#what a crooner

[tiramegtoons]

🎵“Tiptoe through the window

By the window, that is where I'll be,

Come tiptoe through the tulips with meee-HE-HEE!

Oh, tiptoe from the garden

By the garden of the willow tree

-HOO-HOO!

And tiptoe through the tulips with meEeEEe!”

[drygrasses]

JOEY IS LEAVING KOOZA….I THOUGHT HE WAS LEAVING IN OCTOBER…….I HAVENT GOTTEN TO SEE HIM PERFORM AS THE TRICKSTER AGAIN YET IM SO SAD

[chocolatesmorespoptart]

The crooner but trans imagine

Imagine him literally just finding out he’s a trans girl and then having a straight up mental breakdown because blawg found out he’s a girl and thinks he’s not enough of a girl because of the weird transphobic stuff all around him and the misogyny that’s been surrounding him nearly half his life

[thespliffbunker]

[mazzy-rockstar]

[necrowyrm]

Love seeing a bunch of posts from different people that were clearly spawned from a single groupchat or call. The power of friendship produces funny posts and/or indecipherable bullshit

[ooc-miqojak]

The most wildly wrong post I've seen on this site since the CEO dug his own proverbial grave. I listen to a little of everything except country (and as a young kid growing up in the U.S. south I listened to it - I loved Billy Ray Cyrus so much that I memorized Achey Breaky Heart... and to this day I still know many of the lyrics, despite not hearing it for almost 30 years) and that ranges from artists like CORPSE and 3TEETH to Eartha Kitt, and Louis Armstrong.

There are few things worse than people like this - music snobs who put people in boxes and talk down about others' music consumption. This is worse than a Meyers Briggs personality test - what a hipster-wannabe take that diminishes other people.

What your answer to "what music do you listen to?" means to me:

"Anything but country" >> solely music released in the last 20-30 years at most

"Anything but rap" >> I'm side-eyeing you. Are you Ben Shapiro?

"A little of everything" >> indie folk, some basic hip hop, and one or two artists from the 70s-80s

"How much time do you have?" >> someone who is really passionate about at least one band/genre, maybe more

"Lately I've been getting really into—" >> about to tell me the most obscure genre in the world

[boytoycowboy]

Re: your tags

Just from vibes, I would not doubt if Orville was your top artist l. Congrats on the gay cowboy agenda : )

anon, this is the best thing someone could ever say to me. thank you 🤠

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part seven)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Steve's visitors in the 1950s force him to accept the truth. The new Captain America drives a wedge in the reader's relationship with Bucky.

themes/warnings : pining, angst, Loki and Mobius featured

word count : 2k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

The 1950s, seven months after Steve's arrival

You're not supposed to be here.

The sound of an old radio drifts lazily through the air, some crooner from a time long forgotten. Loki lingers behind Mobius in the living room, adjusting his coat with a smirk that practically drips with condescension. He's enjoying the storm of emotion on Steve's face.

"What do you mean?" The former Captain America asks.

Mobius and Loki exchange glances before Mobius steps forward, pulling out a small, metallic device that flickers with a strange light.

Mobius gets right into his explanation, gesturing to the TemPad, its holographic images flashing in front of Steve: timelines splitting, branches forming, collapsing under the careful pruning of the TVA.

Steve simply watches as the enormity of it sinks in. His world is crumbling around him yet again.

"What do you think you're doing here, Captain?" Loki drawls, his eyes glinting with an odd mix of amusement and sympathy. "Living the quiet life, are we? Playing house in the 1950s?"

Mobius sighs, ignoring Loki's taunts. "You know why we’re here, Steve. We came to bring you back. You weren’t meant to stay."

Steve’s eyes flicker with a brief flash of something – regret? Guilt? Or was that hope? He turns slightly, casting a glance at the quaint home he stands in, and then back at Mobius. "I made my decision."

"Yeah, you did," Loki interrupts, crossing his arms as he sizes up the man in front of him. "And look where that’s gotten you. Hiding out in a time that doesn’t belong to you."

Steve’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening. He can feel the accusation hanging in the air, too familiar, too true. But he keeps his voice steady, his shoulders stiff. "I came back to claim what I deserve."

