#maybe gonna translate to my mother tought

[harleenfleck]

“His darkest day”

Arthur Fleck x Reader Fic

Summary: You are with Arthur in a beauty relationship for a long time, you’re in love with him, remember warmly all those beautiful moments that lived together, until you see in your mailbox a terrible farewell and heartbreaker letter, causing you to run to save your Arthur.

Warning: Angst (looooooots and looooooots of angst), hurt/comfort, mentions of suicide, mentions of self-harm, and a little bit of fluff (Just a little).

Words: 3.4k

Notes: Well my clownies! Last night I had a really angst dream, becoming nightmare. I’m thinking about this strange dream, and my two neurons made synapsis and I said “Why not?”

So, this is my first fic in English for this fandom (And in general, omg). I want to say thank you to my two neurons, my weird mind for having that weird dreams and the Collins Translate for help me to translate some things I don’t how to write in English HAHAHAH

There will be some misspellings on purpose but cause it's something Arthur wrote.

I'm sorry if I make some grammatical, spelling or writing mistakes, English is not my native language, and I may translate this fic into my native language (Omg will be fun to do)

Hope you like!

...

Another long day came to the end.

You’re so tired, really was a long and heavy day in the work. But that does not really matter, because your mind was in another place. A happy place.

You’re in the subway, thinking about in the only human to whom your heart belonged. Arthur and you were dating for 1 year and 2 months, you knew him perfectly, and honestly, was the best year of their’s life’s.

You closed your eyes and your mind traveled to the day you and he met.

It was a little funny because that night you were dating another guy, which you thought might he will be a good couple. But things were not so, that idiot had leave you standing at the place of the date, in Pogo's Club.

Angry and disappointed,you feeling like a fool, the place was full of people, full of couples. You wanted to disappear. The owner of the club announced the list of comedians who would show that night. While you were drinking a glass of wine, you thought it best to leave the place, why keep humiliating yourself like that?

“H-hello” A shy voice you heard, you look up and see an emeralds eyes into a gentle face.

“Hello” You replied his greeting respectfully, and why not? smiled at him too.

The man seemed to be debating to tell something or not. In the end, he did, stuttering by the way. “I-I’m sorry, I-I just arrived here and all the tables are full, and I w-was wondering... I’m asking me if y-you don't mind, if...”

“Sit here? Of course not! you can sit with me”

He, more confident, took one chair and sat next to you. You looked at him well, looked at his curly hair, the shine on his eyes, his blue sweater, his hands, and again, you looked his face. You blushed a little when you realized he is was attractive. “Have you come here before?” You asked to him, and he took a little while to respond, because he didn't think you were really speaking him.

“Eh, yes, once a week” he responded, shy again, you smiled for that.

“Oh, I see. This is my first time here”

“Really? It’s a great place here”

“Well, I hope so, I want to have a good memory from this place. My date never came”

“What? Somebody stood you up?”

“Yes, a stupid idiot, but I don't want to talk about it, it makes me angry, better will be to enjoy the moment” Seeming to understand, he stopped asking questions about it. "My name is y/n" You introduced yourself, and he blinked. His gaze got confused, but in the end, he did what you did." Arthur, my name is Arthur"

You smiled at him again, you looked at a notebook was in his hands. "What is that?"

“Oh, it is, it's a journal, I use to make annotations and observations... It's just..." Grieving, he wasn't so sure to complete the sentence, fearing it would be ridiculous "…I want to be a comedian, and I need to learn things…"

He bowed his head, waiting for a rejection from you.

But that was so interesting to you the fact he studied whatever was necessary for his training. You found it fascinating the way he prepared for his dream.

"Seriously? That's great!”

He raised his head, a little incredulous, were your words really true?

"Do you really think that?"

“Yeah! I mean, there are people who are getting ready, but you're putting dedication! And that must be recognized"

Arthur was surprised, it was the first time he told anyone about his dream and they didn't laugh or mock it. Hours passed, even though the stand-up shows ended, you two kept talking about a lot of things, until almost the owners of Pogo's kicked him and you out there.

Definitely the best thing that could happen to you was to be stood up.

It didn't take long for you two to start dating, you had to be the one on the initiative because you knew Arthur could be very shy, but that something you understood perfectly. He didn't used to relate with others because when he did, he got rejection, taunts and punches.

You learned everything from him, even the smallest details, the little scar on the top of his lips, the scent of his hair, his favorite cigarette brand, his dark yellow jacket, his little cards.

You learned his weaknesses, his strengths. His scars in his soul. You learned his illnesses, his condition, his medication.

Anyone would have advised you "No, with him no y/n, just look at him, he goes to psychiatrist, he was locked on Arkham, he uses seven different medications, that relationship will be difficult and problematic for both, more for you" and you would have completely ignored it.

