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zeldasayer · 4 years

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I transcribed and translated Pedro’s interview from GQ Germany for all of us. I tried translating as good as possible but bear with me, English is not my mother tongue. By @sixties-loser

Pedro Pascal, the star from “Game of Thrones”, “Wonder Woman” and “The Mandalorian” talks about becoming an adult, film, fashion, corona – and a painful surgery in the exclusive GQ interview.

It seems almost eerie how empty the streets of LA are in the sunshine. Meanwhile a new normality seems to be coming to Europe, most people in L.A. are still cutting their own hair. Many have not seen their friends for half a year. The pandemic is out of control. The reaction towards it too. Inviting someone into their garden for a “distance drink” can cause the same distress as suggesting to switch spouses.

Therefore, it was particularly surprising that Pedro Pascal immediately accepted. He accepted the drink, not to switch spouses. He is one of the rising stars and newcomers this year – if it wasn’t for corona sending the whole film industry into a forced vacation, there would most likely not have been time for said drink. After having his skull crushed in “Game of Thrones” followed the lead role as a DEA agent hunting Pablo Escobar in “Narcos” in 2015 and now he is stepping towards big Hollywood films. From the 1st of October onwards the Chilean-born actor will be starring in the blockbuster “Wonder Woman 1984”. Moreover, the second season of the “Star Wars”-series “The Mandalorian” on Disney+ starring him as the lead is going to air in October this year – but he will be underneath a helmet. Well, we all are under a helmet in 2020 in one way or another. We want to meet the man who a few years ago still worked as a waiter in New York, whose parents were political refugees who found asylum in Denmark and settled in Texas and whose son one day signed up for a theatre group in High School.

Then, the cancellation! While we were in the middle of fixing up the house and the garden for the drink with Pedro and organizing the fashion shoot, which was not easy considering the safety measures in L.A., his management called with an unfortunate message: Pedro – no, not sick with corona – had to get emergency surgery because of a damaged tooth and was lying in bed with a swollen face that was hindering him from speaking and taking pictures. The sun is shining onto empty streets. And our empty garden.

A few days later he nonetheless arrived at our front door without a swollen face but still with threads in his mouth. He was not chauffeured by a limo-service but he came with his own car – he even picked up his make-up artist. He is helping her carrying all of her utensils into the house and declares: “I’ve got time today!”. What a celebrity! It seemed like we did not want to ask him how he made it to the A-List of Hollywood but he wanted to ask us how we made it to the A-list. Pedro Pascal! Yes, what kind of a celebrity?

Pedro Pascal: Sorry for messing with your plans. The surgery was an emergency.

GQ: Really? We were wondering whether the swelling wasn’t the product of a secret visit to the plastic-surgeon. Apparently, they are drowning in work because of the quarantine in Hollywood.

PP: I have to disappoint you. A few days before our appointment I was rushing to the hospital with a fractured tooth and the worst pain in my entire life – a hospital in which treats people with severe cases of corona. I was unable to reach any dentist! Right in front of the parking lot a specialist called me back. The pain was hell despite the ten injections I got. The doctor said I was not an exception because a lot of people are grinding their teeth because of all the stress.

GQ: What are you most afraid of at the moment?

PP: How the government is handling the pandemic is worrying me more than the virus itself. This shortage of intelligent management of the crisis is a moral shame. The leadership crisis in this country is turning us all into orphans – destitute and abandoned.

GQ: How did you spend your time over the last few months?

PP: I spent it with frozen pizza and sweatpants in Venice Beach. I live in a rear house that’s in a family’s garden. Actually, there are a lot of good takeout places nearby but for some reason I just love pepperoni pizza from the supermarket.

GQ: That does not really sound like movie star-lifestyle. What does it feel like being suddenly stopped from top speed to zero?

PP: Regarding what is going on around the world one should hold back one’s own mental turmoil. I would be lying if I was saying that I am not disappointed. The whole team put a lot of heart and work into the production of “Wonder Woman 1984”. We had a lot of fun on set. I wished to travel around the world and introduce the film with the same lively energy.

GQ: You come from a politically engaged, socialist family that fled from the Pinochet-regime in Chile. What do you remember from that time?

PP: My sister and I were born in Chile but I was only nine months old when we first found asylum in Denmark. From there we quickly came to San Antonio in Texas where my dad started working as a doctor at the university clinic.

GQ: Texas is not known as a socialist utopia. How did you assimilate?

PP: San Antonio is not a Cowboy-town but very diverse with big Asian, black and Latino communities. I remember it as a romantic place, culturally open. The culture shock only came as we later moved to range county in California. There the atmosphere was suddenly white, preppy and conservative.

GQ: How were you received in California?

PP: I’m still ashamed of the fact that I did not correct my classmates when they kept on calling me Peter. I am Pedro. Even if I didn’t grow up in Chile the country and the language are still a part of me. I was very unhappy in that environment. However, I was fortunately able to go to another school close to Long Beach where I felt more comfortable. Through the theater group at that school I found my way.

GQ: Were you able to visit Chile as a child?

PP: Yes, when my parents made it to the list of expatriates that were able to travel to Chile without consequences. First, there was a big family reunion and then my sister and I stayed there for a few months with relatives while my parents went back to Texas. They likely needed a break from us. They got us when they were very young, had a buzzing social life and my mother was obtaining a PhD in psychology.

GQ: Was your mother a typical young psychologist who wanted to apply her theoretical knowledge at home?

PP: You mean, whether I was her guinea pig? For sure! I remember strange tests and sittings that were disguised as games where someone was watching me react to different toys. I cannot have been older than six but I was already aware of the dynamic. My favourite thing was being questioned about my dreams. That was a wonderful opportunity to come up with fantastic stories.

GQ: Was that your first performance?

PP: Of course! My mother worried about my strong imagination because I was living in my own fantasy world rather than reality. I hated going to school. I was always categorized as the troublemaker. At one point, the topics at school became more interesting and my grades also went up. There are so many kids that are unnecessarily diagnosed with learning disabilities without considering that school can be abhorrent. Why is it so accepted to be bored in class when there are so many stimulating ways to convey knowledge?

GQ: Considering al that has happened this summer around the world: Do you believe that we can seriously demand social change now?

PP: I Hope so. After lockdown, the first time I went out was to protest for “Black Lives Matter” on the streets. The energy was peaceful and hopeful until the police provoked severe conflicts. Nevertheless, we cannot run from problems like we used to this time and we cannot distract ourselves from them either. It seems like the pressure of the pandemic led to a new clarity: We cannot go on this way.

GQ: The “Wonder Woman 1984” Trailer revives the optimism of the 1980’s. From today’s point of view, it seems almost nostalgic.

PP: That’s right. You really are happy for two hours. The director Patty Jenkins created a film full of positive messages. We shot in Washington D.C., then in London and Spain – this sounds like I am talking of a past time.

GQ: Do you miss traveling?

PP: I’m just now realizing the privilege of just packing up one’s stuff and being able to fly anywhere. An American passport used to guarantee unlimited travel. And that’s why it the small radius of our lives is actually unimaginable. Over the last years I often retreated for a break after shootings because I was constantly on the move and overstimulated. My friends were already complaining I had become too comfortable. We all took social contact for granted and are only realizing now how dependent we actually are on human contact. Over the last weeks I often longingly thought about all the parties and dinner invitations I declined.

GQ: In L.A. people spend more time at home or nature than in other metropolises that are more geared towards public life. Could this city become your second home after New York?

PP: My Real Home are my friends. I have been a nomad since I was little and I do not have a place where I have put down roots. Up until not long ago my physical home was a place in between departure and arrival. Therefore, it was something I did not want to complicate through the accumulation of stuff. On the contrary: Without having read Marie Kondo’s book I have freed myself from excess baggage over the last few years and I lived relatively minimally.

GQ: Is there nothing you collect or something you just can’t throw away?

PP: Books! I even still have the literature I read when I was a teenager and when I was in college. Recently, I stumbled upon a box full of old theatre manuscripts and materials from my time at the New York University. I also cannot part from art easily, just like I cannot part from lamps or old photos. On the other hand, I can easily get rid of furniture and clothes.

GQ: Do you remember roles that were really only completely defined through the costume?

PP: Yes, I am particularly thinking about “Game of Thrones”. At that time I understood for the first time what it meant to be supported by a look. This is thanks to the costume designer Michele Clapton. She created very feminine robes and brocade coats for my character that nevertheless looked masculine when worn and I felt very sexy in them. Of course, Lindy Hemmings power-suits and Jan Swells bleached hairstyle for the tycoon-villain in “Wonder Woman 1984” were very important as well. At first I did not really see myself in the role because the cuts and colors of the 80s do not really fit my body. I’m more the 70s type.

GQ: Do you incorporate those inspirations into your personal wardrobe?

PP: In my free time I choose comfort over a cool look these days. Sometimes I miss the times when I expressed myself through a certain style. It is hard to imagine that I went to Raves as a teenage in the 90s; I was a real club kid with ridiculous outfits: overalls, balloon pants, football shirts and a top hat, like in Dr.Seuss’s “Cat in a Hat”. Later in New York I was hanging out with a group of people that felt it was very important to have a certain style. The fact that I am basically only wearing sweatpants everyday is actually tragic.

GQ: whoever plays roles in comic book adaptations becomes a bodybuilder and eats ten chicken breasts a day. You don’t?

PP:My body would not agree with that. It is hard enough to stay in shape normally. When you’re in your mid-forties you have to live with a lot more discipline. Up until before my tooth-incident I worked out with a trainer in my garden multiple times a week to keep the quarantine body in check.

GQ: Apart from the personal trainer, are you in a steady relationship?

PP: I am not ready for that yet. Maybe at some point I will be but until then I’ll let it be. I can’t even offer you absurd corona dating stories.

GQ: What would annoy you the most if you were your own roommate?

PP: I can be quite controlling. I have to conjure all my humanity to prevent myself from going through my entire film collection. When I don’t want something I cannot keep it to myself or be passive-aggressive, I always have to take it to the frontlines. Other than that, I tend to have tunnel view: when I am not feeling well I cannot imagine to ever feel better again. I have trouble relativizing my emotions or to wave off problems. Method-acting would really not be for me. This is why I try to only work on projects that feel good, where there is mutual support and encouragement.

GQ: When we were trying on the clothes earlier you spoke of a lack of self-confidence. How does that get along with a career like yours?

PP: Isn’t it interesting how these characteristics and circumstamces relate? Self-worth comes from inside but it is also influenced by what society values because we often internalise the public gaze. I have lived in New York for 20 years, I studied there and made a living by working as a waiter until my mid-thirties because the theatre and film jobs I got did not pay the bills. There were so many times I was almost there. The disappointment of having missed the perfect role or opportunity by a hair’s width can be crushing. When should you give up and what is plan B? That is a question that is not only on many actors‘s minds but also on many others minds who struggle for a living – no matter how much potential they have or how close they seem to be to the top. We are seeing now how our narrow definition of success destroys society. At the same time, we are realizing that where we come from and the color of our skin still decide whether we can exist with dignity.

GQ: What are the positive aspects of a relatively late success as leading-man?

PP: I feel like I can decide over my own life without the pressure of having to accept projects or to have to present a certain identity on social media. This is for sure also because I am a man. Regardless of age, Women have to try harder to stand out.

GQ: Life always consists of risk management – now more than usual. For what would you risk losing something?

PP: Generally, when you never risk something you might never get ahead. That is for friendship, love, work and creativity. I have to be ready to take risks for the things that really matter to you.

#pedro pascal #THANK YOU MY LOVE!#submission

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jajanvm-imbi · 4 years

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If Krel and Toby went to Camelot with the others (like they SHOULD have)

Krel:

He would have fallen into Camelot with his serrator cause he always has it with him so he thankfully won’t have to worry about his A5 form being exposed.

Douxie would introduce him to Arthur as “Krel from the House of Tarron” obviously but I feel like it should be mentioned

since everyone got paired up with people that were relevant to them or their character (Doux with Merlin, Jim with Deya, Claire with Morgana, Steve with Lancelot) I feel like Krel would have found himself with a team of alchemists.

like I imagine the team walking through the castle and Krel just seeing these alchemists in like their late 20s early 30s through an open door and be in complete awe of them that he would just wander into their lab and the alchemists would just be like “welp guess this kid is our new apprentice” and they just take him under their wing.

They would ask him “you dont look from around here, where you from?” (Since he’s brown and and has a latino accent) and he would be like “….Cantaloupia…….?" and they would be like "hmmmmmmmoKAY!!!”

at some point the Camelot trio Doux, Claire and Steve are just like “hey where’d Krel go?” and it would cut to like a scene where he’s like blowing something up with the alchemists with the biggest smile on his face and like “WOOO!!!!!”

They give him a set of these potion holsters full of different potions and chemicals and powders for on-the-go alchemy and he gets SO EXCITED (yes I use pinterest)

Like the Camelot trio + Toby would just be chilling in their room trying to figure out how to fix the timeline and Krel would just burst into the room like “GUYS LOOK WHAT I GOT!!!!!!!!” like the nerd he is

He and Toby get distracted with the cool stuff Krel can do with his potions while Douxie and Claire just look at them like tired parents like

Douxie and Claire: “gUYS we still have to fix the timeline and save Jim!!!

Krel: yeah but watch this! *does some alchemy*

Toby: SOCOOLSOCOOLSOCOOLSOCOOL!!!!

Douxie and Claire: *looks into the pretend camera like they’re on the Office*

He would help Arcadia Douxie set up traps all over Camelot

During the Battle of Killahead, Krel would be like Honey Lemon in Big Hero Six and come up with the perfect solution with his potions to attack the GummGumms on the spot

He would be really proud of himself and like mid battle after he successfully took down a GummGumm he would just be like "WOOHOO Check me out!” And the just gets whacked in the head again (cause this is Krel we’re talking about.)

This is completely irrelevant PONYTAIL KREL. I need it and this would be the perfect time for it

so anyway,

he would absolutely marvel at the sight of Douxie’s spellcaster guitar just like he and Aja did when they saw Jim’s armor.

Douxie: *uses his guitar in battle*

Krel: Is that your staff???? I want one!!!!!! How do I get one???

Claire: Focus Krel!!!!

