#// fun fact! the “you are free from the bonds that bound you” is a lyric from Helvegen by Wardruna (the English translation of course hehe)

[rykardthebarbarian]

For: @freydis-freydat Where: Aventia When: Siege Week 3 Notes: sad awoo

The third week of the siege was marked with significant losses on the side opposing the Dark One's army. With every death, morale inside the war-beaten walls of the fortress plunged even lower. The nights were alive with the sounds of mournful wails as the survivors grieved for those who had not returned from the battlefield.

A sliver of a crescent moon hung directly above them in the sky. The hour of the wolf was upon them. How fitting. "You didn't have to help me with this," Rykard said to Freydis as they carefully placed the last fallen werewolf onto the pile of wood that would act as kindling for the cleansing fire. His expression was grim as he recognized the mangled face of one of the deceased. The boy was young, probably no older than nineteen. His family had a bakery in Haven, he tried to picture the wolf's warm smile as he handed out loaves of bread to the Iskaran refugees the day they had arrived in their settlement. He had never learned his name. He wondered if the boy's mother even knew he had left to go fight. If only his bravery was enough to keep his heart beating. "They deserve to rest."

"You will be free from the bonds that bind you," He spoke solemnly to each of the corpses that had been laid upon the make-shift funeral pyre. "You are free from the bonds that bound you." Rykard walked over to horse-drawn cart they had used to transport the corpses, grabbing the torch that had lit their way. He handed the torch to Freydis, glancing away from the unlit pyre as if he was trying to steady himself. Though he did not know these wolves personality, their loss felt like a stone resting on his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "They we're under your command, you should be the one to send them off."

[vaultureculture]

Meet my Guardians :) [part 1?]

I have been playing Eldarya ever since I was 14. For the past few years, I had been reading the story religiously, mixing in headcanons to fill plot-holes, and  fleshing out Erika until she became something entirely different. 

Her character soon split into my three mains, all of whom I will introduce to you all in this post! In my Eldarya AU, they all exist in the same universe, and the three of them play crucial roles in the Oracle’s prophecy. I will develop them more as time goes by hmhm

1-Monnika

Name: Monnika Defreine (she/her)

Birth date: 14th November  [  ♏︎  ]

Age: 22

Species: Faelienne (Aengel+Human)

MBTI: INFP

Guard: Absynthe Guard

Familiar: Lillith (Bâkhrâhell)

LI: Leiftan (both in TO and in ANE)

Occupation in the Guard of Eel: She has taken on the role of a teacher for many children inside the H.Q’s walls. She specializes in lyrical poetry and composition. Whenever she is free from her teaching job, she adventures out into the forest to collect ingredients for ointments and potion spells. 

Sub-occupation: Trained alchemist, Oracle visualizer. Monnika has frequent premonitory dreams and visions featuring the Oracle, but she cannot understand them nor speak in their tongue. Her visual communication with the Oracle is important regardless, and she’s the most attached to it.  

Weapon of choice: Sword

Pros: Forgiving, educated, compassionate, patient, reliable. 

Cons: A push-over, easily biased, indecisive, self-victimizing, very edgy.

Monnika follows the more “canon Erika” path. She is the only one of the main three to have come from Earth through the portal we see at the beginning of the game. She is also the only one to retain an element of Aengel blood, albeit stronger than Erika’s. The option was ruled out for canon Erika, but Monnika is indeed adopted and a faelienne. She’s aware of her adoption but does not know anything else about her background, nor has she cared to know.

In her childhood, she was often reported to affect nearby light and energy sources. Her parents believed her to simply be sensitive to electromagnetic fields. This explanation is usually given to spiritual mediums: The energy they accumulate is said to be what causes paranormal phenomena around them. 

Once she crossed the portal into Eldarya, she began regulating her Maana, and her powers started manifesting more. The eventual blood transfusion and ‘soul-tethering’ with Leiftan jumpstarted a physical transformation, leaving her stuck out of her human disguise. Now, do not let her edgy appearance fool you: she is an Aengel. 

Monnika's form is inspired by traditional Seraphims— that is, ominous balls of eyes and feathers. Her blood is ancient, and her outside reflects it:  Upon transforming, all of her grows in size monstrously. She prostrates, back heavy with wings, as blazing white light fills her sockets. Her spindly fingers dig into the soil, like the feeble limbs of a black widow spider. She is one with the earth her mother bore her from; in her presence, one feels as though judgment is neigh.

There are no reasons to fear her, though, for she is kind and reserved. Monnika finds joy in tranquility and avoids company most of the time. After her initial transformation, she grew more distant, ashamed of her new condition. Her human blood keeps her from smoothly regulating her powers, so she is stuck in her angel form from the first time it occurs to the end of the War for Eldarya, before the 7-year coma. With training, she is finally able to change back to a more human disguise. 

Leiftan and Monnika are, indeed, soulmates. She always felt herself gravitate towards him and followed this attraction without remorse. Her alliance stands with Leiftan and with Leiftan only, which made her position in TO quite complicated. Her lover's crimes were heinous, but her eagerness to build bridges between them again kept her from understanding the seriousness of it all. After their coma, her spirit and trust are broken by Leiftan's distance. She's then left to pine from afar, desperately trying to comprehend how she's supposed to live with half a heart.  

2-Astraea

Name: Astraea Varma (she/her)

Birth date:  5th March [ ♓︎ ]

Age: 24

Species: Euryhalin nomadic mermaid

MBTI: ISFJ

Guard: Obsidian Guard

Familiar: Thetis (Blobbiathan)

LI: Valkyon (TO) & Mathieu (ANE) 

Occupation in the Guard of Eel: Unwilling to find herself (or her peers) wounded and helpless in the midst of battle, she started working as a nurse under the protection of Ewelein. Her eagerness to learn and help others soon turned her into a sponge for medical knowledge.

Sub-occupation: Obsidian infantry soldier, Crystal fragment detector. Astraea can easily sense the presence of crystal fragments, corrupted or not. She can easily follow them to where they are, as if they left a visible trail. 

Weapon of choice: Hammer or enchanted fists. 

Pros: law-abiding, empathetic, just, optimistic, fun to be around. 

Cons: Inflexible, holds grudges, bad loser, stubborn, quick to judge.  

Astraea washed up on a small stream that crosses the forest of Eel. She was found by Ykhar and Alajéa on the noon of the same day that Monnika appeared in the Crystal Room. Astraea had no recollection of her journey upon waking up beside the fact that she was looking for something significant. She made allusions to it being noted down in her journals, all of which she lost in the last half of her trip. 

She comes from a clan of Euryhalin nomadic mermaids, aquatic creatures who can travel both through rivers and oceans according to migratory seasons. These migration patterns are marked by the moon and the stars, so these mermaids are essentially nocturnal. This is similar (if not the same, even) to the structure and tradition of Alajéa and her sister Colaïa’s clan. The likeness between Alajéa and Astraea’s experiences will eventually strengthen the bond between them, and make them grow closer than ever— despite the initial moments of sourness. The only thing that could throw a spanner in the works is Astraea's distaste for Karenn, Alajéa's best friend. The breach between them is no different in ANE, as Karenn's overall demeanor is quick to make Astraea's blood boil.

Despite being an Obsidian, Astraea fears conflict and very much dislikes harming others. She is not one to await battle with a smile, nor is she an outstanding warrior by herself. Nevertheless, it is her wit, perseverance, and fairness that landed her on that guard. Moments of doubt, like passing mists, may have clouded her self-perception; She may have broken down many times but always stood up again to dedicate more effort to her cause. She fights when necessary, using her knowledge in enchantments to gather up fists of rocks as her weapons.

