#i love drawing comically aghast people so this was perfect

[geelatinous]

ok so basically. i saw this and went “omg! that is so funny i need to do this.” so i did. and i know it’s not exaaactly what you wanted but if i drew their bodies i think you’d actually start convulsing

because i draw too good (haha…ha…☹️)

anyways i hope i lived up to your dream 💔 @bibbitybobbitybackoff

[nalgenewhore]

With My Life - Chapter Seven

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings: (all graphic) violence, guns, blood, smut, implied PTSD

an: hmmm.....hm. enjoy !

Elide didn’t know how to ask the question that had been bothering her ever since Lorcan had been back. 

She thought she knew the answer, but asking him might ease her worries, might soothe her frayed nerves. 

Lorcan was downstairs, talking with his lawyer on the phone. Manon was decidedly unimpressed with him and Elide had laughed when she heard the golden-eyed woman berate him for his ‘big, rutting mess’ that she was now tasked with cleaning up, so to speak. 

There wasn’t a doubt in either of their minds that Elide would stay in what was now their apartment. Neither Elide nor Lorcan were keen on living apart now or ever. 

With a steadying breath, Elide walked downstairs, determination in her every step. Lorcan glanced up at her and paused, his eyes narrowed as he read her posture and expression. His shoulders tensed slightly and he said to Manon, “M, I don’t really have to be here, right?” 

He winced and Elide smirked at what was surely a severe beatdown from Manon, but eventually, Lorcan sighed and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I know. No more disappearing and being assumed dead, I get it. Thank you, really.” He choked slightly, “Well, fuck you too, Blackbeak, you’re useless. I never want to see your face again. Bye.” 

“Fun talk?” Elide quipped, crossing the floor to the island and taking the seat opposite his. Lorcan huffed a halfway amused laugh and tossed his phone on the counter, bracing his elbows against the marble and dropping his head in his hands. 

“Nobody ever tells you that coming back from the dead is a pain in the ass. So much paperwork,” he muttered, sighing through his nose once before he stood up and walked over to the coffee pot. Elide hummed and propped her chin in her hand, smiling at him when Lorcan walked over with a mug for her and placed it in front of her. 

He kissed her forehead before sitting down on the barstool next to hers and taking a sip of his coffee, “So. What’s going on?” 

Elide shrugged, wrapping her cold hands around her mug and sighing softly. Her dark-haired love laughed and put his cup down, then took her hands and cupped them in his warm ones, “Still got the cold hands, huh, princess?” 

She smiled and nodded, her heart fluttering when he rubbed heat back into her digits, waiting for her to speak. “E, I know you’re thinking about something,” Lorcan murmured, glancing pointedly at the furrow between her brows. “What is it?”

 Elide glanced down at her bare legs, pale skin dotted with purple marks and tender fingerprints. “What are you gonna do now?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“For work,” she asked, her voice so quiet Elide half-wondered if Lorcan had even heard it. 

But he had and Lorcan sat up, unconsciously drawing back to protect himself. “Same job. I’m going in for testing tomorrow, seven o’clock.” He knew what her reaction would be. He knew why she was sitting up, her posture immaculate and frozen. He knew why she pulled her chilled fingers from his. 

Tears were already caught in her lashes, her slender eyes filling with them. Lorcan saw the way she tried to stop her lower lip from trembling and he ached to reach out, to warm her up, just so that she would stop shaking, but he didn’t. He restrained himself, to let her have this lost moment, where nothing made sense. 

“You’re going back?” she whispered, voice aghast and cracked. 

Lorcan breathed in deeply, feeling helpless as silver tears slipped down her cheeks and dropped onto her thighs. “Yes.” 

Elide shook her head, dismissing it as false. So quickly, she switched, becoming the detached scientist she was in her work. She wiped her cheeks, sniffling once, “No, that doesn’t make any sense, Lorcan. You got hurt.” She said it bluntly, as if ripping the band-aid off would make it less scary, but it didn’t. “I thought- we all thought you were dead and we mourned for you.” 

