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#Who is an English speaker through and through
inuyashaluver · 2 days
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Hi lovely I love ur stuff 🩷 I have a little request/idea - obviously feel free to ignore it
I was thinking R has a really thick accent (English - either Scouse (Liverpool), Geordie (Newcastle) or West Country (Devon/Somerset/Farmer) or Aussie or something really thick like hard to understand from native speakers let alone anyone else) but R plays in Barca and has a crush on a Spanish player (Maybe Patri? maybe Ona? Maybe Alexia?) and is tryna talk to them more and maybe ask them out but they just get looked at funny and they walk off and she goes to Kiera and Lucy and is like what have I done? Do they all hate me? And [Crush] overheads them and goes round to their house after training and is like I really wanna get to know u, I think you’re really pretty etc but I cannot understand a word that comes out of ur mouth to the point where I am questioning whether it’s English
qué? - alexia putellas
alexia putellas x reader
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description: in which your accent proves to be difficult to understand
warnings: LONG!! swearing, misunderstandings, spanish in bold italics
a/n: i love this woman, your honour!! i was writing alexia angst but had to put out the fluff haha!! thank you so much for the love and request, lovely!! ily and enjoy ❤️
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you never thought your accent would get you into trouble but you were entirely wrong. and we’re not talking about trouble like criminal, we’re talking romantically.
you’re from liverpool, your thick, scouse accent distinct in your dialect. at home in england, the accent was understood most of the time, with an occasional person asking for clarification about your words but you didn’t mind.
even some of your england teammates had to ask you to repeat yourself occasionally when you got overly excited or stressed, your accent proving to be the hardest to understand at those moments.
you often needed a translator for even native english speakers if you spoke too quickly, lucy and later grace helping out when people were truly confused.
when lucy and keira moved from manchester city, you moved with them, having played in the club for 2 years and desperately wanting a change. and so, when the contract arrived from barcelona for the three of you, you accepted it without a second thought.
you had supported barcelona in liga F, having a huge appreciation for the way the spanish players moved, the quick passes and the goals that came out of nowhere. you were excited to pick up those skills to adapt to your own play.
and through your extensive research, you grew a special appreciation for alexia. in your eyes, alexia was the definition of perfect, not only her football skills, but her as a whole.
you would watch her interviews and videos for ‘research purposes’, claiming it was to practise your spanish. and it was, until you zoned out hearing the gentle hum of alexia’s voice, getting distracted entirely but you weren’t complaining.
when you got caught making heart eyes at your phone during england camp, the teasing was so relentless it wasn’t even funny.
“our little (y/n) has a crush on la reina! (the queen)” lucy exclaims in the change room, you immediately turn off your phone and look up at her with an icy glare, only making her smile at you affectionately with a pinch to your cheek that you were quick to swat away.
“you’re not much older than me” you glare, “5 years is 5 years” she shrugs, moving away when you launched an empty bottle at her.
“go on, tell us about your crush” leah smiles, millie and rachel pretend to kiss each other while looking at you and you heat up in the cheeks.
“i’m only watching so i can pick up spanish” you defend, lucy laughs loudly, out of the three transfers, she was definitely the one who picked up the most spanish.
“excuse me, lucia, and everyone in here,” you scoff, “is it such a crime to watch a video of my future captain?” your accent was so heavy at this point, everyone cracked a little smile at you.
“so you were watching videos of alexia then?” leah smirks, you let out a frustrated groan, “leah, shut up man” everyone laughs, the teasing continuing until keira and alessia told everyone to stop.
during the whole of camp, it wasn’t uncommon you got caught looking at photos or videos of alexia, the teasing was so bad you thought you would explode.
when the time finally came for you to join barcelona, you were incredibly nervous. the fear of underperforming playing on your mind, only becoming worse at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of a certain blonde you couldn’t take your mind off.
lucy and keira assured you everything would be fine, but you weren’t convinced, unsure of how you’d react when you finally saw alexia.
when you all walked to the change rooms, it was shocking how welcoming everyone was. hugs and kisses to the cheeks had you feeling so accepted amongst your new team.
and funnily enough, the last person to greet you was alexia, sending you a charming smile that had your stomach erupting with butterflies.
“(y/n), yes? bienvenida! (welcome)” alexia grins, her arms pulling you into a warm hug, her scent enveloping you and making you borderline dizzy.
“(y/n) is a big fan of you” lucy teases as alexia lets you slip from the hug after you mumble a quick hello. alexia gives a surprised smile, looking between a cheeky looking lucy and a sheepish looking you.
“you’re very good, too, I look forward to playing with you,” alexia’s hand moved to give your bicep a gentle squeeze and you swore your heart stopped, your cheeks were tinged with pink and you could barely formulate a sentence.
“yeah, i’m excited to play with ya” you breathe out, you move to your new cubby and get changed into the barcelona kit, feeling at home already even though it was your first day.
due to you busying yourself with avoiding alexia, you missed the way her gaze lingered on you as you changed, she was intrigued by you.
what you didn’t know was alexia had done her own forms of research. she had heard your name countless times in the media, a rising star in the making.
she respected the way you played, a midfielder who wasn’t afraid to take risks but also managed to avoid fouls frequently.
she wanted to get to know you as much as you wanted to get to know her.
weeks and months fly by and it was easy to say you felt comfortable amongst the team. your spanish was surprisingly getting better, being able to go through training without a translator most of the time.
the girls reciprocated you well, you’d go to team bonding nights and laugh and joke around with them. it was obvious to everyone except alexia that you were harbouring a crush on the captain.
the ways your eyes would follow her every move with pink cheeks honestly exposed yourself. and what made it harder was that alexia and you were growing closer each day.
one day you were chatting with mapi and ingrid, more like you getting teased while you begged them to stop before you were interrupted by a certain someone.
“do you want to be my partner?” alexia questions from behind you suddenly, making you choke on your own spit as she looked at you with a kind smile. “really?” you breathe out, she nods, nodding her head to the pitch for you to follow her.
you’d both been able to converse easily as the months went by, she’d have to ask you to slow down a couple of times when you both talked about something you had in common but it worked.
as you both trained together, you chatted and laughed, talking about random topics.
when you both got to shooting practice, alexia analysed your every move. she would give little nods of approval when you touched the ball, sending you an encouraging smile if you made eye contact, your heart was fluttering around her.
“you should put more weight into your hips when you kick” alexia corrects, you look at her questioningly, she huffs out a little laugh and comes to stand behind you.
her large hands place themselves on your hips and she turns them slightly to the front. her front was pressed against your back and you certainly weren’t breathing. she noticed you tense but chose to ignore it.
“focus here before you kick so it’s stronger” alexia says next to your ear, squeezing your hips gently before letting go of you. “try again, vamos! (let’s go)” she exclaims, you do as she says with her corrections and it was a much better result.
she smiles proudly, “buena niña! (good girl)” she laughs, coming up to you to squeeze your shoulders encouragingly, your cheeks were burning.
the entire team watched the interaction with big grins, ready to tease you for how sheepish you looked.
“gracias (thank you), ale” you scratch the back of your neck with an embarrassed smile, she shakes her head, “it’s nothing, thank me with a goal next game” she jokes, pinching your cheek teasingly before walking off to get some water.
you’re left there in shock, lucy and keira approaching with cheesy grins. “you’re in love” lucy coos, poking your shoulder teasingly while you shielded yourself in a hug from keira.
“i’m so fucking stupid, why can’t i be normal” you groan, keira laughs, her hand rubbing up and down your back. “you’re just shy, which is weird to see because you’re the complete opposite” she laughs, you pull back to throw her a glare.
“it’s cute” lucy chuckles, “i can’t wait to tell everyone about the development” she grins, her and keira share a hearty laugh seeing your face go pale, while you attempted not to scream.