It was something you already knew, something Arthur actually warned you at the beginning of the relationship "I don't want you to feel obligated to be with me, I know I'm a mess, and I don't want you to carry my demons".

But everyone deserves to be loved, Arthur should not be the exception to that rule.

And you love him, and you were willing to give him all the love he deserved and needed.

You blinked and returned to the present, the subway reached your destination. You went down and walked a couple of blocks to get to your apartment.

While you were arriving in your mailbox, you were thinking of making a call to Arthur, he should have gotten home in that hour. Days earlier, you noticed him down and depressed. You knew that's what he meant when Arthur warned you about him. But you were by his side, supporting him. You couldn't change it, you couldn't fix it, you couldn't do better, it would be amazing if it was that easy, if your love fixed all his problems, but it wasn't so.

When you opened the mailbox there was only one letter. You didn't pay much attention; you took it and closed the mailbox.

Once in your apartment, you dropped your bag on the couch and took off your jacket, you headed to the phone and called Arthur, on the other side he was just on standby. He didn't answer the phone. "Maybe it hasn't home" you thought, and you worried for a moment.

Arthur was so helpless, the wicked people of Gotham used to take advantage of that and attack him. Many times, you've had to heal his lesions. You're afraid that was the case.

You wanted to distract yourself from that terrible thought, so you looked at the white letter and realized that letter was from his. It had your name written, you recognized his handwriting.

You opened it instantly, and you regretted not to open it before.

“My dearest, y/n

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry to hurt you…

You're the most amasing and purest perzon I’ve eber met, I don't know why you were with me, I don't know why you did it, maybe I'll neber know, you're beautiful, you're special

And I’m really sorry to tell you in thiz letter

But I can't do it anymore, my dear, I can't do it anymore. So much darknes inside me, so many negative thoughts. I'm tryin to fight all that awful feelings, I tried to just think of you, cause you're the only one who bringz me peace and love.

You're my one and only one, y/n

But I can't, I can't fight with the pain. My only exit is to give up.

Forgive me for makin you know in this letter, it's so cowardly, but I don't want you to find any other way and hurt you more...

What the fuck am I sayin? Shit, I'm really sorry, my y/n

Please don't stop libing for me, don't let this stop you. I love you, and whereber I am, I'll take care of you, I'll alwayz take care of you. I promise.

Arthur”

You got paralyzed, you were in shock. Tears came out of your eyes and ran down your cheeks.

It couldn't be possible.

"No... Arthur no..."

You ran to the phone back, typed the keys and waited for me to response it. Silence again.

“No, no, no, no, Arthur no, you can’t!”

And to your mind came the worst thought you could have. Maybe he wasn't responding because he wasn't here anymore, maybe he wasn't responding because he was gone.

“NO!”

You took your bag and ran away.

You ran down the stairs and left your building. You got to the bus stop, and fortunately it was coming. You got on the bus and sat down. crying in front of people, and they were staring at you. Judging you. Feel pity for you.

You still had the letter in your hand, you read it, looking for something, anything damned that told you something, that made sense. The pain in your chest is agonizing.

You thought about the last days of him and you together, looking for some sign that would warn you about what he was going to do. Some sign that said “I'm going to commit suicide”.

Crying, you only remembered that he was sad, you remembered that you hugged him for hours, stroking his hair and giving him small kisses on different parts of his face. You remember when he had a laugh attack you took his hand, hugged him again, and told him everything was going to be okay.

Really you wanted to promise.

You thought you should have done more; you should have made him understand that you'd always be with him. You should have told him more you loved him.

"Shit, no, please don't" you cried again on the bus, you were so afraid.

Stay with me Arthur, stay with me, stay with me, stay with me. It was the only thing you could think.

After an eternal trip, the bus arrived at that stop bus you knew so well. "STOP THE BUS! STOP THE BUS!" You screamed hysterically; people turn over to see you again. The bus stopped and you only can say “Thanks” and get off the bus so quickly.

You ran and ran and ran to those that eternal stairs. You remembered how funny It was to Arthur that you couldn't climb them fast, that you always got tired before you got to the top, and how much you envied him for putting up with all that workout.

Every memory was as if a knife stuck your heart in.

This time you had to tell your body that it shouldn't stop, no matter if you hadn’t a physical condition, you shouldn't have stopped. You ran up, with all the energy you had.

Stay with me Artie, don’t leave me, please don’t leave Art, don’t leave

It was the only thing you could think of, the only thing that gave you hope, it must have been alive, it still had to be. You stumbled and fall, hurting your knee. No, it wasn't time to check your own injuries, you had to get to Arthur, you had to save him.

You got up and went back up the stairs until you reached the end. You ran again to the address of his building. You looked at the building from afar, the lights in his apartment were on. Could that mean a good thing?