“I met my family there, Elide. The people I love and people I would do anything to protect,” Lorcan stated calmly, his voice a touch too even. “They’re my family.” 

“What about me then. Am I not good enough to be your family, do you not love me, not want to protect me as much?” 

“No. No,” he said, his brows lowering fiercely. Lorcan gripped her chin, gently tugging her face upwards until she met his gaze. “Princess, you mean the fuckin’ world to me. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone and ever will love.” 

Elide cried, her face crumpling, “I’m scared.” She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his shoulder. “Please, think about it. I can’t lose you again.” 

“You won’t lose me,” Lorcan murmured, rubbing her back slowly. 

“I want you to quit,” she mumbled, feeling small and pathetic. 

“I can’t do that.”

Elide would never make him quit something he loved, so all she could do, when her heart was raw and sore, was climb into his lap and hold onto him tightly. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

She looked so peaceful, sleeping in what was now their bed. Sprawled across the mattress, the deep black duvet twisted around her from her erratic sleeping pattern. 

Lorcan silently punched in the pin code for the hidden compartment in the back of his closet, wincing at the click and hiss as it unlocked and popped open, revealing an array of weapons. They were all neatly laid out in foam, perfectly fitting in the padding. 

He pulled out two Berettas, having lost his preferred Glocks on the day he was shot. The tribe women had never told him where they had put them, but Lorcan knew they would’ve been ruined by the river anyway.

Elide was still sleeping as he slid them into his holsters and grabbed two sheathed blades, pulling them out to test the balance. He smiled at the perfectness of it all, putting one on the tip of his finger and watching it remain completely flat. 

Lorcan put the knives into the holster next to each gun and then pushed the compartment shut. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket and grabbing his overcoat after seeing that it was raining again. 

He checked his watch, noting the time of 5:36AM and deciding he should leave within the next ten minutes if he wanted a chance to warm up and tape his shoulder before testing. 

Lorcan walked out of his closet and crossed over to Elide’s sleeping form. 

The city lights played across the smooth curve of her regal cheekbone and the pert button of her nose. Elide rolled onto her back, murmuring something low. 

Lorcan knew he should have woken her up to tell her he was leaving, but she looked too peaceful, so fragile that all he could do was kiss her forehead and walk away. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

He rolled his eyes as he stalked through the hallway, narrowing his gaze at the boys. “Boys, fine morning we’re having, is it not?” 

Vaughan snorted and jerked his head at Rowan, “It’s his fault.”

Their leader of sorts scowled at the back of Vaughan’s head and pushed him out of the way on his path to Lorcan. “We always come in early.” 

Lorcan stifled his laughter and walked into the changeroom, making a beeline to his locker. As he unlocked it, he commented, “For a spy, you’re a really shit liar, Ro-Ro.” 

They all laughed as Rowan groaned at Lorcan’s use of his dreaded nickname, crossing his arms over his chest and muttering, “I play truth or dare one fucking time. And I told you wankstains we were wasted.” 

Connall snickered and they bickered as Lorcan changed into a pair of shorts. It was Fenrys who noticed his wound first and the man’s demeanor dampened, shame flicking over his eyes. He cleared his throat, “I, uh, I have to do something.” Without another word, he made to leave, but Lorcan stopped him. 

“I need someone to tape my shoulder and I don’t trust any of them to do it right.” He picked up the roll of athletic tape in his locker, holding it out to Fenrys. 

The room went dead silent and it was almost comical, watching Connall, Vaughan, and Rowan swivel their heads back and forth to see if Fenrys would accept it. Lorcan had no grudge against him - he was doing his job and something went wrong. 

Fenrys took it and motioned for Lorcan to sit. The others gawked until Fenrys shot them a hard look and they quickly found other things to be interested in. Lorcan stretched his shoulder, grimacing at the strain, most likely from the weekend’s… activities. “So, Ro, you’re gonna be a dad.” 

