell you how they all look at me weird when i tell them where i'm from. i should tell you how i made my first friend here because she looked like you (if only a little). i want to show you every single nook and hiding place i hollowed out while you were gone. i want to play clumsy, shitty guitar for the top violist in the state. i want you to tell me about your friends and your school and your mother and the way you cook your eggs. i want to show you my town and all its little dramas and all its little lonely failings and all the ways it is the was the best place i could've spent a childhood. do you see the milky way? we're just far enough from the city here. i want a whole summer to ourselves, the way we would've-should've had it. i want another week to show you around the life i've made while you were away. i want another day. just one more hour. you gave me your school picture on the first day of kindergarten. i still have it.

[blogfordantreacy]

15 questions and 15 mutuals

Thank you for the tags @kittensittin and @broadwayfreak5357! Sorry it’s taken me forever to do this, I’m anxious and lazy sometimes lol. But it means a lot that yall thought to tag me 🥹

were you named after anyone?

Not a person, but my gov’t name is based off of this story: “Once Noah’s ark was completed, the skies opened and rain fell for forty days and nights until the entire earth was covered with water and no living thing survived except those within the safety of the ark. When the skies cleared and another forty days had passed, Noah released a raven. Noah’s raven “went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth.” Only when a dove Noah sent out after the raven no longer returned did Noah decide it was time to leave the ark and the mountain top upon which it rested.”

when was the last time you cried?

Mmm probably last week? During household stressors lmfao

do you have kids?

Nope, but I have 4 niblings that I love more than life itself

do you use sarcasm a lot?

Not really? I think it’s cause I have a hard time understanding sarcasm when others use it (neurodivergence baby!) and idk it’s just not my style. I’m more of a facial expressions when exasperated, and also just not a very negative or cynical person. But occasionally I am!

what's the first thing you notice about people?

Ahhhh, usually what they are wearing maybe? Or their hair? I don’t even know

what's your eye color?

Brown, nothin to write home about

scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings > scary movie, but complicated endings > happy endings sometimes. When it makes sense. But sometimes you just need a happy ending. Plus I don’t like most scary movies.

any special talents?

Uhhhh idk! I have a lot of patience, which makes me good at my job. Im good at finding good people for jobs (like a good plumber or whatever). Im really good at Guitar Hero? I play on like expert. Idk these aren’t really talents…

where were you born?

Ohio!

what are your hobbies?

Reading/writing fic, going out to eat lol, doing nature things, traveling, baking, bike riding sometimes. And music and podcasts, I listen to a lot of both.

have any pets?

One! A cat. He’s p alright (I’m not a big pet person but my partner is)

what sports do you play/have you played?

Uhhh I’ve tried my hand at several different sports as a kid, but played soccer the longest. Mostly defense or goalie. I’d love to play dodgeball or rugby these days.

how tall are you?

Like 5’2? Short king

favorite subject in school?

Mmmm probably English or math (sans geometry, fuck that class lol). I loved learning, still do, but don’t like homework or busywork, and I don’t love the way we do education in the US. But I had some wonderful teachers and my mom, who have always encouraged my natural curiosity and wanting to get better at things. I’m a super curious person!

dream job?

I do really love what I do now! Working in a library is a blast. I also think working at NPR would be so cool, but I don’t have a radio voice. Honestly my dream is to shadow/intern at 12 different jobs for 1 year.

Tagging @rosy-avenger, @its-very-cold-in-space and whoever else wants to go I don’t even know who I’m mutuals with at this point 😂

[boricuacherry-blog]

My parents were from the Bay Area. My dad was a surfer and a rock'n'roll guy - you know, hot rods and slicked-back hair; he drove a '58 impala. Later he fell in love with the Stones and the Beatles and became more of a longhair. I remember going out to visit him every summer. The first thing I'd do was raid his weed stash. My mom was the cheerleader in the poodle skirt. She was a lifeguard; they surfed Santa Cruz together. They were intensely in love and got married at a young age.

I don't want to open up their whole can of worms, but certain things happened. I was born in '67; the whole sixties thing was really going strong. I think my dad was a bit of a flake back then. He wanted to have a good time, you know, tune in and turn on, whatever they used to say back then. My mom was just not down with it. They ended up getting a divorce. It crushed me. I was three years old.

My stepfather was the complete opposite of my dad. He was a corporate guy at TRW. He'd played football at Notre Dame and then got his master's degree at USC in aeronautical engineering. His favorite group was the Kingston Trio. If I were to sum up my stepfather in one word, the word would be responsible. That word was always coming out of his mouth: "Scott, you have to be responsible." Responsible, responsible, responsible. And he was responsible. I think that's what attracted my mom to him in the first place.