“don’t you fucking dare” you grit out, “i won’t” lucy winks, unfortunately she did and by the time training was over, your phone was blowing up with text messages talking about the interaction.
you looked at lucy with a stone cold glare while she blew you a kiss, alexia watched how angry you were, she could practically feel it radiating off you on the other side of the change room.
“estás bien? (are you okay)” alexia walks up to you, holding a cold drink out to you. you take it after a moment of hesitation, “uh, yeah, sí” you smile, “lucia is annoying you?” alexia grins, looking over at lucy to see her and keira whispering while looking at you. “yes, she’s very annoying” you grumble, your eyebrows furrowing.
alexia smiles fondly at you, her hand moving to your face, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “wrinkles” she tutts, your breath caught in the back of your throat as you looked up at her.
“are you coming tonight?” she says like she didn’t just make you flatline. she’s talking about a team bonding session at her house. “yeah, i think so” you smile at her, “think or know?” she teases, was she flirting with you?
“know, i’ll be there” you mock, she nods with a pleased expression, “hasta luego, lindura (see you later, cutie)” she winks, moving to grab her bag from her cubby and leave, making sure to look back at you another time with a soft smile before walking out.
you get pulled out of your trance once you hear your phone blowing up again, checking it to see lucy had recorded you watching alexia leave. you throw your head back in frustration but chose to avoid letting the older girl feel your wrath, you were still on a buzz from the thought of alexia flirting with you.
when you arrived at alexia’s house, you brought her a bottle of wine with a sheepish grin. when she opened the door for you, she pulled you into the warmest hug, both of you fitting together like a puzzle.
“finalmente! (finally) i was waiting for you!” she grins as she pulls away, taking the wine out of your hands and grabbing one of yours to drag you into the living room where everyone was.
her hand was so warm against yours, soft against your skin and you really didn’t want her to let go. “you look beautiful” alexia smiles before she ushers you to sit down, you barely had the time to tell her how breathtaking she looked, dressed casually but still looking like she could be on the front of a magazine.
you sit next to mapi and she immediately bombards you with questions, “have you kissed yet?” she questions, you slap her knee, “ingrid, your girlfriend is a bully” you huff, ingrid laughs, nodding along with you with an apologetic smile.
everyone was watching a movie while eating, alexia sitting beside you, the two of you would chat back and forth with small giggles and smiles shared between you.
by the time the night was ending, alexia’s arm was resting behind you on the couch, basically over your shoulder while you were in your own little bubble.
when you left that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the interactions you had with the catalan, you needed to do something about it. fast.
on a match day for barcelona, you decided it was time for you to tell her about your feelings. it was clear you were flirting with each other. confirmed during the game.
in the second half, you managed to get a goal, using the technique alexia had taught you a couple of days prior.
she was the first one to you after, the loud roar of the crowd drowned out when you felt alexia’s strong arms wrapping around your waist.
you both smiled so brightly as she congratulated you, placing you on the ground, giving you an affectionate kiss on the forehead and squeezing your shoulders. this told you everything. it wasn’t just her being friendly, it was alexia making a move.
at the end of the match, the two of you lingered in the middle of the pitch, you were fidgeting so much alexia was worried.
“(y/n)?” she dips her head to make eye contact with you, “estás bien? (are you okay)” you nod, opening your mouth to speak but nothing came out. “take a deep breath” she smiles, a hand on your shoulder offering you comfort but also stressing you out.
“ale” you start, she nods with an encouraging smile, “i really fancy ya, ale, i’ve been wantin’ to tell ya for a while” you blurt out, alexia’s eyebrows furrow, she looks a little confused.
the silence was loud, why hasn’t she said anything back. if this was her rejection, it hurt more than anything she could have verbalised.
“you know what, forget i said anythin’” you run off before she could say anything. “qué? (what)” she was about to ask you to repeat yourself, one - because you were speaking too fast, two - she didn’t know what fancy meant.
you heard her call out for you but you ran into the change room, knowing keira and lucy were in there. “keira!” you yell, “fucking check my pulse!” you shove your arm in her face and she looks at you in shock. only a couple of people were inside, and the ones that were were shocked at how you tumbled into the room.
“jesus, your heart is going so fast” keira says as she presses her fingers to the inside of your wrist. “fuck, why couldn’t you tell me i’m dead and this is a nightmare” you groan, your hands running over your face frustratingly.
“what’s wrong with you?” lucy says as she walks out of the shower to see you in absolute shambles. “everything!” you explain each and every detail and they look at you sympathetically, understanding now why you were so upset.
what you didn’t know was alexia was outside, ear pressed to the door as she heard you explain that you were trying to confess. she feels her stomach tighten, cursing herself for not understanding what you were saying.
“whatever, i’m going home, don’t follow me” you grit, tears pooling at your waterline as you rush out. alexia had moved out of eyeline when she heard you, quickly going into the change room and drilling lucy and keira for your address that they happily gave her with sly grins. happy to know it was all a misunderstanding.
that afternoon, you hastily wiped your tears away thinking about alexia. you had misunderstood her intentions clearly, you were disappointed with yourself.
you heard the banging from the front door and groaned, knowing your fellow england teammates were probably on the other side with ice cream and apologetic smiles.
“i told you both not to follow me-” you huff, the door opening to see alexia standing there, a bouquet of bright flowers in hand. “hola (hello)” she smiles, “what are you doing here?” you ask softly, “can i come in?” you nod, moving back a little so she could step inside. she hands you the flowers and you take them with a confused expression.
what type of rejection was this?
“i heard you speaking to lucy and keira before” she starts nervously, both of you walking to the kitchen so you could put the flowers in water, they were beautiful.
“it’s fine if you don’t feel the same” you shrink into yourself, brushing the petals of one of the flowers between your fingers.
“hermosa (beautiful)” she calls out, moving around your counter to stand directly in front of you. “me gustas mucho, y quiero estar contigo (i like you a lot, i want to be with you)” she says earnestly, speaking in her mother tongue and hoping you understood because she was speaking from the heart.
you freeze, each and every word quickly translated in your head. “amor (love), you’re very beautiful and nice but you speak very fast, i did not understand a word you said before” she laughs, you can’t help but laugh too, shaking your head at how fast you fled the situation.
“i’m sorry, ale” you grin, “don’t be” she dismisses, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, relishing in the blush she just produced on your cheeks.
“me gustas mucho (i like you a lot), alexia” you smile, she gives you a dazzling expression, appreciating how you spoke her mother tongue to her so she really understood this time. “muy bien, preciosa! (very good, precious)” she coos affectionately, her hand cradling your cheek as she directed your eyes to hers.
“we will teach each other, sí?” she grins cheekily, you hum along with her words, “sí”.
she pulls you closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips, your stomach lurching at how soft they were against yours.
you both smile into it as she drew you closer, your arms wrapping around her neck while her free hand came to rest on the small of your back to press you against her.
she pulls away, not without pressing a few more kisses to your lips through the giggles and the small chatter between the two of you.
when you both came to training the next day hand in hand, sighs of relief were heard from everyone. lucy whipped out her phone as quickly as she could and sent pictures to the england group chat, your phone blowing up more than ever.
now that the team saw you interact, the teasing somehow got worse every time alexia would kiss you, or even hold your hand.
the pining drove everyone insane but the loved up versions of the two of you were insufferable. you were attached at the hip, just how you and alexia wanted.
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you know the drill, just pretend it’s you xx
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alexiaputellas: mi niña (my girl)
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yourname: mami
↳ alexiaputellas: i didn’t teach her this
↳ marialeonn16: sureeeee
lucybronze: the most annoying couple ever
↳ yourname: shut up man
↳ leahwilliamsonn: there she is!!