Rowan choked at the bluntness, obviously nervous, “Y-yeah.” 

Lorcan arched a brow, batting Fenrys’ hand away from his head. “Well, you seem excited for that.” 

The silver-haired man swallowed, raking a hand through his hair so that it stuck up in every which way. “I never thought it would be this hard.” 

“Her being pregnant?” Vaughan asked, moving on silent feet - he’d always been best at the noiseless approach - to stand behind Lorcan and fix his hair. Lorcan trusted Vaughan with his hair more so than any other being on the planet after having been raised together and calling him his brother since before they could talk. 

Rowan shook his head and sat down heavily on the bench opposite Lorcan’s, his elbows braced against his thighs. “Not being able to tell her.” 

They all froze, except for Fenrys, who started to tape Lorcan’s shoulder as if nothing was wrong. 

“You’re not thinking of telling her, right?” Connall asked, words dripping in horrification. The things that could and would happen if a civilian, no matter who, were to find out what they did, how many times their jobs had saved people’s lives would ruin the country. 

Rowan didn’t answer. 

“Ro–” 

“I’m not gonna fucking tell her! Just, fuck, you guys don’t get it–” Fenrys shook his head, but he bit his tongue. Rowan glared at him, “Something you wanna say, Marama?” 

“Rowan, shut up. You’re not the only person in this room with someone they love. You aren’t the only person keeping secrets either, so stop acting like you didn’t know what you were signing up for,” Fenrys said, words clipped and his brow lowered. “We have the same job, Rowan, and lives of our own.”

Rowan’s mouth dropped open and he looked to the others, trying to garner sympathy or support in his opinion. No one dared to meet his eye except for Lorcan, who cocked his head to the side and sucked on his teeth. 

Just as Rowan was about to say something he’d come to regret, the door opened and they all whipped their heads to the side, their postures easing when they saw Nehemia. 

Her smile froze and she narrowed her eyes, her gaze landing on Rowan and staying. “We have an assignment, boys. Are we prepared for that?” 

They all mumbled their assent and slowly got up, dutifully exiting the room under Nehemia’s disapproving glare. She had obviously picked up on the tension and the cloud of uncomfortability that had settled over them. Knowing them as well as she did, the cyber analyst wouldn’t put up with their stupid bullshit and whatever childish entanglement they were caught in. 

Lorcan pulled his shirt on and closed his locker, pausing when he looked over his shoulder and saw his friend standing there. “What is it?” 

Nehemia couldn’t hide the apprehension in her eyes as she said, “She wants you there too.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

They were all dressed in full tactical uniforms, standing at attention as Maeve read the report. 

“Erawan and his cult are a much larger threat and we have reason to suspect they are receiving a shipment of arms within the next week. This man,” Maeve gestured to the man on the screen behind her, “has the specificities and your task is to acquire the information.” She cast a glance towards Lorcan, “Salvaterre, I suppose with your injury, you’ll be surveillance.”

She snapped the folder shut and slid it across the table to Rowan, who picked it up, a quizzical look on his face. “Apologies, ma’am, but are you expecting Salvaterre to be on this mission as well?” 

Maeve looked up, her manicured brows raising as she clasped her hands on the desk, “Is there a reason he should be exempt?” 

Lorcan clenched his jaw, but refused to meet her mocking gaze as the rest of the room opened their mouths. Rowan spoke up for them, “Ms. Nathair, Salvaterre has been gone for the past six months. Protocol states he needs a physical and psych exam before he’s cleared as a field agent.” 

“Protocol? The five of you have the most dangerous job in the world and you’re hung up on protocol?” she mocked them, a cruel smirk curling her thin lips. “Salvaterre.” 

“Yes, ma’am?” 

“Are you in need of an exam?” 

Fear coursed through him and still, Lorcan shook his head, “No, ma’am.” 

“Are you able to do your job?” 