Incredibly passionate about justice and discipline, Astraea held the Obsidian chief Valkyon in high regard. He became one of her confidants in the tortuous search for her memories; then, a partner to stand by as the world caved in. After the War and the 7-year coma, Astraea withdrew into isolation, grieving over the loss of her lover and mentor. The cherry tree that once was Valkyon’s shelter is now Astraea’s place of reflection— a deep, melancholic pondering only Mathieu, a new friend, and Sonzaishinai, an old friend, can get her out of. 

3)Sonzaishinai

Name: Hélène “Sonzaishinai” Müller(she/her)

Birth date:  20th May [ ♊︎ ]

Age: 25

Species: Nocturnal fae (moth variant)

MBTI: ENTP

Guard: Shadow Guard

Familiar: Skade (Owlett)

LI: Nevra (TO) & Lance (ANE)

Occupation in the Guard of Eel:  Hélène had always shown a questionable interest in the archives of the H.Q. When Ykhar offered her to work as an adjoined archive librarian, she could not pass it up. She knows the catalogue by heart and has gathered a bunch of...information that may be of use to her. 

Sub-occupation: Master archer, Oracle interpreter. Sonzaishinai has auditory hallucinations featuring the Oracle. She is able to understand her tongue and speak in the Ancient tongue of Eel, thus being able to interpret many crucial pieces of information. 

Weapon of choice: Bow and arrow.

Pros: Diplomatic, humorous, witty, loyal, affectionate. 

Cons: Hides information, violent under stress, impulsive, patronizing. 

Sonzaishinai was brought to the H.Q disheveled and delirious by a group of local Purreko merchants. They had accused her of theft (bread? a dragon tear? so they said), and she was thrown into a cell pre-emptively. Nevertheless, her worn-down state and the lack of evidence ended the trial period rather quickly. For lack of planning and information about her, she was kept in jail for an extra day. Sonzaishinai was in prison at the same time as Monnika. The 'masked man' freed both, and the girls parted ways at the Hall of Doors. 

As a disoriented newcomer, Sonzaishinai was granted shelter. She was allowed three days to recover and decide on her fate. She would either hit the road and return to her homeland or commit to becoming a productive citizen of Eel— by settling and supporting local markets, or joining the staff. Her affairs were thoroughly searched, and nothing was found but a couple notebooks filled with inscriptions in an alphabet unknown. Under questioning, Sonzaishinai soon proved to be, somehow, proficient in languages galore, many of them forgotten and unused. 

She soon joined the same recruit program as Monnika and Astraea...not without the Guard's persuasion, of course. There, Sonzaishinai and Astraea grew close beyond belief. They learned to lean on each other, bound by laughter and blind trust. Sonzaishinai considers Astraea a sister and does not hesitate to call her so— while Astraea always goes to Sonzaishinai for guidance. In ANE's weapon giving ceremony, Hélène chooses to call her new bow (it is Monnika who gets the sword) "Astraea", for she believes the younger mermaid to be her protection and good luck charm.

The nickname "Sonzai Shinai" was given to her by a guard colleague from the Jade Coast. It is a verbal expression of Japanese origin, meaning "there is not", "it does not exist". The culprit behind Hélène's telling nickname is no other than her silence: One can barely hear her arrive, and she always seems to appear as suddenly as she fades away. With time, she fully adopted the nickname, and nobody really calls her Hélène anymore—with rare exceptions.

Nocturnal faes are beings as mysterious and charming as they are dangerous. Most of them present themselves as delicate young women, who seem far too attractive or even stuck in time, never aging.  Behind their lips, however, hide sharp teeth. They are carnivorous and oftentimes conniving, some even venomous, just like the habitats or plants they frequent. It depends on the individual, of course, but they do not have the best reputation around. Whatever they really are, it is not advisable to seal deals with them. They always have a trick up their sleeve.

Although Hélène can be 100% trusted if you are her ally, she does tend to keep many things a secret. It was her that contacted Lance in TO, never telling Miiko and even asking him to take her along. She built a sense of trust between them that allowed Lance to feel comfortable enough to kidnap her in particular, hoping she'd be the one to understand his goals the most. He'd never thought that she'd know as much as him and that she'd been using him to get new leads the entire time. Despite it all, they were always capable of dialogue, which threatens to come back in an incredibly mentally stimulating way upon their new meeting. 

Regarding Nevra, Sonzaishinai had always felt a strong, nurturing love towards him. He'd proven to be an ambitious brat with too big of an ego one too many times, but his light-heartedness and genuine attachment got to her rather quickly. Upon waking up after the 7-year coma, she did not recognize the moody and regretful man before her. He'd promised to love her forever, but now she stood alone spiteful, facing empty words. Despite their falling out, she will always have a soft spot for him and won't doubt to put herself in harm's way for him.

[obeymeluv]

Cupid’s Bow - Asmodeus

This is what I needed the love songs for :) The song lyrics are in bold/italic. I used “Something So Beautiful” by Yongzoo, and it’s super cute. I think you should listen to it at least once!

Have a sappy, magical confession!

I hope you like it! It’s my first major Asmo piece :o 

RAD was in an absolute uproar. This week was a literal once-a-year event and Asmo wouldn’t miss out. He couldn’t! That would just be heartbreaking to the general public, honestly. The fifth-born was up almost inconceivably early—earlier than his routine usually demanded! It pained him to be anything less than perfect but he could forgive himself this once (his skin was to die for on any day, makeup or not).

Rumor had it that Diavolo bought enough Cupid’s Bow for the entire academy but Asmodeus wouldn’t leave it to chance. These blossoms were one of the most finicky breeds in all of the Devildom, sought out for their magical properties and uncanny ability to detect soulmates. They were nurtured meticulously, religiously bred, and highly regarded for the enchanting aroma they emitted when they bloomed.

If they bloomed.

Though rare, some poor souls never got theirs to open and had to wait another year. That’s why Asmo never purchased one in his hundreds of years alive. Some small part of him, the part that worried he’d never find true love due to the burden and weakness of being the Avatar of Lust, was always afraid he’d end up with a lump of heart-shaped petals. He’d rather have fun in the moment, fill the desirous ache with teeth and tongues and Demonus.

Despite the ungodly hour and the fact that he flew over, there were easily forty people between him and the stacks of flowers. He couldn’t bring himself to admire the flowered vines crawling up the stand and supporting the sign, or how RAD seemed to be a bit greener as if to set the mood. Asmodeus’ lips twisted up in a grateful smile as he thanked whatever luck existed in the Devildom that no one felt like talking. Sure, there were murmurs of ‘perfect spots’ and who so-and-so planned to give the flower to, but he refused to hear any of it right now.

He couldn’t, really. His heart was in a giddy flutter, bouncing against his ribs and stirring up the warmth that made standing in the early morning chill of the Devildom more bearable.

The rose hit his hand and Asmo gripped it like his life depended on it. His first instinct was to jet back to the house but the sheer delicacy of the bud was enough to stop him in his tracks. The realization of its frailness, the fact that he’d only get one, lanced across him like a celestial blade.

It made him flinch, and he was surprised to feel it. His hand shook around the thorn-studded stem. Asmodeus calmed his wildly beating heart with a single breath, charming his way out of the line. His red-yellow eyes could just make out the House of Lamentation in the distance.

Now, how to offer it to you?

Human world soil had long since lost the ability to grow Cupid’s Bow. He wasn’t sure if it was a lack of magical caretakers, the inability to enchant the soil, or the fact that the human world no longer supported magic. No one on earth seemed to know what the Cupid’s Bow was anymore. The idea of presenting flowers to loved ones—and the fact that flowers had meanings—was all that remained of the tradition (centuries of bad translations, destroyed books, and eroded pictograms didn’t help anything.)

