#listen iris is lonely in a new city

[euphorictrait]

new city…. gf post…making new friends and stuff…

template by @folkbreeze <3

[happilylovingchaos]

Music and Fic Monday for @lonestar-s5countdown

Sorry I’m late-ish! I’ll give a combination of recommendations for music and fanfics today (which is almost over where I am). And wow, there’s a lot involving TK (I’m getting concerned about how much he and Carlos get whumped, I don’t really care if it’s just me 😰).

([Re-])Surfacing Dive for Beginnings and Ends:

Beyond a lot of the stories written by @carlos-in-glasses, @paperstorm and @lemonlyman-dotcom that I think are also beautiful character studies of the Lone Star characters may not get explored enough (and in some cases even exploring parts of the characters that get most focus in-show), I wanted to give a few shout-outs to other, older one-shots/ full-length stories.

Lonely eyes, you don’t have to be alone tonight by @wwasted: A coda that takes place in between the bar scene and the end of 1x03. It’s very cute w/o dragging out too much of either man’s angst, which I liked.

The elephant in the juice bar by @taralaurel: Where Tarlos begins for real after 1x10, and TK tries and fails to keep a metaphor steady as he decides to take a chance.

Getting better by @lonestarbabe, Pigeonsplotinsecrecy: This fic really plays with the meaning of the words “begin” and “end”, especially with a mental health recovery arc and especially with TK. It’s not for everyone, but it describes how relatable, tedious, solitary and multicolored the process can be.

Rosa mundi by fiddlersgreen: A one-shot where TK, Owen, and Carlos make it to New York without incident and properly mourn for Gwyn… and it’s quite a spiritual experience.

You were the greatest thing by hoodieweather: TK is mournful after the events of season 2 as he goes to visit Gwyn and Jonah, but re-learns something important about life. Takes place in the breakup era. Before the ice storm? Actually def before the ice storm.

First aid by @heartstringsduet: I like to call this the gritty version of “Tarlos Begins”, only both characters have more fragile coping methods of surviving life in New York City. When those methods gradually fall apart and threaten to completely implode their lives, they have to face their respective truths and learn how to live— both with the people around them, the real versions of each other, and with themselves.

Not really bridal style by paperyowl: Tarlos begins again immediately post-3x04— with some relationship negotiating required. The author really nailed Tarlos’ voices for their first fic in the 9-1-1: LS fandom!

Haunted by the ghost of you by @strandnreyes: A sad and hopeful combination of 3x04 and 3x08, where Tarlos begins again with an unexpected end.

I’m not mean enough to fully recommend hurt no comfort Tarlos fics, or hurt no comfort fics in general (and I’m still less than a year into using Tumblr anyway), so for a definitive “end” fic in that category, I may direct you to MissPudim’s works where the issues with the whole Iris arc is addressed and Tarlos handles it Extremely Badly. Or this fic called Gone where… it’s… okay, hell. They still handle it bad, it’s still kind of an end and it’s a bittersweet end, albeit in an AU. And another one by bythebry, Ain’t got no tears left to cry.

Where all this love comes from by @carlos-in-glasses: I think I’m not the first one to recommend this story but I think it counts as a general “begins” for both TK and Carlos (mainly for Carlos, though). And I’m listening to Postmodern Jukebox while trying to re-recommend it… if you’re curious, I put one of their cover songs on the bottom of this post. Needless to say, I loved this fic!

TK (Begins):

Jewish for Himself by 7ate9: I felt a sense of completion to read a fic that goes into TK’s POV about how the religion Gwyn wanted to raise him under is, in a word, complicated (as hell). Yes, just as much as his career and gay identity. For that, I’m thankful to the author! (And not just because so many opportunities for TK’s Jewish rep was wasted…)

TK begins by writedontfight: Exactly what the title says, with a plausible and saddeningly real scar of loss in TK’s life.

Numb and Thirty days by come2gusu: TK begins again, and good GOD I’M SAD ABOUT 3x08 AGAIN nooOOOOOooO….

Carlos (Begins):

Duality of a day by @marjansmarwani: I loved this exploration of how double-edged the wedding day would feel for Carlos— the beginning of a new chapter in his life with TK, and the punch-to-the-face end of Gabriel’s own life (spoiler alert).

to build a home by @freneticfloetry: This story was the first “Carlos Begins” story I’d read. I thought I wouldn’t like the canon divergence that happens at the end, but I was pleasantly surprised!

Dancing, happy, seen by @endlesstwanted: Carlos’ POV as he falls in love at first sight with TK.

Silver lining’s gold and shining by @paperstorm: “Carlos begins”, with a little help from Iris. For me, it also parallels “Chimney Begins”.

I fell for you like a child (oh but the fire went wild) by ellay_gee: Told in a 5+1 format about Carlos’ experiences with love. It was so cute!

Tender eyes that shine by @alrightbuckaroo: Much like “to build a home”, this fic exuded “Carlos begins” energy with more focus on how the Reyes’ “identity” shaped Carlos, and him focusing on unlearning the emotional repression that comes with that ideal.

Music Recs for @tellmegoodbye:

If the Lone Star music team uses this cover of AC/DC my country-music side would be tickled. Just thought that a down-South version of a rock song would be a cool bookend to the pop collab “Old Town Road.”

Postmodern Jukebox is one of my favorite cover bands, and they’ve made a lot of songs I’ve heard of really appealing for me— retro takes on pop songs! This one cover of Oasis’ songs brought to mind another procedural spinoff, NCIS: New Orleans, for the jazz funeral feel added to apparently hotly-debated interpretations of the lyrics (I only just looked on Reddit, so…). But considering what’s happening, hearing the song in the context of Lone Star breaks and warms my heart.

[systenowy-blog]

Host

look: height - short (155 cm) eyes - hazel? hair - brown that could dye green tattoos - sun and moon on knees in hs piercings - piercings/earrings childish voice, makes weird random noises, creates her own words and twists them (wymienia r z l w słowie np garelia czy kernel) shuffle shoes when walking usually makes weird poses and faces - very expressive, can spin around due to autism or do smth with her hands because of that, childish behavior, covers ears when in panic or rocks back and forth, flaps arms/hands (autism), jumps up and down etc. i lubi nosić smycz czy coś innego do skubania jak się denerwuje her personality is more like a sidekick (for example Mushu or squirrel from Over the hedge as she's not a prince[ss]), Gordon Ramsay (Brandon said so), Ellie (The last of us) and Jaskier (Witcher)

interests:

games like Epistory typing chronicles, Syberia, The sims series, Choices but lately it's too sexual for her, car racing games on PC, Criminal case, trivia, unihockey and badminton, board games, jigsaw puzzles, poker online, FOE, Chickensmoothie, Nationstates, dress up games and maybe CAH

fashion, collecting, thrifting, interior design, maximalism (Iris Apfel), vintage, plushies, clowns, trolls, Moomins

making collages and eventually scrapbooking, drawing, writing

movies (also how they are made and acting)

true crime a little

Eurovision, singing, a bit dancing and listening to music (also music videos), likes variety of genres: especially christmas vintage music, alternative/indie and 80s but mostly melancholic music lately, fav bands: Ashbury Heights, Alphaville, Melanie Martinez, Temples, Rome, Simon & Garfunkel, Hole, Tegan and Sara, Queen, fav songs: Logical song, People are lonely, Letter to God, Swim -Boy epic, Flowers - Miley Cyrus and Benee - Green honda, Hollow - Dons and Rim tim tagi dim - Baby lasagna etc.

fav car is DeLorean but also loves Dodges and jeeps, might be interested in old automobiles and big motorcycles but not as much as Nat, tries to drive in hs a little and rides horses, tiry

quizzes, surveys

only surprises she likes are those Kinder ones (and similar like the ones attached to juice or water bottles)

favorite artists - Tim Walker, Andy Goldsworthy, Marina Abramovic, Leonora Carrington, Remedios Varo, fav art: Krzyk - Munch and a dog figure from our neighboring city

likes puns/word play and reference humor or smth like Simpsons

favorite color - neon/lime green, black, mustard and yellow, identifies with blue sometimes tho favorite number - 6 and 7

favorite season - summer

favorite plant - many like sunflowers and weeping willows or succulents

favorite animal - raccoon but also likes elephants and small dogs like pugs and chihuahuas, will spot cats but mixed feelings about those, will visit pet stores on occassions

food (her fav or trying new stuff)

favorite emoji - poop

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream IV

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count:

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable; It feels like butterflies fluttering or sparks flying or whatever other cliche Iris could think of. It’s like slow-dancing all alone after dinner in a half-cleaned kitchen, easy and intimate. It feels like warm honey on her tongue, slow and sweet and overwhelming. It’s pillowtalk, baby; lay your head on my pillow, say, "oh-ooh"; way you're touchin' my body, say, "ooh-ooh"; i ain't lovin' nobody but you; you, you, you make me, the kind that starts as whispers in the dark and becomes deep, lazy sex with only the moon there to light the way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Comfortable

Set the tone, when it's just me

And you alone, never lonely

In the room, breathin' slowly

Oh, you know me, yeah

At a quarter to one on the next Sunday afternoon, Iris finds herself sitting in her living room, waiting for Barry. Her week has been a relatively good one. She thinks they might be over the hurdle of a new semester—learning the personalities of each other—and Dr. Jamison had been on top of her own game, which meant Iris had been able to as well. She’d spent her Friday night watching Bridgerton, well, as much as the hazy cloud of blue diesel had allowed her to, and on Saturday, she’d spent several hours at Jitters typing up a new story for What a Life You’ve Lived. This story had featured an older woman who, years before Loving v. Virginia had made her marriage legal, had lived in relative obscurity with her white husband, dating and laughing and loving in secret.

Yeah, she’d shaken her head at that too.

She doesn’t know where they’re going today, so she’s dressed in a casual emerald green wrap dress, with a deep v-neck and long sleeves, that hems just at her knees. She opts for flat sandals just in case. His number is still unused, though she’s taken the steps to lock it into her phone. She can’t tell why she doesn’t call him, can’t make out why she’s, apparently, too afraid to just reach out to the man. She doesn’t know what they’re doing, outside of this date, or what his goal is. Linda would definitely describe her as being too chickenshit to find out. She obviously doesn’t disagree.

She’s decided that it’s casual, because aren’t most situations these days casual? And it makes more sense than the thought that lives in her head; the alternative doesn’t fit as neatly in her mind. The alternative is, is a little chaotic because that would add layers to the way he grins at her, and to the way he oscillates between awkward and bold when he talks to her, and to the way that she can never completely get the feel and taste of him out of her mouth. The sensation makes her think of runny ice cream, sweet and sticky and dripping, so much so that before she knows it, her hands and her face and her heart are all covered in it.

The doorbell rings.

Iris jumps up to answer the door and he’s standing there, in black jeans and a gray t-shirt, and she’s always struck by how good he looks in such casual outfits. His hands are stuffed down into his pockets and a grin is etched onto his face. He leans into the door when it opens, shoulder on the frame.

“Hi, beautiful.”

The compliment is unexpected and she turns away to grab her bag, to hide the blush that warms her cheeks, even if he wouldn’t be able to see it on her skin.

“You ready?” he asks.

She nods. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They are about fifteen minutes away from Lake Lanier when Iris realizes that’s where they’re going. The ride is pleasant. They don’t talk much outside of a few sentences regarding how their weeks were. Instead, they listen to some rock music Iris has never heard before and Iris alternates between staring at the road and staring at the intricate flowers tattooed on his arm. She recognizes some of them, roses and chrysanthemums and sunflowers, but there are far more that she doesn’t, especially when she remembers that the bouquet goes all the way up and over his shoulder. She decides she’ll ask him about it later.

The trail for the lake comes into view and Barry turns his Jeep onto a barely paved road, his pale fingers caressing the wheel as he expertly maneuvers the vehicle. He drives past where Iris and Linda and their classmates spent countless summer afternoons, past the trail that leads to where her dad had taken her and Wally camping when, at 12, Wally had realized that he was the only of his friends who’d never been.

They come to a stop, moments after Iris wonders if this might be where bodies get hidden, next to a towering oak tree. They’d lost the trail about a mile back and Barry’s four-wheel-drive was a match for whatever grass and rock and mud they rolled over.

Iris steps out of the Jeep and looks around, momentarily in awe. Out this far, the lake looks serene in a way she’s never seen before. It’s quiet, but it isn’t. Even in a midsize city like Central City, there is always something happening; there is always lights and noise and music. Here, the sound of nature takes the stage: the clicking buzz of cicadas and the chirping songs of birds and the gentle wave of the lake. The look of it is surreal, the pale blue of the water and the vibrant dark green of the trees, those slowly giving way to the oranges and reds of fall.

“Wow,” Iris murmurs.

“It’s great, right?” Barry says.

She turns and finds him with his trunk open. She walks around back to see him gathering picnic supplies, a woven picnic basket, a thick red gingham picnic blanket, and a cooler. There’s also another blanket to stem the feel of the wind so close to the lake. She grabs the picnic basket as he handles everything else and she follows him as they set up a few feet away from the bank, on a soft patch of grass to cushion them.

“I wasn’t expecting a picnic,” Iris tells Barry as she settles on the blanket, taking off her shoes and setting them on the edge.

“No?” He grins over at her before resuming his task. He’s unpacking the basket, pulling out saran-wrapped sandwiches, containers of fruit and vegetables with dip, and ziplock bags full of popcorn. A look in the cooler shows her some waters, several beers, and an equal number of mini wine bottles.

“Where’d you think I was taking you?” he wonders.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Like a movie or something.”

He grins, this time slower; and it shouldn’t, but it makes Iris think of the last time she’d seen him, slow and heated on her living room couch.

“That can be our next date,” he says.

“Who says you’re getting another date?”

He looks up at her and it’s the same one he’d given her when he asked her why she didn’t call, the expression a touch calculating. His head is tilted and his eyes are darting all over her face. She wants to turn her head, turn away from his gaze, but she can’t. Because she thinks that she’s hoping he does find what he’s looking for her, that he can help her to find it too.

“You didn’t say that we were going on another date” he says, finally. “But I have fun when we're together, Iris, and I, I think that you do too."

He goes back to pulling items out of the basket, this time a container full of cookies, and Iris starts grappling with whether or not she can take what he says at face value. It’s a flaw, she knows, the doubt that seems to come far too automatically. She wishes that she could blame it on something tangible—on parents who hadn’t been there or boyfriends who’d lied or friends who didn’t have her best interests at heart. That isn’t the case, though. Her mom had been there as much as she could and she had never had enough boyfriends for it to really make a dent. Linda has never even thought about doing her wrong, and her family might be the very best part of her.

But everything in her body catches at the thought of this man being someone she likes, someone she adds to the rotation of people in her life, people who’ve only become occasional brunches and too quick phone calls. What would it feel like for this man—and his smile and his touch and the way that she feels like she knows him when she doesn’t—to become a part of that rotation, until the discomfort of the entire situation makes him taper off altogether?

“Iris?”

She blinks out of her daze at the sound of Barry’s voice, looking down to see him holding out two bottles in front of her, one a lager from a local brewery, the other a chilled bottle of Chardonnay.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yes,” she answers him quickly. “Just thinking.”

“About me?” he asks, his grin wide, cheeks faintly pink, and the look of him is so adorable that Iris shakes her head as she grabs the wine from him, failing to curb the smile that lifts the corner of her mouth, failing to keep the thoughts, the whenever i get around you, i lose it; lose it, from seeping in.

“Let’s play twenty questions.”

Iris is halfway into her mini-wine bottle when Barry voices the suggestion. For the time being, they’ve been merely sitting, drinking, basking in the day. The weather is gorgeous and Iris likes that the only thing to distract her is the constant tweeting of the birds, or the soft splashes of the fish in the lake, or the steady sound of Barry’s breathing.

“Okay,” Iris agrees, “but twenty is a lot.”

“Ten, then?” he hurries to say. “Five each?”

He shifts on the blanket so that he’s lying down on his side facing her, head propped in his hand. Her own back is propped against the tree, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle.

“You first.”

“Alright.” He pauses, looks up towards the sky as if he’s thinking, and then asks, “What’s your favorite book?”

She is surprised by the question, though she isn’t sure what she thought he might ask.

“I’ve got a lot of favorites,” she says, because it’s true. Books, stories, became an escape early on, from a home that had been too fragile, that had felt like it’d come crumbling down with only a mere gust of wind. “But one that still sits with me is Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. I read it for the first time in high school.”

He smiles at her. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s about a woman named Janie, who was raised by her grandmother who’d been enslaved. Janie’s a romantic; she wants freedom and love. But her grandmother wants her to have security. She’s got a series of suitors: an old man who treats her like the help, essentially; a man who becomes mayor of this all-black town, who only props her up as this thing, this ornament that must look and act like he wants her to; and Tea Cake, a younger man who’s passionate and selfish and possessive. And in all of it, Janie is discovering herself, exploring what she does and doesn’t want. She steps up and she fights back and she learns to dismiss what others have to say about here.”

Barry hums. “She reminds me of you,” he says, “this Janie woman.”

He catches her gaze, holds it. Iris catches the way his eyes track the features of her face. She can never find it in her to shrink away, almost like she’s beholden to the force of him.

“Why?”

“She seems passionate; fanciful. Alluring.”

She’s never wanted to blush as much as she does around him and her face feels warm, tight. She swallows from her wine bottle, still looking at him.

“You are,” she starts, and then shakes her head.

“I am…?” he urges, mouth grinning, eyes wide with mirth. He reaches out and grabs at her ankle, fingers grazing her skin. Her skin tingles beneath his fingers, a slow rush of heat flooding through her. Apparently, Barry has discovered a new erogenous zone.

“Something else,” she answers, finally.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s what you meant.”

She looks out at the lake for a brief moment. “It’s not, but I haven’t figured out what I do mean yet.”

He’s silent for a beat. “Okay. Your turn,” he says and Iris is grateful for the reprieve.

“What’s a country you’ve never been to that you’d like to visit?”

A wistful smile curves his pretty mouth. “That’s easy. Ireland.”

“Yeah?” she asks softly.

“It’s where my mom's family is from,” he continues, touching at her ankle even as he looks away from her. She wonders if he realizes he’s even doing it, tracing along her ankle and then up the length of her calf and back down again.

“My mom was born here in Central City,” he explains, “but her parents were born and raised in Ireland, moving here when they were a couple of months pregnant with her.” She knows she doesn’t mistake the melancholy in his voice. “We’d been planning for a trip after I graduated high school. Since dad was gone, it wasn’t as easy to save up for a long summer trip like that, but we were working on it, before she was killed. I’m still working on it.”

He gives her another smile, this one tinged with hope, and the urge to comfort him is strong. But she knows that there is no real comfort for missing a mother, so instead, she moves from her spot against the tree. The movement confuses Barry, who has to move his hand away from her ankle, but his frown clears when she lies beside him, her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” she tells him. “My best friend Linda’s parents live in a large immigrant community. People from all over live there. It was like heaven for me when I really started getting into writing; so many stories. Obviously, not everyone wanted to tell their business to a 15-year-old, but Mrs. Bianco had no qualms about it.

“Mrs. Bianco has three sons, relatively the same age as me and Linda, one right after the other, but no daughters. So for much of high school, we were her surrogates. My dad worked a lot and so did Linda’s parents, getting their restaurant off the ground. So we’d go over to Mrs. Bianco’s after school to do homework and she’d feed us all these baked goods, cannolis and these things called bombolinis, which are like doughnuts but better. And she’d tell us all these stories about growing up in the Italian countryside and going to college and meeting her husband before they came here, the excitement of it all. She made it sound so beautiful.”

Barry reaches over and touches her, long fingers touching lightly at her arm before they wrap around her wrist. He rubs at the skin on the inside of her wrist. The move feels like a deliberate way for Barry to maintain contact, but also like more. Like the last time he’d come to her apartment, and she’d felt the touch to her ankles at the very core of her, she feels so now. It’s subtle, but it’s there, in the slight clench of her belly, in the low throb of her pussy. It’s been a long time since she’s been with anyone like this — cause I feel so comfortable with you; you make me comfortable with you—easily aroused and just as easily comforted. Her last relationship had been with a man named Eddie, a graduate student she had met early in her senior year of undergrad. He had been sweet, but they had both been so busy all the time that they had felt like work too. With Barry, there’s the newness that comes with a relationship, the giddiness at talking to him, being near him. But this seems like something else, something greater, something that tells of why she can’t stop thinking about this man.

“Why did you invite me over,” Barry asks, “that Friday night?”

She exhales shakily, a little unnerved by him. “Well, you asked me to dance?”

“You invited me over because I asked you to dance?” His tone is incredulous and she laughs.

“No, I mean. It’s the club. People just dance, right? And here you come, rocking those hips unlike any white boy I’ve seen, and then you walk up and ask me if you could dance with me. I thought it was polite.”

Barry rolls over so that he’s long against her side. He moves his hand from her wrist to press on her belly, rubbing his thumb lightly. He plants his mouth right next to her ear. “If you think I’m polite, I’m doing something wrong.”

She catches his eyes. “I don’t know,” she says, smirking at him. “Maybe you are. Maybe you need to work on that.”

She lets the taunt hang, for just a moment, and then she rolls over to kiss him. She licks at his mouth, turning the kiss more passionate in seconds. Their positions change, Barry rolling her onto her back.

“I think I can make you beg,” Barry whispers against her mouth. “I was always told that was impolite.”

Iris doesn’t get a chance to say much else because suddenly, Barry is between her legs, his head dipping down under her dress.

“Barry what?”

As is his annoying habit, he doesn’t respond to her right away. He pushes her dress higher, exposing her belly and the bright yellow lace of her panties. She inhales sharply at the feel of his breath on her belly before he plants a kiss there.

“Ask for it.”

She catches onto his game immediately and her eyes flash. “No.”

His answer is a grin and then, without much preamble, he dips his tongue into her belly button. The action makes her hips raise automatically, and he brings her back down by gripping her hips. He continues down, tongue laving at her skin, fingers running up her torso and down again until they hook in the top of her panties and he starts to pull them down.

Iris can’t describe what it is she’s feeling at the moment. He’s only just touched her, only just planted a few sloppy kisses on her stomach. But her skin is tight with anticipation, her breathing deeper as she waits to see what he’ll do. She wonders, rather absently, if they’re currently being watched by any of the animals she hears living out here by the lake; but then Barry widens her legs and opens her up with the tips of his index and middle finger and she stops thinking altogether.

He holds her open for a long moment, just looking, just breathing against her, and she tries to hold still until she can’t, wiggling her hips a little, hoping it makes a finger slip inside of her.

“Barry…”

“You’re ready to ask for it?”

He drags his gaze away from her sex in order to meet her eyes. They’re the glassy that lets her know that he isn’t as unaffected as he’s pretending to be. That momentarily strengthens her resolve, knowing that maybe he really does feel like this too, that she’s not the only one losing her head in this sexual haze that seems to be moving way too fast and way past normal.

She shakes her head at him.

“No?” he questions. “Not even if I do this?”

Fingers still holding her, he licks her, a long swipe of his tongue. She inhales again at the feel of his wet tongue, lets it go in a noisy exhale when he does it again. And then again and then again, and Iris starts to rock against him, trying to get more of his tongue or his fingers or something. She quivers above him, her thighs opening and closing, and she feels like a butterfly, fluttering and alight, hovering over a precipice.

“Shit, ” she moans.

And then, he stops. He fucking stops.

“Barry…”

“Or this?” he continues, and pushes his fingers in. It’s harder than she likes, more like a stab, and she jerks her hips.

“Softer,” she tells him, and he obliges, moving slower, caressing instead of fucking into her. “ Yes, like that.”

Barry hums around her. The vibration makes her hips rock up, and he circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, sucking on it. He looks up at her again. This is the face she wants to remember for the rest of her days: his dazed eyes, his flushed cheeks, his wet mouth.

“Ask me for what you want, Iris,” Barry licks his lips. “Beg me, baby, please.”

Her heart is pounding and she wonders how a game of question and answer got her here. But they are here, she’s here, quivering with the need to come, with the fact that Barry looking up at her like this, begging her like this, makes her feel more desirable than she’s ever known she could.

“Can you eat me, Barry? Please? ”

Iris has never seen a dirtier smile. “With pleasure.”

He really starts to eat her, then. He kisses at her lips, tongues her down in a sloppy, wet tongue kiss that makes her cream drip out of her, drip down her thighs. She rocks against him, closing her knees around his head when the touch of his tongue to her clit gets to be too much, opening herself wider when wants his tongue back in her, licking and tasting and fucking her. Needing something to do with her hands, she grabs at his hair, pulling at the strands, scratching at scalp, at the back of his neck. That is how she comes, she doesn’t know how much later. But it’s like that: with Barry holding on to her hips, face buried in her slick; with her knees opening and closing, with her hips bucking, with her begging him, “please, Barry, fuck, yes, please, Barry. ”

It takes her a while to come down and when she does, she says the first thing that she can think of. “God, you’re so goddamn annoying.”

Barry bursts out laughing into her stomach, arms wrapped around her.

“What is something that you want out of a relationship?”

They’re sitting up and eating now, Iris several feet away from him so she’s not tempted to wrap her thighs around his face again. She’s chosen the turkey sandwich on wheat bread and a handful of grapes. The sandwich is really good and Barry must think so of his own handiwork because he’s already done with one and unwrapping another. Although, Iris thinks, he likely did work up an appetite.

She can’t say what makes her throw out the question. The skepticism of starting something with him is still there, but laughing after sex like that, coming from sex like that, well. Iris can name that she might be a little whipped by this smooth-talking, world-class fucking white boy.

He chews a bite of his sandwich and swallows before he turns to her with an answer.

“I’m a simple guy, I think. I work a lot; crimes wait for no one so I would want someone who understands that. But in my time off, I like to do things like this, and festivals and running too, so someone who likes that too.” He wipes at his mouth with a crumpled napkin. “But out of a relationship in general, I guess I want companionship, laughing. Communication and patience. Fidelity.” He shoots her a grin. “Good sex.”

