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theresawritesstuff · 5 months

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I’d love to hear how Lenny and Kitty’s Hanukkah visit went if you’re up for it!

(Follow up to this one ❤️)

Midge had always loved Hanukkah growing up. It had always been one of the more low stress excuses for her family to gather together. A time full of good food and laughter. Of candlelight and snow.

She'd certainly developed a newfound fondness for the snow since a certain fateful night in November.

Her hand went absently to her still yet unchanged abdomen as she watched the soft flurry falling outside her window onto the street below, eyeing every passing cab with fluttery anticipation.

“Are they here yet?” her father asked curiously.

She hadn't told him the full story. Only that Lenny and his daughter would be stopping in for a visit.

She'd break the news to her parents as to why they'd decided to spend the holiday together once the New Year rolled around…

She shook her head, dropping her hand away before he noticed. “Not yet. Soon though, I'd imagine. I'll let you know.”

Her father chuckled. “I imagine it will be fairly obvious,” he replied, patting her shoulder before returning to his book.

He didn't end up getting much quiet time before there was a knock at the door, a snow dusted Lenny standing on the other side with a bag of presents in one hand, and the tiny mitten clad hand belonging to his daughter in the other.

“Hi,” he greeted with a hesitant smile.

“Hi,” she smiled in return, welcoming them inside.

He looked good.

Tired still, but good.

She hadn't realized until then just how much she'd been looking forward to seeing him again.

Their calls had been nice over the last month or so, but nothing quite compared to seeing him face to face.

Lenny remembered himself, glancing down at the little girl by his side. “Uh, this is Kitty. Kit, this is Daddy's friend Midge I told you about.”

“It's nice to meet you,” Kitty said, gazing up at her shyly from under a little pink hat.

Dear lord she was adorable.

“It's very nice to meet you too,” Midge replied, bending down to her level. “I love your hat.”

Kitty's face lit up. “Daddy took me shopping before we left. He said you really like hats.”

Midge fought back a smirk as Lenny squirmed a bit. “It's true. I have a closet full to prove it too. Maybe later you could try on a few, if you like.”

Kitty's smile grew even brighter. “Really?”

“Sure. Why not? I love any excuse to play dressup.”

“Okay.” Kitty nodded excitedly.

“Okay,” Midge repeated with a laugh before schooling her expression. “Now Kitty, I have a very serious question for you…”

The little girl swallowed, listening intently.

“Do you like latkes?” Midge asked, a smile breaking slyly across her face.

Kitty relaxed, bobbing her head. “Uh-huh!”

“Would you like to make some? I thought that might be a fun thing we could all do together,” the comedienne offered, glancing over her shoulder briefly. “My kids are around here somewhere too.”

“Sure! But don't put Daddy in charge of frying,” Kitty warned.

Midge arched a brow at Lenny as she stood back up.

Lenny scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I uh…I tried making them one year. Ma was busy. They got a little burnt.”

She put a comforting hand absently on his arm, assuring Kitty “Happens to the best of us. But don't you worry. I'm a latke expert.”

Remembering herself, she pulled away, remarking brightly “You guys are probably famished! We should get started.” She turned to call down the hallway “Kids? Come say hi to Lenny and Kitty!”

Small footsteps soon thundered down the hall, bringing her son in to greet them.

“Goodness!” she laughed at the sudden entrance. “Lenny, Kitty, this is–”

“Hi I'm Ethan!” her son interrupted with a chipper grin.

“Hi,” Kitty greeted shyly, giving the boy a little wave.

“Do you like comic books? I've got the latest Wonder Woman issue if you want to read it,” he offered.

“Oh. Um, okay sure,” Kitty smiled.

Ethan led her back into the living room to show off his collection.

“And they're off,” Midge chuckled.

“Seems like a nice kid,” Lenny replied.

“He is. He's got a good heart.”

Midge looked down, finally taking full notice of the bag of gifts in his hand.

“Can I help you with that?” she offered.

“Oh, right!” Lenny handed it to her awkwardly, taking the opportunity to remove his coat. “Didn't want to show up empty handed. Just a few little things for the kids mostly.”

“I'm sure they'll love whatever you brought,” she assured him, smiling softly. “I'm…I'm glad you could make it.”

“Me too.” He hesitated for a moment before leaning in to kiss her cheek, hovering a little closer when she didn't pull away. “It's good to see you. You look good.”

“For a woman in my condition,” she quipped quietly. “You look good too.”

“Sure,” he laughed. “For a woman in my condition.”

She shook her head fondly, feeling a flush creep across her skin as they settled into their familiar banter.

Things had been good between them over the phone, keeping each other updated, enjoying each other's company from opposite coasts, but she couldn't help but wonder if it would feel different once they were in the same room again.

If the spark would still be there or if the reality that she was pregnant with his child would shatter the magic between them.

But standing here with him now…

Well in a way it was different, and yet exactly the same.

She still felt that same gravity pulling her closer to him.

She just didn't feel the need to fight it anymore.

And maybe it was just that they'd been talking more or that part of her was still an optimist but Lenny, for his part, seemed more open. Less guarded and more…well she couldn't quite say what. But it looked good on him.

It almost looked like hope.

Esther wandered in, carrying a book that was as large as her torso, hugging it to herself as she peered up at the adults. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Lenny greeted, pulling back to a more respectable distance at getting caught staring for probably a bit too long. “You must be Esther.”

“Yeah... I guess when I'm older I could change it if I want,” the little girl reasoned dryly.

Lenny fought back a laugh, blown back by the unexpected remark. “I'm Lenny. It's nice to meet you.”

Esther looked him over with eyes more astute than her years, before finally juggling her grasp on her book to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

Looking up at her mother, she commented “He sounds dif’went than I thought.”

“Oh?” Midge wondered, fighting a laugh.

Instead of offering an explanation the little girl just shrugged. “Are we gonna eat soon?”

“Soon. Go get your brother and Kitty and meet us in the kitchen.”

Turning back to Lenny when Esther had gone she ventured, “So. You ready to meet my parents again?”

Lenny chuckled, still getting over Esther’s unintended wit. “Third time's a charm?”

“Sure,” Midge nodded, leading him into the apartment before fully processing his statement. “Wait, what?”

Somehow they managed not to burn a single latke.

Even more impressive, they managed to eat all of them. Midge had prepped enough potatoes to feed an army.

And he should know. He'd had his fair share of mess hall duty back in the Navy.

Lenny smiled softly to himself as he watched the snow out the window later that evening, enjoying the quiet.

The kids had declared themselves best friends before the first latkes even hit the oil and practically demanded to have a sleepover as part of the night.

Abe and Rose had gone out to the theater shortly after dinner.

Leaving just him and Midge to hold down the fort for the evening.

Her parents had made excuses about having bought their tickets before they knew Lenny would be coming but he had his suspicions to the contrary.

Either way he was grateful for the chance at some alone time.

Looking out at the river now, the city lights sparkling across the icy surface, he couldn't help but think he hadn't given this view a proper appreciation last time he'd been here.

But then a lot of things had changed since he'd been here last.

He hadn't been sure how he would feel about being back in New York after having been ready to leave it all behind only a month before.

