#two cars in every garage and three eyes on every fish

[flyinghellfish]

#the simpsons #homer simpson #bart simpson #marge simpson #lisa simpson #marge bouvier #maggie simpson #waylon smithers #charles montgomery burns #monty burns #c.m. burns #two cars in every garage and three eyes on every fish #season 2 #s02e04

[filmjunky-99]

t h e s i m p s o n s, 1989 - 📺 created by matt groening [two cars in every garage and three eyes on every fish, s2ep4] 'Blinky'

#sitcom #animated sitcom #the simpsons #matt groening #the simpsons season 2 #Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish #bart simpson #lisa simpson #Blinky

[thecittiverse]

"Ruined before it hit the ground..." #frinktober 2022 Day 3: Season 1 - 5 Episode The would-be-governor Mr. Burns can't swallow his own story as he coughs up a bite of Blinky from Season 2's "Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish." See the whole prompt list here: https://thecittiverse.tumblr.com/post/696772805277204480/are-you-a-simpsons-fan-looking-for-a-drawtober

#frinktober #simpsontober #the simpsons #mr burns #c montgomery burns #blinky #three eyed fish #dinner party #governor #two cars in every garage and three eyes on every fish #lisa simpson #bart simpson #thecittiverse #cittiverse

[ctimenefic]

don't like a gold rush

sometimes you watch a video of James Vowles calling Alex special and your mind goes blank and three weeks later you have 6k

everlasting thanks to @latecomersprivilege for cheerleading, proofreading, and encouraging my crimes

don't like a gold rush Rated Explicit Fandom F1 RPF Pairing Alexander Albon/George Russell 5,951 words In which Alex having a good boss for once drives George absolutely mad.

First part below:

James Vowles is the best thing that could have happened for Williams. Well, the best in 2023, second overall - second to signing Alex. George truly believes that, has said it often, loudly, to anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby with a microphone. Even as the spectre of getting caught in the Albon DRS train gets ever closer, even as the W14 lets him down at every turn, he’s still got a massive soft spot for his old team. He wants the best for them. He wants the best for Alex.

And James as a boss is everything Horner wasn’t, as far as George can tell. Even-tempered. Even-handed. Kind. George has been in the Mercedes orbit long enough to see that. James wasn’t the type to talk down to a fourteen-year-old touring a garage with eyes like saucers. Instead he offered a steadiness even Toto couldn’t match. His good opinion had been worth having, and George had fought to get it.

He likes James, for Christsakes.

So, it’s something of a surprise to find himself grinding his teeth as Alex gets second-beer tipsy and starts waxing poetic about what a difference he’s made to the team.

They’ve got a small table at the back of a footie pub in London, where not a single regular is under 60 and clearly no one gives two shits about Formula One. It’s not built for tall men; their knees jam up against each other. George is slightly too warm in his jumper and coat, prickles of heat across the back of his shoulders. And his molars ache as Alex keeps going on about bloody James Vowles.

“Some of it’s the car, obviously, and the calendar,” Alex is saying, too media-trained to not add context and caveats in any declaration, “but James is just- like, no offence to Jost, but- he gets it. It’s like we’re all going in the same direction. Points aren’t a fucking miracle anymore, it’s expected, but not in a bad way, you know?”

“Don’t rule out the driver,” George adds, because he’s pathetic, really, weak for the indulgent eyeroll and grin Alex throws him to hide the genuine pleased flush of a compliment. And, because, well. It can’t all be James.

He’s not blind to the fact Alex has dragged Williams higher than he ever managed. And yes, it’s a different car, a different set up, but Alex is fucking quick, and it’s about time someone else noticed.

“No, but really, it’s- Look, I’m not saying it’s perfect, I’m sure Logan has something to say about his contract renewal, but I’ve never had a boss who takes care of the team like he does. It’s nice,” Alex finishes, with that half-shrug he adopts to couch his opinions in nonchalance. George knows him too well to fall for it.

Something hot and slick and sour coats the inside of his chest cavity, roiling up from his belly. He necks the rest of his pint before it can escape over his tongue. “He takes care of you?” he manages, and it almost sounds normal, squeezed out of his throat like that, everything else trapped behind his teeth.

