bamadillert

[bamadillert]

Imagine GAMBLING with your f/o 🤑🤑🤑

[bamadillert]

Its too cold

(Ok 2 rb)

[bamadillert]

[bamadillert]

he's so adorable I wanna take care of him and make him tea

[bamadillert]

tbh u don’t need to be pathologizing selfshipping like “selfshipping is for the givers/empaths/glass siblings/former gifted kids” it doesn’t have to be a Thing that’s like a Trauma Response you can just do it because it’s fun/you’re horny for your guy/you think you’re hotter than the rest of the cast/it’d be fun to be a wizard or giant robot. and that still goes for people who take it more seriously

[bamadillert]

one day i’ll write an everett story. it will be like a woman under the influence

[bamadillert]

You Never Change It

Words: 1.3k

Characters: (S/I) & Bill Baker; Junior Jackson (mentioned)

Description: Bill Baker talks to the coach’s wife about his concerns over his friend, Junior.

Author’s Note: Hi, I’m very (Brooklyn accent) nervous about posting because I’ve never posted fic on Tumblr before. And when I write somewhat serious situations about comic characters, I feel silly because it might not fit in their world or their voices. But the movie is played more straight than most of the others, so maybe it would fit (tonally)? Haha I don’t know… Anyways.

—

Mrs. Wheeler liked Bill Baker, at least more than most of the rest of the rotating troupe of chimpanzees her husband affectionately referred to as “the boys”, as if they were his own sons. Baker was a lovely young man, not boyish at all, good-looking and self assured in a way that most 18 year olds were not. His perfect “Yes ma’am”s and gentlemanly virtues were suggestive of a much more sophisticated upbringing than his drawl gave away, and he didn’t even look anything like a ball player, he looked like a dancer.

“That kid’s gonna be a star.” Mr. Wheeler liked him too.

Mrs. Wheeler placed her cross-stitch in her lap and squinted against the sun. “Yes, he’s very gifted.” Run back, run forth, run back, run forth. What unfortunate hats they had to wear.

The boy came-a trottin’ over to the bleachers when the hour’s practice was up, nix absurd headgear and curls wild, thank goodness. “Well, hi there, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Why, hello, Mr. Baker.”

“Mrs. Wheeler,” he looked uncharacteristically nervous, but his nervous was the average man’s cool. He clasped his hands behind his back, must’ve realized it wasn’t polite in front of an older lady, and then dropped them to his side. “I was wonderin’, this is sort of a tall ask I s’pose, ‘n’ maybe there’s not much you can do about it, but- Well, you know Junior, don’t you?”

She nodded. The miserably ineffectual skinny one with the inch thick Harold Lloyd glasses. He had dinner at her home once or twice before the fall semester started, on account of Jumping Jack Jackson and her husband being classmates, naturally, and his great generosity to the school, naturally. That was an unfair description— he was delicate, his small voice carrying a sort of girly lilt, and whose affection for reading books about farm animals went snubbed by his father. Clumsy and socially inept, yes, but with a certain freedom and spiritedness behind his gangling movements. Mrs. Wheeler appreciated and took pity on little things like that, she imagined what great artists and intellectuals might’ve been called sissies today. “Yes, I do.”

“Then you know he’s kinda…” Bill made a vague, swooping gesture with his hand.

She tilted her head slightly and pursed her lips.

“He’s unique.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, I was wonderin’, maybe you could put in a good word and get Coach to stop leanin' on him so much. Let him play a little bit, you know? He’s a good kid, he really wants to play ball.” There was genuineness in his appeal— there was only one obvious reason all 125 pounds of Junior were still allowed on the team, but Bill had a real softness in his voice.

“Mr. Baker, why don’t you sit down?”

“Oh, please none of that Mister stuff for me, ma’am. And I’d rather stand.”

“Then none of that ‘ma’am’ for me either, I feel like an old maid. Would you like to walk?”

“You’re sure no old maid.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief before he realized what he said and his cheeks went a dollish shade of pink. He coughed. “I’ll take that walk.”

