#which i shouldn’t. because i’m latino. but sometimes it’s just. feel like i’m not doing great with it. i lost an alter my dad got me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nandostateofmind · 9 months

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That’s A Grown Ass Man……..

Xavier Turns 11 and Wants a Girlfriend…….

I have been obsessed with my son since the first time I held him. I cried like a baby overcome with joy. I knew I loved him unconditionally in that moment. I never knew love like that before. My little broke best friend. My number one fan and supporter. We are a team. He’s the man and I’m the man behind the man. It is difficult for me to accept how he has grown and no longer needs me in the same ways as before. I still have Violet to be my baby for a little longer but I have to accept that Xavier is coming into his own. He will be my baby but there’s no denying that he is maturing into a man right before my eyes.

I love the man he is becoming, kind, confident, gracious, funny, considerate, and just a good person. Sometimes, however he comes to me with a question I’m completely unprepared for. As a dad he is my first trip on this ride. Everything is new and sometimes I’m forced to think about things for the first time. Now I am a through and through Puerto Rican Latino man, and the machismo is alive and well inside of me. So, when it came to women and my son of course I said he will be a lady’s man until the day he finds his lady. I try and be modern and not pretend like I don’t want him to be loved by the ladies but the truth is I do want him to be admired by his peers and desired by women. I just wasn’t ready for it to begin this quickly. I was not ready at all.

There was a little girl at school who would buy him gifts and he would down play the meaning of these little gifts. Just a friend getting him gifts. So, with that attitude he was exuding I figured he was oblivious to it. I thought he is too young and can’t see that the young lady clearly has a crush on him. Perhaps he too was too young to know that he himself has a crush on her too because he is wearing the gifts every day. A ring a necklace and bracelet. Boy oh boy was I naïve, he knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking.

As we sit in the car little sister present. My son says does as he sometimes does, “Dad can I ask you aquestion?” To which I always answer the same thing, “of course papa Bear shoot,” this young man proceeds to say to me, “Dad, at what is it appropriate for a kid to have a girlfriend?’ Boom, all of a sudden, he hits me with a real-life question and I was not ready at all. Especially with my daughter there and her being younger I didn’t want her thinking along those same lines as he is now. So, since I was so unprepared, I said let’s talk about it when we get upstairs. Upon arrival upstairs, I call him into thekitchen for his talk. I begin, so are you asking for yourself? He denies it repeatedly. So, I proceed toanswer to the best of my ability with what I genuinely feel about a situation such as the one he ispresenting. So, I said Xavier, I think that as a kid your focus should be one school and your after school activities. As a kid it’s a mistake to focus too much on girls and in particular actual relationships. The focus should be on school and the outside of school activities. Then I think that once you grow up into the man and person who want to be a fully formed person then you can go out into the world and findyou a fully formed person. The two of you not needing one another financially and being together because you love what you each bring to the table then you can get married or have a serious relationship. But, as a young person you shouldn’t date anyone seriously, you should date around and figure out your likes and dislikes, what boundaries and values are important to you. Now, obviously I didn’t phrase it this way. It was more along the line of you’re a kid you will figure who and what you like as you grow up.

I would be lying if I said I said I told him no. I didn’t, I said if you like her and you want to ask her to be your girlfriend that’s fine but remember you are a kid. You shouldn’t be kissing and touching or sending any pictures. Finally, I said talk to your mother she is better at this kind of thing than I am and I’m sure she has some good insight for you on the matter. Xavier and I are very close but thankfully he confides in his mother when it comes to affairs of the heart. I want them to be close and have a connection that he and I don’t share. I want him to see his mom as the judgment free person he can go to when his heart is heavy. As he gets older women will come and go, until he, hopefully, finds, “the one.” I think it is time for me to accept that he is growing up and he is navigating those stranger waters of being a preteen. That my little boy is becoming a grown ass man right before my eyes.

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everwitch-magiks · 3 years

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RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡

#First prince #FirstPrince #red white and royal blue #rwrb #alex claremont-diaz #Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor #evie writes #fanfiction

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

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LIGHTWOOD BANES WEEK - MAGNUS & RAFAEL

“Ready?”

Magnus looked up from the vanity table and put down his eyeliner.

“Like my new shoes?” his son grinned as he tapped the Gucci sneakers like Dorothy and her heels.

Magnus grinned in approval.

“Let’s go!” Rafe came closer and started jumping up and down as he pulled on Magnus’ arm. “Portal! Portal! Portal!”

Magnus gave him a smile. “How about we walk to the institute today, my coconut?”

Rafael stopped jumping abruptly.

“I’m not a coconut,” he pointed out sourly.

“Alright, I’ll think of another fiber rich fruit,” Magnus chuckled. “But let’s walk today, yes? The weather seems brilliant.”

Rafael looked out of the window and then back at Magnus, arching his dark eyebrows as if to say, ‘since when did you care about the weather?’.

“So, no portal?” Rafael asked.

“Not today,” Magnus replied.

Rafael looked down at his new shoes. “Okay.”

Magnus hated disappointing his son. Rafael loved magic – sometimes even more so than Max. This meant he enjoyed portals too.

Magnus would split the sky open for his son. Making a measly portal was no big deal.

He could have just done it simply. But today was not that day.

“Go pick up your bow,” Magnus urged him gently.

Rafael pouted and ran away without another word.

Magnus put on his jewelry and picked up his tote bag. He was hoping to drop Rafael off at the institute to train with the other children – something Magnus didn’t really approve of since Rafael was just past twelve.

He didn’t need to learn how to fight. He was a child.

Rafael was his baby.

But Rafael was also a shadowhunter – one of the angel’s chosen.

Magnus sighed inwardly – since it was a fact, he had to make peace with – and walked towards the living room.

“Let’s go, strawberry!”

But Rafael was not near the door where he usually stood when Magnus made the portal for them. Magnus walked towards Rafael’s bedroom to find his son on the floor.

“I sprained my leg,” Rafael said apologetically. “We’ll have to take a portal.”

Magnus gave him an amused glance.

“Well, if you are hurt then you shouldn’t be training,” Magnus pointed out.

“But we are throwing spears today,” Rafael protested. “I want to practice!”

“Alright then, use an iratze,” Magnus said. “It should heal quickly. Then we can walk merrily to the institute where they teach little children how to throw spears.”

“Uh, I can’t,” Rafael said now. “I lost my stele.”

He was a horrible liar. Much like Alec.

Max on the other hand…Magnus would have to keep an eye on that one.

“Rafael,” Magnus said warningly.

“I swear on Uncle Jace,” Rafael said, and Magnus bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. “I lost my stele.”

Magnus crossed his arms.

“I can ask Aunt Clary to heal it when I get to the institute,” Rafael pointed out. “Let’s go. Make the portal.”

Well, two can play at that game.

Magnus flicked his wrist, and a wave of blue smoke went through Rafael’s ankle. It wasn’t real magic of course. Just smoke.

“There, I fixed your ankle,” Magnus said. “Now, let’s go.”

Rafael stood up indignantly. “But what about my new shoes! I don’t want them to get all muddy.”

“It hasn’t rain in over a month!” Magnus put his arms up in frustration. “We are walking.”

“Fine, then I’m not going,” Rafael kicked off his shoes and flopped back on his bed and covered his face with a pillow.

Rafael was a quiet and timid child. But he could really be dramatic when he wanted to. Magnus had no idea where he got this from. Probably some shadowhunter at the institute.

“Rafael,” he called gently. “Why do you not want to walk to the institute?”

Magnus had noticed this initially over a month ago.

Rafael had insisted that he could the subway on his own. The institute wasn’t far away. He had wanted to commute on his own.

Magnus wasn’t really thrilled by this sudden show of bravado.

Firstly, he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that his baby was growing up.

Secondly, he might have excused the demon butt kicking. But he wasn’t going to allow his son to go on the New York subway alone.

But then Alec had interfered and of course as always had won the argument with “reason” and “logic”.

So, Rafael started to take the subway and travel to the institute by himself.

Just two days a week.

On the other days, he went with Alec or Magnus.

Rafael had only been out on his own for a couple of weeks before he had started to make all sorts of excuses for not wanting to go alone.

He would ask Alec to come to the institute with him. And of course, the insistence for portals had started.

Magnus knew Rafael loved portal travel. But he wasn’t spoilt or anything. Actually, the boy enjoyed walking, mostly because he got to stop and pet a stranger’s dog.

So, Magnus found it a little odd that Rafael’s insistence on walking alone had disappeared just like that.

He knew there was more to the story and he was going to find out.

He sat down next to Rafael gingerly and knocked on the pillow.

“Knock knock,” he said.

“Nobody’s home,” Rafael said in a muffled voice, still stubbornly clutching the pillow over his face.

“Come on. Play along,” Magnus urged and taped on the pillow again. “Knock knock!”

Rafael sighed dramatically. “Who’s there?”

“Wire.”

“Wire who?”

“Wire you lying to me?”

Rafael removed the pillow off his face.

“You’re not as clever as you think you are,” Rafael pointed out.

“Lies!” Magnus said in an offended tone. “You said your father is the smartest person you know.”

“Well, I have two fathers so…”

Magnus gasped offensively.

Rafael’s mouth twitched, just a little. Anyone who didn’t know him would have missed it.

But Magnus knew him. He knew him better than anyone.

“Wounded prides and treacherous betrayals aside,” Magnus gently removed the pillow and threw it away before Rafael can hide again. “Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rafael said, lying back slowly.

“Then why do you not want to walk alone?”

“Just cause,” Rafael shrugged.

“Did…Did something happen?” Magnus asked tentatively. “In the subway?”

“Nothing serious,” Rafael said.

Magnus’ heart, which was always steady, started beating faster.

“I’d still like to know if that’s okay with you,” Magnus said gently, not wanting to push the boy.

Rafael was quiet.

“Rafael,” Magnus said softly. “When we found you, I promised that I will always protect you. I need to live up to that promise. Please tell me what happened.”

Rafael sat up on the bed and crossed his legs. “There were some boys in the subway.”

Magnus nodded, gently urging him to go on.

“I didn’t glamour myself cause you know I don’t like to,” Rafael pointed out.

Magnus did know that. Magnus never actually glamored himself either – not unless it was absolutely necessary. Magnus didn’t want to hide because there was nothing to be ashamed of.

Rafael didn’t either.

Rafael took after him in so many ways - including his love for fashion. But this was one of those ways that made Magnus’ heart swell with pride.

“Anyway, I was careful,” Rafael continued. “I made sure my bow was hidden and nothing was visible. But then these boys…They made fun of me.”

“Because of your runes?” Magnus asked.

“Because of what was underneath the runes.”

Magnus muttered a curse underneath his breath – thankfully he spoke many languages Rafe didn’t understand.

He knew that he was supposed to act rational. To be calm and assess the situation. He was the high warlock of Brooklyn and he has handled worse situations.

But he wasn’t the high warlock right now. He was just Rafael’s father.

Anger boiled through his veins and Magnus felt his magic surge.

“Who are these boys?” Magnus demanded. “Where did you see them?”

Rafael looked at him then, his brown eyes sad. “Does it really make a difference, Bapa?”

And Magnus’ heart broke.

No. It didn’t. It didn’t make a difference.

“They were saying something about a wall and how I should go back to where I’m from,” Rafael said, his voice low. “I put my earphones on after that.”

“Was this a one-time thing?” Magnus asked.

“In the institute, nobody ever said anything about being me a Latino. Or about the others. They don’t really care I think. And when we are out…Well, I’m always with you and dad so I never really noticed. But the moment I was alone…They never say anything when I'm with you or dad. That’s why I kept asking you to come with me. Or take a portal.”

“We can come with you for as long as you want,” Magnus promised.

“But you shouldn't have to. Not for this,” Rafael sounded angry. “I don’t think it was a one time thing, Bapa. I just think I never noticed. And now that I have…I don’t think I will ever stop noticing.”

Magnus had put a thousand charms – and more – on Rafael’s bow. He had put spell after spell on the sapphire necklace his son wore. He had taken every precaution he could think to protect his son from any and every demon that lurked in the shadows.

But Magnus hadn’t thought about the demons that lurked during daylight. Demons that didn’t attack the body – but the ones that clawed at your heart.

Magnus couldn’t protect Rafael from these creatures every day. But he could protect him right now. He led out his hands until Rafael leaned his head on Magnus’ shoulder.

