#but i don’t want them all to have Generic American Accent with the exception of bitty being mildly southern | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deathbypixelz · 1 year ago

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OOOOO excellent question thank you :) I’m gonna address your whole post and not just the final question because uhh I want to. And I haven’t given this specific concept much thought yet, so I’ll sorta be working it out as I go!

I’d like to preface this with the fact that I’m neither a linguist nor a heavy Nightborne player (I read their wiki page before writing this to try and account for that). But I do have some surface-level language knowledge and a lot of imagination <3

My general headcanon (which seems to align with yours) when it comes to the elvish languages is that they still evolve, just a lot slower than irl human languages since generally their speakers are sticking around for a lot longer. Even still, your own vocabulary changes as you age, and new experiences or discoveries require new words to describe them. Events happen that change the meaning of a word, or a word falls out of fashion. That sort of thing.

Additionally, I headcanon older individuals that have actually been around for anywhere near 10,000 years are extremely rare. You either have to be incredibly lucky or incredibly good at killing things that want to kill you to stick around that long. Even though disease wasn’t a factor until recently, accidents and being in the wrong place at the wrong time are still real threats lol. People like Tyrande and Shandris and Elisande are the exception. So even though they’re around and kinda slowing down the language’s evolution as a result, most elves are comparably young whippersnappers coming up with new slang with wild abandon (to put it one way lol). I believe in irl ye olden Europe there were “upper class” and “lower class” language divides of a sort, as a result of the monarchies, but Tyrande dooooesn’t seem like the type to enforce something like that, so I have to assume she’s got input on education and therefore keeps the language relatively constant that way. But there’s always gonna be punks and rebels who are 2 kool 4 skool, and folks out in the sticks who don’t have access to the fancy colleges (or college-equivalents) you’d find in Darnassus or on Mt. Hyjal. I headcanon education is free because *cries in American* but there’s still geography to account for. This means there are still regional dialects and accents, and the same is true of Shalassian (even though Suramar is just one city, London is also just one city, and you can find a couple different accents within it iirc).

So with ALL that in mind, I do still think there’s a noticeable divide between Darnassian and Shalassian, though not to an extreme extent. I actually have a Kalassian in my AU too, although in my version Kalassian is the “original” elvish language, and the most closely related to Zandali. As for Darnassian’s name, as I said I did make Teldrassil way older (like at least 5,000 years old, although I haven’t felt a need to pinpoint an age just yet), and therefore so is Darnassus. My version of events goes like this (timeline not to scale):

[image ID: a rough timeline showing Kalassian evolving from Zandali, which then evolved into Darnassian and Shalassian after The Sundering. Darnassus is founded and named some time after this split.]

I choose to go the route of swapping the order of Darnassus’ founding and Darnassian’s naming. It makes a bit more sense in my mind, and makes Darnassian’s naming seem less spur-of-the-moment.

So, considering the shal’dorei have canonically been keeping the culture of the Kaldorei Empire fairly preserved all this time (like, I think that’s supposed to be their whole “point”), and that they’ve all been pretty protected from danger in their bubble, I would say Shalassian is a relatively slight deviation from the original Kalassian. It’s not quite the same, because even in a bubble events will happen and people will die and new people will be born and whatnot, but it’s pretty darn close. If anything, Darnassian has split more, because even during the Long Vigil the kaldorei were still part of the overall Kalimdor ecosystem as it were. They probably picked up some words from Taurahe, Zandali, and maybe even the furbolg (with heavy modification lol) and centaur. I figure dryads and keepers of the grove speak a different language too, and words and terms from that have also creeped in.

So my answer to your question, FINALLY, is that yes, I agree they’re not mutually incomprehensible, but you can still tell they’re different languages. Some words that mean one thing in one language mean something different in the other, some words have had minor modifications (compare “ein bisschen” and “ein bisschle”, in German and Swiss German respectively, which both mean “a little bit”), and some words in one language just don’t have a translation in the other. I don’t know enough about irl languages to give a real-world comparison, but they’re similar enough that a Darnassian and Shalassian speaker could have a conversation if they’re very intentional with their word choice. You’ll be losing language-specific metaphors and turns of phrase, so it would be a very literal conversation, but a conversation nonetheless. A Darnassian historian who studies Kalassian would have an easier time. Compare a situation where a Darnassian and a Thalassian speaker try to have a conversation; it’d be like an English and a Spanish speaker trying to do so. You can tell some of the root words are there, but you’re not gonna get very far lol. (English is also just a really fucked-up language, it’s like four different languages held together with elmer’s glue and a lot of faith)

When it comes to culture and religion, I’m gonna lean on canon here and say the shal’dorei are still closer to the culture of the (highborne of the) Kaldorei Empire than the kaldorei themselves. Concerned with status and station and not so much the rest of the world. Which makes sense, I mean they believed they were the only ones left for 10,000 years, I imagine that starts getting to your head. (Funnily enough that actually makes them more similar to the drow of D&D that heavily inspired the kaldorei to begin with. The drow have very discrete social statuses and are super concerned with their station, whereas the kaldorei aren’t. Although in some old night elf quests I believe you can still find references to social station, so that’s a fun tidbit.) Anyway, I’m sure the shal’dorei have folk stories of adventurous people leaving the bubble, sailing the endless ocean beyond, and finding islands made of gold or something with that sort of vibe. Every shal’dorei knows them, but a kaldorei will look at a statue of them and be like “???? who the fuck.” It’s those kinds of things that add up to create a new culture, even when you’re trapped in a bubble and THINK you’re preserving your old culture. And some of those characters might’ve been real at one point, but have faded into myth and legend. No one remembers! Even the older individuals can’t remember everything. That’s why Kalassian is a dead language now.

And when it comes to religion, while I think it makes sense they wouldn’t worship/center as much of their society around Elune like the kaldorei do, with how I characterize Elune in my AU, I think she’d still make an attempt to “keep in touch” with willing shal’dorei. There are still Elune worshippers, their worship just looks different to the kaldorei’s. Prioritizing different things, interpreting things differently, etc. And it wouldn’t be nearly as widespread either, especially considering the bubble they were in was opaque so they couldn’t even see the moons. Some worship or least awareness of the Wild Gods is probably lingering around too. But ultimately shal’dorei culture is centered around arcane magic and the Nightwell, and something as physically close and tangible as that is gonna take precedence for the majority of folks.

LASTLY, I do think it’s reasonable that the shal’dorei would want to lend some aid to the kaldorei after secession. I hadn’t considered that, so thanks for pointing it out to me. I do recall Tyrande, like, aggressively shit-talking Thalyssra or someone to their face when they expressed interest in joining the Alliance??? Which just doesn’t feel right to me. I know Blizzard needed some in-universe reason to have them join the Horde, but they so often make Tyrande this very impulsive person and it doesn’t make sense for someone who’s been successfully leading an entire nation for thousands of years. Her relative impulsivity and aggressiveness post-Teldrassil makes sense. That’s a normal and justified reaction. But before that, no, not really. So instead I’m going to take something from the wiki, and that’s this line: “[Thalyssra] found the Alliance too walled off and cloistered, and didn't want her people to ‘endure such stagnation again.’” Which honestly Tyrande would agree with! She and many kaldorei didn’t really like the Alliance to begin with! The Alliance literally destroyed/colonized just as much of their land during the Third War as the Horde! They were part of it during Legion because at that point they still believed the pros outweighed the cons.

So I’m going to say the shal’dorei joined the Horde solely because of Thalyssra’s above reasoning, not because Tyrande turned around after helping their rebellion and said they’re a disgrace or whatever she said (I don’t know what the exact dialogue was). Which would create an at least non-hostile starting relationship, and I can imagine Thalyssra wanting to give aid as thanks, once it’s no longer a political no-no. Tyrande (and Malfurion and Shandris) could still have some reservations about the shal’dorei, since they specifically do remember the pre-Sundering days and how much they did not like living in the Empire. But such long-lived leaders must’ve learned at some point you have to be willing to forget past biases and look at things as they are now, so some trade and migration between northern Kalimdor and Suramar makes sense to me.

TL;DR, in my AU Kalassian is the original elvish language that evolved from Zandali, and Darnassian and Shalassian evolved from that. The kaldorei, having an entire continent and multiple other races to interact with, have a language that’s actually more different from Kalassian than Shalassian is, because the shal’dorei really only had themselves to talk to. But they’re still similar enough, given the relatively slow rate of change for elvish languages, to not be an impenetrable language barrier. Learning the other language makes communication way easier, of course, but you can still make do without doing so. Culture-wise, the divide is stronger, and the same goes for religion. And post-secession, with some modification to the events of Legion, it makes sense for a new, beneficial relationship to develop between Suramar and the kaldorei nation. Suramar is a lot farther away than Mulgore and the Azuremyst Isles, but more allies who actually give a shit about you is typically a good thing.

Hello! I saw the caption "night elf secession au go brr" and desperately want to know more. If you don't have a post somewhere I didn't see (sorry if I missed it) would you feel up to sharing at some point?

I don’t already have a full post about it anywhere because I’m constantly in the process of adding finer details. I made an “adjusted timeline” post on my deathbydarkelves sideblog a while ago, but that’s old by now and I’ve changed some things around. Even so, I will not lie, I have been WAITING for someone to ask me about it >:) so *cracks my knuckles* guess it’s time to make that post.

(GIGANTIC info dump incoming)

The basic things to know about this AU are 1.) Shadowlands never happens (my dislike of SL was actually what inspired me to make this AU in the first place), and 2.) the timeline is stretched out so things happen at a slightly more reasonable pace. In the canon timeline, all of the expansions (minus Dragonflight ofc) happen right after each other and each take place over 1-2 years, which is silly in my opinion. I did leave some of them alone length-wise, sometimes 1-2 years is fine, but almost all of the expansions now have a few years in between. Breathing room is good to have if you ask me. Oh also the N’Zoth/Azshara stuff doesn’t happen during the Fourth War, that’ll happen somewhere later down the line. But that’s not the main point…

Everything up until the middle/end of the Fourth War is pretty much the same, except for the aforementioned lengthening of the timeline. Teldrassil happens in 45 ADP, whereas in the game it’s 33 ADP, for example. So Teldrassil burns, the war happens in basically the same way it does in canon, and it ends with the mak’gora outside Orgrimmar (in 47 ADP). Then the actual changes begin.

Maiev joins Tyrande to track down Sylvanas, and Malfurion takes Tyrande’s place as a temporary leader for the night elves (aided by Shandris). Then for 5 or 6 years, really not much happens. Things are… fine on Kalimdor. Mt. Hyjal sorta becomes the new population center for the night elves (and handful of worgen) who stayed, and rebuilding efforts are definitely underway. But they don’t have the resources or the ships to bring all the refugees back. A portal that could support that many people would be far too demanding and risky to use.

(Note: I changed how portals work slightly to make them less OP, and in a nutshell, you can only make portals at specific points on Azeroth, specifically where natural ley lines connect. If you want a bigger portal, or one independent from ley lines, you either need an outside power source (see: the Dark Portal) or you need to be on top of a gigantic web of interconnecting ley lines. Some places have more ley lines than others (example: Suramar). Also it takes a lot of a mage’s energy to keep a portal of any size open for very long. They opened portals to Stormwind during the burning of Teldrassil, but only because it was such a bad situation; portals that go across such a long distance are very unstable and very expensive to both conjure and maintain. They also could only create them in specific places, which is why they couldn't get nearly as many people out as they would've liked :c)

So, with no way to bring them back, the refugees have just got to stay in Stormwind City and Elwynn. It’s rough; very few of the night elves speak Human (I renamed Common because I don’t like the undertones with that name), and the Stormwind government is being pretty laissez-faire about the whole thing. They have to worry about helping Kul Tiras and Stromgarde so they can rebuild, after all :) Building new ships and collecting all the supplies for the months-long voyage to Kalimdor is too expensive, the government says. But it'll happen, definitely, don't worry. It'll definitely happen. Eventually.

So night elf-Alliance relations decay. Stormwindians are tired of having homeless elves on their streets, the elves are tired of being homeless. There’s he-said-she-said stories of humble, hard-working humans being robbed at night by elves on the brink of starvation, and there are she-said-he-said stories of humans setting fire to tents on the edges of their property to scare off humble, hard-working elves just trying to find a place to live. In not so many words: animosity grows. This isn’t out of the blue; historically (even in canon), the other races of the Alliance haven’t really done much for the night elves except for when they helped push the orcs out of Ashenvale all the way back during the Third War (which was 30 years ago at this point). They’ve really just used them for an extra source of soldiers. The “deterrence from Horde attack” benefit the night elves were promised back then was proven false with Teldrassil, and that’s not to speak of smaller skirmishes that had happened every now and then even before the Fourth War. If anything, being part of the Alliance made the night elves a target. Sylvanas burned Teldrassil to provoke the Alliance into a war (note: I am still working on her exact motivations, since I deleted the Jailer and that weird thing with Elune because um??? no?????). Logically, if they hadn’t been a part of the Alliance, they would’ve probably been left alone. And that’s the realization Tyrande comes to, after tracking Sylvanas down in Northrend — where she and her closest followers had decided to hide out until things calmed down — and killing her.

Then she and Maiev return from their 6 or 7 year-long journey, and Tyrande is outraged at the way her people have been treated. Malfurion had also been made aware in the intervening time, and he’d started showing the Alliance that even though he didn’t have as much executive power as Tyrande, he could still rock the boat as it were. After the requests he made directly of Anduin and other Alliance leaders to give the refugees at least, like, a little support were either half-fulfilled or not at all, he basically starts a mild trade war. This was a pretty controversial move even among the night elves, but there wasn’t much else he could do. But during the Long Vigil, the night elves had perfected the art of being self-sufficient, and it definitely hurt the Eastern Kingdoms more than it hurt them. So with that set into motion, and Tyrande’s mind made up, she returns to her place as High Priestess and diverts every available resource into finally bringing the refugees home. It’s a very slow process, and relations continue to decay as it happens. But eventually everyone who wants to go back to Kalimdor does. A portion of worgen stay, and even some night elves who had their own reasons. But the majority do go back.