We lived in southern California until my stepfather got a promotion, then we moved to Ohio. I was four and a half. It really broke my heart because I was pulled away from my dad. After that, I used to fly out and spend the summers with him. I remember how I used to feel as the plane was getting closer and closer to the gate. You know, I'd look through that window, trying to see my dad, because at that time anyone could come up to the gate and pick you up. Sometimes I could see him. He'd be right up against the glass. And I'd just come running through the passageway, you know, and he'd be waiting there with this big smile on his face...and he would get down on his knees and just grab hold of me.

But then I would have to leave. The drive to the airport...it was really...it wasn't good. I remember I'd have to say goodbye and get on the plane. I'd get the window seat and just look out that window, and he would just stand there at the gate, and we'd just look at each other. When I would get back to Cleveland, I would be a wreck for a couple of weeks. For nine years of my life, that's how it went: anticipation and separation. Those were my summers.

From an early age, I had a preoccupation with catching a buzz. I remember the summer right after my eighth-grade year. We lived in northeastern Ohio, in this very preppy town, Chagrin Falls. There was this family that lived across the woods. I was friends with the kids; they were a little bit older than me, high school age. Their parents worked late, and we would play quarters, the drinking game. When no one was home at their house, I would sneak in and fill up a big tumbler full of liquor. I'd put in a little bit of vodka, a little bit of gin, a little bit of Black Velvet - a little bit of this and a little bit of that. And then I'd just go off into the woods and sit up against an old oak tree and chug it down.

Then I'd load up my BB gun and go shooting birds, which was always quite fun until you actually hit one and were consumed with guilt.

We moved back to California, to Huntington Beach, in Orange County. It was right after the movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High had come out. And I remember thinking to myself, This new school is identical to the movie! There were parties every weekend. I guess the parents' overall philosophy was, you might as well do it here, where we can supervise you. You could ride your bike from kegger to kegger.

My drinking kind of escalated. At the beginning of my freshman year, we'd get fucked up on Friday and Saturday, and then we'd make it all the way till the next Friday before doing it again. But as time went on, it became a fixation. An obsession. All you could think about the whole week was getting to Friday again so you could party. That was all I ever thought about. That and, you know, sex. [Weiland was raped by a classmate around this time].

My first experiences with cocaine was just completely...it was, like, sexual. It was unbelievable. I didn't think that there could be anything that good.

I'd formed my first band when I was a sophomore. I'd just turned sixteen. There was this cat who used to hang around, watch us rehearse, this really nerdy guy. He was a lop, you know, but he was nice. He ended up becoming a coke dealer.

One time, he came by rehearsal with a briefcase. It was very eighties, very Miami Vice. He opened it up, and he had these neat little half-ounce packages. And this stuff, my God - it was not that nasty, gasoline-tasting, cat-piss-smelling shit that they have nowadays. It was this fuckin' shale, you know? It was that mother-of-pearl stuff they used to have in the old days. It was so hard, you had to slice it real thin with a razor blade, like little slices of garlic. They don't even make that shit anymore. Maybe you can get it down in Colombia, but not here.

The guy cut us out a couple lines each, like, six inches long and about an eighth of an inch wide. I had two of them. And that was all we needed. We were high for five hours. And there was no grinding teeth. There was no big comedown. I think the devil gives you the first time for free.

Eventually, my parents caught on to the fact. At the beginning of my junior year, my parents went into my room and started raiding my drawers. They ended up finding a bag of weed and a couple empty little quarter bindles of blow and a mirror and a razor blade. They sent cops to pick me up at school. They took me to rehab. I got out just in time for New Year's Eve.

I was never much of a weed smoker. I thought too much on weed; it made my mind way too overactive. There's no solace for me in pot.

There was always an intrigue for me when it came to heroin. Most of my musical and artistic heroes were connected to dope. Everyone from William Borroughs to Keith Richards and Gram Parsons to Bird, all the jazz greats - if you listen to the fluidity of that music, you can hear heroin in that music. There was something about it that I was definitely drawn to. I wondered why this substance had so much powerful appeal, had such a power to affect music and art and lives in such a way that seemed to be so beautiful but also so dark and destructive at the same time. Those two elements, the beauty and the darkness, are what created that seduction for me. It's what attracted me. Because those forces have always coexisted within me. I call it The Great Dichotomy.

When you start doing dope, there's a honeymoon period. At the time I started, when I was about twenty-four, I was with the woman who would become my first wife, Jannina. Heroin was definitely something that was on our radar. After I tried it for the first time, we were excited about doing it together. It turned out her brother, Tony, was into it, too.

At that point I had this Toyota Landcruiser - the first significant purchase of my success [with my band STP]. The whole thing was very ceremonial, like a ritual, like a religious event. The copping. The smoking. The need. I started referring to it as my medicine.

