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nevermindirah · 3 years

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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

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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

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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 · 3 years

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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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thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname · 2 years

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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

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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

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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 · 3 years

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

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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anunvalidcritic · 3 years

Text

Justice League: Snyder Cut

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

Oh, the time has come my friends! Now, I originally did a review on Batman V.S. Superman and I didn’t care for it, so I deleted it. But before I start, I would like y’all to read this statement made by @verified-villain-fxcker - You can click HERE to read it. As I stated in my repost, I couldn’t have said it better. May Autumn Snyder continue to rest in peace. Let’s get started!

It’s been so long since I’ve made a post I can’t even remember how I do this LOL.

CLARK is outta there to say the least...

WONDER WOMAN and LOIS look flabbergasted, as they should... BRUCE as well.

Talk about a shock-wave scream

All jokes aside, the hate that LEX has towards SUPERMAN is just to much energy to be giving to another person..

THESE BITCHIES ARE READY

why are they letting a minority approach the fucking the cube?!?!

*insert travel montage scene here*

Part 1 - “Don’t count on it, Batman.”

BRUCE knows damn well he’s talking to AQUAMAN. Let’s move this shit along lol

“Oh Gotham? How’s that shit hole?” - AQUAMAN

Ik these bitchies aren’t singing rofl

I’d sniff anything wore by Jason Momoa too.

“Maybe a man who broods in a cave isn’t cut out to be a recruiter.” - ALFRED

TALK YO SHIT ALFRED!!!!

AMY ADAMS can literally take my heart, step on it, throw it in a river and I still wouldn’t be mad.

Here comes the lovely WONDER WOMAN!

broooo her hands were moving like Donnie Yen in Ip Man!

Fucked that entire ceiling up

Ofc the one who tried to touch it would make the stupid statement.

STEPPENWOLF is really wildin’ out

Don’t look back! I hate it when they look back!!

These are some strong as women!

PART 2 - “The Age of Heroes”

“It’s toxic, that’s good.” - STEPPENWOLF

I can only imagine that this is how toxic people think.

this dude really just threw that lil demon fella like it was nothin’ lmao

You know you're working at a job for too long when you say this is the first time in a while that they're going home early smdh

Now that shit was pretty lit....

SILAS thinkin’ shit I better check on my son.

“You know a lot about monsters, don’t you? Especially how to make them.” - CYBORG

If that isn’t teen angst, then I don’t know wtf is lmao

Seeing Gal in this tomb makes me want to re-watch Wonder Woman 1 all over again!

DARKSEID ol’ trifflin’ ass

plopped him down like he was dirty laundry

God bless Willem Dafoe, this man is a fuckin’ legend!

“This world is divided. They’re a primitive species. Unevolved and at war with one another. Too separate to be one.” - STEPPENWOLF

DeSaad kinda looks like Doctor Doom in the Fantasic Four reboot lmao

GREEN LATERNS!!!!!!!!!!!! OH SHIT!!!!!!!!

we really need a Green Lantern Corps moving...

ZEUS + ARES = A Dynamic Duo When They Aren’t Being Dicks To Each Other

You know I feel bad for man because all they did was bury that shit in the ground rofl

Part 3 - “Beloved Mother, Beloved Son”

BARRY + IRIS = Love at First Sight

The burger can’t be that good like damn.

Bro the detail on his fucking shoes and the glass!!

ROFL PLEASE TELL ME HE TOOK THE HOTDOG FOR HIS DOG!?!?

damn did the car really need to explode...

lol BARRY must really need the job lol

... I would’ve just played dead after he threw me against that rock...

Man of Steel probably has one of the best soundtracks not just for a superhero movie but just in general

Americans love their football!

I have this love-hate relationship with CYBORG being in the JL and not with the TITANS you know since he’s a kid, but he’s a college student in this one.

Thank God DIANA spoke with VICTOR instead of BRUCE because I honestly don’t think he would’ve gotten him on board.

