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harryskalechips · 5 years ago

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This sucks Part 2

A/N Here is the new part two for this sucks. Thank you for all the feedback and for calling me out for the shitty ending of the last version. I rewrote this part with a mixture of the old one. I’m not sorry about the last version but I did want to rewrite this and give this one-shot some justice. I thought this would be more appropriate for our plot. Lastly, I want to say thank you for your support. Without you, I would not have a place to share my work. Anyways, if you read the last version and is content with that, You don’t need to read this but for my lovely angsty cravers. I serve you a full plate of depression. Enjoy xxx

Word count 3456

Part 1

“Get the fuck out, Mitch.” Harry slurs to his guitarist as he tries his best not to fall back onto his hotel bed. He kept tripping and stumbling onto the mattress and that’s exactly why he doesn’t want it to happen again.

“Dude, you have a show tomorrow. You’ve been getting drunk every night and I don’t think it’s good for your career.” Mitch leans on the side of the wall with his arms crossed. His sarcastic reply just showed how tired he was about Harry acting out. He missed the last tour when everything was good... despite his breakup with Camille in the near end. At least, Harry wasn’t trying to drown himself in alcohol that time.

“You don’t know what’s best for me!” Harry grips onto the desk in front of him and reaches over his bag to grab the beaten journal. “Now leave me alone, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ve never seen you this fucked up before, Harry. You know we’re all here for you.” Mitch shares his disappointment as he watches Harry throw himself on the couch and dive into his journal. When Love on Tour first started, he was very quiet but as the shows progressed, Harry’s frustration began to seep through. Everyone could tell he was angry at himself. Obviously, heartbroken.

As Mitch stood in the corner of Harry’s room observing him, Harry tried his best to write something on the paper. He needed it to seem like he was focused. After a couple minutes, his friend leaves the room making Harry rub his face in relief as he throws his journal on the floor.

Fuck this. fuck this. He repeats in his head as he raises his hips in the air, trying to grab his phone from his back pocket. His eyes are lazily open as he taps on the screen searching for the green phone app. He looks for his favourites and out of fake shock, he stares at the only name on it. Y/N.

Giving a call once a day showed Y/N, he wants her back but calling her multiple times a day? Y/N had to know he was desperate.

The number you have reached is not in service or is temporarily disconnected.

The automated voice he hears every time repeats. It almost felt like she was laughing at him for being so pathetic. Out of anger, he tosses his phone on the floor and lays on his stomach. It felt weird being so angry and sad at the same time about a relationship that only lasted for four months but Harry knew it was the best relationship he has ever had. So maybe everyone can fuck off a bit because he just lost his girlfriend without actually being able to fight for her.

“Harry, you haven’t been answering your sister or your mum. They’ve been calling me to check up on you. Would you like me to schedule a time for you to call them.” Harry’s secretary Andy, asks him as they approach his private jet. They’re on their way back to America since he had just finished the European leg.

“No, but next time they call, tell them I said to fuck off.” Andy nervously swallows the lump in her throat and nods.

It’s been months! Months after Harry and Y/N’s break up but Harry can’t help but still feel anger at his family for being so close-minded. For hurting her.

“Harry, Camile has also been calling. She’s wondering what show would you like to see her at so we can send her y’know… the tickets.” Harry just scoffs at hearing his ex’s name. Of course, he started talking to her again early this year but after realizing he was in the wrong, he wanted nothing to do with her.

“Ignore her. I can’t talk to her.”

“Alright.” Andy types on her phone writing down something on her notes. Harry just takes a big sigh and looks out the window. Tour could’ve been fun this year. He could’ve brought Y/N to France, to Italy, to Brazil! But I mean, he couldn’t even be with her in London after she left his stupid ass. Gosh, he hates it here.

“When I wrote this song, I was in a dark place after a relationship of mine ended.” Harry darkly looks around the arena as he fixes the wire of his mic behind him. “I’m a very private guy but let me share one more thing with you all. I fucked up. This song is not even what I’m talking about but it does make me a bit sadder because I did become that guy I didn’t want to be.” His eyes couldn’t help but tear up as he watches his fans look at him in sadness. Fuck, he’s been drinking all the time and all he feels is guilt because these past shows, he was pretending to be happy. Yet he knew he wasn’t even close to that feeling and so did everyone around him.

As the familiar keys began to play, Harry couldn’t help but not look at any of his fans. He had to close his eyes and feel his pain.

I’m falling again, I’m falling again. I’m falling.

The number you have reached is not in service or is temporarily disconnected.

Harry rolls his eyes and tosses his phone on the couch. Tonight is his last show in North America. After this, he’s going to be heading south although, it already feels like he’s been heading in that direction for a long time.

“Come in,” Harry yells out coldly as he looks at himself dressed and ready to go to perform tonight.

“It’s just me, Jeff.” His manger lets himself in as he looks at the boy. “The Forum. Remember performing here the first time you released the album.” Harry just nods as he plays with the loose thread of his journal.

“She’s here tonight.” Harry chokes on his breath as his heart beats faster.

“Y/N?” He looks up immediately as he watches Jeff very carefully. “She’s here tonight?” He asks again for confirmation. Maybe, he heard him wrong?

“While we were in London and you were ignoring your family, I decided to give her a call.” Harry just scoffs as he glances at the TV of his fans singing to one of his old songs.

“You called her? She probably thinks I’m pathetic.”

“You are pathetic! Do you think I don’t know you call her all the time?”

“Her phone number isn’t even in service.”

“Exactly. Pathetic.”

“Where is she sitting tonight?” Harry decides to change the subject as he glances at his phone on the couch.

“Premium... more on the left side. Look, dude, I gave her an extra ticket to bring a friend but as I was checking in with Mark on visuals, I noticed her with a guy.”

“She brought a guy?” Harry couldn’t help but fist his hands. I mean he’s already had about 60 shows and it’s been 5 months but why did it surprise him, she’s here with another man? Funny to think she claimed she was falling in love with him. Maybe that guy was just a friend but he knew otherwise.

“I’m sorry H. I thought seeing her tonight would fix your relationship but it doesn’t seem like it.”

“I don’t care.” Harry loses his tie. “Maybe, it was a good idea I started talking to Camile again.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh but I do.” ~

The show was on full swing now as Harry’s fans were screaming and cheering for him. His hands leave his mouth as he blows kisses to everyone in the room. As he searched the crowd throughout every song, he noticed how some faces were familiar to him. They must’ve been here last night too. After watermelon sugar, Harry turns his back from the crowd to take a drink as Mitch plays his solo for the tour.

He didn’t want his fans to see his frustration but he was losing his mind.

“Where are you going?” Sarah loudly whispers as she watches Harry walk off the stage.

“I’ll be back” He cuts her off and takes his water bottle with him as he quickly walks off the stage, waving to his fans.

“Harry, what’s up?” Jeff exclaims as he rushes to his side. “Do you need anything?”

“Where is she? I can’t find her.”

“Do you expect yourself to catch eyes with her tonight? You know full well that’s not even possible.” Harry rolls his eyes as he watches some of the workers moving around.

“Get someone to lead her backstage after the show.” He instructs Jeff coldly. He needed to make sure that Jeff followed through with this.

“Mr. Styles, we’re going to need you back on stage.” An unknown girl with a headset interrupts their conversation. Harry just nods as he turns away from Jeff.

“I need to talk to her... please.”

***

“You alright babe?” Robbie wraps his arm around Y/N as she smiles back without a response. It was weird being in the presence of another man during Harry’s concert. She always expected to be by herself watching him. To be with him before and after the show but tonight... she’s just another fan.

Y/N met Robbie on her flight back to LA after a dreadful trip to London. It was depressing. Walking in the streets alone. Taking awkward selfies at the big ben. What she hated the most was the sad frown she kept on her face or how her heart grew with anxiety when she asked a stranger to take a picture of her at the tower bridge.

“Sorry everyone, I had to take a wee.” Harry runs back on stage as he gives off a smile to everyone. For some reason, Y/N had a feeling he was lying. Usually, he would run back on stage but it seems like he wasn’t even in a hurry. The wrinkles on his forehead as he stared at the floor made her think there may be more on his mind than what he’s showing.

“So usually in this part of the setlist, I would be singing Cherry but tonight, I wanted it to be a bit more special. I’ll be singing Don’t Let Me Go. A song I wrote back late 2012’s. Luckily, Mitch and Charlotte already know how to play it.” (A/N This makes me sad ugh)

Don't let me

Don't let me go

Cause I'm tired of feeling alone

“Can’t believe you know this guy, babe! He’s amazing!” Robbie crosses his arms as he takes a sip of his beer. Y/N holds onto the rail, trying to not breakdown. “Hey, Are you crying?” Her boyfriend reaches out to her as she watches Harry looking at them. She doesn’t think he can see them but the way he kept glancing at the area she was in, he knows she’s here.

“Yeah, it’s just a really sad song.”

“Ms. L/N?” A woman with a headset approaches the couple.

“Yes.”

“Hi, I’m Amanda, Mr. Styles would like you backstage after the show.” Robbie flashes a big smile as he looks around them hoping no one is noticing their interactions with the lady.

“We’ll be there.” Robbie cuts in as he wraps his arm around his girlfriend. Y/N tenses up as she awkwardly smiles back at him.

“Actually, his instructions were very clear and he only wants Ms. L/N.” Her eyes widened as Robbie pulls away from her.

“Thank you.” She smiles and glances back at Harry.

“I’ll have someone get you during our last song.” and with that, Amanda walks away while Robbie coldly glares at Harry who’s taking a sip of water as the song comes to an end.

“Is there something going on between you guys?”

“No.”

“Why does he only want to see you? You never even told me how you two met!”

“Okay, Robbie. Calm down. I’ll explain later. He and I are just friends.”

Y/N follows the boy down the hallway as she hears Harry’s fans chant out his name. It’s been months since she had seen him and if she was being honest, Y/N never thought she would again. But Jeff sounded so sad and concerned about him that she wanted to see him. Despite breaking all her ties with him, She still thinks about him every day.

Y/N looks at the TV screen and notices the lights were now on and Harry and the rest of his band were off the stage. Robbie is probably sulking as he walks to his car right now. She thinks to herself.

The door harshly opens as Harry comes in all sweaty. “Hey.” Y/N waves at him as she quietly sits on his couch. He takes his jacket off and hugs her without another word. “You’re so sweaty.” She couldn’t help but laugh as she feels his familiar embrace. Maybe, laughing would ease off the awkward tension.

“I missed you Y/N.”

“I missed you too H.”

“I never thought I would see you again.” He sits on the couch beside her and runs his hand through his hair.

“I’ve always been excited to see one of your shows live.” She couldn’t help but brush her hair out of her face. Here is the man she was falling in love with. The man she chose to forget.

“How did Jeff get in contact with you? I tried calling your number a few times and it wasn’t in service.” Harry bit his lip at his question. He knew full well he called her number at least three times a day.

“I keep in touch with Glenne.” She watches Harry scoff. “What?”

“You can keep in touch with her but you can barely talk to me?”

“Our trip to London was a sign that we shouldn’t be together, Harry.” Y/N couldn’t help but get flashbacks from her traumatic trip. She was so excited to meet his family, only to find out they already hated her before she stepped foot inside their house.

“That trip was not how it was supposed to go. I had plans to make you so happy.”

“That’s funny since the only plan that came through was me finding out you started talking to Camile again.”

“Did you mean what you said to my mum?” He ignores her last comment as he watches her carefully. She shrugs her shoulders in confusion then it suddenly hits her… he’s talking about London. “I heard it all.”

“Oh.” She looks away from Harry and stares at the pattern of the rug in his change room. “Yeah, I meant every single word.” Y/N plays with her cuticles trying to keep herself from remembering that sad trip.

“I’m sorry about what happened. Camille was a big part of my life and I wanted to start seeing her again. Not like romantically but the way I still talk with Kendall.”

“It’s okay. I think it needed to happen.” Harry’s eyes flash in confusion. Last time, he spoke to her, they were so sure that this relationship would work out. Now, she’s managed to change her whole idea about them and that hurt a lot. Especially since she’s all he thinks about.

“Why would you say that?” He stands up in anger.

“Harry. Your mom and sister hated me! You clearly have or had feelings for Camille and you were going on tour We wouldn’t have worked out!”

“Are you blaming me?” He crosses his arms. He was offended.

“No.” Y/N rubs her face in frustration. “It was nice what we had, Harry. Believe me but now we can’t be together.”

“What? Why? Because you have that stupid prick as your boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Y/N stands up as well, preparing herself to leave. He grabs his journal from his vanity and opens it. He flips the pages as Y/N watches him in confusion.

He rips random pages out and crumples them. He takes her hands and forces her to take them. “I’ve been in love with you! Goddammit, just take me back!”

“Harry…”

“Look, I have more! I’ve been writing about you every day. I’ve been writing songs about you.” He looks at his journal one more time before closing it and throwing it on the floor. “I wrote this whole damn book about you!”

Y/N begins to cry as she watches the strong man she has always known break down in front of her. “I can’t… Harry. Please.” He goes on his knees and takes her hands full of crumpled paper.

“You never even gave us a chance baby. Fuck, I should’ve stopped you the moment you walked out that door. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Y/N couldn’t bare herself to look at him as she feels his hands on her.

“You should have gone with me to the store that day. I should’ve shown you around my town! Now I can barely talk to my family because they remind me of who I lost. What I lost!”

“Harry. I don’t want this anymore. I’ve always been scared of our relationship. I can’t handle this.” It’s true. She watched romantic movies her whole life and the more she admired those types of relationships, the more she didn’t want one herself. Y/N knows her life isn’t a movie but if Rachel McAdams cried her heart out during The Notebook while in character, she can’t imagine what else Harry can throw at her so she can experience that type of heartbreak. She needed a clean break from him. Robbie was her safe choice.

“I love you, please.” He shakes his head in frustration. “I dream about you. I think of you. I need you!”

“I can’t!” She shakes her head as she tries to help him up. She takes the crumpled paper and runs to his vanity as he stands behind her, confused. She eagerly tries to flatten them out. She bends down to grab his journal and tries to place each page back in the book.

“What are you doing?” He approaches her. “Those are for you!”

“No Harry! These are for you. I need you to keep these. I need you to remember us.”

“I need you to remember us.” He whispers and grabs her wrist to stop working. “You forgot about me.”

“I had to. I needed to.” She looks at the mirror and watches his eyes in the mirror.

“I thought we were stronger than this.”

“It’s been five months. You should move on too, H.” She pulls away from Harry and continues to fix his journal. She remembers the nights he would write in the leather book. How calm he looked. How happy he was.

“Just admit it then! You took the first problem that occurred and used that to leave me!”

“Fine! I did! I admit it!”

“You’re just as bad as me then!”

“You were in love with Camille!!”

“Then why do I feel like dying every day ever since you left me!”

The silence makes Y/N’s heart beat faster as Harry finally lets out his last thoughts. He takes hold of her hips and pulls her in close to him. He glances once at her lips then stare at her eyes.

Y/N didn’t know what to do. Her mind was screaming at her to pull away from him and leave but her heart wanted something more. Ironic enough, that familiar thump in her heart has always been present. The guilt she felt when she first started dating Robbie. The ache she felt when she watched Harry’s interviews late at night. Now, it was asking for something different. Something more. She holds onto the back of his neck as she kisses him. Harry pushes her back onto his vanity, helping her sit on it.

Lips so familiar. Taste so heavenly. A scent so intoxicating. He needed more. She missed him.

“I’m sorry fuck I’m sorry.” Y/N pulls away and pushes his chest a bit lightly.

“Tell me you don’t love me anymore. I’ll let you go.” He lets out. He was hoping that it wasn’t true. This would be the only way to trap her into admitting that she wants to be with him again. He’s selfish. It’s true.

“You know that wouldn’t be true.” Harry’s heart skips a beat.

“So, stay with me. I need you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“I love you but I can’t.” She moves off a bit and hops off his vanity. She takes a deep breath and looks at him. “I think you’ll find someone for you.”

“Do you love Robbie?” He ignores her last statement. Truth be told, Y/N doesn’t. She began dating him two months ago and all she thinks about is Harry.

“Yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m lying! Harry, please don’t let me go through this again.”

“I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you walk away from me.” She gives him a soft smile as she takes her phone from her pocket.

“I have to go. Robbie just texted me. He’s angry.”

“Will I ever see you again.”

“Probably not.”

“So what? You’re going to keep avoiding me from now on?”

“I think I might have to. Take care H. Take care of yourself, please.”And with that, Harry watches Y/N walk out of his life for the final time.

He takes his journal and walks to the couch. He lazily slouches as he takes a random paper out. It’s about her, of course, it is. He places the sheet on the top of his heart and closes his eyes. “This sucks.”

Maybe, this was the closure Harry needed but for some reason, his heart was hurting more.

part trois

#Harry styles #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanifction #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst #one direction #one direction one shots #blurbs

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saltiestcoconut · 5 years ago

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Light Dragon Analysis

I swear I’m not dead just very depressed

Oh Lord give me the strength to get up anyways next up is Light Dragon saved this bad boy for last something something since I started with the sixth Ignis it’s only appropriate that I end this series with the first blah blah parallels yada yada reverse order that lowkey references @loganelfreeces meta post here whatever whatever

PS: Light Dragon has a serpentine body according to the laws of physics that means I have to like him and I do his design is pretty cool

Light Dragon is a rank 4 XYZ monster with the ability to save your cards from destruction or destroy monsters up to the number of @ingnister monsters you control for the low low cost of one XYZ material. Additionally he can revive a link monster from the GY when another cyberse monster you control inflicts battle damage. BTW you can either revive a link monster or destroy a monster card once per turn.

Interesting how even if Light Dragon runs out of materials to use, it can still activate it’s second once per turn ability so it can still stay relevant in battle

Dragons are quite literally a universal mythical beast. Pretty much every culture has a draconic creature of some kind and while Light Dragon isn’t a traditional dragon, he’s still a dragon he’s got wings and everything. So pretty much every culture associates dragons with power and Lightning is the most powerful ignis (well maybe except for Ai he does have instincts and wisdom to back him up), he never lost a duel, drawing a tie with Revolver and we all know that Revolver is an incredibly powerful duelist (it was a tie I refuse to acknowledge that Lightning won that duel because converting Jin’s consciousness into one (1) lp is BULLSHIT). Anyways, Light Dragon appears to resemble Japanese dragons only with two pairs of wings instead of an extra two pairs of legs on top of Light Dragon’s arms. Interestingly enough, Japanese dragons follow the more well known (thanks Europeans) portrayals of dragons- powerful beings that heroic figures go to fight with and defeat. We know that Ai associates himself with knights and knights are typically the ones to slay dragons (never mind the fact that Revolver stopped Lightning and it was Yusaku who did most of the fighting during the Ignis war act), this could be symbolic of the fact that the whole Ignis war arc was pretty much Ai vs Lightning, with the other Ignises asked to side with one or the other (except for poor Windy and Earth who never got the choice). It is interesting to note, however, that the Knights of Hanoi was also the ones to have largely engaged in duels with Lighting and again the leader of the Knights was able to successfully stop him, but at the price of their lives. Recall that I proposed a theory that the leaders of the Ignis were pretty much associated with dragons. We have Aqua, who became the Water Leviathan, the very much draconic creature and thanks to @nightfurylover31’s post Ai had canonically called her a dragon in her summoning chant. Aqua was pretty much the only Ignis Lightning considered a threat, locking her up (I thought it was ironic how he locked her up in a cage and one of ritual’s best known support cards is a spell card called Ritual Cage). I’m not sure if Lightning ever considered Ai to be a threat, but instead of trying to get rid of him outright, he did try to get Ai to join him, only locking him up when Playmaker showed up; take that as you will. Light Dragon on the other hand, is very much a dragon, having two pairs of wings and arms along with what appears to be horns, very traditional dragon qualities. Since Lightning is the leader of Ignis, it would make sense for him to be the most draconic of the group.

I guess with that I’m officially done with this mini series, it was fun while it lasted thanks for reading y’all and a thank you from the bottom of my heart and core of my soul if you stuck with me through the whole thing you’re a real one.

#yay im done #it took longer to finish this one than it did typing all my other metas combined #rip my one (1) brain cell #light dragon @ignister #ais deck #ais deck analysis #yugioh vrains #apparently i need a meta tag now #ygo vrains

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angelofsmalldeathandthecodeine · 6 years ago

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Now that's what I call a disappearing act : P.P (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N is the beloved, and only niece of Pepper Potts. However, when it is discovered that she has presumably inherited abilities from her unknown father, things get a little trickier in her day to day life.