The four of us would just hang out - myself, Jannina, Tony, and his girl at the time. We were just smoking it, you know, chasing the dragon. It was all pretty innocent. We'd drive downtown, grab a few bags, smoke...and then we'd just kind of lie around and have that sort of dope sex where you can fuck for eight hours. They call it a dope stick. You stay up forever but you have a hard time, you know, finishing. It's, like, tantric.

As time progressed, I was finding that there seemed to be a certain ceiling to the high when you were smoking heroin. And smoking is inefficient. Any junkie will tell you that: A lot of the dope goes to waste.

But not knowing anyone who fixed, I had to wait for my opportunity. It came on Thanksgiving 1993. We went over to Jannina's parents' house. Tony lived in a room in the garage. After dinner, he's like, "I got a couple rigs. You wanna fix?" So naturally I was like, "Sure." He tied me off and shot me up. And then he said, "Now you got your wings."

I remember just lying back on his mattress, and there was something barely on his TV, which was right by his bed but had bad reception, just static and snow. Complete warmth went all the way through my body. I was consumed. It's like what they talk about in Buddhism, that feeling of reaching enlightenment. Like in Siddhartha, when they say there's that feeling of a golden light. It's near the end of the book. After going through all those different journeys, Siddhartha finds what he's been looking for all along. There's that moment when he's sitting there, and there's this feeling of warmth, a golden light that just goes through his entire body. I can't remember exactly how they describe it, but there's this feeling in Buddhism where they say there's a golden glow that goes from your fingers all the way through every appendage and into the pit of your stomach. And that's what it felt like to me, slamming dope for the first time. Like I'd reached enlightenment. Like a drop of water rejoining the ocean. I was home.

All my life, I had never felt right in my own skin. I always felt that wherever I went...I don't know, I always felt very uncomfortable. Like I didn't belong. Like I could never belong. Like every room I walked into was an unwelcome room.

After doing dope for the first time, I knew that no matter what happened, from that day forward, I could be okay in every situation. Heroin made me feel safe. It was like the womb. I felt completely sure of myself. It took away all the fears. It did that socially; it distanced me from other people, made me feel less vulnerable. And it did that for me musically, allowing me to sort of go for it, you know, to dare to succeed. And it gave me a certain amount of objectivity, though what ends up happening with opiates is you get to a point where you get too much objectivity. It becomes all objectivity. You don't have any more connection to the heart, to the body, to anything real. You kind of cease to exist. All that exists is the need.

I went through, like, a million different detoxes. I don't know how many times. Rapid, rapid detox. It leaves you feeling like a Mac truck hit you. Beaten, bloodied, and boiled. Sickened, drained, unable to feel - it was a feeling like you can't imagine being able to feel any emotions ever again. No sadness, no excitement, no highs, no lows. Nothing. You're wondering when you'll be able to feel comfort again, physical comfort even. That's why it's so difficult to kick. Your pleasure receptors are so fried that your brain has no ability to feel any pleasure on its own. You're so depressed. It makes you want to get high. You want to kick, but in a sense, kicking to me was always just kind of a way to prepare your body to be able to experience that first fix again. I mean, there are always those noble intentions in the beginning, but ultimately, that's all it ever was.

Because at that time, I never wanted to quit. Never. I saw narcotics as something I needed in order to function. I believed at the time that I was born with a chemical deficiency.

And I realized I was. I was totally correct. I did have a chemical deficiency [bipolar]. But at the time, I believed this deficiency was one only opiates could fulfill. I have this dark place. It's a place of loneliness. It's a place of complete shame and self-hatred, where I deserve to feel all alone because I'm the one who has caused it. And I feel like I deserve to feel that way.

I know where it comes from. It comes from my parents divorcing, you know, abandonment and all that. And it also comes from a lot of guilt and shame. And I guess feeling that you caused that feeling yourself becomes its own self-perpetuating thing; it takes on a life of its own.

I'm so bad with dates. I never really had any perception of time when I was on dope. That was part of the problem. But having children showed me a whole different kind of love that I had never known. It was something that had always been missing. Complete love. I would die for them. But I could not get clean for them. First, I would have to know loneliness. Emptiness. Solitude. Complete desperation and disgust with who I had become and who I wasn't - a father, a husband. Myself.

-Scott Weiland, interview, 2005

[mookyandlulu]

November 3 2024

Back for blog 2. 

Dear reader,

It is week two of our blog. We are back at our spot, all drinking hot chocolates. Lulu and Abery (friend of blog) were inspired by Mooky, and because there is no more coffee left at the coffee spot. We are generally reminiscing and thinking and looking around. Here are some things we have for you this week:

The Pink Man (studio neighbor) showed up to school for the first time in many days, in his mourning garb (same shirt and pants as always but a darker, more muted, dustier pink). He was also clean shaven for the first time since we have known him, and [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED], and he SPOKE, expressing his deep love for Agnes Martin. This was an absolutely revolutionary occurrence in our lives. We wondered what event took place in the Pink Man's life for this change of heart to occur. We wondered. and Pondered. Alas, we will never know, we can only guess… The blog formally sends our best to Pink Man and hopes for his swift recovery. Love love love to Pink Man. 