This was something you’d see once in your life (unless the exchange program was renewed and you came back next year!) It had to be special. As the Avatar of Lust and leading expert on anything relationship related, Asmodeus would be doing you a disservice if he didn’t plan the perfect reveal!

But what if it didn’t open when he handed it to you? He couldn’t bear the thought! Asmodeus had been in absolute agony—nearly sick—about how to confess to you. Had been for a while. Part of him was worried he was reading into things, seeing what he wanted to see, but another part of him knew that you felt the same way.

He could prove it with a pact but didn’t want to cheat like that. Pacts allowed the bonded pair to share emotions; if he stayed on the bond plane long enough your emotions would become his own. Asmodeus would get an idea of your innermost feelings. As tempting as the idea was, he didn’t want to risk the gaping, cold nothingness he’d surely feel if you considered him anything but someone you loved romantically. Several of his brothers were surprised to hear he hadn’t made a pact with you yet, but he always gave the same excuse of Solomon being demanding.

Asmodeus had been alive for a long time, and his list of lovers was even longer. Being the Avatar of Lust meant he spent a fair time courting and every date he’d been on was unique. He’d never repeated a date (not every detail, at least). This would be no exception. He slipped into the House of Lamentation, Cupid’s Bow held out at arm’s length so it would be the first thing to enter the protections.

That wouldn’t protect it from one of his brothers but it was away from the outside and that’s what mattered. Silverware tinkled in the distance, Beelzebub and Lucifer setting the table for breakfast. Should he hand it to you at breakfast, when everyone was present and make them absolutely sick with jealousy?

Very, very tempting! Then he could brag about it to the school! Maybe even get picked up by Majolish! After all, it would be crazy rare to have one of the two exchange students as his fated betrothed. To know would set him free and give him bliss he hadn’t experienced since his first feeding as the Avatar of Lust, but was it really good enough?

Couples shared their Cupid’s Bow stories for centuries, passing it down like a family heirloom. An impatient breakfast proposal seemed very lackluster, given his reputation. He’d been torturing himself for months, what was one more day? Asmodeus hadn’t even realized he’d started up the stairs towards your room until Lucifer squeezed gently on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“You’re bleeding,” the eldest frowned. Something was clearly amiss if perfect Asmodeus was letting himself bleed. The prick of pain turned into a burrowing sting as he looked at the thorn embedded in his palm. Drops of blood ran along the lines of his soft hand and down his wrist. Lucifer didn’t have to ask what was wrong, the flower was enough of an answer. He was fairly certain it was the first time Asmodeus had bought one to give out but he dared not say it.

Lucifer could already see the ideas spinning in Asmodeus’ eyes. His little brother’s eyes grew pinker, an enchanting, luminous pink that was love itself. Their eyes tended to lose the gradient when swept up in the emotion of their sin. When it came to you, love and lust were the same for Asmodeus. The charm literally hummed in Asmodeus’ veins; Lucifer could feel it pulsing in his wrist.

It was a persistent, almost anxious feeling. One begging him to bound up the stairs and into your room. To throw himself at your feet or into your arms and all that you were. “Smaller ambitions are still noble,” Lucifer cautioned as he ran his thumb across the wound to lay a thin sheet of healing magic. Asmodeus could hardly remember when Lucifer last touched him without gloves, heart stuttering at the comforting but nervous squeeze.

Asmodeus was very much a ‘go big or go home’ type, and he knew Lucifer was afraid of him falling too far. They had fallen too far once, and it cost them dearly. Some of them had never really healed. He was afraid of that, himself.

The grand vision of you in a diaphanous dress of his own design, sitting pretty on a picnic blanket before a Devilgram-worthy spread of delicate treats as he presented the rose was dashed by cold dread. Suddenly the idea of waking you up from a dream wasn’t so bad. He wouldn’t be out a lot of money and he could wallow in shame from the comfort of his room if things went wrong.

It won’t go wrong, something soothed him. It swept throughout his body, a strangely familiar tide. Some omnipotent whisper…the remains of something he’d lost when he fell from the Celestial Realm. Emboldened, Asmodeus swept up the stairs and knocked on your door.

He felt like he was floating. Maybe he was just light-headed from holding his breath? Asmodeus heard your sleepy invitation, opening the door to see you twisted in the sheets and struggling to sit up. His heart broke free of the stranglehold, bumping up to his tongue and shaking the knot loose. Asmodeus poured his heart out.

A genuine, soft ramble. An honest soliloquy. It was like the first record of love itself, something that would leave Helen of Troy, Guinevere, and Cleopatra wanting. The sheer joy of your undivided attention almost caused him to bite his tongue. Somehow, he persisted. “People think that I cannot love, being the Avatar of Lust, and I spent centuries believing them. Living up to the expectation of flings and everything lust means…it wasn’t until I met you that I knew I was capable of love. Real love.”

You were so red you thought you’d pass out. Asmo gave you a dazzling smile and you were surprised to see he had dimples. “As a token of this love, I ask that you take this flower. It is a flower borne from the seeds of fate itself.” Asmodeus held the rose out to you, turning it slightly so you’d grab a thorn-free piece.

He didn’t know if he wanted to explode or puke.

All he really wanted was for you to grab the damn flower (and see it open).

“What is it?” your nail scraped the stem. You hesitated, not knowing if you could trust it. Was it really just a flower? Would it bite you? Asmodeus wanted to whine, to shove it into your hand. It wouldn’t react if you didn’t grab it for real!

At some point he’d dropped to one knee. Was it to stop the shaking or even out the height difference? “Cupid’s Bow,” Asmodeus fluffed his bangs and brushed them to the side, “Fate’s Flower. This flower blooms once a year, lasts for a week, and only opens when given to you by your soulmate.”

Could he love you so deeply? Flowers say a lot, but to think one like this existed!

“Take it,” he insisted with twinkling eyes, almost begging. “Take it and see that I love you.”

You grabbed the flower, fingers bumping and brushing Asmodeus’. His lips skated across your knuckle. A gasp escaped you as the flower unfurled into several rows of dainty, heart-shaped petals. The flower opened into a gradient of blood red, vibrant orange, and delicate peach. Asmodeus squealed with delight, scooping you up in a whirl of limbs and love.

He pressed you close, cradled your adoringly.

A warbling growl-screech followed. You could feel the sound bouncing in his chest but couldn’t quite hear it. It was something only a demon’s tongue could make, a sound meant for non-humans.

“Red for love and beauty,” Asmo’s kisses were hungry and sloppy. Your brain was so numbed by the onslaught you could barely hear him; you tasted the smile on his lips and it made your heart sing. “Orange for desire and fascination, because you are unlike any other my lips have touched.” your back hit the bed; Asmo knocked a shuddering breath out of you as he pressed kisses to your throat. “And peach for appreciation. Sealing the deal, if you will…” he said the last part with a purr.

Your body throbbed, the wash of euphoria dimming to an expectant pulse when he took his lips away. His tail flicked behind him excitedly, horns casting shadows on your face as the tips glowed a pinkish-red. He laced your fingers together, the flower trapped between them.

Darling, come on over and take my hand. I will show you that I'm you're man. Is that okay?

Never-ending, I'm extending both of my arms and my heart belongs to you

What a sight, what a view when I'm looking at you! Like I'm seeing the sky for the very first time, and I want you to know that I've never seen something so beautiful!

“Is that…music?”

“Cupid’s Bows are supposed to make for the perfect moment!” Asmo winked at you, his free hand slipping under your back to hold you close. “This is the song of your soul…the song that represents what you feel for your partner. The fragrance is something unique to each person, a smell that makes them happy. Some historians think it’s the original love chemical!” he gushed.