I just feel like that would happen at some point anyway cause, it’s really cool?! I think we didn’t see it happen is cause there was no time for it to happen in the actual show but it would totally happen at some point

Saying goodbye to the alchemists would prolly be like, “I’m guessing you want these (the potion holsters) back, huh?” And the alchemists are just like, “umm, you can definitely keep them kid??? You’re really good at this!!! We’re glad you were our apprentice!” And Krel is just like “:D :D :D :D!!!!!!!!”

Toby:

so obviously he fell in with his warhammer cause it doesn’t go anywhere without it.

Douxie would introduce him as “Tobias of Domslaskia”, again I just feel like it should be mentioned

I want to say that he would have gotten paired up with Arthur because Jim and Arthur parallels and Arthur is the last major Camelot character that doesn’t have an Arcadian pair, but, knowing how the TOA writing team treat Toby as a character he’d prolly just be like a stable boy or the knights’ water boy or something (sucks I know)

so like they’d all be in front of Arthur for the first time while Arthur is assigning everyone to their mentor and Toby’s like “pleasebeaknightpleasebeaknightpleasbeaknight” and Arthur’s just like “You, robust one, follow sir Lancelot, he’ll take you to the washroom. You’ll be cleaning up after they finish practicing” and Toby’s like “what??? Why can’t I be a knight too???” and he just gets pulled along.

All the knights marvel at his “metal teeth” just like Krel and Aja did when they first saw his braces

Toby would be ready to throw hands with anyone who tries to put their hands on Jim. Claire and Douxie have to physically restrain him from hurling his warhammer into Arthur’s face during one of the many times he tries to kill Jim

since Toby is just assigned as a servant boy, he can easily sneak into the dungeon to see Jim. He’s the team’s connection to Jim while he’s locked in the dungeon

He would have gone with Jim after the dungeon break. Jim and Claire are saying their goodbyes and Toby’s like “Dont worry Claire, ol’ Warhammer will take care of him” and just goes with him despite everyones protests because he loves his best friend and wont let him leave on another adventure without him again. Claire went with him the New Jersey, now it’s his turn to go with Jim

Deya would be like “who’s this?” And before Jim can answer Toby just goes “His best friend in the whole wide world!!!!” And Deya would just be like “a human and a Troll? Friends? Now that’s a first.” And Jim would show her the pictures of them in Arcadia

Toby would see Arrrgh in Dwoza and immediately try to connect with him calling him Wingman, forgetting that this is GummGumm! Arrrgh then get sad because he misses Arcadia Arrrgh.

He would call of our trolls by their name and the trolls would get like so confused

Toby: yo my girl Bagdwella what’s good?!!!

Bagdwella: ????How does this human know my name???????

Toby: Draal! I’ve missed you!! *hugs him*

Draal: why is this human child touching me????

For the rest of it I just believe that it would be them catching up cause they’re best bros and yeah Jim loves Claire but he needs bro time with Toby again.

During the battle of Killahead he goes absolutely feral with his warhammer and kicks ass like the king that he is

He comforts Steve when Lancelot dies (because Steve deserves to mourn his father figure DAMMIT)

He also protests going back to the present without finding a way to save Jim from the shard with Claire because they both love best boy and are tired of seeing him suffer alone.

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stickykeys633 · 2 years

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Yeah: Davis can’t write social issues for shit. He didn’t think if having Scott’s werewolf control revolve around a girl would read different for Scott that’s Latino vs a Scott played by a white actor. But fandom making claims like Scott broke in to kiss Allison in her sleep when that’s not what happened is fandom making shit up against Scott. And it does matter if Boyd and Scott are both acting a way because of wolfsbane. Fans blame Scott for things he can’t control. 1/2

Davis can’t write for shit, and he should have been better about how he wrote Scott as a hero. And how he wrote about race, sexuality, and love. He should have written all the relationships better. He should have treated the actors better. That is Davis fault. Fans blaming Scott for things he can’t control is fans fault. Fans making things up is on fans. Fans making racist jokes or other offensive jokes is fans fault. Fans harassing actors and other fans is on fans. Not Davis or the show. 2/2

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I'm going to agree and disagree with you.

I'm not familiar with the idea of Scott breaking in to kiss Allison in her sleep, I'm not sure when this even would have happend. So no, "fandom" didn't make this claim, it sounds like maybe you read it in a fic, but I doubt that fic was canon compliant. Also, not a Latinx stereotype. Again, them painting him in a way you don't like =/= being racist.

I didn't say it didn't matter about the way the wolfsbane controlled everyone, I said the implications are weighted different. Boyd's actions aren't measured the same. That said, I'm not sure what the blame aspect is or again, how it relates to him being Latinx? Was he not supposed to be effected the wolfsbane? I guess I don't get how this fits in, sorry.

So where I'll agree is Davis is a good ideas guys but he sucks at execution. This is why I said Aeon would be fantastic. Every ep is a bottle episode, so he doesn't have to worry about continuity or realistic character development.

I don't think fans blame Scott for things he can't control, I think what they do is hold him accountable for his actions, even if they're caused by things he can't control. To go back to the writing, this show has a HUGE problem with having Scott acknowledge when he's messed up. And an even worse time trying to build his hero complex inorganically. At some point some is like "Aren't you Scott McCall, I heard you took down an enitre pack of alphas!" and like... no, no he didn't. That's not at all true. But he's never checked for it and he makes terrible decisions based on that reputation.

That's canon, there are actual examples and antis insisting that everything we list as an example is justified because XYZ, but then dismiss our ABC paints a bad picture in bad faith.

Also, fandom doesn't harass actors. There have been a literal handful of trolls over the years, but there has never been a concentrated attack directed towards Posey, even after BWT.

You know when there was a coordinated attack against fandom? When people decided that the scerek troll on ao3 was a sterek and decided to punish the entire sterek fandom because of it.

Do some people complain and talk head on social media? Sure, but you can't control people, you can only control your reacting to the. And judging the entire fandom based on unfavorable opinions or actions to you isn't a good look.

All of this said, it still doesn't have anything to do with Posey being biracial. And just because he's biracial doesn't mean any criticism of him is racist.

AND trying to compare him to other characters is also highkey racist. Yes I'm talking to y'all that say Posey has had it worse than Jon Boyega who had pictures of gorrilas and monkeys sent to him and was constantly called the n-word. Y'all just need to squash that all together.

If your argument can't stand on its own, it's not an argument.

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obxlife · 4 years

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Empanadas and Alfajores (JJ x Latina!Reader)

A/N: Yes finally a Latina reader. I am so excited about this! I’m going to be writing with a lot of Spanish in between but the most important parts are going to be in English. Also I got super carried away with this but I just love it!

Pairing: JJ x Latina!Reader

Word count: 5,843

Request: Heyy!! Could you do one with JJ where she id new yo de obx and she talks spanish and ks very sassy? I don't know If It makes sense. Ty♥️

Warnings: Swearing (both English and Spanish) and a lot of FLUFF

EMPANADAS AND ALFAJORES

The Outer Banks did not have many Latino families. You had investigated this before moving, and you were sure that, due to the fact that there weren’t many of them, discrimination towards your family was sure to come.

You were moving to the Outer Banks from South California due to your father’s job. He worked as a lawyer, and he had heard about a job opportunity on the islands.

This was what brought you here. To Kildare County.

You hated it. Leaving your friends behind and submerging yourself into a community that was sure to not treat your family well. From what you had seen during the drive to your new house, most of the island’s residents looked pretty conservative.

You were worried about your parents, mostly. You and your siblings could speak English almost perfectly, but your parents still had accents that proved that they were immigrants.

Along with the fact that your family was bilingual, you were pretty sure you looked Latino as well. All of you had skin that was naturally tan, and dark brown hair that was long. You just felt as if people could tell you weren’t truly from the United States, and that would often make you nervous.

You envied the Latinos with white skin. The ones that were descendants of Europeans and had adopted the Latino culture. They were just as Latino as you and your family were, but they didn’t suffer from even half of the harassment you had to endure.

Despite all of the discrimination you had lived because of your origins, you liked being Latina. It defined you. And it was something you would never change about yourself.

The car parked, and your younger siblings, which were triplets and a nightmare, hopped out of the car in front of the one you were seated in. They had been excited to move, and couldn’t wait to explore the new house you were all going to live in. Your father had been the one to sacrifice himself and drive them, while you and your mother were driving behind him, alone in the smaller car your family owned.

Your mother sighed, not wanting to deal with the three small children yet. So, she turned to you. “Mi amor, I know this isn’t what you wanted, pero te prometo que it will be okay.”

You only nodded, pursing your lips together and twiddling your thumbs. “Can I go out and just walk around or something? Puedo volver before it’s late.”

Knowing how much the move was taking a toll on you, your mother nodded her head. Then she exited the car and began to scold your siblings, yelling at them in fluent and angry Spanish.

“¿Cuántas veces les tengo que decir que se comporten? ¡Lucy, vuelve ahora! ¡Diego, Lucas, no la empujen!”

Rolling your eyes, you reached for the handle of the car and left. You pulled your hair into a ponytail before heading down your driveway and towards a restaurant you had seen on the way.

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

‘The Wreck.’

That was what the sign of the restaurant said. You imagined it was a hit with the tourist, seeing as it was strategically placed between two beaches which were filled with people. You spared a look inside and noticed that the restaurant was also packed. However, there was an empty seat at the counter.

Opening the door, you walked in with as much confidence as you could muster. Your confidence fell when you crashed into a body and tumbled to the floor.

“Mierda,” you muttered out while standing up. You rubbed your hand over your butt and looked down to find that before you lay a dark-skinned boy.

“Ay, Dios mío, I am so sorry,” you told him, extending your hand out for him to take. He did, and with your help he stood up.

He shook his head. “Don´t worry, it was my fault.”

“Are you kidding? I literally rammed into you. I don’t know who I thought I was, stumbling in here like that.”

The boy just laughed. “It’s fine, really. By the way, are you new here or something? I’m pretty sure there’s no one in Kildare that speaks Spanish.”

You nodded softly, expecting the classic questions to follow from his lips. Where are you actually from? How long have you lived here?

“Oh, cool. So you moved here?”

You nodded again. “Yeah, I moved into the yellow house on Gordon Street.”

“Oh, really? I live right around the corner from there! And my dad owns the market by the docks, just two streets over from Gordon.”

“Oh, nice. So have you lived here for a while?” you were trying to make small talk, as you had liked the boy standing before you and he had been nice enough to speak to you.

“Try my whole life. But it’s fine. I love it here.”

You smiled at him as you both moved to the side, allowing someone else to exit through the door you had been blocking. He suddenly stretched his hand out. “I’m Pope.”

You smiled. “I’m Y/N.”

While still being connected by your hands, Pope almost fell onto you because of a boy that had jumped on his back. The boy was blond and white and had spiky teeth that reminded you of the stories your mother would tell you about the Chupacabras. His blue eyes were shiny and alight with mischief, reminding you of Diego and Lucas.

Pope let go of your hand and tried to push the boy off. “JJ! What is wrong with you?”

JJ laughed, getting off Pope and wrapping a hand around his shoulder. “Just came to see why you were taking so long in the bathroom. We were waiting for you, bubba.”

JJ then turned towards you and his jaw fell slack. You didn’t take notice of this, as you were looking at Pope, who said, “Yeah, I was held up by Y/N here. She’s new in the OBX.”

JJ shook his head lightly, trying to act normal. “Pleasure to meet you, baby.”

You didn’t like that. At all. You hated when guys were just the biggest flirts, and this guy seemed to fit right into that category.

You rolled your eyes a bit, not trying to come off as rude, and took the outstretched hand he placed in the space between you. You held onto it, shaking up and down before trying to let go. He wouldn’t let you.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“Ay, por favor. I’ll do what I want,” your sassiness broke out. You covered your mouth with your hands and widened your eyes. You couldn’t believe you had already been sassy to someone. In the place where you lived before you had gotten into a lot of problems for being sassy, and you had promised your parents that you were going to control yourself here in the Outer Banks.

Pope pressed a balled-up hand to his mouth trying not to laugh as JJ’s expression fell. Pope couldn’t contain his laughs any longer and broke out, while JJ shoved him and smiled towards you.

“Sassy and you speak Spanish? You’re a dream, Mamacita,” he tried to flirt with you once again. You groaned out loud this time. The boys seemed to enjoy your sassiness, so you decided not to hold back.

“Look here, Papi,” you spoke, sarcasm dripping from each word. “If I wanted to flirt with you I would have done it by now. Y por favor, don’t call me ‘Mamacita’ ever again.”

JJ was bewildered. He had never met anyone that had flat out rejected him before. Staring at you, he tuned out the world around him and ignored the conversation that was going on between you and Pope. He watched Pope grab onto your arm and drag you to where the rest of the Pogues were. And JJ stood there, staring at you go along with his best friend.

He decided that he really liked the view.

Catching up to the two of you, JJ ran to be by your side. He reached your arm just as Pope was done presenting you to Kie and John B.

You smiled at them and began to speak to them casually, getting to know them better. They were making you laugh, even JJ, and you were happy that they were there to cheer you up. If they became your friends, you wouldn’t really mind moving away from your previous home as much as you imagined. They seemed fun and adventurous and nice and loyal. And they seemed a lot more diverse than other groups of teens you had seen.

You had decided that they would be your friends.

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

Diego, Lucas, and Lucy were a mess. A mess meaning that they were a royal pain in the ass. And sometimes you were the one that had to take care of them, especially when your parents went out for business dinners or dinner dates.

You had been living in the OBX for about three months now, and your father was trying to sign a business deal with some real estate companies that ruled the rich side of the island. That was why you were staying home tonight instead of heading out with one of the Pogues like you usually would. They had asked you to babysit.

You were happy in the OBX, much to your surprise. Discrimination towards your family didn’t happen often, and you were always defended by your friends. It was mainly the rich that were offensive, but it became easier and easier to ignore them once you realized that everybody else on the island did that as well.

“¡Callense!” you screamed out at the triplets who were screaming at the TV screen. “I’m trying to concentrate over here.”

