#those two scenes we see buck waking up with socks on. i think about them a lot

[wimbledon2008]

buck and eddie are having the kind of sex where buck keeps his socks on while they do it. their first time together he goes to take them off because previous partners were weird about it but eddie notices and is like babe won't your feet get cold? leave them on. because eddie knows buck prefers to wear socks even in bed because with his long legs his pajama pants are always too short and leave his ankles exposed and now buck's sitting at the edge of the bed holding one sock and trying not to cry because eddie wants to fuck him in his socks. that kind of sex

[creativeashproductions]

Streetdogs and Chest Compressions // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Reader reconnected with her estranged younger brother in the cruelest of ways as the 118 is called the scene of three young men suffering after eating streetdogs. Unfortunately, this is how Buck meets the future brother in law he had no clue even existed.

Warnings: Swearing, family problems (aka estranged), withholding personal information, angst, medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 4.7k

A/N: This fic is a crossover between Julie and the Phantoms and 9-1-1 in which Luke, Reggie and Alex eat the streetdogs in modern times. Don’t worry, someone still dies. Reader’s nickname is Spitfire 

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Masterlist

It seemed Los Angeles was taking pity on the 118 with not even a single fire to be put out or medical needed. It was slow. Painfully slow, and you weren't even halfway through the twenty-four-hour shift. Hen and Chimney had taken the circular table for a card game, Bobby was reading a new cookbook. Eddie's Abuela had brought Christopher to the firehouse for his online schooling, the Diaz's wifi was malfunctioning. Buck and you had snuck off the bunk room to catch some sleep.

"Lazy movie day?" Buck asked with his arms tightly wound around your hips. Your form almost rested entirely on his front due to the narrow bunk.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." You replied to the content man underneath you. You could only hum as he shifted to kiss the top of your head, "Now shh. I want to slee-"

The bell sounded before you could even finish your sentence, "And what I didn't want to happen just had to spite me."

Buck and you hurried to quickly pull on your turnout gear before hopping into the respective seats you used. Eddie across from you, Buck driving with Bobby in the Captain seat. Hen and Chimney in the ambulance tailing you.

"We have three males in their late teens. Ate hotdogs in an alley before collapsing in the process." Bobby informed his team all the while he watched the road, "One is profusely puking, one's unconscious, and the last one is stable."

"Thinking it's food poisoning? That sudden?" Buck inquired with a swift glance from his position of driving. Bobby shrugged in response just as Buck eased the fire truck to a half near a crowded alley.

You were the first one out of the firetruck with your medical bag and halfway to the alley before the team could get out.

"Make some room!" You shouted among the heavily populated area, curious about the medical emergency.

Everything slowed down as you pushed between the last two people into something you called your worst nightmare. Three teenage individuals settled on their sides in unconscious states had been a fixture in your youth. Your eyes stayed pinned on the prone figure of your little brother.

It was like being underwater. Nothing could be heard, and it felt like you were in the process of drowning. It was the first time seeing Luke since you stormed out of your family home back when you were eighteen years old.

It was the same old unchanging story playing for months now with only the new addition of an audience. It was the middle of a blistering summer in Los Angeles, but it was the most heated in the Patterson household. You'd been at the movies with your best friends while your mother, Emily, was putting your laundry away.

Emily's hand had bumped your dresser by accident in her process of closing your socks drawer. The Patterson matriarch and her husband would never invade their children's rooms, but her keen eye had noticed the pamphlet; nothing serious like teen pregnancy but it was surprising.

Emily was holding a recruitment pamphlet for the Los Angeles Fire Department marked with your handwriting. Her heart dropped in sync with the front door slamming shut.

"I'm home!" You called out from the entrance. You didn't hear as your mother wandered into the open space. Her eyes flaring in both anger and fear; when a person is scared, they lash out.

That's what Emily did.

"What is this?"

Your eyes found the item in her hand that genuinely made your blood freeze in your veins. This was not how you'd wanted her to find out about your career decision.

"I'm applying. I graduated high school, and hopefully, I'll be train-"

"Like hell, you will! You're going to college and getting a real job! This won't take you anywhere Y/N Y/M/N Patterson!" Emily snapped just as Mitch came through the back door with your ten-year-old brother Luke.

"What's going on?" Mitch questioned as soon as he felt the tension between mother and daughter. Luke was quiet amongst the adults speaking.

"Your daughter isn't going to college. She's going to be a firefighter.

"Spitfire?"

A smooth hand startled you with the clap on your shoulder and Hen looking at you, "Are you okay?"

"I-" You shakily attempted to speak but alas had to be gently settled on the ground before you keeled over and hurt yourself. Your uniform, long sleeves this time, felt constricting as the guilt nearly swallowed you whole.

"Hey, Cap? I think I know why those three are like that." Buck called out from a sketchy grill by an even sketchier condiments table. The table being a rusted Oldsmobile manned by a greasy dude and his girl.

Even from a distance, you could smell the chemicals wafting off the unsanitary set up that would put a health inspector in a casket. 

"One's waking up!" Chimney spoke from the slump of pink and denim fabric. A curtain of blonde '90s style hair mussed on his head.

"Look, Y/N, I need you to dig deep to help these three boys. They have long lives ahead of them and need our A-game." Hen spoke with her hands, already checking one of the teens for broken bones.