In the middle of the week we returned to Our Spot for our weekly Jazz bar night with our friend from school, his friend with the same name, and another friend from somewhere..! Excellent. Everyone except for me ordered a Negroni. I opted for a CLASSY Red Wine. (BECAUSE Lulu does not like the taste of alcohol like a WHIMP!) Whatever, my palette is refined. It came in the CUTEST little wine glass. Stout and filled to the brim. 

Anyways, our spot was packed and the jazz was beginning to pick up. We stood in the center of the backroom for a while we searched for a spot. FINALLY we found the perfect spot in the back corner of the room. All seven of us packed in and we even shared chairs. How sweet. 

Us sharing a chair

Topics of discussion at Jazz night: 

The Rizzler 

Ohio

Skibidi Toilet

Fanum Tax (along with it, twitch streamers)

Mogging 

Glazing (painting & being overly complementary AKA KISSING ASS)

Onceler (& onecest) 

This went on for far too long. We loved it, though. And we loved the great brains and genius of our new friends. Lulu and the others ran out of steam due to these intellectually challenging debates, so they turned in early. This left me, Mooky, in an interesting position. Namely, as ONE OF THE BOYS. We sat around a table, a bigger one this time for some reason, and talked about things I do not remember due to the aforementioned negronis. What I do remember is that all of them were breaking up pieces of candle wax that had dripped down from the candle burning in front of us, and putting the tiny pieces of wax back into the candle to melt. I was absolutely fascinated and captured by this beautiful, almost choreographic dance. All of them, the name twins and the mystery man from somewhere, started to do this at the exact same moment, seemingly without any rehearsal or planning. I started doing it too, because I have never claimed to be immune from peer pressure, and I wanted desperately to be one of the boys.

By the end of the night we all decided it was time to go home. We were out of candle wax and conversations. I was going to take the bus home but then I started to walk. My phone died 2 minutes into the walk, no problem, I was a boy scout now, I could follow the wind. Before my phone died I scanned one of those Lime scooters to see if maybe I could electric bike home. (Lulu wants me to say that I was drunk) ((I was tipsy at best)) (DUI - Lulu) It ended up costing too much so I didn't. I made it home safe and sound, don't worry.

What a night.

SEMINAR

Now I have to backtrack quite abruptly, unfortunately for you, reader. Earlier that day we were at our weekly seminar. Our tutor is a beautiful genius with a beautiful mind, our peers….

The reading that week was about plasticity, we were asked to put up images that responded to the reading on a website. Images like memes, drawings, whateve. I put 3 pictures on the board, one of them was of Kylie Jenner. Because she is so funny and I am her fam(n). Also because a part of our reading talked about how late capitalism rewards people who are more plastic, people who are able to form themselves around certain trends and physically change themselves in service of trends. That's Kylie, no? "NOOOO!!" was the resounding answer from our esteemed peers. My Kylie Jenner screenshot sowed great discourse, in particular with one person who has always been very tortured. His claim against my Kylie Jenner picture was that not everyone can afford plastic surgery, only the megarich can. I was taken aback and shocked by this very much, because I didn't think anyone was negating the claim that richer people get better medical care… BTW, he did not say his points as succinctly as I have just outlined for you, either. But I did a summary because I love you, and because I don't remember what he said word for word. Below are two excerpts from my live reactions during class:

"when I pushed back by suggesting that sometimes people who don't have one billion dollars also get plastic surgery, he said in this gentle patronizing way… "not to be morbid or anything, but many of those people… die…." This set my heart ablaze with hatred."

PLAY

While Mooky was in deep pain over the Kylie Jenner discourse Lulu was chilling… kicking back… writing a play about the events unfolding in front of her. Also. This is me writing this IDK why I went into third person. Here is my play inspired by 1.5 hours of academic excellence: 

THE CURTAINS OPEN 

Students sitting around table quietly mumble as they read out loud 

Upset man in corner holds his face and mumbles louder than the other quiet mumblers 

Two girls in back typing - louder than the readers and the quiet and loud mumblers 

HEGEMONIC - the word appears on TV BIG 

Loud mumbler repeats it outloud, ENUNCIATING

Quiet mumbler repeats it outloud, not enunciating 

Taxonomizing, catalogin, controlling bodies - these are the quiet mumblers notes from class 

Here is the conversation Mooky and I had through our shared google doc during class about my play: 

IM A CAR 

Do you like my play ?

i like it a little bit

Wtf 

Concise.

Back to Mooky's thoughts. 