Iris rolls her eyes, but she returns the smile. “Did you have that in your last relationship?”

“Ah,” he interrupts, “it’s my turn for a question, Iris.”

She throws her own balled up napkin at him. “Fine. Shoot.”

“What do you look for in a relationship?”

She shoots him a glare.

“What?” he laughs. “It was a good question and I want to know.”

“Okay. Um,” she takes a swig from her newly opened wine. “Whew. I don’t know that I’ve thought about this in a while.” She bites at her bottom lip and lets out a long breath. “A lot of the same things you said, I think. I do love laughing, even if I can get lost in my own head angst sometimes and I’d like someone who realizes that. I’m pretty busy, between school and work and What a Life You’ve Lived, but I make time for the people I want to make time for and I would wish my partner would do the same. Fidelity is also important to me too; communication. I love music and dancing and movies so someone who’d want to do those things with me.”

Barry wriggles his eyebrows. “Good sex?”

“A plus, for sure,” she agrees.

That gets her to thinking about another question she has, one she’s more hesitant to voice. She could get an answer she likes, one that keeps the mood they’ve got going here. And the vibe right now is so good. She can’t remember a date like this, one so simple. Eddie had been courting careers in law and so much of their time together had been spent out at fancy dinners while he’d tried to smooze whoever he needed to that week. It’d been fun sometimes, to see what stories she could get out of the politicians and law officers, but that’s not a date, at least it wasn't to her. During undergrad, dates meant studying together in the corner of a library until one or both of them got the urge to make out behind a shelf of books. And high school shouldn’t even really count. But here, today, this feels like a date. It feels like butterflies fluttering or sparks flying or whatever other cliche Iris could think of. It’s like slow-dancing all alone after dinner in a half-cleaned kitchen, easy and intimate. It feels like warm honey on her tongue, slow and sweet and overwhelming. It’s pillow talk, baby; lay your head on my pillow, say, "oh-ooh"; way you're touchin' my body, say, "ooh-ooh"; i ain't lovin' nobody but you; you, you, you make me, the kind that starts as whispers in the dark and becomes deep, lazy sex with only the moon there to light the way.

But she steels herself and risks asking anyway. “Barry, do you, uh, have a lot of sex, then? A lot of one-night stands?”

Barry’s eyes are wide when he looks at her. He’d been cleaning up their trash, putting napkins and wrappers and empty bottles in a small grocery bag and the question makes him look up sharply. It makes her want to retreat, but she’s already put it out there and she’s extremely curious if she happens to just be one in a line of girls that this surprisingly suave man has beguiled with easy laughs and mind-blowing sex.

“I'm asking because you are, you’re good,” she mumbles, (but, understatement), “and of course, you don’t have to answer me but I just… I'm wondering if…”

She trails off when he stops what he’s doing and crawls over to her. He hovers, making her lean back a little in order to see all of his face. It’s a pretty face, the dark eyebrows over those eyes, the lips that she knows get even pinker when they’re dripping with her juices, the faint moles along his cheeks and jaw that doesn’t detract.

“There are no other girls, Iris,” he tells her, and he seems so sincere as he looks straight into her eyes, as he places a hand on the side of her so she’s clouded in the clean, citrusy smell of him. “I know that we’re just hanging out and obviously, you do what you want, but no, I… I’m a one woman kinda guy. Going home with you was an anomaly, one I certainly don’t regret. But it’s not a thing I do. I haven’t been with anyone else since my last relationship months ago.”

She stares at him, hoping that she can believe him. “Alright.”

“Okay?”

She nods again, this time with a little smile. “Yeah, okay.”

Neither of them asks their final two questions. Barry says that it’ll give them something to talk about when he sees her again. Iris just thinks that today’s been a whirlwind of a day and it’d be nice not to be on the spot anymore. The ride back to town is just as easy as the ride down. Easy listening plays from the radio—'cause I feel so comfortable with you; you make me comfortable with you; i feel so comfortable with you; you make me comfortable with you; you make me—and Iris settles into her seat for the half-hour drive, full and sated and comfortable. She must doze off because before she knows it, Barry is pulling into the parking space next to her Kia and he’s opening the door for her.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he says, smiling down at her as he grabs her hand to pull her out of the seat.

“I’m sorry for falling asleep on you.” She stumbles a little as she follows him up the stairs and he grips her hand tighter.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells her. “I take pride in the fact that I’ve put you to sleep every night we’ve been together.”

She doesn’t even pause as she yanks her hand away and slides past him to her door. “You’re such a dick.”

Barry chuckles, sidling up behind her as she sticks her key into the lock. He gives her a soft kiss on the skin between her neck and shoulder.

“I thought you said I was polite,” he breathes, before nipping at her skin. She closes her eyes at the feel of his mouth on her, the light nips of his teeth, the slick glide of his tongue behind it. He pulls up all the way behind her and wraps both of his arms around her waist.

“You are,” she moans when one of his hands glides down and settles hard over her crotch. “Even when you’re telling me to beg, you say please.”

He licks a longer stripe across her skin, pulls a larger patch into his mouth, cups her pussy in the palm of his hand.

“Barry…”

“But you called me a dick, Iris. Am I polite or a dick?”

She arches into him. “You’re a polite dick.”

He stills against her and it takes a moment for Iris to realize that he’s laughing again. He’s got such a nice laugh, deep and bright. “Damn, Iris.” He turns her around, still with a wide grin on his face. He leans down and kisses her, pecks her lips once, and then twice, and then a longer one that curls her fingers around his neck. He doesn’t immediately let go when he pulls back.

“I want to ask one of my last questions.”

She licks her lips, chasing the taste of him. “Okay.”

“Am I in the running?” He asks the question clearly, though in a voice just above a whisper. “Am I someone that you could want to be..”

She doesn’t need him to finish the sentence to say what she’s feeling, even if she’s terrified of what it might eventually mean for her. “I really think that you might be.”

“It’s a might I’ll take.” He nods at her door. “Good night, beautiful.”

She turns to go into the apartment. “Good night, Barry.”

The door is almost closed when he calls back. “Hey, Iris?”

“Yeah?”

“Call me this time.”

You make me

Baby

You make me

You make me

[sebspocketsquare]

Quarantine 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (online)

A/N: Heya guys! Here’s part 7! I hope you enjoy it ;)

Warnings: Flirting, language, quarantine, feels, fluff, moments of sadness, storms 

[J:] So.. Saturday at 5:00. Sound good?

[You:] Sounds perfect :) Let’s hope this weather clears up before then..

It was late afternoon, you were eating your first meal of the day.

A bowl of your favorite cereal.

[J:] I really enjoyed our date last night, by the way.. 

[J:] Sorry I was pretty nervous at first..

You smile, setting your bowl on the coffee table as you respond.

[You:] Oh, you don’t have to be sorry at all.. I was just as nervous as you were :)

[You:] First dates are always weird, J..

[You:] Ours just happened to be a little weirder than most. :P

[J:] I really really REALLY hate first dates…

You’re about to respond, tell him you feel the exact same way, but…

[J:] And yet, I still love ours.

[J:] And I’m really looking forward to the next one. :)

His text has your heart fluttering like a swarm of butterflies, and you decide to change the subject.

[You:] Speaking of our date..

[You:] I believe we made a deal, didn’t we?

You can see him start typing, erase it and stop, and then start typing again.

This pattern repeats four times before an actual message comes through.

[J:] You first.

You knew he was nervous about this part for some reason, so you had no issue with obliging this request.

Luckily you had brushed your hair today when you first woke up, put on your moisturizer and a bit of mascara. You weren’t as dolled up as you could be, but you thought it was better this way.

If quarantine had taught you anything, it was how to be comfortable with your bare face, to fall in love with some of your natural qualities.

Taking a seat in a chair by the window, you open your camera and take a few selfies from the more flattering angles you’d looked up on pinterest.

They’re pretty enough, but not what you’re looking for.

With a sigh, you look out the window at a lone, common starling sitting on the branch of a tree. He looks to you and cocks his head, as if to say ‘hello’. Your lip curls into a half smile, and at that moment, your thumb slips and captures an accidental photo.

It would turn out to be the perfect one.

It takes you exactly six and a half minutes to actually gain the courage to press send.

As soon as you do, you put your phone screen down on the table and groan, hiding your face in your hands.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuuuck. Why did I send that one?” 

You suddenly regret not putting more makeup on, not editing out the tiny blemish on your chin, not being certain that your hair wasn’t frizzy.

What if this was it - the beginning of the end?

Your phone buzzes from its place on the table.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, before you pick it up.

It’s a string of texts from J, with more coming in with every moment that passes.

[J:] Doll

[J:] Goddamnnnnn…

[J:] You are seriously the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

[J:] Like… are you real??

[J:] How did i get so goddamn lucky?

[J:] Your eyes are so gorgeous, holy shit.

If you weren’t warm in the face before, you were now.

[You:] Don’t stare too much. :P

[J:] Too late for that. I can’t stop.

He’s silent for a few minutes, and you’re sure it’s because he’s staring at your photo again.

[You:] I do believe it’s your turn, Sarge. ;)

It takes him even longer to reply this time.

He starts typing, stops, and then starts again in a vicious cycle.

[J:] You don’t wanna see me, Doll.. I haven’t shaved in like three weeks…

You can’t help but pout a little bit.

[You:] We made a deal, J :(

[You:] Don’t hide those pretty blue eyes from me.

Hopeful that your playful attempt at comfort would be convincing enough for him, you set your phone back on the coffee table and head to the kitchen to wash your dishes.

When you return five minutes later, you’re happy to find that you have two new messages.

[J:] Alright, just.. I hope you’re not disappointed.

[J:]

Your jaw goes slack and you can’t tear your eyes away from his.

They were beautiful. 

The way the deep blue of the outer edge surrounded the light blue-grey iris reminded you of crashing ocean waves, and you wanted nothing more than to get lost in them.

You can’t tell if time has slowed down or if you just weren’t breathing correctly anymore, but you can hear your heart beating in your ears as you look him over.

He’s gorgeous. The glittering grey hairs throughout his beard only made him even more attractive and for some strange reason, all you wanted to do was run your fingertips through it.

Was he even real?

[J:] Doll…?

You don’t even realize it’s been fifteen minutes since he’s sent the picture.

[You:] Sorry, it’s just..

[You:] You know you’re gorgeous, right?

[You:] Like.. Probably the most beautiful man in the history of like.. Ever??

You’re well aware you sound like a bit of a fangirl, but so what? He was breathtaking.

[J:] You’re just being nice.

A scoff escapes your lips as you respond.

[You:] Um, no. 

[You:] I meant it.

[You:] I can’t believe you’ve been hiding those eyes from me for so long.

[J:] You’re too kind.

You decide to tease him a little.

[You:] Are you blushing, Sarge? ;)

[J:] I just might be, doll.

The rest of your day is spent chatting back and forth. J said he had to do some assignments for work on his computer, so he couldn’t game until really late that night, but it didn’t bother you.

It gave you a chance to relax and watch some TV for a while.

The first channel that comes up is the news, and you’re about to turn it off, but something catches your eye.

They’re interviewing Captain America, a fluff piece of him telling you what you can do to help your community - proper social distancing measures and proper handwashing etiquette.

He’s wearing a mask, so only the bottom half of his face is visible, but he looks oddly familiar.

It takes five minutes of watching it to realize who he reminds you of.

Sam. J’s Sam.

You pick up your phone, deciding to share your thoughts.

[You:] So.. I was watching the news..

[J:] Yikes.

[You:] Yeah..

[You:] Have you ever noticed how much Sam and Captain America look alike?

He takes ten minutes to respond, and by this time, the interview with the Captain is over, and you’ve moved on to a re-run of one of your favorite shows.

[J:] Uh, no…

[J:] Why?

[J:] What makes you think that?

All three texts come in quick succession, almost as if they were sent out of panic.

Two more show up on your screen in the same spirit.

[J:] Besides, haven't you seen Sam’s arms? He’s got fucking bird arms.

[J:] Captain America is super buff. No way they’re the same person.

You think back to when Sam came to your apartment to install your security system, and you specifically remember thinking how nice his arms were..

But the fact that J seems to be a little uncomfortable with your observation has you feeling weird too, so you decide to drop the subject for now.

[You:] I guess you’re right. My mind must be playing tricks on me.

[You:] I blame the quarantine.

The reply you receive is only three letters long, and it doesn’t sit right with you either.

[J:] Lol

SUNDAY, 4:15PM

You’ve been awake since noon, which is early for you nowadays. 

It’s been nearly hailing all day, and it was beginning to also put a damper on your mood.

You had to cancel your second date due to the storms, and your make-up date with J was supposed to be in forty five minutes, but there was no way it could happen with the weather in its current state.

It’s be surprising if the whole city didn’t lose power at this rate.

[You:] I think we’re gonna have to cancel again tonight, J.. 

[You:] It’s just getting worse as time goes on.

It breaks your heart to have to cancel on him twice in only a matter of two days, but the cons outweigh the pros in this situation.

[J:] But… our date

[J:] :(

Releasing a heavy sigh, you send back a sad face of your own, chewing the inside of your cheek in an attempt to not let your emotions get the best of you.

[New photo message from J. To view image, unlock device]

The message appears on your screen moments after you’ve begun packing away your date set up. Something in your gut told you he wasn’t going to listen to your recommendation to stay home.

When you open it, you’re not surprised at what you find, but you are absolutely smitten.

 [J:] I’m on my way, doll. Don’t give up on me just yet.

[J:]

You get so distracted staring at his lips, his goddamn perfect, beautiful lips that you don’t notice when twenty minutes has passed since he sent the photo.

He’d be here sooner than you expected, and worse, he was walking in the rain to do it.

What were you going to do with a man who’s stubbornness matched your own?

You decide to set a blanket outside, along with a thermos full of hot coffee.

The sky is dark grey, almost black in some spots, and the fact that it was only 5:00 only made it that much more obvious how nasty of a storm this was turning out to be.

You hoped he was okay.

Back against the door, you sit and wait for him.

Within half an hour, his signature sound of arrival hits the door in quick succession.

Knock. Knock Knock. Knock.

Always in time with your heart.

“How bad was your walk?” You ask immediately, to which you hear a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “That bad, huh?”

“The thunder was pretty loud. Made me jump a few times.” He finally confesses.

Your heart drops, “J.. I told you not to come. I know you wanted to have our date, and I.. I really did too, but.. It’s freezing and raining. You could get sick.”

Concern is dripping from each and every word, and you miss the way his entire face lights up. His heart flutters at hearing how much you care for him. About him.

“Yeah, well, doll.. You’re worth it. Thanks for the coffee by the way. Good call.”

You hear him set his backpack down, followed by his jacket rubbing against the door as he sits. He lets out a half sigh, half hiss when his jeans hit the concrete beneath him, and you’re sure he’s completely soaked to the bone.

Outwardly, you say nothing. Silence. 

He’s not sure if you’re upset or angry. Or maybe just lost in contemplation.

Inwardly, you’re facing a battle. 

A battle between letting a man whom you had surprisingly strong feelings for sit out in the rain and catch a cold, and letting said man inside your apartment during a nationwide quarantine, never having met him face to face.

The lights flicker on and off. On and off again.

The thunder rumbles and you can see the sky flash through your curtains.

J lets out a soft, “Doll?”

Your windows fill with a quick, bright, white light for a moment, before the loudest crash of thunder makes your body tremble.

Your apartment goes black and silent in a matter of seconds, and J releases a quiet, “What the hell?”

Your hands are quaking, and your heartbeat kicks into overdrive as you make your final choice.

TAGS: (I wasnt sure who to tag, so if you dont want to be, I’m sorry!! Just trying to get this out there. ALSO if you wanna be tagged INBOX ME! I tend to miss people in the tags :(  ).  @mindingmyownbusiness​ @plumfondler​  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety​ @loricameback​ @tinaferraldo​ @geminimoonbeamx​  @preserumsteverogers​ @moderapoppins​ @lowkeysebby​ @buckyshattergirl​  @jayattemptstoruletheworld​    @the-observant-fangirl​ @moondancewrites​ @moonbeambucky​ @trinityjadec​  @stevieang​  @bionic-buckyb​ @eyecandybarnes​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @promarvelfangirl​ @ballyhoobarnes​ @bucky-plums-barnes​ @cate-lynne​ @witchymarvelspacecase​ @imaginingbucky​ @theimpossibleg1rl​ @babygurl8840 @wonderlandmind4 @buckysthing​ @formulafun​ @curvybihufflepuff​ @fanficsformarvelkillme​  @shadyskit​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @reading–mermaid @fuckmestan​ @siliverin​ @verygraphicink​ @sallyp-53 @thatsbucknasty​ @steadyphantomcat​ @booktease21 @kiki5283 @lostinspace33 @drayshadow​ @theperditioncrasher​ @mmyepic​ @feelmyroarrrr@alien-beans @heartsaved​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @dreamingofonceuponatime​ @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ @bluerorjhan​ @tarynsnotokay​ @jamdropx35 @turquoisekokiri​ @pinknerdpanda​​ @starkrobb​ @marvelgirl7​ @unscriptedtimetraveler​ @fangeekkk​ @wonderlandmind4​ @pinkisokay​ @mrsdaamneron​ @rynabarnesrogers​ @wish-i-had-something-better​ @stanning-seb-stan​ @oilersgirl35​ @vaisabu​ @paranoid-borderline-insane​ @bonkywobble​ @vikki-rogue​ @witchymegg​ @a--1--1--3​ @margetastic33​ @stuffandstuff-stuff​ @broken-hearted-barnes​ @elementec​ @thummbelina​ @booktease21​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​ @haileystudy

[theliterateape]

A Look at Today’s Approach to Mental Health through the Mind of Hollywood’s Most Convoluted Antihero

By Brett Dworski 

About forty-six minutes into Martin Scorsese’s 1976 neo noir thriller, Taxi Driver, Travis Bickle asks his fellow cabbie, Wizard, if he can talk to him about something. Standing outside a diner on break during their usual graveyard shifts, Travis tenses up, hesitant to speak his mind. But then the camera zooms in on Travis, and he vents.

 “I just want to go out and really, really do something.” ”Taxi life, you mean?” “No… I don’t know. I just want to go out… I really… I’ve got some bad ideas in my head.” 

Even after forty-five years since its release, Taxi Driver remains one of the most ambiguous films of our time. Some believe it’s a gritty, optimistic story of a bum-turned-hero, while others see a volatile loner whose dark urges get the best of him—a ticking time bomb of sorts. Both make sense, with this moment between Travis and Wizard bridging the two. But all opinions aside, there’s an undeniable certainty to Taxi Driver: That Travis—a Vietnam War veteran—is very troubled, and whether his intentions are good or bad, he takes a manic turn, resulting in one of Hollywood’s most convoluted antihero stories. While some of his actions are concrete, most require abstract interpretation, leaving questions that have plagued us for nearly five decades: What does Travis’s journey mean, and what is Scorsese trying to tell us through it?

 Set in a decaying and corrupt post-Vietnam New York City, Travis—played by a stunningly grim Robert De Niro—dreams of ridding the city of the filth and perversion he witnesses during his overnight shifts as a cabbie. The more Travis drives, the more he questions his purpose in life and grows deranged, ultimately leading down a path of violence, hatred, and even redemption. De Niro went all out to prepare for the role of Travis: Besides getting a taxi license and driving the streets of New York City in his spare time, he lost thirty-five pounds and listened repeatedly to a taped reading of the diaries of Arthur Bremer, the man who attempted to assassinate U.S. presidential candidate George Wallace in 1972.

Upon meeting the lonely and depressed Travis, we feel sorry for him. But the more people he encounters, the more he becomes detached from reality, and his actions leave us questioning his morals—as well as what’s real and what’s not.

It all starts with Betsy (Cybill Shepherd), a beautiful campaign volunteer for presidential candidate Charles Palantine. After watching Betsy from afar, Travis musters the courage to ask her out. Betsy thinks he’s weird, but she’s into it. They set a date. Earlier in the film, Travis frequents a pornographic movie theater—whether out of sexual thrill or a longing for something deeper is up to us to decide—and he takes Betsy there. Unsurprisingly, she leaves in disgust. This is Scorsese’s first test for viewers: Did Travis really lack the judgement in taking Betsy to a porno on their first date, or was it all a maddening trick? Is he a perverted freak despite loathing the sexual activity he sees in the streets, or is he simply ignorant?

Creating empathy for antiheros is a constant challenge for filmmakers, but when Travis calls Betsy to apologize, Scorsese masters it.

“Would you like to have dinner with me in the next few days or something? … Well how about just a cup of coffee? … Did you get my flowers in the ...? I sent some flowers … Can I call you again? Tomorrow or the next day?”

At first, we’re drawn to De Niro’s masterful, cringey acting. We see and feel Travis’s angst and pain. But while he’s talking, the camera shifts right and pauses in an empty hallway—a tracking shot that speaks a thousand words: That in this moment, Travis’s life is too agonizing to watch. Later, Travis storms into Betsy’s workplace and berates her in front of her colleagues, saying she’s going to hell and is "just like the others.” But who is he referring to?

Another woman who attracts Travis’s attention is Iris (Jodie Foster), a child prostitute. But unlike with Betsy, Travis views himself as a fatherly figure to the 12-year-old, as he constantly dreams of rescuing her from exploitation. He tells Iris to leave New York and find her family, to be a kid again. It’s here that we even start rooting for Travis, if only briefly. He tells her he may be going away for a bit, hinting that he’s planning something—a “bad idea” of sorts. While Iris entertains the idea, she’s later convinced to stay by her manipulative pimp, Sport, in what is by far the most sickening moment of the film.

Needing to do something powerful, Travis goes full throttle: He buys some guns, shaves his head into a mohawk, and unsuccessfully attempts to assassinate Palantine at a rally. In his eyes, he’s doing a societal service—becoming the force needed to clean New York’s filth and corruption—but has gone insane while doing so. Travis’s journey reaches its apex when he ventures to Iris’s brothel and murders Sport, Iris’s client, and the bouncer.

The ending is especially ambivalent. Despite murdering three people in cold blood, Travis is deemed a hero. Newspaper clippings of his courageousness are hung around his apartment, as is a letter from Iris’s parents thanking him for saving their daughter. When he’s back on the job, Travis picks up a passenger, Betsy, who acknowledges his heroics. In this moment, everything is perfect. Travis has gotten the girl of his dreams, and he’s allowed another to achieve dreams of her own. He’s won. But here’s where Scorsese really screws with us: Upon dropping Betsy off, Travis adjusts his rearview mirror and does a double-take as if he’s seen something alarming, just as a piercing sound hits our ears. We see Travis’s attentive eyes through the windshield before the credits roll to the streetlights. 

This is Scorsese’s final test: Was Travis really the hero, or was it all a figment of his imagination? 

The great Roger Ebert once said that despite their flaws, Scorsese’s characters “want to be forgiven and admired.” This is surely true of Travis Bickle, and his psychotic twist and apparent redemption represents his greater struggle to relate to the world and find inner peace. Whether or not Travis becoming a hero and regaining the admiration of Betsy is reality or fantasy, the final shot indicates he’s running on a hamster wheel, always one moment away from another maniacal tailspin.

In his confinement to Wizard, Travis confesses his emotional struggle for the first and only time of the film, but Wizard provides no support, instead telling him to “go get laid.” Travis opened up and wasn’t taken seriously. In 2021, an era where mental health is more discussed and normalized than ever before, Travis is an extreme and somber expression of what can happen to people who need help but never receive it.

[arthurflecksgirl]

Comforting Arthur on Christmas eve

Headcanons:

Its christmas eve and you are alone. You just moved to Gotham city weeks ago and decide to go for a walk in the park. A lonely man sitting on a bench caughts your attention. No one should be this sad an lonely tonight, so you invite him to spent the evening with him at your place.

* Its was that time of the year again and for personal reasons you had to spent it alone. You moved to Gotham city just weeks ago, feeling beyong lonely, especially now during the holidays. The christmas lights hanging above peoples heads, the colorful treees....nothing could cover the grey and harsh atmopsphere of this town. Ever since you moved here you wanted to turn your back on this city again and now that you walked through one of the few parks, the home sickness was growing inside of you.

*Strangers passed you by without even looking at you. You didnt asked for much. Maybe someone to look you in the eyes or wishing you happy holidays. But it seemed like this was too much too ask for in a city like this. Maybe it was a bad desicion to go for a walk this evening. But you couldnt stand being inside these four walls which didnt felt like home at all. Everything was far away, no emotions attached. You felt disconnected to everything surrownding you. So going for a walk in the snow was something that might help to clear your head a bit. You took a deep breath in. The air was icy cold and hurt your nose.

*The trees looked heavy,bending under the weight of the snow. As heavy as your heart felt, watching a lovely man sitting on a bench at the end of the park. He was wearing a hoodie, so you couldnt see all of his face. His clothes looked like he was wearing them every day, no matter how warm or cold the weather was. Clean but worn out like a second skin. You stopped to watch him for a while. He was smoking one cig after another, not looking up for once. Oh how much you wished to see his face. There was something about him that made you curious. The way his brown curls were sneaking underneath his hoodie, the way his hands were hokding the cigarette. He was different. And he seemed to be the loneliest man you`ve ever seen.

*After a while you decited to hide behind a tree. Watching him for more than ten minutes seemed too obvious and you didnt want him to feel your eyes on him, making him feel even more uncomfortable as he already was. And then after the 5th cigarette he was looking up at the sky. The snow flakes melted on the tip of his well shaped nose as he closed his eyes. he exhaled the smoke like it was the last cig he would ever smoke in his whole life, which clearly wasnt the case.

*It was obvious that he was freezing like hell and you wondered about if you should just walk up to him and talk to him. Keep him some company. Nobody should be this alone on christmas and the man looked like he didnt had anyone to spent his time with. After he dumped the rest of his cig on the ground you walked towards him. He didnt noticed you until you stood right in front of the bench. That was how lost in his thoughts he seemed to be. You could tell that he was homesick for something too. Disconnected. Abandoned even. From Gotham, people or the world in general.

