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inactivebooo · 1 year

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Married Life w/ Matt Stone

Matt and Trey were currently at an interview regarding season 26 of South Park .

Colour code - pink/you , green/Matt , blue/Trey , purple/interviewer , other colours/children

“So Matt, as we know trey’s daughter has appeared on the show .. any plans for your children to voice any characters?” The interviewer questions. Matt laughs slightly “uhm no I don’t think so .. my partner Y/n has brought them into the studio before though”

———————————————— flashback~

You’re walking into the studio , one child holding each hand with your youngest on your hip. “Who’s ready to go see daddy?” You ask the kids before leading them to Matt and treys office. You smile lightly as your son responds “yeah! I missed him” , you knock on the door to the office and are met with Trey calling out “it’s open”. You walk into the office and give Trey a quick side hug before going over to matts desk and pulling up a chair next to him. “Hey hun” you greet him and place a kiss on his cheek.”hi love” he responds, grabbing hold of your hand and running his thumb over your wedding ring. You smile and pass him your youngest daughter , who almost immediately cuddles into him. Your eldest daughter climbs into your lap whilst your son pesters Trey. “Dad! Dad! I drew you a picture at school today!!” “Oh thank you sweetpea” matt smiles at your daughter “I’m gonna put it on the wall next to my desk”

————————— the present ~

Trey laughs recalling the memory of the last time matts kids came to visit the studio “matts son loves to pester me .. it’s quite comical, he’s like a mini y/n” the interviewer smiles awkwardly “well .. thank you both for being on the show tonight”

~with you~

You’d just finished putting the kids to bed and were tidying up the living room when the door opened and your husband walked in. You felt his arms wrap around your waist as you melt into his embrace. “Welcome home Matt” you smile softly as you turn in his arms to lean up and kiss him. “I’m so tired it’s unbelievable” he mumbles into your hair. “C’mon let’s get you to bed my giant teddy bear” you laugh slightly at the nickname you chose for him, before you both head to your shared bedroom for the night.

This sucks ass 🫣 so sorry to every poor soul that reads this🧍🏻‍♀️

#matt stone #matt stone x reader

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sarah-dipitous · 8 months

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 231

Brother’s Keeper/In the Forest of the Night

“Brother’s Keeper”

Plot Description: Realizing the Mark of Cain has pushed him too far, Dean makes a drastic decision, while Rowena readies a spell that could have huge consequences

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: (I don’t think anyone’s going to die in this opening unless we cut to Dean, but for now it’s Sam and Cas arguing about what to do about Dean) we did cut to Dean, and he looked rough, but no one died

CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SONNNNNN!! We have somehow come to the end of season TEN. I’ve watched TEN. FULL. SEASONS…are we not going to get the traditional “the road so far”??? Absolutely rude, if there’s ever been a time to play a song about a wayward son, it’s the end of this season. Though I suppose we shouldn’t be encouraging him to carry on the way he has

Dean’s just being a DICK to everyone he meets today, dead or alive.

I love how bored Rowena is with Sam right now. She knows he needs her to do the spell, pointing a gun at her just wastes everyone’s time

Cas is probably right that agreeing to Rowena’s revised terms is a mistake but I’m so glad she’ll be getting her freedom back (with any luck)

I don’t know why Sam is so incredulous about the actual fruit from Eden is real in this universe. He’s standing in a room with an angel and the witch mother of the king of hell. And a tree’s existence is too much for him?? Oh, he’s just mad that the very first ingredient is so impossible to get (as is the second)

The third ingredient thoooooo. This is why I love Rowena. The spell requires her to sacrifice something she loves…unfortunately for everyone needing this spell cast, Rowena doesn’t love anything or anyone. She’d sacrifice whatever it is to gain her freedom, but…

Pfffft, Cas went digging in Rowena’s memories for something she loves and only came up with a Polish peasant boy who’s been dead for a couple centuries

