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#winning ugly
feralprodigy · 2 years
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Winning Ugly: Mental Warfare in Tennis— Lessons from a Master, Brad Gilbert and Steve Jamison
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rollingstonesdata · 10 months
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ROLLING STONES SONGS:'WINNING UGLY' (1986)
Winning Ugly by The Rolling Stones*Click for MORE ROLLING STONES SONGS 1962-PRESENT And we’re heading for the heartbreak/ Heading for the blues..Written by: Jagger/RichardsRecorded: RPM Studios, New York, USA, July 16-Aug. 17 1985; Right Track Studios, New York, USA, Oct-Decx. 1985Guest musicians: Chuck Leavell (synthesizer), Janis Pendarvis and Dolette MacDonald (backing vocals)*Data taken from…
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sunglassesmish · 4 months
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insane dialogue for an insane scene
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demigods-posts · 1 month
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read this one fic of percy and annabeth spending time together at montauk when they're not doing anything. and i have this headcanon that they're just being a couple of dorks together. annabeth wearing an owl onsie and percy wearing a shark one. blasting broadway musicals and screaming the hearts out. having random dance parties. baking brownies at 2 in the morning. cuddling on the kitchen flour covered in flour and talking about their hopes and dreams for their future together. falling asleep on the couch while watching the cheesiest rom coms. just wholesome shit.
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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months
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when you know, you know. (e.m.)
summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.
warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.
pairing: eddie munson x reader
wc: 1.8k+
a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.
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“Yes!” 
If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly. 
“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.” 
You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.” 
Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.
You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed. 
But it hadn’t. 
It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over. 
The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon. 
The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours. 
“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving. 
“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.” 
“And why would you ever do that?” 
Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee. 
“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.” 
You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you. 
You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.
He was an absolute weirdo as well. 
Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil. 
That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it. 
“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?” 
He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you. 
“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose. 
He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”
“You just-”
You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees. 
Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more. 
Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner. 
“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.
“It was your prize.”
“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?” 
Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it. 
You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.” 
If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this. 
He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”
He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least. 
You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed. 
“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?” 
He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically. 
He wants you to kiss him. 
Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too. 
Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose. 
He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him. 
“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.” 
He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”
You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him. 
The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out. 
“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?” 
His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning. 
“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss. 
You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life. 
When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
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mooncakebun · 3 months
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neymiiie · 2 months
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Aigis
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seasicksilver · 1 month
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good old times
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wrigglewyrm · 11 months
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what a fucking win
i'm in tears
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beautifulstorms · 1 month
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Deanna Stellato-Dudek / Maxime Deschamps, All I Ask • Worlds 2024
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tizzymcwizzy · 14 days
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another project from earlier this semester i forgot to post, this one was for an anti smoking campaign, im not super happy with the "poster" itself (there were some logos and stuff from the client i took out) but i like the illustration okay!
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we need Ted Lasso to come back for a season four so Jamie can copy this hairstyle from Jack Grealish
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(personally, I think Jamie would rock it. also, Phoebe totally braided it for him)
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tinyfantasminha · 11 months
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we got him
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all silhouettes for the disneyficated boys revealed and I had a tunnel vision of my babygirl
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etrevil · 8 months
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Whenever Mori denies them the joy of causing havoc in another country during overseas mission
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comraderoscoes · 11 months
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the way i wouldn’t give a shit about this verstappen era had it not started with a hate campaign that incited racism against lewis and inevitably robbed him of a championship lmao. like no one can be on top forever and things change that is sport but why HIM LOOL. why THEM. why the racist corpse of helmut marko and a fucking cocaine fuelled tory behind him being the worst possible competitors known to man and egging him on even tho he doesn’t need any help to be awful
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peachirambles · 6 months
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I'm doing these two together because of their similarities and figured it would just be best to answer both of them at once.
As a preface: Qiu and the MC do have a crush on each other but neither of them have acted on it. So right now they are Very close friends but Tamarack and the MC are best friends. I went with a more fem leaning MC but they are still using they/them pronouns and are still nonbinary. Just because of who will be showing up in this drabble 😭
With that out of the way, here's the drabble! Hope yall enjoy Qiu being a certified #asshole
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Qiu wasn't a jealous person. In fact, they were quite the opposite, growing up as the residental young boyish heart-throb of the young population had other people jealous of them for many reasons. Popularity, good looks, funny, and with a perchant for being kind to everyone they meet; they had heard the rumors of how some of the "friends" Qiu had were secretly trying to push others away from them just to horde their affection. Of course, Ren and Baxter always snuffed out those particular people's issues. Though that didn't stop Qiu from finding out that they unknowingly made people jealous of them. For a while, they had grown accustomed to it.
But then they moved in.
With their sincerity, kindness, and love; they ruined Qiu so thoroughly, down to their very being. Yet, Qiu couldn’t even complain. They would absolutely let the MC do it again and again to them. They were everything to them, and all they had to do was look pretty and bat their eyelashes at them to get them to do anything. They were completely head over heels screwed for them.
And it's what led them here now, sitting at the lunch table, silently fuming on the uncomfortable bench.
Fuming because they were the reason they were completely and madly green with envy at the sight of the MC being so close with Tamarack.
"Tamarack, your hair is so silky and has such gorgeous curls!" The MC preened as they started to make a small braid with some strands of Tamarack's hair.
"Ah, are they really?" Was Tamarack's reply, soft and questioning. For a second, it would have sounded truly genuine, and it might have been, but Qiu knew better.
