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andivmg · 1 year ago

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My experience with Luke (Punz)

CW: toxic relationship, racism, dubious consent

I know in the past i said that i would no longer speak about him publicly, and when talking about my experiences with abuse and emotional mistreatment i begged to keep it anonymous but after reflecting on this for a week and seeing so many incredibly smart and strong women tell their stories. they have given me the strength to say his name.

this is really scary to talk about because of the copious levels of harassment i have received from his fans in the past so if this spreads or gets out of hand i will simply log off.

If you read my last post, i nicknamed him 1.

So aside from everything i said there, there were a lot of things i didn’t include because they would’ve made it obvious that it was him and it could potentially backfire on me so, i’m very afraid to post this. but i’m going to do it scared anyway, because it’s not fair that he gets to just go and live his life worry-free as if he didn’t practically ruin mine.

Because I already made a very lengthy post about him, i won’t include everything i said last time to avoid being redundant but if i repeat myself, please bear with me.

In our year long relationship i had to endure emotional neglect, gaslighting, verbal abuse, one instance where there was dubious consent, and much more.

Starting off at the beginning of our relationship, that’s when i was getting copious amounts of hate and harassment from his fan base (warranted or not), he decided that our relationship must be kept private. he said it was to “protect” me from his fanbase when in reality it was to protect himself. it was so he wouldn’t get all the backlash i was getting. this is funny because one of the things i got called out for was saying the B slur (derogatory term used against mexicans/latinos). I won’t get into the nuances of if i could say it or not as a puertorican because that’s discourse that does not pertain to this specific situation. But you know who definitely can’t say it? A white boy from Massachusetts. When i was getting cancelled for this and getting thousands of tweets calling me names, he decided that was the perfect time to say “I mean you are a b***** aren’t you? my little b*****.” Now, he said this completely unprompted. I was in the process of writing my apology and he just said that. I tell you this because i immediately shut him down and told him that there was no universe in which it was okay for him to say that word and especially not one where he could just call me that. While i was reprimanding him, he was smiling and laughing. he apparently found it amusing to call me a slur. regardless, he gave me a half-assed apology and said he wouldn’t do it again. and he didn’t. but this wasn’t the only time he was weirdly racist to me. this was my first time being in an interracial relationship so i was led to believe that this was normal by all the white people around me at the time. But, sometimes my spanish accent would come out and he would make fun of me and the way i pronounced some words. He also refused to visit me in Puerto Rico when i lived there or come meet my family when i really wanted him to because he “didn’t like the heat” or “it’s dangerous there isn’t it?”. Once, while we were watching season 2 of Bridgerton, he implied that the Sharma sisters were “too dark” for him to be attracted to them. This hurt me because they are brown skinned girls. I am a brown skinned girl. Then this, combined with the fact that he told me once he wasn’t attracted to me made me feel like my skin color was unattractive. These are only a few examples i can think of at the moment, but i’m sure there were more. Our relationship ended in 2022 so some of my memory is a bit hazy. But, I do remember feeling inferior to him throughout the relationship because he was white and I was not. I chalk that up to all the micro aggressions i had to deal with because i had never felt that way around white people before.

Another thing i had to endure was him constantly making me feel like he was embarrassed to be with me. Because i was cancelled, he didn’t want to associate with me too much. He did defend me on multiple occasions, I’ll give him that. But, he only did it because his name was getting dragged in the mud along with mine. Excusing my actions made him look better for being around me. In reality he didn’t really care. Because he was such a big content creator and someone i looked up to professionally, I took his advice as law. He told me to tone down my personality, to keep a low profile, to change things about myself to be more palatable to his audience. The same audience that spoke about me like “The pussy can’t be that good punz please stop defending her”. So i changed a lot of things about myself and my content to better suit what his audience liked. He made me feel like if his audience liked me, he would be public about our relationship and stop hiding it. He told me the reason why he wanted to keep our relationship a secret was because he didn’t want to get hate for it. But this wasn’t true. On my 20th birthday he went to Las Vegas for a twitch rivals event. That night i asked to facetime him to say goodnight and he refused because he was at a hotel room with his friends and he didn’t want them to know that we were together. It was as if my mere presence or the utterance of my name was a source of embarrassment for him. And he didn’t let me forget it. It wasn’t just a public thing at that point. He didn’t want people to know we were together, period. This was devastating to me because I would talk to all my friends about him. I was so proud to be with him and I was just one more problem to him. He made me feel so small and insignificant just because his fans didn’t like me.

He would berate me a lot. Not just due to getting heat online, although he did do that a lot. But in general whenever we would get into an argument or a disagreement he would always call me names like annoying or weird or stupid. He would raise his voice at me if i did something he didn’t like and call me an idiot. And that really hurt, i felt like i couldn’t bring up anything or do anything without getting insulted. If I hadn’t seen him in a few days because he was too busy streaming and i asked to hang out he would call me needy, clingy, and annoying. Granted, he might not have been wrong, but that is not something you say to someone you claim to love. He also insulted me when i was in depressive episodes. I have BPD and at the time i was not being treated properly for it. So, I was all over the place emotionally and he was what i clung to for validation, reassurance, and love. I talked to him when we first started dating about my disorder and told him that if it seemed like something he couldn’t handle that he could opt out of the relationship. I guess he didn’t think it was that bad or something idk because whenever i had really bad depressive episodes, he would tell me I was too sad to hang out with. He said that my sadness was a burden to him. Which would be fair. But, once my mother had a conversation with him about me. She told him that i am someone who needs a lot of love and caring. She said that if he wasn’t willing to put in that kind of effort into a relationship to just leave me alone. He reassured her that he would be there for me no matter what. He told my mother that he would protect me and my heart. He did not. He took all the warnings I gave him and ignored them and then made me feel like I was the problem. And even worse, he would say that i was pretending to be sad to get his attention when he would neglect for days at a time.

There were also some smaller things like the fact that he made me feel really guilty whenever he would spend money on me. Also, he would be really mean about my eating habits. For context, i used to suffer from an eating disorder. I was anorexic and had a really unhealthy relationship with food during high school and my first year of uni. This relationship began when i was recovering from my ED. For me, eating was really hard. So i had certain comfort foods that, while sometimes unhealthy, at least it was something to eat when i didn’t feel like eating anything. He knew this. Yet, whenever i would crave some of these foods he would call me fat. Constantly told me I’d gain weight from eating all that junk food. Saying that to someone with an eating disorder is crazy. Other smaller things were that whenever I would post tiktoks where i was lip syncing or just looking good he would yell at me and say i was looking for attention. Same with Instagram or Twitter whenever i would post photos where I looked hot. He never planned out a single date for us. I would beg him to get me flowers and he did maybe once but i’ll get into that in a bit. He would make fun of me in front of his friends to make himself look better. He let his friends say really degrading things about me in his presence. For example, once when i was showering, i overheard him on a discord call with George and Sapnap and i heard George say “if you don’t go in the shower and have sex with Andi, i will”. Once, when i was really struggling with my legs (for those of you who don’t know, i have arthritis and it’s very painful. at the time i wasn’t diagnosed but i was in a lot of pain) I literally could not walk. I had to beg him to take me to the ER because i didn’t know what was wrong with me. He didn’t want to take me but eventually i convinced him, and while we were there all he did was complain about how long it was taking and that he would have rather been at home streaming. Whenever I would talk about my interests that i was excited about like shows or books he would be incredibly uninterested and say that those things were stupid and he didn’t want to hear about them. I know all of these seem very silly or superficial but cumulatively it was awful.

Now for arguably the most serious thing i’m going to talk about. I want to preface this by saying i am just telling my side of what happened. You can come to your own conclusions about this.

On April 25, 2022 it was our one year anniversary, and i had made a dinner reservation for us. I expected him to plan something throughout the day for us to do. He told me he was going to spend the whole day playing Valorant so I got upset and cancelled the reservation. After a very heated argument, we calmed down and i asked him to come over. He came over about an hour later with flowers and drinks (I was 20 at the time so I couldn’t buy the drinks myself). He brought Smirnoffs and Trulys. For context, I am a lightweight. I always have been. I literally get tipsy on half a cocktail. And that day, I hadn’t eaten anything because i was in distress over our argument. So we get to talking and drinking. I blacked out after my second Smirnoff. Apparently I drank 3 but I genuinely cannot remember anything after finishing the second one. The next morning i woke up naked in my bed. I woke him up and asked him “Luke, why am I naked?” and he said “Because you didn’t want to put your clothes back on.” When I clarified to him that that was not what I meant, he got defensive and said that he didn’t realize how drunk I was. He proceeded to tell me that I initiated sex with him and that i was very enthusiastic about it. He said he didn’t know i could black out on three smirnoffs. He made fun of me for being a lightweight and continued to make light of the situation. Then he mentioned that i fell off the bed at some point in the night and that it was funny how drunk I was. I then questioned him. Because if he thought that me tripping and falling off the bed because i was so drunk was funny, how did he not know that i was too drunk? He responded by saying that i fell off the bed only after we were done. That day I broke up with him. I’m still really confused about what happened that night. I don’t remember anything and all I have to go on is what he said to me. We were in a relationship at the time and he says he didn’t know how drunk I was so I’m not sure what to call what happened. A while after that day, his friend that hmu while we were broken up and I started talking again and i confided in him about that night. He told me to be careful saying things like that because they could get me into trouble. I spoke to some of our other friends about it and they told me it was no big deal and that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how drunk I really was. Because I don’t remember, I have been led to believe that this is not a serious matter. You can think what you want, come to whatever conclusions you want. That is just my side of the story.

I want to add that I’m not proud of how I acted after the relationship ended. I felt really angry at all the shit he put me through and I guess a part of me wanted him to hurt even a quarter of how I did. So I started talking to his friend and got involved with him. This backfired on me because his friend ended up really hurting me too so ig i got my karma. But the thing that hurt the most is that because of what I did, some of our friends took his side in the break up. I was told that I did something terrible by getting involved with his friend that he was already insecure about and that he didn’t deserve that. These are the same friends who were witness to the dumpster fire of a relationship we had and all the things he did to me. They turned their backs on me because of this one thing I did. But stood by and watched as he treated me like garbage for over a year.

I will conclude this by saying that while this relationship has been “over and done with” for almost two years now, I carry a lot of trauma from it still. I still talk about him in therapy and have had to put in a lot of work to heal from what he did and i still cannot say that i am okay. I am very blessed to now have a patient and understanding partner who has helped me heal from that trauma and i just want to quickly thank him for that. Nobody deserves to go through what I did. While yes, it was a toxic relationship, and I had a part in that, it does not excuse all the awful things he said and did to me. This is my truth, thank you for taking the time to read it.

#sorry if the formatting is all over the place

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catdia · 2 months ago

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Arcane Characters with a Puerto Rican Fem S/O

Jayce, Viktor, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Ekko, Sevika, Vander (nsfw)

Jayce

I like the idea that he is also Latino/Hispanic

Maybe Brazilian or Colombian

My sexy Latin Papí

In Piltover there isn’t really a big Latin community, so when he heard that you were Puerto Rican he befriended you reallllll fast

You studied botany and tech ecology, while he engineering

You wanted to save your islands flora and fauna by incorporating advanced tech, while he wanted to improve lives with magic

You believed his dream since the beginning, even if you looked at him sometimes like he was crazy

“You have no idea what these crystals are capable of! What if we combine those aqueducts you designed for plant growth with runes? We can triple food production by 110%!” Jayce wrote equations on the board, mind going miles per second

“You think it can regrow completely deforested areas in less than 40 years?” You humored him.

“What if we can do it in less than 10?! The possibilities are endless! I promise that when I crack this, I will paint the whole world green for you.” Did he know how to warm your heart…

Jayce is a super touchy person and always has to have skin to skin contact like a new born

You get mistaken for a couple a lot before you even officially started dating

Always kisses you on the cheek when you greet each other. A very Latino thing!

Piltover’s greetings are very cold, only handshakes and shoulder pats. So he was ecstatic to finally have someone to do it with outside his family

Viktor became a victim of your kisses. But he secretly enjoys it

Jayce always smells good! Ximena taught him good hygiene since he was little. Whenever he feels a light sweat coming on he immediately hits the showers

Has a gold chain! Never takes it off. It was originally his father’s.

Doesn’t speak very good Spanish, but you teach him in between Hextech protects and meetings

You guys talk endlessly about your backgrounds and even bring treats to each other

“Mmm— oh, fuck!” He moaned shoving another spoon full of food into his mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head

“Jayce it really isn’t that good.” You were blushing like crazy, completely forgetting the plate in front of you. You just wanted to do something nice for him

“What are you taking about?! It’s the best thing I’ve had in weeks!”

He had been working his ass off building the new Hextech towers and surviving on sandwiches for the past month

“I also brought dessert, if you are interested…”

Jayce looked at you with puppy dog eyes. Absolutely enamored. Cheeks full like a chipmunk

“I. Love. You. Soooo. Much.” Jayce said grabbing your face and kissing you all over

“Te amo, mi rey.” (I love you, my king.) You said while gently wiping the side of his lips with your thumb

Jayce can dance! And I mean really dance. Ximena put him in classes when he was little because she didn’t want him to forget his roots

Dancing with Jayce is about passion, making love on the dance floor. Bodies pressed against each other, hands running above hot pumping blood and flesh. Heavy eye contact that yells sex and pleasure

You guys have sex in the forge all the time, instead of pounding hot metal he pounds that wet pussy (hahaha!)

Watching him pull the chains of the fire pit just gets it going for you. Back sweaty from the flames and work. Tan skin so glossy like copper

From you just wanting some papers to be signed for an new upcoming project turned into you having him on the workshop table

“Just like that, mi reina (my queen ). Como me haces sentir tan bien.” (You make me feel so good.)”

Jayce was thrusting into your cunt, the wood of the desk rattleing with every give and take. Your hands on his bare ass and his bracing your sides

When Jayce found your cunt’s sweet spot, the one that made your head fall into his shoulder with your eyes rolling back; pornografic grunt on your lips, he found gold

“You like that?” He grinned, finding solace in pleasure he gave you. Amused at how his body served yours so well

“Mmmm— yeah…” You licked the sweat of his jaw, slight stubble rough against your tongue

You loved him so much. Him with his stupid little smiles and big hands. And oh those eyes that made you dream of a safer tomorrow

“Esos ojitos de miel son tan bonitos. Te quiero comer enterito, papí!” (Those honey eyes are so pretty. I want to eat you whole, love!) You were practically going feral at his grasp. Eating at his neck and chest, savoring the taste of ash on his skin

You leaned back on your elbows, breasts jumping at his thrusts. Grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand up to cup your tit. Watching his cock drill in and out of your pussy. He was close by the knit of his eyebrows. Hips becoming harsher and sloppy

Jayce teased your clit, moving his fingers in the way you liked. Loving the clench of your walls as you grained your pelvis on his dick

“Assssíííí, cabrón—”(jusssstt like that, fucker—)

You came together in a world wind of grunts and curses. You creaming on his cock. Jayce rested his body weight on you as he came undone. Easing his head from your collar bones and giving his lips a peck. You loved how disheveled he looked, all fucked out with empty watery eyes

“Want me to give you a blowjob as you sign these for me?” You said brushing the hair of his face. Thankful for the shower he had installed at your request

“I would be an idiot to say no!”

Jayce is the king of aftercare! He will always have a snack or even a little trinket to give you after sex

“Look, I made a little pendant of the PR map!” Jayce showed you the little piece of metal. White teeth glinting as he was so proud of his artistry

“Oh my God— it uhmm… It has character alright!”