“It’s not fair,” Rafael said. “I can’t help how I look.”

“I know, my darling,” Magnus caressed his hair gently. “I know.”

“Have people always been this awful?” Rafael asked.

Magnus, who had lived through centuries of persecution and discrimination, could have simply lied. He could lie to make his son feel better.

But he knew the lies wouldn’t prepare him for the world that was waiting out there.

“Do you remember, Bapa?” Rafael looked up and asked now. “Do you remember when Max was 7 and he wanted to look like the rest of us? He wanted to not be blue for one day?”

Magnus did. Alec had talk to Max that day, that a little blue never hurt anybody. It hadn’t convinced Max of course. But the party with a dozen multi cultured warlocks had kind of helped.

“I think Max has it better,” Rafael said now. “I wish I was blue or yellow or green.”

“You are what you are,” Magnus said. “And what you are is a beautiful boy.”

Rafael just mumbled something.

“Rafe,” Magnus took his hand. “Max is a downworlder. He will have his fair share of ass…hats to deal with.”

“Not on my watch,” Raphael said menacingly.

Magnus smiled. “You could consider glamouring yourself. You don’t have to do everything I do.”

“Not everything, no,” Rafe agreed. “But this…I can’t not do this. I want to be like you. Proud. Confident. But it’s…I don’t know it’s hard when they keep staring at me like that. Like I don’t belong here.”

“People will always stare,” Magnus said gently and dangled the bagles in his hand. “So might as well give them something to stare at, huh?”

Rafael gave him a weak smile. Magnus sighed.

“Alright then,” Magnus said. “I will make you a portal. Today. Every day. Whenever you want. You don’t have to take the subway.”

“I don’t want to take the portal,” Rafael said. “I don’t want to bother you.”

“Darling, you do know your father is the high warlock of Brooklyn, right?” Magnus chuckled. “It’s no bother.”

“I don’t want to take the portal,” Rafael simply repeated. “I like taking the subway.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It kinda smells sometimes and then there are people who sing weird butt songs, but I like it,” Rafael said. “There is this lady. An abuela called Maria. I see her sometimes with her dog Globo.”

“Globo?” Magnus chuckled.

“He is so sweet, and she lets me pet him. I sometimes even buy treats for him with my allowance, ” Rafael confessed. “I like seeing Abuela Maria. I love seeing Globo. I don’t wanna miss that.”

“That’s fair enough,” Magnus nodded.

“Abuela Maria…She came to New York when she was 12. She is so old now. She has been here for year. And those boys…They sometimes make jokes about her too. She doesn’t speak much English but I think she understands. She doesn’t have earphones like I do though. So, she has to listen to everything they say.”

Magnus didn’t say anything. Just quietly offered his hand to Rafael.

His son took it gently and examined it carefully. Rafael had always loved the way Magnus painted his nails. Magnus had often wondered if Rafael would want to paint his own when he grew up.

But now…Now Magnus worried Rafael might never paint his nails even if he wanted to.

The world could sometimes be a cruel place. Magnus has always believed that the world should always have more color – and some glitter too.

But some people preferred to keep things black and white.

It was hard navigating a world like this. Magnus looked at his son.

Rafael looked sad. He looked angry. Worried. Frustrated.

And scared.

Magnus had felt all those things long ago too. But he had found his way through.

He had found his way through the maze and reminded himself who he was and he shouldn’t promise himself for anyone.

It had taken him a long time but he had got there eventually.

But the thing was…Rafael didn’t have that kind of time.

He was a shadowhunter. A mortal.

Magnus thought about Abuela Maria – and all the men and women she must have met during her life who must have made her feel different – when she was just another person in New York with a weirdly named dog.

Magnus didn’t want Rafael to spend his years living in shame and worry.

No. That is not the world Alec and Magnus had promised each other to build for their children and all the rest.

“Bapak,” Rafael said softly. “Is it always going to be like this?”

“It won’t be. I’d like to think so,” Magnus said quietly. “I’ve lived a long time, Rafe. There have been shadowhunters who have thrown away plates cause I touched them.”

“They what?” Rafael’s voice rose, his own pain immediately forgotten.

“The point is…We can’t change people,” Magnus said carefully. “But we can change systems. We can break old ones. We can build new ones. I’ve been hunted by shadowhunters. But I’ve also fought alongside shadowhunters. Fell in love with one. I’ve seen them change the law. I’ve seen them fight for my people. So, no. It’s not always going to be like this. It won’t happen overnight and it’s going to take a lot of effort and pain. But it won’t always be like this. I promise you that.”

“Well, I won’t be around to see it,” Rafael muttered.

“Yeah but your kids might,” Magnus winked.

“Gross,” Rafe made a face.

Magnus pulled him closer and kissed him on the top of his head.

“Do you think it would have been different?” Rafael asked, his face hidden in the crook of Magnus’ neck. “If I was in Buenos Aires?”

Magnus thought about it for a moment. Rafael living far away from him. The possibility pained him.

He had already lost one Raphael. He wasn’t ready to lose another.

Not to anyone. Certainly not to some ignorant bigots who lacked empathy and respect.

“Possibly,” Magnus said with caution. “But it’s like you said. It doesn’t matter where you are. When you are different, people always make sure to point out. While no one in Buenos Aires might bully you for being a Latino, they might bully you for other things.”

“But why?” the child asked, still oblivious to the way the world worked.

Magnus wished he could be that way forever.

But no.

They all had to grow up eventually.

“Because of power,” Magnus explained. “Power is never distributed equally. So, when some people have more power than others, they abuse that power.”

“Like shadowhunters and downworlders,” Rafael bit his lip.

Magnus wasn’t particularly think of that example.

“Yes,” Magnus nodded. “Exactly like that. Sometimes shadowhunters abuse the power they have. Downworlders can do that too.”

“I don’t want power,” Rafael said.

“Sometimes we have power whether we want it or not,” Magnus pointed out.

“What do I do with it?” Rafael asked.

“Well, you try not to hurt other people with it,” Magnus said. “You try not to hurt yourself with it.”

“I’ll try,” Rafael promised. “What about…What about the bullies?”

“Well,” Magnus said. “What do you wanna do about it?”

“I don’t want to hide,” Rafael said, determination settling on his shoulders. “This is my country too.”

“Yes, it is,” Magnus kissed him on the head again.

“What do I do then?” Rafael asked.

“You do what you were born to do,” Magnus smiled. “You fight.”

“Like with my bow and arrow?” Rafael giggled.

“We’ll save that for the other demons,” Magnus winked. “But you fight in whatever way you can. This kind of thing…There is no one way to fight racism – or any kind of discrimination. We all fight it differently.”

“Like dad,” Rafael’s eyes gleamed. “He changed the laws!”

“Exactly,” Magnus beamed back. “You don’t have to change laws. Not unless you want to. No fight is less important than the other.”

“I want to fight for people who can’t fight for themselves,” Rafael said. “Like Abuela Maria – and Globo. I can maybe buy her noise cancelling earphones. I can fight for her.”

Magnus’ eyes almost watered at that. He was so much Alec – in so many ways. When he looked at Rafael now, Magnus realized he is never going to lose Alec. Not really.

“Then fight, my darling,” Magnus gave one last kiss on the ahead. “Fight like your dad.”

“And like my Bapak,” Rafe smiled and booped Magnus on the nose.

“He is the smartest person you know, right?” Magnus winked.

“Eh,” Rafael shrugged and Magnus feigned offense.

“But he is the bravest person I know,” Rafael pointed out shyly, but with enough pride to warm Magnus’ heart.

Magnus jumped off the bed and led out his hands. “All this talk about our wonderful public transportation system has me suddenly missing the subway. I think I should go for a ride.”

Rafael picked up his bow and reached out to hold Magnus’ hand. “Let’s go together.”

#I am love them your honour #magnus bane #rafael lightwood bane #lightwood bane family #lightwood banes week #dani writes stuff #tsc fics #malec month

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starlightervarda · 3 years

Note

I think this fandom should address the erasure of characters’ cultures. What makes The Old Guard so important to many of us is representation, we all love that the main characters are from all over the world and yet in most of AUs Joe is turned into american. What’s wrong with Joe being from North Africa? That silly post abouth Christmas is just another example of erasing Nicky’s and Booker’s cultures.I don’t want to fandom police, but I swear sometimes I dont get this fandom.

Hi nonny <3

Oh, man. I feel this deeply. A few weeks back I complained about how people refused to learn or remember what Joe was, but had no trouble making the distinction between Nicky being Italian and Booker being French.

I have a lot to say about this so...

INCOMING RANT

Media and even historically always erases the backgrounds of MENA people. It’s very exhausting, having someone use ‘Muslim’ like it’s an ethnicity, when you can very much be a Russian Muslim, Indian Muslim, Nigerian Muslim, etc. It’s not a synonym for ‘Middle Eastern’ like people insist it is.

You shouldn’t even assume all MENA people are Muslim, plenty are Christian and even Jewish, and many are irreligious/atheists.

Basically, every time I see ‘a Muslim scientist’ or ‘Muslim poet’ I get hives. Yes, thank you, where was he from? Andalus? Baghdad? Damascus? Tehran? Cairo? Fez? Baalbak? Hejaz? Where was he from, what ethnicity is he?? Do you care that little???

You don’t call Copernicus a Christian scientist or Dante a Christian poet, do you?

It’s worse when they make it a synonym for ‘Arab’. Like, no, Ibn Battuta was Moroccan, Omar Khayyam and Avicenna were Persian, Salah ad-Din was Kurdish, etc., etc.I’m pretty sure if someone called Alexander Graham Bell or Oscar Wilde ‘English’ there’d be hell to pay.

Even the official Old Guard Wiki page calls Nicky ‘an Italian Crusader’ but Joe is a ‘Muslim warrior’. Interesting how Nicky isn’t a ‘Christian warrior’ and Nile isn’t a ‘Christian soldier’. Joe has his own very rich background, is from a part of the world that his been so important historically, and he is allowed to exist beyond the parameters of religion.

He doesn’t seem religious. What he clearly is is North African. Unmistakably so.

It plays a part in many of the worst discourses in this fandom where people act like Joe is indistinguishable from others from Muslim-majority countries like Iran or Pakistan. Yes, that’s racist. No excuses. I’ve gotten vicious messages from people who refuse to get that through their heads that the people they know are nothing like North Africans, culturally, historically, or even linguistically. If you don’t speak Arabic you interpret things much, much differently. If you’re not from a MENA country your experience does not apply in this discussion.

It bugs me the most because I’m used to being represented in fiction by people who are not remotely like me. They’re always characters played by mixed Americans, Sub-Saharan Africans, White people in spray tans, Turks, Latinos of various backgrounds, Indians or half-Indians. This perpetuates the idea that we’re interchangeable, that we have no lands or cultures.

As much as I love the Mummy movies, not a single Egyptian or even North African person was in those movies. Evie and Jonathan were meant to be half-Egyptian, and Ardeth Bey was played by an Israeli...which is a whole other can of worms.

Last I heard, Leonardo DiCaprio was going to play Rumi...a Persian poet. The only Persian thing he can play is a Shirazi cat.

...Want to hear a sad story? When I was a child, I was already aware of this. We were watching Night at the Museum and I was expecting the mummy to be A) White B) Black C) Indian. But out came Rami Malek! I got so excited, I couldn’t explain it at the time, but seeing his face made me so happy! I knew him by his features, skin tone and hair texture! I was sad that he disappeared until Mr. Robot became a big deal...only for people to keep calling him an Arab.

A fucking Ben Stiller kid’s movie could cast accurately, but all these epic movies and TV productions could not and still refuse to? Interesting!

That’s why I was so excited for the live-action Aladdin, Marwan Kenzari and Mena Massoud are both North African. That’s why i came running into the Old Guard fandom, because Joe is North African played by a North African! I’m sure many of the Italians came for the same reason, Luca is actually Italian, not some American called Pete.

But in general, it really wouldn’t kill them to remember that Joe is North African, both he and Nicky are Mediterranean, Nicky and Booker were raised Catholic, and Andy is probably Eastern European. Neither Andy or Booker are like Nicky and vice versa, nor are they anything like Merrick, who is the embodiment of British imperialism, stop trying to equate them. These distinctions matter.