Your homework lay before you on the table, and you could barely concentrate on it with all of the screams in your house. School had started recently, and it was a lot harder than your previous one. The Pogues would sometimes help you (mostly Kie and Pope), but you liked trying to do things on your own first. If you couldn’t do it then you would call one of the brainiacs over to help you.

Another scream left Lucy’s mouth and you groaned again. You were going to need help with them.

You fished your phone out of your bag that was resting on the table. You opened the messenger app and sent a message to your group chat.

Y/N: HELP! I’m babysitting for my parents and the three devils are driving me insane. Can someone please come over?

Pope: Sorry, Y/N. I’m working with my dad tonight.

Kie: I’m working a shift! Sorry babes.

The hottest boy ever: I’m coming over!

You glared at the name JJ had put to his contact and changed it back to what you originally had saved it as: Imbécil.

You sighed now having to deal with JJ too. Whatever, at least maybe he could distract your siblings and leave you alone so that you could study.

Not even twenty minutes later you heard a knock on your door. JJ stood there grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Mami,” he said. ‘Mami’ had become his new nickname for you, even though you hated it. You felt like one of those stereotyped Latinas on TV.

“Hey, loser.”

He frowned but then brought his hand up to your hair and ruffled it. You swatted his hands away and opened the door wider for him to come in. He brushed past you, your arms coming into brief contact. Tingles rose from the contact.

You hated the fact that you were attracted to JJ. He was funny and hot, you had to admit, but he was also the most infuriating person ever. He liked to push your buttons and bother you to no end. The worst part of it all was that Kie said that he was trying to flirt with you.

You had scoffed. “Como si de verdad te creyera.”

You closed the front door and walked to catch up with JJ. He was almost at the living room door before you held onto his hand and pulled him around.

“What?” he asked you.

“I just want you to know that they’re extremely annoying and loud. So just -- be ready.”

He nodded before joking, “I’m all of those things too, Mami.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, how could I forget? I was just warning you, idiota, but whatever.”

With that, both you and JJ walked into the room where your siblings were. The loud seven-year-olds were still screaming. They stopped when they saw JJ at the door.

“¡Un cabeza de pipí!” Diego exclaimed. Your face dropped with mortification at what he said, and you hoped that Lucy and Lucas would not translate what their triplet had screamed a few moments ago.

“Diego!” you screeched out.

“What does that mean?” JJ asked under his breath, turning towards you. He hadn’t met your siblings ever, and he was surprised to find them laughing at him. “Did he say something funny? Should I laugh?”

You smiled at him, trying to pretend as if your brother had said a joke for everyone. “Yeah, just laugh along with him.”

JJ began to laugh, not very sure of his actions, and this only egged your siblings to continue laughing at the blond boy by your side.

When you sobered up you scolded your brother in Spanish, making sure that JJ did not understand a thing about what was going on. You made your siblings promise to speak English and to be nice to JJ (you knew your mother would be mad if she heard a word about this).

“¿Lo prometen?”

They only nodded. With that, you turned towards the table you were working at but noticed your stomach grumble. Looking at the time on your wristwatch, you turned to the kitchen instead, realizing that it was almost dinner time. At least for you, it was. Your parents had always disliked how people in the States ate extremely early, and they had maintained the custom of eating at around eight o’clock (which would have been early if you still lived in your country of origin).

“JJ have you had dinner yet?” you called out to him. You could hear him talking to your siblings and asking their names.

“No! Why?” you stayed silent as you began to cook. Empanadas sounded great about right now, so that was what you decided to make. You placed your phone on the counter, playing some of Morat’s, a Colombian band’s, songs. You whispered along to the lyric and danced a little as you continued to hear JJ talk and joke around with the kids. He suddenly appeared in the kitchen with Lucy on his shoulders and one boy hanging on each of his legs.

“I need help,” he spoke out. You set the dough you were kneading down and spun around to face them.

“A ver, sueltenlo. Vayan a ponerse pijama por mientras. Y vengan en veinte minutos para comer.”

With that, the boys had sped off to their rooms, and Lucy wiggled to get off JJ. He reached up and set her on the ground. As she followed behind Lucas and Diego, JJ asked, “What are you making?”

He turned his back to the counter and stretched his legs before him. His hands were rested on the tabletop, making his elbows bend back. His green hat was blocking the kitchen’s light from his eyes and his blue shirt was tight against his body from his position. His face was looking in your direction, as you began to spread the dough and roll it out.

“Empanadas.”

JJ frowned. “What are they?”

You laughed a little before replying. “They’re fried dough with filling inside. The filling can be sweet or salty, but where I’m from, we normally eat them with cheese or pino, which is meat with some seasoning. But we’re not frying it cause I’m too lazy.”

JJ nodded. His eyes were trained on your fingers, looking at you leave the dough to rest as you began to work on the filling. Only then did he notice you were slightly dancing to the music coming out from your phone. He tried to strain his ears to listen to it until he caught on to the fact that he didn’t understand anything at all. It was in Spanish.

“What are you listening to?”

You kept on swaying around, almost done with the meat filling for the empanadas. You placed it in a bowl before turning to him. “It’s a Colombian group called Morat.”

JJ raised his eyebrows at you, surprised that for once you were responding to him in the same manner you would usually reply to Pope.

You kept on preparing dinner, not even realizing what he had realized about you. However, you felt JJ staring at you, so you decided to ask, “Do you want to help?”

The blond boy was surprised. He was bad at cooking but you seemed to be working on the easiest part of the process. He had noticed you scoop up some of the fillings onto the circular cuts of dough and folding them in half. He nodded at you.

“Okay, so you have to scoop only one spoonful of the pino onto the dough. Then you fold the dough in half after putting a bit of water onto the edges of the dough. Like this.”

You showed him how to dip his finger into the little cup with water before rubbing the water onto the whole circular edge of the dough. You looked back at JJ, his eyes concentrated on your finger.

“After that, you fold the dough in half. But make sure that the stuffing is far away from the edge. And then, using a fork, you press the edges down so that the empanada is sealed and complete.”

JJ nodded, finding the instructions easy enough. He began to help you, shooting glances at you every once in a while. You didn’t seem to notice at all, completely concentrated on the music (which you were singing under your breath) and on the food. Once you had both finished, JJ helped you place the empanadas onto a tray so that you could put them in the oven.

Closing the door of the oven you headed towards your phone, deciding to change the music up a bit. You played one of your old playlists, which contained some of Reik’s old music, as well as some Juanes and Miguel Bosé. Shifting around the kitchen, you moved JJ aside to clean the counter and to wash the items you had used to prepare the empanadas. JJ was enchanted by you, watching you dance around and sing to the music he couldn’t understand at all. All he could understand was that he was slowly but surely falling for you.

Just as you were done washing, Lucy came into the kitchen. She was wearing her pajamas and she had clearly showered. Her wet hair was enough fo you to know that.

“¿Me puedes cepillar el pelo?” she asked you holding up her hairbrush. You shook your head saying, “Iba a hacer el postre. Pero JJ te lo puede cepillar, si quieres.”

Lucy nodded at your suggestion. You turned towards the blond boy that was still staring at you, transfixed on your mouth that always seemed to look kissable.

“JJ? Would you mind brushing Lucy´s hair?”

Even if JJ didn’t want to do it, he couldn’t say no to you or to your sister’s puppy eyes. He nodded his head as Lucy pressed her brush into his large hand and turned towards him. He didn’t know what he was doing but he tried his best, basing his actions on what he had seen in movies and TV shows. He tried to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to pull her hair out or anything.

In the meantime you analyzed what you could prepare for dessert. You noticed that you had some butter cookies and some dulce de leche. If you had chocolate then you could prepare alfajores. Checking the pantry you noticed that there was chocolate. Excitedly you pulled out the ingredients.

“Where’s Diego and Lucas?” JJ asked Lucy as he was halfway done with her hair. Her curly hair was long, and it took him a lot longer than he had expected to brush her hair.

“They started watching a movie.”

“Why didn’t you watch it with them?”

“Because I need to comb my hair,” Lucy stated. The tone of voice she used made it seem as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. JJ laughed, being reminded of the sassy tone you would usually use with him.

“You’re so sassy, Lucy. Just like Y/N,” JJ confessed. This earned an offended gesture from both of the girls in the kitchen. He only laughed harder.

You put the chocolate in a bowl and in the microwave. Lucy realized this and asked, “¿Estás haciendo alfajores?”

You nodded, causing her to smile. You smiled back at her, glad that she was just as excited for dessert as you were. Right at that moment JJ said, “All done, princess.”

Lucy beamed at what he called her before running off with her hairbrush in her hand. JJ stood from his spot and walked to you, noticing how you opened the cookies and the dulce de leche.

“What are you making now?”

“Alfajores. It’s dulce de leche between two butter cookies and dipped in chocolate.”

JJ’s eyes widened at how good they sounded (even if he really wasn’t sure what dulce de leche was) and grabbed two cookies. He began to help you.

Little feet could be heard running through the house, and Lucy returned to the kitchen. She pulled a chair right between you and JJ and stood on it. Her little fingers latched onto two cookies, wanting to help.

“JJ, put some dulce de leche on Lucy’s cookies,” you told him as the microwave began to beep. You put some kitchen gloves on knowing that the bowl was going to be hot, and pulled it out. Setting it onto the counter you began to mix the chocolate around. “C’mere, Lucy, you can dunk the alfajores in the chocolate.”

Lucy gave the cookies she was holding to JJ and grabbed onto one of the already made cookie sandwiches. She dumped it into the chocolate and then pulled it out, placing it on a plate that would go into the freezer later. You helped her through the process, making sure that her chocolate-covered fingers didn’t touch the counter or her clothes.

JJ paused his actions halfway. He was on the last pair of cookies, but he couldn’t help but stare at you and your sister. You were both singing the lyrics to whatever song was coming from your phone, only stopping to speak to each other in Spanish. Your hair was in a bun on the top of your head and Lucy’s was tied back. Both of you would scrunch your nose up at the same time when dipping the cookies into the chocolate, and you would both laugh together when the cookie would slip from your grasps.

Shaking his head, JJ decided to finish the last cookie sandwich. Ever since you had arrived at the OBX, he had tried to get over the fact that you were clearly not into him, but that didn’t seem to work at all. The more he tried to push you out of his head, the more he felt he liked you.

Once you had finished preparing the alfajores, you passed the plate to Lucy for her to put into the freezer as you began to wash the bowl you had used. JJ approached you and began to dry the dished that were already washed from before, when you had finished the empanadas.

“You know? You’re a good sister,” JJ said suddenly. Your cheeks grew warm and you smiled at the compliment. It was true. Even though you would often deny it, you loved your siblings more than anything.

Trying to ignore the feelings that rose from JJ’s compliments you replied, “What? No ‘Mami’ this time?”

JJ laughed but shook his head. He continued to help you around the kitchen, setting the table with you and pulling the empanadas out.

“Can you go get the triplets, please?” you asked him.

JJ went into the living room where Diego and Lucas were staring at the TV screen. “Your sister says it’s time for dinner.”

The two younger boys turned towards the blond, curiosity in their eyes. “Are you our sister’s boyfriend?”

JJ’s eyes widened, as Lucy walked into the room. “Yes, he is!”

“No, I’m not, Lucy.” He turned to the boys. “I’m not.”

The boys just giggled along with their female triplet, before jumping over the sofa and pounding into the kitchen. JJ simply pressed his hands to his blushing cheeks, ordering them to go back to normal before stepping into the kitchen.

When he stepped back into the room that was now filled with Y/L/Ns, he noticed you were serving the empanadas onto everybody’s plates. Two for each of the triplets and three for him and you, each. He smiled before sitting down in the seat next to.

“No coman con las manos. Mamá se enoja si hacen eso,” you reminded your siblings as they reached for the food with their hands. Begrudgingly they took hold of their cutlery.

JJ cut the first empanada into smaller pieces and brought one of them up to his mouth. It was amazing. His eyes were wide as Diego laughed at his reaction. You turned to look at him and smiled.

“You like them?”

JJ moved his head up and down, shoving more empanada into his mouth. He couldn’t wait to try the alfajores.

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

Once the triplets were in bed you moved to the couch to work on your homework as JJ watched a movie. He had his legs perched on top of the coffee table before the couch and your legs were thrown across his lap. His right hand rested on one of your calves, moving from left to right, distracting you from your homework. You were too tired to do it anyway, so you placed it onto the coffee table.

Turning towards the TV you noticed that it was in Spanish and frowned.

“Why are you watching it in Spanish?” you asked JJ.

JJ shushed you, before whispering, “So I can learn.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and sat up, removing your legs from his lap. He pouted at the loss of contact but his eyes never left the screen. You pushed your body closer to him so that your legs were touching.

“Why do you want to learn Spanish?” you asked, genuinely curious as to what he would answer.

Your voice was almost a whisper, and suddenly the air around the both of you seemed to thicken. JJ finally broke his stare away from the TV to your eyes, before smiling. “So that I can understand you.”

You blushed but didn’t turn away from him. “Why would you want to do that?”

Now JJ blushed. “Because I want to get to know you better. Believe it or not, I think you’re really cool and sassy and different from everybody I know. And I want to know you. All of you. And your culture and being able to speak Spanish is a part of you.”

Your smile widened to the largest JJ had ever seen it. You wrapped your arms around JJ, almost wanting to cry. Nobody had ever cared enough about you to learn about your culture and to learn Spanish or to even show an interest in learning those things. You felt a single tear escape your right eye, not even realizing it until JJ had pulled you back and swiped his thumb under your eye. JJ smiled at you, his hands on your waist.

“No one’s ever done that for me before,” you told him.

“Then I’m happy I’m the first.”

You hugged him again. With his arms still around your body, you said, “If you want I can teach you how to speak Spanish.”

“Nah,” JJ said while shaking his head. “I bet you’re too sassy to be a teacher.”

You pulled back and lightly punched his chest. “Shut up.”

JJ only continued to laugh and pulled you towards him again.

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

“Yo me nombro JJ.”

“Wrong.”

“Yo soy nombre JJ.”

“Wrong.”

“Yo tengo nombre JJ.”

“Still wrong,” you sighed.

“I give up! Spanish is too hard for me,” JJ replied as he fell down onto your bed.

It had been a two weeks since you had offered to teach him Spanish, and you had spent almost every afternoon after school together trying to teach him. But he wasn’t good at all.

