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ageofevermore · 2 years ago

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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.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff hurt/comfort #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff oneshot

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mikedfaist · 8 months ago

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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.

#mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x famous reader #mike faist imagine

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franklycharmed · 5 months ago

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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?

#about #SHE LIVES #don’t hesitate to come find me in dms #<3 #wrhq.intro

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destinyc1020 · 6 months ago

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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 😊

#my film review #Destiny's Film Reviews #the bikeriders #destiny reviews movies #my movie review

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beardedmrbean · 1 year ago

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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."

#nunyas news

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argentisms · 9 months ago

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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.

#self 002.#self.

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jules-has-notes · 1 year ago

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2015 VoicePlay summer & fall round-up

In between a two-month tour in the spring, and a two-month Disney World residency in the winter, VoicePlay had a variety of shorter adventures, video shoots, and some very important time at home with friends and family.

Can't stop, won't stop

The day after they got home, they released the music video for "Stay With Me" that they'd recorded and edited while on the road. Then just two days later they hit the stage again for a single show. Once they'd gotten a few more days of rest, they gathered at Layne's studio to tape an interview for the Behind the Mic podcast.

Ahoy, moms

Then it was time to hop on the Royal Caribbean Oasis, the first of multiple gigs with multiple cruise lines they'd booked over the coming months. They disembarked for a week at home, during which they spent Mother's Day morning performing for the Disney Social Media Moms Celebration. A few days later, they set out again on a Disney Magic cruise up the east coast to Nova Scotia, which gave them a day off in NYC while the ship was in port.

Family time

After that gig was complete, they took a couple well-deserved weeks off. Most of the guys flew straight home, but Layne went back to New York to meet up with his longtime girlfriend and her daughters for some family time. While they were on a bike ride in Central Park, he staged a fall and proposed. Yay, love!

[NOTE: I linked to the video and family photo of Layne and Cyndi's engagement rather than embedding them, because the kids were young and deserve to not have images that show their faces pulled into public spaces their parental units can't control. But do feel free to click through, because both are very cute.]

On the seas again

Once the guys were rested up, VoicePlay climbed aboard their third ship of the summer, the Celebrity Summit, for a jaunt to Bermuda. On the way out, they crossed paths with Kathy and her band, Soul Funktion, who were performing on a different cruise.

On the downside, being in the Caribbean meant that they missed out on National Doughnut Day, which is something they generally enjoy, being the snack conoisseurs that they are. On the upside, they returned home to some exciting milestones on their YouTube channel — lucky sevens followed by many zeros.

Long-term planning

They had two more weeks at home to do prep for their next video shoot. And then they spent a long night at a local pizza parlor with several family members and friends to create a characterisitically silly three-part saga as a promo for their upcoming Patreon launch. During the next few weeks, they started editing those videos while also preparing to hit the road again.

Meanwhile, Eli did a solid for their friends in The Edge Effect and hopped on yet another cruise with them. That favor would turn out to be rather fortuitous. The other guy subbing with the group for that trip was a talented baritone/bass named Jessie, who Eli would remember the next year when an opportunity arose. (Ooh, foreshadowing. 😉)

Oh, Hi! Oh.

In mid-July, VoicePlay headed north once more for a pair of shows in Ohio, first at the Fraze Pavilion in Dayton, then at the Lake Chautauqua Auditorium in Port Clinton.

Dayton show — photos by Leslie Tidd

Port Clinton show

(On the way home, Geoff matched pitch with the airport security equipment in true music nerd fashion.)

Homebodies

Then they dispersed for a couple weeks to do individual things. Earl spent some time doing "a little puppet show with friends" at Disney World. Geoff and Kathy worked on some home renovations. Eli and Ashley spent some time with his family in Pennsylvania, then swung through D.C. and New York City on their way home. Layne relaxed at home with some TV bingeing in between wedding planning. And Tony did mysterious Tony things. (His socials are all private.)

Ready for their close-ups

At the end of the month, they took another trip to Bermuda on the Celebrity Summit before spending most of August and early September working on new music videos for "Cheerleader", "Summer Hits 2015", and the long-awaited "Phantom of the Opera". Not to mention the ongoing Patreon preparations.

Quick jaunts

As fall rolled in, VoicePlay rolled out once more. They opened the performance season at Texas A&M, popped down to Florida's gulf coast for a show in Treasure Island, flew up to Baltimore to attend the Performing Arts Exchange conference, and then scooted into D.C. to perform for a Red Cross event at the Smithsonian. In between trips, Earl and Layne sat down to share some wisdom about keeping fueled on the road.