Everyone can literally zigzag zoom across this planet at undeniable speed except for BATMAN lol

Come on, VIC, help the lady out.

You know honestly, BARRY has a pretty cool pad for someone who's trying to get by paying for a Criminal Justice Degree.

“A very attractive Jewish boy. Who drinks milk, I don’t drink milk.” - BARRY

“Fuck the World.” - CYBORG

dang Ik DIANA has every right to grieve over STEVE, but damn that man has her whipped!

“You’re looking at the hottest thing on Earth. The exact same thing I said to my prom date. She dumped me anyway.” - RYAN CHOI

Why does MERA have an accent in this but not in AQUAMAN?? (ik the answer)

DAAAYYUUUMMMN MERA TURNED INTO A WHOLE BLOOD BENDER!

PART 4 - “Change Machine”

CYBORG just glided over silently

STEPPENWOLF + WONDER WOMAN = EPIC FIGHT SCENE

Seeing BARRY move like that to stop the debris and to ping DIANA’S sword really is amazing..

But he should not be screaming like that LOL

How do you not remember the planet that’s habitants almost killed you?? Because if that was me, I wouldn’t have forgotten that shit at all!

Would've held a big ass grudge until I could go back.

“I know we’re all thinking the same thing right now. Who’s gonna say it? I’m not gonna say it.” - BARRY

WOOOAAHHH J’ONN JONES?! (forgot about that)

“There are six, not five. There is no us without him.” - BRUCE

Damn, no faith at all

PART 5 - “ALL The King’s Horses”

ICONIC DIALOGUE

BARRY - “Wonder Woman. What do you think, man? You think she’d go for a younger guy?”

VICTOR - “She’s 5,000 years old, Barry. Every guy is a younger guy.”

I would’ve kept swippin’ that ID like a cashier at Wal-Mart swippin’ a debit card.

They're movin’ a little too slow for me. Ik they’ve never been on the ship before, but I would’ve been zoomin’ through that entire ship just to hurry and get the job done.

NOT THE PREGNANCY TEST

Damn, they couldn’t have at least picked up the photo??

The foreshadowing was spectacular! It will always amaze me.

I’m sure Allstate will cover that person’s car...

Just when LOIS was about to move on.

CLARK grabbed DIANA like miss me with that Rafiki shit.

I would’ve come back to my senses too after looking at Amy Adams.

AQUAMAN + THE FLASH = A CONUNDRUM

DR. SILAS takin’ one for the team

PART 6 - “Something Darker”

As crazy as radiation is, it’s quite an amazing spectacle.

I wish this Justice League movie could’ve held off until we got some other heroes such as the Green Lanterns, Hawkgirl, and many others.

Our generation was truly blessed to have an incredible actor as SUPERMAN, and we are not putting him to use!

JONATHAN sounds like President Biden lol

Alright, team?! Break!

AQUAMAN is totally enjoying this fight. He rode that Parademon like a surfboard.

AQUAMAN + CYBORG + FLASH = *THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN*

I swear every scene that WONDER WOMAN enters into does not fail to include the “Ancient Lamentation Music”.

VICTOR hurry up and say “one” god damnnit!!

SUPERMAN COLD!!!!

Somebody needs to put this fight on WorldStar

BARRY = HE’S A RUNNA HE’S A TRACK STAHHHHARRR!!!

THAT WAS FUCKING IMMACULATE

The Unity = The Three Bitchies

I bet DARKSEID will remember that shit now

EPILOGUE - “A Father Twice Over”

VICTOR = A Final Requiem

LOL VULKO and MERA look stressed tf out!

“Uh, I have too much to live for. And more important things to do.” - LEX

A cocky motherfucker LMAO

Alright, we’re back in this type of dream sequence.

“Who have you ever loved?” - MERA

Uh, bitch his parents, Robin tf?!

Thank you, JOKER, for stating the facts for Ms. Fish-stick

Oh shit, they let LOIS die, goddamn it!

HARLEY’S DEAD TOO?!?!?!