You walked into his building, and you got the idea again that you had to run into the stairs, you couldn't risk using the junk elevator in his building.

In that elevator that when stopped Arthur and you took advantage to give himself long and charming kisses.

Please Arthur, don’t leave me

You went up the stairs until you got to the eighth floor. You ran to his apartment door.

And you stopped abruptly.

A cold shiver you felt, paralyzed. That torment was so horrible. You were afraid to come in, you were afraid to open the door and find Arthur lifeless.

As soon as you thought about it, you wanted to die with him, you didn't want to see his dead body, you didn't want to be at his funeral, crying in his coffin, you didn't want to bury him in a cemetery.

He are your whole life; he are the love you always dreamed. You didn't want to lose him.

With more fear than you could stand, you took the doorknob and turned it. You pushed the door slowly and you came in the same way, you were so afraid to find his body.

There was nothing in the living room, there was nothing in the kitchen either, or at least what you could get to see from the kitchen. You looked down the hall, empty.

He'd probably be in his room or in the bathroom. And you didn't have the courage to get to the room or the bathroom.

You looked down and, on the floor, you found his jacket. Your feelings were overflowing in your eyes. Seeing his jacket on the floor for you was the meaning he was already gone. You crouched down and took her jacket, hugged it, it had his scent.

Everything was so quiet, everything around you was clouded. Everything stopped makes sense. You cried with sorrow. You felt lonely, so lonely. Your heart broke.

And in the midst of your crying, you moaned his name.

“Arthur”.

You were hoping that just saying his name, give you the strength you needed in that moment.

You hugged his jacket harder. You didn't want to live without him, you didn't want to do all your plans without him. You felted you are nothing without him.

“y/n?”

Your breathing was cut into a deep drowning and you regained the air your lungs needed. And somehow, your soul returned to your body.

He was there. He was still there.

The voice came from the room, without thinking and while hugging his jacket, you went there.

You walked to him, and you saw him.

Arthur was sitting there, sitting on his bed, without his shirt, his eyes were swollen, and you could see a few small cuts on his wrists. Your heart broke again, but you tried to hold on.

“What are you doing here?” He asks so confusedly and fearful.

“What you think?”

And you couldn't hold it anymore. You went to him and you hugged him. He hugged you tight, too. You both cried.

"I’m so sorry, y/n" Arthur cried "It wasn't my intention, it wasn't my intention to worry you"

“Art…”

You couldn't even talk. And as weird as it was heard, you were happy, happy that you could hug him one more time.

You looked at him and without losing the opportunity, you kissed him deeply. He needed love at the time, he really needed it, and you'd give it to him.

“Art, sorry”

“What? Why?”

“I'm sorry if I haven't shown you all my love. Arthur, I was so scared, I was so afraid to lose you…"

You couldn't help crying in front of him. Just moments ago, you thought he wouldn't be with you anymore, that still hurt, even when he was in front of you. And Arthur couldn't help feel so guilty when he saw you cry.

“Please forgive me, y/n, forgive me…” Feeling embarrassed, Arthur tried to explain himself “I couldn't stop feeling bad, I couldn't. I just wanted to stop feeling so bad. I'm sorry if you're worried, y/n, I’m sorry”

And without his body warning him, his condition came afloat. You knew that when those attacks happened, he needed you more than ever. You cuddled his hair, gently put his face between your neck and your shoulder. He laughed for a long time; it was the first time he laughed too long with you. You waited patiently, caressing his back.

“I…I tried" He was finally able to talk "I made me a few cuts... But I thought of you, I thought of us, and I couldn't go on..." You felt his warm tears fall on your neck, and yours came out of your eyes again "I didn't know if I kept going, I couldn't after I thought of you. And you came, y/n. You came here and saved me…”.

He raised his head a little and saw you in your eyes again. "If you're angry with me, I understand. If you want to leave me, that's fine, you don't have to stay with me, not after I put you through on this”

You gasped. You couldn't believe what Arthur was telling you.

“Art, what the fuck are you...? No! I'm not leaving you for this "

“But y/n, I don't... Just look at me, I'm a fucking mess. I worried you, I made you cry, you don't deserve this, I definitely don't deserve you"

You took his face with both hands and looked him in his eyes. "Arthur, I wouldn't be angry with you for this, I'm not going to leave you too. Stop believing in that”

“But y/n”

“But nothing, Arthur… I love you; I really love you…”

“Y-y-you, are you sure y/n? are you sure about…?”

“Yes, Arthur, you know I take love seriously; I'll take ours seriously too"

A couple of tears fell from Arthur's eyes, he looked down again "Do you really love me? Even when I'm a... A freak?”

Arthur looked at the wounds on his wrists. Did you really love him despite that?