*"Hey" you said "Would you mind me sitting here?" The lonely man shook his head "Nahh". And then he looked at you. he was beyong beautiful. Now that you saw his face right in front of you, it was obvious that he wasnt a drifter. Just a very sad individual with the most beautiful, sad eyes you have ever seen. Green with a sparkly iris. Like he was hiding galaxies inside his mind. No wonder he got lost in it. There seemed to be so much to him. How could someone like him be this lonely today?

*"I`m Y/N by the way" you offered him your hand. "I`m Arthur" his voice was as soft as the snowflake falling upon his dark eyebrows as he took off the hoodie to run his other hand through his hair. It was longer than you expected and looked soft to the touch. Soon it was wet from snow and you got worried he might catch a cold.

*"I`m sorry I just came up. If you dont want me to talk to you just tell me okay? I dont wanna bother you. I just....well i saw you sitting there and....no one should be this alone on christmas eve...." His face lighted up immediately. Arthur was thankful for what you had said.  "Oh...thats so....nice of you. I`m not used to people being that nice....to me" he replied. There was a hint of a smile on his face but it seemed hard for him to smile.

*You told him about how you just moved to Gotham and about your problems finding any new friends. How alone you felt since you came here and how much he reminded you of yourself when you saw him from a distance. Arthur was listening closely. His eyes never drifting away . He was looking right through you. Even thogh he seemed shy. The look in his eyes was so intense you didnt knew what to do but to blush.

*Arthur told you how moved he was by a stanger coming uo to him, and just talk. he admitted how much he longed for someone to simply talk to him and listen. So you did. You listened to his story and Arthur had a lot to tell.

*You found out about how he was living with his sick mother, taking care of her until he was committed to the hospital. And how lost he felt. Not just now that it was chistmas time. But in general. Arthur didnt had any friends or family beside his mum and was working as a party clown. He told you about his great dream of becoming a famous stand up comedian and you tried to imagin the man in front of you dancing around in a clown costume, giggleing and being happy. It was almost impossible to imagin it but it made you feel warm inside to know that there must be this other side of him. A side that wanted to make people happy, even if he wasnt feeling the happiness himself.

*The more you found out about him, the more you wanted to know. You wanted him to tell you everything but you didnt wanted to push him or to overwhelm him with questions. So you asked him very carefully but it was getting more and more obvious how much he loved the attention. being asked things about his life made him feel like someone finally cared. And you did. Arthur was a stanger by now but it felt like you just met an old soul that was connected to yours ages ago. Everything he told you about himself effected you on a personal level. And you wanted to do something about it. You felt the need to be the person who made him smile for real. Yo wanted to be the reason for him to feel save and warm and needed. And there was one way to give that to him tonight.

*You asking Arthur if he wanted to stay the night with him made his green eyes sparkle in a way you never thought was possible. The fine wrinkles beneath his eyes deepened in the most adorable way as a beautiful, shy smile was crossing his face. He was thankful but a little helpless. Arthur just couldnt belive that you offered him to go home with you to be save and warm. You told him that your home wasnt as beautifully decorated as you wished it would be, because you left most of your things in your hometown and didnt had the money to buy new christmas stuff but you had some candles and lights. enough to make him comfortable.

*Arthur told you about how he never experienced christmas in his whole life. Not even some candles burning. You both gut up from the bench, while you promised him that this christmas will at least be cosy and save.

*Arthur taking your hand while walking to the subway station came as a surprise. Maybe he wasnt as shy as it seemed after all. His hand in yours felt as naturally as breathing. Like you were holding hands for the past thousands of years. It wasnt the hand of a stranger. It was Arthur. The gentleness of his fingers enterwined with yours was so familiar . His cold skin on yours magical to the touch.

*You tried to feel the shape of his fingers with all your senses. The softness of the palm of his hand, his knuckles, his fingertips,...you never held the hand of a starnher before. And yet he wasn`t one. You recognized him as someone who should have been there all your life.

*Coming home you felt a bit bad about the fact that you couldnt offer him the biggest christmas tree he had ever seen. But Arthur didnt mind. He watched you lightening some candles with a tender smile on his face. You asked him to take off his snow drenched clothes and offered him a cosy, warm christmas sweater with some comfy pj pants. First you felt a little strange to ask him to put on your clothes but Arthur was flattered by it. He felt a bit embrarassed to take of his own worn out cardigan and expose his fragile body. He was way skinnier than it seemed under all the clothes he was wearing outside. His ribs popped out in a very fragile but beautiful way. His tummy looked like he was sucking it in but he wasnt.

*Arthur put on your sweater telling you that this is perfect because dark red is his favourite color. he slipped out of his light blue pants and into your Pjs, which made him seem even more innocent than before. His hair was messy from changing his clothes and he ran his fingers through it while he lit himself a cig, asking you if its okay to smoke in here. You nodded as you walked to the cassette player "Do you want to listen to some christmas music?" you asked. Arthur told you how much he loved Frank Sinatra and his christmas record. You couldnt help but laugh because it was one of your fave holiday records,too. He smiled as Franks voice started to fill the room.

*Asking him if he wanted to try some of your self baked cookies made him a little bit uncomfortable. he admitted that he was on some meds which made it almost impossible for him to eat something without getting sick. You felt bad for him but it made you happy that he wanted to try two or three cookies because he has not eaten one of them in years.

*When you walked out of the kitchen you placed a plate of sweets on the table. Arthur picked teh one with the smiley face and glaced at you with his intense eyes. He enjoyed the way you took care of him so much, he even ate another one. And another one. Very slow but happy about not getting sick. Some minutes later he was surprised how many cookies he ate. Arthur looked at you with love in his eyes, telling you how tahnkful he was that you brought him here with you, gave him some warm clothes and made him eat something.

*You watched his lips move as he was talking. The scar on his lip whispering to you how much it wanted to be kissed. Was it too soon yet? Arthur noticed and smiled.

*You put your face closer to his to let him know how much you wanted to feel his lips on yours. Arthur welcomed your half opened mouth with the tip of his tongue, whispering that he has never been kissed before. You couldnt belive that this beautiful man has never experienced a kiss, so you tried to give him the most wonderful memory of a first kiss possible.

*Arthur smirked as your lips parted again. An unkown happiness was spreading inside of him, making him feel light. He tasted like love and cigarettes. You wanted more but you wouldnt overwhelm him tonight.

* "You need some blankets, Arthur? We could...." you blushed.

"Cuddle?" he smirked.

"Yeah`?!"

"I would love that" he whispered back.

You reached for a huge, cosy blanket.

"Wanna watch some movies together?" you asked him. Your eyes focused on his hair reflecting the candle light.

"Sounds nice....I think Chaplin is on. Do you know his movies?"

You told him you havent seen Chaplin in ages and Arthur was very much excited about watching his fave movie with you.

*After the second movie Arthurs eyelids started to get heavy. He was getting sleepy in your arms, feeling save and sound. This was his first christmas someone allowed him to just relax and be himself. You softly kissed kiss forehead while he started to drift off into a peaceful sleep. You told him how much you wanted to give him a present but you didnt expected to not be alone tonight.

* Arthur put his lips close to your ears, mumbling: " You know what the best present  in the world is? Comfort. And with you I experienced comfort for the very first time in my entire life. Even if just for a day."

*And then you knew that this wasnt just a christmas present. Is was a gift that would last a lifetime.

[p3kchan]

Summary: Taishiro toyomitsu grew up with his best friend (f / n) (l / n) with the same dream of becoming heroes, they fall in love and end up confessing their feelings, They continue with their relationship until the last year in Shiketsu where a (f / n) Something serious happens to her and he leaves the city for years, and then returns with the same feelings in his heart, waiting to be reciprocated again.

Clarification:

(F/n)= First name

(L/n)= Last name

English is not my first language, let me know if you see any errors in the text

Enjoy ! Happy weekend

♤ IN THIS PART ♤

Chapter 1: When I meet you.

How Taishirou and (f / n) met, kind of like a prologue, I was going to make it longer, but I decided it wasn't necessary for an introduction

[22 years ago] 5/10/ XXXX | 22:23 p.m

External narrator

-------------------------------------♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

- But mom! Why do we have to go? I do not want! Mom! No!

The anguish on the face of (f / n) mother's face, Lisa, was the only thing she could express right now, she had to understand it, she thought.

- (F / n) we have talked about this a long time ago, you have to accept it, we have to move to Japan, and I have already told you that it is not my choice!

- Mom!

splah

She had finally reached her limit of patience and hit her daughter in a desperate attempt to keep her calm, but only fear and shock were reflected in (f / n).

- Mom? .. what's going on? | (F / n) sister Kirai finally made her presence known after hearing the heartbreaking sound of the blow. Lisa just looked in horror at (f / n) who was whimpering on the ground.

---------------------------------------------------

Later that night Kirai sneaked up to (f / n) 's room in order to comfort her poor sister. She knew what was behind it.

- (f / n)… I know this is difficult, but we, no, our family is different, and ah born in a different place, we have to go back to Japan where they will stop persecuting us.

- I was happy here, I don't care about people.

- You will understand (f / n) we have to be strong

Finally, Kirai gives her sister a big hug, waiting for her to calm down for the next morning, the day of the flight, a goodbye to the place that although with difficulties she was able to call home, and make friends.

----------------------------------------------------

[Osaka] 18:45 p.m

The cold morning wind whips the pale face of (f / n); a large house of black wood and marble loomed over her, this was to be her new home, and that of her family.

- Well, well, we can start to take our things out of the packaging, who wants to help papa girls? Lucario says trying to raise the spirits of the girls.

(F / n) remained silent, still, and powerless behind her sister, Kirai does not want to sit idly by, raises her voice and pulls (f / n) from behind her back

- We ,dad!

- You don't understand right Kirai, what are we doing here? We promised to stay in America, become heroes and fix the world, stop running away, we just run away! I'm not going to do it! Judging her last word (f / n) she shoots out without looking back, in the background the worried words of Kirai, Lisa and Lucario are heard, but (f / n) she did not want to listen.

Exhausted after crying (f / n), she managed to reach a park that seemed lonely enough to drown her sorrows.

- Po-por-r-que-e! Because ah had to * sniff * be like that * snif * Heroes don't run away, save! I promised myself! How can I be a hero like this? * sniff * damn, heroes don't cry ...

- It's true little girl! Heroes don't cry! You are weak!

A group of 3 children got together and made a chorus around the poor heartbroken girl, all three wore the same clothes and were identical, he supposed they were spoiled triplets.

- I don't care what you tell me! Get out of here, you don't care what happens to me!

- And why would we care? (The middle boy spoke) We are going to be heroes, the best, so you better shut up making the idea filthy girl, we can't leave weak scum in our way, (I'm talking about the left) Yes! You filthy girl! We won't let you get in the way!

Despite the shock of (f / n) she still had her feet on the ground, and was not afraid of any of the children, she was born with a natural sense of justice and she was not going to back down.

- Do you really think that you are going to be heroes with that attitude? You only give pity to those who see you, a hero must protect and console civilians not try to frighten them, people like that disgust me a lot, you are worse than slag-!

* Shas * It was the second injury of (f / n) in the week, one of the children ended up exhausting his patience and attacked (f / n) with a quirk of blades.

- You will regret it damn! How dare you talk to us like that !? You will find out who we really are! * CLASH *

(F / n had a lot of courage, but his quirk was still very unstable and he did not know how to use it, he did not know what to do against the blades that were approaching his small body at a frightening speed.

- Watch out! | Something had gotten in the middle of (f / n) before the blades dragged his body.

- What-?!

- You're good? An amber-eyed blond boy had saved (f / n) she was stunned, the boy turned his head to (f / n) with a strong smile looking for answers, What (f / n) couldn't believe was that the blades had sunk into his plump body.

- Hey! Toyomitsu! Don't you dare get into this, that girl has a very long tongue!

- No matter what Kota said, I will not let you hurt her!

- Then ... you will go with her! Withdrawing the blade, and the three of them pounced on the boy who called himself "Toyomitsu"

The 4 traded blows, but by the advantage of Toyomitsu units it was starting to hurt. He no longer seemed to react well to blows.

- (What am I doing? This kid is risking his life to save me and I'm just standing here! MOVE! YOU'RE GOING TO BE A HERO! YOU HAVE TO BE A HERO! PROTECT!)

| Unable to bear the impotence any longer, (f / n) 's eyes now turned gray, forming a kind of mist.

- But- but what? Because I feel so heavy, huh! Wait ! Your!

- Thanks girl! If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have been able to win this, | (f / n) did not know how or when, but Toyomitsu had become completely skinny and a light although not very large dwarf from his fist.

* Splashhh *

The energy blow had set the children back considerably, they had minor injuries all over their bodies, they were all in their last years.

- Kai, Kota! Let's go from here! They are nuts!

Finally the triplets ended up leaving the park by legs, leaving an exhausted Toyomitsu and a stunned (f / n). Finally he turned and repeated.

- You're good? | He still had that contagious smile on his bruised face.

- I- I .. why did you save me?

- Eh? That! That ..that's it, * because that's what heroes do * | As if all the wires in the brain of (f / n) had been connected, he began to cry uncontrollably, remembering what his goal in life was.

- Hey! Do not Cry! It's okay! I'm fine! I always deal with those three, (He offered her his hand) I'll take you to my house so that my mother can heal us.

(F / n) I finally stop crying | Eh eh? She looked at him still shocked by the situation.

- Come on, I can't call myself my hero if I can't help a pretty girl like you, | As if he had just realized what he said, he immediately became nervous and began to ramble on how to get to his house, or how Mrs. Toyomitsu was going to look when she saw him.

- It's okay. | (f / n) He had the prettiest smile Toyomitsu had ever seen, immediately the blood started running down the young man's face, |

- Come on, it's going to get late… | He turned his back to hide his blush but still indicated that he should continue extending his hand towards her.

- (f / n) (l / n), call me (f / n) | With this he finally took her hand and they set out on a gentle path home.

-------------------------------♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Let me know what you think in the comments!

[theradioghost]

I don't know if you're still doing podcast recs, but if you are, I really like dramas, horror, sci-fi, honestly anything that gives you the feels (especially if it has lgbtq+ rep). I am not much of a comedy person though unfortunately. The only podcast I finished was tma and I really loved it.

The recommendations are always on tap here, whenever my askbox is open! You might wanna check out:

Archive 81, for a found-footage horror about mysterious archives of tapes full of encounters with otherworldly horror, dark rituals, cults, and a long-suffering archivist with the same name as the show creator who plays him, which despite all that could not possibly be more different from TMA and yet easily matches it as one of the best horror stories I have ever enjoyed. The sound design on this show is basically unparalleled – where TMA has fairly minimalist sound design, A81 goes all out. Quite a few lgbtqa+ folk also.

I Am In Eskew, for a surreal, Lynchian horror about the city of Eskew, where it’s always raining and the streets are never the same twice, as narrated by a man who is trapped there and the woman hired to find him. Take the most viscerally disturbing episodes of TMA as a baseline for how intense this show is, then imagine the Spiral built a city and invited all the other fears over for a party. Also right up there as one of my favorite horror things ever, and recently ended, so you can listen to the whole thing right now.

Within The Wires, for a found-footage scifi dystopia, telling stories from an alternate-history world. Three of the four seasons focus on lgbtqa+ leads, and the first season, a set of instructional meditation tapes provided to a prisoner in a shadowy government institution, is still some of my absolute favorite creative use of medium and framing device ever.

Kane and Feels, for a surreal noir-flavored urban fantasy/horror hybrid, about a magically-inclined academic (and sarcastic little bastard man) named Lucifer Kane and his demon-punching partner with a heart of gold, Brutus Feels. They share a flat in London, they bicker like an old married couple, and they fight supernatural evil. This show WILL confuse the hell out of you and you will enjoy every second of it.

Alice Isn’t Dead, for a weird Americana horror story about a long-distance truck driver, criss-crossing the US in search of her missing wife. Along the way she discovers that both of them have been drawn into a dangerous secret war that seethes in the empty and abandoned expanses of America, and that inhuman hunters have begun to follow her. Also finished! And as the title kind of gives away, the lesbians do not die!

Janus Descending, for a sci-fi horror miniseries about two scientists sent to survey the remains of a dead alien civilization on a distant planet, only to learn all too well why the original inhabitants have disappeared. You hear one character’s story in chronological order and the other in reverse, with their perspectives alternating, which is done in an incredibly clever way so that even technically knowing what will happen it still holds you in suspense right to the end. Also, it made me cry, a lot.

SAYER, for a sci-fi horror with a touch of dark comedy, and probably the single best use of the “evil AI” trope I have ever seen. Tells the story of employees of tech corporation Aerolith Dynamics living on Earth’s artificial second moon, Typhon, in the form of messages from their AI overseer SAYER. The first season is great, the second season is okay, and the third and fourth seasons are fucking amazing.

Tides, for a really interesting sci-fi about a lone biologist trapped on an alien world shaped by deadly tidal forces. It’s different from just about any other sci-fi I know, focusing more on the main character’s interactions with and observations of this strange new world, where she’s very aware that she is the alien invader. (Also I don’t think any of the characters are straight.)

Station to Station, for a thrilling sci-fi mystery where a group of scientists and spies on a research ship (the ocean kind) discover that the time-warping anomaly they’re studying might be causing people to vanish from existence. Corporate espionage and high-stakes heartbreak abound. (And once again I’m not sure anyone is straight.)

The Strange Case of Starship Iris, for Being Gay And Doing Crime IN SPACE! Or, decades after a war with an alien species leaves humanity decimated and under the control of totalitarian leaders, the lone survivor of a research mission joins up with a ragtag crew of rebels and smugglers to figure out why the very government she worked for tried to kill her, and to stop them from inciting a second war. 100% lgbtqa+ found family in space heist action and it’s glorious in every way.

Unwell, for the horror-ish Midwestern gothic story of a young woman who returns to her hometown to help her estranged mother after an injury, and discovers that there is something just a little bit wrong, not just with her mother, but with her mother’s house, and with the whole town. Subtle and creepy. The protagonist is a biracial lesbian, one of the other major characters is nonbinary, the cast in general is super diverse.

The Blood Crow Stories, for an lgbtqa+ focused horror anthology! The four seasons so far have been the stories of an ancient evil stalking the passengers of a WWI-era utopian cruise ship, a dark Western mystery about a group of allies trying to stop the mysterious killer known only as the Savior, a 911 operator in a cyberpunk dystopia who starts getting terrifying phone calls from demons, and strange and deadly goings-on at a film studio in the golden age of Hollywood. Everyone is Very Gay and anyone can die, especially in season 1.

The Tower, for a melancholy experimental miniseries about a young woman who decides she’s going to climb the mysterious Tower, from which no one has ever returned. Quite short and very, very good.

Palimpsest, for a creepy, heartbreakingly sad and yet incredibly beautiful anthology series. Season one is the story of a woman who suspects her new home is haunted, season two is a turn-of-the-century urban fantasy about a girl who falls in love with the imprisoned fae princess she’s been hired to care for, and season three is about a WWII codebreaker who begins seeing ghosts on the streets of London during the Blitz.

Mabel, for a part-horror, part-love story, the kind of faerie tale where you feel obliged to spell it with an E because these are the kind of faeries that are utterly inhuman, and beautiful, and dangerous. Anna, the new caretaker for an elderly woman, leaves messages for her client’s mysteriously absent granddaughter Mabel. An old house in Ireland has a life and desires of its own, few of them friendly. Two women fall in love and set out for vengeance against the King Under The Hill. Creepy, strange, and gorgeously poetic.

Ars Paradoxica, for a sci-fi time travel Cold War espionage thriller. Physicist Dr. Sally Grissom accidentally invents time travel, landing herself – and her invention – in the middle of a classified government experiment during WWII. As the course of history utterly changes around them, she and what friends she can find in this new time must struggle with the ethics of what they’ve done, and the choices they’ll have to make. An aroace protagonist, Black secret agents, time-traveling Latina assassins, Jewish lesbian mathematicians, two men of color whose love changes the course of time itself, this show says a big fuck you to the idea that there’s anything hard about having a diverse cast in a period piece and it will break your heart, multiple times. Also finished!

The Far Meridian, for a genre-bending, poetic, at-times-heartwarming-at-times-heartbreaking story about an agoraphobic woman named Peri who decides to begin a search for her long-missing brother Ace after the lighthouse in which she lives begins mysteriously transporting to different places every day. I can never forget an early review that described this show as “the audio equivalent of a Van Gogh painting.” Suffice to say it is beautiful, and fantastically written and put together.

What’s the Frequency?, for a Surrealist noir horror mystery set in mid-20th-century LA. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I can really explain what goes on in this show, but it features a detective named Walter “Troubles” Mix and his partner Whitney searching for a missing writer. Meanwhile, the only thing that seems to be playing on the radio is that writer’s show Love, Honor, and Decay, which also seems to be driving people to murder. Fantastically weird, deliciously creepy.

Directive, for a short sci-fi miniseries about a man hired to spend a very, very long trip through space alone, which doesn’t seem all that sad until suddenly it hits you with Every Feel You’ve Ever Had, seriously I don’t want to spoil it so I won’t say anything more but listen to this and then never feel the same way about Tuesdays again.

Wolf 359, for honestly one of the best podcasts out there, containing all of the drama and feels, seriously this show ended over two years ago and I still cry literal tears thinking about it sometimes. It has definite comedic leanings, especially in the first season which reads a bit more like a wacky office comedy set in space, but it takes a sharp turn towards high stakes, action, and feelings and that roller coaster never stops. Take four clashing personalities alone on a constantly-malfunctioning space station eight light years from earth, add some mysterious transmissions from the depths of space, toss in some seriously Jonah-Magnus-level manipulative evil bosses, and get ready to cry.

or, may I suggest Midnight Radio? It’s a lesbian-romance-slash-ghost-story completed miniseries about a late-night 1950s radio host in a small town who begins receiving mysterious letters from one of her listeners, and I have been assured by many people and occasionally their all-caps tweets that it provides ample Feelings! (also I wrote it.)

[phthalology]

cairn + jenev!

“I have a mission for you.” 

In Commander Zavala’s office, Jenev Furnon felt trapped. The air seemed to scratch at her skin. Servants and bootlickers should be standing here, not her. Everything oozed privilege and lies. The world outside wasn’t this clean, wasn’t this safe. The noble Vanguard acted like a fool for trying to pretend it was.

Yet here she stood, on the opposite side of the desk from the Titan commander, because he had caught her looking at a memorial. 

“Me?” She laughed at him. “I ain’t never been in a Vanguard office in my life. You see I’m a Dredgen. Why me?” 

“It’s obvious you’re a Dredgen,” said Zavala. “But the Drifter is helping us now. Plainly. Without pretense. And I suspect you haven’t left the Tower yet for a reason, just like he hasn’t.” 

Jenev squeezed the back of the chair. “What’s the mission?”

“Wait. I am not finished. I picked you because I saw you standing by the place a piece of the Almighty hit the Tower. You were curious, but I also saw more than idle curiosity. See, I’d been wondering about you for a while.” He raised a hand to stall the comment he saw on her curled lip. 

Watching me? She had been going to say, and figure out what to say afterward when she got there. She had plenty of options — offended, flirty, impressed — each with its own use. 

“First, you’re Awoken. Second, you’re a Hunter, so no one else is assigning tasks to you. Third, you felt something when you looked at that place where the Tower had been damaged. And that surprised me. Showed me a depth to you I hadn’t considered before. So I wanted to offer a chance to begin to understand that, in the way a Vanguard can. By sending you out to the field in a routine mission that will prove your mettle to both of us.”

“I don’t need to prove anything.”

“So you don’t. Then, what do you want? Answer that, and I’ll tell you about the mission.” 

His silver eyes met hers. He wouldn’t be moved, that gaze told her. Fine. She didn’t need him to. 

“So my reward for playing some personality game with you is to go do more work? I’ll pass.”

Jenev turned. Her heavy Gambit boots clicked on the polished tile. 

“I think you’re lonely,” said Zavala. 

Just as she had in front of the Winnower, Jenev laughed. “Me?” She swept back toward the desk. That was rich. A real joke. She hardly even slept alone. 

Zavala didn’t move as she leaned over his desk, taking possession of his space, close enough to kiss. She drew out the twin snake pendant, and still his eyes didn’t stray from her face. The jade dangled in front of his mouth. “I’m just peachy,” she whispered, and whipped away to resume her march out of the office.

He had succeeded in making her feel awkward, simply by not responding. Her back prickled. The office was too long, but she did know how to hold her posture so that she walked out with dignity. 

Finally, he spoke. “Just because you are social doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely.” Zavala’s voice was rough. Trying to gain sympathy, Jenev thought. Trying to say he gets it, as if there was anything there to get. She kept walking. 

His voice boomed. “You were looking at that memorial and thinking about the things you would regret if the Tower fell. Losing your old friends. Your old patrols. Your heritage. You used to care about all of those things. And now you’ve traded them away for a Gambit that makes you feel a little less lonely.”

Impressive. The Titan Vanguard could be mean. 

“I am offering you a chance,” Zavala said, “to find a new source of meaning. To solve a problem you may be uniquely suited to, in the Dreaming City. To use a business term you’ll understand, I think your current life is a bit … monopolized.” 

Jenev stopped. So what if she did take one mission? Not to run, but to forge. That’s what Guardians do. And maybe to make some money while she’s at it. The Dreaming City was stuck in a time loop: surely someone must want something smuggled in, even if their little bit of novelty will disappear at the turn of the dragon’s tide. Surely some other Awoken will be as desperate as some on Earth are, and Jenev will be able to make herself the one way they can get what they need. 

Was she lonely? She hardly ever talked to her old fireteam. Dredgens weren’t friends—they competed too much, took matches too seriously. For all they looked raucous, they were as cutthroat among themselves as they were among outsiders. The Drifter was often busy with Contact, and besides, what she had with him had never been intended to create some feeling of fulfillment that lasted after the moment was gone. It had always been playful, always immediate, always fleeting, chasing the perpetual now. 