Your eyes closed with a deep breath before you moved towards the boy on the other side. Eddie shifted to allow you room to check him over.

"Strong pulse. Breathing is good." You clinically informed your team, "Eddie can-"

"What happened?" The gruff voice spoke from behind you. As expected, Alex's voice had deepened in the years you'd gone without seeing Luke or his friends.

"You got this one?" You asked Eddie without waiting for a response; you were by Chim's side with a soft smile. Alex's eyes widened momentarily, "Hey Alex."

"Y/N?" Alex nearly gasped in shock. His shock seemed contagious as your entire team from the 118 caught it, "What's going on?"

"You ate some bad hotdogs and needed our help. We're gonna get you to the hospital. I'm worried you ingested battery acid." You spoke, understanding that Alex would prefer details instead of the lack thereof. Even from an early age, he'd been anxious.

"Oh. Are the guys okay?" Alex softly asked with his eye blinking as a strand of his blonde hair caught in his eyelashes. You slowly nodded in response without really knowing the status of Reggie and Luke.

"Eddie, Buck, can you get him loaded in the ambulance?" You called over your shoulder once you'd finished your thorough examination of Alex. The sound of boots on the hard ground appeared before they appeared.

Eddie and Buck swiftly loaded him on a gurney, but Alex's eyes widened, "Why are there two hot guys touching me? Oh my god. Do you see the cute guys too?"

You snickered as Alex's failed attempt at a stage whisper, "Yes. Alex."

"I've been blessed as a gay man." Alex breathed with a cute little grin plastered on his face, "Maybe I should eat more streetdogs-"

"NO!" Eddie, Buck, and you collectively shouted in response to Alex's delirious comment. He was loaded into the ambulance beside Reggie's gurney.

"I'm gonna jump in with the other guy in the ambulance." You quickly informed your boyfriend and Eddie. Each shared a look before Eddie slammed his fist on the back of this ambulance. It rolled away, and you jogged to the one Hen was driving.

Buck was there giving you a hand into the back of the ambulance with one of the other paramedics. You couldn't meet his eye when you were staring at the unconscious but thankfully alive body of your little brother. Your eyes couldn't be pulled away even as the ambulance started driving away.

Buck momentarily stared after the leaving vehicle until it turned a corner leaving him with his crew and questions. Eddie kept by Buck's side on the return to the firetruck in unusual silence. It wasn't often that Buck was quiet.

"What do you think that was about?" Eddie inquired as the truck pulled onto the street to follow the ambulances to the hospital, "Y/N knew the conscious one-"

"-and the one in the ambulance she jumped in. Kept staring at him like he'd disappear out of her sight." Buck supplied, staring out the window to the passing buildings. His blue eyes are unable to focus on the looks Bobby was sending.

Bobby attempted to bring Buck into a conversation, but each attempt was a failure. Neither Bobby nor Eddie knew how to make him feel better or why he was feeling off. 

Whereas you kept a hawk-eye on your brother's stats the entirety of the drive. The ambulance had only just entered the parking lot when his stats dropped. A long beep sounded, alerting you that Luke's heart had stopped.

"Goddamnit." You swore as you started leaning over Luke to start compressions. In order to continue compressions, you clambered into the gurney as the back doors opened.

"Hold compressions!" Eddie exclaimed once, seeing the situation, "No pulse."

You continued even as the gurney entered the hospital, and a doctor was there, "We got it."

You did as the doctor had subtly implied by climbing off the gurney, leaving the medical professionals to continue. You followed your brother's unconscious body to the surprise of the 118; you had never tried to follow the patient. It was more of Buck's issue.

"Y/N, our job ends here. You know that." Bobby spoke with Hen, Chimney, Eddie and Buck flanking his sides. Your e/c eyes shifted between the brown of your Captain's eyes and the blue of your boyfriend's eyes.

"It doesn't end when I just did compressions on my little brother." You informed him, "Write me up. Suspend me if you want, but I need to be in there."

Bobby's eyes softened, "Your shift is almost over. Just come in early on your next shift; you can make breakfast."

"Thanks, Bobby." You softly informed the man who'd become both your boss and a pseudo father. He only nodded in response with your friends beside him with different expressions, "I should get in there."

Without waiting for another response, you'd already entered the ER through the ambulance bay sliding doors. You went straight to the nursing desk with sure steps.

"Hi, I was in the ambulance that brought in a young male teenager. Shaggy brunette hair, caucasian. He was in a separate ambulance from his two friends." You spoke once the head nurse had turned his attention to you, "He was getting compressions on his way in. Name Luke Patterson."

"Are you asking as a paramedic?" Jude questioned with his fingers tapping the keys of the computer. 

"No. He's my brother." You sighed, bringing the sympathetic brown eyes of Jude to look at you. The look changed a degree when he read the sentences on the screen.

"Are you aware your brother ran away from home? There's a social worker on her way."

Your jaw dropped in surprise, "Ran away? He ran away?!"

Jude flinched at the screech of words you accidentally released to both your and Jude's horror in the quiet ER. Jude turned the screen to show a digital missing person's poster with your brother's face on it.