Then, after negotiating borders with the (now much more diplomatic) Horde, Tyrande cuts off ties with the Alliance. Relations had been iffy at best ever since they joined — their alliance had been built on “enemy of my enemy”, after all — but the other nations showed their true colors during and after the Fourth War. The Alliance’s High King himself had failed to send troops to help reclaim Darkshore when he had very clearly shown he was more than willing to send soldiers to Arathi, Lordaeron, and Kul Tiras. And again, the whole “if we hadn’t been a part of the Alliance, Sylvanas wouldn’t have seen us as a target” thing. So, with Darkshore, Moonglade, Winterspring, Felwood, Mount Hyjal, most of Ashenvale, and portions of Stonetalon now within their control again, the night elves settle into another period of isolation. It’s not quite a second Long Vigil — there’s some trade/interaction with the draenei (due to proximity and shared trauma) and tauren (due to shared values) — but all in all, they’re on their own now. Relations with the Horde aren’t good per se, but both sides are willing to agree on a “if you don’t fuck with us, we won’t fuck with you” policy. They both want to avoid anything like Teldrassil ever happening again, and that’s ultimately what allows northern Kalimdor to exist in relative peace.

I don’t have quite so many details decided after this point, but I do still have a general idea. Dragonflight happens about ten or fifteen years-ish after the night elves secede, and since they’re still keeping an eye on the other factions and the world in general with magic, spies, and magic spies, they decide to send their own expedition to the Dragon Isles. They keep to their own, and any accidental interactions with Alliance adventurers are tense at best. We’ll have to see how this expansion plays out, but I intend on using the dragons (specifically the Aspects) to fix the sword in Silithus somehow. It’s definitely still a big problem, and it’s been causing climate change-like effects this entire time (unpredictable and extreme weather events globally) as well as its own unique, “fun” issues (weird tectonic anomalies, the elements are extremely agitated, and azerite is still a thing people fight over). I actually already had the “elements are cranky” idea before that was revealed to be a thing in Dragonflight, so I’m glad that lined up because that saves me some work lmao.

(Also just wanted to say that a lot of night elves see azerite as the reason for the Fourth War and, by extension, Teldrassil. They want absolutely nothing to do with it.)

I’m also considering putting a version of the N’Zoth and Azshara story around there, when the sword is removed, since I figure such a big disturbance to Azeroth would be enough to wake up an Old God. But that’s for later down the line and it depends on whether that would clutter the story too much or not. Either way, after whatever’s gonna happen in Dragonflight (or rather, how much of it I decide to keep) and after the sword is fixed, the night elves are gonna stick to their own unless there’s a dire need for them to leave Kalimdor. They’re tired, man. They need time to rebuild, and to heal.

However, I do have concepts for a little Alliance-night elf conflict that could crop up at some point. The Horde may have agreed to leave the night elves alone, but the Alliance are imperialists. And aren’t too happy that they were, in their eyes, betrayed by a long-time ally…

So yeah! That’s my night elf secession AU. It’s extremely self-indulgent and a lot of fun to explore for me. WoW really has not given the night elves a lot of opportunities to be the badass mysterious amazon nation they are in Warcraft III, so I wanted to bring that back while also preserving some of what WoW DID add to their story, because I really do think Teldrassil is such a good jumping-off point for a huge shift in the overall Warcraft narrative... as much as it hurts me and as much as I am genuinely incapable of watching the Warbringers: Sylvanas or Old Soldier cinematics anymore. Night elves have meant a lot to me for a very long time and stories of people going through hell and still coming out okay on the other side are my favorite stories, so I want to tell my own.

I’m also open to more questions about this AU, I have a lot of little things I changed both in regards to things like how magic works and minor lore changes, like how I made Teldrassil at least a couple thousand years old, as opposed to the 15 (or so) years it had existed in canon before it was burned. They only planted it after the Third War. You can check. It’s extremely stupid and everyone ignores that little detail so I will too <3

Anyway, thank you so much for asking, I’ve been dying to share all this and I didn’t realize that until you asked JHNDJSKJ

#au lore #i spent almost three hours writing this SDHGFCNJSDHG #oh yeah and obviously this isn't me being like 'NO you're WRONG >:(' this is just my take on things

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thebibliosphere · 4 years ago

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So some people are @’ing me (sorry, inbox is still closed and my IMs are a Nightmare atm so I’m largely avoiding them while I try to work) wanting to know how the Scots Wiki thing could have gone on for so long without anyone noticing, and tbh, there’s several factors at play here.

One, Scots is a marginalized language (and I will not argue this point. It is a language, not a dialect of English. If you’re going to argue this with me then save yourself some time and fuck off now.) that is primarily spoken, so it doesn’t surprise me that people didn’t even realize the website was a thing. We’re not used to seeing our language written down, and those of us who are, only ever see it at academic levels. Or y’know, Scottish Twitter. There’s also issues regarding dialect, and how there’s not one true form of Scots, so wrangling a project like Scots Wiki would require massive effort on behalf of people who both know it, and are technologically savy enough and have the time to do so. Which is where point two comes in.

Namely that up until recently, Scots was not a part of any official curriculum. We were banned from speaking it in my school, and often told to “speak properly” if we lapsed too far away from Queens English. Scottish Literature only became a thing when I was in my final year of high school (15 years ago), and even then it was an elective and not compulsory. You could choose to study your own language in your own country if you wanted to. But the only books you could read were things like Robert Louis Stevenson and Rabbie Burns. Hardly conducive to the study of contemporary Scots as a living language. I only actually got to study it linguistically when I was in my second year of university and opted to take it as an extra class, and the department was constantly underfunded and struggling. They still are.

My parents were certainly never allowed to study it, and while I was merely scolded for sounding “uneducated” by my teachers if I used Scots words in the classroom, my dad tells stories about corporal punishment being doled out to instill a sense of fear around using it instead of “Proper English”. So while I still spoke Scots at home with my family and friends, there was also a deep sense of shame about it. I was sent for elocution lessons, partly for a mild stutter, but also to make me sound more British. Because my parents knew, they knew if I wanted to get ahead in the workforce I needed to sound less like myself and more “proper”. And I didn’t really realize how right they were till I got a job working at an English based publisher who were surprised to find out I was Scottish. Apparently I “sounded much smarter than that”.

And the microaggressions didn’t end there. It came out in the form of things like “you’re surprisingly thin, I thought all Scottish people ate deep fried mars bars” or making jokes about Scottish money being fake so they could pay me in monopoly money if they wanted to. (Legal tender discourse explained.) They used to refer to me in the office as “the smart” or “civilized Scot”. Usually before they laughed and handed me off to some American writer who needed help unpicking the mess they’d made of their Scottish dialogue. And I would smile and nod and grit my teeth, because it was that or make a fuss and potentially risk losing the only career job I’d managed to get because they made it clear over and over, there were plenty of people who could do my job.

Except there isn’t, not really. Oh there’s plenty of folk who speak it and could have a fair crack at it. But there’s not many actual Scots Linguists. Certainly not enough to save a language. I don’t even qualify as one. I just studied it for two years out of sheer interest. So things like the Wiki project rely not only volunteers, but on people being aware of it. And as mentioned, there’s very good reasons for Scottish people to either not know it existed, or to not want to be associated with it. The Scottish Cringe is very real. And it’s the end result of generations of cultural death and the insidious mantra: “speak properly” repeated over and over again until part of you believes it. I still code switch if I need to do something like talk to the bank or talk to a client. I tell myself it’s because I’m living in America and I want to be understood. But I did it before I moved here. I did it while living in Scotland, because I knew having the “proper” accent helped.

So yeah, the idea of a brony destroying a Scots based wiki with nonsensical gibberish sounds funny. But only until you realize it’s part of a broader problem rooted in systemic cultural and class warfare. It’s also why it’s no very funny when people post things like “what language is that LOL” under Scottish media, because the answer is Scots. And it’s dying.

Edit: I also shouldn’t need to say this, but seen as how this is tumblr and we are in Hell: if any of you take this post and use it to play oppression Olympics with Black and marginalized people I will manifest in your home like snakes, rip your spine out through your toes and beat you to death with it. Our history of oppression does not negate the harm we do. If anything it means we ought to know better, and the fact that we don’t is beyond reprehensible.

#scots language #long post #language #linguistics #white supremacists stay away from this post and die challenge 2k20 #I'd rather my culture died than let you have it

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nevermindirah · 3 years ago

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Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

#nile freeman #linguistics #TOG POC Love Fest #nileweek2021 #tog meta #tog #long post #mine #antiblackness #jewish things #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it

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icestarphoenix · 2 years ago

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General Headcanons (fleshing out the world kinda)

States will sometimes be paid to appear in advertisements for company PR. For example, Oregon gets a lot of nice stuff from Nike and appears in ads for them.

Whenever Monopoly comes out for game night, states often over-price properties for states to get the cards with their names on them when making trade deals.

California, New York, Oregon, Massachusetts, Hawaii, and Alaska (Hawaii roped him into it) all played a session of Insane Monopoly on Tabletop Simulator once. That session lasted a full 12 hours straight, no sleep or breaks. Everyone was too stubborn to quit.

There are low effort 3AM horror videos about the states. They love laughing and cringing at the terrible accents, bad acting, and awful costuming.

(ALLIGATORS?!) SUMMONING FLORIDA AT 3AM (ACTUALLY WORKED!!1) *GONE WRONG!!* did go viral because Florida really did show up after one of the Youtubers accidentally stumbled onto his real call.

Florida thought it’d be funny so he appeared, non-scriptedly scared the ever-loving hell out of them through various hijinks, and then dipped. Swamp cats may or may not have gotten involved.

A lot of commentary channels cite that video as the gold standard of 3AM horror content with how real it seemed, how the Youtubers actually had fairly decent acting, and the high production value. The fact that they had two Florida actors, with one being obviously fake and the other one looking so real, made it that much more believable. Bravo to them.

There are philosophical discussions about what exactly personifications are and what their purpose is. Are they angels sent from heaven to serve His children? Are they evil spirits that spread discord through promoting divisions in humanity? Are they themselves gods that draw strength from their people?

Personifications don’t really know themselves. They all have different answers depending on their cultures and beliefs. Though one thing remains basically the same: they exist, they represent communities, and they live their lives.

There are humans who try to fake being personifications for the clout and benefits. These usually get revealed pretty quickly. One time, a person claimed he was Virginia State on live television, to which the real Virginia State teleported behind him and silently tapped his shoulder.

There are definitely humans who believe that personifications aren’t real. They often claim that personifications are propaganda from the government, actors for marketing stunts, or straight up just surveillance androids. Conspiracy theorists will come up with anything despite the fact that personifications have been around for as long as human society.

Some groups will want a personification in order to give themselves more legitimacy. Sort of like “Look! We have a personification representing us! That means our community is real!” They might try getting one by attempting to force one into existence (which doesn’t work), convincing a pre-existing personification to pretend to be theirs, or faking the existence of one.

Mentioned before:

Personifications are forbidden from holding any world records (even for ones who don’t reach superhuman physicality), except for personification specific records. Any sort of achievement is chalked up to “supernatural stuff,” and therefore it’s considered unfair for human competitors.

All the American personifications are recorded and cataloged by the federal government in the National Personification List (NPL). (name still subject to change lmao)

(New stuff anyway) Since they can sense each other, personifications are prompted to report newly existing ones to be identified, recorded and sometimes detained. This is more of a modern procedure, so there are still some unrecorded personifications running around. The big ones have basically all been catalogued through.

The process involves FBI calling the newbie to an unspecified location so that they can’t teleport away. Then a background check is conducted in order to gauge what community they represent and its safety to national security.

If they’re considered safe, they’re given a brief rundown on and given some starting stuff like IDs, clothing and some cash. If the personification represents a group that FBI feels could compromise national security, then they’re detained at that facility.

#welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #ben brainard #wttt #wttsh #headcanons

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blackstarising · 3 years ago

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coming back to this post i made again to elaborate - especially as the ted lasso fandom is discussing sam/rebecca and fandom racism in general. there are takes that are important to make that i had failed to previously, but there's also a growing amount of takes that i have to, As A Black Person™, respectfully disagree with.

tl;dr for the essay below sam being infantilized and the sam/rebecca relationship are not the same issue and discussing the former one doesn't mean excusing the latter. and we've reached the glen of the Dark Forest where we sit down and talk about fandom racism.

i should have elaborated this in my last post about sam/rebecca, but i didn't. i'll say it now - i personally don't support sam and rebecca getting together for real. i believe what people are saying is entirely correct, even though sam is an adult legally, he and rebecca are, at the very least, two wildly different stages of life. for americans, he's at the equivalent of being a junior in college. there are things he hasn't gotten the chance to experience and there are areas he needs to grow in. when i was younger, i didn't understand the significance of these age gaps, i just thought it would be fine if it was legal, but as someone who is now a little older than sam in universe, i understand fully. we can't downplay this. whether or not you think sam works for rebecca or not, even despite the gender inversion of the Older Man Younger Woman trope, whether or not he is a legal adult, i don't think at this point in time, their relationship would work. i think it's an interesting narrative device, but i don't want to see it play out in reality.

that being said!

what's worrying me is that two discussions are being conflated here that shouldn't be. sam having agency and being a little more grown™ than he's perceived to be does not suddenly make his relationship with rebecca justified. i had decided to bring it up because sam was being brought into the spotlight again and i was starting to realizing that his infantilization was more common than i felt comfortable with.

sam's infantilization (and i will continue to call it that), is a microaggression. it's is in the range of microaggressions that i would categorize as 'fandom overcompensation'. we have a prominent character of color that exhibits traits that aren't stereotypical, and we don't want to appear racist or stereotypical, so we lean hard in the other direction. they're not aggressive, they're a Sweet Baby, they're not world weary, they're now a little naive. they're not cold and distant, they're so nice and sweet that there's no one that wouldn't want approach them, and yeah, on their face, these new traits are a departure and, on their face, they seem they look really good.

but at a certain point, it reaches an inflection point, and, like the aftertaste of a diet coke, that alleged sweetness veers into something a lot less sweet. it veers into a lack of agency for the character. it veers into an innocence that appears to indicate that the person can't even take care of themselves. it veers into a one-dimensional characterization that doesn't allow for any depth or negative emotion.

it's not kind anymore. it's not a nice departure from negative stereotypes. it's not compensating for anything.

it's patronizing.

it is important that we emphasize that characters of color are more than the toxic stereotypes we lay on them, yes, but we make a mistake in thinking that the solution is overcorrection. for one thing, people of color can usually tell. don't get it twisted, it's actually pretty obvious. for another, it just shifts from one dimension to another. people of color are still supposed to be Only One Character Trait while white people can contain multitudes. ted, who is pretty much as pollyanna as they come, can be at once innocent and naive and deep and troubled and funny and scared. jamie can be a prick and sexy and also lonely and also a victim of abuse. sam, however, even though he was bullied (by jamie, no less), is thousands of miles away from home, and has led a protest on his team, is usually just characterized as human sunshine with much less acknowledgement of any other traits beyond that.

and that's why i cringe when fandom calls sam a Sweet Baby Boy without any sense of irony. is that all we're taking away? after all this time? even for a comedy, sam has received a substantive of screen time over two whole seasons, and we've seen a range of emotions from him. so as a black person it's hurtful that it's boiled down to Sweet Baby Boy.

that's the problem. we need to subvert stereotypes, but more importantly, we need to understand that people of color are not props, or pieces of cardboard for their white counterparts. they are full and actualized and have agency in their own right and they can have other emotions than Angry and Mean or Sweet and Bubbly without any nuance between the two. i think the show actually does a relatively good job of giving sam depth (relatively, always room for improvement, mind you), especially holding it in tension with his youth, but the fandom, i worry, does not.

it's the same reason why finn from star wars started out as the next male protagonist in the sequel trilogy but by the third movie was just running around yelling for REY!! it's the same reason why when people make Phase 4 Is the Phase For Therapy gifsets for the mcu and show wanda maximoff, loki, and bucky barnes crying and being sad but purposefully exclude sam wilson who had an entire show to tell us how difficult his life is, because people find out if pee oh sees are also complex, they'll tell the church.

and the reason why i picked up on this very early on is because i am an organic, certified fresh, 100% homegrown, non-gmo, a little ashy, indigenous sub saharan African black person. the ghanaian tribes i'm descended from have told me so, my black ass parents have told me so, and the nurses at the hospital in [insert asian country here] that started freaking out about how curly my hair was as my mother was mid pushing me out told me so!

and this stuff has real life implications. listen: being patronized as a black person sucks. do you know how many times i was patted on the back for doing quite honestly, the bare minimum in school? do you know how many times i was told how 'well spoken' or 'eloquent' i was because i just happen to have a white accent or use three syllable words? do you know how many times i've been cooed over by white women who couldn't get over how sweet i was just because i wasn't confrontational or rude like they wrongly expected me to be?

that's why they're called microaggressions. it's not a cross on your lawn or having the n-word spat in your face, but it cuts you down little by little until you're completely drained.

so that's the nuance. that's the subversion. the overcompensation is not a good thing. and people of color (and i suspect, even white people) have picked up on, in general, the different ways fandom treats sam and dani and even nate. what all of these discussions are converging on is fandom racism, which is not the diet form of racism, but another place for racism to reveal itself. and yeah, it's uncomfortable. it can seem out of left field. you may want to defend yourself. you may want to explain it away. but let me tap the sign on the proverbial bus:

if you are a white person, or a person of color who is not part of that racial group, even, you do not get to decide what is not racist for someone. full stop. there are no exceptions. there is no exit clause for you. there is no 'but, actually-'. that right wasn't even yours to cede or waive.

(it's also important to note that people of color also have the right to disagree on whether something is racist, but that doesn't necessarily negate the racism - it just means there's more to discuss and they can still leave with different interpretations)

people don't just whip out accusations of racism like a blue eyes white dragon in a yu-gi-oh duel. it's not fun for us. it's not something we like to do to muzzle people we don't want to engage with. and we're not concerned with making someone feel bad or ashamed. we're exposing something painful that we have to live with and, even worse, process literally everything we experience through. we can't turn it off. we can't be 'less sensitive' or 'less nitpicky'. we are literally the primary resources, we are the proverbial wikipedia articles with 3,000 sources when it comes to racism. who else would know more than us?

what 2020 has shown us very clearly is that racism is systemic. it's not always a bunch of Evil White Men rubbing their hands together in a dark room wondering how they're going to use the 'n-word' today. it's systemic. it's the way you call that one neighborhood 'sketchy'. it's how you use 'ratchet' and 'ghetto' when describing something bad. it's how you implicitly the assume the intelligence of your friend of color. it's the way you turned up your nose and your friend's food and bullied them for it in middle school but go to restaurants run by white people who have 'uplifted' it with inauthentic ingredients. it's telling someone how Well Spoken and Eloquent they are even though you've both gone to the same schools and work at the same workplace. it's the way you look down at some people of color for having a different body type than you because they've been redlined to neighborhoods where certain foods and resources are inaccessible, and yet mock up the racial features that appeal to you either through makeup or plastic surgery.

it's how when a person of color behaves badly, they're irredeemable, but a white person performing the same act or something similar is 'having a bad day' or 'isn't normally like this' or 'has room to grow' and we can't 'wait for their redemption arc', and yes, i'm not going to cover it in detail in this post but yes this is very much about nate. other people have also brought up the nuances in his arc and compared them to other white characters so i won't do it here.

these behaviors and reactions aren't planned. they aren't orchestrated. they're quite literally unconscious because they've been lovingly baked into western society for centuries. you can't wake up and be rid of it. whether you intended it or not, it can still be racist.

and it's actually quite hurtful and unfair to imply that concerns about racism in the TL fandom are unfounded or lacking any depth or simply meant to be sensational because you simply don't agree with it. i wish it was different, but it doesn't work that way. i'm not raising this up to 'call out' or shame people, but i'm adding to this discussion because, through how we talk about sam, and even dani and nate, i'm yet again seeing a pattern that has shortchanged people of color and made them feel unwelcome in fandom for far too long.

coach beard said it best: we need to do better.

#ted lasso #sam obisanya #ted lasso spoilers #fandom racism

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septembriseur · 4 years ago

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I want to come back to this article, which I reblogged a post from (after seeing it reblogged by loads of people on my dash). I recommend reading the article if you haven’t done so. Its central argument revolves around the idea that “modern liberal democracy presents itself as non-ideological beyond ideology,” and that ideology itself is always presented in literature/media as unacceptably violent— villainous. (I would argue that, in fact, any sort of cultural “accretion,” in the sense that culture is perceived as "on top of” and obscuring universalized western ideology, is tolerated only insofar as it is not really taken specifically or seriously. That’s why even characters who are presented as deeply religious (think of Matt Murdock or Rogue One’s Baze and Chirrut) are portrayed as religious in a way that is broad, universal, flexible, and vague.

One issue that the article doesn’t really delve into is that supposedly “ideologue” villains are actually profoundly anideological, except insofar as their ideology is, like, anti- modern liberal democracy’s lack of ideology. A really interesting example of this is in Iron Man: Tony Stark gets held hostage by a group of extremists whose extreme belief is... well... even the MCU wiki seems unable to provide any detail on this beyond “destroying world peace.” The film employs a weird move where it obviously relies on the Afghan setting of the villainous Ten Rings to suggest associations with radical Islamism, yet also provides evidence that the Ten Rings are not Islamists. On the one hand, it provides a sort of generic Western specter of radical Islamists— brown men speaking foreign languages and living in Afghan caves— and on the other hand it coyly removes all potential religious, political, or cultural motivation for their actions. These guys aren’t impoverished tribesmen who’ve been subject to tumultuous centuries of imperial warfare, and they’re not religious extremists living out masculine power fantasies. They’re just a group of dudes who kind of look vaguely Middle Eastern and kind of sound vaguely Middle Eastern (since Arabic and Persian are the languages we hear the most).

Of course, there’s a real-world explanation for this: Marvel wants to be able to tap into that specter of radical Islamism without offending Muslim consumers. But the textual effect is to create a picture of the world in which terrorism in Afghanistan is evacuated of all meaning. Don’t get me wrong: terrorism in Afghanistan is unbelievably destructive and to a large extent nihilistic, in that it benefits no one and spreads only despair and suffering. But at the same time, it arises out of a historical, political, economic, and religious-cultural context, and if you refuse to understand this context, then you will fail to understand why people make the choice to become terrorists (or how to stop them).

That’s the real problem here: the creation of a world in which the only rational choice is modern liberal democracy, and all other choices are nonsensical.

Marvel is a great site at which to explore this, simply because there’s so much of it. (You could also easily look at Star Wars, as MacQuarrie does in that article— why does the First Order want power? New extended universe writers have fleshed this out more in their web of liminally canonical texts, but on screen the answer seems to be, in the words of the also-manifestly-guilty-of-this-and-guilty-in-other-ways Joss Whedon’s Dr. Horrible: “the world is a mess, and I just need to rule it.”)

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is a wildly characteristic example of this. It has the thankless task of trying to engage with the effects of the canonically almost effect-free (cf Spider-man: Far From Home) blip, and pieces together a weirdly nonsensical storyline in which the blip enable border-free mass migration, which was revoked when the other half of the world’s population reappeared. The plot revolves around a group of super soldier refugees/displaced persons who want to stop borders from being reimposed on the world. Sam Wilson refers to the refugees as “people who have been welcomed into countries that previously kept them out with barb wire,” and indeed it's hard to imagine any version of this narrative in which the “migration” we’re talking about is the migration of Global South nationals to the Global North. There’s a really plausible specter here: the Global North does source its manual and domestic labor from the Global South while, whenever possible, keeping Global South nationals out with barbed wire. It does make sense that the Global North would import laborers and then attempt to deport them when their presence was no longer convenient. That is, in fact, literally what has happened/is happening in the UK to foreign healthcare workers during the pandemic.

However, as in Iron Man, Marvel wants to mobilize a specter while also evacuating it of all meaning. None of the displaced people we see in TFATWS bear any resemblance to real-world displaced persons. In spite of their United Colors of Benetton racial diversity, they display no marks of culture, religion, nationality, or indeed poverty. They even have British and American accents. They are completely neutral in every way.

This matters for several reasons. First of all, it allows the viewer to differentiate between the migrants on-screen— Western-looking, English-speaking, non-religious— with migrants off-screen: [perceived to be] too religious, non-English-speaking, culturally and racially “other.” Secondly (again as with Iron Man), it removes all context from the act of migration. Why did these people become migrants? Uh... because of the blip, I guess? Beyond some vague references to suffering, it’s never addressed. This allows the viewer to completely detach the question of migrants/displacement from any of its structural context. Why do people migrate in the real world? Because their countries have been completely devastated by warfare, often proxy warfare carried out by imperial states. Because climate change has completely devastated the regions where they live, with or without triggering devastating warfare. Because they belong to ethnic, political, and/or religious groups that are being systematically destroyed by state governments. Because colonialism and neoliberal capitalism have completely devastated the economies of the regions where they live. This is why the stakes of migration are high.

If, as the show suggests, people just migrate for various personal reasons that really aren’t that important, then the stakes are not high, and we don’t have to feel bad about the behavior of our governments. This is a huge problem at a time when Denmark is shipping Syrian asylum-seekers back to Syria because it’s apparently fine now, Joe Biden is failing to make good on campaign promises about increasing refugee quotas, the UK is housing asylum seekers in situations that violate human rights law, migrant drownings in the Mediterranean Sea have become a regular feature, and the United States has systematically resisted fulfilling its promises to Iraqis and Afghans who risked their lives working for US forces in exchange for visas.

But, like, above and beyond the specific political issue of migration: what is the Flag Smasher ideology? “One world, one people.” I accept that there might be some viewers (mostly those with no knowledge or experience of immigration) who oppose this on principle, but it seems pretty obviously... good. So the bad part is... that they’re fighting for it? (According to people in my notes, this is Bad.) It’s possible to read this as another example of what the MacQuarrie article discusses: personal violence good, ideological violence bad. However, once again we have an example of an ideology that is not ideological, an ideology that is a specter cleaned out of any possible substance. The nonsensical choice here (the one beside which modern liberal democratic norms are obvious) is the choice to commit violence when there is no urgency that justifies this— none of the urgency that, in fact, exists in the real world, and explains why people regularly sacrifice their lives in desperate attempts to escape their homes.

This is a really good example of how capitalism— a force with no real agency or subject, no evil committee planning its deeds— ends up enacting a project that systematically enforces its ideology. Attempts to render narratives apolitical are themselves profoundly political, even when justified in terms of appeal to the consumer. This is one of the most dangerous aspects of media, IMHO.