{if you f you haven't read Part 1 then you can click here to read it}

Warnings: a whole lot of dialogue!, indicates a slightly friskier side

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: I’m so happy with how much support part 1 got, really wasn't expecting it so thank you - Part 2 took me a long time to write because I had an idea, wasn’t too happy because I wanted to develop on the readers relationship with Peter rather than her powers this time and instead rewrote it - so anyways I hope everyone enjoys reading! :)

A sleepy groan was released from your lips upon being woken up to the harsh knock of the front door. Wiping your eyes and stretching you turned to see your alarm clock read 7:00 AM.

“what the hell” you let out to yourself, still half asleep. You had almost forgot about the events of yesterday. Almost.

You ignored the knocking at the door presuming Tony or Pepper would get it, and so instead decided to check your phone. Just as you thought, it was still blowing up with unwanted texts attempting to find out the hot gossip, albeit some were genuinely interested how you were. Thank god it was the weekend, is all you could think to yourself.

Just as you began to drift off again the knocking only intensified, both in sound and pace causing you to groan a little louder this time in hopes someone would pick up on your irritation.

“I guess ILL GET THE DOOR THEN” your voice echoed throughout the apartment with a sarcastic ring to it.

“Good morning Miss Y/L/N” F.R.I.D.A.Y. routinely welcomed you.

“Mornin’ Friday, where is everyone?” curiously you asked, rubbing your eyes and scratching your head on your way to the door.

“Mr Stark and Miss Potts are at a press conference this morning” you yawned at the thought.

“Jesus, a little early isn’t it-“you were interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. continuing her message “in Europe”.

‘Thanks a bunch for telling me guys’ you muttered under your breath whilst approaching the uninviting knocking of the door. Being such a stress ball mixed with sleepiness you forgot to check the system to see who was at the door and instead just opened it.

“Peter!” shocked to see his face, you were instantly woken up as if you had just been splashed in the face by a hot cup of coffee.

What the hell is Peter Parker doing outside of your apartment?

“How do you know where I live?” there were some subtle attempts to fix your hair upon realisation of being stood inches away from the boy you had the biggest crush on.

“I-um I didn’t know, I didn’t know you lived here actually” Peter said with a puzzled look on his face, then instantly looking at the floor attempting to avoid any kind of eye contact. The comment for some reason got to you, of course Peter isn’t here for you.

Groaning internally, you unintentionally rolled your eyes at your own assumptions.

“right…” you began “and so… what are you doing here then” you said a little harsher than perhaps anticipated. Why were you annoyed? You had no right to be, yet it was a feeling you were struggling to shrug off.

“I’m umm… I’m doing the Stark internship… yeah, I’m the new Stark Intern, it’s my first day” you raised your eyebrow suspiciously. Neither Tony nor Pepper had told you about an internship, but then again, they hadn’t told you about the European press conference this morning either, huh.

You decided to shrug it off Peters ‘excuse’ much like your own feelings, yet suspicions continued in the back of your mind.

“sooo…” Peter began to swing his arms back and forth beside his body “Is Mr. Stark home? He told me to meet him here, at 7 o clock…”

“uh, no, he’s at a press conference” you informed Peter, with a streak of frustration still running throughout your tone. Even your goddamn uncle was getting more attention from Peter Parker than you were.

You began to open the door a little wider, stepping behind it to make room for Peter to walk through.

“its fine, I can wait outsi-“

“In Europe” you lifted your eyebrow and smirked, feeling as though you had just successfully won an argument. It was also intriguing you further, Peters reluctance to step into the apartment. Was it because he had something to hide?

…or maybe he just didn’t like you – you shuddered at the thought.

Peter awkwardly walked into the apartment, gasping whilst he looked around and analysed the immensity of the place. “Good morning Peter” the room was filled by F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice just as Peter took a seat on the edge of the sofa.

You raised your eyebrow for a second time, “first day huh?” you mocked whilst leaning against the kitchen counter to face peter, simultaneously chomping down on a piece of toast prepared by F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Peter’s awkwardness shone through in his attempts to explain, and so you tried not to pressure him any further by dropping the matter, leading to a wave of silence filling the room temporarily.

“what’s the deal with Mr Stark and you?” Peter asked, a little cautiously in return. You analysed him with a strange expression, attempting to figure out what he was getting at and then it clicked.

“Ew no! Gross! I mean, not that gross but, I mean he’s an okay looking guy but, he’s old, way old, but then again so is Cap, and Thor and I mean they are HUNKS…” you trailed off, lost on your own train of thought.

Snapping back, you realised that the attempts to explain yourself clearly weren’t working “what I’m trying to say is that, he’s technically my uncle now”.

“Pepper Potts is my aunt”

Peter seemed to sigh in relief which left you a little confused. You decided to take a plunge by sitting down next to him, you were after all in the comfort of your own home.

‘Keep cool Y/N, just keep cool’ was what kept repeating in your mind. You shifted closer to Peter, beginning to feel more at ease through his welcoming presence.

Peter lifted his head to look at you “That’s pretty cool, I live with my aunt too” he assured you with a soft smile.

This time you both began to shift closer to each other, so much so that you were face to face, inches away from Peter’s lips.

Your relationship with Peter Parker was a tricky one. You had been friends for a long time, and that was the problem, you were just friends. Not only that, but it was the type of friend who you only spoke to in a group, not one you shared your intricacies with and so there was still a lot of learning you both had to do about each other.

“I uh- I was worried about you” mumbled Peter, with his deep hazel eyes staring into yours “I’d hate it if you were hurt or uh you know, if something happened”

He seemed so genuine, did Peter like you too? You had spent a lot of time together recently, but you thought Peter saw you as a friend, like Ned.

You felt your eyes flutter in attempts to shut them, whilst your mouth hung slightly open anticipating Peters movements.

Suddenly you felt Peters hand softly grasp your arm, whilst the other brushed your hair away from your face and shoulder.

You to put yours on his leg to give you support, eyes still closed.

The warmth of his breath was welcoming, causing you to lean in slightly to make up for the last bit of distance between you.

“Holy fu-“ Peter jumped out of his skin, as did you to the tune of ‘Yeah!’ by Usher.

“Incoming Call from: Tony Stark” F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced, immediately you and Peter shuffled away from each other, acting like nothing had happened.

You rolled your eyes, typical Tony.

A full-bodied Tony appeared in front of you, projected in the form of one of his cleverly manufactured simulations.

“Hey kid, do you like that song? I don’t know I was thinking maybe something a bit bigger suited me better” Tony rambled whilst looked towards you before noticing an astonished looking Peter Parker.

“Holy cow Mr. Stark, that’s some cool tech” Peter focused on the simulation in amazement, and you rolled your eyes for what must have been the one hundredth time.

“Oh good, Underoos you’re here too” you burst out laughing “underoos?”.

Peter nervously laughed “ignore him”.

“I am too good” Tony complimented himself, something he did often “killing two birds with one stone, anyway… kid me and your aunt aren’t gonna be back until Sunday night so make sure you take care of yourself, hear that Friday?”.

“Yes Mr. Stark” F.R.I.D.A.Y. immediately replied.

“And kid, I mean other kid, underoos – you’ve got the day off, so uh, go home and do some homework or something”

“ugh Mr. Stark come on! Really?” Peter groaned out of frustration. Was a Stark internship really that important to him?

“a-a-a- zip it” Tony bluntly stopped Peter in his tracks. The mass of people talking in the background of the call was all you could focus on, and it seemed to be distracting Tony too.

He looked behind him before leaving with a “anyway I gotta go, see you soon, stay safe”

“Thanks” you and Peter replied simultaneously, giving each other a strange look.

Upon reflection of the phone call you began to get a little riled up, peter had just lied to you, just like that. The way him and Tony interacted with one another made it obvious that this was most definitely not Peters first day.

Peter grabbed his bag and began to walk out of the apartment. Avoiding eye contact you did the same, walking towards your bedroom without saying goodbye to Peter.

“Hey Y/N” Peter called, stopping you in your tracks “I guess I have the day off now right? W-wanna hang out?”

You couldn’t help but let out a smile, you wanted to jump up and down and scream but you remained composed.

“i-i-if you’re free that is” you had absolutely nothing to do.

“whatever yeah sounds cool” you nonchalantly leant against the wall to face Peter “let me get changed”.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

You and Peter had decided to take a stroll around the city, talking, grabbing a bite to eat… you couldn’t believe how at ease you felt around him considering the huge growing crush you had festering inside of you.

The common ground you both shared was unbelievable, you couldn’t believe you and Peter hadn’t spent more time together in previous years – or rather why it took the common denominator of Tony to bring you two closer.

“Peter, I need to ask you” you began, remembering the events that had occurred this morning “today wasn’t your first day was it? As Tony’s intern?”.

You knew it was a bold question, however you hated the feeling of being lied to by someone that was supposed to be your friend, especially after how much your feelings were building for Peter.

“uh- I – uh” Peter attempted to think of an excuse upon being put on the spot, then let out a sigh “you’re right, I shouldn’t have lied to you, I’ve been Mr. Stark’s intern for a while now, I’d say a month”

A MONTH!! Jesus Tony had hidden that one well.

“but I’m just his intern, just his boring intern” Peter rubbed the back of his neck and attempted to assure you, and quite frankly it did. What reason would he have to lie to you? You wanted to put your trust in Peter to build your relationship.

“Thank you, Peter…for telling the truth” you replied, slipping your hand into his as you walked along the sidewalk of the city, causing Peter’s breathing to increase

You began to feel much more at ease again, however Peter seemed to be the complete opposite.

“Peter, a-are you okay? Goosebumps shot up his hand and arm as he turned behind him to look into the distance

“Peter!”

“I’m so sorry Y/N… I, I gotta go” Peter said hurriedly.

“What? Uh sure but why?” you tried to play off your feelings of embarrassment and frustration in a low tone, but you weren’t sure it worked.

Peter detached his hand from yours and began to run in the opposite direction.

A faint “I’m sorry” was all you heard in the distance, and just like that you were stood in the middle of New York on your own.

Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket, only for you to open a breaking news notification.

It read: URGENT NEWS! Citizens of New York are being advised to stay indoors due to a technical glitch affecting the City’s electricity output. Nobody is certain of the causes for this glitch, they will be announced when investigated further.

You rolled your eyes at the message. If there was one thing you weren’t, it was stupid, and nothing got past you.

You began to feel your body heat up fuelled from the anger and embarrassment, the same feeling from yesterday. Looking down at your hands you saw nothing but the pavement.

You began to take your clothes off attempting to make yourself as transparent as possible, looking around in the process to be certain you were alone in doing so.

Tony and Pepper’s words rang through your head “’take care of yourself’, you chose to shrug them off.

“I’m just his intern, just his boring intern” you began to mockingly mimic Peters words, which fuelled your anger further.

‘Let’s find out how much of an intern you actually are’.

Tags: @editsbyjenny @shirukitsune @clara-licht @ifangirlninja (If you want to be tagged for future chapters just ask!)

#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #spiderman #spider man #marvel mcu #mcu imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman fluff #imagine #invisible #marvel fanfiction #pepper potts

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drawingdullahan · 5 years ago

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Character Sheet 1

I’ve decided to post character sheets and this is my first one, its for my character Alexander Quinn from the novel that I’m writing. He happens to be my favorite character so far!! I plan to maybe add more as i continue to write for him.

Name: Alexander Quinn

Nickname: Alex

Opinions on Nickname: He chose it himself and prefers the shorter name to his full

Birth Date: September 25

Place of Birth: Valeside

Ethnic Background: Mostly Western European

Religion: Athiest

Residence: He lives with his mother in the suburban town of Valeside

Occupation: Highschool

Sexuality: Asexual Aromantic

Height: 5’6”

Weight: 170~

Body Type: skinny, a little underweight, scrawny

Eye color: heterochromatic eyes, left yellow, right blue

Skin tone: pale

General health: a bit exhausted at times due to being underweight

Attire: any shirt he has laying around, jeans and his hoodie

Hairstyle: Short but thick black hair

Speech Pace: he speaks at an average pace, but tends to rush words whenever his emotions get the best of him

Speech Habits: He rarely curses, but does tend to stumble over words every now and then

Vocabulary: average

Demeanor: nervous and fidgety, sometimes moody, but overall very curious and excitable under the right circumstances

Posture: slumped and defeated

Habitual Gestures: nail biting, hands in pockets, drumming fingers, and bouncing leg

Skills: following directions, listening rather well, remembering minute details, good stamina on his good days

Unskilled at: sports, talking to strangers, getting his point across, voicing his own thoughts, standing up for himself

Hobbies: writing and daydreaming

Childhood: a bit troubled due to his mentally abusive mother

Earliest Memory: reading with his father, his father ignited his love of reading which sparked his interest in fantasy

Saddest Memory: the day his father left, it was without a goodbye or even an acknowledgement

Happiest Memory: helping his father with his novel, his father was writing a fantasy story himself and the manuscript is one of the only belongings he has of his fathers

Mother: Gracie Quinn-Berkely

Mother’s Occupation: secretary

Relationship with Mother: shaky and unhealthy, her stress leads her to lash out at Alex a lot

Father: Thomas Quinn

Father’s Occupation: freelance writer

Relationship with Father: close until he left

Best Friend: Elliott Erstin

Likable Traits: quiet, only inputs when necessary with strangers, will engage in normal conversation with friends, kind and caring as a person, his natural eye and affinity for wonderment

Biggest Flaw: general lack of confidence

Who He Likes Most: Elliott and his father

Who He Dislikes Most: Clockwork, Spade, and Victor

Most Important Person in His Life: father, due to preestablished bond and general connection to Ellevand. He isn’t aware of his father’s involvement in the other realm until later

Whom Does He Admire: Casey, for her courage and willingness to fight for a just cause

Enemy: Clockwork

Someone He Tends to Misjudge: Griffith, Alex sees him as grumpy and pushy, not seeing the actual care that he feels for the rebellion

Person Who Tends to Misjudge Him: Griffith, the older man sees Alex as a liability and a child

Who Does He Rely On For Advice and Emotional Support: Hamill, who acts as the word of reason for many of the characters

Who Does He Support: Elliott Erstin, who in his rushed sense of time needs a minute to slow down and talk with someone willing to listen, like Alex

Psychological Issues: mild depression, anxiety, low self esteem (despite all this he is an optimist)

Most Comfortable When: hanging out with friends or writing alone

Most Uncomfortable When: facing rough challenges publicly, when responsible for others, when put in charge of certain tasks

Prejudices: he grows to hate people from The Other Side due to their affiliation with Clockwork

How Does He React to Change or Conflict: He has a hard time processing at first, but finds it hard to stand against the change if he needs to. He lives in his own world a lot of the time and never really acts on his desires for change.

Delusions: When he first arrived in Ellevand he expected it to be a place of magic and wonder where he could finally be away from the problems at home. A place that he could live life as he wanted to without having to work or worry, but he was wrong. Ellevand was having his own crisis, and to everyone’s surprise he was at the center of it. So rather than escaping to a land of fantasy, Alex ends up on the run from leader of the Other Side, Clockwork, who clearly wants him dead.

#Alexander Quinn #my oc #original characters #character sheet #daggers oc #ellevand #still working on a novel title #aroace #aroace protagonist

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heelsheadandstandardshigh · 7 years ago

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Opening Night - A Lawyered Ficlet (Chris Evans/OFC)

Author’s Notes: Thanks to the encouragement of some of my lovely readers, I finally took the plunge and let myself write a ficlet set in the Lawyered verse. Lawyered is hosted over at @chrisevans-sexualfrustrations and you can read the whole story here.

This takes place in present day (specifically, on March 1, 2018). I’m not sure whether it is actually going to be canon in the Lawyered verse and show up in the story down the road. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

[WARNING: Very mild Spoilers for Lobby Hero ahead. However, if you’ve read any reviews of the play or the NY Times profile about Chris, there is nothing in here you aren’t already aware of.]

With ten minutes until curtain, silence lingered in the dressing room as Chris sat on the tiny sofa with no other company but his thoughts. His parents and siblings had cleared out twenty minutes ago with many words of encouragement and ‘break a leg’s prior to their departure, though there was one person whose absence he experienced acutely while he struggled to calm his nerves.

Boston and its suburbs had always been Chris’s stomping grounds, but it was undeniable that New York City was Danielle’s. He felt it every time they walked down the street while carrying on a conversation, her steps carrying her to their destination as though she were operating on autopilot, deftly bobbing and weaving around the tourists. Everything about her screamed that she belonged.

And living in TriBeCa now? Well, that was a bit of a kick. It was almost serendipitous that he would wind up moving somewhere that had served as the backdrop for their first meeting and the deepening of their relationship, where Chris had irretrievably fallen in love with the blonde law student who looked at him and saw an out-of-towner in need of culinary recommendations, rather than the actor who usually wore the Captain America suit.

The time was rapidly approaching where he would don the cowl for the final time, yet there was so much opportunity ahead of it. He’d undoubtedly find it strange to see Sebastian or Anthony wield the shield, but he would be embarking on a new path of his own, too. The sprawling, albeit temporary TriBeCa loft had cemented recent discussions with his mother about maybe setting down some roots in the area because it had been increasingly difficult to spend large stretches of time with his girlfriend when her work load required late hours and put a damper on any flexibility to travel. While he loved the Boston house and seeing his family at his mom’s house fifteen minutes away, Danielle’s job was in New York City and looked to be for the foreseeable future. At some point, Chris would have to decide just how invested he was in their relationship because he knew she couldn’t be okay with living constantly apart during most of his downtime forever, even if she hadn’t voiced that opinion just yet.

He’d never forget her face when she told him that he was strongly considering the play and he would be required to live in Manhattan from the end of January through mid-May if he took the role. If Chris wasn’t entirely sold on the role of Bill before, the hope and sheer excitement in her eyes would have been the last push he needed.

Apartment hunting with her was an eye-opening experience. It wasn’t because he learned anything about her that he didn’t already know; her 3am Property Brothers marathons when she couldn’t turn her brain off enough to sleep were pretty legendary. Instead, it was the feeling of warmth that pooled in his stomach at the realization that they were partners in the search, looking for a home that would suit both of them, a space that blended their tastes and their needs together.

Their lives were more intertwined in TriBeCa than they’d ever been and with it came a sense of contentment and belonging that rivaled the one he felt as his mother’s house. It was a scary realization, but one that he took to heart.

After years of talking about it in articles and interviews, Chris Evans was finally going to settle down and he was going to do it with Danielle Blake. It didn’t matter if it was in New York City or suburban New Jersey; he just knew that he couldn’t spent any more time waking up in a bed that wasn’t one they called theirs rather than his or hers. It was a huge step that was not to be taken lightly, but he was ready for it nevertheless.

What he didn’t feel ready for, however, was curtain on the first night of Lobby Hero and certainly not without Danielle. She’d promised that she would leave work with enough time to be in the audience to support him, after cursing the legal gods that they had set a massive deadline in the European Union for that day. Everything needed to be filed by 7pm EST or they would automatically default.

She told him that she would see him out there so he didn’t get anxious and made him promise not to look for her. Chris had been hesitant, but ultimately gave in. Of course, he hadn’t expected his sister to hand him a folded piece of paper with a knowing smile on her way out the door.

It had taken ten minutes to build up the courage to open it, but he was glad he did once he finished reading its contents.

Dead center, row 3. Don’t look for me, I know you’ll be tempted. Just know that I’m here and I love you. I am so proud of you, sweetheart. Break a leg. xoxo Danielle

The roling in his stomach stopped and Chris found himself able to stand to adjust his belt by the thick buckle just beneath the polyester police jacket. He was finally ready.

It had been over a decade since Chris had last taken a bow on stage following a long-rehearsed performance. So much had changed since then, but the exhilaration that surged through his veins with the rousing applause from the audience had not.

For the first time on that winter evening, he let his eyes roam the crowd. His brother was the easiest to spot, though that was because his whistle was as clear as day and probably sent all dogs within a ten-mile radius running for the hills. From there, it was easy to find the remainder of his family members.

Then, during the curtain call, he realized that they were all in the third row, a mere 10 feet from his place on stage in the tiny Helen Hayes Theater.

Dead center, Row 3.

His blue eyes darted over seat by seat, landing on his parents then his siblings and brother-in-law, and then—

And then.

Despite the burning stage lights, he could see the familiar green eyes that made his heart hammer against his ribs, even after nearly four years. She, like everyone else, was on her feet and it was apparent that she was clapping so hard that he thought she might bruise her palms. Yet, the warmth and pride that was evident on her soft features clearly took the cake.

The lights dimmed and hindered his ability to keep eye contact, but Chris could still feel the tight pull of his cheeks due to the grin he hadn’t even realized appeared. He desperately hoped that she would come backstage to see him soon, anxious to hear her thoughts and maybe, be on the receiving end of such a look once more.

