#<- for my fellow believers in these two comedians... out here....

[seaquestions]

a tale of two losers

[anqelically]

LOVING YOU | YUTA OKKOTSU X FEM!READER

004. UNKNOWN SUSPICION

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You and your fellow first years are taking a break from training when an important question comes up— What were you guys going to eat for lunch?

CHAPTER WARNINGS: None other than this is a filler-ish chapter

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

INTRODUCTION | CH3 | CH5

You didn't exactly find training to be a thrilling practice. It was necessary for you to train as a sorcerer, but there was something about training with Okkotsu that made you look forward to it. She'd show up with a bright smile, waving at him.

"Maybe I subconsciously want to be a teacher..."

"What?"

"Huh?"

Snapping out of your thoughts, you straightened her back. You were sitting with the other first years on the stairs near the training field because you all needed a quick break. All of you besides Maki, anyway. The Zenin took a break just for the hell of it.

You wiped the sweat off of her forehead and turned to Maki with a weak smile, "Nothing! Heh, I was just thinking about things."

"Those things were being a teacher. Piece of advice: don't. It'll turn out bad," Maki bluntly remarked.

Panda chimed in, "You're terrible at explaining science and math subjects, even if you understand them well."

"Y/N... this doesn't make sense. Should I ask Tsumiki?"

"Yeah, probably. Sorry about that, Megumi."

Inumaki nodded, "Salmon. Bonito flakes tuna."

You gasped in offense before you pouted, "I'm way better at jujutsu than teaching? You guys are so mean... but aren't wrong."

"At least you're self-aware," Panda shrugged.

For the 4 months you've been classmates, you've become extremely close as friends. Okkotsu noticed this as he observed his classmates, his hands supporting his elbows. In the 3 weeks he's been in the school, he was getting the hang of how things go.

Though, it was still hard in some aspects. He couldn't understand Inumaki at all besides for when the platinum-haired boy nods or shakes his head. Then there was Maki, who was just more hard-headed and blunt. Okkotsu couldn't even count the number of times he's felt shivers run down his spine within her presence.

When it came to you and Panda, however, he was fine with your presence. You had been kind to him from the start and the same applied to Panda. Panda just the comedian of the group, and you the mother.

"I think you're doing great, Y/N-san," Okkotsu scratched the back of his neck. "You're great at teaching me! And uh- nice too. The best teachers are nice. Wait... Well, that's just my personal opinion."

You all stared as he rambled, some words understandable and others in whispers. You were just plainly staring at him before your lips turned up into a smile. It warmed your heart to see him be supportive.

You gently elbowed Okkotsu's arm, "At least someone believes in me. Come on, let's show them I'm not so bad!"

"Yeah!" Okkotsu played along as you giggled.

Panda closely observed as you two grabbed your bamboo practice swords and went into the field. There was an unknown suspicion lingering in his gut that he couldn't place.

You and Okkotsu stood some feet apart with your swords drawn in front of each other. The boy's face washed over with determination while yours had stayed neutral.

You attacked first, swinging your sword down as Okkotsu blocked it by backing up and allowing your bamboo sword to hit the top of his. He moved his tool clockwise and tried to hit your shoulder when you blocked it.

"So how has transitioning to here been?" you questioned when you skipped back a step. "To your liking?"

"Um... I guess it's alr-ack!"

Okkotsu paused for a moment to answer, and that was enough for you to sweep him off his feet and point your weapon to his head. The ravenette was visibly surprised.

You withdrew your practice sword and held her hand out for Okkotsu. He took it after staring for a moment and looked down at the hand that held the bamboo item.

"Sorry for distracting you. I wanted to see if you can multi-task, but I guess you can't for now," you sheepishly scratched your cheek.

Okkotsu glanced up with a flush of embarrassment, "I-it's alright. Practice is practice, right? I can't free Rika if I don't practice... Can we try again?"

"Yeah, of course," you had nodded before you two went at it again.

You continued training and even had Maki join the fighting at times. It was when you and Okkotsu were panting on the ground that you both decided to call it off.

"Training doesn't work if you're doing it until you're that tired," Maki stood above you and looked down. "You'll be too exhausted to do any more tomorrow when your body is sore."

You tried to get as much oxygen into you system so your body would ache less, "Help me up?"

Maki held both of her arms out and you took them both. You dusted yourself off just in case there was any dirt on your clothes, then picked up the bamboo weapon.

"It's a Friday, right?" you asked your friends, to which they responded yes. "And it's lunch time?" They all nodded, one in confusion and the other three already knowing the deal.

"W-what?" Okkotsu jumped when Maki placed her hands on his shoulders from behind.

Maki's face was serious, "Don't let her win."

"Let her win...? What are you talking about, Maki-san?"

Panda joined in, "Just trust us. We need you on our side, Yuta."

"Salmon," Inumaki nodded.

"Are you guys teaming up on me?" You pouted, "That's unfair."

And that's when you and Maki stood in front of each other with determined faces. Okkotsu thought you were going to fight until...

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

...he realized that the situation wasn't all that serious. Okkotsu looked at Panda for any explanation but received none since the cursed corpse was paying attention to the match, which you won.

Maki cursed, "Argh, dammit! I knew I should've chosen paper."

You were then faced with going against Inumaki. You both showed your choices— scissors and paper. You began to gleam from another win.

"Lose and you're a day closer to death," Maki placed Okkotsu right in front of you, who told the Zenin to not scare him like that.

'Is no one going to tell me what's even going on!?'

You explained as if you had read his mind, "It's a friendly thing we do to choose where to go out to eat. We can all be indecisive at times."

"Ohhh," Okkotsu nervously chuckled, "then do I really have to die if I lose?"

"I didn't say I would kill you. I only told you that you'd be a day closer to your death."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"No."

Panda began to complain, "Hurry up! I'm hungry!"

Maki pointed out, "You can't even eat, you walking stuffed animal."

"Does that mean Panda doesn't get to choose? Since he can't eat," the special grade sorcerer was curious.

"Hm, maybe we can do rock, paper, scissors to sort out where and what we'll eat?"

"I'm a panda so I can't go out unless you lot want to buy a cart of sausages."

"...Maybe we shouldn't do rock, paper, scissors."

Panda obnoxiously shook his head, "A common misconception! Everything I eat turns into cursed energy, so it's better for us all."

Maki sourly looked to the side, "It's so stupid. Panda doesn't choose because we'll end up on a sausage diet. It's disgusting."

"Not disgusting."

"Disgusting."

You then intervened so that the two wouldn't continue. You knew that if they did, Maki would get irritated enough to attack Panda, who they all silently agreed was her personal punching bag. Well, everyone besides Panda himself.

"Anyway, Y/N is still a bad option too. All this steak and sushi is killing me."

You deadpanned, "And all the junk food you eat doesn't?"

"At least there's more variety. Sweet, salty, savory. There's a whole lotta options I got compared to the same old sushi and steak."

"A whole lot of options that have much more calories and aren't as healthy," you pointed out. "If you won as much as I did, our bellies would grow huge with all the junk food."

"We'll burn it off with all this training we do." Maki paused in thought, "But the thought of turning out like Panda is horrifying."

"Wha-!? Why do you always drag me into it?"

“Easy target.”

“Tuna tuna.”

WRITTEN: 02/19/2022

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

your average slice of life filler (of sorts) chap apologies😓

[raisinghellonstarbug]

Stumbled Into Laughter, Stumbled Into You - A James Acaster x Reader Story

Basic plot: The year is 2019, and life has been quite dull for you since working in a job that you hate for the past two years after graduating from university. You used to do stand up comedy at uni, but you’ve been putting off pursuing it due to lack of confidence and motivation. Your best mates decide to encourage you to try a comedy mic night for the first time ever and while there you incidentally run into an old mate of yours, comedian Rhys James. That’s when your life gets turned around as you end up diving into the world of the comedy circuit and becoming close with other famous British comedians. In the midst of it all, you end up meeting a particularly distinctive red headed fellow who might end up being the very thing that brings meaning to your life again.

*

A/N: Hello Acaster fans!

So this was an idea I have had in mind for the last few months and I finally finished the first chapter of my story!

Just so you know, the first chapter does not include James, but be patient as he will appear soon (but maybe not quite as soon as you hope). I do reckon it will be worth the wait for his appearance, or at least I hope the story is still enjoyable! It is a slow burn so if you are an inpatient person, then this story might not be for you ;)

You can read this chapter below or if you prefer, there is also the link to the chapter posted on Ao3 right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33748507

-

Rating: M

Chapter 1 word length: 2326

Characters: James Acaster (duh), Original Female Characters(s), Original Male Character(s), Rhys James, Ed Gamble, Nish Kumar, Josh Widdicombe

Relationships: James Acaster x Reader/you, Original female character/Original Male character

Story tags: Romantic comedy, domestic fluff, slow burn, fluff and smut, British comedy, eventual relationships

Tagging: @laurabeech @rilannon @jasclearwaters @marklily @queensantiagoofthe99

Chapter 1 - Summer 2019

You were sitting at your desk at your mundane job, practically ready to blow your brains out on the usual, dull Thursday afternoon. It was really warm and stuffy inside the fifteen story office block building situated in Canary Wharf. This was a place you found yourself five days a week, doing the typical 9 to 5 hours. A usual day for a usual person.

Your job wasn’t a particularly riveting one. As an underwriter for an insurance company, some days could get especially boring. You knew how to do the job well, but it was not something you really loved. It involved all kinds of clients and claims in paperwork and it sometimes felt tedious and unfulfilling. But hey, it still paid your share of rent and bills. At least you could say you could manage in the hustle and bustle of the London lifestyle.

It was nearly hometime and you were itching to get home and relax. But before that could happen, there were those last set of insurance cover forms you had to copy to get sent to the HR department. And so you typed away on your laptop, clickety clack, clickety clack… the minutes went by like a chalk on a blackboard, scraping away at a snail’s pace.

You put your full force of concentration on the documents on the screen until it was finally done. A sense of achievement was necessary in these moments despite your lack of enthusiasm. It was in the little victories you reminded yourself. You rubbed the sweat from the July heat off your forehead.

* * *

The last 2 hours eventually passed by and it was soon the rush to get out of the door before you got held up by your colleagues. They were nice enough, but sometimes they could hold you back for half an hour chatting when you just wanted to get home, or your manager might try and get you to stay an hour overtime.

Thankfully you did get out promptly, and as you ran and dashed out of the office building saying brisk goodbyes to coworkers, you managed to make it to the tube with the train just arriving on time. But not without being moderately sweaty and hot though. Bloody stuffy platforms.

As expected it was still a busy train with plenty of 5pm finishers getting themselves situated on the half crowded carriages, but as it was only 10 past, it wasn't the worst time of day for commuting yet.

You perched yourself on one of the tube’s seats and let your shoulders drop, having held the tension in your body from sitting at a desk all day. You placed your head slightly back, balancing it on the window of the train. You looked up momentarily above you and then lifted your head back up to look at your phone and choose a song to listen to on Spotify through your wireless earphones.

The streams of sound from one of your favourite songs began to play softly in your ears and you smiled, knowing that the song gave you a little bit of wistful joy. You started mouthing the words.

Call it all for nothing, but I'd rather be nothing to you. Than be a part of something, something that I didn’t do (Best to You - Blood Orange).

The words half mean something but not necessarily anything. You began to wonder about being part of something that you’re not.

I just wish I could float away from my unexciting existence… you thought to yourself.

It sometimes occurred to you that you might have wanted something more out of life, but weren’t entirely sure what. It doesn’t make you dreadfully sad, but you know that life for you hasn’t exactly been the best it could be, and that perhaps something was missing. You wish you knew what it was.

You sighed, ignoring the feeling of sorrow wash over you momentarily and propped yourself back up in the uncomfortable seat of the train. You tried to keep yourself awake so that you wouldn’t miss your stop. The music continued through your ears.

* * *

You opened the door of the three bedroom flat that you had been residing in for the last two years with your flatmates and sighed with relief that you had finally reached home. You hurried to get your handbag off your shoulder and your shoes off, placing them on the rack next to the front door and walked through the hallway.

The minute you poked your head through to the lounge, bellowing a faint hello to whoever was around, you were suddenly greeted by one of your best friends and flatmates, Grace.

“Ahh Y/n! You’re home. Thank christ!”

She grabbed you and reached her arms around to embrace you tightly. You were perplexed by this gesture as it was so random and unusual given that Grace lived with you and saw you everyday of the week. You frowned and reluctantly placed your arms around her to return the hug.

As she then let go, she looked at you with urgency in her eyes and shrieked with excitement, “Oh Y/n guess what? It looks like I’m up for a promotion! Can you believe it?”

Now processing the reason for such an embrace, you raised your eyebrows in glee and smiled proudly, gushing back to your best mate who was obviously chuffed by the matter.

“Oh wow Grace, that's fantastic! I mean, finally. It is about bloody time!”

She smiled, “Yes I guess it is. But I mustn't get too excited. I haven’t officially got the promotion yet.”

“Ah but no. I’m not having any of that. You will get that promotion. It is a guarantee. They would be idiots to not give it to you.” Grace rolled her eyes and bit her lip. She reluctantly nodded and agreed.

The smell of food distracted you momentarily from the conversation. It was a particularly appetising smell.

Grace uttered, “Yes that smell is good isn’t it? Theo insisted on cooking us a nice meal for me as a celebration.”

You smiled knowingly, having known about how Grace and Theo had been in relationship limbo ever since you three became close friends at university. You knew they both had feelings for each other but often danced around the subject, completely oblivious to one another’s obvious attraction to the other. You reckoned they had to do something about it one day.

“Thank fuck. I wasn’t prepared to make dinner tonight. I am too tired for that.”

Grace then had her worried face on. She instantly knew, as she knew you too well, but funnily enough never picked up on Theo’s emotions despite constantly wondering about them, that something was wrong.

“Are you ok babe?” she asked with a look of pity that you scornfully resented.

You sighed, half lying, “Yes. I’m fine. Just tired is all.”

You made a beeline for the couch knowing full well that you were going to talk about it whether you liked it or not. You knew that Grace would see right through your dishonesty and insist that you told her the problem.

So you waited until Grace inevitably sat next to you and gave you that sympathy look she always gave you before coming out with the concerns that were floating around your brain.

“OK fine. I know you won’t leave me alone unless I tell you.”

“Ahh, you know me so well…”

“Yes, just as you know me. I’m just- I’m fed up. Work was slow. I don’t really feel like I’m associated with my life. I feel... disconnected, I guess.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

You shrugged and looked down at the floor and then back at Grace smiling sheepishly, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not- not fulfilled? I just don’t thoroughly enjoy my life right now.”

Grace nodded and put a hand on your leg. You twitched your face in slight discomfort. You hated it when you were given sympathy for something that seemed so miniscule. It wasn’t like you were dying.

It was times like this when you just wanted to curl up in your bed, eat a tub of ice cream and watch your favourite comedy programmes. 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown sprang to mind.

As you sat in momentary silence for a bit, Theo came waltzing through from the kitchen with his silly apron on that had a naked man’s body printed on it, and a spatula in his hand. He smiled at you.

“I thought I heard your voice. I hope meatballs for dinner are good tonight. Not mine of course,” gesturing to the apron as he said it.

You shook your head at Theo’s poor dad joke and stood up to hug him. You realised that you must be really down in the dumps to be hugging Theo. It was his turn to be confused. He looked towards Grace wide eyed.

“She’s had a particularly tough day. But mind you babe, you’ve kinda been like this for weeks now.”

You let go of Theo and turned to Grace, frowning and feeling slightly defensive. You placed a hand on your hip.

“Been like what? I’ve just been a bit fed up, that's all.”

“Yes but it’s not just a bit fed up. You said so yourself you feel disconnected. We’ve been waiting for you to say it.”

You looked to Theo and he nodded gently in agreement.

“Ok… but, nothing is really wrong exactly. My life is fine.”

“Fine, yes. But not amazing. We know it’s getting you down. And the job is the problem.”

“But I’m good at it. And it pays the bills. What else am I supposed to do?”

Grace then looked away from your eyes then, twitching her lip and looking as though she was holding something back. She then sighed and began to admit something you had not been expecting.

“OK look. We know what you can do. Theo and I have figured it out. We can manage money wise. It will be tight, but if you quit your job we should be able to help you out for a little bit.”

Your eyes grew wider than large saucepans. You were totally bewildered and your mouth slightly agape.

“What? Quit my job? Why? What work would I get instead?”

“Well, maybe you won't quit your job yet. Maybe you’re right, that's too hasty. Perhaps what I’m trying to say is-”

Theo then chimed in, “-what Grace is trying to say is…”

You smirked to yourself. How do they not realise that they’re already a couple but without the sex? They’re practically married for christ sake.

“...we reckon that you need to pursue your passion. Perhaps stop wasting your talents in an office job that you hate.”

Grace continued, “yes exactly. We have had an idea in mind. See, we want you to go to this thing… it’s no biggie but well, we’ve already booked it for you.”

Your mind was racing. You couldn’t understand anything that they were saying to you. It was all too much for you to manage.

“Booked what for me? What the hell are you both going on about?”

They both looked at each other with reluctance, pondering the moment and whether to tell you the whole truth. They both shrugged and Grace was then pulling her phone out, this whole conversation beginning to appear as though they had been trying to practice it.

Suddenly Grace’s phone screen was wavering in your face. You moved your head closer to see a photo on the screen. It was a comedy club night poster. Incidentally, it was an open mic night event happening on Saturday night. You began to then put the puzzle pieces together. You folded your arms and frowned heavily.

“What the fuck have you two done now?”

Theo softly spoke, “We… booked you a slot to do that comedy open mic event thing, on Saturday night.”

“Wait. As in to perform? You can’t be serious-”

Grace tried to reassure you and grabbed your arm.

“Look, we know it might seem daunting, but we just wanted to see you happy again. It’s been two years since we graduated and you haven’t performed since then. We thought it might be good to encourage you to perform again. You were always funny to us. And people at uni thought so too. You have the stand up talent, Y/n.”

You could not process anymore. You shook your head in disbelief and placed your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes from sudden exhaustion. You then threw your hands up in exasperation. It was not possible. You could not do that again.

Fucking no way. I can’t be on stage again! It’s too scary. University pub nights are one thing but a comedy club?

