#white latinx

[latin-american-diversity]

“2000. Sheep farmer Armando Luis Sanchez Gomez and wife Nastencia Carmen with their pet sheep, "Celebrito", in their home in the cooperative of Cardon Grande at the Magellan Straits.“ - Thomas Hoepker

[colourfulgreyscales]

You know, I read somewhere that Sofia Vergara was encouraged (for lack of a better term) to die her hair dark to "look more Latina" (She is naturally blonde). And I am here wondering if Pedro Pascal is being encouraged to keep facial hair because it makes him "look more Latino," too. When you see the characters before he became famous, the vast majority were anglo-saxon and Pedro was clean shaven. Heck even his Agent Ortega, a Latino character he played before he became famous, had facial hair. Coincidence? No, I am not discrediting the latinidad of either, but this white Latina wonders. (Typewise, I am more the dark haired pale olive skin like Pedro). (I have also seen post about younger Pedro looking like Jacob Elordi. Both Pedro and Jacob have Basque heritage (won't say Spanish out of respect to some -a majority, in fact- of Basques). Basques are white European. Jacob Elordi is playing anglosaxon characters. One would wonder if Jacob with older skin and a moustache would "look more Latino")...

To be fair, Pedro is only a quarter Basque whereas it appears that Jacob is Basque on all sides of his family. One ponders...

[isis-alvaradoo]

💕🐷

[blocodibujo]

So, I've been wanting to draw something Pikmin related for a while. So a couple of days ago I got into it, then I found out that was the 1 year anniversary of Pikmin 4, and of course I wasn't able to have this completed by then, so it took me a couple more days, but anyway, it was a nice change of pace and took the opportunity to try a different style of shading.

[owl127]

Prompt: Harryanthe are visiting a restaurant

(I don't know why this came up to my mind, but it suddenly seemed to be very interesting)

(more the locked tomb fics)

Harrow groaned, irritation prickling the lines between her eyes. She blew a stray curl from her face; her hair was getting long again.

“I’m overdressed,” she mumbled as they parked, the sleek EV Ianthe had adopted lately beeping its usual two-tone melody. Ianthe had chosen the vehicle to annoy her father, though much like him, she seemed to hate the silent thing.

Ianthe enjoyed loud powerful creatures. Harrow still hadn’t figured out what got them together. 

“You’re fine,” Ianthe said, exiting the car, but her own jeans and cardigan beg to differ. Harrow suspected something was off when Ianthe didn’t leave the car to pick her up, but at the same time, all other restaurants Ianthe had taken her to were Michelin stars.

This one had a group of drunk teenagers in the corner of the parking lot instead of a valet.

“Are you sure?” Harrow gulped as heat painted her cheeks in the early summer evening. She tugged at her black dress strap, fidgeting with the silk.

Ianthe stopped on her way to the small mom-and-pop restaurant, looking back at Harrow with an intensity that made the heat in her cheeks run down her spine and land on her lower belly.

“You’re gorgeous. Own it,” Ianthe said, and with that, she offered her hand. Harrow took it in a sweaty palm.

Harrow noticed the scent first, that tang of sizzled meat and fresh eggs, a nostalgia from her upbringing. The waitress that found them a table had a striking resemblance to the cook behind a half-wall glass, and she took their orders in an old notebook instead of a fancy tablet.

The chairs were worn, but comfortable and homey, and the other tables talked loudly in a way that made Harrow feel like she belonged. She reached for the faded menu, but long, pale fingers touched her knuckles.

“Do you trust me?” Ianthe asked, violet eyes flashing under dangerously long eyelashes. Harrow’s tummy twisted, and she counted that as hunger. Ianthe didn’t let go of her hand, and Harrow realized she needed to give her an answer.

“Yes,” she breathed out, more airless than she intended, and Ianthe smiled one of her real smiles.

Ianthe ordered in Spanish, and Harrow felt sweat pooling on the back of her neck. The waiter jutted something down and left them with brightly colored glasses of icy water.

“What is this about?” Harrow asked, the entire evening a yet unrevealed side of her girlfriend. She wasn’t sure if she loved it or hated it, but she was certain she wanted to find out.

“Can’t I just take my gorgeous girlfriend out for dinner?” Ianthe bit the transparent straw jutting from her water, playing along the seam with her teeth. Harrow watched it for a second, then blinked, taking a long sip of cold water. It helped with the heat.

As Ianthe looked out at the setting west coast sun, Harrow fell in love again.

The appetizers were little fried fish balls that looked suspicious, but smelled amazing, and Harrow devoured three before Ianthe could set up her napkin. The house sauce was also divine, and Harrow started to understand why Ianthe brought her here. All three unmarked bottles of varying colors of green and red sauce were magnificent.