Mobius steps closer, his voice softer now. "While I understand that, Steve... Right now, you’re living in the past – a time which was never meant to be your present."

Steve says nothing. The truth is a splinter lodged in his chest, one that’s been festering since he first stepped into this world that wasn’t his. Because it wasn’t really about Peggy anymore. It was about you.

You. The one he left behind, the one he’s thought about every single day since he made that fateful choice. He had convinced himself he was doing the right thing, that he could live in the past and let go of everything. But the truth gnawed at him. He wasn’t living here – he was hiding.

"I had to come back," Steve mutters, almost to himself. "I owed it to Peggy."

Loki lets out a sharp laugh, drawing Steve’s attention. "Oh, please. Owing someone something doesn’t mean trapping yourself in a past that doesn’t need you. Peggy moved on, Steve. She had a life. But you? You abandoned yours."

He abandoned you. He abandoned Bucky.

Mobius sighs again, hands slipping into his pockets as he tries to cut through Loki’s sharp edges. "Steve, we’re not here just because of your choices. You staying here, in this time – it’s creating problems. Serious ones."

Steve frowns, straightening. "You prune timelines. What’s one more divergence?"

Mobius rubs the back of his neck, glancing at Loki before answering. "You're not just some random variant. You're Captain America. The impact of your absence is like pulling a thread from a tightly woven tapestry. Everything starts to unravel. Even the TVA can't stop the consequences of that for long."

Steve’s face hardens. "I'm just living quietly, out of the way. No one knows I'm here."

Loki’s voice cuts in, sharp and cold. "And every day you stay, more branches form. The longer you hide from where you're meant to be, the more damage is done."

Mobius steps forward, his voice steady but urgent. "Steve, we can only prune so much before the entire thing collapses. And trust me, when that happens, we don’t just erase this reality. We erase you."

"I don't believe – "

"We erase her."

Steve’s breath catches, his mind racing. This wasn’t what he thought. Now that harm is directed to you, the situation has drastically changed for him.

"And what if I go back?" Steve’s voice is tight, controlled, but beneath it is a thread of fear, of hope.

Mobius softens, sensing the shift. "If you go back, the timeline stabilizes. The branches collapse. The Steve Rogers your world remembers – the one who fought for the future, not the past – returns. And her…" He pauses, carefully choosing his words. "She's still waiting for you, Steve."

"Is she?" Loki cuts in, his tone mischievous as can be. "Didn't they just – "

Mobius sharply stops him right then and there. "Shut up, Loki."

Steve's heart twists painfully. His choice had been selfish, and he knows that. He'd run from you, from a future he was afraid to face. A life he believed could never offer peace.

"What if it's too late?" His voice breaks, just a little, his heart finally admitting the one thing he’s been too afraid to say.

Mobius smiles gently. "You’ve made tough calls before, Steve. But this isn’t about war, or duty, or sacrifice. This is about you. You deserve to live in your timeline – with the people who need you. She needs you. Go back, Steve. Fix what you can still fix."

Steve stands in silence, torn between the life he thought he wanted and the one that’s still waiting for him. He thought staying here would bring him peace, but all it's brought is doubt, regret, and a gnawing emptiness. He doesn't have his heart here with him.

Steve is about to speak, when Hunter comes bounding in the room, tail wagging wildly as he takes in the intruders. Another thing that Steve will have to leave behind.

But, apparently not.

"The dog can come with you," Mobius offers, shrugging lightly.

"What?" Loki turns to him in amused disbelief.

"Oh c'mon. Hunter is just as much hers, as he is Steve's."

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

For a while, everything had felt right.

Whatever right was in your lives.

Until the TV in your apartment blared the news about John Walker, Captain America 2.0.

Bucky watched it, jaw clenched, as some stranger stood there in Steve's uniform, parading the shield like it had only ever been his.

Bucky saw the flash of pain that crossed your face, which quickly transformed into anger.

He felt it almost immediately. You were pulling back, closing yourself off, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when the ghost of Steve is hovering between the two of you.

Was it still about Steve? Or was it about the future you both thought you had a handle on, until some nobody took everything that Steve represents?

Bucky knows you're hurting. He feels it. He's felt it since the moment Steve left – when you were left behind, and so was he.