“My darling, you’re not a freak. I love every part of you, even those that others consider bad”

Arthur felt he was going to die of love. He hugged you back. "I’m sorry y/n"

"I forgive you, my Arthur. I'll always be with you, never doubt that"

As he hugged you, Arthur felt safe, felt like he was in home. Only you could make him feel that way. He had been so alone in his life that as a result of that attempt to attack his own life he feared losing the only good thing he had left: you.

You went to the bathroom for a medicine cabinet, you healed those cuts that he made himself.

“y/n?” Arthur asked, still embarrassed.

“Yes, darling?” You responded calmly.

“C-can you stay with me tonight?”

You couldn't help smile at him

"Of course I do, my Artie" And you saw him smile. The smile that melted your heart. You took off your shoes and uncomfortable clothes, staying in your underwear. Arthur asked about the injury to your knee, you told him it was an accident at the work, you didn't want to make him feel bad. And oddly enough you started to feel your body tired and hurt after running all over Gotham.

Both went into bed, you hugged him and he hugged you again, and returned to give him little kisses all over his face. “y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I love you too”

Both smiled, you kiss his lips, kissing him deeply again. You still kissing his face until he could sleep.

You knew it was going to be hard, you'd been warned, but with Arthur you weren't going to give up, you weren't going to leave him alone.

You remembered that everyone deserved to be loved, even him. You would love him, despite the difficulties, even though he might fall into pieces from time to time, you would always be there for him, to heal his wounds, to help him get up, to love him in his darkest days.

[nestasgalpal]

Folklore (Nesta Archeron Fanfiction)

Peace

Nesta and Clare shared many kisses over the last years together, but each day the distance between them grew, both girls knowing what their destiny was meant to be. Two of those kisses had been underwater, the same summer Clare tought her how to show affection with her lips. Nesta and Elain didn’t know how to swim, so the farmer’s daughter tought them. She always invited Feyre to come along, she was too kind not to, but Feyre hardly ever accepted the offer. There was tension between Nesta and her youngest sister, and the afternoons she spent laying with her friends while Feyre went hunting where the cause.

Back when they arrived to the village it was Feyre who finally decided they wouldn’t die without trying everything to survive first, so she tought herself how to set a trap and started going to the first lines of the forest to test them. Then, she made weapons and started to go further into the woods. Nesta spent the days in bed crying their loss, not caring about Feyre hunting some rabbits. When she realized her sister wasn’t traping little rodents anymore but shooting arrows to full grown deers, she felt it was too late now to intervene.

“I could show my concern, but then... what? What was I supposed to do next?” she frequently thought

Nesta knew she would die in a heartbeat, as would Elain, neither of them could do what Feyre had learned to do. So she allowed her little siter to do the work.

And she got so used to it, at some point she forgot she was the oldest one. She met Clare, Tomas and a few more girls from the village, and realized that having friends made her life better. Elain, who was as polished as Nesta, fitted in, but Feyre, too tired to try, didn’t. So she, once again, left her behind.

Nesta felt bad, but she needed the spark of joy their company provoked so badly, she decided to put herself first. It was not only the company, but the sense of superiority it gave her knowing nobody arround her could live up to her. Around them, she was a lady, admired, even if she was wearing a worn-out grey dress. Starving was not the only way to die; it was deffinetly not the way Nesta feared the most. She was scared of the growing feeling inside of her that she was wasting her days, rotting, going to waste, so she held tight to the few moments of joy she could find

Feyre was rotting too, Nesta knew it and it geniunly hurt her, but still, she did nothing. Every time she realized Feyre’s pain, she felt it was too late. Every time, she considered the idea of being honest with Feyre, she recoiled, thinking her words would make no difference. Yes, Feyre would know her oldest sister was even more misserable then she tought, but it would still be her the one to come back to the woods looking for food. Every time, she took the easy way, and every time, she ended up regreting it and still doing nothing about it the next time.

Yet Clare always invited Feyre to go with them, no matter how many times she was rejected or how rude Feyre’s response came out. Clare always had a smile for her.

Clare’s happyness made Nesta’s days a little brighter, even if she was permanently sad. She tought both Elain and her how to swim, and once they mastered it, they would have diving competitions. That’s when they dared to kiss. Her sister had to count the time from the shore, and both of them woud “hold their breath under water”.

But they kissed, and that made Nesta skim true joy with her fingertips.

Almost there. She was almost there, when they pressed their lips together.

When their last autumn together came, they only thing they pressed together ere their forheads, silent tears runing down their faces. Every touch they shared in the past, a secret they would never tell.

Nesta and her sisters were forced into adulthood that year, summer gone with their lack of responsabilities. Winter coming, filled with loss.

“If I had only known” Nesta thought now, unable to sleep because of the cold of the Mountains.

