#americans in the tags saying “not all Americans!!!” like. maybe not. ours is a big country and there’s all sorts of other factors
Text
🖤Prologue - My Reputation's Never Been Worse
Ok, so I was in the mood to create something dealing with the news about Logan's car being traded for Alex. So, I thought, why not give Reputations a prologue. Now, this does not happen in 2024. This is set around the 2023 Brazil Grand Prix. Everything in this story is fake. I'm sorry I had to make some of the drivers mean - in no way do I think that they act like this. Yes, they could be nicer to Logan but because I don't know them personally, I have no real thoughts about what they do in their own lives.
All I know is that Logan deserves all the love and my heart hurts for him.
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
Saturday, November 4, 2023
“You want to do what?”
James sighed as he hunched over his desk. Logan was in disbelief over the question that he was just asked. Alex sat to his right, chewing on his finger nails.
“It’s just for one race Logan. It’s no big deal.”
Logan’s brows pinched in annoyance. “No big deal? Two races ago, we scored our first double points. I have raced clean, I’ve shown you what I can do.”
“That right now doesn’t matter Logan,” James pushed. “What matters is the team. And we need to keep pushing to get points.”
“Then let me race. Let me prove to you that I can do it.”
Alex coughed, but no one paid attention to him. The Thai’s eyes were pointed at the floor. His silence was deafening. Logan leaned back in his seat.
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
There wasn’t an answer from James, which gave Logan everything he needed to know. How dare they come to a circuit without an extra chassis. How dare they ask Logan to give up his car that he worked so hard to get in the first place. It was ridiculous. And even if Alex managed to score points, it wouldn’t really matter. There were only a few races left.
Logan finally turned to his teammate. “What do you think about this?”
Alex only replied, “I would do what was best for the team.”
A scoff escaped the blonde’s lips.
“So if I had crashed out, and they asked you to give your car to me, what would you say?”
“It wouldn’t matter because they’d never ask me to do that. I’d still drive.”
Logan’s jaw wanted to fall. Did Alex really just say that? The man who had been so confident in Logan. The one who encouraged him after every fault. The person who was supposed to be his teammate.
Logan could only collapse against the back of the chair. In frustration, he threw his hands up.
“Fine. Whatever it take for the team right?” he bit.
“Thank you Logan.”
However, the American was out the door before he could even hear James. He needed some air. As he walked around the paddock, he saw lots of people but thankfully (or sadly) they didn’t pay attention to him. After walking for a bit, he knew where he was automatically going to.
The back of the Mercedes garage.
George, bless his heart, had comforted him once after a particular bad DNF and told him that if he ever needed a place to just sit, he was always welcome there. The tall Briton was always nice to the American. Way nicer than anyone had really treated him.
He sat on the wet-ish grass and pulled out his phone. Time to look like he was actually doing something. Maybe the weather in Madrid was nice, or maybe it was raining back home? The weather app was always his go to.
It only took a matter of moments for the post to go live. His eyes followed the mass amount of comments that poured in. And most of them were not lovely. He wanted to cry, but he knew better.
Footsteps made him aware that someone was coming. He quickly stood up and rounded a corner, putting his back flat against the wall.
It was Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar.
“Great,” he whispered when he realized that there was no way to escape without them seeing. Oh well, eavesdropping was one of his specialties.
“He was not happy,” he heard Alex say. “I don’t blame him.”
Lando scoffed, or well, he thought it was Lando.
“This wouldn’t have happened if he was a better driver.”
Yep, that was Lando.
“Come on, don’t say that.”
Thank you Oscar, Logan wanted to say. Thank you for standing up for me.
“Mate, you were just saying yesterday about how he really isn’t fit for F1. You said that he should have stuck with Indy Car or something.”
Ouch.
Logan wanted to throw up.
“Shit, I was really mean to him in there. I should have said something.” That was Alex again.
Logan could practically hear Lando roll his eyes. For some reason, George has stayed eerily quiet.
“Alex, it’s his own fault. I’m just saying everything that everyone is thinking. I’m the only one who is brave enough to say it. Logan Sergeant has no business being in Formula 1.”
Oscar stuttered out, “That’s enough Lando.”
“Right sorry, forgot you two were close.”
Come on Oscar.
“Not that close. He exaggerates a bit. To be honest, I just felt bad for him. He kind of stuck to me and I just let him.”
Oh.
Alex sighed. “He wanted to prove something so much. But there’s really no need.”
“No need?” Logan whispered to himself.
“James isn’t extending his contract. Williams is going with whoever wins this year’s Formula 2 championship.”
There was silence for a bit. Logan took the time to reign in his breaths that were quickly getting faster and faster. He did not need to have a panic attack here and now.
“We have to go, Andrea is texting me.”
“I’ll go with. My engineers have to look over Logan’s car to change some things.”
He heard footsteps start to walk away. The lone Williams driver let out a deep sigh and sank to the ground. His head was automatically in his hands as he finally let his tears shed. What he didn’t see was a 6-foot Briton walking his way.
The blonde gasped when he felt a food nudge his. His head shot up and was faced with George.
“Oh hey. Didn’t see you coming.”
“I know you were listening.”
Red flushed Logan’s face as the idea of being caught.
“It’s not eavesdropping if everyone talks so loudly.”
George sighed. “I’m not mad Logan. I’m worried for you.”
A scoff escaped from Logan.
“You’d be the first.”
George felt his heart drop at the sentence.
“I try and try, and no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.”
“Mate, you can’t get anywhere in a Williams. Did you even see my rookie year? It was bloody awful.”
Logan looked back down. “But you’re now in Mercedes. You won the Formula 2 championship. I wasn’t even runner up or third place. Williams is all I have, er, well, had I guess.”
“I’m truly sorry Logan.”
“Sure.”
George started to walk away, knowing that trying to convince the American that he was good enough was a lost cause. Logan waited until the Briton left before standing up to make his way back to the garage.
He could feel the eyes on him now as he made the journey back to Williams. His eyes caught George standing with Lewis, Max, and Charles. They looked sad as they watched him walk.
Whatever, Logan did want or need their pity.
The American kept on walking, only stopping to ask for a car to take him back to his hotel. Man, did he wish Benny were here. It would make everything so much better. His phone had been blowing up with so many notifications. Multiple messages from his friends back home, along with his parents, had been nothing less than supportive.
However, one message caught his eye as he was going through the long list. He was surprised, but there was a warm, fuzzy feeling at the sight of your name. He knew that you were also having a hard time adjusting to everything. Except for the fact that you had won a race for Arrow a few weeks prior. Hell, he was even at your celebration party. But he remembered the looks on your team’s faces as you celebrated.
One good word would be jealousy.
And it wasn’t just your team: it was everyone.
He sent you a quick text saying that he’d call you when he got back to his room. A fast “I’ll be waiting” brought the warm feelings back.
He quickly walked through the hotel doors and into the elevator. It was going to be so nice when he could change into his sweatpants and t-shirt.
Logan mulled over the entire thing as he showered.
He could have stayed home in Florida. He wasn’t needed here anyway. He could be in his childhood room, in his own comfy bed instead of the stuffy hotel room that he knew was smaller than the one that Alex got. He had seen the Thai’s pictures from Instagram and their rooms did not look the same.
He quickly glanced in the mirror, just to see if his hair looked fine. He was thinking of growing it out, but hesitated to. He didn’t want to be made fun of even more than he already was. With a jump into the bed, he was ready.
He sent you a quick text, only to be met with the FaceTime screen ready. He rolled his eyes, you had always been so impatient to talk to people. When he pressed the green button, he was met with a big smile and an oh so familiar and safe face.
“Hi Logan.”
How he missed your voice. You were always so soft spoken, but could yell at people if you needed to. He had been on the wrong side of your yell one too many times. But, he could listen to you for hours if he could.
“Hello? Earth to Logan?”
He quickly shook his head.
“Hi Y/n,” he murmured, laying his head on his bicep as he just looked into the camera. You had a sad smile as you looked at the blonde.
You could see his eyebags and his pale completion through the small screen. His red eyes signified that he probably cried when he took his shower (you knew because his hair was still soaked).
You cleared your voice. “How are you holding up?”
Logan’s shoulders only raised before dropping back down.
“I’ve been better.”
“Of course you have.”
“Overheard that I’m not going to be resigned for next year.”
A gasp echoed through the room before you sighed. Your hand ran through your hair. When you and Logan were little, people always mistook you for twins or very close siblings. That always annoyed you because you claimed that Logan was your boyfriend, not your brother. The moms and dads would just laugh.
Looking back, you always wished you cherished those moments more than you had. The “relationship” only lasted for three days or until you saw Logan give Jessica his extra fruit roll up instead of you. After that, you claimed that you could only be his best friend since he didn’t love you as much as you loved him. You were over it as soon as you gave Michael your extra fruit roll up.
You looked down at your fingers in your lap and bit your lip.
“What are you thinking about?”
You sighed again. “If it helps, I’m not getting resigned either.”
Logan’s eyes widened as he scoffed.
“That’s ridiculous. You have given them 1 out of their 2 wins this season.”
“And Logan, you scored points as the first American in like 30 years. Nothing in motorsports is ever fair.”
Logan leaned back, but kept his face visible.
“Remember when we were kids? And we always said that we would make it to our dreams together?”
A quiet hum sounded from his phone.
“Have we made it yet?”
Silence was his answer.
“I don’t think we have.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Logan, is driving in a Williams really your dream?”
The male thought for a moment. Did he accomplish his dream of getting and making it to Formula 1? To the outside world, yes, yes he did. He drove for an F1 team. He ‘made it’ even if it wasn’t the best. But is it really making it if you finished 21st in a 22 driver line up?
No, that was not making it. That was barely getting by.
“I guess my dream was just to show everyone that I could do it. That I’d be good at it. But, now I haven’t done that.”
“Then why have you given up?”
“Because everyone wants me to. No one has ever liked me for me.”
“I do.”
Logan inhaled sharply. He finally turned his head to see you looking right at him through the screen. He felt a tear run down his face.
When had that gotten there?
“Logan, listen to me.”
A hum from him made you laugh. You guessed that’s what you were going to get out of him.
“You have the talent, Williams saw that. They just couldn’t give you a car to maximize your potential. And who cares if no one likes you. You don’t have to make them like you, but at the same time you do. You can’t be green-eyed lady whisperer Charles Leclerc or World Champion Max Verstappen.”
He rolled his eyes. “Wow, thanks Y/n.”
Your giggles filled the air. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah, please continue about Charles’s green eyes.”
“Dude I could write a whole biography on his eyes alone. But I don’t want to. I’d rather write a whole novel about yours.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“Anyway, what I’m trying to say Logan, is that you have to believe in yourself and show them that they need to like you because you are you. Say it with me please? Like you’re talking to a hater. ‘You must like me for me’.”
Logan whispered back, trying to believe his words.
“You must like me for me.”
He shot up from the bed as soon as he said the words.
“Isn’t that a Taylor Swift lyric?”
His eyes narrowed at you through the phone. You only smirked back at him.
“Quite possibly. Now, you are going to go to bed, sleep so well, and then keep smiling. Show them that they haven’t destroyed your spirit just yet.”
Logan put his head on a pillow.
“Oh, so they are going to destroy my spirit at some point.”
“Yep!,” you popped the ‘p,’ “but not right now. That can come later.”
He smiled dopily at you.
“You’re the best you know? I know that I say that Oscar is my best friend, but it’s actually you.”
A whine-like noise came from your throat.
“You’re my best friend too. I’ll see you in a couple of months ok? Still have to beat Dalton at football this summer.”
“You say that every year!”
“Ok and?”
“Goodnight Y/n.”
“Night Logan. Sweet dreams.”
You hung up the phone, leaving Logan alone in his little hotel apartment. He thought about what you had said. What’s the point in trying to make them believe in him anyway. They were going to throw him away like trash soon.
But you were also right. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. He just needed to show them what he could do, and they could feel bad about it later.
Logan set his alarms for the morning and got under the covers.
He’d show them.