You shook your head again and placed your hands on your hips. Grace tried to speak up again seeing the frustration painted across your face. In fact it was anger that your friends chose to do this without your say so.

“Y/n…”

“No. Nope. I’m not doing it. No.”

“But Y/n, we were also going to tell you that Theo is also thinking of doing the same thing! He wants to do his music again. What harm would it be for you to rejuvenate your comedy skills? Surely you can write a quick couple of gags. Nothing strenuous. You have your old material from university, right?”

You had to get out of the room. Nothing that they were saying to you could be fully accepted at that moment.

You then gave them no choice but to let you go with your head in a flurry. They both watched you leave the room, mumbling something along the lines of I’m not really hungry anymore, I’m going to bed. Soon after, you darted across the other end of the hallway, ill-tempered and almost seething, and slammed your bedroom door shut.

[poppinisperfection]

Cool. || Peter Maximoff x Reader pt. 1 ||

Peter Maximoff x fem!human!Reader

(Y/n) is history teacher.

Requested.

Word Count: 3543

Notes: Peter acts a little strange in this, he's not being cold on purpose - so keep that in mind. Let's all presume (Y/n) is an independent woman who doesn't let an aloof guy ruin her day 💫 it's more of an introduction, so sorry if that dissapoints y'all. I hope you enjoy this extremely long piece of writing, let me know what you think. Requests are open 🙌

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @scorpionchild81

Masterlist

I flicked the indicator, as it clicked rhythmically and signaled my next turn. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, I wondered whether the direction I was heading in was the right one. My eyes drifted down to the small business card that was beginning to wrinkle from the amount of times it had been read and re-read.

‘Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York’

With a deep breath, I pushed my foot gently on the accelerator and turned the wheel - solidifying my decision. I drove down the graveled driveway as the evening sun pierced through the acres of fields and forests that dotted the landscape. This place was unlike any school I had ever seen. I had taught at various institutions of all kinds during my training, but something about this place was like something out of a fairytale or Jane Austen novel.

The old academic building grew closer as I prepared to slow down my vehicle and stop at the entrance. I peered around, trying to see if there was any places dedicated for me to park; but as far as I could tell, this was the only appropriate place for me to stop. 

I pulled out my key and felt the car’s engine fade to silence. I didn’t notice how comforting the gentle grumbles of the vehicle had been until they were gone. Now, all that was left was my mind and the thousand worries that crashed around inside it. I'm not a mutant, but I often wonder if being anxious about everything is some sort of weird useless mutation that I unfortunately had. 

Before I could become consumed by my menial fears, the vintage wooden doors opened up as if on cue. A man in a chair wheeled out as his familiar face smiled at me, and I was honestly quite awe-struck by his sudden appearance. I had spoken to Professor Charles Xavier on the phone before (for the job interview), and I had watched him on television a few times, but something about actually being near him was so incredible. This man changed the lives of so many people, possibly even the world.

I took a deep breath in and returned the kind smile, opening my car door and placing my feet onto the ground - the gravel crunching underfoot.

"Professor Xavier, it's so good to meet you." I spoke nervously, unsure of what I should do with my posture. Should I shake his hand? Should I high-five him? Should I bow? Okay maybe those last two were a bit far-fetched...

"The pleasure is all mine, (Y/n)." A voice rang through my head, as if it were my own thoughts speaking to me. But I recognized the voice, a smooth English accent that belonged to the world's most famous telepath.

"Incredible..." I breathed. Some might find it intrusive or freaky, but I was quite honored and honestly dazzled by his abilities. A figure appeared behind the wheelchair-bound man, distracting me from my child-like awe.

"Don't be a such a show-off, Charles." my attention turned to a tall man wearing a pair of glasses and a smart checkered shirt. "Good Evening, I'm Hank McCoy." he piped up cheerily, holding out his hand for me to shake. I absentmindedly took it, a bit starstruck by the world-renowned engineer, scientist, blue-furry man, and genius.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." I eventually spoke up, causing Hank to raise an eyebrow at my words.

“’(L/n)’? You're the new history teacher?" I nodded at his question, "Oh wow, you came so highly recommend that I presumed you'd be a bit more... experienced?" he chose his words carefully as to not offend. I know that most people picture an old greying woman who wears outdated fashion when they think of a history teacher...

"Oh, I'm young, I know." I explained with a bashful chuckle. 

“Hank, you of all people should know greatness is not defined by age.” Charles turned to his colleague. 

“I read that you graduated Harvard at 16.” I blurted out. 

“15, actually.” McCoy mumbled humbly. Xavier gave a satisfied smile as his point was proven. 

“(Y/n) here was top of her class, and I have no doubt that she’ll be a wonderful addition to the school.” the wise mutant stated, assuring Hank and giving me a boost of confidence. “Come inside, Hank can carry your bags for you, won’t you?” the professor inquired cheekily as McCoy threw him a look of slight distain. 

“Somedays I wish I wasn’t born with super-strength...” the academic man shook his head - the comment laced with light-hearted sarcasm - before heading to my car and pulling out my two bags, not even giving me a chance to politely object to the offer. 

“Ignore him, he’s just grumpy because he’s not on the mission.” Professor Xavier chuckled, turning his wheelchair around and beckoning for me to follow him inside. 

“I only trust myself to pilot that beauty.” Hank mentioned wistfully, probably referring to his famous aeronautical creation.

“’The mission’?” I questioned with intrigue, trailing behind him and entering the grand entrance.

“The X-Men are on a routine escort mission for the President at the moment,” my attention turned away from the antique décor as I choked on my breath slightly at his words. Of course I had heard of the famous troop of mutant heroes, but it just suddenly became so real. I was living where the X-Men lived. You know, the same X-Men that saved the world from complete destruction. “I was hoping they’d be here to show you around - but duty calls.” Charles finished. 

“Oh of... of course, duty...” I managed to mutter out eventually, earning a slight laugh from the Professor. He didn’t need to be a telepath to read my mind right now. I was so obviously astonished at the whole situation. I couldn’t believe that I was finally here, after months of thinking, considering, and second-guessing. I knew it was a risk, and I couldn’t even return to my parents if it failed.

Let’s just say that my folks weren’t very supportive of my decision to teach at a 'mutant mansion', as they would call it. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was bravery; but I ignored their advice and became determined to come to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngers. Now it was my only chance, since my family won't be welcoming me back anytime soon.

I followed Charles around, as he showed me all the rooms and explained some of the history as Hank make the odd comment or interjection. Most notably that the house was actually only a few years old, owing to the fact that the school had been blown up and rebuild a year ago. That was a fact that I could’ve gone without knowing. All I could do was hope that it didn’t blow up again, or at least not when I was around anyway. 

"Your classroom will be right next to the library," Xavier motioned towards a pair of wooden doors that lay open for students to walk freely into, "and feel free to check out any of the books as well - I have a few secret shelves for teachers, with some unregulated research papers on pre-20th century mutations, if that sounds interesting to you?" he added with a playful smile, as I nodded my head in admiration. This place sounded like an absolute dream, and I've only been here for less than an hour.

-------

As we strolled (and wheeled) down the wooden hallways, I noticed the students disappear one by one. By the looks of it, the early night had truly set in, and the majority of children were either in their rooms studying or hanging out in a common area.

"I suppose there's nothing more we can show you until the class starts tomorrow morning, I was really hoping that the team would be back by now..." Xavier gave a short sigh and furrowed his brows slightly, "But I suppose I've prolonged your tour as long as I could. Perhaps Hank, you could show (Y/n) to her room and she can rest in preparation for tomorrow." his smile returned as he asked his colleague for another favor. McCoy nodded his head and gave me a polite smile, still carrying around my bags from earlier. Maybe he didn't anticipate the Professor giving such an expansive and detailed tour of the mansion, so the bags must've been getting burdensome at this stage.

The spectacle-wearing teacher walked ahead of me and strolled towards the grand staircase that lead to the upstairs area (which we had previously travelled to earlier, but it's mainly bedrooms that we couldn't intrude into). I trailed my fingers along the carved bannister of the staircase, admiring the craftsmanship. Considering the school had been blown apart; this place looked as though it was straight out of a historical drama. The Professor could've went for a more modern update, like the ones you see in magazines and government buildings - but something about the simplicity of 1980s architecture just seemed cold and clinical. I'm glad they kept the historical charm alive.

"So you're really not, well, you know..." Hank broke me out of my daydreaming as he turned his head slightly and paused at the top of the steps. It took me a second to register what he was asking, but then it hit me.

"A mutant? Oh," I gave a meek smile before answering, "No I'm just a regular 'homosapien', completely boring." my sentence ended with a light chuckle at my own expense.

"Then you'll be the first non-mutant teacher here, you're making history." McCoy replied with zest as he began to walk down the hallway again.

"I thought I was supposed to teach history, not make it." I chirped from behind him, earning a snort and chuckle from the nerdy fellow (I know, I know - I'm a superb comedian).

As we passed by the student rooms, I could hear the various sounds emerging from behind their doors. One was gossiping loudly to their friends, another was blasting ABBA and singing along, and I could've swore that I heard some quiet sobs escaping through the keyhole of one door. My face fell into a frown as we passed by, and Hank paused slightly, before turning to me.

"That's Sophie Smith's room, she's homesick a lot." he whispered to me, his features showing concern. "You might have her for a class, so maybe keep an eye out if she's struggling." Hank suggested, as my heart went out for this student. I gave him a nod before we continued on our neverending journey towards my room.

Eventually, we stopped at the end of a corridor and my guide dropped my bags carefully on the wooden flooring. He twisted the door knob with one hand, and I watched as the door opened and revealed my bedroom.

"’Home sweet home’, as the saying goes." Hank uttered with a light tone. I stepped into the room and took my bags from the floor, carrying them in with me.

"It's so..." I breathed, observing the room.

"I know, we were supposed to get the curtains changed last month, but there was a mix-up and it's been dela-" he tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Oh no! I was going to say, 'It's so perfect'." I clarified, brushing off his embarrassment at the state of the curtains (which were beautiful anyway). I stepped forward and placed my bags at the end of the bed while gazing at the beautiful room. This place was growing on me more and more with each minute that passed. 

“I’ll let you get settled in for the night then, there’s a copy of your timetable on your desk - it has all the information you’ll need for classes and etcetera.” Hank gestured to the neat pile of paper sheets on the wooden desk, “There’s always food in the kitchen, feel free to eat whenever and whatever you want.” he added, as my attention turned to my empty stomach. I will definitely be visiting the kitchen after I get settled in. 

“Thank you, for everything.” I beamed, unable to truly express my gratitude. He returned the smile and nodded, before shutting the door and returning to his business. As soon as his footsteps disappeared, I fell flat on the quilted bedsheets and sprawled out, giving out a pent up sigh. It was the kind of sigh that released anxiety and replaced it with assurance. From the looks of it, things were going to be alright - and there was nothing more satisfying that knowing you made the right decision. 

My brief escape into my feelings was cut short, as my stomach audibly warned me that it was running low on fuel. I turned my head and looked over to the beside alarm clock, reading the time; ‘8:24p.m.’

“Hmm,” I mused as I considered my options, “I should probably read you first...” my eyes drifted to the timetable that sat untouched on the desk. My belly did not agree with this decision, as it grumbled once more. “Okay, alright... yeesh.” I placed a hand against my abdomen, trying to settle the noise. “Food first, read later.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and resolved to make my way towards the school’s kitchen. 

-------

Finding the kitchen was no problem, as the Professor showed it to me at least three times earlier. I guess he really was trying to stretch that tour out as much as possible. A few of the older students who were hanging around glanced at me as I entered the room. I couldn’t tell if they knew I was a teacher, or if they just thought I was a new student; either way, they didn’t stick around to find out. The group of teenagers grabbed their snacks and left the room once their privacy was interrupted. Honestly, I just think they were gossiping about some pop music band and didn’t want a stranger listening - so I didn’t mind their swift exit. It left me with some privacy as well, which was nice. 

I noticed a small radio sitting in the window sill, and decided to switch it on to break the silence. A static noise rang out as I extended the antenna and turned the knob carefully. Soon a voice grew clearer, and I had reached a station playing something. I just let the song play out, since I didn’t want to bother with searching the airwaves for something else. 

I stepped over to the pantry and surveyed the contents carefully. I was starving, but I couldn’t figure out what for. I picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter, deciding it would have to be a PB & Jelly sandwich. Grabbing a plate, I began to craft my makeshift dinner. Absentmindedly, my head began to sway gently to the tune that played through the tinny radio speaker. It was one of those cheesy love songs that are always playing these days. There was something so catchy about those songs, and instinctively I began to mouth the words and drift into an MTV daydream. 

My brief escape from reality faded away as I noticed a clinking noise coming from the glass and cutlery. It was almost like an earthquake, but I knew that New York was unlikely to experience that kind of disaster (well I hoped so, at least).

A bright light shone outside the window, and I stepped closer to peer out. The basketball court had opened up and revealed a massive basement beneath it. A few seconds later, a black jet descended gracefully from the dark sky and lowered itself underground while the whole mansion trembled with the power it created. I swiftly grabbed the jam jar as it almost slipped off the edge of the counter, and stared in awe. 

“So that’s where they keep it...” I breathed out as the basketball court returned to its normal state, as if nothing had happened. I stood in wonder for a few seconds, still holding the jar tightly in my hands. That was probably the most of the X-Men I’d be seeing tonight. I’m no expert on presidential mission debriefing, but I presumed the team of elite heroes wouldn’t be mingling with the common folk upstairs for at least an hou-

“Ugh, this song’s a real bummer.” 

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a voice suddenly quipped from beside me. My attention hastily turned to a combat uniformed young man - quickly flicking through the radio stations. I stared at him, half confused and half terrified of his sudden appearance. Slowly I began to recognize his features; silvery hair, aloof attitude, and of course, the recognisable X-Men uniform. 

“Hey - you’re that guy...” I tilted my head slightly as I spoke without thinking. In a split second, he appeared at the fridge wearing an entirely new outfit, this time more casual. The music had changed to something more rock-y and alternative, matching his aesthetic. I was almost certain of it. I couldn’t remember his name, but I’ve definitely seen him with the X-Men on the news. I was almost certain of it.

“Nah, you’re thinking of a different guy.” he responded without second thought, while lifting out a can of some kind of soda. I felt my mouth contort in confusion, bemused by his comment. 

“I...” my thoughts paused to phrase my words correctly, “You were just wearing an X-Men uniform, you’ve got to be him.” I managed to retort, causing the confident fellow to raise an eyebrow. With the blink of an eye, he had disappeared from my sight again. 

“So, you don’t even know his name - and you’re convinced he’s me?” the silver-haired guy stated nonchalantly from behind me as he sipped on his drink. I gasped and grabbed my chest in surprise, not expecting him to sneak up behind me like that. I gave a sigh and prepared to answer the question. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and wracked my brain for a moment, “Peter, right?” I sighed, finally recalling the speedy mutant’s name. I looked up at him and expected some sort of witty remark. Instead, he just stared at me for a few seconds. I avoided his gaze awkwardly and looked down at the jam jar that still sat in my hands. Clearing my throat, I placed it carefully onto the counter beside me - trying to distract from his sudden silence. 

“Oh.” I mumbled at the change of topic, “I am. Only arrived here a few hours ago. The Professor showed me around earlier, with Hank, I saw all the classrooms and it was really quite-” I harped on, “I'm sorry, I'm rambling..." my voice lowered, as I watched the casual fellow open up a bag of pretzels and munch on them absentmindedly. He gave a soft chuckle at my apology.

“So, you’re new here?” for the third time, he appeared in a different location, leaving me to turn around one more time. He faced away from me, opening a drawer and surveying its content silently. 

"Cool." he replied simply, placing a few more pretzels into his mouth.

"Cool." I repeated gently, trying to decipher his aloofness. This 'Peter' was blunt, distant, and almost cold. It was as if I had offended him somehow. I stared at my surroundings for a brief moment, before deciding to get off of the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier; or was it that I couldn't remember your name?" I tried to find the reason for his indifference, wringing my hands with nerves. Peter raised an eyebrow and scowled slightly at my question.

"Rude?" he asked with a shocked tone.

"Yeah, I thought I offended you?" I explained.

"Nah, nah, we're good." he shrugged my theory off and zoomed over to the bin, throwing the crumpled wrapper in it. "I gotta go now, X-Men stuff." Peter turned to me and excused himself. I gave a soft 'oh' in surprise, and held out my hand for him to shake (just a teacher habit, I guess).

"Nice to meet you anyway, Peter." I smiled at him. The silvery guy just stared at my hand and then looked back up to me - but for some reason, avoided my eyes.

"Cool." he said again, before disappearing from sight; leaving me standing there, alone, holding my hand out for no one. Slowly I lowered my wrist and cleared my throat.

"Cool..." I said to myself, still entirely confused by the interaction. My attention quickly turned to the change in music. The radio suddenly shifted from the grungy tunes, back to the end of love ballad that I was listening to earlier. He must've changed it back. I tilted my head and stared at the little radio in the window, listening and thinking.

Maybe he wasn't as cold as I thought. Maybe I'll try and get a better conversation from that silver-haired boy tomorrow. Maybe I'll get that handshake from him. Maybe.

Still, the only thing that matters right now is that I eat that PB&J sandwich.

-------

[tcm]

The Oscar Worthiness of BLOCK-HEADS By Rowan Tucker-Meyer

In this year’s 31 Days of Oscar lineup (also available on WatchTCM), among all of the classics we’ve watched and rewatched many times, there is one movie that may at first glance appear to be slightly out of place: the Laurel and Hardy film BLOCK-HEADS (’38). Although it is not as well known or acclaimed, I believe that it is every bit as good as most of the other Oscar-nominated films being shown this month.

In BLOCK-HEADS, Laurel and Hardy portray, as the title suggests, two not-so-bright fellows. The film opens with footage of World War I and we meet Stan and Ollie, two soldiers in the trenches. While the rest of the company goes into battle, Stan is ordered to stay back and guard the trench. In a delightfully dark turn of events, the other soldiers never return, news of the eventual armistice never reaches Stan and he dutifully guards the trench… for 21 years. The year is now 1938, and Stan has been subsisting solely on cans of beans. We even see a humongous mountain of 21 years’ worth of bean cans; it is a haunting image. He is discovered and returned to society, and when Ollie sees his friend’s photograph in the paper he decides to invite him over for dinner. Mayhem, needless to say, ensues.