"He's awake." Jude supplied, having deciphered and guessed correctly you'd gone a while without seeing your brother, "I'm off shift now, but I can bring you to him. I'll let the social worker know."

The nerves grew each step closer to the room your brother was stationed in for the time being with Reggie for comfort in the neighbouring bed. Part of you wished Luke would be asleep to avoid the confrontation about to happen. Only Luke's hazel eyes turned to see him in his pause of puking.

"Hey." You softly breathed into the quiet room. Luke's breath caught in his throat, "You ran away?"

"Guess we're more alike than we thought. We both run when it gets tough." Luke's words were all snark and poison to your heart. His hazel eyes glaring into your own eyes with anger that covered up the pain, "Hope this is just a delirious episode."

Your eyes squeezed closer, "Luke-"

"What? Are you gonna apologize for abandoning me? The only reason you're reaching out is that you happened to be the medic!"

You could physically feel your heart clench, "No. I tried reaching out. Mom and dad don't answer the phone. You didn't have a phone, and like hell, they'd give me the number either. The letters and-"

"Excuse me? Ms. Patterson." Both Luke and your attention shifted the entrance. A well put together woman stood with a clipboard, "I'm Beth. A social worker and I'm afraid you aren't allowed to speak with Luke alone."

"I'm his sister."

"Barely." Luke hissed, avoiding looking at you by looking over at Reggie, "I'd like to be alone."

"I can respect that. Here's my number if you need anything, Luke. Seriously, night or day, I'll answer. I know how it was living in that house, but you have someone to run to. Me." You firmly told the stubborn teenager, "Listen to Beth. You can't live on the streets Luke, it's not fair to you or anyone else. I'll ask my friend to keep an eye on you."

Had you not noticed Luke's jaw clenching, you'd have thought he hadn't heard you, "Whatever."

"Beth, have Reggie or Alex's parents come yet?"

Beth nodded, "I'm not supposed to reveal that, but yes Mr and Mrs Peters are talking to the doctor. Alex was moved into a room. They'll all make a full recovery."

You cast one last look at your little brother curled up in the hospital bed, a stark similarity to the night you returned home, only for your things.

It wasn't an accident you chose to return to your childhood home on Thursday night with the schedule on the fridge memorized. Every second Thursday, your mom attended the PTA meetings for Luke's school. Your father would be home but most likely asleep in his recliner, but if he was awake, it wouldn't be bad.

Your father was more lenient than your mother, even if he shared the same mentality.

"I was wondering when you'd come back," Mitch spoke from his recliner with the side table holding his drink. A glass of your mom's homemade lemonade, "Your mom-"

"I'm not staying." You firmly spoke on your way to the hallways where the bedrooms were positioned. You could hear the soft steps of your father's well-worn slippers.

"What?"

"Look, Dad, you can't leave the house, but I can. I'm not staying in this place with her stifling ideas. This is my life. Just because she decided to be a stay at home, mom doesn't mean she gets to make my decisions and live through me." You informed the man while shoving clothing, items, toiletries, among other things, in the suitcase.

"Y/N, firstly, that is not how to speak about your mother. She sacrificed to take care of this family. Luke looks up at you, don't give him a bad impression of our family."

"No."

"If you walk out that door without apologizing, then you are not welcome back until you do so." Mitch's voice came out in that fatherly authoritarian tone. The no-nonsense look in his eye nailing the coffin in your decision.

"I'm not apologizing for choosing a career of helping other people. Of being a step for someone to live and not die. So what if it's not a teacher, a lawyer or some other bullshit 'acceptable' career. I love you, dad. I love mom too and Luke. But I'm not subjecting myself to a desk job with no drive in it."

"Where will you stay?"

"I have a place. I'll call to talk with Luke. I won't 'poison' his mind with ill thoughts of mom. But I won't lie to him either."

Mitch was stock still as you glanced into the bedroom next to your childhood bedroom. Luke's room was still decorated with spaceships and stuffed animals. Your eyes watched the rising of Luke's back as he breathed from his curled up position.

You couldn't help but walk to kneel at his side. Your hand brushed his soft hair from his forehead. You drank in the look of pure content and innocence on his sleeping face.

"Y/N?" Luke mumbled with his bleary eyes blinking, "You're home."

"I have to head out. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," Luke spoke mere seconds before his breathing evened out once more.

That was the last night you'd been in the home. Luke sat next to the landline phone the next night, waiting for a call that never came. Your parents had unhooked the line. Luke sat on a stool beside it for weeks before his hopes soured.

If only you'd known leaving your parents would mean souring your relationship with your brother. Than maybe you would have reached out for his benefit and your self-proclaiming selfishness

"Thought you'd need a ride," Buck spoke from his position leaning against the wall still in his uniform. There was definitely a new tension in the air between you and him, "We'll grab our things from the house than go home."

"Thank you." You softly spoke to Buck. The weight of keeping your family secret dragged your shoulders down. You couldn't help but wonder if this was gonna cause a fracture in your relationship.

"No matter what. I'll always be here." Buck told you with his arms coming to wrap around your shoulders. He led you through the ER, you'd waved at the shocked parents of both Alex and Reggie, "Who-"

"Luke's friends' parents."

"Okay, so your family lives just outside of the city in Los Felix?"

