#his girlfriend is doing great with her career as a fire performer

[angiethewitch]

love going to see my tattooist because for half an hour before I actually start getting tattooed we have a yap session where we update eachother on our lives

[amaranthineghost]

THE MIGHTY HAS FALLEN (BUT YOU'LL RISE AGAIN, LOVE) ( max verstappen. )

max verstappen x reader

after a tough race cut short, max pushes away any person around him, but not her. never her. she always picks up the pieces to put him back together.

authors note: I love max. I know he's not the self-deprecating typa guy, but in this, he is, OKAY. charles is after this <333

HE WAS A BOMB. the fuse getting shorter and shorter every minute that his patience was tested. everything around him seemed to irritate him more and more as he tried to keep himself from exploding, for pr's sake.

he just wanted to avoid the media all together, for obvious reasons, but he was contractually obligated to give his words to the journalists under the media tent. putting him under a microscope and asking questions that had an undertone of scrutiny in hopes of catching him break. he was close, but he wouldn’t.

it hadn’t even been a fault of his own, he rarely made those anymore. the car had caught fire, but not due to a mistake he had made, and even if it had been, he wouldn't have admitted it anyways. still he felt the guilt of his lack of performance, beating himself up after every question asked about his car and what had happened.

it was just stupid. the questions were stupid. the car was stupid. this whole race was stupid.

the pressure to perform, even in the best car on the grid, was high. despite his seat being secured for plenty of years to come, he still had expectations to meet and records to break.

it was obvious to everyone that max was hard on himself every time he didn't perform his best, his girlfriend especially noticing when she’d find him in his very luxurious driver's room sulking at even the slightest of a mistake made by him.

it didn't happen often, but when it did, she'd been there for him. he knew that.

he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never be seen again because world champions don't make stupid mistakes.

even if this hadn't been a mistake he made, he should've known. even if there was no possible way he could’ve, he should've.

he was raised to believe that he was only deserving if he had been first, that he was destined to fail after every second place or worse finish.

so it wasn't surprising when he thought he didn't deserve her. in comparison, or more like his eyes, she was simply perfect.

and she understood him, which not many people could because he wouldn't let anyone pick apart his brain like she did.

he locked his thoughts and feelings in the dark that shrouded his mind from early childhood trauma. he promised he would never let anyone see.

but he was never great at keeping such promises because it hadn't taken much for her to pick the lock to his brain. even though he wasn't ready to spill every detail of his upbringing to her, he trusted her.

and he didn't get to do that all too often.

the media had been brutal—he knew they would be—and yet it still crushed his mentality and faith in himself.

with his race suit around his waist despite having time to change beforehand, he walked through the paddock in shame at the early retirement.

it wasn't like this determined the outcome of his career because the next race, he'd be back on top. he didn't feel so sure of it though because all his thoughts were on this failure. what if he failed the next race?

what if he failed the whole season? what if he fails her?

unlikely, the people know, but he had so much confidence which had so easily crumbled when it got a little too hot. he wasn't sure of himself anymore.

anyone could see the turmoil bubbling underneath his skin, harsh waves crashing in the ocean of his blue eyes as he pushed past anyone and everyone.

the walk through the paddock was short, considering the red bull motorhome was the first of ten. max hastily entered through the automatic doors, skipping steps as he was eager to hide out in his driver's room.

he felt the eyes of the staff follow him down the hall until he disappeared quickly around the corner. he didn't want to be seen by anyone.

the door to his driver's room closed as fast as it was opened, but much louder. she heard the slam of the door echo down the hallway.

she didn't flinch, she just calmly greeted staff with smiles and left a bag of sweets on the table for them. she always brought something for the team, to celebrate every victory and despite this not being one, they still deserved it for working hard.

since she had gotten there not too long after him, she lingered around the lobby. she didn't want to be waiting around for him to show up and have him brush her off because he wasn't in the right headspace.

he would never mean to dismiss her, and she knew to give him at least a little time to himself to think and process things. she couldn't give him too much time though because she didn't want his self-deprecating thoughts to eat away at his confidence.

from what she analyzed from the staff and their demeanor, he'd probably caught them off guard when he slammed his door.

she wouldn't apologize for his behavior because she would make him do it when he cooled down.

so she hung around and made small talk with the sparse staff around to allow max a few minutes to himself before excusing herself down the hall.

she had a bomb to defuse after all.

the clack of her heels on the hard floors bounced off the walls, but she walked quietly enough so max didn't hear her coming. he knew she would though. he knew she would find him with his head in his hands, barely covered in sweat because he didn't race for more than three laps.

his face was still flush with disappointment though. he didn't want her to see him like this even though she was with him during his last disappointing race, but even though his singaporean grand prix finish wasn't great, at least he hadn't been out of the race.

max hadn't DNF’d in two years because he was simply just that good, and he still is. he just didn't feel like it.

his hands pressed so hard against his eyes, the blood vessels in them would have popped if he pushed any harder. he had taken off his red bull hat, he felt he didn't deserve the number one right now. it was thrown lazily onto the makeshift bed in his driver's room.

the room was practically silent, every so often interrupted by a deep sigh of disappointment that escaped his lips. he had sat there for a good couple or minutes, sulking.

when she reached his door, she held the bouquet of flowers she always got for him close to her body with one arm while she raised the other to knock. her hand only slightly hesitated before her fist made contact with the door and a few seconds later, she tried entering. it was locked, which was usual whenever he was brooding.

at first, when max heard the knock, he thought of all the people last on his list that he would want to see right now, but on the bottom of the list was the person he wanted to avoid the most right now.

his dad.

their relationship was rocky. he never supported max at any place unless it was on the very top of the podium, and even then max thought he looked unpleasant.

“go away,” was all max could mutter through his hands as his heart started to pick up the pace.

she sighed, shaking her head with a smile pulling at her lips, “max.” it was all she needed to say.

part of him didn't want to let her in, he didn't want her to see him like this, but he knew she was just as stubborn as him, if not more. he knew she would stand there all day if he didn't open the door to let her in.

and he would always let her in.

she heard the low creak of the sofa she could imagine him sitting on, but not his footsteps while he made his way to the door. she only knew he heard her when the lock clicked and the door slowly opened inwards to reveal the red-faced max verstappen.

she stood staring at him, her head tilted as she studied his face. he didn't move, he just watched her eyes dart around his appearance, and he felt himself getting hot under his fireproofs.

“are you going to let me in, verstappen?” she teased, a sly smile on her lips as she watched her boyfriend roll his eyes.

he scoffed, stepping aside, “don't call me that.”

“what?” she acted innocent, stepping into his driver's room with the fresh flowers, seeing the already prepped vase, “don't call you by your name?”

“you know what I mean.” though he tried to keep a straight face and act like he was still mad, he couldn't keep a smile from creeping onto his lips. she just had that effect.

she heard the door close and lock again as she took the wrapping off and placed the flowers in the vase. she shrugged at his words, her back still towards him, but she knew he had sat back down.

“you didn't have to get those,” he mumbled, “didn't win.”

she sighed, crumbling the wrapping in her hand and throwing it away before walking to where he sat. she stood in front of him as he looked up at her.

even with heels, he was still much taller than her and even though he was sitting, he reached barely below her chin.

she spread her arms to offer a hug to him, which he gratefully took, his arms snaking around the low of her hips. pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped around his head, running her fingers through his hair.

she felt him sigh against her skin, his eyes closing as they stayed like that for minutes without speaking. she felt him caress the bare skin of her thigh with his thumb.

when they finally pulled apart, his hands still laid firmly on her hips, his hair disheveled from the hug. she ran her hands through it to fix it and he only watched as she did so.

when she finally finished after only ten seconds because guy hair is a lot less complicated than women’s hair, he finally spoke up, “why are you dressed so uncomfortably?”

she was slightly taken aback, seeing as he was just moping about his race not even ten minutes ago and now commenting on her appearance. he only assumed she was uncomfortable, but unfortunately his assumption was correct.

“what do you mean?” she looked down at her attire, which isn't so different from the other wags that she hung out with.

his hand snuck around the back of her thigh and pulled up her leg, “I thought I told you to stop wearing heels, you always complain about them.”

“i’m fine,” she said, about to cross her arms, but her balance said otherwise so she settled them on his shoulders for support.

he gave her an incredulous look because every time she wore heels, without fail, she would complain less than an hour into wherever they were that she wanted to sit.

“okay, i admit i can't wait to get these things off,” she let out a deep breath, putting a hand on her hip, “but I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”

she said in his response to take the heels off her feet for her, a simple gesture really, but this was about him.

“do you want to talk about it?” she massaged his shoulders as he threw her heels to the other side of the small sofa.

“nothing to talk about,” he shrugged, “maybe I don't deserve being first.”

she pushed his head to look up at her, shaking her head, “you just don't realize how much you deserve, max. you're a world champion, a three-time one,” she reassured him, “you've won countless races, and you still have the entire season ahead of you. I know you want to, but you can't let one bad race define your season.”

“I know, you're right.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought deeply, “but I have to prove myself.”

“you've already done that plenty of times,” she shook his shoulders in emphasis, “besides you'll still lead the championship, unless charles gets p1, but you'll get it right back if that's the case.”

she was right. she always was, he never doubted her. he would never doubt her because she would never lie to him. she always backed up her answers by building up his ego and confidence back up so he was ready to fight it out on the track next race.

whether it took a couple of minutes or hours to bring his mood back up, she'd take her time in making him feel like the champion he was again.

she would take his phone from him, he didn't need to see the articles being written or the missing phone calls from his dad.

all he needed was her and she would always be there.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[munariplans]

forty, love | natasha romanoff

part 2 | part 3

synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 4.9k words

a/n: inspired by that one scene from challengers.

masterlist

“slice forehand.”

thwock. 

“inside-out forehand.”

another thwock.

“move to the volley. hurry. your feet aren’t keeping up.”

despite the insult, the thwock lands. the ball bounces and hits right where you want it to hit. the singular drop of sweat that dripped onto the ground between your feet is not wasted, as you look up to your performance coach across the net, unamused sneer hidden behind his thick moustache. 

“not fast enough?” you quipped. 

he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re still number 2 in the state. if you want a shot at beating the princeton team, you’re still going to have to move much faster than that.”

you wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead, fixing the slightly loose hair tie, before nodding understandingly. still, you weren’t too happy at his latest onslaught of insults this past session. “you could have at least given me credit for the dropshot earlier when you came in. it was perfect.”

“perfect shots don’t get you the win. defeating your opponent does.”

he signalled that practice was over for the day, and you walked off court at the same time as he did to gather your things. the woman watching from the stands stood at that moment, and began her descent down to meet you in the locker room. 

natasha romanoff walked up behind you as you changed, the sudden feeling of her hands on your bare skin a welcomed intrusion, as you sighed into her touch. she let herself have her hands full for a minute, roaming over your muscles until she was satisfied, before settling them on the edge of your shoulders, massaging the tight knots out of them. you were still so tense.

she pressed her lips lovingly on a scar, waiting for you to finish panting at the feeling of where her hands had been. “you were great out there today.”

“coach said otherwise.”

“mm,” she let you put on your shirt, turning you around to kiss you after, “you were fighting him back just as hard. are you okay?”

you zipped up your bag then, taking a moment to avoid her question, before, “do you think i’m like what he says? what they all say…?”

natasha motioned for you to continue. “that i’m all bark, no bite, now? that i’ve lost my mojo?”

“baby–”

“–because you can tell me straight up. i can take it. you’re my girlfriend, you can tell me, i can take it.” the room had suddenly gotten tense, a stark drop to your composure that you had managed to hide so well on the court. in the locker rooms, you were angry again. you had been angry for a while now. 

“losing a few matches isn’t going to hurt your record, baby. you’re this college’s star player, you know this.”

“but losing four matches in a row is going to shatter my ego. my confidence. you of all people should know this!”

you had backed away from natasha, eyebrows raised, posture standoffish. she hated this. she hated seeing you like this. as bad as it was to say, she hated seeing you lose. it was the worst part of yourself that you let her see, when you lost. but what was she, as a partner, if not to stand by you through your career, your ups and down? she should be sharing your pain, taking some burden off of your shoulders, at the very least. 

“just last week, i let it go to break point, and i still fucking lost!” you had raised your fist at this point, nearly punching it at the steel frames of the lockers, when you reminded yourself of just the complications that could arise from shattered knuckles. your coach would never let this go. but still, the gesture was there, and the fire in your eyes remained all too dangerous. 

suddenly, you were pressed against the lockers, the weight of natasha’s body engulfing yours, as her arms came to hold you tight against herself. you were forced to embrace her back, despite your slight protests and pleas, but she was having none of it. she had wrapped you up in her tight, strong embrace, and her hands were finding themselves to bring your face towards hers, eyes boring into your own. 

“nat–”

“–last week, last week, you were against a professional, baby. a nearly retired one at that, but she was fighting for wins at the australian open not too long ago. she’s been doing this longer than you have even started learning how to hit the ball. don’t be so hard on yourself, will you? nobody, nobody else, could have gotten to where you were with her. break point is a feat in itself.”

you didn’t look convinced. but she didn’t need you to look convinced; she needed you to listen. “do you understand? you need to look at things from a different perspective, from my perspective. not your coach’s, not your teammates, certainly not that player’s fucking groupies, who were gloating about your loss all the way out of the stadium. you need to believe in yourself, as i have always believed in you. and you can’t keep going on like this. do you understand me?”

natasha’s eyes never departed from yours, her gaze firm. her hands were shaking, a little unsure of your reaction, because as far as she knew, you didn’t look like you were going to back down from a fight. either with yourself or her, she didn’t know. she certainly hoped it was at least the latter.

but then, your gaze cast downwards, you nodded ashamedly. sighing into the air, you pressed your face into the crook of her neck for a moment, the height advantage letting you lift her up, and she cooed as she let you gather yourself. 

“i understand.”

she patted the back of your head. like a mother would a petulant, but repenting child. “good. now let’s go get dinner, then a massage for your shoulders. then back to the gym first thing tomorrow morning.”

– 

natasha watched you push around your vegetables for nearly half of dinner. she knew the campus meal tickets didn’t exactly provide for five-star dishes, but she had never seen you so down like this before. it was almost as if you had become a ghost of yourself. 

“steve’s birthday is coming up soon.” she decided to change the topic, and hopefully, get your mind off of tennis for a minute. 

you gave a nonchalant grunt, finally stabbing the piece of broccoli. she steadied herself. “should we get him the pair of boots he’s always wanted? i figured we could pull in wanda and clint too, if we want to get him a bigger gift.”

your eyes were still unfocused. it was as if she wasn’t there at all. “baby.”

you looked up, half-expecting natasha to be pissed. but she only gave you a small smile. “steve’s birthday?”

“we can get him the boots. i don’t mind paying for them. but i don’t think i’m going to his party.”

“why not? your match on that day ends in the afternoon.”

“yeah, but i think i’m going to be pretty tired.” not to mention if i lose.

natasha decided not to argue with you on it. she knew enough how touchy the subject of your career already was. instead, she jabbed the last piece of corn with her fork, and gestured for your mouth to open. 

the both of you left shortly after. 

– 

in a friendly match the next weekend with the neighbouring college, you were faced up against the top ranking player once more. being a finals round, you had imagined that the crowd would be roaring with applause for how far you’d come, but when the sets began to balance after your first few strong starts and the heat of the afternoon sun began beating on everyone’s backs, the crowd dwindled out one by one from boredom and, to you at least, the possible disappointment of you losing. 

it was only expected, from a disenchanted champion. the college’s once pride and joy, the one who was once regarded as a candidate with potential to win grand slams. unfortunately, people only really like you when you win. 

but natasha stayed. and so did her friends, and your friends that she had managed to force to stay. you had gestured that they could leave if they wanted to, during the breaks, but they were afraid to even nod, or make a move, lest they wanted to be subjected to natasha’s ferocity, sitting behind them. it was almost humiliating that they stayed only because your girlfriend was forcing them to, you thought. 

thwock. a missed shot from your end.

another thwock. “out!”

by your last mistake, the crowd had only left natasha, steve, and some die-hard groupies of yours that were slowly losing hope too. so when the final set was determined by your failure to execute a passing shot, and subsequently touching the net, the roars from the other side seemed almost mocking. you had lost. 

natasha rushed down to the locker rooms again, only this time, your friends followed, and the absolute mortification that you felt, along with the pure anger and frustration of losing, overpowered any remaining sense of decency you had left. 

the moment you spotted her coming in, then the company behind her, you almost felt like the first time the instinct to shatter your racket came to you. 

“out! all of you, out!” you had screamed, not caring to be decent even to your teammates. 

“come on, we just wanted–”

“–i don’t care, out! you’ve just come in here to humiliate me, haven’t you? gloating how i could lose, even in a friendly! how shit of a player i am, now!”

the people behind natasha grumbled, but one by one shuffled out. it was better to tell you about how unfair you were being another day, not when emotions were running so high. natasha was thankful they understood. but it didn’t make what you did any less unfair.

she sat beside you as you kept your head down. “that wasn’t very nice.”

“losing isn’t very nice.”

“they meant well, baby.”

“no, they don’t.”

“how many times do i have–”

“–a ton, okay, natasha?” you looked up, slamming your drink between the both of you. “a ton of times, you have to remind me. that my friends love me, that they’re here to support me. but how the fuck am i supposed to believe that when i don’t even have anything for them to support me for?”

“your friends don’t just love you because you’re good at tennis, my love. i don’t love you just because you’re good at tennis. this is ridiculous! i can’t believe we are arguing over this, i can’t believe you think of yourself so lowly like this.”

natasha was met with a deafening silence the moment she finished her last words, her chest heaving up and down from her own disappointment. the rest of the players had filtered out, upon hearing your argument, leaving only you and her there. like always. 

your hand rubbed over your face resignedly, hands covering the beautiful eyes natasha loved loves staring into. she wanted to reach out, to pull your hands away from yourself, to even get you to answer her, to let her know that you at least believed you were better than this. but she was afraid of the answer she was going to get. 

then, she heard a sniffle, and a small, choked sob afterwards. and that was it. 

you were up standing the next second, and slinging your racket bag over your shoulder. “i’m going to the gym. i know you have class after this. don’t wait up.”

she was left there alone, the dismay and disappointment of it all weighing down on her, the moment the doors to the locker room were slammed. 

– 

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that, i apologised to my friends, now i want to apologise to you. i love you, i’m sorry. the words didn’t seem enough. the guilt that accumulated and eventually avalanched into your heart was almost insurmountable, after the incident with  natasha. you weren’t even sure you were worthy of being forgiven, you thought as you sat in your car later that night, still angry at her, but making sure that she was safe in the short walk home from her class to her dorm. 

which was why you found yourself in the florist off campus a few days later, asking the employee what flowers best represented i’m sorry for being such a terrible girlfriend, and which flowers were most likely going to help you be forgiven. the white and blue carnations reminded you of the colours in natasha’s room. 

“how much is it?” you asked, to which the cashier then showed you the till. you cursed internally, not even knowing flowers were so expensive nowadays.

checking the contents of your wallet for a minute, you cursed even louder at yourself at the emptiness that greeted you. losing matches meant losing money, that was for sure, and it wasn’t a secret that you were mostly funding your life with prize money won from big matches in the state, with college at least funded with the athlete’s scholarship. yet another reason why i can’t keep doing this, you thought.

it was between dinner for the next few days and gas for your car, and the flowers. fuck it, skipping dinners once in a while wouldn’t hurt, and you could walk from place to place. 

you handed over your card, and began the walk to natasha’s dorm. 

when she received you, natasha noticed you looked almost like a kicked puppy, none of the anger or smugness you carried with you on and off the court. no, with her, you were soft, and vulnerable, and all-too pitiful for her love. she knows the power she has over you. she never had to worry. 

so she brought you in, allowed you to apologise, to beg at her feet, and for her mercy and forgiveness. she allowed you to worship her, taking her to her bed and whispering how much you messed up to her skin, how much you loved her when you were making her see stars, how much you thought you would hurt yourself if she ever left you when she was chanting your name over and over again, begging you to let her come undone.