They were 21 now, many years had passed, but the dynamic between Clare and her had stayed the same. They were friends. They looked at eachother with sad longing, knowing they would never get more than that.

They would talk about boys.

“I heard Tomas’ dad hits his mother” Nesta murmured. The streets were covered by orange and red leaves in addition to the usual mud.

“Yeah, I heard the same thing” Clare’s voice was raspy, her cold getting worst.

Elain and Nesta were holding hands. The three of them were walking down the street towards the market.

“But you will still marry him, right?” It was Elain, who didn’t raise her voice either, so her words were hard to catch.

“He hasn’t asked me to” Nesta repied.

She had always hated talking about boys -men, now-. She didn’t want to leave the fantasy of being welthy again so she could find someone better; maybe she could become welthy enough she didn’t even have to marry at all. But time passed, and she was being forced to put her feet back to the ground.

Would she marry him knowing her future was probably gonna be the same one Thomas’ mother was enduring now?

Yes, she would.

Because even if his family was poor, the Archeron were even poorer. Feyre had to go deeper and deeper into the forest to come back with something, and the winter was starting early this year. She felt like there wasn’t much she could do to help her, but this -marrying Tomas so her sister could rest-, this she could and would do.

“He will ask you soon, I’m sure” Clare said.

Nesta had to lean over a little to meet her eyes, since Elain was in the middle and she was slightly taller than both Clare and her.

“He might choose you, Clare, he likes you too”

“He won’t” her friend was sure. “When we meet, the only thing he does is talk about you. To be fair, you are prettier. I would say you are the most beautifull girl in the village”

Nesta’s cheeks would have gone red if it wasn’t too cold for her face to be hot.

A few weeks later, Nesta woke up to Elain shaking her. He was gonna propose to her, had finally told Clare she was not the one, and the first thing her friend had done, of course, was run to the Archeron’s house to tell her. Elain opened the door, so she and her father already knew.

“He is gonna ask you to marry him, Nesta!” Elain was euphoric. She was happy for her, because, after all, Tomas was good looking and nice. Nesta didn’t love him... she was not sure if she even liked him, but he had been polite and conformed himself with kisses from Nesta, nothing more. His kisses weren’t nearly as good as Clare’s, but she never complained. They were still good.

“Get up, Nes!” Claire was just as excited. Was she glad it wasn’t her? Was she happy for her own freedom now that she had been rejected, or was it true happiness? “Come on, dear, you have to get dressed, he could ask you any moment from now!”

Nesta obeyed and cleaned herself up. She felt pretty, that much was true. Even with her swollen face, she still recognized enough of her mother in herself as to feel like a proper lady; that helped her forget where she actually lived and who she was about to marry.

They were chatting about the imminent proposal when Feyre arrived, grumpy as always, and tried to ridiculized them for focusing in such things. If Feyre knew why she was doing it she might be nicer about it, but Nesta never got to tell her. As always, she felt it was too late now to share her feelings with Feyre, like the bond between them had vanished the moment she left for the woods and Nesta stayed in bed crying insted of going with her. If she shared her real thoughts and intentions now, Feyre would probably laugh at her, and Nesta’s heart couldn’t afford to be humilliated like that.

Nesta still wouldn’t have blamed Feyre for doing it. She understood why the proposal seemed so unimportant to her sister.

Nasta hated to talk about boys too.

But when she came back to the memory now, after her sister exiled her, she really wished she had told her, because that night their lives changed forever: Feyre was taken from them, stolen, and, again, Nesta could do nothing. The sister she knew, the one she failed to protect once, was lost forever, and the idea of Nesta that Feyre had in that moment, apparently rooted in her mind so deep, there was nothing she could do to change it now. She would live forever, and no matter what she did and how many times she sacrificed herself, Feyre’s love would never return to her.

What broke her heart -and Nesta really felt in that moment that it was shattered beyond repair- was Feyre warning her about Tomas and what his fatehr did to his wife. Feyre, who risked her life to protect them day after day, who Nesta thought hated her, would rather keep doing it for the rest of her life than let her marry the woodcutter’s son. Nesta, who was already aware of what Fayre was warning her about, would have also sacrificed the rest of her life to make it up to her youngest sister. But now, Feyre would never know.

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

This chapter was inspired by Peace, which I thought martched how Nesta might have felt about Feyre by the time she was taken by Tamlin. It’s not a literal translation of the lyrics, but I don’t know, I get the same vibe. Listen to it and tell me what you think, I appreciate the feed back!!

Nesta never shared with Feyre the same sister love she had with Elain, but I think she loved Feyre just the same. I think Nesta hates to talk about her feelings, she keeps them to herself and feels like it’s too late now to tell Feyre she loves her, like it will leave her exposed, so she won’t do it just to avoid the posibility of Feyre laughing at her or even just rejecting her. “All these people think love's for show/ But I would die for you in secret/ The devil's in the details/ But you got a friend in me/ Would it be enough/ If I could never give you peace?”

