#first of all because they're not American

[queeranarchism]

Maybe this is a 'water is wet' statement, but: putting the Holocaust on a pedestal where it can never be compared to anything else doesn't just serve zionism, it serves the individual agendas of a lot of colonialist powers too because it ensures that their history of atrocities is never compared to the Holocaust and remembered in the way that our culture remembers the Holocaust.

The transatlantic slave trade? The deliberate British Great hunger in Ireland? The deliberate British Famines in India? The Holodomor? The multiple acts of ethnic cleansing and mass murders committed by the Netherlands in Indonesia and its other colonies? Leopold II's reign of terror in Congo? And countless others.

All of these exist in the relatively ignored field of 'lesser evils' and aren't remembered and used as national moral anchors in the way the Holocaust is. They're not at the center of our collective memory because this one great horror takes center stage and it is deemed morally unacceptable to place other horrors near it. The only exception I can think of is the US, where thanks to the endless hard work of African Americans, slavery is sort of kinda almost recognized in the collective consciousness as a second great horror. But it's still second fiddle and disputed, and meanwhile in the European countries that engineered the transatlantic slave trade and profited from it, the space it takes in the collective consciousness is tiny.

The Netherlands has over 70 World War 2 museums. It is yet to open its first museum about slavery and has no museums dedicated to it's other colonial atrocities. The budget of the national World War 2 commemoration is 35 times larger than that of the national slavery commemoration. Holocaust education is important, but something is out of whack here. And it's easy to see why colonial powers don't want to change that.

[sports-on-sundays]

lucky strike / CL16

Summary: Charles x American!female!reader - F1 comes to Sin City and you unexpectedly run into a certain someone.

Warnings: gambling, alcohol, cussing, use of pet names (A LOT), flirting, one moment of implied jealousy

Requested?: Sort of! Thank you to everyone who voted for Charles in the poll!

Author's Note: Charles won out in the poll, so here you go, everybody! (Of course I HAD to use The Charles Vegas Podium Picture). Also, I listened to Lucky Strike by Maroon 5 while writing.

one in a million ; my lucky strike

Well, you thought the whole F1 thing was absolutely ridiculous. You couldn't care an ounce less about Formula 1, so you certainly weren't happy about all the complications of it coming to your city.

You would call yourself an all American girl, and you're proud of it. If any racing, NASCAR. Football is the sport with the brown ball you throw- NFL, not the white and black ball you kick. That's soccer. You have the greatest food, the greatest mix of cultures, the greatest weather. If you didn't know better, you'd say you have the greatest country, too.

You watched a Formula 1 race when you realized the whole Las Vegas Grand Prix thing was actual, and when you saw that (firstly) it was honestly pretty boring, and (secondly) the only American driver is basically the most sucky one, you decided it would be pretty hard to get into it.

You're a Vegas girl, and you're proud of it. You're actually from Los Angeles, California, but you moved to Vegas to chase your dreams and live the life you dreamed of a year ago with your boyfriend, and it was so worth it.

Now you identify yourself with Vegas even more than you do with the Los Angeles Rams, despite the fact that your boyfriend broke up with you seven months ago and left to go be a prodigal son in New York City.

You decided Vegas was perfect enough for your clever hand, and you'd continue to be a prodigal daughter right where you're at.

But now the Grand Prix is the newest thing, and you don't like it at all. All these people flooding in, like as if there's not already enough people. Just to watch some cars drive around in circles, closing up main roads? No, you're not into it.

Your girl friends all seem to think this is just the best thing, and you discuss it across the table with two of them. One says, "Honestly, the McLaren duo are the hottest."

"No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?" your other friend disagrees.

You snort in disbelief and say sarcastically, "How about neither? So you guys only care about this because the racers are hot? Give me a break."

"Well," one of your friends starts, crossing her arms across her chest, "They are hot. At first, I wasn't so sure, but, I mean, come on! Maybe we could get glimpses of them when they're in Vegas!"

"Or meet them!" your other friend pipes in.

You scoff. "Good luck with that. Aren't these guys self-focused millionaires with too much money for their own good? Probably all greedy idiots who hook up with every half-sexy girl who comes along. So if you're into that, sure, waste your time trying to meet some hot plutocrats, with the one percent chance you might get f*cked like crazy for a night before they forget about you and move back to their mansions across the world! F*ck, is race car driving even a real sport? It's f*cking driving cars. I could do that!"

Your friends don't really argue with you, because you're right. And clearly, they do only care about the hot racers, because you figure any real fan of the sport would argue with you.

Two days before the Strip is supposed to be closed up for the Grand Prix, you find yourself submerged in the vibrant energy of Wynn Las Vegas, the dazzling lights and sounds of the casino floor swirling around you. The scent of alcohol lingers in the air, a reminder of the drinks you've indulged in throughout the night.

You slip between two people to reach the roulette wheel, holding your newly bought chips, with money you've earned earlier in the night.

Bets are placed around the table over and over, as you earn more and more chips. You feel someone nudge your shoulder, and a cocky male voice comments next to you, "You're having a good night, huh?"

"Every night is a good night," you remark back, not even glancing up at the man talking with you. He seems to have some sort of accent that you can't place. Perhaps French?

Which means he's probably from Louisiana. Possibly Quebec.

Probably some rich idiot F1 fan who can afford to travel half way across the country for the Grand Prix.

You don't plan to even give him the light of day.

"Until it's not," he says as you watch the roulette wheel spin once more.

You smirk and feel his eyes on you as you collect more chips.

The game goes on, and you think he's gotten the message that you don't care to converse with him, because does shut up.

But now it's the last bet of the game. You take a sip from your glass and feel a stupid, risky streak in you.

Some idiot part of you that's drunk and wants to push her luck way too far.

You place a straight-up bet, all your chips on the number sixteen.

You can feel eyes on you, and the same man next to you from earlier says, "Are you stupid?"

You chuckle. "Possibly."

"You're going to lose all your-"

"No, I won't." You straighten your back, staring at the wheel. It's true, you've earned a lot of money throughout this game.

And honest, it is true that you're stupid.

But it's also true that for some reason, you're confident.

"So you're overconfident and risky? I like that," comments the guy next to you. "But you're going to lose all your money. All that good luck for nothing..."

