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#saturday night on broadway

newyorkthegoldenage · 2 years

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Broadway on a Saturday night in July, 1945.

Photo: Hy Peskin for Look magazine via MCNY

#New York #NYC #vintage New York #1940s #Hy Peskin #Broadway #Times Square #theater district #July #home front #Saturday night

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schmergo · 2 years

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I hear the new Broadway production of The Music Man has updated the lyrics of the song "Shipoopi" to be less sexist. Some fans are apparently a bit riled up by this, though I personally don't have an opinion on it one way or other

.But if I were a writer for SNL (which, luckily for the entire country, I am not), I would create a "Weekend Update" segment about, like, the one person who cares really deeply about this, because I have a really strong mental image of how it would go.

This extremely intense looking dude rolls up wearing a Music Man t-shirt and begins an increasingly unhinged rant about how you can't "cancel Shipoopi" and how Shipoopi is an important piece of the American songbook AND American culture, and if you're going to "cancel Shipoopi," you might as well replace the Statue of Liberty's torch with a GOSH DARN FLASH LIGHT, and how his father died in the WAR defending this country and he'd be rolling in his GRAVE to hear they canceled Shipoopi, and if they cancel Shipoopi, they might as well change Hugh Jackman's name to Hugh JackWOMAN so as not to offend anyone, yadda yadda yadda.

But 100% of the humor depends on him using the word "Shipoopi" like every 5 seconds, spitting it out with increasing volume and vitriol every time until he's SCREAMING "SHIPOOPI" with a totally straight face and veins sticking out of his neck and spit flying while the host is trying not to crack up.

And the "Shipoopi" guy would be played by Adam Driver. That's it.

#music man #the music man #musical theatre #musicals #broadway #snl #saturday night live #theatre

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cashthecomposer · 1 year

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Don't forget to reblog so that we can get a decent sample size!

I'll be posting one day polls every day, such that each bracket begins when the last one ends. Follow the tag #Sondheim Showdown to stay up to date with each poll.

The seed order has been completely randomized. The brackets are as follows:

Link to the previous results

#musical theatre #musical theater #musical #musicals #poll #polls #stephen sondheim #sondheim #Sondheim Showdown #a funny thing happened on the way to the forum #afthotwttf #Saturday night #Saturday night musical #Broadway #theatre #theater

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suchananewsblog · 1 year

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‘Mean Girl’ Tina Fey paid me nothing for hit franchise: author

Writer Rosalind Wiseman has watched as “Mean Girls” became a global cultural phenomenon. She should be thrilled that her book, “Queen Bees and Wannabes,” was turned into a hit movie, then a Broadway musical — and now the musical is to be turned into a movie too. But while writer and producer Tina Fey and Paramount Pictures have made millions out of the franchise, Wiseman has made just over…

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#amanda seyfried #broadway #broadway musicals #entertainment #lacey chabert #lindsay lohan #lorne michaels #mean girls #movies #paramount pictures #Rachel McAdams #saturday night live #Tina Fey

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emilysworldoffandoms · 2 years

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I love Billy Crystal’s extremely Jewish performance at the Tony awards

#blogger #fandoms #fangirl #jewish stories #jewish #billy crystal #tonys 2022 #mr. saturday night #broadway #musical theatre #yiddish

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papermoon4 · 2 years

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MUSICAL MASH-UPS!

Musicals We Didn’t Know We Needed

In the hit musical PARADISE SQUAREPANTS Sponge Bob owns a hangout called Paradise Square in Lower Bikini Bottom. He's created an underwater paradise where free Sponges and cultists Sardines can harmoniously sing, dance, and debate. But when a deadly volcano is threatening to erupt, and the Tidal Basin Riots break out, tensions spill over. Things are further complicated when Patchy the Pirate is ejected from Paradise Square claiming he is being persecuted due to pirate stereotypes. He is supported in song (“Poor Pirates”) by a rowdy band he met at a diver bar in nearby Hell's Kitchen.

FUNNY GIRL FROM THE NORTH COUNTRY is set in Duluth, Minnesota during the bleak winter of 1934. Nicky Lainstein is proprietor of a rundown guest house where vaudeville star Fanny Brice is stranded during her penultimate farewell tour. During one snow-swept night, Fanny tells Nicky of her tumultuous career in the limelight – all to the music of Bob Dylan.

THE MUSIC MAN OF NO IMPORTANCE is the story of Alfie Byrne, who finds that there's trouble in Dublin City. The cause? Dirty books! The last thing he expects is to fall in love with Salome Peru, the local librarian and her dance of the 76 veils.