– 

steve’s birthday rolled around, and natasha was once again seated in the front row for you. she never missed your matches. 

you thought she should have missed this one, when the match reached a break point and you lost again. when you had gotten so frustrated, so furious, over a careless choke that you had, that you received a punishment for smashing your racket into bits as the opponent screamed in celebration. 

she came down to sit with you in the locker room after, but it was in silence. there was nothing to say, and nothing to be said. there were tears streaming down your face, dripping onto the floor. your vision was obscured by the tears, and you would have lost yourself if not for the hand that was holding your own, firm, steadfast. somewhere along the line, she was kissing you, then slowly pushing for you to get up, and bringing you to her dorm. you didn’t really remember anything more after that, busy curling into a ball and crying yourself to sleep afterwards.

when she woke you again to accompany her to steve’s party, you felt almost bad that the ringing in your ears hadn’t gone away, and so had your misery from the match earlier. but natasha needed a ride, and you weren’t going to let her drive back later if she had been drinking for the night. 

– 

you encouraged natasha to mingle around at the party, and to not worry about you, as you stuck around your few friends for a bit. she was unsure, but you were firm, and soon enough, she too had disappeared into the crowd.

your eyes never left her after you found her again, though, leaning back into a pillar as your friend sam went on and on about his own matches so far. you didn’t have the heart, or energy, to tell him that tennis was the last thing you wanted to talk about right then. 

she was by the birthday boy, his arm slung around her waist as the both of them guzzled down cups and cups of spiked punch. their circle was closely-knit, you had always known this, but somehow, the lingering touches, and his hand slowly travelling up and down her back, was ticking you off this time. you had almost half a mind to ask steve what he thought he was doing, but you knew natasha would get embarrassed, and upset. you knew you already made her upset enough today. 

but then, sam quipped, “they’ve been awfully close lately, haven’t they?”

he must have forgotten he was talking to natasha’s girlfriend, of all people, as he continued, “steve’s on a winning streak recently. on track to become valedictorian, potentially getting drafted by the top teams next season, it’s only a matter of time before he wants someone by his side to share it with too, huh?”

“...right.”

“you know how natasha likes winners,” he hit your elbow playfully, breath reeking of alcohol and other illegal substances, “she just loves the game. i bet that’s how you got her to fall for you too.”

“not my good looks, or horrible attitude to anything outside of tennis?” you tore your eyes away from natasha for a moment to glare at sam. he chuckled. 

“i’m just saying, better to keep your girl by your side, future federer.” he disappeared shortly after, and when you found natasha again, she was laughing and putting her head on steve’s shoulder. 

instead of feeling angry this time, you were dejected, and a little bit ashamed. of course. natasha liked winners. and you certainly weren’t one anymore. 

you bit back a harsh breath, and went outside to get some fresh air when steve stole a glance at her that was far too intimate to be one of merely friends. you should have known. if she wasn’t winning with you, she was winning with someone else, somewhere else. 

that night, for the first time in your career, and relationship, you thought about retiring.

– 

but when the competition season rolled around, and the WTAs approaching, you had managed to pull yourself up in the rankings enough to secure a spot at a challengers’ round to hopefully beat princeton and start a domino effect that could lead you to participating in a grand slam. 

natasha was walking beside you, struggling to keep up as she checked your schedule haphazardly. “the princeton girl, she’s on the other side of the roster. i doubt the two of you would be playing each other unless she reaches the finals too. which…at this point…”

you didn’t want to know if she meant that you wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the finals, or that the princeton champion would be knocked out early. you were afraid you knew the answer. 

steve had dropped her off at the stadium when you went outside to pick her up, his smug smile as he waved her goodbye, and his eyes following yours, making you want to reach over inside the car and beating him with your racket. you had to arrive earlier to discuss strategy with your coaches, and while you were more than willing to pay for natasha’s ride in, she had mentioned that steve would be dropping her off. she sounded almost excited, so you dropped the topic and went back to your practice. like you have been doing for the past few months. 

turns out it wasn’t so hard to succeed, and win matches, when you were more or less resigned to your fate that nobody was ever going to expect anything more of you from your streak of losses all those matches ago, and you had effectively lost the love of your life to some football player who kept winning, and winning. 

you were at a challenger’s round this time, so you didn't need to worry. you won, and won, and won a little bit more. 

–

thwock. right over the net. the opponent misses and falls to her knees.

a serve that would have made williams roar in awe. thwock.

last one. the set was done if you landed this one. thwock. 

the ball landed inside the court, right by the opponent’s feet. and you advanced to the finals. 

you remembered natasha rushing down, not even waiting until you entered the locker room. she was running, running, and jumping into your arms, kissing you like her life depended on it. you spun her around, giving her a smug smile, trying to hide a bleeding heart that knew she too, was surprised that you ever stood a chance of winning. 

the crowd roared behind you. people were liking you again. but you had never felt worse. 

–

it turned out that the princeton champion had advanced to the finals, and would be playing against you, after all. there was no surprise for her, but certainly a surprise for you, as the newscasters and fans had aptly put, a grand shocker. they had all thought you had seen your glory days over. 

natasha caught you watching the latest telecast from the hotel’s television, gaze zeroed in on the anchor who was comparing your statistics over the last few games. almost perfect scores. leaving opponents with loves in sets. behind her, were the students of your college, decked out in the colour of the university and your face and initials printed on their shirts, caps, flags. all of it. they had never looked more proud. the college had even rolled out a banner in your name, in lieu of the upcoming finals. you knew natasha enjoyed all of it more than you did. 

when it came to the broadcast from princeton, the college’s president had come to give a special interview. he mentioned that he never doubted his champion from the start, unlike what your college had to go through with you. you found yourself wanting to spit at the television. 

but from behind, the sound of running water from the shower had stopped, and she had come out, in a robe and her wet hair in a towel. she saw the glazed look in your eyes, and promptly picked up the remote to shut the programme off. 

she settled into the spot beside you, nuzzling into your comfort. she had to pull your own arms off of the couch to wrap around her. you thought she must have known. she couldn’t be so stupid. she knew that you knew about her, and what she had always liked. 

but then you remembered, beyond the resentment, and grief, of the past few months, of just what she had been through with you. when you lost your very first match in college, natasha had been your friend, still. she was dating the captain of the basketball team, you remembered, but she had gone with you afterwards to walk the long way home, encouraging you and telling you that it would get better. it always would. you only half-believed her.

but then, you won. and won, and won, and won. by the tenth streak of winning, natasha had broken up with said boyfriend, and began hanging around your dorm, the tennis courts, even the cafeterias more often. she went where you went, showed up to most of your games, was the loudest one in the crowd when you secured sets. she would wait for you after your mini celebratory sessions with your teammates, and fans, and friends, all for a moment alone with you. then, she would bring you out for drinks, for dinners, sometimes the occasional walk down memory lane to her dorm. she was kind, she made you laugh, and you were on a streak. so what was there stopping you? 

you fell for her just as easily as you fell in love with winning.

to your surprise, she stuck around when you lost a few matches along the way, never letting it phase her, or you. to everyone else’s surprise, she stuck around when you twisted your ankle in your second year of playing. she had left a pattern in her wake, you see, of leaving all of her past lovers when the going got tough, or when they had simply stopped winning. it was inevitable, you thought. but no, not this time. when you fell to your knees during that tournament, screaming in agony as your ankle felt like it was folding in on itself, she was there. she was right beside the medical officer, holding you up as he inspected the injury, face looking even more panicked than yours as they wheeled you off to the hospital. 

she was there, as they wheeled you in for surgery, and wheeled you out to recover. she never left, even when the doctors told you it would take months to recover, let alone get back to playing on your level. she helped you recover, was the driving force in your physical therapy success, even became the sole reason that you returned to playing so quickly after your injury. you hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, much less lose her at all. you were too afraid of the possibility of her becoming someone else’s because of your failure in your sport.

natasha stayed through your losing streak. she never got mad, or lost her patience, with you. it had been three years now, with her. she had never lasted in a relationship so long, so had you. she had talked about getting married before, right after college, to which you had entertained, but still never gotten the full grasp of. how could she talk about marrying you, with such a reputation that preceded her? what if you had lost, would she have run off before the altar?

what if you lost tomorrow? you looked at her again, this time, and she was on her phone. she was texting your friends to make sure they came for your match tomorrow. you felt horrible.

“nat.”

she looked up. “yes?”

“tell me it doesn’t matter.” 

natasha sat up this time, her hand holding yours. she looked confused. “what doesn’t matter?” “whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

her face remained unchanged for a moment, but at the quiver of your lip, and the coldness in your hands, she broke her composure. she shook her head slowly, gaze steely. “no.”

“why not?” it was your turn to harden the look on your face. “why won’t you tell me at least that?”

“because,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “you’re the professional. you’ll tell me whether it matters or not.”

you sat up as well. “i just want to know that you’ll love me…no matter what…whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

natasha’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours. she looked down, at your shirt, then away, but never back at you. you pleaded, “natasha, please.”

“no,” she remained firm, “no. i won’t tell you that, because i know you’ll beat her. you’ll win tomorrow. and you’ll go to the grand slams, you’ll be the best tennis player that’s ever played in them, and you’re going to win. every. single. one. of. them.”

“and what if i don’t? not even the grand slams, not even tomorrow? what if i come in second again, after all this time?” 

you were growing desperate, and she was growing distant. you suddenly thought that you would have done anything, absolutely anything then, for her to tell you what you wanted to hear. to tell you that she would love you no matter if you won or lost.

natasha watched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, eyes already teary. your hands scrambled to hold her shirt, her waist, any part of her. she held them back, but to stop you from reaching further. then, she held your face again, but this time, it was you that was begging for her. you looked downright pitiful.

she wiped the stray tear off your cheek. she knew what she was going to say would either make or destroy you. “i’ll tell you this instead.”

“please.”

“baby, if you lose the match tomorrow, i’m leaving you. for good.”

– 

thwock. thwock. thwock. 

princeton parried, the ball is sent to the line. you return it with ease. princeton flicks back, you work twice as hard to send it over.

your moves were clean, cleaner than ever before, aided by a brain filled with rage and a heart filled with fear. 

princeton served, out. you served, in. the advantage stood, and the crowd stood to cheer. princeton hit back, you hit harder. it was a game both colleges hadn’t seen in decades. there were talks of both of you dominating the grand slams, even possibly working together, even being the next best duo to ever hit the sport. 

break point. the ball whizzes. and finally…after all the pain, the fear, the lost matches and the weight of the world on your shoulders, it was over. 

you weren’t quick enough. princeton won. 

a/n: i just love pathetic, pitiful characters who are down so bad for natasha romanoff, is that so wrong?

[kiri-cuts]

A bid for Black Sabbath bravado in “Friday Night Lights”

Within the pilot episode of the masterful mid-’00s teen drama “Friday Night Lights,” we’re presented with two best friends. There’s the all-American, wholesome good boy, Jason Street (Scott Porter) -- the star quarterback of the Dillon Panthers, with little else but a bright future glistening in the crosshairs of his steely focus. And then, there’s his lifelong pal, Tim Riggins (Taylor Kitsch) -- a lovable party boy who turns up to practice with vodka on his breath, and who has seemingly accepted the inheritance of a dead-end future from his deadbeat dad. If Lux Lisbon would have survived “The Virgin Suicides” to have a kid with Trip Fontaine, it would have grown up to be Tim. 

Set in the small town of Dillon, Texas, the two teens occupy vastly different corners of the pigskin pressure cooker within which they exist. Nice guys like Street do well a place like Dillon, and he has everything going for him -- incredible career prospects, a head cheerleader for a girlfriend, and the entire town’s adulation. 

Meanwhile, Riggins is shown to be a reckless rogue, forgiven for his sins only because of how great he plays ‘ball -- and how much the ladies love him. You can see him souring between scenes and his burnout feels inevitable and overdue -- living with his brother amidst a blur of blondes and beer bottles, with nary an emotion in sight. While Street trains and studies and earns his place on the pitch, Riggins emerges with all the discipline of Iggy Pop on a stage full of broken glass -- raw and wounded, he takes whatever fire might fuel that inevitable burnout and pours it like kerosene onto the field. 

At a Panther’s Party hosted at Garrity’s Automobile -- the hottest ticket in town, folks! -- Dillon’s mayor, Lucy Rodell, squares up to Street to tell him some home truths. “You’re a nice boy,” she tells him. “And you got great manners.” And while he’s politely Yes ma’am-ing it up in response, she cuts to the chase. “Knock it off. You can't go into the game tomorrow night like that,” she proclaims. “Carpet bomb 'em, you understand? ...  Chew 'em up, spit 'em out.”

A closeted lesbian who clearly knows her way around unleashing a certain amount of repressed energy wherever she can, Rodell recommends that he listen to the early work of Black Sabbath, assuring him, “It’ll make you mean.” Boys can’t be soft and nice. Winners have to be mean and gristly. The survival of the town depends on this mentality: It chugs at a fountain of toxic masculinity and it lays waste to those who cannot swallow the broth and conform. 

During an episode of the podcast, “It’s Not Only Football: ‘Friday Night Lights And Beyond,” Porter revealed that the sequence wasn’t scripted. But it certainly sets up the tone for the rest of the episode, if not the rest of the show. After all, it was Black Sabbath who performed, “Killing Yourself To Live” in 1973, with singer, Ozzy Osbourne -- a good boy who arguably had to make himself mean to survive -- singing, “How people look and people stare, well I don't think that I even care. You rot your life away and what do they give? You're only killing yourself to live.”

And while the song’s lyrics may be about the hollow nature of the music industry, the song could certainly apply to a small town community that rests all its hopes, fortunes, and futures on the score card of a teenage sports team -- no matter the cost. 

That certainly feels true when Street becomes paralysed after experiencing a catastrophic spinal injury during a tackle on game night. The Rodell scene might have been played for laughs, but it lurches back into focus like a harsh foreshadowing: Was Street too nice? Too polite? If he would have been tougher, meaner, nastier, would his body have experienced the impact of another body differently? Would he have been protected by the dark arts of Black Sabbath?

Obviously, the answer is no. As Coach Taylor (Kyle Chandler) reaffirms to Street, his team, and just about anyone else who needs to hear it, the tragedy was blameless. Unfortunate but unavoidable. Life is cruel. Unpredictable. Much of “Friday Night Lights” pivots around this problem -- like a coach drawing up the strategy of an upcoming game, you have to decide how you’re going to play against the obstacles of being alive. 

Alas, though apt, “Killing yourself to live” isn’t the mantra of the Dillon Panthers, but rather the searingly motivational, “Clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose.” Like much of the storytelling on “Friday Night Lights,” the team motto doesn’t just apply to football -- it’s also a sturdy life affirmation that just about anyone in need can scribble onto the desperation of their morning journals. It’s a statement that urges anyone who can pay attention to it to remain sweet and vulnerable in the face of adversity. You’ll be dealt tough tackles, the mantra insists, but don’t lose yourself in the pursuit to overcome them. 

Ultimately, it’s a mantra that suggests that softness, sweetness, and niceness can also create winners -- but it’s all about strategy. It’s no good being soft, sweet, and nice if you don’t how to apply those qualities properly. Alas, the universe -- and other people -- are generally not so kind. Make yourself too pliable, and life will contort and reshape you into something you may not recognise -- or at the very least, may not want to recognise.   As the show progresses, it becomes evident that much of “Friday Night Lights” also pivots around the “Can’t lose” aspect of that mantra. Say it isolated, without the eyes and the heart, and it sounds desperate -- almost deranged. For many of the male characters, their arcs in the show center around how they reckon with failure, tragedy, and defeat: What loss does to masculinity and how others perceive it. 

For Street, it hardens him. But it’s earned. 

During an appearance on “It’s Not Only Football,” the showrunner of “Friday Night Lights,” Jason Katims, revealed that in the development of the show, he was drawn to the idea of producing stories about marginalised people. “There were very few shows at the time -- or movies for that matter -- that really looked at real small town America [and that were] about people that weren’t privileged,” he explained. “Television, even the good television, was really about privilege.”

In the world of “Friday Night Lights,” all fortune is predicated on football. If you’re within the vicinity of the ball, then you wield a certain amount of privilege. Whether you’re a player, a coach, a financer, or a loved one of any of these people, then you probably have a little of power to leverage within Dillon. But that isn’t to say that this power is versatile or something that can be wielded within the real world.  After all, it becomes quickly apparent that being a part of the game doesn’t protect any of these characters from the indignities of prejudice. Nor does it salvage against the sort of failure that becomes of a person who isn’t equipped with the same access to opportunities as those with more privilege.

With the exception of a sacred few well-to-do, able-bodied white folk in the show, “Friday Night Lights” is populated by characters who are weighed down by obstacles related to poverty, abuse, race, gender, addiction, homophobia, and disability. However, part of the show’s charm is how it centers on these characters not so much overcoming these obstacles, but rather rising above the prejudice and bullshit of it all so they can figure out how to live their lives on their own terms. Even if that means leaving small-town Dillon, Texas -- and the team -- in the process.  

In the pilot episode, Street is presented as being perhaps the most privileged person in Dillon. His parents appear to be happily married and of a fair, stable income. He’s straight, able-bodied, athletically gifted, good looking -- and, impossibly, almost ridiculously humble about all of it. But with one injury, much of that changes. He’s forced to reckon with being paraplegic while watching his family’s savings and income be stripped to the bone due to medical expenses and rehabilitation. 

He’s reconfigured by the community that once heralded him a hero, and he loses access to almost all the corners of the world and the people that meant anything to him: His game, his girlfriend, his best friend. 

While Street reconfigures his idea of masculinity -- featuring some bold declarations about simply being a cripple who wants to listen to Nirvana, moooom -- and toughens up in the process, Riggins stops fighting his emotions, and softens up, instead. When Street becomes paralysed, something inside his best friend breaks open and for episode after episode, he lets life pulvarise him into a tender steak of emotional frailty -- and it’s rare that he ever gets a swing in, himself. It’s a far cry from the beer chugging emo-void of episode one. Regardless, although Street accepts a tougher interior, he nevertheless maintains his heart. He might speak up for himself more now, but his actions are rarely cruel or without merit. 

The character arcs of “Friday Night Lights” lean against this same principle again and again -- the people who prevail aren’t necessarily the ones who give in to the impulse to strike back and be spiteful or seek vengeance. But rather, its those who allow themselves to be vulnerable -- who take the hits without striking back and who rise above, soft and strong. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose. 

But there’s someone who can put this far better than I ever could. At the end of the pilot episode, Coach Taylor makes a rousing speech to his wounded team. They’ve just watched their friend and teammate be carried off the field, his parents and girlfriend screaming from the rafters. Pushing their feelings aside, they were forced to continue the game and not lose sight of the goal. 

“Life is so very fragile. We are all vulnerable. And we will all, at some point in our lives ... fall. We will all fall,” he tells them. “We must carry this in our hearts, that what we have is special. That it can be taken from us, and that when it is taken from us, we will be tested ... It is these times, it is this pain, that allows us to look inside ourselves.”