His reputation has never been worse, so what’s a bit of fun until the end?
logansargeant has posted
logansargeant if I didn't have a day job, I'd spend every moment listening to you, come visit me soon - your best friend
liked by georgerussell63, williamsracing, racer.y/n, and 493,206 others
logiebear oooooo girl in the pictures - have something to tell us mr. American 🤨
lolo2024 what they did to him this weekend was unfair
sargeant2 this was my first Grand Prix and I came from Spain just to watch him! I'm so sad that now I won't get to... :(
logansargeant hey! sorry about that - let me know what you're wearing and I'll try to find you, thank you for the support 💙
sargeant2 OH MY GOSH
racer.y/n I'll see you soon ok! sorry, my day job is also taking up all my time 🧡 *liked by logansargeant*
indyxf1 HELLO Y/N L/N??
log4_ever who is she?
indyxf1 so she like grew up grew up with Logan and she currently races for McLaren Arrow (their IndyCar entry) - she's won half of their races (1/2)
sarg4president they don't deserve you Logan!
loscar_812 I thought Oscar was your best friend hmmmm??
logan&y/n uhhhh haven't you seen that Oscar has been drifting since he's gotten closer with Lando??
loscar_812 oh. yeah. :(
billsracing and I thought williams was different - not them creeping in the likes 🙄
TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora
#f1 x driver!reader#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#logan sergeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#logan sargeant imagine#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant#formula 1 x you#future grid dad lestappen#future grid dad lewis#grid bestie george#lestappen#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#reputations fic#reputations is coming#reputations
632 notes
·
View notes
Note
Re: suits, there are hundreds of different types of suits, but the most common cuts are british, american and italian. I could see Lando (aka would love to see) most likely in an italian cut (slim tailoring on trousers and jacket, unstructured shoulders, light cloth (not colour but fabric) also looks very nice with an open collar and no tie...). Typical big brand names here are Zegna, Armani or Attolini, I personally love Kiton and Brioni as well, but just googling itlian cut suits should show some good results.
For Oscar, I would adore a (for once) properly tailored brutish cut suit (higher waistline for the trousers, more structure in the shoulders, tapered waist, thicker fabrics). Maybe even make it a proper three-piece bc ever since the wetsuit pics from Australia, I think we all agree that those curves need to be shown more often. Examples here are Ted Baker, Dunhill and ofc everything Savile row.
Tho if we keep with the Mclaren sponsors, Reiss does some great work as well. There's a double-breasted tuxedo jacket in this year's collection that I would love to see Lando in (then again tuxedos are a whole nother topic ...)
This got very long and is probably not very helpful but I love infodumping about fashion lol <3
i know you were self conscious about writing at length about this but all i have to say is: yes. here is some additional photographic evidence from my POV;
lando in snazzy italian tailoring, but to take the stylised vector a bit further:
exhibit a: asymmetric waistcoat with steampunk details
exhibit b: italian but with a fun pattern
exhibit c: open collar a step further, he could so rock a 70s suit. also just really need him to rock the gucci glasses with some shiny loafers like he’s sooooo got that vibe. im thinking how bruno mars and harry styles wear that kind of suiting sometimes
now to our elusive chanteuse f1 driver oscar jack. i feel like it’s, like what you described, about a classic style but with really fine details. good fabrics, simple cuts, plain colourways. below is pretty stylised but also this is rpf and it’s my playground and if we were claiming realism we should just put the rpf toys down full stop and i am not doing that!!
if taking a costume designer’s perspective too, there could be soooo much you could say with layering and pattern and contrast depending where we are in the story or plot. the idea of fic!oscar in a classic brit cut suit with tiny revealing details like a handkerchief (lando’s) or a button (a nod to a family member or a friend) is very dear to me.
the other option i like is a classic tux jacket with tails and crisp shirt and a a sky blue handkerchief, like idk that image also tickles me for some reason.
anyway so i had been thinking about a tailor AU- *loud scuffling noise as i try to put wayward au ideas back in their box*
p.s. oscar in dunhill... like u were cooking but u especially cooked w that one....
and tagging the people who might be interested in this conversation i invite y’all to weigh in!! @cx-boxbox @kichona-s and @jusst-you-race
#i need to stop thinking#landoscar#mctwinks#twinklaren#op81#ln4#it’s getting bad guys idk how i just see random things now and im like. how do i make this landoscar#wizrambles.txt
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Our Little Secret
Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician
Pairing: Elvis Presley x Addison Goodwin
Characters: Elvis Presley, Addison Goodwin, Lisa Marie Presley, Jess Goodwin-Presley, Jerry Schilling, Marci Cunningham, Charlie Hodge, Red West
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 5012
Summary: Some things are to be kept between man and wife.
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Mother Daughter Arguing, Tension, Stress, Mentions of the Colonel, Weddings, Secret Weddings, Las Vegas, In my mind they become a proper lil family unit and lisa moves back to Memphis.
Notes: Since most of our Elvis and Addie fics are heart wrenching here’s some good old fluff.
ELVIS MASTERLIST // ELVIS & ADDISON MASTERPOST
‘Okay, so no flowers,’ Addison sighed hoping that this decree would be enough to end their argument as she finally reached the end of her tether.
‘You can’t get married without flowers!’ Marci protested, her eyes wide at the mere suggestion of such a thing. Addison sighed trying to push the irritation her friend's aghast expression caused from her body. She didn't mean to be annoyed at her, it wasn't her fault that her florist had cancelled less than a week away from the big day offering no more than an excuse about a supply issue and the numbers to some other vendors in Memphis who might be able to help, and yet she couldn't help but feel annoyed because even though it was disappointing for her it didn't matter.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry Elvis, they’d been engaged since the minute they’d gotten back together nearly a year ago, it was that she just didn’t see the need for all the fuss. Like with everything he wanted to go all out and show them off to the world and whilst she understood his reasons it hadn’t been easy. Since leaving the Colonel he’d been busy and though that wasn't irregular for him this time it was different because he was actually enjoying it for once. He loved the work he was doing now and the opportunities not being tied to the old toad came with which is why she'd encouraged him to do whatever he wanted but that had meant the wedding planning had fallen in her lap, well, hers and Marci’s hence why the no flowers debacle had turned into a half-hour debate as they’d waited around to go down to the show.
‘She’s right Mom,’ Jess concurred making her mother's glare fall on her as though she was being betrayed. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised considering Jess had become quite the little advocate for this wedding whenever Elvis wasn’t around. She knew it was because it meant so much to him but still, if she had to listen to one more conversation about flowers or dresses or cakes she felt as though she may scream.
‘Well, what am I supposed to do? They can’t magic a crop of flowers where there are none,’ Addison said.
‘Well maybe we just pick something else? Could they do that?’ Jess reasoned.
‘It took Mar two weeks to pick them out for me,’ Addison reasoned.
‘No, no, Jessie’s right!’ Marci agreed, ‘have they got others?’
‘I assume so what with it being a florist and all,’ Addison said sarcastically though neither of them seemed to be paying attention as they conjured up a solution.
‘How about chrysanthemums?’ Jess asked watching her aunt who frowned.
‘No they won’t match,’ Marci said.
‘Yeah you’re right I forgot the dresses are purple,’ Jess agreed.
‘How do you even know what a chrysanthemum is?’ Addison asked.
‘We learned about them in school,’ Jess shrugged, ‘what about lilies?’
‘They’ll stain,’ Marci said, ‘what about those white roses we said originally?’
‘Maybe some freesias?’ Jess added.
‘Ooh yeah, that’s pretty!’ Marci said as the pair of them looked towards the bride, Addison shrugged, ‘if you can sort it be my guest.’
‘I’ll do it right now,’ Marci said with a self-satisfied smirk before she headed to the phone.
As she disappeared into the other room a glare that resembled Addison’s fell across Jess's pretty face making her mother frown as she said, ‘what?’
‘You could act more appreciative y’know,’ Jess said.
‘Mar knows I appreciate her,’ Addison replied, Jess sighed.
‘I’m just saying it’s like you don’t even wanna get married sometimes,’ Jess replied as she dropped her gaze to her lap twirling a piece of fringe from her shirt around her finger. Addison frowned, wondering to herself if that was really how she sounded.
‘Jess,’ Addison sighed but before she could protest and inform her daughter that weddings and marriages didn’t conflate she heard her name yelled across the suite.
As she stood up Jess sighed and rose too heading to where her aunt was still on the phone. Addison watched her go with a heavy heart before she headed to where her name was called again. When she got there she found Lisa standing by the door of her room partially dressed for the night.
‘What’s the matter, sweetie?’ Addison asked as a pout fell on the blonde’s face.
‘I can’t find my shoe,’ she said offering up the other one as some sort of proof its twin was in fact missing.
‘Well it’s gotta be somewhere,’ Addison said though they’d spent a lot of this year living out of suitcases Addison wasn’t surprised something was missing. After a quick sweep of the room she found it and though she knew she probably shouldn’t she didn’t protest when Lisa offered her father’s puppy dog eyes and asked her to help her put them on.
When they re-emerged the suite was full, evidently the meeting Elvis had been in was now over given that most of the boys were in the suite their wives in tow. Not that it mattered because as Addison appeared into the entryway, Lisa’s little hand clasped in hers, whatever attention Elvis had been paying to his friends was gone.
‘Hey,’ he said, a beaming smile on his face as he approached his girls. Addison returned it, whatever upset she’d been feeling at Jess’ guilt-tripping ebbing away at his twinkling smile.
‘Hi,’ she replied as he pulled her close pressing a quick kiss on her lips which made her smile widen.
‘You look stunning,’ Elvis murmured.
‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ Addison giggled, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. He was dressed for the show, swathed in a white jumpsuit that made his eyes sparkle and his summer tan look richer.
‘Yeah well-‘ Elvis started though before he could continue he felt a small hand push on his thigh forcing them to part and when he looked down he found his daughter watching them with a pout as she said, ‘what about me?’
‘Well you always look pretty buttonhead,’ he said moving to hoist her up onto his hip, forgetting as he always did she was getting a tad too old for it though it was brought to his and Addison’s attention as an uncomfortable grunt escaped his lips.
‘Jessie helped me pick out my dress,’ she said showing him the red summer sun dress she was sporting.
‘Well it’s very nice,’ Elvis said, kissing her cheek before he said, ‘speaking of where is Jess?’
‘She’s with Mar,’ Addison said a hint of a sigh in her voice her soon-to-be husband didn’t fail to miss. And as he watched her quickly divert off the topic hoisting Lisa down onto the ground so they could get ready to head downstairs he felt the idea something was amiss cement inside him.
He let her pull away from him, pretending he wasn’t watching her as she plastered a smile on her face as she greeted their friends, but when they were called to head downstairs he lingered by the door, catching her by the arm as she walked past him pulling her from the flow of the crowd.
‘Uh, boss?’ Charlie said as the dregs of people made their way out of the suite leaving just Elvis and Addison behind, a confused look on her face as Elvis replied, ‘just give us a minute.’
‘Sure,’ Charlie said eying them for a second before he obediently closed the door leaving them in the empty suite.
‘Everything okay?’ Addison asked with a frown as watched her waiting for her to lay on him whatever it was that was bugging her.
‘I was just gonna ask the same thing,’ Elvis said making her sigh, ‘you okay?’
‘Fine,’ she lied.
‘But?’ he said reaching out to wrap his arms around her so that she was engulfed in him, her only option to peer up into those adoring blue eyes. She paused, her fingers intent on playing with the blue threading on the peacock jumpsuit he was sporting until finally, she muttered, ‘remind me why you want a big wedding again?’
‘Ah,’ Elvis frowned, ‘more problems?’
‘The florist cancelled. I tried fixing it but it’s just a bit chaotic. I mean it’s a week away and I’m trying to arrange things when we’re thousands of miles away y’know?’ she said, her words causing nerves to flutter through him.
‘You’re having second thoughts?’ Elvis asked with a frown.
‘No! Of course not, not at all!’ she sighed as her arms slid up to wrap around his neck, ‘it’s just all of this stuff I don’t care about…the flowers and cakes and everything. I know you probably feel like I don’t wanna.’
‘I don’t think that,’ Elvis said earnestly. Honestly considering she’d been anti-fuss since he’d known her he hadn’t expected any different, he’d just been happy she’d been willing to put up with his longing to have a big wedding.
He knew it was silly. His last wedding had been a big one and yet they’d had no control over any of it, opting to have their own ceremony at the house just a few weeks later but this time he wanted big. He wanted everything to be what they wanted, not what the colonel had arranged. He wanted to show her off to the world, to prove that after all that heartache and pain he’d finally got his girl. He’d finally got to put that ring on her hand in front of his friends and family the way he’d intended it to be when they were just kids. And fortunately, she’d been happy to let him. And though they weren’t yet married he knew her better than anyone. He knew that if something had gone wrong she would’ve fixed it or let it go so whatever had got her in a funk must’ve run deeper, a notion that was confirmed as she murmured, ‘your daughter does.’
‘Ah,’ he murmured, running a hand down her cheek, ‘you guys are fighting.’
‘Not fighting it’s just that she thinks me not wanting a big wedding means that I don’t love you which isn’t true.’
‘Baby I know that,’ Elvis chuckled seeing the worry in her eyes dim at his laughter, ‘Jess knows that too she’s just looking out for us that’s all. I mean us getting married probably means as much to her as it does to us.’
‘I know,’ Addison agreed, ‘and I’m sorry, I know you’re too busy for all this.’
‘I’m not too busy,’ Elvis corrected as his thumb caressed her cheek.
‘El this is your busiest year yet what with the Colonel and everything,’ she argued.
‘Ads I’m not too busy for us,’ Elvis reiterated, ‘if you need help I can help. Just tell me what needs doing and I’ll get it done okay? Heck if you want to pick a florist here in Vegas I’ll have someone drive the damn flowers home.’