His shoulder said no but Lorcan nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. I’ll schedule your exams for tomorrow if the mission goes well. That is all.” 

They turned and walked out of the room, going down a complicated set of hallways and stairs to the prep room. Lorcan picked out surveillance equipment as Rowan and Fenrys changed into street clothes. 

Connall and Nehemia sat at their desk, typing on their computers and instructing their teams. Vaughan approached Lorcan, speaking in their mother tongue, “Lorcan, are you sure?”

“Yes.”

His brother sighed, unease clear on the sharp features of his face, “I don’t like this.”

Lorcan could only shrug. Vaughan muttered something, knowing he wouldn’t be able to convince Lorcan otherwise. He made to leave, stopping when Lorcan asked him something, “Did you name me?”

Vaughan looked at Lorcan over his shoulder, too many emotions swimming in his eyes for Lorcan to discern them all. “Yes.” 

“What was it?” 

“I named you Ohitekah.” 

Lorcan’s throat closed and he nodded once, pride for their people glowing in his chest. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan stewed silently as he nursed his weak coffee, holding back his grimace at the grainy texture. 

He kept his eyes on Fenrys and Rowan as they walked down the street, tailing their target as he ducked into a grocery store. 

Connall’s voice came over the comms once in a while, but nothing was directed to Lorcan. Fuck, he was so bored, sitting in the diner and watching. 

Reasoning with himself, Lorcan decided he had stayed in the diner long enough that it aroused suspicion, so he got up, paid for his coffee, and left. 

“Salvaterre, where the fuck are you going?” 

He responded calmly, “There’s an alley next to the grocery store.” Lorcan looked up and down the street before walking across. He subtly checked behind him to ensure nobody was following him and that he could slip into the alley. 

A pile of pallets hid him from the back door of the store and Lorcan leaned against the wall, fishing out his phone to pretend he was taking a call as he watched. “In position with clear sight of back exit.”

Rowan’s voice crackled in the radio, “I lost him. He’s heading towards the back - I’m in pursuit. Fen, meet L in the alley.” 

Lorcan pocketed his phone and made sure he had clear access to his gun. Time ticked by slowly and every second had his spine straightening just a bit more, until it looked like he would snap. 

The door burst open and the target ran out, fearfully looking over his shoulder and not paying attention as Lorcan stepped into his path and the man crashed. 

His reflexes were quick though, and he didn’t let Lorcan have the advantage as they fought. Lorcan’s shoulder immediately protested, shooting sharp pains down his arm. Despite that, the target was no match for him and just as quickly as it had started, Lorcan had him on the ground, a hand holding his face against the rough asphalt and a knee keeping his hands behind his back. 

Lorcan felt his nose drip blood, courtesy of the punch he’d received in the short scuffle, and he breathed past the pain in his body, cursing Maeve for all she was. 

Feet pounded against the road and Fenrys ran in, giving Lorcan the chance to stand up and stumble back, startling when Rowan appeared in front of him, steadying him with a hand on his right shoulder. “You good?” 

“Yeah, just a little blood. Don’t worry.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

He was close to blacking out as he walked into his apartment, his vision blurry and breathing shaky. Immediately, he saw Elide sitting on the couch, her short hair clipped up to keep it dry in the shower, he assumed based off the fact that she was wearing his housecoat. “El.” 

She whipped her head around, a deadly glare on her face, “Oh, you’re back? You didn’t die?” 

He really, really should’ve woken her up that morning. Lorcan closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, “Princess, I’m sorry, but I need- fuck, I need help.” After returning to headquarters, Lorcan had gone to the bathroom and discerned that miniscule pieces of the bullet were still lodged under his flesh. 

Elide’s eyes widened and she hopped up, hurrying over to him. His skin was clammy and cold to the touch, “Anneith above, what happened?” 

“Bathroom,” he breathed, leaning on Elide as he stumbled into the bathroom and sat down on the floor, his back against the sink cabinet. “Get the vodka.” 