"Feliz. They live in Los Feliz, from what I know. I haven't been back since I was eighteen." You chuckled, "I want to stress that my parents are abusive or neglectful. Not even bad, but my mom had this idea of what my life should be like."

Buck hummed with his right arm around your waist, and his left casually balanced on his outstretched leg. A bottle of beer loosely gripped in his left hand.

"How old is Luke?"

"He'll be eighteen in August. When I left, he was ten." You mused, leaning into Buck's side, "I think that's why Maddie and I get along so well. We're both big sisters with a significant age gap to our brother."

Buck hummed, "Why did you keep it from me?"

"It hurt. It still hurts just thinking about it. They unhooked the landline the night after I went back for my things." You recalled the agony at having an olive branch snapped off, "I promised to call Luke, and I wasn't able to; they'd disconnected the landline. Imagining the look of hurt on Luke's face was enough to keep me from physically reaching out."

"I wish you had trusted me." Buck finally admitted with the last swig of his beer in the middle of his words, "We're engaged. We're looking at houses, but you never told me about your parents. About your brother. Above your life before the 118."

"Buck. I trust you with my life." You urgently informed the firefighter. Your hands cupped his cheeks to ensure his eyes focused on yours. You wanted him to see the truth, "You are the most important piece of my life. You and the 118 made me feel at home from the moment I joined. Buck, you are my family."

That look courtesy of his parents' actions faded ever so slightly from his eyes, "You guys are my family too."

"I'd like you to meet my little brother when we can reconcile." You announced into the cool summer night. Your drink had been long gone in the process of working through seeing your brother again, "I never thought I'd see him as a patient I'd have to help. Seeing him pale and unconscious nearly destroyed me."

"But he made it."

"He texted me 'didn't die' with the rock 'n roll hand emoji." You deadpanned, recalling the emotional two days for news. You were kinda shocked that Luke had even reached out at all.

Buck couldn't have successfully hidden his laugh if you weren't currently leaning against his body.

"So Albert found an apartment. He won't be moving with us." Buck changed the subject with the same ease he'd always held at knowing you. This was just another one of the moments you were thankful for having him by your side.

"So now there's not a reason to search for a bigger house?" You questioned with a crease between your eyebrows.

In the last two years, several significant changes have been impacting all areas of your life, especially the personal aspect. Buck had proposed during a picnic hike about a year ago with the mutual agreement for a long engagement; his parents didn't believe it was for anything other than pregnancy. Additionally, working in the same firehouse made planning difficult and then your apartment lease bringing the conversation of houses.

Originally Albert would rent part of the home out, so it needed at least three bedrooms.

"I mean, we don't have to not look. We've talked about children and settling down." Buck softly offered with a hesitant smile on his face, "I wanted to talk to you about it, but do you think we could talk about a possible time to start trying-"

"Y/N?"

The two adults went on high alert as Luke wandered into the gated garden your apartment building had. Buck's arm slid off your body as soon as you climbed to your feet at the sight of Luke.

"Luke?" You softly gasped, revelling in the sight of your little brother. Physically he looked fine with the addition of bloodshot eyes, "What's wrong?"

"I-I didn't have anywhere else to go." Luke choked out, sliding the battered old backpack off his shoulder onto the duffle at his feet. Luke's hazel eyes glimmering in the setting sun, "I got into a fight with mom and dad."

"Please tell me you didn't run away again." You heavily sighed in your movement to grab his backpack from the ground. Buck was quick to grab the duffle bag from the ground.

"I'll get the air mattress. Let Albert know not to bring his date home." Buck murmured in your ear low enough only you could hear, "I'll heat up the leftover Chinese."

The Patterson siblings watched as Buck entered the opening to the back of the building's secured backyard. Luke's backpack slung over his shoulder, and the duffle in his right hand.

"How did you find where I live?" You asked the emotionally seventeen-year-old with those puppy dog eyes. The eyes with the colour you wished you had inherited instead of your e/c.

"I saw 118 on the inside of the ambulance. I found the firehouse, and after procuring 'evidence', one of the paramedics told me where to find you." Luke shrugged, "I would have gone to Bobby's garage we use as a studio, but...he bailed on us. Reggie tries to get away from his place, and Alex's are assholes."

"The Peters are still married?" You scoffed, recalling the tense moments between little Reggie's parents. A cloud followed the couple around everywhere they went together, and Reggie was always caught in the middle.

"If-if this overstepping, I can find another place-" Luke began to respond on the walk down the inside hall to your apartment door.

"And make my struggle with the cursed object redundant?" Buck joked from the kitchen with a plate filled with warmed up food. Maybe the universe had a plan when Buck accidently over-ordered food from the restaurant.

"Luke, just stay here. You can have something to eat and rest up. But we need to talk about this. Running away is never a solution to your problems." Your stern voice reminded you of your mother when you broke the rules, "You need to let mom and dad know you're crashing at my place. They don't know my address."

"We got your back." Buck cemented to the quiet teenage boy that he saw a lot of himself in. A little kid living in the shadow left by an older sibling, only Luke's still lived.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a shake of your head, "I'm sorry. Buck, this is my little brother Luke. Luke, this is Evan, my fiance."

Luke's eyes widened at the title, "Hi."