It looked more like a disheveled bean but you wore it proudly everywhere! You love your man

When you start dating Jayce, Viktor became your much appreciated third wheel

You always pack extra goodies and food in Jayce’s lunch box so that he gets feed too

Getting sad when Jayce comes home with tears in his eyes because his friend doesn’t take good care in himself

You even go as far as bringing him homemade meal preps to his house so he always has a warm dinner

Jayce’s favorite dishes you make are anything meat based: Bistec encebollado (beef steak with grilled onions), pollo guisado (stewed chicken in red sauce served over white rice), and pernil (slow oven roasted pork with crispy skin)

Would never admit to his mamá that your cooking is better than hers

And his mom absolutely invites you over to cook with her

Saying that she needs to pass on her recipes to her future daughter-in-law

You like spending Christmas at the Talis residence. A big old family gathering with delicious food and music

Ximena was more than pleased knowing that Jayce got himself a Latin girl!

Get ready to pump out some big chunky babies! This man is a Latino at heart and that comes with a few kids running around

The first time you ever visited the Talis home, Ximena took out all of Jayce’s baby pictures

“Awww, look at your tushy! Plump as ever I see.”

Jayce put his head in his hands. Ears red from his naked baby photos that you were so entranced by

“Mamí, please for the love of God put them away!”

Ximena gave her wedding ring to Jayce shortly after you left. The ring was carved and made by Jayce’s late father

“Si te vas a casar con cualquier persona, Jayce, tiene que ser ella.” (If you’re going to marry someone, Jayce, it has to be her.)

You call Jayce cerebrito (little brain) and he loves calling you mi tesoro (my treasure)

Viktor

Viktor knows the struggles of making it in Piltover as an outsider, both being form the Undercity and physically disabled

And making it to the best academy in Piltover while being different was surely a merit on its own

From simple study buddies to lovers. You fell first, but he fell harder

You call him estrellita (little star) because of his many beauty marks

I’ve read that people like to headcanon him as Czech, and I like that…. I like at ALOT

Teaches your words in his language to talk shit behind Jayce’s back. And by shit I mean make fun of his failed prototypes

Viktor straight out asked you to teach him the dirties curse words PR has to offer. And oh boy, do you give him a colorful list—

Cabrón (bastard), puñeta (fuck), hijo de puta (son of a whore), me cago en tu madre (I shit on your mom), mama bicho (cock sucker) , me cago en na’ (I shit on nothing), vete pal carajo (go fuck yourself)—

One time he got pissed at Jayce for not doing an equation right that ended up with the lab half burned to the ground.

You just stood next to Viktor as you watched them bicker at each other like a married couple. Jayce cleaning up the ash of his failed work

“You should have run them by me or Sky first, Jayce! We are partners, not competitors!” Viktor threw his now burned lab coat at him, hitting Jayce in the chest

“Well you shouldn’t have been making improvements to the Hexcore without my knowledge then!” Jayce pointed at Viktor, nailing back the fallen boards with unnecessary force. Wow, grumpy Jayce never got old

“You know what, Jayce—” Viktor looked at you with a evil glint in his eyes. Oh, no… “¡Me cago en tu madre!”

Jayce gasped like an old woman seeing a half naked girl at church. Mama’s boy Talis was going out for blood today

“Don’t talk about my Mamí like that—” he pointed at Viktor, hammer in one hand ready to knock his brains out.

“Come here you fucker!” Jayce launched towards Viktor as he scrambled to the other side of the desk

“Jayce, please don’t strain him too much! I still would like him in one piece!”

You were caught in this mess trying not to laugh as Viktor ran away with a giggle from his soon to be killer

“Take it back or I’m going to take that leg brace I built off with the bone still attached!”

“Never!” Viktor yelled triumphantly

It ended with Jayce and Viktor on their ass thanks to a good back head slap on your part

Guava enthusiasts. You brought mantecaditos (short bread cookies with guava paste on top) one time to the lab and they were gone before Jayce could try them

“Seriously, Viktor you didn’t even save me one—“ Jayce was looking inside the tin box with sad puppy dog eyes. Only finding crumbs at the every bottom

“There weren’t that many in the box anyways, Jayce.” Viktor said hiding the last cookies in his desk drawer. You made over 40 cookies, but he was never going to tell Jayce that

He likes anything vinegar based and soups. Like guineitos en escabeche (boiled green bananas dressed in a vinegar sauce) and sancocho (a hearty stew with a bunch of meat and vegetables like cabbage and yams)

It’s so funny hearing him pronounce the foods he likes! Viktor is really good at rolling his r’s. His accent is just to cute!

“What did you want me to make you Viktor?” You tried to hide your laughter as you looked at a grumpy Viktor

“I told you that I want that dulce de lecussy. The one you made last week with pieces of cheese.” He huffed

“You mean dulce de LECHOSA!” (candied papaya in sweet syrup with firm cheese) You crackled with lungs on fire from laughing so hard

“And what did I say then?!” He sassed at you trying to dim his smile

“That you basically wanted dessert pussy!!”

“I would mind that either, actually.” You gave him a slap on his shoulder. The sheer perversion of this man!

“¡Fo, que puerco eres!” (Ew, you’re such a pig!)

“How dare you call me a pig—” he gasped as you ran away from his wrath

He chased you with his cane and you ran around giggling trying to escape him

Viktor definitely has put in some weight and looks so much healthier

“I’m blaming you for my favorite trousers not fitting anymore.”

Once you showing him how real Puerto Rican girls twerk you created a new type of man. You decided to surprise him with a naked lesson. Rewarding him for the success of the Hextech gates.

“And what exactly do you call this?” Viktor rasped out. One hand firmly placed on your right hip. As the other went white holding the handle off his cane. Voice heavy with the heat of pleasure

“Perreo” you looked back at Viktor, watching him savor the ripples of your skin as you shook your body to the lyrics of Ivy Queen

“Mmm perreo…” he repeated absentmindedly

Pressing the cusp of your cunt on his clothed bulge, ass cheeks consuming and spilling out from his pelvis. Shaking your hips at various speeds and rhythms

Alternating between having your hands on the floor with your legs spread wide, having your knees bent with your fits on them, taking an ass cheek and spreading it so Viktor can see your sloppy pussy

“Eres bella.” (You’re beautiful.) heavy tongued, loving that the phrases you taught him were finally doing their magic

“Take that cock out now, jodio cabrón (fucking bastard).” Fuck did Viktor make you horny

“So vulgar.” He slowly unzipped his pants. Torturing you. He released his beautiful long cock. Dripping lines of precum down his head to his shaft

You moaned at the sight of his dick, ready to be stuffed full. Spreading your pussy lips as an invitation. “Put it in.”

“I didn’t know that just a little dance could make you so aroused. Tell me what other— ohhhh, Janna!” Viktor had the wind knocked out of his lungs. Mouth gapping in pleasure

Sinking down his length shut him up. Pressing your ass until your cunt was consuming Viktor in a tight hold. Pushing him deep into the concrete

You swiftly shaking your ass faster than ever before. Not letting a single inches of that glorious dick escape your needy walls. One hand on the cold lab floor and the other playing with your clit

Viktor was whining, overwhelmed by the heat of your body. Hand letting go of his cane, it hit the ground with a powerful thud. Bracing himself on your hips

“I’m going to c-cum, my love—”

“Hechame esa leche adentro— mmmmmm… ¡Que rico eres, mi blanquito lindo!” (Cum inside me— mmmmmm… You’re delicious, my pretty little white boy!”)

Viktor came with a silente scream coating the inside of your pussy. If it wasn’t for the wall supporting Viktor’s back he would be on the ground by now

“That was incredible.” He stated, eyes wide with wonder and face flushed

He certainly asked for perreo lessons later on

And Viktor surprisingly can shake his hips very well! Which comes in handy for more than just one thing…

When you told her you were Puerto Rican she definitely said: “A mi me gusta la chocha de Puerto Rico.” (I love Puerto Rican pussy.)

You introduced her to reggaeton and now there is no going back, her favorite artist is Daddy Yankee

She likes to dirty dance with you, having your ass pressed against her pelvis. Especially when she has Bacardi in her veins

Vi doesn’t care what you put in her plate as long as it’s fresh and delicious

She enjoyes rice based dishes the most, like arroz con calamares (rice with calamari) and arroz con salchicha (rice with cocktail weenies)

She once downed a full bottle of coquito (coconut eggnog) on her own

Vi’s favorite dessert is arroz con coco (a coconut rice pudding)

She definitely makes fun of you for not being able to say certain words right!

Don’t EVER make a Puerto Rican say “jewelry” or “burglary”. We are allergic to L’s and R’s and it will cause us to go into septic shock!

Likes being called gringa by you. Thinks it’s hot when you say it, especially when she annoys the crap out of you

Her favorite curse word is vete pal’ carajo (go fuck yourself). And when she gets into scuffles or fights she always tosses it around

And she’s like “yeah, my girlfriend taught me that. I’m a bilingual queen as well.” She low key embarrassed the fuck out of you when she says that

“Vi, I really don’t want to do this—” Vi was strapping a pair of boxing gloves to your hands. “What if I get hurt? What if I hurt you?”

“Don’t worry about me, cupcake! I can take a few punches just fine. I’ll go easy on you. And besides—” she slapped the side of your headbrace. “I’ve seen you practice with Powder before. Ehh, it’s kind of pathetic how you throw a fist to be honest.” She gave your nose a peck, turning around and taking her side of the ring

“Hey! I’m a great hit!” You sassed placing your gloved hands on your hips

It was ON. You definitely were out for blood

“Then prove it! The stage is yours!” She ran the little bell that was attached at the wall.

It been less than 6 minutes in and you were already panting

Vi was definitely going light on you. Not even taking the spots you intentionally let open for her. She only dodged your every attempt to get a hit in

Light on her feet as she tripped your leg, causing you to fall on the ropes of the ring.

You wanted to call it, but your pride was too strong. And you equally stupid

“When are you going to hit me for real?! I didn’t think the great Violet was just a pussyfoot!” Vi pushed your buttons the right way. She loved when you got bratty

“You can’t take this heat, cupcake. I’ll knock you out until next Monday and Vander will have my head on a stick if I do.” She was right, but God did you want to wipe that smug look of her face!

“Oh, yes I can!” Your fist had a mind of its own. Angry as she was so cocky

Before you could think you took the open spot on her face. Hitting her square in the jaw, knocking her back on the rubber ropes. Vi was in shock and whiplashed by the quickness of your punch

“¡Ay, puñeta! ¡¿Violet, estás bien?!” (Oh, fuck! Violet, are you okay?!) You desperately took your gloves and stupid helmet off. The Velcro fighting your desperate attempt to pull it off

A drop of blood escaped her lips, Vi’s thumb flicked at the side of her mouth. Eyes on the smear of red, then up to you. Smirking at the damaged you inflicted

Fuck did you just make her 100 times hornier than she already was

“That kind of hurt.” Translation: it hurt like hell!

By the fire in her eyes you knew that you were so screwed. Your belly grew warm, the hole between your legs clenching on nothing

“Vi, I’m s-so sorry! I told that this was a bad—”

In a swift play of time, she pinned you against the ground. Having her left arm around your neck in a headlock, her left hand on your shoulder. As her legs trapped yours under her thighs, having them spread out with your pelvis arching forward. Both of your arms crossed behind your back pinned by the weight of your body

You moaned at the discomfort. Muscles tired by the training, you tried your best to wiggle out. Only for Vi to hold you harder against herself

“What’s wrong, cupcake? Bit off more than you can chew?” You did answer her with words, but with that glint in your eyes that meant (Fuck me, you damned raspberry bitch)

She slithered your baggy pants past your knees. Your pantieless cunt up in the air. Vi loved how you were always easy to access. From fingering you in public to her eating you out in some random alley

“Naughty girl. Who knew decking me in the face could get your pussy so wet.” She dipped a finger in your folds. Scooping the wetness and pulling it out to watch it drip

She gave your cunt a slap and your clit fluttered at the assault. Pulsating for more

“You like that, uhh?”

“Y-yeah—”

Vi gave you a plethora of open palmed hits. Juices streaming down your ass. Yelping as your cunt was being abused. All swollen and red

Vi thrusted her fingers into your opening in a scissoring motion. Her bloody thumb circling your clit

“V-vi— ahhhhaaamm! No puedo ver másss.” (I cant see anymore) Gurgling on the spit of your throat. Ready to pass out any second

Your vision went white by the lack of oxygen and the way Vi’s fingers played with your cunt so deliciously. Hot tears burning your skin from the constant stimulation

You stuck your tongue out, spitting saliva out thanks to the lack of air in your lungs. Face ready to turn blue. But did it make your body feel good…

“Just a little more— alright?”

Vi curled the tips of her fingers on your g spot and digged them in far into your crevice. Shaking her wrist to send vibrations to your whole pussy

You bit her forearm, shocks of pleasure coursing out the inside of your walls. Your teeth broke the skin, tasting the blood of your lover

Squirting the liquid of your orgasm on the ring’s floor. Vi let your body go, your lungs reviving in painful gulps of air

Vi turned you on your side, massaging your ribs and sternum. Licking the spit around your temple. She kissed your lips, careful not to take more oxygen from your body

“Who is going to clean this up?” Voice hoarse. Your mouth tasted coppery

“Lick the floor clean, losers get janitor duty.” She slapped your ass, you groaned at the lack of humanity. Vi got up from the floor and headed to her water bottle. Instead of taking a drink she poured it on her chest and hair. Nipples highlighted through her white sports bra. She pushed her wet hair back arms flexing a she felt your gaze on her

“We don’t got all night, cupcake. Avanza (hurry up).”

What a tease

Caitlyn

This girl has never know flavor until you came around

You were the daughter of one of her mother’s tailors and stylist. Your mom always brought you along to see her clients because she wanted you to take over one day

When you first visited the Kiramman residence you were blown away by the beauty of the estate. Your mom told you that this client would take longer than the others because she ordered a whole custom made ball gown

“I have a daughter, Caitlyn, about your age as well! Maybe you ladies can be friends! God knows my girl needs a gal pal.” She said excitedly as she was getting fitted for her gown.

Mrs. Kiramman gave you the liberty to explore the gardens as your mother worked. And you sat down near the water fountain to have your snack

“Esta gente si que tiene chavos…” (These people sure do have money…)

As you were munching on your sandwiches you saw a head of indigo hair peeking out from the rose bushes. A young girl

“Caitlyn, right? Do you want one?” You ask stretching your arms with your lunch in your hands. She timidly walked towards you

“What are they?” The girl asked as she sat next to you

“Sandwiches de mezcla (spam and velvita sandwiches) and platanutres (thinly fried plantain chips) ! They are really good, I made them fresh this morning.”

Caitlyn looked at them, and gently picked up a sandwich. Slowly taking a bite as she looked at your happy face.

Her eyes sparkling at the soft bread and salty spread

“Mmmm— I’ve never had anything like this before!” She then picked up some plantain chips. Savoring the salty crunch of them.

You quickly become friends. Cait even convinced her mother that she liked wearing fancy clothes just so that she could she you more frequently

Mrs. Kiramman was ecstatic that her little girl was going to wear more dresses than only her school uniform

Cait even goes as far as to ask her mom to invite you to her birthday party. The only close friend she really had was Jayce. And there were only going to be adults from other houses and The Council

You also became friends with Jayce, you both taught Cait how to dance bachata and salsa

“Cait move your hips more! You are stiff as a board, mija (girl)!” You said guiding her feet to the music

“I don’t have hips to shake!” She said as her cheeks flushed

Cait knows only a few Spanish phrases thanks to Jayce. Girl can’t roll her r’s or say her l’s even to save her life

She is a sweets girl! Loves flan de queso (cream cheese flan) and flan de vanilla (vanilla flan)

When she finally confessed her love for you she did it in Spanish. She practiced with Jayce for almost a month to get the emotions right

“Me gustas mucho. Te adoro. ¿Quieres ser mi novia?” (I like you a lot. I adore you. Do you want to be my girlfriend?) She handed you a bouquet of lilacs. You were so excited that you knocked her on her ass! You hit your head on a table and both of you spend your commitment with ice on your limbs

You watched each other grow up, you becoming a seamstress like your mother. And Cait going against all Mrs. Kiramman’s wishes and graduating from the Enforcer Academy

You join Cait in the private shooting classes with Officer Grayson. Both excellent shoots, but you not so much. You’re better in close range with a handgun

She looks so sexy in her enforcer outfit!