A glint comes into Alex’s eye. “I’m sure it’s not the full Toto Wolff experience-”

“Piss off.”

“-holidaying together, sharing a crossword, father-son fishing trips-”

“Piss off!”

“But, yeah. Logan more, obviously, he needs it more. But- you know after Silverstone, after you pointed out the shoulder thing, he had them look at the seat again? That kind of thing.”

Of course George remembers Silverstone. He’d joked about it, under the watchful eyes of the press and a Williams PR woman who knew him far too well, because Alex hated when George made a sincere fuss, but he could just about get away with taking the piss.

It’s good, he reminds himself, that James doesn’t want the car to shake his drivers to pieces. But that doesn’t stop the sudden blinding vision of James pressing a bandage against Alex’s skin.

George had done it, back in the summer, when Alex had tripped on their run and the jerk of the fall had reopened the scar from the seat. George had only had these stupid Superdrug plasters, all too small, so he’d had to line three up, carefully overlap them and smooth them down so they wouldn’t ruck up into a mess when Alex rolled his shoulders. Alex had said he was making too much of a fuss then as well, but he’d shivered as George ran a thumb around the edge of each plaster to check the seal.

It hadn’t been normal for George, obviously, having his best mate half-naked in his bathroom, the mirror too big for comfort, all of his face there to be seen as he touched Alex’s skin. But. But the thought of James doing the same makes George’s fingers tighten on his glass. And he knows, logically, that it didn’t happen; that Williams has a medic, that Alex has a trainer, that there’s half a dozen people on the team who take care of Alex. Who have that in their job descriptions.

He just- Christ. He wants it to be him.

“I’m glad, mate,” he lies. Swallows. Makes himself hold Alex’s gaze when he responds with his ducked-head smile. But he nudges the conversation on so he doesn’t have to keep lying, swaps the wildest rumours he can with Alex’s - Charles to Red Bull, Lewis to Ferrari, Fernando collecting a seat on every team like he’s filling out a Pokedex. The caustic burn lingers in the back of his throat, despite four pints and a packet of crisps. Read the rest on AO3

#galex #f1 rpf #f1 rpf fic #featuring a george so jealous he can barely speak #and an alex who won't stop laughing #until...

[palmofafreezinghand]

an excuse for me to write carlesme in 2023. carlisle and esme discuss their work days. on ao3.

2023. 

From the first time he was called “Doctor,” Carlisle had full-heartedly loved his profession. There had yet to be a moment he did not adore his work with every fiber of his being. This love is what resulted in days like the one he was currently living where the deaths outnumbered the survivors, where the miracle that is modern medicine was only able to prolong suffering, and where he was nothing but helpless. 

By the time he clocked out of a forty-eight-hour shift — driving three more hours to get to his home — the idea of ever returning to the cold hospital was as draining as the idea of walking into the house he called home. He sat in the garage, listening to Reba McEntire’s I’m a Survivor drifting from his wife’s office and the soft tap of her foot keeping with the beat. 

I’m a Survivor faded into a pop song he had not previously heard, as he garnered the nerve to move. The clock read thirteen minutes later when he managed to open the car door. 

He moved through his routine like a wind-up toy soldier, throwing his scrubs into the washing machine, changing into one of the clean outfits he kept stashed in the laundry room, and taking the stairs two at a time. 

“Hi Lover,” Esme said as he stepped onto the second floor. 

“Hello,” Carlisle said, leaning on the door jamb. He waited there for a good minute, content to get the rare glimpse of her at work. 

While Esme had worked, in some form, throughout most of her life, the work-from-home movement had revolutionized her world. She was no longer limited to working on renovations she could complete herself or submitting art to galleries and begging her loved ones to pretend to be her pseudonym when public appearances were required. At the moment she was consulting for a half dozen firms, working full-time for a firm based out of San Francisco specializing in historical preservation. He believed she also sat on a handful of committees for nonprofits working on sustainable architecture, but he could not name them if Edward’s life depended on it. 