As for Modern AUs, those are up to your story. It’s only a problem if you change their ethnicities.

I don’t mind them set in America, it makes it easier for many to justify the characters meeting in the same city. I’m writing a Modern AU where Nicky is second-generation Italian, Booker immigrated from France, and Joe was born in the US to an Egyptian/Tunisian couple, because it hand-waves explaining what they’re all doing in the same place Nile and Andy are.

TL;DR Representation matters!

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justapoet · 3 years

Text

in the mirror, what do you see?

TK had a bad day, and somewhere among broken glass and tears, Carlos, Grace Ryder and a pie were there to pick the pieces up.

2.7k

Some days would go by easier if they never really existed, and it intensifies if your life choices led you to be a first responder. Having to deal daily with human ignorance, despair and selfishness can take you out of your mind more often than anything else can in the world, but there’s nothing else to drive you insane faster than dealing with other people’s loss.

It was bad as a firefighter, and TK found it even worse as a paramedic. While people understand easily that they couldn’t pull someone out of a building on fire or an incredibly ugly car accident, they tend to always look at paramedics as if the loss was their fault and their fault only, as if fate or whatever made them be needed in the first place.

You should’ve done more.

The old woman’s voice still echoed on TK’s mind when he stepped into Carlos’ house and shut the door behind him. He felt drained, completely exhausted, and didn’t even bother about saying goodbye to anyone at the station ― he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his feeling in if he looked at anyone’s eyes. They’d all seen every loss, that day.

Why aren’t you trying harder?!

Another voice echoed in his ears, and he dropped his bag by the door, not bothering about getting his shoes or coat off. His hands were trembling, his breathing was short and faster than it should be, but he didn’t care about trying to calm himself down.

You’re letting her die?! Which kind of paramedic are you?!

He couldn’t avoid the first tear to fall, and then the other’s just ignored his feeling of ridiculousness as they fell copiously. Although Tommy had said that they couldn’t save everyone, trying to reassure him that he did not fault all of that, he couldn’t help but thinking that not being able to save everyone is something, but not saving anyone is something else.

That’s not enough! What you did it’s not enough!

That was probably the loudest voice in his head since the last call when they couldn’t save a seventeen-year-old girl who’d taken pills to die sleeping. Their parents had found her in her bed, the room was a mess and that orange bottle on the floor had only one pill left. TK understood it all easily, and so did his team and his dad’s team as well. They tried to keep him out of the scene, but the girl’s parents were screaming and crying and they had to take care of them while TK got closer to the bed and the dead body.

They couldn’t save her.

He couldn’t save her.

And he wished so bad he could forget about what he’d seen in that purple wall bedroom just as much as he could let himself give up on those feelings without disappointing anyone. But he can’t do any of that, so he drags his feet to the living room and stops himself before making it to the couch. There was someone in the mirror hanging on the wall, and he could only stare at the figure.

In the reflex, the skin seemed even paler than he could remember, and his body was even thinner. Shoulders bent down as if there was too much weight on it for him to carry, and for a second he was thankful the mirror was in circle shape, so he didn’t have to see the rest of the miserable image. The tired face, exhausted and empty, didn’t seem to be recognizable, but he knew it perfectly; the purple spots under the opaque green eyes, the way too apparent cheekbones, the complete image of failure.

He hated that person so much, for a second.

And that was enough for, in a moment of rage, his arms to go forward and his fists to hit the mirror with all he’d been holding up, bottling up for maybe more than just a day. He felt his skin ripping, the cuts being a good amount at his knuckles, fingers, and even his wrist, and then the tears fell as if he’d finally found an acceptable excuse to cry his soul out.

He also hated himself for crying like an idiot kid who couldn’t convince their mother to buy their favorite candy, and it made him cry even more. He didn’t think much when he punched the mirror again and then fell to his knees, the glass under him showing more images of that pathetic person on the ground.

“Idiot,” he said to the lots of faces in the fractions of the mirror, punching it again and feeling the pain grow even more on his hands. “Idiot! Stop it” he said, more like a plea. “Stop crying, stop-” and a sob made his sentence get lost within the dark walls.

“Make it stop,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Please” his voice broke, and he sat to the ground, his feet making noise when stepping on the broken glass, his shoes protecting him from more pain. He brought his knees to his chest, holding tight and feeling his hands ache even more, the sting making him conscious of the blood too.

TK doesn’t know how much time he spent there, and even less when he started to say “sorry” repeatedly. What he does know, though, is that he couldn’t help but try to let go of the sudden touch on his shoulder, his head being lifted quickly enough to get him dizzy. The worried look on Carlos’ face made him feel small and oh, so, so stupid. He looked around as if expecting someone else to be there, and, then, realized.

He’d broken Carlos’ mirror and made a mess at his house because of a bad day. Oh, boy, how he hated every single thing about himself, at that moment.

“Ty?” Carlos called, seeing how desperate and scared TK seemed to be. His name on the cop’s lips was sweet, so different from the way it sounded in his head.

“Sorry, oh, God,” he said. “I-I’m so sorry, sorry I” he tried to say, moving his hands so he could try to get up, and then Carlos saw his hands, immediately understanding what could’ve happened. “I’ll clean it up, I’ll buy you a new mirror, I-”

“TK” Carlos said, his voice serious and, yet, sweet. “It’s a mirror. Just a mirror and glass on the floor. What happened to your hands?”

TK didn’t seem to get what his words meant.

“No, no, I’ll buy you a new one. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have come, I” he tried again, tripping when he managed to get up and looking around as if searching for a way out. Carlos analyzed him, and then reached for his arms. TK stopped moving when Carlos touched his pale skin, and the latino noticed he seemed to be about to fall.

“Ty” he called again, just as sweet as before. He didn’t say anything else, but his sweet gaze didn’t leave TK’s face for minutes, and it was enough to make him break all over again. His legs gave in, and Carlos was fast when holding him close by his waist and slowly passing his fingers through the paramedic’s hair.

Slow steps towards the couch and TK curled himself on Carlos’ side, crying even harder and sobbing unstoppably. His bloody knuckles were white underneath the cuts, so much was the strength he was using to hold to his shirt. His eyes were closed, and Carlos didn’t even try to say anything; he didn’t have to, anyway.

“I’m not enough” he heard TK whispering, and his heart shattered to pieces to his tone and the chosen words. “Why am I never enough?”

“Why are you saying that?” Carlos asked just as quietly as TK’s voice itself. TK tried to breathe deep, but his shaky breath made clear he was still trying to hide his tears.

“We lost everyone,” he said, then. “It wasn’t enough, I wasn’t enough” another sob. “I’m never enough”.

Carlos could almost hear his heart breaking in his chest, and he held TK a little bit tighter than before, trying to find what to say. TK cried silently for a little while, and Carlos took a breath before opening his mouth and start speaking quietly.

"People are what they are, TK. No one's ever enough if they're trying to fit in other's expectations," he said. "To be enough, in the dictionary definition, always has the word "required", as a pronoun, an adverb, or a determiner. And to be required is to fit someone else's ideas and expectations. That's not what we're here for"

"We lost them all, Carlos," he said again, and the cop could feel him shaking. "All of them. No one survived"

"Death happens, Ty, as much as life does. You did all you could and their bodies needed more, but you couldn't provide that, could you?" he shook his head. "That's not on you, TK"

"That's why I'm there for, Carlos, I'm a paramedic," he said and Carlos cut him before he could continue.

"A paramedic, not a god or an angel. Although I disagree, sometimes" he said, a tiny smile on his lips while his hand carefully caressed his boyfriend's back and arm. "That's not on you".

"Why did they blame me then?" his voice could barely be heard. Carlos pressed a kiss to his head, whispering against his messy hair.

"Death is only painful for those who stay, babe. And the way we try to cope with pain is by putting it on someone" his fingers slowly reached to TK's. "Or giving another reason for the tears to fall".

TK swallowed hard, hiding his head on Carlos' side.

"I'm sorry" he chocked.

"Don't be. It's just a mirror, just glass" the cop said, and TK shook his head. "And if you're, somehow, apologizing for "not being enough" or for being who you are, then we're having an argument over what you think of my boyfriend."

TK didn't say a thing, but he nodded. There was a knock on the door, and he seemed to hide even more. Carlos pressed another kiss to his hair and squeezed his arm briefly, before getting up and smiling at the silhouette through the glass.

TK didn't know who he should expect, but that definitely wasn't Grace Ryder with a kind smile and a pie in her hands.

She stepped into the house and hugged Carlos, joking over something while he closed the door behind him. Then, she looked around the room, her eyes stopping when she saw TK trying to disappear inside the couch. Carlos took the pie from her hands, slowly making his way to the kitchen and placing it at the counter, and Grace made a similar way, stopping in front of TK, though.

"Hey there, kid," she said, her voice just as kind as her smile. TK seemed to be scared, and then Carlos came closer.

"No one's here to judge you, Ty"

"Neither to make questions," Grace said. "But I do gotta say that we need to take care of this, uh?" she pointed to his hands, his fingers closed in a fist. "Just so we can take care of this, after," she said again, her thumb gently touching his cheek over a trail of tears.

"I'm sorry," he said again, seeming to be ashamed. Grace's smile softened even more, and Carlos mirrored her.

"What for?" she asked. "For being human? We can take it" she said. "If you let us, of course. Your boy here was really worried when he asked me if there was a way for our pie on Wednesday to be rescheduled to a Saturday night" she pointed to Carlos with her head, and he smiled. TK couldn't help but do the same. "See? That's what we were looking for. C'mon, let's clean these cuts"

She held his elbow, helping him to get up. Carlos kissed his temple briefly, before walking back to the kitchen to get a broom to clean the mess on the living room floor. Grace walked TK to the bathroom, sitting him on the toilet and remembering where Carlos said the first aid kit was, taking it to clean TK's hand.

They stood in silence while she carefully passed a wet gauze through the cuts, knowing that it would sting and TK wouldn't say a thing about it anyway. He drifted away for a few moments, so confused to put any thought in place, but was brought back by her low and gentle voice.

"Some days we're so focused on helping people that we leave ourselves helpless," she said. "and when we lose someone? Feels like we let ourselves be carried away by someone else's pain. Then, we feel lost, too".

"Did Carlos call you?" TK asked, not knowing how to answer what she said. Grace smiled softly, turning his hand so she could see his wrists.

"Judd said y'all had a hell of a day. He was worried about you, mainly, though. Something about you leaving without a word and almost running out of the station" she explained. "So, I messaged Carlos and he replied half an hour ago, saying that maybe you could use some pie".

TK felt his chest being filled with a warm feeling.

"Judd wanted to come, but he thought that, maybe, you'd be better without so many people around, even if they were people who cared," she said again, getting a few bandages from the box. "But, now, I gotta say that you're invited to lunch tomorrow, and Judd doesn't take "no" as an answer".

TK smiled briefly, chuckling.

"I'm sorry about worrying you guys," he said, though. "I didn't mean to... God, it was so stupid-"

"Feeling what you feel, whatever it is, is not stupid, TK" Grace said, then, her voice serious. "Not at all. And we worry because we care. We love you, kid. All of us" she continued, and TK couldn't find something to tell her otherwise.

"Thank you," he said instead, quietly. Grace smiled, finishing her work and putting her hand on his shoulder.

"You're not hateable as you think you are, honey. The 126? They love you. Tommy and Nancy? You stole their hearts easily. Me? I admired you before even knowing you, just because Judd started to say how stubborn you were" she chuckled, and TK could see the love shining in her eyes just to mention her husband. "That man out there?" he pointed to the door, referring to Carlos. "The look on his face every time he looks at you or thinks about you? Oh, kid, he loves you more than life itself, I bet. And you do, too, because the look on your face right now it's the same I see on myself when I think about Judd"

"I don't deserve him," he said, even if his heart was about to burst with love for the cop. Grace chuckled, helping TK to get up.

"You deserve everything good, Strand," she said. "And I'm pretty sure that Officer Reyes is the summary of all of it"

TK smiled fondly.

"Yeah. I think so" he said, getting lost in the thought of Carlos for a second. "But can I have the pie, too?" he asked, and Grace laughed loudly while walking out of the bathroom.