But now that he was back–now that he was with her, he realized, it felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He could admit it to himself now that seeing Midge at the airport that day had saved him from a very dark road.

And while he still had a number of obstacles yet to overcome, they felt less daunting than they had before.

Because she'd been there to help him start to turn things around.

Because she thought he was someone worth helping. Believed he wasn't a lost cause.

And if she could believe that even after everything that had happened between them… Well maybe he could believe it a little bit too.

Midge walked in to join him, rubbing the last bits of her hand cream in.

“I swear I feel like always wreak of potatoes for days after squeezing them out like that,” she chuckled, inspecting her hands self-consciously.

Lenny smirked. “Who knows, there might be a market for that. You could have your own perfume line someday.”

“Everyone's gotta have a retirement plan,” she quipped, taking a seat on the couch. “The kids certainly enjoyed their presents.”

Lenny nodded. “I don't think Kitty is going to let that Barbie you got her out of her sight.”

“She's a sweet girl,” Midge smiled. “I'm glad you could bring her.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

He gazed at her a moment in the lamplight.

Taking her in.

Gathering his courage.

“I um…I got you a little something too, you know,” he ventured, coming slowly to join her.

“Oh?”

She raised a curious brow, those expressive eyes of hers sparkling.

He'd missed those smiling eyes.

“Well, two somethings,” he clarified. “You get to pick which one you want.”

She blinked, confusion coloring her smile. “I don't get both?”

“That depends…”

“On what?” she wondered.

“On your answer.”

He pulled the ring box he'd been carrying from inside his jacket pocket, setting it down still closed on the coffee table in front of her.

“Oh…” she breathed.

“I've thought about it a lot, Miriam,” he informed her, sitting down but still keeping a respectable distance. “About you. Us… I'm a better man when you're in my life. You make me want to be better. You certainly deserve a hell of a lot better than me but…if you'll have me? Because I'd like to try to be worthy of you, pregnant or not. I've loved you for a very long time now and I would happily worship at your alter for the rest of my days. If you'll let me.”

Midge stared dumbstruck at the unexpected little box, her heart racing.

She'd hoped someday they might– but she told herself not to expect anything. He had so much on his plate already. She didn't want him to feel like she was another obligation. But she had hoped all the same...

At her silence, he added gently “You don't have to answer right away. Just know that I'll still be there for you–both of you–no matter what you decide.”

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice catching in her throat as tears pricked her eyes. “God, Lenny yes, Yes!”

A watery laugh escaped her as she dabbed her eyes, trying to save her makeup.

“Gah! You know you're not supposed to make the pregnant lady cry. Kind of rule number one.”

Lenny chuckled, his own eyes looking a little misty as he reached for her, wiping a tear with his thumb as he caressed her cheek. “Sorry sweetheart. I'll try to avoid it in the future.”

Midge smiled, kissing him tenderly. “That future sounds pretty nice.”

His arms encircled her as she recaptured his lips, pulling her closer until she was comfortably settled in his lap, the two of them getting lost in the embrace.

Being in his arms like this again, finding a love like his was something she never thought she'd get.

She'd convinced herself that no man could possibly love every part of her, could be willing and ready to accept her, to love her as both a comic and as a woman.

But Lenny did. She could always be her whole self with him, right from the start.

That night in that very blue room had been one of the best nights of her life.

She'd thought she'd lost her chance at ever having that again after Carnegie Hall.

So to have him here now, holding her like this, telling her he loved her, promising her a future for both them and their child… Well it felt nothing short of miraculous.

But then again it was a time for celebrating miracles.

And finding Lenny after she thought her life had fallen apart was nothing short of a miracle.

She smiled against his lips, pulling away to catch her breath and rest her forehead against his.

“So are you gonna open the box or do I have to do it myself?” she teased breathlessly.

He smirked, shifting to grab it without dumping her off his lap, opening it as he offered it to her. “I guessed at the size. We can get something else if–”

“It's perfect,” she insisted, taking it in.

The diamond was modest in size, more suited to her hand than a larger stone would have been, accented with two small sapphires on either side that caught the light just so.

She carefully pulled the ring from the box to slip it on her finger.

It was a perfect fit.

She swallowed, grinning as she held her hand up, admiring it in the light for him to see.

“Here's hoping my fingers don't swell too much,” she quipped.

He hugged her tighter, kissing her temple. “If they do, you can borrow mine,” he promised.

She hiccuped an undignified laugh, snuggling in closer, kissing his jaw. “How considerate.”

“Figured it's the least I can do.”

She turned to face him more fully. “I love you Lenny. I know it's a bit of an odd time to say that for the first time, but I do. I hope you know that.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “I wasn't entirely certain but when you said you intended to have my love child I felt I had a little room to hope.”

She shook her head, pulling him in for another kiss.

“Still, it's nice to hear,” he murmured.

“Yes it is,” she agreed.

His hand cupped her cheek tenderly as he looked into her eyes, reminding himself this was real.

“I love you, Miriam Weissman.”

“I love you, Lenny Bruce.”

A grin he couldn't quite contain broke across his face as he hugged her close, tucking her head under his chin. “Yup. Very nice to hear.”

“Indeed,” Midge murmured, enjoying the cuddle.

After a moment, she added jokingly “Can I have my other present now?”

Lenny barked the laugh that had quickly become her favorite as he fumbled in his jacket for another present. “Here.”

She unwrapped the little rectangle he placed in her hands, revealing a pink notebook monogrammed with the letter M in the corner.

She was glad to see there was still room for another initial if she wanted to add another.

She pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a giggle.

“What?” he wondered.

She shook her head, turning to pull a very similarly shaped parcel from the drawer of the end table beside the couch, handing it to him.

He unwrapped it carefully, unveiling a notebook bound in blue.

Raising a brow he peeked inside the cover, finding her carefully practiced scrawl.

“For all your funny things to say. Dad jokes included. Love, Midge,” he read aloud.

“Depraved minds think alike?” she shrugged.

“Something like that,” he murmured affectionately. “Happy Hanukkah.”

“Happy Hanukkah.”

She cuddled into his side, watching the candlelight dance against the window pane, enjoying the quiet closeness they'd carved out for themselves.

“You know what?” she murmured.

“Hm?”

“I think we're starting to figure it out.”

He smiled, kissing the top of her hair, threading his fingers with hers over her stomach.

And for once, he actually felt good thinking about the future.

“Maybe we are.”

#Midgelenny #midge x lenny #tmmm fic #Prompt fill #Hanukkah ficlet

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mercurygray · 2 months

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Short Days Ago

Several months ago I promised all the TDS girlies a special command performance by our favorite actress/dancer/comedienne. So, fresh from her record-setting bond tour with John Basilone - EILEEN HAMMOND!

Felt like a lot of nonsense, just to see a show.

Ken didn't know what business the USO had, trucking a whole bunch of dancers in here in the middle of a war. It wasn't like the Clubmobile girls, who came in their own truck and could pack themselves out at the end of the day. Everyone on the base seemed to be on high alert the whole week before they were due in, sprucing up paint and setting a stage up near one of the empty hard stands, like they didn't have anything else they should have been working on.