"You'll see," you breathe, ignoring his little flirt. "It's going to land on sixteen."

"Sixteen, huh?" This man's hazel eyes sparkle, and something in you tells you that you've seen this guy's brown locks, bright dimples, and perfect stubble before.

You've seen him somewhere. Recently. Like some guy you could haven't been drunk with, but the memory is fuzzy.

But you weren't drunk with him.

Despite being sure you've seen this guy before, you're also sure you've never met him before, either.

"Yeah," you nod, looking away, staring as the roulette wheel begins spinning. "It's my lucky number."

You're not looking at him, but you can feel him grin next to you. "Your lucky number, huh? Just so happens, it's mine, too."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Is that some lame attempt of a flirt?"

"No. It really is my lucky number." By his tone, you can tell that grin has downgraded to a smirk. "But if you'd like to see a lame attempt of a flirt, that's an option, too..." His voice lowers as you feel his arm snake around you, and his hand land on your waist.

You gently shove it off as the wheel begins to slow. You hold your breath, watching, this stupid French boy no longer even a fraction of your concerns. All focus is on your slight potential lucky strike.

And then the world stops as the wheel stops, too.

On sixteen.

And then it all comes flooding back. "Oh my God!" you squeal stupidly, covering your mouth as there's rounds of, "You've got to be kidding me," "No way," "It's impossible!" and "How lucky is this girl?"

You feel surges of shock and pride as you collect all your money. Once you've received it, after such luck, and earning a fortune, you decide you're going to have a drink. Or more than just one.

But when you turn, there's that guy again.

"What's up?" you ask, the grin on your face impossible to wipe off.

"How did you know it was going to stop on sixteen?" he questions, and he looks a little more handsome than he did before as this time he succeeds in taking your waist.

"Are you trying to pick my pocket?" you question warily, though, shoving his hand away.

"Not at all," he chuckles, "But you're a smart girl, aren't you? And I think I might be a lucky boy. Come on- I'll buy you a drink."

You snort. "No way, pretty boy! I can buy my own drink, after what just happened! How cocky are you?"

"Call me cocky, or call me rich, but either way, you're too sexy to have to pay for your own drink."

You scoff at this, but figure that you can't really let down an offer of free stuff. You'll be the first to admit you're greedy. Once of the biggest reasons why you gamble is because you want money- duh- and as much of it as you can get.

So soon, you're sitting at a table with this random guy, looking into his eyes, holding your drink in your hand. After barely a moment of hesitation, your curiosity finally gets to you, and you ask, "Who are you, anyway? I could have sworn I've seen you somewhere recently."

He gets a smug look on his face, which you don't like, before he says, "You really don't know?"

Your nose crinkles up in confusion, and for a second you feel ultra worried. Is this someone that I've met, that I should remember? Am I a terrible person for not knowing who this is...?

But then he says simply, "My first name is Charles. Charles Leclerc."

You stare at the taller individual, knowing you've heard that name, trying desperately to wrack your brain of it.

And then, suddenly, it hits you.

Loudly, in your head, in your friend's voice, in the exact tone she said it, 'No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?'

"Wait-!" you say in shock. You can see the satisfaction on the man's face, Charles, as you realize. "So, you're one of those F1 racers? Like, you race for the Ferrari team?"

He snorts and nods. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize me right away. Do you live here in Vegas?"

"Yeah," you say simply, taking a sip of your drink.

"So I take it you hate Formula 1, then? Because how else are you living in Vegas right now and don't know my name, or recognize my face?"

"You sound awfully prideful."

Suddenly, he smirks, and drags his finger across your jawline, pulling your face to look up at him in the process. "Maybe so. But clearly you're not so much better yourself, Miss Bet It All On Sixteen."

You cock an eyebrow at him and return his smirk with a challenging grin. "Sure, but I was right. I won what I wanted."

"Hmm... Well, what if I'm about to win what I want?"

"Oh, yeah? And what is it that you want?"

He leans in closer, so you can feel his hot breath tickle your ear as he utters simply, "You, baby."

You smirk. "We just met, buddy. I'm not that stupid."

"I think you're just playing hard to get."

"Or maybe it's just hard for you to get me," you counter.

"Well, I like your spunk. And your good luck. I think I might need a little bit more of that." He leans away a bit, and comments, "And I think I foresee a little bit more of luck in your future."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he smirks, leaning in closer. In barely any second, his lips meet yours, and though you know you should, there's no way you're pulling away now. He wraps his arm around you, urging you to lean into the kiss. You melt, letting him.

You don't know what it is.

But in this moment, you gently let your lips part, inviting his tongue to slip in between your lips, allowing yourself to, yes, make out with basically a stranger.

It wouldn't be the first time, but it also isn't something you do for fun whenever you feel.

When you finally force yourself to pull away, the first thing you breathe is, "How did you do that?"

He grins, and is clearly red in the face. But there's a look of shock on his face, too. As if his flirty cover was just confidence, and not because he gets tons of girls like this...?

Or maybe you're just reading too much into his expression.

Either way, he responds with, stroking your cheek, "No idea. Maybe I just have a way with you?"

You roll your eyes as you check your purse. No, he didn't pickpocket. He meant to kiss you. You stand up and say simply, "Well, I better get going n-"

"Sorry, what?" he suddenly snatches your arm back, pulling you back down to sit again with a surprised chuckle. "You just met a famous millionaire race car driver who bought you a drink after you won big money in roulette, let him make out with you, loved it, and now you're just going to casually walk off?"

You grin. "What? Do you think I was impressed by you? Think again, honey. Just because you drive cars fast and make ridiculous amounts of stupid money for it, and that you're insanely handsome- none of that means I'm any more impressed with you than I am with any other guys I meet on my night outs."

"Hm," he raises an eyebrow, and says, "What if you could get more from me, missy? Clearly, you're out for yourself and will do anything for a good deal. And you're f*cking sexy about it, too. So what if I had something else to offer you?"

You let yourself sit down at this, looking at him expectantly.

He smirks, clearly loving that he's 'won you over,' before saying simply, "Would like a free pass to the whole weekend, and a pass for the paddock?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, and your eyes widen. "I- what?"

His smirk grows even bigger. "You heard me."

You inhale sharply, but cross your arms across your chest and come out sharply saying, "Unfortunately for you, I couldn't care less about Formula 1. In fact, I'm starting to dislike it a lot. But thanks for the offer."