When Harrow thought the main course couldn’t follow up the appetizer’s great start, she was proven wrong, with the best arroz com pollo she had ever had, with perfectly seasoned veggies and cheese bread on the side. In its simplicity, the dish was glorious.

Then dessert arrived, and Harrow would have gasped if she had a single dramatic bone in her.

But Ianthe had plenty, and she looked up expectantly as the waiter delivered the plate and left.

“You remembered,” Harrow said, her eyes infuriatingly irritated with the warm room.

“I had to dig around to find a restaurant that did the crispy version. Is that the right one?” 

Harrow studied the pie. Three layers: dulce de leche, caramel bread, and the thinnest coat of chocolate. She tapped the top with her spool, the chocolate cracking and the caramelized sugar breaking under the metal.

She took a bite.

When Harrow was five, she joined her family in holiday preparations for the first time. She was allowed to help make the nuts mix, and set up the non-breakable items on the table. But there was a moment her grandma shooed everyone from the kitchen, because she would prepare her secret recipe, and only two members of the family could know about it in a lifetime. Her aunt stayed, but Harrow was given a pass because she wouldn’t remember.

That was the first time she tasted her grandma’s dulce de leche crispy pie. It had been years since she had anything like it.

Until now.

“Harrow?” There was an edge of worry in Ianthe’s voice. 

Harrow cleared her throat, going for another slice.

“Everything okay?” Worry clouded those violet eyes Harrow loved so much, and Harrow blinked and nodded, dabbing at the wetness on her cheeks.

“It’s perfect,“ Harrow said, offering her fork to Ianthe. “Share it with me?”

Ianthe smiled, triumphant, and opened her mouth. Harrow fed her slowly, focusing on how thin lips closed around the layered pie with the precision of a predator.

The room was warm again.

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

NGL feel like the Batfam would have a much better go at it if they weren't majority white.

[sylvanpriest]

cathedral gum

[setaflow]

Man. I am so goddamn tired.

[kemetic-dreams]

The Invention of Hispanics: What It Says About the Politics of Race

America’s surging politics of victimhood and identitarian division did not emerge organically or inevitably, as many believe. Nor are these practices the result of irrepressible demands by minorities for recognition, or for redress of past wrongs, as we are constantly told. Those explanations are myths, spread by the activists, intellectuals, and philanthropists who set out deliberately, beginning at mid-century, to redefine our country. Their goal was mass mobilization for political ends, and one of their earliest targets was the Mexican-American community.

These activists strived purposefully to turn Americans of this community (who mostly resided in the Southwestern states) against their countrymen, teaching them first to see themselves as a racial minority and then to think of themselves as the core of a pan-ethnic victim group of “Hispanics”—a fabricated term with no basis in ethnicity, culture, or race.

This transformation took effort—because many Mexican Americans had traditionally seen themselves as white. When the 1930 Census classified “Mexican American” as a race, leaders of the community protested vehemently and had the classification changed back to white in the very next census. The most prominent Mexican-American organization at the time—the patriotic, pro-assimilationist League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC)—complained that declassifying Mexicans as white had been an attempt to “discriminate between the Mexicans themselves and other members of the white race, when in truth and fact we are not only a part and parcel but as well the sum and substance of the white race.”

Tracing their ancestry in part to the Spanish who conquered South and Central America, they regarded themselves as offshoots of white Europeans.

Such views may surprise readers today, but this was the way many Mexican Americans saw their race until mid-century. They had the law on their side: a federal district court ruled in In Re Ricardo Rodríguez (1896) that Mexican Americans were to be considered white for the purposes of citizenship concerns. And so as late as 1947, the judge in another federal case (Mendez v. Westminster) ruled that segregating Mexican-American students in remedial schools in Orange County was unconstitutional because it represented social disadvantage, not racial discrimination.

At that time Mexican Americans were as white before the law as they were in their own estimation.

The process would only work if Mexican Americans “accepted a disadvantaged minority status,” as sociologist G. Cristina Mora of U.C. Berkeley put it in her study, Making Hispanics (2014). But Mexican Americans themselves left no doubt that they did not feel like members of a collectively oppressed minority at all. As Skerry noted, “[the] race idea is somewhat at odds with the experience of Mexican Americans, over half of whom designate themselves racially as white.” Even in the early 1970s, according to Mora, many Mexican-American leaders retained the view that “persons of Latin American descent were quite diverse and would eventually assimilate and identify as white.” And yet “Spanish/Hispanic/Latino” is now a well-established ethnic category in the U.S. Census, and many who select it have been taught to see themselves as a victmized underclass. How did this happen?