Lost your virginities to other other! It was the day of her graduation of the academy. When everyone was clustered in the Kiramman estate celebrating her accomplishment

You sneaked away together to her bedroom. Stealing a tray of hors d’oeuvres and a bottle of wine. Wanting to get away from the elite of Piltover

You were on her bed, stuffing your mouth with cheese and crackers

“You’re going to get crumbs on my sheets.”

“Are you going to give me a ticket for it?” Caitlyn scoffed at you as you tentatively shoved another bite in your mouth

Caitlyn stood in front of the mirror. Fixing her medals and badges that hung on the fabric. You knew her too well, she was picking herself apart. Thinking that she only got in the academy because of her name only

“I think I would get used to calling you “Officer Kiramman” you said crawling to the edge of the bed, bottle of wine in your hand. Lying on your stomach with your palm under your chin. Looking at the pretty lady in blue

You patted the spot next to you, discarding the bottle to the floor. Crossing your legs on the mattress

She walked to the bed and sat next to you, leaving her top hat on her bedroom ottoman

“Caitlyn, you have to believe me when I say that you are so much more than your house” You held her temple in your palm, she held your wrist. Closing her eyes as she savored your compassion

“You are more talented than those silver spooned pricks out there! You may have the same money and influence, but they will never reach the level of talent you have. Because what is all this power for if you don’t have the heart to push change? You care, Cait! And I saw with my own eyes how you make others do as well. Like the time you told your mom to give a raise for her maids and workers! Remember that?”

She giggled, remembering that day she saw your mother counting her last few coins to afford a new pair a shoes for you. Cait yelled at Mrs. Kiramman for hours, until she finally gave into her mistake

Next time she saw you there was a brand new pair of shoes on your feet that had you running up to Cait to tell her all about

And that instance evolved into Cait wanting a better world for you. She wanted to change the concrete you walked on into fields of flowers

“Thank you, I really needed that…”

“It also helps that you have a nice pair of tits.” You joked as you pointed to her Enforcer jacket

“You minx!”

She slapped your shoulder and chuckled as you faked your hiss in pain. Rolling around the bed as you help your poor “broken” arm!

“Ohhh, I’ve been a victim of police brutality!”

“I’ll show you brutality, bebé (babe)!”

She climbed on top of you, tickling your sides

“¡Cait, para que no puedo respirar!” (Cait, stop I can’t breathe!) Cait stopped her attach, watching as your chest rose to catch the missing breaths. Your cheeks rosie in adrenaline

She wanted you there with her always. Your hair on her pillows and the smell of your skin lingering on the buttery covers

“Cait?” You asked as you calmed down. Looking at her in worry

“Fuck it” Cait thought, as her lips captured yours in an estranged kiss.

After years of ghostly touches, of lingering eyes, and Jayce calling your romance worse than nuns in love in a convent. She wanted to go the next level with you

You pulled her in, rolling yourself on top

“Are you sure?” You asked bracing her neck

“It would be my honor to have my first time with you.” And yours as well. You started to take layers of your bodies

You both laughed at your struggle to unclip her blouse. Her fingers guiding yours as she showed you the intricacy of the clasps

“I guess that “enforcement” also extends to your uniform.”

“That’s why I only let you make my garments—” Caitlyn kissed the corner of your eye. “They are much more second party friendly.” You pushed the shirt of her body, surprised at the nakedness of the chest

“No bra?” You cupped her breast, feeling the goose bumps of her skin. Her breath hitched at the coldness of your hands

“I didn’t just expect half ass handshakes and putrid marriage proposals as graduation presents.” Cait took charge, pinning you against the edge of the bed. Crawling downwards to your core

She raised your skirt, white sheer stockings held by a lacy garter around your waist. Her eyes widened at the lack of fabric covering your mound

“You weren’t the only one expecting more than just pat on the shoulder tonight.” You moaned as she spread apart your lips

Cait dove in between your legs. Hands in your hips as she guided her tongue along your folds. Nose resting on the shell of your clit

“I t-think, ahhh, you underestimate yourself too much, Cait.” She focused on your bud, rolling her lips on it. Then sucking ever so lightly to draw whimpers out of your vocal cords

“¡Ya no aguanto más! Yo creo que—” (I can’t bear it anymore! I think that—)

You came with a grunt, arching your back of the matters. Head filling with rushed blood as it hanged free of support from the mattress. As you were lost in your high, Cait placed her cunt on yours and rolled her hips. Feeling her clit make love to yours. Your previous orgasm used at oil to make her slip against your pleasures

“Ready for another round?” She whispered into your raised calf. Teeth ripping the material of your stockings. She will buy you new ones, better ones.

Caitlyn was born into wealth and privilege, but she is the most understanding girl you’ll ever met

When you pointed out the problem, she found a solution even if it meant going against her high society

You opened her eyes to the real world and she is so thankful for that

Mel

You were part of the council serving as an international ambassador like her

When Mel first saw what you brought to the council she wanted only to use you as a pawn

But she fell in love with your want for progress, one that actually breaks cycles and not just one that covers them with empty promises

She saw herself in you, a woman that wanted to break the bounds of her past convictions

Neither of you had houses in Piltover and shared different cultural backgrounds than the others

You secretly make fun of the culture shocks you experienced when first moving to Piltover

Both you and Mel HATE the cold that comes with Piltovan winters

She knew about your country and even speaks fluent Spanish thanks to her mother being a Noxian general.

Mel is a scholar, she read up on everything PR before ever making a move on you

Even if she already read up on everything she asks you questions just to hear you rant about your roots

“Is it true that Puerto Rico has the best coffee? I’ve been planning on investing in some companies, but I’m still on the fence…” Mel said in a quizzical tone. Tapping her pen to her chin

Your eyes sparkled. “We have the BEST coffee! Did you know that we have almost 3,000 coffee farms in all PR?! And we also have started to produce cacao as well. It’s incredible considering—” you ranted out

She zoned out, just appreciating the beauty of which you speak so lovingly about a simple thing as coffee beans

You teach her how to make homemade sofrito (a wet spice blend made with sweet peppers, cilantro, recao, and other herbs)

But your favorite memory is when you made dulce de leche together because Mel wanted to make a tiered cake for Alura’s birthday

“¿Quieres probar un poco?” (Want to try some?) You had already some on your index finger for yourself, but you were dipping the wooden spoon for Mel to taste

“Absolutely.” She took the spoon out of your hand and placed it back in the pot. Mel grabbed your wrist

She brought your finger to her mouth. Feeling the velvety muscle roll on your finger pad. Mel took your digit all the way to the knuckle. Slowly pulling her head back with a moan

“It could use some more vanilla.” Mel said dipping her finger back into the caramel. You were felt stunned, mouth gapping and your temple rose red

“What about the sugar?” You cringed as your voice broke. Screaming mentally about getting a grip. You literally have the prettiest woman in Piltover at your wake, and here you are speaking like a teen hitting puberty!

“Mmm, I can find another way to make it a little sweeter…”

“Strip for me, darling.” You did has she commanded. Shredding off the layers of clothing all to please her

You loved the way she looked at you, eyes of a lioness. They held a power over you, you ate from her hands

She took the pot by the handle and tilted it until syrup flowed out the metal. Pouring lukewarm dulce de leche on your skin. As if she was washing the body of a queen. It slowly dripping down your body. From your nipples to the crescents of your abdomen

Flicking her finger up the cusp of your breast to your nipple. Collecting the sugary treat only for her to give her finger to you. You repeating the same action she did moments before

She stared at the base of your neck, then at your chest. Occasionally, coming back to you and sticking out her tongue so you could eat it out of her mouth. You didn’t know who was sweeter. Mel or the candy you made together

Mel kittened licked your areolas clean, never breaking eye contact with you. As her hot tongue cleaned you off

Mel stripped shortly after. The gold birthmarks of her body reflecting in the light. She takes the spoon an and spreads the dulce de leche on her ass cheeks. Candy flowing down her thighs

“Eat up.”

You sat on the floor staring with the drizzle on her thighs, then raising to the globes of her ass. Licking the syrup of her smooth skin. Nibbling at the small golden freckles that decorated her dark skin

“Is it sweet enough now, darling?”

You ordered a cake from an expensive bakery in Piltover and called it a day. What Alura didn’t know won’t hurt her

She definitely stuffed your pussy with her paint brushes when she is working on a new project

Having your legs spread wide for her as he picks up a brush for your entrance, making sure she thrusts it in and out a few times to get a moan for you

Sucking the juices of the handle then dipping the bristles in red paint

And what about you eating her out in her office when she is working?! The possibilities are endless with Mel

For me she is the type to love anything you make her. There is so much diversity in Puerto Rican cuisine and her just picking one is impossible in her eyes.

But man does she appreciate a fresh mofongo relleno de camarones (smashed fried plantain topped with shrimp in a tomato sauce)

And you also teach her the basics of bomba (a tradicional African dance). Even gifting her a custom made traditional outfit to make your dance rehearsals all the more authentic

Mel takes you on lavish vacations to the island. Staying at the best hotels and you serve as a guide to her. Taking Mel to all your favorite local spots to eat pinchos (meat skewers) and drink Medallas (Puerto Rican beer)

You took her to your favorite archipelagos and little islands surrounding PR. And skinny dipped into the various bioluminescent bays at night. Mel had never had such a good time in her life

“Querida (love), I have a present for you.” Mel entered your shared living space. Medium canvas in hand

“Oh, Mel! You didn’t have to! Is there any special occasion that I forgot about?!” You got up from your stop on the couch, greeting her with a kiss

“No, love. I just wanted to do something special.” She turned the canvas around. You squealed at the art piece. She never disappoints!

“Mel! ¡Qué pintura más espectacular! (What an espectacular painting!) The water and sand look so life like! I can’t wait to hag this up in my office!”

“I painted it after we got back from holiday. It’s that big archipelago you took me at the end of your trip.” She circled your waist for behind, resting her chin on your shoulder

“Yes, Cayo Icacos! Oh my God, it even has the same dock and the coast line!” You said admiring the canvas

“There is also on more thing—” She walked over your wine cabinet, pouring two glasses of wine. “I bought Icacos for us. So we can spend your winter vacations there. Alone. Together.” She kissed your jaw, handing you the glass

“Oh like you rented it out for us?” You took a swig, moaning at the sweet undertones

“No, I got the government to officially sell it to me and put it under our names.” Mel said nonchalantly. You sip out your wine in shock

Yep, you definitely passed out shortly after

Ekko

You were one of the people that lost everything to Silco. Your community was slowly taken by Shimmer and gang wars

Ekko and the Firelights rescued you from Silco’s men. You didn’t want to join his web of crime and they proceeded to burn your shop with you inside

If it wasn’t for them being close by you would have lost more than just a few inches of healthy skin

Ekko teaches you how to fix things, how to clean and go at any loose cables their hover skateboards may have

You also picked up flying those boards pretty quickly, he made sure to make them as user friendly as possible

You were sitting on one of the many branches of the Tree, watching the children play and seeing the progress of the new faces in the mural. Fuck did it hurt seeing those paint brushes touch the trunk of the tree

The branch shook with the addition of a foreign weight

“Lost in thought, chica (girl).” You looked up at Ekko, still wearing his Firelight coat with his white owl mask hanging from his belt

“Tell me what’s your mind.” He sat next to you, bumping your shoulder playfully

“I fell like I’m not doing much— like I’m not doing anything. Like I-I’m a burden to this place.” You sighed, throat tight with anxiety. Eyes burning with hot tears

“And what do you want to do?” Ekko asked, holding your hand that was resting your lap. Shining brown eyes studying your features

God why was he so damn handsome when you are in the middle of a breakdown!

“I just d-don’t want to stand by— and — and watch my people be slaughtered…” You said between jagged lips

Ekko smirked at your answer, slowly pulling away from you and placing a box on your thighs

“What is it?” You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand

“Open.” Ekko leaned back on his palms, trying his best to keep his cool guy act even if he was nervous as hell inside

You opened the box, inside there was a Firelight mask. One shaped like the face of a bird like many others in group

Suddenly you remembered that faint pop of green in the sky from your childhood. Of a little green bird that would eat your grandmas tomatoes from her garden

Your eyes widened. What is this really what you think it is?

“Ekko— is this a cotorra puertorriqueña (PR’s national bird)?” You said in aw, lifting the mask and examining its details. Feeling the emotion Ekko put into carving it

“I’m sorry it took so long, but I wanted to make something that would represent you—” He took a small book from of his coat, falling apart by age. “And I landed on that. I found this book in one of the flee markets I went to.” He flipped the pages, letting you see the images and words on the pages. Everything from fauna to history was written on it

Ekko pointed at an image of the bird. “It just screamed you— beautiful and free. I-I mean also many other things like—”

You cut Ekko of with an embrace, holding the mask to your chest

“No sabes cuán agradecida estoy, Ekko. Gracias, gracias, gracias…” (You don’t know how grateful I am for this, Ekko. Thank you, thank you, thank you…) You sobbed on his shoulder, gripping him tightly as if something was going to take him away from you

“Por nada, chica (you’re welcome, girl).” Ekko whispered, arms circling your back

You cook for the Firelight community and when it’s your turn to serve your food the line triples with people more than other days

Ekko even made space for a little herb garden for you! And you have some plantain trees growing in

He likes helping you cook as well. His favorite thing to do is cut, mash, and fry tostones (plantain fritters)

Wouldn’t it be cool for Ekko to have some Caribbean background?! Like Jamaican, Trinidadian, or even Dominican

I can just see Ekko going ham on a pastelón de carne (a sweet plantain lasagna with ground beef and mozzarella cheese)

You give the kids and the adults Spanish lessons. And private ones to Ekko (wink wink)

I believe that the community has a beautiful shower pace! Filled with plants and vines that filter the water making it crystal clear. It’s almost like a never ending waterfall. And it’s especially breathtaking at night when the moon and fireflies light the place up

It was past midnight, and you just got back from other painstaking parole. Dirt coating your clothing and skin

You head straight to the showers. Discarding your clothes on the bench of the makeshift stall you were in.

The stream was cool to your skin, nursing those fresh bruises on your arms and thighs. Grateful for the fresh washcloths, liquid soap and towels that were replenished after every use

You turned around at the sound of an object falling. Ekko’s pupils wide at the sight of your bare breasts and ass. As his owl mask laid on the floor. Who long was he there looking? Did he like what he was looking at?

“S-shit I’m sorry! I thought that it was empty! I’m just gonna—”

“It’s okay— you can stay if you want, Ekko…” Did one of Silco’s goons hit you to hard on the head? Ekko hesitated at first, but when you gave him a nod

You saw him taking off his clothes. Body littered with old scars. He stepped into your space. Both you and him admiring your bodies, if it wasn’t for the cold water you would be in flames

Trying your best to not look at his cock. You started washing off the white paint, careful of not to get any in his eyes. And he did the same, washing your face and neck. A blush on your cheeks

“I believe that “Boy Savior” is an understatement—” Feeling his toned stomach under the soapy washcloth. “You are more of a man than a lot of people out there.”

“Can I kiss you?” He brushed his thumb along the curves your your lips

“Yes…”

Ekko leaned into your lips. He hungered you for a long time, scared that if he got to close you’ll disappear like all his past loved ones

He touched the purple bruise on your rib as he wanted to pull you in, you gasped in pain breaking the kiss. His touch recoiled, then slowly came back in feather like stokes

“You should have never gotten this hurt!” He was angry at himself, it should have been him getting hurt. Not you, never you!

