#The Favor 1994

[90smovies]

#The Favor 1994 #Elizabeth McGovern #Bill Pullman #Brad Pitt #Harley Jane Kozak #Ken Wahl #Donald Petrie #Sara Parriott #Josann McGibbon #90s

[stormbravr]

Elizabeth McGovern as Emily in The Favor (1994)

#elizabeth mcgovern #liz mcgovern #the favor #the favor 1994 #my edit #my gifs

[impossibledial]

compilation of bill pullman playing the harmonica in the favor (1994) because it’s very important to me.

#bill pullman #the favor #the favor (1994) #his wife telling him to stop - leave him alone!!! #he’s so cute… #i could treat him better #i would never imagine cheating on you harmonica playing bill pullman never

[emcgoverns]

elizabeth mcgovern as emily embrey (with brad pitt as elliot fowler), promotional shoot for “the favor” (1994) | 📸: lorey sebastian

#elizabeth mcgovern #emcgoverns #photoshoot #film #the favor #promotional shoot #1994 #brad pitt

[lesservillain]

inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader

cw: drinking, explicit fantasies

September 16th,1994 

The idea to you was asinine from the moment Principal Williams brought you into her office to explain the program details to you. How no one else thought that the idea of thirteen-year-olds becoming “pen pals” with prisoners wasn’t insane baffled you. It was dangerous at worst and inappropriate at best, but,  despite your best efforts to reason with her, your opinion as a “newer” teacher was dismissed. 

Now here you are listening to the speech of the prison rep, Mr. Bridges, as he explained the program to your 7th grade class. Not like you had a lesson planned for them today.

Mr. Bridges stands a whole 5 feet and 6 inches with a short stack military fade and the most unsettling sunny disposition. He reads as incredibly fake, like a snake oil salesman, and his shiny, white, slightly too big for his mouth veneers not doing him any favors. It doesn’t surprise you that your newly divorced principal was able to be persuaded by this guy's charms, but thankfully you’re used to his kind of tactics from your own previous relationship. 

Before leaving, Mr.Bridges approaches you at your desk. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he starts, leaning too far into your space. One of his thick fingers points at a paper he had given you before he started his speech, “but is a student absent today? We have an unassigned inmate—”

“We had a student move,” you say shortly, keeping your voice monotone and not bothering to glance at his paper, “so I’m short one student in this class.”

Bridges nodded, clearly deep in thought. His brows furrowed for a moment before perking up. 

“Maybe you’d like to take on a pen pal?’” He proposes, his chipper disposition coxing on the migraine that wants to break through behind your eye.

The look on your face must have said it all as he tried to convince you further. “The inmates that signed up are all trying to better themselves before being re-released into society, ya’know?” His eye’s shift, landing on the floor with a solemn look. “We thought talking to kids that grew up while they were incarcerated would help them get in touch with the times, be able to cope with time they’ve lost. Give them something to look forward to when they get out.” 

The pads of your fingers dig into your temples, eyes rolling to the back of your head before finally giving him the eye contact he so desperately craved from you. 

“Fine, I’ll take whoever you have left, I guess. What’s his name?”

“Perfect!” Bridges hands clap together next to your ear, “The leftover inmate wants to go by The Banished One and he—”

“Banished what?” You ask, confused.

“Oh, The Banished One! It’s his nickname for the project. We have all the inmates disguise their names just in case the kids may be related to one of them.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, resting your head in your hand, “Okay, fine, sure I guess that makes sense.” 

 Bridges continued to assure you that all the letters are anonymous and would be vetted both ways, adding that only ‘good behavior’ inmates were allowed to take part in the program as a last push for your participation, you reluctantly agreed. Mostly just to get him to leave your classroom before your head explodes, but not without the stipulation that if you thought it was too much for your kids that you would pull them out. That seemed to be enough to satisfy him.  

October 7th, 1994 

The first writing session took place on a Friday, the soft sound of music from your mixtape playing for the kids to help them relax. It had been a long week of testing and you felt like an easy day was in order for both you and the kids, most of your other classes would just be doing free work. 

You grabbed the stack of letters from your desk, Pictures of You by The Cure filling the air as you hand each student their respective letter. 

“Don’t forget to keep personal information like names and where you live out of your letters. Once you’re done, bring them to my desk.”  

Once the kids were settled, you returned to your desk and grabbed your own letter. The envelope before you had “Teach” written across the front, the pen name you chose to go by. The handwriting was like chicken scratch. Not much different from the 13 year old boys whose papers you grade, though, so you were confident in your ability to decipher the rest of the letter. But still had a roughness, an edge to it.  

As you opened your letter, unfolding the paper to it’s full state, the first thing to catch your attention was the graffiti like drawings along the margins of the paper. It reminded you of a flash sheet at the tattoo shop your friends took you to for your 21st birthday, a permanent reminder of that day on your inner ankle in the form of a small butterfly that was already starting to fade. There was nothing too offensive; a rose, a sailor ship, a dove with an olive branch, all impressively done for just being pen on paper. 

Once you got past the artwork, you began to take in the letter's contents. The single page was filled from front to back, barely any room for the signature at the bottom.

“Hey there, “Teach”... if that is your real name…” the letter starts. The lame opener makes you crack a small smile that you quickly cover with your hand. You read on, taking in each sentence, and you start to get the idea that your pen pal doesn’t take this pen pal assignment too seriously. 

The letter is casual, a few puns here and there, with some Tolkien references that would have been missed if one wasn’t familiar with his work. It’s clear that this person is young, or at least young at heart, which saddens you to think about, but you try not to dwell on it. 

Getting into the meat of the letter, your pal explains that went to prison in 1989 for drug related charges, but is set to get out in about a year if he keeps up his good behavior.

 “I’m ready to get out of this place and get back to my hometown in Hawkins.” 

A shiver goes down your spine for a moment when you read that he’s from Hawkins. Bridges assured you that the inmates wouldn’t know what school the kids would be from, but you weren’t expecting to be talking to someone from this small town. You wonder if Bridges knows more than he’s letting on with his comment about the kids being related to the inmates.

Once the creepy feeling dissipates you continue to read on. The details your pal gives about himself tell you that he’s very different from the people you usually hang out with. His favorite genre of music is metal and he used to play guitar and do vocals for a band every week before he started working as a mechanic full time. They’d have a crowd of 20 or so some nights, but it was usually just the regulars at the place they would play at. 

The final paragraph of the letter consists of a seemingly scripted warning about the dangers of drugs and that no one should make the same mistake he did. You wondered if this was obligatory for the project. At the bottom of the page your pal signs with his chosen moniker “The Banished One.” When thinking about it, you find that it’s very fitting for an inmate.  

After taking a moment to check in on your class, Morrissey’s somber voice serenading them as  “I Know It’s Over” plays from the small radio’s speakers, you pull out your own pen and paper to start your response.

 As you ponder on where to start, a thought that crosses your mind; does your pen pal even know they’re talking to an adult? The pen name you chose might be on the nose but you didn’t want to assume. Granted, your handwriting itself may be a dead giveaway if you were to compare it to a teens.  

It took you a couple of tries to start your letter. Instinctively, you wanted to be formal, but the longer you thought about it the more you didn’t want to come off as a boring writing companion. You tried and failed to come up with something witty to match the vibe of your pal, but comedy wasn’t your strong point, though you’d argue that it wasn’t his either. Instead, you approached it as if you were writing to a friend.  

“Hello! Nice to meet you “Banished One." Though, it sounds like you won't be banished much longer.” 

Erring on the side of caution you chose to only respond directly to things he wrote, slipping in that you also enjoyed the works of Tolkien with your own reference. You mention that you listen to metal from time to time, more into radio rock at the moment, but you’d really listen to anything.

 It took you a minute to calculate how to respond to the reveal of his dealings in drugs, ultimately deciding to lightly say that you hoped he learned his lesson unless he saw himself returning to prison in the future. You shared that you were familiar with Hawkins, noting that you loved the milkshakes from the old diner in town, but left it at that. As you closed the letter you complimented his artwork, informing him that the rose was your favorite and that you looked forward to seeing his artwork on future letters.

You’d manage to write enough to cover the majority of the back of your lined paper, signing your pen name a few lines away from the bottom. Going over your letter again, you can't help feeling like it’s a bit dull. Safe, but that’s what it's supposed to be.

October 24th,1994 

It only took two weeks for Mr. Bridges to return with new letters for your class. Truthfully, you had almost forgotten about the letters entirely while trying to keep your students on track as the holiday season approaches. The emotional whiplash of seeing your ex out with his new, younger girlfriend while you were out looking for Halloween decor for your apartment wasn't helping either. It felt like no matter what you did, how much your friends tried to help, you just couldn’t catch a break. At least the manager of the local liquor store was nice to you. 

When your students seemed too preoccupied with the stack of letters on your desk to pay attention to your lecture, you decided to call it a day and give all of you a break. You click on your small stereo and let the tune of Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah take over the room while you pass out letters. 

Once the letters were distributed, you settled at your desk where your eyes met with the same chicken scratch handwriting as before. It was tempting to reach for it… until you glanced at the pile of ungraded papers that sat next to it, taunting you. You desperately needed to go over them, the deadline to turn in grades fast approaching.

You deliberated on what to do. You had to admit you were curious about the letter. Part of you wondered if you’d even get one back. You didn’t want to give any personal information away, so you couldn’t blame the random man in prison for not responding if he thought he was talking to an old lady teacher. 

But the stack of papers is practically glaring at you.

A thought; you could always finish your papers later at home. But you did tell yourself you would be better at bringing so much work home with you this year…Your friends had an influence on that decision, making sure you took at least every other weekend to go out and do something — anything to keep you from shutting yourself in again. 

With a sigh, you tuck the letter into your work bag, grabbing your pen to start grading.

“Damn it, why can’t I find one stupid pen!” 

Slamming drawers and stomping around, the red liquid of your cup sloshing around in your glass as you grew more and more frustrated in your search for a pen to write out the checks for the coming month’s bills. 

After searching the kitchen, you make your way to the living room and spot your school bag on the coffee table. In your rage, you slam the glass on the table and begin haphazardly pulling the contents out of the bag, praying you still had a pen that hadn’t been “borrowed” to never be returned by one of your students. 

The feeling of plastic on the tips of your finger almost brought you to tears of joy. Pulling out a purple ink pen you decided that it would have to be good enough if your landlord wanted your rent on time. 

After finishing with the checks, you return to your bag to put the envelopes inside to drop off tomorrow at the post office. As you lift the bag, your eyes meet with chicken scratch again away. A burst of buzzed excitement runs through you at the sight, even if for just a moment before you shook it off. It was just an envelope from some random man sitting in a jail cell, why are you getting so excited? Is it because you’re at home and not feeling the pressure to be uptight and rigid? 

Or maybe it’s because you can’t remember the last time you received a letter that wasn’t a bill. It sort of gave you a feeling of nostalgia, taking you back to a time when you wrote letters to your mom when you were at camp, or when you would write to your grandparents around the holidays. It even reminded you a bit of writing in your diary, if your diary could write back that is. It’s not like he would have room to judge you from his jail cell, right?

You snatch the letter from the bag and walk back into the kitchen, grabbing the dark bottle of wine to refill your glass and plopping down at the table. Ripping open the envelope, you pull out the letter and immediately notice that it is covered in artwork just as the last one was.

This time you notice a 20-sided dice with a banner that read “critical hit”, a very detailed dragon head, and a stylized version of the skeleton guy that you’ve seen on the cover of Iron Maiden albums. The biggest piece was of another rose, but in the fully bloomed center was an eye. It was…interesting. Well done, but not what you were expecting. Not that you were expecting anything anyway.  

Getting the artwork out of the way, you take a large sip of your drink and begin reading.

“Hello again, Teach,” the letter starts, “I think we need to discuss the elephant in the room before I can write anything else.” Your brow quirks up, a slight nervousness begins to creep in your mind. 

“I was already suspicious when I was told the person I was writing to wanted to go by Teach. And no seventh grader I’ve ever known can write as nicely as you. Not that I know a lot of seventh graders...Anyway, can I ask how I ended up being pen pals with the class teacher? I know I could ask Bridges, but I think it would be more fun to hear it from you.” 

Your lips tug into a smile, but this time you don’t feel the need to cover it. Why did it feel like a game he won or a riddle he solved? It wasn’t exactly like you were hiding it. But something about him figuring out something about you was…exciting.

As you get into the meat of the letter itself he goes on to ask you what subject you teach and how long you have been teaching. He asks if you like working with kids and if they ever made you want to pull your hair out. The phrasing of his words make you giggle. 

“I was never good in school,” he states. “It took me three tries of my senior year to graduate. I used to blame my teachers saying that they didn’t like the way I dressed or my taste in music. I guess now I have to admit that it was probably because I didn’t bother to show up to class or do any of my homework…” 

A full laugh shook you in your chair. Was he actually funnier in this letter? And why did it come off feeling so personal? The air about it was different, like you were talking to a long-distance friend rather than a felon, your cheeks starting to ache from smiling as you continue read his sketchy handwriting.

He went on to ask more about you, like what your favorite band was since you “liked rock so much more than metal,” with a little frowny face to punctuate his disagreement. He says the prison lets them watch MTV sometimes, which has been his main exposure to new music. Sometimes he gets a hold of new music every once and a while, but usually just listens to his old cassettes on his Walkman that his uncle gave him when he first entered the system.

“Some people have tried to steal it from me, but they learned pretty quickly that I have my ways to get things back, and that I'm not one to be messed with.”