And it kills him, seeing you like this, maybe even more than the pain he feels from being left behind.

Steve's shadow is keeping you from fully being here, with him, and it's a fresh kind of hurt.

You shut the TV off and irately toss the remote somewhere in the room.

Bucky clenches his fists and finally speaks, his voice rougher than usual. "We should go see Sam."

"Okay," you respond, your voice calm yet empty.

He's not going to lose you. He can't.

"Doll?"

Your response is a barely audible hum.

Bucky reaches for your hand, his anchor. "We're gonna be okay."

You nod, and offer a weak smile.

It's enough, for now.

When you arrive at Sam's, the tension doesn't ease. Sam takes one look at the two of you, and immediately detects that something is off.

Obviously, there's the matter of Walker. But he sees that there's something different too.

Just what the hell did you and Bucky get yourselves into?

Bucky and Sam exchange a look – one loaded with frustration – before Bucky breaks the silence. "We can't let Walker carry that shield, Sam. Before Steve left, he – "

Sam sighs, shaking his head. "He hinted at wanting to pass the mantle on to you or me – "

Bucky intervenes, "It should be you."

" – but... it's out of our hands, Buck. The government's already made their decision."

The words hit Bucky like a punch. You stay quiet, your mind whirring. You're thinking about Steve again – Bucky can see it.

Something settles in the pit of his stomach. It's nasty and unwelcome, and it makes him want to reach for you and shake Steve out of your thoughts.

He wants to tell you that he's here, and Steve isn't.

He's jealous.

Great, Bucky groans internally, I'm jealous of a damn ghost.

Sam watches the two of you for a moment, sensing the tension. "We'll figure something out. But for now, we have to let this play out. I've got other things on my plate right now."

"What is it?" you finally speak up, concern evident in your tone. "Anything we can do to help?"

"I've been hearing talk about this group. They call themselves the Flag Smashers. I can show you guys the briefing. They're out there right now, and they're not gonna wait for us to get our act together."

"We're coming with you," Bucky says, his voice steady and unflinching.

"Non-negotiable," you confirm, smirking, stepping closer to Bucky as a show of unity.

Sam hesitates, arms crossed as if weighing his options, then his gaze lingers on Bucky's neck. Then slowly – too slowly – he glances at you.

That's when he finally catches on.

The look on his face is almost comical, his eyes widening as he clocks the similar, telltale mark at the crook of your neck.

"Oh, man. Really?"

You feel your cheeks heat instantly as Sam's smirk grows wider.

"What? It's not – " you try to speak, but Sam's having none of it.

"No, no, no. This explains a lot. Like, a lot." He's grinning now, shaking his head like he's finally in on the joke. "I mean, all this weird energy... I thought y'all we're just mad about Walker, but now I get it. Shoulda known. It makes a lot of sense, the two of you."

You glance at Bucky, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere but in that room.

"It's not like that," you mutter defensively, even though it's pointless with Sam.

"Sure, sure," Sam says, failing to suppress a chuckle. "You two just happened to get the same exact bruise in the same exact spot. Must have been a hell of a battle, huh?"

Bucky just scowls, though his ears are tinged pink. "So are you going to brief us or what?"

"Nah, man, you're good. So, what's the plan? You gonna take on the Flag Smashers like it's some couples' retreat?"

You sigh. "We're helping. That's it. This conversation is over."

"Okay, okay," Sam raises both hands in surrender, but he doesn't miss the chance to land another jab. "You're in. But maybe leave the hickeys for after the mission, yeah?"

"Shut up, Wilson," Bucky grumbles. Then he mutters under his breath, as Sam walks away to retrieve the files – "No promises."

You shoot him a look that lets him know you heard him, and he meets your gaze coolly. He wanted you to hear.

You feel a bit lighter – it's the effect he has on you.

Even though chaos has set back in your reality, and even though you're not quite sure where things stand between you and Bucky, there's one thing you know for sure – you're going into this together.

Non-negotiable.

Read part eight here ~

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Some notes in the margins...

Stevie boy's coming back! With Hunter!! I guess you can say he'll actually give Bucky something to be jealous about. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Judging by the results of this poll, yous are heavily pro-Bucky. Can't blame ya. But is he endgame?