His jaw drops, and his eyes practically pops out of his head, which gets a chuckle from you. For a moment, he's actually speechless, before he finally gets out, "Are you aware of the offer you just refused?"

You raise an eyebrow, not able to keep the cheeky grin off your face. "Probably not, but that's okay. Why, anyways, would you give a stranger such an opportunity in the first place? You probably have ulterior motives, and I think I can pretty much guess what they are, mister. You don't even know my name yet."

"Oh, God, you're right," he laughs, taking another sip of his drink. "Well, what's your name, princess?"

You roll your eyes, and tell him.

He grins. "It's been wonderful meeting you." He digs in the pocket of his light blue jeans, and pulls out a pen and a restaurant receipt. "I know you think you'll be able to forget me so easily, princess," he starts, scribbling something on the receipt, "but trust me- you'll be wanting this." He takes your hand and presses the receipt into it, before standing up just like that, and saying with a wave as he turns to walk off, "I'll talk to you later, angel."

You look down at the receipt to see a phone number scribbled on it in chicken scratch. But the numbers are clear. And though you walk out that night rolling your eyes at this Charles's boldness and cockiness, with an abundance of money you've earned that's a lot more worth the stupid grease-stained receipt, the moment you get back to your apartment, the first thing you intend to is putting that stupid number into your phone.

"This is stupid," you comment as you slide into the backseat, next to Charles.

He just rolls his eyes. "You won't be saying that by the end of this experience. Besides, you were the one who decided to text me, like I said you would. You were just playing hard to get."

You scoff. "Oh, shut up."

"You look lovely, by the way," he comments in a lower voice. "I like that skirt." You look down at yourself. You're wearing a matching crop top shirt and short skirt, your sunglasses holding your hair back away from your face, and brown sandals.

"Thanks," you snort, crossing your arms and looking out the window, turning your gaze away from the Monégasque driver. (Yes, you did, despite yourself, look him up last night, just to know who the heck this guy even is.)

(You also were sure to look up his salary.)

(Ridiculous.)

(But also intriguing.)

Soon enough, before you know it, you're walking alongside him, about to enter the 'paddock.'

Makes it sound like a bunch of horses racing.

But when you're there, surrounded by it, in the moment, you don't think rude comments like that.

You stop, taking in the high life atmosphere. The revving car noises, the lights of The Strip on the 'racetrack,' the crowds, the music, the richness, and the challenge.

Your breathing falters, and your heart beat quickens as your hand involuntarily finds Charles's wrist and grips it as you gasp, "It's... extraordinary."

You glance to Charles's face to see him softly grinning. His hand slips down to hold yours as he comments, "You seemed like the type of girl to love it."

Your smile widens. "I've been here so many times. On The Strip. But... it's not the same. How did they do it?"

He begins walking, pulling you along by your hand as you look around. "That's just Formula 1 for you. There's nothing in the world quite like it, Y/n."

He leads you by the hand toward the Ferrari garage. Once you're there, he says, "Want to meet my teammate, Carlos?"

"Don't know who Carlos is, but sure..." you say vaguely, taking in the large piece of machinery- the Formula 1 car- in front of you.

He chuckles. "You're f*cking adorable," he murmurs, before leading you away to see Carlos.

He's a well-built man with fluffy dark hair, tan skin, big brown cow eyes, and stubble. Pretty much looks like exactly how you'd imagine a Formula 1 driver to look.

He nods respectfully. "Hey, Charles," he says, and shakes your hand with a friendly wink. "This your new girlfriend?"

You look up to see Charles smirk. "Not yet."

One of Carlos's thick, dark eyebrows cocks up, and the suggestion of an amused smirk travels on his lips for a second. "Ah, I see."

"Charles!" you snap, your eyebrows scrunches together. "Not ever."

"Well, we'll see about that. So far, I've been the right one, now, princess, haven't I?"

"Pfft. I was right about sixteen, wasn't I?"

He rolls his eyes as Carlos says with a chuckle, "Well, it will sure be interesting to see how this plays out," before moving on with his life.

Charles takes the time to show you around, and halfway through the tour, you blurt suddenly, "So, this is all the Italian team and stuff. Isn't there an American team?"

"Hmmm," Charles snorts as his eyebrows travel farther up and he fights off a seemingly somewhat mocking smirk. "There is."

"Why don't you show me them? Don't they have an American driver? Like, Carlos is Italian, right? Isn't it protocol or somethin'? Anyway, isn't it called Williams, the American team, or something? Some guy named Logan something that's an American racer on there-"

At this, Charles can't seem to hold it together anymore, and doubles over laughing, essentially, at you.

"What?!" you demand indignantly.

"You really are clueless!"

"I-"

"Alright, alright, Y/n. Haas is the American team. They don't have an American driver- German and Danish. No, Carlos is not Italian; he's from Spain. Williams is British, and yes, Logan Sargeant races for Williams, and he is American. About the only thing you got right."

You roll your eyes with a shrug. "I told you I don't give a damn about this stupid sport."

"Whatever you say, Miss Starry Eyes."

So, first Charles takes you to Haas, where you learn, surprisingly, that not all the racers are young hotshots like Charles and Carlos at least seem to be. They're friendly enough there, but really don't care much to give you any of their time, so then Charles suggests to go to the Williams garage and see if there's Logan to bother. You agree to that, so soon, you're entering Williams.

As soon as you see Logan, you know he's the American. You can see it in his stance. You can see it in his golden blond slightly sweeped hair, gray blue eyes, and strong jawline. "That's Logan, isn't it?"

"How'd you know?"

You shrug, breaking off from Charles to Logan. "Hey! You're the only American 'round here?!" you ask with a friendly grin.

"Huh?" he asks, looking up, in the most United States of America way. "Oh, hi," he says in what you perceive as dumbly, with a friendly smile. Ah, that's more like it. None of these posh Monacan boys and hot Spanish men- this guy is just like home sweet home!

You can practically hear the eagles cawing over the Rocky Mountains!

"You're Logan Sargeant?"

He nods. "I am. And you are...?"

"Just some Vegas girl dragged here by Charles."

"Ah... so you know him?"

"Well, now, unfortunately, yes."