Crucially, “Friday Night Lights” hangs its cap upon the stern fist pumps of this speech. It’s a sentiment that offers the reminder that nothing is owed, and everything is earned. Mayor Rodell had it wrong when she encouraged Street to get mean and obliterate the opposition. What the show suggests is that the only path to true success and accord is to leave yourself open to being the one to get chewed up and spat out by life, not the other way around. The victory can be found in however you emerge from the other side. It takes courage to be vulnerable -- and to be vulnerable requires a period of transformation.  Even Black Sabbath dropped their meanness and bat-snacking to reckon with heartbreak via a piano-ballad, “Changes”  -- “The world had its evil way. My heart was blinded, love went astray.” Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose, boys. 

[simkermellebel]

Home Design Hotshot

Earn 100 top scores for jobs in the Architectural Design Profession

Meet Jared Markland. He is an ambitious young man, ready to take the town of Twinbrook by storm with his amazing architectural skills. Or... soon to be skill. His traits are ambitious, artistic, savvy sculptor, perfectionist and charismatic. To help me out here with this seemingly impossible lifetime wish, though, I have extended the age of this sim.

Of course, the first thing Jared did was buy himself supplies to add to his skills. Especially, the painting skill.

While he was sketching, some of his neighbors came by. Jared came outside to meet the Castor family, but when he found out that Robert couldn't stand art, they decided to part ways and not become friends.

After gaining a bit of the painting skill, Jared got to sculpting so he could fill the houses of the people in Twinbrook with his soon-to-be beautiful sculptures.

On Monday, Jared could start his first job. Here he is, proud as hell, calling the client that his first renovation is complete.

On Tuesday, he did his third renovation and received his first bad review for Juan Darer's book nook. It was too cluttered, according to Juan. Which... is understandable. Multiple bookshelves cannot be reached. Oops? Maybe Jared should go more for functionality instead of his aesthetic (sobs).

Jared went out to meet his good friend Blaise Kindle and they had a nice catch-up chat about their work week.

Jared decided to start cooking himself a proper meal after his hard work days. Because his job was hard, and I, personally, hate to play the architectural designer career, so I have decided to only go as far as to finish the career by reaching level 10.

Robert Castor came by the house and Jared decided to be nice and let him in. Instead, Robert decided to stand out in the rain and leave.

Before leaving, Robert took a bite of the magic jelly bean tree that Jared had recently been gifted and put outside his door. He turned blue.

Jared moved his little tree inside as it was being attacked by zombies and got singed.

Jared invited his friend Blaise Kindle over and made the moves on her! She stayed the night and they had a great time.

It was halloween that night and Jared had some kids from the neighborhood knocking on his door. Emerald Greenwood trick-or-treated and got some good candies.

Jared went to a party and had a nice chat with former client Gala Ball.

Jared took Blaise on another date and asked her to be his girlfriend. Of course, she said yes.

Jared was a bit bored at his job, waiting for his clients to (very slowly) get out of the house so he could begin his renovation.

Jared had another magic jelly bean and caught on fire! He quickly put himself out in the shower.

On his next renovation, Jared decided to do a little interview with his client and take measurements of the room. Sadly, the book nook Kat Hunter ordered, he had already done a few weeks earlier! How rude to ask for a renovation of his own work.

Jared left the Hunter house, went home and made himself some homemade goopy carbonara to cheer himself up.

Jared started drawing more, trying to get his job performance up faster. And it was working.

On Snowflake day, Jared celebrated by asking out his girlfriend to the winter festival. She stood him up, so he enjoyed the day by catching a butterfly, making a snowman and fixing up his skills at home.

At Molly Coddle's party, Jared started chatting with Sofia Carlton. She wasn't very impressed by his charms, and refused to ever have her house renovated by him. The next day, she was in a lot of need for a renovation, though, and did end up calling Jared.

On his last renovation, Jared go to re-do the Greenwood's kitchen. This resulted in his very first top score!! What a great note to end this story with, as that night he reached level 10 of the Archictectural Designer career and became a Dictator of Design.

I truly love this sim, so we'll definitely be seeing more of him. There's more in store for this guy, I promise. He's gotta fullfil a lifetime wish someday, doesn't he?

[articleshubspot]

Highlights on Jelly Roll and his Wife

Since 2011, the country rapper Jelly Roll has been moving up the charts. In 2023, the musician was nominated for three CMT Music Awards, and he attended the ceremony with his wife, Bunnie XO. He wed Bunnie XO in 2016, and they had two kids together already.

Because of his stunning wife Bunnie XO, Jelly Roll has been dominating the country rap music scene. On April 2, the country singer went to the CMT Music Awards, and naturally, he spent the evening on the red carpet with Bunnie XO. When they posed for pictures on the red carpet prior to Jelly Roll’s performance at the show, the Jelly Roll wife appeared to be blissfully content together. Even while he was on the red carpet, the musician learned that he had won the evening’s opening prize!

Exactly who is Jelly Roll wife Bunnie XO?

Bunnie is an entrepreneur who deviated from the norm in terms of her career. The entrepreneur worked as a high-end escort before starting her popular YouTube channel. Bunnie created Dumb Blonde Productions, a media company, and her “Dumb Blonde” podcast in December 2020. Dumb Blonde Productions saw significant success at the beginning of 2023.

Thank you for downloading the podcast 1.7 million times in January! In February 2023, she posted on Instagram, “I can’t even begin to tell you how thrilled I am to have signed with WME now and witnessing the Bunnie Xo brand grow even more. “I much love y’all. Because of each and every one of you, the little girl who is broken inside of me is healing every day. 2023 is off to a good start, says Jelly Roll wife.

When did Bunnie XO and Jelly Roll get married?

After dating for over a year, Jelly Roll (actual name Jason DeFord) and Bunnie got married on August 31, 2016.

In Las Vegas, Nevada, in 2015, Bunnie and Jelly Roll were both performing at Sin City’s Country Saloon when they first met. Bunnie was unaware that she was watching her future husband play. The “Bottle and Mary Jane” vocalist claimed that the performer and he were a match made in heaven. He also acknowledged that when they initially hugged, he “felt her spirit” and “genuineness.”

“We bonded well. In November 2022, he revealed to “Taste of Country Nights” host Evan Paul that she claimed to have fallen in love with the saddest eyes in the room, noting that she had been in an abusive relationship at the time but had since broken up with her ex. I won’t act as though I made my shot. She sort of fired hers. We shared buddies. She uttered, “Hey. Just connect me to Jelly. And I struck her with another s-t. I exclaimed, “Hey. I’ll be travelling there to do some content and video production. She responded, “Sure! C’mon!’ “Great, well, I’m living in my van, so I’ll leave immediately,” I thought.

Do Bunnie XO and Jelly Roll Have Children?

Bailee Ann, the daughter of Jelly Roll and his ex-girlfriend Felicia, was born in 2008. The native of Tennessee gave birth while being detained. Yet in 2016, he was granted custody of his daughter once more.

Jelly Roll has expressed his appreciation for his wife, who made it possible for him to rebuild his relationship with his daughter.

“To raise a child who isn’t her child and still treats the child as if she needed a unique sort of woman. He wrote in the description of a May 2020 Facebook post with a picture of Bunnie and Bailee, “Through the years watching her connection with Bailee develop into this wonderful mother-daughter friendship that it has become has been nothing short of magical. “I’ve got the best partner in the world, and I’m incredibly blessed. Because you didn’t have to step up to the plate in the manner you did, you are the model of a good mother and deserve more praise than anyone. You made the decision to take the initiative, and man, you totally nailed it. We appreciate you, Mother Bear; we love you.

Blog Link: https://articleshubspot.com/jelly-roll-wife/

[hehebread]

[BKDK] Izuku keeps mentioning a Kacchan to reporters and they think that's his gf

this was a request on twt that i had way too much fun writing. warning for suggestive language!

--

“And is there…. a special person….or a group of people you would like to thank on air today? Anyone who inspired you? Anyone you would attribute your success to? An image of victory per say?”

Izuku’s eyes glimmer as the bright lights of the studio reflect on his irises. “Oh!” He jumps in his seat, his perfectly- coiffed curls bouncing as he nods frantically to the show’s host. “Yes! Yes!” Leaning forward with his hands on his leg, the camera zooms in on his face where the blush is painting his cheeks. “I wouldn’t be the hero I am today if it wasn’t for Kacchan!”

And it’s as if an earthquake alert dropped on the talk show. The host grows this devious grin on his face as he turns to the camera team and says, “Well, well, well, behind every great man is a woman after all.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure why the host is bringing his mother into this since the interview is reaching its end and he has already discussed her influence in detail very early on, but he doesn’t get a chance to ponder.

The host, Yamaguchi-san, leans into Izuku’s space with renowned interest and an interesting glint in his eyes. Izuku feels himself sweating in his oversized maroon-striped suit.

“So, Midoriya-san, Hero Deku, Rising Symbol of Equity and Hope, can you tell us more about … Kacchan?” His voice goes higher at the last syllable, almost sing songs, and Izuku is not sure if he should be worried or not, but he won’t pass an opportunity to gush about Kacchan!

“Ah, Kacchan is very … confident, hardworking, strong, and smart. Kacchan is a hero who knows how to lead a team and perform under pressure, an inspiration to both myself and our entire graduating class, and a”—Izuku can feel the heat rise in his face as he tries to hide in his colour— “a shining star who was closer to me than All Might!”

The host makes a loud ‘AWWW’ noise at the same time as the small audience in the studio. “My, my! Sounds like Kacchan is very important to Hero Deku! Don’t be shy! Tell us more! Is there a physical description to go with your precious person?”

“Ahm!” Izuku fiddles with his fingers as he avoids the gazes on him. There a long beat of silence before he manages to say, “Muscles….Blonde…..Sharp eyes….” With a vague gesture to his middle section, he mumbles, barely audible, “Big, ugh…..” Heart.

“OOOOOOOOOH!” The host goes wild and so does the audience. “So are we talking Hiromi Oshima type big or maybe Rio Natsume, or aaaah Aki Hoshino even ….?”

Izuku feels his ears ring in humiliation as he tries to process what they’re talking about. Something Kacchan has in common with all these beautiful women is his big successful career so Izuku nods. “Yes!” Then, a thought occurs and he rises in his chair. “Even bigger!”

After all, Kacchan’s net worth is higher than these ladies.

“BIGGER?”

“The biggest!”

“Oh my god!” The host is losing his mind now! “And is it … natural? Or did Kacchan get a little help from professionals?”

“No, no, no! Kacchan was a natural ever since we were in school together!” Izuku’s eyes shine with a fire to defend his childhood best friend, no longer trying to hide in his big suit. “No one helped Kacchan get this big!”

“That’s … amazing!” The host shakes his head in both awe and disbelief. “Now we want to see Kacchan in action! When the hero works around the city, defeating villains, does the size get in the way?”

Does Kacchan’s fame get in the way of his work? “Sometimes,” Izuku muses, “But Kacchan never lets the restless and perky nuisances stop him, y’know. With a little shake from his hands, and a few colourful words of wisdoms, nothing gets in the way!” Izuku laughs as he remembers Kacchan’s way of dismissing fans and reporters alike.

“Wow!”

“Of course, there are times where Kacchan’s big firm moulds become springy and hard to control, but I have yet to see an instance where that has been a major issue. ”

Kacchan is still having some adjustment problems with his new hero costume, particularly his grenade mould, but that’s as far as distractions go.

“Does Kacchan not use support?”

“Uhm, only when it’s a dire situation! Sometimes I’m even allowed to provide assistance!”

“You must be very lucky…”

“I am! It feels … exciting and … very special! Kacchan doesn’t trust just anyone, y’know! I can never quite get used to the trust we built together. We are one unit working together.”

“Do you use your hands…. Or something else?”

“Oh, hands! Yes! But anything works really! Whatever Kacchan is comfortable with and needs at the time. Black Whip, combo moves, an iron grip...”

The host furrow his brows and seems to be considering Izuku’s answer before he opens his mouth again. “Uhm, never mind.” He then turns to the camera, smile back on. “Our time is almost running out! Thank you, hero Deku for your time! We look forward to seeing you again in the big screen!”

--

The next day, Izuku wakes up to the headline: Hero Deku And His Mysterious Busty New Girlfriend: The Beautiful and Spunky Kacchan!

He’s doomed

--

He sees Kacchan early the next day.

Having spent the morning talking to tabloids and the host show agents about the misunderstanding and whether or not it was possible to take down the episode at least, Izuku slumps his head on his desk in defeat.

Oh, this is very bad.

He starts thumping his forehead on the wood in sync with the bleeps noises in the phone, already planning his funeral in his head.

Okay, so it seems the suspense around this girlfriend is raking up his popularity, but god, at what cost.

“Nerd, we need to talk.”

Izuku’s soul near flies to the roof at the sound of the door to his office slamming close. Fuckfuckfuck.

Kacchan stands before him with his hand on his hip, teeth snarled and looking ready to tear his flesh open. Oh, this is going to be fun!

After flashing a haughty glare at the glass door to scare away the nosy friends hanging about, Kacchan continues, “About the interview.”

Of course! Yes! His final hour is approaching. “Haahahaha, what about it?” Izuku feels his undershirt cling to his torso, sweat collecting on his face. He directs a shaky hand to a nearby chair. “Feel free to take a seat, Kacchan! You want me to get you anything? Water, tissues, uhm, a knife, a body sized bag, or uhhh, a shovel? I think I have some spare sheets of paper if you’d like to give me a chance to—“

“So…” Kacchan starts.

“PLEASE TELL MY MUM I LOVE HER!”

“…this Kacchan, huh?” Having completely ignored every single word Izuku just said, Kacchan crosses his arms and scowls. “Is she strong? How come I never heard about her before? Since when did you start dating this gravure idol and pro hero, huh?”

“Wha—?”

“So, you just go around giving everyone pretty nicknames now?” Kacchan snorts and his expression darkens before he slams his hands on Izuku’s desk. He looks at Izuku from under his chin, and Izuku swear he can see flames behind his eyes. He growls, “What’s her actual name?”

An alarm bell rings in Izuku’s ears and he stutters, “Ka— Ka— Kat— Katsuko! Bakugan Katsuko…….”

Kacchan’s expression doesn’t change and Izuku feels his heart leap to his throat. God, Kacchan is gonna call his bluff at any minute now. He’s going to reject him then he’s going to break his heart and his bones.

“What’s she like?”

Kacchan shifts forward slightly and Izuku is just know noticing the ample cleavage in clear view. Right there. In front of Izuku’s face. “Uhm. Ah, she’s very, ugh, im- pec— impeccable!! And strong! Muscl— mature!! Breasty too – I mean, pretty! PRETTY!” Izuku bites his tongue then swallows thickly. “Beautiful, actually!” Lifting his gaze to meet Kacchan, he whispers, “Gorgeous. Just the most amazing person in my life.”

Kacchan is staring intently with his sharp red eyes, and Izuku feels his chest swell with confidence he never had before. “Kacchan is my inspiration, and I just … love … Kacchan so much. I wish I had the courage to tell him— um, her that.”

“Are you two serious?” Kacchan asks, impassive but there is silent rage hiding behind his words.

Something flashes quickly through Kacchan’s eyes before he narrows them. It takes Izuku a second to recognise that it’s /hurt/ and then he realise what he has just done.

“No, no, no!” Izuku backtracks immediately. “I don’t even know her that well! In fact, she kinda smells and definitely has sweating problem.” Izuku needs to do damage control and come clean NOW. “You know what? I will call her and break up with her right now. Ha ha ha.”

What the hell is he saying? Who is he going to call?

Kacchan stands up while Izuku fumbles with his phone. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, before he heads to the door.

Izuku jumps from his chair and is ready to chase after him when Kacchan stops him. “How big?”

“Huh?”

“You said Bakugan was big.”

Ah, yes, he did. Tragically.

“Um, y’know just…” Izuku motions with his hands like he’s moulding two doughballs, palms up and fingers wiggling because he’s lost control of his life once he accepted his funeral date, but that’s not even happening anymore so what is he doing really.

He then makes am hourglass shape in the air and belatedly realises that he’s just outlining Kacchan’s shape in front of him. Izuku retreats his hands and puts them behind his back in shame.

Kacchan is looking at him funny. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Does she shoot aerial bomb or something? Is that a combat-style quirk?”

Izuku blinks.

Kacchan just sneers and turns around.

“Whatever. I’m doing a photoshoot this afternoon. The Sekushī clothing line is dropping a new summer set and they asked me to model.”

“Se- Sekushi?? You mean, like—” Izuku feels his face go impossibly red. “You’re saying that, you’re going to wear, like…..” his voice goes down to a whisper when he says “…..a b-b-b-b-b-bikini?”

“Swimwear,” Kacchan turns to say over his shoulder, “Among other things.”

The sexy smirk he sends Izuku’s way is doing very, very weird things to Izuku’s body and imagination, things too inappropriate to describe in a work setting.

Kacchan leaves but not without offering the most dangerous challenge to Izuku’s mental wellbeing. “Feel free to drop in.”

Oh, he absolutely will.

“Bring Bakugon.”

Oh, he absolutely will not.

Actually….

Maybe, he will.

Kacchan is going to ruin Izuku

[popculturebuffet]

Star Vs: Stump Day Review or The Why Are You Booing Tom He’s Right Holiday Special

Before we start a special credit to @jess-the-vampire​ who I discussed the episode with during the writing process and brought up a LOT of good points that ended up going into this review. She clearly hates it as much as I do and had even more good reasons for it.  Happy Hanukah, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays Everybody! And today we got a big, fat, grotesque lump of coal to smash to pieces. And after a long, draining, if worth the effort scrooge review, and with this being something I needed to cross off my to do list this holiday season, I put this one here as I could use the cathariss of giving this steaming bowl of elephant piss a good thrashing. As you can tell unlike my usual reviews, I do not like this episode. This isn’t the FIRST i’ve not liked i’ve covered, but it is the first rather infamous one to me i’ve covered and not just a dead possum of an episode I ran into while reguarly covering an otherwise good show like “Quaraller’s Pass” or “Strife of the Party”. This one’s had it coming, making my top 8 worst christmas specials list last year, and while not the series worst outing, that’s a toss up between the finale and marco jr, it’s easily one of them. So while usually I like diving deeply into something good and picking apart while it’s good, if not ignoring any bad aspects, here i’m just going to take a hammer to this thing to explain why it dosen’t work and why it sucks dirty ass in thunderstorms. I might be overstating it a bit but probably not.  Nothing really new has happened since the last episode so the only new thing to cover is why i’m doing the episode here instead of after Monster Bash. And the simple reason is that like the Ducktales Halloween and Christmas specials, this episode clearly does not take place in the same time frame of the episode before or after it, with the next episode, The Bog Beast of Bogabah, taking place the day after Monster Bash. It’s most likely they simply held this episode over till Christmas and it dosen’t really fit in AFTER the huge game changer that is monster bash, especailly since the next three episodes after this all take place in rapid sucession, two on the same day one the day after them. So yeah i’m doing this one first and putting it ahead of monster bash on my episode guide for clarity’s sake. 

Good, so with all that settled, let’s unwrap this complete works of pauly shore shall we? We open on the titular Stump Day, essentially mewni’s christmas complete with Cocoa, carols and a gay couple and their equally adorable child. And Star, unsuprisingly is giddy for it as the actual chlidren, and wearing an adorable santaesque dress complete with horns on her santa hat. Seriously you cannot tell me tom didn’t get that for her. Fucking precious. Marco is more just confused and has his hood up and one of Star’s cousins asks uncle river to tell him the origin of stump day. River’s response.. is easily the best joke of the episode. 