“You got this JJ. I swear it’s only practice,” you told him, rubbing a hand up and down his arm to comfort him. He latched onto the fingers of that hand and pulled you down on top of him. He enveloped you in his arms and said, “Let’s just nap together.”

You groaned and laughed at the same time. “You’re never going to learn if you convince me to nap every afternoon.”

“I don’t care,” he said in his usual sleepy voice. “Just speak to me in Spanish for a couple of minutes and I’ll be out.”

As you began to talk about random things in your room (JJ would occasionally stop you at words he knew), you began to move your hands up and down his chest in small circles. Over the past week, the amount of body contact between you two had exponentially grown. You went from not touching each other ever to cuddling and napping together. The Pogues had felt this shift in your relationship, as well, and would often tease you and JJ.

“What happened between you guys?” Kie had asked one afternoon you had gone with her to the Wreck. You shrugged your shoulder, as you truly didn’t know.

Something had changed between the two of you the day he had helped you take care of your siblings, and now he was over at your house all the time. Your parents loved him (even though they teased you because he couldn’t speak Spanish and you had always said you would date someone who could speak Spanish), and he spent almost as much time with you as he did messing around with the triplets. You loved that he got on amazingly with your family, and you loved how he would ask everybody in your house about your customs and traditions and culture.

You continued to speak in Spanish until you were certain he had fallen asleep. Then, you slipped out of his arms and began to work on your homework. You concentrated on it for an hour, until you grew way too frustrated with it to continue.

“¡Pero que estupidez!” you exclaimed while shoving it in your backpack. You heard JJ chuckle behind you, startling you. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I woke up a while ago,” he said, stretching. “You wanna go downstairs and cook something?”

That had become your activity together. Cooking something traditional of the Latino culture. He had loved the empanadas and the alfajores so much that he had wanted to try everything there was to eat in your culture.

“We could try making cocadas,” you told him. “But I’ve never made them before.”

JJ hummed and closed his eyes again. He was still tired for some reason. He stretched his hands out for you to take only to pull you down on top of him. “Then let’s stay here. I don’t want to cook with your mom right now.”

You frowned. “I thought you loved my mom.”

JJ nodded. “I do, but your dad told me that you always giggle about me with her. He said you were being mean.”

That was true. You blushed and hid your face in his hands. “Sorry. We just find you cute, though.”

JJ smirked, opening his eyes and looking down at you. “You find me cute, Mami?”

You groaned. “I hate that nickname.”

“I know,” JJ laughed out, breathily. “That’s exactly why I use it.”

You stayed in silence, staring at each other. Your fingers danced across his feature, tracing the outline of his nose and of his cheekbones. JJ did the same to your features but with his eyes. You leaned a little closer to him, wanting to brush your fingers by his hairline, but the movement had surprised him and caused one of his hands to move to your waist.

“Hey,” he brought you out of your actions, making you separate your hand from his face. You looked down at his eyes and put your hand to your side. He quickly grabbed it and placed it on his face again.

“Hola,” you said while continuing to trace his features.

“How do you say ‘I love you’ in Spanish?”

His voice was soft and velvety. You liked how it reached your ears, and his statement made your cheeks blush.

“Well, there’s two ways to say it. The first is ‘Te quiero’ and you mainly use that in a platonic way. It’s for your family and friends. Or for someone you’re dating but aren’t ready to actually say ‘I love - love you’ yet.”

JJ nodded in understanding. “What about the other way?”

“The other way is ‘Te amo’ which is more romantic,” you said as your fingers fell down the bridge of his nose.

He stared at you, trying to imagine what you would say and react if he said what he wanted to say to you right now. He didn’t know if you would want him to say what he wanted to say, or if you would even understand him through his bad pronunciation.

“Y/N,” he called out. You hummed in response, your finger tracing his right eyebrow. “Te amo.”

Your finger froze right in the middle of his right eyebrow. You looked down from your finger into his eyes.

“Really?”

JJ’s cheeks were flushed. More than you had ever seen them. “I - I don’t actually know. All I know is that I feel great with you and that you make me happy and that I want to learn Spanish for you. No other girl has made me want to learn something for them.”

You smiled at what JJ said. “You make me happy, too.”

JJ didn’t even hesitate when he connected your lips. He pressed his hand to your neck and the other to your waist as you moved your hands to the back of his neck. He brought you a feeling of tranquility and of excitement all at the same time. Your heart seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. Your lungs seemed to inhale and exhale at the same time. Your stomach seemed to swallow itself and explode at the same time. You loved every moment of the kiss, and you could feel both of your smiles pressed together.

Once you both pulled away, you sighed and continued to trace his face as if nothing happened.

“How do you say kiss?” he asked you a few seconds later. His voice was a bit deeper than before and you giggled.

“Beso.”

“Can I ‘beso’ you again?” JJ asked, making you stare down at him.

“Wrong!”

“I don’t care, just kiss me already.”

And so you did.

#outer banks #obx #obx netflix #jj maybank #rudy pankow #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x latinareader #jj x reader #jj x y/n

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dekuscrybaby · 4 years

Text

dancing bachata with him

pairing(s): iwaizumi x reader, nishinoya x reader, bokuto x reader, yamaguchi x reader, tendou x reader, oikawa x reader (all separate)

requested: no; just self-indulgent writing and i wanted a reason to listen to bachata

word count: 2.6k+ words

warnings: slight manga spoiler (timeskip)!! wrote this as gn as i could, but thought of a f!reader when i wrote it, sorry if i offend anyone. dancing gets steamy and suggestive. mentions and implications of sex, not proofread at all

a/n: i added some songs that i felt vibed with the character so feel free to listen to them if you want. gets repetitive at one point. this is also my second time trying to post this so uhhhhh apologies

iwaizumi:

the birthday boy!!

so this man, i just know he knows how to dance bachata

i mean he went to uni in california, there’s a ton of hispanics and latinos there bro

i know for a fact he befriended one of them and by default, he was dragged to a party at one point

which is exactly where you are right now

you and iwa were invited to a mutual friend’s little sisters quince

so, you’re both sitting at a table as the music is roaring through the sound system

the moment iwa hears romeo santo’s voice begin to ring through the room, he’s instantly standing up, stretching his hand to you

propuesta indecente or odio vibe mega hard with this man

“let’s go”

“go where?” you asked, not really expecting iwaizumi to be into dancing

“dance, of course. unless you don’t want to?” a nervous expression was on his face now.

“you know how to dance to this type of music?”

“of course i do, i’m what you call cultured”

so you take his hand and walk onto the dance floor with him

you kinda know the basics of the dance style so you’re not too nervous when you get into your own space of the dance floor

he put his hands in front of his body, a hint for you take them as he slowly began to lead you in the dance

you both kept your distance at first and you couldn’t help but admire the sensual way his body was moving

you both moved in accordance to the songs beat before he pulled a quick on you

he intertwined your fingers on one hand and allowed his other hand to travel down your waist

feeling extra confident in himself, he pulled you into his body and slotted one of his thighs between your own

not stopping your movements whatsoever

“wasn’t that awfully smooth of you, mr. iwaizumi?”

“you already know it. gotta keep you on your toes, no?”

to which you laugh at bc being with him is already a treat in itself

definitely has you wrap both your arms around his neck so you can be closer

he has one arm hanging lowly your waist while the other sneakily settles onto your upper thigh

very smooth and touchy man

iwa makes sure to hold you so incredibly close while smoothly maneuvers you both across your little spot on the floor

he definitely spins you when he finds it necessary

would for sure end up kissing you during a song

maybe a cheesy ass dip at the end, even if doesn’t seem to fit the song

all in all, 1000000/10 dance partner

would let him maneuver me any way he wants

nishinoya:

this is gonna be so self-indulgent so apologizes beforehand

so, in my head, noya travels the world a lot

and he’s a latin/hispanic king in the eyes of many so yes he’s visited various of these countries. you go along with him too ofc

and yes, he can dance bachata and various other dance styles

unlike iwa, he’s a lot intimate about this bc he’s the ultimate simp

he’d do anything to have your body pressed tightly against his own

especially if you’re wearing something irresistible

also unlike iwa, he vibes best with prince royce bc in my head they’re both like more upbeat and wholesome? idk if that makes sense but it does in my head

def incondicional or darte un beso vibes

BUT if he’s feeling frisky that night, definitely see te robaré

mans would not ask you if you want to dance

he’d DRAG you out to dance

strong believer that it’d be a good first for your relationship bucket list

“yuu, where are we going?”

“to dance, duh.”

“you didn’t even ask me though…”

“don’t have to! i know you’ll love it.”

“love what?”

“this.” he instantly pulls you into his body, wide smirk on his face

there’s virtually no space between you two

can’t even slip a piece of paper between you two

your breath hitches at the close proximity, you can feel his breath against the shell of your ear

who knew noya could be this smooth?

your mind is definitely thinking of other activities but you come back to earth when he begins to dance to the beat

one, two, three, (four)

he makes sure to keep you in beat

while also making sure he can feel every ridge of your body on his own

your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck

has his around your waist

he likes sneaking playful gropes in your ass or even waist if he wants to be more innocent

mans is touchy touchy, that’s the way to describe him easily

LOVES to spin you and also loves to be spun

your full body is in motion with this man and you’re not going in just one direction, you’re moving every which way (very organized tho)

sneaks in kisses between spins

also an amazing partner and bc i am an extra simp for this libero i rate him a 10000000/10

bokuto:

also an honorary member of the hispanic/latino community

very very cultured man

he plays pro volleyball so he’s bound to travel to other countries

honestly, he’s never practiced bachata with a partner

he has seen people do it though so he has a very general idea of how to dance it

bokuto is currently on an away game on a different country and he flew you out

simp, you know?

you guys went to a club, destress a little and just let loose

definitely vibes with monchy & alexandria bc the vibes are immaculate, especially on hoje en blanco and dos locos

anything that’s fast-paced and all-around energetic is perfect for mr. bokuto

also does not ask you to dance

but instead of just dragging you, he pleads for you with his eyes

puppy dogs before glancing between you and the pile of bodies dancing

you HAVE to take the hint or else he’ll be really bummed out

bokuto: 🥺👀🥺

you: ???

bokuto, in bold: 🥺👀🥺

you sigh at this, “kou, would you like to go dance?”

”i thought you’d never ask, babe! c’mon let’s go!” he’s literally beaming

you’re dragged away right after that

similarly to noya, he loves having your body pressed to his

but bc he’s not as experienced, he keeps you at a safe distance so he doesn’t accidentally step on you or something

that changes once he gets more confident

or when he sees a couple do something he wants to try with you

also loves to spin you

loves pressing your back to his chest and dancing like that for a bit before spinning you back around so he can see your pretty face

holding onto your hips and helping guide them just the way he likes

loves pressing his thigh between your own, might make you come closer so he can feel you better

also likes groping you, with consent ofc

sometimes he gets too distracted with the way you’re moving that he loses count of the beat and ends up messing up

part of the distraction would come from him smooching you anytime he please which makes you guys stumble a few times

that’s okay though

he makes up for his mistakes in energy and enthusiasm

how would i rank this man? hmm

1000/10 very fun to be around so he’s a very fun dance partner

yamaguchi:

hate to say it but mans does not know how to dance bachata

sorry yamaguchi stans, just had to to say

man works in electronics!!!

hardly goes out as it is

but you eventually get him to leave the house every once in a while

one of those times being rn, at a co-worker’s party

you honestly can’t remember what it’s for but there’s loud music playing

also gives me prince royce vibes but like,,, early prince royce, ya dig?

i’m talking corazón sin cara and even soy el mismo bc bro y’all are soft

you’d have to take the lead with him for the first few minutes of the song

maybe seconds bc he’s a quick learner, especially if he’s observing

this man is the only one who’d actually ask you to dance before even trying to drag you out of your seat

he looks at you with these cute eyes bc man is love in with you

“do you wanna go dance? this song looks like fun.”

“ashi, do you know how to dance this type of song?”

“well, no, but i want to try with you. do you want to?”

who are you to say no?

so unlike the other three, he’s a lot sweeter and maybe even shy while you’re dancing

idk if y’all know but he’s basically a little kid trying to dance with you

you guys keep like an arms distance and probably do not get much closer

you guys do move your arms around and bring them a tad bit closer to spice things up

but otherwise, you guys won’t get too close, especially bc this is his first time dancing bro bachata

lots of soft gazes

he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world and that shit’s cute

loves complimenting you as you’re both dancing

all in all it’s just a pure moment, nothing too spicy for the first time around or second for that matter

10/10 dance partner, learns quickly but still not too confident in himself

tendou:

KING!! HE IS THE MAN IVE BEEN SIMPING OVER FOR A WHILE

cheeky mf would be so good at this

does he know how to dance it?

but he’s the fastest learner and also very very sensual with these sort of thing so he’s amazing

idk what he does as a profession but he’s still the same person from high school, just a tad more professional in the workplace

gives me the fattest aventura vibes (if you haven’t realized i don’t know much about bachata, murder me)

obsesión and el malo vibe or maybe even los infieles

very similar to iwaizumi and his way of dancing bachata

but less smooth and more cheeky

very very cheeky

“baby, let’s go dance”

“yeah, give me a min-“

you do not get a minute, his big hand is already instantly wrapping around your arm to pull you up

“tori, do you even know how to dance to this?”

he laughs, “no, i’m smooth but not that smooth.”

you’re left a little confused but the moment he pulls you in tightly, your worries disappear

“just follow my lead,” he whispers in a seductive voice

he places on hand on your waist and the other holding yours just at your waist level

he instantly slots his thigh between your own and leads you guys through your spot on the floor

loves when you pop your hip to the beat

as every moment passes, he pulls you closer and closer

to the point where all you can breathe is his cologne and the alcohol in his breath

might lean down to press a few teasing kisses to your neck

mans might even grind his crotch down on your thigh

he wants to leave you as flustered as possible

was this a plan for him to take you back home so he could ravage your body? maybe, but he won’t admit, that’s the fun in it

also loves to spin you but he does it outward so he can catch a full look of how you’re dressed

bites his lip when he sees you enjoying himself

ceo of dirty compliments in your ear as you’re both dancing

LOVES LOVES LOVES seeing your flustered face as you guys are so so so close

he’d for sure try and start a makeout session in the middle of the song

something about the passionate atmosphere between all the couples, really gets him going

also sneaks in gropes along with the grinding

once he realizes how much he loves dancing to this music, he wants to go out and do it more

rate for this man?