"C'mon, Lemmons!" one of the new fellows said with a grin on the day of the concert. "You can take an hour off!"

But he couldn't take an hour off - not really, not when everyone else was doing the same thing. They'd be on mission alert the next day and every single one of these forts needed to be able to go up and he wasn't making that mistake again. He could hear the music across the fields a little, when the wind shifted, but he wasn't missing much, he felt. He was needed here.

The show was just wrapping up when he drove by the parts store, looking to get a replacement magneto. The dancers had all come down from the stage, posing for pictures with one and all, and the biggest crowd, by far, was around a black-haired beauty with a smile that just wouldn't quit. Well, I'll be. She's back. Lemmons pulled up short and joined the crowd.

Eileen looked around the sea of faces with a big, take-all-comers grin. "You know, the last time I was here someone said I was so pretty they ought to paint me on a plane. They had a new fort in and they were looking for a name. Irish Eyes, I think they said."

Lemmons spoke up. "Yeah, sure, Miss!" The crowd parted a little, deferring to the sound of their crew chief. "She's still here. Hammond's Hornets." He pointed off into the distance, where the plane was parked out on the far side of the field. Wing damage - needed new levers in an aileron. But anyone who walked by the nose today would have seen Eileen Hammond in all her perfect pin-up glory, casting that same grin out into the sky in a yellow and black bathing suit.

The crowd around him buzzed a little, and Lemmons felt a twist in his chest. Would any of them have known that was where the name was from? After all, Rosie's Riveters were named after Rosenthal himself, not his girlfriend, and that visit had been long ago.

"And it was - it was Waitley who asked me to kiss the plane!" Eileen remembered with a grin. "Bob Waitley - from Tennessee. He was trying to go for the main chance and I told him I only had so many to go around - so he had me kiss the plane instead."

Lemmons nodded, smiling and remembering. What a joker, Waitley - always trying to get a pretty girl to catch his eye. "We painted the outline that afternoon - even tried to match your lipstick. The fellas used to touch it when they got in. For good luck."

"Is he still around?" Eileen asked, searching the crowd for a familiar face. "Bob Waitley? I don't think I saw him when I came in."

Ken felt cold. "He was… shot, ma'am." He didn't want to tell the rest of that story, about how Bob had taken a piece of flak through the thigh and bled out on the way home, and his co-pilot had brought the plane down with a dead man in the front seat and three more in the back. He also didn't want to say anything about what had come after, about scrubbing blood out of the cockpit and replacing the covers on the seats, and how they would open the cockpit windows, when crews like that came home, so the souls of the dead wouldn't stay with the plane on her next mission. Pilots were a superstitious bunch, but crew chiefs could be, too. And he'd still kept on having the crew touch up that kiss mark, though it was getting a little wavy now. Good intentions, that's all that was - nothing bad luck about a friendly kiss from a girl.

And Eileen Hammond, for all that she was a showgirl, knew what he meant when he said shot and ended his sentence early, and had enough sense not to ask more questions after.

Behind him, the newer crew was shuffling their feet. "No one told us that story about the kiss." "I just thought it was a joke." "Is that why we couldn't name it ourselves?"

"Well, I'm sure Miss Hammond has a very tight schedule," one of the pilots said quickly, noticing the frosty turn in the conversation. "We should let her get going, gents."

The crowd moved off, but Eileen stayed put, catching Lemmons' sleeve as he turned to leave. "Can I go and see them, Sergeant? If you've got time."

Ken looked her straight in the eye and realized she meant it. "Sure, Miss Hammond. I got time."

It was quiet, out here on the tarmac, speeding off to the far side of the airfield, and Eileen wasn't singing now. Her black curls were going to catch hell from this ride in the open jeep, but she didn't seem to care. Ken pulled off to the side of the taxiway and pointed where they were headed -a half-hidden mound of stones, the remnants of some ancient wall, sheltered under an equally ancient oak. The oak's spread roots had tumbled the rocks here and there, but there were plenty of crevices for dog tags and cigarettes and lucky pennies, and plenty of moss to soak up beers. Plenty of privacy to sit and remember, or to drink and forget. Here's where you bury the guys who don't come home.

"Every base has one," Eileen said, quietly. "Visit enough and you know to ask." She swallowed and looked out across the fields, the low mountains of distant planes far away. "Rather pretty out here. They have a nice view."

"Sure do, miss."

She nodded, and turned to look at the wall, smiling at the beer bottles carefully perched on the top, the half-full bottle of whiskey at the base and the series of small round stones stacked here and there. She stepped gently around the items on the ground, and kissed the largest stone, the print of her lips uneven and red on the rough surface of the rock. "There you are, Bob. A few months overdue." She stepped back to survey her handiwork and took a deep breath, in and out. Behind them the wind was in the grass, and there was a rustle in the oak overhead. All was at peace.

"Don't paint that one on, Sergeant," she said, quietly. "Wouldn't want the other fellows getting jealous."

"'Course, miss," Ken nodded. "Some times the best things fade."

She smiled at that, looking at the stone and the bottles and the way they were catching the late afternoon light. "You want me to re-do the other one? While I'm here?"

"If you like, miss," Lemmons said with half a smile. "But good luck kisses don't expire."

"Maybe so," she said with a shrug. "But it can't hurt, either, can it?"

---

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

In Flanders fields. -In Flanders Fields, John McCrae

Though we never see this in the show, archeological excavations at Thorpe Abbotts indicate that the fliers did have some kind of memorial spot for their dead. A team from a nearby university excavated the site in 2017.

#i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #eileen hammond #all the crossovers #tds cinematic universe #yes it's sad but you need that every once in a while

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absurdiststances · 11 months

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I just really really like how, despite her mother’s constant nudging to always be the perfect wife, society’s never-ending comments on her “attitude as a woman”, and even her own father’s initial passiveness for her as a daughter, Midge always came across as someone who knew she was destined for great things.

This trait would, in fact, get the better of her and prove to be unpleasing to watch (*coughs* the baldwin incident) at times, but at her best Midge pretty much is one of the best characters (at least for me) in terms of showing exemplary skill AND the willingness to just go at it. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s rough but there’s definitely something there…You should do standup, and I can help you. You got dumped by Baldwin? Go get another gig and another and another. Just don’t ever give it up.

And, as much of an arguably wasted (I just wanted more of her, okay?) yet still absolutely allurring character as Hedy was, I really feel like her advice on taking credit was the final push (timeline-wise) for her to grab that mic and just go at it. I have a feeling working in showbizness can give even the most talented and dedicated performers a great feeling of inadequateness because of obvious industry hiearchies, so even if this is all fantasy its still awestrucking to have a character who always knew her worth even when others didn’t, fell down most of the time, but took the advice of those who believed in her and fought hard for what she wanted. The spotlight waits for you center stage, all you have to do is step up and claim it.

Midge wanted to conquer the world as a comedienne and Susie as a manager. Well, really, what’s so wrong about that?