“(in a jolly tone) ha ha, you don’t tell me what to do”

He does so anyway though: Basically when settlers arrived on Mewni they found themselves cold and griping with each other, and soon found a blizzard had struck.. but by huddling together under a magic stump, they all learned to get along or something like that and now once a year everyone gathers in warmth and camraderie.. or else. Before Marco can understandably question what “or else” means in this context, Star butts in when one of her cousins chastises the younger one who asked river the question for beliviing and says he’s real. It’s a nice touch as it fits star perfectly to still belivie in mewni’s horrifying version of santa. I forgot just how adorable and likeable the character was before the final season shot that to hell. How her energy could be infectious and how Eden Sher really brought her all to the performance, which is still the performance of her career and hopefully like Rider Strong she’ll do more voice acting eventually.  So that night as Star tucks in after wonderful  night of sleep, and to avoid her dad’s usual drunken chorus of Tom Jones “Sex Bomb”, and gets woken up by Marco who leads her to the dining hall because a windows broken to fix it with magic. Star entirely buys this flimsy story.. but as Jess pointed out, and as I missed hence the credit up top... she dosen’t bring her wand. She.. dosen’t bring her wand.. to go fix something with magic. Now i’ll grant next season shows she CAN fully do magic without it, and while not as powerful like her mom still has plenty of punch behind it.. especially when she does the rainbow fist thing. But it’s still.. weird she dosen’t think to grab it and feels out of character. While Star’s learned by this point not to rely on it, and as we’ll see gives it up entirely, one of the few bits of her character development that actually sticks, it still seems resonable she’d take it with her wherever she goes.. and usually SHE DOES. And her jammies, which are also adorable, seem to have pockets so the animators had no reason to not just stuff it in one. It would’ve made their job harder yes.. but then don’t have marco use an excuse that directly requires it then and draws attention to the fact the wand is missing, and the fact you blatantly just hoped we’d forget about it as it’d ruin the climax. 

It’s far from the worst thing in this episode..trust me we’re almost there. But this does bring me to a point.. so far the episode is GOOD. The comedy’s good, the setup for what’s about to happen is good, the holdiay setting is warm and inviting but weird enough to perfectly fit mewni, and River, much like his VA and homosexual talking boat portrayer Alan Tudyuk, is a national treasure as always. Whelp it’s all down hill from here bitches! Giddyup. 

So Marco announces a SUPRISE PARTY! And everyone’s there: Tom, Kelly, Ponyhead, Starfan14... oh yeah this is the first ep i’ve coverd with Starfan14 isn’t it? Starfan14 is star’s insane fangirl, voiced by series creator Derfron Nercy herself, who star happily tolerates despite clearly wanting to wear her skin. We’ve all been there. Also Jackie is transparently missing, though at least it’s SOMEWHAT reasonable as she and marco broke up a few .. months ago? I mean it is winter on mewni for this episode but the end of season 4 and the series is set at the start of summer, yet months still pass..... 

Confusing timeline aside, Jackie has every reason not to attend a party thrown by her ex for the girl who confesed she had feelings for said ex and it’s probably the only good decision Marco makes this entire episode that he wisely decided to give Jackie some space. And it says something a decision made entirely off screen that was probably because the creators genuinely forgot Jackie once she was out of the way so they could shift the love triangle stuff to Tom, Star and Marco instead of you know.. not doing that because most love triangles are annoying at best and utterly insufferable at worst. Case in point this episode but I can give out more about this aspect of things in a bit with more context. 

And to his credit, and as Jess backed me up on, Marco’s gesture is genuinely throughtful.. at least to start with. He got her a choclate fountain, brought all of her friends, and geninely just thought Star never celebrated her birthday on her birthday because it was you know the same day as christmas. As someone whose birthday is a week before christmas, December 16th if you were curious, I understand the pain of having your birthday in the same month as christmas. Of having all your presents clustered at once and of having to manuver around a very stressful season, though it does sometimes have perks like getting to celebrate your birthday and christmas, it also means your birthday is secondary and always will be to most people due to proximity. And Star has hers ON mewman christmas, so it’s even worse. So from Marco’s perspective, TO START, his best friend constantly had to share her birthday with her faviorite holiday and just wanted to do something nice. SO FAR, he’s done nothing wrong and just means well. That’s... about to end.  Star.. instead of being greatful.. starts muttering no before going on an manic rampage and destroying everything including hte band’s insturments. And apparnetly star’s gotten some flack for her behavior.. but I understand it. To her the stump is VERY real, and will be very angry if someone else celebrates so to her all she’s doing is saving her best friend from the holiday equilvent of the trees from evil dead, and when Marco asks about it she GENUINELY is sorry, getting he meant well, that he was being sweet, and that he did a lot of nice stuff for her.. she just can’t celebrate not because she loves the holiday but because again, from her persepctive, the stump will kill them all if they don’t support it. She is genuinly affraid for her friends lives and given she could go grab her wand and fight it, clearly thinks she, with all her CONSIDERABLE powers, cannot win this, and neither can tom whose powers are almost entirely fire based. Star is just trying to protect her friends from being horribly murdered. And she turns out to be entirely right about it so no, star was not a jerk here. A bit over the top, but she was not insensitive, she was not mean, she just didn’t want a party for understandable reasons.

So let’s get to actually insensitive shall we?! Marco’s reaction to this is at first confusion as he didn’t realize the stump was real, though Tom, Kelly and Pony are convinced it’s not. Also this episode implies Kelly is from mewni, but she turns out not to be so why she knows about the stump I genuinely don’t know. They think it’s just a baby thing.. though in Tom’s defense he dosen’t phrase it that way, thinks star still beliving is cute, which for a teenage boy finding out his girlfriend belivies in santa is very sweet and mature of him, and is trying to be nice about it even if he doesn’t believe.  But Marco.. his response to his friend having a good reason for not wanting to have the party.. is to complain about how much effort he put into it and try to guilt and bribe her into having it by mentoining he got her faviorite cake flavor, rainbow. Just.. WOW. I’ve seen some bad turns from characters, but WOWWWWWW. Holy shit.. I mean at least other jerkass marco episodes before this had SOME reasoning to them. Sophmore Slump had him clearly sublimating his feelings for star combined with the usual obnoxiousness of someone having gone abroard for the first time, which as Letterkenny recently went into, the only thing worse is Stillborn Puppies. Nothing else. 

And with Lint Catcher while he was presumptive and not blameless.. river still outright lied to him. Here? It’s clear star dosen’t want this, cake can be refigirated, he only takes a loss on the choclate fountain and he could still just let everyone have some and say it’s for stump day to appease her. He dosen’t have to take a loss on this finacially or morally and there would be no harm done. But that’s.. not what HE wanted, not waht HE set up and he wants what HE wanted, which was to impress star with a thoughtful gesture. But that’s the thing bud: Gestures aren’t about you or what you get. Their about doint something nice for another fucking person. It’s the whole point of christmas and birthdays: To just give someone something to be ncie and to celebrate the day and them respectively. If she dosen’t WANT your gift for understandable reasons and isn’t being rude about it you don’t have any leg to stand on you seflish twatwaffle. 

So already Marco is not coming off well.. and if you know this episode you know it gets worse. Oh god it gets worse. So first PONYHEAD of all people calls out Marco.. and for once, PONYHEAD, the most selfish, most unresonable and a character whose tolerablity varies on the episode, tells him he’s being selfish and is only pressing on because of his need to control things. So not only is Ponyhead right but the episode LIKELY wants you to feel she’s wrong because she’s pony which is not how this work as she knows star well and thus, while unaware she still belivied in the stump, which tracks as while it’s obvious she does Pony is so up her own whatever she has that functions as an ass, it’s understandable she’d miss some details. So no Pony’s right, and the fact PONY is one of the more resonable people in this episode is both a sign of the apocalypse, which is thankfully starting to recede, and a clear marker of just how bad Marco’s being if someone who torments him and disagrees with him out of principal is entirely right. 

Oh but it gets worse as next up, Tom steps in and tries to get Marco to back out, admitting he told him this was a bad idea. Now granted Tom did mess up by not stepping in to stop this a bit.. but he A) didn’t know how much his girlfriend genuinely belivied in the stump and B) Probably assumed Marco meant well, as would I before he whined about not getting his way, and decided it was worth a try. So he’s not that bad, and while it is a bit ehhh to try and take back credit for this when he participated, it’s still minor and Marco is still being a huge dick who refuses to help shut things down when it’s clear the party is only causing star to have a panic attack and assault some humble marachi players. He sees nothing good is coming from this and just wants what star wants. Also it paints Marco in a worse light as he was warned about this, and was so obssed with making it a suprise party because that’s how his plan went, he refused to just.. talk to her about it. Hell he could’ve just casually asked “Why do you never celebrate your birthday on your birthday”. It’s an easy question, dosen’t give the game away and allows him to gage if this is a good idea or not BEFORE baking a cake , hiring a band and getting a chocolate fountain. Instead he just went ahead with it.  And he did so.. because this ISN’T about making Star happy. This is abotu HIM making star happy. Him showing her how thoughtful, and considerate and sweet he is and how he’s always been there for her and how maybe she should be with him instead of Tom. I mean it just comes off that way.. he made it a suprise party because in his head that’s how it worked and she was super impresed and left tom that day to be with him in some elaborate fantasy. Granted the episode dosen’t say this.. but it sure as hell acccidently implies hte hell out of it by having marco act like a selfish ass who refuses to take what STAR wants into consideration, and just wants to get his fantasy back on track. What supports this to me is how he treats tom, you know one of his best friends: He, again, accuses him of forgetting.. then calls him a bad boyfriend.. a bad boyfriend for NOT wanting to force a celebration on his girlfriend she does not want, and for not forcing it on her. For you know GROWING AS A PERSON.  Beacuse here’s the pickle pumpernickle: This thing Marco’s doing? Is exactly the kind of thing a pre-character development TOM did, that was rightfully framed as bad. Being controlling, wanting things to go JUST a certain way instead of letting them flow naturally, not getting the hint star isn’t intrested, and not caring about what she wants and only what you want. Marco is doing the same thing Tom used to do. And for starters i’ts already bad because you know MARCO WAS THE ONE WHO FINALLY GOT IT THROUGH TO TOM THAT THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOR WAS TOXIC AND SELFISH. But apparently when it’s Marco himself doing it it’s fine. If there was ever any clear evidence Marco regressed as a character, there it is.  Him actively unelarning a lesson he taught someone else and then getting combative when that person rightly tries to call him out. Marco is just insufferable in this episode: He’s being selfish, creepy and posseive and he’s apparenlty supposed to, at least on some level BE RIGHT.  But.. we will get to that. Consider a pin put in this rant. 

So Tom overreacts, and throws some fire at marco, which is genuinely wrong and Kelly’s right to call him out, and then headlocks him asking marco to say he’s a good boyfriend. Marco screams out ‘NEVVVEEEERRRR”

I just made this, by hapinstance, while watching the video I put up there. I.. I did not think i’d get to use this so soon but my god. Just my god that’s a terrible thing to say.  So the party soon breaks down elsewhere as Kelly is mad at tom for.. understandable reasons again the guy she has a crush on was just nearly set on fire, even if i’m still on Tom’s side overall here, it’s still not right. Janna points out it’s probably because she has a crush on marco, which while acurate dosen’t mean she was wrong and Tad pops out to be upset about that. Even though you know you two are broken up and as Kelly points out he needs to move out. Pony is mad she’s not getting any attention and Starfan is mad because star’s mad. Star results to desperate measures, opening the windows to try and repeate the act of the settlers.  She didn’t however count on the Janna factor as she throws the stump in the fire, which is in chracter. What’s not, and again I give Jess full credit for this one, is that everyone just starts.. warming around the stump and not caring like a bunch of jackasses not caring about their close friend, and in tom’s case, girlfriend’s feelings. Also tom and marco apparently stopped fighting just to be this stupid. 

But naturally burning the symbolic stump is a bad idea and the real one attacks. Protip: If you live in a world of magical nonsense, maybe don’t discount the magic stump. Everyone’s captured, including moon and river, with River also being suprised and replying to Star’s annoyance at him not beliving with “Sweetie it’s a stump!”. Alan Tudyk is a god and I feel you all should acknowleddge that. But yeah everything seemsm to be bad but everyone apologizes, if not for the right things in Marco’s case, and Tom says “I’m sorry i’m a bad boyfriend!”. You .. you aren’t. You did nothing wrong. I feel like this is tom for the last agrivating 6 minutes of the episode

He did SOME THINGS wrong but he is NOT a bad boyfriend. He is throughtful, kind and while he has flaws, SO DOES STAR. He is not a bad boyfriend for not wanting to repeat past abusive actions! GAH. Let’s just get on with it. They all hold hands, they thiunk this is what made the stump go away but Star is sure it was just going to kill them, Moon and River have a thousand yard stare as they realize they both have to get repairs for this room now and do an extra big stump day next year to make sure it dosen’t come back. And Marco apologizes to star.. for not beliving her. Not for forcing this on her, not for causing all of this, not at all to tom, but for not beliving her while star FUCKING APOLOGIZES TO HIM.  Pin removed, bullshit falling to the floor... Trunks if you would. 

Thank you. Star DID NOTHING WRONG. Tom DID LESS WRONG THAN MARCO. WHY ARE THEY APOLOGIZING. Why is this little shithead getting everything he wants as the party happens after all, if a day later, and he gets to dance with star, while everyone else is painted as being in the wrong? That’s what makes this special so putrid: that MARCO is apparently in the right for doing the same , if on a smaller scale, manipulative shit tom used to do before he grew as a person, yet the episode sides with him, props him up and teases Starco. If it’s Starco it’s okay apparently and that’s.. not okay. You can’t .. build a ship on a character acting like a jackass. That’s not how this works. Marco was wrong, he was bad and he should FEEL bad. Instead he’s just a creepy jerk this entire episode, being entitled, manipulating star, screaming at tom.. and gets REWARDED FOR IT. Fuck this episode. 

FINAL THOUGHTS: I believe I said Fuck this episode.  This is easily one of star vs’ worst episode and much like the season after this episode it gets worse the more you think about it. I put it on my worst holiday episodes list for a reason.. and frankly even with the decent first 4 mintues it should be higher. It’s an unplesant mess that throughly ruins Marco’s character and takes him from a kind, upstanding, polite and bright young man to a creepy manpiulative jackasss. Fuck this episode and have a happy holidays. 

[leigh-kelly]

The Nanny

So the last thing I should be doing is writing a new fic, but this is a gift for @yourstreetserenade who has been an absolute gift to this fandom especially during such a difficult time. I’m not sure how frequent updates will be, but they will come!

Just after finishing with four separate brides in the bridal shop she works at in Flushing, Queens, Brittany Pierce hops up on the counter and crosses her legs, tossing her head back. Sugar Motta grabs a bottle of water and thrusts it into Brittany’s hand, before jumping up on the counter next to her. The two of them sit in silence for several minutes, taking in the fact that they have no customers, before the bell on the door tinkles and Brittany takes a swig out of the bottle and climbs down, smoothing her dress.

“Oh, hey Dani.” She grins, walking over to her girlfriend. Before she can give her a kiss, Dani puts her hand up, and Brittany furrows her brow.

“No kiss?”

“Look, Brittany, we need to talk.”

“Uh, sure, shoot.”

“Somewhere private.” Dani gestures over to Sugar, who makes herself look busy with her boss’ presence in the store.

“Don’t worry, no one’s in here.” Sugar pops her gum and sticks a pin into the dress on one of the mannequins.

“You are, Sugar. Brittany, let’s go into my office.”

“Aw c’mon Dan, I’ve told you a thousand times, if you tell me something, I’m just going to tell Sugar anyway, you may as well just say it. Besides, we’ve had a real rush in here today, and I don’t wanna leave her stranded if it happens again.”

“Fine.” Dani sighs, exasperated. “We’ve had a good run, Britt, but there’s someone else.”

“Someone else? What are you talking about? We’re pre-engaged.”

“Yeah!” Sugar agrees. “We’ve already been picking out Brittany’s wedding dress.”

“Sugar, this is really a couple’s conversation.”

“How are you going to say it’s a couple’s conversation if you just said we’re not a couple anymore?” Brittany tries to hold back her tears, but she finds that she’s failing miserably. “How could you do this?”

“It just happened, Quinn and I ran into each other a few weeks ago at—”

“Quinn? You’re breaking up with me for Quinn Fabray? How am I supposed to work here knowing that you’re sleeping with that shameless hussy?”

“You sound a little like your mother, Britt.” Sugar interjects.

“Shut up, Sugar.”

“Well, about that.” Dani wrings her hands in front of her body. “Quinn needs a job, and, well…”

“So not only are you breaking up with me, you’re firing me?” Brittany grabs her purse from behind the counter and makes toward the door as Dani reaches for her. “Don’t touch me. You can’t fire me, I quit!” She pushes the door open, gets halfway through and turns around. “No, you fired me, that way I can collect unemployment.”

----

“Kurt!” Santana Lopez calls out, sitting behind the desk in her home office and shuffling through a stack of paperwork. “Come in here!”

“You bellowed, Ms. Lopez?” Kurt opens the door, adjusting his tie.

“Have any of the prospective nannies arrived yet? Rachel is on me—”

“She wishes.” He mutters under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

“Rachel is on me about the party on Saturday night. If Tyler scares one more nanny away, I’m sending him to boarding school.”

Santana puts her head in her hands on continues to go through her paperwork. Ever since her wife died five years ago, she’s been overwhelmed by the demands of her career and taking care of her three children. Valerie, the oldest, had been thrust into puberty and is off the walls with her emotions, Tyler does everything in his power to force anyone who came into the house to leave, and Abigail, the baby, is in therapy twice a week and trying to deal with the fact that she barely remembers her mother at all, but sometimes Santana thinks it’s making her worse, not better. On top of all that, she has Rachel who is constantly demanding every moment of her attention, and she’s been through eight nannies who just can’t seem to manage her children, so she can give the focus she needs to her career.

“There’s the bell.” Kurt breaks her from her thoughts. “Let’s hope the ninth time’s the charm and this nanny that the agency sent over can actually manage Master Tyler.”

“Tell her I’ll be with her in a minute, I just need to finish up in here.”

“Yes, Ms. Lopez.”

Kurt exits the room and goes to answer the door. Standing before him is a leggy blonde in a bright pink mini dress and stiletto heels. She’s not exactly what he expected from the agency and is certainly a far cry from any of the other nannies they’ve seen over the past five years, but he steps back and lets her in.

“Ms. Lopez says she’ll be right with you. I expect you have your resume?”

“Resume? I—uh…” The blonde clutches the makeup kit she carries close to her chest and looks around.

“Yes, resume. You know, the list of your previous experience as a nanny, which I presume you have quite a bit of?”

“Resume. Nanny. Right. Yeah, I, uh…totally have it. Say, butler man, do you think I could get a glass of water?”

“As you wish.”

When Kurt leaves the room to get her a glass of water, Brittany scrambles through her makeup kit. She had no intention of applying for a job as a nanny, she was just at this gorgeous mansion to try and sell makeup so she could get out of her parents’ house, now that she was no longer living with Dani, but like she always thought, when opportunity knocks, she’s got to answer. Unfortunately, all she has with her is an order form and a few tubes of lipstick, but she’ll make do, quickly scribbling her name and phone number in Monroe Red along the back of the form and trying to write down her years of working at Dani’s Discount Bridal before the butler comes back with her water. She’s just about finished when a dark-haired boy bursts into the room clutching a knife to his chest and collapses on the floor with a pool of ketchup staining his white shirt.

“Eh, mediocre performance.” She stands over his twitching body and his eyes pop open. “Next time, you want to get some of that fake costume blood off of Amazon. Ketchup is so 1990s.”

“I’ll have you know.” The boy feigns a gasp. “I’m dying here.”

“We’re all dying, kid.” Brittany laughs. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“I’m just making conversation. So, you live here, or what?”