"Everyone calls me Buck."

Buck, Luke, and you shared stories of your lives in the times you'd gone without each other while Luke ate. By the time he shovelled the last bite of chow mein in his mouth, you'd caught up enough for the time being. He used the shower and settled into the air mattress sheets on the floor a fair distance from the couch Albert slept on.

"So I guess we'll be finding that house anyway?" Buck inquired under the stream of water from the showerhead. His hands massaging the shampoo into your scalp, the action intimate without a sexual motive behind it.

"How-"

"I could see it in your eye. We can see if your parents would be willing to meet up to talk about Luke. Maybe have him stay with us temporarily, give them space without your parents not knowing where he is." Buck murmured as he caressed your sides with his calloused hands. His forehead leaning down on your own forehead.

"I haven't been home in years. I'm not sure how they'd take us stepping on their toes."

"Then we tell them how it is. Their decision drove their youngest child away, and that almost killed him. He's almost eighteen, and then he can make his own legal decisions. Be the person we both wish had been there when we were his age."

And that's what you did. Buck and you met up with your parents at your childhood home to your horror and Buck's delight. He'd never gotten to see pictures of a younger you, but Maddie had brought his baby pictures for you to see the first time you met her. While your mom had fixed some of her lemonade Buck had toured the photos hanging on the wall.

The conversation itself was tense and combative, but in the end, your parents agreed that they'd prefer Luke to be safe than missing. Life was looking up. 

"Hey," Buck murmured with his arms wrapped around your midsection. His blonde scruff scratching your cheek as he slumped over you, "Is that-?"

"Evie's babysitter?" You supplied with a raised eyebrow towards your now husband's laser focus on your brother.

After your relationship with your parents started healing, you had walked down the aisle in white to Buck. You had settled into the dream house with Luke taking one of the bedrooms. The other bedroom put to use when you got pregnant with Evelyn, Evie for short, to your shared joy.

"He likes her." Buck teased, watching the interaction between the two young adults on the main floor of the 118 fire house.

Eight-month-old Evie chewed on a rattle in the arms of her careful hold of her babysitter, but Evie's eyes watched her uncle. Luke, however, was focused on the beautiful and smart girl he knew from high school; they knew of each other but never acknowledged each other. Luke had already graduated when they first came into each other's worlds. Julie threw herself into babysitting to distract herself from both music and her mother's death.

"She's why the band doesn't practice in our garage?" 

"It's a whole thing." You mused with a shake of your hand, "She lost her mom and music. By complete chance, he walked in on her, singing a song to settle Evie. One thing led to another, and Luke formed Julie and the Phantoms with her, Reggie and Alex."

"They formed a band?" Buck beamed, hearing the recent news, "I thought they'd never find their way back to it."

Around the time of your wedding, Bobby had a family emergency involving his uncle Trevor and his cousin Carrie. You'd gone back to work shortly only to be called to the scene of a fatal accident, the victim being Bobby Wilson.

"Julie is Luke's ideal girl. Good with kids, kind, smart, shy, and shares the same passion for music. They bring out the best in each other. They brought music back to each other." You informed your husband with that lovesick grin that was resigned solely for his impulsive ass.

"Kinda like us?"

"Yeah. Like us."

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[ducktracy]

56. bosko’s knight-mare (1933)

release date: june 8th, 1933

series: looney tunes

director: hugh harman

starring: carman maxwell (bosko), rochelle hudson (honey)

i wonder what this cartoon could possibly be about. as the title suggests, bosko dreams that he’s a knight in medieval times, but quickly realizes it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

this opening is almost exactly like the opening to an itch in time! bosko (elmer) is reading a book by the fire, lounging in his rocking chair, whereas bruno (whatever the dog’s name is in that cartoon) is asleep, waking up to scratch at a flea.

bosko excitedly tells bruno the story he’s reading about knights, but bruno is asleep. undeterred, bosko continues his read until the radio signals that it’s 8pm. he turns the channel and enjoys “knights are bold”, but falls asleep. listening to a song about knights and reading about knights, i wonder where this could possibly go. side note, i guess that’s carman maxwell voicing bosko? it doesn’t sound like johnny murray, and of course rochelle hudson is the only voice credit i’ve found. he sounds a LOT more like mickey mouse here, moreso than usual. pretty interesting, i wonder if he’ll always continue to sound like that? his voice seems to have been fluctuating as of late.

you guessed it. bosko dreams he’s a knight, perched on a gallant horse. he sings a few bars of “knights are bold”, later switching over to “young and healthy”. his faithful companion bruno is right behind him, also iron clad.

bosko approaches a castle, guarded by a moat. he does a yell (very similar to the one the hippo does in lady, play your mandolin!) and the drawbridge drops down for him. a looney tunes staple as various doors open to reveal the inside of the castle—and a trio of squires trumpeting a fanfare. their helmets snap shut in the middle of their blaring noise, and thusly cutting their trumpets in half. great gag of the squires playing on their broken trumpets, the sound tinny and high pitched.

eagerly, bosko and bruno cross the bridge, each doing a little dance. bosko slides out of his suit of armor to the tune of “shave and a haircut”, and barges in on the knights of the round table.