#just me sayin stuff honestly #tv: tfatws

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lesbianmarrow · 2 years ago

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dont have much to say about legends of tomorrow 7.02 tbh but i liked it :) i will just give my general thoughts i guess. though j edgar hoover’s death was played for comedy in the last episode in this one they take it more seriously with nate being very torn up over having accidentally killed him and i think thats fine. nate is someone who very firmly wants to do what’s good and right and this episode explores that. how he has to stoop to hoover’s level because he’s impersonating him and it makes him feel awful and eventually he can’t lie anymore and owns up to what he did. it’s a little bit white guilt-y but i am fond enough of him that i’m okay with it. although it is kind of insane how arrogant and dismissive he was being with behrad and gary and how they were like ummm dude wtf. but at least he apologized. i found it sort of odd that gary was grouped with the “lower class” people since hes a white guy with an american accent (well hes an alien from outer space but you know) but i guess maybe because he has a darker complexion.

fun to see stoned zari figuring things out. like she’s supposed to be figuring herself out which she didn’t really do except for figuring out that getting stoned is not for her but she did begin to figure out the mystery of the other waverider so that’s something. i thought it was really cute how ava and zari both got really into brainstorming who their enemy could be. even though ava was supposed to be on her honeymoon! or well she was supposed to be having sex with sara upstairs. i dont know if that counts as a honeymoon but then again honeymoon is kind of a weird tradition to me. anyway. i found stoned zari very endearing. love that she guessed it could be robots but then she was like no thats too out there but then it WAS robots bc this is legends of tomorrow and nothing is too out there. i like when robot j edgar hoover showed up and was killing everyone and i was like omg just like the terminator and then we found out he WAS a robot like the terminator and i was right and zari was right. yay.

i was glad to see that the show decided astra is gideon’s mother. last episode i was like omg it’s almost as if astra birthed gideon....like she is her mother....but i didn’t expect the show to agree with me because i thought it was just me being weird. but it DID. will be so fun to explore astra’s issues through her relationship with gideon. i like the focus on astra we’ve seen so far but i’m sure there will also be focus on gideon and i will be glad to see that as well. gideon my friend gideon :) also i liked when gloria is telling spooner about what she was like as a child and they have a tender moment. very important to me. the spooner astra friendship is so good i really think they should be wifes. how they were reassuring each other that they’re not useless and they’re just figuring things out. i love them. i have to wonder if astra is a little jealous of spooner bc spooner’s mother is alive and astra’s is not. i don’t expect the show to explore that but it is interesting for me to think about.

ummm i think that’s all i have to say last thing is i do find sara and ava very adorable in their bullet blonde disguises/personas but i hope the show doesn’t lean too hard on them being femme fatales because it will get stale very fast. i’m okay with a little femme fatale-ing once in a while but every episode would be too much for me. at least in this one we see sara defeat robot j edgar hoover with her battle skills rather than her sexy skills. OH i almost forgot to mention the new intro. it was cute :) ok thats all

#legends of tomorrow #zari tarazi #ava sharpe #astra logue #gideon waverider #spooner cruz #esperastra #sara lance #syl posts

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thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname · 3 years ago

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Ranking The Japanese Accents In Nancy Drew: Shadow At The Water's Edge

because this is the content you all followed me for. I just need to rant.

disclaimer: I am a born and raised American who has never left the country, I've just been studying Japanese for two years so I know how it works on a base level and I've spent a reasonable amount of (read: too much) time listening to native Japanese speakers on YouTube, in anime, and my teacher in class. If anyone sees this and has corrections or criticisms, they are welcome.

Also, I'm not going to go after Her Interactive for intentional racism because it's not a super huge company and they tend to butcher accents indiscriminately (Scottish, Southern American... heck, there's an Aussie in this game who's like "this haunting bisniss wood nevah fly in Sydney!" and then storms out. anyway). And voice acting is hard. Accents are hard. I'd probably do a worse job myself (with one exception... we'll get to that). With that in mind, let's go.

1. Miwako (younger daughter, works at Ryokan Hiei)

Okay, we’re starting off strong. I can’t find any information on the actors for most of these characters, but her voice actress is the only one of the cast with a Japanese name and I wouldn’t be surprised if her accent is natural. All the characters speak English with the occasional Japanese word thrown in when necessary. Miwako does not have a very strong accent, so most of the things that make me think her accent is real are in the way she pronounces Japanese words and her general consistency of pronunciation in both (we’re gonna be talking about consistency a lot). She mostly pronounces Rs like you would in English, but when she says “ryokan”, for instance, she uses the Japanese R sound. Her pronunciation of that word also has the correct Japanese pitch accent.

2. Rentaro (Miwako’s boyfriend, handyman)

Don’t let the fact that he’s number two on the list fool you, there is a very big drop in quality between the first and second places here. This is a bad accent. Still, it could be worse. Japanese accents are as varied as the people who have them, and some of his lines sound like accents I’ve heard before? Still, he rolls his Rs sometimes and occasionally strays into weirdly Scottish-sounding territory. It also comes off a bit stereotypical at times and he can’t pronounce Japanese words. Points for him: he opts to skip Rs when they happen in the middle or end of a word, like a British accent (cah instead of car), he’s mostly consistent with whatever the heck it is he’s doing, and he may have actually listened to people speaking English with Japanese accents.

3. Takae (Yumi and Miwako’s grandmother, works at the ryokan)

Here’s where I start to get mad. I *think* this character is supposed to be less comfortable speaking English, but all this means is that She. Talks. Extremely. Slowly. And. Pauses. Between. Every. Word. Also. She. Addas. In. Retters. That. Are. Not. Supposed. To. Be. There. and does that stupid stereotypical “flied lice” thing where she mixes up Ls and Rs. I will rant more about this later. This is a very dialogue heavy game. It is positively excruciating to sit through her horrible, terrible accent at .5 speed. Later games have an option to skip through dialogue, but this one does not.

Now, stereotypical as the L and R thing and the adding in letters thing are, they are things people really do. A couple weeks ago my teacher told me directly that some Japanese people eat flied lice, but not him. (which is mostly true, but the day before, he’d said a verb was in the pleasant tense. this is reasonable and understandable. however, I will privately be referring to keigo as “the pleasant tense” from this day forward- a little language pun for you all. sorry, I’m getting sidetracked.) The reason why is super interesting, but I don’t want to get into it here. It’s pretty easy to find good YouTube videos on the topic. What is important is that it’s a lot more common to replace Rs with either Ls or Japanese Rs (which sound more like Ls) than it is to do it the other way around. Takae loves adding in that hard American R in places it doesn’t belong.

Also, yes, people with stronger Japanese accents will sometimes add vowel sounds. This is because in Japanese, almost every sound is either a vowel or a consonant-vowel pair. You can’t just do it willy-nilly, though, there are rules for which vowel sound goes where and when, and some sounds like “n” or “s” would almost certainly not be followed by a vowel sound. It also happens more at the end of the words than in the middle, and again, Takae tends to add the wrong vowels in the middle of words.

Bad out of 10. I don’t actually know how I feel about this character because her dialogue makes me suffer too much. If Rentaro sounds like he’s possibly basing this off of listening to someone with an actual accent, Takae sounds like someone who knew nothing tried to spell out an accent in a book and she’s just reading it.

4. Yumi (Miwako’s sister, a free spirit. works at a bento stand in a convention center I guess.)

Awful as Takae is, I think Yumi annoys me more. She also mixes up the Ls and Rs badly and wrongly. I think that’s pretty much my only nitpick (it’s been a second since I played the game). So why is it so much worse than when Takae does it??

Because. BECAUSE. Around 95% of the time, I wish I was exaggerating, she has a straight up plain old vanilla news reporter American English accent. So much so that I legitimately kept forgetting she was supposed to have a Japanese accent at all. And then, out of the blue, she’ll just toss in an “Oh yes! A bento is a RUNCHBOX” out of nowhere and it makes me want to cringe out of my skin.

The worst part is they didn’t even have to give her an accent anyway. First, her sister hardly has one, and everyone in her family already has a fluent level of English proficiency. Second, they have a perfect in-story way out of this. The girl’s mother spoke some English, and she had friends in the United States and would take her daughters to visit every once in a while. This is canon. It’s also canon that Yumi is the most outgoing and non-traditional member of the family, that’s a big part of the plot! Just say she’s kept up her mom’s connections, spent some time in the U.S., and lost the accent! If your actress cannot and will not do the stinking accent without sounding racist and bad, take your easy in-story route and just don’t give the darn character an accent! I promise we will not forget that a Japanese character with a Japanese name whose family runs a Japanese bath house in Japan is Japanese if she doesn’t sound like a bad caricature.

Agh.

Anyway, thank you for reading this, and again, any feedback is welcome.

#pickle pontificates #Nancy Drew #shadow at the water's edge #another draft. dunno why i never finished this bc it was very close to being done #if anyone else has interests that meet up at the corner of linguistics and nancy drew pc games #then hi? how are you

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womenofwonder · 3 years ago

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RWBY characters races for AUs set in our world.

How I’m going to do this: three things. The first, the city they live in Remnant. This is the least important because that leaves us with only five…maybe six places compared to our world’s hundreds of countries.

The second will be the original of their names, which they’ll have to keep in the AUs, meaning that they need some culture background for them.

The third will be their fairy tale origins.

So to start, Ruby Rose:

She lives in Vale, which is similar to France (I’ll explain why in another post maybe), but technically grew up in patch, a small island off the coast of Vale. I have no idea about Patch’s culture as we hardly ever see it, so I’m going to skip this one. We also don’t know if either Summer or Taiyang was originally from Vale.

We know Taiyang is Chinese from his name, so I’m going to say she’s half Chinese. I also wrote a western au once and really love the idea of Taiyang being an Asian Redneck…so I think I’m going to say Ruby is very, very southern just because that would be adorable.

But if you don’t want that idea I generally see Taiyang being either Asian-American or Asian-French, or Asian-British if your doing a HP AU. Summer is harder to pin down, but Red Riding Hood was originally an Italian fable, so I’m going to have her be Italian or Italian-American.

Weiss:

Weiss is German, although making her simply white America/British would work. I could see her being Russian too in some AU because Atlas fits well as Russia. For American works, Pennsylvania has quite the German population and coal mines, so that works pretty well for her.

Blake is really complicated. From Remment Australia which is culturally SEA (south East Asian), has an English name but parents with a Hindu-inspired names, but neither looking vaguely Indian. I’m going to assume her family are immigrants (as they are in cannon I think) to Australia, maybe even changed their name to help them fit in. Immigrants from where? Well, India is an option, but I like to think Malaysia. They have a large Indian and Chinese population, and I like to think Blake is a mixture of Chinese, Malay, and Indian ethnicities, from Malaysia and immigrated to Australia. And if you think this is crazy or unrealistic, you haven’t seen anything yet. The sheer mix of cultures I’ve seen growing up as an ex-pat is insane. This isn’t too crazy.

For Yang, we already have Taiyang as an Asian red-neck. Or at least I do. Raven and Qrow are going to be a little harder to pin down, but I’m think bandits getting replaced by mafia. Which mafia? I don’t know, take you’re pick. Branwen is Welsh, but I can’t think of a Welsh mafia. Coming from Mistral I would see them as being Triad, not Yakuza because Raven’s gang is famous for being less than coordinated.

If you need a logical reason for Yang having blonde hair, Taiyang could be only half Chinese, half blonde (blonde is race right?).

Either way I see Raven operating in an American city like New York or Detroit.

This would mean Yang is fully Chinese ethnically.

JNPR:

Jaune’s name and inspiration are all French. However his mother does come from Mistral (I think), so I do see him being half Chinese, but nationally French. It’s also funny to imagine him with a French accent.

Pyrrha: she’s Greek or maybe Greek-American with her parents being recent immigrants. Argus seems to Remnent-Greece and her name and fairy tale are greek.

Nora: she should be Scandinavian. I feel like in a MCU AU she’s Thor’s daughter. But she also grew up as a street rat in Mistral, which is hard to fit in our world. Therefore I’m going to have her in America, the great melting pot (and also America seems to be more like Mistral than any other Remnent king with our state system), and she going to ethically Scandinavian but knowing nothing of her culture due to her upbringing.

Ren: obviously Chinese, but I might have him be American-Chinese to fit his story nicely in with Nora’s.

Others:

Coco: we’re all ignoring that she’s based off Coco Channel, so let’s make her a LA girl

Velvet: Australia, because of the accent. Or maybe English because that is her story origin

Fox: he’s difficult, because tribes are pretty rare in modern AUs. But his story could work for various things. He’s one of the few black characters so he could come from practically any African tribe (I’m currently going with Hausa because it’s one of the few I know anything about). His name is based off ‘the fox and the hound’ which is a rare American story, so he could also be from a Native American tribe if you want the AU to be more American-based.

Yatsuhashi: Japanese, this one is thankfully easy.

Sun: Chinese. He comes from a tribe as well, but I can’t think of any nomadic Chinese tribes except the Uyghurs. Making Sun a Uyghur doesn’t make much sense but it will serve to piss off certain people on the internet. And now this is going to be taken down, isn’t it? Oh wait, this is tumbrl. This is anarchy. It won’t. Forgot why I liked this place for a second.

Scarlet: sorry for the rambling there. Anyway, Scarlet is definitely English. “I hope I don’t get sand in my shoes.”

Sage: well, he’s black, but other then that we have nothing to go one. He’s also from Mistral but that doesn’t really work? If Mistral is America as well as China I guess we can make him African American. Or whatever else works best for the AU. He might be Indian too now that I think of it. Or even Maori. Really options are limitless here.

Neptune: Yeah, so probably just American, but does have both a French last name and an Italian first name. So probably ethically American (aka white mutt). Also he lives near a port, I think I’m gonna gone with him being from Tacoma Washington because I am.

Flynt: African American

Neon: Japanese-American because of her meme (it started as part of Japanese pop song on YouTube, the latter of which is America summed up in one invention)

Oscar: Hispanic-American, he just looks it. And I’m guessing he lives in Kansas for obvious reasons. His last name isn’t Hispanic but their could be a lot of reasons for that. Or he could be Native American (Pawnee, Cheyenne, and Osage are all Native American tribes in Kansas).

Penny: well if she’s still a robot she probably stays white, but if you want her human in this AU she might end up being half black as Pietro is, although she also could just be adopted. I guess the later makes more sense, huh? I figure she’s American, with her dad working with a ‘well meaning’ but ultimately corrupt government. Probably living in DC, as that has both the government and the poverty issues.