What do you think will happen when they're all back together in the next part? 🙃

[i-think-you-should-leave]

I don't know. Some people hate this, James. I don't know what it is, but they fuckin' hate it. There's people that wanna kill me, James.

- The Driving Crooner

[awkward-walking-potato]

Toupée Time with Wade

You had no idea how you’d gotten roped into this, but here you were, standing in the middle of a wig shop with Wade, as he examined a display of toupées with a seriousness that would make anyone think you were choosing an engagement ring.

“So, what do you think?” Wade asked, holding up a particularly ridiculous blond toupée that looked like it belonged on a Ken doll from the 80s.

You couldn’t help but snicker. “Wade, I don’t think this one is you.”

“Not me?” Wade gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Sweetheart, I’ve always thought of myself as a blonde bombshell just waiting to be unleashed on the world.”

You shook your head, trying to hold back your laughter. “It’s not really the color, Wade. It’s more… everything else.”

Wade squinted at the toupée as if it had personally offended him. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s too ‘Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall,’ and not enough ‘Brad Pitt in Fury.’”

“You know, you don’t have to get a toupée,” you offered gently, knowing that beneath all the jokes and bravado, Wade was more self-conscious about his appearance than he let on. “You look great just the way you are.”

“Aw, shucks, you’re gonna make me blush,” Wade replied, but you could see a glimmer of something real in his eyes. “But a guy’s gotta keep his options open, right? Maybe I want to channel my inner Fabio someday.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Then we’ll find the perfect one. But it’s gotta be something that screams ‘Wade Wilson,’ not ‘Bad Movie Villain.’”

He snorted. “You really know how to flatter a guy, don’t you?”

Wade turned back to the display, this time picking up a sleek, black toupée that looked like it had been stolen from a ’50s crooner. He placed it on his head, adjusting it with precision before spinning around to face you.

“Well?” he asked, striking a pose that was a mixture of Elvis and pure Deadpool absurdity. “What do you think, doll? Am I ready to serenade you under the moonlight, or should I just stick to killing bad guys?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep a straight face. “I think you look like you’re about to sell me a used car.”

“Ouch, tough crowd!” Wade chuckled, taking off the toupée and tossing it back onto the display. “Alright, alright, I see where you’re going with this. Let’s try something a little less… sleazy.”

He moved further down the aisle, his eyes scanning the rows of wigs and toupées until he found one that seemed to catch his interest. It was a simple, short style—brown, a little tousled, nothing too flashy. Wade picked it up carefully, almost reverently, and looked at you with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

“Hey, what about this one?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if he wasn’t quite sure how you’d react.

You walked over to him, studying the toupée and imagining it on him. It wasn’t flashy or over-the-top; it was just… normal. It reminded you of what Wade might have looked like before everything—the experiments, the scars, the trauma.

“I think it’s perfect,” you said sincerely, meeting his eyes. “You’d look really good with it, Wade.”

Wade blinked, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes before he quickly covered it up with a smirk. “Well, let’s see if the ol’ moneymaker agrees with you.”

He slipped the toupée on, adjusting it in front of the mirror. For a moment, he just stared at himself, tilting his head this way and that, as if he wasn’t quite sure who was looking back at him.

“You know,” Wade said after a long pause, his voice unusually thoughtful, “I kinda like it. Makes me look almost… normal. Whatever that means.”

You smiled, stepping closer to him. “You don’t need to be ‘normal,’ Wade. You’re amazing just the way you are. But if this makes you happy, then I’m all for it.”

Wade turned to look at you, the mask of bravado slipping just enough for you to see the gratitude in his eyes. “You know, you’re not half bad at this emotional support stuff. Almost makes me want to buy you something shiny.”

You laughed, lightly punching his arm. “Just having you around is enough for me, Wade. But if you’re offering, I’ve always wanted one of those giant lollipops they sell at the candy store.”

Wade grinned, the playful spark returning to his eyes. “Done. But only if you agree to help me pick out a name for this bad boy,” he said, gesturing to the toupée.

“A name?”