THE PHANTOM OF THE THREEPENNY OPERA ~ MacHeath (aka Mack the Knife) lives deep in the catacombs under the Paris Opera House, hiding his disfigured face from the world after a horrible chandelier accident. He falls in love with Polly, a young soprano and part-time slut, and vows he will marry her. This angers her father, Peacham, the manager of the Opera, who will stop at nothing to save his daughter from MacHeath's wretched clutches.

CATCH ME IF YOU CAN-CAN is the musical story of Franc, a con-man who pretends to be a pilot for Air France, but is haunted by his mysterious childhood. His mother Claudine was a can-can dancer in Montmartre who was harassed by a judge who may or may not be his real father. While passing fake travelers cheques at Charles De Gaulle airport, he is pursued by both the law and his past, while singing the show's big number “Catch Me If You Can-Can”

In MY FAIR LADY IN THE DARK magazine editor Liza finds herself plagued by indecision. She is courted by two men: Higgins, a grammar-fixated speech teacher; and Freddy, a romantic street surveyor. When seeing a psychologist, she delves into her dreams of being put on trial for her indecision in a circus setting, with her father Alfie acting as prosecutor, Higgins as chief witness, and Freddy as her defense attorney. She defends her refusal to make up her mind in the searing "Saga of Jenny". Will she fetch his slippers, or go to the races? As the curtain falls, Liza finally makes up her mind.

MR. SATURDAY NIGHT MOTHER is the heart-breaking yet hysterical story of Buddy Young Jr. (Billy Crystal), a washed-up comic who comes home to care for his terminally ill mother. Little does he know that she wants him to help her die - laughing!

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always-rolling-my-eyes · 2 months

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Rachel McAdams is going to Broadway?!

#rachel mcadams #mary jane #broadway #again i love these broadway commercials during #snl #saturday night live

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michaelwwaah · 3 months

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youtube

It was kind of fun to see jimmy fallon doing the BG talk show on SNL last Saturday, but it’s really not a very loving/flattering/accurate imitation of Barry.

So it’s a great opportunity to spend some time with the man himself, or at least, old videos of him since I can’t just set up a meeting him … yet?

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thrashntreasure · 7 months

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Ep103 A Slice of WGA Strike w/ Tim Doyle! (Hollywood!)

[Redacted] In solidarity with the WGA writer's strike, there shall be no puns this week to welcome Mr. Tim Doyle back to the torture chamber- I had one written, but I just couldn't pick it. This week, our favourite Sitcom writer/producer/creator returns from 65 (million) episodes ago to flick on the Killswitch Engage album, As Daylight Dies... before hitting the club for A Slice of Saturday Night. Plus, this affable chap thoroughly explains the WGA Writer's Strike, what it means for Hollywood, the future of Film/TV, the international repercussions terrifying the studios, the dangers of AI replacing artists, the death of cinematic comedy, what makes Sitcoms successful, and heeeaaaps more in this Aaronless episode! (Say what?! *faints*)

Please note: this episode was recorded on Day 54 of the WGA Strike, before SAGaftra went on strike; therefore, some information may be out of date or may have changed in the past 100 days-or-so.

Tim on Socials: https://twitter.com/FlakedAndFormed

Spencer on Socials: https://twitter.com/SpencerSher_

Matt on Socials: https://twitter.com/mattyoungactor

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travsd · 1 year

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R.I.P. Eugene Lee

I’ve seldom ventured to write appreciations of set designers on this blog, it falling outside my purview and expertise. Among the few have been Tony Walton, and Erté, But the death today of Eugene Lee (1939-2023) merits comment here for many reasons. Though he had several more famous credits, I first knew Lee’s name as the resident set designer at Trinity Rep in Providence, which I attended and…

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#art #Broadway #dead #designer #Eugene Lee #obituary #Providence #Saturday Night LIve #set #theatre #Trinity Rep

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all-things-de-niro · 2 years

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Robert De Niro and Billy Crystal backstage at a recent performance of Mr Saturday Night on Broadway

#robert de niro #bobby d #robert de niro visits billy crystal back stage at broadway performance of mr saturday night #billy crystal #broadway shows #news

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hawkins-losers · 2 years

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eddie munson, #3

(‘’I’m naked!’’ - ‘’Was that supposed to stop me from coming in?’’)

A/N: Can anyone recognize the ref of the scene?

