tellwolves

[tellwolves]

june and greta grew up in an interfaith family. danni (mom) is jewish, malcolm (dad) is culturally christian by some branch of protestantism. the girls never attended church. june doesn't believe in god, but convinced her mom to let her join a catholic choir for a year just so she could sing the mozart kyrie at easter—finn's fault, really, for making her fall in love with that music. grandmother elbus gives them matching christmas pajamas every year.

they both had bat mitzvahs, though. (the weiss family, including finn, are devoted to their faith.) you can see why are you there god? it's me, margaret. was a big deal in their lives.

today, june considers herself more culturally jewish. she does not attend services and the like, but still celebrates some of the high holy days. greta and her family jointly celebrate christmas and hanukkah, similarly to how it went in their youth. june is invited to those, of course.

[tellwolves]

it's a wonderful life from the 1946 film. alter as needed.

he's got the iq of a rabbit.

then i've only got an hour to dress.

i've been waiting for over two hundred years.

people are beginning to talk.

what's that book you've got there?

keep your eyes open.

something happens here you'll have to remember later on.

i'm not scared.

wish i had a million dollars.

you like every boy.

made up your mind yet?

[name], i'll love you til the day i die.

i'm going out exploring some day, you watch.

just a minute, son.

what makes you such a hardskulled character?

don't let them say that about you.

what kind of tricks are you playing, anyway?

don't hurt my ear again.

i won't ever tell anyone. i know what you're feeling. i won't ever tell a soul. hope to die, i won't.

i want you to take a good look.

it's a good face. i like it.

it's just exactly what i wanted.

hey, send us some of them picture postcards, will you?

your suitcase is leaking.

sure, your highness.

that's some dress you got on there.

i only wear it when i don't care how i look.

come down to dinner this minute. everything's getting cold and you know we've been waiting for you.

aren't you going to finish dressing?

if you lay a hand on me, i'll hit you with this broom.

i'm in love with you.

what's the matter? you look tired.

couldn't want a better death.

no gin tonight.

maybe you were born older.

of course, it's just a hope.

why don't you draw up a chair? then you'd be more comfortable and you could hear everything that's going on.

i couldn't face being cooped up for the rest of my life in a shabby little office.

i want to do something big and important.

i just feel like if i don't get away, i'd bust.

you've got talent, son.

i think you're a great guy.

about time one of you lunkheads said it.

looks like you're going to make it after all.

have a lot of fun. there's lots of stuff to eat and drink. lots of pretty girls around.

aw, come on. be a sport.

and the next thing i knew, some guy came up and tripped me. that's the reason why i came in fourth.

oh, why don't you stop annoying people?

you look at me as if you didn't know me.

i'm not very good at this.

do i look as funny as you do?

you look a little older without your clothes on.

a pox upon me for a clumsy lout.

you make a wish then try and break some glass.

it's full of romance, that old place. i'd like to live in it.

i'm shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and i'm going to see the world.

you want the moon? just say the word and i'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. i'll give you the moon.

am i talking too much?

youth is wasted on the wrong people.

a man doesn't get in a situation like this every day.

shame on you. i'm going to tell your mother.

do you know how long it takes a working man to save five thousand dollars?

what happened? we heard a lot of yelling.

you know what the three most exciting sounds in the world are? anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles.

nobody ever changes around here. you know that.

i won't let you down.

we're going to give the biggest party this town ever saw.

i can see right through you.

i think i'll go out and find a girl and do a little passionate necking.

we'll wait for you, baby.

don't you ever get tired of just reading about things?

let's go out in the fields and take off our shoes and walk through the grass.

it's beautiful up there in the moonlight.

are you coming in or aren't you?

i don't know. i guess i was homesick.

you know i didn't tell anybody i was coming here.

you're supposed to be the one that has all the answers. you tell me.

i don't know why i came here in the first place.

it's good to hear your voice again.

i don't want to get married, ever, to anyone.

i feel like a bootlegger's wife.

after that, who cares?

just make yourself at home.

this is a pickle.

better to get half than nothing.

can't you understand what's happening here?

we can get through this thing. we've got to stick together, though. we've got to have faith in each other.