Here is quote two from when I was angry in class:

"Why say things in so many words when you could say them in less? For the poetry of it all? Not even poetic. Word salad. Word caesar salad. Word caesar salad dressing. They speak like how you mash up anchovies and egg yolks and garlic in a big wooden bowl. A TOTAL MESS. It does not even result in a beautiful creamy emulsified caesar salad dressing. It results in GARBAGE.

That's all. I'm sure there will be more madness to come.

WONDER OF THE WORLD

On Saturday we went to Stonehenge, apparently Not one of the wonders of the world. Abery (friend of blog) thiks its should be. Because it is mystical. 

I like it because its neolithic. 

Mooky thoughts on stonehenge:

I didn't like it because it's dumb. But I did like it I guess, maybe it just wasn't worth the 6 hour round trip journey, just a thought. Before we set off on our journey, Abery (friend of blog) had a dream that we were on the bus all day long until it was dark out. This turned out to be a prophetic dream, because when we finally got back to London it was pitch black darkness. 

(over this sentence, the blog almost came to an end just now.) 

Lulu thoughts on stonehenge:

Stonehenge, at first, was boring to me. Sorry, I just didn't get it. Until…. I took a closer look and the rocks really started to speak to me. It all started with my favorite set of rocks. These rocks closely resembled a chromosome and I LOVED IT. So…. i looked at these Chromosome rocks and what did I think to myself. Well, 1) Great rocks. Good shapes. 2) How long will these rocks be here. So these rocks are like 5,000 years old. Will they be here in another 5,000 years? I became very existential. My heart broke at the thought that my  favorite Chromosome Rocks could disappear! 

So, I posed the question to my friends (and friends of the blog): How long do you think these rocks will be here? Whatever, they said probably forever. But then I reminded them of the possibility of lava&volcano&nuclear winter and etc. and everything changed. I decided the rocks would probably not be here in another 5,000 years due to these very reasons. How sad. Long live the chromosome rock. 

Kong Dog eating spaghetti at stonehenge

EVIL MONKEY

On the drive back from stonehenge, the strangest thing happened. Lulu starting having episodes… attacks… one could say… attacks of the evil monkey. She took Kong dog (friend of blog)'s notebook by force and started doing BABY SCRIBBLES inside it. Kong dog's precious beautiful bound notebook from the school store. Then she started Kicking me with her muddy boots from across the aisle. KICKING like a baby evil monkey. I don't know how we made it through, but we did in the end. We will now begin documenting and tracking her evil monkey attacks as a way of medical notetaking, hopefully coming to a cure for evil monkey some day.

Let me gather my thoughts. Deep breath. In. 

Out. In Out

Okay. So, Yeah I was having fun with my dear friend and seat mate. She whispered in my ear "why don't you draw a picture." 

She knew i was bored and she wanted me to express my thoughts and feelings. Of course, I couldn't deny my dear friend this privilege. So I took her notebook, yes that was true, and I drew a scribble. just Because Mooky does' like my scribble does not mean I was overtaken by evil entity ""evil monkey." This is all very witch hunt isn't it. Let's recall the consequences of the great American(?) witch hunts. Ya. Chew on that. 

LET ME just say that Lulu did not simply do "a scribble". She did scribbles on multiple pages with the most insane speed and efficiency. Imagine a baby on speed. This is what she was doing. Sticking her tongue out and holding the pencil in her fist and Furiously scribbling away. It was crazy to witness.

ACTUALLY NOT TRUE

Anyway. Everyone needs to take a breath. Time for our weekly list.

LIST

Things we liked and places we liked and also did not like this week:

Corsica - did not like! Sucked. We dressed up as Ball (Mooky's cat) and Pippi Longstocking and Steven Yeun. 

Swan - did not like! Didn't deliver as usual. Not one One Direction song played all night. 

Conveyor belt sushi - Loved!!!! So yummy. 

Student bar - liked. Old reliable. 

Our spot - liked! Got free loaves of bread. Loved it. 

Guest lecture - did not like. Horribly boring. We made code during it.

Our secret code

Next week Mooky and Lulu will be forcible separated… How sad. Mooky will be making an expedition to Rome, and Lulu has to go on a boat in Malta. No blog probably, will make up for in the week after, you will hear all about our trips. 

MOOKY SECTION

I don't have that much to say this week, because my mental facilities have been exhausted by other sections of blog. All I have to say is that Scarjo and Colin Jost are like the Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller of our time. To make up for my lack of content, I will attach an image of my cat. I miss him greatly and hope he is doing well in Connecticut. 

Baby ball

LULU Section 

This week I can only remember one dream, and not very clearly at that. I dreamt that Mooky was on a big street and insisted on driving a lime scooter (this was probably derived from Moli telling me IRL she tired to lime bike home after the bar, GR..!!). I told her that it was a dangerous intersection and she should not turn!!!!! Especially on a scooter. That was my dream. 