That left you curious. A small glimpse into the inner workings of prison. You never really thought about what a person in prison could or couldn’t have. It was nice that he could have at least a small luxury, an item of value if it was under constant threat of being taken. You also couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by not being messed with.

Before you know it you’ve hit the end of the letter. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It felt like there could have been so much more to say, but his pen name barely fit at the bottom of the paper as it is. You take a piece of paper out of your notebook, pulling the frayed pieces off the edge and replacing the one in front of you with it.  Hopefully your pal won't mind the purple pen or the probable lack of coherence compared to your first letter as you feel the wine really start to kick in.

Referring back to the paper like a student answering a question in class, you make sure to answer all of his questions to the best of your ability.  

“Hello again, Mr. Banished. I see you have uncovered my secret that I am, in fact, a grown woman and not a 13-year-old. I hope that doesn’t bother you. I have been teaching English since I graduated college, coincidentally in 1989. It's like we traded places; I got to leave the prison of being a student in college and you went to prison for whatever drug related charges you acquired.” You laughed at your own joke as you continued. 

“As for why you are stuck with writing a late 20’s school teacher rather than one of my students, that would be because of the aforementioned Mr.Bridges. We had a student move a few weeks into the school year and Bridges practically got on his knees and begged me to take on a pen pal.” You left out the detail of not being totally comfortable with the program. Not that you weren’t still hesitant, but the last thing you wanted to do was offend him by insinuating anything about the type of person he was for being in jail. The wine had rationalized with you that sometimes good people do bad things when they’re in dark places.

Continuing on, you wrote that he was probably right in both his opinions on why his teachers failed him. The older teachers at your school were stuck in their ways and judged students before really trying to help them. You did your best not to be the same way, hoping to be a teacher that your students could trust and come to if they needed help. It was a passion of yours since you were small, wanting to help people learn and grow, so what better way to do that than to teach?

“I am interested in what you wore that would call for such harsh judgment. I try to be as unbiased as I can with all my kids. If you asked them, they would say that I’m stuffy or rigid most of the time, but it’s mostly because I care about their education. And partly because being a new teacher is…really freaking tough if I’m being honest. These older teachers don’t take half of the things I say seriously because their own kids are older than me. It’s kind of bullshit, actually, but I just deal with it until I can get more experience under my belt.” 

A sigh slips through your lips, pen tapping against the kitchen table as you feel the frustration bubbling. It’s not fair to dump these feelings on him, but the anonymity made it so easy to just put everything out there. He doesn’t know anything about you, and if you were to weird him out by getting a little real, then he could just not write back, right? 

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you decided to just move on to a different topic. 

“Sorry, that was a lot of feelings on my part. Is it too personal to ask what you do in prison? You mentioned getting to listen to music, but what else do you do? I’ve seen in movies that inmates work out a lot and play basketball outside. Is that real or made up for the audience? If it is real, does that mean you are super buff from working out all the time? Do you beat people up if they try and take your Walkman, or do you stab them? I’ve seen people do that in movies, too. I hope you don’t stab them, that would be scary.” 

You can feel yourself getting a bit rambley in your tired state, so you decide it’s time to call it a night. You wrap up the letter by telling him that you’re going to go to sleep and that you were looking forward to his next letter. You sign your name and draw a small doodle of a flower next to it.

November 18th,1994

It was 3 am when you woke up the first time. A nightmare had you shooting up from your pillow, cold sweat drenched the collar of your sleep shirt, chest heaving as you caught your breath. 

He had been knocking at your door, your pen pal. You never saw his face, but heard the anger in his voice as he yelled for you to let him in. You remember sitting in front of the door begging for him to leave you alone, telling him it was too soon. That you weren’t ready.  

The nightmare became reoccurring, waking you at least 2 or 3 times a week. Sometimes it’s your ex, but most of the time it’s your pen pal. Even though you have no inkling of what he looks like, you just know it’s him on the other side.

The disturbance in your sleep was starting to affect your daily life, one of your coworkers asking if you were okay after over pouring a cup of coffee in the teacher’s lounge.

“Are you okay?” Mr.Clarke asks, helping you mop up the spilled coffee with some paper towels.

“Yes, I’m sorry, yeah,” you say, trying and failing to reassure him.

“Hey, I know that midterms can be rough with the holidays coming up. But, try not to stress out about it too much. I’ve heard good things about you from the kids in my classes that have you this year. You’re doing a good job, so don't kill yourself, okay?”

It was damn near impossible not to burst into tears at your coworkers words, but you held it together until you could hide in the faculty restroom.

The dreams didn’t stop though. Even Mr.Bridges felt the need to comment.

  “Holidays stressing you out?” he asked with an energy that seemed inhuman to you, his sunny disposition could make the snow outside melt.

“No.” You stated shortly as you looked through your lesson plan for the day.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he said with a nod, “This is the most wonderful time of the year after all. We try to stay busy at the prison, keep the morale high and what not.” 

He placed the stack of letters on your desk, along with a small box that read “Greeting Cards” with a wintery scene displayed on the front. 

“These are for the students to give to the inmates.” You look at him with “no shit” written on your face. He cleared his throat, “But, uh, I’m sure you could figure that out. I know this time of year can be hectic for everyone, but we all deserve some holiday cheer, right?” Your expression remains unchanged as he continues on.

“Right, well, I’ll be giving the inmates their own cards to send to the kids with their letters. It might be a bit difficult for me to come back before Christmas, family affairs to attend to and all that. So, I went ahead and wrote the address and stamped the envelopes for the cards. If I don’t come back by, oh, let's say the 15th? Just go ahead and stick those in the mail and I’ll make sure the inmates get them!” 

Before you could protest having to go out of your way to do his job, Mr.Bridges quickly made his exit as the warning bell rang, wishing you a happy holiday as he disappeared. 

With the lack of free class time as you all crammed for test week, you decided to let the kids take their letters and cards home for the weekend to work on. As you passed them out, keeping the addressed envelopes in the box, you told the kids to write something nice in their cards. 

“This may be the only card some of these men get, so think about that when you’re writing them this weekend.”

Getting to the last letter, you feel your stomach twist as you read your actual government first name in the familiar chicken scratch handwriting instead of your pen name. You hadn’t even realized that you had stopped dead in your tracks until the sound of the bell brought you back to your body. 

“U-uh, ge--get your letters done by the end of class Tuesday!” You yell over your class as they begin migrating out of the room.

Quickly, you return to your desk and rip open the letter. Unsurprisingly, it’s once again covered in artwork. The pumpkins and bats and other Halloween inspired art felt out of place, putting in perspective how long it had been since your last letter. But before you could look much further into the writing your next class began to file in, forcing you to set the letter aside for later. 

You’d felt nauseous the rest of your morning classes, You wracked your brain about how the hell your pen pal could have figured out your actual name. You may have been...a little tipsy when you wrote that letter a month ago, but you’re sure you didn’t say anything personal enough that he would know who you were. Could he have asked someone on the outside to look into you? No, Mr.Bridges assured you that the inmates don’t know what school they are writing to. Maybe Bridges said your name to someone at the jail and the inmate overheard?  

As soon as the bell rang for your lunch period, you practically rushed your students out the door and closed it. Throwing yourself into your chair, you grab the letter and begin reading. 

“Well, well, I wasn’t expecting to be getting more lore in your newest letter! You have a very cute name by the way…Sorry I hope that wasn’t weird. Anyway! I guess I can tell you my name, too. Call me Eddie.”

  Eddie. 

So you had included your own name in your letter somewhere. You sigh with relief, though it still makes you a little uncomfortable that this stranger knows something personal about you. Sure he’s been nice, but he was still a felon. Though knowing his name made you feel a little better. Made him feel a tad more human to not use silly nicknames.

“Can I start by saying I loved reading your last letter?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise.“The purple pen was a nice touch. Something about a teacher complaining about other teachers is really funny to me, too. Nice to know the torment of some teachers isn’t just limited to students! And I doubt your kids think you’re stiff or whatever. You seem pretty cool to me. Even if I’ve only gotten to talk to you through a couple letters, you talk to me a lot nicer than I probably deserve.”

The smile that had made its home on your lips from his sentiments dropped into a frown. You felt yourself wanting to get defensive, wanting to tell him that he shouldn’t think that way about himself. That even if he was a felon, he still deserves respect.

“Being a younger teacher must be hard. You did all the college stuff to be a teacher so that should be enough to get their respect in my opinion. I don’t think I had a teacher who wasn’t at least in their 50s so they probably can’t see anyone under 30 as anything other than a kid I guess.”

“Hit the nail on the head,” you say to yourself with an airy chuckle. 

As you keep reading, he changes the subject to something you don’t remember asking in your previous letter.

“So you wanna know what I look like, huh? Well back before I was in here I would wear my band shirts, Metallica and Judas Priest and all the bands that make the old ladies cringe. My jeans had holes in them, too. And I have this battle vest that I’ve put together with some patches of my favorite bands on it. My uncle Wayne says he’s keeping it safe for me at home. It’s not much, but I learned how to stitch patches on by myself, so it means something to me. Gives me something to look forward to when I get out.” 

Your mind paints an image of a gangely teen trying to look cool to impress his friends or scare off the old ladies at the mall. Sounds like the kind of guy you had crushes on in high school. There may have been a picture or 2 of Kirk Hammit or Vince Neil or Eddie Van Halen tapped to the inside of your locker door in high school, but you’d never admit that now.

“I also had long hair when I was younger. Can’t call yourself a metal head without having long hair ya know. But I’ve had to cut it since I’ve been in here. I’ve got pretty curly hair and it was getting hard to keep up with it. It’s short enough to keep out of my face most of the time. I’m actually due for a haircut, so thanks for reminding me! Hair cuts are free in prison so I get it done way more than I ever did on the outside. You gotta tip your barber though or else they might “accidentally” shave all your hair off next time. Learned that one the hard way.”

He goes on to answer some of your questions about the inner workings of the jail. They do get to work out a lot, but says he’s not a “big meat head” like some of the other inmates. He doesn’t like basketball for “personal reasons” so he prefers to run laps. “When you’re trying to get out of a big fight it’s better to be faster than stronger.”

“I am also proud to admit that I have never stabbed someone. Almost been stabbed myself, but I used to get my shit rocked in high school so I’ve learned to dodge over the years.” Your hand comes to your face, almost forgetting that you asked such a stupid question. Of course he hasn’t stabbed anyone. You could excuse it if it was out of self defense maybe. But then you recall him saying before that he doesn’t get “messed with”, so what is he doing that people aren’t bothering him if not stabbing them? Your head spins with possibilities as you think about it more.

As you are about to read on, you are interrupted by a knock on your door, the sound causing you to jump in your seat. Quickly closing the letter and shoving it into your bag, you rush to the door to find a student from your 3rd period class, a shy one at that, needing clarification on the newest assignment. You let her in, forgetting the letter for the rest of the period. 

The rest of the period then turns into the rest of the day. It goes by like a blur as everyone seems to be getting last minute things turned in for the week. Grades for the upcoming report cards would be due by the end of next Tuesday, so you told your classes to get any missing work in by today and you would give them partial credit. It was setting yourself up for a busy weekend, but anything to keep your mind off the upcoming holiday was welcomed. 

It would be your first Thanksgiving single in almost 10 years, and your 4th since your mom passed. Your soon to be ex-husband, Henry, had convinced you to move to his hometown of Hawkins after your mother died to be closer to his family and to help his dad’s business as his accountant. It wasn’t your first choice of places to live, and after looking back on the situation, you realized that he had used your vulnerability to get a lot of what he wanted. 

Things seemed fine at first. His parents bought your house and he had a good paying job. All you had to do was cling to his arm and keep quiet. You were kept well manicured, your appearance catered to his liking as he paraded you around at office parties.

The not so hushed whispers from the women in his office always talking about how lucky you were to bag an older man reached your ears. But you kept your tongue against your cheek. They could be jealous all they want, because if they knew what happened behind closed doors they wouldn’t be singing the same tune. 

Waking up early in the morning, way before he ever did, just to put on your face. God forbid you weren’t presentable to him always. Afterwards you’d iron his white button ups and khaki slacks, make him a huge breakfast, present his clothes to him, and be waiting by the door on your knees for him to use your mouth before he walked out the door. 

At the time, you felt like you had a purpose. That being a housewife was what you were meant to be. But the degree you had worked so hard on stared at you as you cleaned the house everyday. Your passion was just in reach, boring you every day.

That is, until fate, and the well timed retirement of your predecessor, gave you the opportunity to start teaching that year. When you got the call, you were over the moon. Henry even said he was proud of you. 

Until you forgot to iron his clothes. It was just a stern talking to the first time, an anger in his eyes like you’d never seen before had you on edge the entire first day of class. You made it up to him by waking up extra early, using your mouth to start his day since you couldn’t be at the door for him anymore.

But, then you started falling behind on chores during the week as grading papers took up most of your free time when you weren’t tending to his needs. It’s not that you didn’t clean, it just wasn't the only thing you had to do every day anymore. Passive comments about becoming lazy were brushed to the side until they collectively spilled over into your first big argument. You told him he could help, too. He smacked you across the face. 

Too busy juggling work and cleaning the house full time caused you to miss the signs that things were declining. It started when Henry had to start staying late for work, claiming that they had a “big project” that was going to require him to stay over longer. He made it seem like a temporary arrangement that ended up becoming a pattern for months. But, he assured you that a raise could come from his hard work. So you continued to sit at home, a cold, untouched plate sitting across from you as you finished another bottle of wine. At least he wasn’t there to put his hands on you.