Getting back to the living room, TK couldn't stop his feet from going straight to Carlos, wrapping his arms around the man's waist and placing his head on his shoulder, sighing happily. Carlos smiled, putting the bag with the broken glass on the ground and hugging him back, placing a kiss at the top of his head. Grace smiled at them, nodding happily when Carlos found her eyes.

When they sat on the couch, each with a slice of pie on a plate and the pie on the coffee table, laughing over any random things and some stories Grace had to tell after being a dispatcher for so many years, TK rested his head on Carlos' shoulder and closed his eyes for a second. While listening about some guy who got trapped in his ex-wife's closet, he looked up and stared at his boyfriend's smile, then at the smile on Grace's face.

Right there, he was enough. And if two people just as good and Carlos and Grace could love him, maybe his reflection wouldn't be so painful anymore.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #carlos x tk #tk x carlos #carlos reyes x tk strand #tk strand x carlos reyes #grace ryder #911 lone star fic #911 lone star #my fic #my writing #paramedic tk #paramedic tk strand #i wrote it for no reason #after a sleepless night

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lily-s-world · 3 years

Text

Don’t know why, but I have seen a lot of posts regarding the casting of people of color on my feed lately. So, I wanted to correct something that people share without checking.

First one is regarding the character of Hawkgirl in the Arrowverse (played by Ciara Renée). There’s a lot of posts comparing her with the Hawkgirl of the animated series and with the red-headed Hawkgirl of the comics, and people insist she should have been played by a white red-headed. Well… You’re all wrong because you’re comparing two completely different characters.

The character of Ciara Renée is Kendra Saunders, which is often drawn in the comics as a black woman and sometimes as an afro-latina.

While the red-headed Hawkgirl is Shayera Hol, shown always as a red-headed in the comics and animated series.

Second one is people still complaining about the cast of Tessa Thompson as the Valkyrie in the MCU, because the Valkyrie is supposed to be blonde. The blonde Valkyrie is called Brunnhilde and you can clearly see her sacrificing herself to save Tessa’s character in the flashback shown in Thor: Ragnarok.

youtube

Meaning that Tessa’s Valkyrie (whose name hasn’t been said in none of the movies) is possibly not the character to which people compare her so much.

If you have reached this point on the post you will ask:

What about all the other characters that were white and were casted as poc?

Well, it means that the film industry is trying to include more representation of different races to their movies, and that’s amazing.

Aren’t they doing it for the money?

Let’s be honest, the film industries always do everything for the money. They know that making movies is not the same as 50 years ago, that the viewers market has increased considerably and that they need to start representing the different races, ethnics and communities properly; otherwise they will be removed from the market by other competitors that fulfill the viewers needs. (There are exceptions of some directors that actually care for representation).

Is not always great inclusion in the film industry, they made mistakes and some stereotypes are still there. But by including more, they can realize this and correct the mistakes. Is a slow process.

If they want inclusion, why don’t they add the already established poc characters of the comics?

Because there aren’t as many as people think there are, and if we pick the ones that can be adapted for leading roles (the ones that aren’t sidekicks, secondary characters, one-issue characters... ) that reduce the list considerably.

I’m not saying that these already established poc characters shouldn’t be adapted, it will be amazing if they do; but we fall back again to the money issue, if the character isn’t popular it won’t give them as much money as other ones, so they won’t even try adapting them.

Weren’t you complaining last week about how they changed the race to a couple of characters on the live-action of Winx Club, how is this different?

I did, because the characters were clearly asian and latina, and the show whitewashed them. Giving that the latino community gets around 3% of total representation (see article Latinos Underrepresented) , you can see how different it is to turn a latino into a white character. Removing a latino characters reduces the incredible small representation that we receive. While changing a white character for a latino, won’t change the fact that the white characters still hold the biggest percentage of representation.

Reading people complaint that poc characters are receving more representation, is like hearing a spoiled person complaining that the cake needs to be splited amongst the rest of the attendees to the party, even though that person already received the biggest slide of the cake.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts on that. Feel free to add yours (in a respectful way).

#poc representation #hawkgirl #kendra saunders #shayera hol #arrowverse #ciara renee #thor ragnarok #valkyrie #tessa thompson #marvel #dc comics #mcu #representation matters #latino representation #black representation #asian representation #winx club #fate the winx saga #comic adaptation

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emerald-studies · 4 years

Text

Diverse Perspectives | Discussion 3

I sent some questions to @jasperwhitcock for her perspective as a POC woman and daughter of an immigrant.

[ It is required to participate and watch/read these discussions, in order to follow me. Participate or get tf out. We aren’t performative in my lil’ area on Tumblr.

This discussion isn’t representative of an entire population or meant to be super professional. It’s to share different perspectives and also is an opportunity for me to practice what I preach: intersectionality. If you’d like to participate in this series please send me a pm or an ask and I’ll get back to you ASAP. We can do a written, audio, or video interview.]

As a mixed person, do you feel isolated from your community?

J: If you mean community as in the community I currently live in, I’m fortunate enough to live in a very diverse place. Surrounding the city of Houston, there’s a lot of prejudice integrated into a lot of the suburban neighborhoods, but in terms of the city itself, I think the POC communities really uplift and support each other. I’m a concert photographer when there’s not a pandemic, and I’ve always appreciated the way latinos and black artists are respected in the indie community. Houston’s a very rap/hip hop/R&B city, so black artists are especially celebrated. There’s also great latinx bands that I know, latinx venue owners/employees, and latinx brands connected to the indie community. We’re very well represented in this area.

If you mean community as in the latinx community, I wouldn’t say isolated, but depending on the day, I might say that I can feel distanced at times. This isn’t particularly due to the latinx community itself, so much as it may be a distance that I create in my head. As a mixed person, I think there are times where you can feel confused on where you belong. I’ve brought up the quote before from the Selena movie, where Selena’s father Abraham is speaking on the potential difficulty of Selena being accepted in Mexico because of the fact she is Mexican American: “We have to be more Mexican than the Mexicans and more American than the Americans, both at the same time! It's exhausting!” It can be difficult at times to navigate your sense of belonging when you are in between two cultures because you want to recognize that you may have privileges someone of full Mexican descent may not have, but at the same time, your life is still very much defined by being Mexican and having Mexican blood while living in America too. You’re definitely not absolved from having latin experiences. Latina stand up comedian Anjelah Johnson made a joke in her stand up about there being a Latinx hierarchy. She said that Spanish speaking latinos are better than the rest of us who are not fluent in Spanish (such as herself), and it was funny because sometimes you do feel that that can be true. My tías will always ask me why I’m not fluent in Spanish, and my mom will be like “yeah, why don’t you?” and I’m always like… because y’all didn’t teach me! My parents speak Spanish to each other at home. My father is not only fluent in Spanish, but his Spanish is oftentimes superior to a lot of Spanish speakers according to my mom and my tíos. He used to teach English in Mexico, so there is no reason that my sister and I shouldn’t have been perfectly bilingual. The reason they didn’t teach us as children is because they didn’t want us to be speaking Spanglish. (Spoiler: it happened anyways). Around white people, I definitely feel that I am not a white person. I feel very much latina in a group of white people. But then around latin people, I sometimes feel white enough to feel a sense of shyness. I definitely feel more at home with latinx people, but overall in both groups, I definitely feel that I am mixed.

It doesn’t happen often, because I think although the majority of latinx people have pride in their background, the hyperawareness of our identities right now is relatively new, but there have been instances of latinx gatekeeping the latin identity. Growing up, I didn’t think about what I was labelled as or think about how my family structure is different to other families. I didn’t consider how in some areas, it is an abnormality to have an immigrant parent or a parent with an accent. I definitely noticed that my family was different, but I didn’t understand why until much later. My mom, her sisters and brothers, and my primos… They don’t live their lives with the awareness of being defined as Mexican immigrants. Of course, they again have pride in where they came from. They live as Mexicans and engage in Mexican culture, but overall, the way the youth today has really grasped onto the labelling of our identity is kind of a new thing. There are some young latinx people who do try to quantify and measure whether or not your experience is valid. I know it comes from a place of protectiveness of their own experience, but it’s ridiculous to gate keep because something that really characterizes latin culture is our warmth, our sense of family, our willingness to embrace other people as part of that. If you’re of latin american descent, you have a place in the latinx community.

Since your parents don’t have college degrees, do you believe college is important and/or necessary?

J: I think it depends! I think a lot of immigrant parents really push for their children to get a college education because they see that as opportunity, particularly when they did not earn college degrees themselves. I think college can be important depending on what you want to accomplish, but I also think it’s not completely necessary. For my career path as a photographer/videographer, I chose not to do college. I do think I would have enjoyed college because I like learning, but because it was something unnecessary for my job, I couldn’t justify the time invested or putting my parents into a difficult financial situation. Especially because my college education would have overlapped with my sister, and I saw how difficult it was to juggle handling my sister’s student loans. For my sister’s career path (she is studying to be a nutritionist/therapist to help teenagers with eating disorders), college was necessary.

Your Mom has been stuck in the US, unable to return to Mexico for awhile, has your Mom’s experience with immigration changed your views in some way?

J: As context, my father lived in Mexico for a decade and married my mom in Mexicali. They hadn’t planned to move to the United States, but when they came to the US to marry here so that she could have citizenship and be able to visit his family, there were complications that made it to where she couldn’t leave the country. Luckily, the time she was unexpectedly stuck in the United States didn’t last super long! Long enough to become comfortable enough to decide to settle down in California, but we have been able to travel to Mexico often. I think it really highlights how unnecessarily complicated a lot of the processes regarding immigration are. The people in the country who are very malicious about undocumented immigrants love to jump to saying, “well, why can’t they just become an American citizen?” when the reality is that every process in place has a lot of complications. Not everyone has access to the resources to be able to make these transitions happen smoothly. Also, the time it takes to acquire your visa is not an overnight thing. People severely underestimate the difficulty involved.

What do you think about the “hard-working immigrant” stereotype?

J: I hate the idea that immigrants work hard because they’re low-skilled, but I do love that there is a lot of pride in how motivated immigrants are. It’s always been a ridiculous claim that immigrants are taking American jobs. Immigrants work the jobs that the majority of Americans have no interest in doing, especially the people that make this complaint. For a country that prides itself on working to make your dreams come true, Americans neglect to recognize that immigrants have a drive that most Americans don’t have.

Which parent do you feel more connected to? Your Mother who’s an immigrant or your Father who was born in America?

J: I really do feel that I am a coalescence of both my parents, so I think I feel equally connected to each of them. I feel a very strong emotional connection and concern for my dad because his mental health suffers a lot. His mother had bipolar depression at a time where mental health was even more stigmatized, and she endured a lot of ridiculous, merciless treatments that are no longer utilized today. When he was nine years old, his mom committed suicide, and this was an event that really defined his life forever. I think that kind of heaviness passes down through your family. When my dad is not doing well, I feel really imbalanced and emotionally impacted even if I’m not home to witness it. It’s kind of like that idea of an invisible string tethering you to someone, and it’s a weight that I carry always. However, overall, he’s a very positive person. When he is going through his kind of manic highs, he’s a lot more of what I recognize of who my dad is. He’s creative, a musician, and deeply caring for other people. His mother’s death has empowered him to really try to make a difference and “paint a picture of a better tomorrow.” I’m a lot like my dad in personality, but in disposition, I’m so much like my mom. She’s tough and outspoken at home, but in public, it takes awhile for her to open up. My mom’s very selfless, kind, and very much shy and quiet. She definitely exemplifies a lot of the sacrifice that you see many immigrants make. I do like both sides of my family, but I definitely feel more at home with the Mexican side. My dad’s side is loud, vivacious, and very much funny, but I feel extremely shy around them. My sister and I have always felt a tiny bit left out. I think they’d be hurt to know we feel this way, but I definitely don’t think they do anything to intentionally enforce this division. But I think it developed because there is a bit of a cultural disconnect between my aunts and my mom. It’s also very interesting to me that when they first met my mom, my mom didn’t speak any English. It’s fascinating to consider how it might change your perception of someone to go from not being able to communicate with them to watching them learn your language. My mom enjoys the time that we do spend with my dad’s family, but she’s kind of the odd one out in that her humor isn’t the same and her experiences are so different. I think that my dad’s sister and brother’s families were able to connect in a stronger way, so sometimes my mom, my sister, and I feel just a little isolated. In those moments, I feel the most aware of my Mexican background. With my mom’s side of the family, it’s a lot more comfortable. My dad’s able to develop his humor in a way that translates well into Spanish, so he fits in very easily.