The walk back to his dressing room was delayed by shared congratulations from the cast and the crew alike, embraces and cheek kisses all around. He didn’t want to rush because there’d only ever be one opening night, even though they were technically previews, but it was hard not to let his mind drift to who might lay ahead.

He tried not to be disappointed when he found the space empty. Then a knock on the door filled him back up with hope again.

“It’s open,” he called out from the small vanity where he had leaned to toe off his boots.

The door opened with a snick and he watched in the mirror as a head of blonde hair became visible. A grin rocketed across his face.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Chris echoed.

“Can I come in?” the blonde asked softly, surprisingly cautious.

He nodded his ascent as he turned in the direction of the voice, but added “Of course” for good measure. His face had grown a little more stoic by then, though he couldn’t understand the source of the nerves.

She slipped inside and shut the door behind her, leaving them alone for the first time since she’d left for work that morning. Although, Chris had still been mostly asleep in bed when she kissed him goodbye.

Her green eyes carefully raked down his form, taking in the uniform up close. “I feel like I could bump into you on patrol in Port Authority like this.” They flicked up with a smile. “It’s not only the costume, though.”

He removed the hat to carefully set it down on the tabletop. “Did you like it?”

“The costume?”

“The whole thing,” he clarified. “What did you think?”

The woman took a few steps closer, crossing the tiny room in virtually no time at all. “I cried,” she confessed. “It was funny, it was horrifying. And you—you were like nothing I’d ever seen.”

He breathed in deeply prior to exhaling, the knot in his belly loosening. “Danielle.”

“Chris,” she answered, drawing nearer to him and hearing the light crinkle of the police jacket as her arm brushed against it. “You made my skin crawl. I never thought that was a feeling I’d tie to you, but you somehow managed it. While the second act was running, I didn’t know how I was going to come back here and let myself be in the same room as you without anyone else around.” The corner of her mouth rose. “Then I watched you come out behind the screen of the building doors on the stage and I saw you react to something Michael said. I’d recognize that laugh as yours anywhere. It wasn’t anything like Bill.” She reached for his cheek and could feel the familiar texture of makeup under her palm, but paid it no mind. “You were wonderful, sweetheart. I am so unbelievably proud of you.”

Neither knew who initiated it exactly, but a few moments later, they found themselves tightly wrapped up in each other’s arms, Chris’s mustache tickling her neck where he burrowed his face against her skin.

“I’m not the only one, you know.” She stroked her fingers over the fuzzy hairs at the back of his head, shorn down for the police-appropriate crew cut. “When you delivered Bill’s line about being nice, you made my mom cry.”

He laughed and she felt his chest reverberate against her. “Yeah, he’s a piece of shit.”

“He is,” she emphatically agreed, “which is why I’m even prouder. He’s absolutely nothing like you.”

“The mustache and hair help.”

“Oh, yes. Because we both know that awful facial hair and a bad haircut can save a terrible performance,” she noted dryly.

Chris pulled back just enough to kiss her. “Thank you.”

Satisfied he was taking the compliment, she smiled. “You’re welcome.”

After another few kisses, he begrudgingly backed away so he could get started on shedding Bill’s attire. The jacket came off first, followed by the belt and all its accessories. He was sitting in the chair to take off his boots when he realized his girlfriend was staring, focus unmoving.

His blue eyes lifted curiously and followed her line of sight until it led to his left hand.

Oh.

He tucked his boots neatly beneath the table. “I’m not used to it either,” Chris admitted, straightening again. “I’ve been acting professionally for nearly two decades, but I’ve never actually had to wear one.”

Danielle paused in thought prior to answering. It was difficult to find an appropriate response now that she’d been caught looking. “You twist it a lot. In the play, I mean.”

“I’m glad you picked up on that.” He smiled, pleased. “I only do that when you see Bill leaving the elevator.”

The implication of the habit dawned on her. “So we’ll know it’s because he’s just put it back on?”

“Bingo.”

“Wow. That’s fucking brilliant.” A small, quiet laugh. “You’re brilliant.”

“Says the lawyer who was just complaining to me yesterday about how archaic and corrupt the Argentinian trademark opposition procedure is,” he countered, pointing at her.

Her heartbeat thrummed at his argument. She knew Chris listened to her complain about cases and clients sometimes, but it still caught her off-guard that he was usually able to paraphrase back to her the details of her lament because he’d listened so intently. It also didn’t hurt that for the first year they’d known each other and before she’d gotten experience in practice as an actual attorney rather than an intern, he knew little more of trademarks outside of famous brand names.

If he wasn’t already going to get laid later as a result of his utter brilliance on stage that evening, he certainly was now.

“Does it bother you?” he asked suddenly, interrupting her thoughts.

“What? That your character is an utter bastard?”

“No.” Chris snorted. He held up his left hand to illustrate the actual meaning of his question, the silver catching the light. “The wedding ring.”

“Oh.” She shook her head, recently-shortened blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders from the action. Though, Chris noted a little extra tint of pink creeping up her neck that he suspected reached her cheeks, but the cosmetic blush on her skin made it difficult to tell. “No, it doesn’t. It’s just… strange to see, I guess?”

Any further discussion was derailed by a buzzing noise, the source of which he realized was her iPhone that had been stowed in her back pocket.

“It’s my mom,” she advised once she was able to look at the screen. “She and dad are with your parents and siblings. They want to know if it’s okay to come back or if you’d rather they meet us at home since it’s kind of a tight squeeze.”

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t mind being squished in here with them,” he chuckled. “We can all go back to our place after.” The words home and our place reverberated in his head like an echo. “We should probably order in some food for everyone, though. I’m not sure what’s open.”

“Come on, honey. Have I known our families for a day?” Danielle scoffed. “I called last week to schedule an order from that Italian place we like on Reade Street.”

God, he loved this woman. “The one that makes the greatest asparagus on the planet?”

“With pancetta, parmesan, and bread crumbs, yeah. There’s a tray of them waiting for us on sternos as we speak. Someone from building management has been checking in every thirty minutes to make sure the apartment isn’t on fire, so all of the hot food will be warm by the time we get home. Plus, I may have ordered an extra half-tray to stash in the fridge for ourselves.” Her phone vibrate three times in quick succession. “Okay, both of our mothers are harassing me now, so I’m gonna go out and get them.”

He caught her hand before she could fully turn around and pulled her in for a long, slow kiss. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Does that include putting up with the fuzzy caterpillar on your face?”

Chris rocked back with the force of his laughter and clutched a hand to his chest. “Especially with that.”

“In that case, you’re welcome,” she said definitively and slipped away to the door. She had just turned the knob to let herself out when she stopped and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Just so you know. What we talked about before?” Danielle glanced at his left hand again for context before her gaze returned to his face. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it again. Maybe not right now.” She tilted her head a little. “But someday.”

The corners of his mouth lifted just enough to be noticeable. “Good to know,” he replied and watched her disappear into the narrow corridor, closing the door behind her.

Tagging per their usual requests, as well as those who voted in favor of ficlets: @patzammit @duncedgoofball @renntastic @beautifulrare4leafclover @avaalons @danielleharmony @tchitchou26

#chris evans #chris evans rpf #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fic #chris evans/ofc #chris evans/original character #chris evans/oc #chris evans/original female character #lawyered #my fics

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wickedgamesfanfic · 7 years ago

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Chapter 1

Shani

"I'm really not feeling this idea." I admitted pulling at the legs of my cream colored romper before gawking over my body in the mirror.

"Doesn't matter. It's the last minute. Changing your mind at the very last minute goes against every bestie code ever established." Imena playfully joked. "Besides it's just a party. Last I checked you were still into those." She said rolling her eyes. Imena couldn't understand the place I was in my life and I couldn't blame her. Shit I barely understood it myself. All I knew was things that used to excite me were becoming old. And I do mean fast.

"I'm still into parties." I admitted. I still enjoyed a good wholesome kick back every once in a while but this was no average party. "But hanging around your snobby Hollywood friends is not what I'd consider my type of soiree."

"They are not that bad. You just gotta loosen up a bit. And stop being so judgmental. Remember there was once a time when you didn't think you were even going to like me." She small smiled before tugging at my top in an attempt to expose more cleavage than I was comfortable with. I laughed before playfully smacking her hands away and pulling my top back up a bit.

"Who ever said I liked you?' I quizzed with a raised brow.

"Come on cow!" She sang playfully smacking me on the bottom with her clutch before heading towards the door. I looked myself over in the mirror once more. Here goes nothing.

Michael

I stood on my deck as the sun left foot prints across the sky. Taking in the beautiful property that I was lucky enough to call my home. And wishing there was more time in a day. Just for moments like this. My life had become so hectic. I rarely found time to just enjoy the simple things. Things like watching the sunset.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm far from complaining. What did I have to complain about? Everything I had worked so hard for had slowly but surely become mine. All my late nights and early mornings had manifest my dreams into reality. And I was grateful. But if I had to be completely honest ... something was missing.

"You gotta be kidding me?" Darwin expressed spooking the shit out of me as he stepped onto my deck.

"What the fuck bro?!" I yelled trying to calm my nerves. This was supposed to be a gated property but so much for that. "How the fuck?" I quizzed through clenched teeth as he began to chuckle before briefly slapping hands and pulling me into a brotherly hug.

"I told you to stay woke. Both literally and figuratively. I've been banging that little chick Jessica for about three weeks now. Ever since your birthday cook out. She'll let me into her mother's casket if I whisper the right thing into her ear." He said mischievously. "You're not even dressed." He scuffed slapping his palm against his forehead.

"About that ..." I started before turning my back to him.

"Nope ... don't even try it. You owe me a night out. We supposed to be boys. You been knowing me since we were yay high." He stated placing his hand to his knees.

"It's just that ..." I started again before quickly being cut off yet again.

"It's just that my ass." He stated angrily. "Look you drag me to all your bougie gatherings and all I ask is that you accompany me to one party. Is that too much to ask for?" He quizzed.

"Nah bruh it's just that ..." I started for the third time before he quickly cut me off again.

"Imena's going to be there." He whispered and I knew right at that moment I no longer had any other choice but to go. Darwin was like a little brother to me. And he had confided in me how into this Imena chick he really was. She was an aspiring actress. From the Midwest full of spunk and personality. Darwin had dropped my name more than once in an effort to perk her naïve ears. And even to my own surprise it had worked. He went from throwing weak shots into her DM's to full blown phone conversations after accompanying me to a few after parties and posting pics to his Instagram.

Although this backyard get together wasn't necessarily my scene I figured what hurt could it do. For the sake of my brother's pride I could make a brief appearance. Maybe snag a little snack for later and I wasn't talking about food. Besides I wasn't ready to explain the truth to him. The fact that I wasn't as happy as I appeared to be and still wasn't quite sure why.

"I'll be down in ten." I said handing him the keys to my European sports car.

Shani

We walked up to the mini mansion off the shore of one of Los Angeles many beaches. I instantly began to feel uneasy as we were led through the home and into the backyard. The music was loud and the smell of gas run grills was strong. For the life of me I couldn't understand their desire for gas grilled meat.

I looked around and wasn't in the least bit surprised by what I saw. The typical L.A. party scene. Music, pools, half naked women and men dressed to impress drizzled in gold jewelry. I rolled my eyes lightly. "See it's not that bad." Imena said nudging me with her shoulder. I shrugged mine feeling the complete opposite as I searched for the bar. I already knew I was going to need at least two strong drinks if I was going to attempt to enjoy the night.

I headed for the bar as Imena spotted a few of her west coast buddies. She waved happily before telling me she'd join me shortly. I waved her off not in the least bit surprised that she had left me to my lonesome so quickly. I found a spot at the end of the bar before pulling out my iPhone and scrolling through my Instagram as I waited for the bartender to tend to me. She finally asked me for my drink order and I placed it. A coke and henny was in order because I was far from my comfort zone.

Upon accepting the drink and tipping her generously I placed the thin straw against my full lips. Taking a moment to take in the scenery that had engulfed me. It was beautiful here. Even the people were a site to see. But somehow it lacked depth. Everything here seemed so superficial. Nothing ever touching further than the surface. And it was such a pity. What was beauty without depth? A question that I had pondered as a writer my entire life.

I took in my surroundings. A bunch of twenty something year olds caught up in living in the moment. And it was true that all we ever had for sure was the moment ... but was that all. I moved here not too long ago. Imena had graciously taken me in after a self-published book I had written caught the eye of a major screen writer and director. Her acting career was slowly but surely taking off and the doe eyed naïve girl I met in junior high had begun to blossom in front of not only my eyes but the eyes of thousands. And I was happy for her. I truly was.

But L.A. was something I wasn't prepared for. As a writer I was used to working in the background. Never intending to be in the spotlight. I was a watcher. A creep. An observer. I took into myself my surroundings. Never seeking to be sought.

I sipped my drink as my gaze ventured into the stars. The beach at night being one of the few times the sky and the ocean seemed to become one. I gazed a little longer before sipping a few more sips from my cup and closing my eyes. Thinking to myself how close I was to success. And possibly purchasing my own west coast beach front property. Minus the crowd.

As I sat on the stool at the edge of the bar an unknown heat encompassed me. Breaking me away from not only my dreams but my thoughts. And an unnerving feeling swept over my body. I opened my eyes and quickly began to scan over my surroundings. In search of what had been searching for me. Energy seeking energy. Heat seeking heat. Belonging seeking belonging. Understanding seeking understanding. My eyes falling on Michael B. Jordan.

Michael

I sat firmly on a couch located to the left of the DJ's booth. It wasn't very private but I'd take what I could get. I had no intentions on working the crowd. I was only here to support my brother. And other than that I planned to stay out of the way for the most part.

We had been here for all of 40 minutes and I was well into my second drink. I wondered if my brother had gotten stood up. And plotted on ways to never let him live this down. I watched the entrance as many faces flooded through it. Some familiar and others I'd never laid eyes on. One face however was all too familiar. Lydia had walked in with a couple of her friends and I strongly entertained the idea of sneaking out but quickly disregarded it. I was getting way too old to be ducking females. If she wanted to confront me about my recent lack of interest in her then she had the right to do just that. I'll admit I could have handle the situation more maturely but then again I knew she'd want an explanation for why I was blocking her out. Especially when things were going so well between us.

The truth is I really didn't have an answer for her. It just didn't feel right. At least not anymore. She was a cool girl and all. The type of girl who didn't ask for much. She just fell into place. She didn't hassle me about a title and would barely bat an eye if I went out with another girl. And whenever I'd call she'd come running. She was bad as hell. And to most niggas she'd probably be a dream come true.

But not to me. At least not anymore. I had quickly found myself bored with her. And I couldn't even say it was entirely her. Maybe I had become bored with myself. Unsatisfied with my current lifestyle. At one point a cute face and a banging body was all I needed in a female. I wasn't too concerned with much else.

But now I found myself yearning for mental stimulation. I don't know when or how it happened. I just woke up one day and needed something more. I wanted to be challenged. I wanted a woman who had a mind of her own. A woman with a voice and a presence that could bring even the strongest man to his knees. A woman who could stop the hands of time. And Lydia wasn't that. None of the women in my phone were that. I mean other than my mother. Now that woman ...

Lydia eventually spotted me. Our eyes locked for a moment and to my surprise she didn't come stomping my way. She continued to mix and mingle with her friends and for a moment I was relieved. But then in she walked. And just for like that ... time stood still.

She walked a few steps behind a very pretty model like girl. But her looks were unchallenged. She stood about 5'8. Caramel Skin. And had a body no surgeon could recreate. My eyes glazed over physique that was nicely wrapped in a fitted romper that left little to the imagination. It amazed me that a fully clothed girl in a party full of half-naked women had my full attention.

I watched as her friend excused herself before heading towards the pool. She rolled her almond shaped eyes before heading to the bar. I chuckled to myself realizing I wasn't the only one who had been dragged here. She took a seat at the very end of the bar. Almost out of my eye site so I placed my elbows to my knees to get a better look. She took a sip from her drink before briefly rolling her neck. I watched as her eyes became fixated on the ocean before her head turned towards the night sky. She took a few more sips, her gaze never wondering. And I thought to myself what a sight to see. She could care less about the party and the scene. The stars had her full attention.

And I couldn't stop staring at her. God knows I tried. This wasn't like me. But I couldn't look away. Everything about her drew me in. Her full lips. The tightly coiled curls that danced just above her shoulders. Then she looked my way. Our eyes locked. And to my surprise she rolled her eyes before returning her attention to the stars.

Shani

I rolled my eyes before returning my gaze to the universe. Since I had been in L.A. I had run across a couple of hims. And unimpressed wasn't even the word. Especially given the rumors I had heard about him. And I didn't need that shit in my life. The hell was he staring at me for. We both know I'm not his type.

"Shani." Imena said lightly tapping me on the shoulder. I turned in my seat to find her and Darwin wrapped in each others arms. I only knew of him from her. She was absolutely smitten with him. But I wasn't sure if it's was because of his personality or the connections he had to the entertainment industry that he constantly pushed down her hopeful throat.

"Hello." I said before extending my hand to shake his. He took it but placed a kiss on it instead of y'all shaking it. It took everything in me not to roll my eyes yet again.

"Shani this is Darwin. Darwin this is Shani." She introduced smiling widely.

"Nice to meet you." I managed to get out. Before quickly pulling my hand away and wiping the bit of spit he had left on it on my romper.

"I'd like for you ladies to join us." He said before looking over in the direction I had just pulled my attention away from. I hesitated for a moment before Imena grabbed my hand pulling me off the stool.

I followed closely behind the two as we neared the DJ booth. Trying my hardest not to look at him again. But I could still feel his eyes on me. I could still feel the heat from his gaze.

"Ladies this is my brother Michael B. Jordan. Michael this is the one and only Imena." He admitted grinning into her cheek. Her eyes were however fixated on the prize beneath us. "And her best friend Shani." He acknowledged throwing a head nod in my direction.

Imena quickly broke away from us to wrap Michael in a loving hug. I looked on in amusement. How could Darwin be so stupid? She had gotten just exactly what she wanted from him without barely giving him anything more then a little attention. But we were supposed to be the country bumpkins.

The man I only knew from one side of the camera lightly embraced her but his eyes stayed focused on me. And for a moment I felt uncomfortable. As if his sight was piercing through me.

She eventually released him. He small smiled. Before slowly rising to his feet. And he took a step or two forward. Towering over my body and my entire existence. I took a step back in an attempt to catch my breath never looking directly into his handsome face. He cleared his throat before mimicking my steps.

"Michael." He said in a deep voice before extending his hand for me to shake. I quickly looked into his face. Into his eyes. Then away.

"Shani." I whispered placing my hand in his. Wondering where my strength had run away to. And to my surprise he gently pulled me into his chest. And I lost my breath.

Lord knows I hated everything he seemed to stand for. A young successful black man who was caught in the lights. The attention. The stardom. The fame.

I stood dazed as he nodded his head at Darwin. Who quickly gathered Imena together and pulled her off into the party. I watched him drag her away over my shoulder. She whispered "I'll be right back." Before disappearing into the crowd.

"It's nice to meet you." He said just above a whisper. The warmth of his breath tickling the side of my neck. I shivered lightly before returning my attention to him.

"Same." I gazed into his face realizing we were alone in this corner. He smiled never releasing my hand. But instead leading me to a couch a few steps away.

I reluctantly took a seat next to him. He scooted closer to me before sitting back and placing his arm behind me. My nose quickly taking in the beautiful scent of his cologne.

"What brings you to L.A.?" He asked catching me off guard.

"I'm from L.A." I lied trying my hardest to find Imena in the crowd.

He lightly chuckled causing me to turn in my seat. He shook his head slowly and I took a moment to appreciate how attractive his dimples really were.

"What's so funny?" I asked curiously.

"You." He admitted. "You're not from L.A." He said matter-of-factly. "One look at you and I could tell you weren't from here." He furthered. Still slightly amused with himself.

I immediately became offended. "What in the fuck is that supposed to mean? Just because I don't look like the bimbos you're used to doesn't mean shit." I spat.

"I meant no disrespect." He admitted as his eyebrows furrowed. But it was too late. I was already pissed.

"Michael B. Jordan. Nice to meet you. But don't let little ole me take up anymore of your time. There are plenty of white bimbos here who would appreciate it more." I said before quickly standing to my feet and walking away.

Michael

"White bimbos." I repeated out loud to myself but only loud enough for me to hear it. I laughed a bit before continuing to watch her walk away. Guess it's safe to say she's heard the rumors. It's funny how lies sometimes become the truth.

I watched as she took the same seat she had just left at the bar. I rubbed my fingers down my chin. Wondering how I had fucked up that fast. I wasn't trying to be funny. I was just being honest. Anybody here would be able to tell she wasn't from these parts.