↳ keirawalsh: she went soft but is still a shit head
↳ yourname: @/alexiaputellas bebé! defend me!
↳ alexiaputellas: you are soft
↳ yourname: the betrayal is unreal
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halliewriteshockey · 18 hours
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I was assigned to wrangle the players at the last minute today while they called season ticket holders, which meant printing out scripts and lists of patrons for 26 idiot boys and walking said idiot boys through how to block their numbers and make notes on how each call goes
Some notable moments:
- a player bribed his teammate to make his calls for him and dipped while I was helping our non-English speakers get settled (I will have my revenge)
- I I called the first player, Young, and the entire team started chanting, “YOUNGER YOUNGER YOUNGER” at the top of their lungs until I busted out the mom voice and told them to knock it off (happy to report I’ve still got it)
- a player didn’t block his number and called a dozen patrons who now have his number and somehow wasn’t at all concerned about it
- my Latvian player had TWO different people hang up on him while he was talking and after the first one, he said, baffled, “he hunged up on me” and after the second, he just looked at me all sad, so I promised to fight them for him
- I gathered everyone in the hall to explain what to do and noticed a few guys with their shirts over their noses, giggling. I thought they were laughing at a private joke until the smell hit me. I broke off mid-sentence and said “oh my GOD” and the entire team just lost it 😭
- my bb goalie refuses to tell me who the criminal was
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Another fluffy (ish?) Hemmer fic
Words: 2.5k
Summary: 2 Vulcan kids get into trouble in Andor'au (Andorian capital) and Hemmer cannot mind his own business
TW: Ushaan (fight) violence, maybe a curse or 2?
Rating: pg? mild fight scene stuff, maybe pg-13 if duels freak u out :))
This is definitely Un-beta'd. Apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes.
Bleeding Heart:
The meeting on Andoria was supposed to be historic; a meeting of old wounds and a new peace. 
Hemmer scoffed. 
‘Peace’ for the Federation lasted about 30-50 years on average but most times much, much less. It had only been a year since the Klingon War and they had almost been blown up by the Romulans already. 
However, the Federation's relationship with the Klingons was getting better. Somewhat. So, it made sense for the Romulans to set a date for peace talks. 
Trudging through the snow-lined streets, Hemmer kept yawning and shaking his head. 
Unfortunately, the Romulans wanted to talk on their own time. Of course, this happened to be at dawn. 
Pike, bless the man, kept gabbering on about the symbolism of dawn and new beginnings, much to Hemmer’s deep annoyance. Pike could be such a boy scout sometimes; a blessing and a curse. 
Hemmer scoffed again. 
It’s a curse this morning. Definitely a curse. 
Hemmer was surprised to be invited to such a formal gathering, but soon learned that his mother the Speaker wouldn’t be attending. It made sense to ask him; his next-in-line sister to the position could be blunt and her English needed practice.
 The last thing Hemmer needed was to be translating for his fiery older sister. 
The position of the Speaker was an Aenar oddity. For a people with little government– or so it seemed to outsiders– the position was strange. Somewhat of a president, ambassador, and high judge rolled into one person. 
His pace slowed. 
His mother had to have a reason for refusing to attend. The Speaker for the Aenar not attending sent a powerful message. Although exactly what message she meant to send was unclear to him. 
Then, something shifted in the air. Something changed. 
In the periphery of his psychic vision, he sensed something small. Someone in distress. 
A child in distress. 
Aenar had many rules and ways of approaching things. There were manners to be practiced and etiquette to maintain. 
All of those careful rules and manners of polite engagement went out the window when children became involved. As they should. Children are the responsibility of everyone. 
As to what a child was doing wandering the streets of Andor’au in the dark- he didn’t care. He’d find out soon enough. 
Hemmer turned to his captain. “Excuse me. I’ll be… a moment.” 
Before Pike could ask what the hell that meant, Hemmer was already halfway down the street. He turned a corner, and then a few more until he arrived at his destination. 
There was no one. Or, well, to someone with normal vision, there would have appeared to be no one there. No one with normal vision would have been able to spot a child hiding in the gap between the dumpster and the city wall. 
Lucky for him, Aenar possessed something far beyond normal vision. 
He leaned down. “Hello?”
Nothing. 
He tried again, in Andorian and then in Anoeh, the Aenar dialect. 
Nothing. 
He winced. 
Please say you speak English and not Vulcan. 
He tried again. 
“Hello? Child?” 
The sniffling stopped. 
“Yes? I am T'Pau.”  She sniffed again, “Who are you?” 
Great. His Vulcan was about as good as his Tellarite- which is to say it was awful. Horrible, even. 
He winced. “Do you speak English?”
“...Kind of.” 
A small hand reached out, carefully, as if she was testing him. 
He extended his hand in the Vulcan Salute, although he was unsure if that was polite or not. He assumed touching her hand would be invasive. Any touching in general would be invasive, based on Spock’s hesitancy to give even a simple handshake. 
Something moved in the alley behind them. 
Hemmer rolled his eyes. 
It just keeps getting better. 
A gruff voice spat in Andorii, “Move.” 
T'Pau’s hand retreated into the gap in an instant. She shuffled back further into the darkness, her mind emitting a wave of fear. 
Hemmer shook it off. Aenar could ‘hear’ certain psychic waves that others could emit. Like sonar on a ship, the Aenar both emitted and read the psychic waves of others. Feelings, general mood, and personal aspects could be divined from such waves. 
Reading clear thoughts and detailed telepathic communication was harder to achieve, but reading psychic waves was easy. Even children could do it. 
As the child recoiled, Hemmer went still. 
T'Pau wasn’t just scared. She was terrified. 
“Hemmer?” Pike’s voice called, “Where the hell-”
Hemmer sighed, he really hated broadcasting his thoughts- but there was no choice. 
Captain. 
Pike’s footsteps skidded to a stop. 
Captain, I’m in a situation. Turn around and continue to the embassy without me. I’ll be a moment. 
He could hear Pike’s mind resist. Naturally, the captain couldn’t be swayed to leave his friend in a ‘situation’ no matter how much Hemmer had tried to write it off. 
Pike. 
Hemmer sighed. 
Chris. Now, please.
Pike’s mind finally gave in, but as he turned away he said with a drawl, “You better not be late… and if you get into trouble, you better call me.” 
The voice from earlier was closer. “Move away.” He called, in English. “This does not concern you.”
Andorians had a funny view of private affairs. 
Hemmer turned around to see a higher-ranked clan member coming towards him: Clan Chrenn, a merchant-class clan. 
“Yes,” Hemmer stood, “It does. Why does a Chrenn clan member want a little Vulcan girl?” 
The man rolled his eyes. “There’s an Ushaan about to start on embassy grounds. Her brother was challenged for dishonoring my father.”
“How old is he?” Hemmer asked darkly. 
T'Pau looked to be about eight or nine. Her brother couldn’t be more than ten years older without the gap being suspicious. 
The man sighed exasperatedly, “He’s old enough- barely.” 
Sixteen. The age to be legally challenged to a Ushaan was sixteen for Andorian men. 
“Your father challenged a teenager?” Hemmer spat, “For what?”
“I’m Chev’il Chrenn.” The man sighed again, “The boy caused a scene on accident by undermining my father in a conversation- a Vulcan custom no doubt. His sister ran off when the argument began. It escalated, and then the Ushaan challenge was given.”  
“Where is it taking place?” Hemmer asked sharply, “I’ll volunteer for him- gladly.” 
Chev’il’s face twisted in confusion. 
“But you’re a-”
“-Aenar can use violence in certain situations. I’m not about to witness a teenager get gutted in a Ushaan.” 
He turned around and held out his hand. 
“T'Pau. It’s going to be alright. I’ll help you and your brother. Where are your parents?”