Stein nuptials

And then it was time for Layne and Cyndi's wedding! The gang was all there to celebrate, complete with extended family and friends.

(Fun fact: Tony made Cyndi's wedding dress. She was the very first PattyCake princess.)

While she was in town for the wedding, Emoni Wilkins spent a day at Disney World with Earl and Nick.

Back at it

Once Layne was back from his honeymoon, the guys got on a plane to San Diego and boarded the Disney Wonder for a cruise down to Puerto Vallarta. A week after they got home from sea, they headed inland to give a concert and student workshop at the University of Wyoming.

In mid-November, they finally announced their Patreon, and proceeded to meet their first two goals in less than a week. Clearly, they timed that well.

Happy (early) holidays

While they were celebrating that victory, though, their other projects kept going. In particular, they had started their first of three annual residencies at Disney World for Mickey's Very Merry Christmas Party, which kept them pretty busy for most of the end of the year.

They did make time for a few other things, including some full holiday concerts, several more video shoots, their regular theme park shows, and visits from friends. Earl and Nick continued their tradition of hosting visitors by helping Tim Foust and Adam Chance speedrun the parks before Home Free's holiday show in Orlando. Layne got an exciting birthday present when he found out he was going to be a dad. And Geoff fulfilled a childhood dream by subbing in with Rockapella for their New Year's Eve show in Vegas.

Once the end of the year whirlwind was finished, they took a few days to finally rest before they hit the road again. But that's a tale for another post.

#VoicePlay #traveling musicians #behind the scenes #link-o-rama #long post

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inwintersolitude · 1 year ago

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- 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.

#survey #surveys #random questions #personal blog

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boricuacherry-blog · 2 years ago

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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

#scott weiland #interview #stone temple pilots

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crave-mp3 · 1 year ago

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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.

#i did not mean for this to get so long or flowery but oouuuugggghhhh im feeling Emotions #if my dad had never gotten that job....#vic.txt #ig this is going in #my writing #we'll keep in touch. we'll keep in touch. we'll keep in touch. (said like a prayer)

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blogfordantreacy · 2 years ago

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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 😂

#thank you Carly and Sage y’all are the best!!#@the internet pls don’t use this info to steal my identity lol #I say as if anyone is paying attention to the nonsense I post

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finalgirlfall · 21 days ago

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[ID: screenshots of a series of Tumblr tags, each set of tags rendered as sentences, with paragraph breaks between. tags read as follows:

Connecticut number FUCKING one baby!!!!!

me looking at a picture of a house completely buried in snow: 'WOOOO LET'S GO MICHIGAN'

the great state of connecticut [fire emoji] [fire emoji] [fire emoji] [fire emoji]

[picture of ten raccoons eating a molding pizza on top of a dumpster behind a walmart] god bless ohio

genuinely asking if i said i was from the great state of utah would you think I'm like. trying to convert you to mormonism

EVERYTHING WILL BE OK (← threat from oklahoma)

god bless the great state of maine i say slipping and sliding on an unsalted sidewalk on the way to the store

i think fondly upon drinking and smoking age 10 and go ahhh how beautiful virginia is

WISCONSIN MENTIONNN

The Wholly Acceptable State of Maryland

''the great state of kansas'' i say as i send people pictures of how gross the snow is in the middle of the suburbs

the great state of Virginia and it's a seagull in the woods eating a 7-11 pizza

''The great state of North Carolina.'' Two people riding horses through a four way stop.

me buying pepperoni roll potato chips 'the state of West Virginia has all good things'

in the great state of north carolina any snow can ruin society

(under a picture of a flat brown field midwinter) god bless the great state of iowa

//hits a pothole so deep it rocks the whole car// thank you michigan //sees not one not two but three biplanes with banners advertising different weed shops on college game day// god bless michigan

i say 'the great state of wisconsin' at least once a week fr

the wind blew an empty Dunkin cup directly into my face on my bike ride to work today. god's blessings shine on the great state of massachusetts every day.

Connecticut mentioned!!!!!!!!! hello from the great state of Connecticut!!!!!!!!

end ID]

i think it's cute when americans talk about being from the 'great state of connecticut' or like 'the great state of wisconsin.' not when it's texas or new york or california obviously because then there's the fear that they're being serious. but when americans adopt that really earnest tone and are like 'god bless the great state of delaware' in response to a picture of a seagull swallowing an entire ziplock bag full of cheese-its. I think that's very endearing

#described #about #the great state of north carolina: we got COOKOUT (yay)#and TRANSPHOBIC BATHROOM BILLS (very very much not yay)#and CHEERWINE (yay)#so idk i don't think i can ever move away

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wutbju · 9 hours ago

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Charleen Alice Kirn, BJU Class of 1957.