And to be honest that was a plus. I loved the sight of her. A real body and gorgeous face without the heavy makeup. The natural hair that danced above her shoulders. The fact that she wasn't start struck. At least not by a celebrity.

I continued to watch her as I had before. She ordered another drink. And I once again sat elbow to knee just to get a view. I wasn't done with her. Regardless of what she thought.

I sat in wait. Waiting for her to look over her shoulder. Waiting for her to look in my direction. I knew she could still feel me watching. I knew our connection hadn't been that easily broken.

Just then the DJ played Wicked Games by The Weekend. Our eyes locked. I bit my lip. She quivered. Imena approached her and pulled her from her seat. And the two began to dance together.

Slowly and seductively. I could tell that second drink had broken down barriers I myself could not reach. I enjoyed the view. Her hips winding to the music as her eyes stayed focused on mine. The way her hands slid up and down her hips. I bit my lip even harder drawing a bit of blood.

I could feel myself rising in my jeans. So I slowly sat back. Quickly readjusting my pants. I took a deep breath before checking my surroundings. Lydia had somehow made her way over to me.

She seductively walked over into my lap. I eyed her legs as they wrapped around my hips. And she placed her pale face in front of mines. Her brown eyes full of lust. She threw her brown hair over one shoulder before attempting to grind on me. And my dick immediately grew limp.

I gently pushed her away before standing to my feet. She softly pulled at me but I had no intentions on staying. My eyes were still on her. I noticed her dismay as Lydia sat on my lap. A harsh eye roll followed before she closed them.

So I decided to take this to my advantage. I slowly approached as she continued to slow wind with Imena. Upon reaching the two I slowly placed my hands on her hips and winked at Imena who had seen me coming. She eagerly stepped away as Shani continued to dance into my hips. And I tried my hardest to match each step. Slowly allowing my hands to travel down her thighs and back up her stomach. Even allowing one of my hands to cup her breast. A shallow breath managed to escape her lips.

But her eyes never opened. And we continued to bump and grind. Every push of her hips against me sending waves of pleasure through my body. And in this moment I knew she was what I had been seeking. All along.

As the song slowly came to an end her movements became wilder. But even more sexy. She quickly turned around and into my chest. I placed my hands into her hair pulling her face closer to mines. Her lips separated as did mines. And the warmth of our breathes could be felt as she winded against my dick.

I closed my eyes and let the music take me away. As my dick grew harder and harder. I had never been so turned on by the sight of a woman or let alone just the touch. I pulled her closer as the sound of her shallow breathing brought me closer and closer to climax.

And just as quickly as the song had started it had ended. Her body closely placed against mine. Our breathing short and sharp as the crowd began to clap. Neither of us realizing we had an audience.

Her eyes fluttered open. Finally meeting mine which had never closed. I stared deep into hers as she tried to reclaim her breath. Enjoying the beat of her heart against mine. She looked at me for a moment longer than I expected and I saw the truth.

She quickly fluttered her eye lashes before pulling away in embarrassment. I stood where she left me as she made her way back to her original seat at the bar. The attention we had unintentionally brought clapped and faded away.

She sat with her back to me. I approached cautiously. Lightly tapping her on the shoulder. She slowly looked over it. "Can you do me a favor my brown skin angel? Could you tap that white woman for me?" I joked. And to my surprise she laughed. She slowly turned in her seat. And I stepped further into her. Remind me to thank Darwin.

#michael b jordan #BAE #erik killmonger #black panther #best reads

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casulo · 5 years ago

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The Gordinha and The Kitchen Jungle Gym

Let’s play a word association game, when I say Brasil what or who do you think of (take 1 min to think about it)?

Perhaps you thought of the beach, soccer, Adriana Lima, Acai, and other things which are typically associated with Brasil. I most commonly get big butts and hot girls (a good portion of Victoria’s Secret models are Brasilian so duh). While all these things might seem innocuous and maybe flattering, it has ultimately contributed to how I grew up being objectified from a very young age and I’m almost certain many other people have as well, especially folks who do not fit those parameters. My mother is whiter than a Clorox spill on a colored shirt and with that comes the self-deprecating standards of European thinness and other evil expectations which are STRONGLY reinforced by Brasilian society. While I love my mom and can appreciate the great lengths that she has gone to care for me, it is also time to recognize the ways she acted devoid of love. You see, my mom is a personal trainer (an amazing one at that) and from my childhood onward she has always forced onto me the “importance” of hyper-femininity through diet culture, exercise, and myriads of other harmful behaviors. At 10 years old, I remember walking into the dietician’s office with my mom without fully comprehending why I had to be there in the first place. The extremely thin “doctor” took my weight, spoke to my mom, then sent us on our way. The frustration didn’t start settling in until I saw my lunch and other meals had been completely changed and the message was clear, I was fat and being fat wasn’t ok. I watched as kids during lunchtime ate whatever they pleased while I was only allowed half a sandwich and a diet juice box that tasted like soap. My mouth watered at the girl sitting next to me savoring a fruit roll-up—I looked down at my lunch in embarrassment. It felt like punishment. Upset, I would go home and attempt to confront my mom, “just tell me you think I’m fat and that it’s a bad thing”, she would shyly smirk and avoid the question altogether.

My mom and dad made the perfect fat-phobic duo—my mom being a personal trainer and my dad being a gym owner really solidified their skinny dreams for me. Everyday after school my dad would make me go to jiujitsu class and for one hour after class he made me run on a treadmill. The treadmill was placed directly in front of the classroom he taught in so everyone could watch me run and so he could monitor me. If I turned down the dial because I couldn’t run as fast as my dad set it, he would come by and raise it back up. I don’t know if the treadmill was strategically placed in front everyone on purpose, but it felt like it was. I remember one specific discussion with my dad where he attempted to silence my complaints about the diet/training by angrily saying, “do you want to be used as a point of reference? Do you want people to say, ‘the bus stop or the store is right next to that fat person?’” I silently nodded no.

This treatment eventually led to binge eating. When I would occasionally be left in the care of relatives, I would climb their kitchen cabinets and raid the cupboards and eat everything in sight. FOMO—I ate everything I could while I could because I knew once I was back home, I couldn’t even look at food without being reprimanded for it. I would sometimes sit on the marble counter and ask myself why I felt the need to binge and would tell myself the things I could never say out loud when my mom asked, “what’s missing? What are you unhappy about?” My lack of dignity and the hateful way I now look at myself because of you.

Maybe after a while my mom realized it just wasn’t going to happen for me. Every year she got mad I could no longer fit into a size 0 Hollister pair of jeans and wasted her time doing so because I was never, and am never, going to be or look like her for various reasons:

1. I don’t want to look like her.

2. I’m non-binary. To adhere to forms of binary thinking/belief systems especially belief systems rooted in oppression works against my identity.

3. My lower body is significantly heavier than hers and my arm can’t even fit into a size 0 pair of jeans.

All these things considered, I would also like to hold myself accountable for the ways in which I still act in fat-phobic ways towards myself and highlight how I’m trying to change that. Growing up being objectified was anxiety inducing because it gave everyone the right to comment on how I looked except myself, this is still the case today, so its hard to not be overly critical. In order to counter this, I have been actively engaging in conversations with myself about why I want to exercise daily, why I choose to eat the way I do, and how it benefits me?

1. Why I want do exercise daily? Initially it was because I wanted to be thin, no surprise there. But the more I internalized that there isn’t a right or wrong body type and that being skinny does not = healthy (hell fucking no it doesn’t), I stopped working out and focused on other things that brought me actual joy until I was ready to reevaluate my intentions. Once I did reevaluate, I decided to shift my focus from harmful exercise behaviors to using exercise as a means to curb my anxiety and structure my day. Running and weightlifting helps me control my breathing. well it forces me to, and distracts me from the things I obsess about that leads to anxiety. Exercising also forces me to start my day. I feel the most energetic after a workout (who doesn’t love an endorphin rush) and I use that energy to pour into other work I have for the day. Exercising should never be a form of punishment. Bodies do not deserve punishment. Our bodies need validation, love, and understanding. To grow the appreciation and love I have for my body I have joined my best friend on a pole dancing journey! Not only do I get to practice a new way of exercising, I get to feel sexy and strong in such a raw way.

2. Why do I choose to eat the way I do? I LOVE FOOD. I spend most of my money on it and I’m not ashamed about it AT ALL but I do have to be careful. I have high cholesterol and other diseases that run in my family and getting chest pains isn’t the most pleasant feeling in the world. Eating too much processed food makes me lethargic and me being lethargic just doesn’t make a good combination with the other mental illnesses I have. I balance this by eating 4-6 times a day, I eat a lot of foods that support me during my workout/recovery process, and I must always have chocolate every night. No exceptions. Desserts make me happy and I eat them and make them often.

3. How does this benefit me? Simple, I’m in control. If I don’t want to exercise and eat Smashburger I will. If I want to lift and then drink a protein shake, cool ill do that. If I want to do all those things in a day, I WILL and I will be satisfied because I did what made me happy and what felt comfortable for me that day.

I’m short, I have a wide back, and thick ass legs, and I love it. Please be kind to yourself, its not always a linear process and I still go though it sometimes but remember there is no such thing as invalid bodies. Reach out if you need a friend <3.

*clink clink, cheers with our burgers*

*Gordinha means fatty in Portuguese

#personal thoughts #feelings #bingeeating #healing

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tactical-substitution · 5 years ago

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The Konundrum of Kai Havertz

One of the principle things that differentiates a footballer from a writer, artist, or philosopher, relates to the significance of questioning and answering. Whereas in the latter examples, the very best ones tend to be characterized by the capacity to create puzzles and contradictions that invite further thought and insight, truly elite footballers are different; their presence on the pitch feels like a certain “this is just the way it is”. It can be surprisingly difficult to tactically analyze the Messis, Xavis, Ronaldos, and Lahms because the best footballers in a given generation excel so completely at their assigned tasks on the pitch that there are few questions left to ask. It is the great-but-problematic footballers who ellicit further reflection. It often ends up being the Sneijders and Goetzes and Balotellis who prompt fans to think and debate about exactly what they were good at, and why this was never enough to be “world class” footballers on a prolonged basis. If the former category could currently be said to consist of players like Kylian Mbappe, Virgil Van Dijk, and Kevin de Bruyne, it is unlikely that most football fans won’t already be thinking of someone who meets the latter criteria – a Romelu Lukaku, say, or a Sergej Milinkovic-Savic. It is obvious when watching some players play that there are things that they are capable of that few others would try, and yet actually fitting these players into the squads of clubs among the five or ten best in the world proves difficult. It is this space between manifest skillfulness and tangible skillset that would allow them to play at the absolute highest level that tends to illustrate what is required of the players for whom no such deficit exists, and creates a basis for scouting and player analysis at the level of potential Champions League winners.

Among younger players, little doubt exists as to the sufficiency of Kylian Mbappe or Jadon Sancho should a European giant wish to sign them – in virtually any tactical circumstances their technical and athletic gifts are enough to wreak havoc on any defense. These are the kinds of players who will set clubs back and arm and a leg, and be worth it. In this transfer window, there is perhaps no better example of a “great-but problematic” player attracting serious transfer interest than 20-year-old German international Kai Havertz, currently at Bayer Leverkusen. The young attacker has been seriously linked with the likes of Liverpool and Bayern Munich for months, though Chelsea have ostensibly lept to the front of the queue, having apparently only started on their spending spree with the acquisitions of Hakim Ziyech and Timo Werner. Barcelona, Real Madrid, PSG, Juventus, Man City, and Man United have all been linked at least somewhat credibly with attempts to woo the young German. Whether he moves in this transfer window, and if so where, could come down to any number of factors: Will Bayern prioritize his signature because of his nationality, and will the player feel the same way? Will the desire the work with a celebrity manager like Pep Guardiola or Jurgen Klopp be an incentive to push for a move to a particular club at a crucial point in the young player’s development? Maybe most germanely, who will actually be willing to spend the money should Leverkusen hold out for his buyout clause? In the cases of Sancho or Mbappe, nearly any fee or wage would be rewarded by a signing that is as close to a “sure thing” as exists; with Havertz, the risk seems to be far greater. Knowing why this is the case will be crucial for any signing club if they wish to mitigate that risk, and to not ensure that they have a player widely derided as a “misfit” or “flop” on their hands collecting high wages and attracting negligible transfer interest in two or three years’ time.

What makes Havertz a risky proposition relative to other putatively world-class youngsters is not a matter of talent or lack thereof – go watch a YouTube highlights video if you doubt he’s a marvel – but rather one of style and skillset. Analysts have observed that Havertz’s position could be thought of as a fairly orthodox and old-school number ten, which is a problem given that the clubs interested in him don’t necessarily play with tens. It is not simply that any one club incidentally does not currently play with a playmaker “in the hole”, but rather that the tactical dynamics of modern football have crowded such players out. Just look at the (mis)treatment of Mesut Ozil or Philippe Coutinho by fans compared to the universal adulation given to the likes of Thiago or Marco Verratti for their more “complete” midfield performances. Champions League holders and runaway Premier League leaders Liverpool are generally noted to play with a trio of “workhorse” midfielders supporting their adventurous fullbacks and explosive attackers, and have improved their fortunes dramatically since jettisoning Coutinho to Barcelona, while the player looks like a black sheep wherever he goes in spite of being a much more skilled and “watchable” player than current Liverpool midfielders like Jordan Henderson or Georginio Wijnaldum. Barca themselves were the best club side in living memory on the basis of the genius of midfielders like Xavi and Andres Iniesta on both sides of the ball, and were frankly foolish to regard Coutinho as a “replacement” for all of the things that Iniesta did on the pitch. Top teams attack, defend, and press as an organized unit, and it is hard to see a role for a “free” playmaker who cannot also cover spaces and defend individually in midfield, participate in the buildup of possession, and generally act as a multi-functional cog in a tactical system, or else play as out-and-out forwards stretching play, battling with defenders, and creating and scoring goals. Therein lies the rub for Havertz, who for all of his flashy ability does not really profile as the kind of player who can fill any of the roles in a truly modern football side that looks to dominate with and without the ball, at least without some development on his part, or some shoehorning and accommodating on the part of the team.

What it means to play as a number ten can be variable to different contexts, ranging from deeper-lying playmakers of the ilk of Carlos Valderrama, to creative attackers who would tend to play off of strikers or even as “false nines”, a la Francesco Totti. Havertz is much more in the latter mold, and in fact Totti is a decent comparison to his style of play. What Havertz is truly great at is using his balance, ball control, precise shooting, and passing range to conjure up “moments of magic” – high risk, high reward actions in and around the penalty box that if they work are very likely to lead to a good goal-scoring opportunity. In addition, his height and heading technique make Havertz an aerial threat if the ball is crossed to him. So far, so good – many analysts and pundits regard the scoring of goals as a tactical end worth pursuing. The problem, then, is that Havertz isn’t terribly good at doing much else. His one-on-one defending is nothing to write home about, he lacks the explosive pace to beat all but the slowest and most injured fullbacks if he ends up in a wide position, and he rarely involves himself in buildup play closer to his own goal. It is highly unlikely that he will get much faster, though he may well gain some physical strength and tactical intelligence – nevertheless, simply expecting the player to become a more solid defender or exert a more metronomic influence as he ages is frankly a gamble. If a big club decides to go in for Havertz they should be able to fit him into their plans commensurate to the amount of money they invest in him, and they should be able to do so now rather than in some ill-defined future where his game has become more balanced and less deficient. Accordingly, the thorny task around Havertz is determining whether his game, more or less as it currently exists, could fit into those of any of the superclubs he is linked with.

The most conventional possibilities for Havertz’s future are worth considering, and roughly align with the roles he has played at Leverkusen. He could play as a pseudo-right-winger, though this would necessitate an overlapping fullback or wingback to give width in attack. He is also possibly capable of playing as a withdrawn forward in the mold of Roberto Firmino, chipping in with a non-embarrassing goal tally but also pulling the strings creatively while the goalscoring burden is carried by wingers, a strike partner, or advanced midfielders. Neither of these are totally inconceivable, but unless Havertz irons out kinks in his game and broadens his skillset, they would necessarily pull teammates out of position to fill the gaps he leaves, potentially creating problems elsewhere on the pitch. Top managers quickly notice these kinds of things and are unlikely to be so impressed by his neat touches and controls that they don’t yank him from the starting XI in their quest for tactical impenetrability and balance. Another possibility is that Havertz will play as a “second striker” off of a more traditional number nine for the rest of his career. One system that could facilitate this would be some species of 4-2-4, with midfield areas occupied by a strong double pivot; another would be to position the wingers more conservatively so that the team lines up in more of 4-4-1-1. The former would be pretty absurdly attack-minded, perhaps resembling Pep Guardiola’s 2015-16 Bayern side when Kingsley Coman and Douglas Costa played high and wide, the fullbacks tended to assist the midfielders, and Thomas Muller (a German number ten a decade Havertz’s senior) played off of Robert Lewandowski. When fully functional, that side was mind-melting to watch, and Havertz might strive to emulate Muller’s successful interpretation of the attacking midfield role, with defenders never sure if he had dropping deep to create or darting to meet an aerial cross on his agenda. If Havertz were to play in the latter system, his role might be comparable to that of Antoine Griezmann at Diego Simeone’s Atletico Madrid, or perhaps a frame of reference would be the function of Juan Mata, Eden Hazard, and Oscar for Chelsea under managers like Jose Mourinho and Antonio Conte. The allure of this kind of role would of course be that Havertz is less likely to come across as a defensive liability in a system where virtually everyone is responsible for a great deal of defensive grunt work in one way or another and he is the primary creative outlet, constantly looking to locate himself in a point of weakness in the opposition’s structure, receive the ball, and then make the “magic” happen. Where problems come up is when one remembers how much running around the likes of Griezmann or Oscar always did. Even in a counter-attacking side, even if a player does much more than their fair share of creative passing and danger-creation, they will still inevitably be expected to harass opposition defenders and midfielders out of possession, and Havertz has not yet clearly demonstrated the stamina or the tactical intelligence to be apt to such a role.

One last possibility for Havertz would be to play as a kind of “false midfielder”. He could stand in midfield areas to make up the numbers and aid in a tactical plan to create numerical overloads in central areas, and then when able to get closer to goal, really start to add value. The problem here is that Havertz has not yet shown that he can become a safer, higher-volume passer at even the level of, say, David Silva or Isco. Those midfielders are nowhere near the central midfielders that they are attacking ones, and cannot resolve situations in congested areas through passing combinations at the level of their compatriots Iniesta or Xavi, but they can at least participate in such exchanges without constantly playing catastrophic sideways passes which result in counter-attacking opportunities for the opponent, and thereby justify their presence on the pitch for when they are able to be more useful in the final third. Is Havertz trustworthy enough to do so? If so, he has not yet shown it. With all of these hypotheticals, it is not outside the realm of possibility that the player will simply develop his game through practice, coaching, and the last embers of puberty, and be able to play them satisfactorily, but this seems like too speculative an expectation to ground such a large financial outlay in. Havertz is who he is right now, and should be scouted for his demonstrated skillset rather than based on wishful thinking. If a club is to justify the purchase of Havertz, then they may have to fundamentally rethink the kind of player he is, and re-rationalize how they will fit him into their plans.

What clubs should expect to get should they bid for Havertz, is a kind of very expensive water-carrier. When most football fans hear that phrase they likely do not think of a player of Havertz’s qualities. French attacker Eric Cantona infamously used the epithet to describe his international teammate Didier Deschamps, as a kind of tongue-in-cheek way of belittling his compatriot’s contribution to the collective effort. Other players who tend to come to mind as “water carriers” might be Marcel Desailly or Claude Makelele. What all of these players have in common, besides their nationality, is a particular skillset, which was as narrow as it was well-executed. These midfielders had the match-intelligence to step up and engage opponents at the right times without getting caught out of positions, assisted defenders at risk of being over-burdened, covered for teammates who may have been out of position, were precise in challenges, could effectively mark dangerous opposition players as effectively as a center-back, and were mobile enough to cover ground and arrive at the right time and place to slow down or stop opposition attacks or win the ball back. In possession they were all fairly conservative, prioritizing consolidating possession and passing to teammates in space over attempting any risky passes or skills on the ball. They are greats of the game because they “carried the water” for more flashy teammates who were given more license to improvise and take risks closer to the opposition goal, by performing these kinds of simple actions with great competence and consistency. Clearly this does not sound like the kind of player that Havertz is, and in fact quite the opposite, but what if there is more than one way to carry the water?