Chev’il winced. “The boy is a prodigy. He was invited to the Romulan conference for his skill in diplomatic issues. It’s just them.”
“A diplomatic prodigy got challenged to a Ushaan?” Hemmer scoffed, hand still outreached. 
“The comment he made was incendiary- and entirely contextual. It…involved a mention of my mother.”
Hemmer winced. He recognized the name Chrenn. A few years back there had been a large scandal that left the Chrenn family on bad ground with most of the economic sector. The two largest factions in the messy divorce had been the Chrenn main patriarch and his wives. 
It was– in short– a dumpster fire. 
“Oh. Fantastic.” Hemmer bent down lower, “T'Pau?” 
The little girl reached out and pushed his hand aside quickly. 
As she crawled out of the gap, she looked up and said shortly, “I’m coming. You’ll help my brother, Telas?” 
“Yes.” 
That seemed to sate her. 
The trio continued back to the embassy, it was only a few minutes walk. Hemmer ended up carrying the little girl as the two men tried to pick up the pace without panicking her. 
Chev’il was alright. He at least saw the absolute idiocy of the situation. 
On the main lawn, there appeared to be a crowd of people split into two parties. He heard his captain before he saw him. 
“You cannot be serious.” Pike’s voice carried through the courtyard. “What honor is there in challenging a kid?” 
Hemmer sighed in relief. At least he had one person on his side. Well, Pike and Chev’il, but Chev’il was more neutral than anything else. 
Hemmer handed T'Pau to Pike and nodded, “I’ll volunteer for him.”
“Wait, I thought-”
“There are always exceptions to rules, Captain.” Hemmer gritted his teeth, “Children are off-limits, no matter the grudge or the intensity of the feud. It’s Aenar law that I can substitute to preserve Telas’ life.” 
“You can kill people in death duels because of a law around…?”
“Jidafe Dez’shea. The ‘protection exception’. If a child is in danger I am allowed to use lethal force.” 
“Huh.” Pike nodded slowly, “Are there any other fun facts I should know? You’ve kept this kind of on the down low-”
“Captain.” Hemmer said with a small sneer, “We Aenar don’t broadcast many things about ourselves. You should know by now that I will reveal what is necessary if and when it is necessary.” 
Rolling his eyes, Pike didn’t miss a beat.
“Ok, yeah, but maybe a ‘head’s up’ might be nice-”
“Captain.” 
“Fine, whatever. Have fun, don’t die, please.” 
Hemmer nodded and held out his hand to the Andorian on the other side of the yard. 
“I accept the Ushaan in the place of Telas, the blood of Vulcan. Ushaan’di ev’ek.” 
The crowd murmured, an agitated ripple ringing through the mass of people. 
“The last time an Aenar accepted a Ushaan was-”
“-Before the Unification.” Hemmer nodded, “I am aware. I am familiar with the honor codes- as you know– my mother is Speaker of the Aenar.” 
“The match is to start within five minutes of the re-reading of the Ushaan rules.” A voice called, “That is now within seconds, are you sure?” 
Hemmer chuckled dryly. 
“Yes.” 
The barrier lines were drawn in the snow and the crowd stepped back to watch the Ushaan. 
Hemmer scoffed. 
Funny to have a death duel on the grounds of an Embassy. How ironic. Let us pray that the Romulans don’t insult the drapes or they may find themselves in a similar situation. 
A nearby official offered him a Ushaan-tor. Hemmer reached out but hesitated. 
Something was caught in his vision. 
He turned. His eyes couldn’t see color, texture, or much detail, but he recognized the statue. 
In the center of the yard stood a statue of Justice– the male variant– holding a sword. Like all Andorian statues with weapons, the blade was real. 
Even more interesting, it was loose. It moved a little in his grasp every time someone stepped too close. 
Praying quietly that the Honor Codes didn’t have a clause against statue robbery, he stepped over the flowerbeds of the embassy lawn and gently removed the sword from his grip. It was light, surprisingly. 
Thank God, it was something he had been trained with; an old blade that predated the Aenar escape to the Northern Wastes. 
He could feel the expression Pike was making without even having to look at him. His captain had his mouth hanging open like some cartoon character. 
“Captain. Close your mouth, please. I am trained in wielding this weapon.”
“Wait-”
“Preventative training. Aenar train as a precaution, never as an act of aggression.” 
His Captian took a moment to process. Pike closed his mouth and gave a thumbs up. “Ok, cool. Good luck.”
Hemmer smiled and nodded, internally groaning. 
Luck has nothing to do with a Ushaan. 
Both Hemmer and the Chrenn patriarch moved into position. They were tethered together, and the signal was given. 
The Chrenn patriarch was by no means young, but he wasn’t out of practice either.
As Hemmer blocked a fatal swipe of the Ushaan-tor, he cursed. 
 If Talas had gone up against him, he would have died. 
That was enough to kick his psychic abilities into overdrive. Aenar can trigger a precognitive episode themselves when they’re angry enough. 
Suddenly, Chrenn was to his right, swiping with the Ushaan-tor. Hemmer dodged and then was hit by the second blow. 
As soon as he saw the next few tentative seconds into the future, Hemmer was thrust back to the present. 
Chrenn went right, Hemmer went up. 
Knocking the man onto his back with the flat of his blade, he plunged the sword through the leather of Chrenn’s bracer. Effectively, pinning him in place like a butterfly on a tack board. 
“Yield.” Hemmer spat. “I will not kill you.”
Chrenn looked up, eyes burning with fury and pain. 
“No.”
“Yield,” Hemmer demanded. “I’ll offer the victory to your son. I have no use for Andorian honor.” 
Chrenn cursed, then nodded. 
“I yield.” 
The officials and Pike crowded the ring, seemingly all confused about how to proceed. 
“You can do that? Give the honor to someone else?”
“I think.” Hemmer nodded, “I don’t care about that.”
Pushing past Pike, he returned to the sidelines where T'Pau and Talas were standing. 
“Where are your parents?” Hemmer asked, “I’m calling them. Also, you’re going to be under my watch for the remainder of your stay in Andor’au. I’m not risking any more incidents.” 
Talas glanced to the side, “Our father is available. He manages the household affairs at the moment. I will give you his number, however, I must ask why you intervened. Andorians do not often risk their lives without reason.”
“Simple.” Hemmer smiled, “Aenar…we value children. There are so few that we take care of them in a community. Every child is equally protected and raised by every adult.”
His chest puffed out a little. “You are not my children, but, for the next few days, you certainly are under my care.” 
Talas bit back the Vulcan version of a grin. “Thank you. Although I see no logical value in this statement, I respect your intentions. Thank you, for fighting for me. You were under no obligation to do so. ”
Hemmer winced. 
Political genius? Really? 
T'Pau padded over. 
“Are you going to be the next Emperor of Andoria? I read in a book once that people who pull swords from stones are supposed to be kings-”
“T'Pau!” Talas blanched, “Don’t say that!” 
Hemmer kneeled down to be eye-level with her. “Eh, no. It’s an Andorian legend that the weapons in statues are to be used when needed. I needed this sword the same way your brother needed my help.”
“Now.” Hemmer sighed, picking up T'Pau again, “We should eat something, and call your parents to notify them.”
Pike, seemingly aghast, appeared behind them. 
He whispered hotly, “Hemmer, the meeting with the Romulans starts in fifteen minutes!”
Hemmer smirked. 
“Give the Romulans my condolences.” He nodded his head towards the child in his arms, gently smiling.  
“I have more important things to attend to.”  
Pike scoffed, turning and biting back, “Your bleeding heart is going to get you killed one day.”
Hemmer scoffed in reply, turning towards the early-morning cityscape.