“That’s highly debated, of course.” Asmodeus looked over his shoulder to see Satan and the others standing in the doorway. Right…he used the ‘announcement’ noise. He hadn’t meant for them to crash this moment, he was just so excited when the flower opened that it slipped out!

Asmo rolled over in a slow, fluid motion and sat up with a smug smile. “The human is mine!” he cheered, absolutely glowing as you showed them the open flower. It was met with various reactions and he ate that up, too.

Lucifer smirked, fixing his cuff and glove with an interested look. “Lord Diavolo will enjoy this news, I’m sure.”

“A merger is a merger, however it happens. I doubt he intended to bond the realms this way.” Satan rubbed his chin.

“A merger? What are you—”

“Those flowers are like the Devildom version of a wedding ring. An eternal promise.” Satan explained. “It’s hard to find people who don’t get married after a Cupid’s Bow opens for them.”

“Married?!”

“Married!” Asmo breathed dreamily, taking a photo he would cherish for the rest of his life. The flower would wilt and turn black in a week but he would remember it forever. He shooed everyone out to help you get ready for school, holding your hands in his when all was said and done. Asmo gazed upon you reverently, kissing your forehead. “I love you always.”        

[deepslateemeraldore]

goin’ crazy from the moment i met you

for the @itfandomprompts gift exchange! this is my gift for @a-portable-snack who requested “ (college Au) Losers go to karaoke and Richie sings Untouched by the Veronicas to Eddie drunkenly and Reddie Chaos ensues “! hope you enjoy this!!!

   - 4k words   - Mentions of weed and alcohol   - Mentions of Bill’s past relationship   - Talks of crushes

  Sleepy college towns are never really thought of as anything other than that. They’re small, oftentimes quiet communities, with bands of young adults trying to find their places in the grand scheme of things. There’s heartbreak, love, loss, and on occasion, loud drunken nights singing karaoke obnoxiously and proudly in the shitty little dive bars that offered such sad excuses for attention. Who in their right mind would find such an embarrassing pastime enjoyable?  

   The answer: Eddie Kaspbrak. A rising star in the world of local track and field, and often found running wild with his band of misfits on the weekends (though, to him, the fact that they were misfits is what made their bond so strong). He couldn’t help the image that the town had put together about him, trotting at the heels of the other town losers; Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Stanley Uris, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, and last but not least, Richard Tozier (though, calling him anything besides “Richie” was bound to get you an earful unless you were his mother). 

 If only the judging eyes could see Eddie, laughing himself sick amongst said friends, singing songs that hadn’t been popular since his elementary school years. They’d take turns picking their most hated songs to sing at each other while the recipient of that round would make sour faces at the offender (but secretly, they wouldn’t be upset. They’d think it was the most hilarious thing, only to be replaced by the following week's act of tomfoolery and embarrassment).

 In fact, karaoke had become a sort of group therapy for the clan of friends. It fell into routine after everyone’s first year at college ended with Richie using his newly acquired fake ID to load up the back of Bev’s car with enough beer to last a whole winter. The three drank at Bill’s until their knees went numb, and ended up wandering around downtown for a bit, stumbling into a shitty dive when the need for greasy food set in. By mistake, Bev signed up for karaoke, and the rest is history. Ben came the next time with Mike, who invited Stanley who invited Eddie. The latter of the two had stood solid on their stance of karaoke being dumb and childish until they’d decided to duet to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” in homage to changing majors. Eddie had never felt more alive than in that moment. 

 Over time, the song selection had grown from moody teenage anthems to half-time show routines, before settling comfortably in a genre appealing to only the chaotically single and nostalgically lonely. That’s not to say they were sad songs, oftentimes they were very fun and upbeat songs, but lyrically they could bring a drunk Bill Denbrough to his knees (though that was a very easy task that only required a small amount of hard liquor). 

 However, one particular night at the Bleu Jay will forever have a choke hold on Eddie Kaspbrak’s tender heart. 

 It was an average Saturday in late March, and he and Bev had spent the morning at various craft stores hunting for diploma frames. Bev had graduated the past winter with a BA in Textile and Apparel Studies, immediately accepting an offer to work with the Penobscot Theatre (along with several other theatres in Maine). She became impassioned for the art made by local seamstresses, and it was clear the feeling was mutual as soon as she joined the team. 

 Eddie would be graduating at the end of that spring with a Bachelors in Statistics (although it was assumed he would enroll in a new program for Anatomy and Biology the coming fall), becoming the fourth of his friend group to get his degree. And he was proud of himself, little “Wheezie” Kaspbrak, coddled by his mother until he could break free, going to college against family wishes and proving that he had more to him than what was publicly thought. And it was exhilarating in the same vein, existing outside of his mother's (womb) house. 

 And, as almost every Saturday since becoming legal went, they set out to celebrate with drinks. And karaoke. 

 Mike and Stan arrived first, Bill, Ben, and Richie next, and lastly, Bev and Eddie. The agreed upon meeting time was always seven thirty, and like every Saturday, Bev and Eddie were late. 

 “Man, you guys are s-s-so late,” Bill slurred, sitting shotgun in Ben’s car with the door propped open. Bev hadn’t even put the car park by the time the smell of shitty weed had made itself known. Bev giggled as she opened her door, shooting Eddie a look as if to say “this should be hilarious.” Eddie followed Bev’s lead, opening the door of the ‘99 Camry, careful not to slam the door too hard, and checking that the mirror had not fallen off (again. It was a junk car, but it ran like a dream, Bev would say). 

 “I already sm-smoked all Richie’s weed, Bev.” Bill followed up. Eddie took one solid look at his friend and let out his own little laugh. Mike led everyone from the parking lot into the bar, and after having their IDs checked (they came weekly, at this point you’d think the poor old bouncer wouldn’t care) they made way to their table. It was the only horseshoe booth in the place, furthest away from the bar counter, and the best place to be loud without getting any funny looks from other patrons. They were also the largest group to ever set foot in the dive.

 Mike would always sit in the middle, Stan and Bill on either side of him, Ben then Bev sitting to Stan’s left, Richie then Eddie to Bill’s right. Just like always. Stan ordered the first round of drinks, making sure to order Bill’s Bloody Mary with more tomato juice and less vodka (the conversation outside the bar between he and Richie about Bill being a “One Hit Wonder” went right over the accused’s head, making for a good laugh all around) and Eddie’s Appletini sans garnish. Bev chimed in to ask for a basket of fries, making Stan’s eyes shine bright. 

 “I knew there was a reason we’ve kept you around, Marsh.” He teased, clapping a hand on her shoulder. Ben smiled at the interaction, happy to see the most tense member of their group relaxing so soon into the evening. As soon as the waiter stepped away, small talk grew into a medium rumble, and talk about classes and grad school and professors everyone hated began to snowball. It only got worse as drinks made their way around.

 “I thought Richie said Short was a good head for the theatre department?” Mike asked Bev softly. Before Bev could respond, Richie had butted in. 

 “No, Mikey, I said Short gives good head to the theatre department,” Was Richie’s reply as he knocked back a shot of Jameson and winced. “Everyone loves a good gum job from-“

 “Beep Beep, Richie.” That was Eddie, exasperated having to hear about the old guy for what felt like the hundredth time. Richie turned to his friend, mock hurt, and scoffed. 

 “But Ed’s, you love to hear about me getting all the foxy grandpas and-“ Eddie’s cheeks flushed pink. 

 “I said beep beep, Dick. Shut up.” Richie stared at Eddie meekly as Eddie turned back to the group and picked up his martini. Without missing a beat, he spoke to Bill. 

 “So, are you and Audra on speaking terms now?” The table sat quiet as Eddie spoke, partially because the tone he’d just used was borderline frightening, but also because Richie had never shut up that quickly before. Bev would have to commend him on it later. Bill cleared his throat. 