If the main impression that most fans have of Cantona’s famous phrase is that it describes the duties of a defensive or holding midfielder, there is perhaps another interpretation of it that should be considered, which has more fidelity to his intentions with the quip: a “water carrier” is a player who performs a narrow range of mechanized actions to support the team, in contrast with teammates whose roles entailed doing more different things, in a greater variety of situations, in order to really unlock games and break down an opposition. In Cantona’s time this was arguably a fairly accurate rendering of the dynamics of how a footballing side functioned – midfielders and defenders tended to keep a compact shape closer to their own goal, and tens, wingers, and center-forwards were given the task of breaking down those compact structures with “moments of magic”. In such a (simplified, admittedly) context Havertz would be an absolute star with his skillset, as he would constantly have the game in front of him, virtually daring him to find a distressed point in an opposition’s defensive structure in which he could dribble, run into, or find a teammate with a through-ball. There is no doubt that defenders and midfielders would find it difficult to deal with Havertz’s clever runs, deft controls, and overall skillfulness for approximately half of a ninety-minute football match, and the onus would be on his “water carrier” teammates rather than him to do much of the serious running and remain positionally alert. Perhaps in such a situation Kai Havertz would truly be living high on the hog. Unfortunately for the young German, he was not even born at the time that that footballing milieu existed, and so must contend with the landscape of 2020.

When one watches the football sides of Guardiola, Klopp, Tuchel, Pochettino, or Sarri, it is pretty abundantly clear that the players are not divided into conservatively-positioned grunts and attacking artists running around at the will of their self-governing genius improvising ways to foil the defensive goons. It is a cliché to describe top-level sides in the modern game as “fluid” or praise their “discipline” and “organization”, but there is a good reason for that. Modern approaches are based on using all ten outfield players, and increasingly the goalkeeper, to circulate and advance the ball into positions of overloaded strength in possession, and stymy and harass opponents out of doing any of that out of possession. The number nine is the first defender, and the goalkeeper the first attacker, and all of that. It is somewhat difficult to see a place for a solitary magician like Kai Havertz in all of that, as modern footballing sides tend to rely on the industry and intelligence of their forwards to keep opposition defenders from building up attacks, and don’t tend to rely quite as heavily on one or two especially flashy players to break down defenses as sides of the past. For a modern superclub, an attack might look something like a left-sided midfielder and left-winger forcing an opposition defender to play an errant long pass by swarming them and giving them little option, a left-back retrieving the ball and playing it to the holding midfielder, who consolidates possession with a quick interchange with the right-back, allowing the right-back to engineer a free path close to the opposition penalty area where they can cross to whichever attackers or midfielders are able to plausibly compete for an aerial ball with the opposition defenders. In scenarios of this kind, Kai Havertz is unlikely to play much of a part, and if he does is unlikely to be doing anything that a less costly player with a different skillset would be unable to. This is before one considers his (relative lack of a) defensive contribution. In these kinds of tactically sophisticated, high-tempo “gegenpressing” encounters, Havertz begins to look like something of a flat-track bully and an anachronism rather than a superstar.

How, then, is Havertz to fit in to a modern footballing side, if at all? In the above scenarios, and indeed in the squads of big clubs like PSG, Juventus, and Bayern, midfielders (and increasingly fullbacks) are expected to have broad skillsets, and to be able to move and progress the ball in a variety of ways and to defend actively and passively, and indeed academies across the world are producing players who can “do it all” without any “master of none” caveats. Take potential Havertz destination Bayern for example: Austrian defender David Alaba, who has spent the bulk of his club career at left-back but was groomed for a kind of hybrid center-back/midfield role by Guardiola, and plays as an attacking midfielder for his country, plays as a center-back playing incisive long and short passes to start attacks, and uses his anticipation and speed to expertly mark opponents. Former right-back Joshua Kimmich has played in central midfield this season, and has arguably been the best player in his position in the entire world. Young Canadian winger Alphonso Davies has deputized at left-back, and, like Alaba and Kimmich, has been a strong candidate for the most effective and complete player in the world or at least the league in his position, despite it not actually being his position, using his lightning pace to monitor an entire side of the pitch, overlapping intelligently in attack and showing excellent reading of the game to make vital defensive clearances and tackles, all while looking frigidly cool in building up possession in conjunction with his more experienced comrades. These are as much the stars of Bayern’s juggernaut team as their vaunted forward players, along with the defensive likes of Niklas Sule, Benjamin Pavard, and Jerome Boateng. Whichever system Bayern choose to play, it is unlikely that Havertz would be their most important player or even particularly close despite playing in a role that would render him the traditional “star player”. What would the young German mark himself out as, then, were the Bavarian club to take a punt on him?

In the tactical schemes employed by top clubs of the 1990s, elite attacking midfielders of the ilk of Roberto Baggio, Zinedine Zidane, and Michael Laudrup were not only the “stars” of their club and national sides in terms of press attention and shirt sales, but were also typically the players who would quantitatively have a “starring role” in the sense of touching the ball with greater frequency and significance than teammates. Over the last two decades and under the influence of the “positional” approaches of Marcello Bielsa, Louis Van Gaal, and Guardiola, and the “counter-pressing” philosophies employed by Klopp, Roger Schmidt, and Ralf Rangnick, deeper-lying, less directly creative midfielders have emerged as the “protagonists” in matches where the majority of clubs prioritize ball retention in safe areas, and use structured possessional routines to both keep a compact defensive shape and manipulate the ball into dangerous areas. On and off the ball it has been midfielders such as Sergio Busquets and Mousa Dembele and, increasingly, defenders like Trent Alexander-Arnold and David Alaba who have not only spent the most time directly controlling the play of games, but also had to use the widest array of dribbles, passes, tricks, and controls to keep and manoeuvre the ball, and this has been by design. Even many smaller clubs have come to adopt this style of play, but, most relevant to the immediate future of Havertz, every title-chasing club across Europe with whom he has been linked play this way. Gone are the one-dimensional “water carrier” defenders and holding midfielders, and in their place a generation of deeper-positioned players with the skillsets of traditional number tens (many of whom in fact played in that role at youth level or earlier in their playing careers) have emerged. At the tip of the spear pace has been the attribute that most preoccupies top managers, whose obsession has been with using the coordinated movement of attackers to provide passing options and open up spaces for one another and for advancing midfielders and wingbacks or fullbacks. These attackers have found themselves in the role of “water carriers” for their more cultured teammates further back on the pitch, performing simple actions in a relatively mechanized way, but doing so at such a high level that the new breed of holding playmakers are able to use their broader skillsets to move the ball into areas which have been given situational tactical significance and danger by their water-carrying forward comrades.

If the modern “water carriers” are the quick and tricky attackers whose speedy movements create the chaotic conditions which their teammates exploit, then how is a player with little natural pace or explosive acceleration to distinguish themselves? This is the scouting question that lingers over Kai Havertz – his actual skillset looks quite narrow against a frame of reference where playmakers are expected to do their work in more congested and treacherous midfield areas, but if a club side were able to exploit the young German’s demonstrated capacity to pass creatively in and around the penalty area to its fullest extent, it might well be enough in and of itself to justify his presence on the pitch. The problem is that it is not immediately obvious how his skillset and limitations could be accommodated by the tactical schemes employed by the likes of Guardiola, Klopp, and so forth. In the case of a true two-way midfielder or an explosive winger, it requires little imagination to see how they would be “plugged in” to the kinds of tactical systems used by Man City or Liverpool – the dynamics of these systems are calibrated to balance the extensive skillsets of the star players against the intensive skillsets of the water carriers, albeit in a markedly different ways from the suberclubs of the 90s. In the case of Havertz, it is clear that he would end up being a “water carrier” in a limited role were he to wind up at either club, but decidedly murkier whose water he would be carrying, and what kind of intricate tactical scheme of delegating tasks would mediate this balance. Managers, scouts, and pundits understand the scouting question for an old-school defensive midfielder – will this player’s ability to mark opponents and plug gaps carry the water left at that club by its existing, defensively cavalier squad without creating an awkward stylistic disjunction? The same kind of scouting question will have to inform clubs as they contemplate allocating a large chunk of their budget towards Havertz – in what way can the existing or prospective squad play on and off the ball such that Havertz’s superior skillset around the penalty area will free up teammates to do all of the other important work which they are more suited to without having to worry about scoring and assisting goals as much as they might otherwise have to?

Such a question is radically different from the orthodox perspective from which clubs (as well as football journalists, fans, etc.) tend to approach scouting a “star” player like Havertz, but its pertinence is a consequence of the style of modern football. As Casemiro is a guaranteed starter at Real Madrid because his prodigious volume of tackles and interceptions mitigates his pedestrian on-ball skillset and “frees up” his more expansively-passing teammates, big clubs eyeing up Havertz must consider whether the routineness with which his movement, vision, and skillfulness make the difference in the final third can be utilized as a similar kind of mechanized action to Casemiro’s defensive interventions; such a question is not simply a matter of whether or not the scales can be balanced by such and such a teammate who performs an equal number of opposite actions, but a rather more dynamic one of what types of things a team’s midfielders, defenders, and strikers might suddenly be able to do on the pitch if they are safe in the knowledge that Havertz is reliably carrying the water around the penalty area. This is the kind of complex tactical question that elite managers and sporting directors get paid eye-watering wages to attempt to solve, though it may well be intractable to the point where Havertz is virtually fated to wind up at a club like Valencia or Leicester City in five years’ time. It is also a question with a crass quantitative dimension – if Havertz is only creating and scoring a few goals per league season then the truly big clubs needn’t ponder his unbalanced skillset at all, whereas if he’s directly responsible for two goals every game then all other more nuanced questions become moot in a much different way. In reality, Havertz is in double figures for combined expected goals scored and assisted in both of the last two Bundesliga seasons, and has gone one something of a finishing tear that has made him look like a seriously prolific goalscorer, but he is nowhere near the “get him at any price, figure out what to do with him later” levels of Messi or Neymar, or even Eden Hazard in an average season. Havertz is a seriously tidy-looking attacking midfielder whose flashy skills have led to tangible goal contributions which are nothing to shake a stick at, but he has not as of yet demonstrated that he can shoulder an attacking burden commensurate to the defensive one carried by a Casemiro or an N’Golo Kante.

Scouts, managers, and analysts will have to squint hard at the data and footage, and figure out a way in which Havertz’s skillset can be made to carry a little more water than it currently is - his height and precise heading technique, for example, could probably be exploited more than they are currently being. But this kind of conundrum casts a fog of doubt on the notion of splashing a hundred million Euros on the player – sure, he’s nice, but shouldn’t that kind of a cash outlay mean we don’t have to think so hard to figure out what to do with him? You scour a wine store for half an hour looking for an obscure Greek red on a clearance sale and pair it with precisely the right meal to get the most value out of your wine-buying dollar, but if you go and squander your money on a seventy-dollar Barolo you kind of expect that you’ll open it up and it will just be good – otherwise what’s the point? None of this is to say that Kai Havertz clearly isn’t worth whatever fee and wages a club ends up parting with to secure his services – he can do all kinds of exquisite things with the ball at his feet (and head) that look like the kinds of things that players do in the highlights footage from Champions League and World Cup knockout games. He can do, and has routinely done, the kinds of things that decide those kinds of games, sometimes against the kinds of defenders who try and stop a player from doing them. But rather than looking at him as the next Baggio, Totti, or even Muller, big clubs across Europe should consider the sense in which Cantona belittled Deschamps for doing such a narrow range of mundane things, and stick to the mantra that if they end up buying a water carrier, it is the rest of the squad and the manager who will end up carrying him. If Havertz can end up doing as few things as well as Deschamps did, he will turn into a footballing legend like the current France manager, but if he doesn’t turn out to live up to the “as well as” part then he will only ever be the kind of player who fans and pundits describe as “fun to watch, but limited.”

If the phrase “it is the water carrier who is really the one being carried” doesn’t evoke the image of a white-haired Shaolin monk in a Shaw Brothers film or the sound of a bong gurgling in the bedroom of some philosophy undergrad, then maybe a more traditional brain-teasing dialectic will do the trick – “the more that things change, the more that they stay the same.” When one frames Havertz’s skillset as being that of a traditional number ten, he is cast as an anachronism. When football fans of a certain age hear the phrase “number ten” they are likely to think of big 90s Serie A clubs, and the likes of Baggio, Totti, Veron, Zidane, or Riquelme. Footballing reactionaries sick of the ultra-disciplined grimness through which a club like Liverpool can optimize small advantages and secure a string of one-goal victories on a march to domestic and continental glory might well fantasize about a career path wherein Havertz loafs around at the big Milan and Rome clubs and Fiorentina, playing in a way that gets described as “languid”. In this scenario none of these clubs ever hire a “modern” coach or sporting director, or at least nobody more progressive than Sacchi, and the footballing landscape in Italy is fixed to a particularly simplified representation of the league two or three decades ago. He might even be able to show up drunk, as many football writers seem to insinuate that Andrea Pirlo did when they make gratuitous references to his wine connoisseurship as some kind of synecdoche of his “elegant” and “old-world” style of play. All joking aside, there is a credible case to be made that Havertz’s skillset make him something like a genuine anachronism – he’s likely fitter and certainly has more video analysis sessions under his belt than the old school number tens, but this hasn’t ironed a marked stylistic resemblance out of him. Where this begins to look like some kind of big conundrum is when one looks at where he plays, and who he plays for: Havertz has a starring role at an exemplary progressive, data-driven, modern pressing football club, stewarded by a well-regarded “gegenpressing” manager with stylistic roots in the Holland/Ajax “total football” philosophy.

If Havertz were to play as a “traditional” number ten, more or less singlehandedly acting as a creative outlet in an otherwise defensively rigid unit then he would likely end up under a manager like Mourinho or Simeone, playing the central playmaking role in a 4-4-1-1 or 4-2-3-1 system. It is possible that he would wind up in a system with a three-man defensive line and wingbacks behind him were he to play under the likes of Nuno or Antonio Conte, just as the number ten playmakers in football’s bygone era may well have played in both back-three and back-four systems, but like those players he would expect to play a creative role in front of a well-drilled unit that no one would describe as “fluid”. At Bayer Leverkusen, Havertz has played a non-negligible number of minutes as the team’s sole attacking midfield, in a “free eight” role (similar to the “false midfielder” roles of Kevin de Bruyne and the Silvas at Man City) alongside Julian Brandt, as a central striker or false nine, and in a pseudo-right wing role, and has generally looked very good wherever he has played while never having a hugely different role or set of jobs on the pitch or displaying a different skillset more suitable to the position which he is ostensibly playing. He looks like a classy player wherever he plays, but he always looks like Havertz. This positional carousel is operated by manager Peter Bosz, who has set the team up with back-three, back-four, and back-five defensive systems and rotated his midfielders and attackers significantly, giving minutes to all members of Leverkusen’s impressively deep squad. Bosz seems determined to extract serious contributions from his entire diverse cast of players, and has demonstrated a great talent for devising tactical plans that allow basically any combination of them within reason to be on the pitch at the same time and function according to his broader tactical principles. Havertz will be moved around to accommodate this or that attacking partner, but rather than shining by playing the position in an orthodox manner, much credit should go to the manager for setting up the team in such a way that they are collectively able to engineer the kinds of situations in which Havertz is able to do Havertz stuff.

On paper, the fluid and modern tactical schemes employed by Bosz at Leverkusen could hardly resemble the rigid systems that brought success to managers like Lippi, Trapattoni, or Hitzfeld less, but in a very real sense he has simply found much different means to the same end of accommodating his star playmaker. For the number tens at the superclubs of the 90s, positional freedom and the license to move to where they could do the most damage with the ball was a key condition that allowed them the autonomy to control attacks. At Leverkusen, Havertz similarly tends to “go where the action is”, insinuating himself at the center of counter-attacks and picking up pockets of space in which to pick apart deep-lying defensive blocks when his team have established stable possession in the hopes that a teammate will find him so that he can execute the kinds of high-risk manoeuvres which he is so good at. The boy is not going to drag a full-back very far with an off-the-ball run or physically intimidate an opponent into coughing up the ball in a dangerous area, but let him roam around looking for ways to solve attacking problems with the ball at his feet and he’ll eventually figure something out. In previous footballing contexts, players of Havertz’s ilk would accomplish this with the help of a tight-knit lineup behind them playing in, let’s say, two banks of four, with one or two forwards making attacking runs for them to pick out. At Leverkusen, as in hyper-modern Bundesliga-standard football generally, Havertz does not have as fixed a formation supporting him, but his teammates are essentially trying to accomplish the same kind of support structure as were those of Zidane or Veron, but simply doing so in a more sophisticated and convoluted way.

It makes a certain kind of intuitive sense that in a footballing milieu where the significance of pressing and collective actions on and off the ball have been elevated, and successful sides are more thoroughly drilled than ever with the assistance of video analysis and even the literal use of drone footage, the high-level task of having a bunch of unit of outfield players supporting one “star” player would require a more positionally fluid set-up than the traditional formations. In fact, going back to the earlier discussion, it is not difficult to see how the “stars” would become marginalized and the players tasked with the increasingly byzantine task of freeing them up would increasingly take up the mantle of being their teams’ most significant contributors in this context. At any rate, when one watches Leverkusen play, it becomes clear that apart from Havertz’s colleagues in the attacking line playing in such a way as to maximize his options, the contributions of the players behind him on the pitch are absolutely crucial to his capacity to play the way that he does. Leverkusen have traditional defenders and hard-tackling, orthodox midfielders, but no mere “water carriers”. Bosz often plays with three players in the center-back position, but is disinclined to play three out-and-out center-backs, often preferring instead of play full-back Wendell or one of the identical-twin midfielders Lars and Sven Bender in the defensive band – like Bayern manager Hansi Flick, he clearly considers recovery pace and passing ability to be as important as the ability to win headers and make goal-line clearances in his defenders and is willing to play squad members “out of position” to accomplish this. Full-backs or wingers are often played in wide positions as is customary, but Bosz has shown a habit of playing four true central midfielders in his midfield line, giving a clear window into his tactical outlook and into his strategy for getting the best out of Havertz. Julian Baumgartlinger and Charles Aranguiz are the two most defensively-minded of Leverkusen’s midfielders, with Nadiem Amiri and Kariem Demirbay more obviously skillful technicians when they are tasked with making a creative pass or keeping the ball under pressure. All of the club’s primary midfield options, however, are well-rounded in their skillsets, in the same way that the defensive line are expected to be. All of Leverkusen’s midfielders are instructed to press in unison, play passing combinations, drop into the defensive line, and join the attack when the situation calls for it. When seven or eight players can collectively work at a high athletic and technical level to provide structure, make defensive interventions, create adequate spaces in wide and central areas, and so on, it becomes easy to see how a player like Kai Havertz is able to thrive.

Arguably the most analogous current side to Bayer Leverkusen playing at a high level are Atalanta Bergamo, managed by Italian veteran Gian Piero Gasperini. As with Leverkusen, Atalanta focus on attacking far more than they do on defending, and their roaming playmaker-attackers Josip Illicic and Papu Gomez provide reasonable points of stylistic comparison for Havertz. Within Atalanta’s tactical setup, the importance of midfielders Marten de Roen and Remo Freuler being able to undertake a wide variety of unglamorous tasks related to pressing, defending, ball retention and progression, and keeping a collective structural balance through correct positioning cannot be overstated; neither can the significance of the wide-positioned wingbacks, acting as defensive and especially offensive outlets capable of doing the tireless running that the team’s more technically proficient attacking midfielders are unwilling or unable to do. The team must constantly be able to make up the numbers in various areas of the pitch in order to function in passing, defending, attacking the opposition penalty area, and so forth. Illicic and Gomez are reasonably intelligent players, but Illicic in particular is not exactly renowned for his leopard-fast bursts of pace or tremendous workrate. Like Leverkusen, Atalanta play with anachronistic number ten players by screwing with the formula further back on the pitch, and may provide a window into what ought to be done with Havertz in the future. The problem lies in the fact that Atalanta are a “fun” side, but they are far from a “complete” side. The immense ability of Illicic and Gomez has made Atalanta into something of an offensive juggernaut to the point that they are reliable top-four finishers in Serie A despite having far from the fourth-largest budget in the league, but their presence creates a kind of chain of deferred problem that ultimately results in the club’s center-backs frequently chasing back in comical fashion or playing calamitous forward passes because they are isolated from their teammates. Will a team like Man City or Chelsea, whose problems this season have been much more with their defending than going forward, look at Leverkusen and Atalanta and their status as “entertainers” whose matches produce goals at both ends, and decide that Havertz is a prudent signing? It does not seem entirely likely.