I think when Nesta realized Feyre’s sacrifice (go hunting) she realized Feyre had given too much for the family to ever make it up to her and felt even worst, but still was unable to verbalize it, so regret just burned inside of her. (“Your integrity makes me seem small/ You paint dreamscapes on the wall”

[alatismeni-theitsa]

One thing I love about your account is that you challenge all of what I thought being Greek meant. Like growing up, I always felt bad about myself because my skin was pale, and I was always told all Greeks have olive skin. I never liked my nose because I felt it didn’t look like what the media portrays Greek noses to look. Like even looking at my mom and papou’s noses, I just have a different one. I’ve always just been insecure, feeling like I could never look Greek enough.

Ya su! :D Big answer incoming, brace yourselves! 

From your question I understand you are a Greek of diaspora and your mother was a second generation Greek immigrant. I have received plenty of messages here from Greeks of diaspora who have told me “I am pale/I have blue eyes/I am blond and I don’t feel like a Greek!” Really, I should make a tag! It’s so strange how foreigners make us feel like we don’t belong in our own ethnicity! North Europeans and Americans make even us, who live in Greece feel like our heritage doesn’t belong to us! “You can’t possibly be the same!” they say. No, we are not the same. However we come from a long continuous line of people who tought the Greek heritage to their children for centuries. We speak the same language, we have many same traditions, we get inspired by the same nature. The antiquity doesn’t exist in a vacuum and it never stopped being a part of us. 

That’s why I encourage proper representation of Greeks, especially on American media, so false images stop being circulating. It’s not exactly racist what’s happening but it has resulted in many Greeks straight up being told “you don’t even look Greek, why you speak on Greek issues?” That enrages me EVERY.FUCKING.TIME.

Because to tell you the truth, Greeks couldn’t be further from the stereotype  “dark olive skin with curly black hair”! The majority, especially in the north, is pale, many times with big weird ass noses. 99% of us look white with the first guess. Of course there are some occasions where the stereotype is true (I don’t pretend there are no darker Greeks!) but those are rare. An American friend once saw a documentary about modern Athens and she was very surprised about how white we looked and asked herself “is this Germany??”

Even in the ancient art all over Greece we see pale/white people all over the place. I have been to museums all over the country and always seen them (where the colors are preserved) and I have posted some in my tag #ancient greek art as well. The Americans go “oh, those are fake because Greeks idolized white skin”. Sure, Jan, all Greeks all over the country made art with Caucasian white people because they were all in a secret white supremacy pact. Of course figures are beautified sometimes but it’s crazy to assume Greeks did everything in their power not to depict their own people accurately. I have this post (link) where I discuss that ancient Greeks weren’t that different from us today, with sources of studies showing our DNA hasn’t changed much. It’s to debunk the “ancient Greeks were darker than the modern ones”, which is used to depict our ancient gods and people very dark in modern art.

Foreigners also focus on the mixes with other people Greeks had in order to justify how we are dark. “But they are close to Africa sooo...” No. This argument doesn’t make much sense and people who use it know jack shit about our history and demographics and don’t have any common sense. It’s true though that mixes have played a part in our history and our appearance so it’s good to speak about those.

Greeks in the North (Athens and up) have mostly been mixing with Slavs and Germanic people because it’s easier for us to go to each other’s country by foot, and we just are close to each other. Plus, the history of the Balkans is very interesting and full of mixes and immigration! We also have mixed (I don’t know to what extent) with the Turks, who are Mongolic in nature and come north of Greece as well.   

People from the Peloponnise can be darker but still they look hella white (as I was told by Peloponnisian friends and as I have noticed myself). People in the south islands are more likely to have some Arab DNA but generally no one has observed that they look different than the rest of Greeks. (I haven’t seen it or heard it ever in my life. Other Greeks, correct me if I am wrong). You can’t tell which person comes from just by looking at them. 

Your struggle is understandable and I would like to give some suggestions to overcome it and be more comfortable in your own heritage. Perhaps you do some of these things anyway but there is no harm in listing them!

1) Search historically important Greeks and see their portraits. Seriously, do it! You may find yourself looking a little bit like them. You will surely have one thing common with them since they are usually pale :P Sometimes they may have non Greek names (Karlota, Suzanna, Emilia) but it was a trend for the rich families of the 19th century to give such names to children. I mean if you find a non-Greek name investigate if they are Greek or not because they actually might be. In my tag #Greek people you will find photos and portraits of Greeks from old times!