 “We t-t-talked about it on Wednesday. I went to s-see her after her shift and all was f-fine. She said she’d rather see me h-happy with a guy than mi-miserable with her.” He shrugged, taking a sip of the water Stan had slyly moved closer to him. Bev nodded, as did Ben, Richie, Eddie. Everyone took a drink. Richie cleared his throat.

 “I’m happy for you, man. Really. Growth and all that shit. Mazel tov or whatever.” Everyone laughed save for Stan, who groaned, sinking into the booth. 

 “So, are we tipsy enough to start singing or does the Donner Party minus Bill need another round?” Richie asked, looking around the table. He was met with stares of confusion. 

 “Why are we the Donner Party minus Bill?” Ben inquired trying to connect the dots mentally. 

 “Because Bill fell off the wagon after I let him hit BabySpice in the parking lot.”  Ben nodded, not bothering to inquire further. Bill made a noise of protest, but was too eager to make a fool of himself on the small bar stage to say otherwise. 

 And so the night began. They moved as a herd to the DJ booth, signing their names after finding a song (although, Eddie had to sign Bill’s name and song, seeing as the lightweight was a bit too fucked up to hold the pen properly. Seriously, one hit and half a Bloody Mary?), then retreating back to the booth, awaiting their names being called to the stage when it was time. They had a few more sips and laughs in between.

 Mike was called first. Mike usually went first just to ease the tension, but tonight he seemed almost a bit too excited to go first. 

 “Is it just me, or is he skipping up there?” Eddie asked Richie, leaning in and whispering while still keeping his eyes on Mike. He felt Richie lean in a little closer to him, too, making his cheeks flush pink again. 

 “I think he might have a crush on someone,” Richie motioned with his head to Bill very subtly. “But, you didn’t hear that from me.” Eddie’s eyes grew to the size of saucers as he turned to face Richie, who smirked and held a finger up to his lips. “Shhh.” Eddie let out a light chuckle, turning his attention back to Mike on stage. The song started up as Mike waved to his friends, who smiled back and began to sway to the music. 

 Eddie smiled to himself as he zoned out, thinking about what Richie has just said. Mike and Bill. Bill and Mike. It didn’t bother Eddie in the slightest, in fact, he became almost excited at the thought of them two dating. They’d always been close, and they’d always made a really good team. And if Bill thought the same way about Mike, then that’d be just dandy! But Bill did just get out of a relationship, but he also seemed happy to bring up the whole “happier with a guy” thing… who knows? Not Eddie. Not in the slightest. Eddie reached for his drink, bringing it close and sipping it throughout Mike’s song, thinking. 

 He thought about “crushes” he’s had in the past on a few girls from his childhood, then the crushes he had in middle and high school on boys, and the crush that he’s had on the same boy since high school. He felt his neck grow hot and downed the last few sips of his martini. Mike’s song ended and they all cheered, although Eddie wouldn’t have been able to tell you what song he’d even sang. The waiter came by their table as Mike came back, earning a pat on the back from Ben (who was up next) and a thumbs up from Bill who appeared to be… blushing? God, if Bill was blushing then I must look like a damn lobster, Eddie thought, then turned to the waiter and asked for a Long Island Iced Tea, sub the rum for extra tequila. 

 The waiter was back within the first minute of Ben’s song, prompting Eddie to waste no time sucking his drink down. His first sip took a bit more than a third of the glass and burned only slightly on its way down. He took another big sip, the glass now just below halfway, which earned a sneering chuckle from Richie, lightly sipping his fourth Jack & Coke.

 “You got a hot date or s’mthin?” Richie asked, almost a little too close to Eddie’s ear.

Now I probably look like a ripe fucking beet, just peachy. Eddie blinked, turned his head to look at Stan and jeered back:

 “Yes, actually. Stanley and I were talking about bringing a himbo or two back to the condo. Why, you think you qualify?” It was Eddie’s turn to smirk, and the blank look on Richie’s face counted as a victory in his book. Eddie focused his attention back to Ben on stage, clapping for his friend as the song finished, hoping his blush was subtle. Richie sat completely still.

 Bev went after Ben, planting a kiss on his cheek as they walked past each other. Bev sang “Baby Got Back”, much to the surprise of everyone other than Eddie (they’d discussed these important matters on the drive). Bill went after Bev, Richie after Bill (although in everyone’s mind, the “Tequila” song did not count, which earned him a do-over for after Stan went), Eddie after Richie (Eddie was also razzed for choosing “Sweet Caroline” due to its extremely popular nature with the drunk crowd), and Stan following last. Eddie had enjoyed Stan’s song, “SexyBack” but only because once Stan was nearing drunk, he would go all out with his dance moves, getting the entire bar (really, the only 5 others in the bar besides the losers) to clap with him. It was fun! It was all fun! 

 Until Richie got up to perform his do-over song. Eddie had gotten up to let him out of the booth, but the way Richie’s normally swinging gait sagged was cause for concern in Eddie’s inebriated mind. Bill, now far too “drunk” from a grand total of three and a half shots worth of alcohol, was whooping and hollering as Richie talked to the DJ. Eddie was prepared, as was the rest of the table, for Richie to choose something to get off easy, something in the family of “Rolling in the Deep” or “Jolene”, with Stan bidding on “Hand in my Pocket” because “it’s just a karaoke classic!”. 

 The conversation roaring around the table while Richie and the DJ looked for some song that wasn’t coming up in the catalog turned to making fun of Bill, who had claimed his “high was wearing off” and that he had “never been this brunk defore”, earning a hearty laugh from the six. Stan and Eddie worked to prop Bill up so he was at least not head first on the table. In fact, they would’ve all missed Richie starting if it hadn’t been for the tapping on the microphone, followed by:

 “Hello, I am slightly tipsy and extremely sorry for what you are all about to see.” Violins came from the speakers surrounding the stage, and when Eddie looked at the screen behind Richie’s head, the panic set in, surrounding the bar in the sounds of 2000’s pop. 

 Richie began to dance, albeit very poorly, to “Untouched” by The Veronicas. He was a little drunk. Eddie was a little drunk. A man sitting at a booth near the DJ was clapping and cheering, and also probably a little drunk. The losers were clapping and cheering. Eddie felt like he was inside an ice cube, and also like he was going to pass out. 

 “I go ooh ooh, you go aah aah,

Lalalala, lalalala,” Richie began to sing, his voice reaching somewhere between a valley girl and a horrible Britney Spears impression. 

“I wanna wanna wanna get get get what I want, don’t stop,” Richie sang to the man in the booth, who hadn’t stopped clapping. It occurred to Eddie in that moment that Richie couldn’t be drunk. Drunk Richie was funny, aloof, extra clumsy, and could barely mutter out a proper sentence. No amount of alcohol would make him do this.

 Eddie tore his eyes away from his friend on stage, intensely studying the remaining ice in his glass. He tried to bring a hand up to fiddle with the straw, to keep himself distracted, but the way his hand shook was going to give away everything he was trying to keep in. Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look UP. If he thought about it hard enough, Eddie supposed he could have made himself throw up from the amount of sudden stress (which was code for Gay Panic) building in his abdomen. He could faintly hear Bev and Bill cheering, and out of the corner of his eye caught Stan standing up in the booth to join in the support of his friend. Close your eyes. Close your eyes. Close your eyes. 

  “Cause you’re the only one who’s on my mind, I’ll never ever let you leave, I’ll try to stop time forever, never wanna hear you say goodbye,” jerked Eddie back to reality, but only because he could feel his worst fear currently coming true. 

 Richie had stepped off the stage, and Eddie had looked over at him just as he had made his way through the small crowd of the bar (and as far as the mic cord would allow). Eddie could feel the eyes shift to him, and was certain that if you hooked him up to an EKG, he would be legally pronounced dead. 