Dean, don’t traumatize the teenage girl further!! Don’t bait the vampire into killing the other hunter and then slice its head off like nothing. Dean, this isn’t you. This isn’t your heart

YEAH! I HOPE YOU’RE HAUNTED BY CAS’S BLOODIED FACE AFTER YOU NEARLY KILLED HIM AND RUDY’S SINCE YOU GOT HIM KILLED

You do not look tough trashing that motel room. You look like an oversized toddler throwing a tantrum

Castiel not having Crowley saved in his phone is so unbelievably funny to me. Omg they’re both so bitchy to each other. Crowley wants Cas to beg for his help, call him King….and Cas will physically do it but you can just tell his words are drenched in sarcasm. I love them both

Hi. I hate this show. Sam just got to the motel room, and amongst the ruin, there were the keys to the impala and a note that said “she’s all yours.” I need them to stop this. I need them to stop hurting me like this

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, DEAN?? Who did you summon? Oh. Cool. Just Death. I have missed seeing him, wish it was under some other circumstances

I hate that after he’s been such an asshole the past few episodes, I’m still drawn in by what a sad wet kicked puppy he looks like right now pleading with Death to kill him. And Death refusing

Had to rewind because I got distracted. Got brought back into focus by the phrase “the proverbial finger in the dike” which my brain interpreted…differently.

Well, damn. Seems like both the brothers now have connections to actual Lucifer (though the darkness of the Mark apparently predates Lucifer, too, so that’s fun)

Of COURSE Dean would never pass the Mark along to anyone else. He has to take on the burden alone…because he’s so fucking eldest daughter coded

Omg even Sam’s “this isn’t you”-ing Dean. This is fine

THE DINER COUNTER WORKER CROWLEY A LITTLE BIT BONDED WITH IS RELEVANT?! HE’S A DESCENDENT OF—OMG NO. HE *IS* THE POLISH BOY. ROWENA MADE HIM IMMORTAL. This is the wildest show…(I take that back. I forgot Riverdale just wrapped up)

Wtf wtf wtf wtf wtf. It’s so fascinating how the tables…they do turn. We’re in such a similar conundrum as last season. Though, instead of sealing the gates of hell, it’s making sure the darkness never gets set free (whatever that is). And instead of…well, no, Sam would be the one to die this time, too, but it’s not like Dean will be much better off somewhere off planet (literally) so he can never hurt anyone else, will never die, will never pass the Mark on. And Dean’s yelling at Sam about being selfish…when he was the one to save Sam’s life at the expense of shutting hell’s gates FOREVER because he couldn’t live without his brother. They are so toxically codependent

Uuuuuggggghhhhh, the writers are ruining Rowena in one scene. I loved that she was cruel and selfish. Now she’s crying over potentially having to kill the boy she saved. He wasn’t supposed to live past 8, and now he’s lived centuries. Kill him, get your freedom, girl. This isn’t you, Rowena. Just kill him

Would it be the end of a season without a knockdown drag out fight between the brothers?? Maybe…but not one in recent seasons, I’m pretty sure

I feel like Sam is lying…..omg, Dean has to kill Sam himself?!?! With Death’s scythe!!

NOT THE PICTURES OF DEAN AND MARYYYYYYY. This is so melodramatic and YET. AND YET. I’m still on the verge of tears

So what NOW, DEAN?! You just KILLED DEATH (I knew he wasn’t gonna kill Sam, but I did get swept up in the emotions of the scene) they really do just keep screwing over Death. I feel bad for him

Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Ugh, finally.

No no nooooooo, you were only supposed to harm the Polish boy, not turn Cas into a rabid animal to attack Crowley. Crowley I could, to an extent, take or leave, but CASSSSSSSSS

Did you unleash the darkness, boys? Did you? (I know TECHNICALLY it was Rowena, but who forced her hand?)