“And when that day comes, my friend, I will have little regrets.” 
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feminetomboy · 1 year
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I guess I'd just like to make an appreciation post for any non-binary people out there who speak heavily gendered languages. The folk who cannot just "make pronouns everyone else's problem", because their language doesn't allow it. People who are forced to choose a binary gender to even just articulate their thoughts. Who have to choose a box, even if they don't like it.
I promise I see you. I know it's tough. I am holding your hand tightly, as we walk this road together.
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jeffsatyr · 19 days
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i'm finally at the end of the methology part of my tefl course and now i need to go back and do the assignments i've been skipping over. i did do one of them previously (the first one) and failed it so i just closed my eyes and went LALALALA very loudly everytime i came across another one. i have just under a month to get the remaining three modules done, which amounts to about sixty 'units' (pages) so hopefully i can just blaze through them if i can get the assignments done. then i can be free. hhhhhh
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thesixthstar · 1 year
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arcadianico · 9 months
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sorry i promise i’m normal about this poll (i’m not) but i do think it’s interesting 👀 that all but one of the last four ships are one hispanic person and one native english speaker. 3/4. on the hispanic mcyt ship poll. even the ships with non hispanic latinos (spiderbit, 4max etc) have been voted out in favour of ships whose members have not interacted on stream since the day the brazilians arrived at most recent
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smoochkooks · 2 years
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jeeeez sometimes I still can't get used to people telling me they think I write good and they love my stories cause I'm always soooo insecure about my writing skills and I constantly have it at the back of my head that I could have been better if I was more fluent in english
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sadhoc · 1 year
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11 April: If you learned to speak as a child (definition for this post: the ability to use spontaneous speech (mouth words) to communicate in at least two-word sentences), did your ability to speak improve after that, stayed the same, decrease, or did something happen that you can't speak at all anymore now?
i learned to speak as a kid, but i used to have very idiosyncratic grammar. i don't really know what "improves" means in this context to be completely honest. i'm easier for unfamiliar listeners to understand, but i still believe that my intuitive way of speaking is clearer to me and more logically sound than actual english grammar. i.e. the using everybody's full names instead of "i" or "you" a lot of the time is way clearer than pronouns, and i still go back to it when i think that somebody indicates that they don't understand what i'm saying because like. it's just clearer that way.
however, i can speak more conventional english now, even if i'm not good at making my actual points understood, what i'm saying fits into the grammatical patterns other people use.
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gothicprep · 1 year
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i've been meaning to write something for a while now about how misinformation is not a partisan issue, it's just an issue in general. i was mulling over writing something about how infowars waterboards statistics into saying whatever alex jones wants – i'll still probably do that in the future – but it's not something that exactly supports my thesis here.
but, lucky me, i had a perfect example fall into my lap this week.
so, was andrew tate taken into custody over twitter beef with greta thunberg? the short answer is "no" but i'll elaborate.
here's the primary romanian news report about the cops taking the tate brothers into custody. the way that this has been reported in US news media has basically been that a pizza box in andrew tate's video response to thunberg helped romanian authorities confirm his location. here's a daily beast article that insinuates this:
In a video rant he uploaded to Twitter, in which he smoked a cigar and tried to brush off the online spat, he unwittingly displayed a pizza box from a local pizza chain—alerting authorities looking for him to his presence in the country.
here's the problem with that, though – none of the romanian journalists who reported on this story said anything about the pizza box thing. there's also a huge problem with these stories just... citing each other.
if you dig through the citation loop long enough, you end on this daily star article that cites tweets (jurnelism!) from, of course, alejandra caraballo
According to Alejandra Caraballo, a writer and clinical instructor posting on Twitter: “Romanian authorities needed proof that Andrew Tate was in the country so they reportedly used his social media posts.
(as an aside, if you follow her on twt, i'd heavily recommend against doing that. she spews bullshit like her life depends on it and i think this is inexcusable.)
these are caraballo's tweets in question:
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the source for this is the romanian article i linked to earlier in this post. it doesn't say any of this. at least, the english translated version of it doesn't. for what it's worth, i'm not a romanian speaker, and i don't have any benchmark for judging if google's translation service is missing linguistic nuances. here's what it actually says:
Sources close to the investigation stated, for Gândul , that shortly after the completion of the computer expertise, the authorities waited for the right moment to catch the Tate brothers, who were always out of the country.
After seeing, including on social networks, that they were together in Romania, the DIICOT prosecutors mobilized the special troops of the Gendarmerie and descended, by force, on their villa in Pipera, but also on other addresses.
it's also probably worth pointing out that tate's villa was previously searched in april. while the article does say that social media was used to help confirm their location, it doesn't say anything about pizza boxes. and, like, given that tate is a prolific social media poster and was tweeting out videos of romania on sunday, i think it's safe to assume they had a wealth of other information to go off.
and if you don't want to take my word for it, nyt and wapo both reported that the spokesperson for the romanian prosecutor presiding over the case denied the pizza box thing:
Speculation online centered on whether a distinctive pizza box featured in one of Mr. Tate’s tweets to Ms. Thunberg had helped lead the authorities to him, but Ramona Bolla, a spokeswoman for the Directorate for the Investigation of Organized Crime and Terrorism, told The New York Times on Friday that that was not the case.
anyway, ain't it funny how caraballo's made the fuck up pizza tweet got 76 million views, 97k retweets, and 525k likes, while her appended correction got 78k views, 100 retweets, and 820 likes. her initial "source: my mind" tweet is still up. ain't. it. funny.
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Okay, so with Quackity Studios tweeting about adding new people and the need for tolerance and patience with people who don't speak English, let's just take a second and have a chat about what that's gonna look like.
First: you will hear things or read things on the translator that hurt or offend you.
This is inevitable. Do not immediately post about it. What you need tolerance for is hearing things that hurt or offend you and what you need patience for is figuring out of malicious intent was present or if this is a hill worth dying on right now.
As an example, we're pretty sure at this point that Korean is gonna be the next language added. The second person pronoun in Korean sounds a lot like the n-word in English. The n-word in English, if you're not aware, is like the single most offensive slur we have. It's not something that you want to hear unexpectedly. But also, if we get Koreans, they're gonna be using the word for "you" and English speakers are gonna have to be able to tolerate that.
On the other side of things, Korean has a complex system of honorifics and addressing someone without an honorific would be considered very forward and intimate at least if not very rude. None of the QSMP languages have honorifics though and only French really retains formality* so no one else is going to address them with honorifics unless they specifically explain it to people and walk them through it. That will probably be weird and uncomfortable for them and they're going to have to be able to tolerate that.
*Spanish and Portuguese do technically have formal vs informal but it's disappearing quickly in both of them.
These natural cultural clashes and pain points are going to be harder to overcome since we also know that at least some of these creators won't speak English at all so they can't just switch to English to helpfully explain things to us easily in a way we understand. We're going to have to deal.
So here's the thing: just because there can be cultural miscommunications and mistranslations, that doesn't mean that people can't also be assholes. How do you distinguish between the two?
Step One: Assume good faith. Assume that everyone in a given encounter is trying to communicate respectfully and compassionately and that a failure to do so can be overcome
Step Two: Don't get involved. Especially not in Twitch Chat. Two or more people trying to communicate through a language barrier does not get easier when they're also trying to wrangle hostile viewers.
Step Three: Are you sure you heard what you thought you heard or saw what you thought you saw? Did the translator fuck up? Is it a word that just coincidentally happens to sound like another word? If this is the case, the streamers can ask for clarification or use another tool and get it cleared up. Keep watching and see if they do.
Step Four: If they did say what you thought they said, are the streamers handling it? We had a thing a while back where Bad called some friends, including Bagi and Etoiles, uncultured because they didn't get a reference he was making and Etoiles was like "bro I'm French" and Bad apologized. That should have been the end of it, but I had to see people arguing about it for weeks. The problem was solved in 10 seconds.