“I’ll think about it,” she said over her shoulder, and walked out.

*

Often, when Jenev found herself alone, she went to see Devrim. He was reliable and earthy and always in the same place, even if that place was a war zone. He was doing work she believed in, and had a family to go home to when he was tired. 

She stood in the dusty, ruined sanctuary of the stone church, her arms crossed, wondering whether Zavala was right. 

He was wrong about what drove her. She was sure of that. She wanted safety, not companionship, and had found that companionship made safety more likely. And at the same time she wanted to be thrilled, as many Guardians did — to do wild, difficult work and die for it and come back exultant with victory that had, after all, been easy. 

Iris floated beside Jenev. She had recently chosen a plain blue shell. Iris hadn’t spoken since their meeting with Zavala. Jenev presumed it was because they both knew the Ghost’s opinion already. Iris’ ideas about being a Guardian were more conservative than Jenev’s, more slow. If she listened to Iris, Jenev thought, she would never do anything interesting. She’d never have joined up with Drifter or the Dredgens, never have discovered her own past. 

“It’s not that complicated,” Jenev told the Ghost without preamble. “I just do what I want.”

More dust showered down as a Guardian leapt toward the sniper’s nest, paying no attention to Jenev. She considered the church again — the remains of the stained glass, the thick, cool stone that had seen invasion after invasion of increasingly strange kinds. 

Although she was an Awoken, Jenev had always considered Earth her home. She had been rezzed in the EDZ and found little to separate her from humans. Other Awoken spoke of a kind of third sight, an awareness of the Light and the Dark that did not feel like they felt to humanity. Their descriptions had never rung true to Jenev. If she had some connection beyond a political one to the nature of her people, it was long dormant. 

Yet, once, she had met the queen. Once she had been told she was an old, old Awoken, and perhaps more human because of it, not yet washed in as much of the radiation that had changed the others. Any role she had held in her second life had been irrelevant to her Guardian life for a long time. Perhaps knowing that, never feeling connected to her fellow Awoken, had left her searching for something she could not name. 

But, so what? Revelation did not pay.

But why not go to the Dreaming City? It was one job. That might pay, and it would give her something to do while Drifter was running Contact and the Dredgens were chasing armor. 

She looked around the church again, peering through the empty arches out into the grassy, ruined lawn and the war beyond, and realized she was looking for names on graves. 

Zavala was partially right, but he thought she was softer than she was. She wasn’t lonely, but she didn’t like being alone. 

“Fine,” said Jenev. “You win.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Iris said cheerfully. 

[raywritesthings]

This Life of Ours

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Pairings: Laurel Lance/Nyssa al Ghul, Thea Queen/Roy Harper Characters: Laurel Lance, Nyssa al Ghul, Thea Queen, Roy Harper Summary: Laurel is resurrected at the beginning of Nyssa, Thea and Roy's mission and slowly acclimates to a new life and a new love. For @missourielephant *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

Ever since she’d woken in a cave with a blanket draped around her and a floral taste in her mouth, Laurel’s life had become something far different from what she had always expected. Nyssa’s hands clutching the blanket in place and her teary, shame-faced look were the first and only things she’d been able to truly process as her friend had choked out, “Please, forgive me this selfishness.”

She had quickly been filled in on the intervening years between her death and her resurrection. The changes to their world, the new Pits, the mission Nyssa had recruited Thea and Roy for, who had stood back against one wall waiting as Laurel had come to grips, then one by one had moved in to hug her.

“So are we going home now?” She’d asked, heart sinking at the uncomfortable looks on their faces.

“I’m sorry, you can’t,” Thea had told her. “There’s already a Laurel at home.”

That had led to the explanations about her doppleganger, how her father had taken her on as a project of sorts to become a new daughter to him, how everyone in Star was being forced to pretend that Laurel was their friend when in reality she had hurt them in ways Laurel couldn’t even imagine being capable of.

“I could not stomach seeing her wearing your face and working for that man who stole Oliver’s child,” Nyssa had said, and dimly Laurel had noted that she had stopped referring to Oliver as her husband. Good, Laurel had hoped her friend would one day be able to leave all the trappings the League had tried to place on her behind. “When I learned of the other Pits and that Merlyn’s loyalists were seeking them, I knew I needed to destroy them. But… I could not bring myself to do so without returning you to me — to us.”

“And I agreed,” Thea had added, with Roy nodding beside her.

“It is my worst hypocrisy. I am sorry,” Nyssa had repeated.

“Hey, I’m not upset.” Laurel had risked leaning forward, wrapping her damp arms around her friend and hugging her for the first time. Nyssa had stiffened for a moment, then melted into the embrace. “I just don’t know what happens now.”

In the end, she had chosen to join Nyssa, Thea and Roy in their mission to destroy the other Pits before those who remained loyal to Merlyn did something stupid like bring him back to life. If there was one spot of good news from the time since she had died, there was that at least.

She struggled with homesickness for what felt months, always worried about the city and what attack might be coming for it while she abandoned it. She wondered what the other Laurel might be doing to her reputation, what people would end up thinking of Laurel Lance years down the line and how much of it would really be because of her. She listened to Thea talk about the wedding between Oliver and Felicity and how suddenly it had happened after Barry’s to Iris, then excused herself to cry a little before bed because she had wanted it for him, yes, but God did it still hurt.

It worsened when the news reached them of her father’s violent death. The Pit they had used to revive her had already been destroyed, and Merlyn’s followers were hot on the trail of the next one. There would be no time for her to sneak into the city and retrieve her father’s body, no chance to restore him to life the way she once had her sister — a sister who still believed her to be dead.

She did her best to hide these feelings whenever Nyssa was near, hard to do since most nights they shared a cheap motel bed and most days they were each other’s main source of company, Thea and Roy often finding time to themselves trying to catch up on the missing years. Laurel knew that Nyssa felt guilty, as if she were responsible for cursing Laurel to some sort of half-life when in reality it was her own bad luck that her doppleganger had gotten stuck on their Earth and decided to fill in a vacancy. She wanted to be alive more than she wanted her old life, and so she didn’t want her friend thinking her ungrateful for giving her that back. They were all the other truly had left, really. Thea had quietly informed her that Sara was seeing other women, and she was sure even if no one had told her directly that Nyssa knew. There wasn’t really a good time or way to ask her about how she was feeling, and oddly enough, Nyssa no longer seemed to bring up Sara with the frequency she once did, not even mentioning the word ‘beloved’. She had to really be suffering that heartbreak.

Some nights the loneliness they both existed in seemed so heavy in the air between them that it threatened to choke or smother them. The rhythmic thumping of the bed against the thin walls of the room next door — sometimes Thea and Roy’s, sometimes not — was like a knocking at the back of her mind. A reminder that, no matter that she’d been given another chance at life, she wasn’t getting any younger. She had wasted her youth, and someday would be all alone if nothing changed. She wondered if Nyssa had the same thoughts and fears. She wondered if she was crazy for thinking that it would be less lonely if Nyssa wasn’t in love with her sister. She wondered if she were foolish for only now realizing she’d been thinking the wrong person was the love of her life when he couldn’t even love her back.

At the next Pit, Laurel almost died again.

It wasn’t as close as with Darhk. Just that, had Nyssa not dove into her, knocking them both down and out of the path of an arrow fired by a woman Thea had told her was called Athena. For a moment, Laurel gazed into Nyssa’s eyes as her friend laid atop her with blazing eyes and parted lips, then they both jumped at Roy’s shout of, “It’s rigged to blow, come on!”

They all managed to make it out in time and lose Athena and her group in the mountains. Laurel ran until her sides hurt, until she didn’t think she could make another step, and then she grabbed Nyssa’s hand to stop her, too.

“What is wrong?” Her friend asked, looking her over as if thinking she might find an unnoticed wound.

Laurel shook her head, barely able to rasp out a, “Nothing. I just didn’t thank you right.”

Nyssa’s brow barely had time to furrow in confusion before Laurel captured her lips in a kiss that was more about gasping shared air than anything else. Yet she felt Nyssa’s mouth move in response against hers, and when the kiss ended, they simply leaned into the other, neither pulling away as if they could simply stop the world for a moment by closing their eyes.

“I was hoping—”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Laurel murmured. Nyssa hadn’t been pining away for Sara silently. She never did that. She was always upfront with her feelings, demonstrative with her love in a way Laurel had always admired, a way that a selfish part of her had always wanted for herself, never dreaming that she had it.

They kissed again, this time slower, sweeter. There was time; their whole strange, shared life together. No longer did the journey feel like a lonely one.

“Hey, are you two coming?” Thea called from up ahead, just out of sight.

Laurel turned towards the sound. “Yep!” Reaching down, she took Nyssa’s hand. “Come on.”

For the first time in many nights, Laurel couldn’t wait to get back to their motel room.

[path-of-my-childhood]

USA Today: What Is Taylor Listening To?

Below is the list of all the songs that originally appeared on Brian Mansfield’s USA Today article “Taylor Swift is listening to...” (from November 12th 2008). Article and list of songs can still be accessed with the help of Wayback Machine, if the Flash is enabled in your browser. Enjoy!

A Fine Frenzy - Almost Lover

Acceptance - Different

Aerosmith - Dream On

Alana Grace - Black Roses Red

Alana Grace - Paranoid

Alanis Morissette - Hands Clean

Alison Krauss & Union Station - If I Didn't Know Any Better

Alison Krauss & Union Station - New Favorite

Amos Lee - Colors

Anna Nalick - Breathe (2 AM)

Anna Nalick - Catalyst

Anna Nalick - Forever Love

Anna Nalick - In The Rough

Anna Nalick - Paper Bag

Anna Nalick - Wreck Of The Day (Live)

Aslyn - Be The Girl

Augustana - Sweet and Low

Avril Lavigne - Fall To Pieces

Avril Lavigne - Why

Backstreet Boys - All I Have To Give

Backstreet Boys - Climbing The Walls

Backstreet Boys - Crawling Back To You

Backstreet Boys - Incomplete

BarlowGirl - Never Alone

Ben Folds - Landed

Ben Folds - The Luckiest

Ben Folds Five - Brick

Ben Jelen - Come On

Ben Lee - Catch My Disease

Better Than Ezra - Breathless

Better Than Ezra - Our Last Night

Beyoncé - If I Were A Boy

Beyoncé - Irreplaceable

Beyoncé - Me Myself And I

Beyoncé ft. Bun B, Slim Thug - Check On It

Big & Rich - Holy Water

Big & Rich - Save A Horse [Ride A Cowboy]

Billy Currington - Why, Why, Why

Billy Gilman - Clueless

Billy Joel - Uptown Girl

Billy Mack - Christmas Is All Around

Blake Shelton - Austin

Blake Shelton - Don’t Make Me

Blake Shelton - It Ain't Easy Bein' Me

Blake Shelton - Nobody But Me

Blink-182 - Feeling This

Blink-182 - What's My Age Again?

Blu Sanders - Like the Movies

Blu Sanders - We All Lose It

Blu Sanders - You By Her Side

Bone Crusher ft. Killer Mike, T.I. - Never Scared

Bonnie Somerville - Winding Road

Boys Like Girls - Hero/Heroine (Acoustic)

Boys Like Girls - Thunder

Brad Paisley - It Did

Brad Paisley - Whiskey Lullaby

Brandi Carlile - Fall Apart Again

Brandi Carlile - The Story

Brandi Carlile - Throw It All Away

Brandi Carlile - Turpentine

Brandi Carlile - What Can I Say

Brett Dennen - She's Mine

Britney Spears - (You Drive Me) Crazy (The Stop Remix!)

Britney Spears - Do Somethin’

Britney Spears - Everytime

Britney Spears - I Love Rock 'N' Roll

Britney Spears - I'm A Slave 4 U

Britney Spears - Lucky

Britney Spears - My Prerogative

Britney Spears - Outrageous

Britney Spears - Sometimes

Britney Spears - Toxic

Britney Spears ft. Pharrell Williams - Boys (Co-ed Remix)

Britney Spears ft. Ying Yang Twins - (I Got That) Boom Boom

Brooke Fraser - Deciphering Me

Bruce Robinson - All Over But The Cryin'

Bruce Robinson - Virginia

Cartel - Honestly

Chamillionaire ft. Krayzie Bone - Ridin'

Chantal Kreviazuk - In This Life

Chingy - Holidae In

Chris Brown - Gimme That

Chris Brown ft. Juelz Santana - Run It!

Christina Aguilera - Beautiful

Christina Aguilera, Lil' Kim, Mya, Pink - Lady Marmalade

Ciara - Get Up

Coheed and Cambria - The Suffering

Colbie Caillat - Battle

Colbie Caillat - Feelings Show

Colbie Caillat - Magic

Colbie Caillat - One Fine Wire

Colbie Caillat - Oxygen

Colbie Caillat - The Little Things

Coldplay - Sparks

Coldplay - The Scientist

Coldplay - Trouble

Coldplay - Yellow

Concrete Blonde - Joey

Corinne Bailey Rae - Put Your Records On

Courtney Jaye - Can You Sleep

Cyndi Thomson - I Always Liked That Best

Damien Rice - 9 Crimes

Damien Rice - Delicate (Live)

Damien Rice - The Blower's Daughter

Daniel Cage - Catch Me When I Fall

Daniel Powter - Bad Day

Daniel Powter - Jimmy Gets High

Dashboard Confessional - As Lovers Go

Dashboard Confessional - Ghost Of A Good Thing

Dashboard Confessional - Hands Down

Dashboard Confessional - Rapid Hope Loss

Dashboard Confessional - Secret

Dashboard Confessional - Stolen

Dashboard Confessional - Vindicated

Dave Barnes - Until You

David Banner ft. Magic, Lil Boosie - Ain't Got Nothing

David Gray - This Year's Love

David Mead - Nashville

Deana Carter - We Danced Anyway

Def Leppard - Armageddon It

Def Leppard - Bringin' On The Heartbreak

Def Leppard - Foolin'

Def Leppard - Hysteria

Def Leppard - Let's Get Rocked

Def Leppard - Love Bites

Def Leppard - Miss You In A Heartbeat

Def Leppard - Photograph

Def Leppard - Pour Some Sugar On Me

Def Leppard - Rocket

Del Amitri - Roll To Me

Dem Franchize Boyz - Ridin' Rims

Dem Franchize Boyz ft. Peanut & Charlay - Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It

Diana Anaid - Last Thing

Dido - Here With Me

Divinyls - I Touch Myself

Dixie Chicks - Cold Day in July

Dixie Chicks - Cowboy Take Me Away

Dixie Chicks - Easy Silence

Dixie Chicks - Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)

Dixie Chicks - Goodbye Earl

Dixie Chicks - Long Time Gone

Dixie Chicks - Lullaby

Dixie Chicks - Not Ready To Make Nice

Dixie Chicks - Top of the World

Dwight Yoakam - The Back Of Your Hand

Eagle-Eye Cherry - Save Tonight

Eamon - I Don't Want You Back

Emerson Drive - Fall Into Me

Eminem - Lose Yourself

En Vogue - Don't Let Go

Enrique Iglesias - Bailamos

Eva Cassidy - Songbird

Faith Hill - The Lucky One

Faith Hill - This Kiss

Fall Out Boy - Grand Theft Autumn

Fall Out Boy - Sugar, We're Goin Down

Family Force 5 - Love Addict

Fastball - Out Of My Head

Fefe Dobson - 8x10

Fefe Dobson - Bye Bye Boyfriend

Fefe Dobson - Don't Let It Go to Your Head

Fefe Dobson - Everything

Fefe Dobson - Revolution Song

Fefe Dobson - Rock It 'Til You Drop It

Fefe Dobson - Stupid Little Love Song

Fefe Dobson - Take Me Away

Foo Fighters - Best Of You

Fort Minor ft. Holly Brook & Jonah Matranga - Where'd You Go

Fountains of Wayne - All Kinds of Time

Frankie J ft. Baby Bash - Obsession (No Es Amor)

Gabrielle - Out Of Reach

Gary Allan - Life Ain't Always Beautiful

Gary Allan - Nickajack Cave

Gary Allan - Promise Broken

Gary Burr - What Mattered Most

Gavin DeGraw - (Nice to Meet You) Anyway

Gavin DeGraw - Belief

Gavin DeGraw - Chariot

Gavin DeGraw - Chemical Party

Gavin DeGraw - Follow Through

Gavin DeGraw - I Don't Want To Be

Gavin DeGraw - Just Friends

Gavin DeGraw - Meaning

Gavin DeGraw - More Than Anyone

Gavin DeGraw - Overrated

George Strait - Blue Clear Sky

George Strait - Carrying Your Love With Me

George Strait - Heartland

George Strait - I Can Still Make Cheyenne

George Strait - One Night At A Time

George Strait - Run

George Strait - The Best Day

Gin Blossoms - Found Out About You

Goo Goo Dolls - Here Is Gone

Goo Goo Dolls - Iris

Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc.

Grace Potter And The Nocturnals - Apologies

Gwen Stefani - Hollaback Girl

Gwen Stefani - The Sweet Escape

Heidi Newfield - Johnny And June

Hellogoodbye - Here In Your Arms

Hillary Lindsey - Over You

Hinder - Better Than Me

Hinder - Lips Of An Angel

Hope Partlow - Don't Go

Howie Day - Collide

Howie Day - She Says

Ingrid Michaelson - The Way I Am

Jack Ingram - Hold On

Jack Ingram - Make A Wish (Coming Home Again)

Jack Ingram - Maybe She'll Get Lonely

Jack Ingram - Measure Of A Man

Jack Johnson - Better Together

Jack Johnson - Good People

Jack Johnson - Taylor

Jake Owen - Eight Second Ride

Jake Owen - Ghosts

Jake Owen - Hard Not To Love You

Jake Owen - Startin' With Me

James Blunt - Carry You Home

James Blunt - Goodbye My Lover

James Blunt - You’re Beautiful

Jann Arden - Insensitive

Jason Aldean - Why

Jason Mraz - I’m Yours

JAY-Z ft. UGK - Big Pimpin'

Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah

Jem - 24

Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

Jesse McCartney - Just So You Know

Jesse McCartney - The Best Day Of My Life

Jessica Andrews - Baby To Love You Once

Jessica Andrews - More To Me Than You

Jessica Andrews - More To Me Than You (acoustic)

Jessica Andrews - Second Sunday

Jet - Look What You've Done

Jewel - Good Day

Jewel - You Were Meant For Me

Jimmy Eat World - Hear You Me

Jimmy Eat World - If You Don’t, Don’t

Jimmy Eat World - The Middle

Joanna - All I Want For Christmas Is You

Joanna - Screaming Infidelities

Joanna - Ultraviolet

John Mayer - Comfortable

John Mayer - Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

John Mayer - Waiting On the World to Change

John Mayer - Your Body Is A Wonderland

Johnny Cooper - Everything

Johnny Cooper - Texas To You

Jon McLaughlin - Beautiful Disaster

Jonas Brothers - Burnin' Up

Jonas Brothers - Tonight

Jonas Brothers - Year 3000

Joseph Arthur - Honey And The Moon

Josh Kelley - Amazing

Josh Rouse - It's the Nighttime

Justin Timberlake - Cry Me A River

Justin Timberlake - What Goes Around Comes Around

K-Ci & JoJo - All My Life

KT Tunstall - Other Side Of The World

Kanye West - Diamonds From Sierra Leone

Kanye West ft. Jamie Foxx - Gold Digger

Kari Kimmel - Notice Me

Katie Herzig - Fool's Gold

Katie Herzig - Sweeter Than This

Katy Perry - Hot N Cold

Katy Perry - Thinking Of You

Keith Urban - Better Life

Keith Urban - I Told You So

Keith Urban - Making Memories Of Us

Keith Urban - Somebody Like You

Kelis - Brass In Pocket

Kelis - Milkhake

Kellie Pickler - Best Days Of Your Life

Kellie Pickler - Didn't You Know How Much I Loved You

Kelly Clarkson - Low

Kelly Clarkson - Miss Independent

Kelly Clarkson - Some Kind of Miracle

Kelly Clarkson - The Trouble With Love Is

Kenny Chesney - Big Star

LFO - Every Other Time

Landon Pigg - Can't Let Go

LeAnn Rimes - But I Do Love You

LeAnn Rimes - Damn

LeAnn Rimes - The Right Kind Of Wrong

LeAnn Rimes - This Love

LeAnn Rimes - You Are

Leigh Nash - Last Christmas

Lenny Kravitz - Again

Lenny Kravitz - American Woman

Lifehouse - Everything

Lil Jon & The East Side Boyz - Kings Of Crunk

Lil Scrappy - No Problem

Lil Scrappy ft Young Buck - Money In The Bank

Lil Wayne - Go DJ

Lisa Loeb - I Do

Little Big Town - Boondocks

Little Big Town - Bring It On Home

Liz Phair - Everything To Me

Liz Phair - Why Can’t I

Loretta Lynn - Fist City

Lori McKenna - Your Next Lover

Mandy Moore - I Wanna Be With You

Mannie Fresh - Real Big

Mark Wills - Take It All Out Of Me

Maroon 5 - Harder To Breathe

Maroon 5 - She Will Be Loved

Maroon 5 - Shiver

Maroon 5 - Tangled

Maroon 5 - This Love

Mat Kearney - All I Need

Mat Kearney - Nothing Left To Lose

Mat Kearney - Where We Gonna Go From Here

Matchbox Twenty - If You're Gone

Matchbox Twenty - Long Day

Matt Nathanson - I Saw

Matt Wertz - Everything's Right

Matt Wertz - Red Meets Blue

Melissa Etheridge - I'm The Only One

Meredith Brooks - Bitch

Metro Station - Now That We're Done

Metro Station - Shake It

Michelle Branch - Breathe

Michelle Branch - Goodbye To You

Mike Jones - Flossin'

Mindy Smith - Come To Jesus

Miranda Lambert - Bring Me Down

Miranda Lambert - Greyhound Bound For Nowhere

Miranda Lambert - Gunpowder And Lead

Miranda Lambert - Kerosene

Miranda Lambert - Mama, I'm Alright

Miranda Lambert - More Like Her

Miranda Lambert - What About Georgia?

Missy Higgins - Warm Whispers

Mozella - You Wanted It

Morgane Hayes - If Ever There Was

Morgane Hayes - Lonely Anywhere

Morgane Hayes - Train To Tupelo

Mr. Big - To Be With You

My Chemical Romance - Helena

Nelly - Grillz

Nick Lachey - I Can't Hate You Anymore

Nick Lachey - What's Left Of Me

Nickelback - Far Away

Nina Gordon - Tonight And The Rest Of My Life

Norah Jones - Turn Me On 

Oasis - Wonderwall

OneRepublic - Apologize

Our Lady Peace - Somewhere Out There

Pink - Just Like A Pill

Paramore - When It Rains

Paris Hilton - Nothing In This World

Pat Benatar - Anxiety (Get Nervous)

Pat Benatar - Fire And Ice

Pat Benatar - Heartbreaker

Pat Benatar - Hell Is For Children

Pat Benatar - Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Pat Benatar - I Need A Lover (live)

Pat Benatar - In The Heat Of The NIght

Pat Benatar - Little To Late

Pat Benatar - Looking For A Stranger

Pat Benatar - Love Is A Battlefield (demo)

Pat Benatar - My Clone Sleeps Alone

Pat Benatar - Precious Time

Pat Benatar - Promises In The Dark

Pat Benatar - Shadows Of The NIght

Pat Benatar - Treat Me Right

Pat Benatar - We Live For Love

Pat Benatar - Wuthering Heights

Pat Benatar - You Better Run

Patty Griffin - Burgundy Shoes

Patty Griffin - Christina

Patty Griffin - Goodbye

Patty Griffin - Heavenly Day

Patty Griffin - One Big Love

Patty Griffin - Peter Pan

Patty Griffin - Rain

Patty Griffin - When It Don’t Come Easy

Phil Collins - Can't Stop Loving You

Pitbull - Ay Chico (Lengua Afuera)

Pitbull - C**o

Plain White T's - Hate (I Really Don't Like You)

Plumb - Blush (Only You)

Plumb - Stranded

Rachael Yamagata - Be Be Your Love

Rachael Yamagata - Worn Me Down

Rachel Proctor - Didn't I

Rasheeda ft. Lil' Scrappy - Rocked Away

Ray Charles - I've Got A Woman

Rebecca Lynn Howard - Forgive

Rihanna - SOS

Rihanna ft. Jay-Z - Umbrella

Rilo Kiley - Portions for Foxes

Rob Thomas - Ever The Same

Rogue Wave - Eyes

Ronnie Day - Outside

Ronnie Milsap - It Was Almost Like A Song

Ronnie Milsap - My Life

Ronnie Milsap - Smoky Mountain Rain

Ronnie Milsap - (There's) No Gettin' Over Me

Ryan Adams - Come Pick Me Up

SHeDAISY - In Terms Of Love

Santigold - L.E.S Artistes

Sarah Connor - Bounce

Sarah McLachlan - Fallen

Sarah McLachlan - Stupid

Savage Garden - I Want You

Savage Garden - Truly Madly Deeply

Seal - This Could Be Heaven

Secondhand Serenade - Maybe

Semisonic - Closing Time

Shakira - Don’t Bother

Shakira - Underneath Your Clothes

Sheryl Crow - It's So Easy

Sheryl Crow - The First Cut Is The Deepest

Shop Boyz - Party Like A Rock Star

Sia - Breathe Me

Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars

Snow Patrol - Chocolate

Solange - Sandcastle Disco

Something Corporate - Ruthless

Space Girls - Wannabe

Staind - Everything Changes

Stephanie Chapman - Cowboy, I Tried

Stevie Nicks & Don Henley - Leather And Lace

Sunny Sweeney - Please Be San Antone

Survivor - Eye Of The Tiger

Susan Haynes - Bottle Rocket

T-Pain ft. Mike Jones - I'm N Luv (Wit A Stripper)

T.I. - Top Back

T.I. - What You Know

Teddy Geiger - I Feel Like Dancing

Teddy Geiger - Try To Hard

The All-American Rejects - Dirty Little Secret

The All-American Rejects - Swing, Swing

The Ataris - The Boys of Summer

The Calling - Wherever You Will Go

The Cardigans - I Need Some Fine Wine And You

The Corrs - Breathless

The Corrs - Summer Sunshine

The Fray - How To Save A Life

The Fray - Look After You

The Fray - Over My Head (Cable Car)

The Killers - Read My Mind

The Killers - When You Were Young

The Lemonheads - Into Your Arms

The Spill Canvas - All Hail The Heartbreaker

The Veronicas - 4ever

The Veronicas - Everything I'm Not

The Veronicas - When It All Falls Apart

The Wallflowers - Closer To You

The Wreckers - Cigarettes

The Wreckers - Crazy People

The Wreckers - Lay Me Down

The Wreckers - Leave The Pieces

The Wreckers - Stand Still, Look Pretty

The Wreckers - The Good Kind

The Wreckers - The Good Kind (acoustic)

Third Eye Blind - How's It Going To Be

Third Eye Blind - Semi-Charmed Life

Three 6 Mafia - Side 2 Side

Three Days Grace - I Hate Everything About You

Thriving Ivory - Angels On The Moon

Tila Tequila - I Love You

Tim McGraw - Angry All The Time

Tim McGraw - Can't Tell Me Nothin'

Tim McGraw - Guess You Get Used To Somebody

Tim McGraw - Telluride

Tim McGraw - The Cowboy In Me

Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers - American Girl

Tori Amos - A Sorta Fairytale

Trace Adkins - Every Light In The House

Train - Meet Virginia

Trillville - Neva Eva 

Trisha Yearwood - I Don't Paint Myself Into Corners

Tyler Hilton - How Love Should Be

Tyler Hilton - Kiss On

Tyler Hilton - Missing You

Tyler Hilton - Up Late Again

U2 - One

U2 - With Or Without You

Unkle Bob - Swans

Vanessa Carlton - Who's To Say

Vertical Horizon - You're A God

We The Kings - Check Yes Juliet

Wheat - I Met A Girl

Yellowcard - Only One

Young Buck - Shorty Wanna Ride

Young Jeezy - Air Forces

Young Jeezy - Bottom Of The Map

Young Jeezy - Get Ya Mind Right

Young Jeezy ft. Bun B - Trap Or Die

Young Jeezy ft. Akon - Soul Survivor

Young Jeezy ft. T.I. & Lil Scrappy - Bang

Yung Joc - I Know You See It

Yung Joc ft. Nitti - It's Goin' Down

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

New Beginnings

Summary: 12 years went by since he had last heard of Lydia. Standing at her grave he thought about the many things he could have done differently when a girl joined him, mourning for her mother.