100000000000/10 broke the scale plenty of times

i want to be his dance partner, please 😔😔

oikawa:

HE LIVES IN ARGENTINA

HE KNOWS ALL ABOUT ARGENTINIAN CULTURE AND AND OTHER HISPANIC/LATIN COUNTRIES

YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

anyway, he takes you guys to a bar as well

you’re visiting him so he has to show you the best parts of the country and this is the end of your day

the spanish music blaring through the speakers gets him in such a great mood bc he wants to have his own little spanish opera moment with you

also gives me aventura vibes but the lighter more romantic music of it

very playful with it

def un beso and dile al amor or even ella y yo if he wants to get spicy with it (even if it’s like a mix of reggaetón and bachata, maybe pop, idk i’m whitewashed 😔)

“my love, do you want to go and dance with me? i love this song.”

“since when do you dance, tooru?” you tease him

“i’ve been a cultured man since i’ve landed in this beautiful country”

“really now?”

“yeah, would you like a demonstration, y/n/n?”

YOU CANNOT SAY NO TO HIM

especially not when he’s looking down at you with this smug grin on his face

does things to you, ngl

he pulls you up and instantly wraps an arm around your waist as he leads you towards the dance floor

he knows how to dance so he instantly rests his hand on your lower back

takes the lead without telling you, you have to have faith him and his skills

sways you both PERFECTLY in beat

his other hand is at his side but he is not stuff at all

his body is loose with it, just the way it should be

asks you to wrap your arms around his neck maybe even asks you to hold onto his cheek and give him a smooch

has you giggling the entire time bc he’s such a dork but he’s your dork

SPANISH SPANISH SPANISH

he sings the lyrics to you in such a quiet voice just for you two to hear

he has an accent when he’s singing bc it’s like his third language but it’s still the cutest thing ever

also loves praising you in spanish or even giving you spanish nicknames

“te miras tan hermosa, bailando conmigo así, mi amor.”

you either know what it means or you don’t

if you do, you’ll blush and come up with an equally cute spanish compliment

“gracias, mi rey. te vas tan chulo debajo de esta luz.” (thank you, my king. you look so good/cool underneath this lighting)

or you don’t have a clue what he said but he said in such a low tone that you assume he said something nice

“i said that you look so gorgeous, dancing with me like this, my love.” he laughs at the lost expression on your face

his laugh is contagious so you end up laughing as well before leaning in to connect your lips, as the song begins to dwindle down

also enjoys twirling you about when it’s appropriate, adds in to the giggly fun part of him as a dance partner

now, i’m not a simp for oikawa but i would simp for him over him if he offered to be my dance partner

i rate him a 100000/10 for a dance partner

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princeescaluswords · 4 years

Text

Evil Deaton Rant #35

Sometimes, I subconsciously bristle when I see emotional reactions of oppressed minorities to white supremacy on this site. In the end, I keep my mouth shut because while I don’t agree with all the policies they want, I recognize the validity of their experiences. Arguing with them is the least productive thing I can do.

Especially when I can see that white supremacy infiltrates and corrupts even the most innocuous and trivial things, including -- and it seems, especially -- fandom. Since I’ve chosen to focus my experience on this site on a particular fandom, I’m going to keep talking about it. Here’s today’s experience: a blatant and disgusting white power fantasy in fanfiction.

There’s a story that got past my filters, labeled with ‘fix-it’ and promising to heal what is broken with Teen Wolf. It promised to correct what Jeff Davis screwed up. And the way to do that seems to be a White Power Fantasy. I won’t provide a direct link in this post, but I’ll provide it to anyone who wants to contact me privately.

The first thing you have to realize when reading this story is that Deaton is Evil, because of course he is. He’s jealous of Stiles’s power, criminally negligent, and he was an accomplice to Kate and Gerard when burning down the Hale House. Why did he do this? Because cutting down the tree would hurt Talia enough so that she couldn’t protect his family. You mean his motivation? Oh, well apparently he wanted magical power for himself. Though eight years later -- the story picks up after Strange Frequencies (5x07) -- he still hasn’t gained any magical power. It seems an ill-thought out plan.

So, having murdered the Hales out of animosity and intending to stifle Stiles’s superlative magical abilities -- as you do -- he decided to run an animal clinic for most of a decade. He didn’t bother to eliminate Peter in the hospital ward when he was helpless and in a coma for six years, he didn’t silence Derek when he had him at his mercy in Fury (2x10). Why he risked his life to save Derek in Season 4 or Stiles in Season 3 is ... well ... not explained. He waited around to be discovered by the Druid’s Council (which is going to punish him for being cryptic and not doing enough) or by the Other Hale Branches. (We’ll get to the Hales Are the Most Powerful Thing Ever in a bit, just remember that the Hale control of the Nemeton is important to the world.)

He’s the most incompetent yet successful villain in history -- he knew that Stiles’s power would manifest but didn’t follow the correct rules and let other people know. Stiles wouldn’t even know about his power if Deaton hadn’t told him in canon, but he must have had a reason for revealing it to him so he could stop it, however that works. His complicity with the Argents could be sniffed out in days by a super Hale, yet he didn’t have any plans to counter it. He was just a Sinister Black Man, who hated his benevolent white overlords, and desires their power, but he can’t actually take it ‘cause he’s bad.

Now, of course, there could be his side of the story, if he ever got to tell his side, but no, the Powerful Hale Alpha from White Europe is able to figure everything out without any investigation or interrogation. Deaton says two words in 35k of story. They Just Know That The Black Man is Evil.

And if you are wondering whether this animus extends to other black characters, it doesn’t! You see, Braeden doesn’t exist. Mason doesn’t exist. They’re not important. Boyd is only mentioned as a source of Derek’s manpain. Isaac and Jackson and any number of Pearly White OCs do matter, because they all love and support Derek and Stiles and the Hale Supremacy.

But don’t worry, it’s not just black people who are evil. It’s Asians, too. Noshiko is only referred to as “Kira’s Mother” and she is scolded for not training her daughter and getting her act together -- even though you might think that as a 900 year kitsune she perhaps might have more experience in kitsune, no, it’s Stiles and the Hale UberAlpha who know better how to take care of Kira. Not that we get Kira or Noshiko’s point of view as they never even show up on the page, they’re dispatched off screen so as to not get in the way of the white people.

You know what’s really interesting? Even with -- as a dying Theo confesses after trying to take on the All-Powerful Hale Pack by himself -- “the Hale Territory is the ultimate power,” except we’re not sure why that is or why they haven’t driven Satomi Ito and her pack away, but she’s Asian so who cares?

And Scott, well Scott is a stupid, lazy, short-tempered, ignorant Latino who doesn’t know his place. He should have only listened to Stiles, and not Theo or that Super Mysterious Evil Black Man. Malia leaves (she’s not a Hale, of course, because she defiled Stiles’s pure virginal flesh and that’s for Derek) and Kira is sent packing, and Scott is a fool for caring for them instead of focusing on Stiles the Great. He doesn’t train his betas (unless you count the physical training of lacrosse, which doesn’t seem to occur to the author ‘cause it’s not a Hale thing) and the Hale family are all happy and well-adjusted and Isaac and Jackson love each other and love Derek and love Stiles. I mean, the first thing that Jackson says to Stiles is how handsome he is. The first thing Isaac says to Scott is to scold him for not holding regular training sessions. No explanation is given as to why neither Isaac nor Jackson informed the Hale Super Wolves about what was going on in Beacon Hills -- but it’s Deaton who is evil.

You get the point. You see, the Hales are the most powerful werewolf pack in the world, and they are unstoppable -- even though it took eight years for them to figure out that the North American Hale Pack was destroyed. They’re also capitalists, controlling industries all over the world. Dalia Hale -- Talia’s cousin, get it? -- is going to fix everything, though no one bothers to ask her why Derek didn’t call her in 2011 or 2012. There’s no mention of the Dead Pool and Scott being worth $25 million dollars, which might draw the attention of the Hale Corporation. Only Deaton is the culprit here for not doing what a good house servant should.

And this story is super popular. Really, really popular. Scott and those ignorant teenagers are going to get taught by this woman who walks in and takes command even though she’s never been in Beacon Hills for any of the other shit, because well, you know Rich and White.

I seethed at this story, and I can’t imagine what it is like to be a minority fan of this show and see everyone who looks like me treated like garbage, but Stiles is, to quote the story “like Gandalf” and Jackson is wonderful and Derek is a poor sad woobie, and that’s WHAT THIS PERSON SEES AS FIXING TEEN WOLF. Latinos are stupid and unworthy; Asians (and I’m using the generic word on purpose) belong elsewhere; and Black People? Well, evil. Evil. Evil. Evil. Or Dead. Or gone.

Which is why sometimes I know I need to keep my mouth shut.

#teen wolf racism #white supremacy #teen wolf fanfiction #scott mccall defense squad #power fantasy

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demivampirew · 4 years

Text

Don’t judge a book by its cover Chapter 6 (final chapter)

A Cap. Syverson story.

Triggers: Heartbreak ;use of curse words; crying; puking.

Synopsis: Rebeca is an Argentinian girl who a few months ago moved to the USA (Washington D.C) to study in university thanks to a scholarship that she was granted. She’s lonely. People don’t treat her well. Some could be understood but most of them just hate her for being a foreigner. She meets Syverson because he’s a man from the South and she has not had a good experience with people from there, but she may find out at the end that she shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Tag: lunedelorient

You’ll find a note at the end of the chapter, which is an explanation of what is being said when the * appears.

Things couldn't be better for Rebeca. She had been dating a wonderful man for the last three months and he treated her like a true queen. She passed all her exams with high grades and now was rightfully enjoying her spring break. Now she had time to hang out with her friend Danielle and even would have double dates with her and her girlfriend Phoebe. She couldn't be happier. One morning she woke up feeling like hell. She had to run to the bathroom to puke. At first, she thought that could have been something that she ate the day before that settled badly in her stomach, but after several days of waking up nauseous and feeling awful but then feeling better the rest of the day, she realized that something else was going on. She decided to take a pregnancy test - two actually, for more certainty- at both gave positive as a result. She was expecting a baby. They usually were careful when having sex, but there were two separate occasions in which they didn't use a condom. She was nervous. What would happen now? Could she lose her scholarship due to her pregnancy? What if they wanted to kick her out of the country and separate her from the child once he had him/her? Would Sy be happy with the news? Should she have the baby at all? The only answer she knew was the last one and it was yes; that baby would be her's and Sy's. She needed now to find out how he felt about it. As long as he was ok with the baby, she'd know that everything was going to be ok, because he always going to be there for her, to help her solved any troubling situation she might be in. After work, she went straight to Sy's house to share the news with him. She was quite nervous, but also excited. If he was happy with the news, then she would get the family she always dream of. She entered the house using the key he gave her and once inside the house she searched for her boyfriend. She found him sitting in the couch, crossing both on his arms in his chest, looking at the space in front of him, lost in his thoughts. Something bad had happened, she could feel it. She caught his attention and he looked at her in silence for a few moments. "Fuck" he cursed and she knew that whatever happened, it was really bad. He sighed and asked her to sit in the couch with him, that he needed to talk to her. - I got the call - he said with sadness. No further explanation was necessary, she knew exactly what that meant. - How long? - she questioned. - Maybe a year or more. They need me there, it has to be me. The locals already know me, I'm the only one who might bring some peace there. - he answered. - I knew I shouldn't have started a relationship. I knew that this day would come in eventually. I didn't want to hurt you, babe.- he apologized. - What are you saying? It's a year or maybe a bit more. I'll wait for you. - Beca assured him - Darling, I may never come back, that's how things go there. I tell you is a year and might end being more. Last time I was supposed to be only for a few months and ended up staying for three years. That's a lot of time. You're young, you cannot spend the rest of your days waiting for a man that might never come back. - he tried to reason with her. - You're breaking up with me then? - she asked with tears on her eyes. - I am, yes. This is best for you. - You promised me that you'll always be going to be there to protect me, but you were lying. You're going to leave me alone.- she recriminated him. - I'm really sorry, baby. It hurts my soul knowing that I'll have to leave you, but I have to go. I have to. I don't have another choice. - But you do. You could leave and found another job and never go back, but you want to. You want to be there because you want to save people, is in your nature. That's who you are. You want to help even if it costs you everything. - she replied, filled with sadness. She stood up a walk to the door with the intentions to leave. He followed her. - Beca, stop. It's late, don't go. It can be dangerous. - he pleaded her to stay the night. She wanted to act like a stubborn child and just leave, but she knew he was right. I was nighttime already and was dark outside. And she needed to think in the baby. "the baby" she thought, reminding herself that now she was going to be alone in this predicament. She was going to be a single mother. She accepted to stay, but she would sleep in the couch, he tried to persuade her to change places, so she would sleep in the bed and him on the couch, but he knew that'd be a waste of energy, she was too stubborn to listen. She spent at least two hours crying silently and thinking in all the mess she was caught on. She was going to have a child in a country that wasn't her own and probably wouldn't want her, an inmigrant with a study visa, to have an American kid. She would probably lose her visa and her job because there was no way she could study and work with a baby and also would not be able to afford childcare. There was only one solution she could find: she needed to go back to her country. There, her family would help her and she would be able to study in her former university and work while her parents looked after the baby. That was the only solution. Then she thought about Sy; the fact that she'd probably never see him again and how he could even die in the battlefield. She got up from the couch, went into the bedroom and saw that he was awake, probably thinking as much as she was. As soon as he saw her, he sat on the bed and stared at her. First, she looked mad at him, but then she started to cry and he extended both of his arms, waiting for her to accommodate herself in his chest so he could hug her. After a bit, she felt a little bit better. She looked into his eyes and kissed him. If that was the last time she would ever see him, she wanted to be a night that neither would forget. A proper goodbye. Neither of them spoke again, they let their bodies do the talking. He made love to her for the very last time, taking the sweet taste of her lips with him forever in his heart. ----------------------------------------------------------- Two years later Syverson was back from the Middle East. He was promoted and now he would never have to come back there again. He was ready to settle down alive and normal life. He would help train new soldiers and would help the new captain there from America, giving orders of how to proceed, but he would never go back. The first thing that crossed into his mind, the main reason he fought to never go back, was to see Rebeca. She was on his mind constantly. There wasn't a single day he wouldn't think of her or dream with her. He planned to search for her, and if she hadn't moved on with her life, he would beg her to take him back. She was his everything. He went to her place and found a young man living there. The gentleman told him that he never meet the former tenant of that house and that he's been living there for over a year and a half. Syverson then looked for her in the grocery store, but she wasn't there either. Another girl was working there, who told him that the owners of the store were on vacations and that she never meet any former employee and that she had been working there for a few months. College was his last resource. He waited for her to get out of the building, but that never happened. After the place was almost empty, he lost his hope in seeing her. He was about to leave when he saw a familiar face leaving the place. - Danielle! - he called at the girl. She turned around and recognized him immediately. - Sy!- she greeted him, surprised to see him.- How are you? - I'm fine. How are you? - he asked politely - I'm great, thanks. - she replied- What are you doing here? - I'm looking for Beca. I've been searching for her everywhere but I haven't been able to find her. Her phone is not the same, she moved and she doesn't work in the grocery store anymore. - he explained confused.- Is there any chance you might now where is she? - I do, actually.- he admitted and took a pause before delivering the bad news- She went back to Argentina. - What? -he questioned, shooked by the news. It was like an ice-cold shower - What happened? Did she lose her scholarship? Did something do something to her? - he asked worriedly. - No, she's fine, don't worry. She went back shortly after you left - the young lady informed him- She said she missed her family a lot and didn't want to stay any longer in the country. She didn't lose her scholarship, she gave it up.- Sy was speechless. He has lost her forever. He couldn't accept that just like that. He needed to see her again, somehow. - Do you have a phone number by any chance? - he asked her - No, sorry.- she apologized. After a little pause, she continued - I have her address, though. She sends me an email with her address and I sent her mine so she could send me things she wanted me to try from her country and I'll send her things that only could find here. -----------------------------------------------------------