“Absolutely. Every great hairpiece needs a name. I’m thinking something classic, like… Tony. Or maybe Leonard.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. “How about something a little more… unique? Like… Sir Fluffington the First.”

Wade’s eyes lit up. “You, my dear, are a genius. Sir Fluffington it is!”

As you both walked toward the counter to pay, Wade wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “You know, if I’m being honest, this was actually kinda fun. Who knew shopping for toupées could be so therapeutic?”

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his presence, and smiled. “Anytime, Wade. Anytime.”

[mothtowers]

the true essence of The Driving Crooner and part of why its so iconic is that it perfectly encapsulates how people on the internet live. being The Driving Crooner is just a stand-in for any online hobby that isnt directly profitable.

I am reminded of how PurpleEyesWTF (of "im at the soup store" fame) once mentioned his day job was updating hospital software and i always wondered what it must be like working with someone like that.

Just imagine youre just a regular person going about their life, you know a little about anime, but you dont know what the hell an abridged series is. And one day a quiet and reserved but otherwise normal-seeming co-worker invited you to their house. Eventually you ask about the ramshackle recording studio they have set up in their apartment, and they excitedly show you a video of what appears to be an anime but they seem to have recorded their own audio and replaced it with a bunch of weird dialogue you guess is funny to a certain group of people. It all seems really high effort and you kinda have to ask why they would do all this. they show you their youtube channel where theyre pulling like 8k views per video and have done like 20 episodes for at least 3 different anime series, all the while lamenting how they dont make any money. intermittently they start venting about their difficulties navigating youtube copyright law and seem strongly opinionated about it. soon they start talking to you about all the petty drama in the abridging community and namedropping all sorts of people they consider their enemies. None of this means anything to you and you feel like youve entered some strange extremely specific world and are a little unsettled by how deep this iceberg could go.

Thats The Driving Crooner, thats what its about

[zepskies]

Imagine soldier boy with dating a supe with siren powers 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Oooh this is different! Thanks for the ask, hun. ❤️ In honor of The Little Mermaid live-action dropping on Disney+ last week...

(Here's one last Soldier Boy imagine before Part 1 of Smoke Eater!)

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F. Supe!Reader Word Count: 800

Imagine: Soldier Boy dating a supe with "siren" abilities. 🧜‍♀️

When you joined Payback, Ben was ambivalent about you.

You were hot as fuck, sure, but he didn't think the team needed another woman.

Crimson Countess was bitch enough to deal with.

But you were a bit mysterious. You kept to yourself, didn't go out of your way to socialize or train with the others. You were smart.

Though when he heard about your powers, he was skeptical at best. Stan Edgar assured him you were what the team needed right now, in terms of margins and demographics and what-fucking-ever...

Until he hears you singing in the break room, softly to yourself while you make some coffee. Gentle, beautiful dulcet tones that manage to draw his steps into the kitchen.

You eventually notice him with a smile. "Good morning."

He gives you a charming grin, blatantly eying you from head to toe.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Pour me a cup, would ya?" he asks, in a tone that demands.

You do so, and he admires the sweet sound of your voice as you continue to hum to yourself.

"You're a little crooner, aren't you?" he asks, taking the cup of coffee from you. But when your hand brushes his, he feels it. Your power. It threatens to overtake him and draw him into you, where he craves your warmth as well as your body.

He wants you to devour him, body and soul...

Your eyes glow violet along with your knowing smile.

Then you blink. The violet haze is gone, along with your hold on his mind. You go back to sipping your coffee as if nothing had just happened.

Ben visibly falters, having to catch his breath as his mind reels from the loss of connection.

Ben frowns in irritation. What the fuck just fucking happened?

He looks at you harder than before. Secretly, he's annoyed and intrigued at the same time.

He demands to know your name. You tell him with a smile that edges at flirtation. When you ask for his name, despite knowing full well who he is, he smirks.

"Call me Ben."

And from there, he's fucking hooked.

He pursues you relentlessly. You allow it with coyness and flirtation -- push and pull. Hot and cold. You toy with him, which both infuriates him and draws him in even more.

Until you finally allow him to "catch" you. He takes you out for dinner, one of the finest, most expensive restaurants in New York. Bottles of wine, premier service, excellent food and music. You realize then that he's really trying to impress you, and inside you're actually flattered that he's doing all this, when he can have his pick of anyone. (And has had his pick. Several of them.)