This seems fine…😬

“In the Forest of the Night”

Plot Description: The Doctor discovers that the final days of humanity have arrived

(I really how we get Missy for real soon. Truly I just want to be tandem simping for her and Rowena)

Not going to lie, I think it’d look pretty cool if we let a forest overtake a good portion of London. Those giant lion statues in Trafalgar Square just in the middle of the woods? Would look so cool

Omg…they had no idea what happened to London……sorry, the whole world, while they were doing a sleepover at some museum or another. Could be the natural history one. So it was QUICK quick

The little girl raises an excellent series of questions. Why CANT they just wait for a coach? Why CANT they wait for the trees to disappear? They did simply appear overnight. The answer, of course, because that wouldn’t be much of an episode

Why isn’t one of you staying behind the group of kids?? One of you should lead and the other should be behind so none of the kids get LITERALLY left behind

Do these kids not remember the weird custodian who was at their school not too long ago? Why do none of them recognize the Doctor?

Kids on the TARDIS remind me of when kids come into the branch. They have no business there, it’s kind of boring to them, but they WILL find a way to pass the time “aren’t any of you surprised it’s bigger on the inside” “there wasn’t a forest, now there is a forest. Nothing surprises me anymore”

Pfffffft, these kids shipping their teachers are so worried for their relationship

It’s like this episode invented the manic pixie fourth grader…Maebh is strange, she has so many of the answers the Doctor is looking for, she has some kind of mysterious past (she’s suffering from some kind of trauma likely related to someone she’s lost), she can’t stop getting lost in the woods…I want to protect this child but the writers are just being insufferable about her. She’s little red riding hood (even wearing a red raincoat)

Omg, why is she so special she can literally communicate with the forest?

So some…ancient plant growing sprite thingies and they are calling a solar flare to destroy earth

It’s weird when a companion sends the Doctor away to save him

Sure, that should be no problem. Give the task of saving the planet to a group of 10 year olds

Another tiny tiny scene of Missy

And Earth is saved, and the forest is gone, having protected the planet once more

And Maebh’s missing sister returned home

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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tenderdean · 3 years

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i didn’t fit this into that wall of meta text about dean consciously letting sam think he’s the smartest one because it was long enough already but:

the unbelievably female-coded narrative inherent in “i will agree to downplay my own intelligence in comparison to yours to keep the peace in this household that depends almost wholly on me being the smallest version of myself and never challenging your firmly-held belief in your superiority over me. it is but another sacrifice next to the loss of childhood, loss of freedom, loss of prospects. your continued dismissal of me is punishment as much as it is the hard-earned fruit of my labor.”

dean winchester is every eldest daughter who was denied a higher education and a job because that’s “not for women,” except that his dad also wanted him to shoot shit dead before and after he cooked dinner for his ward

#text #female-coded dean #dean: meta #rel: dean & sam #rel: dean & john

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thejeweledtravelerofsmokedreams · 6 years

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RDJ movies I've seen/ Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus

So basically it's a fake bio. That's what I have to digest in the beginning. None of this happened but maybe it did but she died in 1971....

Do I Google her, read her bio or Do I think about what my fake biographical movie would be like.... (Sooooo much better)

I'm a theater major. I expect to see art house movies like this. I'd rather watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), My Own Private a Idaho (1991) or Basquiat (1996) again.

It was sooooo unbelievably boring. I knew what I was getting into when I started but still!!! It just went on and on.

I spent the whole time trying to think of better titles for it(ex. My Affair with the Werewolf Upstairs, Sophie the youngest daughter: Lionel: Our Friendly Neighborhood Werewolf, Gracie eldest daughter: I hate everyone especially the werewolf upstairs., Husband: Our Awkward Threesome. Diane: Guess Who's Coming to Dinner)

Also I though about how it could have been better (film noir in black and white, straight horror (Hammer maybe, or just lots of shadows), in bright colors like in Umbrellas of Cherbourg (maybe I should watch that instead ). But both Nicole and RDJ can sing so THAT could work....