bless your heart. of course you can have it.

look, i've got a train to catch.

darling, you're wonderful.

heehaw!

bread, that this house may never know hunger. salt, that life may always have flavor. and wine, that joy and prosperity may reign forever.

it's no skin off my nose.

don't rub it in.

so long. see you in the funny papers.

now that's just what i like about you.

most people hate me. but i don't like them either, so that makes it all even.

you sit around here and you spin your little webs and you think the whole world revolves around you.

why in the world did you ever marry a guy like me?

i want my baby to look like you.

gonna snow again.

oh, you seven kinds of a son of a gun.

yeah, very funny.

just step right in here. we'll fix you up.

come on, look sharp.

i should have my head examined.

it takes a lot of character to leave your home town and start all over again.

i'm glad i know you.

i'm no good to you.

i can't think any more. it hurts.

where's that money, you stupid, silly old fool!

one of us is going to jail! well, it's not going to be me!

come on out in the kitchen with me while i finish dinner.

have a hectic day?

might as well be living in a refrigerator.

wait now. where do you think you're going?

now, will you do something for me? will you try and get some sleep?

will you get out and let me handle this?

what do you think i am, a dictionary?

you misplaced eight thousand dollars?

you're the only one in town who can help me.

what are you but a warped, frustrated young man?

you're worth more dead than alive.

you can't hide in a little town like this.

i'm at the end of my rope.

that's what i get for praying.

i didn't have time to get some stylish underwear.

i didn't fall in. i jumped in.

it's against the law to commit suicide around here.

i know if i were drowning you'd try and save me.

i'm the answer to your prayer.

i've watched you grow up from a little boy.

ridiculous of you to think of killing yourself for money.

i'm your guardian angel.

if it hadn't been for me, everybody'd be a lot better off.

look, little fella, go off and haunt somebody else, will you?

hmm, this isn't going to be so easy.

i suppose it would have been better if i'd never been born at all.

you mustn't say things like that.

you don't have to make all that fuss about it.

we serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast.

you'll see a lot of strange things from now on.

little fella, you worry me.

no wonder you jumped in the river.

that's another reason for me not to like you.

you're nobody. you have no identity.

this is some sort of funny dream i'm having here.

you're screwy, and you're driving me crazy, too!

i've got some bad liquor or something.

i ain't never seen you before in my life.

look, now why don't you be a good kid and we'll take you in to a doctor. everything's going to be all right.

something terrible's happened to me. i don't know what it is.

strange, isn't it? each man's life touches so many other lives, and when he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?

you really had a wonderful life. don't you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?

i'm not supposed to tell. you're not going to like it.

there must be some easier way.

i want to live again.

i've been looking all over town trying to find you.

hey, your mouth's bleeding. are you sure you're all right?

oh, look at this wonderful drafty old house!

i could eat you up.

my little gingersnap, how do you feel?

darling, where have you been?

let me touch you! oh, you're real!

you have no idea what's happened to me.

come on downstairs quick. they're on their way.

told a few people you were in trouble and they scattered all over town collecting money.

i'm not going to go. i changed my mind.

i wouldn't have a roof over my head if it wasn't for you.

remember no man is a failure who has friends.

every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings.

attaboy, [name].

[tellwolves]

"misfortune is a rather strong word."

finn shrugs his jacket—tweed, naturally—off, draping it over his lap. he loosens his tie, unbuttons his sleeves and rolls them up, and pockets the cufflinks.

"i'm not anyone you have to curry favor with, cain." it is as if he read his mind. maybe that is a secret uncle power. "i'd rather you laugh than grovel. it looks better on you. laughing, i mean."

he leans in, cheeky and unserious. "only someone you love very much should see the other one."

@tellwolves said: you can laugh if you want to. it's funny, i know.

"I will not laugh. I do not want to laugh." Cain sounds good-natured enough, though, light and breezy in a way the professor often lacks. He feels like he's found decent company with Finn—which in the outside world, has become a feeling that comes more and more rarely. Cain himself is looking in on a world he no longer understands.

"What you think is funny about your own life is your own concern," he explains. "I will not laugh at another's misfortune." Especially not someone whose favor he seeks.