You've heard so many stories about him, most of them unpleasant. You see the disgusted looks Crimson Countess gives him when he's not looking.

And you know you haven't yet seen the darker sides of Ben. (You know he's trying his damndest to charm you, draw you in. But your abilities allow you to discern when men are trying to manipulate you. You are the master manipulator, spinning them along with your touch and your voice).

But you're also intrigued by this man. He's more than his bravado would suggest. When the cameras and the press and the rest of the team aren't around, he's not quite so insufferable. You find his arrogance, partnered with his charm, amusing. But it's also become somewhat endearing.

The truth is, he's actually...sort of grown on you. And that's probably the real reason you're here on a date with him.

You lean over and rest your hand over his, frowning when he seems a bit wary of your touch.

The first time you met him, you'd just been teasing him. You'd heard how he'd been talking shit about you to Stan, doubting if you were really powerful enough to be on the team. But now, he's stiff under your hand, prepared to fortify his mind against you.

"I won't compel you again, Ben. I promise," you tell him. Your hand travels up his arm, soothing along his neck, your palm finally resting against his cheek. His green eyes stare into yours.

Soon enough, his wariness bleeds away.

He hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and draws you closer, making you yelp in surprise.

He smirks, finally getting the jump on you for a change as he wraps an arm around your waist and brings you close.

You blink in surprise, looking up at his handsome face with wide eyes. A blush dusts your cheeks, warming your face. His smirk softens around the edges, just a little, and he takes his chance to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

And maybe, you're the one who's caught.

AN: Aww, this one was really fun! Thanks for the request. 😘

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[thespliffbunker]

[mazzy-rockstar]

[hetalia-club]

Since I spent a couple months off and on looking for the strip that proves America is an Actor in the Hetaverse, let's talk about our head canons for other countries and how they may be famous. I have 2 others that I am like 100% positive on and that's England and Romano

Romano: Is an Opera singer. May go under a pseudonym but knowing him probably not. I do also think before his Opera career which is pretty recent when he lived with America for the few decades he was a crooner. I think that one he would have 100% done under a different name.

England: Is a reoccurring actor on the West End (The British Broadway). He does not go like for entire running's of a show but he does fill in and knows all the songs and lines for whatever part they want him to play that night. Not so much an understudy just they will bring him on for like a special night and it will get sold out minutes after it's announced England will be playing the lead that night. This is something he has being doing for a long awhile centuries maybe. I think he just really likes the theater.

I don't think every country likes the lime light. Like France for instance I think he just lives his life as like a normal guy for the most part. Maybe he will do like some tours every now and again but under a pseudonym.

Where Russia lives in complete isolation and is never seen like a cryptid. There may be stories like "One time fifty years ago my grandpa swears up and down he saw Russia fist fighting a grizzly bear in the woods behind our house But when he went to get his camera he was gone."

I think Italy is also just is a guy for the most part, but everyone knows who he is if that makes sense. The people of Italy know he is Italy and will greet him as such. But he just goes to the market and lives his life like a normal person. He will sit on the street corner painting and give away paintings to people. Like you'll see him and people will be like "Yeah that's Italy he's chill, I swear he used to work at the gelato shop under my apartment building, but that guy said his name was Feliciano or something like that I don't know, the resemblance was uncanny though."

I also think America loves the attention and dips his toes into everything. Not just acting. He directed that movie that we know of. We know he does commercials. I think he would also host award shows, stand up comedy, maybe going on the Tonight Show, SNL, featuring on some tracks with popular artists for a few bars (Not that I think he's a good singer but they can auto tune him J-Lo can't sing either but look at her go). Maybe he had a short lived country music career before he got bored. He has done Broadway a few times. You know just whatever he feels like. Maybe he plays on like the All-Star NBA team and Lebron tries to get a dunk on him. Basically if he's bored he'll just make a call and get in on something. Like what are they going to do tell him "No Mr. America you can't play basketball with us." No lol they will let him do whatever he wants and he'll sell out the crowd. Ever heard the USA chant? They made that for him.

Feel free to add to this all you want.