 “I feel so untouched and I want you so much, that I just can’t resist you,” Eddie could tell by the look in his eyes, Richie was determined about something. 

 “It’s not enough to say that I miss you,” maybe this was directed at Bill, because Richie had a crush on him once upon a time. 

 “I feel so untouched right now, need you so much somehow, I can’t forget you,” or maybe this was directed at the guy, sitting alone by the DJ who hasn’t stopped clapping. Maybe Richie was being dramatic, building tension. 

 “Goin crazy from the moment I met you.” It was the direct eye contact Eddie had accidentally made with Richie that kick started his heart. This was directed at him holy shit. 

 “And I need you so much,” Eddie could hear Bev yelling for him to get up, he could feel Stan trying to shove him out of the booth, to go up there right fucking now because this is your one fucking chance. And like some miserable, absolute asinine fool, Eddie stood up, betraying every nerve in his body. He couldn’t hear Richie singing anymore, he could hear anyone in the bar clapping or hollering, hell he could barely even make out Richie’s face as he walked towards him. He watched his lips move, god I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more than right now, tip toeing, trying to keep his balance, trying to make it to Richie before someone else takes the opportunity. 

 There were only a handful of times where Eddie Kaspbrak had felt completely in charge of his situation. The most notable being the day the town bullies broke his arm, and instead of letting them win, he got up and laughed in their faces, sending them running for the hills. However, that was about to be bumped down.

 Without breaking the eye contact, without breaking the cadence of his walk, Eddie Kaspbrak reached out to grab Richie Tozier, his crush, his damned high school through today crush, by the collar of his unbuttoned flannel, god it’s so soft, causing Richie to drop the microphone just as Eddie pulled him down to kiss him. Edward Kaspbrak was kissing Richard Tozier right now in the shitty karaoke bar in fucking Bangor, Maine. And it. Felt. So. Right. 

 It was like all was suddenly right in the world, the planets had aligned, and Santa Claus himself has just had delivered the best fucking gift to the both of them. Eddie felt Richie’s hands grab at his cheeks, then fly around his shoulders, trying to get closer, both of them numb to the fact that they we’re making out in front of their friends and a handful of strangers in a shitty dive bar! Who FUCKING knew?!?

 Eddie pulled away first, partly because of shock, partly because he wanted to open his damn eyes and look at this, commit it to memory. Everything around him became more clear. Bev and Stan screeching, the rest of the losers whistling, and a few of the random patrons subjected to this very odd-and-overtly-sexual non-verbal confession of love. Of love. Richie let the microphone fall to the floor, feedback scratching through the speakers. 

 “This isn’t the way I thought this would happen,” Eddie chuckled, letting Richie pull him into a hug, still in the center of the bar. “But it makes too much sense because it’s you.” He felt Richie press a kiss to his hair, then drop an arm to grab one of his hands. 

 “Let’s, uh, let’s get out of here, yeah?” Richie struggled to get out, his smile distracting Eddie from the fact that his hair was matted to his forehead via sweat. Eddie only nodded, leading Richie past the table of their friends (who had begun to chant “Get a room! Get a room! Get a room!”, earning a swift flick of the bird from both Richie and Eddie), out the door of the bar, giggles from both parties ringing out all the way to Richie’s car, then into Richie’s car, and finally as Richie drove away in his car. 

 The losers had gotten up one by one to follow them out, not even upset at the fact that they would have to cram into two cars now. Stan and Bev were out the door first, still wolf whistling as their (lovebird) friends drove off, Bill, Mike, and Ben at their heels. 

 “Wow, now that’s the m-miracle of lo-blargh,” everyone had turned just in time to see Bill barf up soggy French fries and an obscene amount of water. Calls of:

 “Jesus Christ,”

  “Eww, Bill,”

 “And that’s why we give you water, lightweight,” rang out in their circle, the friends taking a step back, Mike motioning for Bill to take a seat on the curb they stood on. 

 “I think that’s our cue to leave,” Bev stated.

“Ben, you wanna run in and pay the tab real quick? Take my card.” Ben nodded as Bev extended her hand with a card to him, disappearing back into the bar a final time. 

 “So, Marsh, where’s that twenty you bet me our Senior year?” Stan joked, helping Mike get Bill standing again, heading towards the cars. Bev laughed, throwing her head back. 

 “Where’s my twenty for saying Eddie was going to be the one to kiss him first?!” Bev shot back, reaching into her bag to pull out a crumpled twenty. Stan reached into his pocket, producing a folded crisp bill. They exchanged cash, laughing. 

 “This made no sense,” Bill offered coherently, stumbling closer to Mike. Stan and Bev turned to face him. 

“Why did Mike sing a Blondie song if he’s not blond?” It was Mike’s turn to throw his head back, letting out a hearty guffaw, before turning to Bill and responding. 

 “It’ll make sense someday,” Mike offered, wrapping his arm around Bill’s shoulder. Bill smiled, and shut up promptly. 

 They all sat around the parking lot for a while talking, sobering up. Bev had had a few cigarettes, sharing with Bill hoping to bring him back to earth. It was just as Mike and Bev got ready to drive off when Richie and Eddie pulled back into the parking lot, swinging between the two cars. Both were smiling messes, giggling and pink with a few new bruises on each of their necks. 

 “Just to put this out there, Eddie Kaspbrak fucks!” Richie yelled, peeling out from between his friends' cars, Eddie laughing and yelling “no! No! Shut up!” Between laughing fits, pulling back out onto the main road once more, riding off into the night. 

 “Let’s make that an extra twenty, Miss Marsh.” Stan smirked, waving at Bev shaking her head. Ben waved back as they pulled out of the lot. 

 “I should’ve thought this through more.” Bev laughed, reaching for Ben’s hand, and joining the other two cars on the road home. 

[ducktracy]

161. ain’t we got fun (1937)

release date: may 1st, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (cat, old man, elevator operator), billy bletcher (mobster mouse), berneice hansell (mice), tommy bond (taunting mouse)

the last cartoon we saw, which was another tex cartoon, was the behemoth porky’s duck hunt, which revolutionized the fate of looney tunes. pretty big shoes to fill after the fact! unfortunately, the shoes aren’t filled all the way. nevertheless, we’ll explore why. as the old saying goes, when the cat’s away, the mice will play (which is coincidentally the title of a 1938 tex cartoon as well!)

the opening shot is a homely multiplane pan across a sleepy, snowy landscape at night, underscored by a comfortable piano accompaniment. hone in on one house in particular, where a cat lounges in an armchair, positioned right in front of a roaring fire. another long pan across the household, where we meet our antagonist.

though this is a blue ribbon reissue, thus covering the credits, chuck jones and bob clampett get the animation credit for this one. chuck jones’ work is noticeable right away as we spot his animation of the old man, shuffling along the vicinity of the house, the newspaper in his fist shaking from the old man’s tremor. “yeah, there’s nothing like a good ol’ easy chair when a body’s tired.” 

our old man displays his endearing, warm-hearted charm as he approaches his cat, abusing it by smacking the cat repeatedly with the newspaper, ordering the cat to “git!” the poor cat settles on a rug for comfort instead, nestling down for the night. then, tex displays some succinct timing as a book is thrown out of nowhere, konking the cat right on the noggin. 

perhaps the only one who enjoys the cat’s suffering more than the old man is a mouse tucked away in the safety of its mouse hole, peering into the living room with glee as it tinkers around slyly. carl stalling’s accompaniment in conjunction with the mouse’s furtive footsteps create a combination that we would be seeing in many a cartoon, but primarily in friz freleng’s cartoons (the ever sly genius sylvester comes to mind). with the cat asleep, the mouse boldly takes a few strides outside its territory, waving its little paw in front of the closed eyes of the beast. no reaction. the mouse skirts back to the hole, not taking any chances. now sure that the cat is out like a light, the mouse gleefully grabs a paper and pencil and scrawls “the cat’s asleep”, fashioning the message into a paper airplane.