You’ve lived in a “Blue/more liberal” state and a “Red/more conservative” state, which state has affected you more?

J: Definitely the red state. Seeing how intensely and ridiculously conservative some southern people are has really radicalized me in a way. I feel overwhelmingly liberal because there’s a defensiveness that develops when you’re in a space like this where you have this intense disbelief that people hold the ideas that they do. Especially because in Texas, black and latinx culture is a major contributor to southern culture. There’s a lot to be said about how black culture shapes the south, but because I’m latina, I’m focusing on latinx culture with this question. White conservatives want our food, they want our work, but they don’t want us. I don’t understand how anyone can be all #TacoTuesday one day, and then the next, be anti-immigrant. If you really want Mexicans out of your country, then maybe you should start living your life without any Mexican influence. Stop eating Mexican food. Clean your own pool and mow your own lawn. It’s ignorant to speak down on immigrants when their life would be so altered to be rid of immigrants. They rely on immigrants. Their lives are shaped by immigrants and built by immigrants.

(I had to chime in here: )

Are you proud of your parents?

J: Absolutely. As a young teenager, I had a lot of problems with my parents. I think I still have issues I’m working through as a result, but now that I’m older, I really do feel a deep sense of admiration and respect for them. Growing up really makes you view your parents differently and understand them as people rather than just as parents. I held onto a lot of anger and resentment, but I’ve come to truly see how they really did do their best. They’ve worked very hard, and I think not having everything that kids around me did really helped me grow into a more grateful person.

Have you faced discrimination for your race?

J: Of course, but in all honesty, it really rolls off my back. I think hate that is personally directed at me doesn’t bother me, but the discrimination that does affect me is anything directed or related to my mom. I remember my parents had a customer who made a really ugly complaint to my father about my mom’s english. My mom essentially handles most of the written communication with their business, and she still speaks and types in broken english often. The majority of my parents’ clients are latinx, so it’s typically not an issue, but it’s unbelievably offensive and ridiculous the assumptions people will make about your intelligence based on your english. The customer had no idea that the woman she’d been communicating with was my father’s wife rather than just an employee. It’s really sad how someone can see someone as unworthy of respect until they’re tied to a white man, and then they’re suddenly apologetic. This is another extremely mild example, but I’ll get a few laughs when I mispronounce something or don’t know how to say certain words. People always find it funny as though it’s embarrassing –– and it definitely can be –– but people forget I learned english from a woman who speaks two languages.

As the child of an immigrant, how has the anti immigrant talking point affected your mental health?

J: I think the toll the anti-immigrant bias in the United States has on immigrant children is a relevant conversation to have, but I think I’m very lucky in that I feel very tough in the face of that ignorance (which is not to say anyone whose mental health suffers as a result is not tough!) If anything, I feel pity for the people who are so hateful that they see other human beings in such a derogatory and entitled way. Similar to what I said before, my outrage really comes from a place of defensiveness for others. The talking point doesn’t hurt me, but it hurts me that people can speak about my family and my community the way they do. It hurts me that there are other immigrant children who have to work as hard as their parents to make their sacrifices worth it, and people are so insensitive as to not respect that. I’m pretty strong, but it does break my heart when my people are disrespected. If someone were to say something to me, that’s fine, but if i saw someone mistreating a little mexican lady in the store… I may be 5’3 but that don’t mean I won’t come for your ass. Okay, in all honesty, I’m really not a violent person. I’m more of a rise above kind of person because the hate someone has in their heart is not worth our time, but some people do need a chancla thrown at them to learn some respect.

In your opinion, in what ways does the Latinx community need more support?

J: I think because the latinx community is so much so composed of hard workers, people really need to support latin businesses more. That’s a direct way to impact latin lives. There’s an abundance of latin small business owners in every category. So many white kids love going to Cozumel for Spring Break and love wearing sombreros on Cinco De Mayo, but then the rest of the year, they have no care or respect for the authentic culture. For every dollar a white man makes, hispanic women still make statistically less than white women, asian women, black women, and native women. We gotta back up these businesses. Choose local taco shops or restaurants over chains. Choose online shops and Mexican boutiques over fast fashion. And this applies to everybody. We can always support black business or asian businesses over large competitors. It really does make an impact. I also think a lot of latinx children need access to better mental health resources. I’m lucky in that because my father struggles with mental health issues, mental health in my family wasn’t exactly a taboo, but in a lot of latin families, mental health is something that is hard for older parents to validate. Latin children need those resources. A simple google search of ��latin mental health resources,” bring up a bunch of organizations that you can support. I think every POC community needs to be boosted right now because although we’ve been under attack, conversations about minority communities are being had by white people right now. We have their attention, and we do need their support to enact change because they have the power as the oppressor. We need to be going to bat protecting black people right now because of the insane damage the community has been enduring at the hands of police, and we need to be protecting immigrant children from what’s happening to them at the border. I know the election is extremely controversial right now, but I would urge anyone who has the ability to vote to really consider the importance of doing so. People love to be cynical about how our votes don’t matter, and I understand that cynicism, but a lot of immigrants don’t have the luxury of voting when the results of the election will directly impact their lives. I hate that there is no option of a president that will perfectly support POC communities, but there are options whose party is far more aligned with supporting and protecting POC communities than Trump is. Trump spews hate and fuels racism and prejudice. He calls Mexicans rapists and black protestors thugs. He encourages the blaming of the coronavirus on the asians in our country. He does not need any help winning the election. We need to get this hateful man out, and I strongly encourage anyone who can vote to do so.

Let’s have a discussion! Did you learn anything new from this conversation?

Let me know here.

To close out each post, I’d like to write a lil’ paragraph about the person I talk with:

I’m so lucky to have you as a friend darling. You always bring a smile to my face when we chat. You’re funny and so smart. I admire you deeply for being able to share your perspective in a clear way. Thank you for putting up with my 2 am messages lol 🖤🖤🖤🖤Your continued support makes me feel safe and very, very, loved. I hope I encourage the same feeling with you.

You’re the best babe,

-Faithxx

#intersectionality #immigration #diverse perspectives #poc #twilight #discussions with faith

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mileycfan4eva33 · 3 years

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Fandom: One Chicago and SVU

Title: Silence Equals Death

Chapter 1: Dear Diary

P O V: Sylvie Brett

A/N: Boy, I am getting sick of these things. But, I'm too paranoid not to write it down. Here are the usual disclaimers, I do not own any of the One Chicago/Or SVU characters that glory goes to Dick Wolf and NBC. Trigger warning for a sexual assault/ rape towards the end. Whose Point of View would you like chapter two to be in; Kelly's, Matt's, Stella's or Kat's, Or Hailey's? This fic will be told through multiple views and be a joint between PD/ Fire and SVU. Reviews are fires to my soul; please leave one. Thank You.

Gaffney Chicago Medical Center

Dear Diary, today is January 31, 2021; it is 12:56 am; I am in Chicago Med. I have to write this all down before it becomes a twisted blur of fragmented memories. Tonight was a nightmare, and a dream all rolled into one. Sitting here now on this cold steel trap of a bed, I am in disbelief that any of this happened, but it did, and it shouldn't have; if I had been smarter, more robust, less drunk, none of this would have happened. I only have myself to blame. It all started so innocently.

Now everything is such a mess; how did this happen? I am not a lovesick teenager, and I shouldn't be making these types of mistakes. If only I could turn back time and not get so damn drunk, but I can't, so here it is, the sick truth of what will surely end my career. The authentic story as only someone who lived it can ever tell it. No Disney fair-tales here, just honest raw truths, every word you will read is what happened to the best of my recollection someday I will gone, and I want my truth out there, so no woman ever has to bear witness to the pain of being raped, and thrown away as if she is the villain.

I am not the villain, but can I say I was a victim?

Sofitel Chicago Magnificent Mile

20 E Chestnut St, Chicago, IL 60611

January 30th 2021 9:35 pm

"My money's on you finding exactly what you want."

Matthew Casey's rugged, sexy voice purrs in my ear. I can't remember when he said that or why the hell he said it; my mind is toasted with the large amount of alcohol I have poured into my body. I can remember what he said after, though, because it's what I deserve. Matt had no idea back then that all I wanted was for him to say he loved me, to tell me I am beautiful. To reassure me that these butterflies I have been feeling forever are not just in my stomach, not only carrying my heart away, but they are in his as well.

He didn't, not then and never since it's been at least two years since he said those words to me. Two years since I felt a brief flutter inside my heart telling me that my feelings for Matt had changed from friendship to something a little less platonic. "God, there ain't enough alcohol inside this damn hotel to take my memory away from this pain."

"I hear ya' sis." Stella Kidd motions for the bartender to bring us two more rounds as she settles against the counter inches away from me, her elbows propping her up. "You look flushed, Brett. Are you feeling okay?" Stella's gorgeous brown eyes are wide in concern as she glances at my body my cheeks are burning, I can feel the heat descending from my head to my face making me sway in dizziness a little as I try to remember how to breathe. Funny how a normal body function can sometimes take so much damn effort it hurts. I need a minute to do nothing, not to feel, think, talk, react or breathe, but of course, I can't have that minute, not with Stella on the case. "Yeah, girl, why wouldn't I be okay?" I fake a laugh, which I don't think fools her even for a second.

"Uh, I am so over these damn things Sylvie, I thought with COVID we would escape this bullshit this year." Stella slides down my shot glass to me as she tilts her head back and chugs her shot of whiskey with one gulp. "Yeah, I would have thought so too; nothing I hate more than a bunch of grown-ass corporate men in suits pretending to give two craps about us little people."

"Amen, sister." Stella clicks her empty glass against mine before I tilt my head back and swallow the rush of warmth that leaves me dizzier; maybe I shouldn't have skipped two meals today before coming here after having no food yesterday. "So what's up with you and Kelly?" I turn my head to my right to catch Stella's eyes, glued to her boyfriend Kelly Severide, chatting with District Chief Steve Walker. Fire Commissioner Carl Grissom and the Deputy Director of Finance Gail McLeod. "Kelly's looking dapper Stella; I think someone is going to get lucky tonight." I hold my hand up to signal the bartender for another round; he fills our glasses quickly, much to my pleasure. "Yeah, from your lips to Kelly's ears, please, he's barely touched me ever since he found out that some people may take offense to me being promoted because we're together."

"Aw, man, I'm sorry he's probably just worried Stella, he loves you Kelly doesn't want to be the reason you fail because we all know you deserve this promotion. At least he cares enough to say the words out loud." I swallow the shot feeling my eyes burn badly as tears filter out. "Aw man, this shit is strong. Phew!" shaking my body out, I signal for another, hearing Stella laugh. "Still regretting telling Matt how you feel?"

I pause for a moment before I answer; how should I respond? Do I regret telling Matt how I feel? "Hey bitches." I'm saved from answering as Leslie Shay comes stumbling over, wrapping her arm over my shoulder and squeezing between us, holding her phone up with her left hand. "Smile bitches." Stella and I hold our full shot glasses up. I love this bartender; he is on his game tonight; we smile and lean into Shay, who is reeking of Tequila. "Give me some love, sugar babes." Yeah, she is drunk, sugar babes? Where did she even come up with that one? We smile brighter even though neither one of us feel happy at this moment; her eyes are on Kelly, who isn't even looking our way, and I lock my eyes on Matt, who is dancing with some woman I have never seen in my life.

The woman is drop-dead gorgeous though five-foot-nine inches is my guess she appears to be Lebanese or Latino with long caramel hair flowing down her back past her waist the silk wrap dress she is wearing clings to every unique curve on her flawless body. Matt's arms are wrapped around her waist he's dancing close with her, my heart races so fast I feel the room sway. "Love is a journey, Sylvie, don't give up yet. I know this moment sucks. I get it hurts worse than anything you've ever experienced. When it gets too heavy, when it feels like the weight of this pain is crushing you, remember the pleasant moments, the breathless enthusiastic moments. Matt's alive, and so are you as long as you live, there is hope."

I wish I could smile at Shay as a thank you, but I can't muster the strength even to attempt a smile. Seeing Matt dancing with this woman is killing me slowly; who is she? Where did they meet? Why did he choose tonight to bring her on a date? Knowing I would be at this stupid First Responders training shit, is he trying to make me jealous?