So to end the series with the then-two-unknowns Susie Myerson and Midge Maisel literally getting the last laugh—well…

#midge maisel #mrs maisel #rachel brosnahan #the marvelous mrs maisel #amy sherman palladino #mrs maisel season 5 #mrs. maisel #the marvelous mrs. maisel #tmmm #susie myerson

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gretavanfleetlove · 1 year

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a spicy oneshot of lenny bruce x reader but the reader is a known comedienne

Can a Man Change His Mind?

Anon i must say, I like the way you think. Lenny Bruce x Fem!reader

Warnings- none?? Kissing I guess? Oh also guys tell me if you think this needs a part two becuuuuuuz I’m tempted to make one….

Request? Yes.

Summary: Reader is performing at a comedy club when her old friend Lenny Bruce stops by.

“Y/n!” I heard a voice shout from behind me. “Y/n! Finally.. I was wondering if you’d ever slow down.” They laughed

“Lenny?” I ask with a smile. “The one and only.” Was his reply. Definitely Lenny.

Taking my arm he led me through the crowded club to a dimly lit table. “Lenny, what are you doing here?” His answer was exactly what I’d expect. “Here to see you doll, why else?”

I scoffed at his particularly vague answer. “No… I mean what are you doing here?” Lenny hates or hated? So-called fancy comedy clubs. I know, says the man who got a gig at Carnegie Hall. But he dreads this place. Whether it’s because they wouldn’t take his jokes so lightly or because he thinks any where nice is full of pricks. “Ohh, oh I see, what am I doing here in this place specifically. Since you are such an extravagant comedienne why come here?”

Of course this being asked by Lenny was a rhetorical question. That didn’t stop my curiosity. I nodded with a flattered grin, waiting for the official answer. “I was just in the neighborhood .. I saw you were performing and didn’t have a good reason not to stop by.” He says quiet and slow, like he is every time he’s in a one on one conversation. “Yeah?” I question, It seems like every time I even speak to Lenny. As simple as this. Uncontrollable butterflies start to erupt inside of me. Every little compliment, even the facts he’s here to see me makes me smile like an idiot. “Yeah,” he says in a reassuring tone. “Although I was a bit offended you didn’t-” The fellow comedian was cut off by a young looking slim, tall, man.

“Please excuse me Ms. L/N. I’m sorry to interrupt but I was hoping to get an autograph?” He looked very awkward, continually looking back at a group of friends giggling and watching intensely.

“Oh my gosh. Of course!” I made myself turn my gaze away from Lenny. Writing my name on a newspaper “Y/N L/N AND LENNY BRUCE AFFAIR?” With my face in the middle of a skit as the cover. ‘Flattering picture! An even more flattering title!’ I sarcastically thought. “Thanks so much!” He exclaimed, giving a wink. Laughing to myself I looked back at Lenny. “I’m sorry Lenny what were you saying?” I asked. Having completely forgotten the topic of conversation. “People ask for your autograph now?” He asked more seriously than anything before.

“Well sometimes… that’s not a regular thing! No I guess he must’ve just seen me perform here before or something I don’t know but-” “Calm down!” Lenny stated in a more playful tone than the one before. “I wasn’t asking to call you out or something, it’s just incredible.”

A sigh of relief and embarrassment came from my chest, “Oh!” “You no that was a pretty interesting News headline, yeah?” The feeling of embarrassment hit again. I know I talk about Lenny a lot in skits. Wether it’s making fun of him or telling some story relevant to the joke. And hey maybe we’ve gone home together after a show once… or twice. But I know Lenny doesn’t want a relationship with me. “Friends with occasional benefits” he always said.

“ Interesting, you could say that….” I managed to choke out. Lenny laughed, “They’re not completely wrong, are they?” He asked with a cheeky smirk. “I wouldn’t call it an affair… persay.” I tried to keep my cool as he leaned in closer, making my breathe hitch. “Maybe not, but it’s definitely something.” He continued, leaning in closer. “Lenny, you’re the one who said that.. we were only friends, you know, better off that way?” He seemed to consider what I said, looking down, and back up at me. “Can a man change his mind?” Before I could come up with an answer he leaned in to kiss me. More gentle than any that he’d given me before. But before I could enjoy it I felt the flash of a camera hit us. “Lenny, we can't do this here.” I whispered. He answered quickly, “I know, come on.” Lenny ushered us through a near exit outside. It had just begun snowing. Falling and sticking on the city buildings and ground. Lenny walking quickly, still looked my outfit up and down. Black dress, black tights, and a light cardigan. “God, you’re gonna freeze out here.” He scolded, taking his suit jacket off and handing it to me. I thanked him, knowing he wouldn’t let me reject it. As a taxi cab drove by I quickly stuck out my hand and whistled. Lenny and I, freezing, hustled inside the cab. “Where to?” Asked the driver. Before I could answer at all, Lenny gave his address to the driver, and followed it with a wink to me. “I haven’t been here in awhile, you’ve changed a few things!” I admired his apartment, which definitely got a few upgrades over the past 8-9 months. He nodded “Yeah I’ve rearranged, even decorated.” I nodded whilst admiring the unfamiliar looking apartment.”Y/n?” Lenny asks at a quieter volume then he was speaking before. “Hm?” I hum in response “You never answered me. Earlier at the bar. When I asked if… a man can change his mind?” His eyes looked at me with a gleam of hope, along with underlying lust. My senses were overwhelmed by the apartment and Lenny’s longed for presence that it took me a moment to process what he had asked. “I think…” I started “that a man can change his mind.. if he really means it.” Without hesitation Lenny answered “He does.” “Is he sure?” “He is” “Then kiss me.” Lenny following the spontaneity of the previous interaction leaned in with a kiss. Less empty feeling than before. Now it felt full. It felt full of emotion and longing. The kiss deepened. “Bed.” He said sharply. Then picking me up, hooking my legs behind his back, without breaking the kiss he took us to his bed. “I love you.” He smiled, before showing his face into the crook of my neck.

#marvelous mrs maisel fanfiction #lenny bruce #lenny bruce x reader #Lenny Bruce smut #Lenny Bruce imagine #miriam maisel #Anabelle writes sometimes #this has been a long time coming

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alixinwwonderland · 1 year

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i never heard them ringing

a 501 fix-it. thanks @wonderlandleighleigh for the idea!

He knows he should call.

Lenny Bruce is under no illusions about himself. He is not what most people (any people, really) would call a gentleman. He’s not a cad, exactly, partially out of respect and partially out of a sheer lack of energy for caddish shenanigans. He’s not a selfish lover, never has been. But a gentleman who calls and sends flowers? Not him.

But there’s always an exception, and for him, it comes in the form of one wildly funny, incomprehensibly perky, maddeningly single-minded comedienne whose quips are as sharp as her high heels. Somehow, from the time she asked, “Do you love it?” — and asked twice, cutting right through his veneer of bullshit after having spent all of ten mostly silent minutes in his company prior — she’s been the exception. He admits to her when he’s tired. He lets her fix his tie. He sends flowers. He gives her his jacket. He can’t fucking stop thinking about her.

(read more below or on ao3)

It’s a moment of weakness, he knows. He should let her go and forget about him, forget about the years of flirting, forget about what happened in that very blue room. As long as she doesn’t forget what he told her on that big, famous stage, that can be enough.