Pairing: no real pairing. John finds out he has a daughter

Wordcount: 1.553

Warnings: none

A/N: This is based on a request from an anon wondering what Constantine would be like as a Dad. I hope you like it :)

Masterlist

Taglist:

@ladyreapermc​ / @theolsdalova / @greenmanalishi / @itsmydreamlifethings / @palaiasaurus64 / @celestial-vomit / @penwieldingdreamer / @its-jb86 / @notyourtypicalrose / @babypink224221​ / @blahdragonageblah / @alexakeyloveloki  / @meetmeinthematinee​ / @hisdeadwife​ / @fanficsrusz / @mrrightismrreeves / @keiva1000​ / @eevee-of-rivia  

Standing in the door to her bedroom, John sighed as he watched her sleep. If someone had told him only six weeks ago that he had a daughter and that she would be living with him, he would have laughed in their face. But here he was. John Constantine had a daughter, and he would do anything to make sure Hazel would have a better childhood than he had.

6 weeks ago

Death was a part of life. A part of life John just so had escaped. Still, if he could chose to switch places with Lydia he would have. She didn’t deserve to die. She was one of the few people he met, who had deserved to grow old, live a full and happy life. 

Yet here he was, standing at Lydia’s grave. He didn’t even know she had been sick, heartbroken when he had heard that she had passed away suddenly after a short Illness. 

Sighing John closed his eyes. He could see her clearly in front of him. Her short dark hair a mess as she smiled at him. Maybe, if he hadn’t fucked up so badly…

„Hazel!“ Someone called behind him. John opened his eyes and turned around, seeing a young girl running towards him.

“She’s my mom!” The girl yelled back, stopping next to John. 

“Who are you?” She asked, looking up at him. Curious brown eyes much like his own gazed up at him.

“I’m John.” He said after a while. They stood beside one another for a while, looking at the grave stone.

“I never felt someone like you. What are you?” She asked after a while, John frowned as he look down at her. 

“You’re neither bad nor good you’re…. different.” She continued. 

“How do you know?” He asked.

“I just do.” She shrugged. Concentrating on her John could feel her aura, the power inside of her. It felt similar to his own. 

“Did you know my mom?” She asked. 

“I did.” He nodded. 

“How?” She asked. John chuckled.

“It’s a long story but she helped me with… a thing a long time ago.” She turned around to watch behind her back before she got closer to John. He bend a little down to her. 

“Was it a magic thing she helped you with?” She whispered. 

“It was.” He whispered back. She sighed. 

„I wish she could have taught me more.“ She said quietly, looking away from him. 

John looked at the girl. She had long dark hair and looked so much like her mother, apart from the eyes.

„It was nice meeting you.“ He said as he turned around. 

„It was nice meeting you too, John Constantine.“ He heard her say as he walked by an older woman. 

John turned around before he walked away, watching the older woman talk to the girl. Something about her seemed off. But he didn’t have time to find out what exactly it was. 

Sighing John held a letter in his hands. He knew the handwriting. It was only a couple days ago that he had been at her grave, so it surprised him when he found a letter addressed to him. A letter with all the information he needed to find his daughter. His daughter.

A part of him was mad that Lydia had never told him she was pregnant. Another part knew he wouldn’t have been ready. The last thing he ever thought of was him having a family. Yet here he was, already thinking of what to do next.

Hazel was living at a Foster home at this point he was sure, with no living relatives behind. A part of him wanted to ignore the letter, forgetting he ever got the information, carrying in with his life. But in the back of his head John knew he couldn’t. He knew what foster homes could be like. Even more if you were different. John knew that it had to be the girl he met at Lydia's grave. The girl who looked so much like her mother, but had his eyes. 

“She’s a lonely girl our Hazel.” The man sitting across from John said. It took him another three days to finally have the guts to track her down in the many foster homes of the city. 

“A little… unique.” The man continued. 

“In what way?” John asked. 

“Sometimes she sits with her eyes closed for hours outside, not moving a muscle. She doesn’t talk much and doesn’t have any friends. I think she’s still mourning her mother.”

“No one in her family, friends can take care of her?” John asked. The man shook his head.

“Unfortunately not. We tried to find someone but…” the man sighed. 

“Can I meet her?” John asked.

“I can bring you to her, but don’t expect too much.” 

“John Constantine.” Hazel said quietly as John sat down in the grass across from her. Her eyes were closed, still John felt like she was watching him.

“Hazel.” John said. 

“Are you here to take me with you?” She opened her eyes and John could see the hint of green washing away from her iris.

“I’m not sure yet.” He said honestly. 

“Is it because you’re scared of me or yourself?” She asked. John was speechless for once. The twelve year old girl in front of him stunning him. 

“Both.” He said with the hint of a smile, reminded of a conversation he had with her mother do many years ago. John saw hazel smile at him.

“She looks so happy in your thoughts.” Hazel said quietly. John frowned. There was no way…

“I’m sorry, mom always says it’s not nice to look into people's heads, but I miss her. So, so much.” Hazel sobbed. And against everything he knew John found himself reaching out to her, slowly pulling her in his arms. 

“I’m gonna take care of you.” He whispered, kissing her hair. 

“She always talked about you.” Hazel said after a while. “I think she missed you.”

“I missed her too.” And he would be sorry for the rest of his life.

“Don’t be.” Hazel said, answering his thoughts again. John wasn’t used to someone being able to listen to his thoughts. 

“You know I’m your father, right?“ He asked. She nodded. 

„I felt some kind of… pull towards you at the cemetery… it’s weird.“ She frowned. 

„If you think about it… it’s it weird at all. All that is going on with you… I think that’s my fault.“ 

„Can you teach me how to control it!“ Hazel asked. 

„I will try.“ 

Four days later John was standing with his daughter outside of his apartment. The paperwork he had to fill out to officially become her father filled out he was allowed to take her with him today.

„I didn’t have time to prepare anything…” He mumbled, her suitcase in his hand as he opened the door. 

“We can do it together?” Hazel suggested. John let her step in, setting her suitcase to the side. 

“I’m also crap at taking care of myself so we have to learn together…” John sighed, closing the door. Hazel giggled, making John smile. 

“Swear jar.” She said. 

“I don’t have one.” John pursed his lips. 

“Then that's the first thing we have to do.”

“You are going to be a very rich witch soon.” John joked.

“A witch?” She wondered. 

“A little witch.” He clarified. 

“That’s so cooool.” She clapped her hands.

“And a powerful one if you can read my thoughts.” John said, walking towards the couch. She follows John, sitting down next to him with big eyes. 

“Why?” She asked. 

“Because no one I ever met could read my thoughts.” He explained. 

“Really?” She wondered. John nodded.

“What exactly can you do?” Hazel asked. 

“I think that’s a story for another day. Hungry?” John asked. 

“Always.” She grinned. 

Slowly they got to know each other in the following weeks. John slowly was getting used too his new role. Still there was some things John had to get used too. For starters, not leaving his stuff laying around. 

Hazel was a curious and innocent little girl. And John wanted to keep it this way for at least another couple years. 

They had transformed his office to her room, painted the walls and got some new furniture. It want one of those typical girls room John had imagined. But then again Hazel wasn’t a typical little girl.

“DAD!” She yelled. John let everything fall at hearing her call for him. He didn’t even realize it was the first time she actually called him Dad instead of John. 

“What happened?” He asked out of breath, storming into her room. 

“Spider! Huge. Spider.” She was standing on her bed, pointing to the corner of the room. Waking over John took care of the spider, hearing Hazel relieved breathe out. 

“I hate spiders.” She let herself fall on her bed, face first. John chuckled as he walked over to her, kneeling in the floor next to her. She turned her head to look at him.

“Thank you Dad.” She said quietly, chewing on their bottom lip.

“You’re welcome, Hazel.” John smiled, surprised over the warmth in his chest that he felt by her calling him Dad. Maybe he wouldn’t screw this up as much as he first thought. 

[papermoonloveslucy]

LIZ BECOMES A SCULPTRESS

October 7, 1950

“Liz Becomes a Sculptress” (aka “Liz the Sculptress” aka “Liz Turns Sculptress”) is episode #100 [some sources say #99] of the radio series MY FAVORITE HUSBAND broadcast on October 7, 1950.

This was the fifth episode of the third season of MY FAVORITE HUSBAND. There were 31 new episodes, with the season ending on March 31, 1951.  

This program was the basis for “I Love Lucy” episode titled "Lucy Becomes a Sculptress" (ILL S2;E15), first aired on January 15, 1953.

Synopsis ~ Liz decides that she needs a hobby, and the proprietor of the local arts and crafts store convinces her she's a natural artistic genius when it comes to sculpting clay.

“My Favorite Husband” was based on the novels Mr. and Mrs. Cugat, the Record of a Happy Marriage (1940) and Outside Eden (1945) by Isabel Scott Rorick, which had previously been adapted into the film Are Husbands Necessary? (1942). “My Favorite Husband” was first broadcast as a one-time special on July 5, 1948. Lucille Ball and Lee Bowman played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, and a positive response to this broadcast convinced CBS to launch “My Favorite Husband” as a series. Bowman was not available Richard Denning was cast as George. On January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change to Cooper. On this same episode Jell-O became its sponsor. A total of 124 episodes of the program aired from July 23, 1948 through March 31, 1951. After about ten episodes had been written, writers Fox and Davenport departed and three new writers took over – Bob Carroll, Jr., Madelyn Pugh, and head writer/producer Jess Oppenheimer. In March 1949 Gale Gordon took over the existing role of George’s boss, Rudolph Atterbury, and Bea Benaderet was added as his wife, Iris. CBS brought “My Favorite Husband” to television in 1953, starring Joan Caulfield and Barry Nelson as Liz and George Cooper. The television version ran two-and-a-half seasons, from September 1953 through December 1955, running concurrently with “I Love Lucy.” It was produced live at CBS Television City for most of its run, until switching to film for a truncated third season filmed (ironically) at Desilu and recasting Liz Cooper with Vanessa Brown.

MAIN CAST

Lucille Ball (Liz Cooper) was born on August 6, 1911 in Jamestown, New York. She began her screen career in 1933 and was known in Hollywood as ‘Queen of the B’s’ due to her many appearances in ‘B’ movies. With Richard Denning, she starred in a radio program titled “My Favorite Husband” which eventually led to the creation of “I Love Lucy,” a television situation comedy in which she co-starred with her real-life husband, Latin bandleader Desi Arnaz. The program was phenomenally successful, allowing the couple to purchase what was once RKO Studios, re-naming it Desilu. When the show ended in 1960 (in an hour-long format known as “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour”) so did Lucy and Desi’s marriage. In 1962, hoping to keep Desilu financially solvent, Lucy returned to the sitcom format with “The Lucy Show,” which lasted six seasons. She followed that with a similar sitcom “Here’s Lucy” co-starring with her real-life children, Lucie and Desi Jr., as well as Gale Gordon, who had joined the cast of “The Lucy Show” during season two. Before her death in 1989, Lucy made one more attempt at a sitcom with “Life With Lucy,” also with Gordon.

Richard Denning (George Cooper) was born Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger Jr., in Poughkeepsie, New York. When he was 18 months old, his family moved to Los Angeles. Plans called for him to take over his father’s garment manufacturing business, but he developed an interest in acting. Denning enlisted in the US Navy during World War II. He is best known for his  roles in various science fiction and horror films of the 1950s. Although he teamed with Lucille Ball on radio in “My Favorite Husband,” the two never acted together on screen. While “I Love Lucy” was on the air, he was seen on another CBS TV series, “Mr. & Mrs. North.” From 1968 to 1980 he played the Governor on “Hawaii 5-0″, his final role. He died in 1998 at age 84.

Bea Benadaret (Iris Atterbury / Miss Crawford) was considered the front-runner to be cast as Ethel Mertz but when “I Love Lucy” was ready to start production she was already playing a similar role on TV’s “The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show” so Vivian Vance was cast instead. On “I Love Lucy” she was cast as Lucy Ricardo’s spinster neighbor, Miss Lewis, in “Lucy Plays Cupid” (ILL S1;E15) in early 1952. Later, she was a success in her own show, “Petticoat Junction” as Shady Rest Hotel proprietress Kate Bradley. She starred in the series until her death in 1968.

It is not unusual for radio performers to double up on voices, especially if they have very little to do as their principal character. Iris only has a brief phone chat with Liz before Miss Crawford’s entrance. It would not make sense to hire another actress for the role when Benadaret was under contract. 

Bob LeMond (Announcer) also served as the announcer for the pilot episode of “I Love Lucy”. When the long-lost pilot was finally discovered in 1990, a few moments of the opening narration were damaged and lost, so LeMond – fifty years later – recreated the narration for the CBS special and subsequent DVD release.

Gale Gordon (Rudolph Atterbury) and Ruth Perrott (Katie the Maid) do not appear in this episode. 

GUEST CAST

Hans Conried (Carl, Art Store Owner) first co-starred with Lucille Ball in The Big Street (1942). He then appeared on “I Love Lucy” as used furniture man Dan Jenkins in “Redecorating” (ILL S2;E8) and later that same season as Percy Livermore in “Lucy Hires an English Tutor” (ILL S2;E13) – both in 1952. The following year he began an association with Disney by voicing Captain Hook in Peter Pan. On “The Lucy Show” he played Professor Gitterman in “Lucy’s Barbershop Quartet” (TLS S1;E19) and in “Lucy Plays Cleopatra” (TLS S2;E1). He was probably best known as Uncle Tonoose on “Make Room for Daddy” starring Danny Thomas, which was filmed on the Desilu lot. He joined Thomas on a season 6 episode of “Here’s Lucy” in 1973. He died in 1982 at age 64.

The Professor (aka Sam) and Muscles Malcolm the model are played by uncredited performers. 

THE EPISODE

ANNOUNCER: “As we look in on 321 Bundy Drive, Sheridan Falls, it's late afternoon. Liz is just arriving home from her club meeting, and is met at the door by George.” 

Liz has had a very educational day at the club today. They had a lecture on older people and how they can be kept happy and useful, but as Liz has no hobbies, the lecturer pointed out that she's on a slippery slope to being lonely and unhappy when she gets older. So she's going to get a hobby!

On “I Love Lucy,” the motivation for Lucy Ricardo to take up art as a hobby is so that her baby will be born into a cultured household. Lucy shows Ricky a portrait of her great-grandfather (above), who she says was was a great artist. In reality, this is a photo of writer Bob Carroll Jr., who co-wrote both the radio and television scripts!

After some conversation about who will pre-decease whom (and whether they will re-marry), Liz vows to go down to the art store first thing in the morning to get a hobby.

Liz enters Carl’s Arts and Crafts shop and is welcomed by Carl. 

CARL: “I have all media. What do you usually like to work in?” LIZ: “Oh, just an old housedress.”

On TV, Lucy is confused by the term ‘media’ and likes to work in ‘an old smock.’ On TV the art store clerk will be played by Russian-born Leon Belasco (right) who had done three movies with Lucille Ball between 1939 and 1944. William Abbott, the shop owner, is played by Shepard Menken.  

Liz flirts with the idea of finger painting. After all, she already has fingers!

LIZ: “Are these the right kind of fingers?” CARL: “You can start with those. Later on I’ll sell you some better ones.”

Instead, Carl convinces Liz to try sculpting with their in store clay display. Carl suddenly is taken aback by her handling of the clay!  It becomes apparent to the listener that Carl is more salesman that art lover. He gushes over her primative squeezings.

CARL: "All the world is waiting for a squeezer like you!” 

Carl calls over an art critic (whom he calls “the Professor”) who just happens to be browsing in the shop. They both fawn over her lump of clay, even falling to their knees in admiration. Liz is convinced to spend $25 on clay and leaves the shop feeling she is destined for greatness.  Once she is gone, the men drop their pretense and we learn that “The Professor” is really a clerk named Sam.

CARL: “The next aspiring artist to come in I get to be the Professor. You have all the fun!”   

The idea of a convincing a customer to make a purchase by staging a deceptive scenario will also be used on in “The Girls Go Into Business” (ILL S3;E2) in which dress shop owner Mrs. Hansen (Mabel Paige) tries to convince Lucy and Ethel her shop does a booming business by recruiting two ‘shoppers’ (Kay Wiley and Barbara Pepper) to buy lots of merchandise while Lucy and Ethel look on in amazement. The scam works and Lucy and Ethel buy the store. 

George comes home from work to find Liz has set up an art studio in his den. To George’s surprise Liz is wearing an artist’s smock and a tam. 

LIZ / LUCY: “This is the official outfit of all us sculptressessss.” GEORGE / RICKY: “All us whatressesessss?”

Liz proudly shows off her latest work to George, who teases her about not knowing exactly what it is. Finally, he says it is a bunch of grapes and Liz bursts into tears. She’s sculpted a man’s head! 

On TV, Ricky guesses Lucy’s first sculpture is supposed to be a boy and his dog or a girl and her dog but Lucy says it is a child at its mother’s knee.  Ethel guesses it is the nose on somebody’s face.   

After Bob LeMond does a commercial for Jell-O (”You can turn out a work of art with Jell-O!”), the story resumes with Liz sobbing and George comforting her. Liz says she’d do much better if she could hire a model. George volunteers as her model but Liz quickly rejects him. George asks why.

LIZ: “Your muscles. They’re all in your coat.”

George takes off his coat and shit to prove he has what it takes to model.

LIZ: “Well! Gypsy Rose Cooper!”

Liz is referring to the famous strip tease artist and burlesque performer Gypsy Rose Lee (born Rose Louise Hovick, 1911–1970), whose life was the inspiration for the Broadway musical and film Gypsy in 1959. Above, Gypsy Rose Lee visited the set of “I Love Lucy” during the filming of “Hollywood Anniversary” in February 1955. 

Liz unfavorably compares George’s physique to the Discus Thrower, a Greek sculpture completed at the start of the Classical Period, depicting a youthful athlete throwing discus, circa 460–450 BC. Liz measures George’s ‘bicups’ (biceps) but they fall short.  

On “I Love Lucy,” Ricky avoids being a model, but Fred is recruited to pose as the Discus Thrower - and throws his back out in the process! 

George scolds Liz for spending so much money on her ‘hobby’ - $50, which is equal to more than $500 in today’s economy. George demands she return everything to the art store and Liz bursts into tears again. 

The next day, Liz telephones Iris to tell her that she has hired a model anyway.  The doorbell rings and it is ‘Muscles Malcolm’ from the modeling agency. To Liz’s surprise he wants to pose ‘au naturel’ but Liz convinces him to wear a tiger skin. 

George comes home early from dinner so Liz quickly stashes Malcolm in the closet. George sees Malcolm’s street clothes.  Liz tries to convince him that they are his clothes!  Malcolm suddenly sneezes from inside the closet. 

LIZ (quickly): “I didn’t hear anything. Nobody sneezed!”  GEORGE (suspicious): “I didn’t say anyone did.” 

In “The Saxophone” (ILL S2;E2), Ricky stashes a handsome man in the closet to turn the tables on Lucy. Writer Madelyn Pugh remembers: "For some reason, Bob [Carrol Jr.] and I liked the idea of people hiding in a closet. We used it in this show, and in a couple of other 'Lucys.’ We even used it in the pilot of 'The Mothers-in-Law’ fifteen years later – and it always got a laugh!”

The jig is up and Malcolm emerges from the closet. Surprisingly, George is not mad at all.  He leaves the house calmly, but Liz smells a rat.  

George returns with a giggly girl named Miss Crawford (also Bea Benadaret). George is going to take up painting and Miss Crawford is his model. 

MISS CRAWFORD: “Do you want me to pose draped or undraped?  I usually pose undraped.” LIZ: “Draped. You’ve got a bad enough cold already.”

NOTE: This line gets the biggest audience reaction of the entire episode, perhaps because of the intimation of nudity or because Bea Benadaret’s voice sounds very scratchy. Perhaps the audience knows that she is under the weather and feels in on the joke?  

In the live Jell-O commercial, Lucille Ball, in a seductive voice, tells Bob LeMond claims she always wanted to be...a ballet dancer!  Instead, Ball switches to her “Professor” voice; a deep, husky, and blunt tone. 

LUCILLE BALL: “I ain’t gonna do the Jell-O jiggle. I had an accident. I had on my new shoes; they’re kinda sharp. I spun six times. Once for strawberry like this. Once for raspberry like this. Once for cherry, like so. And once for orange, lemon and lime, like this. Darn that Jell-O jiggle, I dun it again. I dug myself right into the ground!” 

ANNOUNCER: “Lucille Ball can currently be seen in Columbia’s laugh-fest ‘The Fuller Brush Girl’.  Watch for it when it comes to your city.”

A recorded commercial for Instant Sanka coffee and the Jell-O jingle ends the broadcast. 

FAST FORWARD!

The television version of this script ends very differently. Lucy tries to pass off her own head as an example of her art work. Ricky invites an important art critic to assess it, and he attempts to buy Lucy’s head and take it with him!  The highly visual ending, with Lucille Ball’s head stuck through a table and covered with clay, works much better than the radio conclusion. 

This isn’t the last time Lucy had a brush (pun intended) with the visual arts. 

In “Lucy Goes To Art Class” (TLS S2;E15) in 1964, Lucy Carmichael also visited an art store and took a drawing to meet an eligible bachelor (Robert Alda).  

In “Lucy and Uncle Harry’s Pot” (HL S5;E21) in 1973, Lucy Carter took up pottery in order to recreate a vase she’s broken which had sentimental value to Harry. 

[the-second-circle-ffxiv]

Cocoa and marshmallows

Iris cursed under her breath, as she made her way through the snowy streets of Ishgard towards Silke’s apartment. The midday was knocking on the door, as the women had finally left the Blacksoul manor. Silke had a day-off, true... but if she had left her apartment already, there would be no way Iris and Eva could find her from the city of size that Ishgard was.

The library, Jeweled Crozier, Second Circle... too many chances. Too many places to go looking from. All Iris could do was hope her friend had slept long, and was still at home. High stiletto heels knocked merrily against the stony walkway, as the two arrived to the apartment building. Silke’s small, lowly flat was located up on the third floor. “...The heckin’ stairs tend to be slippery at dis time o’ a day, Cinnabun... So watch yer heckin’ steps. I’m not gonna catch ya, if yer to fall and break yer neck, just sayin’.”

Iris looked up at a narrow stairway, leading up on the outer wall of the building, and with a sigh, she gathered up her long, black dress, and started making her way up, Eva following just couple of steps behind her. The morning had been warm, and the ice on the stairs had melted away, making their climb that much easier, and in no time, the two arrived onto Silke’s door.

Iris listened for a moment, trying to hear if anyone was home. The walls were like paper around here anyway, but she couldn’t pick up any noises. A lonely dog was barking somewhere in the distance. The voice was too deep to come out of Silke’s little puppy, Laurence. Giving a quick side-glance towards Eva, Iris knocked onto the door.

“‘Ey! Silkee! Blackbird, yer ‘ome?! It’s mi! Open tha door, mi ass is freezin’ ‘ere!! Silkeee! Darlin’!”