Then it was the pair of panties that you didn’t recognize when you did his laundry. When you confronted him, he told you that it must be a pair you owned back in high school that was mixed in with his clothes somehow when you moved. When you pressed on, he gave you a black eye. 

Then it was the perfume you didn’t recognize on your pillow case when you came home from a weekend trip to see your new nephew. He told you it smelled like your perfume, you just hadn’t been home all weekend to smell it. You didn’t argue this time.

Then it was his father’s secretary, Missy, calling your home and telling you that she was sleeping with your husband. She had been nice at last year's Christmas party when you first met her. Nineteen, dumb as a box of rocks.

“Are you and Henry still married?” she had asked with her valley girl accent, “Because when I stayed over I saw that he still had pictures of you two at his house.”

Now you’re stuck in this tiny town, your closest relative being your brother who has his own family out in Chicago. Thankfully, you had made friends with the ever charming Steve Harrington, who’s father also worked with Henry. He came as a package deal with his roommate Robin Buckley, and the two of them quickly became your best friends. They were as blindsided as you about Henry’s affair and helped you move into your new apartment. Steve offered to let you live with him and Robin, but you didn’t want to live in the same house as your ex’s coworker, even if he was never there.

“We should make a grocery list for next week.” Robin called from the kitchen to where you and Steve were sat in the living room. “Do we want to bother making a turkey or should we do something easier?”

“Do you know how to make a turkey?” you asked looking over the top of your wine glass as she taps a pen to paper scowling.

“She can barely make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, d’ya really think she can make a turkey?” You watch as a roll of paper towels is launched from the kitchen into the side of Steve’s head and your laugh erupts.

“Well, then were fucked,” you say between giggles, “because I can’t make a turkey, and I know Steve “grabs a pan without a mitt” Harrington also can’t cook one.”

“Oh, that was ONE TIME!” 

Steve goes to throw the paper towel roll at you, but you dodge, “One time is enough to never let you live it down, Steven. Maybe we should get some chicken instead.”

“Oh, I can make us some potato salad!”

After some back and forth about what to make for your “Friendsgiving” as Robin had been calling it, claiming inspiration from a new episode of Friends, Steve was begging to talk about anything else. 

“School seems to be better this year,” he looks at you carefully, “You haven’t been talking about it as much lately. Not negatively at least.”

“Yeah the only thing you’ve complained about is that prison thing your class was supposed to be doing.” She looked at you with a look of curiosity, “How’s that going?”

You blink and suddenly remember the letter that you had gotten earlier. It was sitting in your bag back home where you had left it on your coffee table again. You were so busy getting ready to go to Steve’s that you had forgotten to finish it.

“It’s going okay. Hey, did you guys go to high school here?”

They both look at each other, then back to you. “Yep, graduated a year after dingus, though. Class of ‘86.”

Steve gave Robin an annoyed look at the nickname before returning his attention to you, “Why do you ask?”

You pondered for a moment if it would be okay to tell them about Eddie. The program was supposed to be anonymous, but that was just to protect the kids. If he wasn’t allowed to give you his name they would have confiscated the letter, right? Bridges said the letters were vetted both ways, so if it was a problem he would have told you. But this seemed like a breach of privacy. You only had a first name to go off of and a vague description. He never said his age, so could be older than even you, or younger than Robin. 

“Um, do you guys know anyone that goes by Eddie?” 

They both perked up at the name, giving each other a look that you couldn’t read. You swore they could communicate telepathically.

Steve was the first to speak after a moment of silence. “Yeah, we know an Eddie. Why?” His tone was curious as he side eyed you.

“Oh, well my pen pal from the, uh, the prison thing. See his name is Eddie, and he told me that he’s from Hawkins. I don’t know much about him, but I think he may be close to my age and maybe he was in school with you guys-”

Robins laugh caught you off guard. “If it’s the same Eddie we know, then yes he was in school with us. Way longer than he was supposed to be, and we didn’t really get close until the end of my senior year.”

The look on your face prompted Steve to elaborate, “Eddie was -- is, a friend of ours that we got to know better through a mutual friend. He did go to prison a few years ago, but it was because he was scapegoated by a guy he bought weed from. We thought he was gonna go to jail for, like, the rest of his life or something. I had to convince my dad to get our lawyer that he keeps on retainer to represent him in court. The guy owed my dad a favor and he did it, Eddie only got five years.”

“There’s no way,” you said incredulously. Your jaw had to be on the floor. You knew this town was small, but was it really this small? Robin and Steve would be the type to forget to mention they had a friend in prison, too. 

“What’s his last name?”

“Munson. Eddie Munson. We still talk to him on the phone every once in a while. Usually his uncle gets a hold of us, tells us that he’s going to call at a certain time so we can stay by the phone. Oh!” Steve stands up from his spot on the couch, clapping his hands, “I have my senior year book up stairs. He should be in it as long as he showed up to picture day.” 

As Steve walks away, you turn to Robin, who has an amused look on her face.

“What?” You laugh, still in disbelief at the information that has been given to you. She shrugs, lips turned in a downward smile, “Nothing. So what do you and Eddie talk about?”

“What do we talk about? Not much really. We’ve only sent maybe two letters to each other. He always covers the letters in artwork though. They look like little tattoos.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely our Eddie,” She shakes her head, “His notebooks that he would carry around with him are covered in art. He told us he’s given himself some tattoos while he’s been there. We keep telling him he’s going to look like a felon when he comes out.”

“Isn’t he a felon, though?” 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to look like it!”

“Found it!” Steve yells as he comes back into the living room, blowing the dust off the book. He plops down on the couch between you and Robin and starts to look through the pages. “See, the funny thing about Eddie, he was supposed to graduate in ‘84, but he kept fucking around and ended up repeating his senior year -- three times.” 

“Holy shit,” you were in absolute disbelief, “he told me that in one of his letters. He said he was because the teachers didn’t like him, too.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something he would say,” Robin chuckles. 

“Ah-ha, He did show up! Here he is right here!”

Your eyes snapped to where Steve’s fingers pointed to the tiny black and white square. Eddie wasn’t kidding when he said his hair was super curly. The close up of his face makes his hair almost completely take the background out of the picture. You can barely see it but it looks like he’s wearing a Judas Priest shirt under a leather jacket and what you suspect to be the leather jacket he seems to treasure so much. When you finally let yourself focus on his face you’re met with a bright smile and dimples on either side. Dark eyes scrunched up from how high his cheeks were. You definitely would have had a crush on him if you had gone to the same school. 

“Soooo…what do you think?” Robin sing-songs with an expectant look on her face. 

You can feel yourself smiling and try to reign it in, “Well, he’s not a 40 year old biker looking guy with a beard so that makes me feel better. He looks nice, actually.” 

“He’s a good guy,” Steve starts flipping through the pages of the book, “but everyone gave him shit because…of…this.” Stopping on another page in the book, you see a picture of a group of students leaning up against a wall, all of them wearing matching shirts. 

“Hellfire Club?” You look between Steve and Robin. 

“He hasn’t mentioned Hellfire Club?” Robin was baffled. “That’s like, his whole thing!”

You shake your head, brows furrowed,“What is it?” 

“His D&D club? He’s seriously never brought it up?”

“No, not yet at least.” Taking the book from Steve, you get a better look at the picture. “Like I said, we've only sent a few letters back and forth. I wouldn’t say we’ve exhausted all of our topics for discussion yet.”

“You’ll never run out of things to talk about with Eddie,” Steve states sarcastically, “You’d think prison would have had an effect on his social skills, but that guy could talk for an hour about a crack he saw in the sidewalk.”

Hearing that made you wonder if he ever held back when writing to you. His letters were usually front and back all the way to the bottom of the pages. You wonder if they only allow him one page or if has to pay for the paper. Hopefully he wasn’t wasting his money to talk to you. 

“When was the last time you guys talked to him?” 

“Uh-“ Robin starts.

“It was still hot outside I think,” Steve interjects, “Like early September?”

“Yeah,” Robin nods, eyes wide, “September sounds about right.”

“Hmm, that’s around when we started writing to each other. I guess he wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t know about me yet.” 

“If it’s been that long we’re definitely due for a call from him.” Robin looks to Steve, you miss the mischief in her eyes, nor do you see the look he gives her back. “Maybe you could talk to him next time he calls us?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide meeting Robin’s gaze. You saw the look now and immediately started shaking your head in protest. 

“No, no, Robin I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You stand up from your spot on the couch, handing the yearbook back to Steve. Taking a few steps back to look at them, you bite one of your nails, thinking about the situation you’ve gotten yourself into. “Actually, if he does call, I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t tell him you knew me either. I’m sure he’s a nice guy but…”

“Hey,” Steve stood up and placed a hand on your arm, “It’s cool. You didn’t know Eddie before, and you barely know him now. I think Robin just meant that you could get to know him more since he is our friend. He’s gonna get out of prison eventually and we promised him that we’d just continue on like how things were before.”

“But,” you look at Steve with worry in your expression, “being in prison that long can change a person.”

“Eddie is too stubborn to let anything break him of being himself. He didn’t repeat his senior year twice because he’s dumb. He did it because he was too busy with what he wanted to do to bother with his schoolwork.”

“Actually,” Robin says, “he said prison is easier because he gets three meals a day and doesn’t have to do math, so…”

“But,” Steve gets your attention again, “My point is that you don’t have to go out of your comfort zone to be his friend for our sake if you don’t want to. Just keep talking to him on your own and see how you feel.”

You swear these two really were the only good people in Hawkins. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded,” I’ll keep writing him, but I won’t mention that I know you two. Not yet at least.”

November 27th, 1994

Ever since your talk with Robin and Steve, your nightmares have changed. Now that you have a face to the name they’re not really nightmares anymore. Instead of a nameless, faceless voice at your door, you can see him through the peephole. He’s not knocking on your door with rage, but out of desperation. Still begging to be let in, but the lock is on his side. You hold the key in your hand, you just have to slide it under the door…

A sharp, grating ring wakes you from your sleep, eyes shooting open and taking in the room around you. The sun peaks from behind your bedroom curtains, the light just bright enough to pester the hangover migraine that’s already in full effect. You have to strain to get your eyes to focus on the numbers on your alarm clock that read just past noon. 

The continuous ringing of the phone finally throttles you out of bed and into your kitchen. When you pick up the phone you hear Steve on the other end. 

“Oh, good, you lived,” he exclaims, “Robin, she’s still alive!”

A muffled, “oh thank god” comes from the background in the receiver. You hadn’t anticipated being so emotional the night before, thinking you were past feeling sorry for yourself that you were alone on a holiday while your bastard ex had someone keeping your side of the bed warm every night.

All the emotions came up at Steve’s during dinner. It was just the three of you there, all with broken families. They had other friends who were home for the holidays, but they were doing their own thing this weekend. Robin and Steve insisted that you join in on the festivities but you declined, using not knowing them as an excuse.

Really you just wanted some alone time. Time to yourself, to let yourself feel whatever you need to feel without having to mask in front of strangers, brush off any awkwardness if the topic of your failed marriage were to arise. 

You think Robin and Steve could tell that you were in your own head. They suggested taking you out to the only dive bar in town still open on the holiday, and assuming the place would be pretty dead, you said fuck it and all piled into Steve’s car. Sharing drinks and playing pool while metal music that made you think of your pen pal. You wondered what he was doing as you stepped outside to smoke a cigarette you bummed off an older, balding guy sitting at the bar. 

After drinking so much that Robin had to drive your car home for you, their phone call really didn’t come as a surprise to you. 

“Yes, god, I’m alive. Don’t yell into the phone, please.” You pinch the bridge of your nose to try and relieve some of the tension. The phone call is brief, Steve just wanting to check in on you and confirm that you didn’t want to participate in their outing. 

“We’re going ice skating! And if you can’t skate, our friend Max would enjoy having someone sit on the sidelines with her.”

“Sorry, Steve,” you press your forehead against the cool wood of the door frame, “I’m sure everyone is very nice, but I’m just not feeling up to it.”

After a few cups of coffee and a long shower, you settle on your couch, flipping through the channels on the tv for something to watch and settling on a Beverly Hills: 90210 rerun marathon. It didn’t take you long to lose interest and you began fidgeting for something else to keep your mind from wandering into dangerous territory. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see your work bag on the floor at the end of your couch. The memory of tripping and knocking the bag over last night comes back to you, making you internally cringe at yourself. You grab the bag and see that the contents were an unorganized mess compared to how you normally keep it. The longer you looked the crazier it made you feel, so you carefully took the papers and folders out, laying them in front of you. 

When you picked up your first period folder, the familiar envelope that you had forgotten a week ago fell out, landing in your lap. You quickly pick it up and open it, remembering that you hadn't even had the chance to properly finish reading it. 

Something about seeing the letter again made you feel good. As you look at the artwork, you see the picture of the shirts his club members wore and smile as you realize he made the shirts himself. 

You reread the description of himself and can laugh because he must have worn the same thing every day, recalling the holes in his jeans and his battle vest from his pictures. It was hard to imagine the wild mane of hair he had being cut short. Do they get conditioner in prison? Because his hair must be a mess without it. 

Finally, you get to the part of the letter you hadn’t read. You felt your heart beating in your chest, an anxiousness building that you couldn’t explain. 