BRUCE LOOK SICK AF!!!

Well, the dream is over once again...

I just don’t see how people can live with all those fuckin’ windows.

“Oh, and some have called me The Martian Manhunter.” - J’ONN

Alright...

________

Yes, the movie was long but what needed to be expressed was. As we already the Snyder Cut wasn’t supposed to be seen because a father simply wanted to grieve the death of his child. I’ll once again reiterate what @verified-villain-fxcker you don't have to like the film but at least give it the benefit of the doubt from its predecessor. For me, I did enjoy watching his version, but let’s be honest what he who shall not be named did was just fucked up.

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kerie-prince · 3 years

Text

We're Worlds Apart (7)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: none (other than blaise being jealous)

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: my workplace is under construction and i'm stressed bc i have to work around all the rubbish and it makes me stay longer when i wanna come home and write 😭 anyways, this is unedited so i'll come back to it after i clock off tonight

(gif cred)

Being friends with you was kind of weird. Draco couldn't really tell you about his day because it consisted of magic nearly the entire time. He’s also at work for almost the entire week, so he wasn't really at home much.

Except for now. Draco finally had twelve days off to spend with his best mates. He had been so caught up with the chaos that surrounded him at work that he wasn't able to plan any sightseeing activities to do with them, so he just let them pick whatever it was they wanted to do.

“I could always ask Y/N what to do,” Blaise suggested. Yes, Draco hadn't forgotten the small fling between you and his best mate. Blaise would go over to your house at least three nights a week while Draco stayed overnight at Santa Marie's. Theo didn't mind being by himself and was grateful that the guest bedroom was farthest from your bedroom window. Draco was also grateful that he chose to go on nights he wasn't home; he didn't need to hear you two throughout the night.

Now that a hatchet was somewhat buried, Draco thought that asking you was a good idea. He nodded his head and headed for the door. Blaise also got up, but the both of them stopped when their hands nearly collided on the door knob. “Oh, did you want to ask her?” Blaise questioned.

“Uh… no you go. She's your…” Draco paused, “You go ahead.” Blaise gave him a weird look before walking out the door and headed to your house. Theo watched the whole thing and waited to start laughing at Draco. He glared at Nott and spat out, “What are you laughing at?”

“What was that?” Theo held his stomach as he caught his breath. “Did you want to talk to her?” Draco didn't appreciate whatever his friend was trying to say. It's just a bloody question. He sat down on the couch and picked up the Daily Prophet from Theo’s hands. He wasn't surprised to find Harry Potter in it, a column about his recent marriage with Weasley’s sister. He was surprised that they hadn't gotten married sooner.

“Do you think it's weird that Blaise is dating a muggle?” Theo asked. His face was neutral, but his tone was suggestive. Draco internalized the question. On one hand, it didn't really disturb him all that much. He was confused as to whether or not you were his girlfriend, but Blaise doesn't really talk about you too much. On another hand, he knew Blaise and even though you annoyed him – or did you? – he always took pity on any girl that mixed with Blaise. Draco didn't know what Blaise would do, but it was enough to get anyone on their knees for him in more ways than one.

“I don’t care who or what he dates,” Draco stated. Theo went to minding his business, until something caught his attention from outside. “Oh Salazar, what is he doing?” Theo’s voice was filled with amusement. Draco turned from his sitting position and saw what was happening.

Blaise was fully making out with you right on your porch. Out where anyone could watch. One of his hands were tangled in your hair while the other one was resting gently on your waist. Your hands rested shyly on his shoulders and it looked as if you were on your toes just to reach up to his height. The kiss was slow and sensual.

It was exactly what Draco needed to see. Because from that, he felt nothing at all. Just a gross feeling that he was potentially invading someone's privacy. Sure, they were outside but it still felt weird. Draco wasn't one to enjoy public displays of affection.