I first saw this film a few months ago and it was one of my most delightful movie-watching experiences in recent memory. I hadn’t laughed so hard at a movie in a long time. With a running length of just 57 minutes, it’s densely packed with great gags which I won’t attempt to describe here. I’ll just say that my personal favorite gag is the one involving a football and leave it at that.

BLOCK-HEADS was nominated for Best Original Score. Marvin Hatley’s score is certainly good (even if it was often difficult to hear over the sound of my uproarious laughter), but it does seem a bit odd that it’s all that BLOCK-HEADS was nominated for, since it’s just about the last thing you think about when you finish watching this movie. You’re thinking about the hilarious performances by Laurel and Hardy – their gestures and facial expressions – the way Hardy reflexively touches his hat and the way Laurel sways side to side when he’s standing around, not really knowing what to do with himself. Or maybe you’re thinking about the script with its brilliant setups and payoffs. But the actors, writers and directors of movies like BLOCK-HEADS would rarely find themselves nominated for awards.

The film’s director, John G. Blystone, was never nominated for an Oscar. Neither were any of the film’s five writers. Laurel received an honorary Oscar in 1961, but apart from that, Laurel and Hardy themselves were never nominated for anything, even though their performances have aged remarkably well. As for their films, BLOCK-HEADS and WAY OUT WEST (’37) earned Best Original Score nominations, while THE MUSIC BOX (’32) won and TIT FOR TAT (’35) was nominated for Best Live Action Short Subject, Comedy. Tellingly, their work was mainly recognized when competing in a category specifically devoted to comedy, which was discontinued in 1937. Although today Laurel and Hardy are beloved icons and many classic film lovers will agree that their films have stood the test of time, those movies simply weren’t seen as worthy of much recognition when they were first released, except in peripheral categories. (I find it amusing that, although BLOCK-HEADS had no realistic chance of getting a Best Picture nomination at the 11th Oscars, it currently has a better IMDB rating than 6 of the 10 movies that were nominated instead.)

Comedies, particularly “lowbrow” comedies such as Laurel and Hardy’s slapstick-heavy movies, are seldom honored by the Oscars. The films of classic comedians such as Abbott and Costello, the Marx Brothers, Olsen and Johnson and W.C. Fields were regularly ignored. And this trend persists to the present day, perhaps to an even greater extent than in the 1930s. Best Picture nominees are notoriously drama-dominated, and the comedies that do get nominated are nearly always “comedy-dramas” like JOJO RABBIT (2019) which have an underlying seriousness at their core. Silliness for its own sake consistently goes unrewarded, whether it’s from Melissa McCarthy, Jack Black, Will Ferrell or Tyler Perry. Whether or not you think today’s comedians are comparable to those of the ‘30s and ‘40s, it is interesting to consider that Laurel and Hardy may have been viewed in their time the same way that critics receive an Adam Sandler comedy today, only for them to become respected decades later.

Great slapstick is really quite beautiful. Its humor is ageless and universal, striking some indescribable chord in our collective human psyche. What is it about Oliver Hardy slipping and falling on a rolling pin that makes us laugh? I’m not sure, but it’s hard to deny that slapstick has a mysterious power. Silliness deserves respect, especially when it is executed as exquisitely as in films like BLOCK-HEADS.

[blxckbutterfli]

Victor Grantz: Dearest Bunny

Image Credit

Summary: The truth is always hidden between the lines of a letter, but after Victor has been fooled once, how can he trust another letter?

Wordcount: 2.1k

Note: Female reader

Unedited

Hi! Hello!

So… you’re a postman, right Victor? You must walk or bike a lot, you even have a dog! Do you take him to exercise with you? What’s your dog’s name? It’s honestly so cute.

Anyway, I just wanted to write this letter because oooooh mystery person, and I heard that you don’t like social interactions much? I really want to be friends with you so I wanted to start out with something you’re comfortable with.

Good luck with your first match! Don’t get fooled by Michiko’s cute looks.

Victor gripped the letter in his hands until it turned white. Feelings of confusion stirred inside him--should he be happy he received a letter or suspicious of it? It sounded so genuine but he didn’t know if he could believe it anymore. The first letter he received also sounded just as friendly, however, that friendliness and sincerity were just a facade that he fell for. A facade that trapped him inside this horrible cat & mouse game.

He threw the letter in the fireplace with his dog whimpering beside him

.

Greetings,

You’re amazing! I heard it’s only your second match and you already won! I guess you could call it a... VictorY… Yeah, I know, I’m such a comedian.

You have natural talent I tell you, many of us here didn’t get wins until our 5th of 7th match. Also, I found out your dog’s name is Wick, that’s so adorable, it almost sounds like ‘Vick’ which is quite similar to your name.

I used to have a dog when I was little, it was a stupid little pomeranian that’d never stop running in circles, but either way, it was my stupid so I still love him with all my heart.

I look forward to playing matches with you in the future!

I look forward to playing matches with you in the future? That means he hasn’t played with them yet. Victor searched through his memory of who he played with in his first two matches. Andrew… Luca… He sighed in defeat, he didn’t think knowing who his teammates were was this important. 

A soft texture rubbing against his arm brought Victor out of his small misery, Wick rested his tiny body beside Victor’s leg. ‘Wick sounds similar to me, huh’ Victor thought as he gave his dog a small pat.

Victor placed the letter on the fireplace, deciding to burn it away later.

.

Why hello there,

You seem to be in a happier mood these days, I’m glad :D. When you first came to this mansion, I noticed that you looked really excited for some reason, like who would be excited to participate in a dangerous game? But then I found out that you were tricked and now I feel so bad for judging you so quickly. After you found out it was a trick, you were so gloomy all of the sudden so I wanted to cheer you up with these letters.

Is it working?

A big grin dared itself to stretch on Victor’s face but he tried his best to stay calm. This was the third letter sent to him by this person and so far nothing bad has happened. Once in awhile, he’d wake up and would see a letter laying near the door (it was most likely slipped under the door). It was always something positive, never bringing his mood down. Is this person really as bad as he thought they were?

Memories of the ‘sincere’ invitation letter flashed through his mind. No, he couldn’t get fooled again, he won't be an easy and weak-minded person. Victor used to think that conversations were pretentious and filled with lies and that letters were the hidden truth. Now, he doesn’t even know what is true or false anymore

Victor threw the letter, along with the previous one, into the fireplace.

.

Rise and shine because I’m here again!

You know I find it funny how right after I said you looked happier, you go right back to being gloomy. Am I that atrocious to you? Honestly, I can’t really tell if you’re acting gloomy just to spite me or if you’re actually sad. If you are actually sad… What’s wrong? Is there anything I can help with?

You can always send a letter back to me if you want to. Just get another paper, write whatever you want on it, and tape it under the piano. I’ll check there every day at noon to see if you sent something.

How can someone cruel write something as amiable as this? There were so much care and personality written into this one letter that Victor wanted to cry from guilt because of the previous burnt letters. 

The invitation letter he received was carefully crafted but it was also so… formal, no emotions, no feelings. Maybe he was blinded because it was his first-ever letter. The letter that Victor is now holding in his hands, the person behind it can’t be cruel and deceitful, not at all. If they were, they would’ve just continued spreading pretentious positivity and ‘happiness’ and just ignored his feelings.

One chance. Victor will give them just one chance, the moment he senses something bad about the letters is the moment he’ll burn all of them. No point in keeping bad memories alive.

Hello,

Thank you for being concerned about my well-being, I never really meant to bother you with my moods. It’s just that I’ve been… suspicious of these letters. Are they actually genuine or are they trying to trick me? After the invitation letter fooled me, I began having doubts about the truth written inside letters so when you sent those letters, I felt hesitant about them.

But I believe you now, you wanted to be friends? Then we’ll be friends! However, we can’t be friends unless I know stuff about YOU! I don’t know your name, age, or even gender, maybe you can give me some small hints as to who you are?

Was that good? Did he come off as too nosy? Despite delivering so many letters, he had never written one himself. Wick, as if the dog knew Victor’s feelings, barked and jumped like he was cheering on his owner. Victor smiled and made his way to the old piano.

.

Even after almost three months of repeatedly sending letters to each other, Victor only had one clue to what his mysterious friend’s identity was. They were female. Of course, when he read that letter, he started observing every single female inside the manor--he even went as far as observing the hunters much to his fear. No matter how much he observed and talked to them, none of the girls gave any hint of the identity of his sender.

This observation time helped Victor get closer to his fellow teammates. His original goal was to find out who his friend was, this involved talking to people and comparing their personalities to the one in the letter. While at first, he had no attachment to the irrelevant teammates, he warmed up to them over time. Of course, he still wasn’t as social as someone like William but it was a start.

Though Victor didn’t know their identity, he at least got to call them a name--Bunny. Bunny actually came up with the idea, it felt weird to be so close to a person yet not know what to call them so she made a list of nicknames and reasons to call her that:

Clown 🤡 because I’m much funnier than you

Buttercup because I just like that flower

Princess because no one can be the queen except for Mary

And Bunny because I’m cute as a bunny haha.

Of course, Victor laughed at all those choices and was even tempted to circle Clown, but Bunny stood out to him. It was cute, simple, and an animal. Victor loved animals!

Bunny… Victor can’t help but want to meet her.

.

Oh god, he’s so thirsty, and he forgot to fill up his water jug last night. Victor reached to his bedside table to feel for his watch. 6:17 the watch showed Victor’s tired eyes. The postman closed his eyes and sighed, why must his thirstiness wake him up so early?

Victor sluggishly got out of bed and weakly grabbed his water jug. At the door, he frowned when he realized Bunny’s letter didn’t arrive yet--Victor’s gotten used to waking up to Bunny’s funny letters every morning the past months.

Opening the door, Victor walked out and made a beeline to the kitchen

Finally, he got some water to quench his undying thirst. With his water jug filled to the brim with liquid, he walked back to his room--slightly more awake than before. His footsteps paused, however, when he turned a corner and noticed a figure standing in front of his door, Victor quickly stepped back and hid behind the corner.

Y/N? What is she doing here?

A grin was plastered on your face as you hummed a joyful tune, your mood always goes up whenever it was time to deliver your letter to the cute postman. You opened your letter one more time and re-read it to check for any silly mistakes. Victor watched in curiosity, from his angle, he couldn’t see what you were holding. Goosebumps rose all over Victor when he finally saw a letter within your hands.

Bunny… is Y/N?

You crouched down and quietly slipped the letter under his door, Victor should be asleep for another hour so it’s no worry if he’ll see you or not. That thought quickly went to vain when you stood up and was out of the blue grabbed by your wrist. Gasping, you instinctively thrashed about until you saw the cute yellow eyes that you’ve stared at every day.

“Oh, Victor! What are you doing here? Isn’t it too early to be awake-”

“Bunny?” Victor cut you off, you quickly shut up. Damn it, I thought I could slowly escape if I rambled enough. His innocent eyes bored deep into you which made you guiltily look away--how could you lie straight to his face? “Bunny? Is that… you?”

You slowly nodded and looked back up to his face which had gone from a small frowned to one of… joy and excitement? You let out a tiny squeak when you were suddenly slammed into Victor’s chest and was encased in a hug. “It’s really you, Bunny” Victor’s whispered into your hair--you smelled so nice, you felt so nice between his arms.

After a small pause, you finally returned his embrace, your arms wrapped around his body, “Yep, it’s me.” You pushed your way out of Victor’s hug--much to his disappointment--and twirled, “so, do I look as cute as a bunny?” You joked.

No, he thought, you were so much cuter than a mere bunny, so much more beautiful than a lonesome rabbit. Not only your appearance but your personality, the way you cared for him these past few months, you were an angel.

“Y/N,” he spoke your real name, “I love you.” He immediately covered his mouth when he let that phrase out. ‘What that heck? Why did I say that? I just met her!’ he scolded himself.

“What?” You gaped at him as he awkwardly distanced from you while scratching his neck. He stammered for words, not sure how to redeem himself after suddenly blurting the phrase out like a madman, one just doesn’t simply confess their love on the first meeting. “Victor, what did you say earlier?”

The cute postman barely responded to your question, you could see his lips barely move as he responded--or rather barely whispered--to your question. Victor’s face was flushed with red, he could barely look at you in the eye--actually, he couldn’t look at you at all. “I… loveyou.” It was quick, but what’s important is that you understood it.

A few seconds of awkward silence passed--which is also a few seconds of Victory dying inside--and you let out a small chortle. “I’m sorry… you just looked so cute when you were saying that,” you explained to him when you saw his perplexed expressions. You placed a hand on his cheek, brought his face down to your level, and kissed his forehead, “Of course, I love you too.”

Victor cried.

He didn’t mean to, but the emotions filling inside him wanted to spill so bad. He’d never felt such joy before, the man didn’t know how to deal with it so he just let it all out.

And so when you were fussing over his tears, Victor embraced you once again and thought of the many firsts he had with you.

His first genuine letter; his first friend; his first crush; and now… his first lover.

[flowerpowell]

The Royal Holiday Romance

PART TWO

A/N: I think I forgot how to write lol. This is my attempt at fluff. I’m not sure if I’ll fit the story I planned in two more chapters, but it’ll definitely be mini series. Still fluffy, still Christmassy and still veryyy Hallmarky. I hope you’ll like it! Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Rating: G

Tagging: @twinkleallnight @kingliam-rys @sfb123 @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @iaminlovewithtrr @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @lodberg @kingliam2019 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia​ 

Victoria looked at the scenery in front of her. She tried to focus on the beauty of nature but she was distracted by something. 

Someone. 

She felt Liam’s eyes on her as if awaiting her reaction. After talking for a little bit more, Liam insisted on taking her to his favorite spot in the forest. It was a little cave, completely covered by mud, now though, completely covered with snow. The cave was surrounded by trees and Liam told her that not many people knew about the cave since it wasn’t visible thanks to the trees around.

“It’s like a fairytale,” she finally said, still aware of Liam’s presence. “Like a forest straight from the Grimms’ fairytales.”

Liam chuckled. “As far as I’m concerned, forests in their stories weren’t exactly safe or beautiful.”

Victoria turned to face him, the corners of her lips slightly raised. “True, but I’ve always found them magical. Just like the fairytales themselves.”

“Ah, yes. The fairy godmother and everything.”

“Actually, no.” Victoria shook her head. “There was no fairy godmother in the original. It’s Hollywood’s creation. In the original, there’s mother cutting their daughters’ feet so the shoe would fit instead.”

Liam’s eyes widened.

“I suppose that’s one less fairytale I’d read to my children,” he chuckled. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I read the original fairytales and wasn’t impressed with how Hollywood adapted them. Did you know that in the original Little Mermaid by Andersen, Little Mermaid doesn’t marry the prince? He marries another princess and the Little Mermaid has to kill the prince on his wedding night to be a mermaid again.”

“I… certainly have to read some of these again. I didn’t even realize how brutal these fairytales can be.” Liam admitted. “I assume you weren’t happy with this adaptation either?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I mean, I like how sweet and romantic those Disney versions are but adapting a story and then not sticking to it is kind of a pet peeve of mine.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, it’s silly and I’m talking too much,” Victoria said quickly and turned her attention to the trees. Why couldn’t she stop talking? She just met Liam and started telling him about how bloody original fairytales can be. Great job, Tori. This is how you scare people, not make them interested in you.

“I would say it’s rather fascinating.” Victoria turned to him, surprised as he went on. “As I said, I had no idea about the originals but you made me want to read them.” He smiled at her and she felt her cheeks were blushing. “You must be a pretty harsh critic, huh?”

She let out a hearty laugh but quickly covered her mouth with her hands. “Mhm. Sometimes.” If I were a critic I would be harsh. Probably. Can’t say since I’m not one.

“What’s your favorite movie then? The one you just can’t criticize.”

“Gold Rush. I love the humor and I love how Chaplin showed real issues through comedy. No special effects, no computers, and these black and white, no sound movies are often better than what Hollywood offers us now.”

“Classics. Interesting.” Liam nodded. Victoria opened her mouth to apologize again for talking too much about cinema but Liam was first. “I actually preferred Modern Times. Chaplin showed a true genius there and I loved how he mixed the sound into this silent movie. Although, I must admit, Buster Keaton was master of comedy for me.”

Victoria looked at him, her eyes slightly widened. No one, maybe except for some of her professors and fellow students, heard of Keaton. She believed he was one of the most underrated comedians but anytime she’d talk about him, no one would know who was she referring to.