Rain was pouring outside, therefore all of your Saturday plans had been canceled. You were bummed not to be partying tonight, but a movie night at home didn’t sound so terrible. You made some popcorn and put a tape in the player, then settled comfortably in your bed.

You had closed the door to not be bothered by your little sister who never shuts up during movies - and because you didn’t want her to tell your parents that you were watching a movie with a sex scene. They would probably take away the tv in your room if it ever gets to their ears.

Just as the main protagonist was about to get down and dirty with hot guy, you heard a knock on your door.

‘’I’m busy! Studying,’’ you called, your eyes not leaving the screen. ‘’Naked,’’ you added to make sure your sister would not come in.

‘’Was that supposed to stop me from coming in?’’

You pulled your eyebrows together, the voice not being your sister’s. ‘’Munson?’’ You paused the movie with the remote and quickly rolled out of bed to open the door.

There he was, standing in your bedroom doorway in his favorite leather jacket and denim vest. He had a hoodie underneath to better shield himself from the heavy rain.

‘’You’re in my house.’’

‘’And you are dressed. I wonder who’s more disappointed.’’

A light flush colored your cheeks. ‘’How did you get in?’’ You stepped aside and Eddie walked in your room, closing the door behind.

‘‘Your sister,’’ he said, taking off his jacket and hoodie, the bottom of his shirt underneath riding up and flashing his lower stomach, making you want to push him on your bed and lick it. ‘’I told her I was a friend from the cheerleading squad.’‘

You covered your mouth to contain your laugh, forgetting about Eddie’s stomach and the trail of hair leading south. ‘‘Oh god.’‘

‘‘The funniest is, she believed me. Do I look like someone from your cheerleading squad? I think I’d be great with the pom-poms, but I don’t think I can fit in the skirt. It’s a bit to tight. You wear it better anyway.’‘

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3 @cursedandromedablack @Slashersimpfor @savagejane1 @wh0reforbucknasty @eddiemunson-slut @slvdsjjk @hehehehannahthings @dreamdancers-world @grace-loux @iamharrystyleslover

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things #eddie munson blurb

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traveler-at-heart · 10 months

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What we were

Summary: After losing Clint, your marriage and family begins to fall apart. Will Natasha be able to go back to what you once were?

A/N: This is going to be four chapters, but most of it is written. It’s a mix of angst, hurt and comfort. Obvious warning, there’s a major character death. Natasha and R have a daughter.

Time was unforgiving.

It had been six months since you lost Clint. Two since you asked Natasha to move out.

Four hours of sleep was the most you could get each night.

Time heals everything, people say.

Then, how come, the more time passed, the worse you felt?

Thoughts like these invade your mind, even when doing the most mundane of tasks. Like now, when you’re waiting for your daughter’s school day to be over. Leaning over your black Mercedes, you wish that your injured leg could be less of a bother and instead of driving, you could walk to pick up Anya and get distracted by the sights of the city.

The school bell rings and the quiet classrooms are full of murmurs, books stored away and steps walking -some rushing eagerly- to the exit.

Impossible to miss, Anya’s red waves are the first thing you spot. Raising a hand, she says goodbye to her friends and walks your way.

“Hi, darling” you sigh against her head.

She’s getting taller and maybe next year she won’t let you hug her. Maybe she’ll even want to take the bus while you anxiously wait for her return home. But now, she’s still a sweet child and she still lets you run your hands through her hair.

“How was Debate Club?” it’s the first thing you ask, because she’d been preparing relentlessly to beat the other team.

“We won, obviously”

“We should celebrate” a voice joins the conversation. You’re so startled that you drop the car keys.

“Mom!” Anya says, wrapping her arms around Natasha.

It makes you happy that she’s not resentful even after everything that happened. That she can love so unconditionally.

She didn’t get that from you.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt” Natasha apologizes, finally looking at you. There’s a weak smile on your face, what else can you do? “I was thinking we could go shopping for that new game you wanted?”

“Can we please, Momma?” Anya turns to you.

“Sure. Have fun. But don’t spoil your appetite. We’re having lasagna”

“Mom, our favorite” Anya nudges the Russian and you look away.

“I’ll have her home by 6” Natasha saves you the embarrassment of being forced to invite her.

“Have fun” you wave goodbye, heart beating fast.

Breaking the speed limit, you rush home. But the tears start running long before you’re parked.

You look at your sad reflection in the rearview mirror.

Natasha looks better than the last time you saw each other.

Maybe all she needed was to be away from you, to be happy again.

Two glasses of wine later, you’re curled up on the sofa watching your favorite comfort show and feeling better.