“No.” He deadpans. “I just hang around random mansions looking to scare unsuspecting nannies.”

“You’ve really gotta get better at this scaring thing. I’m telling you, I could give you some tips that’ll have you winning Academy Awards.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve scared off seven nannies in five years, and if you’d stop messing with my plan, you’d be number eight.”

“I don’t scare easily, you’ve never met my mother. Trust me, she’ll tell you the story of the time she thought she had to poop, gave birth to me in a barn and wrapped me up in a Mr. Submarine wrapper, and you’ll be scarred for life.”

“Ew.” The boy sticks out his tongue. “That’s disgusting, and I don’t think my mother would appreciate you telling me that story.”

“Your mother will make that decision.” Brittany’s jaw nearly hits the floor when a gorgeous brunette in a pencil skirt and blazer steps into the room. “Santana Lopez, it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss—”

“Pierce. Brittany Pierce.”

“Miss Pierce. Now what was this story you were telling my son?”

“Oh…I…uh…never mind.” Brittany stammers. “We were just getting to know each other.”

“Well, you haven’t run screaming from the house yet, so I suppose that’s going well. Tyler, go get Valerie and Abigail.”

“But Mom—”

“Go.” She shoos him off, and Brittany can’t help but stare at the woman in front of her.

“Santana—”

“I’d prefer if you call me Ms. Lopez, thank you.”

“Right, sorry, Ms. Lopez. Um…he’s a character.”

“That’s one way to put it.” She sighs. “Your resume, please.”

“Oh…yeah. Well, I kind of forgot to bring one with me, but I have this.” Brittany hands over the lipstick scrawled paper, and Santana holds it between two fingers.

“So, you came to an interview without a resume? Is that lipstick?”

“Well, I’m kind of having a bad week, you know how that goes.” She bites her lip, figuring she may as well just show herself the door.

“You’re not here for the interview, are you?”

“I—look, I wasn’t exactly called her for an interview, but I’m telling you, I’m great with kids. I have like…thirty-six little cousins, and I could totally be a nanny.”

“Yet you have no experience. I see here that you worked for…Dani’s Discount Bridal?”

“Mom!” A little girl with her hair in long braids tumbles into the room, and Brittany smiles at how much she looks like San—Ms. Lopez. “Tyler pushed me again!”

“Kid, what’s your deal?” Brittany asks him. “Why do you want everyone not to like you?”

“You can’t talk to me like that! Mom, tell her she can’t talk to me like that!”

“She’s not wrong Tyler. How many times have I had to tell you to keep your hands off your sister?”

“I don’t know.” He rolls his eyes. “About a billion.”

“Look, Miss Pierce, clearly I need more help here than you’re qualified to give. Thank you for coming, I’ll have Kurt see you out.”

“But—”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for your time.”

Kurt enters the living room again holding Brittany’s water, which he immediately sets down on the coffee table, sensing the tone of the room. While he’s escorting Brittany to the door, she catches a glimpse of the oldest Lopez child and she sighs, thinking that she probably could have made some kind of difference in their lives, even if she doesn’t necessarily have any formal training as a nanny. When she gets to the door, another short brunette enters, who gives her a dirty look, and she just exits without another word.

“Santana!” Rachel cries out, looking at the ketchup on Tyler’s shirt with disgust before the kids all scatter from the room in her wake. “I’ve been on the phone all morning with the caterer for Saturday night. I’m telling you, if this party is a disaster, then we’re never going to get the funding we need for our play. They’re going to immediately jump ship and support the next Lin Manuel Miranda production, and we’ll be out in the cold again.”

“Rachel, it’s going to be fine. I just have to focus on getting a nanny for these kids today, and then Saturday will go off without a hitch.”

“What was the matter with that one? Scared off again by Lord Ketchup?”

“No.” Santana looks to the door, feeling like perhaps she’s made some kind of mistake just as the phone rings. “She’s just not right for our family.”

“Well, you better find someone who’s right. We have three million dollars riding on Saturday night being a success, and as much as I adore your children, I just don’t think having them run around our cocktail party will do anyone any favors.”

“Yes, I’m aware, you’ve told me that about forty-six times this week.”

“Ms. Lopez.” Kurt interrupts. “It’s the nanny agency on the phone for you.”

“Rachel, I have to take this. Go into my office and look over the notes for our pitch.”

“You know that I’m your partner, not your employee, right?”

“Okay.” Santana pinches the bridge of her nose. “Decide if you want to look over the notes for our pitch so you can be prepared for Saturday night.”

“I think that sounds like a great idea.” Rachel chirps. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Great.” She takes the phone from Kurt and sinks down onto the couch. “Santana Lopez speaking.”

“Ms. Lopez, this is Mindy from the agency. Unfortunately, the interviewee we were sending out to you today was offered another job and has decided to cancel. I can get someone else to you on Monday, maybe Tuesday.”

“Monday or Tuesday isn’t good enough.” Santana snaps. “I’ve told you a dozen times that I need someone for this weekend.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do that.”

“You have got to be kidding me. I have three kids who need a nanny, and I have an event Saturday night. Next week is unacceptable.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it work.”

“Goddamnit.” Santana hangs up the phone and looks at Kurt desperately. “Why is it so hard to find good help in this town?”

“I believe I can still decipher the lipstick on Miss Pierce’s ‘resume.’” Kurt offers. “Maybe you ought to give her a shot. She certainly wasn’t afraid of Master Tyler.”

“She has no experience. And did you see what she was wearing? What kind of influence on Valerie would I be bringing into this house?”

“You certainly seemed a little…preoccupied with her wardrobe if I do say so myself.”

“Honestly, shut up.”

“You need a nanny before Saturday, and she clearly needs a job. Hire her on a trial basis, then you at least have yourself covered and you can resume your interviews next week.”

[cultofbeatles]

beginners guide to the beatles

 made one of these a long time ago but i'm surprised by how short it was. so here we go again. doing it right this time lol. 

pov: you told a bad joke and now the beatles are judging you. 

john winston lennon. later in his life known as john winston ono lennon. 

born on october 9, 1940 

i believe in astrology bc how does john just happen to be a libra 

when john was four he started living with his aunt mimi who acted more as his mother figure 

his mother, julia, remarried and would visit him quite a bit.

it was julia who taught john how to play banjo and piano. and she bought his first guitar.

they both had a deep love for music and rock n roll 

he never really thought of her as his mother but more as a cool friend i suppose 

aunt mimi was more rough on him and did the disciplining 

his father was never really present growing up and his uncle passed away when he was young 

he thought he was a curse for the men in his family 

he had five half siblings. two of them, julia and jacqueline, he was pretty close to. the other three he barely knew. 

fashion icon.

hated school but loved art 

very early on he was insecure with himself 

teachers always shit on him and said he would go nowhere in life 

he met paul at a church fete on july 6, 1957 

paul taught him how to play guitar properly.

once told paul that he didnt know how paul carried on after his mother died bc he just didn't think he could do it 

john’s mother died from being hit by an off duty policemen. john was seventeen at the time. 

 he took her death really hard and became a bit of a recluse. 

first serious relationship was with cynthia (we stan her) 

once cynthia cut her hair short and he didn't talk to her for two days. 

hate men. kill all men. 

when he asked her to dance at a party she turned him down saying that she was engaged, and so he said “well i didn't ask you to fucking marry me, did i?” 

slapped her once bc he was drunk and another boy was talking to her.

only time her hit her.

read cynthia’s books about john pls. i beg. 

once a psychic told him that he would be shot in the states.

founder of the beatles and also came up with the name.

instruments he could play: guitar, harmonica, rhythm guitar, banjo, keyboard, piano, saxophone, bass guitar, and a little drums. 

main songwriter in the beatles along with paul.

was more open minded to change in the beatles music. 

was insecure in his relationship with paul after a while bc he thought he only needed him for songwriting. 

would bitch about paul all day long but the second anyone else said something about him he’d be on their ass. 

had a lot of issues and needed a good hug. 

suffered from eating disorders, drug addictions, depression, insecurities, and questioned his sexuality bc of the time. 

was super open minded and ahead of his time in many instances. 

once he was called “the fat beatle” and after that he stopped eating as much.

truly loved his first son, julian lennon, and would buy him presents all the time bc he was excited to see him play with them.

“your famous ex husband”

he enjoyed playing monopoly. 

he once claimed that he saw a ufo.

he had written three books but he always wanted to write a children's book.

 the last song he ever performed in front of a live audience was “i saw her standing there.” with elton john.

he was afraid of the dark. 

found out later in his life that he was dyslexic. 

was also legally blind without glasses.

never could catch a break huh.

said that his best lyric ever was “all you need is love” i agree.

the first time yoko and john met was not at her art exhibit but actually when she approached him about giving away songs for free.

wanted to write a musical with paul. 

once a friend dared him to masturbate ten times in one day and he managed to do it nine times.

would hold circle jerks with paul and a few other friends. 

just dudes being dudes. 

went on a holiday with brian epstein, who was gay, and told some people afterward that they did certain sexual things. but we will never know for sure.

yoko says that john was bisexual.

once in an interview he said that he would of married a rich man or woman if he wasn't in the beatles. 

hated his voice on records. would always ask for effects on his voice for final recordings. 

made a film with yoko where it was just his penis going from flaccid to erect for fifteen minutes in slow motion. 

only beatle not to of become a vegetarian while he was alive. 

murdered on december 8, 1980.

gave his autograph earlier in the day to the man who would murder him.

died at the age of 40.

“all my loving” was played while he was at the hospital.

and its spooky bc a lot of times in interviews he would say “when i'm 40..” 

and it’s sad bc he was finally becoming who he truly wanted to be. 

honorable john moments that i love:

“thanks for the purpler hearts” he says while receiving the silver heart 

“you are the first person from liverpool that i've ever seen” “great”

eric lennon on my mind today 

this come together performance where he messed up the lyrics lol

that interview where paul was sick and john keep checking on him 

john lennon speaking nothing but facts 

when he said that he could see the beatles going separate ways but that they'd always come back together.

SHUT UP 

“shut up while he’s talking..”

this interview breaks my heart sometimes 

and this interview is great as well 

sir james paul mccartney 

born on june 18, 1942

if you ever have spare time just check out this man’s natal chart. 

idk how he’s still alive with his chart tbh. 

he has a younger brother named mike and a step sister named ruth. 

his dad thought he was the ugliest baby he’d ever seen when he was born. 

when he was young paul would kill frogs in a way to prepare himself for the war if he ever was drafted. 

the first instrument he ever learned to play was the trumpet.

I don't even want to list every instrument this man can play but trust me when I say it’s a lot.

but for the beatles he mainly did bass, vocals, and piano. sometimes playing the guitar and the drums.

the beatles was just paul moving really, really fast. 

he lost his mother when he was 14 due to surgery for breast cancer.

never really learned how to cope well with loss of a loved one tbh. 

had the cutest chubby cheeks as a kid tbh 

met john and was accepted into his band 

sometimes they'd ditch school together and either work on music or would visit art galleries.

went to paris with john and john bought him all the banana milkshakes that he wanted.

connected over their love and admiration for music, and bc they had both lost their mothers. 

had a girlfriend’s mom who he would make comb his leg hairs. 

was an ass to his first girlfriend.

kill all men again. 

almost had to marry his girlfriend dot bc she was pregnant, but she ended up losing the baby.

was the one who introduced george harrison to john.

practically despised pete best and stuart stutcliffe bc they were bringing the group down. 

got arrested along with pete best bc they lit a condom on fire in hamburg.

still felt awful and a little guilty when stuart died suddenly. 

main force behind the beatles imo. 

without him we’d have not as much beatles music as we do. 

was dating jane asher throughout majority of the sixties. 

when they first met they talked about syrup and paul fell in love.

they broke things off after she walked in on him sleeping with another woman though.

directed magical mystery tour and it was amazing and I don't care what anyone says ok?

when john divorced cynthia he was the only one not scared of john and went against his wishes of not speaking to cynthia.

was a little controlling at times. 

has a good heart though. 

mal evans had to drive him home once after a beatles sessions bc he was crying so hard. 

was talking about getting the band back to touring when john said he was leaving the group. 

everyone kind of turned against him when the beatles were breaking up and i hate it.

he just wanted what was best for the band.

married linda and had a nice little farm. 

we love that story.

linda i'm free thursday if you want to hang out pls.

started up the whole “no meat monday” thing where you don't eat monday on mondays

food meat. not the other kind of meat.

children: james mccartney, stella mccartney, heather mccartney, mary mccartney, and beatrice mccartney. 

rip martha. 

WINGS!! 

he lost linda in 1998 due to cancer.

 cried for a whole year bc of it.

still has dreams about john and says they're nice.

wrote a sad song about john called “here today.”

really loved john. like..he truly, genuinely did. 

want someone to love me like paul does john. 

“think of me every now and then old friend.”

honorable paul moments:

his story about george’s dad 

“john? he was beautiful. very beautiful.”

humpty dumpty rap 

another story about him and george.

his google search video that I watch every week 

this 

george harrison 

born: February 24, 1943 

or at least we think 

bc he use to say that his birthday was february 25, but later started saying it february 24. 

why can't we change our birthdays its not like we picked it 

he was the youngest child.

baby of the family and of the beatles awwww

two older brothers named harry and peter. one older sister named louise.

when george’s mom was pregnant with him she’d play sitar music.

his mom was super supportive of his career choice 

when he was 16 he worked as an electricians apprentice.

his dad kind of hoped he would start a family business out of it.

george said nah

would ride the bus opposite way of his house just to spend time with paul 

headbutted a kid bc he didn't think they were worthy of paul’s friendship 

was brought into the band bc of paul insisting to john 

would follow john around like a lost puppy when he first met him 

once had an eight hour erection. don't ask me how idk he said it.

was 17 when he lost his virginity and the other band members were in the room watching and cheered him when he finished 

most sex craved beatle tbh 

once walked into a girls dressing room and asked if they could stand there so he could masturbate 

he was the first beatle to go to america 

got a black eye for defending ringo once 

would make john and paul take turns sharing rooms with ringo when he first joined the band so that he felt more welcomed 

when ringo left during the white album and then came back george decorated the studio with flowers for him 

during the beatles first recording session he told george martin that he didn't like his tie

became a vegetarian at 22 

favorite candy was jelly beans and purple was his favorite color 

used the phrase “grotty” in the hard days night movie, hated it, but everyone else picked up on the slang 

met his first wife, pattie boyd, on the set of a hard days night 

was turned down by her at first 

they married in 1966

wouldn't let her do modeling stuff and was kind of an ass 

a stylish couple but not the best image for a healthy relationship 

got into eastern religion around 1965 

during the Hamburg days he would eat chicken on stage 

had an affair with ringo’s first wife maureen 

got a divorce from pattie in 1977

in 1978 he married olivia who he stayed with until his death and had one son with. dhani.

was the first beatle to hit a number one single and album. 

was buddies with led zeppelin

inspired their “rain song” 

smashed a piece of cake on john bonham’s head and then was thrown into the pool by him 

he financed and produced films. had a production company.

tom petty said that george never shut up once you started talking to him 

but he was often referred to as “the quiet beatle”

formed another band called the traveling wilburys

he’d answer questions online in the 2000′s and it’s the cutest thing ever and his answers break my heart too.

“what do you miss most about john lennon?” “john lennon.”

in 1999 a schizophrenic person broke into his house and stabbed him 40 times 

thank god olivia was there bc she was the only braincell in the room 

had to get a part of his lung taken out 

died november 29, 2001 from lung cancer 

ashes were scattered into the ganges river 

honorable george moments:

this interview he did with ringo 

“i'm sad bc i can't play guitars with john anymore. but i did that...i know we’ll meet again some day.”

when he invented reaction videos 

“the wind was blowing.” “..blowing my girl?”

“what kind of girl do you like?” “john’s wife.”

sir richard starkey aka ringo starr 

born on july 7, 1940 

oldest member in the group 

has no siblings 

naturally was left handed but his grandma thought it was bad luck so he writes right handed, and plays drums with a right handed kit 

but does everything else left handed

when he was 6 he fell into a two month coma 

was a very sick child 

when he was 13 he was in the hosiptal for tuberculosis and formed a hospital band 

grew up poor 

loves and looked up to his stepfather a lot 

his step father bought him his first drum kit in 1957

wasn't that great in school bc he missed so much of it from being so sick 

he worked for a britain railway for a while 

also served drinks on a day boat for a job 

loves dancing 

Rory storm and the hurricanes 

got his nickname from all the rings he would wear

replaced pete best as the beatles drummer 

dealt with people hating him for a bit bc they liked pete more 

had to style his hair in a bowl cut to be in the band and i'm still mad at them for making him do that shit 

ringo i'm so sorry 

george martin didn't really like his drumming and had a session drummer come in for the first album 

in 1964 he had tonsillitis, pharyngitis, and high fever all at once and had to be in the hospital for a bit.

was worried the beatles would replace him for good 

he’s a cancer don't worry

was the first beatle to try weed 

drummers always go first huh 

married his first wife, maureen, in 1965 

she kissed paul, ringo, and george.

what a champ

honeymoon was ruined by reporters 

was really insecure in his relationship and needed a lot of reassurance 

had a great relationship with pretty much all the beatles 

but a great one with john 

john felt his most relaxed when he was with ringo

was once in a movie with roger daltrey 

divorced maureen in 1975 

his wife now is barbara bach who he married in 1981 

had alcohol problems 

once gotten so drunk that he beat barbara so badly that he thought he killed her 

put himself into rehab after that 

barbara lowkey looks like jan from the office 

children: zak, lee, and jason

zak is the drummer for the band the who 

peace and love 

but don't send me fan mail anymore 

peace and love 

ringo starr and the allstar band (starting 1981)

was the narrator for thomas the tank engine 

will play at paul’s concerts sometimes now for fun 

mad bc he came on stage during paul’s last concert show and it was on my birthday and I couldn't go to it 

honorable ringo moments:

“do you want me to come with you?”

stupid barbara walters 

talking about paul 

giving us a little dance 

[capaldifiction]

Masked Singer - Lewis Capaldi x Reader

Didn’t expect to get this out so quickly after my last post, but it just sort of happened :P lol I haven’t watched a whole lot of this show, so hopefully I did it justice! Had a lot of fun with this one 😊

Paring: Lewis Capaldi x Celebrity Reader

Word Count: 1,492

Description: Based on the request: “Lewis x reader where he goes on the masked singer and the reader is one of the judges and she doesn’t guess him immediately and the judges keep teasing her about it?” Hope you like it 💙

Requested by: @mytinybaguette​

Warnings: None, swearing is bleeped for tv show purposes :P

“And the winner of this season’s Golden Mask is…” Nick Cannon begins as the lights go down and the dramatic music begins. “The Duck! Congratulations, you’ve won! Make your way to the throne!”

The Duck’s hands fly to his face in shock, before accepting the trophy and holding it high as he makes his way back to his throne as the judges cheer.

After their runner-up is unveiled as Robert Downey Jr, he sings his final song and exits the stage to thunderous applause and a thumbs up to the Duck back on his throne.

Robin nods approvingly as the Duck comes back to the stage, and faces them, “Knew you’d be in the finals, such a strong voice.”

“Jenny, who do you think our champion is?”

“I’ve changed my mind every week on you,” Jenny starts and points at him. “And I’m still not sure I’m right. But from your clues… you mentioned Hollywood at one point. You had a background of New York behind you. You brought up having an older brother and starting to work toward your career at a young age. Everyone thinks you’re a singer, but I think you’re an actor and that’s why you brought up Hollywood! You’re Zac Efron! An actor that can sing, has an older brother, started out young on Disney, and you had that movie with Michael B. Jordan based in New York, I’ve got you Zac!”