They walked along the outside field until they came to the back which was flanked by a few thin rows of trees, a deceptively private seeming area where one could pretend to hear the bluebirds sing in winter.

“Bill, Junior’s not terribly strange, only a little different, but I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Yes, but,” He was staring off. “I don't know why he can’t have a little more… Gee, he won’t even sleep with the window open. He could stand being a little more of a guy. I’m just worried about him. I don’t know anything he can do on his own, I mean, his old man told me to look after him and—“ Bill caught himself and faltered.

“Junior’s father?”

He tugged on his earlobe. “I just mean that we were in school together, see. Junior was a bit of a famous character, unfortunately, on account of his Junior-ness and all, and… Everyone knew he was different. Maybe ‘cause we all knew his dad too, that wasn’t fair to him. But Junior,” he paced around the words. “See, we used to go with the same girl—“

“The same girl?” Mrs. Wheeler was taken a little aback. That two, polite boys-!

“Not anything like that, Mrs. Wheeler! Oh, never. I was afterwards, see.”

“Oh.”

“And when I went with this girl, everyone knew she was the loveliest thing around. All the fellas were jealous of me.” Mrs. Wheeler couldn’t help but notice how his chest puffed out a bit at that. “But this girl, most beautiful girl in school, tells me when she was with Junior, he never even tried to… You know.”

“I see.”

“And his old man figured I was going to Ridgefield and told me to look out for him, since I was…”

“A real tough fella?”

“Well,” Bill smiled and looked at his feet. “I don’t know about that.”

“It’s alright, Bill,” Mrs. Wheeler turned her back towards him. “I think you’re a more than decent guy. It’s nice of you to take care of your friend. You see, Bill… I like Junior. I think he’s a wonderfully bright young man—“

“Oh, I do too, ma’am.”

“Yes, but he suffers so, from all the big men around him like his father.” She tilted her head in his direction. “And you.”

“Me? Why, Junior doesn’t care what I think. I’m nothing like his dad.”

“But he does, terribly, Bill. He likes you very much, you see,” her voice was soft around the edges.

“I like him too.”

“I know your heart is in the right place, but—“

“Mrs. Wheeler, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you don’t understand. There are certain things I just can’t explain to you. Me ‘n’ Junior, we shouldn’t even be friends, but we have to be because… Well, because. But I like him. I always have. I don’t know if he ever knew it, but I thought he was a real clever kid. He could dance and act in plays and name butterflies. So I’m not trying to make him feel hurt. I want him to be a stand-up fella, and that don’t mean being like me, but— well, people think things about him, his dad thinks a certain way,” he spoke more and faster than he ever did before, and Mrs. Wheeler listened. “And see, what does it look like when I— Don’t think I’m vain, Mrs. Wheeler, but I was kind of a big thing in high school. It was the first time people didn’t think I was funny for singing songs, ‘cause I was a varsity ace. I worked real hard to play here and be who I am, and not some fella who walks funny and sings for coins on a corner. And I can’t mess that up on account of Junior Jackson. I can’t.”

“You know his being different doesn’t hurt anyone. He doesn’t make you any less of a man, nothing would. Not even you. It’s not Junior who has to change,” she said, but it sounded with little conviction.

“Maybe not, but the world’s always gonna be the same.”

“And so will you. I think I understand now.”

Bill’s eyes shone ever so slightly in the dimming autumn sun, making them look heavy and sorrowful. “Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

[bamadillert]

You Never Change It

Words: 1.3k

Characters: (S/I) & Bill Baker; Junior Jackson (mentioned)

Description: Bill Baker talks to the coach’s wife about his concerns over his friend, Junior.

Author’s Note: Hi, I’m very (Brooklyn accent) nervous about posting because I’ve never posted fic on Tumblr before. And when I write somewhat serious situations about comic characters, I feel silly because it might not fit in their world or their voices. But the movie is played more straight than most of the others, so maybe it would fit (tonally)? Haha I don’t know… Anyways.