“I shouldn’t have been so focused on destroying those Shimmer barrels…” He pressed his forehead on yours. Eyes crimson with hurt

“We signed up for this, I did too. And if making the Underground better means a few scrapes and headaches, then I’m more than happy to do so.” Thumb wiping away his stray tears

“What can I do to make this up to you?” He kissed the pulse of your wrist

“If you shut up and make love to me.”

He backed you against the rocky wall, water cascading in between your bodies. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Moans concealed by the rush of the water

Ekko’s hips meet yours as he dropped and lifted your body on his arms. Cock hitting you gummy walls and g-spot

“¡Clávame más fuerte! ¡Quiero que se te rompa el bicho de tan duro que me rócese!” (Fuck me harder! I want you to break your dick with how hard you give it to me!)

Nails scratching his back, adding to the multitude of wounds on his body. You both were going to hurt so bad in the morning

“You drive me crazy, chica (girl)!”

You came in his cock in the final thrust, body pulsating with the warmth of your orgasm and the ice of the water

He pulled out and came on your stomach, kissing your neck hard enough to leave traces of your escaped. Your legs jelly at the knees

You and Ekko spent the last hours of night in the streams. Basking in the freshness of your flesh. Having each other on every wall and surface possible

“You know what I’m feelin’ right now?”

“Like your cock is going to fall off?” You said into his chest as you laid back with him on the wooden bench looking at the moon. Ekko’s chest rumbled in a chuckle

“That, and a hot bowl of asopao de pollo (chiken and rice soup).”

Sevika

Sevika definitely has a thing for Latinas

You moved to Piltover a few years ago and started working at The Last Drop. There was an influx of Spanish speaking people and Vander was desperately looking for a bilingual server

He hired you on the spot not caring how many years of experience you had

She basically became your unofficial body guard. Scaring of creeps that got to friendly while you were working

You taught her how to play dominos and you still ended up losing! You had to make her sorullitos (fired cornmeal sticks) for a month

She helps you give out food to the kids and homeless people around the Undercity. It breaks her heart seeing you cry over the people that suffer thanks to Piltover

After she lost her arm you took care of her. Making her cope with a new life change and the challenges that came with it

And you best believe you chewed her ear off about the whole Vander and Silco situation. Refusing to work for Silco and running your own food business to get by

There aren’t many South East Asians in the Undercity or in Piltover, and you bonded because of the lack of a community.

I think you guys talk a lot about the men in your life, how they treated both of you with violence. How toxic males can be thanks to your cultures never giving them consequences for there actions

Talking about how unworthy Sevika felt for just being born a woman, and a queer woman at that. How she finally broke away from all the stereotypes and became a force to be reckoned with after the death of her father

You heal each others soul wounds by embracing the best of your heritage

She knows all the Indian beauty secrets! She is the one that washes and oils your hair. Saying that “you don’t know how to take care your hair”

“Sevika, I feel like my scalp is about to start bleeding!” You wiggled away as the scalp massager dug into the sensitive parts of your head

“That means it’s working! Stop being a baby.” She poured more warm oil on your head and ignored your whining

She just wants to do something nice for you and loves your reaction as you see how long your hair as gotten since getting together

A lot of the spices that you both use for your cooking it basically nonexistent in the underground

And if they sell them, they go for an arm and a leg (hahaha amputation joke)

So Sevika makes sure that she puts special orders in the smuggling catalog for all the spices, herbs and produce that you both need to make delicious meals

You put her on to tropical fruits. From the massive avocados to the sweet and sour passion fruits

“So when I’m getting a taste of your papaya?” She is a massive flirt.

Sevika’s love language is making you a cup of chai every morning

She is mostly vegetarian, only occasionally eating meat. So her favorite food that you make is also a labor of love

So I just know she loves the pasteles you make. They literally take you a whole day to prepare. From cooking the pork or chicken, toasting the banana leaves on the stove, grading the plantains, making the red oil, and wrapping them up to look like a present

It was the holiday season and you sold almost 30 preorders of your 12 count pasteles. Making big bank, but losing your peace filling all these orders in time for Christmas Eve

She says that she will “help” but she stands leaning on the counter as you fold the banana leaves in place as she munches on plantain chips

Sevika thought you were the sexiest at home in your batas (old lady dresses or muumuus). She could clearly see the outline of your body thanks to the sheer fabric. Especially liking how your nipples got hard in the cold air and the fat mound of your hairy pussy when you didn’t wear panties with the nightgown

With a frustrated look on your face when the leaf doesn’t want to work with you

Cursing under your breath “Hijo de puta— yo te digo…” (“Son of a bitch— I’m telling you…”)

“You look so sexy when you’re frustrated, mamí…” Sevika cradled your hips from behind. Kissing the curve of your nec

“Was helping me all bullshit Sevika?”

“You forget that I only have one arm left?” She said patting her empty shoulder. Smirking at your eye roll

You weren’t amused at all at her joke. “Haha, very funny…”

“But I have other ways to help you at least…” Her hand slowly creeping under your dress strap

“Like what?” You questioned her, eyebrows raised

Sevika was in between your legs as you made the last batch of pasteles for the night

Nightgown discarded on the floor

Sucking on your clit each time you finished folding a pastel. Slowly pulling it away from her mouth and letting it go with a pop. Her two middle fingers thrusting in and out of your entrance

She watched from the kitchen floor as your breasts heaved at every lick of her tongue. Biting your outer lips when you didn’t fold the leaves fast enough

“¡Comeme la tota así mismoooo!” (Eat my pussy just like thatttt!) You made those pasteles as if you were on steroids

Her nose pressed against your mound breathing the smell of your cunt. The smell of a grown woman was intoxicating to her.

Sevika speed up her fingers and tongue, you wanted to come undone. But pushed through the last of them

Your hands braced the counter as your orgasm took over. Raising one of your legs of the ground so Sevika could drink your release fully. She groaned at the taste, vibrations sending heat through your overstimulated body

You sucked a breath, peering down your bottom half. Sevika resting her head on your inner thigh, sucking purple marks on your flesh. Jaw coated in your silk. Grey eyes drinking in your dazed face

“I believe I was more than enough help. Don’t you agree, muñeca (doll)?” She gave you clit a little kiss, pleasure running up your spine

“Eres terrible, ‘Vika—” (you’re terrible, ‘Vika—) you let out breathlessly. Ruining your fingers through her short hair

She took her fingers out of your pussy, and you leaned down to taste yourself on her. Indulging in the salty sweet flavor of your bodies. Lapping her fingers clean and then kissing Sevika. Her lips push against yours

“Mmm my compliments to the chef.” You had more than one good fuck that night on the floor with Sevika

Who knew that pasteles were such an aphrodisiac?

If they ask you why these were so delicious you just smile shyly and say: “I just put a little extra love (orgasm) into them.”

Vander

As a bartender he absolutely was inspired to make a cocktail menu for you. Makes you his official taste tester for any new drink he plans to put in the menu

You owned a small food stand in the Underground ever since he was working in the mines

And it was always packed with people in and out of work

You got together shortly after Vander stopped your shop from getting mugged by some punks

Vander is a coffee lover and always makes it a routine to get up early in the mornings just so that he can have a hot cup of Puerto Rican joe with fresh butter and bread on the side

Thankful that you always feed his kids when he doesn’t have time to cook for them, and free at charge with at that

But he always sneaks more than enough coin into your tip jar when he visits you after a rough day

“Does Vander ever feed you guys at all?” You asked serving another customer

“He does but he burns everything he cooks—” Vi said licking her fingers clean from the delicious poultry you made

“Can I have another piece of chicken, tití (auntie)?” Powder said holding her empty plate at you, big eyes looking at you with love. Mouth covered in red sauce

“Con esos ojitos (with those little eyes) who can say no to you Pow-Pow!”

Yes his kids call you auntie and I’ll take that to the grave!

Whenever you call him “Hound” he blushes! And you make fun of him a lot for it as well. Calling him a dog as you catch him looking at your ass as you bend over to get plates and watching your tits jiggle as you make your fresh pressed juices.

Coquito (coconut eggnog) is his all time favorite drink, second to guarapo (sugar cane juice). And when you gave him a shot to try it solidifies his want to open a bar so he can make delicious drinks like this

When it’s the holidays Vander lets you have parrandas (live Puerto Rican music parade) at the bar. You introduced him to el guiro (a type of musical instrument) and la pandereta (small hand drum). And he plays them really well!

“Maybe those big hands are not just useful for punching things, huh Vander?” You played along side him as you watched the kids for a dance circle. Chuckling at Powder’s lack of feet coordination as she stepped on Mylo’s toes

“I will have to show you sometime. You will certainly be surprised, love.” You blushed, quickly going over the other musicians to sing your part of the chorus. You felt his eyes on you the whole time, loving the attention he gave you

The kids went to sleep as midnight approached. The adults enjoying their late drinking. Vander was leaning against the bar as you danced with Sevika. Watching you teach her the basics of bachata so that she could impress the girl she was pinning for

“You’re not so bad at this, Sevika!” She twirled you around

“Na, I’m better at the cards than all of this.” Sevika said, still looking at your feet as you guided her steps

In the corner of your eye you saw this other girl go up to Vander. You didn’t hear what they were thanks to the loud music. But you saw him shaking his head “no”. The girl turned around annoyed, flicking her wrist at him as dismissing a dog. Wishing her eyes found a brain in the back for her skull as she rolled them. You thought she finally back off. But you were wrong…

She pressed her ass against the front of his pants, shaking her flat flabby ass. Vander choking in his drink in pure shock. Trying to push the girl away

Before Sevika could stop you, you were already across the other side of the bar. Fist clenched, Vander making brief eye contact with you. His eyes widened at your wrath. Uh oh…

“¡Èl dijo que no jodia puta! ¡Te voy a romper la cara!” (He said no you fucking whore! I’m going to break your face in!) Grabbing her hair by the root and dragging her off to the bar floor. Her screaming and sinking her nails on your forearms, drawing blood. You screamed at her attach

You hear people cheer and yell at you to: “teach her to not touch anyone’s man again”.

Throwing your body weight back and making her crash into the round tables. Before the girl could even process the pain you straddled her stomach and punched her face in. The alcohol in your system making you rabid

“Love, that’s enough!” Vander pulled your fingers off the girls body. You were thrashing against his hold. Sevika hoisted the other woman taking her out of the bar.

“Everyone, out!” Vander yelled. You watched bodies move with blurry eyes. You still thirsty for blood.

“¡Déjame! (Let go!) ! Ugh, Vander!” He threw you over his shoulder. You punching his muscular back for him to let you go. He took you into the supply closet behind the bar. Dropping your feet on the floor.

“Let me out Vander! She is not getting off that easy for touch you like that!”

You wobbled like a new born fawn, holding the shelves for support. Vander locked the door and turned on the dim light abode your heads.

“Sit your ass down! I’m not tellin’ you twice…” Vander warned, pointing at the large empty barrel. You stared him down on your tippy toes. Blue eyes piercing yours.

“You really want to go there, sweetheart?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. Getting close enough to smell the whiskey and smoke on his breath. The smell of your man

You wanted those hands around your throat. You wanted him to fuck the brat out of you. Your fight for dominance was short lived

“Fine.” You caved in and sat down with an annoyed plop. Grumbling at him with your arms crossed

God, did you love the control he had over you. You loved a man that put you in your place, while still being caring and loyal

Vander turned his back to you while looking for the first aid kit. Admiring the thickness of his body. And those pants that made his ass and legs look so delectable

“If I wouldn’t have stopped you, you’ll be heading to Stillwater by the end of the night.” Vander stood in front of you, raising your head to meet his warm gaze

“I’m sorry—” You whispered as your eyes became teary

“Christ, love! You would have killed her!” He lifted your arms to see the damage. Cleaning your wounds with alcohol. You hissed at the burn. Vander slowly wrapping your forearms with white gauze

“I’ve never seen you act like that before—” Breaking the silence. “I didn’t think a lady such as yourself could be so violent, so jealous…”

Vander would never admit that he loved what you did to that girl. How sexy you were while beating the shit out of a stranger just for him. It made him feel loved in a fucked up way

He lifted your bandaged arms to his lips. Breathing the scent of your wounds

“Tell me, love. Are all Puerto Rican women like that?” He asked innocently, looking at your face with curiosity

“I’m not just a jealous woman, Vander… I’m going to tell you a little secret about us puertorriqueñas.” You said stroking his bearded cheek. “We are territorial. And we fight for what is ours, even if it means that I have to fucking sink my teeth into any whore that touches mi hombre (my man)” You said between your gritted teeth, pulling Vander towards you. Tongue sinking into his mouth tasting faint of whiskey

You pulled his belt, harshly tugging it open. Feeling his hard cock through the fabric. God, did you want to get that whore’s smell of him. Replace it with the scent of your cunt

“You are mine, Vander. And I am yours.”

His eyes dialed, pants ever so uncomfortable. Vander launched at you, lifting you by your legs and kissing your lips. Your back gently hitting against the liquor shelves

He quickly discarded your bottoms, you gave his length a few pumps then lined it up against your cunt. You could never get bored of the sight of his cock, or the hot stretch it gave you

“Choke me, Vander!” You yelled, pussy filled with him. His hand was placed in your neck in a moment. Fingers pressing your pulse points.

Vanders thrusting was meet with the sounds of clinking bottle and the rattling of the shelves. He was a beast, slapping your entrance at full force as moans were caught on your airway. Velvety walls sucking him in. Heavy balls knocking against the push of your cheeks.

“I’m gonna cum, lovie—” He let go of the hold on your throat. “Where do you want it?”

“In my mouth!” Vander dismounted you. Cock glossy from the slick of your pussy

You kneeled on the ground, fingers fucking your pussy. Taking that big veiny dick in one go, slurping your combined juices as his tip hit the back of your throat. Vander’s hand resting in your hair. Your other hand massaging his balls

Vander came with a grunt, back of his head hitting the wooden shelves. Gasping in surprise as it coated your mouth. He was going to need ice for that later, you thought, enjoying the creaminess of his cum

Sticking your tongue out to show him his release. Then moaning as you swallowed it

“You dirty girl.” Biting your lip as he cursed at your seduction

“My dirty dog.”

You licked his cock clean. Pulling his foreskin in between your lips. Kissing it all around and making out with his tip slit. You nibbled at his shaft, using a bit of teeth to draw gasps from Vander

You brought your mouth to his pubic bone. Biting his skin, hard enough to leave marks. And leaving hickeys on his stomach

Loving how your food left some extra pounds on him. Making his tummy all the more squishy and soft

“You’re eating me alive, love—” You giggled on his skin, slowly stroking his spent cock. “Mark your territory, mi loba (my she-wolf).”

“Con placer…” (With pleasure…) You gave his cock a final kiss. Long lasting, a little red bruise at the side of his shaft. Moaning at your work, eyes sparkling up at him

Vander helped you off your knees, and leaned you against his chest. You rested there for a while, calming down for your sex crazed high

“Do you want me to make you a passion fruit mock-tail, darlin’?” Vander rasped, hand soothing the pulse of your throat

“Yesss please, and with extra—” Vander shushed you with a kiss

“And with extra ice and pineapple pieces. I know, amor (love), I know.” He pecked your forehead

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nelo0wesker · 8 months ago

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I miss you

Relationship: Armando Aretas X Reader

@thedarkworldofhananerea

————

Armando's head shots up hearing his cell being banged by one of the prison guards' batons. His thoughts were interrupted by you because of the guard.

“Aretas, you have a visitor” the guard warns him going to the door of the room and leaving. A few seconds later Mike walks into the room and goes up to Armando’s cell. He stops looking at his son. “How are you doing?” Mike questions him while waiting for his answer. “Well paying my debt” Armando replies and then sighs not looking at his father. “It’s a big one”.

“Opportunity may have presented itself for you to pay down some of that debt. You interested?” Mike questions Armando. Armando just stares at his father for a few seconds. All he could think about was if he did this. He’ll get closer to getting out and seeing you. “I’m in” Armando replies, watching his father smile and nod.