quite an impressive shot as the mouse tosses the airplane inside the mouse hole. we’re met with an elaborate vertical pan, showcasing the structure and inter-workings of the household. one mouse catches hold of the plane at the other end, opening it up. his mouse buddies crowd around to read the message. can it be? berneice hansell’s giggles overlap the underscore of the title song as a slew of mice stream into the mouse hole tunnel, arriving to the lookout mouse. the eager chattering ceases as the guard mouse shushes the crowd, indicating for everyone to move in slowly. 

tex experiments with shadows quite a bit in this cartoon, spicing up an otherwise slightly tedious routine. the mice creep along the walls, their shadows dramatically enhancing the risk they’re all taking by being out. a clever avery-ism as a cuckoo clock chimes, threatening to blow the cover of the mice. the mice shush the cuckoo bird, and the bird, understanding, pulls out a clock of its own and showcases the time around to the invisible crowd.

freleng-esque trepid footsteps in conjunction with a minor key arrangement of “ain’t we got fun” transforms into another avery-ism as the mice suddenly whoosh past the sleeping cat. the cat wakes up, shivering from the draft left behind, and closes the open window, returning to its slumber.

now, the mice are free to roam and play as they please. the swarm all pack into a collection of mousehole elevators, an elevator operator ushering them in. in the elevator, they make various stops in the pantry to gorge on some foods. “first shelf: cheese, bananas, groceries, and jams. second shelf: candies, donuts, breads and pies. third shelf: things and stuff.” a relatively mild gag, moreso cute than funny. nevertheless, the gag redeems itself with a kick: all that’s left in the elevator is a polite, elderly woman and the operator. a bit of gallows humor as the granny inquires “could you tell me where i can find the mousetraps, please?” the operator is rightfully horrified.

the mice gorge themselves silly. one mouse chews his way through a loaf of bread, marching along with his gigantic belly. one of the more clever gags involves a gang of mice playing pool, a slice of bread as the tables, peas as the balls, and the open mouths of the mice as the pockets. one spare pea is left, and a mouse “breaks character” to slide over and catch it in his mouth. a mouse narrowly avoids being decapitated as it eats a line of cheeses from a row of mousetraps, another mouse attempts to uncork a bottle with his tail and ends up getting stuck in another bottle, one mouse indulges on a hearty helping of salami, and so on. all while this is happening, billy bletcher lends his voice to a mobster mouse warning one of his companions. “ and if the cat comes, give us a whistle like this--” he demonstrates, and his confidant nods.

raucous laughter inevitably wakes the cat from its slumber. the guard mouse takes notice, but at the worst time: just seconds before, he had been stuffing his mouth with crackers (the box, labeled WENEEDA CRACKERS, is a take on the old brand uneeda biscuit). the mouse attempts to whistle, but his efforts are in vain. whistling with crackers in the mouth, impossible. tex would reuse this gag in one of his last WB entries, the cagey canary, down to the whistler’s face growing red. 

someone cries “the cat!”, and the gang of mice carving a turkey disperse just in time for the cat to shove its body through the turkey, narrowly avoiding its targets. now furious, the cat/turkey hybrid bounds through the kitchen in all of its ridiculous glory. just as it attempts to dive through an open mousehole, the doors of the hole shut the cat out, sparking a daze. an animator switch later (bob clampett maybe?), the mice retreat into their now open hole, throwing various food items in the grasp of the cat to frame him.

more chuck jones animation as the old man wakes up, finding his dirty, no good kitten sitting in the kitchen with a turkey for a body, candy cane in mouth, balancing a pile of food items. the kitchen is a total wreck. the old man chastises the cat--there’s a neat angle as all we see is his gangly, wrinkled, almost threatening finger jabbing at the cat, talking about how this is the last straw. the poses of the cat are lovely, from stan laurel whimpering to dubious shrugs. staging here could be comparable to the early sylvester and tweety cartoons, which are quite tom and jerry in nature (tweety pie comes to mind).

with that, the old man picks up the innocent kitty by the scruff of his neck, removing the cat from the turkey and kicking it outside into the snow. another avery-ism as the old man yells out the door “give ya a home and what do ya do? you eat it! now GIT!” a slam of the door in finality... or not. like in i love to singa, the old man throws the door open to blow a raspberry at the cat. the cat retaliates with a raspberry of his own. 

a clever dissolve as we fade away from the cat parking its butt in the snow to the old man parking his butt in his armchair, complaining about how that old pussycat’s always in his chair. tex is a man of eloquent syntax as he displays with the old man’s rant of “good for nothin’ lazy old cat old cat lazy good for nothin’ old lazy cat.”

back to the mice, the guard mouse from before writing a new paper airplane message, this time with a bigger announcement: the cat’s gone. as the eager mice mow down the messenger as they scramble out of the hole, we finally segue into the eponymous number, “ain’t we got fun”. 

definitely a highlight of the cartoon. the song itself is a classic, used since the bosko days of warner bros cartoons (honey sings it as she and a begrudging bosko wash dishes together in bosko’s mechanical man). lyrics are of course outfitted to the plot of the cartoon. the song is happy, peppy, with a nice jive. a nice opening pan of the mice playing makeshift instruments (like a pipe as a saxophoe). i believe the majority of the animation is bob clampett’s handiwork, that or virgil ross. tex experiments more with his shadows as we watch the singers dance and sing the song, shadows growing bigger and smaller and creating quite the theatrical effect. albeit brief, this is certainly one of my favorite song numbers we’ve seen thus far, in terms of song AND animation, and it definitely constitutes a watch. 

now, the kitchen is a rowdy, hectic zone, so loud that the old man is woken up from his slumber. he ambles into the war zone, and is promptly pelted by various grocery items upon arrival. intriguing camera shots for sure, especially the overall layout of the kitchen. the scene is reminiscent of the merrie melodies of 1934-1935, primarily how do i know it’s sunday, where weaponizing groceries saves the day in that cartoon. interesting to note, bits of the music cue are reused from the fella with the fiddle when the mouse scrambles to disguise his home, but it’s not from the same recording. 

the old man scrambles outside to safety, where he meets his kitty “friend” he kicked out. any notions of contempt and disgust are dropped from the old man as he attempts to coax his cat back into friendliness, hoping the cat will kill the mice. however, the cat’s having none of it, shaking his head and crossing his arms in defiance. great posing--definitely very avery. now, a few of the mice have congregated at the feet of the old man to witness the drama. one of the mice (who sounds suspiciously like tommy bond) remarks “see? the old cat’s not coming back!”

with that, the mice pour gas on the fire to spark some drama, taunting “YOU ARE A ‘FRAIDY CAT! YOU ARE A ‘FRAIDY CAT!” to the cat. the cat, visibly angered, zooms inside, barreling the old man over as it attacks the schoolchildren. the other mice aren’t too thrilled with the arrival of the cat, the guard mouse hurriedly tweeting on a whistle to signal the danger that approaches. various mice yell “the cat!” (including a very tiny mouse with a super high pitched squeak, a gag from the bosko days) the cat corrals the mice into their hole, and marches away proudly, tail in the air in triumph. 