Alice Stangland Kirn was born on October 1, 1932 in Max, MN, the daughter of Esther Anderson Stangeland (1898-1949) and George Elmer Stangeland (1894-1988).

Alice grew up with nine close siblings on a small farm in Sand Lake Township in northern Minnesota. Their collective childhood experiences are the source of many wonderful family stories which Alice documented. Following her mother's death from breast cancer in 1949, Alice spent her senior year of high school living with her sister Lorraine and brother-in-law Delbert Isaacson's family in Dassel, MN, graduating from Dassel High School in 1950. She then worked as a secretary for the Ford-McNutt Glass Company in Minneapolis.

With dreams of becoming a teacher, but little money, she took a second job at the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association typing receipts for contributions. While there, she was fortunate to secure a full work scholarship to attend Bob Jones University in Greenville, SC. Alice received her undergraduate degree in Education from Bob Jones in 1957. She began her career teaching English at Muskegon Heights High School in Michigan. There she met her soon-to-be husband, John Kirn, a forensics teacher at a rival high school.

Alice and John were married on July 2, 1960, in Dassel, MN. The young couple moved to East Lansing, MI where John enrolled in graduate school and Alice taught high-school full time and took graduate courses in the summer. She received her M.A. in English Literature from Michigan State University in 1965. In 1962 Alice and John moved to Geneseo, NY where John was a professor of Speech Communication at SUNY Geneseo and Alice taught freshman English part-time.

They had a son, John Frederick Jr., in 1962 and daughter, Andrea Leigh, in 1966. In 1970, after a year's sabbatical in Denton, TX, the family moved to Wappingers Falls, NY. John taught at Dutchess Community College and Alice taught full-time, and was chair of the English Department, at Arlington High School from 1971 until she retired in 1994. Alice's passion was teaching poetry and Russian Literature. Her students loved her enthusiasm and willingness to let them express themselves. Many of her fellow English teachers became her dearest life-long friends.

Alice loved to read, which carried her through life, even into her final days. In 1994 Alice and John retired. Throughout their marriage and retirement, Alice and John loved to bicycle, ski, and travel. They were active members of the Mid-Hudson Bicycle Club and Alice would often commute on bike to Arlington High School. Alice and John bicycled throughout England, Scotland, and Wales with their children in 1978, and celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary with a bike trip to Belgium and the Netherlands in 1985. Winter holidays and weekends were often spent skiing in upstate New York, Massachusetts, or Vermont. During summer or school holidays, Alice and John visited family in Minnesota, Michigan, Ohio, Virginia, and Montana whenever possible.

After retiring, they traveled extensively in the U.S. and abroad, often accompanied by John's sister Marjorie Kirn. In retirement, Alice's passions were gardening, family history, and spending time with her grandchildren. Alice loved to garden and cultivating blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries were her specialty. Alice joined Telelaget, an organization for Norwegian-Americans with roots in Telemark, Norway. She made five trips to Norway between 1996 and 2012, locating ancestral farms and meeting relatives.

She excelled at bringing family members together. Many of her newly met Norwegian relatives traveled to the U.S. in 2001 for a week-long celebration of Stangland Family descendants held in Max, MN, which Alice organized. In 2005, she brought two hundred relatives together for a celebration of the Stangeland family's 150-year history in America, held at the Old Muskego Church on the grounds of Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN. Alice served on the Telelaget board for 8 years and from 2005 to 2015 edited the Telesoga, a biannual publication of heritage stories. Alice wrote many articles for the Telesoga, helped to edit numerous Telelaget publications, and self-published three books on the Stangeland family and their Norwegian ancestry.

Alice was also devoted to her grandchildren. When she wasn't visiting them in Virginia, grandsons Johnnie and Andy spent many summer weeks in New York and twice traveled cross-country with her. In 2009, Alice and John moved to Helena, MT, to be closer to their daughter and granddaughter Kelsey with whom Alice also shared a deep and loving relationship. Alice excelled at documenting humorous stories as her grandchildren grew, which she loved to tell and retell. She made keepsake albums of their time together. Her entire family will remember her selfless generosity, unwavering support, and life-long love of learning. She lived a life of quiet humility, service to others, and commitment to Quaker principles of non-violence and world peace.