here’s somethint your math teachers and history textbooks don’t teach you: the knights of the round table were actually the marx brothers. huh! who’da thunk it? i love all of the anachronistic elements here—bosko’s jazzy dancing and singing and the inclusion of the marx brothers all in the medieval era. it makes the entire premise a lot funnier. the marx brothers sing, and there’s a great visual of two knights clinking their beer glasses together, the beer rising up in the air and then catching them with the next clink. there’s a great dancing sequence with “42nd street” blazing in the background. i love the overlay of bosko dancing and the knights dancing in the background! the quality of these cartoons has improved drastically, and will continue to do so! apparently, there was also a scene where laurel and hardy are there, too? research tells me it was cut in the 80s on nickelodeon for time, which is a bummer. i wish i could’ve seen it! maybe there’s another rip of it that has it.

in my last review, i joked about how we were overdue for a kidnapping. i spoke too soon. enter the villain, a dastardly knight singing “knights are bold” on his horse. he wants to woo a certain damsel, who happens to be honey. she’s having none of it, pooh-poohing him and griping “i don’t like that old meanie!” old meanie is the last straw for the knight, and he breaks a padlock with his teeth and breaks into her tower.

honey begs for help, and bosko stops his shindig to run to the rescue (along with his suit of armor, which he dives into). there’s a great shot of the villain climbing the stairs of the tower, and tiny little bosko squeezing in beneath his legs and beating him to honey. i have utmost respect for any animator who has to draw stairs—my condolences!

bosko tells the villain “stop, you mug!”, but to no avail. okay, quick ancedote. so i had talked about yesterday how in bosko’s picture show it sounds like he says “that dirty fuck!”, even though his lip movements say “mug”. i guess this solidifies that he really DOES say mug. it’s one of those things where if you think either of the words, you’re going to hear your desired outcome. how disappointing! i can always imagine.

anyway, the villain takes out a cigar and snaps bosko’s helmet shut on the tip, cutting it off. he then flips bosko’s helmet open like a lighter and lights it. that’s so creative and funny! something about cigars makes them inherently funny to me, especially when you have cute characters or babies chuffing on a big fat cigar. they just look funny to me. a higher air of authority than a measly old cigarette. my ability to find humor in everything comes in handy. the villain blows smoke in bosko’s face and puts him aside with ease.

once more does honey cry for help, but it’s too late. the villain snatches her up and jumps out of the window, aiming to land on his horse below. technically he does, but he drags the horse’s ass with him a few feet in the ground. nevertheless, the horse charges on, its now stretched out body carrying the kidnapper and his damsel in distress.

bosko charges after them via donkey, but a lake blocks their path. the donkey bucks him into the water, where his suit of armor turns into a submarine (brilliant!). he follows the villain to his own castle, perched on top of a mountain with a winding, twisting road. the castle, like all things in 30s cartoons, is sentient, using its drawbridge tongue to throw bosko inside. another great, dizzying stair shot of bosko chasing the villain up the stairs to his chamber.

in the safety of his own tower, the villain slams the door shut to keep bosko out. then, of course, bosko pops out from beneath his bed and shoots him! i love unprecedented gags like these. the villain rolls up his sleeve (which is metal—great gag) and socks bosko right in the face, knocking him unconscious. honey begs for him to wake up, caressing his face.

bosko DOES wake up, but to bruno licking his face instead. bosko bats him away and sleepily stumbles down the hallway in a fugue, stopped only by a suit of armor he just so happens to own. not wanting a repeat of his dream, bosko lets his grudge towards knights known as he uses the battle axe the knight is holding to smash it to pieces. iris out as he happily jumps into the comfort of his own bed.

when i first read the title of this cartoon, i didn’t have high hopes. i’m not a big medieval damsel in distress hero swoops in to save her kind of gal, but i’m actually pleasantly surprised! bosko was endearing as ever and the gags were creative and at their best. the animation was beautiful, from all the dancing scenes to chase scenes, and the music score only uplifts it further. i love the anachronisms in this cartoon (such as the marx brothers), it made it funnier and certainly appealed to the lunacy of looney tunes. overall, worth a watch! these bosko cartoons have been getting better and better, and i’ll be interested to see how the remaining few turn out (10 more reviews til our buddy buddy makes an appearance... the countdown begins).

link!

[lanamemories]

red mist | self para

This was a dream.

Or maybe just a reality where the colours looked kinder. Softer, somehow. Like they wouldn’t cut your fingers to reach out and touch. Blurred at the edges, whipped up that way by an abnormally large whisk. 

She didn’t know it, though. Didn’t know anything, in this place, only that the wind was on her cheeks and she was floating way up high, legs flailing without a resting point.

“What is it that you want, Lana?”

The voice was familiar, but no matter how much she craned her neck, she couldn’t see a source. Only blue. Clouds that looked painted onto a canvas by a delicately bristled brush.

She was alone.

“I don’t know,” was all she could come up with for the time being, too consumed by the texture of the breeze beneath her hands to think about anything else. If she pressed just right, the howls of air felt like fingers. She couldn’t stop trying to grasp them, even though they weren’t grasping back. Even though they weren’t real in the first place.

“You do know, you just know that you can’t have it.”