"Your Casey is out there, Sylvie, but you don't have to change who you are to find him." Gabby's words from five years ago come back to me; she did not know just how right she was when she said them to me; hell, I didn't even know back then that the man who I would want to be by my side forever, the man who I would spend countless sleepless nights crying my heart out over was her Casey. Talk to God, Sylvie, get your head straight; this is crazy pinning over a man you pushed away yourself.

Sometimes I feel so cold the way steel must feel left outside to fend for itself against the weather elements. Some days I feel broken, I forget what living is for, I forget how to breathe or even why I should keep living. Today is one of those nights; seeing Matt with this woman is breaking me; I can feel every string of my heart aching, pulling, and twisting as it stretches my entire inside into a giant trampoline my stomach turns and painfully contracts reminding me.

I am alive

Every ache and every pain reminds me I am breathing, but why I can't seem to grasp it. I'm not suicidal, but I'm finding it hard to find a reason to keep my head up when my brain is screaming at me to run away, to bury myself in Tequila and cuddle under the covers till all of the daylight fades away into a blur of a drunken haze.

"Another shot, bartender."

"Name is Josh." I turn away, not caring, seeing only Matt as he lifts his finger to wipe out a stray hair off the woman's face. I can barely breathe every effort is a raspy painful burn that leaves me gasping, trying to fight off this fresh wave of tears. "Close your eyes, Sylvie, and fucking hold it together for a few more minutes; for God's sake, don't let the man see you cry."

Shay slips her arm around my back under my armpits, quickly leading me out of the ballroom where the music is playing louder than what you would expect at a training seminar. "Remember what I said to picture the pleasant moments." "I can't, Shay..I... can't breathe." "Shh, hey, it's okay. I got you." Shay gently settles me onto a couch inside the ladies' room, handing me a cold bottle of water, which she's already taken a few sips out. Still, she lifts to my lips before I can stop her; the cool liquid splashes over my chin, dripping down what gets inside my mouth is refreshing and helps cool me off, allowing me to breathe easier. Leaning back against the wall, I close my eyes, trying to regain some gravity; my knees are trembling, leaving me feeling as if I will collapse if I try to stand.

I want to kick myself for falling so hard for a damn guy who I knew would never love me back. I knew I shouldn't have pushed Matt, yet I ignored every one of my instincts and went full sped ahead. God, I will remember that day forever- I had been avoiding Matt for days ever since the accident. Mainly because I had my suspicions that Matt hadn't just been lucky in getting to me so quickly, part of me hoped and yes, as vain as it sounds prayed that Matt had raced to me, that the thought of me being in peril had somehow overcome Matt's heart running his blood in fear.

I told myself I was crazy even to think such stupid school girl thoughts. Matt is our captain; it made perfect sense he would be worried about Gianna and me; we're part of his team, nothing more. The job of the captain is to make sure all of his team comes home safe at the end of every shift; Matt's lost too many people in his days, he fears losing anyone, so of course, the entire team raced to us when they heard 61 was in an accident.

I had myself convinced Matt came to me out of loyalty out of duty, not because he was in love with me, I am stupid for even thinking for one mil-la-second that Matthew Casey would ever love me as anything except a friend. I was doing so damn well, too, until Blake Gallo blew up all my rationalization with his account of how Matt jumped out of a moving truck to get to me. Me, not myself and Gianna but only me. Brett, I have to get to Brett, that's what Gallo recalled Matt saying.

Shattered

Read more and please leave a review at https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13807832/1/Silence-Equals-Death

#chicagofire #fanfiction #onechicago #chicagopd #karakillmer #svu #sylviebrett #brettsey #mattcasey #metoo #rape #leslieshay #kidnapping #katazartamin #amandarolins

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gay-kurapika · 3 years

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Mormonism is a fucking cult. Everyone who practices it can’t separate it from their actual real lives and it shows up in everything they do and say. Politics in Utah are ruled by Mormons. Like if you lived here you’d see it, people don’t get voted into office if they’re not Mormon. Mitt Romney was popular just because he was Mormon, no one even knew his stances on anything. And they bring it into every social situation. I wouldn’t get invited to sleepovers as a kid because I wasn’t a baptized Mormon. I was only friends with people who weren’t Mormon either, and I got fucking bullied by the Mormons lol. I’m literally scared of blonde girls to this day bc those Mormon bitches all looked the same and made me feel bad about myself. No wonder I joined late, I wanted friends.

They tell you in Mormon church that you’re going to go to hell if you heard about Mormon doctrine and didn’t accept it, but if you didn’t hear about it you get purgatory. I’m 100% serious I had a church teacher who said hitler was in purgatory not hell bc he hadn’t heard about Mormonism. They didn’t allow black men to have “priesthood” which is just pretend religious rights until the 70’s. They still have separate churches for Latinos where I live, whether or not they’re only Spanish speaking.

They make little kids go up to a microphone during church services and give their “testimony” which is just saying how much you love god and how you really believe the gospel, but every kid who does it looks scared bc they’ll get punished if they don’t. And it’s seriously young kids! They have no idea what they’re saying. Sometimes parents come up with them and whisper in their ear what they’re supposed to say. If it’s not natural why are you encouraging them?

They very purposely have these 2 hours of classes for every kid who is forced to go there, like to learn bible stories and discuss them. They did other discussions too. I still vividly remember the whole “used gum” discussion, if you sleep with anyone before marriage you’re used gum, you’re gross and unwanted. Elizabeth Smart, you know the girl who got kidnapped and held prisoner for fucking years had that idea in her mind as why she shouldn’t leave her rapist. There was another where we talked about why women have to stay at home. Literally the teacher tried to defend women not going outside at all, not even mowing the lawn. It’s such a flawed, horrible religion. And even if I wasn’t devoted I grew up on it and I’m relearning a lot of stuff

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a-little-slice-of-fandom · 4 years

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As an American follower, I would like to say I'm sorry for whatever shit other Americans have been giving you for your Ireland posting. I've been very interested in them. I've always been really fascinated by Celtic culture and have always wanted to learn more about it, but I've never really had the proper resources for it, so this has been a learning experience for me. And besides, you should get to post what you want no matter what, it's your blog, nobody can stop you

Hi sweetheart!!! No one is giving me anything for posting!!! In fact so many of you have been so lovely and encouraged me to talk about Ireland and that’s very sweet because my love for Ireland literally is about 85 to 90 percent of my personality. My concerns aren’t directed at anyone who I’ve interacted with, but there’s a certain type of person who just sort of try and use Ireland as their get out of jail free card or as an excuse to do cultural appropriation or perpetuate stereotypes against other cultures. I once read this article and it made my blood literally BOIL with anger.

For those who don’t want to read the article (and I don’t blame you because it’s a mess in every definition of the word) but basically this author is saying he can’t understand why students from latino backgrounds would take issue with him and his friends blatantly making fun of their culture when Irish people really don’t seem that annoyed about Saint Patrick’s day parades. The author literally says, word for word “I haven’t looked closely enough into my own genetic heritage to know how Irish I am”. What??? WHAT??? WHAT??? That implies his parents or grandparsntes aren’t Irish because then you wouldn’t need to look into it. You’d just sort of know that! Literally the only evidence to give that he might be slightly Irish is that his mums name was “McNeal”...but he calls Irish things “my culture”.

Now...I didn’t think people this stupid actually existed. But apparently they do! Because he isn’t Irish. He’s clearly american. Did he have an Irish great grandparent at some point? Maybe! Or it could easily be a Scottish great grandparent because McNeal isn’t even a name that’s exclusive to Ireland!

And if you aren’t Irish...you do not get to speak for Irish people. And you definitely don’t get to use Saint Patrick’s Day and the Irish struggle as an excuse to be super racist! Is Saint Patrick’s day filled with loads of stereotypes and basically just a way for people to have a big party in March? Yeah. Sometimes parades will try and have some authenticity (the New York parade actually invited students from my school to represent County Down and play in the parade this year! Which was such a nice touch!) but people will completely butcher Irish dance and speak in bad accents they’ll call it Saint Patty’s day which makes me want to go and scream but it isn’t cultural appropriation. Irish cultural appropriation is a thing (kind of? Sort of? It’s super complicated) but parades definitely aren’t an issue and Irish people are only slightly annoyed, if that. It is nowhere near as bad as what happens daily in America and in other parts of the world to people from other minority communities.

Did Irish people struggle throughout history? Yes. Need I bring up the signs that compared Irish people to dogs? Or the literal attempted genocide during the Irish famine? Or the fact that loads of our actual culture is lost and our language is barely spoke and was literally dying? There’s also the penal laws, Bloody Sunday, the Easter Rising, the famine ships (also known as the coffin ships) the plantation of Ulster. I can go on for a while here. Do some of us still struggle? Also yes. The north of Ireland went through a massive civil war a few years back, and sectarian tensions are still very much felt. Bomb scares are just part of life. Paramilitaries are still knocking about. Also, irish people often feel misrepresented in media and our stories are either never told or when they are told in a way that’s more palatable to English and American audiences. But our struggles should not be used to take away from the struggles of other cultures. Our experiences should not be used as something to demean and diminish the experiences of others,,,especially when we can sympathise. My family members sometimes talk about the time they wanted to go on a plane in the 1980s and 1990s and were put in different waiting rooms because everyone thought they’d be part of the IRA and they were treated with so much suspicion the entire time, both by other passengers and staff. When bombings happened in London, Irish people were often blamed regardless of their association (or lack there of) to said bombings. Also, look up the special powers act from Ireland. It’s really fun and absolutely wasn’t an abuse of government power that encouraged police brutality.

But these struggles shouldn’t be used to try and take away from other people’s struggles. I would never want that. Our voices don’t have to drown each other out. We can support one another! And we often do! There’s this absolutely incredible story of the time the Choctaw Nation came to the aid of the Irish people during the Irish famine (just after they had been through the trail of tears), and the Irish people have recently tried to aid others, such as the Navajo nation, during this pandemic (because the American government isn’t doing much). If you want to learn more about this, you can read it here.

But for some bloody reason white-suprematists LOVE to try and use the Irish experience to demean other communities experiences. They love talking about how Irish people were slaves (which we weren’t. We were indentured servants but we were never slaves. That’s just blatant misinformation) to try and take away from other communities and their (very justified) feelings and the struggles that they still face today. And, as an Irish person, it both angers me and saddens me. It angers me that people are trying to use my history as some sort of defense and it saddens me that people will start to think those Americans are actually reflective of Irish people because they aren’t and they don’t speak for us. I don’t know why they think they can speak for us, but they don’t.

(Also for some reason people have started associating Celtic things with neo-nazis??? And I have no idea why and it’s disgusting and I bloody hate it. The Celtic cross slowly becoming one of their symbols is TERRIFYING to me because Celtic crosses are like...super important to Ireland since the fifth century. It’s horrible and disgusting and it’s genuinely upsetting to see that certain right-wing groups keep trying to use or infiltrate these circles and I literally hate it with every fibre of my being.)

That was a ramble but that’s why I’m slightly worried when I talk about Ireland and Irish/Celtic culture on this blog because I am terrified people are going to take it the wrong way or get the wrong idea because some idiots are trying to use Irish history as some half-assed defense to be racist.

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ashis2gay4u · 4 years

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I Am Not A Robot (In One Post!!)

Nico di Angelo stared out his window, the skull head ashtray in his lap overflowing with ashes, cigarette butts, and burnt out joints, yet instead of ashing out the open window, he continued to ash into the tray.

He was sat on the ledge of the bay window, it being big enough to be a bed for an average height person. He gave a huff as he watched the boys playing soccer on the lawn across the street, smiling and laughing.

He can't remember the last time he laughed. Hell, he doesn't even remember what it sounds like.

Don't even get him started on his smile, because he's sure he'd rip his face in half if he even tried.

He put the ashtray aside, pulling his knees to his chest. He nestled his chin between them, continuing to watch.

One of those boys turned to look at him, and Nico froze as the others turned to stare him down.

"Hey!" one kid shouted, his black hair untamed, like he had just rolled out of bed, "Wanna join? Might be more fun than watching!"

Nico shook his head, "No, I'm good-"

Another boy, a Latino, shorter than the first, spoke up next, "But why not? We're one player short of a team, anyways!"