2) Read the history of Greece. All of it, not just from 300 BC to 100 AC as most foreigners do. Preferably, find works that have someone Greek as a writer or supervisor (because Greeks usually try to depict accuratelly what happened), or writers who truly feel Greece, like Richard Clogg. Read about Greek old allies and old enemies, about who we trade with, about where we immigrated, where we went to study to see what are the most likely mixes. Obviously, every kind of mix can happen but for numbers that matter you got to know the historical trends. It’s gonna be a journey that will help you feel your Greek side more and have answers ready when someone claims you don’t look Greek.   

3) Learn more Greek. The Greek language is logical but also stupid and funny, expressing the spirit of the people who made it. Learning Greek means learning how Greeks think. We have 20+ weird phrases to playfully say someone is gay, like “he flogs the dolphin”, “he shakes the pear tree” etc. We have phrases that stem from war and pirate raids and... hating the Turks, our colonizers :P We have many Mediterranean expressions like calling a mole “olive” or saying “I am in an open sea” (”πελάγωσα”) when we feel lost, or saying “he pressed my oil out” when someone tires us. I am very passionate about Greek so you can message me any time with any question about it! 

4) Learn where your family comes from. I mean the exact place/town, the geographical compartment. Learn the specific dances and traditional costume of that area from youtube videos or a Greek community in your area! See if the people in your area were great warriors, great merchants, great wine producers. See if there are any Greek heroes of the 1821 revolution coming from your place! Learn the song “Πώς το τρίβουν το πιπέρι” and the weird ass dance that comes with it, which Greek archeologists didn’t even hesitate to dance in a Mycenaic tomb!

5) Meet more Greeks! Through groups on insta or fb, through Tumblr blogs etc. Watch youtubers of Greek diaspora as “Greek in Town” or the comedian Basile! Maybe there is one Greek community near you area and you can pay a visit for festivals! 

6) Cook Greek food. If your grandparents and mum know recipes, take them as if they are gold. It’s a great way to get familiar with the local Greek ingredients and the Greek palette. Replace your soul with feta if you can xD 

7) Read Greek modern literature, even translated. Elitis, Sahtouris, Seferis, Venezis, Papadiamantis, Mirivilis, Delta, Empirikos, Zei, Kazantzakis are only a few of the literary gems Greeks have to offer. Enjoy good writing, the Greek perspective, and get to know the newer Greek society in a unique and authentic way. Here is a list with more of them (link).

8) Be proud. Be proud of a people who endured earthquakes, wars, genocide, famine, occypation, slaughters and slavery and can still stand. In every anniversary of ww1, ww2 and grecoturkic war, in our schools we sing prideful songs and hang posters with our war heroes, always standing proud. The students and the army parade in the streets, the small childrean wearing traditional costumes. Being proud is one key element of being Greek. 

Of course I don’t mean in a nationalistic/facist tone! We also celebrate the fall of the Greek junta of 1967 - which was financed by the US - and we are proud for it! And we fought German nazis. So no such ideology is welcome. Because we have so many things to be proud of (such long history!) foreigners equate our pride with nationalism. That is not the case for a healthy Greek mind who knows Greek history.

Ok, that’s all! Thank you for making it this far and reading what I had to say! I wish you a great cultural journey and I remind you that my DMs and Asks are open if you ever need anything! 

[sky-colors]

Minors will still search for R-18 content - Personal experience

I think I should talk about it here instead of on my main blog because it’s more related to my own content.

I can relate to Missy from Big Mouth [happily not at everything (?)]

I was around 9 when I discover how masturbate [I never was sexual abused, unless you count being molested on the bus or streets] I was doing exercise when cross my legs felt good and that... GOSH, I did it once in front of my mother and she just ignore it like the mom of Missy. I ask her and she told me about yoga, I don’t know if she realiced what I was doing, after all I was just crossing my legs and full clothed.

I was 10 (a week for being 11) when I read my first lemon fanfic (it was straight... more exactly, it was Shesshoumaru x Rin, he was my first top husbando (?)). This fanfic has all the warnings, I could skip the lemon part and still understand the story, the author pointed the start and the end of that part, and I still read that part. I can remember how I felt, I had a lot of curiosity about that, and somehow I recognice the other feeling and associate that to the one mentioned the previous paragraph... so it’s obviously what I did.

At that time I <<knew>> “a man and a woman should share a bed and then they can make a baby” I though they search something on the bed and somehow put it on the woman. So it was also funny discover how wrong I was.

After that, time to time I started to search that kind of fanfics(full straight). When I was 11, my last year on elementary school (because that’s the systen on my country) they left us a homework about choose a book write by a Nobel Prize and read it. I read “La tía Julia y el escribidor”, there the autor points he was around 12 when he “has sex” with a woman (I surprissed, even if I already read fanfics with that that book was autobiographic! Just few years after that I recognice that was abuse); many of my classmates read “Las aventuras de la niña mala”, that book was full of ero things, then I knew I wasn’t the only interested on that, and inside I was also feeling better than them because I already “knew” about that and even more detailed.

