can u imagine sam wilson growing up having to do the captain america challenge every goddamned year in PE and then all of a sudden he’s in his early 30s and he’s in an actual race with actual steve rogers?
u know his inner monologue was half “mmm tight tshirt” and half “twenty years later and this bitch is still making me run???????????????!!!!!”
Sam: come on Sam. You didn’t fail P.E. and you can’t fail now! You WILL outrun this asshole, even if he is fine as hell!
The newest Captain America Challenge video goes out on IG and YouTube, and it starts with Steve in a ridiculous star-adorned tight t-shirt but he doesn’t get more than five words in before the Rock and the Falcon interrupt him and tell him he’s not allowed to issue challenges because he’s *bleep*ing superhuman. And so now it’s the Falcon Challenge, and the Rock is like, “Let’s go to work,”
And Sam and Dwayne do, with Steve cheering in the background. Sam is still going when Dwayne falls on his back, gasping, and there’s Steve’s voice behind the camera asking, “You all right?” and Dwayne is all, “Falcon, y’all. There’s a reason HE’S the superhero, goddamn.”
I’ve been seeing some posts that are basically “fuck Bill Nye he only has a Bachelor’s degree and isn’t a REAL scientist” and like… guys. That’s not what being a science communicator is about. I’m not just talking about Nye here.
Science communication is a whole field of its own. You can be the most brilliant, qualified research scientist on the planet and have no teaching skills whatsoever. The ability to synthesize complex information and then explain it in simple, accessible language is not easy, and the more you know about a subject, the more difficult it is. Making scientific concepts available to the general public is really important work – work that active researchers are rarely able to undertake.
Say what you will about individuals, but please don’t dismiss the entire field of science communication and start parroting conservatives with the “um you should have a Ph.D before you should be allowed to talk about science”. Accuracy is key, obviously, but don’t throw educators under the bus, jfc.
I am not a huge fan of Bill Nye, mostly just because I find his whole “saving the world” schtick grating (which is a matter of personal taste), but at the same time I have been working as a science journalist, science blogger, and science communicator for a number of years, and I only have a bachelor’s degree in anthropology (a “soft science”/”social science,” mind you I specialised in medical anthropology). I started doing this work as a passion project long before I even bothered to go back and finish my degree.
Now, I consult full time for a UN-accredited forestry research institute as a communications specialist. There is a huge need in any scientific research organisation to have people who understand scientific concepts well enough to communicate them to laypeople and “the general public” without being bogged down by the demands of research.
I work with a lot of research scientists who couldn’t write a blog post if their careers depended on it: my role often lies in making their work bloggable so that people without a PhD can read it, or even so people without a PhD can find out about it. Without effective communicators, their important work gets lost in research silos.
I got u fam, but like, sorry not sorry this turned into a piece of my Quest for Representation:
First off, Whiskey is Not Gay
He’s not.
Sure he’s never been in a relationship with a girl, but he’s never met one who interested him enough. He’s not in a rush, and if he ever feels lonely he can always find someone to make out with him at parties.
My son is demiromantic and doesn’t know it. He keeps telling himself he’s not broken, just reserved, and since he has such a hard time connecting with people in general it makes sense to him he’d have a hard time falling in love. Besides, nobody’s just naturally attracted to people they don’t know, right? It’s a thing that develops?
“there’s nothing wrong with me” is like a chant he tells himself when he sees how happy people in love are. He’s scared and he doesn’t know why and he doesn’t want to believe there’s anything wrong with him.
There isn’t. If you don’t like this headcanon plz come into my inbox and fight me personally I will wreck shit. Gray spectrum peeps deserve representation.
Even if he was going to develop feelings for someone, let alone a dude, it wouldn’t be someone like Tango.
Tango is Loud. Tango asks questions and smiles at strangers and isn’t afraid to stand out in a crowd. He’s cheerful and happy and all the things that Whiskey’s dad told him that masculine dudes aren’t supposed to be and usually Whiskey hates those kind of dudes but after a while he grows used to Tango’s questions and his soft annoying smiles start making Whiskey feel warm inside.
Oh god, Whiskey has the biggest panic when he realizes he’s not straight. He’s never really had attraction to someone and when it’s to a guy he’s shocked.
At the same time, he’s never been more relieved. He always assumed he was straightbroken not the kind of person to be in a relationship but he’s just so excited to know that he’ll be able to fall in love and hold hands with someone and wake up to them.
This is not for all gray spectrum peeps, some are 110% content to never be sexually/romantically attracted to people. This is just my cupio ass projecting on Whiskey.
And?? Whiskey has never ben in love before and he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t participate in that whole exploring-your-sexuality in high school thing and he’s never dated anyone before because nobody attracted him and he’s more than a little overwhelmed. He kinda wants the attraction to go away. He has no idea what he’s doing and kinda shuts down around Tango for a while.
Tango notices. He asks questions. Whiskey has no idea what to do.
Does he just tell Tango he’s in love with him? Would that make Tango never want to be around him again? He doesn’t even know whether or not Tango is interested in dudes, and even if he was there’s no way he’d be interested in Whiskey, right?
Ohgodohgodohgod how does romance work?
Whiskey reads a bunch of Cosmo articles trying to figure it out. They don’t help.
He just does his best to use his Chill Exterior to deflect the questions, and for the most part Tango lets it go. But he can’t avoid it forever.