He hadn’t realised she had even left before Elide returned with the bottle, taking her own sip before handing it to him. “L, what happened.”

He chugged for a solid five seconds, pausing to say, “I was shot six months ago,” and drinking again. Lorcan’s limbs felt fuzzy as he ripped off his jacket and shirt, throwing them into the corner. “Bullet’s not all out and,” he swallowed, taking her hand and gripping it tightly, “I need you to do it.” 

She gaped at him, eyes wide like saucers. “Lorcan, what? Why didn’t they fucking take it out the first time!” 

“I don’t- shit, I don’t know but I can’t fucking take it and I can’t go back there,” he whispered, head falling back against the cabinet door. “Too many questions. I’ll fucking talk you through it, just please.” 

Elide didn’t look convinced as she glanced between his face, eyes glazed in agony, and he tried again, “Please, baby, it hurts.”

She nodded, pressing her hand over the scar, “Yes, just- tell me what to do.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Do it.” 

“I’m doing it.” 

“No, you’re not.” Lorcan was watching her carefully, like she wasn’t holding a knife over his skin. “I told you - I trust you with my life.” 

Elide snapped her head up, glaring, “There is a difference between a straight razor and cutting bullet fragments out of you, Lorcan.” 

He somehow had the audacity to chuckle and lean forward, pressing his lips to her forehead in an effort to soothe her. Elide had to, begrudgingly, admit that it worked a bit. “You got this, yeah? I can barely feel a thing.” 

Elide nodded and took a deep breath before turning back to the task. With the tip of the knife, she made an incision, pressing white gauze against it to soak the blood that dripped down. Her hands were surprisingly steady as she used the tweezers to pick the metal bit out. Lorcan hissed, biting his lip to stop his groan of pain. 

She blinked her tears back, wanting to run away from this. Elide carefully put the piece in the plastic bag and continued, cutting and tweezing until every part was out. 

Lorcan was barely conscious when she cleaned the wounds and sealed it. Elide brushed his hair back from his forehead and let him be as she tidied up the supplies and dumped everything in the garbage. 

Elide turned back to Lorcan, who was looking at her with a proud expression, his lips pulled into a small smile, “C’mere, princess.” She rolled her eyes at the nickname, but went to him, sighing in relief the moment she was curled up in his arms, head tucked beneath his chin. “You did good.” 

“Mm, really? Beginner’s luck?” 

He laughed drily, “We’ll have to see about that next time.” 

Elide shook her head, suddenly feeling like the bathroom was the only safe space in the world, “I don’t want there to be a next time.” She pressed her face in Lorcan’s neck, her tears dripping down her cheeks. “Promise me there won’t be a next time.” 

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Elide,” Lorcan murmured, dragging his hand up and down her thigh in a soothing pattern. “All I can give you is my honesty.” 

Elide wrapped her arms around his neck and cried silently, wondering if there would be a day when honesty wasn’t enough.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse e @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams​ @minaidss @superspiritfestival @lovemollywho @queen-of-glass @jlinez @sleeping-and-books @ireallyshouldsleeprn @verypaleninja @januarystears @magicalunicorngypsy

[citizenscreen]

On September 8, 1930, in the midst of the Great Depression, the world was introduced to Blondie Boopadoop, a dizzy blonde flapper created by Murat Bernard ‘Chic’ Young. Blondie debuted in newspapers across the country on that day. She was Chic Young’s fourth strip featuring a young woman, but this was the one to catch fire and eventually become iconic in the world of comics and media at large. It is hard to believe that the blonde hero of blissful domesticity turns 90 and that her stories remain tops with audiences the world over.

Blondie’s early days featured the star popular in dating circles. Her courtships made for several storylines. Blondie’s main squeeze, however, was bumbling playboy Dagwood Bumstead, son of millionaire industrialist, J. Bolling Bumstead. Dagwood introduced Blondie to his ill-natured father in the very first strip announcing their plans to marry. The elder Bumstead was aghast that his son would be interested in a woman of Blondie’s lowly social status.

