The "American propaganda" rhetoric from many kids on this site really has my eyebrows raising. Like... are we watching the same show??? Is that their takeaway from listening to Isaiah's story, watching Sam's experiences, or seeing the gov do an immediate aboutface with the Shield? Did they think that the scene of the band's was an endorsement of performative patriotism (admittedly... it was a cool rendition) as opposed to a critique??? Then again, seeing how many of them seem to stan the Flag Smashers, anything not endorsing their anarchic fantasies is probably "statist/military propaganda".
I think it’s a convienient line they give, and excuse to not look any deeper. They think they appear ‘woke’ and thus immune to any criticism to actually seeing what the show has actually been saying and where it’s been really obvious about going.
It’s a nice little bit they can say and feel like what they are saying is sympathetic (when really they are dismissing this black showrunner’s vision lol) and they can go on and focus on what they are really here for... their favorite fan-canon.
*sigh*
Like, I have been in fandom for a long time and I can tell you, the people I focus on and run w/ in fanworks *NEVER HAVE* their shit go canon and I don’t expect it to.
But I swear the entitlement...
They are really acting like they think this black man (Malcolm Spellman) who has told you from the jump that this is about Sam’s journey and Anthony Mackie(!) (who they keep giving lip-service to protecting) who has been candid about how proud and anxious he was about the reception to this storyline about his walk as a black man to being Captain America.... is purposely fucking w/ them because the storylines they play in, in fandom haven’t manifested exactly the way they imagine it to *in* this show THAT ISN’T ABOUT THAT.... I just.
They don’t like this show.
They DON’T LIKE THIS SHOW!!
And okay fine, not everybody is gonna feel a real connection to those horrific skeletons that impact to this day when it comes to institutional racism and day-to-day living in black skin.
But then keep your mouth shut about what’s going on in canon, then. Because it’s clear you do not have the empathetic capacity.
Don’t try to pretend you do care, if you don’t.
Just stay in your playground and *out* of any criticism of this show in the hands of this black man who has TOLD YOU *explicitly* that his main thrust is Sam’s journey...not your fucking ship(!) and didn’t even dismiss you when you asked(!!!).
It’s not baiting to tell you straight up... “THIS IS NOT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT.”
Enjoy the fantastic bonus that these two theatre nerds have AMAZING chemistry and aren’t immature when they approach their characters’ arcs, because true artists don’t really give af about whether you think it’s *gay* or not and honestly?? Yall really not gonna like this tea but yall’s lazer-focused obsession with that comes off low-key fetishistic/homophobic...
You are getting delicious subtext. Clap and use that in your fanworks! Because (HOLYSHIT!) that natural chemistry is a gift!
AND BECAUSE NOBODY IS BAITING YOU!!
CELEBRATE THAT! Celebrate these actors’ friendship and respect their artistic commitment to telling *THIS STORY*. They approach EVERY ROLE with the same love and commitment to the characters and telling the story as Chadwick and Heath did.
They aren’t thinking about a baiting anything.
They are thinking “How can I serve this story and character to the best of my abilities?”
So please, for the love of all that is good and holy, stop being entitled and either go about your business in fanon or *RESPECT CANON*.
STOP these fucking ~I’m calling out an actual thing that is wrong! and happening here QUEERBAIT!!!1!!!!!!11!~ games just because this show, director, actors, and crew have told *this* story of this black man’s journey and *not* the Sam and Bucky love story (w/ a heavy focus on Bucky! and Steve!) like in your fanworks.
And while yall are putting out screencaps of *that interview* w/ Spellman... how about focusing on the *rest* of what he and Mackie and even Seb have said in their interviews?!
About how they *ALL* really feel privileged about their part in the particular leanings of this show, in this day and time regarding race and SAM BEING CAPTAIN AMERICA WHILE BLACK!
P.S.