The Duck shrugs as Ken jumps in, “Great guess Jenny, but you’re wrong. Because I know exactly who this is! I saw that flag in the background of one of your videos, and plenty of singers come to Hollywood. You’re from the U.K., welcome to The Masked Singer Ed Sheeran!”

“One final guess Y/N,” Nick Cannon asks, both he and the Duck turning to look at her. “Who do you think the Duck is?”

“I think you’re right about the U.K. Ken,” Y/N nods approvingly. “But that’s not Ed. I feel like I really know this voice, and it’s been irking me for months. And I think I finally know why. Going off of him saying he has an older brother, the Union Jack in the background, talking about how his career took off in the span of one year, and his voice, this is singer and X-Factor winner James Arthur,” she states confidently as the Duck slicks back his hair. “I’ve worked with him, and that’s his voice, I’m confident.”

“I agree with Y/N,” Robin states. “Duck you’ve got an incredible voice and range, and killed it out here every week. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re a professional singer. And I think that singer is James Arthur.”

“Alright Nicole, who do you think our champion is?”

“I still have no clue Nick,” she says, slamming her palms down on the desk. “I thought he was a professional singer from his singing, but he’s brought up Hollywood and that made me think actor, then he’s just continuously hilarious every week in his packages so I thought he was a comedian. I think I’m just going to agree… with Ken. It’s Ed Sheeran.”

“You’re agreeing with me?” Ken asks, a fake shocked look on his face.

“I know, I’m uncomfortable too,” she says with the roll of her eyes as the audience laughs.

“Alright now that our panel has locked in their final guesses, it’s time to unveil our winner!” Nick announces as he puts his microphone on the table next to him and grips the edge of the Duck’s mask trying to find the best place to pull it up.

All the judges get to their feet, trying to get the first glimpse of him as the audience chants, “Take it off,” wildly.

As the mask comes off, the audience goes silent before Y/N’s voice breaks it, “Oh *bleep*,” slamming a hand over her mouth quickly.

“It’s Grammy Nominated Singer Song-writer Lewis Capaldi!” Nick shouts as Lewis holds up his mask and Y/N slowly lowers herself down to hide behind the desk.


“Wait, Y/N isn’t he your boyfriend?” Robin asks as the crowd laughs.

Coming back up from behind the desk, she hangs her head and nods, her cheeks bright red.

“James Arthur, Y/N?” Lewis teases, “James Arthur, really?”

“You didn’t recognize your own boyfriend’s voice? Don’t you hear him like every day?” Nicole asks surprised.

“And didn’t you noticed your boyfriend working all the exact hours as you?” Ken laughs as her cheeks grow even brighter red.

“Well I wasn’t there! I was here!” she defends with a huff. “And he locks himself in the studio writing all the time, I didn’t check to see what he was singing up there, it’s soundproof!”

“I also sang her to sleep last night,” Lewis shrugs setting down his mask. “The last thing you heard before you slipped into your sweet sweet dreams was me singing to you, then you come and call me James Arthur today with complete confidence. I feel like I should be concerned.”

“To be fair I assumed my boyfriend was home working on his album like he said he was, it never even occurred to me I’m leaving to head to the studio and you’re sneaking out right after me!” she shouts back.

“You didn’t even get him after the hints though,” Robin comments with a chuckle. “That should have given it away for you.”

“But a lot of people could have got into singing because of their brother, I don’t know everyone’s back story! And the duck thing... ok the duck thing I probably should have. He said he wanted to be an eggplant but couldn’t so he went with something that rhymes with a word he say all the time. And the sunglasses. And the clip in the bathroom. And the plunger. Yeah that’s my bad,” she admits with a sigh.

“What about the New York background and Hollywood reference though?” Nicole asks looking to Lewis.

“He had New York wallpaper for most of his life and has a song called Hollywood,” Y/N answers sheepishly.

“And my own girlfriend of three years didn’t get any of this,” Lewis laughs and shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I am wounded darlin’.”

“Even if your own girlfriend couldn’t recognize your voice, you came out here and put on a great performance every week, congrats to our champ!” Ken celebrates, thumbs up to Lewis who smiles in response and pushes his hair out of his face.

“Slayed it every week!” Jenny agrees.

“So why did you come do this crazy show?” Nick asks as he puts his arm behind Lewis.

“Well,” he starts as he scratches his chin. “It seemed like it would be fun, from when I’ve been here just watching because of Y/N. And I love my fans and how I interact with them online, but sometimes it starts to feel like my music takes a backseat to all the stupid shi- stuff I say,” he corrects himself quickly. “I’ve also had a lot more success in the U.K. than over here, and I just sorta wanted to see how I would do without any of that to detract from how people like or don’t like my voice.”

“Now how about we get one last song from our champion?”

“Gladly,” Lewis grins as the music for “Set Fire To The Rain,” begins. Near the end of the song, the screen starts to fade as Lewis holds an arm out toward Y/N, who joins him on stage as he pulls her into an embrace for his last note.

Fading to black, the image of a clapperboard suddenly appears on screen then gives way to unmasked Lewis and Y/N standing in front of a white wall.

“Lewis did you think you’d win?” a voice behind the camera calls out.

“Of course I did! No I really didn’t expect that, it’s fantastic but didn’t expect this. I did expect my girlfriend to recognize my *bleep* voice though,” he says with the raise of an eyebrow, glancing over to Y/N.

“My mind completely cancelled you out of the list of people it could be, because I thought there was no way you were able to hide all this from me!” she insists.

“I’m just sad, here I was thinking you liked my music,” he responds with a pout.

“Hey I probably listen to your album more than you!”

“And what’s the name of it?”

“Divinely Uninspired To A Hellish Extent, sold near you wherever records are sold. It’s been out a year, if you haven’t listened to it yet where the *bleep* have you been,” Y/N laughs as they both flash peace signs at camera.

“Will you ever let me live this down?” she asks.

Looking toward the camera with a serious expression that quickly breaks into a smile, Lewis responds, “Absolutely not.”

-----

Masterlist

Request List

[madamewriterofwrongs]

62 of the sensory prompts!

I hope you enjoy <3

Sensory Prompts

62. Fingertips smudged in blue ink

Bear my Signature

2008

His hands were steady as he bent over the recruitment table, sure in the path he was setting himself on. This was his decision, not his father’s. Shannon was proud of him; his parents were proud of him – he was proud of himself. Nothing could make him change his mind.

Then why did he hesitate over the final signature?

One last scrawl of his name and he would be a new Sixty-eight Whiskey recruit with the United States Armed Forces, with a career and a future serving his country and doing something of use – for once.

He couldn’t keep working for his father, long hours of travel, barked orders, and n real choice. Working with his hands was one thing, but this would be so much more.

He was going to make something of himself.

All he had to do was sign on the bottom line and his life would change forever. He thought of Shannon. They hadn’t been together long enough to know what time and distance would do to them, but he loved her; and she loved him. That would be enough.

He could do this.

He would do this.

He had to do this.

Eddie’s hands shook as his pen danced over his last key to freedom.

2010

He had been staring at the page for hours. It was a good program – it should be for the amount of money his parents were paying (he could hear his mother’s voice echoing in his ears). He wanted to be here. Sure, he wasn’t overly enthusiastic about his field of study but it would open up a lot of doors if he could be at least a B student.

He wouldn’t have to live at home any more, that was a definite plus. There was a great love he had for his parents when he didn’t have to see them every day.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Or forgetful.

Either way, this college would be the perfect opportunity to go out on his own and make something of himself. So what, if it was only a few hours away from home and his parents were paying for everything? He was still an independent person of independent means; he would finally have something to contribute. He’d be doing something of use – for once.

So what, if he hated the program? So what, if he was still staring at that map of the known world he got on his seventh grade trip to the museum?

This would be how he would make his mark on the world; it was his only option.

Buck placed his signature on the final page and handed the pile of forms back to the registration office.

2010

Eddie had never felt so panicked in his entire life (apart from the time two months ago when he’d called his girlfriend in the middle of the night and asked her to marry him when he was in town on leave). That had been a different kind of panic.

The panic brought on from calling his parents the day before and telling them that Shannon was pregnant and he had no idea what to do. After a lot of cursing and a lot of lecturing, they told him that there was only one option available to him: marry the girl.

They never liked Shannon. They tolerated her – were polite to her whenever Eddie brought her around – but the sneer in his mother’s voice when she told him what an idiotic mistake he’d made, reminded him that this would be the only way his parents approved of him marrying his high school sweetheart.

He’d always thought he’d get around to marrying her eventually. Sure, they’d only dated for a few months in her last year of high school but that still counted as a teenage romance where he was from. It was romantic right?

And then she’d told him she was pregnant, and then he’d panicked and begged her to marry him.

And now they were walking down the aisle in front of their friends and family (who were available to fly out at a moment’s notice), saying their vows like they actually meant them.

To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.

Eddie smudged the ink of his signature as he marked the marriage certificate, a reminder of the familiar yet uncharted path his life was currently on.

2011

Eddie never believed in love at first sight, but holding that little boy in his arms changed everything. Christopher Ramon Diaz, born 4lbs, 9oz. The doctors assured them that he was a little small but perfectly healthy and safe. That was all he needed to hear.

He hadn’t stopped smiling since they brought Shannon and Christopher to their room so mom and the baby could rest.

Mom.

Shannon was a mother now. The mother of his child.

He was a father. How the hell was he going to be a dad when his own had kept him at a distance his entire life? Not that he blamed him – he was providing for his family – that’s what you do. That’s why he was serving out the rest of his tour and coming straight home to look for a job.

He hated that he wouldn’t get to spend more than a week with his wife (the mother of his child) and newborn son, but that was the deal he made:

Put food on the table, keep a roof over their heads, and you will be a family forever.

At least he was around long enough to sign his name on the dotted line, declaring this little boy his for anyone to see. Christopher looked so much like his mother, he prayed he wouldn’t stay away long enough to become a stranger in his eyes. He wanted every moment he could get.

Eddie was going to be a good father; he would fight for them, and when he came back, he would work a million jobs so he could keep their deal. So long as the two of them were happy, nothing else mattered.

2014

Buck was floating, restless, in a sea of uncertainty. To be specific, he was floating in Moloaʻa Bay, just north of Kauaʻi, watching a group of men performing professional grade dives further out. They worked in sync but came up splashing and laughing, hearty laughs of grown men (not boys who had no idea what they were doing with their lives).

He’d spoken to them the night before when they stumbled into the bar he’d found himself sitting at most nights, striking up a conversation about how they all ended up on this island paradise.

He vaguely remembered coming up with some story about following a girl here only to have her ditch him for another man. It sounded better than telling them, he’d shown up at the airport in Seattle and asked for the cheapest, earliest flight and somehow ended up here.

Their story had been much more interesting anyways. Naval SEALS, honorable and strong. They were attending a conference by day (who got to go to a conference in Kauaʻi?) but the nights were all for them.

Buck blushed, remembering how bright the youngest one, Jacob, had smiled at him over their fifth shot of rum – or was it their eighth? Either way, they’d woken up tangled in each other’s arms somewhere around 6am, when Jake kicked him out so he could get ready for his meeting.

Now, he watched them all, wondering what it must be like to have that kind of comradery, that kind of purpose – that kind of freedom.

That night at the bar, Buck found Jake again and followed him back to his hotel room so he could register for their mailing list of interested applicants (he didn’t ask to stay).

The next time he was in Coronado, he’d have a new career opportunity and – hopefully – a new life.

2015

Eddie hated his signature. On a good day, it was a series of loops strung together with an E and D sloppily thrown in.

On a bad day, it was the end of a long series of papers that meant he was being discharged from the army with honors. For being brave, he wouldn’t have to fight anymore.

He didn’t feel brave. He certainly didn’t feel like he was done fighting.

And yet here he was, standing in front of a General he’d never met, having to hide the tremor in his hand as he struggled to sign off on his emancipation from the only real thing he’d ever known.

He had a wife and a son back home who didn’t know him any more – it wasn’t a stretch to say he no longer knew himself. But they needed him. They needed his money and his leadership and he didn’t have much of either. He had no way of knowing what he was coming home to (and didn’t that just sting?). Having no idea what was going on with his own family because he was gone for too long. What good was he to them now that he was back, though? He still had months of recovery ahead of him, and a few scars that opened up into a chasm of nightmares every night. All he wanted to do was take a deep breath a scream.

But he couldn’t do that.

He could salute with his good hand, and thank the man for the box that said he was a hero, and go back to his family.

And keep trying to hold it together.

2016

So being a SEAL hadn’t been the dream he imagined it to be. He still gained some valuable skills when it came to search and rescue, and combat. He also learned about the type of job he didn’t want to have.

He wanted the life they had on the brochure:

Help save lives.

Do some good.

Be a daredevil.

So they hadn’t said those exact words but that was the implication. It was implied that he’d get to be a badass rulebreaker with a heart of gold.

He shuffled out of the facility with a few new bruises and a new respect for being a decent human being for once.

Whether by coincidence of providence, he found himself wandering around the streets of Los Angeles nearly every night after he arrived, searching for some sort of sign that this was the place to be at this moment in time. If it wasn’t, he could always move on to the next place. But there was something about LA that felt right. Hot sun, hot people, lots of mischief and adventure.

A boy could become a man here.

He was stopped on the street as the fire station in front of him roared to life, and he watched through the window as men and women worked in tandem to load their gear and peel away from the hangar. 30 seconds of excitement suddenly left the building feeling empty enough for Buck to hear his own heart pick up.

Before he knew what he was doing, he walked up to the main door and rang the bell. A man in a uniformed t-shirt and pants answered, and invited him inside to tell him all about the exciting life as a Los Angeles Firefighter.

For the second time in his life, Buck left his name and number with a strange man, hoping this single interaction would change his life.

2017

Eddie took a deep breath; not screaming, this time, but exhaling the last of his nerves. This felt right. This was his decision, not his father’s – in fact, his father had no qualms about showing his disapproval at his decision.

But it felt right.

Being a firefighter was a lot like combat (with an eighth of the on-the-job stressors). But he still got to help people – he could use his skills he’d learned in the army to save lives at home the way he hoped he was doing overseas. And he could come home to his son every night.

He would have come home to Shannon, too, if he could get her on the phone for more than a few minutes at a time.

He hadn’t spoken with her in over a year, now. She’d stopped answering so he’d stopped calling and only part of his heart was broken for knowing that she’d run away, too.

Even if it was just him and Christopher for a little while, it would be still be a blessing to go save the world and be back in time for dinner (usually).

He was so tired lately. Working three jobs left him no energy to be with his son and even less desire to argue with his parents over how to best raise him.

Christopher needed stability, so he’d give it to him. He’d become a firefighter for whoever would take this mess of a human being, and build the life for his son that he deserved – a happy one.

Even if he wondered twelve times a day if a happy life was really a life with him. Maybe Christopher would be better off with his parents. He barely knew the little boy sleeping in his own bed and not a crib.

Isn’t that all the more reason to stay?

Before Eddie could second guess himself, he signed his name on the dotted line, and joined the row of recruits for the fire academy training.

2017

As far as first dates went, this one was strangely not the worst. That had involved jumping out the second story window of an apartment complex because her “technically still my boyfriend” was coming through the front door.

He’d twisted his ankle when his leg got caught on the fire escape and the police were called – though, thankfully, no charges were laid. Incredibly painful, and incredibly embarrassing.

Waking up in the hospital after his girlfriend had performed an emergency tracheotomy, was a very close second.

Unlike that awful first date, though. Abby was still at his side when he woke up. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d had someone to wake up next to – even if it was groggily coming off anesthesia after surgery.

It was nice.

She was nice.

God, he liked her so much. Why couldn’t the universe let him have one good date? He hadn’t had that many to begin with, was it so much to ask that things go right?

Abby was nice and smart and beautiful and liked him.

And she stayed.

She was at work when he signed himself out of the hospital but Bobby had been there, too, to drive him home since his car was still at the restaurant. They even went out for breakfast. That was new as well. Someone who willingly spent time with him and offered him advice and cared whether Buck took that advice.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a little addictive:

Having people in his life who stayed.

2018

Carla had to slap his hand during their tour of the school every time he tried to play with the lanyard around his neck. He managed to stop fidgeting after the first fifteen minutes, but the nerves never faded.

This was a huge risk. It was still early in the school year, but Christopher had just moved to LA. He had no friends, no social circle, no one outside of his family; and now Eddie wanted to move him to a highly specialized school.

What, just because it had small class sizes, and teachers who seemed to understand his son’s needs, and had incredible security measures, and was an opportunity for Christopher to get a better education than he had back in Texas, and it felt like a miracle that Carla convinced the school to see him on such short notice?

It was still an incredibly expensive miracle.

And there was the problem of getting a hold of Shannon. He’d told their lawyer when he was taking Christopher out of the state, and thankfully, her number hadn’t changed, but getting her to pick up the phone when he called his estranged wife had been an exercise in anxiety control.

If it meant that Christopher got the best care, nothing else mattered.

Even as his thought swam with a thousand unanswered questions (the loudest one being: what did that kiss in the parking lot mean for us?), Eddie’s hand was sure and still as he signed the registration form.

2019

Maddie was back in his life. He’d almost lost Maddie a few months after getting her back, but now that wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She was safe, and she was home with him; he had his big sister once again and that was all he needed.

It didn’t stop the nightmares from bolting him awake, reminding him that he could die tomorrow and then she’d be left alone. Or she could leave again and then he’d be alone.

He didn’t want that: he didn’t want to be alone again. He liked the people in his life. Maddie, Bobby, the 118, Eddie, Christopher; they were people he wanted to keep safe.

But the dangers he needed to protect them from weren’t always solved with a giant water hose or an axe. For everything else, he called a lawyer and got some advice.

Maddie had been very understanding when he told her about the will he planned to change so she’d receive a larger piece of his assets. She was his sister, he was always going to leave something to her, but now that she was back, he wanted to know that she’d be happy here without him in this place he’d convinced her to settle.

Eddie had been less understanding; grateful, yes, but speechless as to why Buck would want to leave his colleague so much (it was mostly for Christopher, he explained, so that he’d could have something for his future if he lost his best buddy). That had still led to a lot of protesting – eventually broken up by a confused by thankful Shannon – but nothing was compared to Bobby.

Bobby who teared up when Buck explained that he didn’t have a lot of things in this world, but if anything happened to him, he wanted Bobby to have something to remember him by.

That hadn’t been a lie, but maybe not a whole truth.

He wanted to know that the people he loved most were never left alone even after he left them.

Was that so much to ask for?

2019

Eddie hated funerals. He didn’t know a single person who enjoyed them; but he’d been to far too many in his short life to find any comfort in them.

They were burying his wife today.

She didn’t want to be his wife anymore but he hadn’t told anyone that. The shame that burned his throat when he thought of revealing that painful truth, was too sharp. He suffered in silence as he always had. It wasn’t just his own feelings he had to worry about; there was Christopher.

There was always Christopher – there would always be Christopher – he would never stop caring for his son as long as he lived (and probably long after as well). Because that’s what parents were supposed to do.

He found himself standing, poised with pen in hand over another piece of paper, frozen once again by his own indecision and fear.

What was he supposed to write in the book of her life? How was he meant to say goodbye to the only woman he’d ever loved? How could he close this chapter of his life with a flick of ink?

He couldn’t.

His eyes hooked onto his son’s back, sitting quietly beside his great grandmother, swinging his legs under the pews because he still wasn’t tall enough to touch the ground. He was so small; so young.

Christopher needed him to be strong; needed him to put it away so they could take care of each other.

Eddie signed the front page, and opened the book for the guests to sign.

2019

When Buck woke up in the hospital this time, he saw an angel, and for a moment he was terrified; but then everything was at peace.