‘You’re sweet you know that,’ she giggled.
‘That’s me, sweet as pie,’ he smiled unable to stop himself now that he could see she’d relaxed. She smiled back at him before pulling away evidently realising that time was ticking on and that he was due to be on stage any minute. He grumbled as she walked away, allowing him to pull her by the hand through the door though as they headed towards the elevator.
Red was the only one in the hallway, most of the party having already headed to respective destinations, but even so Elvis slowed, not quite ready to leave her side just yet. She glanced at him curiously but said nothing allowing him to follow her onto the elevator wordlessly and they rode in silence down to the main floor which was only broken as Jerry appeared, ready and waiting to escort Addison to the showroom floor where Marci and his daughters would be waiting for her. Yet as she went to leave the elevator he stopped her, pulling her into him as he said, ‘what no good luck kiss?’
‘You don’t need luck,’ she said rolling her eyes but leaning up to kiss him all the same as his arms wrapped around her. Even though he loved having her in the crowd watching at that moment he didn’t want to let her go. She noticed his apprehension, her brows knitting together as she asked, ‘what?’
‘Thank you,’ he said simply.
‘What for?’ she asked confused.
‘Everything, because been though I know this isn’t your ‘thing’,’ he said smirking as she rolled her eyes, ‘you’ve been amazing.’
‘Well thank you,’ she smiled though her face became curious as she fiddled with his collar and asked, ‘remind me why it’s your thing again?’
‘Addie I planned to marry you two weeks after we got together. I guess we’ve waited so long when I finally do get you down that aisle I want it to be special. I wanna show you, us, off,’ he said honestly.
‘You big softy! Though you’re sure I can’t tempt you into a registry office? I mean we are in Vegas,’ she said quirking her eyebrow suggestively.
‘Nice try,’ he chuckled.
‘Uh boss?’ Red said, grabbing his attention. Elvis glanced back noting the serious look on his friend's face that suggested he didn’t have time to be dawdling. Addison seemed to notice it too and leaned up to kiss him quickly, muttering, ‘have a good show. I’ll see you when you get off stage?’
‘See you later honey,’ he said, allowing her to leave his arms and head towards where Jerry was waiting for her. Though as they disappeared out of the heavy metal doors leading to the foyer of the hotel Elvis paused.
‘Everything okay man?’ Red asked noting how his friend hadn’t yet moved to head to the stage.
‘Yeah,’ Elvis said before he added, ‘actually can you help me?’
✵✵✵
Mid-show Red had informed Addison that Elvis had been called away to socialise with a friend of the owner and instead of having Lisa fight to stay awake backstage she’d decided she may as well take the girls upstairs. Whilst Jess disappeared to her room, evidently still in a rut with her mother over their crossed word, Lisa ran to the couch, not content with going to bed without at least saying goodnight to her daddy. Though unfortunately for Elvis any fight his littlest had seemed to ebb the moment they got situated on the couch ready to watch some TV and after half an hour Addison found Lisa cuddled up into her side, flat out. Addison sighed, knowing that tomorrow morning she’d no doubt get an earful off of the six-year-old about putting her to bed before she was ready but nevertheless, she scooped her up and headed down the hall with her in her arms so she could put her to bed. It didn’t take long to get her tucked up in bed, her sleepy eyes opening just a little as she was jostled into a pair of pyjamas, and before long Addison was creeping out of the girl’s room, shutting the door as quietly as she could as to not disturb her. Though as she turned around any chance at being quiet disappeared as she let out a gasp when she found Jess standing behind her.
‘Jesus,’ Addison chuckled quietly, ‘you scared the crap outta me.’
‘Sorry just using the bathroom,’ Jess mumbled before she padded across the hall to her room. Addison sighed and though it seemed whatever spat they were having wasn’t going to be dealt with tonight she decided to at least show her daughter she was ready for a ceasefire whenever that may come about as she said, ‘Goodnight Jessie.’
‘Night mom,’ Jess said pausing in her doorway as her mother watched her. Finally, she looked at her and said, ‘tell dad I said goodnight?’
‘Of course,’ Addison said feeling that this was her daughter dipping her toe in the water something that was proved true as she didn’t head inside and stayed half in the doorway before turning back and saying, ‘Mom?’
‘Yeah, sweetheart?’ Addison said turning to look at her daughter since she had made it look as though she had been heading to leave, allowing Jess not to feel pressured into whatever she wanted to say next.
‘I’m sorry about before,’ Jess said, ‘what I said about the wedding I know you want to marry him.’
‘More than anything,’ Addison said, closing the distance and hugging her daughter before pulling back and placing her hands on the sides of her face. She was the same height as her now, almost a woman, and yet to Addison she still felt like that baby girl she’d held in her arms.
‘I didn’t mean to be rude,’ Jess said guiltily.
‘You weren’t and I know how I must seem like I don’t care about it but you that’s not true. I wanna get married, I’d have married him the day he asked, and if uprooting our entire lives didn’t prove that I don’t know what will,’ Addison smiled, gliding her thumb across her daughter’s cheek, ‘it's just busy that’s all. Your dad’s working harder than ever, we’ve got to arrange a world tour, your school, seeing Lisa the last thing I care about is what colour flowers we have on our wedding day.’
‘So why don’t me and Mar worry about it?’ Jess asked.
‘Jessie,’ Addison giggled, pulling back from her just a touch.
‘Seriously I mean it. Why don’t me and Mar head home for the week? We can arrange everything and all you’ll have to do is show up,’ Jess said excitedly. Addison couldn’t help but smile as her husband-to-be’s words echoed in her head. He was right, this wedding probably meant more to her than anyone.
‘How about we talk about it tomorrow?’ Addison chuckled.
‘Okay,’ Jess said, her sour mood evidently having evaporated with the prospect of wedding planning, ‘night mom.’
‘Night honey,’ she said allowing her to leave her grasp and head into her hotel room.
After that Addison decided to head back to her own room with the idea of getting into bed ready for when Elvis was relinquished from schmoozing whoever it was he’d been obligated to stay downstairs for though she was no sooner over the threshold of their room before she felt a pair of hands nip at her waist startling her for a second time. When she turned around he was watching her with joy and though he allowed her to swat his chest he didn’t wait long before he pulled her to him leaning down to give her a kiss.
‘Hi,’ he said as they broke apart, noting that his teasing was long forgotten given the smile on her face.
‘Hi,’ she said moving back so she could look at him. He’d changed into his ‘normal’ clothes though normal for him still meant a rich blue suit and shirt buttoned so low it made Addison’s mouth go dry. Not that she let it deter her for long as she wrapped her arms around his neck and said, ‘so, good show?’
‘Always a good show with you guys watchin’,’ Elvis said with a smile, ‘did you like it?’
‘Always do,’ she mused.
‘And here I thought Jer was bein’ stingy with compliments when he said it was ‘great,’ Elvis chuckled.
‘Well how about I give you a proper review,’ she said, trailing her fingers up the bare skin on his chest though she was stopped as he grabbed her by the wrist and replied, ‘maybe later.’
‘Oh,’ she said though before she could question his reluctance he announced, ‘I wanna go out.’
‘What?’ she asked.
‘What do you say? I mean the nights still young, the girls are asleep, why not?’ Elvis said.
‘I don’t really feel like going to a casino or anything,’ Addison said. In fact she didn’t want to do anything besides what she’d just suggested, their ludicrously large bed mere feet away beckoning them to it.
‘I don’t mean a casino,’ Elvis said rolling his eyes, ‘I mean just us. Like the old days.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Addison asked even more confused with his explanation.
‘Us two. Ridin’ around Memphis in my car,’ he said simply.
‘Really?’ she asked.
‘You wanna go? Could be a nice lil stress reliever,’ he said, letting her go but not enough that he couldn’t hold her by the hand pulling her down towards the elevator.
‘It thought we had a stress reliever,’ Addison quipped.
‘Ads,’ he said with enough seriousness in his tone Addison could see that this wasn’t some off-the-cuff idea.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘but you’re driving.’
‘Deal.’
Though she had been sceptical at first their little trip out around the city didn’t turn out to be all that bad. Of course she couldn’t say whether spending the night not leaving their bed would’ve been better but this was nice all the same. Given that Elvis had arranged for them to have a car that wasn’t one of theirs waiting they were virtually nameless as they tore out onto the streets of Las Vegas something Addison found wasn’t all that bad. She had loved this last year with him but like with the wedding it wasn’t always easy. She couldn’t just go to the store anymore. She couldn’t walk across the street without being looked at or sometimes approached. She barely got a minute alone without someone needing him for something. And though she understood she couldn’t help but savour those moments when it was just the two of them. Like those early days when he was stepping into her world rather than her stepping into his.
And yet it didn’t feel as though they were in anyone's world anymore, it felt more as though they were in the past, riding around Memphis alone like they used to do when they were desperate to get away from everyone but each other. She was sitting beside him, her head on his shoulder as he drove around town, the only noise the murmur of the radio and their steady breathing given that the pair of them seemed to feel the same urge to forgo conversation and just be. Yet she felt him glance down at her, his hand moving to her cotton-covered thigh as he murmured, ‘wanna go for burgers or something?’
‘Sure,’ she said placing her hand on his as she closed her eyes, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. She kept them closed as he drove, only opening them as she felt him turn his indicator on and the distinct thud of the car passing from the road into a parking lot.
It was dark now and though they were in the parking lot of somewhere she was sure it wasn’t a burger joint and so she said, ‘Elvis?'
Though she uttered no more than his name her questions were obvious and yet he didn’t answer her, instead he carried on heading into a parking space as she craned her neck so she could see the establishment they were at which she was right wasn’t a diner but a chapel.
‘Elvis this isn’t a diner,’ she said confused as to why he wasn't replying at the simple error though her thoughts became less jumbled as he put the car in park and turned towards her watching her with a cocky grin on his face.
‘What are you doing?’ was all she could ask.
‘Giving you what you want,’ Elvis shrugged as though it was obvious.
‘Elvis I don’t understand,’ she said, trying to ignore the thudding in her heart as he watched her.
‘You wanted simple and well this is as simple as you can get,’ he said watching as she tried to process everything.
‘But the wedding I mean you wanted the big wedding and we've been planning-‘
‘I know I know,’ he chuckled, ‘and believe me, I intend to do that weddin’ too but I figured you’ve spent near on a year humouring me and my ideas I figured why not do the same for you.’
‘Elvis,’ she said trying to ignore the lump in her throat as happy tears threatened to spill over.
‘Hell woman you ain’t gon’ cry on me are ya? I thought this is what you’d want,’ Elvis said as worry crept in. When she’d suggested it early that night he hadn’t expected such a tiny seed to take root inside his brain but by the time he’d gotten to the stage it was all he could think about. He still wanted his big wedding – the one to show her off to the world but he could give her what she wanted too. Something small something intimate, something just for them. Addison shook her head, ‘it is! I just can’t believe you’d do this for me.’
‘I’d do anything for you,’ Elvis said firmly, ‘Addie over the last year you’ve uprooted your entire life. You’ve planned a wedding, looked after our daughters while I worked and made sure that work didn’t kill me in the process. If I can give you a simple wedding that’s what I’m gonna do.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘not just for this but this past year too. I know it took us a while but I’m glad we waited for everything that we have now.’
‘Me too,’ Elvis said with a smile.
‘I love you,’ Addison said.
‘I love you baby. Now c’mon,’ he said opening the door and holding out his hand for her to take, ‘let’s get us married.’
✵✵✵
‘I’m hungry,’ Addison said as she felt her stomach gurgle, trying to recall the last thing she’d eaten. It must’ve been at least five hours ago if not more but even so her body's call for nourishment was struggling to override her longing not to move from where she was nestled beside her new husband.
‘Wore ya out huh?’ Elvis said, his nimble fingers tickling along her side as she rolled onto her front so that she could see him.
‘Funny,’ she said rolling her eyes.
‘Room service?’ he suggested, enjoying the way his heart fluttered when she smiled at him.
‘Sounds good,’ she said though she sighed when he made no effort to move from the bed, ‘and here I was thinkin’ that you’d be a good husband once we were married.’
‘I just wanted to enjoy the view,’ Elvis smirked as she climbed out of bed in search of a menu, ‘oh and get the champagne!’
As she disappeared into the living room, he flopped back, running his fingers through his hair as he lay there.
Married. Elvis Presley was married, again. And not a soul knew. Well besides him, his wife and the sworn-to secrecy chapel staff but who was counting? He couldn’t believe that after sixteen years of waiting he’d married the love of his life, she was his. After all the torment and heartbreak they were together for what he was determined to be forever because there were no doubts here. There was no fretting or worrying about what lay ahead because with her it felt right, like it always had. That had been the main reason he’d wanted a big wedding in the first place, to finally show everyone that whatever had happened in the past didn’t mean anything because they had their future.