“What’s up, Buck?” you answer at the second ring of your phone.

“Are you ok?”

You look at the half empty glass of wine and decide that no, you’re most definitely not ok.

“Sure, why you ask?”

“I just saw her driving with Anya”

“Mhm” you look at the clock. 5:55 PM. She’s trying to be a responsible parent, at least. “Yeah, she showed up at school today. It’s good that they spent time together”

“Want me to come over?”

“No, I don’t want you two fighting in my front yard. Thanks, though”

“I’ll stop by tomorrow, ok? And if you feel like it, we can go to that Broadway show on Saturday. I got us tickets”

“Thanks, Buck”

“Ok, she’s parking outside now”

“You followed them all the way here?” you jump out of the couch, looking out the window.

“What? I was worried!”

“Sometimes I think it’s not so great that you live a few blocks away, you weirdo”

“But then I bring coffee and scones and you change your mind”

“Yeap”

“See ya, doll”

“Bye, creep”

“Oh, come on!”

You let out a laugh at his protest. Wanda and Yelena have been texting you, so you scroll, smiling at the silly pictures of Fanny or the videos of Tommy and Billy doing their crazy science experiments.

“Hi, Ma” Anya rushes past you. “Gonna change for dinner”

“Mmkay” you nod, texting Bucky to make sure he’s actually back home, and not slashing Natasha’s tires.

“So…”

“Nat, jeez” you drop the phone, not even aware that she is still here. She looks at you across the kitchen island.

Don’t think how sad it is that she looks out of place here, where it used to be home.

Don’t cry in front of her.

Don’t.

“Sorry, I’ll say goodbye and leave”

“Anya, your mom’s leaving” you busy yourself in the kitchen, looking away.

“So soon?” the girl peeks around, pouting. “We haven’t even played the game yet”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” you give up, unable to say no to your daughter.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m always making extra anyways”

Because you were used to cooking dinner for three.

Anya is happy to set the table, but you sit next to your daughter, leaving Natasha in front of her. You try to stay focused on Anya and school: the debate club, sports activities, a month in Europe for the best students.

“Mom, do you think I can reach out to aunt Carol? I have some Astronomy questions”

Natasha immediately looks at you, but you’re hyper focused on the bottle of wine and pouring the last of it until your glass is filled to the rim.

“Uh, she’s not... I’m not sure where Danvers is, sweetheart. She left Earth a while back”

“Oh, ok” the girl nods, looking at you with a frown. “Mom, what’s wrong? Is your leg hurting? What did Doctor Cho say?”

Crap.

“What’s wrong, det…?” Natasha asks, looking at you. The pet name almost rolled off her tongue.

Everything. Everything is wrong, Natasha.

“That old injury from our outlaw days. Doctor Cho gave me some pain killers. But I don’t think I’ll take them, they make me too sleepy”

“We’ll do the dishes” Natasha jumps in. “Don’t worry about it”

“Thanks”

The dishes are the least of your worries, but it’s still a nice gesture.

Maybe when she’s finally ready to ask you to divorce her, you’ll be able to coparent.

“Here, let me” she asks as you approach with the empty glass of wine. “Did Doctor Cho say anything else?”

You sigh, leaning against the counter, watching as she washes the dishes.

“She said surgery might make the pain go away. Actually, there’s a 90% chance it will work. But Anya’s got school and I’d have to do bed rest for at least five weeks. Maybe during winter break”

“I can take care of her. Drive her to school or cook dinner or…”

“You’re a terrible cook” you remind her. It’s meant to be a joke, but also a way to make her stop.

You don’t want to be a burden for someone who doesn’t want you anymore.

“Wanda could teach me”

“She’s too busy making sure the twins aren’t building a nuclear weapon in the garage”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks, almost afraid of your answer.

“Can you take her to school tomorrow?” you finally say, without providing further details.

The truth is, you’ll probably cry until you fall asleep, because you miss Natasha and this is the first time you’ve seen her in two months.

And it would be better if you could sleep in, make an appointment with your therapist and then find a way to look composed by the time you have to pick your daughter from school.

“Absolutely”

“Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N”

The way she says your name makes you want to scream.

Natasha’s long gone, Anya sleeping peacefully back in her room.

You’re looking at the ceiling, tears rolling down your face and soaking your pillow.

You miss her so damn much. You love her so much.

And you also hate her. And you hate yourself for loving her.

There’s a soft knock at your door. You know it’s not Anya because she would have turned on the hallway light.