His eyebrows furrow, but he chuckles at the same time. Though this guy isn't nearly as handsome or charming as Charles, there's something about him you like a bit more-

Suddenly, a hand is on your waist, and hot breath says in your ear, "Got to be getting back to Ferrari now. Come on with me?"

You blush and nod. "Right, Charles."

You have no idea what to think of him.

"Podium?! Uh- is a podium good?!" you ask, eyes wide as Charles brings it home in second.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good!" some guy you don't know wearing red near you says.

"Oh- Alright, well- That's good, I suppose!" you respond a little manically.

As soon as Charles as the chance, he finds you. He still has champagne on his race suit and his face is glistening with sweat, and there's no way you can deny it- he's sexy. When he reaches you, he wraps his arms around you, and his stunning eyes seem to burn into you. He can't fight the grin off his face as he says lowly, "Get why my lucky number is sixteen, baby girl?"

"Ah, stop with that," you snap, your voice cracking. You don't know, but this seems- all this seems-

Way too important.

You reach up to touch the number sixteen on his hat, before taking it off his head and slipping it on your own, backwards, on impulse.

He grins. "You can keep it. Not like you'll need a keepsake. You won't forget me."

You bite your lip, giving a quick nod, still studying his handsome face. Your eyes linger on his light pink lips, which arch into a perfect cupid's bow, as you murmur absently, "You seem pretty confident about that, huh?"

"Of course I do. Looks like you might be my little good luck charm, hm? Can't be letting you run away from me, can I?"

"Hm. Well, we'll see about that."

"Still playing hard to get?"

"Not playing. I just am hard to get."

"Whatever you say, darling," he comments with a shrug, walking off.

The French accent is pretty sexy.

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see are the big earnest eyes of Charles Leclerc, staring back into your eyes. "Morning sunsh-"

Your immediate reaction is to scream and promptly slap him across his pretty face.

He grunts as his hand flies to his cheek to cover it up, and he says, "Hey, hey, calm down!"

But your eyes scan the room. It's clearly a hotel room. There's only one bed: the one you and Charles are laying in right at this moment. You're wearing a large black T-shirt and big blue gym shorts very tightly tied to fit your waist. Charles is dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans with a white T-shirt underneath, his regular jewelry, and white sneakers. So clearly, he's already showered and gotten dressed. He smells like his rich cologne, and his hair is all washed and fluffy and clean. If you weren't in a slight panic right now, you'd have wondered if you could touch his hair and feel how soft it is.

But!

As you're about to gasp out questions, Charles sits up and gently sets his hand on top of yours. You become aware of the pounding in your head as you bite your lip nervously. Charles looks at you earnestly, and says calmly, "Hey, you don't have to worry. It's okay."

"What happened?" you exhale.

"Nothing," he soothes. "We went out. You got more drunk than any of us though you should. I didn't know where you lived, so I took you to my hotel room. Gave you clothes to change into, and we went to sleep. Nothing more."

You swallow an anxious lump in your throat. "How do I know I can trust you? Please, just be honest with me. I won't be mad. You didn't know any bet-"

"I didn't do anything. We didn't do anything. Okay?" he leans in closer, and reaches to cup your cheeks in his hands. "'Kay? Can you just trust me?"

You bite your lip, but slowly nod. "I suppose that's the only thing I can do."

Over six months later, you stand on the boat, staring out at the Mediterranean Sea, smelling the salty breeze in the air, feeling content, wearing a loose button down, light blue jean shorts with a brown belt, your slew of bracelets, white sneakers, and a headband holding back your hair.

Suddenly, Charles is up next to you. "Hey, princess." For months, you've had what you stubbornly call a 'situationship,' whilst Charles calls you his girlfriend.

Because you love Vegas more than you love Charles (or at least that's what you like to say), you refused to leave when Charles did. You like taking risks. Just not the 'travelling halfway across the world for a hot guy' kind of risks.

But you stayed in touch. Charles made sure of that.

Well, he meant it when he said he'd make sure you'll never forget him.

But then Formula 1 came back to the States, to Miami, and you knew you'd have to make the trip. The flirty comments and romantic tension thick enough to cut ensued as soon as you and Charles set eyes upon each other, like as if it hadn't been six months or so since you'd last seen each other last.

It just felt like-

Somehow fate is involved.

Well, when Charles invited you to the Monaco Grand Prix, that was an offer you felt you couldn't let down.

And, boy, was that the best descision of your life.

To see Charles win his home race like that, and to be there? Just thinking about it now gives you goosebumps. Charles had wrapped his arms around you after the race, his eyes a little damp, and you felt something more.

Like he really cared.

If you didn't know better, you'd say it was like he really loved.

Loved you.

But, no. Of course not. That can't be.

Can it?

Well, all night you partied. You were in on the fun. You also made sure to pay a visit to the Monte Carlo casino, as you obviously must.

You had amazing luck, once again.

On this thought, as you feel Charles approaching from behind you, you comment into the wind, "You know, I'm starting to think you're my lucky charm, honey."

He chuckles, coming up next to you. "Oh, yeah? That's what I said six months ago when I first met you, you know. I've been starting to think the same thing about you."

You snort. "Maybe so, Monaco race winner."

He smirks, and you can feel the pure joy radiating off him. He slips his hand into yours as he murmurs, "I was so lucky to meet you."

I smirk. "I am pretty awesome."

He rolls his eyes, but squeezes your hand. "So, do you like it here in Monaco?"

You nod vigorously. "Gosh, Charles, it's amazing."

"Better than Vegas?"

"Well- I don't know if anything is better than Vegas..."

He leans in closer and speaks lower. "Well, would Monaco be better if your good luck charm just so happens to reside here?"

"Hm..." you smirk, flushing a bit. "I'd have to think about that, prince."

"Yeah," he nod, his tone softer. "Why don't you."

There's some silence, as you watch the sun begin to set, reflecting off the sparkling water.

Charles leans even closer to you, his hands gliding around your waist, pulling you towards him. He leans down, gazing deeply into your eyes. Then that stupid flirty grin appears on his face again. "F*cking gorgeous you are, one in a million. I struck lucky with you. My lucky strike."

He closes the distance between you, his soft lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. The heat of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine, igniting a spark between you as your tongues dance together in a sensual embrace. Connected.

Maybe it's not fate.