This show feels pro-vet NOT pro-military and if you don’t know the difference between shining a light on all of the shit and hoops vets have to jump through after doing so much.... and uplifting an instittution which Spellman has CLEARLY been taking the piss out of in the 100 or so minutes we’ve seen fo far???
*sigh*
I can’t handhold you. PAY. ATTENTION.
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9 which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit/know best?
Ooh the list is long! I’ll name only the not-yet-visited.
- Finland, because it’s not an unachievable destination, and the place is absolutely beautiful
- Japan. Hope to one day achieve this dream)
- Norway, because come on!
10 most enjoyable swear word in your native language?
The most enjoyable is the fact that from /checks notes/ seven (or according to some 35) words the russian language's word-formation produces over a thousand forms with an unlimited variety of meanings.
29 does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?
I live in Moscow, it has a beef with an entire country XD
i'm bewildered and intrigued this truly has never crossed my mind before (also wow the formatting on this askbox truly went out the window!!! yikes what even is this ui nvm i fixed it by editing after)
when tater meets aunt judy, the source of bitty's jam recipe, he is nearly overwhelmed with joy. she also knows who he is because bitty's been sending her emails like 'according to one very determined nhl player i should never make anything but blueberry jam again. any tips on that'
they meet at some holiday party at jack and bitty's or something idk my point is that happens. and once judy's back in georgia she makes a fuckton of blueberry jam and sends it to bitty with instructions to give it to tater and it's probably the best gift he's ever received
okay but like i have to say the crackship potential of this is OFF THE CHARTS.
is tater dating bitty's aunt??? bitty has no idea and he does not want to know and FRANKLY he doesn't even know how this HAPPENED.
there's blueberry jam everywhere. e v e r y w h e r e
judy sends a whole ass pie to tater when the falcs get knocked out of the playoffs.
suzanne is seriously torn about whether she can keep talking to tater or not.
jack is silently losing it. what the fuck is happening, he internally screams.
'damn, bits, so does your whole family just learn how to wheel nhl players at some point in their lives' -lardo
'LARDO HOW DID YOU FUCKING KNOW THIS IS HAPPENING' -bitty
if anyone has more ideas about this speak now i'm so intrigued
14 - 30 - 49 for Nurseydex. Can be one, some, or all of them. ^_^
Yall really out here wanting me to write some worried boys, huh? 14 is the same as 20 looking at the list now, so that one will come later but I got both 30 and 49 in this one (though post-migraine I cannot tell if it’s “good” or “written correctly” or whatever lol)
_X_X_X_X_
Will is having a shit day. The huge program that was due this morning had come at the end of a two game over time streak and was followed up by an exam in his User Interface and Design course. Some unapologetic freshman spilled half of Will’s coffee over his favorite SMH hoodie, he’s had two hours of sleep, and the only good thing about today is no practice after class means he can just take a nap.
And, to his credit, that’s absolutely what Will was on his way to do after class. His senior year schedule, minus his feelings about the workload, is looking pretty great. There’s a several hour block where no one’s in the Haus but him. Will’s ready for it to be gloriously calm and silent when a lacrosse ball makes direct contact with the bridge of his nose. Fuuuuucking LAX bros.
Will waves off their half-hearted attempts at asking if he’s okay and instead heads directly to the Haus to assess the damage. At the very least he’s sore and has a nosebleed. It doesn’t feel like it’s broken, but that’d be just his luck for the day. Will makes a beeline for the kitchen expecting to be able to wash up in the sink, but there’s Nursey leaning against it.
Before Will can ask for him to move, Nursey’s up and checking him over. Hands fly gently across his arms and face, never quite landing anyway and probably too anxious to be effective at checking him over. “Holy shit, Dex, what happened? Who hurt you?”
Will chuckles and reaches around to grab some paper towels. “Bold of you to assume it was a person. I should be fine, dude, I just got hit by one of the LAX bros missing a catch.”
"Okay, well," Nursey starts, still looking uneasy, "maybe you should sit down or something? And gimme your sweatshirt, I'm washing that for you."