“Wow, he’s really milking it out. You reckon he asked her about sight-seeing?” Theo kept observing them from the window. Draco hit his head with the newspaper rolled up. Theo laughed and turned to look at the blond man next to him. “How come you’re not with anyone?”

“With where I work, do you honestly think I have time to find someone?” Draco sassed as he continued reading. Dating was the last thing on his mind. He was too focused on work to even flirt with another woman. Pansy was the last person Draco had ever dated. He was meant to be betrothed to Astoria Greengrass, but Draco declined and started his path to becoming a healer. He also didn't want to be in a marriage knowing he couldn't genuinely love her.

Moving to America, he never found anyone interesting. Ashley was nice but not only was she already married, she was married to a woman. Other women in the department, or hospital as a whole, took an initial liking to Draco, but he figured it was solely due to the fact that he’s a foreign British man with an accent. After a month of women flirting with him, it died down almost completely and everyone treated him as normal which pretty much confirmed it to him. Would Draco like to date someone? Absolutely. But right now, he was perfectly happy being by himself.

Theo knew Draco enough to know when he was fibbing and this wasn't one of those times. He was glad to see Draco be okay with himself after all this time. He remembers the constant need of validation during their days at Hogwarts. And it was because of a certain wizard who Draco was always competing with. Now as for Theo, he had been out of the dating scene for a while and he was nearly desperate to get laid.

He dropped the topic and got up to take a short nap in the guest room. A few moments later, Blaise was knocking on the door. Draco got up to open it and was caught by surprise to see you standing behind Blaise. You looked like you weren't really sure what you were doing there either. “Mate,” Blaise started off, “what if we brought her along with us?”

You blinked at the tall man standing in front of you and then looked at Draco who had the same facial expression. “Who else better to show us around than someone who actually lives here?” Blaise suggested. It made sense; you would know your way around and Draco could save himself the trouble of not only Blaise and Theo being lost, but also Draco also getting lost. He still had a hard time with some of the streets. One-way streets, round-a-bouts, and bike lanes were still new to him. And you once mentioned how Manhattan was worse than the streets here in Buffalo, so how would he deal with that?

You stood unusually quiet. Blaise had only just asked you to tag along with them and before you could even process the question, you were being dragged to Draco’s house. “I don’t know, I don't want to intrude on–”

“Nonsense, you’d be our guide. I highly doubt Draco knows where he’s going,” Blaise assured. He got a stern ‘Hey’ from the blond but ignored it. “What do you say? Come with us?” You looked back and forth from the both of them and settled on Draco, your eyes asking him if he would even want you there. He shrugged his shoulders, leaving it up to you.

“Uh, sure. I’d just have to fix my schedule and–” you started before Blaise cut you off, “Great! We leave tomorrow at seven in the morning.” He kissed your forehead and walked inside. Draco stood at the door and was still confused as to what just happened. You started to walk away before Draco asked you, “Should we take my car?” You turned around and thought about it. “If you want.”

Draco preferred it, so he just agreed to it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” You smiled sheepishly and raised your hand to say 'bye’. Tomorrow was surely going to be… something.

—

You were hoping to be able to rest your head on Blaise’s shoulder for the ride to the airport. But here you were, in Draco’s car with the largest cup of coffee that was barely keeping you awake as you drove there. You were glad that Draco had common sense to book two flight tickets for everyone to go there because there was so way in hell you were going to drive six hours to Manhattan and another six back.

Theo, however, was resting his head on Blaise’s shoulder as he snored away during the short ride. Blaise tried to shove him off, but it turned out that the sleepy friend was heavier than he looked. It was funny, really. Draco sat in the passenger seat next to you on his phone trying to read out directions. You insisted you didn't need them, but he said they were more for himself when they come back home.

Once on the plane, you finally got some shut eye. You stayed up all night thinking about what to do for the day. Where to go, what to eat, what to see. And other things kept you up, but that's besides the point. During the security check, you had to hold your laughter. It was hilarious to watch the three men be so confused as to what was going on. They acted like it was their first time in an airport.