He had learnt enough Spanish from two Latino soldiers on his squad to be able to handle short conversations. So, thankfully, it wasn't to difficult for Syverson to order a taxi at the Argentinian airport to go to Rebeca's house. He got out of the taxi and took a minute to see her house. It was quite beautiful, it had flowers in the front. There were bars in the front of the house, so he had to press the doorbell for someone to open the door for him. Moments later, a woman in her late forties or early fifties open the house door. - Hola, qué necesitabas? (Hello, what do you need?)* - asked the woman - Hola. ¿Está Rebeca? (Hello. Is Rebeca here?) - questioned Sy, struggling to hide the fact that he wasn't a Spanish speaker. - Decime tu nombre, así le aviso que la estás buscando (Tell me your name so I tell her you are looking for her) - Digale que Sy la busca, por favor. (Tell her Sy is looking for her, please) - he replied. The woman clearly heard about him, because she looked surprised at looked at him from head to toes, like inspected him. - Espera acá un minuto, ya vuelvo (I'll be back in a minute, wait here) - said the woman and entered the house, closing the door behind her. While waiting, he took a look around the place. Pedestrians were walking around, looking at him, just like some old ladies who were sitting in the porch of the house chatting. For a moment, he felt like a zoo animal. Around ten minutes later, the door opened again and Beca appeared, closing the door behind her and walking towards him. She opened the bars door and let him in. They looked at each other in silence for a moment and then hugged, like if neither of them could believe that was happening. After the hug, he pressed his head against her forehead and smile. He missed her so much. He looked at her and couldn't even believe it. She was way more beautiful than he remembered. - Why did you leave? - he asked her - It's a long story. -she replied. - I thought I lost you forever.- he replied, sighing in relief to know that he was finally with her again. - I ... Why are you here Sy? Why are you in Argentina? - I came to you. I want you to come back with me. - he begged her. - I can't. I lost my visa when I gave up my scholarship. - she explained - You can get it back or maybe a work visa - he suggested - It's not that easy, Sy. You know it. - I'm not giving up. I'm going to find a way to bring you back. Please, take me back. - I would, but I don't think I can get back there. Things are way more complicated than you think. - she paused and took a deep breath. Then, she looked into his eyes and asked him to follow her. They entered the house. Rebeca asked him to wait in the living room as she went into another room. While waiting, Syverson inspected the place. It was a homie. It wasn't different from his house or any other American house, but it felt different. The smell of homemade food being cooked; there was a certain cosiness and warmness that it was hard to explain. No wonder she wanted to go back there instead of staying in the coldness of the solitary house she used to live in Washington. He heard a room door open and he settled his eyes in the direction in which Beca disappeared. He froze as he saw her enter the living room with a little girl on her arms. She had the same eyes and curly brown hair that Rebeca, but her face...her face looked like him. It was like looking at the pictures that his mother had of him as a little kid, but with long curly hair. Rebeca sat in a chair next to a table, while looked at the little girl, who was shyly hiding her face on her chest, grabbing some of her curls. Sy kneeled before them, without taking his eyes out of the little girl, speechless. He tried to stroke the girls' hair but she hid even more. Beca caressed her and told her that it was ok. - He's daddy. Do you remember daddy? I showed you pictures of him and talked to you about him? He's here. - she explained the little girl. - Does she speak English? - asked Sy, without even thinking. He still was in shock. - Yes. I decided to teach her both English and Spanish at the same time. She's still learning, but she understands when you speak to her in both languages.- she explained. - Hi, baby. I'm your daddy.- he replied, with tears in his eyes. He couldn't believe he had a daughter. - Why... -he began, looking at Beca. He didn't have to finish his question because she knew exactly what he was going to ask. - I was going to tell you that day, but then I couldn't. For lots of reasons. I think you might understand why I did it. - I do. - he agreed. She didn't need to explain anything. Whatever happened, happened. He knew that somehow Beca made the right call. It wouldn't have been the same those years if he would have known that she was alone taking care of his child, but he couldn't leave his squad alone either. He felt terrible for losing a year of his daughter's life; for not being there the day she was born, her firsts steps, her first word. Nonetheless, he would be for the rest of her important moments. And no matter how hard I'd be, he would find a way to take his woman and his daughter back with him.

-----------------------------------------------------------

- Mommy, mommy, look what daddy bought me! - said Alma running into her mother's arms to show her the new toy she's got. It was a plastic gun. - See? Now I'm a warrior like daddy. - the little 5 years old girl told her mother while pretending to shoot with the gun. - Seriously, Syverson, a gun? - Rebeca reprimanded her husband for the toy he gave to their daughter. - Hey, she chose it herself, ok? - he defended himself, grabbing her wife by her hips and kissing her. - A kiss is not going to get you out of trouble, mister. Tell me, do you think a gun is an appropriate toy for a little girl? - Girls can be awesome soldiers too, ma'am. - he pointed out - I'm not saying that's not an appropriate toy because she's a girl, I'm saying that toy isn't appropriate for a child of any gender. - Apologies, my lady, you're right. But, you know her, she'll leave it on the floor and forget about it in two days, as she does with all of her toys. - he said grinning. - You're lucky you're right, sir, otherwise there was not going to be more kisses for you. - And that would be the end of me. - he finished the conversation, kissing her while he stroked her face.

The end.

Notes: *In Argentina, is a polite way to ask people you don't know who they are and why are they calling at the door.

#cap sy #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #henry cavill #demivampirew

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a-little-slice-of-fandom · 4 years

Note

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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whatexcellentboiledpotatos · 4 years

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Pride and Prejudice Modern AU Part III: at least it was in pursuit of Charles Bingley

SYNOPSIS: Elisa Benet is in her second year of her master’s degree in creative writing. As a West End actor chooses to visit the university in a scouting project, Charles Bingley, she is invited to a dinner to greet him and brings along her flatmate, Jane. However, what she does not expect, is to become acquainted by F. William Darcy; writer and director of the latest West End sensation.

Read Part I & II first!

Part I

Part II

Word count: 1,455

“Well Eli, that Mr Darcy sounds awful, but he is rich enough,” Kitty’s aunt, Miss Gardiner says, as she has breakfast with us the day after the party. It is very common to have her around, since she has been our landlord for years, and weirdly enough, most of us consider her our own aunt as well.

“Yes Eli, HE IS SO FREAKING RICH!” Lydia bursts out.

“I could have forgiven his pride, but he wounded mine,” I complain, “and I am sure that he is rich, and probably owns half of West End, but for sure it is the miserable half he owns.”

We all laugh at that, even Jane, whose face is fixed on her cell phone.

“Don’t worry Jane,” Kitty’s aunt comments, knowing that she is anxious about if Charles is going to call her or not, even though she hasn’t made any comment about it.

“Oh, I’m just seeing scores for the Champion’s League,” she lies. We all stare at her, but no one has the heart to tell her that the Champion’s League concluded two months ago.

“You both are soooooo dramatic,” Lydia complains, “you get to meet rich men, talented, handsome by what I found on google, and the next day what do you do? Mope around and complain about them! Ugh, if only I HAD met them.”

“Well, that’s your problem Ly,” Mary comments from the corner of the room, not even bothering to look at Lydia, “you are so eager to fall into the arms of a rich man that one day of these, instead of falling into the arms of a rich prick, you will be fooled into falling unto the arms of a poor one.”

Lydia flinches at her comment, ready to fight back, but Jane’s phone ringing stops her from doing so.

She signals us to be quiet, but all of us already were silent, ready to eavesdrop in the conversation.

“Hello, this is Jane Vanet’s phone, how may I help you,” she answers the call. Expectant to hear the name Charles Bingley pop up, we are then confused when the voice from the other side of the line is not masculine.

“Oh, Caroline!” Jane fakes her excitement, but we can see how disappointed she is, “it is great to hear from you.”

Lydia rolls her eyes in defeat, but Kitty’s aunt comes closer to Jane.

“Yes, sure it will be my pleasure to dine with you while your brother is out, see you then!” Jane hangs up

“WHAT HAPPENEEEEEED,” we all ask in unison. Jane looks at all of us in horror. Poor introverted woman.

“Caroline Bingley asked me to dine with her tonight,” Jane answers patiently, “but don’t get too excited, Charles Bingley will be out with some friends.”

For a moment I feel bad for Jane, dining with that harpy? How does Jane actually seems to be looking forward to it?

“It's so unfair you don’t get to see him!” Lydia and Kitty complain. Before Jane can answer humbly, it is Kitty’s aunt who comes up with a plan.

“Well, it looks like it might rain today. It would be such a pity if you couldn’t return home because of the rain...”

“Ma’am, then could I borrow the car? There are no buses that go that far outside the city, and a taxi would be very expensive, and surely walking is totally out of the picture--,” Jane complains, and our landlord’s smile widens, “Oh no! No no no! Surely you aren’t thinking of me going by foot!”

A few hours later, we get a call from Jane; she is unwell and the Bingleys have asked her to stay the night at least. I am terrified about the idea of Jane being ill, especially since its not a good idea to be ill nowadays.

However, my flatmates and landlord don’t share the same concern.

“She is going to stay the night!!” Miss Gardiner celebrates, “after that she will be married in a couple months!”

“She could test positive!” I complain, concerned for the reaction. Bingley must hate us for intruding like that! What if he finds out about our landlord’s scheme?!?

“If she does die,” Mary says ironically, “at least we will have the confort that she did in pursuit of Charles Bingley.

“People don’t die of colds!” our landlord scolds her, and we all look at her eyes wide open. Not a good time to say things like that.

“I feel terrible,” I confess, “I will go check on her tomorrow.”

“I won’t lend you the car!” Miss Gardiner Warns, “don’t ruin this for Jane?”

Yisus Krist, I can almost hear my grandma’s latino accent with the thought.

“I will go on a run then, check on her, and come back. It shouldn't take me the whole day”

“Don’t you dare do anything that would ruin Jane!”

I underestimated how muddy one can get whilst on a run. As I take a path that is unusually common for me, I feel like I am in one of those cross country competitions where everyone ends with mud on their faces.

As the big house comes to sight, Netherfield the locals call it, I stop running and walk to lower my heartbeat. It isn’t a secret I was running, as I don’t sweat discretely, but the least I can do is cool down so I don’t look like I’m about to have a stroke.

I ring the bell, and a man opens the door for me. I assume he is a cleaner or chauffeur of the sort, which only makes me speculate if Bingley is actually much richer than he appears.

“You are Elisa Benet I suppose,” he says without emotion, “follow me, Mr Bingley is already expecting you.”

I follow him through the house, where he leads me to the drawing room. This house is so old it even has a drawing room?! There, I am expected by Caroline, Charles and Darcy.

Mother of idiots, grant me patience.

Unexpectedly, Darcy stands up as I enter the room and I just offer an awkward half-smile.

“It is good to see you!” Charles greets, “I am glad Jane got to spend more time here, not that I’m glad she’s ill, that’s concerning. However it has given me the opportunity to meet the two of you again. Not that I wouldn’t have done if Jane hadn’t fallen ill.”

I smile, seeing him stumble with his own words. Very coherent when reading a script, but speaking his own words? Not so much.

“Has Jane got the test?” I ask them politely.

“Yes! They came this morning,” he answers quickly, “the results should get to her any moment now!”

“Could I see her?”

“Of course,” he answers and addresses his butler, “Mr Kight please show Miss Elisa the way”

“Thank you,” I excuse myself, “it has been nice seeing you Caroline, Mr Darcy”

He nods politely in response.

As I leave the room they talk amongst themselves.

“Did you see her? Six inches deep in mud, all sweaty, as if she were some sort of peasant from a medieval tale. My god, if I were ever to be spotted like that in public I wouldn’t have a career,” Caroline laughs.

My heart drops. I do care. I do care how people see me. I have not to care. I am not here to win their good opinion. I am here to see Jane.

She is lying in bed, a whole mess of herself. There are tissues all around her, cough syrup and vitamins in the table, and she hasn’t even bothered to change clothes from the one she left the house with yesterday.