——

Armando holds his bleeding arm watching Callie get in front of him to protect him from being near her mother. “Mom? Mom don’t?” Callie says blocking her mother's aim. Judy aims her gun at them. “Get away from her!” She yells moving to the side trying to get a clear shot of Armando. “Mom!-“ “Now!” Judy says. “Mom, listen to me you don’t understand?” Callie says, trying to reason with her mother.

“Callie, I need you to listen to me. I want you to step slowly to your right and walk towards me.” Judy says still aiming as Callie shakes her head no. “Mom! Mom, I’m fine. Okay!” She tries to say. “Callie, I need you to move out of the way!”

“Mom,” Callie says to her. Armando gets up and Judy aims at him. Callie raises her arms trying to prevent Judy from shooting. “Mom! Mom, don't shoot! Don’t shoot! Mom, he saved me! Stop!” She yells out.

Mike runs towards them. “Judy! Judy!” He says going towards her trying to stop her. “Back off, Mike!” She tells him as he tries to get closer. “Judy-“ he tries again but she yells over him. “Put the gun down?” She yells at Mike and he aims his arms up so she doesn’t shoot.

“He saved my life,” Callie says, trying to stop her mother from shooting the male behind her. She slowly goes to her mother with a scared look. “Please Mom” she tries again. Judy stares at her daughter and then aims her gun down. She looks down gulping feeling her eyes water. Her gun was now holstered. Mike immediately goes to Armando while Callie runs to her mother.

“Are you hit? Are you hit?” Mike questions looking him over for any bullet wounds. “I’m good,” Armando tells him as Mike looks up at him. “You good? He asks him as Armando moves his arm up to his father's neck to support himself. “You did good… you did good” Mike tells him and then turns to Judy hearing the radio go off "Howard where are you?" Judy lets go of Callie thinking as the radio goes off again. "Howard, do you copy?" Judy looks at Callie, "Howard' where's your location". Judy looks at Mike as he looks at Callie." Go... Before I change my mind".

Mike turns to Armando "Let's go! Let's go" He says, walking with him and looking at Judy while holding Armando.

They made it to where the boat was.

They stopped and Mike turned to his son

"You good? You good?" He questions the Latino male. Armando nods his head watching his father go into his vest grabbing a notebook.

"You take this," Mike tells him, putting the book in Armando's vest, "Head south don't look back"

Armando nods his head. "I got it". Mile nods his head looking at his son "Be good" He tells him, Armando just stares at his father. "It's not up to you Detective," He tells him and fist bumps his father turns around and gets on the boat starting it. He sits down and turns to his father. Mike pushes the boat out watching his son go.

Armando stirs the boat and leaves, not looking back as his father watches.

—-

She startles awake hearing a crash in her home. She gets out of bed scared, grabbing a knife. She walks out of her room shakily going to her living room. She pauses seeing a figure on her couch. She aims her knife at the figure as she turns on the light.

Y/N's eyes widen seeing Armando all bloody.

She drops the knife and runs to him horrified that he might be dying. "Armando!" She says getting her med kit to fix the wounds on him. He grabs her chin and smiles.

"Te echo de menos, cariño. Eres tan hermosa. Te echo mucho de menos "He says stroking her cheek as he admires her beauty. Y/N patches up his wounds ready to help him up but was pulled into Armando's arms. He hugged her tightly, not letting go anytime soon. “I miss you too Armando,” she says, carefully hugging him back.

#armando aretas #bad boys #armando aretas x reader #jacob scipio #my writing #haven’t wrote in years so it’s gonna suck for my first try of writing in awhile

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preposterousjams · 4 months ago

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My opinion on the Latino Jason Todd headcanon

While I do understand ppl's criticism of the latino Jason todd headcanon and how its kind of racist to make the kid with parents with drug problems as the latino one, to me its more of a reclamation BECAUSE of DC's racism.

Read any 80s/90s batman issue that covers gang violence and drugs, most if not ALL of the criminals are poc; black people and latinos visibly make up the majority in the poorer neighbourhoods in Gotham. Aside from the caricaturist way they r drawn/speak, its not THAT weird cause its a reflection of irl big cities where immigrants and marginalised ppl are often forced to live in such situations, (like most of my dominican family lives in the bronx... it aint racist to say dominicans tend to flock there), BUT...the weird part is when the second a sympathetic character comes from that area, he's white and has a name thats "too fancy for the streets".

Obviously, Jason was created to look like the old robin, so I can't say that the whole "diamond in the rough" situation was purposely a tad bit racist, but its still a lil weird (especially with bruce's comment).

If Jason were a part of the overwhelming demographic in his area, the good-kid-in-a-bad-area trope has less connotations. DC is currently trying to fix this trope is by making crime alley whiter, which isn't bad but they could've just yk... humanised the non-white residents.

I also feel like the messed up way Jason was treated post-death is what makes him so relatable to latino readers. His tragic story of dying while trying to save his only living relative is turned into a lesson for newer vigilantes. Jason's particular disdain for abusers on a few occasions was twisted (by both writers and characters) into him always being dumb, reckless, cocky, angry and disobedient, always violent, never having been able to get over his upbringing. None of those things were true (he was a normal level of reckless and cocky like every other robin, not more), but its an easier narrative to digest compared to how it was in reality; a kid who worked so hard and loved even harder, died to save a woman who couldn't care less about his existence. He was an emotional AND smart kid who wanted so bad to help others get better but was remembered as too emotional (in a bad way).

THIS is the reality for many latino diasporas in day to day life; Theres no question that Latino culture is passionate and emotive, but people from other cultures assume that it is followed by instead of logical. both can coexist. emotion does not mean u have no logic. Emotions can be irrational but they aren't inherently that way, and I wouldn't say that the moments where Jason lashed out as a teenager were irrational (in og runs, not rewrites post red hood), they were mostly done to protect someone (going crazy on abusers, disobeying batman to save sheila, that time he got into a fight at school to defend his friend).

A lot of euro-centric culture is OBSESSED with the idea that rationality is separate from feelings and emotions, but not crying at a funeral doesn't mean you're better than those who do. Emotions are the basis of human ethics and morals, they define the way we interact as a collective and ignoring them does not mean they are not there. Theres no winner to a contest of who can feel the less. And the way Jason's emotions are treated (pre-rh, hes definitely unhinged afterwards lol) is so in line with how white culture tends to punish those who aren't ashamed to feel.

I TOTES UNDERSTAND that some ppl who headcanon Jason as latino are doing it for the complete opposite of reasons, like "oh here some angry emotional guy with druggie parents, haha must be latino". Its weird. I dont like it. And its only brought up so he can swear in spanish in some rlly bad text post where his emotions are getting out. But to me there's so much potential for metanarrative and commentary on how latinos are treated in media that can be exemplified through the way his character is treated. Being latino would add SO MUCH DEPTH to his character and his dynamic with the others.

#this is just my rant lol #for the non-latinos who wanna write latino jason todd pls stop the spanglish... he dont even have to speak spanish at all #you can incorporate elements of his culture/upbringing (pls pick a country tho the experience is so diff everywhere)#im super biased but carribean jason>>>>#ok but like undead lore in dominican culture is crazyyyy... like the myth of zombies comes from hispanola #my grandma was genuinely terrified of waking up in her coffin bc of stories of ppl coming back to life that she wanted to be cremated #jason todd #latino jason todd #red hood #batfam

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kukobs · 4 months ago

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i want the trojans to meet the foxes so badddd, i know it's unrealistic bc of the locations but

i want jeremy+laila+cat to meet the monsters. i want them to see the grumpy asshole (affectionate) kevin is with his foxes.

i want laila and renee talking about goalkeeper strategies (i know andrew couldn't care less abt that conversation).

i want cat and nicky having fun together (they're both loud, extroverted, queer latino backliners, and even neil said that cat's smile reminded him of nicky's).

i want neil getting to properly know jeremy and to know jean is in good hands.

i want andrew to confront jean about the candy he threw away and jean getting annoyed saying an athlete shouldnt eat that much sugar (he takes after kevin) and that he's doing him a favor.

i want laila and dan being friends and bonding over how hard it is to look after their respective mafia-linked boys.

i want neil bickering (in a friendly way) with jean (forever partners).

i want matt and jeremy being besties since they're both adorable sweethearts.

i want andrew being (at least slightly) protective over jean bc he knows he's important to neil, kevin and renee.

i want jeremy cat and laila finally meeting renee, the cute girl whose photo jean is always staring at with a fond smile and soft eyes, the girl who got their friend out of the hell he'a been living in for his whole life and is the reason he's still here today (i love renee sm).

and i want jean and kevin to be friends again and be able to laugh together and to talk about a future they're going to have doing what they love most, playing exy. because they're finally okay and safe, and they have a team/family that loves them and will protect them always so there's nothing to be afraid of

#aftg #tsc #nora sakavic #all for the game

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mindmelter · 1 year ago

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The Body Wearing Convention - Las Vegas

The BWA (Body Wearing Alliance) was formed 20 years ago when the internet was just starting to get popular. Those born with the rare ability of reducing people into wearable skins didn't knew there was more like them out there, but with the help of the internet they started to find others with the same ability, and soon it was created the BWC (Body Wearing Convention)

The Body Wearing Convention is a clandestine event that happens a few times every year, hidden from the prying eyes of the public, It is a secret event where they can gather, share stories, and find solace in the knowledge that they aren't alone in their power.

The BWC happens in a different country every time, for safety reasons, and the main two rules to participate in the convention is: To be a Skinwalker (That's how they call themselves) and to wear the body of a local from that place, that means you can't bring with yourself skins from home.

Currently the secret Alliance is made up of 130 men around the world. But among these 130 members, there are 10 men who are very close friends with each other, they all share one thing in common: They are all gay.

Surprisingly they are the only gay guys of the entire Alliance, while all the others sought power and money, these 10 friends only care about getting hard in a new sexy body, It was like a sport for them. That's why they created an online group chat, where they can talk and share pictures of their current bodies with each other.

The location of the BWC this time is: USA - Las Vegas.

The 10 friends all arrived individually at the city in an early Friday, the convention would occur during the weekend, so they had to find a new skin quickly, and so they went straight on a hunt for a random local body.

Think of the BWC as the Met Gala, but for people who can turn you into a wearable hollow fleshsuit in a blink. There was this unspoken competition among them, to see who was wearing the hottest or richest skin, and this group of friends clearly didn't care about the last one...

_______________________________________

Carl is a 46 years old married gay man, he is part of the BWA for 17 years, and there is nothing Carl love more than wearing the bodies of fit straight guys. His husband knows he's a skinwalker and is totally fine with it. But because his husband is not a skinwalker, he is not allowed to go to the conventions, so Carl always travels alone.

(Friday, March 1st. 8:19 AM) Carl Sent A Photo

Carl: I just turned this hot Latino stud in the hotel parking lot. He was walking towards his car while talking on the phone with his girlfriend. That's when I slowly walked behind him and turned him. What do you guys think? Do I wear him well?

Harold: You're looking so hot. You always pick the most hottest guys.

Elijah: Wow, you already found a body? That was fast.

Joel: He's not that impressive, I would give him a 6/10 lol

Elijah: Stop being a jerk Joel. This guy is clearly a 9/10

Carl: Don't mind him Elijah, he's just jealous of my pick.

Joel: He's not really my type, today I'm looking for a sexy tough looking guy to wear.

Peter: Hot choice of skin Carl! Show us his dick please!

Carl: You will have to wait until the Convention to see it. But i'm telling you, he's really big and thick, I know you're gonna love sucking it.

_______________________________________

David is 34 years old and he is part of the BWA for 13 years.

He first found out about his ability when his homophobic stepbrother was trying to beat him up, David closed his eyes and tried to protect his head, but when he opened his eyes, he saw his hot stepbrother lying on the floor completely deflated. David had the most fun years living the life of his douchebag of a stepbrother, until one day, his stepbrother just "disappeared"

(Friday, March 1st. 9:46 AM) David Sent A Photo:

David: I made two new bodysuits. I saw the handsome blond one at the hotel's pool, he was trying to seduce some girls by showing off his hot body, he just didn't knew he was actually seducing a skinwalker. To get him, I first had to convert this cute room service attendant, after I put him on, I got access to his room and walked inside. I think I'm going to use the attendant tonight for some fun.

Elijah: Oh, the good old room service method. It works every time.

David: It was you who taught me this method back in 2011 when I was still a new member of the BWA.

Damian: It brings back good memories from that one time where we all stayed at the same hotel in the 2011 Convention. Good times.

_______________________________________

Peter Is a 40 years old gay bottom who love to turn big hunky men into Bodysuits and act like a slut in their bodies. He is part of the Body Wearing Alliance for 9 years.

(Friday, March 1st. 11:28 AM) Peter Sent A Photo:

Peter: Do I look cute? This is Ramón, I turned him at an alley while he was jogging, he's a bodybuilder. I'm gonna make such a good use of his muscles. I'm sure you guys are going to love the muscles in his ass the most.

Joel: I love how you always pick the most biggest guys.

Daniel: I feel bad for this poor bastard, of all the Skinwalkers, he was picked by the most perverted one.

Peter: lol

Carl: He's huge. I'm going to enjoy burying my new thick latino dick in your bodybuilder's ass.

Harold: I really like his pecs. I want to suck on them when we meet tomorrow.

Peter: It's always the pecs for you isn't, Harold? lol

Harold: You're not lying. Actually I just saw this hot guy at the mall and he seems to have very big pecs. I'm going to follow him.

_______________________________________

Harold is a 28 years old scrawny gay man, he has no muscle definition, but he love pecs and it was what he first looked for in a body: Their huge pecs. If the guy didn't had two big meaty pecs, he wound't want them.

He went to the local LA mall to hunt for a body, he knew that the mall was always the perfect place for hunting skins. And he was proven just right when he saw this big and tall hunk walk inside a clothing store. Harold smirked as he entered the store and followed the man.

(Friday, March 1st. 1:05 PM) Harold Sent A Photo:

Harold: Who want some milk boys? Daddy got all the milkers now.

Peter: Oh my god, look at the size of these tits. I will let you suck on Ramón's tits if you let me suck yours.

Harold: This sounds like a good deal.

Carl: Very nice choice of skin! Good job, Harold.

Peter: Can you send a video of you playing with those hairy tits and pinching his nipples? Please?

(1:15 PM, Harold Sent A 20 Seconds Video To The Group Chat)

In the vídeo he was in the middle of the store, squeezing his new pair of meaty hairy pecs, he lifted one of them and let go, watching them bounce, then he pinched his left nipple and let out a deep loud moan. Without feeling any shame for being in a public space. It wasn't technically him who was being humiliated in public, so he didn't cared.

_______________________________________

Damian and Rashad are a black gay couple (47, 49) they have been together for 11 years and they both had met each other during a Body Wearing Convention back in 2013. It was very known to everyone that they only turned white men into Bodysuits, it was their favorite type of skins. So there was no diversity in their Bodysuit closet, only white men.

(Friday, March 1st. 3:07 PM) Damian Sent A Photo:

Damian: You guys know how Rashad and I love to hunt white boys, so what better place to find some white skins than at the LA beach? We saw this group of young frat boys surfing and we converted these two 19 years olds, they were just the most handsome ones in their group. Turns out they are twin brothers.

David: This is such a hot pair, and the fact they are brothers makes it even more hot!

Carl: I want to fuck the long haired one with my thick latino dick while I pull his hair.

Damian: I like this Idea. His long hair would be great to use as a handle for a hard fuck. I might even try It later tonight.

David: Send us a video if you do.

_______________________________________

Joel is the youngest one of the group, at only 19 he already has a count of 86 Bodysuits, and he's part of the Body Wearing Alliance for only 1 year. That's why, the BWA leader tasked Elijah, a veteran in the art of wearing bodies, to watch for Joel and not let the young man expose their secret society.