A future he couldn’t wait to begin no more so than when she reappeared, now clad in a nightdress much to his disappointment, clambering onto the bed, champagne bottle and room service menu in hand, as she sat beside him. Though he already knew what he wanted from room service he pretended to peruse the menu she handed him though only for a minute as his attention was diverted to her as she glugged down a mouthful of champagne offering him the bottle a moment later.
He pushed himself to sit up, taking a swig before handing the bottle back to her, watching her closely.
‘What?’ she asked feeling his eyes on her face.
‘Nuthin’,’ he smiled, ‘I’m so glad we did this.’
‘Me too,’ she smiled though it dimmed as she added, ‘though Jess is going to be furious. Mar too.’
‘Maybe we don’t tell them just yet?’ Elvis suggested and though it didn’t seem all that fair it was probably the best option given how upset he knew both the girls would be let alone Marci. Addison pondered that for a moment, gnawing on her lip nervously before she said, ‘maybe we don’t tell anyone.’
‘Huh?’ Elvis replied.
‘I mean maybe this wedding can just be for us? Our little secret,’ she suggested. She knew it was silly to ask for more after all he’d already given her today and yet she couldn’t help but want it. To have something that was just theirs. So that in years to come when people talked about the Presley wedding; about the food, or the venue or the god-forsaken flowers they’d be talking about something else entirely and they'd never know. They’d never know that when they spoke of the luxurious designer wedding dress she wore Addison was thinking about an old summer dress she’d bought many moons ago when she, Jess and Marci had taken a vacation to the beach. They’d never know that when they raved about how good the sit down dinner they’d had was Addison would agree recalling a midnight snack of burgers and pancakes picked off a room service menu and washed down with champagne. They’d never know that the first dance they gushed about, the pair of them dancing elegantly across the back lawn, wasn’t the first dance Addison recalled instead thinking of the pair of them laughing and giggling in an uncoordinated tangle above the city of Las Vegas. No, all those things would just be for them and fortunately, Elvis seemed to be on the same wavelength as he said, ‘yeah, maybe you’re right.’
‘Our little secret,’ she said.
‘Our little secret,’ he nodded leaning in so that he was barely an inch from her face, his thumb and forefinger pinching her chin to keep her in place as he said, ‘are you happy Mrs Presley?’
‘Happier than ever.’
ELVIS TAGS
@girlblogger2002
@sania562
@caitlin1996
@literally-just-elvis-fics
@notstefaniepresley
@artlesson8892
@18lkpeters
@velvetelvis
@jaqueline19997
@elvispresleyxoxo
@amydarcimarie
@presleyenterprise
@everythingelvispresley
@elvispresleywife
@lillypink
@richardslady121
@lettersfromvenus
@louisejoy86
@ccab
#my writing#elvis#elvis presley#Elvis and Addison#our little secret#elvis Presley x ofc#Elvis fic#elvis presley fic#elvis x ofc#Elvis presley x Addison Goodwin#Addison Goodwin
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heroes in Our Midst
Title: Heroes in Our Midst
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: None, mostly fluff!
Summary: You invite the confused veteran at the grocery store to your Friendsgiving, but maybe you should’ve done a background check first.
A/N: Happy (belated) American Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! I’m so thankful for each and every one of you. I hope that everyone, whether you are celebrating today or not, is safe, healthy, and surrounded by those they love (and that love them back). Dividers are by @firefly-graphics
The man in the baseball cap has been staring at the stuffing for five minutes now, and you’re on a deadline. You don’t really want to tell him that he’s in the way and that he’s completely blocking the bags you need for your Friendsgiving, nor do you want to reach out and force your way in. He looks lost, the poor thing, and it’s when he flinches at the pre-recorded holiday message over the PA system that you decide to intervene.
“You can’t go wrong with Stove Top,” you say, stepping a little closer. He frowns, turning to face you just enough for you to see his profile.
What a jawline, you hum to yourself, and you, thankfully, manage not to say it out loud despite the fact that you’re running on only four hours of sleep. The holidays did you dirty this year.
“I’m sorry?” he asks.
And what a voice! You melt a little at the deep timbre of it.
You gesture at the red box to his left. “Stove Top. It’s pretty easy to make and it doesn’t taste half bad. It’s not homemade by any means, but it’ll do if you’re in a pinch.”
“Right.” He clears his throat and picks up a singular box, then sets it in his cart as if it might break if he weren’t careful.
Peering past him, you frown at his bounty. Along with the stuffing, this broad-shouldered man has selected a pitiful rotisserie chicken, a slightly smushed sweet potato pie, and a dented can of cranberry sauce. No doubt it was one of the last ones in the bin. People in your neighborhood apparently really love cranberries, much to your dismay. His isn’t the Thanksgiving dinner you would have chosen, but you remind yourself that not everyone is as lucky as you.
Some people spend the holidays all by themselves. A pang goes through your heart as the man steps down the aisle, finally allowing you to load up on the bags of stuffing you’ve been waiting on.
You toss four into your already overflowing cart and you’re reaching for a fifth when you feel the man’s eyes on you. Silently, you glance over in his direction before grabbing the bag and adding it to your bounty.
“Do you need another recommendation?” you ask, hoping that’s the only reason he’s watching you. There’ve been too many stories about creeps on the news lately and your heart skips a beat at the thought.
“You definitely look like someone who knows what they’re doing,” he replies. He nods at the cart and you grip the handle a little tighter.
“I’ve got a big family. And a boyfriend,” you add, just for good measure. “He’s waiting on me in the car.”
The man shakes his head and holds up his hands. “I’m not trying to hit on you, miss. I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression. I’ve…” He clears his throat again and drops his hands, glancing back at his almost-empty shopping cart. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what? Shopped for a Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Something like that. Think you could help me out?”
Carefully, you push your cart closer so you can get a better look at his. He’s wearing dog tags, you notice, and a swell of sympathy makes your chest tight.
Of course, you think, and you could almost kick yourself. No wonder he’s so overwhelmed by all of the options.
“Well, the first thing I’ll need to know is how many people you’re cooking for. That’s a big factor,” you tell him.
Now that you’re closer, you’re able to get a clearer view of his face. He’s got kind eyes to go with the sharp jawline and beautiful voice, and you smile a little as he glances down at his purchases.
“Just me,” he says. “I couldn’t find a turkey small enough, hence the chicken.”
You frown. “Just you? That’s it?” He nods in confirmation and you purse your lips for a moment. “Honestly? You’re better off just getting one of the pre-packed meals by the deli or just going out to eat. Cooking a whole Thanksgiving dinner for yourself is a whole lot of hassle and a lot of stress for nothing.”
He shifts a little. “I’d rather cook as much as I can. This is the first Thanksgiving I’ve had in a long time. I want it to be…” The man trails off, seemingly at a loss for what he wants.
“That’s understandable,” you say, nodding and offering him a small smile. “I noticed your dog tags. Where were you stationed?”
Automatically, he reaches up to tuck them inside his shirt, out of view. “Europe.”
“And you didn’t have Thanksgiving there?”
Your poor attempt to make conversation falls flat and the man forces a tight smile. “Is my dinner a completely lost cause?”
“Not necessarily. You’ve got a good foundation, you just need some fixings to spruce it up a bit. Some mashed potatoes, green beans, a salad, some mac-n-cheese, another pie…” He nods along, as if making a mental checklist as you speak. “That’s if you’re really dead set on this whole cooking thing, and obviously that’s more than just one person can eat. You’ll have a lot of leftovers to tide you over, which isn’t always a bad thing. Of course, there’s always another option…”
“Which is?” he asks.
The song changes overhead from a newer Christmas song to one of the classics and you can’t stop the next words that come out of your mouth,
“Come to my house for dinner.”
He seems just as surprised as you do, and you want to crawl into a hole. You scramble to correct yourself before the man, a complete stranger, can run away and tell all his friends and family about the weird girl in the grocery store who invited him to her house on one of the biggest holidays of the year when all he wanted was to know which brand of boxed mashed potatoes to buy.
“Of course, I’m sure you have other plans. I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I’m not even really sure why I said that. I don’t normally—”
“I’d love to come, if it’s a genuine offer,” the man says, cutting you off. He smiles softly, a gratefulness shining in his eyes, even from underneath the baseball cap. “I’d hate to intrude on you and your family, though, or your fella. Boyfriend, I mean.”
You swallow thickly, looking down at your cart. “Well, it’s— I actually don’t have a boyfriend. That was more of a let’s-scare-off-the-creeps-with-a-fake-boyfriend type thing, you know?”
“I’m… familiar with the tactic.”
By the way he says that, however, you’re not really sure he is. It’s endearing that he’s trying to save face in front of you, and you smile a little. When you lift your head, he’s watching you.
“I can text you my address, and what time to be there,” you add. “No pressure if something else comes up. I’m actually celebrating later this weekend with my friends—you know, Friendsgiving—so you’ve got some time to think about it. You don’t even need to bring anything if you don’t want. I usually do a lot of cooking and everyone else just brings something to drink or their leftovers from their own family dinners. It started out as a potluck, but it’s grown into something more over the past few years.”
His posture relaxes slightly. “That sounds nice.”
Smiling a little more, you hold out your hand. “Phone?”
After a beat, the man digs into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out something you haven’t seen in years. You manage to hold back your laugh, but the surprised noise can’t be helped. He looks a little shocked at the high-pitched outburst, then embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you feel bad, it’s just… I haven’t seen anyone with a Nokia in years. I mean, I think my grandpa probably still has one at his house… somewhere. We got him onto one of those little cheap smart phone things for senior citizens a few years ago.”
The tips of the mans ears are a bright pink as he hands the phone over to you, and you quickly start maneuvering your way to his contacts list. It takes a minute, but you finally get your name and number in, then hand it back.
“Y/N?” he reads, glancing up at you.
You nod. “And you’re…”
“Steve.” He stands a little straighter, a little taller, and you catch a glimpse of the great soldier he must be. “My name’s Steve.”
“It’s nice to meet you Steve. Send me a text so I have your number, okay? Then I can text back with the info. If you change your mind, though, there’s no need. I don’t want you to feel pressured to come, especially since we just met. I know that stranger danger is still a thing for adults.”
Nodding, he pockets his phone and grabs hold of his cart again. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Maybe I’ll see you soon. Thanks for the help with the stuffing.”
You can’t help but smile. He’s genuine, that’s for sure, and you watch him push his cart forward and turn the corner toward the produce section before finishing your own shopping. There’s a little bit more pep in your step as you head toward the registers.
Three days after Thanksgiving, Steve shows up for your annual Friendsgiving. He’s not the first person you’ve welcomed today, but you know for a fact that he’s been waiting outside near the bus stop for at least a half hour before he’d come up to the door.
Poor guy must be freezing out there.
“Hi! I’m glad you came!” You step out of the way so he can come in, then shut the door behind him.
Steve stands tall in the little entryway of your apartment. He’s got a bright blue tupperware bowl in his hands and he looks entirely out of place, so you decide to take a gentler, less enthusiastic approach. For someone who hasn’t had a real Thanksgiving in a long time, your cramped apartment filled with strangers, festive decorations, music, and several different kinds of cooking food is sure to overwhelm.
“Hey,” you say, coming around from behind him. You soften your smile and hope he perceives it as genuine. It is, of course, but you don’t want to seem unsure of your invitation, not after he’s made the effort to come and even bring something to share. “I really am glad you came. Do you want to put your dish in the kitchen? I can get you something to drink. Then you still have something to hold onto?”
He seems a little taken aback that you’d even noticed his tight grip on the bowl, but he nods anyway and follows you as you weave your way into your galley-style kitchen. Your neighbor is at the stove, stirring a pot of mac-n-cheese, and she smiles wide when Steve fills in the doorway behind you.
“You must be grocery store guy. We’ve been waiting for you,” she tells him.
You gape at her and whack the side of her arm. She laughs. “Gloria! Enough! Focus on the food, please! If you’re just going to gossip and spill my secrets, I’ll take care of the cooking myself!”
“No, we’re not having a repeat of last year,” she chides, still grinning. “You turn into a real mother hen when you’re in the kitchen. We all offer to help and yet you still complain that no one’s helping you!”
Steve’s cheeks are pink when you turn back to him, and you have a feeling it’s not just from the heat of the kitchen. Your own face feels a little warmer than it should and you force away the nervousness that bubbles up in your throat, instead trying to focus on clearing a spot for Steve’s contribution.
He sets the bowl down in the empty space you create and you try to sneak a peek. The silicone lid isn’t clear and your mind whirls with ways to ask him what he’d made, especially since he hadn’t seemed like the type of guy that can cook.
"Something to drink?” you finally offer, glancing up at him. “We’ve got beer, wine, juice, soda, coffee, water… Pretty much everything. There’ll be more options once everyone gets here.”
“Water’s fine, thanks.”
Nodding, you set about getting him a paper cup and scribbling his name on it with Sharpie, then making sure he gets his drink. You hand it off as the door opens and your work friends step in, cheering as the song changes to a newer favorite right as they arrive.