—

Mrs. Wheeler liked Bill Baker, at least more than most of the rest of the rotating troupe of chimpanzees her husband affectionately referred to as “the boys”, as if they were his own sons. Baker was a lovely young man, not boyish at all, good-looking and self assured in a way that most 18 year olds were not. His perfect “Yes ma’am”s and gentlemanly virtues were suggestive of a much more sophisticated upbringing than his drawl gave away, and he didn’t even look anything like a ball player, he looked like a dancer.

“That kid’s gonna be a star.” Mr. Wheeler liked him too.

Mrs. Wheeler placed her cross-stitch in her lap and squinted against the sun. “Yes, he’s very gifted.” Run back, run forth, run back, run forth. What unfortunate hats they had to wear.

The boy came-a trottin’ over to the bleachers when the hour’s practice was up, nix absurd headgear and curls wild, thank goodness. “Well, hi there, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Why, hello, Mr. Baker.”

“Mrs. Wheeler,” he looked uncharacteristically nervous, but his nervous was the average man’s cool. He clasped his hands behind his back, must’ve realized it wasn’t polite in front of an older lady, and then dropped them to his side. “I was wonderin’, this is sort of a tall ask I s’pose, ‘n’ maybe there’s not much you can do about it, but- Well, you know Junior, don’t you?”

She nodded. The miserably ineffectual skinny one with the inch thick Harold Lloyd glasses. He had dinner at her home once or twice before the fall semester started, on account of Jumping Jack Jackson and her husband being classmates, naturally, and his great generosity to the school, naturally. That was an unfair description— he was delicate, his small voice carrying a sort of girly lilt, and whose affection for reading books about farm animals went snubbed by his father. Clumsy and socially inept, yes, but with a certain freedom and spiritedness behind his gangling movements. Mrs. Wheeler appreciated and took pity on little things like that, she imagined what great artists and intellectuals might’ve been called sissies today. “Yes, I do.”

“Then you know he’s kinda…” Bill made a vague, swooping gesture with his hand.

She tilted her head slightly and pursed her lips.

“He’s unique.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, I was wonderin’, maybe you could put in a good word and get Coach to stop leanin' on him so much. Let him play a little bit, you know? He’s a good kid, he really wants to play ball.” There was genuineness in his appeal— there was only one obvious reason all 125 pounds of Junior were still allowed on the team, but Bill had a real softness in his voice.

“Mr. Baker, why don’t you sit down?”

“Oh, please none of that Mister stuff for me, ma’am. And I’d rather stand.”

“Then none of that ‘ma’am’ for me either, I feel like an old maid. Would you like to walk?”

“You’re sure no old maid.” His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief before he realized what he said and his cheeks went a dollish shade of pink. He coughed. “I’ll take that walk.”

They walked along the outside field until they came to the back which was flanked by a few thin rows of trees, a deceptively private seeming area where one could pretend to hear the bluebirds sing in winter.

“Bill, Junior’s not terribly strange, only a little different, but I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Yes, but,” He was staring off. “I don't know why he can’t have a little more… Gee, he won’t even sleep with the window open. He could stand being a little more of a guy. I’m just worried about him. I don’t know anything he can do on his own, I mean, his old man told me to look after him and—“ Bill caught himself and faltered.

“Junior’s father?”

He tugged on his earlobe. “I just mean that we were in school together, see. Junior was a bit of a famous character, unfortunately, on account of his Junior-ness and all, and… Everyone knew he was different. Maybe ‘cause we all knew his dad too, that wasn’t fair to him. But Junior,” he paced around the words. “See, we used to go with the same girl—“

“The same girl?” Mrs. Wheeler was taken a little aback. That two, polite boys-!

“Not anything like that, Mrs. Wheeler! Oh, never. I was afterwards, see.”

“Oh.”

“And when I went with this girl, everyone knew she was the loveliest thing around. All the fellas were jealous of me.” Mrs. Wheeler couldn’t help but notice how his chest puffed out a bit at that. “But this girl, most beautiful girl in school, tells me when she was with Junior, he never even tried to… You know.”