“I feel miserable,” she confesses, “I am an absolute mess and they have treated me so well.”

“You look miserable,” I laugh, and speak quietly, “you have no idea how everyone in the flat was so happy you stayed and saw him.”

“I could have seen him another day, but seeing him like this! I am so embarrassed!”

I laugh at her, “well I will call a cab and then both of us can go home, don’t worry.”

As if summoned, Charles knocks on the door, “the results came back.”

“And?” Jane asks weakly.

He turns serious, “they were positive. You will have to stay here for another fifteen days, as well as anyone whom you’ve had contact with.”

It takes a second for me to realize he is talking about me. I take a step back instinctively, getting away from Jane.

I have to stay with the Bingleys for two weeks. I have to stand Caroline Bingley for two weeks. Even worse, I have to live with Darcy for two weeks.

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janiedean · 4 years

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what are your thoughts on the claim by antis (the people who I have seen reblog the post happen to be fi**Xrey shippers) that reylo being canon is racism winning or that kylo ren getting focus is racism etc or say the trio is finn/rey/poe even though that poe was intended to die in tfa

in order:

'reylo being canon is racism’ is ridiculous because if it wasn’t obvious from tfa it was obvious from tlj and like........ it’s not like they could cast a nonwhite kylo since he’s supposed to be the son of two white people and if rey was nonwhite people would scream that it’s racist for other reasons, and on top of that finn and rey never were written as love interests from the get-go and it’s obvious

also considering that finn a) had rose who was a canon love interest that was scrapped bc people bitched about it [asian], b) went nowhere with jannah who was the obvious rose replacement just cooler either [black], c) didn’t have the mlm romance with poe with whom he had more chemistry than anyone else anyway [oscar is latino] if I had to go for their reasoning then it’s kind of racist that the black main lead had no actual canon love story RESOLUTION with none of his THREE possible love interests all of which were not white, but nah, it’s racism just if he doesn’t end up with the only main white woman his age? ... I mean, sorry but this is not progressive whatsoever and I’m dying on that hill *shrug*

also reylo is a ship between an abuse victim who did a lot of bad shit and someone who sees the good in them in which the abuse victim turns their life around eventually so miss me with ‘racism winning’, it would have been ‘you can do good things with your life still’ winning if he survived but whatever

‘kylo ren getting focused on is racism’ the dark side has been more popular than the light side han excluded since sw was a thing and at the end of it ben solo was the objectively best written character in this trilogy (saying this as someone whose fave was poe), I’m sooooo surprised! also he’s the main dark side person, if they don’t focus on him who are they gonna focus on? *shrug*

re poe: if I was in the shoes of these people I’d be here protesting about that disgusting retcon space drug trader storyline GIVEN TO THE LATINO CHARACTER GOING AGAINST COMICS CANON because that was pretty fucking offensive. also, poe was not killed in tfa and it was a decision taken before they shot the movie because oscar was like ‘do I really have to die again in the first fifteen minutes’ while in talks for the role so the fact that he was supposed to die means absolutely shit because making him live was not a decision they made at the last minute, so miss me with the poe should have died discourse. however as someone who’d have appreciated good trio stuff in tros, they completely fucked up 80% of that starting with the retconned storyline and not giving finn a proper character arc so like... idk if people want to discuss racism in this sequels maybe they should talk about how the trio part of the movie fucked over both finn and poe as characters, about how tros sidelined the other nonwhite actresses and fucked over rose, while jannah could have been cool but oh hey ‘some stormtroopers feel the force and leave others don’t’ nice calvinism there, and zoe... I mean she didn’t even take the mask off but okay sure that was absolutely progressive? also lando was back but he was there for five minutes??? I mean.... sorry but considering that tros treated like shit all the nonwhite characters who could have had a storyline all on their own instead of revolving around a bad copypaste of troj made to retcon tlj never mind the disrespect to the actors (I can’t forgive them for making oscar play that fucking drug backstory when poe was a character who was NOT supposed to be a latino stereotype in the goddamned established canon, and kelly marie tran... let’s not even touch the fucking disrespect of her being in that movie for ONE MINUTE AND A HALF), I think that the problem isn’t reylo smooching or kylo ren/ben solo existing. poe/finn/rose/jannah/zoe/lando could have had decent storylines on their own..... and the only one who sort of had one was poe and it included that dumbass retconned backstory so if people want to cry about rey and kylo locking lips when they had been told since the trailer from tlj instead of pointing out that this movie’s plot/treatment of nonwhite actors was atrocious then... well. sorry but it’s typical anti armchair activism IF worrying about SW is even activism. miss me with that shit either. and whether poe should have been part of the new trio or no is completely irrelevant given this background. like, they had a lot of nonwhite characters, they could have done really good/nice things with them, they didn’t, but sure, the problem is ben solo’s existence and that he and rey kissed when tlj made it blatantly obvious they would. k.

*shrug*

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lastsonlost · 5 years

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GET THE FUCK OUT? Creepy Uncle Joe Biden is a creepy ass motherfucker?

No shit.

In 2014, I was the 35-year-old Democratic nominee for lieutenant governor in Nevada. The landscape wasn’t looking good for my party that year. There were no high-profile national races to help boost turnout, and after the top candidate bowed out of the governor’s race, “None of the Above” ended up winning the Democratic primary.

So when my campaign heard from Vice-President Joe Biden’s office that he was looking to help me and other Democrats in the state, I was grateful and flattered. His team offered to bring him to a campaign rally in an effort to help boost voter turnout. We set the date for November 1, just three days before election day.

In a state as large but sparsely populated as Nevada, it takes nonstop travel to connect with all its residents. You’re lucky to get properly fed, much less look properly coiffed as female candidates are often required to do. I was exhausted and short on time, so decided to not to wash my hair the morning of the rally. I sprayed some dry shampoo in my hair, raced off to the Reno airport, and flew back to Las Vegas.

The event proceeded as most political events do: coordinated chaos with random problems that no one can predict. I found Eva Longoria, co-founder of the Latino Victory Project, roaming the parking lot trying to figure out how to get inside the union hall. My staff was running around town trying to purchase ferns because according to Biden’s team, no other vegetation was acceptable for the stage.

I found my way to the holding room for the speakers, where everyone was chatting, taking photos, and getting ready to speak to the hundreds of voters in the audience. Just before the speeches, we were ushered to the side of the stage where we were lined up by order of introduction. As I was taking deep breaths and preparing myself to make my case to the crowd, I felt two hands on my shoulders. I froze. “Why is the vice-president of the United States touching me?”

I felt him get closer to me from behind. He leaned further in and inhaled my hair. I was mortified. I thought to myself, “I didn’t wash my hair today and the vice-president of the United States is smelling it. And also, what in the actual fuck? Why is the vice-president of the United States smelling my hair?” He proceeded to plant a big slow kiss on the back of my head. My brain couldn’t process what was happening. I was embarrassed. I was shocked. I was confused. There is a Spanish saying, “tragame tierra,” it means, “earth, swallow me whole.” I couldn’t move and I couldn’t say anything. I wanted nothing more than to get Biden away from me. My name was called and I was never happier to get on stage in front of an audience.

By then, as a young Latina in politics, I had gotten used to feeling like an outsider in rooms dominated by white men. But I had never experienced anything so blatantly inappropriate and unnerving before. Biden was the second-most powerful man in the country and, arguably, one of the most powerful men in the world. He was there to promote me as the right person for the lieutenant governor job. Instead, he made me feel uneasy, gross, and confused. The vice-president of the United States of America had just touched me in an intimate way reserved for close friends, family, or romantic partners — and I felt powerless to do anything about it.

Our strange interaction happened during a pivotal moment in my political career. I’d spent months raising money, talking to voters, and securing endorsements. Biden came to Nevada to speak to my leadership and my potential to be second-in-command — an important role he knew firsthand. But he stopped treating me like a peer the moment he touched me. Even if his behavior wasn’t violent or sexual, it was demeaning and disrespectful. I wasn’t attending the rally as his mentee or even his friend; I was there as the most qualified person for the job.

Imagine you’re at work and a male colleague who you have no personal relationship with approaches you from behind, smells your hair, and kisses you on the head. Now imagine it’s the CEO of the company. If Biden and I worked together in a traditional office, I would have complained to the HR department, but on the campaign trail, there’s no clear path for what to do when a powerful man crosses the line. In politics, you shrug it off, smile for the cameras, and get back to the task of trying to win your race.

After the event, I told a few of my staff what happened. We all talked about the inexplicable weirdness of what he did, but I didn’t plan on telling anyone else. I didn’t have the language or the outlet to talk about what happened. Who do you tell? What do you say? Is it enough of a transgression if a man touches and kisses you without consent, but doesn’t rise to the level of what most people consider sexual assault? I did what most women do, and moved on with my life and my work.

Time passed and pictures started to surface of Vice-President Biden getting uncomfortably close with women and young girls. Biden nuzzling the neckof the Defense secretary’s wife; Biden kissing a senator’s wife on the lips; Biden whispering in women’s ears; Biden snuggling female constituents. I saw obvious discomfort in the women’s faces, and Biden, I’m sure, never thought twice about how it made them feel. I knew I couldn’t say anything publicly about what those pictures surfaced for me; my anger and my resentment grew.

Had I never seen those pictures, I may have been able to give Biden the benefit of the doubt. Had there not been multiple articles written over theyears about the exact same thing — calling his creepy behavior an “open secret” — perhaps it would feel less offensive. And yet despite the steady stream of pictures and the occasional article, Biden retained his title of America’s Favorite Uncle. On occasion that title was downgraded to America’s Creepy Uncle but that in and of itself implied a certain level of acceptance. After all, how many families just tolerate or keep their young children away from the creepy uncle without ever acknowledging that there should be zero tolerance for a man who persistently invades others’ personal space and makes people feel uneasy and gross? In this case, it shows a lack of empathy for the women and young girls whose space he is invading, and ignores the power imbalance that exists between Biden and the women he chooses to get cozy with.

For years I feared my experience would be dismissed. Biden will be Biden. Boys will be boys. I worried about the doubts, the threats, the insults, and the minimization. “It’s not that big of a deal. He touched her, so what?” The immediate passing of judgement and the questioning of motives. “Why now? Why so long after? She just wants attention.” Or: “It’s politically motivated.” I would be lying if I said I didn’t carefully consider all of this before deciding to speak. But hearing Biden’s potential candidacy for president discussed without much talk about his troubling past as it relates to women became too much to keep bottled up any longer.

When I spoke to a male friend who is also a political operative in Biden’s orbit — the first man who had heard the story outside of my staff and close friends years ago — he did what no one else had and made me question myself and wonder if I was doing the right thing. He reminded me that Biden has significant resources and argued points that made me question my memory, even though I’ve replayed that scene in my mind a thousand times. He reminded me that my credibility would be attacked and that I should be prepared for the type of “back and forth” that could occur. (When reached by New York Magazine, a representative for Vice-President Joe Biden declined to comment.)

I’m not suggesting that Biden broke any laws, but the transgressions that society deems minor (or doesn’t even see as transgressions) often feel considerable to the person on the receiving end. That imbalance of power and attention is the whole point — and the whole problem.

Now all of you who follow me know that I am a firm believer of innocent until proven guilty. So I’m genuinely asking out of curiosity. How much evidence is there and how much more is needed? If I’m being perfectly honest Lucy Flores for the most part isn’t telling us anything that we haven’t already known for years.

But I wonder if we’re just going to continue to ignore it because he’s not wearing a Maga hat. I’m sure the guardian or Huffington Post will make some excuse right?

#joe biden #metoo #vision 2020

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artmutt · 5 years

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How Queer Is Enough?

It’s June, “Pride” Month, and I’m feeling the way African-Americans do in February or Latinos do in October. While I’m grateful that “my people” get at least a month out of the year when we’re celebrated rather than demonized, I know that it won’t be long before the rainbow flags are replaced by more “Kill the Fags” graffiti and we go back to business as usual in Trump’s Amerika. But I want to actually consider the issue of just how “queer” queer artists are supposed to be, and just how much that queerness should be front and center in our perceptions of those artists.

First off, let me come out and say that I don’t buy the argument that someone’s sexuality is irrelevant to the interpretation of his/her/their work. So when John Cage died, and people (including Merce Cunningham) finally began openly discussing John’s homosexuality, Richard Kostelanetz wrote an article saying that if Cage had been concerned about sexuality, or it had any relevance to his work, he would have said something. What Kostelanetz failed to recognize is that Cage’s “silence” on the topic was, perhaps, the most powerful way he had to address it, considering he divorced his wife to live with another man at a time when homosexuality was illegal in most states. A similar discussion happened after the death of Aaron Copland: was “the Dean of American” composers queer (yep), and was it relevant to how we listen to his music (well, for me, that would be another yep). The same for Benjamin Britten, and many others.

This is true of musicians, certainly, but also of visual artists, writers, dancers, etc. For example, I find a poetry in Jasper Johns’ work that, for me, is closely tied to him being queer. Ditto for Robert Rauschenberg and Cy Twombly (and yeah, yeah, talk to me about their wives, etc.), and Ellsworth Kelly. Kelly’s a good case in point: his work is relentlessly abstract and minimal. How can his sexuality be relevant to it? I just know I see something different in it knowing that Kelly was queer.

This has been on my mind after seeing two films this week: “White Crow,” the biopic about Rudolph Nureyev’s decision to defect to the West in 1961, and “Rocketman,” the campy musical story of the life of Elton John. Both of these films set out to tell the life story of two very famous artists, both of whom were/are queer. So let me return to my opening question: how queer is enough?

I was hoping that “White Crow” would be open about Nureyev’s homosexuality. I mean, I don’t think it was a secret, by any means. So a film about a gay ballet dancer you’d think wouldn’t have a problem with depicting his gayness. But not so much. There were a few meaningful looks between Rudy and other men, and one scene (exactly one) where we see him naked in bed with another man. I understand if the filmmakers (notably director Ralph Fiennes) wanted to focus on other factors that provoked Nureyev into defecting, and not just on his sexuality. So I’m left with the feeling that some combination of his sad, lonely childhood, his fondness for French paintings, and his own inner crankiness prompted his flight to artistic freedom in 1961. His fondness for sleeping with men wasn’t a factor. In fact, he had an affair with his teacher’s wife. I don’t know, but the movie seems to be trying hard to “butch up” a dancer that was famous for being ravenously sexual. So, for my taste, “White Crow” wasn’t nearly queer enough.