Workaholic was an understatement, although when he first told her this — only partly in jest — she aptly pointed out — not in jest —  the same could be said about him, tenfold. 

“Are you going to come inside?” Esme asked, before even glancing up from her three computer monitors. 

If unwarranted dread was not sitting in his stomach like a fishing weight he would have made an unbecoming smart remark and she would have rolled her eyes. Instead, he took the invitation and walked into her office. 

He kissed the top of her head hello, peering over her to see her desk. It looked straight out of NASA headquarters. There were multiple CAD screens open, an application called Slack, Spotify, and about four email inboxes. She pressed “send” on a strongly worded email — in which she used the phrase “as I previously stated” three separate times — and finally looked up at him. “You look awful,” she said, nose scrunching, as he attempted to lean in for a proper kiss hello. 

“I feel it,” he laughed humorlessly, pressing the rejected kiss to her cheek. 

It had taken a hundred and two years of marriage to let this interaction happen. Over a hundred years of constant reassurance, she wanted him to be vulnerable, needed him to trust her. 

She pushed her mouse forward and turned in her chair to face him, taking his hand in both of hers. “I can offer you fifteen undivided minutes right now but will have to work for the next two or three hours. Or you can give me one hour to finish everything I need to and then I’m yours for the entire evening.” 

This new element of their relationship was exhilarating and unimaginably irksome. For decades he was accustomed to her dropping everything. He still operated under the assumption if he came home from work and needed to be held for the rest of the day as the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders — for just a moment — she would be there. Now there were deadlines and coworkers and commitments which momentarily trumped the one they made one snowy night in 1921. 

If he asked any couple he knew, who did not share his last name at some point, they would be appalled by a change in dynamic. Part of the appeal of an eternal union was the promise of an unchanging comfortable forever. Of course, he — nor his wife —  was ever content to follow their kind’s example. 

“The latter, please,” he said. She nodded, dropped his hand, and turned back to her screens. 

“Es,” he muttered after a minute. “Can… would it…” 

“Do you want to sit with me while I work?” She asked, pushing her chair out from her desk before he even answered. Carlisle nodded, climbing into the chair with her. 

“I don’t think you’ll fit in my lap,” she said, as he brought his legs over the arm of her chair. 

“You wound me,” he attempted to tease but couldn’t manage the levity. 

After a minute of futzing he managed to contort his body to fit in the chair, grateful she refused to use a normal swivel chair and instead insisted on a bulky antique armchair. 

She rolled her eyes, putting a hand under his knees and scooting him so he wouldn’t fall off the chair. “Comfortable?” 

He nodded, closing his eyes and letting his head fall on her chest. 

His mind drifted, lulled by the quick clicks and taps of his wife’s mechanical keyboard, the scratch of a stylus on a drawing tablet, and the eclectic playlist playing from the desktop speakers. 

“Does the music bother you?” She asked quietly. He shook his head. She resumed her work and he returned to trying to stave off thoughts of dying breaths and the shrill beep of a flatline. 

He’d say forty minutes went by, the existential dread now a dull but persistent ache, when Esme sighed. 

“Are you alright?” Carlisle asked quietly. 

“I’m fine, my coworkers are acting like teenagers and thus I am logging off early for the night.” She typed a quick message and started to close a few of her screens. She powered off her computer and glanced down at him. “Do you feel any better?” 

He nodded slightly, sitting up. “I don’t know how you do it.” It was one of the most surprising elements of marriage, after centuries alone, simply being around someone, her, could ease the weight of the world. 

“Sorry I couldn’t stop earlier,” she said, placing her hands on either side of his face. 

He turned to kiss her palm, “Your work is important. What’s your current project?” 

She smiled, her eyes lighting up as they only did when she got to discuss her renovations. “You will not get out of talking about your feelings that easy. But an old mill town is hitting the market this month so I’ve been…” 

She trailed on about plans and proposals, the unique challenges presented by renovating abandoned buildings, and her well-known hatred for painted brick. He nodded along. While their work was wildly different, he was struck — not for the first time — by the passion in her voice, one that so closely mirrored his own, and returning to that cold, but architecturally magnificent, hospital didn’t seem quite as daunting. 