What else… in Gilmore Girls I am starting to see that Lorelai is the true villain. Hmmmmmm Oh! I saw the Manet painting of the girl at the bar. That was good yep. Ummmmmm that's all for now i am tired. 

P.S. Abery is sick. Yuck! Yuck. Sickness is swiftly moving up from her throat into her noses and ears. Her hearing and breathing have been severely compromised. We will always support our friend, though. So, we are eating her sandwich in order to stand in solidarity with her. 

Love,

Mooky and Lulu

[eddystshirts]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Harley-Davidson Womens Ohio Bike Week Tee Small.

[brookston]

Holidays 10.4

Holidays

Assault on Friedrichstadt Day (Denmark)

Blessing of the Animals at the Cathedral Day

Cable Street Day (UK)

Carrying in the Pudding (London, UK)

Crew Appreciation Day

Ctenophore Day

Day of Peace and Reconciliation (Mozambique)

Day of the Space Forces (Russia)

Dick Tracy Day

eDay (New Zealand)

Forever Alone Day

Get Your Friend Day

Global Work From Home (WFH) Day

Golf Lovers Day (a.k.a. National Golf Day)

Hug a Non-Meat Eater Day

Improve Your Office Day

International Dakota Johnson Day

International No Disposable Cup Day

International Sputnik Day

International Toot Your Flute Day

International Walk & Bike to School Day

International Wound Hygiene Day

International Zookeeper Day

Kids Music Day

Kindness to Animals Day

National Capicola / Capocollo / Gabagool Day

National CB Radio Day

National Clothespin Day

National COVID-19 Remembrance Day

National Day of Action for Missing & Murdered Indigenous Women, Girls & Two-Spirit People (Canada)

National Day of Chilean Music (Chile)

National Day of Life (Colombia)

National 4-H Spirit Day

National Laura Day

National Mask Exemption Awareness Day

National Ship in a Bottle Day

National Side Bae Day

National Sisters in Spirit Day (Canada)

National Talk Like a Trucker Day

National Teach German Day

National Trucker’s Appreciation Day

Odd Socks Day (Australia)

Peace and Reconciliation Day (Mozambique)

See the Light Day

Snoopy Day

Space Forces Day (Russia)

Territory Day (Christmas Island)

Thanksgiving Day (Saint Lucia)

Thimpu Tsechu (Bhutan)

Ten-Four Day

What’s the Frequency, Kenneth? Day

Winter Squash Day (French Republic)

World Animal Day

World College Radio Day

World Day of Bullying Prevention

World Pet’s Day

World RBD Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Canadian Beer Day

Cinnamon Roll Day (Finland)

Kanelbullens Dag (Cinnamon Bun Day; Sweden)

National Frappe Day

National Taco Day

National Vodka Day

Sardines Day (Japan)

Independence & Related Days

Belgium (from the Netherlands, 1830)

Constitution Day (Vanuatu)

Lesotho (from UK, 1966)

1st Friday in October

Bandcamp Friday [1st Friday]

Barrel-Aged Beer Day [1st Friday]

Byte Night (UK) [1st Friday]

Cerrado Mineiro Day [1st Friday]

Children’s Day (Singapore) [1st Friday]

College Radio Day [1st Friday]

Comfort Food Friday [Every Friday]

Fast Food Friday [1st Friday of Each Month]

Five For Friday [Every Friday]

Flashback Friday [Every Friday]

Freaky Friday [1st Friday of Each Month]

French Canadian Heritage Day (Michigan) [1st Friday]

Friday Finds [Every Friday]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

Kids Music Day [1st Friday]

Kitchener-Waterloo Oktoberfest begins (Canada) [Friday before 2nd Monday thru 10.19]

Manufacturing Day (a.k.a. MFG Day) [1st Friday]

National Beep Beep Day (Ireland) [1st Friday]

National Body Language Day [1st Friday]

National Denim Day (a.k.a. Lee National Denim Day) [1st Friday]

National Disease Intervention Specialist (DIS) Recognition Day [1st Friday]

National Diversity Day [1st Friday]

National Potato Day (Ireland) [1st Friday]

National Tree Planting Day (Jamaica) [1st Friday]

Plaidurday [1st Friday]

TGIF (Thank God It's Friday) [Every Friday]

World College Radio Day [1st Friday]

World Multiplication Table Day [1st Friday]

World Smile Day [1st Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning October 4 (1st Week of October)

Cleveland Beer Week (Cleveland, Ohio) [thru 10.13]

Milford Restaurant Week (Milford, Connecticut) [thru 10.13]

National Manufacturing Week (thru 10.10) [Begins 1st Friday]

National Storytelling Week (thru 10.6) [1st Full Weekend]

World Space Week (thru 10.10)