Tamarack had lost all of her boisterous energy and know-it-all attitude that she wielded back in 2010, replaced with insecurities about everything and anything about herself. It was like watching a turtle shrink back into its shell, and a part of Qiu understood why.
But as they watched the MC comb and weave their beautiful fingers through Tamarack's sparkling hair; a much louder, nastier part of them yelled and screeched.
She's obviously fishing for compliments, she knows her hair is her best quality!
Her hair isn't even that pretty to begin with!
Why is the MC braiding her hair? She doesn't deserve it.
Is my hair not good enough to be braided?
Why her and not me!
"Anddd done!" The MC squeaked, snapping Qiu out of their momentary spiral as the group cooed and awed at the small braid, dangling next to Tamarack's ear. Much to Qiu's utter displeasure, Tamarack had the nerve to be bashful.
"It's so cute!" Serenity, one of Tamarack and the MC's friend, piped up. "Now you have two braids!"
"It does look very nice." Vianca hummed in approval, which made Tamarack fidget in place.
"You did a good job MC." Renee or Ren for short, the only ally Qiu supposedly had at this godforesaken table and the only reason why they were even sitting there, smiled at the both of them.
Why the hell was she on Tamarack's side?Almost everyone here don't even know she's a girl! Why are we even here?!
Qiu couldn’t help but grit their teeth in pure frustration. They couldn't even lie, it was a perfect braid and it suited Tamarack perfectly. But, if they were being honest, they had rather Tamarack have no-
"Qiu."
Qiu, once again, snapped out of their thoughts and turned to the source of the voice. It was Vianca of all people, with a smirk on her face. Usually, they didn’t a single shit about her, but for some reason, that shit eating smirk made Qiu's stomach drop.
"Aren't you going to... you know? Join in on the conversation or compliment the braid? You havs been staring at Tamarack for a hot minute now." She sneered at them, and Qiu's eyes widened as they realized she was completely right.
Tamarack had noticed Qiu's stare on her. Otherwise, she wouldn't be fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her smile dropping into an uneasy line, and her plucked eyebrows furrowed. God, she made them truly sick sometimes.
"Qiu probably thinks it's fine." Ren chuckled, though it was obvious that there was nervous energy coating each sound. They felt a small jab on their foot, and they looked up to see Ren's hazelnut eyes staring back at them.
"Right, Qiu?"
Qiu knew what was happening. They made Tamarack feel bad, and now they had to sit there and pretend that they thought her and her stupid mini braid that the MC made was cute to save face. Their hands balled up into fists on the table for just a second before they took a simple breath in and exhaled, and their hands relaxed once more.
The MC is in front of them for fuck's sake, they can pretend to be fine.
"Sure. It's cute." Was Qiu's stiff reply.
There was a collective breath of relief from most of the table's patrons, and Tamarack glanced up at them for just a second, her eyes searching for something before-
"I'm so glad!" The MC nearly squealed before pulling Tamarack into a close hug, giddy from all the praise, and all poor Tamarack was able to muster out was a solid squeak.
"I been practicing and practicing with Tamarack's hair the past few days after school. I love messing with hair, and once I get better, I want to do-"
There was a solid slam that reverberated on the table that not only silenced them but silenced most of the chatter in the cafeteria. Qiu's palms stinged and burned from the impact of the force, but they didn't care.
Why should they when all they been hearing was just bragging and idolizing someone that wasn't quite frankly worth the MC's time?
"I am sooo happy that you love to do Tamarack's hair and that you just loveee to do everything with her." Qiu laughed but it wasn't remotely happy or earnest, but instead filled with a deep malice.
"Qiu-" Ren snapped but Qiu pressed on.
"But I quite frankly don't give a fuck enough to be caring about her damn braid to be complimenting it."
There was audible gasps and even some giggles from the other students who were listening in. Vianca, Renee and Serenity's faces were twisted in a state of shock and disgust. The nasty pit in them were reveling in it.
At least that was the case until their eyes wandered on Tamarack's face, flushed hot with embarrassment and shame. Her head was ducked down but they could hear her eyelashes furiously batting away the tears that were starting to form beyond the drumming of Qiu's heart in their ears.
And if that didn't make Qiu falter, then the look on their face certainly did. It wasn't shock, it wasn't anger; it was pure and unfiltered hurt and disappointment. That was easily enough for Qiu to stop, but as if feeling like they were controlled on strings, they spoke again.
"Now if all of you excuse me, I'm going to do something better with my time."
The poison in their words even shocked them, but before they could even process that, they felt their limbs run on auto pilot.
They snatched their bag and stormed out of the cafeteria much to the confused shouts of the group, but Qiu didn't care.
They had to get out of there! They had to!
Qiu felt the blood rush to their face in so many emotions, eyes stinging as tears filled their vision. As they side-stepped both faculty and students as they ran up the stairs, thoughts were running at them a mile an hour.
Why did I do that?!
Why didn't I do it sooner?!
Did you see the look on their faces!?
I made Tamarack cry!
It was so funny!
What is wrong with me?
It was great!
As Qiu barreled past the door and onto the rooftop, stopping to take a breath of fresh air, one single though ruminated in their head.
I hurt them. I hurt my best friend.
Qiu wasn't a jealous person. That's what they thought. But as they sat down on a bench, holding their head in their hands, that thought just wasn't true anymore.
They realized that maybe, just maybe something nasty had taken residence within them underneath their watch. Whatever that nasty thing was, Qiu thought, it had rotten them to their core.
Or worse, that nasty pit was there the entire time and Qiu was too tired to fight back anymore.
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