Silke flinched awake when she heard knocking on the door. “It wasn't me I swear!” she yelped stupidly, before realizing she had just been dreaming and she was in fact in her own apartment, alone. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock. It was nearly midday. Cursing silently, Silke flung her blanket aside, stepped into her moogle slippers which had been waiting next to her bed and was already about to dash towards the door. Then she remembered she was wearing only tiny panties and black, short nightgown, which barely reached her buttocks and was made of some thin fabric that showed more than she would've wanted to.

The garment actually belonged to Lareine, or Iris, who had left it behind sometime. Silke had ended up wearing the thing after deciding to be effective and washing all of her laundry at once, before noticing she had mashed her both own nightgowns into washings and thus didn't have anything to wear during the night. Luckily her pink morning gown with brash turquoise carbuncle patterns hadn't been among the laundry, so she grabbed it from the sofa and wrapped it around her while hurrying towards the door. Her long, straight, ash black hair was messy but she couldn't have cared less. The damn thing was so thick and slippery it was a mission impossible to try and keep it braided during the night. She was equally indifferent about her dark circles. If someone hadn't seen dark circles by now then it was about bloody time.

“I'm poor and I'm not buying anything!” she announced at the same moment she flung the door open. A wide smile spread on Iris’ black lips as her friend opened the door, wearing her silly carbuncle morning gown and the fluffy moogle slippers. Even when not trying to, Silke looked dashing in Iris’ eyes. The mess of a black hair, like that of a demon from eastern tales just enhanced the effect.

“...And Im not sellin’ anythin’, mi star on da night sky!” She stepped up to the woman, wrapping her arms tightly around her, giving her a squeeze, and breathing in the familiar scent of ink and gunpowder... the scent of home.

“...Fockin’ ‘ell, I was afraid ya ‘ad left da buildin’ already! I missed ya, gal!” Iris released her friend, quickly fixing her round glasses, which the hug had tipped on the side, which together with her messy locks, made Silke look bit like she had just survived an explosion. “...I just ‘ave to tell ya everythin’! Ya wont believe whut’s ‘appenin’ back at tha manor... A major shitestorm. I guess... uhh... someone finally dropped a match onto the fockin’ barrel o’ gunpowder dats been sittin’ casually between Grumpy and Lucy... Oh...”

Iris stepped aside, giving some space to Eva, still standing behind her on the narrow stairway. “...Dis is... Evangelin’! I stumbled upon ‘er in tha church, ya know... She was comin’ to look for a goddess, and she found mi instead! Which... in tha end is not too far as a heckin’ outcome, or whut do ya dink? Aniway, we are kinda ‘avin’ a deal... Guess Grumpy is hirin’ her, so she can pay mi for company... ‘Er gal left ‘er to fock ‘round wid sum random lad somewhere, so I’m kinda ‘elpin’ ‘er to fock dat said gal outta ‘er head!”

Then she turned back to Evangeline. “Cinnabun, dis is Silke! Mi heckin’ fallen angel... Isn’t she just dashin’?” A sly smirk played on Iris’ lips, as she glanced towards Eva, before quickly moving her attention back to the viera at the door. “...Ya ‘ave dat tea of yer’s still, darlin’? Guess who’s been almost heckin’ sober for a month!” Iris was chattering up a storm. Though Evangeline hadn’t known her for long, she knew that this had to be unusual for the sarcastic, abrasive woman she had just met a few days ago.  Around everyone else Iris painted over herself a veneer of prickly indifference that kept most, if not all, at arm’s length.  Even Arsene, who she seemed to be most accustomed to, or at least the most comfortable with, was still held at quite the distance. This though... this was different. Evangeline couldn’t hope to compare to this. Iris was beaming, ecstatic to see this woman... a jumble of words exiting her mouth at neck-breaking speed.

She was almost tripping over her words trying to tell Silke anything and everything she possibly could. Somewhat dazed, Evangeline inspected Silke as Iris spoke, half-tuning out what the slight viera was saying. The woman in the doorway was undeniably adorable. She was clearly frazzled, having probably just woken up to the sound of someone at her door. She seemed bookish, from a combination of her round glasses which sat slightly askew on her nose, her frame, and what Eva could see of her dwelling... which seemed to be crammed wall-to-wall with literature.

This was about to be a long conversation... a visit between Iris, the woman who had Eva wrapped around her finger, and Silke, the woman with whom Iris seemed to be very much in love. At the thought of the word ‘love’ the little green monster struck at Evangeline’s stomach. Its spines were particularly sharp today... Eva didn’t know how much of this she could take. She tried to hide her pensive expression with a smile, waving slightly to Silke as Iris mentioned her name. Evangeline watched with mounting horror as Iris kept talking, though... explaining not only everything that had happened after the incident at the church, but also mentioning what exactly had happened during the incident... namely the carnal encounter the two of them had shared, and the fact that Eva was paying for Iris’ company. She supposed it had been foolish to hope that Iris wouldn’t delight in telling every living soul of their arrangement, but it was still painfully embarrassing. She looked at the ground, her face hot to the point that she thought she might be pressing it against an oven. She could barely extract words, but managed to anyways.

“G-good morning... p-pleased to make your acquaintance”, Evangeline was able to squeak, and accompanied it with a modest curtsy, hands gripping tightly at the skirts of her dress. She was unable to bring herself to meet eyes with Silke, instead choosing to inspect the steps upon which she was standing, waiting for her to laugh... or respond... somehow. Iris let out such a sudden flood of words that at first, Silke, who was still half asleep, couldn't do anything but stare her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar. She clumsily patted Iris' back while she hugged her.

“Me? Nooo...”, Silke gave a laugh. “If I, for once, get to sleep late, then hells yeah that's what I'm gonna do. I wonder whose voidspawn's ingenious idea it was that everyone should get up while it's still dark? Purely idiotic, if you ask me. Messes up our natural circadian rhythm and probably causes a whole lot of heart attacks and such, geez...”

When Iris started to talk about the drama between Varg and Lucian, Silke couldn't help but lick her lips greedily. She was usually allergic to drama, but that certain one was like straight from some really bad soap opera. Silke had never truly understood people who were too interested in others' business and loved to gossip, but because of this one case she had perhaps started to understand them on some level.

Silke let out a frustrated sound. “You must tell me immediately if something happens, Iris”, she pleaded. “I'm having lots of exams coming up and I'm very very busy, but I'm still willing to halve my cramming time if it means I can witness the outcome. Make your way into my school if you have to, aight? Rather early, so we can grab some popcorn.”

When it was time for Iris' introduction of Evangeline, and description of what they had been doing together, Silke felt an unpleasant sting of jealousy. She had been so absorbed by the delicious news Iris had brought, that she hadn't paid much attention to the other viera until now. Evangeline seemed like complete opposite – at least externally – to Silke. She seemed somewhat older, her body was toned and her face radiated health. Her dark skin and flaming hair reminded Silke of a torch or pyre.

'And the most important thing, she wants to fock', a little voice in Silke's mind reminded.

Its goal had probably been to upset her, but instead of pushing it away like usual, Silke just let it linger there, agreeing with it. Indeed, this woman was able to give Iris what I can't, she thought to herself.

What in the world was going on in Iris' mind, though? Why was she telling her this? Silke was aware of Iris' occupation, but still this wasn't the kind of information one just blurted loudly around like that. Silke both hated and loved her imagination, which was able to paint pictures, like works of art rich in detail in her mind. It helped tremendously with studying. Though, in situations like this it burned some truly unwanted images on her retinas forever. Besides, now her neighbors knew as well. The other two could see very pale pink splotches appearing on her cheeks before they vanished almost instantly.

“That's... interesting?” Silke noted and nodded politely at Evangline, trying to shoo away the mental image while looking at her. Immediately Silke rebuked herself. Who the heck said 'interesting' after someone had been just describing in detail about their intercourse? Well... herself, apparently.

“I mean, um... nice”, she corrected, smiling – while hoping it didn't look too much like a grimace - and slapping her hands together. “I'm glad to hear you're having a good time with each other.”

Silke rebuked herself again. 'Nice' sounded even more awkward.

“Um... yes, I have tea”, she answered Iris, while stepping aside so that the other two could enter. “And cocoa too. Come in, come in. I want to hear more.” 'Oh. My. Gods', she thought. “Like, IN GENERAL.” Silke was acting weirdly, Iris thought to herself, as she stepped past her friend, letting her hand brush against Silke’s rear as she entered the house. Well, Silke was the type who usually acted weirdly, but this? Even for Silke, this would be considered weird. Iris had noticed the slight blush rising on her friend’s pale cheeks, yet fading away as quickly as it had appeared, like a dream you suddenly wake up from. Had it even been there?

Silke did blush, but in the end, it was very rare for the woman. Such thing sometimes occurred when Silke was angry and confused... or wanted to take something cute home. But right now? This was different. Was... Silke jealous? Silke? Jealous of her?

Well, if the situation was so, it was just as Iris had planned it in the first place! But why did she feel a sting in her heart? Like someone was pushing an icicle through it.

Pale viera walked up to the sofa, and threw herself down onto it, next to Laurence who rose his head, giving a quick glance at her, before curling up once again. Iris gave the dog a gentle rub behind his little orange ear. The shiba seemed like he had mostly forgiven what Iris had done back in the day, but still had some mistrust towards her.

“Ohh, cocoa would be just frickin’ lovely...”, she was about to add if Silke could top it with a sliver of rum, but realized it was not the best idea, after she had just told her friend about the month sober... Or well, sober was maybe not the right word to describe it, as Iris still drank. A month without drinking herself under the table, maybe?

All in all, Iris knew Silke never had alcohol at home. The ghostly viera had a bad habit to grab a bottle under stress, and that’s what Silke definitely had with her studies... Stress.

Iris followed Eva, as her companion walked in after her. Keeping her eyes locked onto woman, she gave a quick, meaningful nod towards the armchair, with a blue carbuncle plushie laying on its armrest. The icicle was digging its way into her heart, and having Eva sit down next to her on the sofa, would bring on the hammer, that would smash the icicle right through.

“...Its a fockin’ all out war back dere at tha manor soon, I tell ya...”, Iris started, crossing her legs, while still giving some affection to the shiba inu. The soft fur of the dog helped to ease her nerves a bit.

Keeping her eyes locked on Silke, working on her small kitchen of a kind, Iris went through everything that had happened. From Lucian finding her and Eva from the church, to their arrival into the manor, and from Varg possibly hiring Eva, to Arsene bringing in the hitman couple to guard the property.

“It’s a heckin’ powder keg back dere, sweetie... Dat ding only needs a fockin’ spark, and it’s gonna blow up, wipin’ tha city off tha map.” Iris’ black lips curled up into a devilish grin. “I’ll make sure to keep ya informed of every heckin’ turn, Blackbird... Because dis shite will end up to tha fireworks of a fockin’ lifetime, I tell ya... Blacksoul is pissed off like a heckin’ hog in a heat. Lucy’s gonna eat ‘is meals wid ‘is arsehole for a good while, if he’s to shows his fockin’ smug face in tha manor..” Evangeline ascended the stairs behind Iris, still trying to avert her eyes from Silke, who seemed to have ignored at least some of the comments entirely. She seemed so very different from Eva had thought she would be... in a lot of ways, Evangeline had pictured that Silke would be... much like Iris. Another rough-around-the-edges, prickly dancer that would have loved the opportunity to have a laugh with Iris over Eva’s embarrassment. Not someone who, for every intent and purpose, appeared to be a scholar.

And yet here they were, wandering into the home of someone who probably possessed more intelligence in her little finger than Evangeline had in her whole body. That was... an odd feeling... was she intimidated? Was this the sort of thing that Iris truly wanted? Scholarly discussions? Perhaps that was why Evangeline was so thoroughly bound to the often referred to position ‘second fiddle.’ What an odd sensation... she wasn’t used to feeling like this. Intimidation came in the form of combat prowess, no?  Eva hadn’t felt intimidated by anyone in years... Even Andreas, the man who had swept Solenna away, hadn’t intimidated her. Over seven fulms tall... strong as an ox... but Eva had been sure that she could have placed his face squarely in the dirt had he come to fight her. This, though... this was different.

Eva entered the room, taking a seat in the armchair at Iris’ behest. Silke certainly liked... what were these things called... the little green aether pups that she had heard some of the other soldiers in her regiment discussing on occasion. Eva did think they were rather cute... but they must be difficult to hug, given that they weren’t... solid? Or were they? Evangeline looked to Silke again, standing there... damnably adorable still, in her half-awake state. She seemed to be waiting for something.

“Oh... um... tea, if you don’t mind. Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

She managed keeping her best straight face. Her eyes drifted across the bookshelves, packed with literature, with knowledge. Knowledge that Evangeline couldn’t hope to touch... not in a thousand years. She enjoyed reading her history books... but that was another thing entirely. It was just stories of battles and who won them and why. It wasn’t... whatever this was.

Study of aether...of magic, perhaps? That would explain the near ubiquitous presence of carbuncles throughout the apartment. Evangeline’s mind fell back through time for a moment though... to Iris in the church. Mentioning magic. Almost spitting as she did. She seemed so displeased by the practice at the time... so why would Silke be studying magic? Perhaps this was something different... chemistry... biology... who could guess?

“Wh-what is it... that you study, if you don’t mind me asking?” Stuttering again... damn. Why was this woman so intimidating?

Evangeline could hardly stand it, feeling this way. Stammering and stuttering around Iris was one thing... Eva had thought her a special case. She clenched her fists, looking around the room again to try and distract herself when... she saw… A puppy. An adorable little... Evangeline didn’t know the name of the breed... but it had a cute little pointed nose and triangular ears and orange fuzzy fur and it was laying next to Iris and it completely derailed Eva’s train of thought. She looked at it for a moment, sitting there and enjoying scritches from Iris, before blurting out the first thing that came back to her mind.

“C-can I pet your dog?”

Silke shivered slightly when Iris' hand touched her butt. The hells was she first bragging about her intercourses with Evangeline and then right after touching Silke's arse? Sure, Silke and Iris weren't in a relationship and Iris was free to do whatever and with whoever she wanted. Silke had already – bitterly – accepted it. But the thing that baffled her right now was that Iris just had to rub it in. Why? Silke couldn't even imagine being capable of doing something like that to the people she cared about the most. Silke had been having an impression there hadn't been any bad blood left between herself and Iris. Had she been wrong the whole time?

For a fleeting moment Silke felt an urge to yell 'You know what? Fock it!' and kick Iris out again. Maybe even speed up her departure with some carefully aimed lightning bolts. She got a hold of herself almost right away, though. She could never become a revered archmage if she behaved like some wretched punk or let her feelings get a grasp of her.

"Hot cocoa and tea - coming right up!" Silke announced after closing the door and turning around, smiling widely this time. The gesture was forced, perhaps, but at least she felt it wasn't as stiff as it had been earlier. She was getting good at this. Perhaps she should've become an actress instead. "I have whipped cream and marshmallows to put into cocoa, and milk and sugar for tea. Which one do you guys prefer, or would you rather drink your stuff completely without?"

"I'll take frickin' both, sweetheart!" Iris answered. "Like a heckin' mountain o' whipcream... and couple o' marshmallows... Whut ever ya wanna stick onto it, go for it."

"Milk and honey if you have it... or, um... milk and sugar if you don't. Thank you...", Evangeline scratched her jawline reservedly, immediately regretting requesting honey. It was a common food in Gridania, but probably was more of a delicacy in Ishgard.

At least Evangeline seemed like a civilized case, Silke thought. The dark viera didn't seem to enjoy the situation as much as Iris did, which meant she probably hadn't even known about Silke – or Iris' occupation for that matter – before she had agreed to... whatever they had going on right now. Silke had heard the saying 'opposites attract', but had never truly understood it. She still didn't. Silke had had many relationships with very different people than herself and all of them had ended into a catastrophe.

Silke filled a pot with fresh water and threw some firewood into the stove. A bright flame appeared from thin air just above her fingertip, and Silke blew it into the stove, igniting the firewood. While waiting for the water to boil she was digging her messy cabinet and trying to find the damn whipped cream and marshmallows. Meantime, Iris was explaining in more detail what had occurred lately. When Iris started to talk about the incident in the old church, something happened that felt like gods themselves would've decided to spit in Silke's face just for laughs.

She had found some godsdamned huge jar of jam from the cabinet, lifted it with her other hand, and noticed the marshmallows behind it. Keeping an eye on the water, listening to Iris repeating things Silke wouldn't have wanted to hear about, and trying to reach the marshmallow package from the cabinet that looked like an aftermath of some imperial mana bomb, had apparently been too much for her concentration to bear. Her grip slipped and the jar crashed into the sink, making a noise that was probably heard at the other side of the block of flats.

"Shiteberries!" she blurted with passion. "It's all good, no biggie!" she yelled towards the living room. "I've got it under control!"

The jar had broken into three huge chunks. Luckily there didn't seem to be any shards in the jam. 'I must save it!' was Silke's first thought after recovering from the worst wave of annoyance. 'One does not simply throw away food. No, no.'

"Black magic and summoning!" Silke yelled towards the living room again over the sound of boiling water, while grabbing an empty jar and starting to spoon the jam from the sink into it. "And pet ahead, if he lets you, miss Evangeline! He tends to be suspicious towards strangers and warms up slowly!"

Lucian had always given Silke the creeps. That was the main reason she liked to make fun of him. The things one feared tended to lose their power if one was able to make jokes of them. Despite Silke holding up her cheerful facade, and simultaneously containing her rage, a tiny glimmer of genuine amusement dug its way through it all while a mental image of the highborn elezen eating his meal with his arse had formed in Silke's mind. She bit her lip so that she wouldn't have laughed aloud.

"Thanks. Now I can't unsee that one either", she mumbled while spooning and having a race against time: how much jam could she save before it was all dripped down the sewer? “Isn’t she just a fockin’ dashiest piece o’ ass ya ‘ave ever seen?” Iris laid back onto the sofa, legs crossed and one hand rubbing Laurence’s neck. “If the gods are real, dey were fockin’ horny as a rat when dey made dat gal. And I bet dats why dey made her a heckin’ bookworm in tha first place. To keep ‘er all for demselves! Selfish fockers...”

Silke was still acting weird though, and it drove Iris crazy. She knew her friend well enough to tell when something was amiss, and now there definitely was something. Silke’s smile had been forced... faked even. It was the smile Silke had on her lips, when she was in a very unpleasant situation, and just wanted to get through it fast. Eva also, had started to act weird after entering the apartment. What was wrong with everyone today?

Deep inside, Iris noticed she started to regret bringing the two into the same room in the first place. What had started as a perfect plan in her head, had suddenly turned into a weird dream, where she was locked into an apartment with two beautiful women, who she... for different reasons cared for? Yet those women were but a couple of meatsuits, which some creature had possessed.

Iris wanted to wake up. Though, if she had truly been in a dream, a loud crash echoing from the kitchen at the halfway of her story would have waken her up.

“Yer okai back dere, Blackbird?!” Iris shouted towards the kitchen, after hearing Silke’s loud curse, startling Laurence from his sleep in the process. "It's all good, no biggie!" answered Silke’s voice almost instantly.

Iris gave a quick glance towards Evangeline, rising her brow with a shrug, and finished the story, finally getting up to the point where they had left the manor. Silke was still in the kitchen. The sound of a boiling water had rose to company the weird sound of scraping metal on metal. It seemed like Silke had no intention on moving the pot off the flames though.

“Fockin ‘ell, I’ll go see whut the fock is ‘appenin’ back dere... Dats not like ‘er... at all.”

Iris stepped past Evangeline, brushing her cheek with the back of her finger while going, and headed into a kitchen. The sight before her eyes made Iris’ jaw drop for a moment. Silke, scraping jam out of the sink like her life depended on it, and a teapot, boiling over on the stove, sending steaming hot water down on the flames with an angry hissing that sounded like a pit of snakes.

“What tha fock, Silke?!” Iris finally blurted out, as she got back her voice all of the sudden. She rushed to the stove, moving the pot off the flames, but while doing so, her hand slipped on the handle, sending the lid flying off and spilling boiling hot water onto her arm. “Shiteclippers! Fockin’ ghhh...”, her curse turned into a shriek, but she still somehow managed to place the pot onto the table.

Her arm was on fire, and the pale white skin had started to gain pinkish tint and couple of blisters where the water had hit. “Silke, whut the ‘ell is wrong wid ya, sweetheart?! Ya did not get ani water on ya, did ya?!” With the heat still radiating up on her arm, like thousand little needles, Iris took a grip of Silke’s shoulders, turning the woman around, and wrapping arms around her.

With Silke’s affirmation, Evangeline slowly approached the cute little dog and extended her hand to him, hoping he would be okay with her lightly scratching behind his ear. She was as gentle as she could be, carefully extending her digits towards his nose, when a loud crash from the kitchen caused her to start, feeling like she jumped almost a yalm into the air.  Her heart rate picked up and she looked around, hoping for something weapon-adjacent to be present in the room somewhere.  She settled on the poker by the fireplace, reaching for it slowly, when Iris shouted back to her, seemingly unperturbed by what could’ve been the shattering of a window.

“It’s all good, no biggie!” Silke’s voice sounded off from the kitchen.

Evangeline relaxed slightly, a bit less worried of an intruder now. She wondered how Iris could be so blase-faire about the whole deal, given that she seemed to have more than a few people that would happily see her dead. Iris finished her story regardless, wrapping it up and muttering, “Fockin ‘ell, I’ll go see whut the fock is ‘appenin’ back dere...  Dats not like ‘er..at all.”

As she walked past Evangeline, heading towards the kitchen, she brushed the dark skinned viera’s cheek as she passed, causing her heart rate to quicken once more. Evangeline sighed and went to turn her attention back to the dog, when she heard further exclamations from the kitchen, followed by a shriek from Iris. Before Eva could think about what she was doing, she was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, poker in hand, just in time to see Iris throw her arms around Silke.

The pot on the table filled with still-bubbling water and the splash on the ground told the story of what had happened, though. Though Evangeline’s emotions battled in her mind, coming to a head in the face of the two women embracing, it was as if someone had flipped the switch in her head, finally, that said ‘high pressure situation’.

Her emotions dulled, and the world grew grey around her, as her body took over. She took the pot, placing it on a potholder with ease, to ensure that the table wouldn’t burn. Placing the poker in the corner, she moved to Iris, who she assumed was the most injured. Stepping around the two, Evangeline assessed for injuries, quickly noticing the blisters rising on Iris’ forearm and asked: “Silke, do you know how to dress a wound?”

"The hells would I know? Do I look like some damn white mage?" Silke cried out, sounding both frustrated and shocked, but still clearly more of the former.

“Right... very well. I know little of burns, but I will go find someone who does. Run cold water over the burn, and I’ll go find an apothecary for proper bandages and whatever else we need. There is one near here, isn’t there?”

Evangeline stepped back from the two. She didn’t touch Iris. She didn’t touch either of them. It wasn’t like Iris wanted her here, anyways... this was all she could do. Perhaps she could be useful, and the two could be left to themselves. At Silke’s response, she turned and walked from the room, out the door and into the chilly Ishgardian air. Silke twitched slightly when Iris hugged her, but she still wrapped her arms timidly around her, shocked that Iris had just gotten boiling water on her. Silke wasn't squeezing like Iris did, though. The heck was she getting all close and personal so suddenly?

"What's wrong you ask, princess?" Silke repeated, slightly aghast. "Everything was just fine before you came and started throwing the pot around! I accidentally dropped some godsdamned jar, which appeared to be heavier than it first seemed, into the sink. I would've taken care of the pot in a moment! ...And... no, I didn't get any water on me", she added a bit more calmly, when they let go of each other.

Then Evangeline, too, arrived into the kitchen. These two dumbasses were like some damn knights trying to save a damsel in distress, Silke thought sourly. While Evangeline was examining Iris' burns, Silke stared at the two, gritting her teeth. There she was again, with her older and more mature companion, who - without a doubt - already had some renowned career behind her.

Silke took a quick glance at herself; her carbuncle morning gown and moogle slippers. Were they the reasons everyone insisted treating her like a child? Because she liked cute things? Or was it something in herself? Something about her behavior, perhaps? Her absent-mindedness? The farther she got with her studies the more sceptical people seemed to be about her fending. First Asagi, then Silke's school'mates', and now even Iris.

When Evangeline asked did Silke know anything about taking care of wounds, she couldn't help but cry out: "The hells would I know? Do I look like some damn white mage?"

She could put a bandage on paper cut but that was pretty much it. The yell had already left her lips before Silke remembered she had just made herself a promise to be more sophisticated and controlled. Before she got her mouth open again, Evangeline was already on her way and had stepped outside.

Silke stared at the door for a while. At least Evangeline had had a good reason to go, but it also annoyed Silke, that every single time, when she and Iris were spending time with other people than each other, Asagi or Arsene – which was very rare – sooner or later their company vanished somewhere, leaving Silke and Iris alone. Why, why did it always happen? Of course Silke enjoyed spending time with Iris, but she was also craving other friends. She didn't want to be depending on only one person. Yet it was either her or Iris - or worse, both of them - who managed to drive away other people. As Eva had left the building, Iris looked at the blisters on her aching arm, and walked up to the sink. What was left of the jam, was now lazily making its way down the hole. It was unlikely that cold water would do any good at this point, but Iris opened the tap anyway, letting the ice cold water run for a while, washing away the jam, before sticking her arm under it, grimacing.

“Yeah, guess I heckin’ overreacted. The damn pot was throwin’ water around like a frickin’ volcano, and I freaked out, as I thought it boild over onto ya...” Iris  looked at her arm, still holding it under the running water. It was not looking pretty, but could have been worse. Maybe it could heal without leaving a scar.

“Just look at mi, Blackbird. I keep destroyin’ thin’s, no matter whut I do. For fock’s sake, I hated mi mother, for being a damn useless wreck she was. And now? Shite. Its almost like tha heckin’ apple surely wont fall far from da tree...”, she gave a quick glance towards her friend, before closing the tap, and carefully drying her onto a towel. “...I’m heckin’ joyful yer alright though. Dink we could still make dat cocoa?” Iris walked up to the pot, peeking inside it, and coming to the conclusion it was still half-full of water. Maybe it would do for three smaller cups.