Festivals Beginning October 4, 2024

Alabama Butterbean Festival (Pinson, Alabama) [thru 10.5]

Alabama National Fair (Montgomery, Alabama) [thru 10.14]

Anacortes Bier Near The Pier (Anacortes, Washington) [thru 10.5]

Applefest Celebration (Franklin, Pennsylvania) [thru 10.6]

Apple Harvest Festival (Southington, Connecticut) [thru 10.6 & 10.11-13]

Arkansas Apple Festival (Lincoln, Arkansas) [thru 10.6]

Art & Wine Walk (Chico, California) [thru 10.6]

Austin City Lights (Austin, Texas) [thru 10.13]

Bayfield Apple Festival (Bayfield, Wisconsin) [thru 10.6]

Beaufort Shrimp Festival (Beaufort, South Carolina) [thru 10.5]

Berlin Festival of Lights (Berlin, Germany) [thru 10.13]

Berwick Riverfest (Berwick, Pennsylvania) [thru 10.6]

Bloomfield Apple Festival (Bloomfield, Indiana) [thru 10.6]

Brews and Brats Oktoberfest (Kingman, Arizona) [thru 10.5]

Brunswick Pecan Festival (Brunswick, Missouri) [thru 10.6]

California Avocado Festival (Carpinteria, California) [thru 10.6]

Cedaredge Applefest (Cedaredge, Colorado) [thru 10.6]

Clayton Oktoberfest (Clayton, California) [thru 10.6]

Colisium International Music Forum (Moscow, Russia.) [thru 10.5]

Ertel Cellars Winery 18th Annual Festival (Batesville, Indiana) [thru 10.5]

Fall into Tupelo featuring Chili Fest (Tupelo, Mississippi) [thru 10.5]

Great Highwood Pumpkin Festival (Highwood, Illinois) [thru 10.6]

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival (San Francisco, California) [thru 10.6]

Harrisburg Wine and Fine Spirits Festival (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania)

L.A. Comic Con (Los Angeles, California) [thru 10.6]

Lebanese Food Festival (Lewisville, Texas) [thru 10.6]

Lincoln Park Wine Festival (Chicago, Illinois) [thru 10.6]

Lone Star Gourd Festival (Dripping Springs, Texas) [thru 10.5]

Louisiana Cattle Festival & Fair (Abbeville, Louisiana) [thru 10.6]

MagicCon (Bonn, Germany) [thu 10.6]

The New York Coffee Festival (New York, New York) [thru 10.6]

North Carolina Seafood Festival (Morehead City, North Carolina) [thru 10.6]

Ohio Gourd Show (Delaware, Ohio) [thru 10.6]

Oktoberfest (Amana Colonies, Iowa) [thru 10.6]

Oktoberfest (Fredericksburg, Texas) [thru 10.6]

Oktoberfest (Lava Hot Springs, Idaho) [thru 10.5]

Oktoberfest Northwest (Puyallup, Washington) [thru 10.6]

Ozark Fall FarmFest (Springfield, Missouri) [thru 10.6]

Pumpkinfest (Zeeland, Michigan) [thru 10.5]

Pumpkinfest (Webster, South Dakota) [thru 10.5]

Republic Pumpkin Daze (Republic, Missouri) [thru 10.5]

Sorghum Festival (Springfield, Kentucky) [thru 10.5]

Squealin' on the Square (Laurens, South Carolina) [thru 10.5]

Springs Folk Festival (Springs, Pennsylvania) [thru 10.5]

St. George Antiochian Orthodox Food Festival (Phoenix, Arizona) [thru 10.6]

Twin Cities Oktoberfest (St. Paul, Minnesota) [thru 10.5]

Unicoi County Apple Festival (Erwin, Tennessee) [thru 10.5]

West Point Crab Carnival (West Point, Virginia) [thru 10.5]

Feast Days

Amun (a.k.a. Ammon; Christian; Saint)

Anne Rice (Writerism)

Aurea (Christian; Saint)

Beethoven (Positivist; Saint)

Buster Keaton Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Buttering-Up Final (Shamanism)

Chong Yeung Festival (Festival of Ancestors; Macau)

David & Dickory (Muppetism)

Day of Victory of Heaven (Unification Church)

Double Ninth Festival (China) [9th day of 9th Lunar month]

Edwin, King of Northumberland (Christian; Saint)

Elder’s Day (China) [9th Day of 9th Lunar Month]

Feast of Hathor (Egyptian God of Drunkenness)

Fortified Wines Day (Pastafarian)

Francesco Solimena (Artology)

Francis of Assisi (Christian; Saint)

Frederic Remington (Artology)

Giovanni Battista Piranesi (Artology)

Jejunium Cereris (Fast of Ceres; Ancient Rome; Everyday Wicca)

Jean-François Millet (Artology)

Jejunium Cereris (Feast for Demeter; Pagan)