“Rocketman,” on the other hand, was dealing with a performer from the heyday of Glam Rock, who was known for his outrageous costumes and over-the-top performances, the Liberace of rock and roll if you will. Moreover, the fact that the film is treated like a Hollywood musical, where much of the action is conveyed through song and dance numbers, throws open the doors of camp in a way that seems to just scream queerness at you. I never thought I’d see someone having his stomach pumped turned into a dance number.

Well, methinks the lady doth protest too much. “Rocketman” is part of the Hollywood tradition that seems to feel that gay characters are best played by straight actors. Nothing at all against Taron Egerton, or Richard Maddon, but I think there might have been something to be said for having queer actors in these parts. I feel the way Native Americans must feel when they’re portrayed by Italians. The director couldn’t find a gay musical theater actor for the part? Hello???

It only starts to annoy me when I see endless interviews with Egerton and Maddon, talking about their “sex scene” in the film, and how very open-minded they are about doing that scene, despite the fact that they’re straight. And that sex scene was pretty minimal as well. “Groundbreaking!” the press declares. Meh - not nearly queer enough. And lest it seem I’m picking on this film, I could also talk about “Call Me By Your Name,” where again the actual sex was not depicted, and the straight actors gave tons of interviews where they could laugh and joke about making out with each other despite the fact that they’re straight. Or “Brokeback Mountain,” where again the fuss was about two straight men in a film about queer men struggling with their sexual attraction.

A last word of defense: I’m not saying that every film about a gay man (or lesbian) has to be filled with graphic sex scenes. I just wish that I could watch a film about “my people” and feel like I was really seeing myself reflected in the film, instead of encountering a funhouse mirror, where my reflection is the distortion of what straight people seem to think it means to be “gay.” And for all those queer artists, musicians, etc. out there, who worry that being open about their sexuality in their work somehow lessens its “universality,” I can only say, if you don’t represent your people to the world, who the fuck will?

#white crow #rocketman #rudolph nureyev #elton john #queer art #queer music

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k4nill · 5 years

Text

ROTTMNT: Human AU, some design HCs and random HC

@bootyyshaker9000 This is so long i'm so sorry i just gonna make a post about it i don't wanna flow your dms or anything, so I wrote this down in paper and in spanish so forgive me if my english is shitty and it took so damn long, btw HI!!!~ How you doing honey?

My Heart Ache a Lot (cuzhessopreciousicantbrah)

~ My son Mikey I can't let anybody hurt you. (Btw, Leon call him Miguelito). He struggles a little with puberty, mostly with ocasional acne. His brothers constantly remind him of being careful to not get scars from pinching the pimples obsessively.

~ MIXED BRAH U CANT' TELL ME OTHER WISE, 1/2 cups of african-american and 1/2 cups of latino spice and PUFF yOU GOT CINNAMON ROLL THAT COULD ACTUALLY KILL YOU.

~ Cocoa skin (with that yellow undertone, you know?). Thin hair, curly, natural and the most bouncy-est(?) hair, a little above the chin lenght, tied up in a bun when he's busy making art.

~ Button nose, surrounded by some freckles. With really big, almond eyes. His face gets pinkish when it's to damn hot, he's doing to much work or is REALLY angry.

~ I think I gotta bring up how nice his smile is, he got that smile, that shows up just his upper teeth row, the upper lip disappears and it goes way up his cheeks and then it sinks in his dimples. Art.

~ Mikey ain't that young but his height, complexion and even facial features makes him look a lot younger in comparison to his brothers, he could be like 25 and ppl would still think he's in highschool, never aging ppl.

~Had this beautiful dreads, with the tips colored differently once in a while. Now he's growing his hair to have larger dreads, so he can paint em a different color each and have em in high up-do, like a rubberband ball.

~ Mikey would wear every fucking color, get the fuck away with toxic masculinity p l e a s e. Fits anything 10/10. But loves sports clothing (Matching ones are the BEST) he find's it refreshing and really comfy since Miguel is really active, so if he's needs to go usain bolt he GOES OFF and you can imagine sneakers don't last with him. Probably, every single piece of clothing he owns has at least a minor stain from some sort of paint.

~Wears headbands, sometimes really neat designs and then straight out "what the hell is this vomit stain garbage Mikey?" (from Donnie, mostly).

~ Has fake piercings. He's got several in his ears. He wants to have em for real, older brothers just keep telling him that "when he gets older".

Plus: We all know how the turtles are sneaky sneaky, tricky tricky and rad skillyz skillyz being ninjas but in this human AU his brothers got nothing on him like he's flexible as hell, he comes down the stairs like the exorcist bitch or that other bitch on the ring and scares the shit out of Leon and Raph, can touch his calfs with his neck that kind of stuff. And he doesn't run, he travels back to 1955 to save Marty McFly ass.

Leonardo DABinci

~ Not so long ago I made a post about how Leon is a Latino, quote:

"I can clearly see how Leon is totally a Latino. Like: thick wavy hair, with really small monolid eyes, and medium light skin (latinos know what the hell i'm talking about, those kids that get told they have "ojos de chinito" and rock the neapolitan tanning: caramel where the sunlight hits, milky way where it doesn't and pink when it's too much sun for the day) and then Donnie is this asian™ bean, so, sometimes they are mistaken as blood related brothers (Mostly cuz the eyez) and the stripes are the tanning y'all."

~ In addition, recently someone WOKE™ me up and reveled to me as in a prophecy, that Leon is Half-Chilenian, Half-Argentinian.

~ TBH yall, i just want my boy to do his thing and do them Fornite dances while some dope ass cumbias are playing, this is straight up my dream for real.

~Leon got those damn thick eyebrows more than Raph, plucks em to give em shape.

~Has a lot of scars. Leon is very active as Miguel but he is a troublemaker. Got several scars from fights: face, knees, knuckles, arms, legs. And that one time he came running to get his juice, slipped and smashed into the stove glass.

~Has wavy thick hair, keeps the top messy and fluffy and the rest shorter, undercut typo.

~LEON. USES. GLASSES. Period. But don't use em regulary, mainly cuz he's so active and sometimes clumsy and would rather not buy glasses everytime he goes out.

(Donnie, probably): "Leon, why don't you use your glasses? You are making your eyes even smaller trying to read that sign"

(Dumbo): "No, no! que dices weon? I only need the glasses when i'm reading!"

~Loves stripes in his clothing. In any shape and thickness.

~Low-key uses Donnie button up shirts because he does think Donnie looks so well in em, but he's a little more broad than him (Thicc bacc, bicc arms) so he had tear some up, or pop a button or too.

~Guy who would wear anything and don't give a shit if he doesn't have a defined style. One day he's with that graphic tee, flashy bermudas and some sandals and the other day using some jeans, saggy big sweater, a beret and some fine boots.

~ Loves boots more than sneakers. Got good traction with em. But no one can replace las CHANCLAS i'm telling you, he's so comfortable flipping & flopping.

~ He's hairy. Really hairy. Don't shave, except the faice. He's got that baby face and the trace of where the beard could be. It ain't that thick sandpaper beard aftershave tho, Raph taught him the tricks to the silk road.

~Them sideburns tho, neAT-O.

~He ain't got former training, just some random stuff he's learned from Donnie and Raph. Nontheless, he's the trickster and can go dirty on fighting just to save his ass. But sometimes, his big mouth saves his dumb ass from trouble. (2/100 times, the other 98 times it makes it worse)

~Plus: He's into parkour a lot. Takes Mikey out so he can tag some walls uphigh. These trips are the reason he gets in fights more than his other brothers, he's gotta stick out for his brother in case shit goes down, but mostly because he's a loudmouth and sometimes he deserves it cuz he starts the fire tbh.

The thing goes RAP - PHA - PHA

~ Raph, my soft boy. He still BIG™, ain't ripped like a physiculturist, gotta admit, abs are in fact chocolate abs but got a chunky yet funky tone to it. Big ass arms, to strong to carry my depression and smash all my worries.

~ Obviously African-American, I just imagine this warm undertone to his skin. Thick eyebrows (plucks out his unibrow, and nothing more, that natural angled eyebrow perfect as it is).

~ Hairy complexion (but not as hairy as Leo) to pull out a balbo beard, faded to his hair, then starts the faded high top, (not that high tho) with that cotton natural hair (raph is just my dream tbh).

~ My boy rocks denim everything. But got this particular worn off denim jacket he treats like one of his extremities. It's kinda saggy, old, several splashes of god knows what substances... But he wears it like the most precious thing, his brothers got him for his birthday, selling candy bars and other sweet goodies. Made him cry like a bitch.

~ Snaggletooth fang. I got this random HC that Raph got it in a fight with one of his brothers when he was younger. His first tooth after his decidious teeth, he was so happy, finally "maturing" in his words. In his younger years he struggled a LOT with angry issues, (mainly, as the oldest, he understood a little big more about the rejection above the city for mutants, and built up this feeling of despite).

One day, one of his brothers made him really fucking angry, they got in a physical fight, that ended with his crooked fang, but yet, Raph is BIG and he can't measure his strenght sometimes. Then, his brother is crying in pain, screaming how bad can he treat his brother, as if he didn't love them, just as the people above.

He wasn't angry cuz the teeth (cuz he showed it off, like it made him an adult already), he broke down because he was always feeling so damn angry, being the oldest and yet he was beating their younger siblings over some dumb shit and treated them like people in the surface would. Raph is challenged each day, when he sees his face in the mirror, with the tooth projecting outwards as reminder of all the rage he had to let go to protect their brothers, to make a change on his perspective and emotions, to keep their family and himself happy.

I think this mind set change was the thing that settled Raph as a leader. He got stronger, not physicially, but mentally and emocionally, for the sake of his family.

This HC can be translated somehow to the Human AU but i'm not sure the origin of Raph's rage yet.

~ Would wear any shirt that has anything he likes, PLUS if it is in red. He just loves red. He's the only one obvious with their color preference. Red caps, shirts, jackets, pants and tons of sneakers.

~ Likes jeans but loves that kind of bermuda cut shorts and not all the way down pants. He's got some C A L F S with capitals.

~ Luckily, he does wear matching socks. (We can't see Don's most of the time but Raph shows more leg so).

~Wrist wrist wrist wrist wrist wrist. Loves wrist accesories and probably would wrap around anything on his wrist.

~He's got that classic™ Rock Lee from Naruto bandages from training and work out and sometimes he's just to tired to take off the shin pads.

~Don't show em much but got some big ass brass knuckles in his pockets in case someone messes the fuck up with his brothers. (He would easily let go if it was just him, he's a master of templance, but be warned: not with his family)

Plus: Got one tatto, in his back, below the neck, this celtic rune (we know that celtic runes have several meanings, so he took one with various that would fit him) a Gebo, that can mean partnership, generosity and sacrifice.

DONNA TELL EM

~ For starts, Donnie is my asian bean. Creamy pale skin, monolid eyes, with that puffy under eyelid, of course noticeable dark circles, but he got that EYESMILE BOI. (You know that people who kept straight face but the eyes are just screaming happiness??? That kind of eyesmile)

~ Hair black, thin, straight cut (his hair is kinda wavy) at his shoulder's lenght, got that fade styling in the back tho, usually wrapped in a high ponytail/bun. (Mikey loves to mess with his hair).

~ He's got that thin eyebrow hair, so, he fills em up to make them thicker, so gives him more of an assertive feature. (Also he is jealous of Leo and Raph eyebrows, nontheless edge so sharp to cut a bitch) Got that hairless complexion so not much about facial hair.

~ Obviously keeps them THIGHS™. (So far, to me their complexion on the show is the same as in the human AU so... ) Jeans were invented to the sole purpose to fit Donnie so well.

~To wear, jeans are a go to, but damn sweatpants comfy AF. Big old sweatshirts, swearters and hoodies. Underneat, digs button shirts, short or long, never with flashy prints, yet some minor deco, (to him is all in the elegance....). Raph and Donnie share an interest on sneakers, so he can wear like 1 hoodie for 10 days straight but a different sneaker each.

~But wears missmatched socks like the fuck out of here BOI, looking neat and clean and you come out with this yeeyee ass bullshit.

~ Donnie hides the fact that he's riPPED under the hoodies and sweatpants often, (he's tall as shit and his brothers calling him spagethi bOI don't help much) so people make the assumption he's the weakest of his brothers. He's the only graduated on black belt on Karate and knows his shit on MMA. On his younger years he was indeed saved many times by Raph's strenght, Mikey's swiftyness and Leon's cunning. This "being the weak" complex got to his head and started training solo. His brothers are amazed of Donnie's self-improvement and he often disguises it as the "i did it so i wouldnt be the weakest, you better watch out when i supass yall" but they all know he suffered inmensely seeing his brothers hurt because of him, so if they go down he does too, to protect them.

Plus: Complementary headphones with neon designs, blasting nightcore, dubstep and DnB songs with every Donnie purchased.

BG:

In my AU, these kids grew up really poor. They learned the value of hardwork since they were really young. Like in the Teetle Universe, people see them as misfits. Especially, because they are a "patched up family" (they are not blood related) and being looked down by the economic factor, mostly.

They got some real internal issues. But, the only thing that keeps them sane is how tight their brotherhood is.

Donnie and Raph have a job and go to college. Struggle a lot with their younger siblings rebellious stage.

Leon and Mikey go to highschool and do some baked goodies or art comissions to have some sort of income. Ain't fond of school that much, real troublemakers.

April it's a freshman in college and has much more accomodated life, but somehow, she's always felt she doesn't belong to anywhere, until she meet our boys. April learns a lot of life hardships while hanging out with em.

This would be, basically the series:

April meets this guys, this is sort of a slice of life anime, with lots of comedy and fun shots, however it develops around April learning valuable lessons that will help her as an adult, about friendship, loyalty, respect, empathy and kindness, after all the things the boys are going through.

I'm not sure how am I gonna accomodate Splinter in this, but eventually I'll figure it out.

I'm not got at drawing but i'm gonna try to make some of their designs.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

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