Maybe if there was a soundtrack at all that might of helped. All I got was vague classical and jazz. My brain meanwhile just thought of all the Werewolf songs. (Spooky, Werewolf of London)

Was it trying to shock me? With nudists (Boring), Freaks. Stop and go watch my favorite film Freaks (1932). I love a good pre code over certain post code any day.

RDJ's disguises for when he went out were very distracting, going from Wolfman cosplaying the Invisible Man, Carton Villain moves in next door, Invisible Man meets Luche Libre to the Phathom of the Opera.

I know I missed something but I'm currently not interested in a rewatch to figure out what. I have my Amazon rental for a few more days so I probably will at some point.

Also in the beginning I accidentally left the closed captioning on and this

[...] appeared on the screen at unnecessary and unexpectedly funny moments. As Diane is looking to go in the basement, looking to go upstairs the first time, Lionel at the very end hugging her (before the beach bit)

Look if you're a big a RDJ fan I'm not stopping you, go ahead. If you're a causal fan think twice. Maybe if you're really bored and doing laundry.

It's NOT a good use of his eyes which is a shame when he's not longer hairy he just looks confused and lost.

#rdj #robert downey jr #my thoughts #sorry man #fur: an imaginary portrait of diane arbus #I hope this helps #ask more

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blossom-hwa · 7 years

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Run |1| - YUTA

Well, I’m curious as to how this is going to turn out. Hopefully I can keep going with it. This chapter at least was based on another @sparkingstoryinspiration prompt: a clock, a painting, a smashed window.

Pairing: Yuta x fem!reader

Genre: action, angst, gang!au

Triggers: violence, somewhat graphic?

Word Count: 1.9k

Your gang is dead and only one person knows you’re alive. Since you know nothing but the gang world, you turn to working for those who killed your family. It doesn’t really bother you, but your identity gets found out by the wrong people on one of your... excursions.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

NCT Masterlist

The clock in the living room strikes twelve.

You step silently into the mansion, running through the simple plan in your head.

Find the painting. Take it down. Get out.

Simple.

A paid thief, you are an expert robber, stealing things for anyone else that has the money to pay. You offer your services only once to each customer, and after that, you cut off all contact.

It’s a safety precaution.

You work with one person only, the handsome assassin Lee Taeyong. As childhood friends, you do favors for each other every so often. He kills off witnesses if things get too messy.

In this case, some wealthy gang leader wants a painting that the Nakamoto syndicate owns. For what reason, you don’t know, but you need the money so it’s not your place to ask questions.

The Nakamoto mansion is still quiet, thankfully. If anyone hears you walking around the house, they don’t pop out. Still, you take precaution, lifting your black scarf to cover your face.

You know the painting is on the top floor of the mansion, locked in a room set with multiple alarms. Getting caught will most likely end with your death, and that is not an option.

Luckily, you know your way around, thanks to having worked as a maid in the mansion for two months.

From what you’ve gathered, the Nakamotos are not a close family. There is the leader of the syndicate, his wife, and then three children. The eldest is a daughter who from what you know has left the syndicate and has cut all ties with her family. You do not know who or where she is, and frankly, you couldn’t care less.

The youngest was another daughter, shunted aside by her family as the weakling, the runt of the litter. She committed suicide a month and a half ago, about half a month after you started working there. Shame. She seemed a nice girl.

The middle child is the heir to the syndicate, Nakamoto Yuta. He is ruthless and cruel in the gang world, going after anyone who so much as looks at him the wrong way.

Terrifying.

You have seen Nakamoto Yuta exactly two times in your life. You were children the first time, but the memory never leaves you.

Your parents were prominent members of a gang. Thus, they had plenty of connections. The Nakamotos were no exception. Yuta and his parents were over one day for reasons you can’t remember, and somehow, you and Yuta had gotten into a fight. You were six then, and he was eight. He’d punched you in the face, and you’d roundhouse kicked him in the head.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t the pain you remembered. It was the mischievous, kind of teasing look in his eye. He was still a child then.