Letting out a scoff, Lana flipped onto her back, eyes on a giant gumdrop sun. It was simultaneously ablaze and melting, dripping globs of purple into the sea below at every passing hour towards sunset. By eight P.M., it would have come apart enough to sizzle holes through her limbs, collapsing over the entire world and engulfing everything in one.

For some reason, the prospect didn’t scare her.

“Way to be totally cryptic. Feel like I’m in, like… one of those weird little fortune teller tents. The ones with shitty lighting, and cloths draped over everything. With a crystal ball.”

“You’re scared.”

Hands coming together on top of her stomach, she locked her fingers with her eyes on the two-dimensional sky. It looked like a piece of wrapping paper plastered over the lid of a shoe box. If she squinted her eyes just right, she could even see that the corners were dog eared and drooping, contemplating a divorce from the Blu Tack. But everything looked that way, if she really paid attention.

Everything was falling apart, when she took a close enough look.

Instead, she shut her eyes.

“Bit hypocritical, coming from someone I can’t even see. What are you, hiding behind a curtain like the Wizard of Oz? Crouching in a dark cave in the corner, like Gollum? Sounds like you’re the scared one, to me. Like… Got you there. Check mate, or whatever people say. Check… Is that right? Check mate? Whatever. Chess is boring.”

“You can see me,” the voice replied, calm and composed like an ancient deity.

“Can’t. I just tried. Can you, like… I’m trying to relax, a little. Sun bathe, and stuff, so--”

“Open your eyes, again.”

Prying her fingers loose of their formation, Lana pushed upright with her elbows on a surface that wasn’t there. All around her, now that her eyes were open, she could see tiny flecks of red mist. Palm upturned and fingers splayed, she lifted her hand to sift gingerly over the closest patch, combing through with the tips of her middle and index. It felt like dragging your hand through a clump of finely woven thread, except that you never got tangled.

He wouldn’t want her to get stuck.

“Tommy, that’s not funny,” she immediately spat out, wriggling backwards and frantically swiping her hands down on the red striped white of her gym socks, staining the elasticated border.

She’d had the same ones pulled up around her calves on the morning she got the call, sixteen years old and hand clutching the receiver like it’d been super glued that way, unable to feel real enough to be able to use her limbs yet.

“It’s kind of funny,” said the voice, and she could almost hear his grin in it. How not a single tooth was crooked. The way it caught a glare like the flash of an old camera, so white you had to blink a few times to acclimatise.

“It isn’t, Tommy. It isn’t, you just always had a shitty sense of humour. It isn’t funny,” Lana insisted, and when she did, the mist seemed to part around her feet. Then her thighs. Then her shoulders. Then, in a blink, the entire sky was raining except for on her. “Can’t I see your face, instead?”

“This is the last way I was, though. I can’t do anything about that, and neither can you.”

Tugging her knees to her chest, Lana perched her chin on top as she hugged them close.

“He doesn’t let me say your name, you know.”

It went without saying that she was talking about her brother Caleb.

The air seemed to go colder, at the thought of him alone. Like Tommy could sense how sad he was, without him, and he didn’t know what else to do about it other than shiver.

“I know.”

Lana wasn’t sure when it happened, but the sea had risen enough that she could stretch a toe and soak the end of her sock with it. Doing so felt like someone had spooned a clump of clotted cheese on top of her foot, weighed down slightly with the water, but she didn’t mind. If she shut her eyes again, extra tight, she could pretend it was Tommy clutching it inside of a big hand. He’d done that, once, when he was trying to tickle a laugh out of her. She’d accidentally bucked her leg out like a wild donkey and clipped him in the side of the head.

It was one of her favourite memories to live inside.

“I want to say it, sometimes. I want--…” The words felt like crushed glass that she was trying to hack up out of her throat. Like she’d have to spit them out in pieces, with her lips left shredded in the aftermath. Stringing down her chin. “I want to say that I miss you, too.”

“I know,” the voice said again, slightly softer this time. “I know you do.”

Small smile perking her lips at the edges, Lana cleared her throat. Doing so turned on a few stadium spotlights around her, heat boring down like a Hollywood set for a scene that was meant to be sunny. It wasn’t quite natural, though. It didn’t feel warm.

“What did you ask me, earlier? I can’t remember. But I’ll answer, now. I’ll answer, now that it’s you.”

“Knew you had a crush on me.”

Spluttering out a laugh, Lana’s eyes shot open and she flung a glare around her, at no fixed point in particular.

“Shut up, I did not!”

“You did, but it’s cool. A lot of people did. I was sort of a catch, that way.”

Lana rolled her eyes but hugged her knees a bit tighter. She wanted to say something funny, to say that she might have missed him, but she didn’t miss how much he was full of it, but her tongue wouldn’t let her lie.

The truth was, she missed all of it. Even the bad bits. Even the bits that got him in trouble.

“Yeah, you were. Think--… Think Caleb always thought so, too.”

The mist stilled.

Then, the voice answered back.

“We don’t talk about that. You know he can’t, yet.”

“I know,” she replied -- her turn to repeat the phrase, this time. “Yeah, I know.”

“What is it that you want, Lana?” There was a long pause, stretching on forever like a tireless string of elastic, until eventually the voice snapped back and pinged her on the nose. “That was the question. You said you’d answer it.”