But it is most certainly luck.

And in this moment, with the lips of the winner of Monaco sucking on yours, you feel like the one who struck it lucky.

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[freaky-wasatch-range]

hey, tumblrstake! I've seen several posts on here about how we wished mormons had more cultural traditions/holidays, so I want to share with y'all my family's memorial day tradition.

every year, about 300+ of my extended family gather in the podunk town of oak city, utah to take over the town hall for the weekend and then serve free breakfast to the town on monday morning. it's called the "edward partridge memorial day breakfast" or 'MDB" for short.

edward partridge immigrated to the U.S. from great britain and was the first ordained bishop of the church. he is my great-great-great-great-great grandfather. edward partridge's grandson, aesel lyman, started the breakfast, declaring that the tradition would continue until edward partridge came and got breakfast himself. today marked the 52nd annual MDB, and this year, we fed 1069 people.

the customary breakfast is: sourdough pancakes (they're really freaking good and the batter is hand-stirred by an army of little kids), fried eggs, fried ham, oak city milk, and an orange juice called Tang. that same army of little kids get the honor of "running" food from the griddles in the town hall's back courtyard to the gym where we serve the breakfast, and of course most of the adults are given a job to do as well (cooking, serving, hospitality, utensil rolling, the most recent newlyweds get to rinse the empty batter buckets with a hose... you get the gist). members of the fam bring their plates straight to the griddles when we want to eat. we all wear special aprons. the atmosphere is always kind of electric :)

the night before, we have a thing called "the program" where we watch the same grandparent-originated skits and sing the same favorites-of-our-grandparents songs that we've been performing for decades.

some other traditions that have endured at the mdb: games of P-I-G (kind of like H-O-R-S-E), a couple hundred people playing bunco at the same time, blasting louis armstrong during the breakfast, a baseball game for the kids, red velvet cake, older kids teaching younger kids to throw mountains of playground-gravel down the slides (I was little when that started and it's been going on for over a decade now lol), and, of course, visiting the oak city cemetery and telling stories about our grandparents.

I'm really blessed that on memorial day I get to spiritually honor my five generations of grandparents buried in oak city instead of just making vague allusions of thanks to the military industrial complex. most white americans have been completely isolated from any kind of ancestral culture/specific traditions (because that's what racist assimilationism demands), so I find our weird and sometimes difficult annual reunion to be really special. whatever this is is mormon culture to me.

so, idk, hopefully this was inspiring and gave you a new way to think about memorial day. I hope that wherever I am in the world, I can continue this tradition with the friends and family I have around, serve a community with free food, and do it in honor of some modern pioneers and martyrs.

here's some photos of my dinosaur, jared, wearing my keffiyeh and hanging out in oak city over the weekend:

#queerstake #tumblrstake

[starrysaturdays]

28th may fic rec!

here are some fics i really enjoyed this month in no particular order!

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) (51K) by yrsacd

a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

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Help me (298K) by louxhazxx

Harry is innocent. Louis is not. Louis is a dom and a part of the BDSM community. Harry is not.

When Harry meets Louis and finds out about his lifestyle he wants him to teach him everything. Louis is hesitant at first, but what happens when he eventually agrees and they start a special kind of BDSM relationship without a contract? Will everything go well, or will there be complications?

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a crown of heartache (70K) by WordsInBloom28

The Royal Tail: an alpha den, a strip club, a place where secrets are concealed and consent is medicated. It’s also the place Harry has been trapped for the last three years.

Through luck or fate, Harry finds his way to Louis, a kind alpha who offers safety and comfort. After being freed from the confines of the den, Harry struggles to shake the darkness from his past.

He has a choice to make. Live in a mental prison of his own making or find the strength within himself to face his demons head on with Louis at his side.

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Could Be A Catastrophe (29K) by hazzahtomlinson | @itsnotreal

Louis is one of the two veterinarians in town and somehow gets lucky enough for Harry’s three cats to be his clients.

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giving you all you want and more (giving you every piece of me) (2.5K) by lousdelicatepointofview (starryhaze) | @starryhaze28

“Wanna feel pretty.” Harry whispers, looking up at the ceiling. His face is painted in a soft yellow hue that’s coming from the fairy lights Louis has hung all over his loft. His features look soft, cherubic even.

He’s so young, so young and broken and Louis always patches him up but never fixes him.

“You are my love.” Louis replies his finger tracing over the right laurel tattoo. And Louis knows by the way Harry grimaces that he doesn’t believe him.

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Together unfold (71K) by marcythesassykitten | @marcythesassykitten

the one where Louis is determined to be insecure and stubbornly lonely forever, until Harry comes along to mess up that particular plan.

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Written In The Stars? (50K) by unscattered_horizons

Niall is a writer. Well, technically he's a bar tender who's working towards the day when he pays the bills with his poetry. But for now, he works late and writes in the afternoon before his shifts, and shares a flat with his friend, Shawn. They were strangers before they lived together, but now they're inseparable.

His other friends from uni don't live far, and Louis and H have a kid now. Niall's in no rush to follow in their footsteps. He's happy with his life.

But he has a side job writing horoscopes for an online magazine, because London is expensive and he needs the cash. Niall may not realise it, but some of the horoscopes reveal more about his heart than he's ready to acknowledge. Niall's side gig might prove to be a catalyst for an entirely new life, one he didn't even know he wanted until it was staring right back at him, waiting for him to take a chance and trust his instincts.

OR

What I've been calling the horoscope fic. Inspired by a Tumblr post

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Maybe It's Heaven (81K) by therogueskimo | @bravetemptation

When Harry Styles finds himself forced to go home for Christmas, the last thing he expects is to fall in love.

But then he meets Louis Tomlinson … again.

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May You Enjoy Your New Life (264K) by aimmyarrowshigh

It begins for them all at the bungalow –

'Alright, time to lay out the cards. We’re in this together and hopefully, for the long haul, yeah? So I think – you know, we should just be honest. It’s deal-breakers time. That thing that like, if we’re gonna hate you or something, just tell us all now.'