Perhaps if a big club is to roll the dice on Kai Havertz, they should look to play with a support structure similar to that employed at Leverkusen, but simply have better midfielders and defenders than Leverkusen. This is probably not the kind of suggestion for which a sporting analyst in a big club’s employ can hope to receive a big promotion, but it may well work. Leverkusen have pretty talented players all over the pitch, but they do not have any one player as truly excellent as PSG’s Marco Verratti, Real Madrid’s Dani Carvajal, or Chelsea’s Jorginho. It is well within the realm of possibility that a club that can afford Havertz can also afford the kinds of players who are so good that they can sufficiently control the aspects of the game that Havertz doesn’t, and allow him to do what he is exceptional at. The issue, given everything previously discussed, is with the proposition of outlaying such a large sum on the player. Why not simply cut out the middleman, sign some midfielders and fullbacks who can collectively do a reasonable amount of goal-creation and goal-scoring without Havertz’s presence on the pitch and be done with it – is there really a high-level system that is truly balanced in which there is really no substitute for a player of his skillset? After all, an industrious and athletic midfielder can create the possibility of a goal with a well-timed run, and a full-back can cross the ball with a meaningful chance of creating a good goal-scoring opportunity.

The scouting question returns to the one of whether Havertz’s gratuitously skillful on-ball ability makes him viable as a “water carrier” for world-class teammates who can do more than just create and score a decent volume of chances. If not, then surely it is the players whose skillsets are more well-rounded than Havertz’s who should be attracting the ridiculous fees rather than the young German. A more tantalizing question might be whether it is feasible for Havertz to do everything he has shown himself capable of doing around the penalty area at Leverkusen, do nothing more, and still have the rest of the team do plenty of solid attacking work in addition to that done by him rather than burdening him almost entirely with making the attack hum. All of this is of course contingent on the rest of the squad being capable of, firstly, feeding the ball to Havertz in the areas where he needs it, and secondly, doing the defensive and ball-progression work that are not really his forte. Any team with serious structural issues in their defensive and midfield areas should be looking nowhere near the youngster as his expensive purchase is highly unlikely to indirectly solve any issues in defense or build-up, and could quite possibly exacerbate them.

All of these questions could reasonably be rendered moot if Havertz simply broadens his skillset somewhat. It shouldn’t be presumed to be inevitable, but it’s far from unheard of for young attacking midfielders to pick up the aspects of the game which are more subtle than getting a shot away or looking for the killer pass. Genuinely top-tier central midfielders like Luka Modric and Andrea Pirlo initially profiled as classical number tens, and it is not too much of a leap of imagination to imagine the German’s balance and passing range being transposed to deeper areas on the pitch. A version of Kai Havertz who shows enough composure to regularly drop back and assist midfielders positioned deeper than him while also demonstrating the same skillset that he already has is basically Kevin de Bruyne. Then again, a version of Michel Platini whose body hasn’t gone downhill athletically over the past three and a half decades and whose reputation isn’t tarnished by a series of corruption scandals is basically peak Michel Platini. A disgusting, greasy broken Hollandaise that was instead emulsified properly by someone who knows how to cook is a delicious sauce. If clubs get too tempted by the prospect of the kind of player that Havertz could be if such and such conditions are met and base their decision to buy him on that, then they are buying the conditions along with the player, and the potential for an expensive mistake is very much baked into the structure of such a valuation.

Have the scouts for Europe’s super-elite considered all of this and analyzed it in greater depth and with more technical resources than has been done in this piece? Without question. Will this ensure that their decision to bid or not bid for Kai Havertz is the right one? Not necessarily. But regardless of what happens with the young player, consideration of who he is as a player right now, who he reasonably could be, and what kinds of conditions must be met for him to end up a success has facilitated a level of reflection on the nature of modern football that would not be the case with other higher-end players. What kinds of scouting questions need a club ask about Raphael Varane, say, if he’s unsettled in Madrid? He’s ridiculously quick, his positioning and decision-making are as good as it gets, he wins his aerial duels. There is no question, go all in for him. What about another 20-year-old Bundesliga sensation, Jadon Sancho? His quick feet, strength, and quick change of direction make him one of the most effective dribblers on the planet, and he’s demonstrated plenty of end product over the past two seasons in Dortmund. If you could use an attacking player and have the money, you go for him, little analysis is necessary. But human agency tends to orient itself towards problems, contradictions, and puzzles, and when a player is as manifestly brilliant as Kai Havertz is without necessarily fitting into any of the truly elite European superclubs, the urge to philosophize his situation takes over. It is this urge which will guide how clubs scout Havertz, and every other player under the sun, if they are to grab themselves a future superstar or at least a useful contributor and not another expensive disappointment.

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richigneven · 8 years ago

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Buenos Aires Calling!

The signs could not have been much better: My first ‘vacation’ lasting more than a week since the awesome festival so called “gneven im grünen”, three concert tickets for my more or less favorite band ‘die toten hosen’- a band I have followed along down the road, which not only makes good music but also supports smaller bands, ethical correct NGO´s and sometimes even play in your living room if you are lucky AND the promising city of Buenos Aires, which goes as the Berlin of South America, or not even Latino American anymore. So my expectations were quite high as well, still they s were exceeded...

My hostel was great, although I arrived way too early they welcomed me with breakfast and showers. As I did not take the first internet recommendation I ended up in a 100% spanish-speaking community, from which a few studied and others sadly escaping war in Venezuela and some others doing whatever. Crazy those two things, first I could never do my exchange semester out of a dormitory, as I already troubled falling a sleep when not completely wasted- how do people snore louder than a airplane taking off? Second why have we reached the point that people need to escape their homes again and shouldnt we welcome them a little more than given them a bed in return of work? You find Venezuelans everywhere in South America right now...

Anyway, I wanted to get to know this European city, which at first glance showed off with nice facades, broken sidewalks and a walkable traffic situation (remember Im used to Lima at the moment, I actually got quite a cultural shock when people actually followed traffic rules and not everyone looked quite similar). I did a walking tour, and right away I saw it at its best, stunning buildings and cemeteries everywhere(at least in the right suburb..) Btw the popularity of their steaks is based on the flatness of the countryside of Argentina, cows actually do have some space to walk around and not need to be cooped up in some stall. Afterwards, I stumbled around myself, and by this is into a huge demonstration. All kinds of human protested in favor of rights for everybody, especially Woman and the LGBT scene. Every of the last ten years more than 200 women has be mudered by their husband or partners, I have heard about it before, but seeing the demonstration showed me how serious the issue is and how many must have suffered domestic violence. I followed along and was quite impressed by the creativity and number of participants. It seems like still the authorities dont really care, as this has been run for over a year now...

it really was endless...

I bet a better photografer would have made a good pic out of that!

Rushed from the energy of the protests I had a buncher Spätibeer (cerveza de ciosco) and decided to go see my friend from my old exchange semester in good old fresno..So we met 9 years ago and havent seen since. Ines were just working in a restaurant and I already had a few beers too many. So after she invited me for two more I tried too call it a night, which is always hard when you in a foreign city for the first time 10km away from your bed and trying to go by public transport. AllI know, I woke up in my hostel the next day and some blurry memories sitting in some other bar with some Germans, but I dont know why. Alright lets face it, probably the craving for more beer.

In the morning, I realized today would be the day I have never really imagined to become true. Seeing “Los Hosen” in Buenos Aires is said to be special. I always wanted to know what´s about it, because special is also sitting one hour in the” Berlin Ringbahn” and drink beer or the Chinese Wall, but neither gets a lot of my attention. After another day of enjoying various parts of the city I went in front of the venue, Museum, a buncher years ago crashed the stage in the second song and the concert was over. The first guys I approached were already a win in the lottery and I could not have asked for more. Spätibeer here and there and talks about everything what my Spanish has to offer. The show was crazy, a venue like SO36, long and narrow. A small terrace all around from which Campino (singer) jumped into the crowd and somehow mad his way back, totally red, as people did not want to let him go...A few punch were needed so he reached the stage again.

The crowd of 800-1000, of which maybe 100 were German, freaked out at pretty much every single song. Decent singing along but even harder dancing along. Everybody full of energy, led by a Band which noticeably enjoyed to be part of it once again. After the concert I went further to a few more Bars or you could call it Club even, energy for those after concerts partys I usually do not have after concerts in Germany. This night, I got a ride home, across the entire city, letting somebody out at the bus station apparently is no option when you their “guest”.

Party people

The same reason, the next day, I was invited to a match of one of the biggest football teams over there.. Boca Juniors, it was really interesting to see such a steep stadium which shacks because everybody jumps and how fascinated all the players and fans are. But I certainly have friends which can analyze those events way more. Side note: Argentina has stopped to allow fans of the visiting teams for all league games, in order to prevent violence. A working approach, but defiantly not in the sense of the sport.

A couple more or less boring hard working days for my uni were interrupted by a Cover concert and even more interesting of a Concert of the Magic Mystery tour show in a house in Buenos Aires. You can apply ahead and if you lucky the Hosen come to give a show and the fans possibly destroy all you have. I talked to many people who at least once tried it, but these gigs are quite precious. Getting inside this house was not possible, but through same delays in my taxi I arrived for the last few songs of the concert, which was totally sufficient for me. Except the drummer, everybody got outside of the house once and of course Campino climbed every fence there exist on the premises. Afterwards, a little party in front of the fence took place and once again a intercultural understanding with hands and legs. Knowing a few words of Spanish certainly made the situation even more fun and allowed me buying beer in the cioscos around, which was hard as for some reasons they only wanted to sell cold beer, but to understand this I almost failed.

Campino not only gave its best during the show, the aftershowparty he won against everybody!

In front of the fence, it was still cleanable afterwards, nobody know about inside

Wow Wednesday already, but still two more official shows to go! The German Hosen fans, organized a bus tour to the town of the next venue, La Plata, which is 1-2 hours down south from BA. Ive almost missed the bus, due to lets face it: Hangoverness but also Credit Card issues, during which I kind of realized how screwed you could be in a foreign country. But all worked out and with 1 hour delay and a busdriver who ask after 1 hour ride where he actually supposed to head we were almost at our first stop: The barbeque party in some Argentina´s house. The owner just decided to through a party for everybody who wanted to come and as it was somebody´s birthday the owner bought beer and steaks for the most of them. (unluckily no grilled cheese, but this time people were at least to buy warm beer in the Späti next door) So i tackled my hangover from last night with a few beers and it become a really nice get-together with people from all parts of society, ages and regions of Germany and Argentina. The good bye was a kiss for the woman living there for everybody and the last existing steaks as “Schnittchen” for later. When was the last time you invited 70 unknown people to your backyard and when it comes to cleaning up they all get in a bus and you give them food and beer for the road? Arriving in front of the venue the people once again couldnt even wait to party on and sang along the sound check inside which was with the song “Reisefieber”, so an old and popular one, this was promising. I dedicated myself to socialize and to the Späti´s around so once inside It starts to be more of a blur...I remember a few songs, some crowdsurfing, an amazing venue as very wide, once again energized Hosen, more beer(in cans btw) and a few special acts. Is there anything more to ask for? Claro, afterparty, but this is even more of a blur...With many more beer and whatsoever for everybody who was tired or just wanted to be sure to make it a good night we drove through la plata and some other parties over there...At some point i recall 7 people, from which I knew 1 slightly before but good times. At some point at 6 or 7 we returned to BA, I was already sleeping in the car for a while. But the others were still going strong not being tired at the moment. Such a day, no shower, one more sip of beer and straight to bed. I reckon I will never get closer to Punk rock than this before.

Days with the most drinks, usually the ones with the fewest pictures for me ;)

Next day started slowly, ended slowly but again a Coverband concert, Peru tied Argentina, so know it´s very interesting who is going to qualify and another day I made a nice tour through the party area of Palermo with two new friends. The show on Saturday was in a huge venue of 5000-7000 people. The living room of the Ramones, they said. Many other guest, setlist switched again and At least the first third of the concert everybody went crazy once more. With forgoing time, people got more relaxed and only half of the stadium jumped along..I mobilized my last strength and had an amazing time. Meeting people in the crowed I have met during the last week and giving them a possible last high five or smile.

Los hosen more or less announced the location of the aftershow party: the club we went the week before but I called it a night in some bar close to my hostel. A friend gave me his sweater to show once more how welcome I am here. Lots of promises of reuniting in whatever part of the world were mad and at some point I went home to my Hostel. I´m not sure if or when I will see this city and especially all those nice people again. But the times, friendlyness and in all kinds of situation and circumstances they gave me here will always be reminded in my brain and my heart. I now understand when los Hosen say they do not come for the music, they come to meet the people, I seldom received such a warm welcome of different people in various situations in several forms. As always I hope to be able to return the favor in a place where I can show people around and gave them a good time, but for now I can just say thank you!

rocknroll

last beer, this time for sure!

more impressions:

there he is!

street art

subway art

maybe next time Ill tell you about my first Spanish interview! ;)

#hastaluego #hastalamuerte #buenosaires #dietotenhosen #cerveza

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youngerdrgrey · 8 years ago

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okay but shouldn’t we be the epicenter? // a Dear White People fic, part 1

full title: *lionel voice* okay but shouldn’t /we/ be the epicenter of black life on this campus?

chapter title: shouldn’t we be (idk) calling out our friends?

or, a further exploration into these black lives on Winchester’s campus, making my way through the season for further depth and hilarity

about: what happens when Defamation ends and Jo pauses in her screaming with her heart still racing to go and get her boy. Or, the time Jo calls out Reggie for letting his jealousy get the best of him on a sacred night.

references include Scandal, Orange is the New Black and the completely unnecessary fucked up death that I will never forgive them for, the 100 and the death that I don’t have an opinion on bc I never watched that show, and casual use of both dicktamized and heedlessly in the same sentence #codeswitching

+ this chapter takes place at the end of episode one; read on ao3?

Honestly, even the Defamation live tweets coming from AP got interrupted today so people could throw in their two cents about Sam, Reggie, and the white boy coming between them and the movement. And it’s not like Joelle would normally care that much about the gossip. Everyone on campus knows that race relations at Winchester are like the pre-teen child Sam and Reggie adopted just when a group home or juvie were closing in on ‘em. But there’s a difference between the normal talk about Jo’s friends and the talk tonight. Normally it’s just a few direct tweets, but tonight, half her timeline’s subtweets about just whip it out already #nottalkingDefamation or #loveitwhen bae meets activist!bae for the first time or just a simple *Crazy Eyes voice* swiiirl swirl swiiiirl swirl. So fine, Jo can’t even scroll through her timeline without having to address this, so she needs to address it in person. Even if all she can do is snap at Reggie about growing the fuck up.

She gets out her chair to stalk over to him at his. “You couldn’t wait, could you?”

Reggie peers up at her, still too deep into his feigned nonchalance to lift his legs back off the arm rest. As if she doesn’t deserve the full extent of his energy, or a head to head showdown. Honestly, his mind’s probably still on whatever ‘girl you better watch’ text he just sent Sam about the end of the episode. He flips his phone onto his stomach without even killing the screen.

“Wait for what?”

To whip his fucking dick out and wave it in Gabe’s face. Seriously, what’s with that impulse in guys? Jo’s not out here in booty shorts and bandeaus to prove she’s got more going on than Sam does. (Not that she does. Not that it’s a competition. She’s not competing with her best friend; she’s merely pointing out that she doesn’t have the same need to constantly battle anyone that her crush is into.)

(( Not that it’s much of a competition anyway. Guys always go for girls like Sam, don’t they? Girls who don’t really have to try to summon all the light in the room and can go on without necessarily having to know what it’s like to be black in ‘post-racial’ America. ))

((( Sam knows what it’s like. She knows what her experience is like, anyway, and Jo’s really not trying to get too deep into the whole color-ism of it all. European beauty standards are bullshit and forced on everyone. Jo’s got a banging body that works for a lot of guys who might not want to fully claim her, but she’s not all too interested in guys who unironically use ‘females’ to describe women and call her Queen before they ever even think to ask her name. )))

(((( Wait, what was the point again? ))))

Reggie cocks his head to the side. Assured and righteous as he normally is. But he’s the one in the wrong right now. The one pouncing instead of giving Gabe two seconds to try being in their lives.

“Come on, Reg. He—“ and Reggie groans and rolls his eyes immediately, so Jo just talks louder “—he was here for all of two minutes before you jumped down his throat to make sure everyone in the room could see how down he was.”

Reggie nearly snorts, singing lightly, “‘He ain’t really down.” But it’s Reggie playing those games you do, not Gabe. Reggie throwing his name in the Goblet of Fire for no fucking purpose but to run into the maze and get spat back out for doing it. “Come on. Not even a chuckle? You love old house music.”

She also loves getting to enjoy her hate-watch without being constantly reminded of their stupid relationship drama. “Be serious. I’m not happy either, but you don’t see me picking fights during Defamation.”

He shrugs. “You would if you weren’t so busy snapping at everything Olive does."

“Not everything.” Olive could literally control the whole world if she wanted to, but she keeps on going back to that trash ass president she put in the oval. Plus, the shit they do in there? Five seasons in, there’s probably permanent grooves on the rug that her knees put there. Which, whatever, but it’s been years, and Olive won’t leave someone who’s no good for her. “She needs to wise up, and so do you. Jumping all around the point.”

Reggie sits up so straight his shoulders level out. The steel in his eyes snags the light from the TV while his jaw locks up for a beat. “What’s your point then, Jo?” He asks as if he doesn’t already know.

Everybody on this campus knows how Reggie feels about Sam. Including Sam, on some level; she’s just somehow deluded herself into thinking that Reggie only wants her mind, or her activism, or a partner in the movement. But Reggie’s been into every piece of Sam since she still had a relaxer and shared a room with Coco Conners. He’s been trailing after her since the first time she spoke up in class freshman year, and if Jo has to hear about how Sam was like a blacktivist Hermione Granger one more time, she will Obliviate herself, him, and anyone else who’s had to listen to it. But none of that knowledge changes anything. None of that brings what’s been subtext to the forefront quite like this does.

“Sam brought him here on Defamation night. She’s serious about this.” Serious enough that she didn’t tell either of them. And Jo’s not quite sure if Sam’s ashamed of his whiteness or their unapologetic blackness or maybe just that she got dicktamized into a relationship with the very sort of guy she normally mocks heedlessly, but here they all are. “I mean, we’ve supported her through worse.”

“Like what?”

Like the time she single-handedly tried responding to every single person who justified Poussey’s death in Orange is the New Black, dedicating a whole episode of DWP to debunking its use in the narrative. (It’s still a great episode, complete with gems like, “Dear white people, if you fix your mouth one more time to tell me why Poussey’s death was okay but you’re still crying over Lexa from The 100, I honestly don’t have the time to deal with you.” Top ratings, top notch, though it led to some serious rifts within the LGBTQ community on campus.)

Or the time she dated Troy. She planned yacht trips over rallies and acted like Jo and Reggie were both in the wrong for wondering if everything with them was just some dalliance in danger, like a pre-approved trek through the blackness of Sam’s identity before settling in to a non-confrontational future. But even then, Troy was the heir to respectability at Winchester, the crowned prince of how to be the right kind of negro who everyone can rally behind when something goes south and they wind up dead. He couldn’t so much as choose a cereal without his dad’s approval, so Sam and him were never gonna last. Not at this part of her life anyway.

“Just — Sam’s no Olive, Reg.” She won’t be with Picture Frame Gabe more than a few months, not when his true politics start coming out. He might be ready on paper to be part of this, but nobody understands the work until they’re in it. “She won’t choose some white boy over everything else she cares about.” Sam loves them.

Reggie leans up so his chest meets his knees at the armrest. It puts him at her level for the first time this conversation. He asks her, “You sure about that?"

Sam helped Jo take out her braids the night her Hulu trial ended and all they had were YouTube videos for filler. Sam missed her own midterm for psych last semester to help Reggie study for his midterm in poli sci. (Never mind the fact that Sam’s psych class dropped the lowest midterm score; the girl needed the points with the number of events that she kept scheduling during that class.) Sam’s their girl, for more than the movement and for nothing less than life. And if Jo has to fight against the need to widen her eyes and has to run these memories through her mind to convince herself that all of that still matters, then she’s not going to tell him.

“How can you not be?” she asks. Sam’s not going anywhere, even if Jo has to hold her down herself. Friends don’t let friends fuck the president. (And friends, real friends, tell you if they are, don’t they? Real friends let you in on the stuff they’re ashamed about, or wondering about, because if they don’t talk about it, then it’s not real, and if you’re not the one they go to, then maybe your whole friendship was just one of convenience. Maybe it’s high school all over again and the fact that your friends now are cool black kids instead of cool white ones doesn’t actually make a difference. Maybe you’re nothing more than the Coco of junior year.) “I’ll talk to her. Can you just hold off on vilifying her boy until then?”

Reggie plucks at a thread on the seam of his pants. “‘Her boy.’” He yanks the thread a little too hard, but it doesn’t go anywhere. Just leaves him with his fist clenched in the air over nothing. “He said, ‘it’s not worth it,’ then left.” Back in that fight? Seriously? Reggie glances up at Jo again. “He mean her when he say that?”