Liam kept on talking about his favorite movies as they were walking but all Victoria could think of was how oddly comfortable she felt being with him.

~~~~

After, what felt like a minute but was actually two hours, Victoria said goodbye to Liam and raced back to the set. She hoped Hana didn’t wait too long for; she had promised her to eat dinner together. Liam told her he had to join his friends somewhere and the two separated, though a little reluctantly. Victoria was still in awe of Liam but tried not to read too much into it. It was only a nice encounter with a stranger in the Cordonian forest.

“Hana!” Victoria called out as she spotted her friend. Hana was standing with a man that Victoria had never seen before and waved at her when she saw her.

“I was getting worried,” Hana confessed and Victoria felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop admiring the beauty of Cordonian landscape.”

“Ah, yes, Cordonia is beautiful,” the man standing next to Hana said and both women turned to him.

“Uhh, I almost forgot. Maxwell, this is my friend and co-star, Tori. And this is Maxwell. He’s the friend of the King and also my future biographer.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to—”

“O M G! I am so happy to meet Hana Lee’s friends! How long have you known Hana? What is she like as a friend? I bet she’s the best. Is Tori your full name?”

“Umm…” Victoria looked at Hana confused but her friend only shrugged.

“Maxwell wants to write a book about me and I couldn’t say no. Literally,” Hana added for only Victoria to hear.

“Nice to meet you, Maxwell. Tori is a nickname only for my friends and my full name is—”

“Brooks!”

“Sorry, I’ll be right back!” Victoria apologized and ran to a crew member that just called her name. Hana nodded in response and Maxwell noted something in his notebook.

“Maxwell! There you are!”

“Liam! I thought you forgot about me. Where have you been?” Maxwell asked as Liam walked up to him and Hana.

“I had… some thing to do. It’s a pleasure to see you again, lady Hana. I hope you’re enjoying your stay in Cordonia.” Liam turned to Hana.

“It’s even more beautiful here than I remembered. I hope I’ll have some time to visit Applewood  again, it must be so pretty this time of the year.”

“Applewood is always pretty.” Liam smiled and Hana laughed. “I’m afraid we should get going. Duty calls.”

“But do we have to?” Maxwell pouted.

“Maxwell, you’ve talked to lady Hana for two hours, let’s give her a break,” Liam said and Hana sent him a grateful smile.

“Fine, fine. It was a pleasure, Hana! I hope to see you again, soon.”

“Likewise.” Hana waved Maxwell goodbye as he and Liam started to walk away.

“Sorry, there was a problem with one of my scenes.” Victoria appeared next to Hana causing the actress to jump. “Where’s Maxwell?”

“He had to go. The King was here.”

“Wait, what? The King of Cordonia was here? While I was sorting out my scenes?” Victoria asked and Hana nodded. “Oh man. Just my luck. I wish I could meet him, too.”

“His friend is writing my biography, I’m sure you’ll have a chance,” Hana chuckled.

“Yeah, about that… How… did that happen?” Hana laughed as she took her friend’s arm to go for a dinner.

~~

“Chapter one would be called The Star in the Womb. I think I could get some ultrasound pictures of Hana because I’m sure she was very photogenic back then as well.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Drake put his book down as Maxwell read his notes out loud.

“What? If this is going to be Hana Lee’s first biography, I have to make sure it is perfect. What so you think, Liam?”

“Hmm? Yes, wonderful idea.” Liam didn’t even look at Maxwell, his eyes were glued to his phone, which was a rather rare occurrence. Maxwell looked at Drake triumphantly.

“What?! Did you even hear what Maxwell came up with? He wants to describe Hana Lee’s time in the womb.”

“That’s a good move, indeed.”

“Seriously, what is going on Liam? What are you doing?” Drake tried to take Liam’s phone but he didn’t let him.

“Nothing.”

“Liam. What happened? You’ve been acting weird since yesterday. You’re never that absent-minded.”

“Nothing happened!”

“Uh uh,” Maxwell cut in. “You’re different. Even Drake noticed.

“Hey!”

“Nothing happened,” Liam tried to reassure his friend but they still were looking at him as if he lost his mind. Liam shook his head, resigned, and Drake quickly snatched his phone. His eyes went wide as he saw what Liam was doing.

“Little mermaid? You’re reading little mermaid?”

“What?” Maxwell asked, glancing at Liam’s phone.

“Did you know that Little Mermaid tried to kill the prince when he didn’t marry her?” 

“What?” Drake was confused.

“I need to go for a walk,” Liam said taking his phone from Drake’s hand.

“Wait! Liam, wait! Can we invite Hana to the palace for dinner tonight? I want to talk to her and I’m sure she’d like to talk to you as well.”

“Mhm, sure. You can invite her.”

“Ohh, and let’s invite Tori, she seemed nice!”

“Who’s Tori?” Liam asked as he was putting on his coat.

“Hana’s friend and co-star. We met yesterday, just before you came. I felt good energy from her,” Maxwell explained.

“Hmm, sure, let’s invite them both.” Liam finished putting on his coat and shoes. “Tell the kitchen staff to prepare the dinner and tell Antonio to invite Hana and her friends. Just please, be civil. And no asking for ultrasound!” Liam warned before heading out, completely oblivious to the happy break-dance Maxwell just performed.

~~~~

“Aaaand CUT!” The director’s voice startled Victoria as she was dozing off on a chair, waiting for Hana to finish her scene. “That’s it everybody, we’re done for the day.”

“Finally,” Victoria thought as she yawned. She glanced at her phone and quickly did the math in her head. They were on set for ten hours with only one thirty-minute break.

“Hungry?” Hana appeared next to her, smiling and full of energy as if she wasn’t working for almost a full day.

“You have no idea. Pizza?” Victoria suggested and Hana nodded.

“That sounds—Excuse me for a second.” Hana looked at her friend apologetically as she took out her ringing phone. “Hello?”

Victoria walked away a little to give Hana some privacy. She wondered if Liam went to the forest today as well. Or if he watched any of the films she recommended. To be fair, Liam was all she could think of. She sighed looking at the set in front of her. Even though, she didn’t want to complain about her job, she wanted nothing more than to go to the forest to relax. And maybe meet Liam again. Maybe.

“I have the greatest news and you’ll love it!” Hana was giddy with excitement and Victoria wondered how she was still so alive after such a long day at work.

“The pizza place decided to give us our pizzas for free? Johnny Depp finally got his Oscar?”

Hana shook her head laughing. “No, but close. Prepare your best outfit, we’ve been invited for a dinner with the King.”

-------

[lothioriien]

richie tozier and his zoomer teen: headcanons

A/N: I tried keeping this as gender neutral as possible, but idk it’s a lil implied that the kid’s a girl. i’m trying to learn how to write gender neutral stuff :”)

By teenager, I mean around 16-17! High school age!!

Enjoy!

Sometime in the early 2000s, famous comedian Richard Tozier went to a party and came home with a woman.

oh yeah they deffo got it on that night

But that was a one night stand kind of thing, and Richie didn’t have any contact with her until about a year later.

He got up the couch one early evening to the ringing of his doorbell, and found a basket and a bag filled with baby food, diapers, and clothes perched on his doorstep

And in the basket? A small child, an apology note from the mother, and a birth certificate with his name listed as the father.

Oh boy did his life completely change after that.

It was him and the child, against the world.

but let’s skip the details on him struggling to take care of an infant first and move on a bit to when the kid’s older.

You, of course, are the baby that was left on his doorstep, and Richie tried to be the best father he could be despite his touring career as a comedian.

He’d bring you to the shows, even if you didn’t understand a thing that went on, though eventually when you’d help him write some material when you were older.

Constantly touring with him as a kid meant you were homeschooled. But that didn’t stop you from having a social life. You’d be friends with a lot of his fellow comedians, and John Mulaney was your ultimate favorite friend of his.

you just loved the very tall and gangly twelve year old looking man named uncle john.

Your academic life though was not too bad. You’re pretty intelligent, but when it came to maths, oh boy.

As a kid, you’d ask Richie constantly about math. He’d hate the school curriculum you had because math was different back when he was younger. He’d always help you, but it was mostly the internet just teaching you both.

You’d introduce him to vines (through iconic vine compilation videos), but mostly because he was so confused with this new language you were speaking.

Eventually he’d say some vines back to you and it’d come off so weird cause he’s a 40 year old white dad. You love him, nonetheless, and appreciate the effort

A lot of your instagram stories or snapchat stories are you filming him as you sing “You are my dad! You’re my dad! Boogie woogie woogie!”

He found it cute at first, where he would smile at you hiding behind your phone and hug you after cause dang he loves his kid so much and would die for you

then later, he’s evidently so annoyed because you do it constantly. As in he takes off his glasses, puts his head in his hands and just sighs so loudly.

When tiktok became the new vine, you were on the app every single day, making it a goal of yours to become tiktok famous.

You’d force your dad to do tiktoks with you

“I love my daddy. he is my superhero”

“Famous relative check!”

BUT THE PERFECT AUDIO

“Don’t look at me like that.” “YOU’RE MY DAD. BOOGIEWOOGIEWOOGIE!”

Gaining some clout because he is a pretty famous comedian 👀

Saying “ok boomer” to him when he’d annoy you

But then he’d clap back by being like “What the fuck Y/N. I was born in 1976, i’m not that old.”

“Yeah but sometimes you think like a boomer.”

“Ok, zoomer.”

“Dad. No. Get out.”

He’s really chill with you swearing. You definitely got that habit from him.

“What the actual fuck, Richard.”

“At least have the fucking decency to call me dad, Y/N.”

He got you into video games at a young age. Every time there was a new console or a new interesting game out, you’d both be up early to go out and get the said console/game.

And in each game you’d play, there would be hilarious commentary.

it’s basically that video with bill hader playing god of war with conan but imagine that and a zoomer’s feral energy combined.

He also got you into becoming a cinephile. Though unlike him, you read the books before watching the movie.

Marathoning a bunch of tv series together and you can never watch any new episode without him. Friday nights were reserved especially for it.

Richie can’t fucking cook for the life of him. Growing up, it was always take out, pizza, instant noodles, or mac and cheese.

He tried learning how to cook, he really did. But it was just so bad that eventually you’d learn how to do it. Then you’d try to teach him how too.

But did he get better as a cook?? Not really.

He once accidentaly set almost the whole kitchen on fire when he tried making pasta when you were 15.

“DAD, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PUT WATER IN THE POT FOR PASTA.”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT? I JUST WANTED TO DO SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR YOU!”

“I APPRECIATE THE GESTURE BUT PLEASE DON’T EVER TRY TO COOK AGAIN.”

The following morning, he got up and learned how to make pancakes with sausages, bacon, and eggs.

It was damn good, and by far the best thing he ever made.

So his pancakes became a regular thing.

On casual dinner nights at home, he’d let you have a drink with him and be drinking buddies. He taught you how to drink and be safe with drinks (cause we stan a protective father amirite)

Speaking of protective father, he’d be so picky and open about the people you’d date

“Really Y/N? That person? They’re fucking trash and you know it. You deserve better, sweetie.”

“But dad. They’re hot.”

“That’s still a no from me, kiddo.”

Having the most random, yet somehow meaningful conversations with Richie, yet roasting him at the same time.

“Y/N, do you think I would be classified as a papi by people.”

“No. You still wear hawaiian shirts over a t-shirt. You’re too tacky for that. You’re a papa, not a papi.”

But somehow, you also adopt his fashion style?

Cause hawaiian shirts are pretty cool? Very John Deacon ala 80s aesthetic?

And then he roasts you back from the time you called him tacky.

“Respect the drip, Richard.”

Even though you always poke fun at each other, you guys are actually so open with each other and just talk about anything and everything.

Oh no when you first got your period, he was panicking and nearly bought the entire aisle of pads and tampons because he was so clueless

Meeting the Losers Club was exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. You didn’t know what to expect of them or what they’d expect from you.

You clung to your dad the whole time, watching him reunite with his childhood friends. Each one of them had a look of surprise and confusion the moment they laid their eyes on you.

They found you to be like a mini-me of Richie, as both of you were clad in printed/hawaiian shirts and glasses.

“Jeez, Richie. Why’d you decide to bring a fucking clone of yourself?” asked Eddie.

“That’s my kid, you dumbass! Eddie, this is Y/N.”

“No shit, you have a kid! You got married, dipshit?”

“No, uh, it’s just them and me.”

You decided to butt in jokingly, “Joe was in the picture for a while too,”

“Joe? Who the fuck is Joe?” The minute Eddie asked this, Richie knew what was coming next.

“Joe mama.” Thus receving a high five from your father and a groan from Eddie.

at first, everyone else would not believe Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier had his very own kid, but the minute you started to get comfortable and joke around, it really clicked for them.

“There’s no doubt they’re Richie’s kid. Look at them! They’re basically a carbon copy of him!” Eddie would have exclaimed.

You‘re very liberal and open-minded, supporting the LGBT+ community and such, but you didn’t really know Richie’s stance on it.

Perhaps it was because he’d been surpressing his feelings for a specific boy from his childhood for almost his entire life, and he didn’t really talk about that topic so much.

But when you saw the chemistry between your dad and Uncle Eds, you sensed a little something there on both ends.

always saying a specific vine under your breath when you see them “two bros, chilling in a hot tub, five feet apart cause they’re not gay” (thank you to for this hc)

OKAY UNCLE EDS LIVES IN THIS AND HE’S DEFFO A BIG PART OF YOUR LIFE AFTER ONE SPECIAL TRIP TO DERRY, MAINE.

You’d say the vine so much, Richie eventually heard it and pulled you aside.

“Y/N, I- how did you know?”

“Know what dad?”

It took a little while for him to come up with the proper words to say. How was he gonna break this to you?

“Y/N..honey, I’ve had feelings for your Uncle Eds ever since we were kids. I-i don’t know, it really scared me as a kid to feel that way so I never talked about it. I guess what I’m trying to say is, kiddo, I’m gay.”

“Huh? I thought you were American?”

the man was basically on the verge of tears. He was so tense, he almost forgot to breathe. But the moment you hugged him and told him that it’s okay, that you love him so much, and that you’re so proud of him, he wrapped you in the biggest bear hug and cried. You cried too.

A/N: Imma end it here for now :)

So sorry it took forever!! I hope you enjoyed!!

Let me know if you want a part 2! 🤪

[lovemesomesurveys]

1. Have you ever seen two movies at the theater in a row?   No. I’ve wanted to do that, but just never have for whatever reason. 

2. If you were to go to Starbucks right this second, what do you think you’d order? A hot venti peppermint white chocolate mocha with soy.

3. Do you own any dice? Yeah, the pairs that come with some board games I have.

4. Do you like to wear cardigans? No.

5. If I were to ask you nicely, would you please consider making a survey for me and everyone else? I have no creativity to come up with questions. 

6. What is the worst thing a child has ever done to you while you were babysitting? My brother and cousins would just be super annoying at times lol.

7. If you wear contacts, do they tend to get really dry after only wearing them for just a couple hours? --

8. Have you ever watched any British television shows? I don’t think so.

9. Do you own a nightgown? I count these t-shirt dresses I’ve been into lately as nightgowns. I wear ‘em around the house and sleep in them, so. They’re so comfy.

10. If you could get any pet right now, what would you? I’m happy with my doggo.

11. Have you played Grand Theft Auto: IV? If so, what do you think of it? Nope.

12. How often does your internet disconnect? I very rarely have any issues with my internet.

13. Have you ever actually been stuffed into a locker? No, but that was one of the things I thought happened before I started high school due to movies. Unfortunately, it probably does for some people, but that wasn’t my experience and I never witnessed anything like that. High school for me wasn’t at all like it’s portrayed in movies and TV shows.

14. Do you / did you decorate the inside of your locker at school with stuff? I didn’t have a locker, actually. I didn’t want one.

15. How many teenagers do you know who have babies? None at the moment. 

16. Is there a fan in the room you’re in right now? There’s 4.

17. Do you believe that chivalry is really dead? No.

18. If you have one, what’s your favorite novel by Chuck Palahniuk? I’ve only seen Fight Club, I haven’t read the book.

19. Do you get your surveys from your subscriptions page or do you actually go to specific sites and search for them? I get them from fellow survey takers on here for the most part, but Bzoink and LiveJournal as well if my dash is dead and I’m forced to hunt for them on my own haha. 20. How much is your cell phone bill each month I honestly don’t know because I’m on a family plan that my parents and brother take care of.

21. And why the heck is Cingular now AT&T? Wow, this is super old.

22. Have you ever made a house out of a giant cardboard box? I don’t think so.

23. Have you ever made a tent out of sheets in your bedroom? Yeah.

24. What’s the coolest thing you’ve made with Legos? Nothing cool.

25. When you make a survey, do you answer your own questions? I don’t make surveys.

26. If you could keep your parents or trade them for other parents, which would you pick? I wouldn’t trade them for anything, I have amazing parents. 27. Do kiwis make you think of testicles or is it just me? ...

28. Do you think it’s cool how peroxide gets all fizzy when you put it on a cut? No.

29. Is there a piggy bank in the room you’re in? No.

30. If I had to power to give you one thing right now, what would it be? Good health.

31. Do you want to get pregnant right now? Nooo. Not now, not ever.

32. Do you know anyone who doesn’t like the internet? I know people who don’t spend as much time on it, but no I can’t think of someone I know who doesn’t use it at all or have any interest in it.

33. Do your grandparents know how to operate a cell phone? Yeah, they both have smartphones. 

34. Have you ever housed a friend for a long period of time because they had no place to live? No.

35. If you have a favorite comedian, have they ever been in a movie? I don’t have one.

36. How many sets of twins do you know? One.

37. Has anyone ever made fun of you for using proper grammar? No.

38. Do you own any hemp jewelry? No.

39. Have you ever cut carpet with a carpet cutter? No, I’ve never cut carpet at all.

40. Are there any books you want to read? There’s so many books I want to read.

41. Is it before of after 3 pm? It’s way later, it’s currently 10:39PM.

42. If you have younger siblings, are you very protective of them? Yes.

43. If you have older siblings, are they very protective of you? We don’t have a close relationship. It’s not a bad one or anything, it’s just different.

44. What are your plans for New Year’s Eve? I’m positive I’ll be here at home with my family watching the NYE stuff on TV as per usual and that’s perfectly fine with me.

45. Would you like a beer? Nooo thanks.

[curious-minx]

Review of the first episode of The Great North (plus some sad Bob’s Burgers’ news)

2021.

I was going to begin my review of the pilot episode of The Great North, the sister sister series of Bob’s Burgers, with my trademark  snarky and slanted curlicue wit... Instead, I am reckoning with the headline of the death of Bob’s Burgers character designer, Dave Creek.

Dave Creek.

Type his name out and put it in comic sans and you can see it’s a name meant to be involved with TV. One of the rare individuals to pass away from something other than Covid-19 or our rising totalitarian government. The artist contributed to the show in many ways, most profoundly with the design of Lady Tinsel from the Bleakening, one of Bob’s Burgers most visually ambitious episodes to date. I am ill-equipped to eulogize the man like his fellow peers are doing, but as someone who writes and thinks about the Bob’s Burgers series it is impossible to not address his passing.

//////

The Great North.

“Sexi Moose Adventure”

Look up there! What Do You See? Nature and stuff Like a rock And a tree Oh, The Great North Way up here we can breathe the air Catch some fish Or gaze at a bear Wow! Oh, The Great North Here we live, oh, oh Here we’ll stay, oh, whoo From longest night To longest day In The Great North

An Alan Thicke bop or the wimpy Cheers theme this aint. A jarring theme. I had to transcribe it to lay it out in front of me to see how wordy it is, but to my surprise the theme song looks more concise on paper. Still, I am not sold on this theme song. Mainly because I prefer the misheard lyric of “Here we’ll say (it’s actually “stay”): oh, whoo,” digging further into the regional grunts.