[tellwolves]

finn remains flat and horizontal. his hand scrubs his face twice over before he slides on his glasses. the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed awakenings are largely a thing of the past. he's not sure whether to attribute that to his age or the illness.

hidden unless xeno comes to stand above him, his face morphs at the confession. (toby's feet move underneath the covers. twitchy, like two rabbits. he is undisturbed.)

"stole?" he repeats, pulling himself up onto his forearms. "whatever do you mean? if i've told you once, i've told you a hundred times. you live here. you use and take anything you want at your leisure, you aren't stealing them."

it's first thing in the morning, sunlight only just breaking through dawn's haze while xeno paces by finn's bedside.

"no," he shakes his head, "i mean, yes. you're not allowed to say anything nice. in fact, i think you should be mad about it. you should be very mad. you see, i stole from you."

[tellwolves]

I can never get interested in things that didn't happen to people who never lived.

84 CHARING CROSS ROAD 1987, dir. David Jones

[tellwolves]

"i'm—not," he paws around the bedside table for his glasses, half-awake, voice thick with sleep, "allowed to say anything nice about it?"

that seems backwards.

@tellwolves

"i'm gonna show you something. but you have to promise not to say anything nice about it."

[tellwolves]

Niles Crane favorite looks season 3

[tellwolves]

she doesn't like football. she never could understand why the country had made it so synonymous with thanksgiving. greta didn't seem too interested in it, either. a few years ago, they would've done something with each other to entertain themselves.

nowadays, she's not so sure greta wants anything to do with her.

"psst. junebug."

she looks over her shoulder. uncle finn's dressed up like he's leaving—his scarf, his gloves, his nice brown coat. so soon? a sharp, longing pang shoots through her chest. every time he leaves, every time she leaves him, she feels that they haven't spent an adequate amount of time together. "are you leaving?"

he shakes his head, muttering, "oh, no, no, no. i'm not."

that makes her feel better. but, the question remains. "why are you dressed up like you are?"

he inches closer, and puts his arm over her shoulders. he pulls her close, and she instinctively curls into his side. she doesn't feel embarrassed. it's just them, no one will tell her eleven's too old for that.

"i was thinking me and you could blow this popsicle stand." he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, towards the living room, towards dad and grandpa complaining about the ref.

she nods. "yeah. i'd like that."

she puts on her shoes, then her scarf and gloves and her woolen jacket. she lets him situate the toboggan on her head, careful to not snag her ears with his rings when he slips it over them.

right hand on the doorknob, his finger goes to his lips. she mirrors the gesture. it feels like a breakout. it's nice to have fun little secrets with someone again.

they walk into the woods. with the trees surrounding them, the sounds of a newborn night, the silence that only comes with snow, it feels like a whole different time. that's why she likes them so much. everything modern melts away. they could've walked into a portal and not known it. she looks for a robin. maybe the secret garden is near.

they stop, and finn says he's going to build them a fire. she didn't know he could do that, but doesn't tell him so. she picks up three sticks that look good enough for kindling. finn's thank you, darling, you're a natural woodsy owl makes her feel warmer than any fire ever could. after a couple minutes, there's a fire in front of them. her uncle finn could do anything.

"you ever think about what the cavemen thought when they did that for the first time?" finn asks, brushing snow off a log he'd dragged over for them to sit on.

she sits down beside him, smiling, a giggle bubbling up her throat. she hadn't. "i bet they went crazy."

they huddle together, her underneath his arm. she closes her eyes. she can smell his cologne, and her house, and, faintly, his apartment. lavender and orange. she finds herself staring at the fire more than talking with him. she supposes that's just as well: he's not being very talkative, either.

it's nice to just be held.

he gives her a tiny shake. "i'm going to teach you something."

she looks up, but doesn't move. "yeah?"

"you know mozart, don't you?"

"yeah. duh. you play him all the time."

his smile can be heard in his voice. "my apologies, young lady." then, continuing: "there's a song in the record i play all the time."

she sniffles, chilled, and sits up. "requiem, right?"

"just the one. you're a smart cookie, crocodile. well, one of the songs, or rather, one of the parts, it's called lacrimosa."

lacrimosa. it's a pretty word. she likes it. she repeats it a few times to herself.