Will does take Nursey up on the offer to sit. "Oh. Uh. Thanks, but you don't have to do that. I can wash my own shirt, Nurse."
That was apparently the incorrect answer, as Nursey follows him hands on his hips. "I'm very aware, William, and I'm equally aware I do as I please. Let me help."
Will acquiesces both because it's a generous offer after a rough day and because there’s something remarkably nice about the way Nursey uses his first name like Will’s stupid to question being taken care of. So William J. Poindexter ends up curled up on the couch while Nursey flits in and out of the room very obviously checking on Will and very obviously not in the mood to be called out about it. It’s sweet for the first five minutes; Will’s nose has long stopped bleeding, he’s been given a blanket to curl up with, and was brought a light blue gatorade for no particular reason. There’s only so much Will can really handle before it starts grating on him, though.
“If you’re gonna hang out here can you just sit down or something? Your running around is making me nervous and I wanna watch the SyFy channel in peace.”
Nursey frowns at him for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to Will. He’s a lot closer than he has to be, strictly speaking, but Will isn’t going to complain. Nursey watches in silence for a minute before mumbling, “I hate the SyFy channel. That’s not how you spell science or fiction.”
Will wordlessly hands Nursey the remote, but Nursey doesn’t change it. After a bit, Will decides to address what he’s thinking. “So. That was unexpected.”
Nursey quirks an eyebrow but otherwise seems like he’s trying to play it cool. “What do you mean?”
Will chuckles a little bit. “You being really unchill about a nosebleed, Nursey.”
“Yeah, well,” Nursey shuffles down further into the couch as he talks, deliberately still not making eye contact. “It seemed bad at the time. And I care about you or whatever. You know that.”
Will smiles, turning back to the TV and leaning his head on Nursey’s shoulder. “Yeah, I really do. Today’s turning out okay, though.”
11, 22, and/or 66 for the Angst/Fluff prompt? Thanks!
11. “That’s sweet” + 12. “You look great” & 66. “Say what?” | prompts from this list
i combined 11 + 22 into the same fic, and wrote a separate one for 66. i truly don’t know how my brain came up with a plot for both so quickly but. here we are. the first one gets a little nsfw-y at the end
*
When Will gets home from work, there are even more coffee cups out than when he got home from work yesterday. He stops to make a cup for himself, before continuing through the house.
The mugs are everywhere, the kitchen, Derek’s office, perched precariously on the banister next to the stairs (which is a disaster just waiting to happen).
Will follows them like a weird, Derek-themed rose petal trail upstairs and into their room. He sits down on their bed, careful not to spill as he settles in.
Derek takes unnecessarily long showers. He claims it’s the setting he thinks best in. Will’s been in the shower with Derek before, and there is no deep thinking happening.
While he waits for Derek to get out of the shower, he opens up his laptop to check his emails.
If either of his interns sends him another email asking about something they could easily figure out if they bothered to check the very detailed set of instructions he’d already given them, he’s going to have a stroke.
He takes a few deep breaths, types back a reasonably patient response, and opens up a tab of online sudoku, sipping absentmindedly at his coffee.
The water shuts off.
The bathroom door slides open and Derek steps out, towel wrapped around his waist.
“Hi,” he says. “You’re home.”
Will glances up from his laptop. “You seem surprised. You do know I live here, right?”
Derek rolls his eyes. “You’re such an asshole.”
Will holds up his left hand and points to his ring. “Do we wanna chalk this one up to poor judgement on your end then?”
“I refuse to answer that.” Derek walks over to Will’s side of the bed. He steals Will’s mug from his hand and takes a sip. “That’s sweet.”
“I know.”
“You don’t like sweet coffee.”
“Yeah, but you always drink mine so I’ve learned to tolerate it.” Will shrugs and closes his laptop, setting it on his nightstand. “Are you still stressing about this awards night?”