1:24, One minute and twenty four seconds in and there is already a  little bit of winking scatalogical humor by the ever youthful Paul Rust, or as I am sure he’ll be known for generations, Ham Tobin, the middle of the three Tobin sons. Compounded within these first two minutes is a stylistic swivel away from Bob’s Burgers comedic well with a Brokeback Mountain themed wedding cutaway joke with real-world celebrity cameos. Speaking of celebrity cameos, how about a side character conversation with an Alanis Morrisette  constellation (and she’s a recurring character!) you’ve never seen that in Bob’s Burgers! In the first three minutes and thirty seconds we have two instances of explicitly expositional dialogue, the first is the cleaner introduction of eldest Wolf Tobin (voiced by Will Forte) and his fiance Honeybee Shaw who has just moved to Alaska from Fresno and helps set up the reverse All in the Family Meathead and Gloria dynamic. What comes next is once again another moment I can only describe as jarring when the inexplicably normal named Judy Tobin explains to Alanis Morrisette constellation exactly what is wrong with sweetly overbearing father. The reason involving a somewhat convoluted background story about the former Tobin matriarch's  abandonment of the family and Beef, the Tobin patriarchy, is in denial of this  fact. Beef prefers to live in the reality where no wife of his would leave him she could only have been eaten by a wolf.  

What goes on throughout the episode is what I believe is a cardinal sin of episodic storytelling: Making jokes and observations at the expense of an off screen character. There are already WAY too many characters being thrown at me and not once throughout the episode was I able to identify any of the characters by any names other than the name of the celebrity voice actor. Minute six and yet again we are hit with Honeybee  generating another celebrity name for a joke and I really hope that the writers develop more of a game for her. Oh wait a minute the episode reminds me again at the eight minute forty sixth second mark that she is in fact from Fresno. More diarrhea and fart jokes snaking their way back into the scene as well, but Jenny Slate has always relished in the poopier jokes (see: any of her stand-up, Kroll work, or Obvious Child).

At the ten minute mark there is a quality character defining joke when Wolf distracts Beef by pointing out an indoor potted plant in a mall, which causes Beef, ever the Nature man, to take matters into his own hands by trying to rescue the potted plant. Beef is basically a combination of the two Rons from Parks & Rec, the emotional frugality of Ron Swanson and a touch of Sam Elliot’s Ron Dunn Earthiness. Julio Torres’ mall juicer character is also introduced with a perfunctory but enjoyable deadpan exchange with the awkward Judy, but it’s the kind of performance Julio Torres could give in his sleep (and probably did).

The eleven minute mark introduces a character that I was initially pretty jazzed about, Judy’s boss at the mall photography store Alyson Lefebvrere (gosh I hated typing out that name >.<) voiced by long-time Molyneux collaborator, Megan Mullally. On paper, much like the theme song, a heated exchange between an emotionally vulnerable Beef and a character voiced by real-life wife Megan Mullally should be dynamite, instead much like their podcast it feels like a wet fart in the sheets. Mullally’s work on Bob’s Burgers as Linda’s sister Gayle is terrific and with the power of animation having her play an unconventional looking character really works to her advantage. Alyson’s character design is boring and conventional cartoon  attractive as she’s clearly being set up as a potential love interest for our leading Beef man, but the whole thing in execution falls completely flat. The extended 69 joke between Beef and Alyson is supposed to be funny because we know it’s between a real life publicly beloved celebrity couple. You cannot coast on innate chemistry alone! The setting up of the love interest isn’t even coy, we see Beef get heart eyes and drool over Alyson, which is just the most predictable and least interesting choice. A route this show seems dangerously flirtatious with.

Finally, at minute:second mark 13:15 we get introduced to a potentially fun and quirky sitcom character, Londra the neighboring fish mongerer. Voiced by Judith Shelton, an actor I am sure we all remember as Sally from Seinfeld and Angela from the Gregory Hines Show. Instead she gets instantly shut down and shuffled by in favor of advancing the plot of the episode. Moving on to the birthday party. Yep Honeybee makes another pop culture reference this time the Minions (it was Squidward last time, but I was too faint of heart to mention it at the time). We also find out in a forced confession from Ham that he is gay. I am glad the show has hired an openly gay actor like Julio Torres to play a bit recurring character, but it feels weird having Paul Rust a thoroughly heterosexual actor portray a gay goofball character. I feel like there easily could have been an actual gay goofball Paul Rust type out there deserving of the job, but this show does do right by having Dulce Sloan as Honeybee and Aparna Nancherla as MVP, Moon Tobin (Who I’ll get into later). Therefore I should not let this irk me, but clearly this show and I are not seeing eye to eye. In an era of gestures towards meaningful representation I would just like to see some consistency. Rust will probably go on to join the ranks of the many other hetero men who have also portrayed perfectly competenent and sensitive gay characters, but with gay characters should come paychecks for gay voice talent. In the end of this dead end debacle I much rather  Paul Rust have the role  and be spared the unimaginative Randy Rainbow casting. Back on track.

There’s a four square action sequence of the four siblings that also feels like the show attempting another stylistic flourish to separate itself from Bob’s Burgers. The episode, all one straight ahead single narrative, comes to a happy ending to also establish that the Bob’s Burgers sister sister series is also interested in being a sentimental sitcom to its core. An unfortunately okay first episode that got worse for me with a repeated viewing. The only character and overall performance that sticks out to me is Aparna Nancherla playing what is essentially the show’s Tina and  Louise lovechild of a character Moon Tobin, an animal identifying gender flipped peculiar savant-like child. She’s one of those comedians that I will always root for and appreciate whenever she pops up and I really hope that this show treats her right. She really elevates the material. Everyone else does just fine. The first episodes and first seasons of any sitcoms are rarely all that innovative or memorable so I am certainly going to allow this show to grow on me.

For the time being, this first episode of the Great North is deserving of Two Sexy Moose Antlers out of Five Forced Pop Culture References

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 6

Nelly staggered out of bed. It wasn’t her bed, but that was the least of her worries. She was going to be sick. She moaned, stumbling to the floor. Beneath her hands, a red carpet with a zigzag pattern swirled and pitched.

“No you don’t, no you don’t!” someone called from across the room. She was grabbed under the armpits and dragged into a bathroom as the horrible flip-floppy feeling that preceded throwing up rose in her throat. She had just enough time to make it onto her knees in front of the toilet before she vomited. As she clutched the edges of the seat and heaved, the someone held her hair back. She had no memory of unpinning it. 

“Am I dying?” she said, after her stomach had stopped lurching. She felt as though she might faint. The room spun and she was drenched in a cold sweat. The sight of what she’d just thrown up in the toilet bowl made her retch again, but nothing came up.

“No.” A hand at the base of her skull continued gripping her hair. She now knew, although she couldn't remember how, that the hand belonged to Buster. Her feeling of illness was so acute, however, that she had no will left to worry about what he thought of her. She leaned back and he let go of her hair. He pulled the chain on the water tank and vanished the frightful contents of her stomach. A sink ran. 

“Here, drink a little water.” He nudged a glass into her hand. 

She swallowed a few mouthfuls and set it down. “Feel cold,” she said, teeth chattering. In front of her, the toilet swam. She tried to make it focus, but it wouldn’t stay still. 

“Here.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon. Why don’t you try to stand up?”

She shook her head. “I feel like I’m going to faint.”

“Okay, put your head between your knees then. Take deep breaths.” He knelt, pushed her feet slightly apart with his hands, and pressed on the back of her neck, urging her head down. “Breathe, alright? Deep breaths.”

Even with her eyes closed and her head bent, everything was pitching like she was on the high seas. “Cold,” she reminded him. “Shh, take it easy.”

His hand was warm on her neck and she shivered. She had no idea where she was or what had happened, but she didn’t care. She felt so sick, all she could think about was how horrible she felt and whether she’d ever escape the sensation. After a minute or two, the hand disappeared. Moments later, a heavy down bedspread flumped on top of her. Buster pulled it off her head and tucked it around her shoulders. It was so big, it seemed to fill up half of the bathroom. She scooted over to a deep clawfoot tub to the right of the toilet and leaned against it. For the first time, she caught a good look at her companion. He was knelt on his haunches in front of her in nothing but a white undershirt and shorts, his hair rumpled, and he looked concerned. “Where are we?” she managed.

“My hotel room,” he said, without explanation. 

She had no energy to ask for one and she didn’t care about the answer, anyway. The warmth of the bedspread felt good. Gradually, the pitching lessened and her teeth stopped chattering. Sleep began to creep over her. “Can I have a pillow?” she said. 

“No, you’ll feel even worse in the morning if you sleep here. C’mere. I’ll walk you back to bed.”

She still felt nauseated when she stood, though not as bad as before. Mostly, she was so tired she felt like a steamroller had run her over. She couldn’t keep her eyes open all the way. Buster gripped her around the waist, blanket and all, and slowly walked her out of the bathroom. “Easy,” he said. “Easy.” There was a large, high bed in the next room missing its bedspread and she shuffled toward it like an invalid with his guidance. 

“Here.” He removed the bedspread from her shoulders and tossed it to the foot of the bed. She sat on the edge of the too-high bed and he grabbed her calves and swung her legs up onto it. She was no longer wearing her stockings, she realized, but still had on the belted black dress. Before she could protest, Buster had pulled the sheets up to her shoulders and tucked the bedspread around her. “Comfy?” he said. “Mmm-hmm.” Her eyes closed and she immediately began to fall asleep. 

“One more drink of water,” said Buster, rousing her. When she groaned, he said, “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

She drank half the glass and that was apparently enough to satisfy him. Whatever sane sliver of her brain that still remained wondered if they had slept together. She expected him to get in bed next to her, but sleep dragged her under before she could find out if he did.

The alarm clock woke Buster at 5:30. He briefly considered throwing it out the window like so many comedians in so many bad shorts. Why in the hell he’d passed up that vacation for the pleasure of doing another picture, he didn’t know. He had a whiskey headache and a sore neck courtesy the sofa. His height didn’t give him any advantage with this particular one, which was small and not intended to be slept on. Rolling his head on his shoulders and rubbing his neck, he walked over to the bed where Nelly was sleeping, the alarm having made no impression on her. She’d kicked off the bedspread and was lying face down with the sheets twisted around her. He put three fingers lightly in the center of her back just to make sure she was still breathing. She was. 

He went into the bathroom, pulled off his underclothes, and stood in the ribcage of the shower, letting it steam off the worst of the headache. He expected Nelly to be awake when he came out in a towel with his teeth brushed and hair combed, but she hadn’t moved. He gathered his clothes, deciding it was safe to dress in the bedroom. Sure enough, she still hadn’t moved by the time he was dressed. He went over to her again and put his fingers on her. Still breathing.

He stared at her a moment more, running his thumb back and forth over the tips of his fingers, then went to the salon adjoining the bedroom where he picked up the telephone and ordered breakfast and a newspaper. As he sipped coffee and forked up bites of wheat cakes, the Sacramento Bee told him that $100,000 alone was going to be paid in salaries for the Sacramento shooting of Steamboat. He scoffed, knowing that Harry would be even more of a pain in the neck if he read it.

At 6:30, there was nothing left to do but to head out to River Junction. He stepped back into the bedroom one last time to retrieve his jacket and shoes, and glanced at the bed. Nelly had moved onto her back, but was still fast asleep. He had no intention of waking her and ordering her to work; it was best for her to sleep it off. Bert could just manage without her for the day. He slipped the Do Not Disturb sign onto the doorknob of the suite before he left. 

The first thing he did when he walked onto the set—knowing that it wouldn’t stop eating at him until he did—was order Bert to gather all the hired men who’d been at the speak-easy. When all fourteen of them were assembled before him at the entrance of the prop shop, he let them have it. “Which one of you had the bright idea to get Nelly so drunk last night she couldn’t tell left from right?”

“Who?” one wise guy had the guts to ask. “You know damn well who,” he said. “The girl who works here. The only girl from the picture in that place last night.”

None of the men spoke. He hadn’t expected them to. The blonde one who’d been the ringleader of it all was staring at him sullenly. The memory of what he’d been trying to do made Buster’s blood boil. He itched to pummel him, but that would mean trouble. With Brand on his case, trouble was the last thing he needed. “If I ever catch any of you trying to pull a thing like that with a girl who works here or any girl who doesn’t for that matter, I’ll fire you and make sure you never have a job in California again if it’s the last thing I do. Understand?” 

There were murmurs and downcast eyes. So much for being tough guys. He let his words hang in the air a little longer, then jerked his head, dismissing them. “Don’t forget it.”

As the blonde man passed him, he said, “You, over here.” The blonde man stopped in front of him. “You are fired,” Buster said.

“Huh?” the guy said, looking shocked.

“You heard me. I wasn’t born yesterday, I saw you fooling around with her. I know exactly what you were up to. I want you off of this set right now. Get your things and get packing.” 

The guy looked one hundred percent livid and Buster found himself wishing for a fight. Let him try it; he would be in for a rude awakening. He could actually see the guy weighing it, sizing him up. But all he did before he stalked out was spit, “Fuck your picture anyway, Keaton.”

When he’d gone, Buster rounded on Bert. “And what the hell were you thinking? You were there, weren’t you? Why weren’t you keeping an eye on her?” Bert mumbled something about needing some air. 

“No, you left her there. You went home. I didn’t see you out front and you weren’t in the alley. You dirty dog, you actually left her there with all those roughnecks.”

Bert protested that Tommy had agreed to take her home.

“Tommy? The blonde fellow? I think you and I both know what he was planning on doing to her, and he had some friends along the ride,” he said. Bert wasn’t getting off the hook that easy. Bert acknowledged that, yes, they did know what the men had planned on doing to her. “Well you keep an eye on her then, okay? Make sure none of those horses’ asses are coming in here giving her a hard time. And see to it you’re ready for the game tonight.”

He spent the rest of the morning on the Colusa wearing his sailor suit and filming gags in a make-believe world where men and women were largely innocents and nothing could hurt them, not even floods.

Note: The second scene takes place on 30 July, 1927.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Dwayne Robertson having a crush on you would include~

(My gif)(requested by anonymous)

(I love this country boy with all my heart)

- You met Dwayne when he joined the USA team. The instant he saw you he thought you were beautiful, then you smiled at him and he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. He stood corrected when you talked to him for the first time.

- Dwayne tends to form childlike crushes. He doesn’t care about your body or your reputation or whatever; he falls for you because of your smile, your personality, the way you treat him; just innocent things. 

-��Now you weren’t necessarily excited when you were told you’d be getting new members to your team but you were a little more open to the idea compared to your fellow ducks. And when the Texas ranger showed up with his yeehaws and his goofy sayings you decided that this may be fun after all.

- During your team bonding experiences the two of you got to talking and found that you quite liked each other

- The two of you had a little moment when he roped you in while having fun wrangling the team. You got close, laughing with each other as he held you steady and pulled the lasso off you. You nearly kissed right there but were interrupted by the shrieks and laughing of your teammates.

- After that he was head over heels like an amateur bull rider.

-  His ears turn red when he gets flustered which happens a lot around you. If you look close enough whenever you talk to or touch him you’ll notice them turning a brilliant shade of pink. 

- He gets really protective over you. He always hops to your defense and shows up to rescue you when you’re in trouble. He usually acts like it’s nothing whenever you try to thank him. 

- He tries to use his accent to his advantage. He’s heard about the “southern charm” and even though he’s not sure if he believes it he still thinks it’s worth a shot.

- Whenever he wants to impress you he shows off with his rodeo tricks and puck handling.

- He was raised to be respectful so he’s always rushing to hold a door open for you or give you his jacket when you’re cold. He’s called you ma’am more than a few times.

- You get some cute nicknames from him. Things like filly, flower girl, honey, sweetie pie, darlin, pumpkin. He also makes a lot of nicknames based on specific things that have happened or about you like ocean eyes, kitty, wormy, etc.

- He laughs at all your jokes. Could be the most unfunny thing you’ve ever said and he’s laughing up a storm like you’re some professional comedian.

- Teasing him about his accent. He thinks it’s cute when you do it and tends to blush while he laughs.

- Whenever he sees a flower he picks it for you. It’s like he’s one of pavlovs dogs. Flower~y/n. Flower~y/n.

- Unnecessary physical contact. This boy is always finding an excuse to have a hand on you.

- Hes always the first person to offer help when you need it. Having trouble with a certain move? Here let him help you. Can’t get your skates to tie properly? Hey it happens to all of us, let him give it a try. About to fall? Look who just happens to be next to you and can help steady you.

- His height is a big asset of his. It can be a reason for you to ask him for help as well as being a reason for you to ask him for a hug.

- Speaking of height~ even though Dwayne’s a sweetheart he does scare many potential suitors off. Surprisingly enough boys don’t like having bigger guys glaring daggers at them from across the room.

- He gets jealous easily. Whenever you’re with another guy and seem to be having a ton of fun he always seems to be sitting against a wall with folded arms looking on angrily. He just really doesn’t want someone else stealing you away before he has the chance to confess.

- The team start to notice and tries to help him out, leaving the two of you alone together and not so subtly trying to put in a good word.

- He takes you out on different adventures. It’s partly because he just wants to hang out with you and also because he wants to prove that he’s boyfriend material and someone who you could have fun with.

- So many people mistake the two of you for a couple. He’ll never be the one to correct them, it’s either you do or they leave believing that you’re dating. It makes him really happy that people think you look cute together.

- It doesn’t take very long for Dwayne to ask you out. While he’s a little shy when it comes to falling for people he’s been through scarier things than asking you out. You’re probably only friends for a few months before he decides it’s time to take his chance.

- He gets all dressed up, puts on his fanciest hat and buys you some flowers before he heads over to your house and knocks on your front door. Once you answer it he hands you the flowers, clears his throat and asks if you’d go out on a date with him.

- You’re obviously shocked but you smile and agree, giving him a tight hug. He’s probably more shocked than you were at his confession when you agree and asks if your serious while the two of you hug. You laugh and tell him yes before you invite him in.

- Once your back is turned he gives a silent cheer and jumps around before following you inside with a big smile on his face.