The burning pain on the arm started to return soon after she had dried it up, but, biting hardly onto her lip, she more or less successfully hided the fact from Silke. “Sssshite...”, viera hissed under her breath, feeling like someone had been spanking her arm with a bunch of nettles for an hour straight.

Years back, when she was still living on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, the guards had caught her from pickpocketing, and rolled her in a huge bush of nettle for it. The feeling on her arm, brought the old memory to life in her head.

“...W..Whut ya gonna drink, Blackbird? Tea maybe? C... Could s...share a cocoa wid ya too... Ya know whut dey ‘ave in dose fancy heckin’ restaurants... Dose straws dat go whirly around each other, and ya can share a drink all heckin’ romantically and shite. We could get one of dose. ‘Aight?”

This was one of those moments Silke found herself once again wondering: how the hells did Iris do it? At one moment she was all sweet and thoughtful, then a couple of minutes later a complete arsehat. And then a moment later sweet again, and so on. Or perhaps the most important question was: why? And which one was the real one?

"I'd rather drink all of my cocoa by myself", Silke explained after a short pause, with a hint of formality in her voice. "I should probably start drinking from a barrel or something anyway, since regular mugs or glasses seem to contain way too little for my tastes."

“Well...”, Iris shrugged, knocking the pot with her fingernail. “Dis thin’ is ‘alf empty, so wont fill a barrel wid dis, but... We should all still get a heckin’ mugful...”

Iris’ voice lacked the energy it had a moment ago, suddenly sounding rather tired. Her gaze traveled in the room, from the door, to the flames still dancing on the stove, and to a carbuncle clock, hanging on the wall. She could not look Silke in the eyes. She very well knew she had once again let down the woman she loved. And that love burned in her chest, hotter than the flames on the stove... harder to ignore than the burning sensation on her arm. Yet why was it she could only bring misery into Silke’s life? Time after time after time.

“...I’m gonna find dat whipcream and candies, if ya mix tha cocoa, okai..?” she finally sighed, moving up to the cabinet, starting to go through the foodstuff Silke had stored. Soon she pulled out a small back of marshmallows, waving it in the air, in front of Silke’s eyes. “Lookie-look whut I found! Lets just stack a mad pile of dese onto tha whipcream! It will be fockin’ beautiful... Like a heckin’ tiny snow castle... ‘Aight?”

*** Evangeline walked briskly down the steps, her goal clear in her mind. A chill sat in the air, the same that seemed to sit permanently in Ishgard, regardless of the time of year.  Eva could see her breath, just barely, a vaporous cloud that was constantly being remade and dispersed as she exhaled and strode through it. She wore a wry smile, unsure of what exactly she should be feeling right now. She had time to walk, time to herself, time with her own thoughts. Though this, to her, felt like a punishment worse than death, perhaps she could straighten this whole thing out in her head.  Find out where she stood.  What she should do next.

Very well... let’s look at the facts, she thought, releasing a sigh inwardly.

Fact: Iris and I just met.  We have formed an odd sort of arrangement that has her spending time with me for compensation.

Fact: Iris and I slept together. I enjoyed it and she seemed to enjoy it. Evangeline moved slightly out of the way, angling her body to the side so that she could fit between a merchant’s stand and a heavyset man that was moving in the other direction.

Fact: I pulled Iris from a breakdown. She seems to struggle with another personality of some kind. She seemed expectant that I would leave after finding that out. I did not. Also, she fell asleep in my arms. It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing she usually does. She wiped her nose. It must surely be red at this point, with how chilly it was outside.

Fact: She has shown some level of interest in me. She dreaded stating this next one to herself.

Fact: I have... fallen for Iris. Against my better judgement in every way. She has a pull over me that I haven’t truly experienced before, and I can’t fight it.

F-fact... Iris... I-Iris is in l-love... with S-Silke.

That thought was what did it. That was the one that set the tears flowing. Eva kept walking, her goal still clear in her mind, but with tears pouring down her cheeks. How had she done this to herself... jumped straight from one failing relationship into another one. She had left Solenna... sweet, wonderful Solenna...for this? A pale, thin viera woman... so thin that she seemed malnourished... who could barely manage to give her the time of day if she asked?

And on top of all of that... she was so clearly in love with Silke. The woman was all over her! Iris did nothing but praise Silke... her perfect little angel. The apple of her eye. This begged the question, though... why weren’t the two of them together? Was it Iris? Her refusal to be tied down? Or was there something about Silke that Evangeline didn’t know…? There’s no way...no way Iris wouldn’t have said something.  She must have confessed her feelings to Silke.

Evangeline turned a corner, tears still stinging at her face. She wiped at her nose again, and then her eyes, wiping them first and then rubbing at them, hoping that she didn’t look to be too much of a mess. She sniffled, and continued walking, seeing the Apothecary’s sign in the distance. Perhaps she should just excuse herself, and return to the manor. Maybe the two of them wanted time alone.

But... if that was the case, why had Iris invited her? She had seemed fairly eager to bring Eva along... despite her outburst in the bathroom. It was just... so damnably confusing. Did Iris want her?  Did Iris not want her? Was she a substitute for Silke? Or was she something different?

All of these questions went unanswered, though, as Evangeline stepped through the door to the Apothecary. She must have looked quite the sight, 6 fulms, 2 ilms of musclebound viera, ducking under the doorway to keep room enough for her ears as she did. Flushed from the cold, tears clinging to her cheeks... not something you would normally see on the streets of Ishgard. She stepped up to the shopkeeper, clearing her throat.

“G-good morning…”, she sniffled again, wiping at her nose. “Do you have anything that would help with a burn?  And some clean bandages?”

The merchant, a rather young looking miqo'te man, took a moment to first absorb the sight of Evangeline, and then another to process what she was asking for.

“Uhm... er.. .y-yes. The aloe lotion, over in the corner on the second highest shelf. And we have bandages right here at the counter. Just... apply the lotion, it should help with the pain. Wrap it in bandages, and change them every four hours. You’ll probably want to reapply the lotion when you change them.”

Evangeline nodded in thanks, and efficiently collected her goods, paying for them with gil from a small pouch she kept tied around her waist.  She took her leave, waving at the young man, who looked as if he wanted to say something as she was leaving, but decided not to.

She exited the shop, back into the cold air. It was starting to feel a bit more punishing, and Eva could see a few snowflakes starting to dot the sky in the distance. She would be back soon. She almost wanted to drop off the bandages and then leave, but... maybe she should stay a little bit. See how things played out. Maybe she could get a little bit more understanding of the situation... because she refused to let go of Iris without being sure she wasn’t wanted. She kept moving forward, upset, angry, sad, and tired...but a bit more determined than she had been a few minutes ago.

***

Silke gave Iris a small nod, before grabbing a pouch of cocoa powder and starting to spoon it into the cups. She was working near the small kitchen window, glancing at the gray inner court every now and then, and her back turned to Iris.

Overall Silke saw herself as a positive person. She didn't truly hate anything, although she often joked about it. Hate was such a powerful word. But if someone had asked her to point just one thing she could say she truly hated, it would've been mixed signals, messing with her. Most people tended to mess with her in one way or another, and at least with her inner circle Silke wanted to feel safe enough to lower her defenses. Keeping them up constantly was tiring and it ate her from the inside.

'It was supposed to be over', she thought. 'We had our misunderstandings and arguments, we overcame them and we were just fine. Why did she have to continue it? She could've done her thing with Evangeline, heck, even bring her here. But why rub it in? I'm too tired for this shite.'

When Iris found the marshmallows and said they'd make the cocoa toppings like a snow castle, Silke felt tears trying to come out. Stubbornly she pushed them back while biting her lip, before glancing at Iris over her shoulder, smiling and agreeing lightly:

"Sounds fancy. Just the thought of it makes me almost feel our blood vessels blocking up." She turned around and started to stir the drinks. "But still, oh, so delicious. Why must everything unhealthy be so delicious?"

Silke glanced outside again, towards the gray sky. After the exams of this month were over, the students could choose a place to go study more how things worked in practice. So far they had been mostly studying theory of all general subjects, and only doing some smaller and safer experiments while their teachers had been watching them closely. Now was the time for action, and the beginning of specialized studies. Silke was about to dive into the studies of a battle mage and destructive alchemy. She pondered to herself which post could possibly be the farthest one away from Ishgard. “Why? Because tha world is a heckin’ unfair place, Blackbird”, Iris said. “In a damn perfect world, we would be livin’ in a frickin’ castle somewhere in tha mountains. ‘Ave a damn barrel o’ cocoa, a bath’ouse and a fockin’ basement full o’ blastin’ powder and booze to play wid.”

Iris rolled a single marshmallow between her fingers, squeezing it down, and watching it  slowly buff back up, as she loosened her grip. “...Yet ‘ere we are. In a fockin’ apartment flat, in a city filled with damn arseplucks who dont get us. Like fockin’ birds in a cage...”, she flipped the candy into her mouth, turning to Silke, who was still working with her cocoa mix.

Silke was so beautiful. In her own, rather curious way, she was stunning. After a while, Iris caught herself staring at her friend, the marshmallow still lingering on her tongue. Viera shook her head, picking up another candy from the bag, and reaching it towards Silke, holding it an inch away from woman’s lips. Silke’s spoon stopped moving, and she placed it down on the table. Carefully, she took the candy from Iris, holding it for a moment, and placing it into her mouth.

Oh, how much Iris had hoped for the woman to pick the candy from her fingers, using her lips. She had almost seen it happening in her mind, but then again... Silke would never do such a thing. What was she even thinking? Most likely nothing. The tears were burning her eyes, almost masking away the burning sensation on her arm, but she kept them in, flipping another candy into her mouth. She missed though, the soft candy hitting her on the cheek, and falling onto the table.

“...I’m workin’ mi fockin’ ass off to make sum cash. It’s... gonna take some time, as yer sissie has cut mi shifts to ‘alf lately, but... I’m gettin’ dere, Silke... And... And when I ‘ave got sum savin’s, I thought I could... Ya know... Get sum own place sumwhere, and I thought...” A sound of door opening interrupted Iris in the middle of the sentence, and she hissed a curse under her breath. “...We are in tha fockin’ kitchen, Evangelin’!” she shouted towards the doorway, her long, sickly fingers gripping the bag of marshmallows spasmodically. Evangeline slid the door open, a paper bag of medical supplies clutched in her hand. She had tried to wipe at her eyes and her nose as much as possible, and though she had cleared them both (or so she thought) she could only assume that her smudged eyeliner and her most likely running mascara would display that she had been crying. She supposed that she would deal with that when the time came-for now, at least, she wanted to focus on the task at hand. Iris’ arm needed to be bandaged... she must be in incredible pain right now. Eva’s feelings could wait.

She startled at the sound of Iris’ shout. She seemed upset... which stood to reason with a burned arm. Eva stepped briskly into the kitchen, noting the two vieras seemed to be casually conversing. Iris must have an impressive pain tolerance... ran through her head as she saw how Iris was standing. When she met Iris’ eyes, though, she was a bit taken aback by the other woman’s expression.

Had Eva done something wrong? Offended her somehow? She shook her head, trying to clear out the stray thoughts. That would be a question for later…

Evangeline moved to the sink, excusing herself as she moved past Silke, and washed her hands. Water, soap, water, towel. She picked up the bag from the side of the sink, wandering over to Iris and removing a roll of bandages, a roll of medical tape, and a small metal container from the bag. She gestured to Iris to show her arm.

“We need to put this cream on your arm. It will calm the burn and lessen the pain. Then we wrap it in this bandage, and change it every four hours until it’s not causing you as much pain. Would you like to sit down so I can get it wrapped up?”  Evangeline looked at Iris and gave the brightest smile she could muster. “I’m fine, Evangelin’! It’s just a heckin’ small burn... Will... ‘eal on its own by the damn mornin’...”, Iris looked at her burned arm, which was visibly shaking, like dead leaves in a breeze. She felt the burn, like it was creeping into her bones. On top of that, the arm had started to ache, sending arrows of pain up towards elbow, and down to her fingers, still holding onto the bag of marshmallows.

“...Fockin’ ‘ell, fine! Do whut ya wish... But change every fourth ‘our, ya say? Ya ‘ear dat, Silke? Yer gonna come over to sleep wid mi, and change mi bandages, and kiss da pain awai, hm?” Iris took one more candy out of the bag, before placing the back on the table, right next to Silke, and making her way to a tiny dinner table, which was loaded with books on a dangerously unsteady pile. Viera sat down onto the chair, placing her elbow onto the table, so her arm was hanging on air. “...Do ya mind, if I smoke, darlin?” Why in the seven hells does she keep talking about 'us', Silke thought, stirring the cocoas even more furiously, although the powder had dissolved into the drinks ages ago. Iris was truly hopeless. Silke had explained to her in words of one syllable why it just wouldn't work, and how it would only cause them both more pain. And despite it all here they were again. Should she draw some godsdamned diagram about it next? It probably wouldn't work either. Iris' skull was apparently too thick for receiving information.

Silke felt, oddly enough, somewhat relieved when she heard the door in the hallway and realized Evangeline had returned. At least now she wouldn't have to listen to all this sweet talk, which made Silke remember all the good moments she and Iris had had together, and which were now like acid poured into her reopened wounds. She grabbed the whipped cream container from the table and squeezed so much cream into every mug, that the cocoas ended up looking like soft ice served in mugs.

Meanwhile Evangeline was tending Iris, Silke took one of the mugs and sat on the other side of the table, opposite the two others. She was observing them closely, while poking her spoon into the cream, taking a full load of hot cocoa and cream, poked it into her mouth, into the cream again and so on. Silke noticed Evangeline's reddish eyes. She had probably been crying. Silke had had somewhat mixed feelings towards her, but right now she was mainly feeling sorry for her. Iris was probably just playing with them both.

Silke couldn't help but frown at Iris' comment. For a moment she froze to stare at her in disbelief. 'Are you focking kidding me?!' she was tempted to ask, and to slam her mug onto the table with full force to give her words some more spice. Then she noticed the mug was one of her favorites: a pink one, that had two black eyes, a snout and a little pigtail on the other side of it. She quickly let go of it, and yanked her shaking hand into her lap.

"I'm not going anywhere", she announced in a steady voice. "I have places to be tomorrow morning. And I doubt you need me to tend you, Iris. I'm sure your other hand is working just fine, and you can do it yourself." She scooped a couple of spoonfuls of whipped cream into her mouth, before adding: "No smoking allowed indoors, they say. The stench gets absorbed into the structures. And if they'll find something to complain about this apartment when I'm about to move, guess who gets to pay the expenses?" “Fine... No smokin’ indoors...”, Iris stuffed the pack of cigarettes back into her pocket with her free hand.

She glanced towards Eva, seeing woman’s red eyes and smeared eyeliner. Of course Eva had been crying. ‘What else I do these days than make people cry?’ Iris thought to herself.

Her gaze traveled from Eva to Silke, sitting on the other side of the table with her pink piggie-mug. Her dearest friend. The girl she loved... the only girl she had ever truly loved... sat there, so distant. Acting almost like she did not even know Iris anymore. There was no snow castle of mashmallows on her mountain of whipcream... And that’s when the storm that had been raging inside Iris broke the dam. She coiled forward on the bench, as the tears started running down freely on her pale cheeks. Dripping onto the burn, like a salty summer rain. Evangeline had been doing rather impressively at holding herself together, she had thought. As she applied the cream very gently to Iris’ arm, she quietly listened to the other two talk. Iris doing her level best to whisper sweet nothings to Silke with a megaphone, and Silke seeming... cold. She sounded even less inclined to put up with Iris than when they had walked in the door.

Iris put away her cigarettes at Silke’s behest, and, with a quick glance around the room, seemed to finally give way to the tension that had been building in her this whole time. She huddled over and burst into tears. Evangeline looked up, shaken by the sudden change in mood, and turned her eyes to Silke, ‘what do I do?’ written across her face.

Silke’s eyes, at first, were locked on Iris, seeming shocked by the outburst. They glazed over with sadness for just a moment... so quickly that Evangeline would have missed it, had she not been searching desperately for an answer on the viera’s bespectacled face. The sadness faded, though, as quickly as it had come. She retained control of herself, and took another drink of cocoa, faster now than she had before.

“Ahh...I-Iris…”, Evangeline said, unsure of how to handle the situation given her companion’s preferences. Iris had specifically said that she didn’t want to be hugged. She didn’t want that kind of relationship with Eva. Evangeline wanted nothing more than to take the woman in her arms and be there for her. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Iris wanted... Iris wanted companionship without the relationship. Because the relationship she wanted eluded her, somehow.

For some reason, her and Silke didn’t work. Eva didn’t know what it was, but there seemed to be a mountain of hurt between the two. She didn’t know what could be done to fix things for these two... and... she hated to admit it to herself... but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to fix this. It felt horrible, and selfish to think of. She wanted Iris to be happy. But she wanted Iris to be happy with her. Wanted Iris to fall into her arms. Wanted Iris to come home to her. Maybe Iris didn’t love her now... but maybe she would. Someday. Maybe... maybe it was best to go with the safest option here.

“Iris?  C-can... can I touch you?” Eva hoped desperately that she would be able to embrace the woman. That she wouldn’t run. That she wouldn’t disappear. She couldn’t just sit here in silence, though. Silke didn’t seem inclined to do anything about this. Eva looked at Silke again, wondering if her temperament had changed. As she did, Silke finished her cocoa, stood up, and walked out of the room. While Silke marched into the living room, she cursed from the bottom of her heart they were all in her place. Normally she would just leave situations like this, but where could she go now that she was already at home? She couldn't fall apart while there were guests around. She was so tired of crying. She felt she had cried for at least ten or more people lately.

Laurence was still sleeping on the sofa. Silke was tempted to hug him, but she decided to skip that as well. She knew if she hugged something right now, she couldn't probably hold it in anymore.

Silke had been waiting for the damn dinner so much. It was supposed to have been a new beginning for them all. If Asagi and Varg could've just started behaving like normal, functional adults around each other, it would've made everyone else's life easier. Now Silke was no longer certain did she even want to go. If Evangeline lived in the estate nowadays, no doubt she'd attend the dinner, too. And Asagi had announced Ainu, who had just arrived to Ishgard, would join them as well. Silke thought it was a terrible idea. The lalafell was a focking sociopath. And Asagi was delusional if she thought she could cure her with motherly love and care. That case was beyond help.

And if Iris thought she'd make Silke's heart melt by crying, she couldn't have been more wrong. Silke kept repeating 'self care' like a manta in her mind, hugging herself and squeezing her arms with her nails, while looking outside from the window, although there was absolutely nothing interesting there. Iris was just like the rest of them. For a moment Silke had hoped she would've been wrong, but it was all the same shite in the end, just wrapped in a slightly different package. “Don’t touch mi!” Iris screeched through her tears, while cradling herself back and forth on the chair. “Don’t ya fockin’ touch mi! W-We had a d-deal, is it so frickin’ ‘ard to u-understand?!”

Still, somewhere deep in her heart, Iris wanted Evangeline to hold her. She wanted Silke to hold her. The woman she had once been, on the streets of Limsa Lominsa, would have given anything in the world, to have someone to wrap arms around her, telling her everything would be alright. That the morning would come, after the stormy night, and it would be beautiful.

Yet that woman was trapped, deep below the layers of fear, hatred and agony. From the corner of her eyes, Iris had seen Silke emptying her cup of cocoa, and walking out of the room. The sight was the executioner, wearing a dirty, black hood, and pulling the lever, which finally dropped the heavy blade down, splitting Iris’ heart in two.

“I... I just w-wanted to build... a heckin’ castle...”, her voice was barely audible. “Wanted to build a damn castle for... for us to l-live in...” Iris got up, her head feeling dizzy.

It was like time in the room had suddenly stopped onto its tracks. The spring inside the clock had broken, freezing the pointers on the same dead moment for ever and ever. She made her way to the cup of cocoa, still resting on the counter. Her long, pale fingers, reached into the bag, picking up a single marshmallow, and placing it on the huge mountain of whipped cream. After looking at it for a while, she reached for another, and another, carefully piling them on the mountain, with her shaking hand.

“...A-And dis is where dey lived...”, she muttered, while balancing the candy onto drink. “...A h-heckin’ beautiful castle, on a mountains... dat rose above t-tha forest, like clouds... Damn lucky bastards... A poet and ‘er muse. I-I bet ya ‘ave never seen such beautiful woman...” Iris paused for a moment, to wipe away tears that were running free over her cheeks, like small, salty rivulets.

“...Yet da poet had a s-secret... ‘Er words were poison. Drippin’ from ‘er mouth, every time she opened it to weave words. Why? ...Because tha poet was... a frickin’ monster... A creature, which was in love wid tha gal, and ‘ad taken a form o’ a poet to be wid ‘er... Yet tha mask on ‘er face did not keep tha poison from drippin’... And all tha words tha poet weaved for dat gal? Dey just tainted ��er. Made ‘er sick... And when da gal finally withered awai? Tha castle on clouds came crashin’ down, buryin’ tha monster alive...”

As Iris stopped, the pile of marshmallows on the whipped cream had grown into an unstable little mountain on its own. She picked up a spoon, her hand shaking, and scooped up most of the whipped cream and candies. “...Fockin’ crashin’ down...” She placed the spoonful into her mouth, and the sweet taste mixed with the saltiness of her own tears. Evangeline sat, listening to Iris weave her story.  A fairy tale... Eva wondered if this was some sort of response to trauma. Iris’ other self seemed to be lost in a dreamland, so fully steeped in fantasy that she couldn’t recognize any part of reality. This... this seemed to be Iris teetering on the edge. Wavering between reality and fantasy. Because... because she couldn’t bear... to lose Silke. Damnable, adorable Silke.

After a few minutes, Iris’ story ended, the monster that represented her crushed under a mountain of rubble. Evangeline stood up, hoping that she could figure out how to handle this one. Hoping that she could pull Iris from the edge, and not hurl her off of it unintentionally. She took a step forward... and then another. She felt as if her shoes were lined with lead. She reached up, placing a trembling hand on Iris’ shoulder almost instinctively, her mind ceding to her body once again. Iris winced as Eva touched her shoulder, but didn’t seem to react any other way, still poking at the cocoa with her spoon, eyes fixed on the horizon, where dark clouds were gathering.

“Iris…”, Evangeline said quietly. “I may not be much... but I’m not going anywhere. I know I’m not h-her... but I am yours. I’m right here... by your side. And you’re... you’re right here with me. I couldn’t i-imagine how you’re feeling right now... but I’ll stay with you through it. I’m not running away. I...I don’t want to restrict you... or keep you... I just want to be with you…”, she trailed off, biting her lip.

Gods this was difficult. Finding words... she felt like she was just repeating things she had already said. “I-I like you. A lot.” She blurted out. “You’re att... att…”,  her mouth couldn’t find the word, caught in her throat as it was. “Att… attrraactive to me for a lot of reasons. Y-you’re strong...and p-perseverant... you’re beautiful… but I want you to be free, still.”

The tears were welling up in her eyes now... wouldn’t be long before she couldn’t hold them back any more. She thought briefly of offering to talk to Silke... but she was feeling a little too selfish to do that right now. Maybe if Iris asked her... “I want to touch you... to hold you... b-because I think it might help... but I don’t want you to feel trapped…”, she said, her breath catching in her lungs as she did. “C-can you let me? I’ll let go... I’ll let go the moment you ask me to.” Silke heard the other two talking something in the kitchen, and as time passed, she became more and more convinced she either had to get rid of them, or she had to get out. She glanced once again at Laurence sleeping on the couch.

That's right. She hadn't taken him out yet. A perfect excuse. She hurried to her closet and rummaged through it, trying to find some clothes that hadn't been amongst the laundry. The fancy dress Iris had given her was there, but right now Silke would've rather walked out naked than worn it. There were also both of her party dresses. They were all black, but the other one was long and fancy, and didn't have sleeves. Silke had planned to wear it during the dinner. The other one was festive as well, but compared to the first one, way more casual. Its hem reached her knees, it had tight, long puff sleeves, and it didn't reveal as much. That would do, she thought.

Silke quickly changed into it, hoping the other two wouldn't surprise her meanwhile. They didn't. They seemed to have much to talk about.

Simultaneously Silke took off her tiny panties and revealing nightgown. She had used them only for one night, so they hadn't gotten dirty yet. She'd return them to Iris before they left. Silke didn't have to go out without pants, since she also managed to find some old leggings that had gotten short for her. She didn't mind. Nobody would notice their length while she was wearing her high heeled, leathery thighboots.

Silke combed her hair hastily and tied the long, thick ponytail on her crown. Her bangs were somewhat messy, but she didn't bother to do anything to them. Meanwhile looking at herself from mirror she pondered maybe she could go to store too. That would prolong her trip to the city, and Iris and Evangeline would've hopefully focked off by then. Though, Silke was too tired to see too much effort for her make-up. She took a black eyeliner and drew even darker circles on the ones already existing. She painted her lips dark pink, so that she wouldn't look like a corpse.

"Laurence? Are you awake, boy?" she asked in a tired voice, while crouching next to the sofa, gently petting the sleepy dog. Iris heard Eva’s words, but it was like they were coming from somewhere, really far away, behind a veil of fog, even though she knew the woman was standing right behind her. Y-You are not well... s-something is wrong... Iris shook her head, trying to make the voice go away... It didn’t.

I... I want my knight... my knight in a shining armor, where is he? I have... I have lost my knight!

“Shut up!!”

T-The castle, it’s... its crumbling. What is happening..? Help me... please...

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!”

Iris closed her eyes tightly, fingers on her temples, long, clawlike nails, digging in and drawing blood. She took a step back, walking into Evangeline, and leaning back against the woman’s chest.