Emerald: oohh, boy. This is hard. Sustrai is Basque, and Aladdin is a French addition to an Arabian story, she herself is dark skinned with anime features that are super unhelpful for this sorta thing.

I have three ideas. Brazilian, mostly as there’s no South American themed RWBY characters I can think of, and it’s diverse enough that someone looking like Emerald would fit. Secondly, for American centered stories she’s just an orphan with no idea of her ethnicity. Or she could be African, Indian, Pacific Islander, or Hispanic or some mixture between those four. It’s honestly really hard to tell. In my fanfic she’s from Suriname and ethnically 1/4 Indian, 1/2 Creole, and 1/4 Javanese.

Ilia: Sioux (Native American). Ilia means a lot of things in a lot of different languages, and Amitola mean rainbow in Sioux, so I decided to just stick with that.

Mercury: American, white mutt American. I’m guessing New York or Philli for where he grew up, it seems like a place where he’d be comfortable

Neo: the new novel reveals her father lived in vale (btw I haven’t read it, I’m just getting this off the internet) and her mother was a assassin who’s origins aren’t known. She doesn’t really have a fairy tale. So I’m going to go with British or French (thank RWBY thoughts for the first one) although in an American AU she works as just a white American.

Robyn: depends on what Atlas is in this AU, but probably German or American.

Qrow: I already mentioned he’s probably Chinese due to being from Mistral. It’s a bit weird to think of him as Asian, but not as weird as it to think of Raven as white, so I’ll take it. Although I do like the idea of him being American Irish, that’s fun.

Winter: whatever Atlas is in this AU, German or American, although British and Russian would work well too.

Maria: Mexican

Salem: If you want a AU where she’s just a normal person then New England or Italian for her story origin

Watts: British

Tyrian: uh…I have no idea, but he looks white. And he kinda has a British accent? I want him to be southern for the accent tho. Probably just another crazy American

Cinder: her fairy tale is French but her origin is Chinese. Also, Cinderella doesn’t really have an origin, it’s an ancient story with every culture having at least one Cinderella story. So I’m going to say Chinese.

Hazel: American, from the Midwest. He’s darkish so maybe he’s a POC? Part Native American or Hispanic? Idk or really care I can’t stand Hazel

Roman Torchwick: American-Italian, he runs/works for the mafia

Ozpin: American because of the whole wizard-of-Oz-thing or French, because he seems to have come from Vale.

Glynda: American or French for the same reasons Ozpin is

Oobleck: Jewish American (because Dr. Seuss was)

Professor Port: Russian, due to his fairy tale, or English, due to his style

Taiyang: already said he’s a red-neck Asian.

Raven: depending on whether you want her to be white or not, either Chinese or Irish American, like I already said.

Cordovin: Karen

Ironwood: again, depends on Atlas in the AU. Either American or German…maybe Russian

Clover: Irish-American (or German, obviously the ace-ops depend on where Atlas is. I’m just going to do the rest of them assuming Atlas is American because Germany isn’t that diverse)

Harriet: African-American, I guess. It kinda messes with the story because Harriet is supposed to be privileged, which doesn’t really work in this AU, but she’s also obviously black.

Elm: Just normal American, maybe greek-American because of the Aesop fable themes

Vine: Tibetan based on his design

Marrow: either African-American or Pakistani/Indian-American. (I’m personally going for Pakistani)

Klein: english. All butlers are English. It’s a rule.

Pietro: African-American

Johanna: Pakistani or Indian American

Fiona: Jewish-American (kinda random but while she’s obviously white she also needs to be a minority for the Faunus thing to work)

May: normal upper glass American/German

Ghira: Half Malay, Half Indian, from Malaysia but immigrated to Australia later in life

Kali: half Chinese, half Indian, but also from Malaysia

Adam: much like Fiona I’m going to assume he’s Jewish due to him being white but still needing to be a minority. German or American, again, depending on where Atlas is. Or he could be Chinese, even though it doesn’t work with his name, due to the theory that he was trafficked much like Cinder. I’m going with ethically Jewish though

Sienna Khan: Indian

Huh, I actually finished that. I’m pretty sure I was accidentally racist multiple times and apologize in advance,

I’m exhausted and starving and not thinking straight. But anyway, here it is. Your very messy guide to modern RWBY AUs. I swear this was insane to sort out.

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ev-pierce-writes · 3 years ago

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Bolero

Javier PenaxReader pairing

Rating: Explicit (duh)

7.4 K

What starts as just a job as an informant quickly turns into an attraction to Agent Javier Peña.

Essentially what I think it's like to dance with Javi. Plus having sex.

If you want to listen to the song I picture them dancing to it's called Dos Gardenias by Buena Vista Social Club. I know it didn't come out until the 90s but I really don't care.

___

You didn't like this part of the job. Hated it, actually. Your feet hurt in your heels and the humidity was making you sweat. But tips were tips, even if it involved fake flirting with old men.

The music ended and José spun you into a dip as the small crowd clapped. José was an excellent dancer and he made for a good partner when it came time to actually perform for the guests, rather than try to drag them onto the dance floor. Most people assumed you were a couple you danced so in sync, but it wasn't like that.

He was a good friend though. He'd gotten you the job at the bistro, and for the small pain of three choreographed dances a night plus a few private salsas, you were paid handsomely. Of course, this wasn't your dream, performing in a smoky, humid bar for tourists and old handsy men. You would rather be on the stage as a professional, performing only for the people who could afford a ticket, not just a watered-down tequila. But work was work and money was money.

Now your least favorite part. You leaned an elbow on the bar, sweeping the crowd for whatever gringo looked the least gross. The manager insisted you interacted with the customers, reeling them in with a sexy pose and a few awkward steps on the dance floor. They tended to drink more when you did that, which was good for the bar, and you usually ended up with a couple of extra bills in your hand, which was good for you. So you complied.

An older, slightly less creepy-looking gentleman had caught your eye, and you were about to approach when you felt a gentle hand on your elbow.

"Mind teaching me a few of those steps you just did?" The music was starting up again with a bolero, your cue to find the dance floor, so you figured you'd comply with the request. Except when you looked into the face of the stranger who had spoken those words, you were taken aback. He was young, or at least younger than most of the men in here, and taller too. Shining from his tanned face were chocolatey brown eyes, surprisingly sincere and kind. His dark hair was combed into place, though a few stray curls peeked out from behind his ears and at the base of his neck.

"Sí, señor." The Spanish came out as a force of habit, though he had addressed you in English and a perfect American accent. Men liked it when you spoke Spanish, even if they couldn't understand. It gave them the impression that you were exotic. But the man half expected that from you. He'd been watching you most of the night, analyzing the way you moved, the way you beguiled the guests into a dance and then a drink, the way you controlled a man's mood with the flick of your hips and slide of your hand up his arm. The perfect skill set of a secret plant.

Without any hesitation, the man took your hand in his and led you into the crowd of dancing people. He placed his other on your hip, though he left a respectful distance between the two of you. It was uncharacteristic of the guests to do so; they generally felt they had some right to press up against you as they stumbled around.

But this man was different. He already knew the three-quarter timing. He seemed a bit tense, like he was having trouble letting loose, but he wasn't clumsy at all. "I don't think you need my instruction," you said.

The man smiled, his mustache curling up to reveal a single dimple on his smooth cheek.

"No, hermana, I don't."

Maybe there was some Latino in that tan after all. But his reply caught you off guard. You hoped pulling you onto the dance floor wasn't his attempt at flirting. You'd made a pact with yourself to never sleep with the guests, and so far you'd held true.

But he wasn't flirting, though he desperately wanted to. You were exactly the type of girl he'd pick up on a boring night, or pay to have sex with him and share your secrets. But tonight was strictly business.

"Do you work here every night?" he asked. It was a strangely specific question, though maybe he was hoping to see you again, you thought.

"Only Thursday, Friday, Saturday," you replied. The bistro only ever needed you on the busiest nights of the week, which was fine with you. Three days of work made you plenty of money, and then you had the rest of the week off. "Why? Are you already planning a second dance?"

The man ignored his question to ask another of his own. "Do you make a lot of money?"

His questions were starting to sound a bit bizarre and he wasn't answering yours either. Why did he care what you made?

"Unless you're planning on hiring me and paying me more, I don't see why you need to know." It wasn't good to be snappy with paying customers, but this enigma of a man didn't seem like the average customer to you. And instead of getting defensive at your tone, his mood shifted quickly and he laughed. A deep, throaty laugh, just as gravely and melodious as his voice. He liked your confidence and your attitude. But then he was back to business just as quickly.

The man led you towards the back of the dance floor, away from the crowd and the watchful eye of the bartender, a move that made you worry and caused you to doubt his intentions. His eyes had gone serious, a wrinkle of concentration between his eyebrows and crowding out the kindness.

"Actually, I would like to hire you."

You came to a stop in surprise but the man pulled you forward, urging you to continue dancing so as not to draw attention to the pair of you. He drew you closer so he could speak directly into your ear, forcing you to breathe in his scent with the proximity, cologne and cigarettes and the saltiness of a light sweat.

"You have a club or something?"

He didn't answer your question, just asked more of his own. "Do you know runs this place?"

You shrugged. "I think his name is Manuel, but I've only met him once."

"Keep an eye out for him, will you? See when he comes and goes, if he gets any shipments or deliveries. I'll pay you for providing information."

It was your turn to finally get some answers. "Who are you?"

"My name is Javier Peña." Javier spun you out before pulling you back into his chest.

"Well, Señor Peña, I don't know who you think I am, but I am not a spy and I don't give a damn about what my employer does. So why do you care what he does?"

"Let's just say the government has a special interest in your employer. But we'd like to keep this little piece of knowledge under wraps."

You eyed Javier suspiciously. Why would the government be interested in what your boss did with his bistro? And why would this man, Javier Peña, trust you to deliver secrets? But again, money was money. Little did you know, Javier Peña was aware of your lack of loyalty to anyone, as long as they were paying you, and he gambled on this fact to ease you into a deal.

"How much are you offering?"

"I'll double whatever you make now."

Double? Mierda. "Bueno, double it is. Not sure what you expect me to find, but I'll keep my eyes open."

That full smile returned, white teeth and all. "Un secreto, sí?"

You nodded in return as the song came to an end. Letting go of your waist, Javier pulled a pair of aviators from the deep vee of his shirt and slipped them on before handing you a business card from the back pocket of his jeans. He instructed you to call him if you saw anything, anything at all. Javier gave you a salute and turned to leave, though not before asking you one more question.

"And your name?"

Now is when you usually lied, telling whatever slimeball you'd just swayed into oblivion a made-up name, like Rosa or Maria. But something about this time was different. This time, you gave him your real name.

"Adiós, bailarina," he said with a grin.

"Adiós, Señor Peña." It wasn't until you were home that you noticed he'd slipped a small stack of bills into your pocket.

---

Standing in the living room of your apartment, you held the card Javier had given you almost a week ago. You hadn't been exactly sure what he was asking you to look out for. You rarely saw your boss anyway. But then tonight, as you'd arrived at work, a truck had been parked by the employee entrance of the bistro. Manuel was still nowhere to be found, but stacks upon stacks of boxes were being unloaded into the dry storage of the kitchen. And you had taken note of it all.

Finally, you picked up the phone off its cradle and dialed the number on the card, wrapping the thick cord around your fingers as it rang. A moment of silence, and then a deep voice spoke on the other end of the line.

"Javier Peña speaking." It sounded like he had just woken up, his voice softer than you remembered and groggy as well. It was a bit late, after midnight, but you figured this was something he wanted to hear sooner rather than later.

"Hola, Senior Peña, it's me from the bistro." Another silence, some shuffling, and was that a voice in the background? "Did I wake you?"

"No, not at all. What's up?"

"You wanted to know if Manuel had a shipment, right?"

"Yes, yes, what did you see?"

"Hm, I could tell you. Or I could get my mi dinero first."

Javier sighed on the other end. "Right, of course. How much do I owe you?"

"Let's see, including tips, I made 300 this week."

"Fine, 300 pesos it is. Where can I meet you?"

"You want to meet right now?"

Apparently, he did. You gave him the address to a twenty-four-hour diner you liked and he hung up, saying he'd meet you there. You gathered your purse, double-checking that the small handgun you carried for self-defense was still there. Not that you were worried the mysterious Javier Peña was someone to be scared of. But better safe than sorry.

Ten minutes later, you stepped out into the heat of the summer air. The darkness of night did little to reduce the temperature, but the humidity had dissipated enough that you rolled the windows of the car down and blasted your music into the silent night.

Though you were sure you looked a bit frazzled and worn out when you parked, Javier only noticed the flush on your cheeks and the curl of your windswept hair as he watched you step out of the car through the window of the diner. You hadn't bothered to change out of your dress and heels from work, which left little to the imagination in the way of your long legs and curved waist. When he'd first approached you last week, he'd been polite and reserved, only letting his hands fall where they were meant to in a dance. But tonight, the ruching of your dress at your hips called out to be touched. Javier knew it was all part of your job, but part of him wished you'd dressed up like that just for him. He shook his head. He shouldn't be thinking about you like this.

A little bell jingled over the door as you drifted into the warm restaurant.

Javier steadied his hands and composed his face, not wanting to reveal the true thoughts running through his mind as you plopped into the booth seat across from him. He looked ready to get down to business, but you were hungry and held up a hand to silence him before he could begin to speak. The waitress came and took your order, a burger and fries, before turning to Javier. He relented to whatever game you were playing and ordered as well in perfect Spanish.

"Where are you from?" you asked as the waitress left to place your orders.

"This little meeting isn't about me," Javier replied, sounding a bit preoccupied, distracted even. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing the smooth skin of his neck and chest, as if he'd dressed in a hurry.

"Eh, that's not very polite. Did I interrupt a little midnight date with your amorcita?" You were pretty sure that had been a woman's voice in the background when you called him earlier. His response, or lack thereof, told you everything you needed to know. Emboldened by his reaction, you continued on with your one-sided conversation.