But he is tired. So, so tired, and when he’s tired, he makes decisions he usually wouldn’t. And instead of making the bad decision he usually does in those circumstances, he picks up the phone and dials a different number instead.

When the phone answers, though, it’s not Midge who answers, nor is it her family’s deeply terrifying maid. It’s Abe. The professor. Miss December. Midge’s father.

“Hello?” Abe repeats a third time. “You know, if this is a prank call, it’s not a very good one. You should really work on coming up with something better than-”

“Hello, uh, Mr. Weissman. It’s, ah. This is Lenny. Midge’s … Midge’s friend.”

“I see,” Abe says. “And are you fully in your right mind, this time?”

“Well, I certainly think so, but there’s a whole host of politicians, lawyers, and color commentators who seem to think otherwise, so if you’re looking for a consensus—,” he begins to quip on instinct before realizing this probably isn’t the right time. Lenny groans and runs a hand over his face, noting as he does that he really should probably shave at some point.

“You were much funnier the first time we met,” Abe comments, but it sounds more like an observation than an insult.

“Is Midge there?” Lenny asks. “I was hoping to talk to her, I wanted to see if—”

“She’s not feeling well,” Abe replies, and Lenny feels a pit drop in his stomach at the worry in the other man’s tone. “She came home the other night soaked and freezing, that night she went to see your show. Frostbite and hypothermia and—”

“Is she okay?” Lenny demands, hearing a bit of Abe’s franticness in his own voice now.

“Susie’s with her now.”

Lenny isn’t sure what compels him to say the next thing that comes out of his mouth. Guilt, maybe, or a sense of obligation? Those are the safe ones to think about, because if those aren’t the emotions driving him right now, he’s in much bigger trouble.

“Can I come by?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, as if Abe is really pondering the answer.

“You know,” he finally says, “I think that might do her some good.”

So that’s how Lenny finds himself standing in the foyer of a vaguely familiar, extremely stylish Upper West Side apartment, coat awkwardly draped over his arm until Abe insists on taking it and hanging it up.

Rose walks down the hall and, though she looks less than thrilled to see Lenny, she’s also not outright hostile, and that is win enough for him at the moment.

“Susie’s with her still, but if you’d like to go in… I should warn you, though,” Rose adds, “She hasn’t been making much sense, so I’m not sure how much good it will do.”

Lenny nods, trying to hide the worry rising up in his throat, and follows Rose’s directions down the hall. The overwhelming feelings of being in her bedroom are quickly replaced by the absolute shock of seeing her bundled up, makeup-free and head wrapped, and muttering incoherently to a very surprised-looking Susie.

“The hell are you doing here?”

“Yes, hello to you too, Susie,” he responds. “Is she—” he gestures at Midge.

“She’s gonna be fine. Frostbite and, apparently, a little accompanying delirium. She’ll be fine in a couple of days,” Susie says. “She’s been saying some weird shit though. Weirder than normal, I mean. Did you know she slept with Tony fucking Bennett?”

“I’m sorry, she what now?”

Susie shrugs.

“I dunno. She keeps muttering something about sleeping with some guy … maybe she didn’t say Tony Bennett? Complete sentences seem to be beyond her at the moment.”

Lenny chokes at that, then tries—mostly unsuccessfully—to cover it with a cough.

“I am positive she did not sleep with Tony Bennett. Or even speak to the man, for that matter,” he can’t help adding, and from the look that briefly passes over Susie’s face just then, he knows the two of them share an opinion for once.

“Thanks for trying that, by the way. She said it was you who put her up for it, and even if she was too fucking up her own ass to take it… well. Thanks,” Susie says. “But then, I don’t get it. She kept repeating, ‘I slept with him, I slept with him,’ and something about Tony Bennett. So if it wasn’t him then who did she sleep—”

Susie stops short. Lenny’s poker face is good, but it’s not so good as to keep a completely straight, un-flushed face while standing in Midge’s bedroom and talking about who she’s slept with recently.

“Oh no. Do not tell me—”

“Miss Susie!” Zelda bustles into the room. “Miss Dinah is on the phone for you, she says it’s urgent.”

Susie keeps her narrowed eyes on Lenny even as she moves to follow Zelda out the door.

“You and me, pal, we’re going to have a very interesting conversation that I do not want to have when I get back,” she warns.

“Waiting on pins and needles,” he says dryly as he takes Susie’s seat next to Midge’s bed.

-----

It takes him a few minutes to psyche himself up enough to reach out and take her hand. When he does, he almost drops it again, the reminder of her thumb tracing circles in a mutually drowsy, mutually satisfied haze almost too much for his fragile nerves and one-week-without-drugs mind to bear. For a moment, he wishes more than anything that he’d taken something to calm himself before coming here, but then he remembers that look on her face in his bathroom, and he tries to convince himself that if he can do this without the assistance of a little vial, maybe he can manage the other hard things, too.

Then he hears a thin but clear voice emerge from the covers, turned away from him.

“Susie, it was so cold,” Midge complains. “Snow gets everywhere. And now… frost crotch,” she says, more clearly. “I’ve got frost crotch.”

Lenny can’t help it. He begins to laugh, muffled at first, shoulders shaking, then a full-throated “ha!”

Midge’s eyes fly wide open and she rolls over, mouth dropping as she takes in the sight.

“You’re not Susie,” is the only thing she can think to say.

“Now, why does that sound familiar?” he quips. She touches the wrap on her head self-consciously, then her sweater, and then her gaze falls to where their hands are currently joined.

“Mrs. Maisel,” Lenny says softly, but with a smirk on his lips, “you are a mess right now. And I say this as something of an expert on being a mess,” he adds.

Midge struggles to push herself into a sitting position, so Lenny stands and gently helps her get propped up before settling back at her side.

“So,” he says.

“So,” she echoes. “What are you doing here, anyway? Did Susie call you?”

“No, actually, uh—” He breaks off, with a nervous chuckle. “I… called you. Or, tried to.”

“Why? I mean—”

Lenny goes through some complicated emotions at that. A little rejected, perhaps, or just disappointed? Or relieved? Or … what, exactly? So, he settles on honesty.

“Because I was thinking about you,” he says simply.

When Midge looks at him in surprise, breathing out an, “oh,” his heart breaks a little bit—not for himself, this time, but for her. He wonders, briefly, how often anyone calls Midge just because they’re thinking of her, not because they need or want something from her.

There’s silence in the room for a minute, the only noises the faint sounds of her family and Susie’s conversations down the hall.

“Lenny?” she whispers.

“Hm?”

“I’m not gonna blow it,” Midge says. Her voice is still thin and tired, but there’s a familiar determination there that reassures him.

“I know,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” she adds. “You did so much for me, you always do so much for me, even when I don’t deserve it, and I just… threw it away. Why do I always do that?”

“If I had a fucking answer to that, we’d both be a lot better off,” Lenny says, earning a small smile out of her. “But you always come back around. You always pick up the pieces.”

“Susie does,” Midge says, tearing up. “I gotta apologize to her. I have to apologize so much.”

“You will. And she’ll forgive you. And you’ll get more chances,” he assures her.

“But what if I don’t?” she asks. “What if I finally just run out of chances? Then what?”