Derek winces. “How did you know?”
Will gestures to the two half-empty cups on Derek’s bedside table. “I’m psychic.” Derek makes a face at him. “Also you took a ridiculously long shower.”
“Sorry not everyone’s trying to set a record for the world’s fastest, least effective shower Will.”
Will sits up a little, prying Derek’s fingers off the mug and placing it next to his laptop. “Why don’t you get dressed, since you’re drenching my side of the bed, and then we can talk.”
“Fine.” Derek disappears into the closet. “How was work?” he calls out from inside.
“Ugh.”
“The interns again?”
“I swear to God I age five years every time they ask me something. It’s like, could you possibly be less literate? It’s not like I have a huge project I have to get done by the end of the week.”
“Tough, babe.”
“I guess it’s not all bad. They finally replaced the microwave in the break room so now I don’t have to eat cold soup for lunch.”
“William Jacqueline Poindexter, you’ve been eating cold canned soup?”
“The microwave was broken.”
“I want a divorce.”
“Good, then I won’t have to wait an hour to get in the shower.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Says the one who just requested a divorce over cold soup.”
The closet door swings open. Derek’s dressed in his Fancy Dinner Suit, and he’s got his favorite green tie draped around his neck. Will watches his shaky hands struggle to tie it for a moment.
“Derek. Come here.” Will stands up as Derek crosses the room. “Talk to me bud,” he says, working on untangling Derek’s tie. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Derek’s shoulders slump. “I have to give an acceptance speech and I really want to make a good impression because there’ll be a lot of important people there tonight and it’s my first awards ceremony.” He swallows hard. “I’m just afraid, I guess. Of screwing things up.”
Will finishes knotting Derek’s tie and slides his hands down to Derek’s. “Well, you look great,” he says, squeezing Derek’s hands, “you are great, and I believe in you.”
The frown on Derek’s face softens into a more relaxed expression.
“I think,” Will continues, “that everything will go smoothly and all this worrying will have been for naught. However, in the event that it doesn’t go exactly the way you planned, it’ll be okay. The world won’t end, I’ll still love you.” Will’s eyes search Derek’s. “Deep breath in.”
Derek inhales.
“Now out.”
Derek exhales.
“You’re going to charm the pants off everyone there.”
Derek smirks. “You’re the only person I want to charm the pants off of.”
It’s silly, even after being together for all this time, Will still blushes and his heart still jumps when Derek says things like that.
“I’ll be up when you get back.” Will ducks his head and leaves a lazy trail of kisses along Derek’s jawline. “You can have a special treat if you really feel like you gave an outstanding speech.”
Derek’s breath hitches. “You’re going to kill me Poindexter.”
Will grins devilishly. “Good luck sweetheart.” Derek’s phone alarm starts going off. “Time to get going. Wouldn’t want to be late now, would you?”
Derek pouts. “But—”
“Bye Derek! You’re gonna do great! Love you!” Will says, pushing him out of their bedroom and closing the door.
*
Will’s wide awake when he hears the front door creak open. The door shuts and the lock clicks, and footsteps shuffle across the floor, climbing up the stairs.
He slips out of bed and is about to open their bedroom door when Derek beats him to it.
They stare at each other for a moment.
“Well?” Will raises his eyebrows. “How’d it go?”
Instead of answering, Derek takes Will’s face in his hands and kisses him hard. He steps into the room, kicking the door shut behind him, and walks Will back toward the bed.
Derek yanks off his tie, tossing it on the floor, and pulls Will’s shirt up over his head.
“So it wasn’t a complete and utter disaster,” Will says, breathless.
“Shut up. Shut up,” Derek says, kissing down Will’s neck. “I just had to endure the longest hours of my life listening to the most boring story about what inspired poems about bugs or some shit.”
“Having patience is virtuous.”
“Yeah, well what I’m about to do to you isn’t.”