When One Direction begins, Harry Styles is a sixteen-year-old boy foundering under the pressure of impending fatherhood. His ability to balance the sobering responsibility of caring for his tiny daughter, Millie, and the exhilaration of seeing his own dreams coming to fruition affects not only his future, but those of Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Louis, who never expected fealty to be the key to their success. But Liam is the first to show him how to grow up without growing old, and Zayn is the first to defend from the public what is private and precious. Louis -- Louis is the first for a lot of things; for most of the moments of Millie's life and for the moments of Harry's that matter. And Niall is the first to toast when Millie is born: Go maire sibh bhur saol nua -- 'may you enjoy your new life.'

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Allegiance to your burning heart (82K) by driveinbingo | @joekavaliers

“Have you written any more new songs?”

“I have, yeah. Lately they’re just…coming out of me.”

“Are there any more about me?”

He places a hand on the back of Louis’s neck, carding his fingers through the hair there. It’s getting long again, almost the length it was when Harry left. “They’re all about you.”

*

In the ten years since he last saw his ex-boyfriend, Harry has become very rich and very famous and everything's just great, thank you very much. He definitely doesn't even think about Louis anymore. And he's certainly not going to let a ghost from his past haunt him as he embarks on the biggest tour of his career.

Except Louis always did find a way to crawl underneath his skin, didn't he?

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Secrets in Winter (82K)by softfonds | @softfonds

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

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the very last drops of an ink pen (47K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

 just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.

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Give Me Truths (110K) by iwillpaintasongforlou (The Rainbow Cookie series) | @canonlarry

the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

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I Like to Watch (9K) by larry_hiatus | @larry-hiatus

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

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If you made it this far, here are some stats and a cupcake!

I read 37 fics and a total of 1,657,404 words (yes thats a lot but i love reading and also a fast reader)

×͜× 🧁🌼

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry

[lol-jackles]

Would doing a cameo or guest spot on the Boys hurt Jared's branding? We found out today that Kripke seems to be tweeting him a lot, and I don't think it's about the revival from what Jared said about working out. For me it wouldn't be so much about nudity as my trust in his choices for projects in the future. Right now, I trusted him to watch a cowboy show of all things and loved the family vibe. But after an X rated gig, maybe not so much. Do agents and managers consider things like that or not

It's not the cameo or guest spot that is the issue per se, after all Charlize Theron had a funny cameo as an actress portraying one of the supes in a movie within a movie, and all lead actors do guest spots between their main projects. 

There's main three things going on.  First, Kripke is indulging in some of his worst impulses.  He knows Amazon will censor out the graphic sexual and violent scenes, but it won't stop him from filming them for his own titillations. 

Second, unsympathetic roles never help anyone's career. Just look at how much Misha disavowed Karla with excuses that he "didn't know" it was based on true events. Back then Misha was a struggling actor who accepted work whenever he can. The reason why Jared said he would like to play "thinking man villain" is because those type of villains are usually right in their thinking; they're just wrong in how they try to achieve their goal.

Third, if the guest role is an unsympathetic villain that gets killed by the good guys, then it goes against the upward trajectory of Jared's career. If you've seen the movie Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, there is a scene between Al Pacino and Leonardo di Caprio that explains this.  Pacino plays a director to Caprio's Rick Dalton who is a fading lead tv star known for playing a heroic character name Jake Cahill on Western series, now is guest starring as bad guys in Western series.  Rick has been offered a lead role in Italy's spaghetti Western movies that he's unsure of accepting.

Marvin Schwarz: You… You always play the bad guy on these (American) shows?

Rick Dalton: Yeah.

Marvin Schwarz: So, and they have a fight scene at the end of them?

Rick Dalton: Well, not… not… not Land of the Giants or F.B.I… but the rest, yeah. Yeah.

Marvin Schwarz: you lose in the fight?

Rick Dalton: Yeah. Yeah, of course.  I’m… I’m the heavy.

Marvin Schwarz: Oooh, That’s an old trick pulled by the networks.

Rick Dalton: *stunned*

Marvin Schwarz: Now, you take (new character) Bingo Martin, for example. Right?  So you got a new guy (actor) like Scott Brown.  You wanna build up his bona fides, right?  So you hire a guy from a canceled show to play the heavy.   Then at the end of the show, when they fight, it’s hero besting heavy.  But what the audience sees… is Bingo Martin whipping Jake Cahill’s ass.

Rick Dalton: *taking it all in*

Marvin Schwarz: You see?  Then next week, it’s Ron Ely.  And next week, it’s Bob Conrad, wearing his tight pants, kicking your ass.

Rick Dalton (in a bit of denial): Yeah.

Marvin Schwarz: Now, in another couple of years, playing punching bag to every swinging dick new to the network, that’s gonna have a psychological effect… on how the audience perceives you.

Rick Dalton: Right.

Marvin Schwarz: So Rick, who’s gonna kick the shit out of you next week? Mannix? The Man from U.N.C.L.E.? The Girl from U.N.C.L.E.? How about Batman and Robin? Ping! Pow! Choom! Zoom! Down goes you, down goes your career as a leading man.

Rick Dalton: *silence*

Marvin Schwarz: Or do you go to Rome and star in Westerns… and win fucking fights?  Ticket, señor?

Cliff Booth (played by Brad Pitt): All right....... What’s the matter, partner?

Rick Dalton: Well… it’s official, old buddy. I’m a has-been.

Cliff Booth: What are you talking about?  What did that guy tell you?

Rick Dalton: He told me the goddamn truth, is what he told me.

Ever wonder why most action stars like Dwayne the Rock Johnson have in their contract that their characters never lose fights on screen? Because they don't want to even give audience the chance to have a subconscious idea that they're not lead stars.