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #my stories

[allieinarden]

I knew I’d be thinking of more Simpsons episodes to add to that very often-the-cuff list but how the HECK did I forget “Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish”?!?!

#If I were the showrunner I would force all writers to watch that episode before they even thought about talking about writing about Marge #The Simpsons #Simpsons Season 2 is one of the greatest seasons of tv ever written and anyone who tells you to start at S3 doesn’t appreciate character

[rolkstone]

Mr. Burns' PR guy in "Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish"

#myart #art #the simpsons

[invisibleraven]

I'mma be suuuper self-indulgent and ask for Rose/Ray/Reggie +  “i hope you don’t mind that i took that painting down, but i thought that picture of us looked a little better…” 

When they first bought the house that used to belong to Bobby's lola, Reggie left most of the decorating up to Ray and Rose. He figured that Ray being a photographer would give him an eye for that kind of thing, and Rose was the most stylish being on the planet (but if Hazel asked, he would always tell her it was her, bassist solidarity and all). Reggie was just a sad boy, barely eighteen, and had no idea how to really put a space together.

Of course, his partners always asked him what he thought, and he gave some colour choices, or helped to find the softest towels, the comfiest couch, or the gaudiest cookie jar known to man (it looked like an ugly ass fish, and Reggie loved it).

So even though the house was mostly Ray and Rose in style, it belonged to all three of them. It felt like home, the first real one that Reggie had belonged to since the guys... He still ached every time he thought of them, which was often. He had spent a large part of his teenage years in this house, in the garage, memories haunted these halls.But they were good memories, and even though he sometimes felt guilty that he was still here, with loving partners and a whole house in his name, with therapy and time, he was doing better.

The house mostly stayed the same through the years, even after the three of them finally figured themselves out, and it became more of a mixture of the three of them. Little touches that showed touches of their personality, so you would find Ray's cameras littering the shelves, little pieces both he and Rose had brought from Puerto Rico, Rose's music sheets and Reggie's Star Wars figurines all over the place.

But most of all, the house was covered in pictures. Perks of living with a photographer was that there was no shortage of photos. Reggie had rescued an album his MeeMaw had made for him before his parents up and left LA, so there were childhood photos, showcasing Reggie from birth to his bar mitzvah. Shots of the Petal Pushers mixed in with Sunset Curve.

Though most of all there were photos of the three of them. Silly shots of them at the beach, at various weddings and backyard barbeques. Some more racy shots that would never see the light of day, thank you Raymond.

One day though, Reggie was taking in the pictures, a soft smile on his face and he was considering the space. He was getting the itch to redecorate, and with Rose on tour, and Ray off on a shoot, he had the space to himself to do so. Nothing major, but maybe a little facelift would be a nice surprise to come home to.

So he went off to the stores, in his 'no I'm not that famous sad boy musician you think you know you must be mistaken' disguise, aka a beanie and dark glasses. Finding new slipcovers, a few rugs, some knick-knacks, and fresh flowers. Plus one stop more.

~

Ray beamed as Rose rushed from the bus into his arms, the two of them embracing after too long apart. "Missed you tesero," Ray whispered into her curls.

Rose cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a filthy kiss. "Me too," she purred. "Bring me home and I'll show you how much." Then she looked around, and didn't see her overeager puppy of a boyfriend and frowned. "Where's Reggie?"

"He's at home, probably cooking up a storm. I was called to an away shoot, and came straight from there," Ray explained. A wave of concern washed over them, knowing that while their boy was doing better now, he was also not used to being alone for long since they found him after that infamous night. They rushed to the car, Ray pushing the speed limit just slightly, and breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the house. The air was filled with the smell of cookies, and Reggie's happy singing as he belted along to Queen on the radio.

The two of them set down their bags, and took in the small new touches in their home, Rose purring at the softness of the throw over one of the couches, Ray nodding in approval over the cool vintage model of a car sitting on one of the shelves above his desk. But what made them stop was the picture above the mantelpiece.