You hadn’t seen him at all in the years past, not even when your gang crumbled to ashes and you were one of the very few survivors and the Nakamotos promised to help.

Fun fact: the Nakamotos never sent help. Nor did the other gangs your family tried to contact.

The second time you saw him was when you began your job here. With your face covered in heavy makeup and a bandana over your cropped hair, it was no wonder he didn’t recognize you. But you recognized him, despite the new muscles and the handsome features.

The cold, calculating look in his eyes was haunting. So much had changed in the years after the death of your gang.

You realize you are gripping your tools tightly, and you loosen your grasp, again focusing on the task at hand.

The painting.

You stop at the fake bookshelf that hides the room containing the painting. Scrutinizing the wood, you press the button that will open the door. A keypad greets you, as well as multiple locks.

After scanning the hall behind you, you set to work. Your fingers move deftly, tools flashing, as you quickly pick each lock and then enter the code you managed to hack.

Two seconds of tense waiting follow, and then the door slides open without a sound.

Sighing in relief, you close the door behind you, locking the doors and setting the alarm again before glancing around for the painting.

It truly is gorgeous, but you also don’t have the faintest clue why a gang member would want it. This isn’t the 39 clues, after all. Maybe it means something to the Nakamotos. You wouldn’t know, and you wouldn’t ask.

The painting is not very large or heavy, but it is a hassle to take down, especially in the dark. Still, you manage, taking it down just as the ostentatious clock on the first floor strikes one.

The painting goes into the bag you’ve brought. Your tools disappear into various pockets, and your trusty knife comes out. Just in case.

The rest of the plan is easy. Take the painting, get out the way you came in, walk away in the darkness.

Or at least, it should’ve been easy.

You turn around, only to hear the faint click of a lock being opened.

Frozen, you look around the room rapidly, trying to find someplace to hide. There is nowhere, and you curse internally.

Your best bet is to surprise whoever it is right as he comes in, you decide. You trade your knife for a small handgun, positioning yourself near the door.

It slides open as though in slow motion, and you register wide eyes, a shock of messy hair, and a finely chiseled facial structure before you fire at his legs.

Yuta has unbelievable reflexes, because he twists away just in time so that the bullet only just grazes his leg, leaving a trickle of blood dripping down his ankle.

Fuck. There is nowhere to go, and you begin to back away into the corner farthest away from the man, making sure your face is completely covered save for your eyes.

He grins, leaning against the doorway. “Well, well. What do we have here?” He kicks away pieces of the floor flippantly, walking closer. His wound does not seem to bother him at all.

You don’t answer.

“Silence, then? Fine. What are you doing in here?” Yuta smirks, pushing himself off the doorway almost languidly. The way he moves is almost like that of a snake. Slithery, sly.

Always one step ahead.

His eyes flicker to the empty space where the painting used to be. His mouth forms a small ‘o’ in comprehension. “Ah, yes. The painting. Who asked you for it? How much did they offer?”

Still no answer on your part. You survey the room as surreptitiously as you can, desperate for a way to get out. At this point, even a window would be preferable.

A window.

There is a small window near where the painting used to be. If your hips were any wider, you wouldn’t try it, but your skinny stature makes you think it might work. You continue to roam your eyes around the room, not giving anything away.

Yuta chuckles softly. The sound is so dangerous, yet so enticing. You feel almost drawn to him, and you pinch your thigh hard to snap out of it.

“There’s no escape,” he says softly. “I’ll alert my parents, who will come in and take you, dead or alive. If you come peacefully, though, we might be able to work something out.”

A part of you wants to believe him, that this handsome man won’t harm you. But that part is overshadowed by the knowledge that this is the son of a notoriously cold-hearted gang leader that has killed hundreds, directly and indirectly.

The scarf shifts down slightly, and you shove it back up before it reveals anything. Yuta obviously notices this. “What’s that you want to hide?” he asks, looking somewhat curious.