Evangeline tensed up for a moment. The other woman was struggling, that much was obvious. Eva hoped that she could calm her down. She was digging her nails into her forehead again. Without even thinking about it, Evangeline gently placed her arms around Iris, not holding her back, or restricting her movement, but cuddling up against Iris' lithe frame.

"Iris... Iris you're here with me, okay? It's just you, Iris. Just you and me. You are Iris, nobody else. It's going to be okay... everything is going to be okay. Listen to the sound of my voice... follow me back..."

“...All I wanted to do, is fockin’ build a castle... L-Look at dat!” Iris waved her hands towards Evangeline’s mug, still resting on the counter, untouched. “Dere is no fockin’ castle... W-Where is my knight? I... I want my... I want mi Silke... Cinnabun? I’m.. I’m so...”

Iris felt the arms that were wrapped around her, like a cradle, everything else was hidden behind the deep fog in her head. What was this place? Who was she? And who’s arms were these? She did not really care anymore.

She felt numb, and when the fog finally parted, she was standing on a shore. A shore of white sand, like ground bones reached as far as the eye can see on her both sides. And in front of her? There was a ocean. A black ocean from where the calms waves rolled in to shore, to caress it like a lover’s fingers for just a moment, before falling back into the embrace of the ocean.

Iris took one step... and another. Her eyes caught the arm, where the burn had been only a moment ago. Yet now? There was nothing. The burn was gone, same with the pain it had brought. Tilting her head, Iris poked the skin couple of times, then pinching it between her fingers, and pullin. No pain. Nothing. She kept walking.

The black waves were calling her with a voice she knew, but could not place to who it belonged to. She stepped into water, walking on, until it reached almost to her knees, when she heard another voice from behind her, and turned around. On the waterline, veiled by the fog, she saw three figures. A Three pairs of long ears.

A tall warrior, a woman with long, ghostly hair, and a sickly, corpse-like woman, standing between them. The panic washed over her... she had to walk back, what was she doing? Yet, when she tried to move her legs, they felt like something was holding them from the bottom of the ocean.

Oh gods... You sound like a vulture... They are my favourite birds...

It’s going to be okay... Everything is going to be okay...

S-Something is not right...

The panic washed over Iris, and she jerked her leg again, but instead of getting it free, she lost her balance, falling back into the embrace of deep black. Iris gasped in Evangeline’s embrace, opening her eyes.

Her burned arm looked horrible. Like someone had been ripping out skin from the burned area. She sighed deeply, moving her fingers on top of the burn, and mumbling words under her breath. A faint light, mix of black and shades of purple started dancing around her fingertips, slowly sewing shut the worst of the damage, even though the arm still looked burned and blistered.

“Seven hells, how did this happen?" Iris’ eyes were closed. She seemed stuck... wrapped in a dreamlike state, twitching involuntarily as if she were sleeping. Evangeline’s heart rate rose, as fear gripped at her, clawing at her arms, her legs... she held Iris, still as gently as if her arms were wrapped around the finest glass vase the world had ever seen.

How was Iris suddenly so precious to her? Why did she feel the need to protect her? Some people had baggage...but Iris had wagonfulls. Cities filled with baggage. The smart move would be to walk away from this mess. To set Iris gently down and leave this place... run far away from Ishgard and never return. Maybe she could win Solenna back.

She barely entertained the thought, though, looking at Iris’ face. Pained and thin, weak and scared. Beautiful, pitiful, and now...alone. Eva could leave her no more than she could leave her own legs behind.  She would just have to figure something out.

As Iris opened her eyes, gasping for breath as if she had been drowning, Evangeline’s heart leapt from her chest, relief pouring through her veins. She was about to say something... to thank the twelve that Iris was back... but she watched as Iris sighed and healed her arm.

”Seven hells, how did this happen?” ...What? That... that wasn’t Iris’ voice. Iris couldn’t heal herself. This was wrong. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the other, either. The one who called herself ‘Lareine’ didn’t speak like that.

Evangeline felt herself tense up again, her relief pulled out of her body like air from a drowned person’s lungs. Still keeping her arms gently around the body of Iris, she whispered quietly to the not-Iris:

“In response to your question... you spilled boiling water on your arm. It was burned, and I was caring for it. I have a question of my own, though, if you don’t mind... what is your name?” ‘Burned my arm..?’ the pale viera thought to herself, as her eyes caught Evangeline’s arms, still wrapped around her. ‘Must have been wild evening’.

She had no idea where she was. Nothing in this place seemed in any way familiar to her. She had no memory of burning her arm with boiling water... and the whole idea sounded so foolish in her head. And on top of everything. Who the hell was this woman, embracing her, and tending to her injury? The burn would leave a scar by now... Why did she not tend it with magic herself it in the first place?

Maybe this was all just a twisted dream, and she would wake up sooner or later. The not-Iris reached out towards the counter, picking up the cup of cocoa, and brought it on her lips, taking a sip.

“Well, considering the fact you are asking for my name, I guess you are not my mate... So my second guess would be... One-night stand? Either way, I would be grateful, if you removed your arms from me. As much as this looks like some ending scene on a romance novel, with whole kitchen and hot cocoa... Having a complete stranger just hanging on your ass is rather... obtrusive.”

Placing down her cup, the viera studied the arms that were holding her. Strong... hardy... the woman was either a soldier, or maybe a smith. A farmhand was unlikely, considering the overall cleanliness or the arms and nails. ‘Must be a soldier of some sort’.

“The name is Irene... Irene d’Espair... and I guess this is a pleasure. For now.” The other two could hear a silent snapping against the floor, before Laurence appeared from the living room, stretching and yawning, and wearing a red leather collar, decorated with silver colored, heart shaped staples. A black leather leash had been tied to the collar, and soon Silke appeared from the living room after the dog, holding the other end of the leash, and her high heeled boots snapping the floor as well, though more loudly.

"Guys?" she said, smiling warmly with her narrow lips that resembled a rosebud. However, her turquoise eyes were faded like a corpse's, and devoid of any emotion. "I just remembered the last time I took Laurence out was yesterday evening. I need to go. And I'm going to fetch some groceries too, so don't bother waiting for me. This is going to take a while." Irene turned her head towards the voice, as much as she could with Evangeline’s arms around her. The woman was so tall, Irene could barely peek over her shoulder, but when she did, she saw another viera woman on the doorway. Now this was... curious? How many people were there, calling this lousy hole ‘a home’?

The newcomer was a complete opposite to the viera holding her. Pale skin... straight hair pulled up on a thick ponytail, and dead eyes behind those round glasses smeared with black. The overall impression of the woman was apathetic, even with the beautiful dress and red-painted lips. A junkie most likely... and by the looks of it... a prostitute.

“Well... good morning to you too...” Irene said. At this point, Silke's expectations of the other two and especially Iris had sunken so deep one would've needed a shovel... or no, a digger, to dig them back up to daylight. However, this was the new low. This was the peak of insolence. First Iris had the nerve to strut here, bragging about her fock partner, and now she was behaving like Silke would've interrupted their affectionate moment in her own kitchen.

Instead of giving the lingerie to Iris, Silke squeezed them into her leash free fist and hurled them onto the floor, next to their feet.

"Oh for fock's sake!" she could no longer remain polite. "You two damsels better drag your asses out of my place before I return if you value those pretty faces of yours!"

With that, she flung the door open, marched out with the excited shiba, and slammed the door shut behind her with such power that it made the windows jingle. Irene stared at the viera’s sudden outburst, wincing, as the door was slammed shut. Her gaze traveled from the door to the rather slutty lingerie on the floor, and up to Evangeline. “Your wife, I presume?” Evangeline removed her arms the moment it was requested. She was almost immediately overwhelmed by just how much everything had come crashing down in just the last few minutes. Crying... heartbreak... she could deal with that, and take it in stride. Maybe. For now.

But she had thought...she had thought there were only two of them. What in Halone’s name was she supposed to do now…? She could only hope that what worked last time would work again. As Silke left in a huff, Eva called out to her, hoping she would stop, but she was already well on her way down the stairs, the sound of the door slamming most likely preventing Silke from hearing her regardless.

“Wait, Silke! She’s not…”, she trailed off, realizing how fruitless it was to say ‘not Iris’ given that Silke was long gone already. She was upset... not just upset, but fuming. Evangeline hoped she could do something... but for fuck’s sake if this wasn’t more important right now, she didn’t know what was.

Evangeline was taken aback at not-Iris’ statement, wondering how those dots in particular had decided to connect in her mind.  She blushed slightly, mumbling: “N-no...she’s...she’s your best friend.  You brought me here to introduce me to her.”  She shook her head slowly.

“More to the point…”  Eva looked into not-Iris’ eyes. Once again... it was so alien. So not Iris. The spark, the flame that sat beneath the lakes of purple was unusual. There wasn’t a hint of Iris left.

“Iris... are you there? Can you hear me? Come back to me...please…”, she pleaded, hoping desperately that it would work. She was afraid of what would happen... Iris had left because of Silke. Evangeline wasn’t enough. Just like she had always been... not enough. Insufficient. Irene kept her purple eyes nailed onto the viera infront of her. This situation was absurd. Quite intriguing, but absurd... ‘This woman is mad as a cuckoo clock’, she thought to herself, while following the other’s pleas, calling for someone named ‘Iris’. Oh, how she wanted to open this lady’s head, just to see what was going on inside it... And if this was Irene’s dream... would the red-head even mind a little poking around her brain? Such an intriguing case...

“Wait, wait, wait...”, Irene said finally, her voice calm, like a surface of a lake after a storm had ended. “...First of all... I dont know who this ‘Iris’ is... I also have no idea who the woman who just walked out was. I have never seen her before. What I think, girl, is that you are going through a mild case of psychosis... most likely triggered by your wife, finding us together. My name is Irene... And I have never been here before. Honestly? I still believe this is some mindless dream, but in case its not... I’m willing to help you out... If I can, that is.”

A weird smile played on Irene’s lips. A smile that did not reach the eyes. The eyes were cold, and lifeless, except the small foxfire looming behind the purple pools. She placed her hand, or Iris’ hand onto Evangeline’s shoulder. “I think we should go, before your loved one returns. Seeing her now, might just mess your little head even more than it already is.” Iris’ eyes didn’t change. She didn’t wake up... or gain control... like she had before. Usually Iris was desperate to fight to the surface. She had such a strong will. Which meant... which meant this time... she didn’t want to come back. Eva wasn’t enough. She was never enough. She was never what anyone wanted.

Her breath came fast and ragged, such that she was almost hyperventilating. Trying desperately to contain herself, she listened to the not-Iris speak. Offer to ‘help’ her. Flash her a lifeless, lightless smile. A not-Iris smile. Evangeline couldn’t help herself anymore, and burst into tears. Sobbing into her hands, she was able to squeak:

“Y-yeess... w-we should g-go…”

Nodding her head slowly, she gasped for breath, trying to see the other woman through the tears. Maybe this was the best way to do things... she couldn’t let the not-Iris get away from her. Maybe she could get her back to house Blacksoul, and seek help from its lord, or at least Arsene.

“I... I have a place... a p-place we can go…,” she whispered between whimpers. “J-just give me a moment t-to... com-compose myself…” Irene reached for her small incredient pouch, but it was not there... Thinking about it further, these were not even her clothes. The style was rather decent, so she could have very well picked them, but... it was not what she would usually wear. Quickly she went through the pockets of a jacket she had over the long black dress, but the only thing she could find was a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. No sign of her pouch.

She had hoped to give the weeping woman something to calm her nerves, but it was no use. ‘What happened to me anyway? Something does not sum up...’ The pale viera ended up to offer the pack of smokes towards Eva.

“These are yours? ...Wait a moment.” Irene lit a cigarette, drawing from it deep, and muttering words, her eyes closed. The words were barely audible, and did not sound like any language Evangeline understood.

Smoke was running over her lips with the words, and soon it gained a very faint glow. Irene leaned towards Eva, blowing the glowing smoke right into her mouth.

Evangeline was struggling to think straight. She didn't have much control over herself... her emotions were too much to contain right now. So intense were her feelings that she barely even noticed Irene take a drag of a cigarette and blow a lungfull of oddly colored smoke into her mouth. Her breath halted, and she immediately felt her lungs constrict, unfamiliar with the new sensation she was experiencing. Instinctively, though, she took a deep breath in, accepting the strange smoke into her body without realizing it.

Immediately, she felt a strange calm wash over her, as if her fears and worries had been constrained to a place just below the surface of her mind.  She could still feel them beating at her, trying to break down the door, but they were restrained for now. She shook her head, and wiped her eyes.

"Whaat... what was that? What did you just do...? And how did you do it? Iris didn't have... she didn't have any magic."

“I still dont know who this ‘Iris’ is, who you keep talking about, but I have few tricks up my sleeve”, Irene reminded. “Just try to stay calm. The effect is rather light, especially as I did not have my own incredients. But at least you are breathing again. Thats good.”

Irene picked up the mug of cocoa, and emptied it, before finishing the smoke. The cold, dead smile was still lingering on her lips, as she threw the pack of cigarettes to Eva, and walked past the woman, and towards the door, Silke had slammed shut only a moment earlier.

“Dont cry for your girl... She will come back to you, if its meant to be. Now shall we?” she nodded towards the door. “You have not told me your name yet.” Evangeline caught the cigarette pack. She felt falsely calm. It was such an alien feeling to her. That she should be so heartbroken and at the same time so controlled in the face of it was highly unusual. Her thoughts moved through her mind, tasting it and testing it as one would test a cut in one’s mouth, touching it with their tongue to see if it hurt. So enthralled was she with her sudden state of being that she almost forgot to answer the not-Iris’ question.

“Hello... my name is Evangeline. Evangeline Cross. Thank you... for whatever that was. As it seems that I have failed, and that we may be together for a time, perhaps I could do my best to furnish you with some information. Let’s... let’s walk and talk, shall we?”

Eva wandered towards the door, already starting to feel the despair creep back into her heart. She needed help... she needed Silke. She needed Silke to help her get Iris back. The viera was certainly gone for now, but perhaps Evangeline could return on another day. She would find a way to bring Iris back to her... she had to. She just hoped that it would be soon.

Eva opened the door, letting in a draft of dry, cold air. She motioned for the not-Iris to exit the building ahead of her, and stepped through the doorway behind her, shutting it behind her with a soft click.

With @lareine-kira​ & @evangeline-cross​ :3c

[ducktracy]

159. she was an acrobat's daughter (1937)

release date: april 10th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: mel blanc (dole promise, who dehr, heddie camphor, hippo, stickoutski, donkey, leslie howard, duck, father duck, angry moviegoers)

mel blanc’s roles are growing increasingly larger and larger, as they should be! not only is this a popular motif used in cartoons (such as being sung by daffy in daffy doodles), footage from the cartoon itself has been reused. bob clampett and art davis’ bacall to arms uses a hefty amount of footage from this cartoon, but for good reason. it’s a turning point for freleng for sure as we observe parodies of news reels, songs, movies, and more.

the title song is underscored as we iris in and pan down to the outside of a movie theater, advertising 36 HOURS TO KILL WITH HIS BROTHER’S WIFE (intentionally read as one single title). pan over to the other side: 15 FEATURES 15¢ -- ALSO REJECTED SHORTS (a pun on selected shorts). i believe this gag was in buddy’s theatre as well. inside, reused in bacall to arms, a lone moviegoer gets up and switches his seat. another decides to do the same, and then another, and soon enough the interior of the theater is whipped into a frenzy as everyone scrambles to change seats. a very funny gag with succinct timing. i don’t like comparing everything to tex avery, because friz has just as much talent as tex and i feel like i’m holding tex up as the Ultimate way to do animation, but this gag certainly does feel like an averyism. 

one of the many WARMER BROS. puns that we will be seeing in many a short (i believe debuted with hollywood capers? though it could have been from one of the bosko or buddy shorts too) as we open to the beginning of the show, a screen flashing WARMER BROS PRESENTS -- GOOFY-TONE NEWS -- SEES ALL-KNOWS NOTHING. the “sees all - knows nothing” is a take on “sees all, hears all, knows all”, from fox’s movietone news reels back in the day. the puns just keep on coming! 

a caricature of movietone news reporter lowell thomas, caricature design courtesy of t. hee, opens us up, billed as dole promise instead. mel blanc provides the vocals as dole announces “good evening, folks. this is, uh...” he pauses, forgetting his own name. the gag is wonderfully structured, as he has a nameplate and a sign posted on his desk, as well as his name posted in big letters right on the screen, yet he still squints at his script with the most analytical, stupefied concentration he can muster. the offscreen whisper of “dole promise!” is just the cherry on top. “oh yeah. this is dole promise, bringing you the latest news events of the day.”

the first news reel: U.S. BUILDS LONGEST LINER IN SHIP BUILDING RACE. wonderful timing (and a neat overhead layout!) as we see the longest liner in person: an extremely elongated ship right in the middle of new york and london. the ship inches forward to london, and then back to new york, and then we cut away to the next order of business. next: FLASH! SPECIAL! heddie camphor (a take on eddie cantor, of course) finds “little oscar”, vitamin (a take on vitaphone) newsreel man gets exclusive interview with oscar. we see a little bug next to a purse (that has the initials of JW on them, jack warner of warner bros fame) and hear mel blanc talking in a russian accent. “ahh, dere you are! tell us, oscar, how does feel for to be back home after being lost for such long time?” the little bug rambles on in high pitched, nonsensical garbles. “oh, thank you very much, oscar! how you like that? he say he would rather be lost!” i haven’t found anything as to what the gag means, so unfortunately the meaning has been lost to the sands of time. but, if anything, it’s amusing hearing mel do one of the voices we’ll be hearing so often in many cartoons.

what is it with movie-centric cartoons and hitler? bosko’s picture show in 1933 was the first cartoon of any studio to ever depict a caricature of hitler, and now we have a gag where a man is invited to sit in the last seat in the row. unfortunately, his view is seldom ideal: we see some rather impressive perspective and animation as hitler on screen marches forward, eventually disappearing into nothingness because the moviegoer can’t see anything. aggravated, he moves a few seats down, right in the front row and in the middle. i believe this is bob mckimson animation--this scene would be reused two years later in the film fan, with porky in place of the dog trying to crane his neck to see animation of a jockey riding on the horse. the warped perspective is quite impressive and does a good job of hitting home. we’ve all been there, stuck in the front row and trying to see what’s happening. nevertheless, the dog begrudgingly accepts his fate, forever doomed to view the news reel at inadequate angles.

also reused in bacall to arms is a gag of a hippo trying to get out of the row, proving to be a nuisance in the process. he’s a polite nuisance, at least, repeating “pardon. pardon me. pardon.” as he bulldozes his way through. tex avery would also lampoon overweight hippo moviegoers in his hamateur night in 1939. 

time for the birth of a caricature! we have our first caricature of vaudevillain lew lehr (penned as who dehr in this case), whose catchphrase “monkeys is da cwaziest peoples!” would be lampooned in many, many, many, MANY warner bros cartoons (especially bob clampett cartoons: porky in egypt, porky’s snooze reel, russian rhapsody, and so forth). here, he opens us up with nit-wit news. “ladies and peoples, listen while explaining you the latest news of da day.” the napoleon hat/garb in general is a nice touch, often used to symbolize insanity (like porky suffering here from the “desert madness”). 

lehr (or in this case dehr) narrates the malady of a strange dog bite affecting the city of “boondoggle”, mo. that strange malady has turned the citizens of boondoggle into boonDOGS as everyone runs around on all fours. “look at dat! even da mayor leads a dog’s life in boondoggle!” the mayor, digging a hole, comes across a dog and growls (i love the detail of his sideburns raising like a dog’s ears in defense), both him and the actual dog engaging in a tussle. the brushing on the fight is very well done for this time period, feeling like a precursor to drybrushing which would be so prevalent in so many cartoons. the mayor wins the fight, running away with a bone in his mouth. elsewhere,  BOONDOOGLE'S LEADING SOCIETY MATRON IS LATEST VICTIM OF SCOURGE. amusing animation and narration by blanc/dehr as a woman sits on a pillow, panting like a dog, eagerly running up to her butler and eating a piece of steak thrown at her. dehr wraps up the presentation, he himself getting a taste of the scourge as one of the affected residents crawls onscreen and bites dehr right in the leg. nonsensical? absolutely. but it’s the GOOD kind of nonsensical. the use of black and white is a nice touch with this being a technicolor cartoon. many of the other news reel cartoons have been/are in black and white, so the mixing of technicolor and B&W really adds some authenticity.

“boulevardier from the bronx” seems to be a theme for slow, lumbering characters as the lumbering hippo makes his return, squeezing himself through an angry row of patrons while he dismissively pardons himself. he sits himself down just in time to see “STICKOUTSKI at the fertilizer”. a lion caricature of leopold stokowski invites the moviegoers to a rousing chorus of “she was an acrobat’s daughter”--not unlike bosko getting his own audience to sing in bosko’s picture show. the song is very catchy, the slideshow visuals equally as entertaining as the lyrics. i especially love the gag where one picture, not a part of the slideshow, reads “please do not spit on the floor”, yet the patrons sing it in tune regardless, then correcting themselves and singing the next verse in the same tune. a hilarious gag with great timing. a short merrie melody for sure, but a good one at that.

next is a parody of the MGM lion, crowing like a rooster instead of doing its signature roar. the film is “petrified florist, a take on “petrified forest” (which would be used as a gag in book revue). after an interminable cast scroll through (reused in bacall to arms), we see the star of the film, a caricature of leslie howard unsuccessfully hitchhiking, tying his thumb to a railroad crossing sign, making the light swing. while the film is playing, a random donkey decides to peddle peanuts, crackerjack, chewing gum (with an underscore of “puddin’ head jones”, a favorite of mine). the donkey is booted out of the theater, hitting his head on a streetlight and still repeating his peauts, crackerjack, chewing gum mantra in a daze. a little incongruous and random, but there are some interesting angles and closeups as the donkey walks straight towards the audience.

back to the film, the leslie howard caricature summons a bette davis cariature (again, caricatures by t. hee), demanding some food. bette flirts with him, smitten. “what’s your name?” “puddin tame. ask me again, and i'll tell you the same.” “are you a poet?” “after a fashion. “ooh, i love poetry!” “would you like me to recite?” “no.” even better than the “no” gag is howard struggling to recite mary had a little lamb regardless. “mary lad a little hamb. mary mad a little amb. mary had... oh, she had a goat.” while leslie struggles to retell the story, bette sighs, completely enamored.

a very interesting discovery, at least for me: i always wondered why in some porky cartoons, porky had a little white duck sidekick (not daffy) who was a pest. mainly a 1939 phenomenon: i’ve only spotted him in it’s an ill wind and porky’s hotel. his name is either dizzy or dippy duck, i can’t remember. but i always wondered why he was porky’s sidekick when daffy was getting to be established as porky’s sidekick at the same time. turns out THIS dizzy/dippy duck’s first appearance, or at least a prototype. here, he pesters his dad, barraging him with questions. “why, daddy? why did the man look at her like that, daddy? why, daddy? does he like her, daddy? does he like the lady, daddy?” and so on. while the dad furiously attempts to hush his kid, his efforts are futile. the duck is only silenced once the entire row in front of him turns back to shoot him down with glares. that is, until the duck starts rambling again, asking a bunch of obnoxious questions. i love this in particular, for i can relate--weird anecdote, but my mom said the first movie she took me to i started walking up and down the aisles and chatting up strangers. so i like this kid! even better is when the angry front row shushes him once more with angry “NYEHHHH!”s. now, the father speaks up in a w.c. fields voice. “heyyy, what’s going on?” a punch to the face from an offscreen fist.

the kid, not getting the memo, pesters his dad once more, who shooes him away. now, the kid darts out of the theater and up to the projection booth. i love the animation of the kid turning his head in wonderment, staring at the door (bob mckimson maybe? it’s pretty solid and constructed). he barges in, fiddling with the controls. he turns a lever from MED. to FAST, and the movie is sped up to frightening speeds. the kid panics, trying to fix his error, but to no avail. now, the movie plays backwards. the animation is quite good--skipping and jumping around, but still room for there to be inbetweens of SOME sort. i can only imagine trying to sort those frames out in the (in)correct order! it’s easy to mess up, but hard to mess up on purpose!

now desperate, the kid sticks his beak inside the projection camera, where it gets caught. in a similar (yet less gruesome/strange) manner to baby bottleneck, the kid gets caught in the gears, his body twisting up and down and around, feathers expelled into the air. iris out as the kid flops to the ground, unscathed, cursing as his body is covered in film.

this cartoon is a GREAT one, probably the best we’ve seen from friz. or, at the very least, the funniest. it’s so ahead of it’s time--so much so that it was reused in chunks in bacall to arms in 1946, which proved to be quite anachronistic. you have the conflicting styles of clampett/davis (mainly clampett, this is probably the most clampett-y short in terms of looks out of the ones he didn’t finish) from 1946, and the simplistic 1937 friz style. that’s QUITE a contrast, but that tells you how well the humor holds up. i’m really fascinated by the dizzy/dippy prototype. in all likelihood, it was just a one off character. friz didn’t sit down thinking this would be his next star (our next review will cover talkative, famous ducks ;)), but he is VERY similar to the duck used in hardaway/dalton’s it’s an ill wind and later clampett’s duck used in porky’s hotel. i believe mel does almost all the voices, save for bette davis. i don’t believe the w.c. fields voice provided by the father duck is tedd pierce. it’s very exciting to see him climb up the ranks--next cartoon, he gets to voice our favorite pig (and duck!) in all, this is a hilarious cartoon. some of the gags are a little (or a lot) dated, often skewing the joke--i wish i knew what the meaning behind the little oscar joke was--but it wasn’t a constant thing. the song number was hilarious (i love the “please do not spit on the floor” gag) and catchy, the animation was good, the caricatures were lovely... while there are many more funny cartoons than this one, in terms of this time period and comparing it to what friz has churned out up to this point, it’s probably his funniest one yet, and that in itself constitutes a watch. it’s definitely the funniest news reel cartoon we’ve seen so far. go for it!

link!