Where there had previously been a large painting that they had found in a thrift store in their pre-Reggie days now held a large canvas print of a photo of the three of them. They were not looking at the camera, but at each other, arms slung around shoulders, sharing soft looks between them. The setting was blurred behind them, but they were all that mattered, and the love was obvious in this one shot.

"I hope you don't mind that I took the painting down," Reggie said from behind them, a shy smile on his face, eyes off to the side as he rubbed his toes into the soft rug beneath him. "But I thought the picture of us looked a little better."

"It's gorgeous carino," Rose said, her voice wet with unshed tears.

"Just what the space needed, just like you were just what we needed," Ray concluded.

Reggie beamed, his whole face lighting up like the sun when he smiled. He ran into their arms, pressing kisses to whatever bits of their faces he could reach. Only pulling back when the oven let out a harsh beep.

"My cookies!" Reggie exclaimed, rushing off to save the treats. Ray and Rose shared a fond look and followed behind him. Because there was nothing better than Reggie's cookies. Especially if they could convince him to bring the cooled ones upstairs with them.

#filled prompts #ficlet #ray/rose/reggie #julie and the phantoms

[new-employeeamillion]

Everyone always points to the tape scene in “Some Enchanted Evening” as the biggest example of how weird the animation could be in early Simpsons episodes, but I find this shot in “Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish” to be way more odd. The memo seemed straightfoward enough, just have the kids leave the room in a slow-then-hurried motion, but when they sprint, they absolutely smear out!

This episode was notably the first to be produced in the 2nd season’s production cycle. So while the vibe of the show’s presentation had been formed by the end of the first, I guess there were some animators who noticed the bigger budget they were getting, and saw that as an invitation to get creative. I like this little moment, but I think Matt Groening had the right idea. I doubt the characters would’ve resonated with audiences (in a season where they really needed to) if they routinely moved like this.

#the simpsons #animation smears

[bussterj]

I'm watching The Simpsons 2x04 "Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish"

#TheSimpsons #trakt

[flyinghellfish]

#the simpsons #homer simpson #bart simpson #marge simpson #lisa simpson #marge bouvier #maggie simpson #waylon smithers #charles montgomery burns #monty burns #s02e04 #two cars in every garage and three eyes on every fish #season 2

[filmjunky-99]

t h e s i m p s o n s, 1989 - 📺 created by matt groening [two cars in every garage and three eyes on every fish, s2ep4] 'Dinner Is Served'

#sitcom #animated sitcom #the simpsons #matt groening #the simpsons season 2 #Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish #marge simpson #bart simpson #lisa simpson #montgomery burns #Dinner Is Served

[dorothydalmati1]

The Simpsons Season 2 Episode 4: Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish

Written by Sam Simon & John Swartzwelder

Storyboard by Steven Dean Moore

Directed by Wes Archer

Directing assistance by Carlos Baeza & Alan Smart

#the simpsons #fox #three eyes #fish #prediction

[kahran042]

My list of crapisodes

First of all, know that these are all my opinion. Ones marked with asterisks are ones I haven't seen, but to paraphrase Huey Freeman, you don't have to see a lynching to know that they aren't funny.

AMERICAN DAD!

Big Trouble in Little Langley

Gorillas in the Mist

Minstrel Krampus

Tapped Out

ARCHER

White Elephant

A Kiss While Dying

A Debt of Honor

House Call

Southbound and Down

Baby Shower

Smugglers' Blues

The Rules of Extraction

On The Carpet

Palace Intrigue: Part I

Palace Intrigue: Part II

Filibuster

Arrival/Departure

ARTHUR

Francine and the Feline

Arthur's Big Hit

Sue Ellen Chickens Out

The Secret Origin of Supernova

FAMILY GUY

Wild Wild West

Family Cat

FOSTER'S HOME FOR IMAGINARY FRIENDS

The Little Peas

FUTURAMA

Amazon Women in the Mood

KING OF THE HILL

Plastic White Female

Husky Bobby

Junkie Business

*Three Coaches and a Bobby

Bills Are Made to Be Broken

Movin' On Up

What Makes Bobby Run?