Step Five: If the person is doubling down, are you sure this is something you can fix by yelling about it on Twitter or Tumblr? Would it be better to let people who actually know them talk to them behind the scenes? Pierre made a few missteps in the beginning of the server, Quackity said they had a chat, Pierre hasn't misstepped since. It's just easier to sort things out in private, one on one conversation than yelling at someone in public.
In short: it's fine to take note of behavior in case patterns start to emerge in it, but yelling on social media about how so and so is the worst person possible is not constructive.
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my first reading in my African history class this year is about why using “tribe” to refer to ethnic groups stems from a racist desire to make African conflicts sound primitive or stemming from a desire to pretend that these are just ancient conflicts that have always existed. great article and I also feel like I’m vicariously experiencing the bullshittery that this author has been subjected to from people they’ve tried to talk to about this. like the article remains extremely professional but you can just hear in the tone that they’re talking through gritted teeth, you can practically see the customer service smile
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[ID: a screenshot from a section of the article titled “But why not use ‘tribe’? Answers to common arguments.” Under the bullet point for the argument “Africans talk about themselves in terms of tribes” is written, “Commonly when Africans learn English they are taught that tribe is the term that English-speakers will recognize. But what underlying meaning in their own languages are Africans translating when they say tribe? Take the word isizwe in Zulu. In English, writers often refer to the Zulu tribe, whereas in Zulu the word for the Zulu as a group would be isizwe. Often Zulu-speakers will use the English word tribe because that's what they think English speakers expect, or what they were taught in school. Yet Zulu linguists say that a better translation of isizwe is nation or people.” /end ID] 
translation: “ ‘Oh ho ho but some Africans themselves say tribe!’ You dipshit. You fucking donkey. When someone has a word that means “nation” or “people” in their own language but then when they learn English YOU TELL THEM IT TRANSLATES TO “TRIBE” then THAT WILL BE THE WORD THEY USE. Maybe if you LISTENED TO THE LINGUISTS OF THAT GROUP you’d have more accurate information. Asshole.”
each point is repeated over and over with like five different examples because you just know there are dipshits out there who will keep arguing.
to the anonymous author of this article for the Africa Policy Information Center I hope you have a good day every day and experience fewer people being assholes about this, your patience is actually legendary
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norrisleclercf1 · 3 months
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Santa's Little Helper
Pairing: Dad!Lando Norris x F!Reader
Rating: PG
Words: 1.3K
Warnings: Pregnancy, other than that none just fluff
Requested: Yes/No
Synopsis: Lando is finally coming home for the holidays and decides to play elf
A/N: Yes I broke my hiatus, don't judge me
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"Ready to be home?" 
Lando lifts his head from the window of his seat and looks at Oscar. They weren't the young kids they were once, long gone the season of '23. Oscar was married with two adorable little girls, Lando having married you years ago. 
"Of course, I miss them." He whispers. The season was finally over, and Lando could eventually join his family back home. You, of course, called him and kept in touch, but it was also hard to travel with a toddler and you being pregnant. 
"Yeah, I'm flying home soon too. Have to finish up here first." Oscar nods towards the McLaren factory. Groaning, they both climb out of the car, stretching. "Just need to get through this and then can be home," Lando mumbles as the two trudge through the harsh Woking winter. Oscar sighs when the intense heat of the building hits their faces, which makes Lando melt. 
"Hurry up, I've got to get back to London before Y/n and Theodore get home." Oscar rolls his eyes as he follows Lando through the factory to the meeting room. 
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Zak knew it was useless to get Lando to focus on the meeting. The older driver needed to be more focused on checking his phone every once in a while. Everyone knew you were out of town and still believed that Lando was in Dubai instead of home in England. Zak could tell that Lando was losing his patience as his knee tapping got quicker and louder. Yep, Zak was ending this now. 
"Alright," The CEO claps his hands and stands up, patting Andrea on the back and letting him stop talking. "I think we've had a very long season and year with that," Lando didn't wait as he grabbed his stuff and rushed out of the room. "Have a wonderful holiday." Zak sighs, Oscar chuckling, holding his own phone and leaving. But Zak can hear his voice pick up and the screams of delight from the speaker. 
"Well, see you in January." Andrea laughs and pats Zak on the back, walking out. 
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" Just, can you please try and delay them?" Lando begs into the phone. Your mother laughs as Lando frantically rushes around your home in London. He only had enough time to sort this out and needed you to be stalled. "Lando, darling, only so much I can do." Your mother chuckled, but her voice grew quiet when you passed by. 
"Mom? Who are you talking to?" Lando stills, holding his breathing, thinking that you'd be able to tell it was him through that. "Your aunt sugar plum, want to talk to her?" Lando can practically see your nose scrunching up as you quickly say no and walk away. Sighing in relief, Lando rushes, looking for the rest of the Christmas decorations and the new ones he's bought. 
"Really? Calling me the Aunt, that's your sister Ma." Lando teases, and your mother snorts. "That old bat will talk Y/n, poor ear off. So, why should I help you?" Lando rolls his eyes. Your mother and he constantly pick on one another, but it is filled with love. "How about I'll let you hold the baby after Y/n and I?" "Deal, I'll hide the car keys." She hangs up, which has Lando cheering. 
Stopping, he looks down at his feet and smiles, dropping to his knees. "Well, buddy, we better get started." Your English Cocker Spaniel, named Cookie. Cookie barks loudly and licks Lando's hand. "Good girl," Lando stands and looks around. "First, let's set the mood." Walking over, he hooks his phone up to the speakers and smiles as Frank Sinatra's voice fills the house. 
Lando doesn't start decorating right away. Instead, he starts cleaning the house. You were about 7 months pregnant, and it was hard to do some house chores. He wanted to show you how much he loves you. Lando wasn't one with words; more actions and giving. Moving through the house, he pushes open his son's room and smiles. 
Theodore loved Formula 1 and Marvel. His room was nothing but decked out in its merchandise. A picture of you and Lando holding him in front of his McLaren and then one giant group, one with all his uncles. Theodore's room was covered in his toys, and Lando gets to work. Putting up the toys and grabbing one of his shopping bags, he strips the bed of its sheets. He got these cute little snowmen for the sheets. Theodore matched the sheets with the identical snowmen for the comforter he got. 
He grabs another bag and takes out mini decorations. A little fake tree with Marvel and f1 ornaments. He gets to work setting it up. He hums along to the song with Cookie at the foot of the bed, watching Lando. A mini navy blue tree skirt covers the bottom of the tree and places fake gifts there. Next, Lando hands up some little fairy lights on the wall behind the bed. He puts a moose, snowman, elf, and Santa stuffies on the corner and then two red and green pillows on the bed. 
Lando finishes it by hanging up a little zipline with an Elf on it and flying over the bed with a remote. "Alright, time for the main room." Cookie whines but happily follows Lando through the house. 
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"Momma, hungry," Theodore whines as you pull up the driveway. "I know, babes, we'll eat when we get inside. It's been a long day. The baby was kicking your bladder. Theodore wanted nothing more than his Daddy. Lando wasn't answering his phone, and then your mother hid your fucking keys. "Hungry," Theodore whines, helping him out of the car; you just nod. 
"Come on, I'll make you some nuggies." Theodore smiles at you as you open the front door and freeze. There greeting you was your Christmas tree covered in soft lights, ornaments, and gifts already wrapped and under the tree. "Wha," "Hey, dinner is ready." You turn your head to see your husband wearing a Mrs. Clause apron. "Lando?" Your husband smiles, and Theodore gasps. 