The moments after he felt peace, however, were agonizing and terrifying. The moments before hadn’t been a picnic either, but at least his memories of laying underneath a ladder truck and being pulled to safety were still a little hazy. He remembered a warm hand in his and a few words of encouragement and a lot of screaming, but not much else.

Now that he was awake, fear was quickly becoming his only focus. The fear of not knowing whether the surgery had been successful – not knowing if he’d ever work again or if he’d have to start his life over. The fear of whether he would be the same man if he ever could go back to work. So much was uncertain, that he clung to the tiniest bit of hope: Ali, Maddie, and Carla. The women who would stay by his side no matter what.

It took him four days before he had the strength to walk to the end of the hall, and finally, the doctor was satisfied that the was safe to go home. He had never been happier being wheeled out to his sister’s car, than the day he got to sign himself out of the hospital, knowing that everything would be back to normal.

2019

Buck was man enough to admit that this punishment was nothing compared to what it could be. Three hours in the human resources office with Bobby, Chief Alonso and Alex, head of HR, signing his name to a million forms, could have been a lot worse.

Sure, his hand cramped about half an hour in, but it was worth it all if it meant he could finally go back to work.

It all seemed a little silly – not that he’d ever say that out loud. Buck had no intention of suing the city or the department (or Bobby) again. He’d meant what he said, though: he was a fighter. He’d fight for his job and his family however he could.

Sometimes he fought in really stupid ways that he didn’t realize were harmful until it was too late. But then he’d just have to fight to make up for those mistakes.

Buck was a fighter, plain and simple.

Tonight, he’d fight through hand cramps and eye fatigue. Tomorrow he’d fight for his friends’ trust.

And pray it was enough for them to let him come home.

2022

There was one recorded day of history in which Eddie Diaz felt happier than he did today: the day his son was born.

Nothing else compared to that day, vowing his fealty to Christopher and whatever he needed.

Today was a pretty good day, though.

He was dressed a lot nicer, that was for certain – not that he didn’t love the sea green scrubs, but a fitted suit was much more comfortable.  

The company was also pretty good.

Christopher stood beside him in the mirror, adjusting his tie for the tenth time (even though Abuela told him to stop playing with it). He understood that the boy was nervous so he only smiled down at him and his slightly crooked tie.

There was a knock at the door and Eddie hurried to answer it, knowing exactly who would be on the other side.

Buck hadn’t stopped smiling since he arrived at the rental hall, taking all of Maddie’s teasing as she helped him dress for his big day. Nothing could dampen his mood; not the caterers calling in with last minute substitutions, not baby Gloria throwing up on Chimney all night, not a small tear in his suit jacket that neither of them could fix.

None of it mattered as he knocked on the door of the side room they’d set up.

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to see the groom before the wedding – but technically they weren’t supposed to sleep together the night before either, so one more break in tradition wouldn’t be the end of the world. Since the day they moved in together, Buck had never willingly spent a night away from their bed. Even on the nights when they were irreconcilably fighting, they’d sleep on opposite sides of the bed.

He was not about to sleep without his fiancé on the last night he got to call him his fiancé.

Eddie and Buck walked down the hallway to greet the officiant, Maddie waiting for them with two pens in hand.

This was it; the last step before they officially tied the knot. Everything after this was just icing on the cake (which reminded Buck, he needed to tell Eddie about the catering mishap after everything was sorted because he was more likely to panic). This was the moment where they would sign their names and be legally bound in the eyes of the world, as two people who wanted to spent their lives together.

Eddie was careful with his penmanship. His hands didn’t shake much – absolutely confident in this choice – but he wanted it to be perfect. This would be the last time he would sign his name on a piece of paper like this (and he wouldn’t sign his name on a book for others to impart their memories of his dearly departed for a very long time); so he savored every little detail as he lent his name to another cause he believed in wholeheartedly.

Buck laughed when he messed up the B in “Buckley” after spending hours for weeks on end, practicing his “Diaz”s. It turned into a strange series of vertical loops that someone could use in context to describe as a B, so he wasn’t too worried. In fact, he had no worries at all. Now, he had a happy memory attached to signing away his life to a man he hoped to know better with every passing day.

[kpop-zone]

Pride before the fall | Sana

Genre: angst and a whole lot of fluff in the end

Wordcount: 2,009

Request: hi, can i request something w/ twice’s sana & idol!fem reader? can you also make it angst but w/ a happy ending? thank you so much!

A/N: I’m well aware that the ending is unrealistic, but everything for the fluff :D

Sana and you had been dating for a year now and it was going great. Of course, your relationship wasn’t public, and you even hid it from your companies, but both your groups knew and were supportive. And most importantly, you were happy. But eventually you started to become too supercilious. Knowing that you managed to mingle around right in front of the eye of the public without anyone noticing, made you uncareful.

But pride comes before the fall.

Both your groups were attending the same award show and your dressing rooms were practically right next to each other. Missing your girlfriend, you walked past her room, gesturing her to follow you. Which she did. You met inside one of the empty, smaller rooms and your hands immediately wandered to Sana’s hips pulling her closer.

“I missed you, jagi.”

You whispered into her ear in a low voice, making shivers run down her spine.

“How much?”

She asked you with hooded eyes, making you smirk.

You pressed her against the dressing table, hovering with your lips over hers, making her squirm underneath you. Just when you were about to give in to her pleading, the door was suddenly ripped open.

“Sana, you have five...”

Her manager didn’t finish his words, seeing the position the two of you were in. With a leap you removed yourself from Sana who just looked wordlessly at her manager. He was glued to the spot for a while, but then rushed out the room with Sana following close behind after she had shot a look of desperation to you.

When you were alone in the room, you sat on the dressing table, massaging your temples. You couldn’t believe that you had been caught. Especially because it was unnecessary. You would have driven to Twice’s dorm anyways after the show. Why couldn’t you have waited? Your pondering was disrupted when your leader stood in the door to get you.

You had no time to think about the consequences this would have. Right now, you had to focus on your performance. But this was not an easy task when you saw that Sana was surrounded by several managers scolding her and you knew that this would probably be the last time you would see her for a while.

After the award show, you made your way to your own dorm instead of your girlfriend’s, waiting anxiously for some sign of life from her. Your group members had learned in the meantime that Sana and you had been caught, trying to cheer you up as best as possible. But you just couldn’t stop your brain from working overtime. Would the companies force you to break up? Would they fire you?

It took almost 3 hours until your torture was finally ended, and you received a phone call from your girlfriend.

“Sana?”

You pressed the speaker to your ear, desperate to hear your girlfriend’s voice, telling you that everything was alright. But it wasn’t. All you could hear on the other side, were the violent sobs of your girlfriend. It took all of you not to lose your composure, feeling the pain of her. But you knew that one of you had to be strong.

“Shhh. Everything’s alright, baby.”

It took ten minutes until Sana was finally able to speak.

“Y/N...”

She called your name, making your heart break at the sound of desperation that was in it.

“We can’t see each other anymore.”

She said, starting to sob again.

“Hey it’s ok, Sana. I knew that our companies wouldn’t let us see each other again right away.”

You tried to sound as calm as possible.

“No. I mean us. It’s over.”

Sana answered and the world stopped around you. Everything moved in slow motion and you could only focus on Sana’s breathing on the other side of the line.

“What? I haven’t even talked to my company yet. We can bargain. We can try...”

You started to ramble, not giving up on your relationship that fast.

“No.”

Sana interrupted you with a firm voice.

“It was my decision. I’m not ready to give up my career because of you. My decision is final.”

And with that the line was broken. You knew that Sana wasn’t on the other side anymore, but you kept your phone pressed to you ear. In hope that her sweet voice would tell you that it was all a bad dream. But all you could hear was the beeping of the phone.

During the next days, you tried to reach Sana. To no avail. Your calls went straight to voicemail and she had blocked all your messages. How could she give up on you so fast?

“It’s better that way, you’ll see. If she wasn’t even willing to fight, she isn’t worth it.”

Your leader tried to cheer you up, knowing that you had to be strong the next weeks. You had several performances on TV. And the worst thing about it was that Twice would have performances on the same shows, the same days. You knew that you couldn’t face Sana right now, without starting to cry and falling to your knees, begging her to take you back.

That’s why you asked your members to protect you. You walked into the building of the studio like you were the main star of the show, with your members shielding you from they eyes arounf you, ready to quickly change directions if they ran into Sana. It became a routine and it worked. Although you had already been on three shows with Twice, you hadn’t seen Sana once.

But then your pride came into your way again.

You were sure that you were feeling better. Of course, you were not over Sana and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be, but you thought that you could face her now without losing your composure. But you were wrong about that. It happened on your last TV show together. Twice was leaving the stage to get backstage and your group was heading the other direction, when Sana and you were suddenly standing face to face.

You just stared at each other with your members throwing glances at each other behind your backs, not knowing what they should do. But they didn’t have to, because you abruptly turned around, running away from everybody, feeling tears stinging in your eyes. You hid in your group’s dressing room, knowing that you would be in big trouble soon. Your performance was in fifteen minutes and you looked like a racoon right now. But you just couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It hurt so much, seeing Sana being all fine. Your leader made her way into the dressing room, sitting beside you.

“I’m sorry.”

You mumbled, knowing that you had thrown the whole group off balance now.

“It’s ok. Do you think, you can perform in 15 minutes?”

Your leader asked, stroking your back soothingly. You nodded, knowing that you couldn’t let your group down like this.

Just when you were about to go back to the others again, the door to the dressing room opened again, revealing Sana. When your leader spotted her, she nodded knowingly, patting you on your shoulder before giving the two of you some space. Sana silently sat beside you, fixing her gaze on her hands that rested on her knees.

“What are you doing here?”

You broke the silence, tired of waiting around.

“I wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

Sana said silently, still not looking in your direction.

“Ok? How do you think I can be ok, when my girlfriend just broke up with me, because I wasn’t even worth a fight?”

You started out with a lot of anger in your voice, but eventually your words just broke off, because sobs were making their way out your throat instead.

Hearing your pain, Sana finally looked at you, grabbing your neck and pulling your head against her shoulder to hold you. Your arms automatically wrapped around her waist, as your whole body shook in desperation. Your sobs slowly died down as Sana ran her fingers though your hair, kissing the side of your head.

“I wanted to fight.”

She said suddenly, making you look at her.

“But your company threatened to terminate your contract if I didn’t give up on you.”

You looked at her in shock. Your company had found out?

“They knew as well as I did that you would be too stubborn to break up with me, rather losing your career instead.”

Sana continued, drawing the outline of your face with her fingertips, savoring every touch after not seeing you in so long.

“But I couldn’t let that happen, Y/N. You have worked so hard.”

Like she just remembered that you weren’t dating anymore, Sana pulled her hand away, making you miss her touch immediately.

“Then I’ll leave the company. I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”

You said, grabbing Sana’s hand in desperation.

“Y/N, no. Being an idol is your dream, it wouldn’t be fair.”

She said, retrieving from your touch, leaping to her feet. Wordlessly she made her way to the exit, but you called her name, before she could leave.

“Sana, wait. Just tell me if you still love me.”

You needed to know. She stopped her motion, sighting in defeat.

“Of course I do.”

She said without looking at you, before slipping out your sight.

As expected, your performance on the show had been completely catastrophic. You looked jaded and all your dance moves were unclean. Right after you had reached the dorm, your company called, wanting to talk to you immediately. So you let your driver bring you to the headquarters.

“We’ve heard what happened before the performance.”

The CEO greeted you personally to your suprise. He normally only talked with the members on very rare occasions. You should pay your respect but you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize. He was the reason that you were unhappy right now.

“Will you terminate my contract?”

You asked tiredly, not caring anymore what would happen to your career.

“Is that what you want us to do?”

He challenged you.

“I don’t know.”

You answered honestly. It was true, you had worked hard to be where you were right now. But was it all worth it, when you didn’t have Sana?

The both of you had a stare down, when suddenly the door to the conference room opened. Your eyes widened when Sana and some employees of JYP appeared.

“Thank you for making it on such a short notice.”

Your CEO greeted the guests and Sana flashed you a smile. What was happening?

“No problem. I think it’s in all our interest to leave this whole matter behind as quickly as possible.”

A man that you didn’t know in a suit answered.

“Well, we’re here to discuss the conditions of the relationship between Sana and Y/N. From our side, we only place the confidentiality of the relationship as a condition.”

You were completely overwhelmed. You looked at Sana for help, who took your hand in hers, squeezing it for comfort.

“It’s all good now.”

She smiled at you brightly.

“We second that. Let’s just sign the contracts, so we can all enjoy our evening.”

The man in the suit spoke again, whipping out some papers that everyone signed a few moments later.

As quickly as everyone had entered the room, they left again, leaving Sana, you and your CEO behind.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

He said with a nod, leaving the room.

“Is this for real?”

You asked Sana, not being able to process what had happened.

“Yes. Your company was afraid that you would terminate your contract, going public with the story and ruining their reputation.”

She explained calmly.

“I guess your stubbornness was good for once.”

She added while chuckling, taking your hands in hers.

“Will you forgive me and take me back?”

Sana asked you more serious now, nervously shifting her gaze.

“We signed a contract, baby. You’re bound to me know.”

You laughed, pulling your girlfriend closer, finally being able to feel her lips against yours again.

[joealwyndaily]

 Joe Alwyn — Red Magazine (Jan 2020) interview 

You’d think that a back-to-back Hollywood movie career and a megastar girlfriend might have changed Joe Alwyn, but he’s quick to assure Nathalie Whittle that his feet remain firmly on the ground. 

“So you didn’t see the part where the aliens attack?” asks Joe Alwyn, a playful smirk on his face. He’s referring to his latest film, Harriet, which I had a sneak preview of the previous day, although the fire evacuation (false alarm) meant I missed the ending. The biographical drama tells the story of Harriet Tubman (played by Cynthia Erivo), the historic abolitionist who escaped slavery and led hundreds of others to freedom. Alwyn plays her insufferably cruel and capricious slave master Gideon Brodess. He is, of course, joking about the aliens. At least, I hope he is. Today, we’re tucked away in the corner of a dimly lit bar at London’s Covent Garden Hotel. It’s the sort of drizzly afternoon that might dampen the moods of most, but not Alwyn. He appears cheery and at ease, sporting country casuals: a grey mohair jumper, blue jeans, and brown boots along with an unkempt beard; perhaps an attempt to disguise the boyish good looks he’s become known for. He stops to interrupt me only once with a look of alarm: he’s forgotten to offer me something to eat or drink. I can have anything I want, he assures me.

At 28, Alwyn has had the sort of career trajectory that most aspiring actors wistfully dream about for years, even decades. His education included a degree in English literature and drama at the University of Bristol, followed by a BA in acting at London’s Royal Central School of Speech and Drama. But within two weeks of his graduate showcase, Alwyn received a life-changing phone call. He refers to it as the thing “I owe everything to.”

“I’d just signed with an agent and I was kind of pinching myself, you know, how surreal is that?” he says. “She sent me a portion of the script for a film, Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, that Ang Lee was directing. I’d grown up watching his films — Brokeback Mountain and Life of Pi — so I couldn’t believe I was even going to do a tape for someone like that. I got my dad to film me in a scene in my bedroom and some mates to film me during a lunch break. The next thing I know, Ang wants to meet me in New York.” Cue a series of auditions and screen tests that led to Alwyn bagging the title role in his first big-budget Hollywood film. He was just 24. “It was so much so fast that I didn’t really compute what was going on,” he concedes. “Before that I was just a poor student who barely understood how people got auditions, let alone landed jobs.” Did he have any jobs before that? I ask. “I did have this one job in London,” he says wryly. “Do you know that frozen yogurt place, Snog?” I’m struggling to picture Alwyn serving up frozen delights. He’s laughing now. Was it a good gig? “Exceptional!” More laughter follows. “I mean, I was paid some money! Then I worked in a menswear shop. I did what I could to make some extra cash.”

A far cry from a frozen-yogurt counter, doors started opening to bigger and better opportunities as soon as Billy Lynn hit cinemas. The next script Alwyn read was Yorgos Lanthimos’s The Favourite (released in 2019), in which he secured a small but riotous role as young baron Samuel Masham alongside acting greats Olivia Colman and Emma Stone. “Putting on giant wigs and running around in make-up and chasing Emma Stone through the forest — what more could you want?” he laughs. The film earned widespread critical acclaim, receiving seven BAFTAs and a record 10 British Independent Film awards. 

Having further honed his craft in subsequent films Mary Queen of Scots and gay-conversion therapy drama Boy Erased, Alwyn is about to enter into unknown territory. This Christmas, he’ll play Bob Cratchit in his first-ever TV drama, BBC One’s A Christmas Carol; a “darker, twisted, less glossy” version of the Charles Dickens classic. He’s “feeling good about it,” but I’m curious as to how he’s approached this change of scenery. Was he not nervous? “Oh, very. I tried to watch other people. It’s the second time I’ve worked with Guy Pearce [who plays Scrooge] and I asked him a lot of stuff, which probably annoyed him. I watched the way he works and the questions he asked on set when he was approaching a scene.”

Two people who will definitely be watching Alwyn’s TV debut are his mother, a psychotherapist, and his father, a documentary-maker. “They’d better be watching!” he laughs. Born in London’s Tufnell Park, Alwyn recalls being given stacks of videos every birthday and “watching them to death, until the tapes burned up.” One of his favourites was The Mask of Zorro. In fact, he was so obsessed with it that he and his best friend took up fencing lessons at a local community centre in Crouch End, where, by chance, he was spotted by a local casting agent for the hit British romcom Love Actually. She asked him to audition for the role of Sam; he breaks into a wide smile when I ask what he remembers of it. “I didn’t know much about what the film was; I was most excited about the fact I got the day off school! But I remember being in a room with Richard Curtis and Hugh Grant reading scenes, many of which didn’t make it into the film. And I left the audition thinking, ‘I really recognize that guy from somewhere’.”

Alwyn didn’t get the part. Instead, he forgot about acting for a while, with the exception of summer holidays, where his parents would send him and his older brother off to “some drama camp as a way of preoccupying us.” He explains that when he later realized he wanted to act on a serious level, he kept it a secret. Was it because he was worried how his parents would react to a somewhat precarious career choice? “Well, it meant putting myself out there in a performative way, and that wasn’t necessarily something I did or was used to doing. It felt like it should be quite a ‘look at me’ job, and that wasn’t really how I felt growing up. I wasn’t a painfully introverted kid, but I wasn’t a particularly extroverted one, either. So maybe I was self-conscious about the idea of saying to people, ‘Look, I can do this’.”

He credits drama school with giving him “permission” to go for it. “Plus my parents were great about it. They’re both freelance themselves, so while they recognize the perils, they also couldn’t say to me, ‘We can follow what we want, but you can’t’. There wasn’t a boundary, which helped a lot.”

I wonder if it’s been difficult acclimatizing to the level of fame that’s come as result of his roles. “There have definitely been changes that have taken some getting used to, whether it’s sitting down and doing an interview or someone recognizing you,” he says. “There are things that have changed in my life, but I still very much feel like the same person. It probably helps that I’ve been hanging out with the same friends literally every day since I was 12 years old. Maybe it’s when those things change that people change, I don’t know.”

It’s fair to say that the level of interest in Alwyn has, in part, been heightened by the fact that, in his spare time he plays the role of Mr. Taylor Swift. The pair reportedly met in late 2016 and became in item shortly afterwards. I’ve been warned ahead of our meeting that Alwyn “doesn’t talk about that”, and he’s keen to justify his stance in person. “I feel like my private life is private and everyone is entitled to that.” he says. “I’ve read stories recently about people like Ben Stokes and Gareth Thomas, which are a gross invasion of their privacy and of their lives. It’s disgusting. That’s not journalism, that’s just invasive.”