“I hate to just leave you like this, but I need to go say hi to them,” you say. “If you want, there should be some serving spoons you can use for whatever you brought. You can figure out what works best since it’s your dish.” You gesture towards the drawer next to the stove as you back towards the kitchen doorway, and Steve obediently nods. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he assures you, a small smile on his face. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll get the lay of the land soon enough.”
You try to take Steve’s words to heart as you head back to the living area. It doesn’t take long before you’re sucked into conversations and shenanigans with your friends, however, and when you finally remember you’d ditched him with Gloria, of all people, forty-five minutes have passed and you’ve finished the drink you’d poured just before his arrival.
Grabbing the empty cup, you hightail it back to the kitchen, only to find him leaning against the counter and nodding along with one of her long-winded stories. He looks up when you stumble into the room and offers you a concerned look, but you quickly wave him off when he reaches out to help you. From the way he looks you over, you can tell he thinks you’re drunk, but you don’t know how to explain that you’re just frantic that Gloria is spilling your deepest, darkest secrets to the cutest guy you’ve met in months.
“Oh! Y/N! I was just telling Steve that story about my great aunt who worked for the USO during World War II,” Gloria says, and you glance over at her, confused.
“That’s great. I don’t think I remember that one. Did Steve tell you he was a veteran?”
Gloria’s brows furrow and she looks between you and Steve. He’s suddenly very interested in the empty cup in his hands and your stomach drops. Nerves set in as Gloria makes some paltry excuse for the two of you, then pulls you into the tiny hallway off the living area.
You wrench your arm from her grip in front of your closed bedroom door. “Gloria! What’s wrong with you? I mention that Steve’s a veteran and you suddenly start acting weird? I’m trying to make him feel welcome and you’re not helping!”
She shakes her head at you, scoffing lightly. Amusement twinkles in her eyes. “You have no idea who you invited, do you?”
The nerves are back, extinguishing any frustration you might have held with her. “What— I mean, I know he’s a nice enough guy. I didn’t exactly do a background check, but you’re starting to make me wish I had! Why?” you hiss.
“Y/N, that’s Steve Rogers.”
The name sounds vaguely familiar, but it doesn’t exactly ring any bells, so you just stare at her. “Okay? Does he work for the government or something? Is he a spy? Do I need to call the cops?”
She rolls her eyes and pulls her phone out of the pocket of her apron. You watch in silence, looking between the screen and the doorway to the kitchen. You can just barely see Steve still leaning against the counter, his shoulders slumped. Your heart clenches a little at the sight.
He looks so lonely.
“Here,” Gloria says, shoving her phone into your hands.
You almost drop it, but you quickly right it and start reading. With every word that you’re able to process, your heart starts beating faster and faster.
Captain America? World War II? Frozen in ice? Born in 1918?
“Holy—”
This time when you glance back at the kitchen, Steve is gone. You shove the phone back at your neighbor and hurry back down the hallway to see if he’d just moved out of your view to refill his cup, but there’s no sign of him at all.
The living room is filled with your friends chatting, leaning into each other, snapping pictures in front of your decorations, and chowing down on the appetizers, but there’s no Steve. You’re turning in circles when you catch a glimpse of him out the window. His cap is back on and his head bowed as he walks back down the street, his hands in his pockets. He looks every bit like he’s making a run for it, albeit a casual one.
Heart pounding, you throw on the first pair of shoes you can find and race out the door. You’ve never taken the two flights of stairs faster, but Steve is still turning the corner when you finally make it out onto the street.
Curse his long legs!
You have to push your way through the early evening crowds, throwing out “excuse me’s” and apologies every which way until you finally catch up with him a few meters away from the stairs down to the subway.
“Steve!”
You grab at the arm of his jacket. He pushes you away from him on instinct, sending you flying into another passerby. His reflexes are quick, however, because he’s steadied you before you’re even halfway to the ground and the other person is only a few steps away. They grumble at the both of you and you and Steve both send them half-hearted apologies as he leads you out of the flow of traffic.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Sometimes I forget—” He shakes his head. “Are you okay? I should’ve been paying better attention.”
“I’m fine,” you reassure him. “I’m more worried about you! Why did you leave without saying goodbye? Is everything okay?”
He drops his gaze to the pigeon scavenging around the discounted pumpkins nearby. “I’m fine, Y/N. You should be back in your apartment. It’s freezing out here, and it’s getting dark.”
In your rush to get out the door and catch up with him, you hadn’t thought to grab a jacket, but you hadn’t processed the cold until now. You shiver, and he quickly sheds his own to drape over your shoulders.
“You left your bowl,” you dumbly tell him.
The corner of his mouth crooks up, but it’s sad. “Don’t worry about it. I can get another.”
You shake your head. “Steve, I— Why did you leave? Is it because of something I did? Or something someone said? I promise that they’re all good people, it’s just sometimes when they drink, they get a little—”
“It’s not anything you or your friends did,” he says. “I promise. They were all wonderful and Gloria was very nice to me. I’m grateful that you welcomed me into your home even though we barely knew each other. Most people wouldn’t do something like that, not nowadays.”
“Then why?”
He sighs and looks up through the windows of the store behind you, watching the customers aimlessly browse the aisles for a long moment. Steve doesn’t meet your eyes when he speaks again, but you watch him fervently, searching for any sign of dishonesty or distress.
“Because I was worried that you’d be uncomfortable around me now that you know who I am,” he finally answers.
You shake your head again. “I don’t understand. Who you are? I know who you are. I mean, I already did, before Gloria showed me that article.”
His jaw clenches and you draw the jacket tighter around you when he steps away and adjusts his cap against a chilly breeze. His face and ears are pink from the cold, too. It’s not quite winter yet, but it’s rearing its ugly head.
“You’re Steve,” you continue, closing the distance between the two of you. “And you’re my dinner guest.”
“Y/N—”
“If we made you uncomfortable, then I understand you wanting to leave. You have every right to go home, if that’s the case. But my perception of you hasn’t changed now that I know more about your past. Knowing all the amazing, wonderful, selfless things you’ve done makes me want you to stay even more now, because it reminds me that it’s people like you that I’m thankful for. Who knows, I may not even be here if it weren’t for you saving New York.”
You take a beat, catching your breath a little in the cold evening air. “Steve,” you continue, as earnest as you can, “I want you to stay. Please.”
He ducks his head and you have to crane your neck to see his face underneath the brim of his hat. If the lights from the shop were a little brighter, you might be certain that there are tears in his eyes, but you’ll play it off as a trick of shadows for his sake.
“I’m more than just that guy in the article. They exaggerated things, and I am a veteran. I’ve done things I’m not proud of,” he tells you, and you nod. After a moment, you hold out your hand.
“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve Rogers. I’d really like to get to know you. All of you, not just the published stuff, if that’s okay.”
Steve stares at your outstretched hand for several moments, and you’re inwardly cringing and trying to think of a graceful way to recover when he finally shakes it. You have to hold back a relieved sigh as you smile.
“I don’t suppose I could invite you to my Friendsgiving for a second time?” you ask.
Much to your surprise, Steve chuckles. His hand is warm around yours and you shiver once he drops it. You tuck your hands into the pockets of his coat as the two of you turn and start walking back towards your apartment. He measures his stride to keep step alongside you, his body a barrier between you and the surging flow of people on the sidewalk, and you glance up at him with a smile.
“Well, I did leave my bowl,” he says, smiling down at you.
“Of course. That’s irreplaceable, so you’ll have to come back and get it. And while you’re here, you might as well stay for some dinner. I’d hate to send you home hungry.”
He holds open the door to your building and you duck under his arm into the overpowering warmth of the lobby. “Of course,” Steve replies. “That would be rude.”
“And I’d hate to have you think I’m a bad host.” You’re still smiling as you head up the stairs and open the apartment door, and you and Steve are greeted once again by your friends, most of which had never even realized that you’d disappeared. They’re none the wiser to your little escapade, and to Steve’s identity, but that’s just another thing that you’re thankful for.
Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.
I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.
If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.
If you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#Steve Rogers x Female Reader#steve rogers x plus size reader#steve rogers x plus size!reader#steve x reader#steve x you#steve x y/n#steve rogers fanfic#Steve Rogers#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers headcanon#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers angst#chris evans#marvel#marvel fanfic#marvel fic#marvel fanfiction#marvel reader insert#Avengers#avengers fic#avengers fanfic#avengers fanfiction#avengers reader insert#thanksgiving#bucky-fricking-barnes
389 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am reading the reblogs and tags on an older post that goes around the dash occasionally. It's about reading. I'm sure you've seen it - someone talks about Divergent books and 1984 and then someone reblogs it and calls 1984 rape apologism? Which is really weird?
The spousal person ordered a print of this Kate Beaton comic many years ago and he hung it up in the hallway and he told me to go look at it whenever I said my writing was bad:
http://www.harkavagrant.com/index.php?id=44
The first two panels do a fairly decent job of explaining 1984. Which is just....a really simple book. It's like wow look fascism sucks! And that's it, pretty much. Like yeah, obviously you could write papers and essays and a thesis and probably do a whole body of academic work on the particulars of it, but really it's just that Orwell thought fascism sucked. Which it does, so I don't see the problem?
Anyway I am pretty sure a lot of the people on that post come from a very different society than I do, even though the education system they say they hate is the American one. Which, hey, our education is locally funded and controlled so maybe it's just that my working class southern Appalachian rural county schools were a lot better than their schools? Or is it maybe what I've suspected before, that I graduated before No Child Left Behind?
I can't recall my English teachers ever being authoritarian to the extent so many other people claim their English teachers were. Not that I can recall that much about English or school at all, really, but I think I would remember if they marched around all "No, your essay is WRONG and only MY opinion is right!!!" all the time.
But then it's true that I don't remember it that well because I just wrote essays the night before they were due or sometimes in the classes before English if it was a class later in the day, and then I got a good grade and nice comments on it and then I got on with my life. I don't think I ever invested nearly as much emotional energy and idea of my self-worth into English class as the people on that post did. Which maybe that's why they remember it so well? Certainly it's probably a large part of why they still have Big Emotions about it.
Anyway my point is that sometimes I read how people write about their own reading and I'm like oh. This is why I shouldn't care what people say about my work that much. I clearly did not write it for these people who experience the world and fiction and the written word in a way that I cannot imagine at all and that I would have never known existed as a possibility if I hadn't read their own words about it.
Like the version of the post that gets the most reblogs ends with an essay about how in the last few decades people have come to expect characters to be "relatable" and to be like them and to think and experience things the way they do? And there's all this self-identity and irrational and false beliefs about your own moral purity involved?
If you come to my work with that sort of thing in your heart you will bounce off of it, and I have finally come to understand that the bouncing off is for the best for both of us.
If you're new here and you haven't read my stuff yet, here's the pinned post with the directory on my Simblr: Story Index.
Anyway, gotta go to bed now. It's just....I don't think I ever realized just how differently people experience fiction and books and the written word from how I experience it before. Like in the tags someone said they expected 1984 to be more Hunger Games-esque? How is that person perceiving reality? I want to live inside their brain for a bit to learn.
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
tagged by @archonfurina in a cute new game
𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭…
01. a character you love.
Shadowheart… she’s my wife she’s my best friend she’s my mirror she’s my narrative foil I just love her. Her design is so delicious too. My husband actually got a necklace custom made for my birthday right after the game dropped that looks exactly like Shadowheart’s circlet
02. your favourite food from your culture.
Americans really changed the game with corn dogs and peanut butter. They’re like the only two foods that make me feel patriotic. Also if we’re talking about roots shepherds pie and cottage pie have a big tradition in my family and instantly make me feel at home
03. what your dream apartment / room / house is like.
We’re actually about to move cross country and trade our 3 bedroom house for an apartment so I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I really like a clean but moody aesthetic. Minimal knick-knacks but some silver framed art, colored glass vases. I’m hesitant to say dark academia but maybe just like a slightly less cluttered whimsigoth?
04. your personal style or aesthetic.
Lots of cool tones and dark colors. I prefer looser more gender neutral cuts when I can but when I’m feeling more feminine I LOVE a patterned fishnet + band tee combo. I also wear a lot of hair accessories like hair sticks and claw clips (these sunnies have been on my wishlist forever, and those vans are my favorite shoes I currently have)
05. a happy memory.
Seeing Hozier for his wasteland baby tour :) it was at the beautiful orpheum theater and the whole show was so dreamy
06. your favourite way(s) to spend time.
Playing D&D, writing, playing video games with my husband, horror movies, reading, going on road trips, sunbathing.
07. story behind your url / title / quote / description / icon.
As far as my url, my favorite pokemon is Grimmsnarl!! I love the dark/fairy dual typing. Also I love the use of imps as familiars.
08. something that comforts you or brings you joy.
My kitties 🩵 they are my little house goblins and I love them so much.
09. what you’re looking forward to.