Lenny shrugs.

“If someone like me is still getting chances, I think you’ll be just fine,” he says. He aims for lightness, but a crack in his voice betrays him.

“Speaking of which… I should probably tell you that I am headed out of town for a little while. I got some gigs in California. Even rented a house. My … my kid’s gonna stay with me,” he says, and he hates the way her face falls, and yet he loves that he’s one of the people allowed to see her unfiltered reactions without pretense.

“Your kid, huh?” she says, smiling a little despite herself, and he can’t help grinning too. “Lucky girl.”

And there it is again, Midge just casually uncovering his rawest nerves. No one has ever said that Kitty is “lucky” to have him — just the opposite, in fact. So all he can choke out in the moment is a cracked, “Yes.”

“And now look at you. A man with a lease,” Midge says, summoning a sunny smile.

Lenny shrugs.

“Happens to the best of us.”

There’s a pause before Midge speaks again.

“It’s not… it’s not because you’re still mad at me?”

“What? Why would you think—”

“Because that’s what people do. They get mad, and then they go away,” she says, and Lenny feels that familiar ache again.

He doesn’t realize that he’s been silent until Midge speaks again.

“This is usually the part where the other person says something comforting, you know,” she teases.

He barks out a laugh and rubs his eyes.

“I, uh,” he flounders, before deciding, fuck it, he’s been going with honesty so far, why not the whole enchilada. “I’m just trying to decide if I try to kiss you, if you’ll recoil in horror or not,” he half-jokes.

“Me recoil? What about you? All this,” she says, gesturing at the head wrap, hot water bottle, and the distinct lack of makeup on her face, “Doesn’t exactly say sexy.”

“I would beg to disagree,” Lenny says, scooting a little closer with a smile playing on his lips. Midge mimics the movement, closing more inches between them until their gazes are locked and their lips are nearly touching, but not quite.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a very strange man?” Midge whispers, so close he can feel the exhale of her breath.

“I’ve been called so much worse.” Then Lenny closes what’s left of the gap and kisses her. It’s not burning and fierce, how it was in his bed in that blue room. It’s tender, maybe a little tentative, maybe a little reassuring, like it was that very first time he set his lips to hers. A promise that, no, that’s not a mistake. Yes, that’s what we’ve been waiting for.

“Do they have that in California?” she teases as she pulls back. Lenny smirks.

“I’m sure they have something of the sort,” he jokes. Then he lets his smile soften as he touches her cheek. “But nothing quite like that.”

“You sure?” she asks, and Lenny can hear the real question beneath the levity.

“There’s no one like you. I’m sure of that,” he says. “Anyway, I should be asking you if you’re sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Midge asks, genuinely confused.

“I’m not exactly… Upper West Side material, here,” he says. He gets up and paces, wishing for a cigarette to keep his hands occupied. “The arrests keep coming. The legal bills… well, use your imagination. I’m barely making ends meet, the list of cities I can’t set foot in is growing, and they’re gonna find a way to make an example of me sooner or later. And then there’s the—”

He stops.

“The what? The… bag?” Midge nudges. He shrugs. Midge’s face creases. “You weren’t… when we… were you?”

“No!” he hastens to assure her. “No. I swear. I wanted to be clear-headed for Carnegie Hall, so I didn’t… for a few days before. I just had… just in case…”

The warmth of a few moments before is vanishing, replaced by something close to shame.

“Come here,” Midge commands. He looks at her from across the room, where his pacing has taken him.

“Why?”

“Just do it. I’m the invalid, you have to do what I say,” she says matter-of-factly. He draws closer to her again, perching on the edge of the bed. He’s surprised when her cool, smooth hand runs along his stubbled cheek.

“And what did you do with… just in case?” she asks softly. She’s taking a risk, she knows, asking a question she’s not sure she wants the answer to. But Lenny leans his cheek into her hand and whispers, “Threw it away. After I got back from Wo Hop.”

“Okay then,” she says.

“No, not okay,” Lenny argues, not able to pull away but not able to let her think it’s that easy. “You don’t get it, Midge. It was fine then. I’m good now. But in a few days? Or weeks? It’s not a light switch you can just turn on and off!” He hates telling her about this, hates making her know these things about him, but he needs her to understand.

“But you want to?” In some ways, it’s such a simple question. But it’s not one he’s thought of in such stark terms before. He wants to not be in pain. He wants to be able to work without fear. He wants to face his daughter without shame. He wants to be … maybe not the kind of man who wears sweaters and smokes pipes and accompanies a wife and kids to temple on the regular, but at least the kind of man who doesn’t elicit murmurs of what does she see in him?

And, yes. He’d like to do all of that without the aid of needles and vials. It drains his money when he can’t afford to lose a cent. It feels good, until it doesn’t, but he always forgets that part until the next time. And it really, really hurts because, ironically, he’s terribly clumsy at the physical parts of his addiction. So…

“Yeah,” he whispers hoarsely. “When you put it like that… yeah. Besides,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood, “my lawyers will be thrilled. One less thing I can get hooked for.”

“They sound like some pretty good lawyers,” Midge quips back. He shrugs, again.

“They’re all right. Wish I had better, but they try to keep me out of prison, so I suppose that’s all I can ask for. But if things keep up this way I may just start trying to do it myself, I dunno.”

Midge perks up in that way she does when she’s figured out how to fix something.

“Oh! You should talk to Michael Kessler!”

Lenny’s heard the name, vaguely. He thinks he might have met the man somewhere along the line — all the lawyers start to blend together at some point.

“And you know this because?”

“Because,” Midge says, “one day, oh, about two years ago, I found myself entangled in the legal system for the first time, and someone told me I should get a lawyer, so I did.”

“Oh, and you always do what someone tells you?” he drawls.

“Certain someones,” Midge fires back, and somehow it’s a flirtation and a confession all at once. “Anyway. Get Kessler. He’s good. Loves free speech arguments. Loves arguments, period, you’ll get along great.” She casts her gaze around her room before giving up. “His card is here… somewhere. Just ask my father before you leave.”

Lenny’s hand falls across his face, covering his mouth as he stares at her.

“Your… father. Knows… You know, I’m starting to think your family is much more interesting than one might think from the outside.”

“One of our best qualities,” Midge says. Her gaze slides behind Lenny, and he turns to see Susie standing there, glowering but also clearly relieved to see Midge upright.

“I think that’s my cue,” Lenny states, sliding off the bed.

“When do you leave?” Midge asks. He grimaces.

“A few more days. I’ll come by before then, I promise,” he adds. He hesitates, then quickly leans down to brush a quick peck on her lips. “See ya, Midge. Hope the frostbite works itself out soon!” He smirks as he pulls back. “Would you be angry if that went in my act?”

“Yes. Because it’s going in mine,” Midge deadpans back. He raises a playful eyebrow.

“May the best joke win?”

“You’re on, mister.” She gives his hand one more squeeze, then lets go. Lenny sidles past Susie with a tight, almost smile, which she almost returns.

Lenny hears their voices floating down the hall as he makes his way back to the foyer. When he sees Abe meandering around, he decides, what the hell, add one more layer of strange to this whole day.

“Mr. Weissman?”