“I’m running low on space to write and I don’t know when I’ll hear from you again, but I just wanted to ask-“

You’re thrown off when you see two lines of the letter have been blacked out with a black marker or sharpie. There’s no way to make out what was written, and the last line is just him wishing you a “happy whatever holiday you celebrate,” his real signature greeting you at the very bottom of the page. “What the hell?” You asked the empty apartment. The first assumption that comes to mind is that Eddie must have messed up what he was going to write and decided to black it out since he wrote in pen. Or maybe he wanted to write more, but realized he was running out of space? That would go with your theory that they are limited in the paper they can get. 

There’s also the possibility he said something inappropriate and whoever checks the letters made him redact it. That was probably the least likely, but it makes you laugh to think about. Robin and Steve brought him up a few times while you were drinking and gave him the highest praises. But, you never know what someone would be willing to say or do when they’ve been touch starved for almost 5 years.

Butterflies invade your stomach when you think about it more. He’s probably had to take care of himself quite a bit while he’s been locked up. Where does one even do that in prison without prying eyes?

Your thighs clench together at the image you’ve conjured in your head. Steve had shown you some pictures of Eddie that he found from not too long before he went to prison. Sure, he resembled his yearbook picture, thin and lanky he once was. But the picture of him and Steve at a lake, both of them shirtless and clearly soaking wet, displayed muscles that he had likely gained from the mechanic job Robin mentioned he had. The tattoos that he had on his body were taking over, almost covering one of his arms completely. 

The image of soaked curly hairs clinging to his face as he’s leaning into a shower wall comes to the forefront of your mind. Toned arms flexing as he holds himself against the wall with one hand, stroking himself with the other. You imagined his hands were rough and calloused from playing guitar and working on cars. He was long and hard as he pumped himself, water dripping off the tip with each down stroke. God, you can only imagine his face as he cums, a loud groan falling from his lips as he spills onto the shower floor, calling your name…

You throw yourself into the couch cushion next to you and physically cringe. Where the hell did that come from? Was this the result of your dry spell since you left Henry? A guy that you’ve never even met before gives you a little attention and your brain automatically goes into the gutter. Sitting up, you rub your face in your hands in an attempt to keep the scenario from replaying in your mind. At least you had successfully distracted yourself from the self pity you were wallowing in. 

You roll onto your back, holding up the letter in your hand. You admire the artwork, the sloppy handwriting. A person wrote this letter. Someone who did something illegal and paid the price for it. Someone who is very loved and has an uncle waiting for him somewhere in this town, and friends who would do anything for him. And now, he’s writing you letters, and you wonder if he is feeling the same way that you are starting to feel…what are you feeling, exactly?

Sitting up from the couch, you grab a pen and paper from your bag.

“Hello Eddie” no.

“Hey, stranger” no.

“What’s up!” definitely not.

Another balled up paper tossed to the ground. 

“Dear Eddie,” sure why not, “I hope you are having a wonderful holiday season yourself. Hopefully your uncle can come and see you for whatever you celebrate. If not, at least a phone call would be nice. Does the prison give you anything special for the holidays? Like a turkey for Thanksgiving, ham for Christmas, the traditional stuff. I spent the holiday with-”

Steve and Robin. You know them! I know who you are, too. Totally not weird, right?

“-my friends. They called it “Friendsgiving,” I think it had something to do with a TV show. None of us like to cook, so we ended up just picking up stuff at the store and then going out to a local bar. I’m writing this letter the next day, a little hungover I have to admit. But, writing this letter has helped distract me from the migraine I’m trying to stave off. It’s been very busy at school lately with projects, exams, a choir…thing? All that means for me is that I have mountains of paperwork to grade, and I spent the last month trying to get kids to turn in anything missing. It’s like trying to get squirrels to stay in a basket.

Winter break is just around the corner, though. Which means two weeks of getting to sleep in late, watching terrible TV reruns, and using the cold weather as an excuse to stay inside. Although, I think my friends will manage to get me out of my apartment one way or another. I feel like a cat who was adopted by two dogs who share the same brain cell. But, they have helped me a lot over the last couple of months so I owe it to them to be their voice of reason sometimes.”

You pause and have a laugh to yourself. You think about all the ridiculous adventures the two of them have taken you on in the last few months, doing things that you would never have done before Henry. They’ve taken the hard metal bones out of your binding and started loosening the strings. You wonder if you would have even said yes to doing this letter thing if you hadn’t already had your boundaries pushed a little.

“I hope this isn’t too much to ask, but do you have any big plans for when you get out? Places you want to go? Food you want to try? People you want to see?”

You smile when you dot the last question mark. It feels sneaky to ask when you know that your meeting is inevitable, and there is a small voice in your ear telling you that he wouldn’t want to meet you. You’re boring. Simple. Dull. Only shades of grey fill your wardrobe, your heart, where there was once colour. Broken.

The new bottle of wine you got at the gas station stares at you from the kitchen.

Anyway.

“Hopefully you’re able to get out in time for the summer. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk outside as a free man and get to feel the sun on your skin? I think Hawkins is having a Rose festival again next year. There could be some inspiration there for you for your art, and if not, the funnel cakes are worth the admission price. Everything else is overpriced, but what isn’t nowadays?”

Filling the last bit of the back of the page, you felt it only fair to give a few details about yourself. Just a general description, nothing too revealing. Not that there was much to give away since becoming a professional educator has taken any creative freedom from your sense of style. You did tell him that on the weekends you treated yourself by wearing comfy clothes all day. You didn’t tell him that you only felt okay to do that recently, since your ex husband always expected you to look your best.

As you reached the bottom, you remembered the redacted section of his last letter. Do should you ask about it? Would he even be able to tell you? You went ahead and brought it up.

“Before I close this letter, I am curious to know why the last bit of your letter had been marked out. I can only imagine what you could have asked that it had to be taken out. I hope it wasn’t inappropriate, Mr.Banished.” You added a little “ha ha” in parentheses so he knew you were just joking, careful once again not to offend.

“Looking forward to your next letter,”

You signed your name, fighting the urge to draw a heart next to it like the girls in your class writing notes to their crush. There was no way that feeling like this for someone that you’ve only had correspondence through letters and the bit of hype from your mutual friends can be healthy. Grabbing the box of greeting cards that you had sat on the coffee table, you wrote some well wishes and folded your letter to fit within the confines of the red envelope. You took a look at it for the first time since Bridges had handed them over and your heart dropped. 

In one of the ethics classes you took in college a classmate did a presentation on Pendleton Prison. It had just come out the year before that there had been an abuse of power and prisoners were basically being tortured. It was hard to observe but informative. You couldn’t even imagine something like that happening to Eddie. You wondered if the reason they were participating in this program to begin with was to help with their reputation. We’ll let them talk to some kids and it will seem like we’re not abusing our inmates.

You look at the wine bottle again.

It’s fine. If Eddie was going through something like that, surely he would have told Steve and Robin, his uncle. But you wanted to be sure. You walk into your kitchen.

December 25th, 1994

“…You can say hello when you see me. You don't have to be afraid. There's a lot of things going around about me, but none of it's true. Okay?”

Your eyes flutter open, and you quickly close them when the harsh light of your tv playing Home Alone was too bright. Another dream about Eddie had taken over your mind in your sleep. You sit back to the door, the key in your hand. He doesn’t push you anymore, says to only give the key if you want to. That he enjoys your company no matter what. 

Sigh.

As you sit up from the couch where you had dozed off the night before, you decide to make a cup of coffee and ring your brother. 

“I could have come to get you. And brought you back. You know I don’t mind-“

“No, no, it’s okay, really. You have your own family now, I don’t want to dampen the mood,” you say as if you mean it. Coffee swishes around in your mug as you talk. It was true that your brother had a family of his own and was living the American dream. You liked that he invited you to be part of that, but you just couldn’t get past the notion that everyone would just look at you with pity. You’d rather be alone

Steve and Robin also invited you to Colorado with them. Steve’s parents had a house in Aspen where they were hosting Christmas this year. Steve insisted his parents wouldn’t care if you tagged along since they started to become fond of Robin. As much as seeing the beautiful snow covered mountains of Colorado sounds like a great reprieve for your mind, you still lied and told them you were going to your brothers. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. 

The sound of Kevin McCallister’s hijinks in New York got your attention. The movie distracted you for a while, until it didn’t. You watched the tv -- well, rather you looked at it for until you stood up, deciding to get out of the house, even if just to drive around.

The movie-esque scenery of small town Hawkins covered in snow was quiet and still, say for the few cars that you passed likely on the way to see family, traveling between houses. Something you and Henry did to make things fair for both of you. Your mom’s house first, then his parents.

Cars sat outside the Hideout, piquing your interest as you watched a man get out of a pick up truck and walk inside. It was close enough to five o'clock that you decided to pull into the lot, pulling into a spot by the door. Inside you were surprised to see it fairly occupied, mostly by men who looked like they worked at the factory in town or drove the big rig that was parked on the side of the building. The patrons seemed to talk amongst themselves, some semblance of holiday cheer keeping their spirits alive as their glasses clanked and boisterous laughs filled the air.

Sliding into an empty bar stool, you grabbed your purse to get your ID and some cash. 

“Ain’t ya little young to be sittin’ alone at a bar on Christmas?”

You looked up from your purse at the man sitting next to you at the bar. He sipped from his glass, cigarette smoke seeping from his lips, attention set on nothing in particular. He was an older man, bald on top and plenty of aging on his face, but you had the feeling he was younger than he looked. Some of his features felt familiar to you but you weren’t sure why.

“Um, well, I guess so,” you stutter as you set your purse down between your feet. “But, uh, I really didn’t want to spend Christmas alone.”

A hum and a nod, “I guess loneliness knows no age.” He huffed a laugh before getting the bartender's attention. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh, no, please, you don’t-” you begin to protest, but he puts his hand up and waves you off.

“Trust me,” he takes a long drag from his cigarette, “I would be buying it for someone else if they could be here.”

Ah. You tell the bartender your order and the man tells him to put it on his tab. 

“Thank you,” you give him a genuine smile, turning towards him to speak as the bar patrons become louder. You paused for a beat before speaking again, “I’m sorry you’re alone today.”

“Makes no difference to me really, just another day to me,” he takes a sip of his beer. You almost miss it, but you see the flash of a smile on his face. 

“Just another day, huh,” you say smugly, dipping your head into his line of vision. He must have realized he was smiling because he covered his hand with his mouth shyly, the motion a contradiction to his hard exterior. Clearing his throat, he sat up in his seat, opening from his hunched position to talk with you properly.

“It’s just another day, always been to me, but,” He looks at you for a moment, then back down into his beer, “I used to celebrate, for my boy. Haven’t gotten to do that properly in a while. I’m hopin’ this year will be the last, that next year will be different.”

His endearment made your eyes misty. “That’s so sweet,” you coo, putting a hand on coat covered arm, “I’m sure things will work out.” You pull back when your drink is dropped off, quickly taking a few sips. 

The man watches you, his head shaking in your peripherals. “So, what’s really got ya out here celebrating with Hawkins finest? Besides the, uh,” he gestures vaguely, “cheerful atmosphere.”

You stay quiet for a moment, eyes focused on the straw floating in your drink. Deep breath in, and out. “Do you want the half truth or the full truth?”

His body bounces from a chuckle, “I got a little time.”

Pouring your heart out to a stranger over drinks felt therapeutic, and not in the same way as talking to Robin and Steve. He just listened, nodded his head, grunted in what you assume to be agreement. This man, who looks like he hasn’t taken a day off in his life, made you feel more valid with no words at all than anyone else has in your entire life besides your own mother.

“And now I’m, like, kinda into this guy, but he doesn’t know I exist,” your words are a little slurred as you take down another drink. “Sorry, no, he knows I exist, but he knows nothing about me. Like, he knows some things, but he doesn’t really know me, ya know?”

His head bobs up and down, takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I feel weird feeling this way, because I would never have even considered a guy like him before. Henry, I told you about Henry, he was super uppity, snotty. A real tight ass. But, this guy is funny. Genuine, and his friends talk him up. Who wouldn’t fall for a guy like that? Even if he is rough around the edges.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out with you and this guy, I outta introduce you to my nephew. He was always picked on in school for being different, but he’s a good kid. Just got into the wrong stuff,” the mans face sunk a bit, “My fault really.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “How so?”

“Heart attack. Had one while at work. Stayed in the hospital for a few, got the bill and almost had another one,” he chuckles at that. “I wasn’t even gonna tell ‘em, but he came over to visit and I forgot about it. Saw it sittin’ on the counter. Next thing I know he’s callin’ me sayin’ he’s booked on ‘possession with intent to distribute’. Buncha bull for some grass.” He put his cigarette out with a harsh stab. “But, he’ll be good soon. My deadbeat brother’s been keepin’ an eye on him in there and he’s been keeping his good behavior streak.”

“He sounds like a good kid,” you rest your cheek against the cool counter as you smile up at him.

“Yeah, he is.” His smile reaches his eyes, and so does yours.

“Well, gotta go, darlin’,” he slaps a couple bills on the counter and nods to the bartender, “Excpectin’ a call here soon. Get you some pretzels or somethin’ before ya take off.”

“Thank you,” your brows come together, “sorry, I don’t think I ever caught your name?”

“Names Wayne.”