He can’t know I’m alive.

As far as the gang world knows, your gang is dead. Everyone was wiped out, including the stragglers. For all you know, you and Taeyong might be the only ones alive. All the gangs know Taeyong is out there, but not you.

Yuta’s eyes narrow, and he steps forward, a little more urgency in his step. “What are you hiding?” he asks again, impatience in his tone.

Now might be a good time to get the fuck out.

You raise your gun and fire.

Not at Yuta, though. The window.

The glass- or what seems like glass- shakes a little, but it doesn’t break. You curse quietly.

Yuta, who seems to have thought you would be aiming for him, is now on the other side of the room. How he got there so fast, you don’t know. Once he realizes you didn’t shoot at him, he laughs loudly.

“Really? You thought the window would work?” he says in between gasps, leaning against a large bookshelf. You raise your gun at him this time, and he straightens, looking more amused than ever.

Your mind races. That window was your only option, and the door is closed.

You decide to try the window again.

Only this time, Yuta decides to attack. A knife hurtles towards you, but your reflexes kick in and you manage to duck out of the way. It thunks into the wood above your head and you tremble, realizing how closely you just brushed death.

“Quick, are we?” Another knife is pulled out of seemingly nowhere, the metal glinting in his hand.

Panicking, you pull out your own knife and send it flying deep into his thigh. He lurches, then stands upright again, a hand on his wound. “Wasn’t expecting that. Alright-”

You shoot five successive bullets into the window, each one shaking the glass until it finally cracks. Yuta yells, probably alerting everyone else in the house. Three more bullets widen the crack. Then you press the trigger and nothing comes out.

Fuck!

Too late, you notice that the scarf has dropped down your face so that most of it is visible. Unable to do anything about it, you tear across the room, throwing random things at Yuta to keep him busy, though the revelation of your face seems to have him shocked enough already.

You grab the knife Yuta threw into the wall on your dash to the window and slam it into the crack, trying to wedge it through further. More cracks spread, but too slowly.

“You’re alive?”

No point in hiding it, you think, but you still don’t say anything. Yuta laughs, a derisive and disbelieving sound you can hear even above the din sounding outside the hidden room. “You survived that inferno?”

Right. When you mentioned that most of the gang crumbled to ashes, you meant it literally.

“Obviously, Nakamoto,” you spit, still hacking at the window. The cracks spread slowly but surely. Just keep him busy. “I’m surprised you even know who I am.”

The noise outside gets louder, and you think you hear the click of a lock.

Hurry!

The door of the room slides open, and multiple people come tumbling in, weapons in hand.

“Oh, fuck it,” you mutter.

Guns go off. A bullet slams into your calf, then your shoulder. You yelp in pain, still hacking at the window with your knife.

In a last fit of desperation, you slam the window with your elbow, the part of your body that your mother once told you was the strongest. It finally shatters, and you jump out, your arm and leg screaming.

“Y/N!” you hear Yuta shout.

How does he know my name?

You land on a pile of compost and dirt, groaning. The scarf is gone, your knife and gun still in the house, but you haul yourself up and run.

#nctwriters #smtownnetwork #kpop #nct #nct 127 #yuta #action #angst #triggers #violence #non-idol!au #gang!au #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct yuta scenarios #run #scriptura-delirus

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ofgunsandlipstick · 7 years

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So this is what I’m working on if you want to read it and figure out why I’m not here. It’s because suddenly this dumb thing is eating my life.

Welcome to another episode of >>, a podcast that explores the lesser-known histories of Hollywood’s Golden Age. This season, we’re focusing on the so-called glamour girls of the forties and fifties, what most people consider the classic era of Hollywood. And today, we’re focusing on one of the first stars to really come of age and stardom in this era.