He hangs around the Lax bros a lot because it’s easy to pretend he’s straight and “normal” like he thought he was before Tango.
Even with friends outside of SMH, he can’t avoid Tango, even if he wanted to. They play on the same team.
Also he doesn’t want to. Tango is addictively kind and soft and curious and caring and Whiskey loves it.
He catches himself doing little things to impress Tango. He takes in a stray cat because Tango was worried about it (they name him Foxtrot) and he helps Tango with Physics homework (they’re science gays) and he might be shirtless a little more than strictly necessary.
It all culminates at a kegster. Both he and Tango are just tipsy enough to be giggly and Whiskey really likes the warm press of Tango laughing against him on the toxic couch and he really wants to kiss Tango but before he can even dismiss the thought Tango looks him dead in the eyes and it’s like his entire mind goes blank
He’s got it so bad for this boy
Tango’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet when he asks “Can I kiss you?”
Whiskey barely nods before he leans in and then it’s a perfect, perfect kiss and they make out for the rest of the night before passing out together curled up on the couch.
They go on their first official date the next morning at a Waffle House and they are Very Happy together.
Cross-posted on ao3, but I figured I would post it here in honor of the December tweets showing that my son really is smart!
The beginning of spring semester was somewhat of a blessing. For the whole Samwell hockey team, in retrospect. Ransom, Holster, and Lardo were now in their last semester, and the stress of their final year of college was less daunting. Bitty seemed significantly more relaxed and happy this semester, so whatever had been weighing on him so heavily during the fall had clearly resolved itself. And the new semester was a blessing for Tango, too. His first semester of college was over, it would get warmer soon, his teammates seemed happier…it’s as if a new relaxed atmosphere was there to reassure them that this semester would be a good one.
Tango had worried for a while about Bitty, and wanted to help, seeing as Bitty had been so kind to him and the whole team, but didn’t want to pry. Now, however, seeing him happy and back to the Bitty he met when he first started at Samwell, Tango knew it probably wasn’t his business and that Bitty could take care of himself. And if he couldn’t, his other teammates could, right?
Headcanon or just something I think would be cute or whatever, but not really a fic:
Tango and Whiskey, my boys, being physically affectionate bffs or bfs.
But like, more in private. In public, they’re not much more physical with each other than they are with the others (maybe a few extra shoulder pats or something, but nothing too Noticeable).
When they’re alone together, however, they’re close.
They sit with their shoulders pressed together and maybe watch a movie. Whiskey rests his head on Tango’s shoulder. His forearm lays on Tango’s leg, and Tango will reach over to intertwine their fingers- this gives him something to do with his hands as he fidgets. He lightly squeezes Whiskey’s hand and absentmindedly fiddles with fingers as he chatters about the movie or whatever they’re doing. Whiskey sits and listens, just enjoying the contact.
Sometimes one will lay his head in the other’s lap and have his hair stroked while they vent about their days together. Maybe they both lay down together after a particularly rough day and just enjoy the feeling of being in each others’ arms. They each feel a strong sense of comfort in the other.
Sometimes Whiskey’s really frustrated. He’s more quiet than usual during practice and ices out the rest of his teammates (no pun intended ;p). But, afterwards, he goes to Tango. He doesn’t need to say a word as the two of them leave together to find a quiet place where they can be a lone. Whiskey vents while Tango rubs his back supportively and asks about the problems, asks if there’s anything he can do to help. This helps Whiskey feel like someone’s listening, and helps him think through things.
Other times, it’s Tango with the problems. Perhaps he’s more chatty than usual, or maybe he’s unusually quieter as he wrings his hands and nervously heads into practice. Whiskey puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and is met with a sheepish smile from Tango. When they get to their quiet place, Whiskey immediately allows Tango to take hold of his hands to hold onto and fidget with while he spills his worries. Whiskey doesn’t say much, but does offer advice or at least a few sympathetic lines of “that sounds really shitty.” Sometimes after, he’ll lean forward and press a chaste kiss to Tango’s forehead (the nature of the kiss depending on their relationship with each other). It works for them.
Rating: T (with maybe a bit of M at the end it depends on the type of person you are)
A Twango fic ft. Whiskey’s inner monologue, a blindfold that might be jock strap, and the magical Haus basement where dreams come true
_X_
“Tadpoles, this evening you partake in the most sacred of hockey rituals. Hazeapalooza bonds us in the Samwell brotherhood. Tonight you Taddies will crawl onto the shores of manhood naked, blindfolded, and– oh lord– bitch ass shit faced.” Bitty squinted at the index card in front of him, struggling to read aloud the rest of Shitty’s speech. “I’m sorry boys, I’ve had one too many beers tonight to pretend that I can read Shitty’s handwriting. The rest here is just chicken scratch. I’m gonna cut the spiel a little short.” Bitty conceded.
“Basically, we’re gonna walk y’all back to the house with blindfolds and we’re gonna make you drink a lot. Rans? Holtz? Do you guys wanna take it from here?” Bitty stepped away from center ice to begin distributing slices of pie, and the two captains proudly took his place.
Ransom puffs out his chest and looks confidently over the cluster of kneeling tadpoles, “Gladly, Bits. Now Listen up Taddies, ‘cause me and Holtzy are about to teach you fools a lesson on personal limits and knowing when to say no…”
just moving along like everyone else 