Nico stood up and leaned out the window, staring at the five boys there. "No, I'm good, thank you very much."

The blonde boy shrugged, "He doesn't want to play, guys."

"Awe, man!" the Latino said.

The Chinese boy shook his head and spoke up, barely loud enough for Nico to hear, "If he doesn't want to play, he doesn't have to... Plus, he kinda scares me."

At that, Nico slammed his window shut, glaring at them all. He flipped them off, and went to sit on his bed.

Curled up on his purple comforter, he fell into what he hopes will be a dreamless sleep.

He woke up the next day in a cold sweat. Everything was fine, up until he fell into that dark hole.

He hated that hole, with all it's horrid hallucinations and ghastly smells and horrifying noises.

He quickly threw the blanket away- how did it get on him and not below him?-, and stood up, going to take a quick shower.

He stared at his reflection afterwards, glaring into his own eyes.

He proceeded to brush his teeth, his eyes never leaving the stare into his own soul.

He had mastered this technique. Why? It was a distraction.

He quickly got dressed, before heading to his window, opening them up and sitting on the ledge, grabbing his lighter, smokes, and ashtray from beside him.

Just as he had taken the first inhale, a knock sounded at his door, followed by a sniffing sound.

"Dammit, Nico! I told you not to smoke in the house!" came the voice of his step-mother, Persephone.

He hated her, she was always switching between nice and mean with him.

"Fuck off, you bitch, I don't have time for you."

She slammed open the door, glaring at him. "You dare? I should call your father right now and-"

"And what? He won't fuckin' pick up. He never picks up. Not since Mamma and Bianca died, right?" he said coolly, smirking as she tensed up.

"Don't you dare mention her-"

"Suck it up, he cheated on you with her. Twice. And then once more with Hazel's mom. Yet you hate me the most. How so? Why not hate the man who cheated on you, because you aren't enough?"

Persephone merely walked over and smacked his ashtray out of his hand, his smokes and lighter flying out the window with it.

A loud crash rang out as the crystal skull broke.

"Don't. Smoke. In. My. House. You. Insolent. Brat!"

Nico pushed her away, grabbed his satchel from where it was perched against the windowsill, and nodded, "Fine. Next time, I'll smoke in your room, and leave all the ashes in your makeup and burn holes through all your favorite dresses. Cunt."

She was about to smack him, he could tell, so he did what he always did when she attacked him.

He jumped out the window, landing in her garden and rolling to his feet. He smirked up at her, "I think I crushed those pretty tulips that just bloomed! Sorry!"

She started screaming at him, but he was already in the garage, starting up his motorcycle. He took off down the street, heading towards his favorite place in the world.

The graveyard.

When he got there, he parked his bike and tossed his helmet to the side, sitting on his haunches in front of the gravestones before him.

"Hey, Mamma, Bianca. It's been a while."

He sighed, moving to sit with his legs crossed.

"I know I shouldn't break her rules, and I know I shouldn't fucking snap at her and piss her off, but she does everything she can to hurt me. I hate it."

He could feel the tears starting to fall, hitting his hands which were clasped so tightly in his lap he swore he was about to snap his own fingers in half.

"I had the nightmare again, Mamma, about-" He stopped himself, choking back a sob.

"I miss you, Mamma, Bianca. Sometimes I... I just want to be emotionless, like a robot."

"Hey, Nico... I heard from Persephone what had happened, I'm sorry she broke your ashtray, I know how much it meant to you," Hazel said softly, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Whatthefuckever, she can do what she wants..." Nico mumbled.

"You don't always have to be on top, you know," she replied, gently taking his hand in hers.

"I feel like I have to-"

"Because you can't show weakness, right? It's okay to be vulnerable, you don't have to act like the tough guy all the time."

Nico said nothing, merely stared out the window where his new plastic ashtray sat.

"You've been smoking a lot, lately."

"I know."

"You're just a baby, Nico. You shouldn't smoke so much..."

"I'm seventeen, Hazel."

"I know, but your lungs aren't fully developed yet."

"If I wanted advice, I'd go to a counselor or a medical professional," he snapped.

"...Better to be hated, than loved for what you're not," she said, before standing up.

He snatched his hand away, and she left, closing the door behind her softly.

It's been a year since he started watching the boys.

He sat perched on his window ledge as per usual, a new (although metal) skull ashtray sat in his lap. Persephone was gone, so she couldn't yell at him.

He stared out the open window, and noticed the black-haired boy and his friends were out front again, playing some demented form of tag.

The Latino looked up at him, and waved.

Despite his better judgment, he waved back.

He was just being polite, is all.

"Yo!" the blonde boy yelled, "Wanna play with us now?"

"What the fuck are you idiots even playing, anyways?" Nico questioned.

"TV Tag!" the black-haired boy said, smiling goofily.

Nico's heart stopped at that look on his face.

No, no. Not today. Begone, thoughts.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

The Latino stepped forwards, grinning wildly. Nico's heart did a flip.

"It's when you yell out a TV show name, and crouch down. The person can't idle by you, or tag you until you stand up. You can only crouch for ten seconds, though, but it's fair play to yell out another right afterwards!"

"That doesn't sound very fair at all, that should be illegal."

The blonde boy laughed, loud and booming. It made Nico's cheeks heat up.

Fuck, they're all hot.

"I like this kid!" he said.

The black-haired boy grinned, "Frank isn't here today, so if you want, you can fill in for him!"

Nico thought for a second, before putting out his smoke. He stood up, and promptly closed his window, disappearing from their sights.

"Awe, man! Percy, you scared him away!"

"I'm sorry, Jason, I didn't mean to! Besides, Leo probably did it, not me!"

"Hey! Jason, are you going to let him talk to me like that-"

"Gods, it's like watching a buncha old married couples. Maybe I should just go."

They all stopped talking, and turned to face Nico, who stood a few feet away, a smoke hanging from his lips.

"Smoking kills," the blonde boy- Jason, Nico recalled-, said.

"Exactly."

Jason made a choking noise at the blunt tone, and the Latino- Leo, the black-haired boy had called him- laughed.

"Cat got your tongue really good, eh, Superman?"

"Shut up, you stupid Christmas Elf."

"Jason, how could you?" he said, faking a sob. He turned to the black-haired boy, "Percy, are you going to let him talk to me like this?"

Percy rolled his eyes, "No, Repair Boy. Jason, play nice. Leo, stop being dumb."

Leo gave a gasp, falling against Jason. Jason caught him, rolling his eyes in turn.

Percy turned to look at Nico, "Hey, name's-"

"Percy," Nico said, smirking. "The blonde is Jason, and the tiny shit is Leo. I pay attention, you know."

Leo gave a cry, "You've embarrassed me in front of the hot goth! how could you!"

Jason dropped him, "Well, it does give Percy an advantage."

Nico stared at the three, "What?"

"Why do you think we've been spending so much time outside since we first noticed you?" Percy said, chuckling. "Me and Leo thought you were cute. Everybody's been trying to help both of us win a chance, well, except for Frank, who's apparently dating your-"

"Oh fuck no. That's Frank Zhang? Holy shit, that kid is dead-"

"Wait! He's really nice, we swear-" Jason said.

"No, he borrowed my Myth-O-Magic cards a few months ago from Hazel and spilled pop on them. Hazel's kept him away from my wrath for this long, but no more. Dead, he will be."

They all stared at him for a few moments, before collapsing to the grass in fits of laughter.

"That's why you want to murder him?" Leo said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"We... We thought-"

"That it was cause of what he said last year," Percy managed to get the whole sentence out, before giggling uncontrollably once more.

"I'm surrounded by idiots," Nico deadpanned.

"Yep, indeed."

"Wanna play that game?" he asked.

Leo's face lit up, "Si, indeed!"

They all stood up, exchanged looks, and then yelled in almost perfect unison, "NOT IT!" before taking off in different directions.

Nico soon learned physical activity was not meant to be done in skinny jeans.

"Hey, Mamma, Bianca."

It's been two months since he's last visited them. He'd been so busy running around with Leo, Jason, Percy, Grover (Percy's best friend), and Frank (who turned out to be really cool, even replaced his deck with a limited edition one), and had completely forgotten his promise to visit them every day.

The first time since he was ten, nonetheless. He's eighteen now.

"I made some... Ah, friends, I guess," he said, not sure how he felt about having friends.

The word tasted strange in his mouth, he doesn't think he's ever had any friends, not like the five friends he had made.

"...I kinda like them..."

"Awe, we like you too!" Leo Valdez said, appearing at his shoulder.

Nico almost had a heart attack, "What-? Why-"

Jason Grace, Percy Jackson, and Frank Zhang stood next to Leo, each with a bouquet of flowers. Nico stared at them all.

"My Mama died when I was seven, she was buried just over there," Leo said, smiling sadly, "Next to my twin brother."

"My mom died when I was about eleven, I think, I was abandoned outside this military facility- nobody claimed me-, so I didn't find out until I ran into my sister out on a mission with Leo, who I had picked up along the way with my girlfriend, Piper."

"And you?" he asked, turning to Percy.

"Here for emotional support," he said, brandishing two bouquets of red roses.

Nico stared at them all silently, "So-"

"Maria is a nice name," Leo said, sitting down next to where Nico sat hunched in front of the graves, "And if she had even a bit of your face on her, I bet she was gorgeous, too..."

Percy sat on the other side of him, placing a bouquet in front of the graves, "I'm sure Jason's mom won't mind. Bianca... That name sounds familiar. Was she an archer...?"

Nico nodded solemnly, "One of the best. At such a young age, she was already on the waiting list for the Olympics."

Percy went pale, "I knew her. I met her and you at a casino years ago."

"You- You were the boy with the blonde? That boy you left with was-"

"Grover, yeah. Annabeth is my other best friend, but nobody can compare to the G-Man."

Jason stood off to the side, and silently slunk off to his mother's grave.

Leo sighed, "Guess we've all met each other before, then. I remember her, too, she and Hazel used to play hide and seek with me and my brother Sammy Jr. all the time, up until he died."

"Sammy... Jr...? The kid she had a crush on?"

"Yeah, I had a crush on her, too, until I met my ex Calypso. Boy, that went to Hell-"

"-when he found out she had tried to seduce me while I was on-and-off dating Annabeth," Percy finished.

"Woah... We've got some fucked up connections, don't we?" Nico said, smirking.

"Yeah, we do," Percy replied, leaning back against the grass.

"Where'd Jason go?" Leo asked, looking around.

"Over here!" came the voice of the blonde.

"Oh, he's paying respects. Come on, Leo, let's go do that, too."

"...I'll come with, I can talk to them later," Nico said, standing up with the other two boys.

"Are you sure? You seemed to be having a decent one-sided conversation with the dead, Neeks," Leo said, chuckling silently.

"Yeah, yeah, Valdez. Let's go."

"Happy birthday, Baby Bat Wings!" Leo cried, waving a party streamer around.

Percy laughed and swung his arm around his shoulders, Leo following suit.

Soon enough, Nico had six boys hanging off of him, Jason, Frank, Grover, and Will Solace- who was the latest addition to their little group- soon joining in on the group hug.

Nico can't remember when he smiled so hard, but he'd gladly accept his face splitting in half if this was the reason why.

He blushed a deep crimson red as his two crushes, Leo and Percy, kissed each of his cheeks respectively.

"You've been hanging with the unloved kids a lot," Persephone accused, glaring at her step-son. "You've never really trusted or even liked them before, what happened?"

"He's just magnetic, he picks up all the loose pins," Hazel says, smiling sweetly at the wickedly bi-polar step-mother.

Persephone sniffed, "Yes, but he really shouldn't. I looked them all up, they all have criminal records or bad school reputations!"

"I'm nineteen now, Persephone. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

She got a wicked gleam in her eye at that, "Yes, you're right. So, you're an adult, now... Get the fuck out of my house.”

Nico stared at her, before turning to Hazel, "Can she do that?" he questioned, looking like he had just witnessed the most fucked up thing in history.

She shrugged, "'Dunno."

"Call Dad, then, see what he says!"

"He won't pick up the phone, and you know it," Persephone replied. "You have twenty-four hours to get the fuck out of my house, before I call the cops for thievery, breaking into my house, and vandalism!"