"Mommy, Santa was here." Theo giggles and points at the gifts. "Um, excuse me, little man? Aren't you happy to see me?" Theo squeals louder, running toward his father and swinging him up Theodore, babbling happily. You clear your throat, trying to gain control of your emotions, but you can't notice that the house is also clean. "Lando," You whisper, hand cradling your belly. 
He gets that tooth-goofy smile of his and walks over and hugs you. "Mommy, Daddy is home," Theodore whispers, which makes you laugh through your tears. "Yes, buddy. Daddy is home." Lando snorts, wanting to make a joke but doesn't. "Alright, there are nuggies and some mac and cheese that's getting cold." Theodore wiggles out of his father's hold and zooms into the kitchen. Lando chuckles but stops when you pull him down, kissing him deeply. 
Lando moans as he pulls you in and dips you slightly before pulling you back up. "Well, hello to you too." He grumbles, blinking his eyes open as you push back his unruly curls. "I'm guessing that wasn't my aunt talking to my mother earlier?" Lando blushes and looks away. "No idea what you're talking about." You giggle and kiss him on his cheeks, smiling. 
"Why'd you do all this?" Lando pulls back, needing clarification on your question. "Baby, you're growing our baby, and besides, I love you and wanted to make things easier for you. I'm your husband. This is the bare fucking minimum. The dishes are done, the laundry is folded, the sheets are all clean, and dinner is cooked. Now, let's eat our nuggets before Theo, the little gremlin, eats them all." Nodding, you head into the kitchen, seeing Theo stare hard at his plate. 
"Theo, you could've started." You push back his hair, and he shakes his head no. "Daddy is home, but the elves still might be here. Have to be good." Lando snorts and plates your food, and your mouth waters and sit down. "That's right, Theo, better be good, or I'll bring back the elves." Rolling your eyes, you knew the elves were no more than Carlos, Charles, Max V, Max F, Oscar, and Daniel. 
"Yeah, the elves." You remark, and Lando cuts you a glare, but it is playful. "Hey, the elves are the ones who got all the gifts. Don't be mean to the elves." "Yes, and you were all wonderful little helpers." You smile, and Lando slowly pushes back the evidence of the others helping him. 
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thehmn · 5 months
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I finally got to watch Viften (Empire) and it’s such a fascinating movie. It was written by Anna Neye who also plays Anna Heegaard, a rich free black woman who’s dating the Danish governor of the island.
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It’s sold as an absurdist comedy and I think there’s no other way to describe it. There aren’t any real jokes but you often end up laughing at the absurdity of it all.
It’s extremely honest about the horrors Danes put the black population through but thankfully it only shows it in quick flashes of art as seen in the trailer. I once watched a video where they explained why most women aren’t into slasher movies and why black people generally don’t rewatch movies about racism and slavery. It’s because the the horrors shown are very real fears and a fact of life so the only people who can really enjoy watching a woman get horribly murdered as entertaining are men and only white people can watch a black person getting whipped to death with cinematic lighting and have a fun night out. By showing the horrors in art they get to be clear about exactly what is going on without coming off as exploitative.
But it’s also very honest about the ways a society based on slavery fucks with everyone. Most of the servants at the manor are slaves except the cook who bought her own freedom years ago. She tells the housekeeper Petrine that some day she too will be able to buy her freedom and get her own slave. That’s right, the freed black people aspire to get their own slaves because that’s the sort of values a society like this instills in people. And Anna tries to be as nice as possible to her own slaves but doesn’t take her own success for granted and is more afraid of an uprising than her white lover and ends up doing some really horrible things to her slaves to keep them down.
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It also touches on how people viewed being black or white back then. That it wasn’t all about skin colour but also status. That’s why all the white people treat Anna as one of them. She’s a rich, educated lady so of course she’s “white”. Even Anna express contempt at being called black because she doesn’t work in the field. The poor freed black people also call Petrine white because she dress and acts like a Dane. Not as in “you are pretending to be white” but as in you are white.
And hats off to the director Frederikke Aspöck. There’s a scene where a woman buys her freedom and they put on a symbolic slave auction where she gets up on the podium and bids on herself. All the white neighbors have come to witness it because it’s seen as this joyous day and they all clap, she’s offered to drink with them and she’s all smiles. The director managed to make the scene wholesome while highlighting the absurdity of it and all you can do is chuckle because what the fuck? The white people think it’s a good thing that she’s free but continue to keep and mistreat their own slaves, and she no doubt dreams of getting her own down the road. It’s very much depicted as institutionalized racism and not just “a few bad eggs”.
And I didn’t know where to put this but there’s a lot of interesting symbolism going on with Anna’s dresses. She always wears dresses that match the colors of the rooms she’s in, establishing her as fully part of the system, but as she begins to realize that the Danish state will never see her as fully equal her colors start to clash with her surroundings.
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I watched it on Netflix and it has English subtitles so it should be somewhere for English speakers to watch if you feel so inclined.
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radioactiveinvisible · 3 months
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longing glances | spencer reid
spencer x fem!bau!reader summary: hotch calls you in to evaluate your six-month mile with the bau and you remind spencer that is friday. like he would forget. genre: sort of friends to lovers (eventually) (maybe). and reeeally slow burn. warnings: reader is pretty insecure. a/n: well, hi! first i want to say that i am NOT a native speaker. english is not my first language and this is the first time EVER i tried to write something in english. i don't feel comfortable enough, so please, be gentle. (pretty please). aaand, let me know if you would like a second part or something? yeah, that's it. i know that not much happens here, and spencer is like a second thought and hotch has more lines and- ajssjsj okay, sorry. i will stop now. i hope you like it! next part
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You’ve never carried yourself with the easy air that pretty people have. Sweat is too sticky on your skin. Clothes are too tight or too loose, never just fits. Labels are always itchy. Seams are always too present. Sometimes you also seem to feel the downward curve of your nose. The shape of your teeth. The facial hair you’re not supposed to have. Sometimes you feel all of yourself. What do they call it? Oh yeah. Self-conscious. Overwhelmingly.
Working with fantastic people doesn’t make the task of existing any easier. Not only they are smart, but they look like straight out of a magazine. Who would say the FBI would have such attractive personal. You would think that being smart is enough, right? Ha. It is true that over the months it becomes a little more bearable. The blue of JJ’s eyes doesn’t seem to burn you as much and Elle’s waist no longer provoques you to tear your skin apart. Sometimes. But the caramel in Spencer’s eyes? Well. You’re still working on it.
Hotch calling you by your last name gets you out of your head. You blink a few times before nodding and standing up. Spencer follows your actions with his gaze and raises his eyebrows. You shrug in response. It’s not enough to dissolve the concern from his expression, but you don’t have much else to offer him. You smile at him as briefly as you can. In secret. Hoping it doesn’t reveal more than you’d like. Doing it in a room full of profilers? Not so easy. But you’ve been doing it for months now.
You knock on Hotch’s door twice and wait for his response. The few seconds of wait are enough to awake the beast in the pit of your stomach. The nerves takes the form of questions swimming in your head. Why is he even calling you in? Had you done something wrong? Well, it’s true you are a little slow with paperwork but- is he going to fire you? God, please, no-
“It’s nothing you’re thinking,” Hotch assures you as soon as you enter. You hadn’t even realized that you were already in front of his desk, still as a statue.
“Sure,” you reply. You clear your throat.
Hotch points his eyebrows at the chairs. Every expression he has is done through his eyebrows. You smile a bit. Oh. Maybe you shouldn’t. Aaron is such a good profiler that it surprises you that he doesn’t read minds. But you shouldn’t try your luck, just in case he has developed the skill. Once seated, it is your turn to ask with your eyebrows. And it’s your boss’ turn to almost smile.
“How do you feel about your first half of the year here?” Hotch asks you, folding his hands on his desk.