Because that’s what actually eats at Reggie, isn’t it? That someone on this planet could see his almighty love Samantha White and think she’s anything less than pure perfection.

“Of course not.” Everyone loves Sam; it’s them that everyone else seems unsure about. Because Reggie’s smart and brilliant, but he’s millitant in a way that can chafe at people who want to just enjoy themselves. And most people don’t know that he’ll talk shit for two seconds about the lives they’re ignoring by binge-watching The Get Down all day but that he’ll give himself over to it just a few minutes later. Or that he hasn’t missed a single night of Defamation since the first time Jo dragged him along after Open Mic let out two seasons ago. “Gabe just meant fighting you wasn’t worth sticking around tonight.” She swats a hand at his knee, batting at him as playfully as she can get. As casually as she can make this right now. “Good thing too. You too damn stubborn to ever stop.”

Reggie grins, but his eyes still have this shade over them. His brow crinkles while his nose scrunches up. He’s probably wondering, is it worth it to keep fighting? Think Sam will ever notice? Think Sam will ever fight for me too? At this point, it’d take an act of either God or the devil to get a reaction out of Sam, and after this blackface party, it sure seems like the devil’s more likely.

Jo swallows that comment down, scans the room to get away from soft eyes that never seem soft just for her. “Now get up. Walk me back to my room.”

He groans, but he pushes up off the chair. Throws his arm around her and tugs her into his side. Her eyes flutter closed, and she gets a whole three seconds of imagining that this could be about them. This could be them. Soft smiles and warm arms wrapped around each other. “You think she’ll ever leave him?” Then he opens his mouth and says that. His voice still comes out a little too heavy. He clears it while she blinks away the three second fantasy. “I mean, the oval’s got to have dents from her knees in the carpet at this point.”

“Oh!” She cackles — quick and bright and like the Defamation flashes are going off inside of her. Olive. Does she think Olive will ever leave the president? Not Sam. They’re finally done talking about Sam. And, okay, seriously, “That’s exactly what I said. Like power to her, get some, but does it have to be with Mr. President?”

“No eyebrows having,” Reggie starts.

“Disrespectful ass,” she continues.

“‘I know what you taste like’ Gerald Grant III.” They shudder together, and if she nestles in closer to his chest on the rest of the walk, they don’t talk about it. Maybe that’s how their little trio works — talk about everything but the big three: how Jo feels about Reggie, how Reggie feels about Sam, and how Sam might not be theirs forever.

Or maybe that’s just post-Defamation overdramatic thinking.

Yeah. (Maybe.)

#dwp #dear white people #dwp series #joelle brooks #reggie green #joelle x reggie #shouldn't we be #mine

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writingguide003-blog · 6 years ago

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Ryder Cup 2018: Guardian writers select their standout moments

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/ryder-cup-2018-guardian-writers-select-their-standout-moments/

Ryder Cup 2018: Guardian writers select their standout moments

Francesco Molinari was the standout performer while Justin Thomas, Tommy Fleetwood and Ian Poulter were among those who also had a tournament to remember

Player of the tournament

Francesco Molinari. Nobody comes close. The plaudit is all the more valid because Molinari will be bashful about accepting it. Ewan Murray

Francesco Molinari. Who else? I dont know what planet he lives on, said Thomas Bjrn, but its not the one that the rest of the players live on, thats for sure. Andy Bull

Francesco Molinari. Could there be anyone else after he became only the fourth player in Ryder Cup history to go 5/5? Afterwards his teammates joked that the Italian was so good he never saw the 18th hole only for a smiling Molinari to point out that hed played it once in practice. Sean Ingle

Francesco Molinari. As much as he would resist the suggestion, the Italian who has burdened himself with supporting West Ham United was more than compensated when he joined the pantheon of the elite by sweeping all five matches and being there for the final delivery of the sword, courtesy of Phil Mickelsons errant tee shot on the 16th. Kevin Mitchell

Francesco Molinari. But Webb Simpson deserves recognition, too; the Players champion always plotted his route wisely around a punitive course. Where else to complete his 2018 renaissance but Paris? Scott Murray

Rookie of the tournament

Tommy Fleetwood. On the course, Fleetwood was as impressive as ever (before running out of singles steam) while his general approach and demeanour was a breath of fresh air. The Ryder Cup was all the better for the Englishmans involvement. EM

Justin Thomas, who ended up carrying the US team. If a few of them had followed his lead the final result surely wouldnt have been so lopsided. AB

Justin Thomas. Tommy Fleetwood was brilliant too, but Thomas arguably had to do more of the heavy lifting, going 4/5 for an American team that was struggling and winning tight games against Ian Poulter and Jon Rahm on the Saturday morning with the help of his partner Jordan Spieth and Rory McIlroy in the singles. SI

Not Tommy Fleetwood, sadly, after his collapse in the singles left him with just the four wins with Francesco Molinari. Jon Rahm was a strong candidate, holding off the flickering challenge of Tiger Woods on Sunday. But Justin Thomass fourth point after a dog fight with Rory McIlroy left the most lasting impression of the new boys. KM

Tommy Fleetwood. For his record rookie haul, but also for his burgeoning bromance with Molinari. Europe loves a double-act: Seve and Ollie, Faldo and Monty, G-Mac and Wee Mac. Hooray for Moliwood! SM

Justin Thomas lines up a shot on the final day of the Ryder Cup, when he defeated Rory McIlroy in a tightly-fought singles match. On an individual level, the American had a good tournament. Photograph: Christian Petersen/Getty Images

Best celebration

Ian Poulter in the postbox outfit. He claims he will take it back to Florida and frame it. Poults frames everything, claimed Justin Rose. EM

Jon Rahm throwing his putter down, screaming and strutting around the 17th green after he closed out his singles match against Tiger Woods. AB

Ian Poulter isnt to everyones tastes but his prolonged and adrenalised chest-beating after defeating Dustin Johnson in the singles will live long in the memory. SI

Tommy Fleetwood has a symbiosis with the fans that is unforced and infectious. Even in defeat he was as ebullient as ever, the sign of a great team player, and embraced the fans with his trademark wide-legged squat. The man with the longest hair in golf also has the longest laugh. KM

Justin Thomas shushed and ear-cupped the crowd at 11 on Saturday afternoon, after which he almost seemed to be plotting a reverse takeover of Captain America Industries (CEO Patrick Reed). The gallery-baiting uniform suits him; he was indestructible after that. SM

Best match

Justin Rose/Jon Rahm v Tony Finau/Brooks Koepka. The first game of the event and the epitome of matchplay. Europe held an apparently decisive lead before Finau enjoyed an outrageous break on the 16th and Rose found water at the last. The US claimed the point. Breathtaking stuff. EM

Justin Thomass 1-up win over his great mate Rory McIlroy on Sunday, an 18-hole duel which twisted and turned one way then the other and back again. AB

A tough one to call but lets say Justin Thomas and Jordan Spieth against Ian Poulter and Jon Rahm given I followed it from inside the ropes. The match swung this way and that with seven birdies to Europe and 10 to the US team. SI

There were many to pick from, but for sheer tension and importance the lead singles on Sunday between Rory McIlroy and Justin Thomas was hard to beat. Both made mistakes, both fought for every point all the way to the end which was tragic for McIlroy when he plugged into a bunker on the 18th when all square. And Thomas was magnanimous in victory to cap off a fine, fighting win. KM

In a parallel universe, Alex Norn v Bryson DeChambeau decides everything. DeChambeau seals it for the US by wedging to 18 inches! No! Norn steals it for Europe with a 40-foot rake! Everyone piles on! Ah well, for a match that meant nothing in the real world it wasnt too bad as it was, given its wild denouement will come to visually define this victory. SM

Justin Rose and Jon Rahm congratulate each other during their fourballs match against Brooks Koepka and Tony Finau on the opening day of the Ryder Cup. Photograph: Francois Mori/AP

Funniest moment

Im lost, Im sorry Justin Thomas is completely unaware his father is writing a Ryder Cup diary for a newspaper in Kentucky as he is asked in a press conference whether there is shame attached to a sportswriter in the family. Am I missing something? EM

During their final press conference Jordan Spieth teased Tiger Woods about his habit of using military lingo. Woods, who had tuned out, blanked him. Spieth waited a beat then said: Good talk, Tiger. AB

Bubba Watson and Webb Simpson making a treble-bogey six to halve the par-three 2nd against Sergio Garca and Alex Norn during the Saturday foursomes. Incredibly, Watson and Norn and then Webb all went into the water yet the Europeans missed two putts for the hole. SI

By a distance the European teams calling out at their press conference of the stunningly self-regarding American golf writer who had predicted their downfall in apocalyptic terms. He will go unnamed here (which will irk him) but he took his licks then rushed to social media to glory in his instant fame. Donald Trump has more self-awareness than this comedian. KM

Patrick Reed playfully shushing the crowd after beating Tyrrell Hatton. The Masters champion cant catch a break whatever he does, but hopefully this self-deprecating callback followed by genuine applause for the gallery and warm congratulations for Europe wins him some new fans. SM

In 2020 Europe will…

Be well served by keeping Thomas Bjrn as part of the Ryder Cup fold. His captaincy was outstanding. EM

Lose to a US team built around Justin Thomas, Jordan Spieth and a rejuvenated Patrick Reed on a course set up to play to the Americans strengths. AB

Its too early to say, but they must have a chance of holding on to the Ryder Cup given its being played on the rugged links of Whistling Straits, a course that suits them more than Hazeltine did in 2016. SI

Be even stronger, with the steady maturing of Jon Rahm and Tommy Fleetwood. With any luck, Francesco Molinari will be there to reach for a fourth Ryder Cup triumph, and maybe by then Rory McIlroy has sorted out his putting woes. KM

Either go into the singles 10-6 up, or 10-6 down. SM

Read more: http://www.theguardian.com/us

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amtushinfosolutionspage · 7 years ago

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Is Cheating in Soccer More Acceptable in Some Countries than Others?

In November 1952, the British author H.E. Bates penned a newspaper article affectionately describing soccer as “the most beautiful game in the world,” a phrase famously adopted by Pele for his 1977 autobiography.

While this has become almost synonymous with the sport, it was never really true, even long before Bates wrote his column. During the inaugural 1930 World Cup, some of the fouls were so brutal that games like Argentina’s 6-1 semi-final win over the US left many of the American team missing teeth or hospitalized with torn lips and stomach injuries.

But as the World Cup’s iconic stature has grown over the past 88 years, its darker side has evolved, with mass brawls and broken legs replaced by a more cerebral cunning—the cynical dives and penalty box grappling which sometimes overshadows the breathtaking skills and sublime goals.

The 2018 World Cup has already seen everything from Neymar’s outrageous slow-motion dive against Costa Rica, to French defender Lucas Hernandez’s remarkably brazen admission that he was deliberately throwing himself to the turf to try and get Aussie defender Mathew Leckie sent off.

But such moments elicit different types of reactions from fans and media around the globe depending on a range of factors from their allegiance, to the result, the team’s performance, and how the incident is perceived in that particular culture.

As a result, some of the World Cup’s darker moments can be extremely divisive.

Four years ago, Brazil striker Fred was widely criticized for diving to win a penalty during Brazil’s opening World Cup game against Croatia. French striker Loïc Rémy was particularly incensed when watching the incident, calling for Fred to be “punished.”

However, following Hernandez’s cheeky confession about his antics against Australia, there has been no apology from the French camp and little criticism in the French media, save for a light-hearted video from Le Figaro. Instead, the backlash came from the US—with USA Today dubbing Hernandez, the “World Cup’s most blatant cheater”—and legions of outraged Australian fans who bombarded the French player’s social media accounts with abuse.

Hernandez’s cheating admission provoked a particular outcry in Australia, a country which prides itself on the traditional values of sportsmanlike conduct. For Australians, it’s embedded deeply into the national psyche that it’s not only important to compete hard but compete fairly. “It’s because Australian sport prides itself on the gladiatorial aspect,” Huw Bonello, a journalist for Daily Telegraph Australia, told VICE Sports via email. “No matter what the odds are against you, you play hard but always fair. That’s how you are respected.”

With France winning that game 2-1, the French response (or lack of) was yet another example of how many nations are willing to condemn cheating when they are the victims, but look the other way when their own players are the perpetrators.

“First and foremost, every country supports their own and people love to win,” Sao Paulo based sociologist Jeffrey Lesser told VICE Sports in a phone call. “So when the national team wins, their journalists and supporters are typically willing to forgive certain behaviors far more than when the team loses.”

However, in some countries such high profile gamesmanship can lead to a backlash from the team’s own supporters, especially if they’re not living up to expectations.

While Neymar is Brazil’s talisman, his constant diving has seen him become the subject of widespread mockery, even from his own fans. Some pundits believe Neymar’s antics have been magnified by Brazil’s slow start in the World Cup. “We fans…always expect Brazil to play well and to play beautiful, technical football because those are Brazil’s trademarks,” legendary Brazilian striker Marta wrote in the Guardian.

For Asian teams, such as Japan and South Korea, a certain degree of play-acting is tolerated, but if a player’s diving became a high-profile topic because it changed the course of a match, the public and media would turn on him as it would be viewed as tarnishing the country’s reputation.

“South Koreans are even more outraged than most at any perceived cheating against them,” Korean soccer expert Steve Price told VICE Sports in a Facebook message. “However, things like a Korean player diving to gain an advantage are still accepted by the Korean public. The K League was one of the first to adopt VAR but it hasn’t stopped the diving and bothering the referee, just like every other league in the world. However something more major would probably draw a backlash from the Korean public as it would bring shame on Korea.”

But while diving is relatively ubiquitous, it’s some of the World Cup’s most controversial moments of all which have particularly divided opinions on what’s deemed acceptable on a football field, and what isn’t.

In the dying seconds of Uruguay’s quarter-final clash with Ghana at the 2010 World Cup, Luis Suarez kept his country in the World Cup by deliberately handling Dominic Adiyiah’s goal-bound header off the line. Suarez was immediately red carded with Ghana awarded a penalty to try and seal the match. But amid scenes of almost unbelievable tension, star striker Asamoah Gyan could only hit the crossbar, and Uruguay eventually went on to win in a penalty shootout.

Suarez was subsequently vilified across the world—both for his actions and his jubilant touchline celebrations after Gyan’s miss. One Journalist wondered “Why can’t football tackle cheats?” While some called for FIFA to hand Suarez an extended ban.

However to this day, Uruguayan fans and journalists view Suarez’s actions in a very different light. They regard his behavior as heroic, rather than cheating.

“We see it in a very different way,” Luis Roux, a journalist for Uruguayan newspaper El Observador, told VICE Sports via email. “Our belief is that Suarez’s intention was not cheating—like Maradona’s handball for example—but avoiding defeat. And we also see Suarez’s celebrations after Gyan missed the penalty, in a different way. Other countries, like the British, think that Suarez should have been ashamed instead of expressing his joy. Uruguayans disagree, we think it was right that he was proud of his sacrifice for the team. Ghana should have won the game, but they missed the penalty. We do not see that as our fault.”

Because of this perception, and a number of high profile incidents involving Latin American players—from Suarez to the aforementioned Hand of God in 1986 to Rivaldo’s infamous playacting to get Turkey’s Hakan Ünsal sent off in 2002—a stereotype has emerged that Latin American players are more likely to turn to underhanded tactics in crucial World Cup matches.

But is this really true? Some Latin American pundits believe so, ascribing it partly to the conditions in which players like Suarez, Maradona, and Neymar grew up in.

“You have to realize that all these kids grow up in the barrios, the poor neighborhoods,” Chilean soccer commentator Luis Tapia, who works for TV station Univision, told VICE Sports in a phone call. “A lot of them don’t even finish primary school. In Europe, many of the star players have grown up in youth academies with beautiful pitches, freshly cut grass, painted lines, readily available water, places where they feel comfortable. In Latin America, the equivalent players start playing soccer without shoes, in stones and dirt. So here, it’s the game of the ‘hood. It’s about survival. These players grow up trying to provide for their families, so they learn to do whatever it takes to make sure that you don’t lose. Other people may take it as unfair play, but it’s part of the game.”

Tapia and others point to linguistic evidence of this mentality. In Argentina and Uruguay, there’s an expression called viveza criolla, which translates as “native cunning” and refers to a culture of trying to get a psychological edge over the opposition wherever and whenever possible.

“The Spanish-speaking countries also talk about picardía, which means to be crafty, to play with your senses, use your cunning to do things the referee doesn’t see,” Diego Pena, a Mexican radio commentator for Univision, told VICE Sports in a phone call.

But not everyone agrees with this. After all, the World Cup is littered with incidents of cynical behavior from European players—in the 1990 World Cup final Rudi Voller dived to win West Germany a decisive penalty against Argentina, while a study of gamesmanship at the 2010 World Cup found Portugal’s Cristiano Ronaldo to be among the worst offenders.

From a sociological perspective, Lesser believes that neither culture nor the legacy of an impoverished upbringing are likely to be factors in a player trying to bend the rules. He points to Belgian striker Romelu Lukaku who grew up in abject poverty and yet was commended for his sportsmanship against Tunisia in the group stages.

“This generation of soccer players are very internationalized,” he told VICE Sports. “A lot of the big Latin American stars play for European clubs. So this makes me doubt that it’s something in Latin American culture which makes a player turn to gamesmanship.”

Instead, Lesser suspects that the real answer is linked to the sheer amount of attention devoted to the World Cup across the globe.

“The players we tend to think of first when it comes to gamesmanship are the likes of Ronaldo, Neymar, the highest paid players in the world,” he says. “So maybe it’s not an accident that it’s these players who are constantly under intense scrutiny regarding everything they do, who feel like they’re being targeted by everybody. That’s tough and that probably leads to behaviors that aren’t always under control.”

Is Cheating in Soccer More Acceptable in Some Countries than Others? syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

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movietvtechgeeks · 8 years ago

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Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/leonardo-dicaprio-donald-lady-gaga-talks-fame/

Leonardo DiCaprio on Donald and Lady Gaga talks fame

One of the most beloved and one of the most disdained stars met at a recent climate change event and apparently not much common ground was found. Just recently, Academy Award-winning actor Leonardo DiCaprio recounted his brief encounter with President Donald Trump at a Yale Climate Conference panel. The actor/environmental activist told interviewer John Kerry that he was not able to get through to Donald like he was hoping. Leo told John, “We presented [Donald] with a comprehensive plan to tackle climate change, while also simultaneously harnessing the economic potential of green jobs. We talked about how the United States has the potential to lead the world in clean-energy manufacturing and research and development.” Unfortunately, Donald didn’t greet this plan with open arms. Leo went on to rant, “We should not have people in office who do not believe in facts and truth and modern science that are able to manipulate and risk the entire future of this entire generation.” Later on in the interview, Leo went on to add, “We are at that turning point right now, and we are going to look back at this point in history, and frankly this administration, and certain people are going to be vilified for not taking action. They really are. And it’s up to this generation; it’s up to all of you to get involved and make a difference.” The wave of Hollywood break-ups has yet to pass… This week, it was revealed that former Hills star Audrina Patridge split from her husband Corey Bohan. Subsequently, it was reported that the star also filed for a restraining order after Corey got violent with her while she was carrying their daughter Kirra earlier this summer. Media outlet The Blast reported that Corey is currently under criminal investigation, as Audrina reported him for pushing her while she was holding on to their young daughter. In addition, Corey was reportedly having a full-blown freak out at the time, repeatedly hitting himself in the head in front of both Audrina and Kirra. Unfortunately, Corey has apparently already violated the restraining order. TMZ reported that just a day after the order was granted, Corey showed up to Audrina and his home (where Audrina was staying with their daughter). Despite being asked to leave, Corey proceeded to set up a bunch of video cameras around the house, assumedly so that he could keep an eye on his ex-wife and daughter. Right now, Audrina is sorting out some of the legal details regarding her divorce from Corey. TMZ claims that the reality star is hoping that the judge will not grant Corey any spousal support, which she expects he will ask for during the proceedings. In addition, she is seeking sole custody of their 1-year-old. TV insiders believe that senior NBC staffers leaked the instantly infamous tape of Lawrence O’Donnell’s meltdown, in retaliation for his antics during contract negotiations this spring. Mediate published an 8-minute video of O’Donnell raging at staff during breaks in an Aug. 29 live broadcast of “The Last Word,” screaming at the staff to silence people in the control room and stop a “hammering” sound. Sources connected with the leak tell media outlets the video was slipped to the site as a broadcast-quality digital clip — and that only a handful of people are believed to be capable of accessing and transmitting such a file. Multiple sources tell us that O’Donnell angered NBC honcho Andy Lack — who also oversees MSNBC — in May by tweeting to fans about his contract negotiations. One TV insider called the deal-making “tense and unusually public,” while another said O’Donnell slyly generated a “groundswell of ‘save Lawrence sentiment’’ among viewers that “backed Lack into a corner.” A source tells us that the small number of people with access to the clip suggests it was either leaked or authorized by “someone at a senior level.” In the clip — reminiscent of Bill O’Reilly’s legendary “We’ll do it live!” blowup — a visibly furious O’Donnell slams his fist on his desk and rants about “insanity in the control room” and “stop the hammering!” and what he calls “f - - king out-of-control s - - t.” O’Donnell apologized Wednesday, saying, “A better anchorman and a better person would’ve had a better reaction to technical difficulties.” O’Donnell told media outlets: “This is a ridiculous conspiracy theory. There’s only one person to blame for this video — me. Andy Lack brought me to MSNBC when he created the network in 1996. We were friends before that and have always remained friends.” Lady Gaga has written an emotional message to fans to mark the release of her new Netflix documentary. In a note posted to Twitter on Thursday, Gaga writes that the film reveals “that fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.” She says fame is lonely, isolating and “very psychologically challenging” because it “changes the way you’re viewed by people.” She says her relationship with fame is “complicated” because she knows it’s her “destiny to be a performer.” The 31-year-old calls herself “just a girl trying to become a woman, who loves to write music, to sing, to play piano, guitar, dance, perform, and act.” Her documentary, “Gaga: Five Foot Two,” began streaming Friday on Netflix. These are the main takeaways from her very interesting documentary.