"Excuse the fuck you-"

She pulled out her phone, dialing 911. "Try me, Nico. Where's your mother to save you from my wrath now? I should have kicked you out as soon as you turned sixteen."

Nico glared, and rushed up the stairs, calling Leo to come get him. He grabbed all his clothes, pillows, and blankets and threw them out the window, packing his more fragile stuff and personal items into his multiple backpacks, his satchel, and his one suitcase, and dragged them all downstairs.

He spat in her face before leaving, Leo and Percy (who had offered his much bigger six-seater as a substitute for Leo's pick-up), helping him load up all his stuff.

They drove off, and Nico felt truly alive for once.

"Don't be so pathetic, Nico, just sing! Come on!"

"Shut up, Jackson, I will not-"

"You called?" Leo sang, prancing into the room, dressed entirely in Percy's clothes. He wore a black towel wrapped around his head.

Percy rolled his eyes, "Oh gods, not this again."

"Oh gods, not this again," Leo said in a mock imitation of Percy, "Look, I'm Perseus Jackson! All tough, all sexy! Dumb skater boy!"

Nico laughed, "He was a skater boy, she said seeya later boy-" he stopped himself, realizing he had been singing the lyrics.

The two boys stared at him, "Wow..."

"Such beauty," Leo said, smiling.

"Amazing..." Percy said, in awe.

Nico blushed, "Guys, come on... I'm not that good-"

"Better than Percy, he sounds like a dying whale!"

"You wound me, you shit."

"Suck it, Aquaman."

"When, where, how ha-"

Nico let out a squeak, "P-Percy!"

"Jealous, much?" the sea-green eyed boy said, smirking.

"I'm gonna be sick," Leo said, fake gagging.

"Both of you are dumb, absolutely not," Nico said, noticing how Leo's face lit up and Percy's face fell.

Oh boy, was he as smitten with them as they were with him.

Another nightmare, and Nico woke up screaming, thrashing at his blankets as he tried to sit up.

The sounds of footsteps came echoing down the hall, and Leo burst in, wearing nothing but a white tank top covered in grease stains and a pair of red Deadpool boxers, Percy appearing behind him wearing Superman pajama pants.

"What's wrong?" Leo asked, concerned.

Percy looked anxious, "Nightmares, buddy?"

Nico couldn't help it when he started crying, reaching out to them like a pathetic baby.

They both swooped in and hugged him, Percy settled behind him and Leo nestled up against Nico's chest, both mumbling soft, soothing words and holding him tight, but not too tightly as to trigger a flashback of any sorts.

"Mamma... Bianca... And I-"

"Shh, take your time..." Percy whispered, rubbing his cheek against Nico's hair.

"Yeah, Neeks, don't rush yourself."

"I felt so... Vulnerable... In that cave. We got stuck down there for a week on a field trip to Greece, there was this gas..."

Percy tightened his grip around Nico's waist, and Leo burrowed deeper against Nico's stomach, his cheek pressed against it.

Nico took a deep breath, before continuing.

"We were trapped for five days. Mamma... Got sick first. The gas created hallucinations, and... Her heart couldn't take the horrors. She started screaming about a lightning storm, shoved us out of the way, and then... She tripped and fell, landing face first on those ground spike things..."

Percy looked horrified, but Nico didn't see, so he continued on.

"Bianca got sick next. The smells really got to her. She thought she was in a metal scrap yard, and got... The ceiling collapsed on top of her," he said shakily, "I was left alone for the next three days, until they found me. I was malnourished and traumatized, and Dad... He left. Business trip after business trip.

"Last time he called me was when I was eleven... He said he wished I had died instead of Bianca, she wouldn't... She wouldn't have been as much of a failure as I am," Nico said, his whole body shaking as sobs wracked his body, occasionally breaking free.

He felt vulnerable, so very vulnerable.

"The noises were what fucked me up the most, mixed with the smells and hallucinations of monsters and demons and... And my dead family..."

He broke down entirely, turning slightly to latch onto Percy. Leo sat up and clung to them both in turn, tears of his own spilling down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," Leo mumbled, "I know what it's like to watch people you love die... I watched Mama and Sammy die in a fire... I started it..."

"I watched my mom get strangled to near-death as a kid... Stayed by her side in the hospital for a few days before I went off with Grover and Annabeth. Ran away to find the sick fucker who attacked her, this guy named Minotaur, he called himself..."

"We're all fucked up," Nico gasped, laughing silently.

"And vulnerable," Leo added.

"But that's good," Percy said, smiling softly through his own tears, "That means we aren't robots."

"Can you teach me how to feel?" Nico asked softly, "Can you turn my power back on...?"

"We'll try our fuckin' best."

After a year of living with the two, Nico said something that made the two boys stop and stare.

"I like you both. Fuck, I'm in love with both of you."

"What-" Leo questioned, ears going bright red.

"How-" Percy questioned, dropping his lucky pen Riptide, which he's had for years but never really used.

"I. Love. Both. Of. You," Nico said once again, even more bluntly than the first. "And I don't know how, I just know I do."

The two boys shared a look, before they both broke into huge smiles.

"Fuck. Yes," Leo said.

"So... How the fuck do we smash? Do we take turns or-"

"Percy!" Nico scolded, face flushing.

"Why don't we find out tonight?" Leo asked, smirking. "Would be a great way to celebrate our three-way."

"Wait, so-"

"Yes, Ghost King, I'd happily share you with Repair Boy," Percy said grinning.

"As long as I can be a bottom, I hate topping," Leo said.

Nico laughed, and instantly crashed onto the couch between them, moving the resumes they had been filling out.

The two snuggled up against him, and Nico smiled.

I am not a robot.

{La Fin}

~Ashton Bende

#perleico #percico #valdangelo #nico di angelo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #leo valdez #leo/nico/percy

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aph-oklahoma-46 · 4 years

Note

Oklahoma?

This took forever, oof.

Oklahoma

Human Name:Emily Huutsuu Garcia

Age: 130~ (looks on the tail end of 16 (I’m fiddling with ages, so this might change))

Gender: Cis girl

Orientation:Asexual Lesbian (sex positive)

Religion:She follows traditional belief systems of the Cherokee and Comanche nations,but idk to what extent yet, and I need to research more before I touch on ittoo much.

(More below the cut bc it got long)

Physical Appearance:Emily is 5’3” and weighs about 150ish pounds, give or take. She has cool, mediumbrown skin that is speckled with freckles across her face and shoulders,mostly. Her hair is black, thick, and hangs past her hips whenever it’s not ina braid or bun. She has almond-shaped eyes that are kind of upturned, and theyare very, very dark brown, almost black. Her face is round and chubby, withfull cheeks. Her nose is largish, and it has a lot of freckles across the bridge.Also, she has several scars from just being a outdoorsy child and growing up inhard times on occasion, but the most notable is on her back, going from herheart to her right shoulder blade.

In regard to her typical clothing, she loves flannels layeredover other things, and she has one specific denim jacket that she got severalyears ago that she loves. She also likes pastels and the colors red and green;most of her wardrobe reflects these color preferences. As for bottoms, she wearsalmost exclusively jeans if she’s going out, but sometimes she’ll pick a skirtif she’s feeling it. Solid color tennis shoes are her go to, and almost all of herpairs are beat up and doodled on. While she usually keeps her hair down or in asimple braid, she does love putting those plastic hair clips for kids in herhair. Things like big, green plastic hearts and colorful flower pieces are herfavorites.

Personality:Emily is pretty energetic. She likes to cause trouble with her friends andbrothers, and she’s not opposed to some good-natured pranks and tomfoolery.However, she’s much more toned down without her friends to back her up. She isfriendly, even with strangers, but if she feels that she is in trouble or thatsomeone is upset with her, she gets very withdrawn. It’s hard to make her mad,unless you’re Texas. She doesn’t always make the smartest choices, but she iswilling to pick up the pieces when things don’t go her way.

All in all, she’s pretty spunky, but it’s not hard tomake her feel small if she doesn’t have her emotional support chaos buddies toback her up.

Likes: Ballet, dancing, good-naturedchaos, music, strawberries, watermelon, flowers, the colors red and green,pastels, animals, learning about cultures, languages, and her family and friends.

Dislikes: Loudnoises, yelling, thunder, feeling like she messed up, fake strawberryflavoring, fake fruit flavoring in general, the cold, tornado season, fatphobiaand racism, bigotry in general, being talked over, and being alone.

Relationships:

@texass-shenanigans’ Texas/Angel: Emily’s older brother,and the person who raised her for a good portion of her childhood. They bickerand pick on each other, but they would also kill someone for each other, so, y’know.Angel gets on Emily’s nerves a lot, but they get along when it counts. As anolder brother, he’s a little more level-headed than she is and he gets worriedwhen she runs off to hunt ghosts or cause chaos, but as Texas… well, he’s onlya little more level-headed, not a lot.

Comanche (Naduah) and Cherokee (Onacona): Emily’smother and father, respectively. Emily loves them both dearly and they areprobably some of the only people who can talk sense into her without making herfeel scolded and withdrawn. Well, Onacona is. Naduah is more where Emily gother wild streak from. Emily was raised by them during her very early childhood,before some issues caused them to let Texas care for her for a while. Still,the family is very close, and Emily wouldn’t trade her parents for the world.

Missouri/Miles: Wild Boi, big brother figure, chaosbuddy, and an overall very good bad example. Miles is actually a pretty sweet person,he just is prone to getting into things he shouldn’t, and this can cause issueswhen one of his pupils is a teenager. Emily looks up to Miles, and Miles isvery protective of Emily. He lets her explore her knack for chaos and she makeshim take a step back every now and again to take a safer route. Also, Miles isa big influence on Emily’s love of sparkly/brightly colored things.

Arkansas/Andrew: Less wild boi, slightly younger bigbrother figure. Andrew is calmer than his older brother and Emily, though stilla bit of a trouble maker, and he and Emily have fun watching the subtlenuisances they can create in the lives of friends and family. Andrew has beenvery helpful for Emily’s habit of curling in on herself when distressed byoffering her a safe and calm space where she can take a breath and reevaluate.These two are protective of each other and each has done wonders for the bodyimage of the other; Emily is chubby and Andrew has vitiligo. They’ve both beenbullied over these facts, but they find confidence in each other and theirfriends.

Kansas/Heni: Emily’s partner. Emily is head over heelsfor this nonbinary darling, and she is all the time coming up with some cutething to call them. Emily will fight anyone who tries to invalidate Heni’sgender or criticizes their fluidity. Heni would kill someone for making Emilyfeel bad about herself or her appearance. They are very supportive of eachother and their relationship is very Softe Teen Romance ™. Heni is always thereto be a firm stance and a rock for Emily when she feels battered or vulnerable.

Arizona/Kat: Kat is like Emily’s cool cousin. Shedoesn’t see her very often, but when she does, they spend a lot of their timechatting or being activists. Kat is a big Queer, Indigenous, and Latino rightsactivist, and Emily goes along to help in any way she’s needed. Kat issurprisingly level-headed and calm, and she’s a calming influence on Emily,helping her focus some of her chaotic energy into productive action.

@texass-shenanigans’ Louisiana/Alex: Alex is Angel’shusband and Miles & Andrew’s older brother. He is by far the calmest one ofthe bunch, and the one with the most braincells, bless his heart. He sometimesteaches Emily to cook, which often ends with the very messy kitchen and a very messyEmily. Alex and Emily get along pretty well, but much like he feels with hisbrothers, he does hope Emily will calm down soon. He’s an excellent confidant, inEmily’s opinion.

Miscellaneous:Emily loves stickers so fucking much. Especially sparkly ones.

Fire is also a thing. She likes to hold stick over acame fire and watch them burn.

Hates June bugs with a passion.

Her favorite treat is a strawberry milkshake. Thisgirl will absolutely do almost anything for a strawberry milkshake with realstrawberries in it.

Ballet is one of the first things that helped her loveher body. She’s been performing for decades now.

Speaks several languages, including several Indigenousones.

Learning ASL to be supportive of one of Miles’partners, Kentucky.

Found out she was ace before finding out she was alesbian, and both times it was because of Heni.

#aph oklahoma #aph kansas #aph missouri #aph texas #aph arkansas #aph native america #aph cherokee #aph comanche #aph arizona #aph louisiana #hetalia #statetalia #aph states #hws states #character info #ask meme #casuallyeatingrocks

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