Abe stops pacing and looks at him.

“Abe is fine. I think after being arrested together, we can use first names, don’t you think?”

“Sure. Uh. Abe. Midge mentioned you might have a way to get in touch with someone she thinks I should talk to. A Michael Kessler?”

Abe’s eyes brighten, and what is it with Weissmans getting so excited about problem solving?

"You should meet my son. He's a data analyst. And a spook," Abe says casually as he scribbles on a notepad, and Lenny flushes a little at the realization he spoke aloud. His brain only rewinds to the second half of that statement just in time for Abe to hand him the tidily folded piece of paper.

“I’m sorry, did you say…”

“Michael is wonderful. Always raring for a good fight. I think he’ll be good for you.” Abe pats him collegially on the shoulder as he strides away. Lenny watches him go, then huffs a laugh as he shrugs on his coat, only to turn around and see the maid, Zelda, watching him.

“Oh, hey, thanks, by the way. For pressing my jacket, that one time,” he offers. She stares at him a moment longer, giving nothing away on her expression. “Right. Okay then.”

“Miss Dinah did not call.”

He turns back around.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Miss Dinah. She did not call for Miss Susie. I lied.”

Lenny takes a step closer to this strange, pink-clad woman.

“And… you did that because?”

“Because Miss Miriam likes you. She brought you home. She put you in her child’s bed. She was very sad when you left with your pants so very, very wrinkled. She said your name in her sleep, when I went to bring her another blanket. I thought you should talk. Without Miss Susie,” she adds, and Lenny grins.

“Well, uh. Thanks, Zelda. For everything.”

-----

Lenny does meet Michael Kessler, and likes the man enormously right off the bat. There’s no bullshit, but plenty of bullish stubbornness and willingness to fight (and willingness to say that Lenny’s previous lawyers are not nearly experienced enough in First Amendment stuff nor nearly as ideologically invested to do the kind of work he needs).

Lenny does find himself feeling very unwell, as his body clamors for the substances it’s grown accustomed to. He thanks whatever or whoever is looking out for him that it only hits after his return from the Upper West Side. He also knows these couple of especially miserable days won’t be the last time his body and brain turn on him, and that, much like his court dates, is something he is not looking forward to.

Lenny does jet off to California, too, with the promise to call often — and he does, in fact, keep his word.

He also keeps his word about putting Midge’s little problem into his act, or, at least, a variation on the idea. A bit about the progression from having sex to having frozen genitals plays great for the California crowds who have never seen temperatures dip below the 30s. He can’t help grinning a little wider at the reaction to the phrase frost crotch, watching as the most West Coast couple he’s ever seen practically double over laughing at the table nearest the stage.

He can’t wait to tell Midge.

-----

“So a couple of weeks ago, I experienced something brand-new. Something new is fun, right? Like, a birthday present, or a new dress, or finishing first in bed,” Midge jokes, earning hoots and hollers from the crowd at the Wolford. “But I now know firsthand that something new isn’t always fun. Because, ladies and gentlemen, that something new was a delightful little experience I have dubbed frost crotch.”

There’s another round of shocked gasps and giggles as she describes the situation. Then, for the finishing touch, her parting shot:

“And you know, I just might be the first woman in history to have unplanned sex and wake up with my nether regions frozen instead of on fire!”

She grins out at the audience, full of laughs and whistles. Off to one side, there’s a young couple, dressed a little impractically, who look a little stunned. The woman whispers something to her companion, and they both stare at Midge like they’ve just cracked a code.

-----

When Midge stops by the Button Club to drop off a jacket Ethan left behind, she’s startled when Archie tries to shoo her out quickly.

“Trust me, Midge, you don’t wanna—”

“Midge? Midge is here?” Joel calls, and Archie shuts his eyes like a headache has just begun (or returned).

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he mutters to Midge’s back as she heads deeper into the club.

“Joel? Something wrong?” she asks, drawing up short when she sees the petulant scowl on his face. It’s an expression she knows intimately, and not one that ever bodes well for her mood the rest of the day.

“Anything you wanna tell me, Midge?” he demands. Midge looks at him, baffled.

“I’m assuming that’s rhetorical, so I’m gonna need you to be a little more specific if you want to fight,” she says. Joel chuckles.

“Yeah, really funny. Funny, funny lady. On all those stages. I wonder what they’d say if they knew what you did to get there, though?”

Now Midge is both confused and insulted.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Joel? If you have something to say, spit it out, otherwise I have to get to work.”

Joel stares at her for a long moment, then smiles without any humor in it.

“Funny thing, this club of mine. I hear people talk about all sorts of things. Where they’ve been, where they’re headed afterwards. What acts they like, what they’ve seen before.”

There was a time when Midge might have humored Joel through his lengthy setup. But she’s got a job to get to, a mercurial boss to please, and some hard-to-impress coworkers to charm, and her patience for Joel’s self-absorption has worn thin.

“Look, I really do have to get to work, so can we speed this up a little?” It earns her a glare, but Joel does jump to the point.

“So last night, I hear this couple talking about how they saw your act. How you made some joke about…” And here, Joel looks a little uncomfortable. “About… frostbite, and….”

“So, what, you’re mad that I talked about my crotch on stage? You’ve seen my act, you can’t possibly be embarrassed about that anymore.”

“No, that’s not…” Joel shakes his head with another tight grin. “It’s… They were also talking about how they’re in from out of town. California, in fact. And how they saw another comic out there, just a couple of days ago, doing a bit about frost crotch. And they were trying to figure out how likely it is that two people on opposite coasts could make jokes about the same, extremely specific thing, just days apart, in venues where there’s no way they could have heard and copied each other. And you know what conclusion they came to?”

“What?”

“That these two comics… both talking about having sex and getting hypothermia… must be talking about the exact same fucking night.”

Midge is, for once, speechless, which only seems to infuriate Joel more.

“So it’s true, then? No witty comeback? No jokey denial?” he demands. “You slept with Lenny fucking Bruce?”

Midge shrugs.

“Yeah,” she says simply. Joel scowls even further, pacing the floor.

“I cannot fucking believe this. My wi— my ex-wife, the mother of my children, off having one-night stands with…”

“Well—” Midge stops herself.

“Well, what?” Joel snaps. “What was that sentence going to be?” Midge hesitates.

“I just… I’m not sure if it will make things better or worse… to tell you that it’s not a one-night stand.”

Joel’s mouth drops.

“It… what?”

“It’s not a one-night stand. We’re… something. I don’t know. But… it’s not a one-night stand. I don’t think it ever could have been. So. Now you know. And now I have to go.”

“Was it to get back at me?”

Joel’s question stops Midge in her tracks. She turns back around to look at him, but she doesn’t walk any closer. The urge to pat his shoulder, or squeeze his hand to soften the blow, vanished somewhere between blaming her for Mei’s choices and calling her a whore by implication just now.

“No, Joel,” she says simply. “I think… it was a long time coming, if you must know.”

“Really? It wasn’t because you knew how much I admired him? Not even a little bit of revenge?” he presses. And that smug certainty that everything in her life still revolves around him finally pushes Midge over the edge.