#hollywood

[hollyhomburg]

No is I am crying about the packs pups and how adorable they all are. Though to be fair it’s been a crying evening

okay but i do wanna talk about the packs two girl pups, the older alpha one (who i picture with the prettiest red hair for some reason) and the younger little omega one- whose blonde and curly haired like i was when i was little, and how the older one would be all skinned knees and sneakers until it came to dress up with the youngest and tae- like please imagine the little one being so excited to try on her big sister's baseball caps and the older one all the way up in a tree wearing a giant tutu getting it muddy- but then when she comes down they all get muddy and grimey makeing mudpies in the front lawn (jk lowkey hoses them down before letting them inside for some very thurough grooming and scenting) in my mind they are pretty different personality wise but they're very very close.

i think when the older one leaves for college she gives the younger one her pink pocket knife and maybe a pink baseball cap to match hers but backing up a bit- maybe when they're younger- around 11 and 6- the older one convinces the younger that something is safe when it isn't, accidentally leading to the younger one getting hurt- like a broken wrist or something,

And it's not that the others suspect that the older sister pushed the younger or encouraged her to do something that would deliberatly get her hurt- that just is their first reaction since they do tend to bicker alot and clash- but any doubt that they had in their mind is quickly extinquished when the older one sobs louder than they've ever heard her- which is suprising, different than they've come to expect from their stoney minded oldest girl.

like this is the same kid who has fallen 10 feet down from a tree without even batting an eye- who straight up got bitten by a neighborhood dog and laughed- an alpha girl that for all intents and purposes- is probably the toughest alpha in the family- they always joke that she has too much wolf in her- always walking barefoot and getting knots in her hair.

Who is now crying over their little siblings broken arm. sobbing big big tears and hiding her face, crying out "i'm the worst alpha in the whole world!!!" and of course she's quickly scooped up and shushed and comforted by the others- especially jin and the m/c who all but scent her silly and reassure her that they are not angry with her at all- that things happened and next time everyone just has to be careful-

and it's mostly fixed when the younger one comes back in namjoon's arms, yoongi close behind- and the little one is really okay! she's got wet cheeks and her face is tucked into namjoon's neck but she excitedly asks their older sister if they want a lolly pop too! because the really really really nice nurse gave her a whole lapfull of them for being brave and she got one for everyone!!! but her older sister gets two!!! and could she be the first one to sign her cast?

and maybe the older one asks her "why did you get it green instead of pink? thats your favorite color" and the little one is all shy but so happy because she got it in her older siblings favorite color instead, because pink and green are the same color as watermellon and really- watermellon is like the best best food so (in my mind- the littlest pup inherits the m/c's penchant for food really- please imagine her walking around with a little chubby belly the way that little kids walk, she's very food obsessed in like- the best most healthy way)

i know i said that i didn't have names in mind for them- and i know they're not traditional korean names but i do think that maybe the pups get korean names and american names because jin and namjoon would probably want to make sure they all could speak and write it. in my mind- the older sisters name is Magnolia (maggie for short) and the younger one is Lily. imagine if the pack called them "our little flowers" 🥺 i also think that hobi plants a big magnolia tree in their front yard when Magnolia is born and that's the one that she likes to climb so much <3

(i just looked it up and both of these names actually do have a korean equivalent that might fit the sylabic name structure of korean names, someone who speaks korean should chime in! lily in korean is Baeghab and magnolia in korean is Moglyeon)

[maloryinthemiddle]

the other day Erik Per Sullivan was on the screen and the person I'm dating said "oh wait I've seen him before... wasn't he on.... Malcolm?" and I got violent whiplash

#first of all because they're not American #and i for some reason forgot other countries know about the show. stupid me #and bc they can never know my secret #and i didn't know they knew mitm existed #malcolm in the middle #mitm

[ffcrazy15]

Someone needs to do an analysis on the way the Kung Fu Panda movies use old-fashioned vs. modern language ("Panda we meet at last"/"Hey how's it going") and old-fashioned vs. modern settings (forbidden-city-esque palaces/modern-ish Chinese restaurant) to indicate class differences in their characters, and how those class differences create underlying tensions and misunderstandings.

#This is neither a criticism nor a compliment of that artistic choice #I just think it's really interesting #Like even looking at the Five: #Tigress talks in an older style than the others because she was mainly raised at the Jade Palace #While Mantis talks like Joe-schmo off the street because he *was* a streetfighter and an ordinary guy #Shifu and even Tai Lung talk like they're from an old-fashioned novel or kung fu movie #Po talks like a modern guy you'd meet working in a twenty-first century family restaurant #Part of Tigress's initial disdain for him in the first movie is clearly because she considers him to be low-class/a commoner #(And therefore an intruder into the world of the Jade Palace and the rest of the Kung Fu masters which appears to be semi-noble). #Shen looks genuinely off-put and disgusted when he has to respond to Po's greeting with a “...hey.” #And when Po wants to appear more legitimate as a warrior he adopts a more “legendary”/old-fashioned way of speaking. #In the aesthetic language of KFP old fashioned=noble/upper class and modern=common/lower class. #This translates entirely naturally—I think especially to an American audience—but it is wild once you notice it #Because you realize: “Hang on—shouldn't *all* these characters be talking like they're living in the medieval era?” #“And what does it mean that they're not? What is the movie attempting to convey with this—probably entirely subconscious—artistic choice?” #kung fu panda

[natelia-aldelliz]

I wanted to try and find my headcanon of Roach's face because for some reason my brain decided that I couldn't keep writing my fanfic if I didn't know what I wanted him to look like beneath his mask... So obviously the full picture wasn't planned. (Also I went the easy way for the background because I remembered that I wasn't getting paid anyway so why make myself suffer)

I don't know if the design is definitive, but I find him cute. I made him Welsh, because why not. He can bond with Soap over why the fuck do the English exist.

Anyway they're gossiping about someone at the pub like the little shits they are. Also I don't know if it's obvious or not, but Roach has the mask sun-tan line. Ghost does too. Speaking of Ghost, he's on the other side of the table, looking like that :

#cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #soaproach #ghostsoaproach #ghostsoap #soapghost #they each have one dogtag from the other two (they lied about having lost the first pair to get another to have enough) #but they only wear the three when they're not on duty for obvious reasons #also i feel like not enough people know that british dogtags are round and not rectangular like the american ones #soap wears a kilt because kilts are hot and with his shirt it looks kinda punk i think #thistles are the flower of scotland btw (and one of my favourite flowers they're so pretty) #the piercings also don't stay on when they're on duty because of the risk of injury #ghost isn't listening to the conversation at all - there's too much noise to focus anyway and his bfs are way too pretty #my headcanon about roach is that he's not completely mute (after all he talks when he appears in the comics) #but he still goes non-verbal when he's overwhelmed or with people he doesn't like (out of spite) so he knows bsl #sorry if the text and the tags are a mess i can't remember the last time i slept #roach's hair is styled because they're on a date - it's usually a mess he has constant bed hair #look at that i remembered how to draw i'd be proud if i wasn't barely there lmaoo #it's my first time drawing burn scars but i think it's recognisable? maybe? #my phone makes it look way more yellow than my computer and i don't know which one is wrong so rip lmao too bad

[piosplayhouse]

The test prep curriculum I have to teach tomorrow is just straight us propaganda with a passage that's like "many experts are lamenting American cultural colonization in foreign countries, BUT it causes a lot of economic development and makes the countries modernized so :)". Would love to shake the article writer and ask them to say with their whole chest WHY countries in south america and southeast asia are economically suffering and how us culture specifically having a stronghold there is connected and significant .. would love to know...