You almost deflated with relief. Evaluation of first six months. It’s not really an official thing. But the guys had told you that it’s something Hotch usually does. It’s not even about skills or abilities, he just wants to know how comfortable you feel on the team. You feel good. When you’re not being an insecure mass, you really feel good. Comfortable. You still have to think before you just being, but you can feel how that dissolves into the marked days on the calendar.
“Good,” you respond. “I’m probably learning more than I can,” you laugh a little, “they’re all really good at what they do.”
Hotch nods. “Are you here for the long run, then?”
You frown. Surprised is a saying. “Yes?” you tilt your head. “I mean, yeah, Hotch. I don’t plan on leaving the unit anytime soon,” you reply. The beast awakens again. You lick your lips. “Is anyone planning on me leaving it soon?”
Hotch shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay here,” he stares at you, dispelling any remaining doubts. “And that you begin to feel part of us, because you are.” He smiles.
You grin back, sure that the warmth in your cheeks also means a pinch of color. You mumble a strangled thank you before leaving his office. The first thing that greets you back in the bullpen is Spencer’s gaze. You laugh as you approach his desk, which is across from yours.
“Were you looking at the door the whole time?” you joke, sitting on the edge of his table.
“No,” he responds quickly. Almost too quickly. “What did Hotch want?” he drums his fingers on the stack of papers in front of him.
“Oh, you know, fire me,” you shrug. Your amused smile gives you away quickly enough. Spencer rolls her eyes and huffs, making a strand slip from his carefully constructed hairstyle. “It was the evaluation-happy-first-half-year-here.”
“Oh,” Spencer nods “and is it being happy?” You’d never say it out loud, but there’s something longing in his question.
You are not into Spencer. But you could be. It’s what you tell yourself when your heart races. What you have to remember to yourself when his eyes always seem to find you as if you were the first thing he looked for when entering a room. Which is not easy to handle. Being looked at by Spencer is... well, sometimes, your insecurities disappear under the crushing sweetness that his eyes hold... other times, it’s as if the attention he pays you lights up all the details that you hate about yourself. It is a swing between calm and anxiety. And you’re almost sure you’re responsible for the second one.
But as much as you are responsible, it is also why you are not into him. Or it’s what you repeat to yourself like a mantra. You have not fallen for him... but it’s true that you could do it. Easily. If you would allow it. Which you are not going to allow. Not now. Not six months ago when you saw him for the first time. Not never. Because as much as you could fall for him, you’re certain that there’s not the same risk for him.
“Well… happy isn’t the word,” you answer honestly. Not only because it seems like a pretentious complicated word, but because of the very nature of the work. It doesn’t make you happy to see so many corpses. But… the team? Yeah, it makes you a little bit happy. “But I feel good,” you assure him, flashing a sincere smile.
He returns the smile. Your heart skips a beat.
“Today is friday,” you remind him. You don’t know why. The man has an eidetic memory.
“I know,” he laughs. “It’s turn for my apartment and Star Trek- and please, no hawaiian pizza again,” he says, looking at you pleadingly.
You laugh to avoid suffocating yourself with the warmth that spreads through your chest and in that slip you lose control over your next action. You can’t help it. Your hand acts before you can stop it: it grabs the lock of hair that slipped out of place minutes ago and tucks it behind Spencer’s ear. For a germaphobe, Spencer is pretty tolerant of your germs. He doesn’t pull away, though you don’t leave your hand long enough to give him the chance either. If you weren’t so focused on your blushing cheeks, maybe you’d notice that he is too.
“Okay, not hawaiian pizza,” you agree, standing up. “But pizza anyway,” you smile.
“What else could it be with you ordering?” Spencer jokes and raises his hand just in time to cover the spot on his arm where you gently hit him. An “oh” leaves your lips in response and Spencer flashes the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Eight out of ten times you pretend to be offended, you hit me on the arm. So…”
“Cocky,” you mutter under your breath, walking towards your desk.
“And that’s what you do the other two times,” Spencer hums back, staring at his screen with an amused smile stretched across his lips.
You really, really could fall for him if you’re not careful enough.
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momotonescreaming · 2 months
Text
STWG Daily Prompt: Date Night
“Does Thursday work?” Jeff asks, voice tinny and sort of muffled. Eddie can hear the sound of flipping pages, the creak of the plastic from the phone's speaker. 
“Shit, sorry dude.” Eddie says, looking at the loose pages of lined paper he's scribbled his schedule on. It works for him, and it's better than nothing. “That's date night.” 
A pause. For a moment, all Eddie can hear is the sound of Jeff breathing through the speaker. 
“Date night, huh?” Jeff eventually asks, and Eddie can hear the smarmy grin he's wearing. It's leaking into his voice, the absolute delight in it all. Just the right side of teasing, the bastard. He'd hate it, would snap and snarl and throw it all back if he wasn't also fucking delighted. 
He could say that now. He had a boyfriend, who holds his hands and kisses him and schedules date nights. He gets this. He gets to talk about it with his best friend. Can mention he has a date and doesn't have to hide the fact that it's with his boyfriend. He gets to share in the gentle ribbing for once. It's not just him on the outside looking in — as they tease Gareth for getting a date with a girl from his English class, or Jeff hitting his anniversary with his girlfriend. 
Eddie's been domesticated and he doesn't mind in the slightest. 
“Yes, it's date night,” Eddie retorts, trying to send as much faux malice down the phone as he can. He's smiling though, as he sits at the kitchen table, phone cord absently tangled through his fingers. “And Steve's been working hard planning it, so I will not be rescheduling.” 
“I didn't ask you to,” Jeff laughs, tone light. 
“Well good.” Eddie teases, wishing they were having this conversation in person so he could stick his tongue out. Really ham it up. 
Another pause, and Eddie uses the silence to flip through his papers, looking through all the events and dates and times he's scribbled out. Fuck, he really needs a calendar. 
“So?” Jeff prompts, drawing the word out. “Tell me about date night.” 
“You sound like your mother,” Eddie laughs, holding the phone in between his ear and his shoulder, pinning it there so he can free up his hands. So he can sort through his papers and fidget with the phone cord at the same time “Begging for gossip.” 
“You love my mother,” Jeff retorts — snappish — but it's obvious he's smiling. Laughing through it. “And you say that like you aren't gagging to talk about it. Come on.” 
“Okay fine,” Eddie relents. Sighing as he sinks into his chair, slouching, his socked feet skating across the floor. “You caught me.” 
“Not hard,” Jeff laughs. 
“Steve’s been talking a lot about wooing me lately,” Eddie starts, ignoring Jeff’s teasing. He finds himself smiling as he talks, creeping across his face uncontrollably. Fuck, the things Steve does to him. “As if he hasn’t wooed me already. So he’s planned this like, romantic dinner at home. Instead of going out to Enzo’s he wants to like, bring Enzo’s to us? Said he was going to treat me right. Have the fancy dinner I deserve, where we can play footsie under the table and hold hands without, y’know, worrying.”
By the end of his sentence Eddie’s feeling like he’s melting into his chair, insides melting into something soft and gooey. Pulling his hair across his face to hide his blush. Jeff can’t even see him, but he can’t help it. He wants to giggle and kick his feet. Jump and scream and flail around. It’s all building up inside him, this honey sweet affection. He doesn’t quite know what to do with it all. 
“He going to light candles? Have soft music playing in the background?” Jeff asks, teasing melting away into something softer. 
“Literally yes,” Eddie exclaims, dropping his hair and trying not to wiggle too much in his seat. “He’s so sweet, I’m going to throw up.”
“He’s good for you, man.” Jeff says simply, and it means a lot. That other people can see it — can know — just how happy Steve makes him. 
[Part Two]
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