“Hey, weirdo” you look at Bucky from across the room, smiling sadly. He approaches you and wraps you in his arms. You sob against his chest, feeling like the sadness will last forever.

“I’m sorry”

“It’s ok. Let it all out. I’m here”

You don’t know when you fall asleep.

A lot has changed in such a short time, but by now, Anya is used to the sight of her uncle Bucky, rotating between the few breakfast foods he can make without burning everything.

“You read my mind” Anya watches as he makes blueberry pancakes.

“Has no one ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?” he mumbles, impressed at how silent she was.

“No, because my moms are spies and so is my uncle and my other aunt and basically half my family”

“Smart ass,” he chuckles. “Come on, eat your food before it gets cold”

“Did mom eat anything yet?” Anya sits on a stool, eating on the kitchen counter.

“Your mom’s asleep” Bucky says. In fact, you cried, had a panic attack, a couple of nightmares, woke up to drink some water and then fell asleep at 4 AM.

Basically, the usual for the past two months.

He’s so caught in his thoughts that he forgets to flip the last pancake. A knock on the front door snaps him back to reality.

“Can you turn off the stove? And pack your bag, we’re leaving in five…” Bucky yells over, opening the door without looking through the peephole first. He’s surprised to find Natasha on the other side “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to pick up my daughter”

“Does Y/N know?” He's holding on to the door so hard that the wood cracks.

“She asked me to drive Anya to school”

“Ok, I’m ready” Anya announces, aware that her mother and uncle aren’t on the best terms. She walks between them to make sure they won’t punch each other. “Bye, uncle, thanks for breakfast”

“Have a good day, sweetheart. See you Saturday”

“Right, for that musical, Beaglejuice”

“Shut up” he chuckles, kissing her forehead. Anya leans forward and hugs him goodbye.

Natasha is silent for most of the ride. Anya is looking out the window, uncertain of her mother’s mood. Maybe not saying anything is safer.

Three blocks away from school and Natasha hears herself blurting out what’s been on her mind this whole time.

“Does Barnes stay over a lot?”

“I guess” Anya mutters, still looking out the window.

“Well, do you know…”

The girl has enough, turning around to face her mother. There’s nothing but resentment in her eyes as she tells Natasha everything.

“Mom cries herself to sleep every night. Ever since you moved out, it's been hard for her to get up in the morning and act normal, let alone cook breakfast. So yeah, uncle Bucky is around all the time, just to make sure she’s at the very least alive. You’d know if you still cared about us”

“Anya…”

“I’ll walk the rest of the way, thanks for the ride” she mumbles, opening the door and rushing away. Natasha is stuck in traffic, so all she can do is watch her daughter from the car.

Just when she was starting to make things right, she fucks up again.

“Thanks for breakfast” you say, mouth full of pancakes.

“More like lunch” Bucky corrects.

You nod, reaching for the maple syrup.

“So, why’d you ask Natasha to drive Anya to school?”

“Is that why my door is almost broken in half?”

“I’ll fix it”

“You better” you mumble. He is still staring and you shrug your shoulders. “Just experimenting how co-parenting is gonna be when we officially divorce”

“So, you are asking her to divorce you?”

“She’s gonna ask me. Sooner or later” you keep your head down, playing with your food. You’re not hungry anymore.

“All things considered, the ball is in your court”

“Buck” you plead, dropping the fork.

“I’m just saying” he approaches your side. “You’ll only be able to heal once you know what you both want. But running away won’t help”

“You sound like my therapist”

“But does she cook you breakfast?”

“For what she’s charging me, she should, actually” both of you laugh. And damn it, you know he’s right. “Thank you, for worrying about me. And for taking care of us these past few months. I’m sorry I’m such a mess”

As if on cue, tears start streaming down your face. Bucky hugs you, kissing your head.

“It’s ok”

“I know you hate it when people cry, I’m sorry”

“Yeah, but I hate it a little bit more when you’re the one crying”

Luckily for your therapist, you’re all cried out by the time you reach her office. Instead, you discuss how it would be better to approach Natasha, who has always struggled with communication around difficult topics.

“I’m very happy with this session. We’ve made great progress” Doctor Thompson says and you put your fist forward.

“Fist bump” you encourage her.

“I’ll get my license taken away if we ever do this again”

For the first time in months, you leave her office feeling a little bit lighter.

Until you check your phone. 10 missed calls from Natasha.

“Nat?” you answer as she calls again.

“Is Anya with you?”