(Friday, March 1st. 5:14 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: My new bodysuit is still deflating. I can't wait to finally wear him and show him to you guys. He's so hot.

Carl: You gave my bodysuit a 7/10, so he better be a 10/10.

Isaac: Wow he's packing.

Harold: When he deflate, please send us a pic of you in him. I want to see if his front looks as good as his back side.

(Friday, March 1st. 5:40 PM) Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: I'm inside him now. I saw this sexy daddy at the hotel's bar. I waited for him to go to his room and then I followed him, as soon as he opened the door I converted him, right there at the door's entrance, I mean, of course he took a bit longer to deflate, so I had to drag him inside. I actually wanted to wear a scary looking soldier that I saw at the bar, but Elijah didn't let me. Still, I'm very glad with my pick.

Harold: Holly fuck!!!

Peter: He's a very sexy bodysuit. Wish I was there to give him a very special room service.

Carl: Where is Elijah by the way? Should he not be with you?

Joel: Elijah Is outside, I don't know where he went, but he said he was going to be back soon.

Carl: Did he picked a bodysuit already?

Joel: Yes he did, a young and hot fuckboy. Let me send a pic of him.

Joel Sent A Photo:

Joel: This is the body Elijah picked to wear at the convention tomorrow. I think he got this one at the hotel's bathroom maybe? I'm not sure. I hope he don't mind that I'm wearing his brand new skin.

Elijah: Boy, you're in big trouble!

Joel: Shit, I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't mind. I'm gonna take him off.

Elijah: Don't you dare taking him off, I'm not going to wear him anymore, I found a better body to wear tomorrow. wait for me, I'm getting up there right now.

(Friday, March 1st. 6:22 PM) Elijah Sent A Photo:

Elijah: You don't want to disobey me in my new body, boy, so you better be on your knees when I get inside, I'm horny and this guy have big balls full of cum.

Joel: Yes sir!

Peter: Oh yes sir indeed!

Carl: lol you're fucked Joel.

_______________________________________

Isaac is a 24 years old gay man, and like everyone else in this group, he was addicted to wearing hunky men. He is more reserved and shy, and don't talk much in the group chat. However, he enjoys jerking off while viewing the photos his friends would send to the group chat.

He might be the most shy and reserved in the group, but once he's wearing a handsome hunk, he becomes a whole new different person, a more dominant and cocky one.

(Friday, March 1st. 8:37 PM) Isaac Sent A Photo:

Isaac: Seeing you guys wearing such hot bodies is getting me so freaking hard. I can't wait for tomorrow. I got this one at the gym's lockerroom. Who wants to take care of my boner?

Peter: I do! I want to get on my knees in Ramón's body and let you use his slutty mouth.

Harold: You're looking so damn hot, Isaac, good pick.

Carl: Was you working out? Your skin looks very sweaty.

Isaac: I was. I wanted to test out my new muscles.

Carl: Great. Can't wait for the convention tomorrow, where we can finally see each other's bodies in person and have the orgy of the year.

#bodysuit

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love-of-the-red-star · 4 months ago

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That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter eight: In which the Express celebrates the Day of the Dead with you

Dan Heng’s room was nothing short of simple and surprisingly comfortable.

You’ve been digging around the archives again after your short trip to your favorite desert planet, ready to contribute to the logs that made up Dan Heng’s archive.

He’d allowed you to touch the monitors and type in what you wanted, surprising even Himeko as he was usually rather cautious to let other people(usually March, bless her heart) roam around and touch his things unless they only wanted to read up on things.

You thanked him for that, of course. It was rather sweet of him to allow you to do this.

And so you typed away— made little personal notes on what the culture was like, and people that you also knew as yourself and not Delia. While Dan Heng’s records of Sigonia IV already existed, you were compelled to make your own as well, as a thank you to the people that had been so far hospitable to you.

You haven’t seen little Kakavasha in your visit, so you too wondered how he is now. He’s probably an adult— not so little anymore, growing into the familiar visage of “Aventurine” that you knew in your past life, but you hope it’s not the same horribly tortured man you know.

There was still discrimination, even a bit more than a decade since the freedom of this clan— they still warred with the Katicans here and there, but the disputes were more manageable, less genocidal as the Avgin were more protected by humanitarian groups.

But there wasn’t really any real interest for the cultures of people that had been long discriminated even with your intervention, and if no one was going to do the job of helping them at least preserve a certain view of it, you’d do the job yourself.

Sigonia IV would not be the only place that would stay in the archives for the other future Nameless to find, maybe one day you’d ask for Boothill’s planet, because while it no longer existed, you believed it wasn’t fair for it to die along with him.

You’ve made notes of it, here and there from what little you could get from some books that made mention of it and Boothill’s ramblings. While you could always consult Fuli for the rest of the things, it felt disrespectful towards your friend. You may be an Aeon now, but you knew honor— prying without your friend’s permission felt invasive, you weren’t a human anymore, but you know that kind of stunt wouldn’t be something he would appreciate.

Suddenly, you wondered about the planets you’ve accidentally destroyed, about the lives you had taken without meaning to, and the ones you drove mad beyond your control. Your typing still continued, undeterred by your silent grief as information flowed into the data bank without even a slight inaccuracy despite the difference in how you felt.

You should grieve for the ones who were lost, you thought to yourself. Glancing at the date present in your monitor, you found it was the best time too.

The Day of the Dead.

You’re not even sure if people even celebrated that holiday in this world. Maybe Halloween, but you doubt Dia de los Muertos, as the Latinos would call it, or Araw ng mga patay, as the Filipinos would say, is something widely celebrated in an expanded universe such as this.

Maybe you’d find a world that does celebrate it someday, but for now, maybe you’re going to be alone in giving acknowledgment and silent grief to the ones that had been lost.

You weren’t very close to a religion in your previous life as a human, but now that you thought of the holidays that gave people solace and something to celebrate, you began to feel a little strange that there was no god you could pray to as you were now technically one yourself.

Worshippers weren’t so bad now when you think of it as people laying their problems to a willing ear they can’t see or hear to give them the peace of mind they desired.

You finished up the logs, determined to plant the Avgin’s language inside of it next on the next time you’d touch the monitor. But for now, you had a goal in mind.

——————————————

Some researchers knew you as a grieving Aeon, with your cries reaching the far ends of the cosmos for reasons they sometimes don’t understand.

They observed you once again, mindful to keep their distance from hundreds of light years away as the telescope that found your distant visage caught on the fact that you were crying yet again. But this time, you’re quiet. There was no horrible song of lament that fried wires and caused damage, this one was silent, this one was red.

The liquid that flowed from what seemed to be your eyes was crimson, your lips pressed together as your expression looked forlorn. The telescope saw your hands move, then suddenly, nothing.

You did not want it to see you.

——————————

Setting up an altar was relatively easy, decorated with flowers you’d grabbed from a world away in the expanse of a mountain and a lot of candles you’ve carefully lit.

Lives lost in the fight of freedom, and the lives you took without meaning to. There were too many to count, and you doubt Pompom would like to have the train set on fire.

There were no pictures, no relics, there was simply you, the flowers, the altar, the candles.

Welt had passed by your room and seemingly recognized the decor, quietly joining your side as you started to kneel in front of the altar and mumbled something along the lines of a familiar prayer that he vaguely recognized.

Sometimes Welt forgot you were a human in your previous life. You’ve told him before, when you disclosed things about yourself to him and Himeko.

There was no god that you knew to pray to here, and to make it stranger, you were one yourself. Maybe you were trying to emulate it— old habits maybe, old bits and pieces of your human personality, and reliving specific memories. Or maybe you’re just trying to commemorate those you’ve lost in the way you knew a distant life away.

Welt joined you in your prayer. There is no god to direct his thoughts to, but there’s a strange sense of peace there regardless.

Welt stood up after a few moments while you stayed, lingering before eventually leaving the room.

“Why does it smell like candles burning?” March asked as she encountered him in the hallway.

“It’s for a celebration.” He said. “A day to remember and honor the dead.”

She looked a little confused. “Day to honor the dead?”

“Yes, you can join [Name] in their room if you’d like. It’s not a bad thing, although I can understand why you’d be confused— it’s not widely celebrated after all.” Welt smiled as March slowly nodded.

————————

You weren’t in the room for much longer, opting to head to the kitchen so you could make something to eat. You were there for at least two hours, and everyone seemed to leave you alone to your devices as you made some dishes you remembered from a past life.

Some comfort food, and fluffy bread.

You brought it to the dinner table with a smile as Pompom trailed after you to arrange the bowls and plates for everyone.

Once you were done, you made do of calling everyone in to eat. They don’t really ask why there’s a different feast of savory and sweet food on the table that was clearly not Pompom’s cooking.

Welt looked at you in a certain way that you know that he knew things, and you sent him an appreciative nod as you gestured for everyone to sit down and eat.

“These are some.. recipes that I know from my homeworld.” You began. “These typically aren’t stuff you would get when you’re celebrating the holiday in a very traditional way, but sadly my knowledge of cooking is… kinda limited.” You scratched your temple awkwardly.

“You don’t have to apologize for it.” Himeko said. “It’s the intent that counts.” She smiled, then placed some bread on her plate and stew in her bowl.

“You’re right.” You gave her a small smile of your own.

You failed to spot Dan Heng at the corner of your eye, looking at the bowl of stew in contemplation as Welt’s words sprang up memories of old friends lost in a life he didn’t want to remember.

Maybe he’d allow himself to grieve losses just this once, even if that person who’s lost those people in a distant life away wasn’t him anymore. Maybe for those that Blade had taken from him too in this life.

“Are you okay?” March nudged him gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He said, blinking and snapping out of his thoughts before sinking his spoon into the stew.

Dan Heng found comfort in its flavor.

—————————————

March had taken photos of your room with the altar after dinner, plastering it into her wall with the label “Day of the Dead” in earth colored frames that contrasted the aesthetics of her room. She didn’t mind as much, surprising even herself as she was rather picky about her own decorations.

However, this was something that you shared with them, and that mattered to her. She couldn’t remember her past, and so to have a small piece of someone she knew that saved her was a nice feeling because she didn’t really quite know you. She doubt she ever would actually know you in the way the older crew members do, but that’s okay, that meant she could know you through the new memories she’d create.

She thought of you for a moment and what you’d lost, and she also wondered about the past self she can’t remember. Did she have people that she lost too? Were there people that lost her? Were there people that missed her?

She remembered her conversation with you, a strangely solemn topic for a girl so bubbly like her.

“What do you usually do?” She asked, clearly referring to the little holiday.

“People usually prayed, then offered food and flowers to their dead and all that.” You replied. “I thought it’d be a little nice to honor the people lost along the way. It’s a thing in my old world to not forget the dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She found herself saying. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You don’t have to worry, it’s not offensive at all.” You smiled and patted the spot next to you. “It’s a pretty big celebration in my world, and in some countries it’d be a lot livelier than this.” You said as she went to sit next to you.

“They’d wear costumes and make up and bring out live music and everything. The food’s a lot better too I think— there’s too many for me to remember, so the ones I made weren’t the traditional ones people ate during that day.” You explained as she listened attentively.

“That’s okay, it was delicious anyways.” She giggled, shifting slightly to adjust herself before settling in comfortably in a few moments of silence.

“Do you…. Miss your old world? Ah— you don’t have to answer that.” March sputtered, realizing her mistake.

“It’s okay. And yeah… maybe just a bit. I’m not sure how to feel about it to be honest.” You said, glancing at the windows of your room.

She couldn’t see what kind of expression you were making, and so she found herself hugging you. There was something inherently sad about you despite your antics, like you’ve lost too many things.

You returned that embrace.

————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX(HERE), Part X……

Interludes: one, two…

Special chapter: link

Yeeeeee hello y’all!!! Pushing this chapter out in celebration of All Souls Day! :DD

I hope all of you are well! Also I’ll be happy to answer any of your questions regarding the series, so drop any thoughts, don’t be shy <333

#aeon reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #reader insert #himeko x reader #welt yang x reader #honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #boothill x reader #March 7th x reader #Dan Heng x reader

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aeneia-art · 10 days ago

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I have an uncomfortable and very personal connection to Lucanis, Illario & Caterina's (and Taash & Shathan relationship tbh, they're honestly a flip side of the same trauma) family dynamic, and it's sadly "neurospicey with high expectation caretaker (that is tbh, also Neurospicey)" that I want to shed a bunch of headcanons that I don't see brought up but OH BOY, I KNOW SOME THINGS.

It's unfortunately the "woman who lost all her children and now there is just one survivor" because my mother had six kids before me, they all died in infancy or early childhood, and there are things that I just feel about their upbringing. Bonus, my mother is Italian-Australian, if you want that extra cultural relevance I guess. But it made me very much appreciate their writing of her - because I recognised that hollowed out woman so well that watching her felt like a gut punch of familiarity.

SLAPPING A BIG OLD WARNING ON THIS AND UNDER A CUT because yeah, a lot of discussions of child death, intergenerational trauma, child abuse and family trauma. Seriously please mind those warnings!!

( and if you read these and go... OP are you okay,,,,?? its okay, I am told its called "intergenerational trauma"! and the therapist gave me pills about it! I kid, but also - yes i do therapy about it, don't sweat it, I also find these things kind of therapeutic because instead of just having these life experience rolling around I can use them to help others write good or understand character beats that might not be apparent straight away and honestly this kind of trauma is not written often or well, which is far more frustrating and upsetting, because often there is a lot of shame around failed motherhood, but also no one ever wants to talk about what its like to have dead children. Even if high infant mortality rates and loss of even up to age 15 children has dominated much of human history, but outside of horror movies, it's seldom actually discussed what that does to a family or the women involved over the long term. Weirdly outside of horror I can find it more readily about men than I can about women. )

Illario and Lucanis are often called the wrong name as children, when they are children especially, but even sometimes into adulthood. The exhausted moments when Caterina turns to Lucanis and goes "Giovanni, go get your brother." Then she stops, he stops, and then just get on with it.

The correction at them in training: "Maria- how many times have I told you not to-" then she swallows, their child eyes stare up, Illario wants to ask, Lucanis jerks his head to stop. Caterina swallows and taps a foot back into position.

They do things sometimes, training, talking, and especially gesturing, that Caterina's eyes just close and a pain falls over her face and there is no asking what it's about, but its clear, for a moment, just one or two, they were the same: they moved the same, acted the same, and the times and places blur.

Lucanis and Illario grow up without a sense of ever being completely alone in any room, especially when Caterina is present. The are ghosts in House Dellamorte, they do not know them particularly, but they know they wear their faces often.

There are anniversaries that they do not understand the importance of, moments that for some reason they will never be privy too, they must be present. They will seem sometimes so innocuous and unimportant, no one ELSE around them will ever understand it, but they know they can never miss it.

My immigrant kids will know this one well, but over protective parenting? It's turned up to 11. Imagine every stereotype about Asian / Eastern European / African / Latino / Mediterranean parents, but on HIGH BLAST. It's more akin to stories I have heard about parents who had to live through a war-zone and what their kids grow up with. You can't go anywhere, do anything, say anything, no one outside of your family is to be trusted. Friends? Keep them at arm's length, if they're allowed at all. Activities are limited to what can be supervised. And what's worse? There is no arguing that it's just them being paranoid. The proof is there. It happened. There is no saying that it's anxiety, it's over the top, because the worst has happened and they know it. You can't say it's "just paranoia talking" because it happened over, and over, and over again.

They wake up with Caterina walking in to check their breathing. I am 30+. My mother still does this, and every time I hear her take a relieved breathe. Life will never be taken for granted. Survival will never be taken for granted. She checks on them constantly, and it probably felt strange and spooky to feel her hovering as a child, but some point around 16, it probably started to make sense.

As children, they want to ask, they need to understand, they want to know why they have to live this way when others don't. It's frustrating too because others seem to know all the details when they don't and they're fed it in pieces. Then by adulthood, they understand and the pain is theirs too, now, whether they wanted it or not.