At one point, she was the most sought-after star at MGM, one of the highest paid actors in the world. She made her image and her mark in her seeming contradictions. British and yet exuding that all-American pluck, an innocent sexpot, the femme fatale with unshakable morals, and at one point the sexiest woman on earth whose down-to-earth persona made her seem completely accessible and available to those who loved her.

That’s right, darlings. Buckle up, we’re talking about Peggy Carter.

. . .

Before we can get to Peggy Carter’s time at MGM, we have to understand who she was before she got there. Born Margaret Carter to parents in Hampstead, England, she was a tomboy for most of her childhood, wearing her hair short and constantly running around the neighborhood. She would later write in her 1992 autobiography, “I was a terror- my mother couldn’t have been more worried.”

And she wasn’t lying. Amanda Carter was, by all accounts, a rather exacting woman. She was raised by a naval officer and raised from the time she could speak to be a hostess, especially after her own mother passed away. As the eldest of three girls, her father’s hosting duties often fell to her. Amanda spoke of ten of the importance of a cleanly and organized home and she strove to raise her own children to value it as much as she did.

Unfortunately for Amanda her children with Charles Carter, a well-to-do business man with a taste for adventure, took more than their brown hair and complexions from their father. Charles could be boisterous, loud and loving. He often refused to chastise his children for behavior that their mother deemed unacceptable. He encouraged their roughhousing and mud tracking to the point that Amanda was clearly fed up by the time Margaret was ten. Not that she’d ever leave him.

Amanda had always wanted a daughter, but Michael came first and she doted on him. Still, he wasn’t exactly a little one she could dress up and share her wisdom with. When Margaret was born, Amanda was convinced she needed to be the mother of a little girl. Unfortunately, Margaret would never quite live up to her mother’s ideal.

Margaret was a difficult child. She didn’t like the traditional things that a girl in the 20s should be expected to like. She much preferred running around, slaying imaginary dragons with her brother than help her mother tend house. Her father indulged her entirely, allowing her to learn to shoot alongside her brother and often treating her as a second son. Amanda would always complain that mud and dirt were impossible to keep out of the house.

This continued until Peggy- still called Margaret- hit puberty. While she was once slim and boyish, her frame filled out. And kept filling. By 14, Margaret’s hips and chest had firmly placed her out of vogue for the 20s boyish fashion, but certainly caused the boys of the neighborhood to take notice. Suddenly her playmates of her youth wanted to hold her hand. Boys three or four years older who had never had time for her now. They looked at her differently.

In short, Margaret had become beautiful. And she wasn’t quite prepared for it. Skirts had to be worn now, as well as a bra. She’d never wanted to be too feminine and now her body was aggressively so.

But Margaret learned quickly. She’d always been smart and strategic. And she quickly learned that a little bit of flirting could get her a long way.

This alarmed the Carters. Their daughter was quickly growing out of a stage they were comfortable with. At Charles Carter’s insistence, his beloved Margaret was sent to an all-girls boarding school some miles away.

There are conflicting accounts of how successful Margaret was at school. She was certainly smart and always earned top marks. However, she also always seemed to be in trouble one way or another.

In her biography she recollected an incident involving the headmaster’s booze… and his wife’s knickers. On a dare, Margaret snuck into their quarters and stole a handful of the wife’s panties, only getting caught when she returned to getting caught when she returned to knick the bottle of brandy she had seen on the counter. She was severely punished—the school was a proponent of corporeal punishment—but Margaret didn’t mind. Rather proudly, she bragged in her book that she was the only one lashed and “I deserved every one. It was greedy to go back for the liquor.”

She made friends at school, albeit perhaps ones who encouraged her wild streak. They would sometimes sneak into town, flirting with the soda jerks for free milkshakes or sneaking into movie theaters.

It was on one fateful trip into town that Margaret Carter, of Hampstead, England was set on a crash course with Hollywood and becoming Peggy Carter.

How much of her origin story was real and how much was part of the star-making mythos is unclear. What is clear is that an extraordinary amount of luck came into Margaret’s life very quickly.