Maybe I was 13 when somehow I discover doujinshins.

I never told about that to anyone of my family except my twin, I didn’t think I was doing something so bad, but my parents were so old that I think they weren’t gonna understand, and I tought if I told that to another of my sibblings they could said about that to my parents, and I was on a Chatolic school... 

I was 15 when my twin told me about “yaoi”, so “Junjou Romantica” was my first yaoi anime. Before I saw it I thought that was gross because ass was not a clean part of the body, but I saw it anyway. It was a big “Oah...!!!” I liked it a lot and seached for anothers animes like that. I had a lot of questions, but they didn’t matter a lot. So I watched others yaoi contents (Okane ga nai, Boku no Pico, and -my favorite even now- Koisuru boukun), I was a weaboo who didn’t know some of the things I read and though was normal were actually abuse. I was the kind of weaboo who tough rape was bad but still means love and that stupid things. 

Until that time I dint’t think an homosexual relationship was possible. When I was a kid I wish I was a male because I had more male friends and if I were a male I could play with them on Physical Education, but then I though “I like X guy and he's male, if I was a male probably I will still like him, and maybe other males, but that’s not possible, males don’t like males, so I will end alone, but I will have more friends...even if I end up without a partner I want more friends. I wish I were born male”

There was a memory... one day a policewoman came to my school and told us that rape was really bad and it still counts even if the persons were married.

Somehow I entered a Hetalia facebook group. I was terrified because I didn’t talk a lot and I hadn’t many friends (I was ever a quiet person) but I wanted to share my emotion for that anime... so I entered and discover rolplay! I was excited because that was so fun, like writing a fanfic betwen two people without know how it will end. And... I started to rolplay yaoi hard with other girls around my age. In the group were a woman that was 23 I don’t remember rolplay yaoi hard with her, but she did it with a guy that had 14 (I was 15), she never tried to do something real to us (she molested us, but it was full joke and I’m absolutely sure it were jokes, I know how is a real attempt, I was to experience it on messenger if I didn’t recognice some signals). They (the woman of 25 and the puber of 14) teach me some things, like recognice that some things were abuse, preparation is important, most yaoi content is stupid (by the way they manage the relationship and romantice rape) but there is nothing bad on like it if you don’t associate that with reality.

I already didn’t associate fiction with reality (mostly because I didn’t care about reality), and because when I seach for doujinshis some pages show gifs of real porn and I found that really gross. The real thing was (and is still) vulgar and gross to me, I don’t like it. [Well I could said I’m only interested on male gay porn because I like male muscles -not exagerated-, but even that I wont watch it because I felt bad]. I like certain styles of drawing that just manga/anime has (and some cartoons).

Like a year ago I discover “Uncanny Valley” and if you read about that I’m sure you will understand why style is so important on the moment of said that we can separate fiction of reality when it comes from drawings. [Please read about Uncanny Valley is a deep studied thing.]

So since that time I read fanfiction or doujinshis or mangas and understand that there are things that we can explore in fiction but don’t touch on reality and even find gross and that didn’t mean we are just dennying we like it on reality.

It’s really simple, it’s not just with some kind of r-18 content, if you think about a character you really love but is bad or has bad acctitudes and then imagine him on reality probably you want to punch him because he is a trash (my personal example is Kacchan), but you still love him because he belongs to fiction.

I don’t think that is bad that an young adult guide a puber/kid/adolescent about sex things (obviously without touching and without the intention of abuse) because most of them didn’t have someone near who they can feel safe talking about that, but you should learn to recognice when they are trying to take advantage of you (some signals are: try to get your number, where you live or study, your schedule, your full name or your family’s, “inocent” photos that gradually demand more...) Intenet has a lot of answers but just if you had THE question, if you didn’t, you could find wrong things,

Well, it’s my personal experience. I wish I found that fanfic latter, at least when I was 15. R-18 is signed like that for a reason, but even that the curiosity is here since he were kids and even much more when we were pubers or adolescents; the changes, the hormones guide us to search more about that and it’s pretty normal (that didn’t mean we should obsess about that. It’s also normal don’t feel interested about that, just less common). It’s ok to ask an adult with whom you feel confident about that but don’t let your guard down, and... Liking something in fiction doesn’t mean liking it on the reality!

Pd: Since it’s impossible to full avoid adolescent from r-18 content I think the translators or fanfic authors will help them to don’t think abuse is romantic putting warning messages on the first page and tags

Pd2: If you are an adolescent I recommend you to watch “Big Mouth”, the artstyle makes you felt unconfortable, but it’s perfect for their message.