For the next couple of years, the Blondie comics centered on the couple’s struggles to get the Bumsteads to agree to the pairing. Blondie does everything imaginable to no avail. In the meantime, she also entertains several other admirers – although Dagwood was never far away. With readership dwindling, Chic Young and the comic’s distributer, King Features Syndicate, decided Blondie and Dagwood should finally get married and in February 1933 they did much to the chagrin of the Bumsteads who disowned their son and heir. Mr. and Mrs. Bumstead only grudgingly acknowledged the union because Dagwood went on a hunger strike that lasted over 28 days spotlighted by daily coverage and countdowns that helped circulation. Every day people tuned in to see how Dagwood was doing on the hunger strike. After all, one of his favorite pasttimes has always been eating. One of my favorite Blondie scenes is of Dagwood emerging from his bed after the hunger strike to reveal loads of dishes under the covers.

It was after the marriage of the disinherited blissfully happy Dagwood and the carefree vivacious Blondie took place that audiences truly warmed to their humorous domestic escapades. Blondie and Dagwood became a happy family whose troubles reflected those of the readers’ in many ways. The couple started their married life penniless, as were most during the Depression, which lent itself to many enjoyable scenes. First Dagwood’s need to find work made great stories and eventually so did his relationship with his boss Mister Dithers. However, the charms of Blondie the strip relied on the couple’s home life and its place in the pantheon of all things domestic comedy, which was a revolutionary one at that as Chic Young insisted that the young Bumsteads share a double bed, not the twin beds audiences saw on all other domestic stories in media. (loc.gov) In fact, the Bumsteads did not share a bed in their movie incarnations.

As the strip continued its run, Blondie and Dagwood changed as did their family. Blondie, who started as an airhead of sorts, became the Bumstead voice of reason and Dagwood became the flake to whom all things happen. Part of Dagwood’s charm is he remains a child of sorts, an innocent whose zany antics we cannot get enough of and all because he can’t seem to get things quite right. Except his sandwich, which is a masterpiece every single time.

On April 15, 1934, the couple welcomed their first child, Baby Dumpling (later Alexander) who received almost as much media attention as baby Ricardo on “I Love Lucy” two decades later. Except without the power of television.

In 1941, Blondie and Dagwood welcomed a daughter, Cookie, whose name was chosen by hundreds of thousands of submissions in a contest run by Chic Young. Blondie’s popularity soared when the Bumsteads became a family in earnest in their home in Joplin, Missouri, including Daisy (family dog and Dagwood’s best friend) and the pups. At the height of its popularity, Blondie rivaled Peanuts. No doubt, this creation by Chic Young is one of the all-time greats in the pantheon of comic strips. I would say a masterpiece people have enjoyed for its love conquers all stories and wonderful drawings. It has been one of my favorites for years.

Aside from daily strips and Sunday editions, the Bumsteads have enjoyed comic book popularity as well with seven versions spanning from 1947 to 1976.

  As you probably know Blondie’s popularity jumped to screens and the airwaves as well. As far as the movies go, the story is that as the strip’s popularity grew, Columbia Pictures’ boss Harry Cohn decided that the characters had potential for a B-picture or two so he signed a deal with Chic Young. The result was a 28-picture, 12-year run between 1938 and 1950. All twenty-eight movies star Penny Singleton as Blondie and Arthur Lake as Dagwood. The first and best is Frank Strayer’s Blondie. Strayer directed more than a dozen of the Blondie pictures.

Some of the signature gags from the strip made it into the movies such as Dagwood running into the mailman every morning as he is late for work causing the mail to fly all over the place. That happened early in all of the movies welcoming devoted fans to the hijinks of their favorite family. Following Dagwood’s signature,” Blondieeeeee.” Dagwood’s legendary sandwich also made its way into every single one of the movies and into Webster’s New World Dictionary.