MOVING!!!! Get me out of the south please 😭
10. something else that’s important to you.
I saw Dev Patel’s Monkey Man weeks ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I know I didn’t even catch all the complexities because I don’t know much about eastern cultures but it’s one of the best movies I’ve ever seen and the symbolism I did catch blew me away. Please watch Monkey Man. Please.
Taglist below 🩵
@haarleps @razz-berry @elvves @estevnys @dragonologist-phd
@superhaught @avallachs @devilbrakers @leopardmuffinxo @pitchmoss
@dragonsplague @vvanessaives @katsigian @mapeslyrup @feykiller @fullyclothedmolerat
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
tagged by lovely @car-bo-hydrate to try this <3333
star sign: virgo
favourite holiday: new year
last meal: a hot mug of tea and some south african buttermilk rusks (comfort food breakfast!!! ❤️☕)
current favourite musician: probably taylor swift, but as always, it's hard to choose just one. OOOH! lately, dove cameron is high up on the list too
last music listened to: confetti (acoustic version) by little mix - LISTEN. ever since ms perrie edwards put out a tease that her solo music is coming soon, i have been on a big little mix high again, listening to all my old favourites and hyping myself up sooooo much for that perrie music drop 👀👀👀😍
last movie watched: my girlfriend and i rewatched shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings again last night for movie night <3 LOVE that movie, omfg. both my gf and i firmly declared all michelle yeoh's scenes our favourites 🤭
last tv show watched: you know, it's actually been really long since i've properly watched a TV show, so the answer to this is probably something silly like reruns of FRIENDS
last book/fic finished: 2 different answers here!! last book was iron flame by rebecca yarros (yes, i caved to all the hype and read it on the plane - yes, there were bits that pissed me off, but i mostly enjoyed it) and last fic was one of AO3 user venerat's landoscar masterpieces, "i'll kiss you first" <3
last book/fic abandoned: hmm... i tried to read this rom-com called "you & me: a mlm single dads romance" while on holiday in SA, and i just... couldn't make it more than 5 chapters in. the cringe (& the VERY american focus of... everything...) was just too much for me, especially because i tried to read this right after a super delightful wlw rom-com recommended to me by darling @duquesademiel. after that, this one just... couldn't compare. at all.
currently reading: well, i'm back to work, so my time for books has unfortunately dropped exponentially... all i'm actively reading rn is a bunch of f1 rpf fics, to be perfectly honest
last thing researched for writing/art/hyperfixation: "WHAT COULD CAUSE A SCANDAL IN THE REGENCY ERA" 🤣🤭
favourite online fandom memory: storytime sundays where we tell those long DM fics with @boxboxbrioche and @welightitup <3333
favourite old fandom you wish would drag you back in/have a resurgence: HMMM! i am mostly over all my old fandoms by now, to be fair, but if i really had to choose one... probably one direction?? because a proper resurgence would mean the reunion, right? (right?) ((so maybe i'm not quite as "over it" as i pretend 🤭))
favourite thing that you enjoyed that never had an active fandom: ohhhh, i can't think of a name immediately now, but it's definitely some or other book series that, if it had a fandom at all, was so tiny that i was practically the only person in it 🥲
tempting project that you're trying to rein in/don't have time for: LISTEN. i have had the most awful writer's block for months, and now that i can finally write again, somewhat, all that i want to write are the things that i should NOT be focusing on rn, because those things don't have deadlines but other things do *charles_wtf discord react*
prime example: about 2838474829 piarles smut WIPs and a/b/o and chussyverse explorations, instead of... my PWFE fic. some belated birthday fics. some celebration fics i promised nearly half a bloody YEAR ago. oops 😭😭 but, we'll get there. we will! just like this will be ferrari's year (i am delulu) xD
no idea who's done this yet and who hasn't, so i'm just going to tag some friends and hope i'm not double-tagging anyone - also, if i miss anyone, please feel free to say i tagged you anyway, because i'd love to see your answers <3 @boxboxbrioche @welightitup @hourcat @teamnick @sedicii @francophones @radiocheck, if any of you feel like giving this a go <3333
#tag game#tagged!#oh i am so behind on my tag games that it's not even funny - but i loved doing this one!! tysm for thinking of me charlotte <3
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Miscellaneous Tag Game
Made by the one and only @ronald-speirs <3
Thank you for the tag @grumpy-liebgott ! Am I finally doing this after being tagged almost a month ago?....maybe
Favorite place in the world you’ve visited?
I haven't been many places truthfully. I loved hiking near Niagara Falls and also hiking in the Smokies near Gatlinburg.
(I'm going to Alaska later this year so that will likely take the cake for me!)
Something you’re proud of yourself for?
Working 3 jobs while also caring for a terminally ill parent. Not to get too sad, but yeah, that was a time.
Favorite books?
Oof, gonna age myself with this. The Harry Potter will always hold a special place in my heart even though it has aged terribly. Because I am Furniture by Thalia Chatlas made a big impact on me as a teenager. One Flew Over The Cukoo's Nest by Ken Kasey is a favorite classic. Recently Dead Inside by Chandler Morrison kept me very entertained with pure shock value (although I just finished The Slob last night and it by far takes the cake for the most disgusting thing I've ever read)
Something that makes your heart happy when thinking about it?
When I think about the people I choose to surround myself with. I am a very open person with those I love. Once someone is in my inner circle I am a no boundary kinda person. Let's cut the small talk and bare all our trauma and then tease each other about it. Let's rot on the sofa together. It makes my heart happy to know that I have people I can be like this with.
Favorite thing about your culture?
...what culture...
I could say there's a certain culture of the American Midwest that i love. Mainly the 'midwest goodbye' where you stand in the front door chatting for way too long, then in the driveway then in your car with the window rolled down. Also, ever had a midwestern dessert salad?????
When did you join the HBO War fandom? What was the first show you watched?
Well, my brother is older than me and he was very much ww2 obsessed. So watched Band of Brothers way younger than I probably should've. Probably when I was like 8? When I got into my career there was this song at work that would play and it felt so oddly nostalgic until one day I realized it sounded the intro credit music for Band of Brothers. Then it was put on Netflix and it was all down hill from there. Very different to watch again as an adult vs what I remembered from my childhood.
Have you read any of Easy Company’s books? If so, which ones were your favorite?
I just finished Dick Winters' memoir not that long ago! I think I'll read Shifty's next!
Favorite HBO War character and your favorite moment with them?
Everyone in b.o.b is my precious baby. See that generic white man? Yep, thats my child.
Honestly though there are certain quotes from various characters that just scratches my brain. Buck with: "Your ass?!" Webster with: "You ignorant, servile scum! What the fuck are we doing here?" and the cadence in which he says "Don't salute the Germans!" Liebgott with "Hershey Bar!" Winters with: "What's that? A piece of paper? I dont wanna see another piece of paper" and Speirs with: "You talk to an officer you say 'sir' " (totally not because it made me feel some type of way)
Do you make content for any fandoms, if so; what sort of content?
I have made Band of Brothers stuff here on tumblr, classic text post as memes.
Ao3 I've made Band of Brothers, Star Wars and My Hero Academia content!
Favorite actor/actress and your favorite film of theirs?
hm....that's hard to pick a favorite. Meryl Streep is always delightful, as is Gillian Anderson. Natalie Portman? Keira Knightly? ok, ok, maybe I should list a man...James McAvoy. Jack Nicholson. I dunno, I don't like picking favorites.
Favorite quote/s that you wish to share with others?
"I paint self portraits because I am so often alone...Because I am the person I know best."
This Frido Kahlo quote really sticks with me because I feel like I can relate to being isolated and enjoying spending so much time on my own. I am my best companion and draw from my own experiences and emotions.
Random fact your mutuals/followers don’t know about you?
I am a licensed massage therapist and I work with patients with chronic pain and injuries. I love my job and my patients even though it is a very draining profession.
If you’re a writer, do you need a beta reader (say yes so I can be your beta reader 🤭)?
I am a writer! I want to say that I'm open to beta readers but I am also simultaneously afraid of others reading my work and embarrassed that people might not like it. That being said, I am working on a multi part Winnix fic rn.
Three things that make you smile?
My pets: a cat, 2 snakes, 2 leopard geckos and a pink tongue skink
Sweet gestures from my partner (or their dumbass jokes)
Writing!
Any nicknames you like?
Instead of Alex, a friend once called me Al Pal and I'm bewildered that it took me over 20 years to ever hear that.
List some people you love to see around on tumblr!
Uhm, everyone???? I love seeing people share whatever they're passionate about or find cute and funny. I love when people love things unapologetically!
@grumpy-liebgott, @blueberry-ovaries @lewis-winters @easycompany123@andromeddog @hanniewinnix
and honestly so many more!
What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?
I have two options. Get to my Marine Corps brother who is a borderline doomsday prepper but lives an hour and a half away or die immediately.
Favorite movie?
Again with the favorites? Some of my comfort movies include: Pride and Prejudice (2005), Mamma Mia, Hellboy 2 The Golden Army (specifically 2, not the first one) and Coraline
Do you like horror movies?
Yes! If my above mentioned books weren't an indicator. I love modern paranormal, 80s slashers and any Vincent Price movie
Tagging (no pressure!) : Also, Sorry if you've already been tagged! (does anyone else get nervous tagging people for no damn reason?)
@hanniewinnix, @pettypumpk1n @multifandomfanfic @hbowarandchill @fxxiva
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
So I know we're slipping into Saturday in this timezone, but I nevertheless have a question!
What's your relationship to dialog? Because I have had a variety of opinions from writers: some love it, some hate it. Do you like writing it? Is it easier to write than the rest or harder? Do you have opinions on dialog tags? On written accents and language quirks?
Sorry if this is all vague, the gist of it is: tell me about your approach to dialog. I'm asking because I really liked the dialog in your latest FPA fic.
Good luck with your current project and thank you!
Thanks for asking, I'm still happy to answer this on a Saturday lol
Also, I'm really flattered that you liked the dialog in my fic <3
This is such an interesting topic and I think I have lots of opinions! I would say there was definitely a time when I would have said dialog was my least favorite, but I think it has changed. I'm still struggling with it sometimes, especially if I need a character to give a certain piece of information to another character for plot reasons and I don't want them to sound dry. That still feels pretty hard.
But sometimes it's actually the dialog that comes to me first from a scene and then I make sure to write it down immediately. I think it also makes it a bit easier to see if it flows naturally if you only have the dialog next to each other and nothing else. Also maybe my brain hacked itself into daydreaming up some dialog because I found it hard lool
I also really like banter-heavy scenes in media (you know, the FPA has plenty of good lines for example), and that both motivates and inspires me to try to get the dialog right. It can also be fun once you learn how a particular character talks. (Although I do tend to second-guess myself every once in a while.)
Writing in first POV also indirectly helped I think because when you write the narration you are already closer in tone to how that character speaks, if that makes sense?
Writing different English accents specifically is very hard for me I think, because I never got a lot of exposure to them irl. And because of previous fandoms I know how it looks when someone does it really well (looking at you @geekinthefuschiahair sorry to tag you in a random discussion but this question made me think of how you writing Jamie's Scottish accent always filled me with awe and humility lol)
With the punctuation of dialog and the different language quirks around that I'm not picky. I don't know if you agree as a fellow European but I feel like since we get exposed to a lot of languages in our lives minor things like how someone signals the start of dialog just don't seem like a big deal? What I mean for example is that I ordered three books of the Dresden Files series and it took me actual DAYS to notice that one was the UK edition and had single quotes instead of double quotes around dialog lool I just opened both and went "yeah, looks about right" lmao
It's funny because I know that people can be extremely picky about that.
But if you read books in different languages growing up I think it's not that difficult to adjust to punctuation.
Actually, I think when I translated my first fic to English and put it on AO3 I used the Hungarian way of doing the dialog with EM dashes (I can sense some people shuddering right now) because I didn't know any better. I edited it since ofc lol Then because I got into Outlander and because I lived in the UK for a while I tried using single quotes, but then I had a lot of American fandom friends and decided to spare their eyes lol
So that is to say, I'm not picky about that. As long as you tell me who is speaking, I'm fine. Which is more of a pet peeve of mine. As a writer, you obviously know who is talking. And then sometimes you think oh I don't want to overuse a character's name or "he said/she said'. But I think that's a myth and you can't overuse that stuff. It's repetitive but I think when you read your eyes just glide over those phrases and it doesn't take you out of the scene. But if you have to stop and try to figure out who's saying what that is a lot more tedious in my opinion.
Alright, well I clearly had a lot to say about that so thank you for those excellent questions! xx
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi I saw ur tags on my posts lol 🔥😭😭 thank you so much for liking my ryoshu and oc arts, but can I ask where did the name of yuzuki for ryoshu's daughter came from? I don't think hell screen mentioned her name?