Alice is survived by her son, John Kirn, Jr. (Deanna) of Midlothian, VA; daughter, Andrea Pipp (Michael) of Helena, MT; grandchildren: John Kirn III of San Mateo, CA, Andrew Kirn (Julie) of Manteo, NC, and Kelsey Pipp, of Atlanta, GA; siblings: Hazel Lambert and Kenneth Stangland and dozens of loving nieces and nephews. Alice is preceded in death by her husband, of 50 years, John; parents, Esther and George Stangland; sisters Dorothy Edlund, Marie Peterson, Lorraine Isaacson; and brothers: Delmer Stangland, Gerald Stangland, Donald Stangland and baby Delmer Stangland.

There will be no visitation. At her request, Alice's body has been donated to the WWAMI Medical Education Program for Medical Study and Research at Montana State University. A Celebration of Life will be held in Minnesota at a later date.

#Bob Jones University #BJU Alumni Association #Obituary #BJU Hall of Fame #Charleen Alice Stangland Kirn #Class of 1957

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dkptx · 7 days ago

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Magazine Glamour & the Cult of One

I'm watching The Devil Wears Prada, an undeniably great movie. I'm watching it because I'm trying to upgrade my ability to serve both as an assistant, and as an exacting creative judge. I'm trying to examine how the Honcho-Assistant dynamic functions. One thing I notice is that the function of assistants is all about reducing mental friction on the honcho.

I want to talk about a moment in the film, at the end of Andi's first hustle montage, after she accepts that she's going to do this work—I'm gonna stick it out for a year and take the abuse cause then I'll be able to get a job anywhere. So she's frazzled and running around and walking the dog, but you can see she's getting better at it: she learns the intimidating European names that stymied her on the first day, and she knows how to handle the phone, and she's dressing a little better, she's not stammering over her words. And you can see that she's taking small satisfactions in getting better at the job even if she still resents it and doesn't take the fashion world seriously.

The montage represents weeks, but it matches the arc of a day; it starts in the morning, arriving at the office and then there's heavy bustling action, hands full, rushing and stumbling, fast cuts, and then it sort of winds down, the cuts get a little slower, the music slows, it's dark outside, it's evening, the end of the week, and she and haughty First-Assistant Emily are the last ones in the office and everyone else has left.

"Thank god it's Friday, right? At least Miranda will be in Miami so we don't have to be on call this weekend. You know my dad's coming in from Ohio."

Emily flashes a face of extreme sarcastic condescension at this.

Andi doesn't see it, and continues unperturbed:

"Yeah, we're gonna go out to dinner and maybe see Chicago. You doing anything fun this weekend?"

Emily gives a hard stare, as if offended by the question, and deflects with a curt "Yes", turning on her heel and walking away briskly.

Kind of unprompted. And Emily does this face and rolls her eyes. Like "Ugh, good for you!" And I recognize this face and I identify with this face and suddenly I'm seeing how deeply it reveals: this world exists for people who hate their families and hate where they come from. That's what big cities are for, and that's what glamorous industries are for, and that's exactly what I was like in my early twenties. I hated my family, I never wanted to see them again, I wanted to pretend that they didn't exist. And when you do that, you need a new thing to latch onto and a media, a magazine, creates a world and offers it to readers to live in.

There's something cultish about it, but it's interesting because it's offering the reader the option to live in a cult alone in their head. The reader gets to pretend that they're one of them, one of the cool people, one of the glamorous people. And I got to pretend that I'm part of this mountain biking industry, or this climbing subculture. But I never had to do anything to join that subculture, beyond buy the magazine and read it.

I mean I did, in fact, do stuff to join the subculture, and that's what gave me a sense of snobbery and haughtiness about my identity as such, but I never had to prove myself to anyone in particular besides myself. Besides comparing myself to the images and the stories and the perspectives that I found in the magazine. I never had to show up and be evaluated by some person in real life. Although in practice kind of, I realize now that I must have approached bike shops that way. That's the experience I was looking for when I walked into a bike shop, and maybe the reason I often had bad experiences interacting with people was because I was looking for that experience and they weren't eager to play the other side of that. Strange social dynamics, there.

This world exists for people who want to pretend their families don't exist. That's why this is an escape and why it's a cultish and dark and twisted … fantasy? An invasive psychofauna. And you can see how Andi, as a person who's actually rooted to her family and has this healthy relationship with her boyfriend and has a good relationship with her dad— is not vulnerable to it.

Ooh, this is it. This is the first time we see Emily envious of Andi, that's the thing. The whole "I'm first assistant and you just get coffee" vibe is projected so powerfully because it's a brittle shallow veneer. The veneer is tempting because she doesn't have roots and she doesn't have deep confidence in herself but she's been sticking to that "Oh, I am so much better than you according to the value system of this magazine." This is the first crack in the mask. You can see, in this moment, that it's rooted in a deep insecurity, when she makes that face. It's a great moment in film.

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