“Nice to meet you, Wayne.”

thanks for reading.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x teacher!reader #eddie munson x yn #inmate!eddie munson #inmate!eddie munson x reader #inmate!eddie munson x teacher!reader #oto!eddie #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson st

[olee]

Mil Horas | Enzo Vogrincic

*for the request of enzo :)

English and Spanish

It has been a challenging experience for you to witness the effects of your boyfriend's acting career on his mental and physical health. Your boyfriend, Enzo, recently secured a role in the movie "Society of the Snow," to be honest, this was a big deal for him. This was his first acting gig in a movie, and it was directed by a renowned film director, J.A. Bayona.

The movie's plot is set around a group of people surviving in the Andes mountains, and it follows a gripping storyline that keeps Enzo on his toes. He had to narrate some scenes and play a significant role in the film, which was exciting and nerve-wracking.

However, as the filming progressed, Enzo began to feel mentally and physically drained. He had to work long hours, often late at night, and the pressure to perform well was overwhelming. He struggled to balance his regular life with his filming schedule, and this took a toll on his mental and physical health.

You have been a supportive partner, trying your best to help Enzo cope with the demands of his acting career. You hope he can overcome these challenges and emerge victorious, as this is a significant milestone in his career.

Enzo, the lead actor in the upcoming film, had to drastically change his lifestyle to meet the demands of his character. He was required to follow a strict diet plan, but his dedication to his role led him to take extreme measures. He skipped meals and pushed himself beyond his limits as if he were truly surviving in the wild. As his loved one, you were understandably concerned about his health and well-being. You even spoke to the film's director, Bayona, about Enzo's condition.

One day, Enzo called you on WhatsApp, looking pale and exhausted. He had just finished filming a scene in Barcelona and was feeling weak. You answered his call and asked how he was doing, but before he could respond, you interrupted him and urged him to take care of himself, "Enzo, por favor, necesito que me escuches. Te lo he dicho millones de veces y nunca me das bola. Por favor, cuídate, me tenés preocupada. Necesito que sigas la dieta, si no vas a tener una reacción fea." You reminded him repeatedly to follow his diet plan and emphasized that he did not have to take the role so seriously. You assured him that his health was more important than anything else, and advised him to take some time to relax and meditate.

He sat there at the open-air café, his complexion drained and expression distant, sipping on a cup of coffee. With a reassuring tone, he said, "My love, don't worry about me. I'm perfectly fine. Take a look, just enjoying a peaceful moment with a cup of coffee here, and I wanted to see you. Honestly, Barcelona is treating me well, but I miss you so much, and I really need you here." Unsure how to respond, tears welled up, and you confessed, "Enzo, I miss you too!"

Enzo, noticing your tears, adopted a more comforting tone. "I don't want you to cry. I'm fine. Barcelona is challenging, but I know we'll be together again soon. I miss your hugs, your laughter, everything."

As you spoke, the conversation became tinged with nostalgia. Enzo shared details of his days in Barcelona, enthusiastically describing places and situations. "I swear, I even miss your scoldings here. No one cares for me like you do, and that's what I'm missing."

Amidst sips of coffee, you discussed plans for the future, dreaming of the moment when you would be face-to-face again. "We'll be together again soon. Don’t worry."

The background music caught your attention as he showed you through his camera the charming street in Barcelona where he was seated. To your surprise, it was your favorite song, "Mil Horas" by Los Abuelos De La Nada. A smile spread across your face as you recognized the familiar tune.

Funnily enough, Enzo, caught up in the moment, started singing the song, “Tengo un cohete en el pantalón/Vos estás tan fría/Como la nieve a mi alrededor/Vos estás tan blanca/Que yo no sé qué hacer/La otra noche te esperé bajo la lluvia, dos horas, mil horas, como un perro/Y cuando llegaste, me miraste y me dijiste: ‘loco, estás mojado, ya no te quiero’”His voice, carried by the ambiance of the street, added a touch of spontaneity to the virtual encounter. Without a second thought, you joined in, singing along with him. The distance between you seemed to fade away as the shared love for the song created a delightful connection across the miles.

#enzo vogrincic #society of the snow #my writing #la sociedad de la nieve #uruguay #latina #spanish #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo x reader #fanfic #argentina #agustín pardella x reader #simon hempe #matias recalt #Spotify

[nicki0kaye]

🌘  twitter | patreon | instagram  🌒

Junior Guard Captain Garazeb and Underworld crime prince Sasha fall into each other's orbit and hard. This is the 'verse where they have complimentary force powers; Guard (Zeb, empath) and Watcher (Kallus, heightened senses). you can check out the sketch phases of this here. Zeb characterization and general Lasan HCs courtesy of @sidhebeingbrand

Not ten minutes after meeting, Sasha tries to use Zeb as his ticket off Coruscant, which creates something of a diplomatic incident.

The Kallus' aren't a very powerful underworld gang, but they don't want to lose Sasha and are more than willing to become a pain in the surface's ass to get him back. Zeb's superiors don't want any of that, but there's a hiccup; Zeb and Sasha are already 'bonded'. Their auras compliment one another, and have more or less interlocked in what little time they've known each other. Untangling them now would be a process. That, and Sasha has told them some concerning things about how his family treats him and his gift.

So the plan becomes; parlay with the Kallus Family down in the Underworld.

It goes better than expected, all things considered. Sasha's family wants him to stay and are willing to accept assistance from the Lasat, because they're under no illusions that their family's way of doing things is working. Sasha's magic has always been more than either his brother or grandmother could handle. If the Lasat are willing to spare a teacher, the Kallus' will put them up and treat them like family.

Which means Zeb is going to stay.

Sasha is furious. He wants to stay with Zeb, yeah, but he wanted to go with him to Lasan. Not ruin the guy's whole career by getting him stuck in the frozen ass-end of Coruscant's basement sectors.

There's one place Sasha goes when he's feeling trapped and overstimulated. At the bottom of level 1996--a level comprised entirely of the piping needed to keep the above levels running--is a giant empty space where the next level should be. Over a hundred stories of nothing between the pipes of '96 and the sewage pit of 1994. This is where Sasha goes to worship his god. The Lasat know him as the Bendu--the one who walks in the middle--but in the north-eastern sectors of the Underworld, they simply call it 'The Void'. It isn't the kind of god to lend its favor, but it is there all the same, and it will listen. Sasha comes to it often to vent his frustrations, to scream into the dark, and this time, Zeb follows.

The whole thing freaks Zeb out. He's a good, devout child of the Ashla, and this big yawning pit his bonded feels compelled to dangle over scares him shitless. He respects the Bendu, respects Sasha as a child of the Between, so he doesn't interfere. Zeb does, however, reel Sasha into the safety of his own arms the second his crazy little human is done.

That's when this conversation happens. Across their bond, in the privacy of their auras, Zeb promises the next time he sees the stars, Sasha will be there beside him. "I know why it calls to you now, the emptiness."

A shiver works its way through Sasha. "Why are you like this?" he asks, pressing into Zeb's space, forehead to forehead. "You just promise like it's nothing."

"To be your Guard is everything. I do not want another bondmate. Terrifying small human."

Sasha's laugh is a little wheezy and broken. He forces a grin as he asks "what if?" aloud, pretending it's a game, a new way to tease the overly serious Guard, and that there's no growing fear he may misstep and give Zeb reason to abandon him.

Zeb says he doesn't know, but then counters; "what if I steal you?"

The question is left unanswered--they aren't alone in the 1996 and need to get going--but it isn't forgotten. Nor Zeb's promise that one day, the two of them will hunt the stars.

#kalluzeb #garazeb orellios #alexsandr kallus #kallus #zeb #star wars #swr #star wars rebels #sw au #star wars au #sasha kallus #sw kallus #sw zeb #my art #swr au #agent kallus #star wars fanart #sw fanart #swr fanart #rebels fanart

[daryllzero]

BILL PULLMAN in THE FAVOR 1994, dir. Donald Petrie

#*kisses him**kisses him**kisses him**kisses hi #the favor #bill pullman #gifs #filmedit #filmgifs #moviegifs #dilfgifs #90sedit

[culther]

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀❝ 𝐀𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇’𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ! ❞

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AALIYAH’S UNFORGETTABLE FASHION SENSE ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀EXPLORED, ─── AN ARTICLE WRITTEN & PHOTO ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ EDITS MADE BY MIA GOLDS

If you ask anyone in the world to define the legacy of Aaliyah, you’ll receive a myriad of responses. Some will praise the rising IT Girl whose precious life tragically ended too soon, while others will reflect on the profound impact she’s made on their existence in one way or another.

Many others will recount her evolution from a young R&B sensation to a mature artist exploring pop music and other sounds on the brink of her prime. But regardless of the response you get, one thing reigns true as the definition of her essence: her iconic fashion sense.

From the moment she burst onto the music scene in 1994 with her first album “ Age Ain’t Nothing but A Number “ as a fresh-faced teenager, Aaliyah captivated audiences not only with her angelic and smooth vocals but also with her distinctive sense of style.

In her early years, she came out the gate pushing the envelope of what it means to be a budding artist and a free-spirited young black girl. Many of her looks effortlessly blended streetwear stylings with subtle couture pieces, rocking oversized sports jerseys and baggy pants paired with sleek, feminine touches like crop tops and crop jackets to create uniquely balanced silhouettes and cuts.

A fashion format she carried throughout the entirety of her career, through time she changed the way she presented it but the elements of it remained. As she soared into her stardom and maturity as an artist, so too did her fashion sense.

Later she embraced more feminine and refined aesthetics, favoring sexy silhouettes, tailored gowns, and minimalistic elegance. Her iconic tomboy ‘ sweet but street ‘ chic look became synonymous with effortless coolness, and inspired countless fashion trends.

Establishing her as the true style icon she was, ahead of her time and still remains today. Regardless, it was her ability to seamlessly transition between various fashion personas that truly set her apart from any of her peers.

Whether she was rocking a glamorous gown on the red carpet or effortlessly slaying in a baggy tracksuit on stage, Aaliyah exuded confidence and authenticity in every ensemble.

That very same confidence and coolness continues to resound in the world around us today. From celebrities and influencers, to everyday fashion enthusiasts who pride themselves in their physical expression.

The beauty of creating art is that it is big— and permanent enough to live beyond us. Within her short time on earth, she continued to push boundaries and explore new musical territories, and her fashion choices unwound alongside her, reflecting her growth as an artist and into a woman.

From the streets of Brooklyn to the stages of the world, Aaliyah's fashion journey was as dynamic and diverse as her music, leaving an unforgettable imprint on the industries of fashion and music alike.

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: From Tomboy to Tommy Girl

During her debut era in 1994, Aaliyah not only captivated audiences with her smooth, soulful vocals on hits like “ Back & Forth,” “ At Your Best ( You Are Love ), “Old School, “ & “ Age Ain’t Nothing but A Number “— the title track of her debut album, to name a few… but also with her distinctive sense of fashion.

The way she dressed didn’t just resound the casual and laid-back lifestyles of the R&B & Hip-Hop scene of the 1990s, but it also reflected her confident, humorous, yet collected personality.

There wasn’t a single teen girl in America that didn’t want to be like Aaliyah. Black girls everywhere aspired to make oversized jerseys, baggy pants, cropped tops, statement sunglasses, numerous colored bandanas, and baseball caps look as chill as she did. Her uniqueness quickly made her a sensation and role model to look up to.

In addition to her loose-fitted hoodies and starter jackets, a wrist full of silver bangles and standout nail polish colors added feminine contrast to anything you’d see her in, and how could we forget her “ A “ initial necklace? Simple but effectively iconic.

Her early appeal and aesthetics can be attributed to the legendary fashion stylist Derek Lee. From 1994 onward through her career, Derek was instrumental in crafting her trendsetting tomboy aesthetic. It was his hard work and vision that helped to shape her distinctive fashion sense and solidify her status as a style icon.

Under his guidance, she became known for her effortless blend of masculine yet sweetly feminine elegance, taking risks, setting trends, and inspiring fans worldwide. Derek has also styled Lil Kim, Bobby Brown, and Macy Gray, to name a few.

As his muse, Aaliyah landed her first significant collaboration campaign for Tommy Hilfiger in 1996. Tommy Hilfiger is a brand whose name still holds the same weight today as it did in the 90s.

Becoming a Tommy Girl allowed Aaliyah to express her creativity in a new way. Their collaboration blended urban streetwear-inspired styles to cater to the day's youth and offered a sense of high-quality exclusivity. Her laid-back touch perfectly complemented Tommy’s preppy dynamic and made a memorable partnership that we still recognize and associate with the R&B star.

Working with Tommy also introduced Aaliyah to her best friend, Kidada Jones, the fashion stylist and designer, who is also the daughter of music legend Quincy Jones. Their shared interests in music, fashion, and culture are said to have led to a natural connection and friendship over time. The two young women were just alike.

𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Get it? Anyways, Aaliyah’s Evolution from Teen Idol to Full Blown Superstar!

In the Mid to Late 1990s, Aaliyah’s style evolved into something with the makings of a rebirth—a renaissance for her womanhood. The teenage tomboy crooner had grown into a young woman navigating mainstream success, and her fashion began to reflect that portion in her narrative.

Many of those who adored her for her music also adored her fashion sense as it became less practical and increased in intricacy. She traded her baggy pants, oversized leisure wear, and cropped tees for sleek leathers, fitted dresses, and high-fashion-grade ensembles that added more contrast and texture to her wardrobe.

Though she never shied away from wearing color, her palette during this era took on a more toned-down colorway to emphasize her maturity: rusted earth tones, browns, grays, and lots of black.