“No, I guarantee you, Joel. There is absolutely no part of me that was thinking about you, or anyone or anything else, even a tiny bit, while I was in Lenny’s bed.”

Midge turns on her heel, leaving Joel to gawp after her.

“Uh, Midge?” Archie says tentatively as she sweeps by him in the doorway.

“Yeah, Archie?”

“Uh, Joel probably didn’t say, because he’s… anyway. Uh, I think the woman, the one from California? I think I heard her say something about writing a gossip column, so you might want to…”

Midge grimaces, then pats Archie on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Archie. I appreciate it. Tell Imogene I’ll call her tomorrow!”

Midge hustles out onto the street. She’s got to get through this work day, and then a decision to make: call Susie first, or Lenny. It’s about to get very, very interesting.

#midge maisel #lenny bruce #midgelenny #the marvelous mrs. maisel #tmmm #tmmmfic #midgelenny fic #tv: the marvelous mrs maisel #ship: you're still staring #ch: midge maisel #ch: lenny bruce #ch: joel maisel #ch: susie myerson #ch: abe weissman #mine

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opera-ghosts · 3 months

Text

Fille du Régiment

Il faut partir

Metropolitan Opera Matinée Broadcast 28th December, 1940

Marie.................Lily Pons

Review of Virgil Thomson in the New York Herald:

"The singing was good. Miss Pons is not the greatest coloratura soprano one has ever heard; her voice is a little too brilliant. But her personality is so easy and engaging that one is always glad to see her on a stage, and she is far from unpleasant to hear. Mr. Baccaloni is always a pleasure to hear and watch. Irra Petina, an excellent singing comedienne, is likewise an ornament to any cast. The three of them yesterday gave a style to the performance that was far above the level of what easily might have been just a routine revival of a not awfully exciting work. Raoul Jobin, though far from possessing the distinction of the other three, has a richly resonant tenor voice and yesterday looked not too badly in his mountaineer clothes. The scenery was cute; and it looked expensive, just as operatic scenery should. The costumes were all right too, only there is nothing more tiring to the eye in a theater tham military uniforms, no matter how bright they may be in color. [The opera] has gaiety and melodic eloquence; it is good Donizetti all right. Only it isn't the best Donizetti. It lacks occasions for the grander flights of feeling and most especially for those magnificently theatrical and expressive concerted numbers that he could write as no other composer ever did, excepting Mozart. And so, though the piece was a worthy one and yesterday's cast a distinguished one, though the mounting was in every respect adequate and at all times agreeable, still the entertainment never quite got off the ground. The orchestra sounded fine as usual. The pleasant memory of the occasion, however, remains Miss Pons."

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

Text

Propaganda

Ann Sothern (A Letter to 3 Wives, The Blue Gardenia)_ Another unsung comedienne of the 30s and 40s, not enough people know about Ann Sothern. She was, along with her bestie Lucille Ball, originally a Goldwyn gal, but was soon a featured star in pictures. She even headlined a series of films, the Maisie movies. And though she was known for her comedies, but I fell in love with her after her dramatic role in A Letter to 3 Wives. I also absolutely love her in the noir murder mystery The Blue Gardenia. She was absolutely stunning, and I am always excited to find a movie of hers to watch. She's high on my list of "Why don't more people talk about her?" actresses

Ingrid Bergman (Gaslight, Casablanca, Notorious)—Where do I even begin with Ingrid Bergman? I fell in love with her with her astounding performance in the 1956 version of Anastasia -- the best Anastasia movie in large part due to her wonderful and touching performance. She's got this amazing, fascinating intensity to her in whatever role she's in. She commits 100%, and she's got this light in whatever she's in that's stunning. She's utterly convincing no matter what she plays, from an amnesiac possible lost princess, from a nun, from a woman taking her revenge on the town that wronged her, to light romantic comedy. She's never missed in any role I've seen her in! Also she became quite the MILF.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ann Sothern:

She was so beautiful and had great comedic timing!

Ingrid Bergman:

God, she's fantastic. She's both beautiful and a compelling actor who's more than capable of putting the whole movie on her shoulders if necessary. It's worth noting that while her beauty is conventional, she was seen as refreshingly "natural" with more eyebrows and less makeup than many other leading ladies of the time. She's well known for her role in Casablanca, but in Notorious, Spellbound, (both available on archive.org ) and Gaslight (1944) she shows how immensely capable she is.

I mean...she's Ingrid Bergman. I feel like that should be enough, you know? She's physically beautiful (her eyes!) but watching her is like a transcendent experience. Her voice, her expressions... beautiful woman, beautiful actor.

I'm a gay man but even I understand her appeal. I'll watch any movie she shows up in. Gorgeous woman.

Just try and watch her movies without sighing wistfully, then get back to me!

Choosing 1-3 movies where Bergman was at her hottest was agony because, of course, she was always at her hottest. Not just because she was beautiful but because she was absolutely willing to go up against the bs women in Hollywood were constantly dealing with. When exiled from Hollywood for having an affair with Roberto Rossellini, not only did she refuse to apologize at any point, but she went on to say that Hollywood's films had grown stagnant and boring to her. Though she said she appreciated her time working there, she wanted to try new, different techniques (hence starring in Italian neorealist films, working on stage, and acting under directors like Ingmar Bergman). She was not afraid to chase after her artistic ideals and go outside the box regardless of what society had to say about it. From her first movie to her last she killed it. There's so much more to say about Bergman's career and life, but I've already written five million words so I'll stop at that.

One of the most incredible actors I've ever seen on film. Her facial expressions are so intricate and poignant that I cannot look away. I'm either ace or straight, but damn she made me question that.

SEVEN TIME OSCAR NOMINEE QUEEN. Girl also PULLED, having affairs with famously hot men Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck IN ADDITION to her three marriages...sexy

She has a very natural beauty to her, and she's from Sweden!

She left Hollywood and only became more beautiful. You could drown in her eyes. She can look innocent AND like she's seen it all. She is effortlessly elegant. She's played Joan of Arc (automatically hot) AND was in the movie that coined gaslight as a term. And where would we be without that!

She was known for being a breath of fresh air on the movie scene at the time with her windswept hair, dreamy smile and soulful eyes. I have loved her in every movie I have seen her in - she was just magnetic!

Where do I even start. There's a neighborly quality to this beautiful, talented actress that makes her hotness one of a kind and her looks impossible to forget

With a career spanning five decades, Bergman is often regarded as one of the most influential screen figures in cinematic history. Known for her naturally luminous beauty, Bergman spoke five languages – Swedish, English, German, Italian and French – and acted in each.

She's hot, don't get me wrong, but I've always found her very approachable, like she could easily be a member of my friend group

A lot of the time hotness in a movie is just about words and framing. "You're the most beautiful person here" [vaseline lens] well I sure hope so because that's who you cast. But when, in Casablanca, they call Ingrid Bergman the most beautiful woman in the world... they were not fucking lying. And such a dynamite actor too!! I'd only seen Casablanca up until last year, and there she's confined to love interest. But in Gaslight she was maybe one of the most incredible actors I've ever seen!!!! Goddddd shes so fucking hot and cool.

#ingrid bergman #ann sothern #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

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