Thank you for helping me get up this morning. Very short tldr but vauge answer: Hell Screen has been translated and adapted enough you could have read the a translation that keeps called Yoshihide's daughter, "Yoshihide's daughter"
If you read the Little Penguins Books Publishing, they did not use Yuzuki as the name from what I can see, but Yuzuki exist somewhere.
Lazily doing a half-baked investigation under read more.
I will never claim to know anything about translation and I had too little sleep to do things today. I'm also broke so I can't go cross refrence evey translation and adaptation of Hell Screen. I hope someone better than I can could look into this or help out. Ill come back to this maybe
This is absolutly not how you do research or go off of things but Penguin Publishing version reviews don't use the Yuzuki name so I'm thinking they don't use her name there. The Jay Rubin Translation doesn't use Yuzuki. I say that because I'm re-listening to this while cross refrencing a pdf I found. Im guessing their one in the same.
This archeologist/writer named matthewrettino uses Yuzuki when talking about Hell Screen
Haunted Places Ghost Stories did a reading on this and unrelated but they pronounce Monkehide how an american would so its, "MONKEY HIDE." But anyway, they use it. They just spell it liker Uzuki
Portrait of Hell or Jingokuhen make Yoshihide Korean, apparently. I wanted to put that here, it''s not really important, just an example of an adaptation changing something. You have a story for so long and things get changed.
It's part of human history and how we tell stories, we like adapting things and giving thigs new meaning just like Ryoshu. She's not named Yoshihide but we're all thinking, "Yeah, she's Yoshihide, she likes art, she has fire, shes sadistic, that's Yoshihide." But she's not an old man, Yoshihide never spoke in acronyms, Yoshihide's not a woman. Jesus Christ was never white. He was born in Jerusulm in a dessert, it would be strange if he was white. Most people living in the middle east and closer to the sun normally have darker skin because they have more melanin in their skin to protect from the sun. The image has been passed around so much that, at least in our Eurocentric culture, I can't find the word for it, Jesus is commonly depicted as white. Yuzuki could have never had the name in the original language, or the inverse, she could have had a name but time let it go through the skin of its fingers and it was lost to oblivion. We just need to rediscover where it's orgin came from.
Meme - A unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another
The name Yuzuki might as well be a meme. If it wasn't in the orginal version of Hell Screen, it just exist now. That's why people are like, "Yuzuki, that's the name of Yoshihide's daughter. That sounds right!" Because idea's spread from text, imagry, music notes, whatever you have come to life like a spark of flame from a lighter and drift off from its starting point. The co2 particles relase into the air and up to the clouds, and when enough people emmit co2 at a rate thats unsustantable for our planet, big things happen. Really big things happen. Or you just scream so loud that no one hears you and much like the effects of smoking, damage your lungs.
I hope it doesn't feel like I'm pulling stuff out of my ass. I'll come back to this and when I have a solid answer, i'll tell you or reblog this. No worries.
#thoughts about ryoshu#ryoshu posting#hell screen mention#ask#never take what anyone says at face value#esspecially when they don't cite their sources#even if they sound smart#EVEN THEN you need to go into those sources yourself and read them#interpret them yourself#be good#i don't mean this as a buzz word but use your critical thinking skills#im a community college student and a ryoshu obsessed person i shouldn't be your source for knowledge#thank you for the ask! i love ask just as much as I love ryoshu
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
abandoned(?) wip: 'corset fic'
Trying to be as brave as @alulaspeaks and do a few of these. Also kind of hoping that the fics are not abandoned but instead dormant (thanks @watermelonlipstick for that idea) but honestly when the fic hasn't been touched in a year+, what are we doing here. Also none of my wips have titles until five minutes before posting on AO3 so... whatever. Nevertheless:
Big Idea: Wanted to lean further into exploring my #dean as object tag, but also into specifically objectification and, like, literally object-ification, truly truly turning the self into an object and kind of going away from it for a while. Decided that a way to do that would be to connect to the 'it started with the kinks' universe, since Dean finding some kind of safety in submission/objectification is built into that concept -- also the concept of him finding a kind of... permission structure in the idea of if I'm gone then I can have what I want. Here, though, I wanted to push much harder into him doing this as a kind of self-punishment -- in this case as part of Mary leaving them in s12, and if he's gone then he doesn't have to feel that stuff, and also if he's furious at her then maybe it's a kind of v-sign into the universe of oh, you don't want to be our mother? well, how about now, bitch. All of which is of course very very VERY under the surface but part of the thinking. Also I wanted Sam to have a bit of domdrop. :)
Why it was abandoned: First of all, #lazy writer noises. (I see you, @deandoesthingstome.) Second: when I actually started to sit down and write the atmosphere was heavy. Like these mfs are sad. It's only ~2500 words so far but gotdamn it is not a nice place to live. And the specificity of its sadness is such that I think maybe it felt impossible to shift gears into a kind of deliberate scene-play where Dean's ordering a corset online and demanding that Sam pull the strings ever-tighter -- like, rereading it now, it just feels like they're going to drink themselves into a hangover and become characters in a miserable contemporary novel. Yowch. Started off on the wrong shade of foot, perhaps. Although now that I'm thinking about it in that way, I suppose I could ratchet up slowly -- the first week is like that, and then the second week is still grim but less oppressive, and so on. I mean they're functional in American Nightmare -- so the fic would need to be about three steps behind that. Hm hm. Food For Thought.
Snippet:
They were better. Before this. Sam could take Dean's hand and reel him in close and Dean would go red but he'd come, and Sam could brush the top of Dean's ear with his mouth and Dean would shudder but he'd clutch Sam's shirt, and Sam could say, Dean, and Dean would—melt for it. No other word. It wasn't what Sam had ever expected, or even really hoped for, but it was what they had. He'd never been so grateful as he was the day that Dean looked at him with his face burning-red and every line of his body embarrassed and he'd said I'm with you, and Sam had taken it like a gutshot of joy, of something settling. Something right, when everything had been so wrong for so long. Dean wanting him back, wanting him. Wanting them and nothing else. It was good. It was all Sam needed. If nothing had changed, from that day to this—
Of course, there wouldn't have been Mom. He nags at it, on the drive from Kansas to Louisiana, the radio held at a reasonable volume and Dean driving at a reasonable speed. Nibbles at that little skin-tag on his thumb and stares out the window as Oklahoma subsides into Texas and he wonders. What was the gift? What was it supposed to mean, to have the past ripped forward into the present? To have the long-buried and dealt-with, right here in their hands—and then torn away, just as quickly?
#my writing#abandoned wips#it's very navel-gazey on top of everything else#though i guess you could do that for the first bit#and then as you gear up it gets more and more present#hm hmmmmm#thanks for making me think about this stuff lula
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
WIP Wordsearch Game
I was tagged by @softest-punk, thank you very much for the tag!
my words from SP are: taste, nose, right, book, and tea
"Taste" - from the Eivor/Ubba/Vili fic that I will finish eventually XD (Untitled) blood warning for this one
"Vili, we must continue with our plan," Eivor gently places his hand against Vili's chest, his armor still wet and sticky and warm with blood. The smell is still so strong he can almost taste it in his mouth. It is only a small consolation that none of the blood is Vili's, "or all of this will be in vain."
Vili takes a step back, but the blood remains on Eivor's hand all the same. He had thought that because it was the truth it was the right thing to say, but maybe he had been wrong. Maybe not all truths were worth saying.
"Don't wield my friend against me like a weapon, Eivor."
Vili sounds hurt more than he sounds angry, a sharp reminder of the years they had spent apart and the gaps that still needed filling.
"Nose" - Vili/Ubba (Water of Life)
“Bjorn used to call me runt,” Ubba says as their horses move unhurried along the road back to Hemthorpe. There is a very obvious mix of emotions in Ubba’s voice, his tone affectionate, but also irritated.
“Gods, how big was he to call you that?” Vili asks.
He’d never met Bjorn and the fates had seen to it that he never would. According to Ubba he’d died not long after they had arrived in England, but he is picturing a giant now, who else would call Ubba a runt?
“He was about your father’s size,” Ubba replies, still staring at the road ahead of them, but Vili can see the smirk creeping up on his face and crinkling his nose.
“Oh,” Vili says and then he is overtaken with laughter.
"Right" - Eivor/Vili Cowboy AU (The Ballad of Lonesome Gods)
"Is everyone alright?" Soma asks.
"Yeah," Eivor replies.
"Yes," says Randvi.
"Yup," Ivarr cackles.
"NO!" Vili shouts from the ground, the chains of his shackles clanking as he moves.
"Wait, who is that?" Soma asks as she moves to help Randvi tie up the Sheriff.
"Don't worry about him right n—"
"Hey, come on Eiv-—"
"Vili, just shut up for a minute, please."
Vili huffs but remains silent.
"Book" - from my Lovecraftian existential horror AU (Between the Real and the Unknown)
I dream of little books, their pages ripped from their bindings and scattered on the floor. I dream of a key so tiny it gets lost in the palm of my hand. I dream of gathering up the pages, crumbling them in my clenched fists, afraid I will lose the most important page of them all. And I cry; because I should know what all of it means, but I cannot remember.
"Tea" - Alas, I am but a filthy American and I threw all of my tea into the Harbor. J/K I like tea but it is nowhere to be found in my WIPS at the moment.
I will tag @castielsangel-x, @akashadarkblade, @ainulindaelynn, @brasideios (if you want to when you are feeling better) @myriath, @vault-heck, @theinkandthesea , @erzsebetrosztoczy, @troublemakingrebel and anyone else that wants to!
Your words to find are: help, eye, sit, hair and touch.
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
the internet is very USA-centric and even more English-language-centric. As a US American, I’ve been trying to think of someways that we (US Americans) can combat this and this is what I’ve come up with. Non US Americans, please feel free to jump in and correct or add to my post if I miss something!
Specify when you are speaking about US-centric things. I like to tag my political posts as “US politics” or something similar. This lets people from other countries more easily filter out our stuff. Even in posts this helps. Just a little parenthetical “(in the US)” is better than nothing.
America encompasses two big, diverse continents. Not all Americans are from the US - a whole lot are from Argentina, Panama, Belize, Canada, Brazil, Nicaragua, etc. etc. etc. Let’s call ourselves US Americans, please.
Learn about other cultures. Yes the US school system sucks, but we have the whole internet to learn from. Read online encyclopedias, follow foreign news, etc.
Follow and share people from other countries (always share with correct sources listed AND permission of course). Promote their content on the internet. This goes double if you speak another language that isn’t English - promote its use on the internet too.
Be careful of oversharing / jumping in where you don’t belong. If there’s a Reddit page meant for citizens of a certain country to just hang out, maybe don’t go there for travel tips - find a dedicated travel forum instead. Let others have space for their own culture, and definitely don’t try to claim to know more than people within a culture / nationality / other group you don’t belong to.
ex: if an African person refers to themselves as African, don’t jump in and say “actually, I think you meant to say African American”. Even if they currently live in the US. don’t preach about others’ cultures. Don’t assume you will or can understand everything you read about another culture.
Back to languages, learn other languages (respectfully of course)! Participate in forums in other languages if they aren’t country / culture specific. If you’re really brave, Help translate information into other languages (there’s lots of volunteer opportunities here, or paid opportunities if you can find them). Just make sure you do fully understand the language and aren’t butchering it while translating. Avoid making content adjustments as much as possible and try to stay true to the original text. And maybe leave the cultural articles for people who know what they’re talking about.
#Cultural appreciation#U.S. centric#internet#make the world a better place#internet etiquette#language#politics#learning
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Loki Laufeyson x Midgardian!Reader: Firecracker
Summary: Thank Odin he’s only had the one brother and two parents to deal with, that’s all Loki can say.
Rating/Warnings/Tags: All (Domestic Fluff; Big Family; American!Reader; Fourth of July; Post-Avengers (2012); child antics; not canon compliant)
Challenge: “120 Bits of Random” challenge by SugarLandBabyGirl on Lunaescence Archives.
Tag List: @imaginesfire
Firecracker
Loki never really felt like he fully grasped the concept of “family.” His one on Asgard seemed intent only on distant judgment; his one on Earth was tentative at best and belligerent at worst–or so he assumed. Whenever the subject of visiting yours got brought up, he tried his best to dissuade you. This plan worked fine, all through Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and Easter. But when the summer after he moved in with you rolled around, you put your foot down.
“We’re going for the Fourth of July,” you announced, before holding your hand up to silence his protests. “No buts.”
It cost him quite a bit of effort, but Loki managed to prevent himself from reminding you that he was a prince and therefore he could voice as many buts as he wanted. He thought it best to go along with your plans for the time being. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity as to how the families of mortals worked. Perhaps they were more supportive than those on Asgard.
“So you’re the alien freak that destroyed half the country and got our little [Name] stuck in Manhattan,” your father said upon meeting him.
Loki shook your father’s hand, then resigned himself to an unpleasant weekend of loud barbecues. Try as you might to coax him into joining the “fun” over the next forty-eight hours, it never took long for one of your several aunts, uncles, siblings, or cousins to make some remark about him and drive Loki back into terse silence.