The seats you had were nice and surely expensive. Draco insisted that you didn't have to pay him back. Must be nice being rich you thought. Blaise looked at you and poked your nose, “Is someone sleepy?” You glared at him before laying back into your seat, “Maybe if you didn't keep me up all night, I wouldn't be tired.” You didn't know how the man could have this much energy in the morning.

The hour went by quick and you were in Manhattan by ten in the morning. You suggested a local diner that was near the airport which they all agreed to since they didn't know their way around. At the diner, Blaise and Theo had made a dash for the restroom. You laughed at the view of Theo pushing Blaise behind him and Blaise glaring at him as he smacked the back of his head.

“I swear, they’re still childish gits,” Draco groaned. “26 years old and they still don't grow up.” You nudged his arm from across the table. “Leave them be. They’re still young, and so are you. Let loose, we’re in New York City after all. Can’t be brooding the whole time.” Draco rolled his eyes and looked at the menu that was under the glass on the table.

A waitress came up to your table with a small clipboard and notepad. “Are you two ready to order?” she asked sweetly. “Not yet, we’re waiting on two people to come back,” you answered. “Oh that’s cute, is this a double date?”

Without hesitation, you and Draco stated at the same time, “We’re not together.” The waitress looked between the two of you and just nodded. “I’ll be back, then.” The both of you hadn’t said a word when she left and patiently waited for his friends to come back. Shortly after, they did. Blaise took the spot in the booth next to you and Theo next to Draco.

“Alright, what do you suggest I get?” Blaise asked you. He had his body slightly facing yours and an arm over the top of the seat around you. He hadn't bothered to look on the menu and just focused on your features. “Depends, what do you like?”

“Anything,” he lowered his voice and was close to your ear. The breath tickled your ear which made you giggle. “Okay, we get it. You two are cute. Now keep it down, I’d like to be able to digest this food,” Theo’s nose crinkled as he complained. You still didn't know Theo all that much. This morning, he walked like a zombie and he probably just became fully awake, so to see his best friend making kissy faces at you before his first meal wasn't an ideal way to start the day. Draco chuckled in his seat as he was still figuring out what to order.

“I have to make a quick call,” you announced before pulling out your phone and called one of your employees, “Were you able to open fine on your own? Okay, call me if anything happens. Okay, bye.” The waitress came back and took down the order after she set a pot of coffee for the four of you.

Theo was the first to say something, “So, Y/N is it?” You nodded in response as you took a sip from your mug. “What is it that you do in your free time? Other than Blaise, of course.” He had a smug smile watching as you blushed. Two seconds later, the table shook and Theo groaned in pain. Unbeknownst to you, both Blaise and Draco had kicked Theo in his shins.

“Stupid git,” Draco said under his breath. Theo glared at his friends as he rubbed his legs. You cleared your throat and started to speak before Blaise stopped you, “You don’t have to answer that.”

“It’s okay, he was just joking,” you defended. “No he wasn't,” Draco added. You ignored him and looked at Theo, “What do you want to know?”

He had your full attention and ignored the looks from his friends, “What do you do for a living? What’s your work like?”

“Well, I uhh,” you started, “I own a store downtown. I’m there almost everyday.”

“What kind of store is it?” Theo asked as he leaned over the table closer to you. “What do you sell?”

“Candles,” for the second time that day, you and Draco synchronized. “Yeah, I sell candles and little… knick knacks,” you still hadn't opened up to Draco or Blaise for that matter about your Wiccan activities. So to say that you sold sage bundles, specially made oils and healing crystals would raise questions you weren't ready to answer now.

“Draco, have you ever been to the place? What is it called, by the way?” Theo kept on. Blaise was certainly not kidding when he said that Theo loved to talk. “No, I haven't,” Draco answered. “It’s called Soul Beads, wasn't it?”