mice now gone, streaming out of the exposed cellar doors and into the cold night, the cat settles down in the old man’s armchair after a night of hard work. we end just where we started, the old man ambling to the chair, remarking “yeah, there’s nothing like a good ol’ easy chair when a body’s tired.” he notices the cat in his spot and raises his newspaper, preparing to strike, when he halts. in a change of heart, we get this lovely, hilarious, and absurd visual of the old man crawling on the rug, circling around in the manner of a cat and cozying up, complete with a blank stare of heavy realization that this is his new norm. he pops his head out to tell the audience “i ain’t such a mean old man after all, am i?” an offscreen book answers his question as it knocks him right on the head. iris out.

this is an interesting case. while the cartoon had moments of pure avery-isms, this feels more like a friz freleng cartoon from 1934 or 1935 than a 1937 tex cartoon. the structure, look, and feel all seem very freleng-esque, but even then towards the more milder freleng entries. with that said, it’s not a bad cartoon. it had some wonderful moments: the title number is such a wonderful mood raiser, and gags such as the gallows humor of the old woman asking where the mousetraps were and the end with the old man curling up on the rug were great. but for a tex avery cartoon, this is a weaker entry on his part. i suppose half of it is because his previous cartoon is one of the most influential cartoons to exist, and coming down from that high isn’t very easy. it just doesn’t quite feel like a tex avery cartoon. the cat is the one with the most avery influence, whereas the mice look straight out of a freleng cartoon or even a frank tashlin cartoon with those big, pie cut eyes. nevertheless, it’s a mildly entertaining cartoon that isn’t bad, but i would hardly call it a masterpiece. i’ll post (or have posted) the main highlights of the cartoon, so i suppose there’s no raging need to go out and watch this one. with that said, of course, watch it by all means if you want. 

link!

[hermeticimp]

Hey hun! May I please get a reading about my recent weird dream goings-on and how they may relate to my godwork? Thanks!

Heya Lee! A dream reading… well, this should be interesting! The most immediately noticeable thing is the fact that most of your cards are pentacles or cups. Considering your affinity for rats and that we’re covering the unconscious, this is pretty fitting! By the way, I’m listening to my spirit family’s playlist as I do this. I’ll include any music messages if anything stands out. Without further ado, let’s jump in!

Instead of starting with the first cards I’ve drawn, my pendulum has asked me to start with the second trio of cards first. This is because these ones are about the general meanings of your dreams (I’ll explain the others when we get to them). Thus, we begin our journey with the Six of Cups. A pink, yellow, and orange betta fish swims nimbly between the cups surrounding him. According to this card, your dreams have to do with you returning to your past. In this deck, it refers to seeking out old friends and reuniting with them. However, I’m inclined to mean that you actually have past issues that you still need to work out (Hands of Time by Rachael Diggs). The past has been coming to haunt you a bit through these dreams. While you can’t go back to days gone, you do need to confront the issues and make peace with them in order to move forward. The chorus stands out here: You can’t turn back the hands of time/Just let it go and you’ll be fine/What’s done is done and it’s alright/You can’t turn back the hands of time. Take some time to question whether any old patterns have revealed themselves in your dreams and ask why they’ve resurfaced. From there, figure out how to let them go. On the flip of that, this card isn’t solely about confronting past traumas. You should also take the time to remember the things that made you happy when you were younger. You’ve been dealing with some intense things lately. Take the time to feed your inner child. You may find that you understand things a little better from this perspective. Indulge in your love of heroes (Elevate from the Spider-Verse track is playing right now, haha). 

We move on to the Nine of Cups Reversed. A violet betta fish finds itself sinking amongst its cups. Right now, you’re feeling some level of dissatisfaction in your life. I think that’s understandable with all the things that have been piled on your plate lately. I think this card also speaks to the past issues from the last one. Your dreams are telling you that your frustration with things not playing out as you’d like is coming from something deeper beneath the surface. It’s a symptom of a deeper issue. You may be overcompensating in order to deal with that. Sit back and really think about what you’ve been doing lately. What have been trying to distract yourself from? What have you been trying to avoid? Taking the time to examine these questions will provide some major insight. I think that’s why your inner child may lead you to the answer. There’s a wound there. You may need to dig deep to find it, but it’ll be helpful to avoid poisoning the well any longer. Remember that this is only temporary. It won’t last forever. 

We finish our dream interpretation with the Three of Wands. A brown snake coils the wands close to its body. Right now, you should take advantage of the opportunities around you. Once you’ve dealt with these issues, there will be less weighing you down and preventing you from chasing after what you want. While you’re assessing your present needs, take a moment to look at the general path of your life. Are you doing what you really want to do? Is there anything you can change so you can get closer to that vision of what your life should be. Get lost in that feeling and use it as inspiration (February 3rd by Jorja Smith). Prepare yourself for what needs to be done and make a plan. There’s so many chances available to you now, both in your daily life and spiritual one. Take advantage of it. Follow your ambitions. 

Now we move on to the first cards I pulled. I clarified with my pendulum and found that these are the messages that Odin has been trying to send through your dreams. His first card is the Seven of Pentacles Reversed. A brown rat finds itself fixated on the pentacles that are falling around him. Odin wants you to make some extreme changes to your life. There are things in your path that are no longer serving you. You need to let these aspects die; it’s the natural state of life (Goodbye by Slaughterhouse). There’s nothing wrong with changing tracks. Start over if you need to. Transform your path until it’s unrecognizable. “It’s not the end of the chapter”. This is a lyric from the song that stood to me. Just because you have to move onto a different path doesn't mean that things are over. You are on a path of greatness. Odin is more than happy to support you through this transition (Count On Me by Bruno Mars). It won’t be an easy road (Is anything ever with the Allfather?), but you have the tools to succeed. It’s just a matter of utilizing what you have at your disposal. 

From there, he elaborates through the Page of Cups Reversed. (Odin picked all reversals here. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but I thought I’d mention it). A gorgeous orange and pink fish swims upside down as a fountain runs in the background. You’re having trouble properly communicating and dealing with your issues. The card description actually uses the word “immature”. Odin is accusing you of running away from your feelings instead of properly dealing with them. He knows that there’s been a lot going on, but he doesn’t find that to be a fair excuse for not taking proper care of yourself. Loss makes it easy to sink to the depths of your spirit and lose your way back. He gets that. At the same time, if you don’t learn how to anchor yourself, you’ll just end up drowning. Open to to someone, whether it be friends, your spouse, or your gods. You don’t have to deal with things on your own or in self-destructive ways. Breathe. Feel. But don’t give up. Keep believing and surrender yourself to your emotion (Again by Flyleaf). You have support to lean on. You are loved.  

His final message is conveyed by The Devil Reversed. A goat-like being loses the grip it has on the snakes bound to it, losing his power. Here, Odin is reaffirming that you tackle your past issues and get rid of them. Do away with anything that no longer serves you. All they will do is hold you back. Don’t pretend that things are okay when they’re not (Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez). It isn’t healthy in the least. Now that you’re aware of what’s been killing you from the inside out, it’s time to confront it and put in the past. This is a time for you to feel free and empowered. You’ve got this. Once you’ve let your bonds fall away, you’ll find it easier to breathe. Take back your power. Don’t let others or life rule over you. You are the master of yourself. Embrace that. Don’t hesitate. Do what you need to do for you. 

The remaining card is a message to you from Loki. The Three of Pentacles shows a rat looking up at the shining pentacles above him. They express here that you are on the right track. You have accomplished much and should have a moment to breathe and take that in. There is no need for you to doubt yourself. You understand far more than you think you know. Nonetheless, it is a brilliant idea to reach out and seek help from the people around you. Lean on others as you need. Teamwork is an essential aspect of your path. After all, things are more fun when you have people to share them with, are they not? (Idk if it’s from them, but Dark Horse by Katy Perry feels like it has SOMETHING to do with your reading, haha). 

I hope this resonates with you! It was a pleasure to read for you. Please let me know if you have any questions and leave a review! A tip would also be appreciated. ^_^ Thank you!