In other words, a distinctive set of beliefs, customs, and habits supported the American political system. If the Cajun, the Dutch, the Spanish—and the Mexicans—were to be allowed into the councils of government, they would have to adopt these mores and abandon some of their own. It is hard to argue that this formula has failed. Writing in 2004, political scientist Samuel Huntington reminded us that

“Millions of immigrants and their children achieved wealth, power, and status in American society precisely because they assimilated themselves into the prevailing culture.”

Indeed, merely calling Mexican-Americans a ‘minority’ and implying that the population is the victim of prejudice and discrimination has caused irritation among many who prefer to believe themselves indistinguishable [from] white Americans…. [T]here are light-skinned Mexican-Americans who have never experienced the faintest…discrimination in public facilities, and many with ambiguous surnames have also escaped the experiences of the more conspicuous members of the group.”

Even worse, there was also “the inescapable fact that…even comparatively dark-skinned Mexicans…could get service even in the most discriminatory parts of Texas,” according to the report. These experiences, so different from those of Africans in the South or even parts of the North, had produced

a long and bitter controversy among middle-class Mexican Americans about defining the ethnic group as disadvantaged by any other criterion than individual failures. The recurring evidence that well-groomed and well-spoken Mexican Americans can receive normal treatment has continuously undermined either group or individual definition of the situation as one entailing discrimination.

It is incumbent on us to pause and note exactly what these UCLA researchers were bemoaning. Their own survey was revealing that Mexican-Americans’ lived experiences did not square with their being passive victims of invidious, structural discrimination, much less racial animus. They owned their own failures, which—their experience told them—were remediable through individual conduct, not mass mobilization. Their touchstones were individualism, personal responsibility, family, solidarity, and independence—all cherished by most Americans at the time, but anathema to the activists.

The study openly admitted that reclassification as a collective entity serves the “purposes of enabling one to see the group’s problems in the perspective of the problems of other groups.” The aim was to show “that Mexican Americans share with Negroes the disadvantages of poverty, economic insecurity and discrimination.” The same thing, however, could have been said in the late 1960s of the Scots-Irish in Appalachia or Italian Americans in the Bronx. But these experiences were not on the same level as the crushing and legal discrimination that African Americans had faced on a daily basis. That is why the survey respondents emphasized “the distinctiveness of Mexican Americans” from Africans and “the difference in the problems faced by the two groups.” The UCLA researchers came out pessimistic: Mexican Americans were “not yet easy to merge with the other large minorities in political coalition.”

Thereafter, militants from La Raza, MALDEF, and other organizations put pressure on the Census Bureau to create a Hispanic identity for the 1980 Census—in order, as Mora puts it, “to persuade them to classify ‘Hispanics’ as distinct from whites.”

The Hispanic category was a Frankenstein’s monster, an amalgam of disparate ethnic groups with precious little in common.

The 1970 Census had included an option to indicate that the respondent was “Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Central or South American, [or] Other Spanish.” But re-categorizing Mexican Americans and lumping them in with other residents of Latin American descent under a “Hispanic American” umbrella was a necessary move, Mora writes, because “this would best convey their national minority group status.”

The law states that “a large number of Americans of Spanish origin or descent suffer from racial, social, economic, and political discrimination and are denied the basic opportunities that they deserve as American citizens.” The very thing that defined Hispanics was victimhood.

IT IS SHOWN THAT THE HUMAN CATEGORY "WHITE" WAS BUILT UPON THE IDEA OF THAT BRITISH AS WHITE, CHRISTIAN, OF THEIR ESSENCE FREE,AND DESERVING OF RIGHTS AND PRIVILEGES FROM WHICH THOSE INSUFFICIENTLY BRITISH -LIKE COULD BE DENIED. JACQUELINE BATTALORA "BIRTH OF A WHITE NATION.

[soylimon]

there are demons in my head. and they are telling me to rewrite dirty laundry. instead of going to bed for my 5am shift.

[apollos-boyfriend]

I saw a post ages ago explaining the difference between Latino and Hispanic but I don't remember how it works. Would you be willing and able to explain it for people who don't know? 👉🏻👈🏻

okay so!

latino is anyone from latin america, whether that be of origin or descent. (as a side note of personal importance, the gender-neutral/plural form of latino is not latinx. it is either latinos or latine. latinx is very much a gringo term and ignores the effort of actual latine advocates who have pushed for more inclusive language.)

hispanic is anyone from a spanish-speaking country, again counting for either origin or descent.

someone from spain is hispanic but not latino. someone from brazil is latino but not hispanic.