Lady Gaga has a new perspective on relationships. "My threshold for bullshit with men is… I don't have one anymore," Lady Gaga declares in the opening minutes of her new film. "I just don't care. Maybe cause I'm 30 and I feel better than ever, you know? All my insecurities are gone, I don't feel insecure about who am I as a woman. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed of what I have."

This new attitude extends to her professional life and her decision to work with producer Mark Ronson on Joanne. "There's so many men in my life in business… [who made me] feel like what I was on my own wasn't good enough. I don't feel that way working with Mark."

She feels slighted by Madonna. For as long as Lady Gaga has been a star, she's been dogged by comparisons to Madonna. She addresses those in Gaga: Five Foot Twoat length. "The thing with me and Madonna, for example, is: I admired her always. And I still admire her, no matter what she might think of me."

But that admiration now comes with a caveat. "I'm Italian and from New York," Lady Gaga continues, "so if I got a problem with somebody, I'm gonna tell you to your face. But no matter how much respect I have for [Madonna] as a performer, I could never wrap my head around the fact that she wouldn't look me in the eye and tell me that I was reductive… I saw it on fucking TV. Telling me that you think I'm a piece of shit through the media, it's like a guy passing me a note through his friend: 'my buddy thinks you're hot.' Fuck you. Where's your buddy fucking throwing me up against the wall and kissing me? I just want Madonna to throw me up against the wall and kiss me and tell me I'm a piece of shit." Later, while visiting her grandmother, Lady Gaga can't resist taking one more shot at the women she admires. While looking at an old high school picture, the singer's father remarks, "this proves that she had braces." "If I had kept that gap," Lady Gaga adds, "then I would have even more problems with Madonna."

She's been battling debilitating pain for years. Throughout Gaga: Five Foot Two, the singer is fighting pain that stems from a broken hip suffered on the Born This Way Tour in 2013. The day she is due to perform at Tony Bennett's 90th birthday party, Gaga is laid up on the couch in tears. "The whole right side of my body is in a spasm," she tells a caretaker. "My fucking face hurts." "Let's put Trump on," she adds later. "That'll knock me out."

But that's only a temporary solution, as she visits a doctor for something more thorough. "I have chased this pain for five years," she explains. "When I feel the adrenaline from my fans, I can fucking go. But it's not like I'm not in pain." The scene culminates with Lady Gaga listing off a series of drugs she's taking to help cope before submitting to immediate medical treatment. Even face down on a doctor's table with needles protruding from her back, Lady Gaga remains focused on work, complaining about the leak of Joanne earlier that day. Despite the latest medical intervention, the pain still troubles her, and Lady Gaga postponed the European leg of her Joanne World Tour on Monday.

Sexism among male producers, and the industry on the whole, dogged her throughout her career. Lady Gaga suggests that high-level male producers regularly abuse their power when working with female artists. "When producers — unlike Mark — start to act like, 'you'd be nothing without me,' for women especially, since those men have so much power, they can have women in a way that no other men can," the singer explains. "And then I walk in the room, and it's like eight times out of 10, I'm put in that category, and they expect from me what those girls have to offer, when that's just not at all what I have to offer. That's not what I'm here for."

"The methodology that I used to get out of that category was when they wanted me to be sexy or they wanted me to be pop I always put some fucking absurd spin on it that made me feel like I was still in control," she continues. "If I'm gonna be sexy at the VMAs singing about the paparazzi I'm gonna do it while cleaning the bathroom and reminding you of what fame did to Marilyn Monroe."

Lady Gaga dug into the family archives to help shape Joanne. Lady Gaga named Joanne after her aunt, Joanne Stefani Germanotta, who died due to complications from lupus at 19 years old. During one of the most emotional scenes in Gaga: Five Foot Two, the singer visits her grandmother to play her the album's title track. "We'll just play it, and if we get upset, we don't have to talk about it," Lady Gaga says. But grandma endorses the track: "That's a beautiful piece."

In addition to getting grandma's stamp of approval, Lady Gaga reads Joanne's old poems and looks at some of her artwork. "She had a lot of talent, but she didn't have enough time," her grandmother says. "For the 19 years we had her, she was precious. And she's not been forgotten ever."

She believes in confounding her audience. Lady Gaga shows little interest in catering to listener expectations. "I want to do the opposite of what everyone thinks I'm going to do," she declares in a meeting with Super Bowl halftime show-runners. "Everyone thinks I'm going to come out there on a fucking throne in a meat dress with 90 shirtless men and unicorns. Am I right? And then at the end I'm gonna do something shocking that's gonna freak everybody out. But it's not even in the neighborhood of what we're gonna do."

She expresses a similar sentiment in a conversation with her creative team where she decides to eschew the elaborate outfits that characterized her early promotion cycles in favor of a simple jeans and T-shirt outfit. "Honestly we've seen me fucking glamorous for 10 years," she says. "It's fucking boring."

She's a stickler for details. Whether it's adding more emphasis to the high end during the mixing of Joanne or nailing her cameo on American Horror Story, Gaga: Five Foot Two captures the singer's rigorous eye for the smallest detail. During one of many intense scenes of preparation for her Super Bowl performance, she suggests this is a necessity for any star at her level. "If I pick up the keytar and play the wrong note in front of 100 million people, that's my fault," she says. "It doesn't matter that someone else screwed it up. It's my name."

As a result, she's always thinking several steps ahead. Moments later, Lady Gaga demands that a wardrobe assistant change her jacket lining. "I know to other people it's just the lining of a jacket," she explains. "But for me, it's the way that the fabric on my outfit interacts with this fabric is going to change the speed of my arm as it enters the sleeve."

After years of insecurity, Lady Gaga now recognizes the extent of her talents. It may surprise some to hear that Lady Gaga's whirlwind of success did little to quiet her self-doubts — until now. "I never felt comfortable enough to sing or wear my hair back," she says. "I never felt pretty enough or smart enough or a good enough musician. That's the good part: I didn't feel good enough, and I do now. Of all the things I deserve, that's where I know I'm worth something."

Josh Duhamel was tired of his pop-star wife Fergie’s “partying” before their breakup, media outlets were told. Sources close to the actor tell us that he didn’t want to split with his wife of eight years. According to pals, their marriage broke down over the course of about a year, in spite of trying couples’ therapy. The long slide coincided with the recording of Fergie’s first solo album in 11 years, “Double Dutchess.” “[Fergie] was very focused on her album and being a rock star again, and Josh felt like she was going back to her ‘old ways,’ ” sources said. The former Black Eyed Peas singer was a notorious party animal in her youth and even battled drug problems — although there has been no suggestion she has started using drugs again. Reps didn’t get back to us. Media outlets reported this week that fans are wondering if Fergie’s upcoming second solo album was inspired by her breakup with Duhamel, with tracks such as “Love Is Blind” and “Love Is Pain.” Fergie admitted to media outlets, “There’s a lot of my life and my vulnerable side.” But she said the songs are about many relationships. Ryan Seacrest is still sore over Mariah Carey’s claims his production team sabotaged her ill-fated “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” performance. During her performance, Carey lip-synced and stumbled her way through her segment, saying that her inner ear monitors weren’t working properly. Her manager, Stella Bulochnikov, claimed later that Dick Clark Productions was aware of the issue before the performance began and did nothing to address it. “Once things went wrong, they took the decision to keep rolling and make her look like a train wreck for the ratings,” Bulochnikov told media outlets. Dick Clark Productions called the allegations“defamatory,” and Seacrest, 42, vehemently denied that the production team was behind the disaster. “What was going through my head [in that moment] was and is: That crew, that team, that staff is the best in the business,” Seacrest said firmly on “Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen” on Thursday. “They put on the biggest live music events and they know what they’re doing, and I know how good they are at their jobs,” he continued. “So my reaction was, she was working with the best — I find it hard to believe they made big mistakes that night.” Still, Seacrest admitted that, like Carey, 47, it was hard for him to hear what was going on because of all noise surrounding him. “When it was happening, it was hard for me to see and hear because we’re in Times Square and there’ a lot going on,” he conceded. “I had to be told that something was going on and then try and find a monitor to react to, so I wasn’t quite sure what was happening, actually.” “Dick Clark would not have let an artist go through that and he would have been as mortified as I was in real-time,” he said. Seacrest’s comments echoed the opinion he shared in January about the incident. “I know this team of producers — I’ve known these guys for years. I knew Dick Clark very, very well,” he said. “This is a team that wants to do everything they can to accommodate any artist. We are in the business of wanting people to look good and believe me, tricky things, tough things can happen. It happens on live television. You’ve seen artists before in a concert pull out their earpiece because something happens. Something could have happened in the ears. I wasn’t in those ears. It’s just unfortunate that it comes to all of this.” Jennifer Lawrence issued a one-finger salute Thursday during an official Academy screening of her new critically-panned flick, “mother!” Seated next to the film’s director — who is also her boyfriend — Darren Aronofsky, 48, the couple of nearly a year discussed the mind-boggling production at the Celeste Bartos Theater in New York. Dressed in a floral maxi dress, Lawrence, 27, looked nothing like the character she plays in Aronofsky’s latest, which has since earned an “F” on CinemaScore. Ahead of the movie’s Sept. 15 release, Lawrence alleged Aronofsky had psychological problems. “It was an instant ‘yes’ before I even read anything,” Lawrence said during a Toronto International Film Festival conference. “He told me his ideas, and I thought they were brilliant and unique and challenging. I’ve been a fan of his for years — I think he’s bold and brave, and I think I said ‘brilliant.’ “Then I got a script, and when I read it, I threw it across the room and told him he had severe psychological problems,” she noted.

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#Corey Bohan #Donald Trump #Featured #Fergie #Jennifer Lawrence #Josh Duhamel #Lady Gaga #Leonardo DiCaprio

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apsbicepstraining · 8 years ago

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Premier League run-in: the challenges and key players for every golf-club

With most clubs having exclusively seven or eight recreations left to play of an exhilarating season, our columnists assess what they need to do to end the season on a high

Arsenal

What they need to do to have a successful demise to the season Arsne Wenger and his crew had not yet been further boundary for lapse and, above all, they must show the mental persuasivenes that he constantly rabbits on about in the face of organizing ally fermentation. The big musicians, such as Alexis Snchez, have to step it up.

What would constitute success at the current stage ? The entitle. And nothing else. Key musician Mesut zil

David Hytner

Aston Villa

What they need to do Twelve levels adrift with seven coincides continuing, Villa require a miracle. Every area of the team has to dramatically improve, from their error-prone goalkeeper to their toothless forward position. But makes not kid ourselves its going to happen.

Success at the current stage Prevailing another tournament/ reaching 20 details Leading player Steve Hollis, chairman

Stuart James

Aston Villas brand-new chairman Steve Hollis is the key man with the organization in freefall and leader for relegation. Photo: Nick Potts/ PA

Bournemouth

What they need to do It is basically activity done for Bournemouth but Eddie Howe will not earmark his line-up to extremity the season with a sob. Last weeks training camp to Dubai ought to have reinvigorated any of the more tired leg in the force given the touchy was participating in ahead. Joshua King has come to the fore again of late, possibly buoyed by Callum Wilsons return to civilizing while Simon Francis and Steve Cook have made impressive advance as a centre-back pairing.

Success at the current stage Its still all about survival Leading player Joshua King

Ben Fisher

Chelsea

What they need to do The season can not be properly exchanged but blooding a few of the children in the weeks ahead, and pulsating Manchester City and Tottenham Hotspur( including with regard to) to facilitate Leicesters title challenge, might render some interest before the arrival of Antonio Conte

Success at the current stage Success is beyond them, but a top-seven finish might save some face if there is also some evidence of forward-planning Key actor Ruben Loftus-Cheek

Dominic Fifield

Chelseas Ruben Loftus-Cheek and Diego Costa. Photo: John Sibley/ Reuters

Crystal Palace

What they need to do Muster enough points to stave off the increasing threat of relegation after a 13 -match winless run in the Premier League, while at the same time contacting the second FA Cup final in their history. To do that they will have to nurse James McArthur and Jason Puncheon back to fitness, and try and get a extend of plays out of Connor Wickham.

Success at the current stage Survival and a Cup final appearance Key participate Jason Puncheon DF

Everton

What they need to do Not even a consistent run of wins and clean sheets could switch this Premier League campaign into a success for Everton, though Roberto Martnez would contend otherwise. Eight league demolishes at Goodison Park one more than in the brush with relegation under Howard Kendall in 1998 and the most conference objectives confessed at home three more than Aston Villa are the obvious inadequacies to address.

Success at the current stage Acquiring the FA Cup is the only thing that can redeem this season for Martnez Key player Romelu Lukaku

Andy Hunter

Romelu Lukaku has been a shining light in a disappointing season for Everton. Photo: Matt West/ BPI/ REX/ Shutterstock

Leicester City

What they need to do The big question is whether Claudio Ranieris team can handle the pressure at the top where reference is genuinely starts to be cranked up. So far, so good. Remaining Mahrez, Kant and Vardy fit is essential, and that Huth and Morgan partnership is also key.

Success at this stage You intend its not been a success already? OK, winning the entitlement. Leading player Riyad Mahrez SJ

Liverpool

What they need to do The late downfall at Southampton before the international disintegrate encapsulated Liverpools season and Jrgen Klopps frustration. Just when the team appear to have clicked defensively and in attack they regress, although pre-St Marys form had fuelled ideology in a concerted defy for European suitability. More is required from center midfield.

Success at the current stage A consistent running reflecting the development of Klopps style. Champions League qualification via a Europa League triumph would not go amiss either. Key player Philippe Coutinho AH

Liverpool director Jrgen Klopp, and his key husband, Philippe Coutinho. Image: John Powell/ Liverpool FC via Getty Images

Manchester City

What they need to do Be shaken from their slumber and made to realise Champions League football could be missed unless they made a run together. If Joe Hart misses merely one tournament activity due to his injury sustained in the derby and Kevin De Bruyne can return for the last seven or eight accords, City can surely do what is required.

Success at this stage The style they are free-falling a top-four finish Key player Sergio Agero

Jamie Jackson

Manchester United

What they need to do Louis van Gaal to prefer a colonized area that would include the soon-to-return from hurt Wayne Rooney at No10, Marcus Rashford at centre-forward, and Anthony Martial and Jesse Lingard out broad. This front four would have the speed and purposes United miss too often.

Success at the current stage A top-four finish Key participate At the moment, Marcus Rashford JJ

Marcus Rashford has made an superb start to his Manchester United career. Photograph: Jon Super/ AP

Newcastle United

What they need to do Become more direct. Seemingly incapable of passing through antagonists, this squad is better suited to counter-attacking. More quality crosses are required and, maybe, a switch to 4-4-2. Moussa Sissoko could provide an unlikely answer to the problem vacancy at left-back and Cheick Tiot may need to be recalled in order to fix midfield and keep a dangerously under-staffed defence.

Success at this stage Survival Key actor Papiss Ciss

Louise Taylor

Norwich City

What they need to do Four points and two clean sheets in their last two plays have braked Norwichs hurl towards the abyss. The January signing Timm Klose has been superb at centre-back and now they need to add greater cutting edge for the final six weeks. Is Steven Naismith, underwhelming on the whole since his high-profile appearance , now match-fit enough to induce certain differences and could Patrick Bamford rescue his own season of arrested development? They may have to.

Success at this stage Any finish above 18 th home no matter how close a request Key musician Steven Naismith

Nick Ames

Can January arrivals Timm Klose and Steven Naismith obstruct Norwich up? Picture: Craig Brough/ Reuters

Southampton

What they have to do Ronald Koemans team have been very good since the midriff of January and, gladly for them, they have key players coming into shape such as Fraser Forster and Graziano Pell. Concentration over the full 90 hours, during a tricky run-in, will be vital. Comeback success like the 3-2 over Liverpool will not happen every weekend.

Success at this stage Europa League suitability Key actor Graziano Pell DH

Stoke City

What they need to do to Having misplaced only one of their past six league recreations, Stoke must pick up after the international snap where they left off although several key injuries, most notably Jack Butlands fractured ankle, will not facilitate. Stokes best acts have come when Bojan Krkic and Marko Arnautovic have clicked and that partnership is required to be firing again for the April competitions with Liverpool, Spurs and Man City.

Success at the current stage Improving on last-place seasons ninth-placed finish Key player Marko Arnautovic

Lawrence Ostlere

Marko Arnautovic laps up the cherish of Stokes supporters. Photo: Paul Ellis/ AFP/ Getty Images

Sunderland

What they need to do Wrap Jermain Defoe in cotton wool between plays. Deter the impressive Jan Kirchhoff patrolling the zone between midfield and defence. Realise the very best of Wahbi Khazris stellar set-piece delivery. Decide whether Youns Kaboul or John OShea is Lamine Kons better central defensive collaborator. Preserve Lee Cattermole on the bench.

Success at this stage Survival Key player Jermain Defoe LT

Swansea City

What they have to do Alberto Paloschi could do with a purpose or two, it would be nice to see Modou Barrow built around some promising achievements, and for Gylfi Sigurdsson, Swanseas best player, to sign off for the Euros with a flourish. In other news, what on dirt has come to Jefferson Montero?

Success at the current stage 11 th( top of the bottom half) Key musician Gylfi Sigurdsson SJ

Any theory where on globe Jefferson Montero is? Image: Ian Kington/ AFP/ Getty Images

Tottenham Hotspur

What they have to do This is nosebleed territory for Tottenham but a young squad have shown no sign of nerves or tirednes. With 25 parts from the last available 30, they have force and the sentiment that they can beat anybody. They must concentrate on what they can command but how they could come to regret that 1-0 home win to Leicester City in January.

Success at the current stage Champions League qualification would be a magnificent achievement but they require more Key actor Harry Kane DH

Watford

What they they need to do It would be good to find a the ways and means of regularly scoring other than Troy Deeney flicking or looping projectiles forwards for Odion Ighalo to run on to. The Moroccan winger Nordin Amrabat looks the most likely to provide one, though moving Jos Manuel Jurado permanently infield, or off it altogether, might also help.

Success at this stage It has already been achieved, but at least one more tournament triumph and an FA Cup final appearance would crown it Key player Nordin Amrabat

Simon Burnton

Can Watford find the best way of tallying that doesnt commit Troy Deeney flicking or looping dances forward for Odion Ighalo to run on to? Photograph: Stephen Pond/ Getty Images

West Bromwich Albion

What they they need to do Pulis being Pulis, it is still all about getting to 40 phases( they are one shy ). Darren Fletcher mentioned 50 details a few weeks ago and was reprimanded by his manager live on air. Albion have a tough run-in but Salomn Rondn and Saido Berahino, on the working day, are a handful.

Success at the current stage Breaking through the 50 -point impediment for the first time Key musician Saido Berahino SJ

West Ham United

What they they need to do After months of hurts, Slaven Bilic is likely to have a amply fit crew for site visits of Palace on Saturday and the feelgood part around Upton Park should ripen even greater if it stays that way

Success at the current stage Finishing fourth and triumphing the FA Cup Leading player Dimitri Payet

Jacob Steinberg

Is a fourth-placed finish and an FA Cup win beyond West Ham? Photo: Lindsey Parnaby/ AFP/ Getty Images

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