“I was about to pick her up from school” there’s a pause. “You did drive her to school, right?”

“Of course, I’m not an idiot” she shoots back.

“Well, I’m very confused because she’s only about to end her last class. Why would she be anywhere else, then?” you retort.

“Just meet me back home, ok?” she pleads.

“Fine”

She’s pacing on the sidewalk as you park.

“Care to explain?”

“The school called me an hour ago. She sneaked out after recess”

“Let’s just track her phone”

“It’s off”

“Well, fuck” you run your hand through your hair. “Did she say anything to you this morning? Did she seem upset?”

Natasha looks away, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I asked her if Barnes was staying over often”

“Natasha, for fuck’s sake” you sigh, turning away from her.

Don’t shout. You won’t solve anything by screaming at Natasha.

Your daughter is missing because your wife can’t keep her jealousy to herself. So fuck it.

“If you want to know anything, you ask me, Natasha, do you understand? You don’t go questioning our 13 year old daughter, who, by the way, has been through enough shit lately. I’m trying to protect her and you’re here implying I’m sleeping with the only friend who isn’t tired of me being a mess. Which, for the record, I’m not. And would never. Unlike you, I’m not going around fucking people outside my marriage because I’m having a hard time”

“I don’t know how to get close to you, Y/N. You pushed me out ever since…”

“No! You don’t get to put this on me. I tried for months. I tried everything. And you scoffed and ignored and stood me up. I gave up the moment I found you in bed with Carol”

Your voice breaks at the last part. That memory has been buried for so long; you want it to stay hidden, forever.

It doesn’t matter. You need to find Anya.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Buck”

“I’m here. I’ll help you find her”

“I’ll find my daughter alone, thank you” you walk past her, waiting impatiently for your friend to pick up.

“She’s my daughter too”

“You sure as hell haven’t acted like her mother in a long time, Natalia”

You walk away, your back turned to her.

“Buck” you say, voice trembling.

“I know. She’s at the Met. Hasn’t left. I’m outside, just in case”

“How did you…?”

“I’m sorry. I was hoping I could convince her to come back before you found out she sneaked out of class”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can”

Again, those soft waves of red are the first thing you spot in the room. Her blue eyes are fixed on Degas and his Dance Class.

“Hey, kiddo” you stand next to her, understanding immediately why she’s looking at this painting. “We still have your ballerina shoes somewhere in a box. Your mom loved going to your recitals”

“I’m sorry for leaving school”

“I played hooky a couple of times. It’s part of life. I just want to make sure you’re ok”

“She doesn’t care if you’re able to get up in the morning but gets jealous because someone is taking care of us”

You sigh. Anya has Natasha’s heart, after all. She loves and protects fiercely.

“That’s not exactly true. Come with me” your daughter takes your hand as you leave the museum.

Central Park is still looking beautiful, even as fall approaches. Anya plops down on a bench and you take a seat next to her. A small groan leaves your lips. This damn leg.

“You know your mother was raised to be an assassin. The Red Room taught her that love was a weakness. And that she was incapable of having a family or people that cared about her. Even after all these years, insecurity can get the best of Nat sometimes”

“Why can’t we just… go back to what we used to be?” she mumbles, a tear rolling down her face.

“Oh, sweetheart” you hold her against your chest. “I want nothing more in this world”

“I miss her”

“Me too, Anya”

“It’s like we lost her the day uncle Clint died” she sobs.

“But she’s still here. And she still needs you, my sweet girl. I’m not saying you should forgive her right this second. But don’t build a wall around yourself, please”

“Ok”

“You know I lost my mom when I was 15. And a lot of that time I spent it angry at her for staying with a man that wasn’t good to us. But once she was gone, all I wished was that I had made her life a little easier”

“I’m sorry”

“It’s ok. I’m glad I’m here, to make sure you don’t make the same mistake I did. We’re gonna be alright, I promise”

“I love you”

“Love you too, kiddo” you keep her in your arms for as long as you can, but a light rain begins to fall. “Come on, now. Bucky’s been waiting for us”

“I know. I saw him following me on the bus here”

“My God, I don’t know which one of you is scarier”

Anya giggles, and you take her hand.

Even between all of this mess, she’s the one thing that makes everything worth it.

Anya was the one that texted her mother, apologizing and letting her know she was ok.

You didn’t reply to Natasha’s text. “I’m sorry” isn’t enough sometimes.

After pizza and an intense game of Jenga with Anya and Bucky, you call it a night.

You know what you’ll dream of tonight, but you’re too tired to care.