Will smirks and winds his arms around Derek’s neck, lying back and pulling Derek down with him.
*
Judging by the dull ache in his hips in the morning, Will would assume Derek’s speech went well.
66. “Say what?” (Derek’s predicament comes from this thread; user: OmgFmlPeople) | au; different first meeting
The fire alarm in Will’s dorm is going off at one o’clock in the morning.
Will rolls out of bed, thinking about his 9 a.m. and if he could get away with murdering whoever set off the alarm.
He pulls on his winter coat, slides his bare feet into his boots, shuddering at the feeling, and makes his way outside.
It’s snowing. Fantastic.
Already, his floor’s gathered around their designated meeting place, all huddling together.
Will, never one to be the center of attention, lingers around the edges of the crowd, shivering and hoping this will be resolved before too long. It’s cold as shit out here, and he’s not wearing a shirt underneath his coat.
He watches as the other floors join them outside. They form a bigger circle, the students ranging from sleepy and disoriented to genuinely frightened to extremely irritated.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone slinking out the side doors, wrapped in an obscenely fluffy blanket.
The person quickly walks over to Will and stands next to him. Will vaguely recognizes him; they live on the same floor.
“Hi,” he whispers. “I’m Derek.” His blanket seems to be… moving?
“Uh, hi,” Will whispers back. “Will.”
“I accidentally set off the fire alarm.”
“You what?” Will exclaims.
“Chill!” Derek says. “Everyone’ll kill me if they find out.”
“How do you know I won’t kill you right now?” Will hisses. “I have a class at nine!”
All of a sudden, a little furry head pokes out of the blanket.
“Meatball get back in there!” Derek moves the blanket so it’s covering Meatball again. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out an apple slice, sticking it under the blanket.
“What the fuck is that?”
“Excuse you, that’s so rude. His name is Meatball and he’s the best chinchilla you’ll ever meet.”
Will scrunches his face up. “Say what?”
“A chinchilla. You know. South American rodent? Cutest animal in the entire world?”
Will rolls his eyes. “Oh my fucking God, are you even allowed to have one of those here?”
“Uhhh… no. That’s why it’d be super super cool of you to keep this one on the DL.”
Will crosses his arms. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t report you.”
“Give me one good reason you should.”
“Oh, how about the fact that we are currently outside in the middle of a snowstorm at one in the goddamn morning and it’s your fault?”
“Shhhh!” Derek hisses. His eyes dart to the cluster of students behind Will. “Look, I’m sorry! It’s not like I wanted to make the entire building evacuate!”
“What the hell were you even doing?”
“I… I put a frozen chicken breast in the toaster.”
Will’s eyes blaze. “Are you fucking serious?”
Derek frowns. “Well how was I supposed to know the toaster would catch on fire? I thought it would cook both sides evenly.”
Will buries his face in his hands, shaking his head. “How have you managed to survive this long on your own?”
“Well someone’s gotta take care of Meatball.”
“I can’t do this right now,” Will mutters to himself. “I really cannot do this.”
“So anyways. What’s your major?” Derek asks nonchalantly.
Will stares at him, mouth hanging open slightly. He’s so taken aback by Derek’s genuine lack of concern that his mind goes blank for a second. “Um. Computer science.”
Derek nods. “Cool. I’m an English major.”
“That explains a lot.”
“Hey!”
“Also, are you just carrying around apple slices in your pocket?”
“They’re in a sandwich bag dumbass. I’m not a savage.”
Will shakes his head again. “I cannot believe that I am freezing my ass off right now because some idiot decided to put a fucking chicken breast in his toaster.”
“When this is all over, you could come back to my room and I could warm you up.”
Will feels blood rush to his face, but he attributes it to the cold. “Your room’s on fire.”
“Okay it’s not on fire, it’s just kind of smoky.”
Will’s eyebrows knit together. “You’re not really supposed to have a toaster either?”
Derek’s shoulders bunch up by his ears.