Producer-director at MGM Hugh Jones was in England scouting locations for an upcoming picture centered around a boarding school and he came to the town. Sitting in a diner, eating a burger, he evidently spotted sixteen-year-old Margaret sitting at the counter flirting with the “acne-ridden burger flipper.” In his autobiography, Hugh would claim that the sun burst through the clouds at that moment and a beam illuminated Margaret’s face. This probably isn’t true. It was England, after all, and Hugh Jones was prone to flowery language and over exaggeration, especially when it came to the woman he considered his biggest star.

In any case, Jones approached Margaret and asked if she wanted to make a picture. She’d become world-wise in her time at boarding school and wary of any man who approached her. So Margaret immediately shot back, “Not the kind of picture you’re thinking of, mister.”

But Jones wouldn’t be dissuaded and in two weeks he’d convinced her that he was legitimate, going so far to visit the headmaster with a letter of introduction from the great Louis B. Mayer himself—MGMs head.

By 1935, Margaret was in Hollywood. Newly 18 and safely installed at MGM, she underwent the standard star treatment. That meant plucking her eyebrows, learning to do makeup, and a whole new wardrobe. Her hair was to be pin-curled and set each night, giving her hair body it never had before. Her teeth were straightened and she was given acting classes. And suddenly, little tomboy Margaret became glamorous.

Her signature red lips wouldn’t come until later, but Hugh Jones was convinced that his discovery would become a star. Louis B. Mayer had to be a bit more hesitant but he was sold when he saw her screen test. Still, Margaret was a common name and it wouldn’t do. Margaret, however, was adamant that she would keep her name or something like it and when Margaret Carter decided on something she usually got it. Especially where Hugh Jones was concerned.

And so, though Mayer was insistent, Margaret would not become Andrea or Gloria. Instead, she became Peggy, a quiet homage to Peg Entwistle, the star who had become more famous in death than life when she jumped off the Hollywood sign and Bette Davis’ idol.

Peggy Carter would get her first chance at stardom when Jones put her in a small but crucial role in his movie XXXX. Peggy’s role was as an innocent girl next door who becomes corrupted by her no-good boyfriend until she is a fallen woman, despite the protagonist’s, played by Roger Dooley, best efforts.

This seems unbelievable in light of Peggy’s future star turns as surprisingly liberated women given the times. But in the mid 30s, in a Hollywood governed by the Hays code, this is what was expected. And available. Besides, at this point, Peggy Carter had no cache.

She stole the picture out from under the nose of veteran actor Dooley and became a sensation almost immediately, though not exactly on the strength of her acting. Her wardrobe, though perfectly modest and in code, was particularly tailored to show off her… um, assets. Wearing a sweater and full skirt, tightly belted, there was no mistaking the allure of her character and therefore Dooley could be forgiven for falling for her early in the film, regardless of her increasingly unwholesome behavior and for wanting to save her.

Peggy Carter was essentially the sweater girl before the sweater girl was Lana Turner. But unlike Lana, her career hardly took off.

Hoping to recreate the success, Carter was paired again with Dooley, this time as his true romantic interest, even though he was clearly old enough to be her father, and with director Jones.

But Jones, an avowed womanizer, began to obsess over his star in a way that would make her truly uncomfortable. Ostensibly helping Peggy to run lines or character, Jones would invite her to his apartment late at night or out to dinner. He constantly found excuses to touch Peggy on set. And while at first Peggy tried to grit her teeth and bear it, she hated it.

So Peggy did the unthinkable. She went over Jones’ head and straight to Mayer. And in a shocking turn of events, he sided with Peggy. Of course, this was still the 30s, so siding with Peggy meant taking her off the picture without breaking her contract and getting her away from Jones. Veteran Broadway actress Angie Martinelli would step into the role to glowing reviews.

#★ COFFEE AND LIPSTICK (ooc)

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mervinjdugger34 · 4 years

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