It must be tough, I suggest, being in a relationship that is surrounded by so much scrutiny. “I just don’t read the headlines,” he says. “I really don’t, because I can guarantee 99% of them are made up. So I ignore it.” Recent rumours suggest the pair are engaged, and are owed in part to one of Swift’s latest songs, Lover (’My hearts been borrowed and yours has been blue. All’s well that ends well to end up with you’), as well as a piece of string tied around Swift’s finger in a Vogue cover shoot. According to die-hard fans, this means something. But to Alwyn, it’s clear it means nothing at all. Is he never tempted to respond to the mistruths, to shut them down? “No, because it’s just pointless,” he sighs. “It won’t change anything. I just don’t pay any attention. I have my life and it’s kind of separate to all that stuff.”

I’m curious as to how much time he gets to simply enjoy the success he’s experiencing. “There’s lots of time not working, I wish there was less in a way!” he laughs. “I go to the pub, play football, go to gigs, watch TV (he’s just finished season three of True Detective), pretty normal things. There’s no ‘secret life’. But ultimately, I worry about finding the next job; that’s the truth. In the midst of everything, there’s always that feeling of ‘I’m never going to work again’. It’s a cliche, but you can’t just sit there waiting for the phone to ring. You have to try and take control. You’re at the mercy of the things you seek out — the directors and the connections — so I try to be on top of that as I can and read what I’m sent and be discerning. I try to pick wisely and follow up on people and leads that I’m interested in.”

Is there an end point he wants to get to, where he’ll feel like he’s made it? “Things have certainly shifted in my twenties,” he says. “Success to me now is doing things that make me happy and that make me feel fulfilled, doing what I want to do and being on the right track. Not in terms of being on a results-based track, but just doing something I love.” He pauses and smiles. “That sounds a bit sentimental, doesn’t it?” 

[pod-together]

Pod-Together Reveals Day 2!

Eldritch Detective: The Case of the Startled Salon (The Affair of the Mysterious Letter - Alexis Hall) written by AirgiodSLV, kitkat50311, minnabird, epaulettes, performed by AirgiodSLV, CompassRose, elle_dubs, Ellejabell, epaulettes, Kess, kitkat50311, mahons-ondine, minnapods, sisi_rambles Summary: A new mystery befalls Khelathra-Ven when a device that causes unbearable fear is set off during one of Yasmine Benamara's writers' salons. The Myrmidons are busy with another, more pressing emergency, so Second Augur Lawson drops the case at the doorstep of noted consulting sorceress and occasional detective Shaharazad Haas. Rather than take on the case herself, she leaves it to us, Captain John Wyndham's own Martyrs Walk Irregulars. With cadaverous windfalls, artistic rivalries, forgotten secrets, and underwater intrigues to discover, it's sure to be a most rousing adventure.

your veins ain't too pretty to spill (The Magnus Archives (Podcast)) written by olive2read, performed by carboncopies Summary: Melanie takes advantage of Martin's distraction to do more than gather evidence.

The Coffee File (Star Trek: Voyager) written by alchemicink, performed by bluedreaming Summary: Kathryn attempts to find the words to talk about her favorite subject: coffee

Tales of the Old Mill (Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms) written by Thimblerig, performed by Hagar, Night_Inscriber, podfic_lover Summary: CANDLE: Hey-dol-a-dil Three women in a mill A baker, a maker Of fine candle-sticks And also a… er… BOOK: Dealer in very rare books. PASTRY: It rhymes. BOOK: Marginally. Three chance-met strangers shelter from the rain and pass the time in the traditional way: stories told over the fire.

We Belong (Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)) written by celli, performed by ofjustimagine Summary: “Go back to sleep, Guerin, the adults are having a moment,” Maria said. Michael just laughed. “Well, then, don’t let me get in the way.” He pulled Alex’s arm more firmly around himself and tucked his nose into Maria’s neck. “Make yourselves at home,” he said, muffled.

Wanted: Suspect, Motive, Random Wolves (Teen Wolf (TV)) written by melly_diamond, performed by readbythilia Summary: In the near decade since the Hunter Wars, much has changed. Stiles has fulfilled his dream of becoming an FBI agent, and not just any agent - a recognized, respected profiler in the BAU unit. He has a stellar career, a great girlfriend, respect and prominence. He also still has memories of a werewolf, the nights they nearly died, and the emotions those nights left behind. But that was a long time ago, and Derek Hale is in his rear view mirror - until he's not. When there are a string of murders in the West Virginia mining town of Bartley, authorities suspect it might be the start of a serial killer's career, and call in the BAU, and specifically, Special Agent Stilinski to help them catch a killer. Stiles' concerned father, Sheriff Stilinski, sends his deputy, Lieutenant Derek Hale to assist. Can the two catch a killer before more people die? And can they work together without killing each other?

Bergara and Madej Investigations Inc. (Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF) written by Impala_Chick, performed by Tipsy_Kitty Summary: Back in 1893, Ryan left his family behind to advertise his private investigation business at the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago. As it happens, the World's Expo featured the debut of Crackerjack, Juicy Fruit, the Ferris Wheel, and America's first serial killer. Ryan also met a certain local named Shane Madej. And luckily for us, Ryan's letters to Jake chronicling the whole adventure have recently been unearthed.

[aion-rsa]

The Public Enemy Solidified Gang Rule Under James Cagney for 90 Years

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William Wellman’s The Public Enemy (1931) turns 90 this weekend. When the film first came out, a theater in Times Square showed it nonstop, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The movie marks the true beginning of gangster movies as a genre. Mervyn LeRoy’s Little Caesar may have hit theaters first, but The Public Enemy set the pattern, and James Cagney nailed the patter. Not just the street talk either; he also understood its machine gun delivery. His Tommy Powers is just a hoodlum, never a boss. He is a button man at best, even if he insisted his suits have six buttons.

The Public Enemy character wasn’t even as high up the ladder as Paul Sorvino’s caporegime Paul Cicero in Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas. But Cagney secured the turf Edward G. Robinson’s Rico Bandello took a bullet to claim in Little Caesar, and for the rest of his career Cagney never let it go.

Some would argue genre films began in 1931. Besides mob movies, the year introduced the newspaper picture with Lewis Milestone’s The Front Page and John Cromwell’s Scandal Sheet; Universal Pictures began an unholy run of horror classics via Tod Browning’s Dracula and James Whale’s Frankenstein, with the two turning Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff into household names; and Howard Hawks’ Scarface would land the knockout for the gangster genre, even if it didn’t get released until 1932.

Sadly, the classic “Gangster Film” run only lasted one production season, from 1930 to 1931, and less than 30 films were made during it. Archie Mayo’s The Doorway to Hell started the ball rolling in 1930, when it became a surprise box office hit. It stars Lew Ayres as the top mug, with Cagney as his sidekick. For fans of pre-Code Hollywood, it is highly recommended. It includes a kidnapping scene which results in the death of a kid on the street. Without a speck of blood or any onscreen evidence, it is cinematically shocking in its impact.

Both Little Caesar and The Public Enemy earned their street cred, defying the then-toothless 1930 Motion Picture Production Code, which preceded the Hays Code. After New York censors cut six scenes from The Public Enemy to clear it for release, the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA) set further guidelines for the proper cinematic depiction of crime.

Public Enemy director Wellman was an expert in multiple genres. He spit out biting satires like Nothing Sacred (1937) and Roxie Hart (1942), and captured gritty, dark realities in The Ox-Bow Incident (1943) and Story of G.I. Joe (1945). He won his only Oscar for A Star Is Born (1937). The Public Enemy is the first example of what would be his trademark: stylish cinematography and clever camera-work. The dark suspense he captures is completely different from the look of German expressionism. It captured the overcast shadows of urban reality and would influence the look of later noir films. His main character would inspire generations of actors.

“That’s just like you, Tom Powers. You’re the meanest boy in town.”

Orson Welles lauded James Cagney as “maybe the greatest actor who ever appeared in front of a camera.” Will Rogers said watching Cagney perform was “like a bunch of firecrackers going off all at once.” The New York City born performer explodes in this movie. Even in black and white, Cagney’s red hair flares through the air like sulfur on a match. It turns out to be a slow burn, which will reach its ultimate climax in 1949’s White Heat. The Public Enemy is loaded with top talent, but you can’t take your eyes off Cagney. Not even for a second. You might miss some tiny detail, like the flash of a grin, a wink, or a barely perceptible glare.

Cagney had a simple rule to acting: All you had to do was to look the other person straight in the eyes and say your lines. “But mean them.” In The Public Enemy, the characters communicate without lines. When Tom and Matt Doyle (Edward Woods) sneak a peek into Larry the Limp’s casket, we understand this is the first time the two young thugs lost someone their own age. The scene barely implies how fortunate they are not to be in that box, but their curiosity is as palpable as the loss of their last shred of innocence.

Cagney was originally cast as Matt, and scenes were shot with him in the role. The parts were switched mid-production, but they didn’t reshoot the flashback scenes, making it look like the pair swapped bodies between 1909 and 1915. It’s a shame because Frankie Darro, who plays the young Matt, made a career out of playing baby face Cagney, and later joined the East Side Kids franchise.

Former “Our Gang” actor Frank Coghlan Jr. took on the role of young Tom. He takes the lashes from his cop father’s belt, backtalking him the whole time. Tom Powers is reprehensible. He never says thank you and doesn’t shake hands. He delights in the violence and sadism. Powers doesn’t go into crime because of poverty; he just can’t be contained. Cagney’s mobster mangles, manhandles, maims and murders, and still needs more room in his inseam. 

Dames, Molls, and Grapefruits

Besides defying the ban on romanticizing criminals, both The Public Enemy and Little Caesar broke sexual codes. There are explicit signs that Rico Bandello represses his sexuality in Caesar. Scenes between him and his friend Joe, and his gunman Otera, thinly veil homoerotic overtones. Public Enemy’s Powers, by contrast, subtly encourages the gay tailor who is openly hitting on him.

There are strong indications Putty Nose (Murray Kinnell) is grooming Tommy and Matt for more than just fenced goods. Look at the way Putty sticks his ass in Powers’ face while he is shooting pool. Putty Nose’s execution at the piano is creepily informed by the unspoken sins between the men. Tommy relishes the kill.

However, Tommy doesn’t relish being manhandled when he’s too drunk to notice. While the gang goes to the mattresses in the movie’s gang war, Tommy is raped by Jane (Mia Marvin), his boss Paddy’s girl. Powers protests the best he can, but the camera angles leave no doubt. Tommy wakes up hungover, horrified, and feeling impotent. Matt, however, has no trouble getting “busy” with his girlfriend Mamie, played by Joan Blondell, in one of the scenes trimmed by the censors.  Blondell, Jean Harlow, and Mae Clarke, who plays Tommy’s girlfriend Kitty, represent a glitzy cross-section of white Roaring Twenties glamour. In the opening credits, when Harlow and Blondell smile at the camera, male audience members of the time blushed.

Harlow was Hollywood’s original “Blonde Bombshell,” starring in the movie that coined the term. Her earthy comic performances would make her a major star at MGM, but she was a dud to critics of The Public Enemy. Hers was the only part which was criticized, and the reviewers were brutal, declaring her voice untrained and her presence boring.

Harlow’s greatest asset had to be contained within the Pre-Code era. Straddled with a wordy part as a slumming society dame, she is directed to slow her lines to counter the quick patter of the rest of the cast. Yet Harlow uses that to her benefit in the film’s best moment of sexual innuendo. While telling Tommy about “the men I’ve known,” she pauses, and appears to be calculating them in her head before she says, “And I’ve known dozens of them.” When an evening alone with Tommy is cut short, Gwen’s exasperation over the coitus interruptus is palpable. Members of the Catholic Legion of Decency probably had to go to confession after viewing the film for slicing.

Most people know The Public Enemy for the famous grapefruit scene where Powers pushes a grapefruit into his girlfriend’s face. “I wish you was a wishing well,” he warns, “so that I could tie a bucket to you and sink ya.” Tommy treats women like property. They are status symbols, the same as clothes or cars. Kitty’s passive-aggressive hints at commitment get on Tom’s nerves. He can only express himself through violence. There are rumors Cagney, who would go on to rough up Virginia Mayo in White Heat and brutalize Doris Day in Love Me or Leave Me, didn’t warn Clarke he was going to use her face as a juicer. According to the autobiography Cagney by Cagney, Clarke’s ex-husband Lew Brice loved the scene so much he watched it a few times a day, timing his entrance into the theater to catch it and leave.

Both actors have said it was staged as a practical joke to see how the film crew would react. It wasn’t meant to make the final cut. Wellman told TCM he added it because he always wanted to do that to his wife. The writer reportedly wrote the scene as a kind of wish-fulfilling fantasy.

The screenplay was written by Harvey F. Thew. It was based on Beer and Blood by John Bright and Kubec Glasmon. The unpublished novel fleshed out press accounts of the bootlegging Northside gang leaders, Charles Dion “Deanie” O’Banion, Earl “Hymie” Weiss, and Louis “Two-Gun” Alterie. Cagney based his Tommy Powers character on O’Banion and Altiere. Edward Woods was doing his take on Weiss. The book reflected the headlines in the Chicago papers, which reported Weiss smashed an omelet into his girlfriend’s face.

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The Public Enemy borrowed from the day’s headlines in other ways too. Hymie Weiss was assassinated in October 1926. It was the first reported “machine-gun nest” murder. It is recreated in the killing of Matt Doyle. While shooting the sequence, Cagney ducked real machine gun fire to bring authenticity to the scene. Also taken from real life is the fact that after O’Banion was killed in ‘24, Alterie’s first reaction was to do public battle with the killers. This is similar to Tommy’s final shootout at Schemer Burns’ nightclub headquarters.

Leslie Fenton’s dashing mob captain Nails Nathan (“born Samuel”) flashes the greatest grin in mob movie history. He is based on Samuel “Nails” Morton, a member of O’Banion’s mob. Both “Nails” were driven to their coffins the way it is depicted in The Public Enemy. The real Morton died in a riding accident in 1923, and “Two-Gun” Alterie and some of the other gang members went back to the stables, rented the horse which kicked Nails in the head, and shot the animal. Mario Puzo may have been inspired by this scene when he wrote The Godfather. It is not only tie to the Francis Ford Coppola movie. Oranges have as much vitamin C as grapefruits. Another similarity between the two films is the threat of being kidnapped from the hospital by a rival gang.

The Powers brothers’ relationship vaguely echoes the one between war hero Michael and Sonny Corleone, who believes, as his father does, soldiers were “saps” to risk their lives for strangers. Donald Cook, who played Mike Powers, didn’t pull any punches on the set. In the scene where he knocks Tom into the table before going off to war, he really connects. Wellman told Cook to do it without warning so he could get that look of surprise. Cook broke one of Cagney’s teeth, but Cagney stayed in character and finished the scene.

“It is a wicked business.”

After the stock market crash, get-rich-quick schemes seemed the only way through the Great Depression. The gangster was an acceptable headline hero during Prohibition because the law was unpopular with the press. But after 1929, the gangster became the scapegoat villain. The Public Enemy was the ninth highest grossing film of 1931. But the genre lost its appeal after April of that year, as studios pumped out pale imitations and audiences got tired of the saturation, according to the book Violence and American Cinema, edited by J. David Slocum. Religious and civic groups accused Hollywood of romanticizing crime and glamorizing gangsters.

The Public Enemy opens with a dire warning: Don’t be a gangster. Hoodlums and terrorists of the underworld should not be glamorized. The only MPAA rule the film didn’t break was portraying an alliance between organized crime and politics. The studios passed the films off as cautionary tales which were meant to deflate the gangster’s appeal by ridiculing their false heroism.

Through this hand-wringing, however, Cagney turns false heroics on its head with the comic brilliance of a Mack Sennett short. Stuck without a gun, he robs a gun store armed with nothing but moxie. Powers never rises in the organization. He takes orders and whatever the boss says is a good cut, only asking for more money once from Putty Nose. Unlike Rico, who rose to be boss among bosses, Powers has no power to lose. This is just the first gig he landed since he was a regular “ding ding” driving a streetcar, and it connected with audiences like a sock on the button. They identified with the scrappy killer, and it surprised them.

Even Gwen notices Tommy is “very different, and it isn’t only a difference in manner and outward appearances. It’s a difference in basic character.” Strict Freudians might lay this on his mother (Beryl Mercer), the greatest enabler Cagney will see until White Heat. Ma Powers’ little boy is a budding psychopath knocking off half the North Side, but look at the head on his beer. For audiences at the time, Tom was the smiling, fresh-scrubbed face of evil. He is consistently unsympathetic but likable from the moment he hits the opening credits.

Like Malcom McDowell’s Alex in A Clockwork Orange, he is the fiend’s best friend. Even if it is Tommy’s fault his best pal Matt gets killed. While Cagney spent his career ducking his “you dirty, double-crossing, rat” line from Taxi, the actor wasn’t afraid to play one in Powers. He’s not a rat in the sense he’d snitch on anyone. He’s the last of the pack who sticks it out for his pals when his back is up against the wall.

A Hail of Bullets

Tommy Powers goes by this credo: live fast, die young, and leave a corpse so riddled with bullets, not even his mother can look at his body when he’s done. But then, no one can end a film like Cagney. He’s danced down the White House stairs in Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), been rolled across the concrete steps of a city church in The Roaring Twenties (1939), and was blown to kingdom come in White Heat. He gets two death scenes in The Public Enemy, a rain-soaked climax, and a denouement as scary as The Mummy. Tommy only brings one gun to the gang fight, and by the time he hits the pavement, he’s got more holes in him than the city sewage system.

“I ain’t so tough,” Tommy says on his final roll into the gutter. Cagney’s first professional job was in a musical drag act on the Vaudeville circuit, and he called himself a “song and dance man” long after retirement. For The Public Enemy, conductor David Mendoza led the Vitaphone Orchestra through such period hits as “Toot Toot Tootsie (Goodbye),” “Smiles,” and “I Surrender Dear.” But the song “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles” is the one which lingers in the memory. Martin Scorsese has cited it as a reason his films are so filled with recognizable music.

Street violence comes with a natural soundtrack. Transistor radios accompany takedowns. Boom boxes blast during shakedowns. Car stereos boost the bass during drive-by shootings. In The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight, mobsters feed quarters into a jukebox to cover up sounds of a beating.

In The Godfather, Part II, a street band plays traditional Italian songs while Vito Corleone puts bullets in the neighborhood Black Hand, Don Fanucci. The last thing we hear in the abrupt close to the mob series The Sopranos is a Journey song. The first thing Tommy’s mother does when she hears her boy is coming home from the hospital is drop a needle on a record.

The ending leaves us with two questions: Who killed Tommy, and what’s his brother going to do about it? We figure whoever did the job on Powers was probably a low-level button man from Schemer’s rival outfit. Probably even lower down the ladder than Tommy, and on his way up, until another Tommy comes along. Crime only pays in the movies, Edward G. Robinson often joked.

Mike’s reaction to the bandaged corpse is ambiguous. He’s already shown outward signs of the trauma following the horrors of war. Is he clenching his fists in anguish or anger? Is he broken by the battlefield or marching off in vengeance, a soldier on one last duty? Cook’s exit can go either way.

After 90 years, The Public Enemy is still fresh. It’s aged better than Little Caesar or Scarface. Cagney wouldn’t play a gangster again until 1938, but the image is etched so deeply in the persona, audiences forget the vagaries of villainy Hollywood could spin, and the range of characters Cagney could play. He and the film continue to influence filmmakers, inform culture, and surprise audiences. Tommy Powers was just a mug, but those streets are still his.

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