It didn’t matter what he did. If he tried dressing more casually, he was trying too hard. If he actually got up to help cook, he ruined the food correctly. If he sat down to play a game, he was obviously going to cheat. By the time the actual holiday itself rolled around, Loki could manage only acidic glowers in your direction while looking forward to finally going home.
As the night fell and the sky darkened, the taunting stopped. He seemed to be ignored rather than derided. Loki didn’t mind. This behavior was an improvement as far as he was concerned. Just to make doubly sure he would be left alone, however, he settled himself at the now-empty picnic table to grumble to himself.
He had only just got started when a small child ran up to him. She stared at him for a good long while. Loki stared back. This one might have been one of your nieces, he supposed, but she looked the exact same as the other eight Midgardian children running rampant through the backyard.
He scowled in the hopes that would get her to go away. It did not.
“What do you want?” he asked testily.
The child did not answer. She simply held out one of the items passed out to everyone earlier in the evening. When it became clear that she wanted him to take the object, he did so with a roll of his eyes. “Lovely. A stick. Thank you ever so much.”
“Loki?” His eyes flicked up to see you watching with concern. “What are you doing?”
Talking, he wanted to answer. Was that a problem now, too?
But too late. The girl had grabbed his hand when he wasn’t looking. The instinct to smack her momentarily threatened to overwhelm him. Had this been Asgard, she might have been a tiny spy capable of injuring him. Given that this was Midgard, however, she probably was just a child, and Loki understood enough of the culture to know that hitting children would not make him any friends. Instead, he got up and followed her at a crouch through the surrounding throng.
“Papi!” the girl shouted–her first words spoken around Loki.
Your father heard and turned around, beaming. “Sugar bean!”
As he drew nearer, the girl held out her own stick.
“Ready to light your sparkler, sweetheart?”
She nodded. Your father flicked on the lighter in his hand and pressed the flame into the tip of her stick. It erupted into silver sparks. The girl let go of Loki’s hand and sprinted, giggling, off toward the rest of her peers. He straightened to watch, only to remember just who she had left with in the tense silence that followed.
He swallowed, hardly daring to shift his gaze enough to see your father.
“You, too?” your father asked, looking pointedly at Loki’s sparkler. When Loki did not answer, your father crossed his arms across his chest. “Not sure if giving you a weapon is a good idea, even if Mimi did.”
Was Mimi the girl? Loki had no idea, but suddenly the sparkler in his fingers seemed even stupider than before. He was done trying to impress your father, let alone the rest of your family. His mouth opened to tell your father as much. Before he could speak, a warm hand touched his shoulder. Startled, Loki glanced back to see you standing behind him.
“Come on, Dad. Give him a shot.”
Your father still didn’t look convinced.
“Dad, do you really think I’m such a bad judge of character that I’d date someone capable of setting our get-together on fire?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone for the bad boy.”
You appeared somewhat cross for the first time since arriving, or at least the first time while Loki had been watching. It was your turn to fold your arms over your chest.
“Dad, we only came because you told me you missed me and said I could bring Loki. The two of us are kind of item now. If you’re not going to treat him like family, then I’m not going to get to come to family events anymore.”
“But–”
“No buts! I love you, Dad, but I also love Loki. Unless we break up, it’s going to be both of us or none of us from now on.”
Your father’s eyes narrowed in Loki’s direction. Loki, for his part, attempted to wipe his face clean of any emotion.
After several minutes, it must have appeared to your father that you were utterly serious. He let loose a massive breath, then practically ripped the sparkler out of Loki’s hands to light it. When he gave it back, it was only thanks to Loki’s quick reflexes that the fire didn’t strike his shirt.
“Fine,” said your father. “But only because Mimi likes him.”
With that, your father trundled off. Loki frowned after him, still clutching the sparkler in one hand. He was so focused on feeling dislike that he forgot you were there until he felt your arms wrap around him from behind.
“I’m sorry about that,” you whispered. “And for this weekend. Things’ll get better. I promise.”
He twisted so that you could see him raise a single eyebrow. “And if I don’t want to wait for things to get better?”
“Well…”
You cocked your head to one side as you snatched one of his hands. Busy as he was waiting for your response, Loki was taken aback when you began to drag him toward the children. The one from before–Mimi, Loki supposed–brightened at his return and came racing up to hug his legs.
“You’d probably disappoint your biggest fan,” you said.
Mimi shot him an enormous smile, then darted off to rejoin what appeared to be a rousing game of tag. Since Loki’s sparkler had gone out as well, she disappeared quickly into the dark. His chest did feel a little less tight as he wrapped one arm around you and drew you closer to his side.
“I’m not sure that’s really incentive enough for me,” he said. “But…we’ll see.”
#fan fic#straw writes#reader insert#second person pov#challenge fic#one shot#loki#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#thor#avengers#marvel#mcu#loki x reader#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson x you#loki laufeyson x y/n#loki reader insert#thor x reader#thor x you#thor x y/n#avengers x reader#avengers x you#avengers x y/n#avengers reader insert#marvel x reader#marvel x you#marvel x y/n
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay so…Did anyone ever read a history book? Or ever get to learn what empathy is? Because these tags/reblogs on this post are HORRENDOUS and dumb.
Before I say anything: I want to clarify I am a Mexican + Salvadoran American, Nonbinary and nblm, and I probably have DID. Meaning, I do have experience in a lot of different communities! I’m speaking as someone who has seen this first hand and am actually taking courses in college on this. Moving on…
A big part of what irked me about these particular reblogs is the ‘reminder’ that white girls wouldn’t need to add on minority identities to have an opinion - because that’s based upon the idea that people who scream the loudest about being marginalized are NOT the white girls with minority identities themselves!
As I said on that post, white people are STILL the poster children of most other marginalized groups besides race. Y’all only have it worse than other white people. Marginalized groups that aren’t predominantly known to affect white people are deemed UNSAFE and DISGUSTING (such as single mothers, addiction, and other ‘stereotypical poc’ issues) UNLESS lo and behold, there’s a white woman or man dealing with that issue. You will always get help first.
Mental Illness Awareness online is predominantly White and AMAB.
LGBTQ Spaces are predominantly White.
Disability safe spaces are predominantly White.
And there’s nothing WRONG with being white and having minority identities. The thing is, it’s a problem y’all created for yourselves that you blame people of color for. Y’all think white people need to be oppressed in some way in order for them to even be an ALLY to marginalized groups. This is white guilt at its finest. This is the idea that you’re all stuck washing away the blood off your ancestors hands- which only leads you guys to NEED to be coddled by excessive labeling to make yourselves feel like you’re even allowed to have an opinion on something. You can, the only thing is, you just need to know that
1. You are not your ancestors. Whatever they did in the past, learn from it. Even if they WERE bad people, what they did does not mean you’re ‘tainted’ forever.
2. LISTEN. You can have opinions on things that include minorities and marginalized groups, but at the end of the day, you do not have the privilege to speak OVER (as in, negate) their own experiences. And if they say something is racist - maybe it is. If they say you don’t understand completely, it’s means you…
3…. Need to check your privilege. You are always going to be white first before anything. Copying from my last post, the difference between being white and a minority vs being POC and a minority is the fact that whiteness gets to stay ambiguous (no one will demand you to clarify what ‘type of white you are) and have the luxury of being able to say “I’m nonbinary/gay/have adhd/autism/am disabled/yada yada ya.” whereas for POC, their ethnicity is their most defining characteristic, and is NOT allowed to be ambiguous.
Latinos/Hispanics (in my personal experience) are often asked by other latinos/hispanics and non-latinos/hispanics alike what ‘type of latino’ they are. It's almost as if people of color are demanded to explain who they are to white people in order for them to be relatable in this day and age. It's almost as if we have been forced to wear our ethnicities out and about, getting harassed or worse because we are not white.
If you didn’t know, racism derives from religious beliefs- certain people who looked a certain type of way were considered “unholy” and “unfit in the eyes of God”. If you had a big nose, or a certain hair texture, you were deemed ‘Not Christian enough’. They would look for any reason to deem people ‘Not Christian Enough’, or not ‘white enough’ when talking about modern day racism.
I fucking despise white people who try to use their marginalization as a way to garner sympathy and support from minorities. We understand that you are and can be oppressed too, but that doesn’t fucking get rid of your MOST DEFINING FACTOR: YOUR WHITENESS. At the end of the day, you will always be able to hide your oppression behind your whiteness. Your whiteness is your shield. It can blind you. We cannot hide behind our ethnicity. We cannot be ambiguous. That’s the harsh fucking reality.
But that’s were EDUCATION comes in! Learning about your privilege actually helps you understand people a LOT better. I don’t blame you guys at all for being uninformed. But you only become an oppressor when you’re purposefully ignorant.
Don’t do that.
YES, you can be biased towards white people, but they’ve been the majority for a LONG TIME, meaning white people cannot and will not experience racism for a very, very long time. Unfortunately because of this, a lot of POC teach their children to be afraid or to hate their oppressors, and are also taught to cater to the majority’s gaze. This is where that whole “evil majority” shit comes from - and funnily enough (and again), is a term that y’all came up for yourselves.
We have our own issues inside our own communities (not to discredit anything that happens for white communities) that we really don’t need white input on too. Just felt like I needed y’all to hear that. If you really think we POC are curating an intricate way to discredit/discriminate against White people, perhaps those places that you feel left out in ARE NOT places for you at all! Think of it as a bathroom- do you really think a lock on the bathroom door means you’re not allowed to use it ever or does it mean when it’s unlocked and open, you’re free to use it?
TL;DR: White people whining about not having a voice is ironic because they’re the ones creating these barriers for themselves.
#•dodgetalks#•dodgerants#race#racism#the white audacity#white guilt#white bitches when their whiteness will always come first and foremost
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
HUGE fan of your tick garden post. As a country mfer seeing ignorant city slicker suburb livers (key word ignorant) talk about this shit is so infuriating. My family keeps a low cut lawn because even with our low cut, well maintained grass lawn, we frequently get ticks. Within the past 2 years I've probably pulled 30+ from my body, countless more thoughout my life and as someone who's already disabled I have to get tested for Lyme disease frequently to ensure my symptoms are still from my other issues. Ticks ain't something to dismiss so easily. They are a huge issue. They can be deadly. Are they extremely important to the ecosystem ? Yeah, and that's why we keep em around and why we use bug sprays n shit when we venture into their home. Talking about biodiversity lawns without touching the topic of ticks irks me so bad. Thank you for taking time to make that post !
The funny thing is I am absolutely an ignorant city slicker, maybe even worse than suburbs since I've spent all my life in flats in the strict city center. never even had a lawn. I did however have a tick once and it, without any exagerration, ruined my life. like almost every big setback I've faced in my life, the reason I've been in first year of uni 4 times, soon to be 5, barely graduated highschool despite having mostly good grades, because I was barely above the 50% attendance minimum, all directly traceable back to lyme.
I expected that post to get like 15 notes at most, not 10k in one day, and although i'm glad bc this is important info, I might have written it differently. for example mentioned why and how to safely remove ticks (without killing or squishing or suffocating them, so you don't push the lyme into ur bloodstream, by levering or pinching them up from underneath) and mostly that the overall point is that just letting things grow wild is not biodiversity.
Restoring biodiversity takes more work than keeping up a manicured lawn, not less, at least at first, even though some people try to offer an easy way out. letting things just grow as they please will actually atract more invasive plants. You need to do your research and carefully plan out which places you'll dedicate to food, to pollinator friendly wildflowers, and which you're actually planning to hang out on, and thus will need to keep short. people in the notes have been suggesting great alternatives like clover, moss or woodchips, and other ground cover plants that stay short and require less upkeep than grass, but you still need to do research to lear what's good for your area, and since I'm polish, I can't do that for americans.
someone tagged that post saying smth like 'people want laws to go back to how they were before humans adapted them that is unihabitable' and they were right. there are places (vacant lots, golf courses, fenced off decorative patches of grass, that can and should go back to wildflowers and native grasses as tall as you wish, but for hanging out it, you need sufaces or short, walkable, high visibility for snakes etc, plants. or at the very least paths of those.
my family has what is essentially two vacant lots near the woods, attached to falling apart, rotting, half-built cabins in the countryside, so I know very well how the 'low effort' approach to lawn restoration goes. One used to be a well maintained grass lawn up until like 2005, now it gets mowed once every year or two. it's knee high grass so thick it tangles around your legs and trips you if you try to walk normally. people get several ticks each every time they visit. the other hasn't been touched in at least 20 years, and it's all stinging nettle taller than me (and I'm not especially short) so obviously not exactly hospitable to human life either. if you have a bit of land you never use, let it go wild if you want. But in order to make a lawn usable and biodiverse, you're gonna need a lot more work that just giving up
55 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tmj469bc
tmj469bc
chesterlove1000
Untitled
magicaltcgshop
MagicalTCGshop
marvelsswansong
all-american bitch