Kazuki Takahashi (Artology)

Lucas Cranach the Younger (Artology)

Marcus and Marcian (Christian; Martyrs)

Martyrs of Triers (Christian; Saint)

October Winds Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Petronius of Bologna (Christian; Saint)

Pietro Consagra (Artology)

Robert Lawson (Artology)

Roy Blount Jr. (Writerism)

Wolf Kahn (Artology)

Hebrew Calendar Holidays [Begins at Sundown Day Before]

Rosh Hashanah, Day 3 (Ends at Sundown; Judaism) [29 Elul-2 TIshrei]

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Prime Number Day: 277 [59 of 72]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [46 of 57]

Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [46 of 60]

Premieres

ABC After School Specials (TV Series; 1972)

Alice in the Wooly West (Ub Iwerks Alice Disney Cartoon; 1926)

All the Right Reasons, by Nickelback (Album; 2005)

An American in Paris (Film; 1951)

Around the World (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1931)

The Batman Superman Movie: World’s Finest (WB Animated Film; 1997)

Beverly Hills 90120 (TV Series; 1990)

Blackboard Jumble (Droopy MGM Cartoon; 1957)

Bound (Film; 1996)

Bridge of Spies (Film; 2015)

Commando (Film; 1985)

Dolemite Is My Name (Film; 2019)

The EGGcited Rooster (WB MM Cartoon; 1952)

Encyclopedia Brown, Boy Detective, by Donald J. Sobol (Novel; 1963)

Extraordinary Machine, by Fiona Apple (Album; 2005)

The Flintstones: Wind-Up Wilma (Hanna-Barbera Animated TV Special; 1981)

Goldie Locks and the Three Bears (Ub Iwerks Laugh-O-Grams Cartoon; 1922)

Gravity (Film; 2013)

How Wet Was My Ocean (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1940)

Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby, by Louis Jordan (Song; 1943)

Joker (Film; 2019)

Jumping with Toy (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1957)

Knight Templar, by Leslie Charteris (Novel; 1930) [Saint #4]

The Last Emperor (Film; 1987)

Last of the Curlews (Hanna-Barbera Animated TV Special; 1972)

Leave It To Beaver (TV Series; 1957)

The Longest Day (Film; 1962)

Lost Horizon, by James Hilton (Novel; 1933)

Lovesick (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit; 1937)

The Man in the High Castle, by Philip K. Dick (Novel; 1962)

The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays, by Albert Camus (Essays; 1942)

Neon Genesis Evangelion (Japanese Anime; 1995)

Notes on Democracy, by H.L. Mencken (Political Book; 1926)

River Ribber (Color Rhapsody Cartoon; 1945)

The Saint, starring Roger Moore (TV Series; 1962)

Showdown (Fleischer Cartoon; 1942) [#11]

Spree for All (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1946)

That Thing You Do (Film; 1996)26)

Trick or Treat Scooby-Doo! (WB Animated Film; 2022)

200 Motels, by Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention (Soundtrack Album; 1968)

Walls & Bridges, by John Lennon (Album; 1974)

Today’s Name Days

Aurea, Edwin, Franz (Austria)

Franciska, Franjo, Franka (Croatia)

František (Czech Republic)

Franciscus (Denmark)

Randel, Rando, Randolf, Ranno (Estonia)

Frans, Saija, Saila (Finland)

Aure, Bérénice, François, Frank, Orianne, Sarah (France)

Aurora, Edwin, Emma, Franz, Thea (Germany)

Ierotheos, Kallisthenis, Verina (Greece)

Ferenc (Hungary)

Francesco, Petronio (Italy)

Francis, Modra, Zaigonis (Latvia)

Eivydė, Mąstautas, Pranas, Pranciškus (Lithuania)

Frank, Frans (Norway)

Edwin, Franciszek, Konrad, Konrada, Manfred, Manfreda, Rozalia (Poland)

Ierotei (Romania)

František (Slovakia)

Francisco (Spain)

Frank, Frans (Sweden)

Damara, Damaris, Berenice, Bernice, Bonita, Bonnie, Bunny, Fannie, Fanny, Frances, Francesca, Francesco, Francine, Francis, Francisco, Frank, Frankie (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 278 of 2024; 88 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of Week 40 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 6 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Jia-Xu), Day 2 (Xin-Chou)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 2 Tishri 5785

Islamic: 30 Rabi I 1446

J Cal: 8 Orange; Onesday [8 of 30]

Julian: 21 September 2024

Moon: 3%: Waxing Crescent

Positivist: 26 Shakespeare (10th Month) [Weber / Rossini]

Runic Half Month: Gyfu (Gift) [Day 13 of 15]

Season: Autumn or Fall (Day 13 of 90)

Week: Last Week of September/1st Week of October

Zodiac: Libra (Day 12 of 30)