Teia must have been a breathe of fresh air to the entire household when she visited, the soul person that can banish the ghosts. Because Teia is an elf, there can be no confusing her for any of the other children, some confused creeping despair. She's Teia and she's only Teia, and it's probably in part why Caterina enjoys her company, because she's clearly no afraid of the old woman, but that there can be no mistaking there here and now of it.

Speaking of creeping despair: probably thank the Maker there are no mages in the family, if demons are born out of human emotion twisted??? What in the fuck must the Fade look like just the other side of House Dellamorte? IT'S A GOOD THING NO ONE IN THE FAMILY CAN GET POSSESSED RIGHT [stares directly into the camera like the Office]

The long nights of despair are palpable when alone in House Dellamorte after the servants are gone to bed and Illario and Lucanis sit doing study nearby. They watch her at times stare into the hollow depths, and at times when conversations veer about survival, choices, making assessments, she speaks candidly of crawling out of that place with her own two hands, not for pity, but on how one learns to live and go on. She says it's that or death, Illario asks if that means because the enemies of House Dellamorte will kill them? She says no and leaves it at that. They only realise in adulthood how often their grandmother sits and contemplates death, and not from another assassin's blade. It is only that it is completely unacceptable for her to ever give up that made her drag herself out. It's not grand declaration, it is a simple contemplation, she'd never want your pity. Even if therapists did exist in Thedas, what would they even say? Or do? There aren't enough therapists and drugs in the world. Everyone understands that no parent should bury their child, but to do it over and over and over? After awhile, there is only the quiet shuffling and exhaustion.

Of course Lucanis attracted a Spirit of Determination that became a Spirit of Spite, that is exactly what he has had shaped to him. Welcome to the other side of despair. Welcome to how you live through the worst days of your life. The first funerals of the Dellamorte House were probably the typical big wailing Mediterranean-type funerals. You scream, you cry, your rip your hair, you throw yourself at the coffin and wail. She thinks there is nothing worse in the world, and then - she finds out - there is worse. The last Dellamorte funerals are silent. There is no more grief to tear out. What is left is only determination, only resilience, only spite that drives the will to go on.

Likewise, it doesn't surprise me that he could calm himself even in the depths of torture, to make a deal with Spite. The Ossuary was hell, shut off and shut down as he says. But he and his family are a long won lesson on survival even when survival cannot feel worth it, anymore, a test of endurance that not even Zara would be able to scratch the surface of. When submission to pain would be so much easier. That is a resilience that didn't come from Caterina's torture, it comes from growing up in a graveyard that ebbs around you, that everyone sees when they look at you, and yet finding a way through, for good and bad. Perhaps not even well, but they have, they did, they continue to do so.

Caterina is past grief and it makes the woman before and the woman afterward, like two seperate lives. Which makes it so odd for Lucanis and Illario when... you know that moment when you find out that your parents were whole people that did wild shit before you ever existed that have just been sitting in the back? It's like that but worse. They hear stories and learn deeds, and it's hearing about a completely different person. Caterina that other people remember likely used to smile, and laugh, danced, did hijinks. They find old letters, portraits, commemorations, to this woman that seems to be as much as a ghost as all the other dead aunts and uncles. They have been robbed, not just of their family, and yes a peaceful childhood, but of that woman who could have been Nonnina, and now is just La Signora Dellamorte.

The apple never falls far from the tree, and I imagine that Caterina-before-the-deaths was some split of Lucanis and Illario. Which comes to something that I am sure might be contentious because I imagine it's hard to hear and see for someone who became so outright abusive as Caterina was to her grandchildren when we all love the boys dearly, but in a game about how good intentions and the best wishes and parts of us can be twisted I feel this isn't a far leap. You think you end up with five kids for someone as savvy as she was because she was an unpassionate, unloving woman? She was likely as fierce and devoted and passionate as the boys are now. (Which if you think all of this is to excuse her abuse, no, being broken by the world does give excuses to visit upon the next generation, that is the big difference between my mother and Caterina, my mother took her grief and shoved it fiercely into reminding me every day that I am loved). I understand it's easy to say abusers just woke up mean one day to hate the world, but the reality is probably way muddier than that, as often is in Dragon Age especially, this is a world where everyone has reasons they became what they are, and often did not start that way - and I think the unfortunate truth is that Caterina was once like Lucanis and Illario: passionate, driven, full of life and interest, hope and ambition to be the best she could be, and never dreamed of what it would all become.

So, yes, if you want to know what Illario and Lucanis look like after they have been actually, truly, soul-crushingly broken in a way that can never be repaired, look no further than Caterina. You can already see the shades of it in the Hardened Lucanis run, he turns himself away from remorse, redemption, love. The way Illario is trying to goad Lucanis into killing him. There but for the grace of the Maker, go her grandsons.

In that vein, I suspect she saw the traits that failed her most in Illario, and the ones that helped her survive in Lucanis, which in part lead to the divide in her treatment of the two of them.

There is probably some moment when someone is an edgelord at her, as dramatic mediterraneans are wont to do, spouted off about torture and pain and suffering. Caterina probably laughed in their face about it. It has big "you cannot hurt me in any way that matters" and "you can't hate me more than I hate myself" energy. She has stared into the abyss, she knows the darkest parts of herself, and some rat thinks they can frighten her back?

The only threat that hangs is someone hurting Illario and Lucanis. Nothing is too far, nothing is too much, when it comes to protecting what she has left. Caterina is both impassive to them, unknowable at times, frustrating at others, but then she throws down in broad daylight even as she enters true old age. I shudder to think about the torture she now inflicts in the name of her family.

#lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #dragon age veilguard #caterina dellamorte #cw: child death #cw: death #cw: child abuse

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covid-safer-hotties · 4 months ago

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Also preserved on our archive (Daily updates!)

An older (published in January 2024) but interesting and comprehensive look at long Covid's effect on Latino families and communities in the US.

By Lygia Navarro and Johanna Bejarano

Editor’s note: This story first appeared on palabra, the digital news site by the National Association of Hispanic Journalists. It is part of a series produced in partnership between palabra and Northwest Public Broadcasting (NWPB) with the collaboration of reporters Lygia Navarro and Johanna Bejarano. *Some people interviewed for this article requested anonymity to discuss private health issues.

Victoria* is already exhausted, and her story hasn’t even begun. It’s late January 2021 in rural Sunnyside, Washington. The town of 16,000 people is a sleepy handful of blocks flecked with pickup trocas, churches on nearly every corner, and the twangs of Clint Black and Vicente Fernández. Geometric emerald chunks of farmland encircle the town.

Thirty-nine-year-old Victoria drags herself back and forth to her parents’ bedroom in a uniform of baggy burgundy sweatpants, scarf, knit hat and mask. Always a mask. As the eldest sibling, her unspoken job is to protect the family. But COVID-19 hits before they can get vaccinated.

When Victoria’s mamá got sick and quickly infected her papá, Victoria quarantined them. She shut them in their room, only cracking the door briefly to slide food in before retreating in a fog of Lysol.

Working in the health field, Victoria knows if they make it through the first 14 days without hospitalization, they will likely survive. Yet, caregiving drains her: Keeping track of fevers. Checking oxygen saturation. Making sure they’re drinking Pedialyte to stay hydrated. Worrying whether they will live or die.

Five days in, COVID comes for Victoria. Hard. Later, when she repeatedly scrutinizes these events, Victoria will wonder if it was the stress that caused it all — and changed her life forever.

At the pandemic’s onset, Victoria’s family’s work dynamics fit the standard in Sunnyside, where 86% of residents are Latino. “Keeping the members of your household safe — it was hard for a lot of families,” Victoria says. Living in multigenerational homes, many adult children, who’d grown up in the United States with access to education, had professional jobs, and switched to working from home. Their immigrant elders, who’d often only been able to finish fourth grade, braved the world to toil in fields, produce packing plants, supermarkets, or delivery trucks. As Leydy Rangel of the UFW Foundation puts it: “You can’t harvest food through Zoom.”

More than three decades ago, when 6-year-old Victoria’s family migrated from rural northern Mexico to this fertile slip of land cradling the zigzagging Yakima River, their futures promised only prosperity and opportunity.

According to oral histories of the Confederated Tribes and Bands of the Yakama Nation — who white colonizers forced out of the Yakima Valley in 1855 — the valley’s fecund lands have fed humans since time immemorial. Soon after the Yakamas’ removal to a nearby reservation, settler agriculture exploded.

By World War II, employers were frantic to hire contracted bracero laborers from Mexico — themselves descendants of Indigenous ancestors — to harvest the valley’s bounty of asparagus, pears, cherries and other cornucopia. This was how Victoria’s family arrived here: her abuelo and his brother had traveled back and forth to Washington as braceros decades before.

Victoria’s path took similar twists, in a 21st century, first-gen way. She moved all over the country for her education and jobs, then returned before the pandemic, bringing a newfound appreciation for the taste of apples freshly plucked from a tree that morning, and for the ambrosial scent of mint and grapes permeating the valley before harvest.

Today, agriculture is the largest industry fueling the Yakima Valley, the country’s twelfth-largest agriculture production area. Here, 77% of the nation’s hops (an essential ingredient in beer) and 70% of the nation’s apples are grown. Latinos, who constitute more than half of Yakima County’s population, power the agricultural industry.

While the area’s agricultural enterprises paid out $1.1 billion in wages in 2020, 59% of the low-wage agriculture jobs are held by undocumented folks and contracted foreign seasonal laborers doing work many Americans spurn. Latinos here live on median incomes that are less than half of white residents’, with 16% of Latinos living in poverty. Also in 2020: as they watched co-workers fall ill and die, Latino farmworkers repeatedly went on strike protesting employers’ refusals to provide paid sick leave, hazard pay and basic COVID protections like social distancing, gloves and masks.

“Every aspect of health care is lacking in the valley,” Yakima Herald-Republic health reporter Santiago Ochoa tells me.

In interview after interview, Yakima Valley residents and health care workers sketch in the details of a dire landscape:

The state’s busiest emergency room. Abrupt shutdowns of hospital facilities. Impoverished people without transportation or internet access for telehealth. Eight-month waits for primary care appointments. Nearly one in five Latinos uninsured. More than half of residents receive Medicaid. Resident physicians cycling in and out, never getting to know their patients. Not enough specialists, resulting in day-long trips for specialized care in bigger cities. With its Latino essential workforce risking their lives to feed their families — and the country — by summer 2020, COVID blazed through Yakima County, which quickly became Washington’s most scorching of hot spots. Not only did Yakima County tally the highest per-capita case rate of all West Coast counties (with Latinos making up 67% versus, 26% for white people), it also saw more cases than the entire state of Oregon. Ask Latinos here about 2020, and they shiver and avert their gazes, the trauma and death still too near.

Their positive tests marked just the beginning of terrifying new journeys as COVID slammed Victoria and many other Yakima Valley Latinos. Mix in scanty rural health care, systemic racism and a complicated emerging illness, and what do you get? Chaos: a population hardest hit by long COVID, but massively untreated, underdiagnosed, and undercounted by the government and medicine itself.

It won’t go away The cough was the first clue something wasn’t right. When Victoria had COVID, she’d coughed a bit. But then, three months later, she started and couldn’t stop.

The Yakima Valley is so starved for physicians that it took five months to see a primary care doctor, who attributed Victoria’s incessant cough to allergies. Victoria tried every antihistamine and decongestant available; some brought relief for three, maybe four weeks, and then returned spasms of the dry, gasping bark. A few minutes apart, all day long. The worst was waking up coughing, at least hourly.

Victoria had chest x-rays. An ear, nose and throat specialist offered surgery on her nose’s deviated septum. As months passed, the black hair framing Victoria’s heart-shaped face started aging rapidly, until it was grayer than her mother’s.

Over a year after the cough began, an allergist prescribed allergy drops, and Victoria made a chilling discovery. Once the drops stopped the cough for a month, then two, Victoria realized that the extreme fatigue she’d thought was sleep deprivation from coughing all night persisted.

“The exhaustion comes from within your soul, it overpowers you,” she says. “It’s intolerable.”

And her mind was foggy. When interrupted at work every 10 minutes by a coughing jag, Victoria hadn’t realized COVID had substantially altered her brain. “There are things in my brain that I should have access to, like words, definitions, memories,” she says. “I know that they’re there but I can’t access them. It’s like a filing cabinet, but I can’t open it.”

Before long, the cough resurfaced. Sometime in 2021, reading COVID news for work, Victoria learned of long COVID: new or lingering health issues persisting at least three months after COVID infection.

How to get help if you think you might have long COVID Talk to your doctor, and if your doctor doesn’t listen to your concerns, bring a loved one to advocate for you at your next appointment. Bring this article (or other materials on long COVID) to show your doctor. Ask your doctor about seeing specialists for long COVID symptoms, such as a cardiologist (for dysautonomia symptoms like dizziness, heart palpitations and shortness of breath), a gastroenterologist (for digestive problems), or a neurologist (for chronic nerve pain). Ask to be referred to a long COVID clinic (if there is one in your area). Now four years into the pandemic, there is still no treatment or cure for long COVID. COVID long-haulers (as they call themselves) have reported over 200 varied symptoms, with fatigue, dizziness, heart palpitations, post-exertion exhaustion, gastrointestinal issues, and brain dysfunction among the most common.

Long COVID is far from a mysterious illness, as it’s often called by the medical establishment and some media. There are precedents: for at least a century, historical documentation has shown that, while most recover, some people remain sick after viral or other illnesses. Yet funds for research have been severely limited, and sufferers ignored. Myalgic Encephalomyelitis – sometimes called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, or ME/CFS — is a prime example. Like ME/CFS, long COVID afflicts many more women (and people assigned female at birth) than men, with women comprising as many as 80% of COVID long-haulers. Most long-haulers are in their 30s, 40s and 50s — the busiest years for women with children, who often put their own needs last.

What should have been instantly clear, given how disproportionately Black and Brown communities were hit by COVID, was that long COVID would wallop Americans of color. Yet, the U.S. government waited until June 2022 to begin tracking long COVID. Even now, with 18 months of data showing Latinos are the population most impacted by long COVID, palabra is among the very few media outlets to report this fact. Are the nation and the medical community willfully ignoring Latino long-haulers — after sending them into clouds of coronavirus to keep society’s privileged safe?

Fighting for a diagnosis When Victoria mentioned long COVID, her doctor didn’t exactly ignore her: she listened, said “OK,” but never engaged on the topic. Same with Victoria’s allergist and the ear, nose and throat specialist. All they could do, the doctors said, was treat her symptoms.

“I’m highly educated and I know that you have to be your own advocate. But I kept asking, kept going on that line of thought, and they had nothing to say to me. Absolutely nothing,” she laments.

Victoria understood science on long COVID was limited, but still expected more. “All of the treatments we tried, it was as if COVID hadn’t existed. They should at least say that we need to investigate more, not continue acting like it wasn’t a factor. That was what was most frustrating.”

Just as Victoria fought to have her illness validated by doctors, 30 miles away in the northern Yakima Valley town of Moxee, 52-year-old María* waged a parallel battle. Both felt utterly alone.

When the pandemic began, María became the protector of her husband and children, all asthmatics. When she fell ill New Year’s Day 2021, she locked herself in her room, emerging weeks later to find her life unrecognizable.

Recounting her struggles, María reads deliberately from notes, holding back tears, then pushes her reading glasses atop her head. (María moved here from northern Mexico as an adult, and feels most comfortable in Spanish.) Her dyed brown hair, gold necklace and lightly made-up face project convivial warmth, but something intangible behind her expression belies a depth of grief María refuses to let escape. When I tell her I also have long COVID, and fell ill the exact same month, she breathes out some of her anxiety.