“I see.”

“And his old man figured I was going to Ridgefield and told me to look out for him, since I was…”

“A real tough fella?”

“Well,” Bill smiled and looked at his feet. “I don’t know about that.”

“It’s alright, Bill,” Mrs. Wheeler turned her back towards him. “I think you’re a more than decent guy. It’s nice of you to take care of your friend. You see, Bill… I like Junior. I think he’s a wonderfully bright young man—“

“Oh, I do too, ma’am.”

“Yes, but he suffers so, from all the big men around him like his father.” She tilted her head in his direction. “And you.”

“Me? Why, Junior doesn’t care what I think. I’m nothing like his dad.”

“But he does, terribly, Bill. He likes you very much, you see,” her voice was soft around the edges.

“I like him too.”

“I know your heart is in the right place, but—“

“Mrs. Wheeler, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you don’t understand. There are certain things I just can’t explain to you. Me ‘n’ Junior, we shouldn’t even be friends, but we have to be because… Well, because. But I like him. I always have. I don’t know if he ever knew it, but I thought he was a real clever kid. He could dance and act in plays and name butterflies. So I’m not trying to make him feel hurt. I want him to be a stand-up fella, and that don’t mean being like me, but— well, people think things about him, his dad thinks a certain way,” he spoke more and faster than he ever did before, and Mrs. Wheeler listened. “And see, what does it look like when I— Don’t think I’m vain, Mrs. Wheeler, but I was kind of a big thing in high school. It was the first time people didn’t think I was funny for singing songs, ‘cause I was a varsity ace. I worked real hard to play here and be who I am, and not some fella who walks funny and sings for coins on a corner. And I can’t mess that up on account of Junior Jackson. I can’t.”

“You know his being different doesn’t hurt anyone. He doesn’t make you any less of a man, nothing would. Not even you. It’s not Junior who has to change,” she said, but it sounded with little conviction.

“Maybe not, but the world’s always gonna be the same.”

“And so will you. I think I understand now.”

Bill’s eyes shone ever so slightly in the dimming autumn sun, making them look heavy and sorrowful. “Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

[bamadillert]

jerry: oh dean pull our red string of fate harder i like it

dean: jerry!

jerry: oh no dean dont hit me im only a 23 year old kid!

etc

[bamadillert]

the shawn levy jerry book says that paramount was trying to get vincente minnelli (along with other directors like nicholas ray and frank capra) to do an m&l movie. jerry and sympathy could have been real

[bamadillert]

Pick any random M+L moment and it just sounds outlandishly farcical, like:

Cross my heart and hope to die- I didn’t draw Dean Martin “King of Cool” ™ stomping on Jerry Lewis’s bike like a four year old just for kicks and giggles- he DID it

@fredandginger64 l don’t know how anyone could believe half the stuff these two got up to if there wasn’t documentation lol

Side note: ik the aspect ratios are scuffed af T^T This was meant to be a comic and there’s no planning ahead for 3am animatic impulses.

[bamadillert]

me: I'm feeling a little down. kind of lonely. but that's okay, I know it's just my hormones making me feel unlovable today. let's put spotify on shuffle and listen to some music to cheer up.

spotify: :)

[bamadillert]

[bamadillert]

lowkey i do see bill baker thinking that if he *passes* a French class this will somehow lead to a series of events that will cause him to propose to and marry a girl he dislikes rather than his true love and coming to the conclusion that he should just fail French rather than like just not proposing to that girl

but one can always just headcanon bill baker getting up to some "Peter Lawford with cte" shenanigans off screen. maybe he's also being tutored in French by a lonely but cute librarian but it wasn't relevant to Jarring Jack Jackson's journey

[bamadillert]

but one can always just headcanon bill baker getting up to some "Peter Lawford with cte" shenanigans off screen. maybe he's also being tutored in French by a lonely but cute librarian but it wasn't relevant to Jarring Jack Jackson's journey