Her red carpet looks became increasingly refined during this era, showcasing her versatility and ability to transition between different fashion personas seamlessly. As she navigated her way through the entertainment industry, tackling acting roles and additional modeling campaigns, how she presented herself began to attest to her evolution as a person with each project she put out.

Her ‘One In A Million’ era was the dawning of a new point in her career, with the sophomore album marking a transition into a more cultivated sophistication in her artistry and welcoming bolder accessories for her coming-of-age narrative. She showed versatility as she was praised on cover shoots for teen magazines nationwide and reserved her edge by allowing her signature shades, oversized jackets, and necklaces to appear.

Her self-titled “ Aaliyah “ album era was the last project released during her time here. This era was the pinnacle of her evolution. This portion of her art saw her embracing sultry vocals and lyrics, all the while coming into the glamor of stardom and confidence with every public appearance. Statement pieces and bold colorways once again found themselves in her look. Avante-garde designs, high fashion designer-brand labels, and intricate detailed pieces and patterns, to name a few— demonstrated her fearless approach as a trendsetter and tastemaker.

This era leaves a bittersweet imprint in the minds of many. While we applaud the woman she was becoming, we cry for the sweet spirit we lost so tragically and too soon.

𝐀𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄: Her Homage to High Fashion

Her partnership with Tommy Hilfiger in the mid-1990s was a groundbreaking moment, as she became the face of Tommy Jeans, effortlessly blending mainstream fashion with hip-hop culture.

Aaliyah's influence also reached luxury fashion houses like Versace, Gucci, and Alexander McQueen, where she was admired for her daring fashion choices and ability to push boundaries.

She seamlessly incorporated pieces from these brands into her wardrobe during photoshoots, music videos, and other public appearances, showcasing her impeccable taste and fearless approach to style.

Aaliyah's affinity for luxury fashion not only elevated her image but also helped raise the visibility of these brands within the urban music and fashion scenes.

She famously wore a custom-made Tom Ford for Gucci leather jumpsuit in the music video for her song "Try Again," a look that continues to be complimented.

She rocked a stunning black silk organza gown from Alexander McQueen’s Spring/Summer 2000 collection in her final music video for "Rock the Boat." Along with designs by Thierry Mugler, including a metallic silver jumpsuit during her performance at the MTV Video Music Awards in 1998.

Her legacy as a style icon inspires designers, artists, and fashion enthusiasts worldwide, solidifying her status as a timeless muse for high fashion designer brands with an unstoppable influence.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: 23 Years Later…

Aaliyah's influence on fashion transcends time, resonating even in present-day trends 23 years after her untimely passing. The entire thesis of this exploration is to emphasize how her style continues to inspire a new generation of fashion enthusiasts, celebrities, and influencers all these years later. I aim to stress how her incredibly unmatched talent and passion for fashion collaboratively created a legacy that still holds her light.

Modern-day stars like Zendaya, known for her boundary-pushing fashion choices and effortless blend of streetwear and high fashion, often cite Aaliyah as a source of early inspiration.

Similarly, Ciara's bold and glamorous style pays homage to Aaliyah's rule-breaking approach to fashion, with her outfits and statement accessories reminiscent of the late icon.

Tinashe, an independent artist and producer, embraces Aaliyah's signature tomboy-chic aesthetic, infusing it with her own modern twist to create a unique and captivating look.

Aleali May, who in my opinion is a fusion of Aaliyah & Kidada Jones’ essence, is a designer stylist and continues to be a rising star in the fashion world, channels Aaliyah's relaxed and understated elegance in her streetwear-inspired looks and all of her designs, proving that Aaliyah's influence knows no boundaries.

Even global superstar Rihanna, known for her daring and trendsetting style, acknowledges Aaliyah's impact on fashion, paying homage to her in her music and fashion choices. Along with the beautiful and eclectic Teyana Taylor further attesting to the power of a legacy as well.

Beyond celebrities, influencers and public figures across social media platforms continue to celebrate Aaliyah’s fashion that came before her time, reinterpreting it for the digital age and keeping her legacy alive for generations to come.

Aaliyah's style and unapologetic individuality continue to serve as a reminder that true fashion icons are immortalized not only in memory but also in the enduring influence they leave behind. Great art never expires.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐒 & 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀:

CULT HER INSTAGRAM

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COPYRIGHT & REPOSTING NOTICE: All written content and picture edits in this Tumblr post are original creations by me, from my own mind. Reposting or unauthorized use without permission is strictly prohibited. Please respect my work. I also have stated numerous times I do not own the original images used in my edits for this post. I claim no ownership over those. © MIA GOLDS / CULT HER.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄!

#cult her #ch closets #fashion #black culture #90s #black women #early 2000s #fashion blogger #style icon #fashion icon #2000s fashion #aaliyah #aaliyah haughton #aaliyah dana haughton #baby girl #rap #rnb #tommy hilfiger #streetwear #hype beast #2000s #2001 #trendsetter #aaliyah unstoppable #blackground records #blackground #zendaya #aleali may #tinashe #ciara

[docgold13]

Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

My Top Fifteen Most Favorite Episodes of Batman: The Animated Series

#15). Harley and Ivy - Airdate January 18th, 1993. Written by Paul Dini; directed by Boyd Kirkland.

#14). Robin’s Reckoning Part One - Airdate February 7th, 1993. Written by Randy Rogel; directed by Dick Sebast.

13). Egg Baby - Airdate April 1st, 2000.  Written by Hilary J. Bader and Alan Burnett; directed by James Tucker.

#12). His Silicon Soul - Airdate November 20th, 1992.  Written by Marty Isenberg and Robert N. Skir; directed by Boyd Kirkland.

#11). Birds of a Feather - Airdate February 8th, 1993.  Written by Brynne Stephens and Chuck Menville; Directed by Frank Paur.

#10). Over the Edge - Airdate May 23rd, 1998. Written by Paul Dini, Stan Berkowitz and Alan Burnett; directed by Yûichirô Yano.

#9). The Laughing Fish - Airdate January 10th, 1993. Written by Paul Dini; directed by Bruce Timm.

#8). Joker’s Favor - Airdate September 11th, 1992.  Written by Paul Dini; directed by Boyd Kirkland.

#7). Growing Pains - Airdate February 28th, 1998.  Written by Paul Dini and Robert Goodman; Directed by Atsuko Tanaka.  

#6). Harlequinade - Airdate May 23rd, 1994.  Written to Paul Dini; Directed by Kevin Altieri.  

#5). Feat of Clay Part Two - Airdate  September 9th, 1992.  Written by Marv Wolfman and Michael Reaves; Directed by Kevin Altieri.

#4). The Trial - Airdate May 16th, 1994.  Written by Paul Dini and Bruce Timm; Directed by Dan Riba.

#3). Two-Face Part One - Airdate September 25th, 1992.  Written by Alan Burnett and Randy Rogel; Directed by Kevin Altieri.

#2). Almost Got ‘Im - Airdate November 10th, 1992.  Written by Paul Dini; Directed by Eric Radomski.

#1). Heart of Ice - Airdate September 7th, 1992.  Written by Paul Dini; Directed by Bruce Timm.  

#batman the animated series #Batman #cut-outs #paper art #DCAU

[porunareff]

do you think Goncharov had a significant influence on Araki when he created Part 5?

Absolutely! People tend to forget about this fact a lot in favor of more mainstream theories which is a bit sad but we do have an old Araki interview from 1994 for 'Gekkan bunkazai' magazine where you can find this excerpt:

This pretty much confirms the inspiration is undeniable and we need to start acknowledging it properly!

#goncharov #jojo #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #unreality

[rg-writes]

Berkshire Hathaway Shareholder Letter 2022, Reactions

Every year I enjoy reading Warren Buffets' predictably charming annual Berkshire Hathaway Shareholder letter. I dare you to find another annual investor letter you can remotely describe as charming. Anyhow, this year's letter published February 23 was another winner. As a builder turned investor I can't look to a better influence on my decision making than Warren and his partner Charlie Munger. Their humility, their focus on long-term relationships, and their emphasis on pragmatism alongside an expectation of excellence are all values I hold dear and hope to instill into Saltwater and our businesses for years to come.

Here's what stood out to me.

Hammering home the basics

We’re reminded that these gents look at companies, not stocks… “Charlie and I are not stock-pickers; we are business-pickers.” Buying a stock is just a tiny fraction of the company you’re getting, evaluate it as such. So why buy stocks vs majority ownership? A question we ask ourselves at Saltwater often? There is but one critical difference for the critical eyed investor. The difference between public "stocks" and privately owned businesses based on Warren’s insights… “stocks often trade at truly foolish prices...while a controlled business gives no thought to selling at a panic-type valuation.” Good enough for me. We’ll be keeping our eyes open for foolish prices.

Shareholder financial education

Warren shares an anecdote about share repurchases and the misled villainization of them.

“The math isn’t complicated: When the share count goes down, your interest in our many businesses goes up. Every small bit helps if repurchases are made at value-accretive prices. Just as surely, when a company overpays for repurchases, the continuing shareholders lose. At such times, gains flow only to the selling shareholders and to the friendly, but expensive, investment banker who recommended the foolish purchases. 

Gains from value-accretive repurchases, it should be emphasized, benefit all owners – in every respect. Imagine, if you will, three fully-informed shareholders of a local auto dealership, one of whom manages the business. Imagine, further, that one of the passive owners wishes to sell his interest back to the company at a price attractive to the two continuing shareholders. When completed, has this transaction harmed anyone? Is the manager somehow favored over the continuing passive owners? Has the public been hurt?”

We were able to execute a value-accretive share repurchase in a portfolio company this year and while it wasn’t a smooth process, it was a very good decision for all our shareholders. Thanks Warren.

Praise of his best companies

How many times have you heard Warren discuss Coke, Amex, and See’s Candies? Effectively every time he or Charlie open their mouths. Charlie’s personal fav is Costco based on my experience with him. This year Warren reminds us that in 1994, BRK completed a 7 year buying spree of over 400 million shares of Coke stock for a total of $1.3B. He reminds us the value of those dividends almost a billion, as well as stock price appreciation, that 400 million share position is worth >$25B today. 

He doesn’t paint this investment as an obvious or easy one however. “The weeds wither away in significance as the flowers bloom… it takes just a few winner to work wonders.”  

Endless love for his partner Charlie Munger

I love looking for how many times Warren uses the phrase, "Charlie and I...", this year it was 10. He's clearly smitten with his long-time friend and partner for good reason, but this was my favorite tidbit of Charlie appreciation...

"Find a very smart high-grade partner – preferably slightly older than you – and then listen very carefully to what he says."

He includes a response that Charlie will often use back to Warren when they are in decision-making mode.

“Warren, think more about it. You’re smart and I’m right.”

See what I mean… charming. Greater than the Coke investment, or the Costco investment, Warren's appreciation of Charlie's wisdom & friendship are what anchor his brilliance in my mind.

The elephant in the room… transition insights

With Charlie at 99 and Warren at 92, every communication is reasonably analyzed for hints around their transitions. I don’t believe there will be one until one or both pass. Sad, but likely true.

Charlie talks about Berkshire in the general sense a few times in this years letter where it feels like he’s writing rules to operate by for others versus telling the shareholder how “he” specifically will operate.

Our CEO will always be the Chief Risk Officer

At Berkshire, there will be no finish line.

Our CEOs will have a significant part of their net worth in Berkshire shares, bought with their own money.

I certainly hope there is an internal rule on the last point and it would be helpful to know what that $ amount is. While these aren’t all that telling as to the timing of a transition of either partners health condition it’s clear that Warren’s thinking is still spot on.

I hope you enjoy and absorb these letters as much as I do. 

#writing

[misunhye]

THE KANG-AHN FAMILY TREE

as of january 23, 2024

LEFT TO RIGHT Kang Misun, Kang Sumin, Ahn Jaesun, Ahn Jiho, Ahn Jaesuk, Kim Moonsun, Kang Wonhae, and Shin Yejin.

tw grooming, infidelity, power imbalance, illegal relationship, age gap, brief mention of miscarriage

In 1992, Kang Sumin was a freshly debuted idol when she met Ahn Jaesun. She was sixteen and he was twenty-three. He was one of YG’s music producers. In 1994, she was eighteen and pregnant with Ahn Jaesun’s first child. Shortly after, her pregnancy was announced and netizens were appalled that she was unwed and a teen mother.

This did not deter her. She wanted to continue her career as an idol, and she wouldn’t stop until she was able to. She went to far as to sending her newborn son, Ahn Jiho, to Texas with her parents. When YG dismissed her, putting her on an indefinite hiatus, she went back to Jaesun, leaving Jiho in Texas.

Sumin’s second son, Ahn Jaesuk, was born in 1997, and he, too, was sent to Texas.

Two years after Jaesuk’s birth in 1999, it was announced she’d be making a comeback. In a drunken high, she had an affair with one of her backup dancers.

One year later in 2000, she gave birth to her first daughter and final child, Kang Sunhye.

In 2009, it was widely accused across South Korea that Sumin’s daughter was the result of her affair and that her biological father being one of Sumin’s backup dancers. Anything she had left of a career was killed. Sumin and Jaesun battled in court over custody over their children, Jaesun even having Sunhye take a DNA test. The media was right, Sumin had an affair and it resulted in Sunhye. The court would rule in Sumin’s favor, saying a child should never be without their mother.

In 2011, Sumin and Jaesun divorced and their three children lived with Sumin, having visits to Jaesun ever so often until they all turned nineteen.

It is noted that Sumin and her children, especially her daughter, do not have the best relationship.