"I love American food. Are burgers better in Texas? That is where you're from, no?"

The look of shock that flitted across Javier's face was enough to satisfy you and you leaned back in your seat with a smile. You tried your best not to show how pleased you were with his reaction, but your comment got you thinking about what he was like in bed. That was not a direction you needed your mind to wander, especially when it caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

"Okay, detective, I think that's enough. You want your money or not?" Though he acted annoyed, Javier was secretly impressed. What had given it away? His accent maybe?

"Sí, sí. Although I am a bit interested to know where my money is coming from."

"I told you. The government."

"You haven't really proven that to me though. Besides, what if you're trying to put my boss out of business? Then I'm out of a job. A good-paying job."

"I am trying to put your boss out of business." The withering look you gave Javier didn't put him off, though you wished it did. If looks could kill and all that. But it did provoke him to pull something from his back pocket and hold it up to your face. "DEA. You know what that is right?"

"Mierda, was it drugs in those boxes?" You couldn't help the shock that spread across your face.

"Maybe."

You pulled a notepad from your purse as the waitress returned with your food. In between bites, you read off of the notes you'd taken.

"I got to work at 4:30. The truck was already there. Manuel was not. Some men unloaded the boxes into the kitchen."

"How many."

"I don't know."

Javier raised his eyebrows. If he'd learned anything from this conversation it was that you were an observant person. He doubted that you hadn't bothered to count them. He had only to wait for you to continue on your own.

"Bueno, forty or so. This big," you indicated with your hands, about the size of the box the tomatoes came in.

"And it wasn't just food in there? You're sure it was something different than normal?"

"Come on, don't you trust me?"

"No," was his swift reply, though it was said with a smile.

"Alright, then. I looked in one. Not food, for sure."

Javier nodded in understanding and pulled a billfold from his back pocket, ready to hand over your cash.

"Espere, Señor, you think that's all I've got?" you said teasingly as you finished your fries and sucked the grease from your fingertips. "You really have no faith, dios mío."

Javier watched you intently, scrutinizing the way your tongue licked away the grease from your thumb. He took a deep breath that sounded like exasperation to you but was really meant to release an uncomfortable knot building in his stomach as he tried not to imagine what else your tongue could do.

"At 5:30, a woman named Victoria called looking for Manuel. No one answered the phone so I did. She left this message." You read directly from the notepad. "I like chocolate ice cream better than vanilla. Maybe you can take me to la heladería tomorrow."

"You're joking."

"Not at all. She said that," you said defensively. "Even gave me an address."

You ripped the paper from your notebook at handed it to Javier as he rubbed a hand along his strong jaw.

"So what are you going to do? Maybe a stakeout, arrest some people, wave your armas around?"

Javier rolled his eyes. "The DEA isn't all about stakeouts and guns. But no, we aren't going to do anything yet. There's no need to reveal our plant. And we don't want you to end up dead so don't get caught either."

"How reassuring. I'm glad the United States has me in their best interests," you deadpanned.

"Just keep doing what you're doing."

"Oh, so you want to see me again? Next time you can buy me a drink."

"Don't flatter yourself."

You laughed in response. Sure, this was all about money, but it was nice to have a real conversation with someone who was witty enough to keep up with your banter. But he was still too easy to tease and you took advantage of it. You liked the way his eyes narrowed and his brows creased when you got under his skin.

"You know, I'll just take it as a compliment that you're only paying me for information and not sex as well," you said as you stood, placing a couple of bills onto the table as a tip.

Javier groaned in frustration. Talking to you was like walking through a hailstorm of bullets. He was bound to get grazed no matter how careful he was. "Eh, mujer, give me a break, por favor."

And yet, despite his protests, Javier liked your sharp tongue. It intrigued him. Normally, he didn't care much about who his informants were or where they were from. But Javier was curious about you. You were smart, skilled, and good at influencing people to comply with your desires. And yet you spent your weekends on a sticky dance floor, performing for gringos like him.

The glittering smile you gave him as you left him sitting in the booth lit a small flame in his heart.

"Buenas noches, Señor Peña," you said to him as you left, almost out the door before he called your name. You turned back. "Qué pasa?"

"Javi. Just call me Javi."

---

Several weeks went by like this, with you calling Javier late at night to let him know what you'd seen. The check-ins came every Saturday, as the shipments had been consistent and seemed to run on a schedule. Eventually, you got comfortable enough to let Javier come to your apartment and exchange information for cash on your couch. You had no idea, but Javier was beginning to expect your calls, anticipating the ringing of his phone around midnight and hearing your voice on the other end.

But when you didn't check in one week, he began to worry. It was past one in the morning. Surely you would have called by now. Maybe he had missed it? There was no way; he'd sat next to the phone all night. So Javier did something he never did. He called you instead. When you didn't answer, he started to suspect something was wrong. Javier told himself to calm down, that you had probably just forgotten, or that maybe nothing of note had happened this week, or you were already asleep. But he couldn't get it out of his mind that something had gone wrong, that you'd been found out and someone had hurt you.

It was nearly two when you finally got home. For some reason, the Saturday crowd had been extra lively tonight, keeping you much later than you wanted. As soon as you unlocked the door and stepped into your apartment, you pulled off your heels and unzipped your dress, peeling it from your sticky body right there in the living room. You needed a shower and you needed to call Javier, but all you wanted was sleep. It could wait until morning.

At last, you were ready for bed, windows pushed open to let in a breeze, sheets turned down, and in nothing but your dressing gown, when a knock sounded at your door. Who would be up at this time of night and disturbing your peace?

Looking through the peephole, you were shocked to find the last person on earth you expected to be standing in the hallway of your apartment building.

"Javi?" you said in confusion as you opened the door. He was leaning against the door frame, one hand on his hip, as if trying to look relaxed but totally failing at it. On Javier's face were written lines of worry, but they relaxed at the sight of you. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, good, you're home. I was worried."

Maybe it was the exhaustion fogging your brain, but he sounded genuinely distressed. The normally confident, almost arrogant Javier had been replaced with someone entirely different. "Sí, of course I'm home, where else would I be?"

"Well, you didn't call. And then you didn't answer your phone. So I was worried something had happened." Javier had managed to miss the state of your dress, or lack thereof, when you had first opened the door. But now, he noticed you wore a cream-colored dressing gown and little else. One sleeve had slipped off your shoulder in your hurry to dress, revealing the lack of anything beneath.

Javier's breath hitched in his throat as he desperately tried to tear his eyes away from your shoulder. It was a just shoulder, for god's sake. It's not like you were standing naked in front of him. But then he was thinking about you naked and that was an even bigger problem.

For a whole month, Javier had gone without a woman in his bed and it wasn't until he saw you that he realized why. He wanted you, but in a way that was different from the way he wanted anyone else. He didn't want you for information or even a quick release, but something more intimate and intense. What was wrong with him? He had to leave before he said something he might regret. You were an informant, a contact, a player in this long game of chess, and nothing more.

"I'm gonna go," Javier said, finally looking away. He was acting strange, even your tired eyes could tell. He looked disheveled, the buttons of his salmon pink shirt left open at the top and half-tucked into his jeans. His hair was no longer combed flat, the way it usually was when you saw him. Instead, it stuck up in all manner of directions, curly and unruly. Javier rubbed the back of his head as he turned to go. You weren't sure what exactly compelled you, but you called out to him before he could leave.

"Do you want a drink?" So much for sleep.

Javier had been in your apartment plenty of times. So why did he suddenly not know what to do with himself? He stood stiffly in the living room, eyeing the discarded dress you hadn't picked up yet. When you handed him a glass of whiskey he barely noticed. His mind was clearly not in the apartment, though his body was. Finally, he sat on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees, the glass balanced precariously in one hand.

Javier's thoughts drifted from one place to another, relief that you were fine, embarrassment for having thought that you weren't, bliss at your invitation inside, and then shame for having accepted.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked.

"Only if you share," you replied, sitting next to him on the couch with your own drink. The pair of you sat like that for a while, in complete silence, passing a single cigarette back and forth. Javier had no way of knowing but your thoughts followed a similar path to his, a rollercoaster masked by a sense of calm.

Your fingertips lightly grazed his as Javier passed you the cigarette. He watched you take a long draw, pulling the smoke deep into your lungs and letting it numb the strange feeling inside you. You were hyper-aware of Javier's presence beside you, his shoulder and knee barely grazing yours, even though you stared straight ahead at the clock on the wall. Three in the morning, it read. Perhaps it was something about the early morning hours, or the dim light of your living room, the only source from the kitchen, but the next words out of your mouth were the most sincere you'd ever spoken to him.

"Are you alright, Javi?"

"Sí."

"You don't seem alright." His voice was too calm. "Is it work?"

"No."

"Friends? Family?"

"No."

You paused, pretending to contemplate for a moment.

"Ah, I know. No pretty girls to warm your bed?" You couldn't help it, falling back into teasing him like that. But he didn't want to talk and it was the only way to draw him out.

"It's disturbing how observant you are," Javier said. It wasn't a true answer, but it was answer enough. He sighed and put the cigarette out before placing his head in his hands. "We aren't friends, you know."

It was a strange comment, almost like he was trying to convince himself of the fact, not you.

"Wow. I should be offended. But for your sake, I'll pretend like I'm not."

"That's not what I mean," Javier tried to explain. "I mean-- I mean I shouldn't be doing this." He waved his hand around as if it indicated anything about what 'this' was. But you understood. He shouldn't be accepting drinks after midnight and sharing cigarettes in dimly lit apartments. It was unprofessional. Then again, everything about your relationship was unprofessional, even the work only parts.

It had taken you a while to admit to yourself that you were attracted to Javier. But when you actually started to look forward to Saturday night, to your conversations, even though they revolved around your work, that's when you knew. It was something in the way he looked when he was listening to you, his eyes holding contact with yours, eyebrows furrowed, hand on his chin, that made you think maybe he felt the same way. His hands, what was it about them? They were big and strong and you hadn't yet forgotten the way they had held onto your waist as you danced the night you met.

Dance. You knew how to communicate with that. It was second nature. Perhaps it would let you both open up. So you stood and moved to the record player. The space wasn't big enough to truly dance, but you kept plenty of records on hand to practice new choreography alone. You pulled out your favorite, a gift from José, and carefully placed down the needle.

"The bolero is danced in 3/4 time," you said, holding out your hand to Javier. "But I think you knew that already."

Javier seemed to understand and only hesitated a moment. The music swelled and he took your hand in one of his, the other finding its place on your back between your shoulder blades. There wasn't much space to move, but he led you through the steps anyway. Rock forward, step right, rock back, step left. Repeat. Tonight, Javier held you close, your hips and chests pressed against one another in a way that was much different from the first time you'd danced. He was more relaxed as well, allowing his hips to move in time with yours. Javier leaned his cheek against yours.

When you'd invited him in for a drink, Javier hadn't been sure what your intentions were. He still wasn't, though something in the way you let his fingertips glide up and down your spine as you danced gave him an idea.

And yet, he couldn't read you at all, though it seemed he could have no secrets around you. You had picked up instantly on his strange mood and though he hated to admit it, he liked the way you were persistent in trying to draw him out from his shell. He found you alluring. You were beautiful, yes, and he imagined as he fell asleep at night what you might look like under your tight dresses and this deliciously thin robe. But he also liked you, liked talking to you, liked being around you, liked your incesant teasing.

The song ended and the next one started up again, but neither of you moved away. Somehow so starved for physical contact, you were drunk on one another's touch, swaying gently in the dark. "We shouldn't--" Javier tried to speak but you interrupted him.

"Stop with the should or should not, Javi. It's too late for that."

"Why did you invite me in?" Javier figured it was worth asking, just to be sure.

"Why did you show up at my apartment, uninvited, in the middle of the night?"

"Fuck," Javier cursed under his breath. "I'm tired of this. Your half-answers, my unanswered questions, dancing, literally dancing, around whatever truth there is between us. I just want to know what you're thinking and it's impossible to tell."

You were taken aback. You had been so preoccupied deciphering Javier for yourself you'd forgotten he was probably trying to do the same with you. The look in his eyes was desperate, needy, and untamed.

The sensible thing to do would be to kick him out, to end it here because this wasn't right. It wasn't professional. And it was breaking your biggest rule: never sleep with the customer. But you were anything but sensible with a drink swirling around your veins.

You pushed Javier away gently, and he looked slightly crestfallen before he saw what you did next. The drink may have given you a boost of confidence, but this desire was all your own. With a gentle tug at the tie of your robe, you let it fall from your shoulders, the silk pooling at your feet as you stood bare before him. Javier was frozen in place, but then his eyes widened in surprise before raking up and down your body unabashedly.

"Well, I guess that's some type of answer," he whispered. The clock ticked on the wall, counting down the moments.

"Your move, Javi." Your words stoked the flame in his heart that you'd lit so many weeks ago. But his brain struggled to keep up, still in shock at the sudden sight of you naked for him and him alone. He wanted to take in every inch of you and ravish you all at the same time.

Javier reached out a hand, hesitating slightly as if unsure if you were real or just a golden vision before him. In the dim light from the kitchen, you seemed to glow, wild hair swept behind your shoulders, chest rising and falling with anticipation. Finally, Javier's fingers made contact with your skin, the back of his knuckles gently grazing the plane of your stomach. You trembled when he finally offered you his touch, goosebumps following the path of his hand as he moved up your body toward the curve of your breast. His thumb brushed across your nipple, causing you to gasp and nearly jump out of your skin. But his hand didn't linger, instead tracing the lines of your sternum to your collarbone and up your neck.

Javier's hand found its place on your cheek, his thumb sweeping across the ridge of your cheekbone. You closed your eyes softly, relishing in the sensation of his skin on yours. His hand was calloused but surprisingly smooth, as if worn by years of the same work. You turned your face toward his hand, pressing your lips to his palm.