“Yeah, that’s the name.” The food was brought on a large tray. Blaise handed your plate to you and you grabbed your fork to dig in. He was eating slowly, looking as if he was thinking about something. “Hey, you okay?” you whispered to him, Draco and Theo having their own conversation. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine, love,” Blaise continued eating at a faster pace now. You looked around the men that surrounded you and smiled. Today’s gonna be fun.

—

The day went… weird. Blaise tried to have as much fun as possible but something was bothering him. Was it Theo talking his head off the entire time? No, I’m used to that. Was it his legs tired after walking almost all day? No, not that. Was it how even though you held his hands the whole time and gave him occasional kisses on his cheek or lips, you had gone the entire day talking to Draco and shared a couple laughs with him? Absolutely.

Jealousy was always an ugly emotion to Blaise. It annoyed him during his time at Hogwarts, and it annoys him now. The way girls would ask him if he was messing around with other girls and he’d always say the same thing. “How could I when you’re the most beautiful girl in these halls?” They’d all swoon over it. And by the looks of it, you swooned over his every word as well. But the looks you gave him were different from the ones you gave Draco.

From all the letters he had gotten from Draco, Blaise knew how much he hated you. No, loathed. But after the two of you decided to make nice, it was like you had been friends since day one. Draco may have even looked comfortable talking to you. And it bothered Blaise. His time with you may have been short, but today made him realize something.

Blaise is nowhere near being in love, he knew that much. But he knew that he didn't want to be messing around anymore. He wants to have an actual relationship, and right now, he wanted it with you. Blaise was confused by it all. He should be happy that his best friend and a girl he likes gets along. It would make it all that much easier.

But something about the two of you was odd today.

Maybe there was a look that lasted too long. Or a tone that came out differently. Or maybe… no. Blaise knew what it was. He just wants to have that same friendship with you. Blaise still didn't know that much about you. He didn't even know you had your own store until that morning. And to hear that his friend who supposedly hates you even knows not only the name of the store, but what you sell, hit something in him.

So, he was going to change that. Because for the most part, you were pretty interesting. He knew you were a Wiccan and as much as he doesn't really care to know what it was all about – considering he can just do any magic with a flick of a wand – he’d at least know you a little better.

Momentarily, as he was deep in thought, Theo’s annoying voice popped in his head. Hey, at least you know her in a way Malfoy won’t. He mentally cringed at it for a second before he thought Wait. I do. It was a start, not one that someone usually prefers, but it was better than nothing.

You sat beside him on the ride back home and had a smile on your lips while you rested on him. Draco was driving and Theo wanted to raise the volume of the music but his hand was slapped away. “She’s sleeping, idiot.” Draco scolded.

“Merlin, look at this,” Theo looked at Blaise as he pointed to Draco’s face. “Malfoy caring for a muggle? I’ve seen everything now.”

“M-muggle?” You rubbed your eyes and yawned. The three Slytherin’s had wide eyes, Blaise cursing Theo with his eyes. “I've heard,” you let out another yawn, “Draco say that before.”

Merlin, how many times have these actually talked? Blaise thought. “I-it’s just slang from London,” he tried to cover up. You nodded your head and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek before going back to sleep.

Once everyone was home, Blaise walked you to your door. “I had fun today, did you?” Blaise gave his most convincing smile, “Yeah, I did.”

You said ‘Good night’ and almost closed the door when he stopped you. “Is it alright that I stay with you tonight?”

“I'm kind of tired, maybe tomorrow–”

“No, not for that,” Blaise chuckled at your insinuation. You looked slightly surprised. And it made sense considering that's almost all he came over for. Nonetheless, you let him into your home. Blaise stayed true to his words and just laid beside you in bed until the two went to sleep.

In his own bedroom, Draco smiled as he thought about the fun day he had. Maybe being friends with you wasn't so bad. He went to his kitchen to grab a drink when he noticed there was one person missing. “Where's Blaise?”

“I think he's staying at Y/N’s,” Theo stated. Inside, Draco felt an unusual pang in his chest. He let it go and went to bed. Hopelessly trying to get out of his head whatever you two were up to.

—

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