The rest of Sumin’s future is incomplete.

BIRTH NAME Kang Sumin

BIRTHDAY November 29, 1976

OCCUPATION Idol formerly Unemployed currently

FACECLAIM Yunjin Kim

Ahn Jaesun married eighteen-year-old pregnant Kang Sumin when he was twenty-five. As he worked at YG as one of their music producers, he met sweet Kang Sumin when she debuted. While he was overjoyed at their children’s birth, he noticed she wasn’t. He wanted their children to live with them, but her word was final.

Jaesun filed for divorce in 2009 and fought for custody over all three of his children— DNA be damned. The cases took two years to come to a ruling. When the court ruled in Sumin’s favor in 2011, giving him only a few visits per year, he was devastated and dived headfirst into his work. This in turn slightly damaged his relationships with his children but constantly tries to make up for it ever since 2019.

He is one of YG’s best producers, his most prominent works being for 2NE1, Big Bang, and Epik High. When his sons individually turned nineteen, they lived with him until they got settled on their feet. Misun was an idol by the time she turned nineteen.

In October 2019, he met model and crowned Miss Korea 2015 Shin Yejin, who was twenty-seven at the time. A month later in November, they were dating. They have been dating ever since, and many question when he will propose to her.

It is noted that even though he is constantly trying to be a better father, his children and him have a strained relationship.

The rest of Jaesun’s future is incomplete.

BIRTH NAME Ahn Jaesun

BIRTHDAY March 7, 1969

OCCUPATION Music producer currently

FACECLAIM Choi Wonyoung

Ahn Jiho is an actor and got his popularity from Reply 1988 in 2015. As a child, it was very obvious to him that he was the odd man out in the family. He was the only one to not go into music, his name wasn’t close to either of his parents’ like Sunhye and Jaesuk’s were. He felt rather ignored in the family, and that’s what he was. His father loved him, but he loved work and Sumin more.

Jiho was closed off from his siblings, preferring to be in his room alone. If he had the choice of riding home in the car with his family or walking home in the rain, he’d choose walking in the rain. He had a warped impression of them, thinking they thought he was strange for not liking the same things they all did.

Jiho was always interested in film and literature, finding the universes people could create fascinating. He found that while he couldn’t write a story for anything, he was rather strangely good at lying. The thought unsettled him, but he was determined to be apart of people’s versions of their favorite character. He put the lying to use, being in theater in school and begging his grandparents to put him in acting classes.

When his mother’s affair was revealed, he was relieved but then distraught. His mother had made a mistake, she wasn’t one of them. But Misun wasn’t one of them, either— not completely, anyway. Yet she also was one of them. And he wasn’t.

His first major acting role was in Reply 1988 as Jang Minki. His popularity and fans quickly grew, earning him more offered roles. He has won Best New Actor and Best Supporting Actor for his role in Reply 1988.

He has since starred in notable shows like While You Were Sleeping, Squid Games, Sweet Home, and recently known for his role as the main male lead in My Demon. He is currently filming for the American horror movie, The Name Game.

It is noted that Jiho is not as close to Misun as Jaesuk is, but he’s also not close to Jaesuk. Jiho thinks of himself as the black sheep in the family and avoids them.

BIRTH NAME Ahn Jiho

BIRTHDAY September 2, 1995

OCCUPATION Actor currently

FACECLAIM Yoon Dowoon

Ahn Jaesuk is a songwriter and has most likely taken part in writing the lyrics to your favorite song. He has notable achievements for both Korean and American music, such as multiple SHINee and The Weeknd and Harry Styles songs.

As the middle child, he’s always tried to maintain a balance with his siblings and parents and grandparents. He hated conflict, and always tried to avoid it. He tried protecting Misun as best as he could, until he could no longer bare Misun hurt at the hands of Sumin. He was rather relieved when Sumin’s affair was revealed and their parents were divorced, but never once thought differently of Misun.

Long before their divorce, he was twelve when he realized his parents weren’t the parents you see in movies. He was hurt, and angry, but soon that turned into emptiness. It was more of an expectation than anything. He felt nothing when they divorced.

Jaesuk started his career in 2018 with his father at YG Entertainment, his relationship to his father being a helping hand. He has since wrote songs for BLACKPINK, Big Bang, Winner, and TREASURE. He has also wrote songs for other groups such as SHINee, NCT, aespa, TXT, IVE, and more.

It is noted that Jaesuk and Misun are the closest within the family, as their other family are all estranged to one another.

BIRTH NAME Ahn Jaesuk

BIRTHDAY April 9, 1997

OCCUPATION Songwriter currently

FACECLAIM Yoo Taeyang

Kim Sunhee, better known as Moonsun, is a retired South Korean soprano opera actress. When she was twenty-one, she met Kang Wonhae and would later marry him in 1973. Three years later, after multiple attempts to have a child and having two miscarriages, she had her daughter, Sumin.

After having not slept for six days with various attempts to hurt herself or Sumin with Wonhae stopping her, she checked herself into a mental hospital where she was soon diagnosed with postpartum depression. She went on a three year hiatus with her career in order to get better and take care of her daughter. However, as she got back into her career, her relationship with her daughter worsened as she was always busy.

Sunhee is part of the reason Sumin was able to debut and have a comeback after her hiatus, as she knows ‘important people’. She was disappointed when she got pregnant the first time, swearing to cut her off but never did. She never understood why Sumin kept doing it to herself.

It feels like Sumin’s children are more of her own, especially considering she was the one who raised them. She has a strange, polite relationship with Jiho, a relationship where she knows she can trust Jaesuk, and Misun is the baby of the family. She’s much more coddled than the other two as she’s the youngest and only girl.

Besides a three year long hiatus, Sunhee is well known to older citizens for her voice and variety personality.

It is noted that Sunhee and Misun had a good relationship, but lately Misun’s backed away due to some realizations.

BIRTH NAME Kim Sunhee

BIRTHDAY November 1, 1950

OCCUPATION Opera Singer formerly

FACECLAIM Nam Giae

Kang Wonhae is a retired piano and music teacher. He met Kim Sunhee while teaching her youngest sister how to play the piano, and they would soon marry and have a daughter, Sumin.

Wonhae was disappointed Sumin had a child early, but he was the reason Sunhee never kicked her out or cut her off financially. He was the one who took care of his grandchildren first, he was the second person to hold Misun. He was polite with Ahn Jaesun, took him in like a son.

Wonhae always tried to involve Jiho, but he would always refuse. He’d always calm Sunhee down when she got too angry, but sometimes things were so damning, he’d lose his mind. Wonhae willingly took Jaesuk to his ball games, and was always there for each one. He encouraged Misun to audition for entertainment companies.

In 2002, he would retire early from his job as a teacher to focus taking care of his grandchildren. When they would move in with their mother after the divorce, he would soon pick up piano again and play the piano for their church.

It is noted that there is no dislike between Wonhae and Misun. She knows he is there for her.

BIRTH NAME Kang Wonhae

BIRTHDAY July 19, 1950

OCCUPATION Piano teacher formerly Music teacher formerly

FACECLAIM Kim Sunhee

Shin Yejin is a model and was crowned Miss Korea 2015. In 2019, she was twenty-seven when she met fifty-year-old Ahn Jaesun. He would ask her out and by the next month, they were dating.

Not much is known about Shin Yejin. She has been on the cover of Vogue Korea, W Korea, and more. She was one of the female love interest in Big Bang’s Let’s Not Fall In Love music video.

It is noted that Misun and Yejin don’t have much of a relationship, due to her busy schedule. Yejin tries to have a relationship, though.

BIRTH NAME Shin Yejin

BIRTHDAY February 26, 1992

OCCUPATION Model currently

FACECLAIM Jo Jihyun

#⁽ ⠀ ҉ ⠀ ⁾ ⠀ ⠀ misun ⠀ / ⠀ * ⠀ dev. #fictional idol community #nct dream 8th member #idol oc #nct 27th member #nct female addition #nct female member #nct female unit #nct imagines #ficnetfairy #fictional idol oc #nct oc #kpop female idol oc #kpop female additon #nct female oc #nct female subunit #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #kpop female member #fictional idol addition #fake idol oc #fake kpop idol #fake idol group #kpop idol oc #idolverse #fake kpop oc #kpop oc #fictional idol group #kpop oc group #nct addition

[emcgoverns]

elizabeth mcgovern as emily embrey in “the favor,” production stills (1994) | 📸: metro-goldwyn-mayer

#elizabeth mcgovern #emcgoverns #film #1994 #the favor

[soberscientistlife]

Louisa Jenkins smoking a cigarette as the police try to question her at a protest in 1957.⁣

—Louise Jenkins Meriwether, a novelist, essayist, journalist and social activist, was the only daughter of Marion Lloyd Jenkins and his wife, Julia. Meriwether was born May 8, 1923 in Haverstraw, New York to parents who were from South Carolina where her father worked as a painter and a bricklayer and her mother worked as a domestic.

After the stock market crash of October 24, 1929, Louise’s family migrated from Haverstraw to New York City. They moved to Brooklyn first, and later to Harlem. The third of five children, Louise grew up in the decade of the Great Depression, a time that would deeply affect her young life and ultimately influence her as a writer.

Despite her family’s financial plight, Louise Jenkins attended Public School 81 in Harlem and graduated from Central Commercial High School in downtown Manhattan. In the 1950’s, she received a B.A. degree in English from New York University before meeting and marrying Angelo Meriwether, a Los Angeles teacher. Although this marriage and a later marriage to Earle Howe ended in divorce, Louise continues to use the Meriwether name. In 1965, Louise earned an M.A. degree in journalism from the University of California at Los Angeles.

Meriwether was hired by Universal Studios in the 1950’s to became the first black story analyst in Hollywood’s history. Beginning in the early 1960’s, Meriwether also wrote and published articles in the Los Angeles Sentinel on African Americans such as opera singer Grace Bumbry, Attorney Audrey Boswell, and Los Angeles jurist, Judge Vaino Spencer. In 1967, Meriwether joined the Watts Writers’ Workshop (a group created in response to the Watts Riot of 1965) and worked as a staff member of that project.

Her first book, Daddy Was a Number Runner, a fictional account of the economic devastation of Harlem in the Great Depression, appeared in 1970 as the first novel to emerge from the Watts Writers’ Workshop. It received favorable reviews from authors James Baldwin and Paule Marshall. Daddy Was a Number Runner, is a fictional account of the historical and sociological devastation of the economic Depression on Harlem residents.

Meriwether followed with the publication of three historical biographies for children on civil war hero Robert Smalls (1971), pioneer heart surgeon, Dr. Daniel Hale Williams (1972) and civil rights activist Rosa Parks (1973). In addition to numerous short stories, Meriwether published novels, Fragments of the Ark (1994) and Shadow Dancing (2000). Louise Meriwether has taught creative writing at Sarah Lawrence College and the University of Houston. She is a member of the Harlem Writers Guild.

[batboyblog]

Jewish American Heritage Month

May is Jewish American Heritage Month, there's no way I can make a post to highlight ALL the ways Jewish Americans have contributed to American life, culture, politics and History but here are a few

The Touro Synagogue in Newport Rhode Island is the oldest Synagogue in the United States, built in 1763 for a congregation that dates back to 1658 when 15 Sephardic families moved to America. Touro is also famous for a letter sent to them by President George Washington in 1790 where he assured them of freedom of religion in the new United States:

... the Government of the United States ... gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance. ... May the children of the Stock of Abraham, who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other Inhabitants; while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig tree, and there shall be none to make him afraid. May the father of all mercies scatter light and not darkness in our paths, and make us all in our several vocations useful here, and in his own due time and way everlastingly happy.

- Letter of George Washington to the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island

Emma Goldman (1869-1940) Born in what is today Lithuania Goldman immigrated to the United States at the age of 16. She would become in the 1890s one of the leading voices of the anarchist movement and remains one of Anarchisms most important thinkers. Goldman also spoke out and was arrested for supporting birth control at a time when it was illegal. She supported Free Love and even gay rights before the dawn of the 20th Century making her the only major figure of her time to speak out in favor of homosexual love.

Irving Berlin (1888-1989) Born in what is today central Russia, the Berlin family immigrated to America when Irving was 5 years old. Starting with 1911's "Alexander's Ragtime Band" Berlin would go on to write upwards of 1,500 songs over his 60 year music career. He wrote the scores for 20 Broadway shows, 15 Hollywood movies, was nominated for 8 Oscars and had 25 number one songs on the charts. His most famous songs include, Puttin' on the Ritz, Cheek to Cheek, White Christmas, Anything You Can Do (I Can Do Better), and There's No Business Like Show Business. Fellow Jewish composer George Gershwin (1898-1937) declared Berlin "the greatest songwriter that has ever lived"

Louis Brandeis (1856-1941) A towering legal mind Brandeis would in the early 1900s earn the nickname "The People's Lawyer" for refusing payment in cases for "the public interest" Brandeis fought many antitrust cases in court and fought businesses in court in support of early work place safety laws. Brandeis was also the first to articulate the idea of a Right to Privacy in 1890. Brandeis idea would become the basis of rulings supporting the right to birth control, abortion, and gay rights. Nominated to the Supreme Court in 1916 Brandeis was the first Jewish Justice and was vehemently opposed by antisemites. Fellow Justice James Clark McReynolds refused to speak to Brandeis for years, never signed his name to opinions written by Brandeis, and would often openly start reading a news paper when Brandeis read his opinions from the bench. McReynolds, along with Justices Pierce Butler and Willis Van Devanter sent a letter to President Hoover begging him to not "afflict the Court with another Jew" when he appointed the second Jewish Justice, Benjamin Cardozo, in 1932. Brandeis served 23 years on the Court from 1916 till 1939 and is regularly counted as one of the greatest Justices to ever serve championing Free Speech and progressive policies often from opposition to the Conservative majority of the time.