María’s long COVID includes chronic, full-body pain; memory lapses so severe she sometimes can’t remember if she’s eaten breakfast; such low energy that she’s constantly like a battery out of juice; unending shortness of breath; joint inflammation; and blood flow issues that leave her hands a deep purple. (The only time María ventured to the hospital, for her purple hands, she says staff attempted to clean them, thinking it was paint.) Like Victoria, María used to enjoy exercise and hiking in the valley’s foothills, but can do neither anymore.

María has no insurance, and receives care at the Yakima Valley Farm Workers Clinic, created in 1978 out of the farmworkers’ movement. The clinic’s multiple locations are the valley’s main providers of care irrespective of patients’ ability to pay.

Whereas Victoria’s doctors expressed indifference to the idea of COVID causing her health complaints, María’s doctors not only discounted this connection, but made serious errors of misdiagnosis.

“Every week I went to see my doctor. She got so stressed out (at not knowing what was wrong with me) that she stressed me out,” María says. “My doctor told me, ‘You know what? I think you have multiple sclerosis.’” María saw specialists, and afterwards, even without confirmation, María says her doctor still insisted she had MS. “I told her, ‘No. No, I don’t have multiple sclerosis. It’s COVID. This happened after COVID.’ I was really, really, really, really, really, really insistent on telling them that all of this was after COVID.”

Latinos uncovering the connections between their ill health and COVID is rare, partially due to the plummet in COVID coverage on Spanish-language news, says Monica Verduzco-Gutierrez, a long-hauler and head of the University of Texas Health Science Center San Antonio long COVID clinic. There has been no national public education on long COVID, in any language.

“It’s hard for people to understand what the real impact of long COVID is now and in the future,” says Lilián Bravo, Yakima Health District director of public health partnerships and the face of COVID updates on Yakima Valley television early in the pandemic. “We’re looking at a huge deficit in terms of people’s quality of life and ‘productivity.’”

Eventually, María’s doctor sent her to another specialist, who said that if she didn’t improve within a month, he’d operate on her hip. María’s never had hip problems. “He said, ‘Well, I don’t know what you’re going to do,’” and then put her on a strong steroid medication that made her vomit horribly, María says. She hasn’t tallied what she’s spent on medical bills, but after paying $1,548 for a single test, it must be many thousands of dollars.

Meanwhile, María’s family and friends kept insisting her maladies were psychological. “I never accepted that. I told them: ‘It’s not in my head. It’s in my body.’” It wasn’t until more than a year after becoming ill that María finally saw a rheumatologist who diagnosed her with long COVID and other immune dysfunctions. “I told her, ‘Yes, I knew that my body wasn’t working. I knew that something was wrong.’ I felt like I could relax. Finally someone is telling me that it’s not all in my head.” Once María was diagnosed, her extended family switched to asking how she was feeling and sympathizing with her.

Victoria, on the other hand, has never received a long COVID diagnosis. At Victoria’s request, her doctor referred her to the state’s only long COVID clinic, at the University of Washington in Seattle, but Victoria’s insurance, Kaiser Permanente, refused to pre-approve the visit — and the clinic wouldn’t accept cash from her. At present, the clinic isn’t even accepting patients from the Yakima Valley or any other part of Washington — they are only accepting patients in King County, which includes Seattle.

Victoria’s family hasn’t accepted her health struggles either. “I’d say, ‘I know that you think I’m crazy,’” Victoria says, chuckling, as she often does to lighten her discomfort. “My mom would fight with me: ‘You forgot to do this! Why are you so spacey?’ ‘Mami, it’s not that I forgot. In reality, I completely lost track of it.’” If Victoria is fatigued, her family asks how that’s possible after a full night’s sleep. “I’ve found that I have to defend myself. When I try to explain to people, they hear it as excuses from a lazy person — especially being Latinos.”

Karla Monterroso, a 42-year-old California Latina long-hauler since March 2020 who spent her first year bedbound, says, “(With long COVID), we have to rest in a way that, in our culture, is very difficult to achieve. We really judge exhaustion.” In fact, pushing physically or mentally for work can make long-haulers much sicker. Karla says Latino ethics of hard work like those of Victoria’s parents “aren’t the principles that are going to serve us with this illness.”

Long COVID diagnoses in Latinos are still too rare, due to untrained family medicine physicians and medical stereotypes, says Verduzco-Gutierrez. (Doctors might see blood sugar changes, for example, and assume that’s just because of Latinos’ high rates of diabetes, rather than long COVID.) She says “misinformation on long COVID” is rampant, with physicians claiming long COVID is a fad, or misdiagnosing the bone-deep exhaustion as depression. When Verduzco-Gutierrez’s own doctor invited her to speak to their practice, the assembled physicians weren’t aware of basic research, including that the drugs Paxlovid and Metformin can help prevent long COVID if taken at infection. In Washington, physicians must complete training on suicide, which takes 1,200 to 1,300 lives in the state yearly, but there’s no state-wide training on long COVID, which currently affects at least 498,290 Washingtonians.

Cultural skepticism about medicine — and entrenched stigmas about illness and disability — mean Sunnyside conversations about aftereffects don’t mention COVID itself. Victoria’s relatives push traditional herbal remedios, assuming that anyone still sick isn’t doing enough to recover. “(People suffering) feel like they’re complaining too much if they try to talk about it,” Victoria says. Meanwhile, her parents and others in her community avoid doctors out of stubbornness and mistrust, she says, “until they’re bleeding, when they’re super in pain…, when it’s gotten to the worst that they can handle.”

“People in this community use their bodies for work,” Victoria says. “If you’re Latino, you’re a hard worker. Period,” says Bravo. “What’s the opposite of that, if you’re not a hard worker? What are you? People don’t want to say, ‘I came to this country to work and all of a sudden I can’t anymore.’”

Victoria sees this with her parents, who’ve worked since the age of 10. Both have health issues inhibiting their lives since having COVID — her dad can’t take his daily hour-long walks anymore because of heart palpitations and shortness of breath, and her mom began getting headaches and saw her arthritis worsen dramatically — yet neither will admit they have long COVID. Nor will their friends and family. “If they noticed the patterns of what they themselves are saying and what their friends of the same age are suffering after COVID,” Victoria says of her community, “they’d hear that almost everyone is suffering some type of long COVID.”

Long COVID’s deep impact on Latinos The “back to normal” ethos is most obvious in the absence of long COVID messaging while as many as 41 million adults now have — or have recovered from — long COVID nationwide. “The way that we’re talking about the pandemic is delegitimizing some of (long COVID’s) real impacts,” says Bravo of the Yakima Health District.

Even with limited demographic data, statistics show a nationwide reality similar to Victoria’s Sunnyside. Through a recurring survey, the Census Bureau estimates that 36% of Latinos nationally have had long COVID — likely a vast underestimate, given that the survey takes 20 minutes to complete online (Latinos have lower rates of broadband internet), and reaches only a sliver of the U.S. population. Experts like Verduzo-Gutierrez believe that true rates of long COVID in Latinos are higher than any reported statistic. California long-hauler Karla Monterroso agrees: “We are underdiagnosed by a severe amount. I do not believe the numbers.”

This fall, a UC Berkeley study reported that 62% of a group of infected California farmworkers developed long COVID. Weeks later, a survey from the University of Washington’s Latino Center for Health found that, of a sample group of 1,546 Washington Latinos, 41% of those infected became long-haulers. The Washington results may also be an undercount: many long-haulers wouldn’t have the energy or brain clarity to complete the 12-page survey, which was mailed to patients who’d seen their doctor within the prior six months. Meanwhile, many long-haulers stop seeing doctors after tiring of the effort and cost with no answers.

“Our community has not bounced back,” says Angie Hinojos, executive director of Centro Cultural Mexicano, which has distributed $29 million in rent assistance in Washington and hasn’t seen need wane. “That is going to affect our earning potential for generations.” The United Farm Workers’ philanthropic sister organization, the UFW Foundation, says union organizers hear about long COVID, and how it’s keeping people out of work, frequently.

Cultural and linguistic disconnects abound between doctors and Latinos on long COVID symptoms, some of which, like brain fog and fatigue, are nebulous. If doctors lack patient rapport — or don’t speak their language — they’ll miss what patients aren’t sharing about how long COVID changed their lives, work and relationships. That’s if Latinos actually go to the doctor.

“If you’re working in the orchards and your muscles are always sore, it’s just part of the day-to-day reality,” says Jesús Hernández, chief executive officer of Family Health Centers in north-central Washington. “If you’re constantly being exposed to dust and even chemicals in the work environment, it’s easy to just say, ‘Well, that’s just because of this or that,’ and not necessarily be readily willing to consider that this is something as unique as long COVID.”

Even Victoria says if not for the cough, she wouldn’t have sought medical advice for her fatigue. “There are a lot of people out there that are really tired, in a lot of pain and have no idea why. None,” says Karla, who was a nonprofit CEO when she became sick. “I have heard in the last three-and-a-half years the most racist and fatphobic things I have ever heard in my life. Like, ‘Oh, sometimes you got to lay off the beans and rice.’ I have a college education. I’m an executive. I am in the top 10% of wage earners in my community. If this is my experience, what is happening to the rest of my people?”

Conspiracy theories and misinformation As Yakima Valley’s Latino vaccination rates continue dropping, I hear all the COVID conspiracy theories: the vaccine has a chip that’ll track you; the vaccine makes you and your children infertile; COVID tests are rigged to all be positive; that hospitals get paid more for COVID patients. Victoria laughs at the most absurd one she’s heard. Her mom’s explanation for her health problems nearly three years after COVID: the vaccine.

Across the Latino United States, social media algorithms and WhatsApp threads promoting COVID disinformation proliferate. Last summer, Latino Center for Health co-director Dr. Leo Morales did a long COVID community presentation just south of Yakima Valley. The audience’s first question: Are vaccines safe? “This is where we’re still at,” Morales says. “That’ll be a big stumbling block for people…in terms of getting to talking about long COVID.”

One morning in early November, Morales and his team gather in Toppenish at Heritage University, where 69% of students are Latino, to present their survey data. Neither presenters nor attendees wear masks, an essential tool for preventing COVID transmission and long COVID. “The only conversation that I’m having about COVID is in this room,” says María Sigüenza, executive director of the Washington State Commission on Hispanic Affairs.

Yakima Valley health institutions are also ignoring long COVID. Of the two main hospital systems, Astria Health declines interview requests and MultiCare reports that of 325,491 patients seen between January and November 2023, 112 — or 0.03% — were diagnosed with long COVID. The Yakima Valley Farmworkers Clinic, where María’s doctor works, refuses to let me speak to anyone about long COVID, despite providing patient information for the Latino Center for Health’s survey. Their doctors simply aren’t seeing long COVID, the clinic claims. Same with the other main community provider, Yakima Neighborhood Health Services, whose media officer responds to my interview requests with: “It’s not going to happen.”

“I think they’re not asking, they’re not looking,” Verduzco-Gutierrez says. “Do the doctors just…look at your diabetes or your blood pressure, but not ask you, ‘Did your diabetes get worse when you had COVID? Did your blood pressure get worse? Did you not have blood pressure problems before? And now do you get dizzy? Do you get headaches? Do you have pains?’” She believes that many, if not most, Latinos with long COVID aren’t getting care, whom she calls “the ones that we’re missing.”

An uncertain future The outlook for Latinos with long COVID is grim. Cultural stigma and ableism cause now-disabled long-haulers to feel shame. (Ableism is societal prejudice and discrimination against disabled people.) Disability benefits are nearly impossible to get. Long-haulers are losing their homes, jobs and insurance. Latinos’ overrepresentation in sectors that don’t offer sick pay and are heavily physical — cleaning, service, agriculture, construction, manufacturing, homecare and healthcare among them — may automatically put them at higher long COVID risk, given ample anecdotal evidence that pushing through a COVID infection instead of resting can lead to long COVID. Latino care providers will become ill in greater numbers, imperiling the healthcare industry.

But Latinos may not be clear on these factors, says long-hauler Karla Monterroso. “My tío had said…'We must be defective because we get sick more than the white people.’ And I’m like ‘No, tío. We are exposed to the illness more. There’s nothing defective about our bodies.’ I’m afraid for us. It’s just going to be disability after disability after disability. We have to start in our small communities building caring infrastructure so that we can help each other. I am clear: No one is coming to save us. We’ve got to save us.”

Disability justice advocates worry about systems unable to cope with inevitable disabling waves of COVID in the future. “(Latinos) aren’t taking it as serious as they should,” says Mayra Colazo, executive director of Central Washington Disability Resources. “They’re not protecting each other. They’re not protecting themselves.” Karla sees the psychology behind this denial: “I have thought a lot about how much it takes to put yourself in danger every single day. (You have) to say ‘Oh, it’s fine. People are exaggerating,’ or you get that you’re in existential hell all of the time.”

Reinfection brings additional risk of long COVID, research shows, and Verduzco-Gutierrez says, “We still don’t know the impact of what is going to happen with all these reinfections. Is it going to cause more autoimmune disease? Is it going to be causing more dementia? Is it going to be causing more cancer?” She believes that every medical chart should include a COVID history, to guide doctors to look for the right clues.

“If we were to be lucky enough to capture everybody who has long COVID, we would overwhelm our (health) system and not be able to do anything for them,” Victoria says. “What’s the motivation for the medical field, for practitioners to find all those people?” For now, Victoria sees none. “And until that changes, I don’t think we will (properly count Latino long-haulers),” she adds.

Flashes of hope do exist. In September 2023, the federal government granted $5 million each to multiple long COVID clinics, including three with Latino-specific projects. In New York City, Mt. Sinai Hospital will soon open a new long COVID clinic near largely-Latino East Harlem, embedded in a primary care clinic with staff from the community to reach Latino long-haulers. Verduzco-Gutierrez’s San Antonio clinic will teach primary care providers across largely rural, Latino South Texas to conduct 15-minute low-tech long COVID examinations (the protocol for which is still being devised), and will deploy community tools to educate Latinos on long COVID.

Meanwhile, at the University of Washington long COVID clinic, staff are preparing a patient handbook, which will be adapted for Latinos and then translated into Spanish. They will also train primary care physicians to be local long COVID experts, and will return to treating patients from the whole state rather than just the county containing Seattle. After palabra’s inquiry, the UFW Foundation now has plans to survey United Farm Workers members to gauge long COVID pervasiveness, so the Foundation can lobby legislators and other decision makers to improve Latino long-hauler care.

Back at the Yakima Valley survey presentation, attendees brainstorm new care models: Adding long COVID screening to pediatric checkups, given that long COVID most impacts child-bearing-age women, so moms can bring information to their families and community. Using accessible language for long COVID messaging, or, as Heritage University nursing faculty member Genevieve Aguilar puts it: “How would I talk to my tía, how would I talk to my abuelita? If they can understand me, we’re good to go. If they can’t, olvídate. We have to reframe.”

More than anything, personal narratives will be the key to open people’s minds about long COVID — although that path may be challenging. In Los Angeles, Karla has dealt with a lack of full family and community support, in part, she believes, because her body represents COVID. “I am living, breathing proof of a pandemic no one wants to admit is still happening, and that there is no cure for what I have. That is a really scary possibility.”

While Karla does identify as disabled, Victoria and María don’t. Victoria has learned to live and move within her physical limits. At work, she sometimes feels inhibited by her cognitive issues. “I tell my boss all the time, ‘Oh man, you guys hired such a smart person. But what you got was after COVID, so it’s not the same.’” At times, she worries about the trajectory of her career, about how her work’s intense problem-solving wears out her brain. Will she be able to pursue larger challenges in work in the future? Or will long COVID ultimately make her fail?

Victoria tells me she “remains hopeful that there is a solution.” In a surprising twist, her cough completely disappeared eight months ago — when she became pregnant. (Other long-haulers have seen their symptoms improve with pregnancy, as well, likely due to immune system changes allowing a pregnant person’s body to not reject their baby’s growing cells). Victoria is optimistic that her other symptoms might disappear after she gives birth. And that, maybe someday, her parents will admit they have long COVID, too.

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