The first movie in the series sees the Bumsteads about to celebrate their fifth anniversary, but money troubles ensue. They have money troubles often in their history. In fact, the Bumstead budget, as Blondie mentions in one of the movies, is the pulse of the family. Dagwood asks for a raise from Mr. Dithers (Jonathan Hale), owner of the J. C. Dithers Construction Company, with whom Dagwood is always at odds just like in the strip. Blondie, on the other hand, orders new furniture (from an uncredited Charles Lane) since they just finished paying off other furniture. Her logic is impeccable, a logic inherited by an almost-too-cute Baby Dumpling (Larry Simms). Dagwood loses his job after getting into a jam at work, but makes up for it by wooing a wealthy businessman (Gene Lockhart) into investing with the Dithers Company.

Staying true to the comic strip, Blondie (1938) features several of the same characters throughout the series played by the same actors. Aside from Penny Singleton and Arthur Lake, Larry Simms plays Baby Dumpling in all of the movies. He was so popular in the role that he was credited as “Baby Dumpling” in Frank Capra’s Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) where he plays the Hopper Boy. Marjorie Ann Mutchie (as Marjorie Kent) makes her debut as Cookie Bumstead in Frank Strayer’s It’s a Great Life (1943), the thirteenth movie in the series and one of the few without “Blondie” in the title. More on that later.

Penny Singleton and Arthur Lake as Blondie and Dagwood in the first movie in the Blondie series

Rounding out the regulars that make up the Bumstead family is Daisy, the cocker Spaniel/Poodle/Terrier mix whose real name was Spooks and plays the Bumstead’s trusted pooch with flair. Spooks appeared in a good number of movies in character parts, but is best remembered as Daisy. The prolific Willie Best appears as a porter in the first movie and does what he can with the stereotypical part he is given. Best plays varied roles throughout the series and remains mostly uncredited. Fay Helm appears in several Blondie movies as Mrs. Fuddle, neighbor to the Bumsteads and Blondie’s best friend. Danny Mummert plays her son Alvin, Baby Dumpling’s nemesis.

The Blondie movies are typical B-fare. They are fun, perfect for Saturday mornings, but substance is hard to come by. There are a few hearty laughs like the one in Blondie with the talking scale in the hotel men’s bathroom. It advertises your favorite radio voice will talk to you and when it does, it tells Dagwood he’s a loser.

Probably the best part of the series, however, are the actors that appear throughout. If you are a fan of the great character players you’ll get to see the likes of Donald Meek, John Qualen, Edgar Kennedy, William Frawley, and Mary Wickes to name a few. Many future major Columbia stars also make appearances. I was quite surprised to see Rita Hayworth, for instance, play prominently in Blondie on a Budget (1940). She is an old friend of Dagwood’s who plays right into Blondie’s jealous hands. When Blondie was not trying to finagle the family budget in order to buy something, she spent her time worrying that Dagwood would leave her for another woman.

  Larry Simms, Penny Singleton, Arthur Lake and Rita Hayworth in BLONDIE ON A BUDGET

The Blondie movie series ended with Edward Bernds’ Beware of Blondie (1950) where we see Dagwood in charge of the Dithers Construction Company while the boss is on vacation. You can just imagine how well that goes. Adele Jergens plays Miss Clifton, a con woman who takes advantage of Dagwood’s innocence to get to Dithers’ money. Of course, all turns out fine in the end with one important resolution to the series to close out a continuous loop. The mailman (Dick Wessel) decides to end Dagwood running into him finally by delivering the Bumstead mail on his own time at night. No more dirty uniforms. No more bruises. No more scattered mail. Unfortunately, the day he decides to do his first night delivery is tax day and guess who runs out of the house to mail his taxes at the last minute.