#the us will fuck up a perfectly good country's development with imperialism and then swoop back in 20 yrs later when they're completely #destitute like wow look at us helping the poor people : ) #sorry i am passionate about this #I KNOW its just practice standardized testing its all bullshit but this got me so mad because the first paragraph goes into this stuff #about 'tourists will be shocked to see indonesian street vendors selling american clothes! haha!!“ like wow . #i wonder why the us has a cultural foothold in asia. couldnt be because of something that happened in ww2 that starts with a c ends with n #rhymes with jolonization

[itspileofgoodthings]

I mean, you know I love an American aesthetic.

#Miss Americana!!!!!!!!!!!!! #going right for the best tight end of all time (whatever that means) #as her first american boyfriend in years iS SO FUNNY TO ME AND SO TAYLOR #anyway yeah torn between just wanting to treat this in the most adult way possible for me #and trying to see it in its truest light #and also finding the fun in it #because it IS fun to me #whatever gene people have where they're like 'i could never care about a celebrity's personal life' #yeah i don't have that. i have the opposite of that #also i just love romance and the color red and sporting events and gifs and a story #so #the sports/pop star romcom set-up my mind is always dreaming about in the room with us now #but also none of my business and I want everything to be good and right and also just truly not my business! #So in a way (as always): there is nothing to say #Nothing to predict on #nothing to hope (But I like to speak a little anyways as a treat) #alskskskskkskejeje

[calkestis]

.

#listen if you're living in western europe or america or canada or anywhere that's not next to the border of ukraine #and you feel the need to express opinions online about how ukraine's neighbours should handle this conflict just fucking don't #just shut the fuck up #i've seen so many dumb people - some americans some not americans #but all of them way too far away from the conflict #expressing opinions about the fact that russian drones apparently flew above romanian airspace #and how romania is stupid for not acting (as in escalating) #bitch you have no clue how real this war feels here and how real it's been ever since the first refugees arrived in our country #hell even i can't imagine how real it feels for people living 200 metres from the ukrainian border #having drones above their houses every night and knowing one slight military mistake could end their lives #i'm not saying that our authorities should do nothing which they basically are atm because they're some useless pieces of shit #but you and even i living hundreds of km away from the border can't fucking imagine what it's like to have your life on the line #so if you have an opinion just keep it for yourself cause none of us want to read it on the internet

[dracolizardlars]

I was aware there was a popular Minecraft youtuber named "Stampy" but I've just learned that he 1. is from Hampshire, like me (and Wilbur Soot) 2. has TEN MILLION SUBSCRIBERS

and the way I learned these two facts about this yter I've never watched?

A BBC RADIO NEWS REPORT

#draco speaks #probably one of the first british people to get 10mil youtube subs #I can;t think of anyone else. maybe Danisnotonfire? #idk I could be being dense I have this weird 'accent blindness' for youtubers sometimes when I completely fail to notice they're British #because American accent = default for Internet people and British accent = default for IRL people #so my brain doesnt register either as being an accent and I just assume yters are all american

[mrbingley]

this post has me reeling. i am waiting with baited breath for brennan to break the fourth wall as himself. him having a literal self insert via scheherazade would be such a clever and sneaky way of doing so. it would lead to a better reveal rather than “suddenly the characters are talking to brennan himself” it’s “i’ve been here the whole time, as the author of this story yes, but also i have injected myself into the story itself as scheherazade to literally commune with you fictonal characters”. i want a character to roll a natural twenty perception or investigation check or make a nat twenty wisdom save and suddenly notice that every voice here, aside from their party of friends, has a familiarity to it, a certain timbre and cadence, as though every voice is coming from the same throat. how the voice of the stepmother and the wolf and ylfa’s grandmother are all somehow the same and how confusing and conflicting that realization would be. i want pinnochio, the puppet boy who thinks he finally cut himself free, to see strings attached to him still except these ones stretch to a place he cannot see far beyond his world.

#neverafter #SH: Neverafter #J: text #or like the sword of truth protesting at someone's claim of say 'i'm the captain of my fate!' #because they're not. the players are. #based on the first season of the unsleeping city i think brennan kind of likes doing corny reflective stuff (i say this endearingly) #and i can see him doing something of that vein wherein he has the players talk to their characters one on one #a la the players talking to the american dream #one of the morals/feelings that i’m getting from neverafter at the moment is that we in all our complexity and multitudes are unknowable. #no one can know us to our core; know every single element. there are many versions of us that exist in the minds of others and those #versions aren’t more or less real even if that’s what’s realest to them. just b/c a certain perception of you may be the most largely #accepted doesn’t mean that’s you. you are more than what others know even if all that is carried beyond you is #what others know/deign to share.

[pardonmystardust]

.

#the studios don't give a flying fuck what any of us think about Oppenheimer morally #because whether they're selling giddy fascination or righteous anger we're still buying #...speaking as someone who very much bought #it's... not that deep #''its morally grey in a stimulating way!'' ''its american sensationalist propaganda'' ''its voyeuristic and masterbatory'' #my guy it was a pretty chill sunday evening and then i went home lol #this isnt the first time this has been true but it is exhausting #can we.....can we all calm the fuck down

[fantasy-costco]

Family visiting for graduation and when I started a story with 'so I made rice without burning it for the first time' my uncle from the Dominican Republic reached across the table from three people away to high five me

#I lived with him and my aunt for like six months during the pandemic #So I got very used to Dominican and Puerto Rican food from that side of my family #And they unfortunately got very used to my white ass being confused and baffled by rice and plantains for the first couple weeks #Because before I moved here we only visited for Thanksgiving which is a pretty American food centric holiday #Fucking obsessed with tostones now though. Still afraid to try making them #My grandma makes them all the time they're so good