Will scoffs. “Is there anything legal in your room? What kind of saint do you have as a roommate to tolerate this?”
“I live in a single.”
“Should’ve guessed. There’s no plausible way you could live with another human being and not drive them nuts.”
“You’re not very nice.”
“It’s one a.m. and I am freezing,” Will repeats through gritted teeth.
Derek shrugs. “You’ve gotta learn to have a sense of humor about these kinds of things.”
“If you don’t stop talking one of us will not make it back into the building alive.”
“Fine,” Derek huffs.
“Thank you.”
Will turns away. He rubs his hands together, blowing on them to try to keep them from turning into icicles.
“Attention everyone,” their RA, Jack, announces. “The police are on their way. They’ve been delayed by the weather. Please be patient for a little while longer.”
Will sighs. So much for his good night’s sleep.
He kicks at a chunk of snow-covered ice on the ground. Out of nowhere, Derek starts whistling.
“Is this a joke to you?” Will asks.
“No.” Derek grips his blanket tighter. “I just don’t get worked up over things that are out of my control.”
In the distance, they see flashing lights approaching. Some of the students cheer as a couple of police cars pull up.
Two officers enter through the front door, returning after only a few minutes. Jack jogs over to talk to them.
“Everyone can go back inside,” one of the officers states. “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
The crowd dissipates, grumbling indistinctly as they go inside.
“Thank Christ,” Will sighs. He turns to go.
“Will wait.”
Will twists around. “What do you want?”
Derek shifts restlessly back and forth, peeking over Will’s shoulder.
“I said what—”
Derek takes a step forward and puts his mouth on Will’s. Will feels two things: Derek’s tongue, and something soft and warm being placed in his hands.
Jack clears his throat. “Derek,” he says awkwardly. “The police need to ask you a few questions.”
Derek pulls back and wipes his mouth, looking at Will with the smuggest grin Will’s ever seen. “Sorry our night was ruined babe,” he says, his words barely being processed by Will’s malfunctioning brain. “When you get the chance, will you swing by room 114 so we can pick up where we left off?”
With a wink he saunters away.
Will looks down, hoping it isn’t what he thinks it is, but he’s never that lucky.
When this is all over, he thinks as he stomps back to his room, I’m going to kill him.
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Just saw Crazy Rich Asians with my folks. Was decently entertained, engaged by its message, and got some ideas for writing. But I couldn't help but see unfortunate implications. Sikh guards were blatant example. More subtle example made my mom bristle and me wince: the personal servants wore upper class Thai traditional outfits. Not surprised if Singaporeans see neighboring cultures that way, but the uncritical way non-Chinese cultures were utilized was :/. Anyways, thought of your critiques.
You’re in luck! I wrote a first part about the accents here (and never continued with the rest)
I didn’t notice the Thai outfits, so I can’t say much on that. The Sikh guards were unfortunate, and yet the whole thing isn’t the movie’s fault, it’s the book, which is a whole long thing about how Kevin Kwan self-exocitized Singapore for the Western Gaze.
When book!CRA first came out I didn’t like it. I mean, it was great trashy lit and satire for Singaporeans/Malaysians, but it was explicitly written for the Western audience’s Orientalist-tinted glasses. That’s why it managed to get so popular in the first place.
And then, of all the books, the existing stories, the possible Asian-American narratives, why did Hollywood choose CRA? Why choose a movie with only one (1) Asian-American character that spent most of her time not in America, instead dealing with a Chinese Diaspora in SEA?
These are my beeves with movie!CRA being touted as the movie for Asian-American representation: it’s not. It’s hardly even representation for me, a Malaysian-Chinese Nyonya who lived in Singapore. It’s a satire, and being forced into the confines of a rom-com played straight forces us to grapple with the baggage of racism and elitism that book!CRA presented. The movie did manage to get a lot right tonally, and actually improved some parts, but Hollywood made the decision and we’re now saddled with the baggage.