"it's latin for 'weeping'. crying. the state of being tearful."

she loved to hear uncle finn talk. he sounded so—educated. sounded like new york city. she wanted to be like him.

"this song and others like it are sung in the instance of someone dying. morbidly enough," finn reaches and fixes her scarf, tucks some hair back into the toboggan, preening her like a proud bird would his chick, "mozart died before he could finish composing it."

she shivers. she's not sure if it's the chill or the thought of a famous man writing about death, only to die with his work incomplete. she stays her silence, slightly bobbing her head to will finn on.

he leans in a little closer, drops his voice to an even quieter whisper. "do you want to know how it goes?"

her mouth opens, closes. she nods. he sings it through, his voice a little haunting in the stillness, especially since he's singing about death and crying and sorrow. he teaches her what each line means, translating it into english.

she sings it. they both do. over and over again in their small, quiet, wobbly voices, careful not to disturb any creatures that might be around. by the end of it, she knew it by heart. dona eis requiem. dona eis requiem

"we ought to start heading back." he stands, and she mourns the moment coming to an end. she doesn't want it to end. "they'll be wondering where we are."

there's a pause as he puts out the fire. "i want to stay here forever. in the forest. with you. i never want to go back to the city again."

her eyes grow wide. uncle finn, not living in the city? no, impossible. that's not right. that's a square peg in a round hole.

his smile seems a little sad. "i know i couldn't." he opens his arm, the same one she's been under, inviting her to walk underneath it as they head back. she feels reassured, but still wonders if finn had meant to say that out loud. if that had slipped out on accident, and she was never supposed to know about it.

they follow their tracks home. turns out, they weren't far from home, at all. so much for the illusion.

"there you two are," mom says as they reenter the warm kitchen, their cheeks red from the cold. one fist goes onto her hip. her smile is toothless, but entirely geniune. mom must be thinking that they're two peas in a pod. "saved you some pumpkin pie. there's two pieces in there with your names on it. some cool whip, too."

"thanks a bunch, old woman," finn says, teasing her with his nickname for her. mom feigns severity, looking like the school secretary, and goes back into the living room.

as she's leaving, finn says to june: "c'mon. i'll let you have this piece. it's bigger."

when he's certain mom's gone, finn winks. she, more clumsily, winks back. their secret. they won't tell anybody where they were.

[tellwolves]

Naked Lunch (1991) // dir. David Cronenberg

[tellwolves]

Anthony Hopkins and Winona Ryder at a rehearsal for Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) 

[tellwolves]

something in june's face gets stuck. freeze-framed. like she's not sure ellie is real. looking beyond the uncanny reflection, she did not expect the answer to resemble her own tastes, too.

she unsticks, thaws. she sniffs an inhale, buffs the backs of her knuckles of the hand with her cigarette against the end of her nose. finally manages to nod.

"i got frankenstein. i can give it to you tomm—hm." a strangled sort of hum. "you don't go to my school, do you?"

cigarettes remind ellie of her own uncle jack, a chronic nicotine addict, who always seems to leave that smell behind with him every time he visits (crashes at) the house. ellie is not a smoker herself, but she always finds herself curiously eyeing people who are. or rather their lighters and matchboxes, which always look so very tempting when the little flames flicker about. she's considered taking up the habit, if only just to have a little box of something dangerous to hold in her hands, but never has.

(but then again, that might be one of the reasons she is currently banned from the public library. apparently some of her impulses have set off the sprinklers in the past and led to some irreparable damages.)

now humming a tune — something she can't remember the name of but must have heard in a shop or a movie at one point or another — ellie contemplates the offer. "that's very kind." she does appreciate the lack of questioning too. "have you got any of the romantics? byron or shelley — preferably mary. i'll take percy too, but i think mary is much better."

[tellwolves]

june's eyes narrow, in slight. how the hell does one get banned from a library? she holds her tongue, busying her hands and eyes with rooting through her bag for her cigarettes. she lights up, not offering this girl—whose face is a little too close to her own for comfort—one.

she can't help but feel her uncle would be sorely disappointed in his boyfriend, getting his fourteen year old niece hooked on nicotine. whatever. she doesn't care. he's gone. then her face heats up with how much she does, and how thinking about finn like that—dead, dead, dead, and someone whose opinion doesn't mean everything to her—makes her want to throw up.

she quickly drowns these thoughts in an thick exhale of smoke. "i got a lot of old books. if you like that."