'Twas the Nut Before Christmas

Bobby Goes Nuts

Joust Like a Woman

Get Your Freak Off

Full Metal Dust Jacket

The Witches of East Arlen

Reborn to Be Wild

That's What She Said

Hank's Back

*The Petriot Act

Redcorn Gambles with His Future

Harlottown

Business Is Picking Up

Hank's Bully

*serPUNt

Lady and Gentrification

Lost in MySpace

Bad News Bill

*Uh-oh, Canada

*The Boy Can't Help It

MY-HIME

Mischief of the Wind

OURAN HIGH SCHOOL HOST CLUB

A Challenge from Lobelia Girls' Academy!

RECESS

Kindergarten Derby

ROZEN MAIDEN

The Stairway

SOUTH PARK

Chinpokomon

Timmy 2000

Red Hot Catholic Love

Raisins

Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset

Mr. Garrison's Fancy New Vagina

Cartoon Wars Part I

*Cartoon Wars Part II

Tsst

*Go God Go

*Go God Go XII

The Ungroundable

City Sushi

*Ass Burgers

*The Poor Kid

Cash for Gold

Raising the Bar

You're Not Yelping

Member Berries

Skank Hunt

*The Damned

*Wieners Out

*Douche and a Danish

*Fort Collins

*Oh, Jeez

*Members Only

*Not Funny

*The End of Serialization as We Know It

*Help, My Teenager Hates Me!

STAR OCEAN EX

Stampede

THE CLEVELAND SHOW

Cleveland Jr.'s Cherry Bomb

Wide World of Cleveland Show

Pins, Spins and Fins…

THE FAIRLY ODDPARENTS

The Boy Who Would Be Queen

Twistory

THE SIMPSONS

Two Cars in Every Garage, Three Eyes on Every Fish

Homer vs. Lisa and the 8th Commandment

Homer the Heretic

Lisa the Vegetarian

Lisa the Iconoclast

My Sister, My Sitter

Homer vs. the Eighteenth Amendment

The Cartridge Family

Lisa the Skeptic

Miracle on Evergreen Terrace

Lisa, the Simpson

Lisa Gets An “A”

Wild Barts Can’t Be Broken

They Saved Lisa’s Brain

Treehouse of Horror X

E-I-E-I-(Annoyed Grunt)

Eight Misbehavin’

Little Big Mom

Missionary: Impossible

Kill the Alligator and Run

Behind the Laughter

Lisa the Tree Hugger

The Computer Wore Menace Shoes

She of Little Faith

Sweets and Sour Marge

Pray Anything

A Star is Born-Again

‘Scuse Me While I Miss the Sky

Marge vs. Singles, Seniors, Childless Couples and Teens, and Gays

Margical History Tour

Smart and Smarter

Catch ‘Em If You Can

Bart-Mangled Banner

On A Clear Day I Can't See My Sister

Girls Just Want To Have Sums

*The Great Wife Hope

The Day the Earth Stood Cool

Homerland

Opposites A-Frack

Peeping Mom

TINY TOON ADVENTURES

Going Places

*Elephant Issues

YES! PRECURE 5

Komachi Quits Being A Novelist!?

Coco's Big Healthy Plan!

BTW, if you're wondering why there are so many Simpsons episodes, it's because this list was originally just a list of Simpsons episodes I hated. And if you're wondering why fellow long-runner Family Guy has so few, it's because I cut it some slack for a long time due to it being the internet reviewing community's whipping boy.

#crapisodes #good show bad episode

[channeleven]

Dawned on me. I really hate Lisa Goes to Washington, and I hate Two Cars in Every Garage, Three Eyes on Every Fish. I just feel either episode is hamfisted or just incredibly grating, and I’d say this no matter where I would lean, and that is center left for me.

Not even the classic era is free from bullshit.

#the simpsons

[harrypotterhousequotes]

SLYTHERIN: "I'm Bart Simpson. Who the hell are you?" --Sam Simon + John Swartzwelder (Bart Simpson: The Simpsons: Two Cars in Every Garage and Three Eyes on Every Fish)

#harry potter #house quotes #slytherin #the simpsons #bart simpson #sam simon #john swartzwelder #two cars in every garage and three eyes on every fish #hphq