Sinking down onto her back, Lana gently pressed the back of her head against the water’s surface, scalp tingling with the fresh onset of cold. She couldn’t see it, but where she’d touched the water, it had started to ripple out shadows, tinting the entire surface for as many miles as the eyes could see.

Darker and darker.

Darker and darker.

No matter how brightly the stadium lights blared.

“I want… to close doors at night, and have Caleb open them the next morning. I, um… I want to wash my hands and feel like they’re clean, you know? I want to forget about all the things they’ve touched. Just once. I want… I want Zeke’s brain to get better, like magic. I want to wave a special wand, that’s, like… red, with a gold star on the end, and have it undo everything. Everything bad I’ve ever done. And I--... I want Teddy to be happy, and I want it to be--... I want it to feel okay. I want it to feel okay, that he’s never going to be happy with me.”

Stretching a hand up into the air above her, Lana dappled fingertips through the layer of mist that marked her own personal barricade. She stirred through the damp like she was sifting through sand, searching for a special piece that she’d only know when she saw it.

The most Tommy piece.

The piece that used to come together with a hundred others, before they were all blown apart into thousands.

The bits that made his hands.

“I think I want to feel clean, or something. I’ve never really felt that clean.”

“Maybe other people are the dirty ones. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“No,” she answered a little too fast, swallowing something down that felt rigid and round, as hard in her throat as a fallen acorn. “No, that isn’t it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Lana shot right back, hand still drifting to test the mist’s texture like she was intent on making something whole out of what was left. Like she wouldn’t stop searching, until she’d found him.

“You’re not telling me what you really want. I think you know that.”

Her eyebrows pinched; expression indignant.

“I’m not lying.”

“No, I know you’re not. You don’t do that, a lot, you just skirt around the truth. You admit smaller ones, that hurt less. Give people an inch so they won’t take a mile.”

“Feed a scrap to a stray dog so it won’t eat your entire arm,” Lana provided another explanation, small smile unfurling like a clenched fist that had finally gone loose. “I don’t know how you do that. You always, like… You see everything. You always did.”

“Yeah, Lana,” the voice spoke again, sounding a little sad to be doing it at all. Like he was waning, slightly. Like she was about to wake up. “I saw everything. I think Caleb did, too. And I think you know that, but you don’t want to admit it. Because then, it was real. Then, it really happened.”

Arms laid flat either side of her on an ocean that had turned entirely black, Lana revelled in the wet licking up her elbows, her knuckles, ankles, backs of the knees, spine. Any part that she’d given over to the water.

“You’re scared.”

“God,” Lana exhaled suddenly, wrenched upright so that she could sit and stare, talking to the air like a wire in her brain had been pried loose, if anyone else was watching. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“You’re scared,” the voice repeated, making something inside of her squirm.

“I get it.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You’ve always been scared.”

“Okay. Okay! Okay, I get it. I get it, Tommy, I’m scared. I’m scared. Is that what you wanted me to say? I’m scared. It’s--… It’s fine for you, isn’t it?” came as she threw a glance around, watching the way the red mist wobbled, unsettled by the gust of a strong breeze. The sun was only a few globs away from setting. A thumbprint next to her hip bone had been worn straight through, burnt away with a drop of liquid sun until you could have leaned close and pressed your eye to it, stared through like it was a stone cut looking glass or a pirate’s telescope. “It’s fine for you, because you’re not here. It’s fine for you, because you’re just gone. You just get to float, and you don’t even have to--… You don’t even have to do anything, because you’re just gone. Do you, like…” trailed off, exasperated breath escaping. “Do you get what it’s like, being here?”

“I know, Lana. I get it.”

“You don’t. You took him with you, you know. You took him with you, and I’m here on my own. And people--… People are bad, all the time. People are bad, and I’m on my own. I’m--… I’m on my own.”

“I know.”

Hugging her knees close again, Lana clenched her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look at any of it. Not the gumdrop sun that was seconds away from collapsing. Not the black ocean she was sitting on without sinking. Not the red mist that a piece of live ammunition had detonated Tommy into as soon as he set foot on top of it.

It felt like a long time before she spoke, again.

“Can we just… Can you just stay, a little while? Just until I wake up. I just like… I just like to hear your voice, I think. I think I just like to hear your voice.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Lana. You know it doesn’t. You’re going to wake up, soon.”

Staying extra still like the slightest jostle would make it true, Lana kept her eyes squeezed shut, so tight that she was sure her corneas were about to burst, explode with juice like a grape beneath the heel of a socked foot.

“I would’ve spat in Danny’s shitty little face, you know,” the voice mumbled, retreating up to the sky again like a bird due south for winter, setting course for a long hibernation. He sounded amused, at the thought, until suddenly, when he next spoke, he didn’t. “I would’ve been there.”

“I know,” Lana whispered, eyes still closed as her lips muffled against the caps of her knees, held close and so tight that her elbows were starting to tremble. “I know, but I need to wake up now, right? I know, but you weren’t. You aren’t.”

“Yeah,” Tommy answered, barely audible above the howl of the wind that was swallowing him whole. Blowing the mist away, where she couldn’t keep touching it.

The sun had melted.

The ocean was black.

The sky was painted blue.

“Yeah, you need to wake up.”