You kept your eyes closed, expecting him to kiss you, your lips burning with apprehension. But the kiss didn't come, only the soft sounds of him moving and his hand leaving your face. You opened your eyes, worried he'd changed his mind and was leaving you there vulnerable to the world.

Instead, you found him kneeled before you, like a subject before his queen.

A shiver had run down Javier's spine when you'd kissed his palm as he pictured placing his own lips to yours. But something about the way you looked in that moment, ethereal, celestial, divine, forced him to his knees in worship. He wanted to taste every inch of you, learn every curve and crevasse of your body. You were just as beautiful--no, even more beautiful--than he'd imagined alone in his bed at night. And here you were, offering up that smooth skin, those thighs, those lips. And he would fucking worship you.

One hand found your waist, gripping gently but firmly to hold you in place. The other pulled a knee over his shoulder, causing you to stumble forward and forcing you to grab onto Javier for stability. But his hands held you firmly as his fingers sunk into the flesh of your ass, pulling you closer to his face, mouth sinking into you fluttering lips.

You gasped, fingers tangling into Javier's unruly hair and holding on tight, the sensation of his tongue against your clit making your legs go weak. A groan came from between your thighs, sending vibrations through your core and twisting your stomach into knots.

"Fuck, just like I imagined," Javier mumbled under his breath.

Like he'd imagined?

"You've pictured this?" you managed to ask between breaths. You could barely speak, the moans tumbling from your mouth leaving little oxygen in your lungs for anything else.

"Amor, you send me to sleep at night and wake me up in the morning."

Oh mierda, his tongue was continuing to swirl around your clit, leaving you unable to control your thoughts or your movements. Your hips shifted of their own accord, grinding against Javier's face as he ate you out. At some point, he would need to come up for air, but for now, he was perfectly content to suffocate between your captivating legs, drinking in your scent and swallowing the taste of you.

Javier was guiding you languidly toward your climax, savoring every shudder and twitch he pulled from you. The muscles of your pelvic floor seized and you let out a delirious moan. The tension that preceded your orgasm curled up through your stomach and into your lungs, drawing the strength from your limbs. Suddenly unable to hold up your upper half, let alone stabilize your legs, you slumped forward, chin hanging heavily against your chest, hands sliding down Javier's back and gripping the fabric of his shirt.

"Javi, please, I can't hold on." You needed to sit, lay down, anything, before you collapsed in ecstasy here in the living room. At your words, Javier picked up the pace, taking you from a gradual climb to a swift ascent. His acceleration told you everything you needed to know. Come for him, and he'd take you to the bedroom.

So you did, your orgasm shuddering through you at a staggering pace. It rushed through you, searing and urgent, and something told you this was only the beginning. A warm-up of sorts, leaving you unable to stand yet shivering for more. The last waves of your orgasm spread through you, Javier drinking them from you until your trembling subsided and your breathing came back to normal. He caught you as you eased back into your body, picking you up by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder. You giggled at the sudden change of perspective, now hanging upside down with an excellent view of Javier's ass.

"What are you doing?"

Javier didn't answer.

With a flop, you landed on the bed on your back. Javier stood over you, taking in the sight of you. Little did he know, you were doing the same, even though he was still fully clothed. You sat up on the edge of the bed and tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his tight jeans. Javier undid the buttons, letting out a soft groan as you took advantage of his proximity to palm the bulge in his pants. You wanted a taste.

His shirt now discarded, you worked at the button of Javier's jeans, placing a soft kiss on his stomach as you tugged them down. No underwear, why weren't you surprised? Javier's fingers curled into your hair, taking hold with a gentle yet solid grip as you freed his cock from confinement, precum leaking from the swollen head.

You looked up through your eyelashes, wanting to watch Javier's face as you swiped your tongue across the tip of his length, savoring the taste and earning a strangled moan from Javier's mouth. His eyes sunk shut and the image of you in the diner, licking the grease from your fingers danced behind his eyelids. He realized he was about to have that fantasy fulfilled, about to know exactly what your tongue could do.

The expression on Javier's face and his tightening hands in your hair made your stomach flutter. The absolute control you held over this man was ten times more satisfying than manipulating those men in the bistro because you were enjoying this too. Lightly, you dragged your tongue up his quivering cock, causing Javier to buck his hips and let out a hiss of dissatisfaction.

"Mierda, princesa, you gonna take me or just make me beg for it all night."

"You know I like to tease you, Javi." But the time for teasing was over. With one hand wrapped around him, you took him into your mouth, lowering your head as far as your gag reflex would let you. You began to move slowly, Javier's hands still in your hair and guiding your movements. Your other hand reached up and fondled his balls, pinching and massaging the tender skin. The sensation sent Javier hurtling toward the edge and he began to thrust into your mouth, matching your pace. It was good, too good. He was going to cum soon if you kept going.

Suddenly, Javier pulled away with a grunt, panting your name.

"Fuck, princesa, you're gonna finish me off fast like that." His voice was ragged with hunger. He wanted to taste you again, feel himself inside you as you came. "I'm not done with you yet."

Javier untangled his hands from your hair and placed them tenderly on your shoulders before pushing you back onto the bed again. He grabbed your ankles and hooked them over his shoulders, giving him full access to your cunt which was aching in anticipation of his cock, the size of which you had just fucked with your mouth.

You could feel the heat of him, so close, but Javier took his time, kissing his way down your thighs, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin until your legs shook. And still, he didn't slip inside you, instead caressing the tenderness of your stomach with his mouth. He'd kissed all the way up your body, from the jut of your hip bones to the freckle below your bellybutton to the supple fullness of your breasts. Javier's attentions left you squirming under his touch, but he wasn't done. He wanted to taste every inch of your exposed skin, both salty and sweet under his tongue.

Suddenly, Javier's touch left your body and he flipped you over. You squealed at the abrupt movement, your face in the pillows and hands gripping the sheets. Behind you came the sound of a condom opening. And then you could feel Javier hovering above you, his cock teasing your entrance, one hand on your hip and the other in your hair. And then his voice spoke next to your ear.

"Are you ready, princesa?" Javier asked, his voice heady and ragged.

"Fuck me, Javi." That was all the invitation he needed. Without a moment's hesitation, Javier lined himself up with your entrance and slammed into you. Your gasp of surprise, and all the screams that followed, dissipated into the pillows, muting the sounds that you knew would have been heard by the neighbors otherwise.

Javier crashed into you again, stretching and filling you more with each thrust. He started slow, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The hand in your hair pulled your head back, releasing the sounds trapped in the pillow to mingle with Javier's moans. The hand at your waist wrapped around to find your clit, his calloused fingers teasing the delicate bud, and Javier leaned over to run his tongue up your spine, chasing the shivers he was causing.

The combination of sensations, his tongue on your skin, fingers on your clit, cock buried deep in your pussy, built you again toward orgasm. You rose up onto all fours, trying to find that angle you knew would hit your g-spot, and Javier seemed to understand. He began to thrust harder and faster, rushing toward the edge he had narrowly avoiding sailing over when his dick had been in your mouth. But this was better, so much better. Javier's untangled his hand from your hair and wrapped his arm around your chest, lifting you so you were on your knees and pressed flush against his back.

This was it, the perfect angle. A tumble of incoherent Spanish curses flew from your mouth as Javier reached up to squeeze your tit in his large hand.

"Fuck, Javi, right there," you mumbled in between breaths. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

"Cum for me, princesa," Javier growled into your ear. "I won't cum until you do."

Javier's tongue flicked along your neck and up toward your ear, where he nibbled lightly. He thrust, deep and strong, into your trembling pussy and you came, in a searing white light of ecstasy. You choked out your sounds of pleasure, unable to breathe properly. As your walls clenched around his cock, your orgasm rushing in waves against him, Javier could hold it no longer. With a groan, he fell apart, grunting your name over and over as his twitching member spasmed inside you.

The two of you held still for a moment, unwilling and unable to move. Finally, Javier slipped out of you, leaving you feeling cold and empty. It didn't last long, however. Javier laid on the bed and pulled you down with him, holding you close to his chest. You curled against him, relishing in the warmth of his skin against the cool breeze drifting in through the open window.

"I have to admit, this isn't how I thought my night would end," Javier said. You giggled, still high on the euphoria of your second orgasm. The dopamine that clouded your brain began to clear and you looked into Javier's face, the tension and worry absent and replaced with a languid look of satisfaction and pleasure.

And then you realized something that made you sit straight up in bed. "You bastard," you said accusingly, pointing a finger at Javier's chest. He dragged a hand across his face.

"Oh mierda, what did I do now?"

"You never even kissed me."

It was true. He hadn't. He'd been so preoccupied with tasting the rest of you he'd failed to do the one thing he actually desired most.

"Alright, that's a valid accusation," Javier said, dragging you back down and rolling on top of you, pinning you to the bed. "I am a bastard, a lucky one."

Finally, with one hand on your face and the other lacing his fingers in yours, Javier kissed you. A real, proper kiss, teeth scraping your bottom lip and tongue gliding along yours. He kissed you until he could hold his breath no longer and then came back for more, tasting of your orgasm and the shared cigarette. At last, he pulled away and buried his face in your neck.

You pulled the covers up and over the two of you. And then you wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him to your chest as tightly as you could.

"Have any plans for tomorrow?" you asked.

Javier grinned into your shoulder. "Ready for round two already?"

"Only if we get to sleep in first."

"Anything for you, princesa."

#narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena #pedro pascal #"javi smut #javier pena x reader #I just want to dance with Javi is that too much to ask #reader #xreader

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tomhardydallasstarsgirl · 4 years ago

Text

FUCK.YOU.ANGEL.REYES.

Chapter 8

Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst Secrets coming to a head, Death and Clayton Cardenas making his debut.

"Dr. Helena to Surgery 3, Dr. Helena to Surgery 3", goes over the PA as you pace back and forth waiting in the waiting room.

Your Mayans brothers as you now call them are there with you for moral support as you all are patiently waiting for her Doctor to speak with you.

"Colibri, have a seat please", whispers Angel stopping you in your tracks.

"I can't Angel. I can get over this just that easy".

"I feel like I'm somewhat responsible for this".

"I haven't come to see her in a while and it's caught up with me for not doing so", as you break down and cry in front of everyone.

"Hey now, I won't have any of that now my beautiful sister, and I'm sure that bad ass in there who is your Granny won't have that foolishness either", says Naomi as she wipes away your tears.

"She knows you're an adult and have a lot of things on you plate right now. So don't feel guilty about not seeing her like you want to. Besides Bishop and I along with everyone else has been keeping her company as well too sugar", as your head rests on Naomi's shoulder.

Just then the doctor walks into the waiting room putting everyone on alert.

"Hello Ms. L/N. I just wanted to fill you in on your grandmother's condition. She's stable for the moment right now but, she will need surgery to repair the fracture in her hip".

"Wait a minute she'll need surgery? Will she survive this?", as a lump forms in your throat as Taza rests his hands on your shoulders.

"It's touch and go from here on out. Also, I will be performing the surgery along with Dr. Anders so we'll keep you all posted as she's getting prepped for surgery. Now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna scrub in".

"Can we see her now please?", you ask.

"Oh, yes you can. But, please don't bombard her all at once", says the doctor as he leaves to prepare for Mama Sadie's surgery.

Taza and Angel escort you to your grandmother's room as everyone else waits behind.

"Hey, Y/F/N", you hear being called behind you as you turn around seeing Margo and Neron together holding hands.

"Hey, Margo. Hey Creeper. What's going on you two", you say in a sing-song tone as Angel chuckles to himself.

She walks up to you giving you a hug as you eye Angel over her shoulder as he shrugs his shoulders like he's innocent as Taza suppresses a laugh.

"Lo siento Y/N", says Creeper kissing your cheek.

"We'll be in the waiting room okay", says Margo.

"Yes, we will. Anything for you my Mayan sister", says Creeper as they head towards the waiting area.

"Margo and Creep?", says you and your grandfather simultaneously drawing a smile on Angel's face.

"I'll tell you both later", says Angel as you all finally reach your grandmother's room.

"Hey let me get some air first okay? Then I'll be back to see her okay", you whisper to Angel.

"Want me to come with you mi dulce?", he asks not letting your hand go at the moment.

"No my King. I'll be fine", you say tip-toeing a kiss from Angel as he finally let's you go before stepping outside into the cool air.

Walking through the door to a seated area outside you breath a heavy sigh as you sit down on a bench in the well lit area. You take this time to respond to emails, texts and calls as you hear voices shouting. You walk to the corner of the building as you peek around it.

"Look he's is busy right now. Why do you keep coming around looking to start some shit. He's with his girl right now so just get the fuck out of here before he sees you", shouts Coco to the other person.

"You all know why I'm fucking here Coco. He needs to know and no one is going to stop me from telling him", speaks the female with a heavy accent", as you hear Gilly telling the female to leave.

"It's like what they say nowadays. What happens in Mexico stays in fucking Mexico. Now get the fuck out of here", says Coco gritting those words through his teeth.

The woman says nothing more as she takes her exit to leave. You accidentally step on a twig as your brothers look towards your general direction. You suddenly hear fast footfalls to the ground as you quietly ease your way back inside the hospital heading towards the ladies room where its empty of other occupants. You step into a stall as you sit on the toilet seat. You attempt to wrack your brain about what you just heard from outside between Coco and this female. You notice Bishop speaking quietly to what seemed to a be another doctor. You couldn't make out the entire conversation but, the only words you could make out was "paternity" and "DNA Test" causing you to almost stutter step in your tracks.

A nurse was just wrapping up checking vitals and making her comfortable as she quietly leaves the room. No words are spoken as the sounds of her heart being monitored beeps and your grandfather says a prayer in Native American Tongue.