Stan Lee (1922-2018) and Jack Kirby (1917-1994) Born Stanley Lieber and Jacob Kurtzberg respectively, Lee and Kirby were among countless Jews who adopted less Jewish sounding names in hopes of escaping discrimination. Lee and Kirby along with countless other Jewish artists and writers formed the backbone of the Golden and Sliver ages of comics. Characters such as Batman and Superman had Jewish creators. Kirby and Lee themselves are responsible for such cultural icons as Captain America, Thor, Hulk, Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, Iron Man, Black Panther, Daredevil, and The X-Men. The preponderance of Jews in the early comics was a result of persistent discrimination against Jews. High class advertising agencies didn't want Jewish artists drawing their ads and literary magazines like The New Yorker weren't interested in Jewish staff writers. So young Jewish artists and writers found themselves in the "less respectable" world of pulp and penny comics where they made a huge cultural impact though many, like Kirby, would fight for years to get the money they deserved and many never did.

Elizabeth Taylor (1932-2011) Kirk Douglas (1916-2020) Douglas was born "Issur Danielovitch" but changed his overly Jewish sounding name to make it in the Hollywood of the 1940s and 50s. regarded as one of the greats of classic Hollywood Douglas would be nominated for Oscar for Best Actor 3 times, for Champion (1949), The Bad and the Beautiful (1952) and Lust for Life (1956). He is most well known for his work with Jewish filmmaker Stanley Kubrick (1928-1999) who's first two major films Paths of Glory (1957) and Spartacus (1960) starred Douglas who was also a producer, they are still thought of as some of the best films ever made. Kirk Douglas is also the father of actor Michael Douglas(1944-) Elizabeth Taylor was an iconic star of the Golden Age of Hollywood. Best known for Cleopatra (1961), Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) and The Taming of the Shrew (1967). Taylor converted to Judaism in 1959. An iconic beauty, Taylor was married 8 times to 7 different men (she divorced and remarried and divorced again many time co-star Richard Burton) including to the heir of the Hilton fortune and a US Senator. In the 1980s she would become one of the leading celebrities speaking out and raising money to fight AIDS at a time when fellow Hollywood Star, President Reagan, refused to even say the word in public.

Sammy Davis Jr. (1925-1990) A singer, dancer, performer and actor Davis was one of the most popular acts of the 1950s and 60s. Well known for performing with Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra in what was known as the Rat Pack. Davis would star along side Martin and Sinatra in Ocean's 11 (1960) as well as other Rat Pack films. In the 1980s he toured with Sinatra and Liza Minnelli. Davis was politically active and influential using his fame to push Presidents Kennedy and Nixon on civil rights. Davis' cross over popularity and being booked to co-star with white acts helped break down the color barrier and push integration. After a nearly fatal car accident in which Davis lost his left eye (he wore a glass eye for the rest of his life) in 1954 he began his path to conversion formally converting to Judaism in 1961.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel (1907-1972) with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Rabbi Joachim Prinz (1902-1988) with King. Both Heschel and Prinz were Rabbis in Europe before WWII, Prinz in particular had served as a Rabbi in Berlin in the 1930s and was expelled from Germany by the Nazis in 1937 for embarrassing them internationally. Both men settled in the United States after leaving Europe and would become leading lights of American Jewish community. Prinz would serve as the President of the American Jewish Congress from 1958 till 1966, he would help create the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations in 1956 and be its President from 1965 till 1967. Heschel wrote a number of highly influential books such as Man Is Not Alone, God in Search of Man, The Sabbath, and The Prophets which are still widely read today. Both men felt called on by their experiences with the Nazis to become involved in the 1960s Civil Rights movement. Heschel was close personal friends with Dr. King and marched with him many times, most famously the 3rd Selma to Montgomery march between Dr King and John Lewis who'd been beaten badly at an earlier march. Prinz served as one of the organizing forces behind the 1963 March on Washington and Prinz gave the speech directly before Dr. King's famous "I Have a Dream" Speech. Heschel acted as a Jewish representative at the Catholic Church's Second Vatican Council where he was able to get the Church to drop centuries old antisemitic lines blaming the Jews for the death of Jesus from the liturgy.

Andrew Goodman (1943-1964), James Chaney (1943-1964), and Michael Schwerner (1939-1964) In the summer of 1964 The Congress for Racial Equality (CORE) launched a massive effort to register disenfranchised black voters in Mississippi to vote, they called the effort Freedom Summer. Goodman and Schwerner both natives of New York were among the hundreds of CORE volunteers from the North who came south to help local activists like Mississippi native Chaney with the registration drive. Many of the white northern volunteers, like Goodman and Schwerner were Jewish, Jews had also been heavily represented among the white Freedom Riders of 1961. On June 21, 1964 Goodman, Schwerner, and Chaney were pulled over together by a Deputy Sheriff before being set upon by a conspiracy of local KKK members. The 3 were murdered, and their bodies hidden in an earthen dam, there is some evidence that Goodman was still alive when he was buried. Their disappearance set off a massive FBI lead search known as Mississippi Burning. Public outrage particularly fueled by the image of the 3 men's crying mother's arm in arm at Chaney's funeral would help push through the Civil Rights act of 1964.

Bob Dylan (1941-) Born Robert Zimmerman Dylan lead the American Folk revival of the early 1960s. His songs Blowin' in the Wind (1963) and The Times They Are a-Changin' (1964) became anthems of both the Civil Rights and Anti-War movements of the 1960s. His 1965 transition from Folk to Electric pushed Dylan to the forefront of late 1960s Rock and Roll. Dylan is often ranked as one of the most iconic artists of the 1960s ranked up along side the Beatles. His musical influence is massive and still felt today. In 2016 Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for "for having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition"

Mel Brooks (1926-) and Gene Wilder (1933-2016) born Melvin Kaminsky and Jerome Silberman respectively. Brooks is a comedic legend, writing and directing for film and stage. Brooks is one of only 18 people to complete the EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony Awards). Brooks collaborated with Wilder on a number of his most famous works, The Producers (1967), Blazing Saddles (1974), and Young Frankenstein (1974). Other works include History of the World, Part I (1981), Spaceballs (1987), and Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993). Just this year at the age of 96 Brooks wrote and produced History of the World, Part II a TV series sequel to his 1981 film. Wilder worked closely with Brooks as well as with Richard Pryor. He had a star turn in Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask) (1972). Wilder is best known for his iconic role of Willy Wonka in 1971's Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.

Gloria Steinem (1934-), Bella Abzug (1920-1998), Betty Friedan (1921-2006) with Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm (middle seated). Friedan's 1963 book The Feminine Mystique is widely understood as the spark that started Second Wave Feminism or "Women's liberation". In 1966 Friedan helped start and would be the first President of, National Organization for Women (NOW). NOW remains a major feminist and progressive political organization. Friedan left NOW in 1970 to focus on the fight to pass an equal rights amendment to the US constitution (ERA). Together with Steinem and Abzug Friedan formed the National Women's Political Caucus in 1971. She also helped found the National Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws, known to say simply as "NARAL". Bella Abzug known as "Battling Bella" for her fire breathing progressivism was first elected to the US House in 1970. Her slogan was "This woman's place is in the House—the House of Representatives" a slogan that has been reused by many women candidates since. Abzug was an early pioneer of ecofeminism. She also was a leading figure in the movement to impeach Nixon. Abzug would be one of the first supporters of gay rights in Congress sponsoring the first federal gay rights bill in 1974. Steinem was an influential counter-culture journalist and speaker. Her feminist magazine Ms. served as a voice piece for the Feminist movement of the late 1960s and 1970s. Her connections to the counter culture and her youth caused Steinem to often times act as a bridge between the younger 1960s generation and older activists like Friedan. Steinem remains active in politics and feminism today in her 80s.

Barbra Streisand (1942-) an EGOT winning actress and singer. Streisand first came to national attention with chart topping hits in the 1960s. Across her career Streisand has had 11 number 1 records the most for a woman on the US charts. In the late 1960s Streisand transitioned to film, winning the Oscar for Best Actress for her first role, 1968's Funny Girl. She followed up with Hello, Dolly! (1969), What's Up Doc? (1972), and The Way We Were (1973) before winning her second Oscar this time for Best Original Song for A Star Is Born (1976) the first time a woman won composing Oscar. Streisand's first try at directing was the Jewish classic Yentl (1983) the first time a woman had written, produced, directed, and starred in a major studio film. She became the first and till 2020 only woman to win the Golden Globe for Best director for Yentl. Streisand has always been politically active from the Civil Rights and anti-War movements of the 1960s, feminism in the 1970s, and LGBT rights in the 2000s as well as being active in Democratic politics going back to the 1972 election.

Harvey Milk (1930-1978) The first openly Gay man elected to public office in the United States. Originally from New York Milk moved to San Francisco in the early 1970s and settled in nascent gay neighborhood of The Castro. Milk's small business, Castro Camera soon become a hub of the community. Milk organized gay owned businesses and the local gay community to boycott homophobic businesses and support gay owned ones. He soon earned the nickname "Mayor of Castro Street" for his organizing and leadership of the gay community. He launched his first campaign for office, an election for San Francisco Board of Supervisors, in 1973. Despite being openly gay and sporting classic hippy long hair and a bread Milk swept the Castro and other liberal areas, however he fell short citywide. Milk would run again in 1975, and for State Assembly in 1976 getting closer each time till 1977 when San Francisco introduced districts and Milk won the Castro based District seat. Milk's election made him a national figure and the face for Gay Rights across the country. His brief time in office was consumed by the fight against the Briggs Initiative, a ballot initiative that would have automatically fired any gay teacher or teacher who supported gay rights in California. The Briggs Initiative failed, marking the first time gay rights had won at the ballot box. Harvey Milk and his ally Mayor George Moscone were assassinated on November 27, 1978 by disgruntled former Supervisor Dan White. The Police investigation of White, a former cop, was deeply failed and a straight jury sentenced him to just 5 years for the double murder. In the aftermath of the sentencing the gay community rioted in what is known as The White Night Riots. The gay political movement Milk built in San Francisco remains today with the LGBT community having a powerful voice in local politics.

Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994) Born in what is today Ukraine he fled Europe in 1941. In 1951 Schneerson succeed his Father-in-law as the 7th Rebbe of the Chabad-Lubavitch Movement. While all Hassidic movements have Rebbes, Schneerson would become such a towering figure both in Jewish life and outside it to this day nearly 30 years after his death he is still "The Rebbe". During his long reign as the Rebbe Schneerson transformed the Chabad movement into a global Jewish outreach organization. In many parts of the world Chabad houses operate as the sole outpost of Jewish life. It is not uncommon in heavily Jewish areas or events to find Chabadiks asking men if they're Jewish and have wrapped tefillin today. The Rebbe and his movement would be at the center of the 1980s struggle to liberate Soviet Jewry as well as efforts to evacuate Jewish youth from Iran in 1979. The Rebbe started a global Chanukah outreach campaign, trying to assure that individual Jews have their own menorah and candles as well as pushing for public lightings of display menorahs, if your city lights one it's likely a Chabad project. During his life time many of his followers came to believe that he was the awaited Jewish Messiah. After his death the Chabad movement has not elected another Rebbe to replace him and likely never will. His grave in Queens is a major pilgrimage sight not only for Hassidic Jews but seekers of all kinds, Jewish and not. Ever since 1978 Schneerson's birth has been marked in the US by an act of Congress and Presidential decree by every President since Carter as "Education Day" focusing on his life long work for education and learning.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg (1933-2020) The Second woman to serve on the United States Supreme Court. Ginsburg entered law in the 1950s at a time when very few women did, her Harvard Law Class had 500 men and just 9 women. She graduated first from Columbia. She was denied a Supreme Court Clerkship because of her gender. In 1972 Ginsburg organized and became the head of the Women's Rights Project at the American Civil Liberties Union. By 1974 the Project had been involved with 300 gender discrimination cases. As general counsel of the project Ginsburg would argue 6 gender discrimination cases before the Supreme Court between 1973 and 1976, winning 5. She was often compared to Thurgood Marshall in her role fighting for women's rights in Court. She would keep working with the ACLU till 1980 when she was appointed to the US Court of Appeals, Second Circuit by President Carter. She was appointed to the Supreme Court by President Clinton in 1993, as only the second women and the first Jewish woman to serve, she is the longest serving Jewish Justice. Ginsburg was allied with the liberal wing of the Court through out her time on the bench. After Justice O'Connor retired and Ginsburg found herself in the unexpected position as the only woman on the court from 2006 till Justice Sotomayor joined in 2009 she became more outspoken. Ginsburg would become known for her powerful dissents often read from the bench. After Justice Stevens retired in 2010 Ginsburg became the de facto head of the liberal wing of the Court and soon reached cultural icon status with the wider American public.

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These are just a few of the hugely important Jewish Americans who have impacted and shaped every part of American life and the list if not random is just who I thought of, there were many others I thought about but decided I didn't have room for. Have a good Jewish American Heritage Month this May and learn some Jewish History

#Jewish American Heritage Month #Jewish #Jewish history #Jews #judaism #Jumblr