[scarjarbinks]

(1) The Fool’s Journey: A Star Wars Story

Episode One A Clown, And That's All

Spires of apartments, each ubiquitous in their design, flowed like crude circuits along an ancient motherboard. Following tight alleys in the way a hawk-bat would delicately chase the scent of granite slugs, Vrina—a mauve Mikkian who favored a headdress to obscure his head-tendrils—navigated the dank streets as if guided by intimate knowledge of the sprawling maze.

With his presence masked by way of heel-toe footfall and springing steps, he successfully traversed the ground level of Coruscant without much interference—save, perhaps, the preference of avoiding detritus that would penetrate his worn leather boots.

A cramped alleyway, its stones glossy from fallen humidity, spat the wanderer into the shoulder of a well-traveled intersection. In less time it would take to light a death stick, Vrina arrived at the entrance of Gil's Gab as an intruder of a group that had converged on top of him. He was polite in the way most strangers are: a brief nod or a disingenuous smile. Two Human women and an Iridonian male were already under the influence of some unidentifiable and ostensibly trendy drug.

They kept their wits about them as they spoke with the Trandoshan bouncer. He grumbled in Basic, "Invite only tonight."

With confidence stemming from the ether, the emboldened Iridonian raised his chest and lifted his chin. "I'm—we're friends with Wegil."

"Old myth that all Zabraks know each other." The stiff guardian severed the conversation without another thought.

Vrina broke from the group while the two women fruitlessly argued with their companion. The Trandoshan peered down to the heretofore silent man. "Good evening," the Mikkian bowed his head but maintained eye contact. "I actually do know Wegil, but I'm not too sure how much you believe me after that guy. Do you, erm, have a list?" He searched the bouncer's attire. No tablet, just a DL-44.

"Name?"

"Uh, Vrina Hon. Impressive that you can remember all of those names without, y'know, a list."

"Smarter than most of my kind. Speaking," his eyes reduced by a fraction. "Why is a Mikkian so far from home?"

Vrina crossed his arms and cocked a hip. He was not offended by the amount of venom that laced the bouncer's tone. Most transients would pose the same question for a Trandoshan who appears to have been conned into a low-paying job. "I'm here to perform comedy."

A concave of seedy individuals, each imbibing and shouting. The Mikkian traversed with soft steps through Gil's claustrophobic aisles. Though he recognized very few patrons, some were, of course, impossible to ignore due to their status. Such entities dealt with business practices he would rather steer clear from, yet a pull of his excited consciousness understood when to bow as a show of respect and when to simply ignore them.

Vrina passed the stage where he was to perform and waved at the Ithorian drummer—a talented fellow by the name of Bup Nolot who rattled away upon two snares and three cymbals of various sizes. He appeared too-focused to respond, perhaps intent on keeping a steady rhythm or altogether refused to associate himself with a glorified jester.

The backstage was a small respite from the bombardment of intermingling dialects and languages, though it was only an inch-thick drape that separated him from the rest of the club. He did not expect to be alone. Vrina was meant to open for a favored comedienne dubbed Real by the regulars of Gil's and her absence meant he would potentially have to fill her time slot.

A knock on the wall behind him. With his eyes still glued to the audience, Vrina greeted Wegil with a click of the tongue. "Looks like I'm the headliner."

A copper-hued Zabrak approached the Mikkian from behind. He joined Vrina in scanning the sea of flushed faces and spitting lips. "Do you have enough material?" The low-scratch of his voice collided with the amount of noise that polluted the club.

"Eh, well," the comedian took in a sharp breath and crossed his arms. "Let's just hope that they don't remember the first five jokes from last week. Anybody I have to worry about?"

Wegil frowned. "In what way?"

"You know. Pirates, ganglords, politicians. Anybody notable?"

"Only you would rope a politician in with pirates. Since you mentioned it, sure." The Zabrak leaned to the left and gestured a nod outward. It was as if a beacon shone from the center of the crescent-shaped bar: an antsy male Human nursed eight ounces of scarlet liquid with hunched shoulders. He kept his head down, uninterested in those who took residence next to him yet kept a subtle conversation with the barkeep.

Vrina shook his head. "I have a feeling he wasn't invited."

"He's certainly found his way in here, though. He hasn't said a single word to anyone other than the bartender, one of his own kind. I would prefer not to deal with any acts of speciesism tonight. You and Bup are the only two who can see the entire club wall-to-wall."

The Mikkian thought back to the drummer's intense focus and exhaled. "So you'll pay me for my services of doing twice the work as a comedian and taking on an additional role as a spy." He sucked on his teeth, head bobbing while mentally creating an addendum to the first half of his set.

Wegil clasped Vrina on the shoulder and forced eye contact. "I'm not paying you extra for the simple task of paying attention. If anything or anybody suspicious worms their way in…" The club owner paused and drew his head away. "Try to work in a joke about me. I won't take it personally."

"You're acting as if that wasn't half of my set. Right, understood, but what about covering for Real?"

With a sniff, the Zabrak pulled away and nodded twice. Soon, the Mikkian was once again left alone and felt the weight of the near future pressing into his skin like the heat of too-many suns orbiting a desert planet.

Vrina did not have much time to prepare for the amount of improvisation thrusted upon him. The emcee of the night, a stocky Rodian, hyped those who were listening into an enthusiastic applause. After a lengthy introduction presented in choppy Basic, he introduced the Mikkian. As they exchanged the microphone, the reptilian whispered a few words of encouragement: "If you are not funny, I will take over. No problem." He backed away with two thumbs up.

The initial warm-up dragged on as expected with very few individuals chuckling and pulling the attention of their friends to the stage. With more eyes on him, he began to feel at ease. "Everyone's heard the buzz around the eff-ess-ess, right?" He pursed his lips and made eye contact with as many who cared to pay attention. "A federation of only six systems. What an arbitrary number! How are we supposed to check if that's even correct when they won't give up who the systems are?"

For the first time all night, the Human at the bar spun his stool to face the comedian. Though the lights had been dimmed, he could make out a few key features: jet black hair and a matching beard. The Mikkian did not hesitate to continue. "If they were really trying to be intimidating, they might as well have said six-hundred. Sixteen would instill more terror for a terrorist organization!"

A quarter of the audience responded with a lukewarm chuckle—Bup's drumline accompaniment made sure the comedian's jokes never truly fell flat. A figure entered his field of vision to the right. One passive glance drank in the sight of Wegil who did not seem to find any of the Mikkian's jokes humorous in the least.

It was time for his improvisation muscles to be flexed. "Well, you want to keep the numbers small, I guess. Zipping around in taxis would be more cost efficient than buying fuel." A tight grin appeared on the Human's face. Vrina prevented himself from paying too much attention to him. "No need for a base of operations either, really. Just rent a hotel room or, perhaps, meet at a club."

A movement in the back caught Vrina's attention. The Human exited from the bar to the bathroom, pushing his way past a drunk Twi'lek who gestured unkindly to the man. The energy of the room became dense and the once idle chatter fell away to usher in silence. It was as if he had captured the attention of every single patron.

His throat closed, but he knew that, as a comedian, there could never be dead air. "Everybody here knows our lovely host, Wegil, yeah? Let's be honest, of everyone on-planet, he would be the one to house the eff-ess-ess. Watered down coolers to keep them drunk and drain them off their coffer, ill-tempered Trandoshans to keep an eye on their credit pouch." Vrina began to wonder how much of his material was rooted in truth. The Zabrak unwound from his position backstage and navigated through the back. "Safest place in all of… All of—"

A pressure settled into Vrina's skull and he promptly returned the microphone to its stand as Wegil approached the bathroom with a drawn blaster, one bouncer trailing behind him. The Mikkian hurriedly waved a good-bye to Bup as the audience began to boo them both. His lungs inflated as he twisted through the narrow tunnel behind the stage and was forced to stop by way of another Trandoshan bouncer.

"You need to finish your, what is it, comedy," the hulking figure encroached on Vrina's personal space. "If you can even call it that. Wegil's already sent the credits to your account, so I'd recommend—"

A blast shook the lobby and a wave of truncated screams pinched the Trandoshan's focus. With the bouncer's lowered guard, Vrina slipped through what little space the corridor offered and sprinted toward the stage-left exit. If his movements were deft enough, he could remain under the cover of darkness for long enough to join the growing crowd of patrons that also attempted escape.

Rubble could be made out from within the thick plume of smoke that emanated from the bathroom. Vrina slowed to a stop and examined the situation. Two bodies writhed on the ground and another was motionless. He took stock of who was left in the club: half of the patrons, the remaining bouncers… The bartender was already gone.

As the smoke began to clear, Vrina approached the center of the lobby and squinted at the bodies on the ground. A familiar skull-shape, horned and round. He debated whether he should usher the Zabrak out to safety or—

Vrina was lifted from the ground by a pair of scaly, calloused hands. The Trandoshan heaved the comedian forward and watched as he rolled over a table and barreled into several chairs. Broken glass stuck to the Mikkian's simple outfit, a few shards hid in exposed skin.

"He infiltrated our place of business," the bulky reptilian guard sneered and stepped forward. Vrina attempted to straighten himself to a seated position. Two more bouncers slunk in from the corners of the club and approached the Mikkian as well. "And staged an attack!"

"I—what? Me?" Vrina rotated his torso to face the other Trandoshans and experienced a sharp pain in his ribcage. "Ah, dosh." He seethed and grabbed his side. "H-how could I have set off an explosive if I was up on the stage?"

The main Trandoshan signaled the others to stop. He looked down at the pathetic Mikkian with racing eyes.

"Also, whoever did that is doing all of you a favor. Now, listen to me," he exhaled as the guards began to close in once again. "You are all much too talented of warriors to be stuck in here all day catering drunkards. What have you been doing all this time? What's your motivation?"

There was a moment of hesitation, though his gaze never fell away from Vrina. For a moment, there appeared to be a modicum of empathy that flashed in the Trandoshan's eyes. "We've been waiting to tear someone apart."

The Mikkian flinched and swung both palms to defend himself. A gasp from the Trandoshan as a gust of wind knocked him off of his feet. Vrina's brow furrowed but there was very little time for him to ruminate as the remaining bouncers enclosed him with clawed hands outstretched.

Several bleats of a small caliber blaster sounded from the debris-laden corner of the club. Either bouncer roared when struck in their armor, another in his arm. With their luck pressed, they each drew their heavy blasters and scattered to find cover from upturned tables. Vrina spent this time erecting himself to his feet and so did the once-fallen Trandoshan.

Now careful of his enemy, the bouncer kept his distance with two fists balled and ready for use. Vrina blinked and did the same, though both palms were flat and directed in the same fashion as before. No matter how many times he mentally willed himself to throw wind, nothing as exciting occurred. He began to doubt that it had ever taken place—a trick of the eyes, an anomaly of a pressure shift within the building.

While he was distracted processing the anomaly, the firefight behind him resulted in the dropping of both guards. A bright voice shouted: "Duck!"

Without a second thought, Vrina shrunk to the floor and watched as the second of two red bolts struck the remaining bouncer in the center of his forehead.

For a one brief moment, the Mikkian considered snatching the DL-44 from the Trandoshan's holster to take charge of the situation, to feel as if he were not helpless. The same voice called to him with an edge that convinced Vrina the scenario was not quite over. "Are you armed?"

"N-no."

"Well, why not?"

Vrina turned to face the same Human he had been instructed to spy on earlier. Almond-shaped eyes and well-groomed, about the same height and body type as he was, though somewhat more muscular. "So I should, erm, get a blaster?"

The man rolled his eyes and turned the heel of his weapon toward the comedian. It was a feeble blaster with slender design, uniform in color, but did not seem to reflect a sheen. A perfect weapon to conceal. "I assume a Jedi would know how to use one of these."

"A—" The device was shoved in his hand and the mysterious man excused himself to fetch the much more powerful DL-44 from the fell bouncer.

"It's probably a good thing they didn't know how to handle one of these, huh?" Sucking his teeth, the man looked down the unmodified sights and nodded. "I mean, I barely know how to use one of these, sure, but they were just awful."

Vrina straightened his wrist after acclimating to the surprising weight of the small blaster. "What exactly did you just call me?"

The man threw a humored side-eye at the Mikkian. "C'mon. It'd be nice to have someone who knows what they're doing by my side."

"But… I'm—oh, dosh." He watched the Human step away while offering a tight hand signal that meant nothing to the comedian.

Kept crouched and insecure, Vrina trailed behind the Human with the blaster limp and pointed to the floor. In the many patrons' effort to escape, they had made quite a mess: shattered cups and plates, food tracked under heel, abandoned death stick cartridges. The unconscious form of Wegil caused the Mikkian to pause his trail.

"Do you know him?" The Human kept his weapon pointed to the only way in or out. An expectation of being ambushed was palpable. "You have to let me know now if this is someone worth saving. Like, now."

The truth bit at Vrina's tongue. He wanted to be honest and admit that he knew very little about the Zabrak, but the fear that he would be tracked down by a vengeful conduit of illicit affairs forced his hand. "Yeah, he's worth it." The man gave him a signal to fetch the club owner.

Calling out in just above a hushed voice, "I'm surprised we haven't run into the see-ess-eff."

"Right." Vrina heaved Wegil up and balanced him on his feet. "I-find-it-surprising…" He growled while ushering the unconscious body to the door. "How-heavy-people…" A moment to catch his breath. "Actually are."

The man ignored his sentiment. "We have one shot. I'm really going to need you to muster all the strength you have." He slipped a rod-shaped comlink from his jacket pocket. A pleasant chirp sounded when he began to transmit. "Rokkna-1, critical mission failure. Resort to plan-B, but with the pick-up coordinates of Plan-A."

A woman sighed as a response. "Always with the plan-B. Copy, Rokkna-2."

The individual identified as Rokkna-1 turned to Vrina and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, the mission failure wasn't exclusively, entirely your fault."

"I didn't think it was. Wait, was it?"

"Ready up your friend."

With a shake of the head, the Mikkian stood Wegil upright and braced him. "Where are we going? What's happening?"

The whirring of an incoming shuttle paired with sirens that belonged to that of the Coruscant Security Force. "You'll be back in time for breakfast. On five."

Vrina's heart rattled in his chest. Under his breath, "Dosh."

The feminine voice called in, but the sound was muffled while the comlink was tucked in the man's jacket pocket. "Clear, Rokkna-1."

"Nevermind—FIVE!" The Human set off through the front door with large strides. His shoulder checked the door and swung it open with enough force to allow his new companion the chance to exit the building's threshold and into the dark street.

A shuttle with seamless and bulbous edges hovered several feet above ground, its ramp already dropped and open for entrance. The bearded man hopped on board with an effortless bound but fell to his knees and spun to help the Mikkian and Zabrak aboard.

The excited but passive ambiance of each street in the intersection was interrupted by the aggressive whine of hidden speeders. Rokkna-1 demanded the Zabrak first and Vrina agreed, shoving the body onto the ramp with one final expression of strength.

With the CSF seconds away, the transport shuttle began lifting away from the ground. The pilot spoke through the comlink, but there was too much distance for the Mikkian to make out any one word. The Human disappeared inside of the hull for a handful of seconds. Vrina's chest seized as if a deadly poison had finally taken hold of him.

With the ramp now several feet above his head, he could just barely jump to grab on. His feet kicked the air, his fingers without a decent grip. The first round of blue bolts swept by him but missed by mere inches.

"Hold on, friend!" Rokkna-1 returned with a silver can in his right hand. He activated the device and rolled it off the ramp while extending an arm to lift Vrina onboard.

As soon as it struck the ground, the canister popped and began to spray a viscous white smoke to obscure the underside of the ship; flashes of blue looked like lightning trapped in dense clouds. Once the Mikkian had been pulled in and was comfortable enough, the ramp inhaled and sealed with a pressurized click.

[amarabliss]

Galahdian Dreams - 4 (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three

(Gif credit amarabliss)

“Scourge….” Nyx sat next to you looking at an old new paper clipping a bulb had been wrapped in, “Scooourrrgeee…What is it? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this word around the city.”

“You’ve never heard of scourge? Starscrouge…” He looked at you as you leaned back on your heels, “Really?”

“Uh…is it a rock band or something?” He watched your eyes get wider as you stared at him in disbelief. He shouldn’t be surprised, it’s a look you gave him a lot over the last month. Apparently Galahd and Insomnia were different in a lot of ways, most of what you had considered everyday knowledge was news to him and his fellow Galahdians.

“No…” You shook your head before pulling off your gardening gloves, “No…Nyx it’s uh a very scary disease, it has an almost 100% fatality rate.”

“What?” He looked at the paper clipping headline again ‘Scourge enters city limits,’ “This is…like from a year ago. What happened?”

“I don’t really recall…” You frowned shaking your head, “I wasn’t exactly coherent at the time, but cases here in the city are low as far as I know. Only an Oracle can cure it, and right now there’s only two in the world, Queen Sylva and Princess Lunafreya of Tenebrae.”

“There’s only two people in the entire world that save people from a death disease…” Nyx shook his head looking up at the sky through the greenhouse glass, “Maybe someone up there should rethink the math…”

“I don’t disagree with you.” You sighed shaking your head, “If they really cared they would have prevented the meteor that causes the disease to begin with…it would solve a lot of problems actually.”

“No meteor, no deamons.” Nyx gave you a sad smile, “Well the gods are on my shit list again.”

“Do they really ever get off the shit list?” You smirked as you stood up putting away your tools.

“Oh! Is that a joke?” Nyx laughed a little as you shrugged, “I’ll be damned…the lady has a sense of humor.”

“I’m not always a political guru…” You wiped your hands on your apron, how you never got you clothes dirty impressed him. He’d helped you a couple times and Drautos had to give him another talking to, luckily just warnings this time due to the nature of it all.

“No obviously not.” He stood up looking at you, smirk growing as he talked “You’re also a gardener who apparently moonlights as a comedian.”

“Ha ha…the Glaive thinks he’s so funny…” You rolled your eyes picking up your gardening box, “Can you please spritz everything?”

“Spritz! Spritzing!” He could hear you giggling as you walked away and he picked up the hose misting everything you had just planted. He found guarding you extremely easy and natural. Especially since you let your wall down some.

He still had to fight you to open up, but it wasn’t as difficult as he initially thought it would be. Okay that was a lie he kept telling himself to not just grab you and start shaking you. All in all, he enjoyed the quiet you created around yourself.