Your body was stiff as you stood in the threshold of her room as Angel and Taza looked on with patience. You felt a bit queasy and dizzy as you swore the room suddenly begins to spin.

"Whoa, little one. Are you alright my dear", asks Taza with concern as he looks toward you.

"Angel", you shout as he catches you picking you up.

"Hey nurse, please help. My girl almost fainted", shouts Angel as you girls come running to check on you.

A male nurse brings a wheel chair for you to sit in as you grandmother's doctor approaches.

"Honey, are you okay?", asks Scarlett as they watch the doctor check you as Angel holds your hand.

***************************************************

"Have you been eating well?"

"Not really".

"And what what about your sleeping Y/N? Has it been good for you?"

"No, it hasn't

"When was your last period?"

"Period?", your girls whispering looking at each other.

"Whoa dude!!! What you asking her that for?",says Angel grabbing the doctor by the collar.

"Goddammit Angel, STOP!!!. Let him do his job please", you say as Angel releases him straightening his collar back to normal.

"I'm so sorry doc. Didn't mean to do that to you sir.

"Oh, it's alright son", says the doctor letting out an uneasy chuckle as he continued to check on you.

"My last period was the week of April 20th", you spoke calmly to the doctor as your friends eyed each other with suspicion as Taza and glared in Angel's direction as he suddenly felt hot and nervous under the collar.

BUZZ BUZZ BUUUUUZZZZZ!!! Goes your friends phones as they all check them simultaneously.

"Biiiiitch, that was over two months ago", as your girls read Scarlett's group text as they all eye each in agreement as Bishop, EZ and Ariza walk up behind them quietly peaking over their shoulders without them noticing.

"Girl, I had a feeling Angel was back to waxing that ass", says Naomi responding next in the group text.

"No wonder she been all Minnie Ripperton "Looooooving Yooooouuu" and shit", goes Danielle next as your girls share a giggle.

"LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LA, LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAA", responds Scarlett.

You became dismissive of the thought of possibly being pregnant. You didn't have time to be a mother right now since you were more concerned about the well-being of your grandmother.

"You know what it's probably just stress Doctor. No need to do a test. I have been under a lot of pressure lately. With work, getting ready for this show that's coming up in a couple of weeks. Hell my girls been working their fingers to the bone as well getting this show together for the whole world to see", you say as you quickly dropped the subject. The doctor pleaded with you as you said no.

"Sir, im here for Mama Sadie right now. Not me. So can I spend time with her before she has surgery please.

The doctor doesn't argue as he respects your wishes leaving her room. You lay beside in her bed lacing her fingers with yours as you fall asleep.

"Colibri. Wake up Colibri. They're here to prep her for surgery", says Angel.

You give your grandmother a kiss as she's being wheeled away towards the operating room. Dr. Anders gives you words of comfort before heading off to the O.R. for your grandmother's surgery.

You're pacing back and forth in the waiting room as you wait for Mama Sadie. At that point you receive a text message:

CC: Hey babygirl, I heard about Mama Sadie from Margot. Im so sorry to hear that. I was thinking of coming there to see you all. Is that okay?

You contemplate on what exactly to say back to Clayton. At the time you didn't think it was a big deal so you answered his question.

Y/N: Sure no problem.

CC: Okay I will see you all tomorrow evening sweetheart. 😘⚘⚘

Y/N: Thank you. See you then. 😊

Its the next day as the sun is skimming the clouds when everyone was still waiting as you were asleep with Angel's arm around you. Well when you woke up with a jolt it wasn't Angel's arm around you it was Coco.

"Hey Coco? Where's Angel?".

"He's outside taking a smoke break".

Taking a long stretch you survey the waiting as you see all the couples fast asleep. All except for Angel. You decided to stretch your legs a bit as you grab your jacket. You was about to step outside as you bumped into Angel who looks upset.

"Hey, I was just looking for you. Are you okay baby?".

"Yeah, I'm good Colibri", as he grabs your hand pulling you away to leave the hospital.

"Whoa, wait a minute where are we going?"

"I need a shower and I'm hungry. Then we can come back".

"Okay well let me get my purse okay".

You head back to the waiting room to retrieve your purse without disturbing anyone. You made sure to tell the nurse at the front desk that you will be back shortly.

You were in the shower singing as Angel was cooking something quick for you both. You step out if the shower feeling good. You get dressed as you walk towards the living room hearing hushed tones of an argument. You didn't turn the corner as between Angel and the other person.

"Look it's not my fucking baby. And stop calling me. Stay away from my fucking brothers. I. DON'T. FUCKING. WANT. YOU", you hear as he tosses his cell phone across the room landing on the couch.

You put your biggest smile on your face as you come around the corner. You hug him from behind as he turns around to give you a deep kiss. You were about to say something when both of your phones go off simultaneously.

You both arrive at the hospital hand in hand running towards everyone else. Suddenly you stop in your tracks as you feel something fly right through you. As if another spirit touched your soul giving you a warm hug.

"Baby what's wrong?", asks Angel.

"Oh nothing im fine", you say as you finally see your grandfather being consoled by Hank and Bishop.

"Hey what's happening? How is Mama Sadie doing?", you ask Dr. Anders as you approach him

"I'm sorry Y/N. We tried everything but, your grandmother suffered an aneurysm and we couldn't get to it in time".

"So, are you telling me that my grandmother is dead?", you say raising your voices catching everyone's attention.

"Yes, Ms. L/N", as you began to wail and cry as your girls are there to comfort you.

Angel approaches you offering you hug as you stop him.

"I hope it was worth it Reyes. Since you have a baby on the way by some chick named Adelita", you say giving him a shove.

"Or as Coco called it "What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico".

"Babygirl, just calm down. I know your upset right let's just go somewhere we can talk and make arrangements", says Bishop attempting to calm you down.

"Oh, here you go Obispo. How is that paternity test coming along huh? I'm curious to find out what kid will you be fathering along with Angel?", you shout wiping tears away.

"He could be your father Y/N", goes a voice as you turn around to see that its your life long best friend Naomi.

"What do you mean Bishop could be my father", you ask with disbelief on your face.

"Bishop told me this a while back. He confessed to me with tears in his eyes saying that he could be the father of my best friend".

"That's not true Philip is my father to me and my baby brother" you shout as you run off.

"Give her some space Hermano", says EZ grabbing his older brother's shoulder.

Clearing the hospital front door you see Clayton walking to those same doors. You run toward him jumping into his arms as you break down and cry. Angel walks out first with his brothers in tow catching a glimpse.

"Hey Hey Hey, what's the matter babygirl", says Clayton comforting you.

"Can we get out of here Jonathan?".

@nxxstybrat @angelreyesgirl @blue-angel-wings @calif0rnia-lovers @phantomnae @ljstraightnochaser @mayans-sauce @basickassandra @basickayreblogs @berberriescorner @rosieposie0624 @mrsmarvelous1995 @amorestevens @bigsisbria @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans @no-cheese-please @emmaveale123 @pananegra @kijahslove @spnaquakindgdom @cydhouseofgryffindor @skyofficialxx @spookys-girl @sesamepancakes @trulysuccubus @brattyfics @bigchoose @manuphantom

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saharamae21 · 3 years ago

Text

We Were Wild - Prologue

Hey guys. As you may be able to tell, I am a HUGE Minnesota Wild fan. A huge hockey fan in general. I decided to write a fanfic about the Wild and Kaprizov (the love of my life). I’m writing this for my own entertainment but I also hope you guys like it. Even if you aren’t a NHL fan, I think this will be a cute love story. You don’t need to know the players.

Thanks guys.

Also the title will probably change... Haha.

____________________________________________________

Prologue:

The cold always felt like home to me. Winter always made me happier than the summer ever could. With winter came skating and hot chocolate. It also brought blizzards and freezing temperatures, things that often reminded me of myself…

I woke up with the air feeling extra heavy within my room. The humidity would not let up, especially during a Minnesota summer. On top of that, my air conditioner sat broken in the window, mocking me.

I could hear the sounds of rush hour beginning. I pulled my curtains open to see the city bustling around me. I smiled down at the busy street below me. Whenever I looked out the window at the traffic below, I felt on top of the world. Something about the busy city made me feel at home. After spending my time at college up in the northland, I was happy to be back in the cities.

I let out a yawn and made my way down the hallway. I could see my college best friend and current roommate pouring a bowl of cereal out of the corner of my eye as I slipped into the bathroom.

“Kat! You aren’t really going to spend the rest of your summer in an ice rink, right?” Eliza yelled across the apartment at me when she heard the faucet running. I chuckled as I splashed the cool water on my face.

“You know I love hockey,” I retorted, grabbing my toothbrush. I heard her snicker and told me to come eat breakfast before I left. I shook my head though. My stomach was filled with butterflies at the idea of starting my new job.

I pulled my long brown hair out of my face and up into a high ponytail. I couldn’t have it getting in the way today. I applied a small amount of makeup before really looking at myself in the mirror. I smiled, trying my hardest not to look too tired.

“Come at least sit with me while I eat breakfast!” Eliza whined. I chuckled and walked out to the kitchen. I filled a glass of water and sat down next to her. She rolled her eyes when she saw the excitement in me. “You know they only want you because of the new Russian kid they’re bringing in. You’re basically going to be a translator, Katerina.”

Sadly, she was right. They hired me as a photographer, but they asked me to help their newest rookie out. I had a feeling that pictures would be lower on my task list then I had initially expected.

They hired me because I had hockey photography experience from college. I took photos for my university’s hockey team. Not to mention that they were one of the best college teams in the US. However, they also hired me because I was Russian.

Katerina Petrov, first generation immigrant. My parents immigrated to the US when I was four. My mother didn’t speak a word of English and my dad had a limited vocabulary. He basically got a factory job by saying, “I fix that for you,” and pointing at a machine. Russian was my first language and English was my second.

“I know…” I muttered. “But on top of that, they’re paying me to shoot their games. That’s my dream. Plus who wouldn’t want to be surrounded by the hottest team in the NHL.”

She laughed at my joke, knowing damn well that I was right. The Minnesota Wild has some of the best looking hockey players across North America. Still, Eliza looked at me and told me not to get my hopes up. She was right, this job might not be what I think it would be.

After she had finished eating, we both went back to our rooms to get ready for the day. She was off to her engineering job and I was heading to the TRIA Rink where the Minnesota Wild held practice. We lived very different lives.

My jaw hung open as I walked up to the building. I couldn’t believe that I was actually here. I secured my camerabag on my back and took a deep breath. I slipped my face mask on and pulled the door open.

Inside the lobby, Bruce Kluckhohn waited for me. He smiled at me as I walked in. I walked up confidently and offered him a handshake. I greeted him nicely with a huge smile on my face.

“Katerina, right?” he asked me. I smiled and held back my chuckle. Hearing my full name in an American accent always caught me off guard.

“You can call me Kat,” I said. He nodded in response and took me around the practice arena.

It was cold and empty when we got there. There was no sign of players anywhere. My head swiveled around to see everything about the room. I took mental notes on where the lights were and where the best spots to stand would be. I glanced at the plexiglass around the rink and smiled at how clear they were still.

“You won’t have to worry about that,” Bruce said as he motioned for me to follow him. I tilted my head in confusion and walked slowly behind him. We made our way around the rink and onto the bench. I could feel the chilled air radiating off of the ice. Bruce turned to me with a smile. “You will shoot from here.”

I stared at him in silence for a moment as my mind tried to process what he was saying. Why would I get such an awesome spot to shoot from? I opened my mouth to ask questions but I was interrupted by someone behind me. I turned around at the call of my name and saw someone I would recognize a mile away. Dean Evanson, the Wild’s head coach, stood right in front of me.

“Katerina, it’s wonderful to meet you,” he said with a smile. He shook my hand.

“Hi,” I said, freezing up a little bit. “You can call me Kat.”

I could tell he was surprised by my voice. I sounded very American and he was not expecting it. Even though I was Russian first, I lost my accent at a young age. I spoke English everywhere except for at home and having an accent made things harder for me growing up.

“Okay Kat,” he said, a smile on his face. “C,mon. I can show you the rest and explain things a little bit more.”

I nodded and followed him through the rest of the training facilities. It was a huge building and I could see myself getting lost before I got used to it. I listened carefully as he explained the situation to me. As I listened, I felt myself getting more and more discouraged. The reason I was here was to provide Bruce a hand. There was no guarantee that they would use my photos anyways. The main reason I was here was to help with communication between the coaches and their newest team member, Kirill Kaprizov. That’s why I would shoot their practices from the bench. It was so I could provide clarification at practice whenever he needed it.

“We really appreciate having you here and we look forward to seeing the talent you bring to our team,” Dean said as we made it back to the rink. I forced a smile on my face and nodded, telling him I would do my hardest before he walked away.

After he left, I looked out at the rink and noticed a few of the players skating on the ice. Bruce was over on the side opposite of me taking a few photos of the guys. There were no coaches around, but they looked like they were working on some drills. I walked over to the bench and pulled my camera out. I attached my 70-200 mm lens and adjusted my settings carefully. I snapped a couple of photos, observing the players on the ice. I immediately recognized a couple of them. Jared Spurgeon. Mats Zuccarello. Kevin Fiala. Matt Dumba. I could name them all. Well, all but one.

He looked young. He had to be around my age. His dirty blonde hair stuck out the back of his helmet. However, the thing I noticed the most was that he looked frustrated. He skated over to the bench, muttering to himself.

“I’m trying to understand, but I keep messing it up,” he said under his breath. However, he didn’t say it in English. This was him. This was Kirill Kaprizov.

“You’re working hard. Don’t worry, it will get easier,” I said to him.

His head shot in my direction. He had this dumbfounded look on his face as he stared at me.

“You can understand me?”

#saramae21 #mn wild #mn wild fanfic #mn wild fic #wild fic #wild fanfic #Minnesota wild #kirill kaprizov #kirill kaprizov fanfic #kirill kaprizov fic #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic

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