By the time Beware of Blondie was made the stories were stretched thin. The familiar Bumstead elements held the movies together as the family survived all sorts of domestic misadventures. According to AFI, Columbia had lost interest in the series after the first fourteen installments. They released two movies without Blondie’s name in the title and stopped producing the series in 1943. However, audiences wanted more and production resumed for another fourteen movies making this series the longest in terms of pictures to date. When the Blondie pictures ceased altogether in 1950, Columbia intended to replace it with another comic strip series, but that fell way short at the box office forcing the studio to reissue all 28 Blondie pictures.

Penny Singleton, Arthur Lake, Larry Simms, and Marjorie Kent in the final picture in the series

America’s love affair with Blondie, Dagwood and the gang was not limited to movies, as we well know. The comic strip continued to strong readership and between 1939 and 1950, Blondie was also heard on radio. Arthur Lake played Dagwood in this version as well with Penny Singleton replaced by Alice White, Patricia Van Cleve and Ann Rutherford at various times. Blondie originally aired on CBS with Camel Cigarettes as its sponsor and later moved to NBC and Super Suds. Lake and Singleton made an appearance as Blondie and Dagwood on The Bob Hope Show following the 1938 release of the first movie, which led to their own show as a summer replacement for The Eddie Cantor Show. They originally aired on Monday evenings at 7:30 and just as the strip helped Depression-era audiences forget their troubles, the radio show helped them through World War II. Enjoy the following episodes of Blondie out of the funnies and into your homes…

From October 1939, “Dagwood Buys a New Suit”

https://ia800201.us.archive.org/13/items/OtrBlondie/Bd1939-10-30018DagwoodBuysANewSuit.mp3

  From April 1940, “The Gypsy Queen”

https://ia800201.us.archive.org/13/items/OtrBlondie/Bd1940-04-22043TheGypsyQueen.mp3

  From March 1944, “Abbott and Costello with Blondie and Dagwood”

https://ia800201.us.archive.org/13/items/OtrBlondie/Bd1944-03-02AbbottCostelloWBlondieDagwood.mp3

  From July 1944, “Plumbin Problems”

https://ia800201.us.archive.org/13/items/OtrBlondie/Bd1944-07-21PlumbingProblems.mp3

  From May 1945, “Socialite Blondie”

https://ia800201.us.archive.org/13/items/OtrBlondie/Bd1945-05-27SocialiteBlondiesocialAspirations.mp3

  From July 1947, “Three Week’s Vacation”

https://ia800201.us.archive.org/13/items/OtrBlondie/Bd1947-07-27ThreeWeeksVacation.mp3

  Unlike radio and the movies, attempts to bring Blondie to television proved unsuccessful. Its power were in the mediums already discussed, but it’s at least worth a mention that those in charge thought enough of the characters and their stories to give them several attempts at TV productions. The first such attempt, Blondie, premiered on January 4, 1957 on NBC and ran for one season. Pamela Britton starred as Blondie with Arthur Lake reprising his famous role once again. Stuffy Singer, Florenz Ames, Ann Barnes, and Harold Peary were also in the cast. In 1968, CBS gave Blondie a turn with The New Blondie, which also ran for one season. Patricia Harty and Will Hutchins star as Blondie and Dagwood in this version with real-life married couple Jim and Henny Backus as Mr. and Mrs. Dithers with Pamelyn Ferdin and Peter Robbins playing the Bumstead kids. As you can tell from the short run of both series, neither managed to capture the charm of the Bumsteads the other versions of their stories did.

Chicago native Chic Young drew Blondie seven days a week from 1930 until his death in 1973 producing more than 15,000 strips. His legacy, continued by his son Dean Young, is one of warmth and humor and home. No matter the decades that have passed, people still visit with the Bumsteads – 90 years after meeting them. We owe them a huge debt of gratitude for the laughter during difficult times.

Chic Young’s BLONDIE turns 90! On September 8, 1930, in the midst of the Great Depression, the world was introduced to Blondie Boopadoop, a dizzy blonde flapper created by Murat Bernard 'Chic' Young.