“Why can’t he just leave it alone!?” His head snapped over toward the small shed you had walked over to. Bushes blocked his view of you and whoever you were yelling at.

He dropped the hose taking off into a sprint as another voice began to raise over yours. His hand fell to his kukris as he took a deep breath reminding himself to see the situation first before acting.

“Y/N, you have a responsibility-” Nyx moved around the bushes that had blocked his view seeing a councilmember. His face was red in anger as he tried to tower over you.

“You!” You pointed in his face making him step back. Good for you, Nyx thought to himself, “And everyone else are the ones who pushed me off to the sidelines when Regis stepped in. You all found my worth next to nothing with out the power of the crystal. Now you want to parade me around like a piece of meat…to be handed of to some highborn schmuck! I won’t do it!”

“Y/N, this is not a request from me but the king…” He man reached for your hand and you recoiled.

“Whoa hey…” Nyx stepped in between the two of you, “Walk away, sir.”

“You do not get to order me around.” The man glared at him, “This is a matter…”

“This is a matter that is clearly done.” Nyx shut him down as he glanced back to you, “Ma’am, I believe we’re running late.”

You took in a deep breath looking at him nodding slowly as you caught his drift, “Yes…we are…”

Nyx smirked as you tore of your apron slamming it into the man’s chest as you walked past. As he followed you the man latched on to his arm stopping him, “Learn your place lahdy…”

“What did you just say, Randall?” They both looked at you. Your face was turning red with rage. Nyx had never seen this side of you before and he hoped he’d never be in the receiving end of it. The way your eyes darkened, and hair seemed to stand on end…it was terrifying.

“My lady…” He began to backpedal quickly taking his hand back.

“You should be ashamed of yourself! If my father we’re still alive…” You stepped toward him but was intercepted. Nyx was looking down into your eyes with a cool calmness, “Nyx…”

Nyx felt his chest burn with fire that he couldn’t act on, but he would be the better man. He had to be the better man, “Good day, sir.”

You didn’t resist him as he escorted you out and he didn’t speak as you both walked down the hall. Finally, after putting in some distance from the greenhouse, you spoke breaking the tense silence between the two of you, “Nyx…”

“It’s fine.” He cut you off quickly. It wasn’t fine, it would never be fine.

“No, it’s not!” You stopped looking at him with such a heartbreaking ache, at least there was one person in this city that didn’t look at him like he was dirt, “What Randall did…Nyx…I’m so sorry…”

“I’m fine…what’s a racial slur among councilmembers…” As much as he wanted to play it off that everything was okay. It wasn’t, belittling others because they were different never would be. Hostilities against his people were rising and it was worrying, “At least I didn’t get spit on. Today is a good day.”

He watched you hang your head, “This…this is so wrong…my father is turning in his grave.”

“Yeah, probably, but not much we can do about it.” He stepped closer to you a playful smile appearing on his lips, “I mean if you wanna make me feel better…”

“I will not…” You raised your eyes to meet his trying not to smile, “I will not give into your demands.”

“But I was just insulted…I deserve it.” Nyx smirked wiggling his eyebrows, “And that wonderful sweet lady of a cook never tells you no.”

You rolled your eyes before nodding, “Well…I suppose I could use some chocolate cake right now too…”

Nyx drew his elbow in while making a fist in victory before he asked his question, “So…before I rushed in…who was serving you up and for what?”

You shook your head frowning, “The King has requested my presence at a gathering…a ball actually…where several candidates will be present to consider me for marriage…”

“Marriage? Seriously?” His eyes widened as he shook his head, “Shouldn’t he be marrying off his own son first?”

“I’m sure Noctis will also be suffering through this as well.” You smiled sadly, “And I apparently still have some value in this place.”

Nyx stopped the outside the kitchen door touching your arm gently, “Hey…”

You stopped looking at him with your beautiful eyes. Shit everything about you was elegant and perfection. He wished he was in a position to help you see that. You smiled at him reassuringly, “I’m alright, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant in the game of it all.”

“Ah right, just checking.” He nodded before opening the door entering first, looking around at all the cooks and kitchen staff, seeing no threat he stepped aside, “Ma’am…”

“Ma’am? Aren’t we…” You stopped as you stepped inside seeing your cousin, “Noctis?”

“You get the memo too?” Noct looked at you from the counter cake in hand.

“Yeah…let me guess…” Nyx watched as you hopped up on the counter next to him, “Straight from Dad with a speech of being responsible…”

“Sup man.” Nyx turned his head as Gladio walked over to him handing a piece of delicious looking cake, “Perks of the job, right?”

Nyx took it lifting the fork that was unceremoniously stabbed in the center of the cake out, “Yeah, only when her grace finds it appropriate to sneak in here.”

“I remember, trust me it gets better. The fact you haven’t been fired yet is a good sign.” Gladio told him before taking a big bite.

“You remember?” Nyx glanced over to you rubbing Noct's shoulders.

“Uh…yeah, I was supposed to be her shield and I was for a couple of years once I passed my Crownesguard training.” Gladio looked him a dimness coming to his eyes, “I wasn’t…I…”

Nyx looked at him taking in a deep breath before turning around to block him from everyone’s view, “I am sure there is perfectly good reason why you weren’t there that night. Don’t dwell on it.”

“My sister got sick…and my dad was with King Malcolm…” Gladio frowned looking over to you, “She was so kind about it…go, be with Iris…I should have…”

“Stop.” Gladio met Nyx's gaze, “You can’t do that…you can’t live with what ifs, it’ll stop you from doing your job now and that’s protecting the Crown Prince.”

“…you sound like you know a thing or two about it.” Gladio stared at him as he looked away. Nyx looked back when he sighed, “I guess it’s none of my business…but…eats me up sometimes. I still feel really protective of Y/N…I would still be protecting her if…well I’m sure you know now..”

Nyx nodded a he poked at the cake on the plate, “Yeah…I don’t get how that works…she’s definitely a Lucis. I mean she got a lot of he mother’s looks, but there’s no way she’s not Malcolm’s.”

“I know what you mean. What they put her through to prove it though…fuck man…” Gladio sighed heavily, “I just had to sit by and watch.”

“What do you mean? They didn’t just run a blood test?” Nyx set the cake down as Gladio gave him new information.

“No…they pretty much put her on a public trial going through every single detail of her life from birth to present.” Gladio shook his head a protective anger coming to his eyes, “I was getting so pissed for her. They tracked down everyone in the delivery room that day…it was a fucking circus.”

Nyx looked over seeing you smile and nudge Noct with your arm as Gladio went on, “Tried dragging King Malcolm through the mud too. Thankfully my dad and Cor stepped in shutting down the accusations of infidelity immediately. The last thing was the test…by that time they had smeared Y/N's name so much it didn’t matter that she was the heir. Power or no powers…no one deserved that.”

“That’s politics for ya…” Nyx looked at him, “It was the same back home. Everyone has something to gain. Selena was just really good at seeing through the bullshit.”

“You knew Queen Selena? Were you her guard?” Gladio looked at him wide eyed.

“Something like that.” Nyx nodded as he leaned against the counter crossing his arms watching you and Noct, “They’re really close, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, after Noct’s mom passed, Y/N took him under her wing a little.” Gladio nodded smiling, “We were all going through something back then. Together we all kind of figured it out.”

“I’m glad to know that she’s got some support in this place when I’m not here.” Nyx rattled off absently.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gladio raised his eyebrows a little.

Nyx looked him and quickly smiled, “You know when she gets stressed and just needs someone to vent to. This paper she is working on…yeesh…”

It was a quick save this time and it answered more questions he had. You carried your burdens alone, but helped everyone carry theirs. He hoped he could help with the weight of yours.

He stood up straight when you hopped off the counter speaking to Noct, “Come now, I’m sure you’ll meet a wonderful young woman at the ball.”

“I’m 17…I don’t wanna think about marriage…” Noct stood up slowly sliding off holding the edge of the counter, “He’s practically arranged it anyway…”

“What? With who?” You crossed your arms looking at him, eyebrows coming together.

“Luna…” Noct blushed deeply.

“Well it’s not a terrible match.” You smirked a little, “She does like you…”

“She’s just so much older then me…” Noct rubbed the back of his neck.

“They say with age comes experience…perhaps she’s exactly what you need.” Noct groaned letting his head fall forward. You frowned before you stepped to him giving him a tight hug, “No matter what, Noct, trust your heart before your head and your decision won’t come back to haunt you.”

Nyx smiled a little as the prince hugged you back before Gladio pulled him back, “So you excited for this ball?”

“Ball? You mean we have to attend?” Nyx looked at him wide eyes.

“Oh dude…” Galdio winced at his reaction, “we should grab a drink later and talk. I’ll fill you right in.”

And they did…and Nyx was glad for it. Right after he called Drautos right after…

“Did you know about all this? They have protocol after protocol…” Nyx stopped looking both ways before crossing the street, “it’s like they want us to fail and make a spectacle of ourselves.”

“They do.” Nyx stopped balling up his hand as he listened, “Nyx we have no representation…we’re immigrants who only get to stay as long as we’re useful.”

“This isn’t how it should be…” Nyx sighed.

“Then do something about.” Drautos words sent him into instant anxiety.

“Titus…” Nyx couldn’t find the right words this time.

Drautos sighed before speaking, “I’ll reach out to Clarus to verify everything you were told by his son; it seems like he’s raised him to be like himself so hopefully he’ll be just as forthcoming. Thankfully we have few days and I can sort it all out.”

“Thank you…be safe on your way back home tonight.” Nyx told him.

“You as well sir.”

He hung up before he corrected him. Not that it would matter, Titus would always see him the same way. He managed to get everything arranged and set up correctly for the ball with Clarus' help.

He swore up and down that someone was supposed to have sent it over from the council meeting. No one was surprised the procedures didn’t find their way to their destination.

Despite that, Nyx stood outside your quarters waiting for you to finish getting ready for the whole damn thing. The past two days were not easy for you.

When you wanted peace and quiet someone always found you asking you questions about the ball. What you should and shouldn’t wear, hair style recommendations, make-up tutorials. You managed not to yell at any of the attendants, but Nyx could see how frustrated you were getting and with precision class you finally broke…

“You know what…I trust you to make the right decisions.” You placed your hands over the young woman’s hands. For the last two hours this young woman named Anita was bombarding you with everything, expressing how important this event was, “After all, you are the best at what you do Anita, and you wouldn’t do anything to embarrass me. I place everything in your exceptionally well manicured hands.”

“Really?” Nyx had to hold back his laughter from how giddy the Anita looked before she leaned forward hugging you tight, “I won’t let you down!”

“I’m sure you won’t.” You sighed as you watched her run off.

“I think you’re gonna live to regret that.” Nyx chuckled as you turned back to your book.

You gave him a look that spoke volumes more then this library could hold, “Of that I have no doubt. You have to pick your battles sometimes and this is one that I’m willing to give in.”

Nyx took in a deep breath trying to remember everything they had gone over in the briefing earlier. Exits in case of any situation, proper space between yourself and your charge, and uniform. He pulled at his collar again. He’d much rather be in the battle attire, but protecting a royal meant always looking good.

He came to attention as your door opened. You voice sounded exasperated, “Sorry…I don’t do the whole ball thing very well…and Anita went a little overboard I feel like…”

“It’s fine, I’m sure…” He turned his head to look at you and he found no words would ever adequately describe what he saw before him.

[papermoonloveslucy]

THE WONDER SHOW

 1938-1939

“The Wonder Show” radio program was so named because it was sponsored by Wonder Bread, which at the time was made by Continental Baking Company, who also made Hostess Cakes.  Wonder Bread is a brand of bread which originated in the United States in 1921 and was one of the first to be sold pre-sliced nationwide in 1930. This led to the popular phrase "the greatest thing since sliced bread". The brand is currently owned by Flowers Foods in the United States. 

Before becoming “The Wonder Show” it was previously known as “Log Cabin Jamboree”, sponsored by Log Cabin Syrup. Like “The Wonder Show” “Log Cabin Jamboree” was helmed by Jack Haley, but without his ‘wonder woman’ Lucille Ball and ‘Wonderful’ announcer Gale Gordon.  

It began broadcasting on Friday, October 14, 1938, at 7:30pm and aired its final broadcast on April 7, 1939. 

It was hosted by Jack Haley, best remembered as the Tin Man in the The Wizard of Oz. Two weeks after “The Wonder Show” went on the air, Fox told Haley they were loaning him out to MGM, who needed a last-minute replacement for Buddy Ebsen in The Wizard of Oz. Ebsen, originally cast as the Tin Man, had been hospitalized with an allergic reaction to the aluminum-based make-up, and Metro was forced to replace him. For the next several months, Haley found himself filming an epic MGM fantasy musical by day, and working with his radio writers by night. He finished his scenes in the film in mid-January 1939 and celebrated by incorporating a Wizard of Oz sketch into the January 20th episode (#15) of “The Wonder Show.” 

"That was quite a winter. By the time we did the show Friday night, I was physically exhausted. Emotionally, however, I was very satisfied. I loved doing that radio show."

Regular cast included singer Virginia Verrill (above with Haley and Lucy), Lucille Ball, comedian Artie Auerbach, and Ted Fio Rita and His Orchestra. Gale Gordon was the announcer. While many believed that Gordon and Ball’s association only went back as far as 1948, “The Wonder Show” deepens that relationship by a decade.   

Lucy spent much of 1937-38 radio season as a regular on Phil Baker's “Gulf Headliner” series on CBS. Lucy reportedly enjoyed doing "The Wonder Show”. She credited it, along with her other early radio appearances, for helping her with her acting career. 

"[Radio] gave me a name in the trade as a good feminine foil. I could flip a comedy line, which a lot of actresses couldn't do. In radio I couldn't depend upon props or costumes or makeup; I had to rely on timing and tone of voice for comic effects, and this was invaluable training." 

At the time Gordon was 32 years old, recently married and had just starting to grow his trademark mustache. He was in such demand that he often did two or more radio shows in a day. 

"Luckily, the studios were nestled along Sunset Boulevard or in a nearby theater, so we could shuttle rather quickly back and forth from one broadcast to another."

During the first episode of “The Wonder Show”, Haley spoke briefly about his current movie release, Alexander's Ragtime Band, starring Tyrone Power, Alice Faye, Don Ameche, and Ethel Merman. He also mentioned Lucy's RKO films Room Service, The Affairs of Annabel, and Having Wonderful Time. 

Other weekly guests included Dizzy Dean, Joan Bennett, Reginald Gardiner, and Oliver Hardy.   

EPISODES 

Episode #1 - October 14, 1938 - “Pepe Sacola Haley, Jewel Thief” [Premiere; introduces a series of weekly Haley Family Album sketches] 

Episode #2 - October 21, 1938 - “Pony Bill Haley” [A forum entitled "Should a woman have a career?" Lucille Ball explored this theme on “I Love Lucy” in “Job Switching.”]

Episode #3 - October 28, 1938 - “Little Lord Fauntleroy Haley" [pre-empted in some areas for an address by President Roosevelt]

Episode #4 - November 4, 1938 - “Gaucho Haley”

Episode #5 - November 11, 1938 - “Julius Caesar Haley”

Episode #6 - November 18, 1938 - “Elephant Boy Haley”

Episode #7 - November 25, 1938 - “Sergeant O'Haley of the Northwest Mounted Police”

Episode #8 - December 2, 1938 - “The Hatfields and The McHaleys”

Episode #9 - December 9, 1938 - “Super Detective 'Wonder' Haley - The Secrets of the French Police or Where Did They Get Those Post Cards?”

Episode #10 - December 16, 1938 - “Colonel Jack Haley and Sea Cookie”

Episode #11 - December 23, 1938 - “Super Sleuth 'Wonder' Haley - Murder in the Sweater Department or Much Ado About Knitting” [The subtitle “Much Ado About Knitting” was later used on “I Love Lucy” in “Lucy Writes A Play”] 

Episode #12 - December 30, 1938 - “Francois Villon Haley, The Pugnacious Poet of Paris”

Episode #13 - January 6, 1939 - “Captain Haley of the Marines”

Episode #14 - January 13, 1939 - “Haunted House” [Friday the 13th]

Episode #15 - January 20, 1939 - “Jack Haley the Clown: The Murder of the Bearded Lady”

Episode #16 - January 27, 1939 - “Jesse James Haley”

Episode #17 - February 3, 1939 - “The Czar of Russia” 

Episode #18 - February 10, 1939 - “Gone With the American Revolution” [Lind Hayes, impersonator, imitates the voices of Lionel Barrymore, Gary Cooper, Fred Allen and others.]

Episode #19 - February 17, 1939 [Lucille Ball introduces a new character; Jack Haley's tough, sassy little niece, a sort of "Dead End Girl".]  

Episode #20 - February 24, 1939 - “The Amazing Dr Jitterbug or A Scar Is Born” [A hunting lodge-themed episode]

Episode #21 - March 3, 1939 -  “The Amazing Dr Jitterbug or A Scar Is Born” [Chicago Cubs baseball player Dizzy Dean guest stars]

Episode #22 - March 10, 1939 - [Actress Joan Bennett guest stars]

Episode #23 - March 17, 1939 - [Comedian Hugh Herbert guest stars]

Episode #24 - March 24, 1939 - “Paul Revere Haley” [Actor Reginald Gardiner guest stars; Lucille Ball later played Mrs. Paul Revere on “The Jack Benny Program” in 1964.]

Episode #25 - March 31, 1939 -“On the Trail of the Lonesome Crime” [Oliver Hardy guest stars. On a 1966 episode of “The Lucy Show” Gale Gordon - as Mr. Mooney - was hypnotized into being Oliver Hardy to Lucy’s Stan Laurel.]

Episode #26 - April 7, 1939 - “Local Boy Makes Good” [series finale]

On March 29, 1938, Ed Sullivan’s newspaper column announced that Artie Auerbach would be marrying young actress Cleo Manning (later Cleo Morgan then Smith). Manning made her screen debut being kissed by Clark Gable in the 1941 film Honky Tonk. Cleo Manning's cousin, Lucille Ball, interceded in the marriage, because Manning was not of age. They were at the license bureau when Ball persuaded them to wait. Auerbach and Manning were married at a later date. Cleo was producer of “Here’s Lucy” and “Lucy in London”. 