"i'm not allowed in there anymore. the librarians are conspiring against me." she may very well be the only little girl in the neighborhood who has been banned from entering the public library. entirely her own fault, but she doesn't care to recall the reason. "they're very awful people, you know — i shall be forced to steal all my reading material from now on. have you got anything worth reading?"

@tellwolves ft. june

[tellwolves]

Theater District, Manhattan, New York, 1982

[tellwolves]

this boy in front of her isn't anything like the description she got from her granddaughters. greta is theatrical, sure, and june is little miss puzzling, but she doesn't think they'd have reason to lie about that.

"zeeskeit," because at her age, everybody considerably younger is some term of endearment, "you're raising my blood pressure with this long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs schtick." she ghosts a lighthearted nudge to his wrist with her knuckles. grandparents always act differently, a little looser, towards their—he's not her grandson, but the comparison isn't that far off.

"you don't have any reason to be nervous in this house. what flavor?"

it's hard to ignore the impulse to look down at himself; xeno gives in to the urge, trying to assess through the lens of another. he's been like this for centuries—a confession that won't pass his lips—and knows it won't ever change. at least he can look at himself now and tie these thin bones back to finn, rather than hear the echo of california thrumming in them.

they are both frozen in memory, it seems, for a moment. then he snaps out of it, gaze jumping back up, returned to reality by charlotte.

"oh—um, thank you." xeno grimaces at his voice, oddly shy with a nervous quaver. extra energy is devoted to tugging at frayed threads. "for letting me visit you with them, i mean. and—being so nice." a glance is spared in the direction of the living room, though he soon resettles his focus on charlotte. finn's mother. finn's mom. he can't stop searching her for signs of him, too, though the notebook offers a distraction. "can... could you get some ice cream? only if it's no trouble. i can come with you, help with the bags, if you want."

he feels silly and small, sat there fidgeting with a wobbly voice. he steals a quick breath. "sorry. i'm really nervous."

[tellwolves]

I believe in Santa Claus. I believe in the Easter Bunny. I believe in the Tooth Fairy. But I don’t believe in you. This is battery acid. Now, you disappear!

Dennis Christopher as Eddie Kaspbrak in IT (1990)

[tellwolves]

medieval gender studies

[tellwolves]

did he really have to ask her that? she stares at him, a little wide-eyed, like he said something inflammatory. and he did, maybe, with that last person in the world comment.

hadn't she thought the same thing about finn?

a short hum. trying, failing, to get something out that doesn't sound so stupid to her own ears, she would rather sooner die. xeno keeps talking. (greta once said he never runs out of shit to say.) her face grows uncomfortably warm, like standing too close to the fireplace. from her own inaction or the thought of her first love, she doesn't know.

she's not eager to find out.

"i don't think you can say that." she feels as numb as she sounds. "it can happen to anyone. and i know you aren't as safe as you could be."

a swallow sticks in her throat, treacherous. "let's just—stop talking about that. i don't want to talk about it." he can think whatever he wants about her.

it is a small heartbreak, catching the worried weight in june's words. guilt pools in his stomach, lodges against the base of his throat.

"june..." it's a soft syllable. xeno continues to hold her sleeve. "do you trust me?"

maybe she does. maybe she doesn't. xeno knows he's not exactly an upstanding candidate for earning trust. he's been erratic since finn and toby died; getting high, disappearing for days. and if she knew where he was going, what he was doing—

but he is the only one who can do it. the only one who can offer, without any risk, that comfort to those whose lives are being stolen from them.

"i need you to believe me when i say you don't gotta worry about me. i mean it. i'm the last person in the world you ever need to worry about that happening to, okay? you aren't gonna lose me. i promise." in a brief departure from her sleeve, he reaches out to squeeze june's hand. "i'll always be around. so when you fall in love for the first time, i'm gonna be right here and you're gonna tell me all about her."