Also in 1938, Lucy’s friend and fellow film actress Ann Sothern was also promoting Wonder Bread. Sothern was appearing in a Wonder Bread-sponsored radio show titled “Pretty Kitty Kelly” on CBS. 

After “The Wonder Show” finished on April 7, 1939, Lucy was still cranking out films doing more than 25 screen appearances before being cast as Liz Cooper in radio’s “My Favorite Husband” (also starring Gale Gordon), the series that led to “I Love Lucy” and her place in television history. Although she initially wanted to take Gordon with her to television as a regular, his schedule and salary demands made it impossible so William Frawley was cast instead. Although he made several guest appearances on Ball’s shows, it wasn’t until 1963 that the two became a team again.  

[The author is indebted to The Digital Deli Too for their “Wonder Show” web page as well as Thomas J. Watson’s Lucy Fan webpage about “The Wonder Show.”]

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Under Moon and Starlight

Author: @aisukofi

For: @sonneka

Ratings/Warnings: T, references to komaeda’s backstory and his general self-depricating tendencies

Prompt: “Island Mode, KomaHina in a romantic (or pretty close to romantic) way”

Author’s Notes: this turned out a lot more dialogue heavy than expected, but i still hope you can enjoy it!

His world, he supposes, has always been small. But at the same time, it’s always been too big. Too many things he could do at the drop of a hat, too many things he had complete control over. And yet, at the same time, he couldn’t do anything, his life itself completely in the hands of someone, something he’d never know.

This contradictory world of his was one he traversed alone. The world swallowed up and shredded everything around him. The second something got close it was swept away, the moment someone made contact they were torn apart, limb from limb. The solution was to simply live without any relationships of any sort and without any possessions, but doesn’t that go against human desire? Was it not human nature to seek out others, to gather objects in order to make oneself comfortable? If he rejects human desire, human nature, can he truly consider himself human? If not, then what was he?

It strikes him inexplicably that his world doesn’t matter here. Perhaps it never mattered in the first place. Perhaps nothing ever mattered, and human nature made him believe things did. Wasn’t it natural to hold some things dear to you, to hold them close to his heart and make them matter? If that was the case, then he supposes he truly is human.

The pale moon - a constant, unwavering thing, near haunting in it’s unyielding presence in every hour - blinks at him from deep blue sky. Stars, too, twinkle and shimmer from the same abyss, bright and blinding unlike the ones he’d see in Tokyo. The closest he’d seen to these were in Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, where the lights and the sounds and the very ground he stood on were different yet the sky was the same, simply less clouded by the glare of modern technology. Here, on Jabberwock Island, it was the same. No light pollution or smog obscured the sky, the only thing coming close being a stray puff of white cloud every now and then.

The wind whispers harsh nothings as it brushes his skin and send shivers down his body. Distantly he hears as the waves of the beach pick up in time, begin crashing down upon the white sand in quicker succession and with more force. The filtered pool water lapping at his ankles makes him ever colder, surface near mirroresque and clear turquoise that looks silver in the moonlight. He can feel the way the skin on his feet has wrinkled up, old and unneeded evolutionary traits kicking into high gear as he submerges his feet for what feels like a long time. It dawns on him that time, too, doesn’t really matter.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out here. He remembers, vaguely, hearing Usami’s nighttime announcement - ten o’clock exact, never a single second early or late - and preparing himself for the night, wishing each of his fellow students a “Goodnight” and “Have sweet dreams.” He remembers laying in his blush queen sized bed, staring at the wall in abstract boredom for hours as sleep refused to take him (as it often did, ever since he was a child). Remembers getting himself out of the blankets and dressing and leaving his cottage hotel room before finding himself by the pool. It’s there he lays, sprawled out on hard wood and concrete, legs dipped up to the ankle into the chlorine cleaned water. He thinks he’s been here for a while, laying unmoving and thinking about everything and nothing at once.

Wind dies down. Ocean waves calm and go back to gentle rocking, lapping against the beach in gentle beats that match the tempo of his own heart: ba-dum, ba-dum, thump, thump.The sound fills and drowns his ears - or maybe it’s the sound of his own blood bumping? He doesn’t know, nor does he explicitly care in that moment. The stars twinkle. The moon stares. He tries counting the stars for a fleeting moment before giving up after counting two hundred thirty-seven.

The constant anxiety he feels is nonexistent here. The constant desire to be prepared for anything and everything, the desire to be everywhere and nowhere at once has evaporated into the very air. It feels just a bit unnerving to be relaxed after it all, but his limbs are too heavy and his body is too comfortable for him to care or do anything about it.

The wind picks up again, bringing with it the scent of tropical flowers and fruits none of which he can name. It tousles and stirs up his hair, pale white strands tickling the skin of his face and neck. The waves rise once more, his heart keeping up with it’s rhythm: ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum, thump thump thump.

“What are you doing?”

The sounds cuts through the sound of the waves and steals the very breath from his lungs. Tan and hazel and brunette fill his vision, a pale olive green tie dangles limply above his nose. A face full of characteristic tired annoyance, with hints of fondness seeping into the corners of his mouth and in his eyes. Hinata leans over him, covering the moon and taking its place as the midnight sun, white button-up brighter than ever, the pin on the breast pocket glinting in the starlight. Nagito can’t help the small content smile that worms it’s way onto his face. He smiles up at Hinata, too breathless to even consider answering his question.

Hinata stares back, eyes flickering slightly as if searching for something he’ll never find. The two stare at each other for what’s undoubtedly decades before Hinata concedes and straightens up with the breath of a small sigh and the closing of his eyes. Nagito can feel his smile dropping slightly, expecting the other to leave him alone again. Nagito wouldn’t blame him for doing so, couldn’t blame him, as he’d do the same thing when faced with himself.

Hinata flops down beside him on the deck with a huff and takes Nagito by surprise.

He takes a moment to arrange himself. It’s somewhat endearing, Nagito thinks, how Hinata’s face twists with concentration as he leans himself to the side in order to fold his legs up under him until he’s cross-legged, how he wiggles in place in an effort to move his feet to a position where they won’t go numb. After he’s situated he rests an elbow on one of his thighs, propping up a hand and resting his head in it. Hinata stares at him once more, and Nagito finds himself feeling self-conscious. The smile on his face revives with more force regardless. Hinata quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Well? You gonna answer me or what?”

Nagito feels his smile falter once more, but if Hinata notices how often his expression has been shifting he doesn’t mention it. He decides to answer in the same way he always has when he’s asked an uncomfortable question, ever since the first time he was asked “What happened on your return flight from San Cristóbal?” He turns his head to it’s side, his mass of fluffy hair cushioning the weight, and spits the words as carelessly as he can.

“What are you doing?”

Hinata’s eye twitches slightly, his nose scrunches up for a fleeting moment, an emotion Nagito can’t name without thinking flicking across his face. As quick as it’s there its gone as Hinata schools his face back to his neutral, tired expression. “Making sure you’re not doing something weird.”

Nagito blinks - once, twice - before parotting, “‘Doing something weird?’”

Hinata nods. “Yeah, doing something weird. Y’know,” he makes a vague gesture with his free hand. Nagito just stares, because no, he doesn’t know. After a beat of silence that lasts two seconds too long to be anything but awkward, Hinata continues, “I thought you were gonna try to make something in that old kitchen again.”

“I don’t think I want to try cooking for a while,” Nagito says bitterly, face twisting up at the memory. Usami still refused to let him hold sharp objects, and Hanamura still watches him like a hawk whenever he gets near a stove.

Hinata laughs at his reaction, the sound sweet and airy as it reaches Nagito’s ears. Nagito feels himself smiling again. “But really,” Hinata starts, once the laughter in his throat grows quiet, “What are you doing out so late?” There’s concern edged into the brunette’s voice and it leaks likewise into his eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Nagito answers honestly. There’s no point to lying about it. Not when Hinata could see through it anyway. Not when dark purple stains the pale skin underneath his eyes.

“There’s narcotics in the pharmacy,” Hinata points out, “Why not go and get something from there?” Nagito shrugs as his answer, a somewhat awkward motion when you’re laying with your arms spread wide.

“I’m sure they’d help more than just laying out here,” Hinata continues with a roll of his eyes. The other twists his face into a grimace.

“But they taste bad,” he says, drawing out the last word into a whine.

“Now you’re just being stubborn,” the brunette scolds as he reaches out to playfully slap at Nagito’s arm. “I’ll shove them down your throat.” Nagito can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him at Hinata’s threat. “I will! I swear,” Hinata defends, slapping at Nagito’s arm again.

“Of course you will, Hinata-kun,” the white haired boy quips, lasting giggles still left on his tongue. “I’m shaking in my boots due to fear of your might!”

“You’re not even wearing shoes!”

Nagito wiggles his toes beneath the pool’s surface. His feet may have gone numb due to the cold water, but in that moment he’s the warmest he’s been all night. “Actually, I am,” he says, pulling his face into a serious expression. “They’re just invisible, Tanaka-san put a curse on them.”

Hinata’s face blanks and he stares at the other as though he’s seriously considering the possibility. It twitches after a moment before turning exasperated. “Haha,” he laughs dryly. “So you’re a comedian now, huh?” Nagito sticks his tongue out at him playfully, earning him a true laugh from the brunette.

His own laugh rises and joins Hinata’s in a soft crescendo. The noise mixes together in the cool night air as a song that fills his heart and swallows him whole. The moon bathes them in blue-silver light, the stars shine spotlights down upon them, and Nagito wishes the night would never end.

Their song dies in time, but it isn’t until Hinata’s wiping tears out of his eyes that silence envelopes them. Nagito watches him from the corner of his eye. Watches as Hinata’s breath returns to him, as he stretches his arms out in front of him until his fingertips brush the surface of the pool’s water. He pulls them back after a moment, rests his elbows on his knees and lets his hands hang in the triangle formed by his crossed legs. Hinata gazes at the sky now, eyes flickering in every direction as he looks from one star to the next.

The only word Nagito can think of to describe the sight is “beautiful.”

Hinata is beautiful. The soft shape of his face, slightly sharp at the edges where lingering baby fat are just trimming off, is beautiful. His eyes, serene as they gaze above, hazel and positively glowing in the moonshine, is beautiful. His hair, short and soft and the shade of freshly made milk chocolate - it’s beautiful. Every inch of him is beautiful, Nagito thinks, from the tips of his toes to that onry piece of hair that refused to settle with the rest.

Oh, he must have been staring, because Hinata looks at him with that embarrassed look of his, a light blush rising and dusting his face. When Nagito flashes him a bright smile, the blush grows darker and he turns his eyes away awkwardly, pulling on his shirt collar like he’s burning up. How cute. It takes a moment for Nagito to realize that Hinata’s speaking.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” he mumbles, looking everywhere except at the white haired boy.

“You’re beautiful,” Nagito answers without thinking. Isn’t it important to let people know what you think of them?

Hinata’s reaction seems to say otherwise. He freezes, his entire body tensing and going rigid, his face flushing. He looks mortified, as if Nagito had just told that bombs all over the island were going to explode by sunrise.

Of course he said something he shouldn’t have. Of course he fucked up again. Because that’s all he does and that’s all he’ll ever do.

Nagito pushes himself up on his elbows, apologies already on the tip of his tongue, because he needs to rectify the situation, needs everything to be alright. “I apologize if I made you uncomfort-“

“You can’t just say something like that so suddenly,” Hinata cuts him off with a yell, far too loud for the situation, embarrassment sitting high on his cheeks. Was the flush from before not from fear then? “Besides,” he continues, voice dropping into a low mumble that Nagito would surely have missed if he wasn’t paying such close attention, his eyes scrunching closed like he can’t stand to look Nagito in the eyes, “You’re the beautiful one here.”

Nagito can feel the heat rising to his face, can feel the way his pale skin grows pink at the sudden compliment. When was the last time someone said such a thing to him? Had anyone ever? Hinata probably doesn’t mean it anyway. He’s just saying it to deflect the attention off of him. Surely. “Ah…” he trails off, let’s his nervous laughter enter the air, “Hinata-kun is really too kind.”

“Please don’t start with that shit,” Hinata groans with frustration evident in his voice, the embarrassment that was just there slowly leaving him, “I’m not saying it to just be nice. I really… think that.” He rushes his sentence at the end, still avoiding Nagito’s eyes. Which is a good thing, Nagito thinks, because he can’t see the tears forming in his own eyes this way.

It’s overwhelming, really. It’s truly overwhelming to be on this side of a compliment. To be complimented by Hinata Hajime- it’s almost too much. He’s undeserving of it, unworthy to even be in his presence.

“Okay,” Hinata says, awkwardness and nerves apparent in his voice as he draws out the word, “You’re crying now, what did I do?” Nagito’s quick to swipe at his eyes with his jacket sleeves, because Hinata really shouldn’t have to deal with his own inability to take simple praise.

“Ahah… It’s just-” Nagito tries to give him a reassuring smile as he wipes once more at his cheek- “no one has ever complimented me before. It really took me off guard!” He raises the tone of his voice to one that’s lighter, tacks a bout of breathy laughter at the end. It’s a joke, really, everything to do with him is a joke.

Instead of putting Hinata’s concerns to rest, his words seem to only elevate them as a pitying look fills his eyes. “No one? Ever?” When Nagito nods, albeit a bit confusedly, Hinata’s face twists into a deep frown. He’s getting upset? At what? It’s only natural that someone like himself wouldn’t get praise of any kind. So why is Hinata upset?

“I’ll uh. I’ll say it whenever you want then,” he offers, obviously still too awkward to say the words with confidence.

“Say what?”

“I’ll- I’ll call you pretty. Or beautiful. Or whatever. Whenever you want.” He’s blushing again, and pulling at his shirt collar, eyes darting every direction except towards Nagito. Nagito can feel the blush on his face again, self-doubt invading his mind. Could he really accept such an offer? Could he really allow himself to be so selfish?

“You know what? I’m going to do it anyway,” Hinata’s voice interrupts his thoughts, stern and forcibly confident. “Because I know you’re just going to tell me no.”

“Hinata-kun doesn’t have to do anything that he doesn’t want to do,” Nagito says instead of a full-out protest, because a traitorous part of him yearns to hear the words leave the brunette’s mouth again.

“Yeah? Well, I’m going to do it. Because I want to,” Hinata objects, still refusing to look at the other - Nagito really wishes he would, he wants those eyes on him. “And I don’t care what you say,” he tacks onto the end like it somehow makes it look like he doesn’t care. He fails miserably.

“Hm…” Nagito hums, already able to feel the teasing words rising in his throat, “Mioda-chan was right. Hinata-kun really is a tsundere.”

“What!?” comes the brunette’s yell, his hand slapping against the pool deck. “I am not! You’re just-” he’s sputtering now, how cute - “just an asshole!” After a beat of silence, “A pretty asshole!”

The compliment makes him flush, though he laughs at the other’s words regardless. Hinata was fun to tease. Easy to tease, too, his reactions always over the top after he realizes what’s happening. It’s adorable, really.

Hinata pushes himself up from where he was sitting with a huff. “Whatever! I’m going back to bed!” he announces loudly as he turns back towards the rows of cottages nearby.

“‘Back to bed’? You were sleeping in your clothes?” Nagito hadn’t given it much thought earlier, but considering it was the middle of the night, it is odd for Hinata to be dressed in his regular outfit of button-up and tie and jeans.

“Maybe I like wearing this to bed!” the brunette counters before shoving an accusing finger in Nagito’s direction. “You’re also wearing your normal clothes, so you can’t say anything!”

“But I didn’t wear them to bed,” Nagito’s points out with a small tilt of his head. Are they arguing about this now? Was this something worth arguing over?

Hinata makes a small noise of frustration, his face still a bright crimson. “Still!” He turns again and this time actually starts stomping away. “You go to bed too! It’s too late at night for you to be awake and doing something crazy!” He calls from over his shoulder as he turns the corner towards his cottage. Nagito hums, neither a promise to do so nor a refusal, and pulls his feet from the water and places them on the pool’s edge. They’re cold, the air making them even more so, and he can barely feel them enough to be able to feel their movements when he wiggles his toes. He’ll probably have to wait a bit before he can walk.

Accepting that fact with an subconscious nod, Nagito turns his head up to the stars again. Without Hinata’s presence, they seem somewhat duller than before, as if the very idea of Hinata Hajime makes the world shine. The moon, too, seems distant and forlorn - a haunting figure watching from out of reach. Everything feels calm, quiet, a perfect image of serenity.

A perfect island vacation with the one you love.

“Oi!”

Nagito feels his neck pop as he snaps to attention. His eyes flick over to the back deck of Hinata’s cottage, where the brunette himself is leaning against the railings. The pink slip of paper in his hand flaps around as he waves it in the air.

“Hang out with me tomorrow!”

Nagito lets himself blink blankly before allowing his head to tilt to the side. “You want to hang out?” With someone like him? The hand holding the pink ticket falters at his words.

“Um, yeah,” Hinata says, his words unsure and hesitant, “I’d like to. If you want to.” He’s looking away again, like he’s embarrassed. A soft smile fills Nagito’s face at the sight.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata’s face erupts into a furious blush as his body tenses up. The ticket crinkles as his grip tightens against the smooth paper. “Don’t call it that!” he protests, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

“Huh? Is it not a date?” Nagito questions, wiggling his toes and growing satisfied as the feeling is returning to them. He takes a moment to look for his shoes before shoving his bare feet inside.

“You don’t have to call it that! We’re just hanging out!” He’s right, technically, but Nagito can’t figure out why it’s such a big deal. Isn’t it easier to just call it a date?

“So it is a date.” It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out more like a simple statement of fact.

Hinata seems to go through a lapse of internal conflict, emotions appearing and disappearing only to appear again and flicking across his face in rapid succession. After a moment of lapsing silence, he faces settled on a look of exasperation. “Fine. It’s a date. In the broadest definition of the word.”

A simple hum of response leaves Nagito’s lips as he makes his way past Hinata’s patio. Throwing up a hand in a half-wave and flashing a small smile, he calls out “I can’t wait for our date, Hinata-kun.” And just like that, he leaves and disappears into his own cottage.

He thinks, if his luck allows it, he’d enjoy letting Hinata into his world. In the end, only time will tell.

Perhaps, after all of this, Nagito will sleep well tonight.