[deepwoodmotte2]

hey i’m continuing my own werewolf thread bc i’m moving and do not have time to write this fic until at least next week but i can’t get this image out of my head of a newly married maybe dornish reader (look u know me i love to get a latinx reader in it’s my job as a latina i think the thought of cregan getting used to dornish customs is so funny but this is also bc in my head dorne is a combination of various latin cultures so i’m over here like imagining feeding him anything w condensed milk his medieval ass would die!!!! or a chile relleno oh my god go white boy go! he would love my mom’s pozole like) being like hey wtf and cregan is like i must go… my time… so she’s like ok freaky whatever he “leaves” to this little housing complex away from the castle but still in the hunting grounds and she’s like wtf does he keep a mistress in there or smth??? so she goes looking! beauty and the beast almost little red riding hood style picnic basket and scarf on head like hellooo??? hello large man i recently married wherefore art thou and she comes across him, who’s in the same sort of half-wolf form as blaidd from elden ring, stalking a deer on the grounds. he won’t look at her. she, who lives in a world with dragons and a whole host of unexplored dornish mythology, is like well! fuck! uh! and leaves. cregan comes back a couple of days later de-wolfed and she’s like “is that?? does that happen to you a lot??” so he explains (roughly) the curse lore (see my other post) and she has three immediate thoughts: a) what the fuck, you’ve been cursed for like 140 years in the timeline and you haven’t tried to fix it, go kill the rip-off glennmorril/maggy the frog witches that did this to u!!! b) was that. was i a little sexually attracted to cregan as a wolf man. am I allowed to say that. uh. c) oh my god is my stepson going to be a werewolf he’s a toddler has anyone explained this to him

anyway so so so many thoughts to blog i’m going to go write a whole seperate dornish reader thing rn

[latin-american-diversity]

A Chilean Man of Palestinian ancestry partakes in a pro-Palestinian protest

Chilean-Palestinians

Outside of the Levant and the Arabian Gulf nations, Chile is home to the largest Palestinian diaspora in the world with up to 500 thousand Chileans having Palestinian ancestry. 

Palestinian immigration to the country began in the middle of the 19th century during the Ottoman rule. Like other immigrants from the Ottoman Empire, whether Arab, Slavic, Assyrian, or Greek; Palestinians were often called Turcos (Turks) since they usually entered the country with Turkish documentation. This denominate remains common in Chile and neighbouring Latin American countries to this day; which has erroneously lead many Latin Americans with non-Turkish ancestry and little information about family history, to be under the impression that they are of Turkish ancestry. 

Historically, the majority of Palestinians that arrived in Chile were Eastern Orthodox Christians, as most countries in Latin America barred the immigration of Muslims; for this reason there are more Christian Palestinian descendants in Chile than in Palestine itself. However, in recent times Chile has also taken in Palestinian refugees, the majority being Sunni Muslims. 

Many of the first waves of Palestinian immigrants lived in abject poverty and were illiterate. In addition to this like many other immigrant groups to Latin America, particularly those coming from the Ottoman Empire, Eastern Europe, and East Asia they were faced with xenophobia; a product of Chilean nationalism and rising post-independence ethnic/racial tensions. This xenophobia spread as far as the Chilean media, with one of country’s oldest national newspapers "El Mercurio,” writing:

“Whether they are Mohammedans or Buddhists, what one can see and smell from far, is that they are more dirty than the dogs of Constantinople...“

Despite the fact that the majority of people coming from the Ottoman Empire and Eastern Europe were Christian, the stigma of living in an empire ruled by Muslims or around Muslims was enough for them and other Christians such as Slavs, Greeks, and Armenians to be targets of Islamophobic sentiments that were prominent in Iberian American societies. 

Similar to other immigrants from the Ottoman Empire, many Palestinians began to work in commerce as merchants. This factor alongside their gradual assimilation into the white Chilean population, began their upward social mobilization. By the 1950′s Palestinian Chileans garnered a significant economic and political position in Chilean society, a good example of this is the recent presidential candidacy of Daniel Jadue.

The majority of Chilean Palestinians are inhabit the nations capital, and also the city of La Calera in Valparaiso Region, which attracted not only Palestinian immigrants but also other Levantine, Balkan, Italian, French, and German migrants.

[hirakiyois]

eddie, buddy, the only way you can look like that and not have any bitches is if everyone already assumes you're taken

[adrienneleclerc]

could u do an imagine for xavier based off the song i love you by billie eilish where it’s angsty but with a fluff ending?

I most certainly can! I love getting requests, makes me feel like a real Tumblr fanfic writer. Just forewarning you, I did not understand the song at all, I listened to it, I read the lyrics, I had to look at someone’s else note on the lyrics, have zero clue what I’m working with

I Love You

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Hispanic!Reader

Summary: Xavier tells Y/N he loves her but she doesn’t say it back and asks for a break. Xavier doesn’t know why.

Warning: errors because I don’t proofread til it’s posted, me self projecting, some thoughts that go through my head for some reason, I guess ED but not really.

Y/N is a person who is very much has her guard up. When she was younger, she was bullied for not looking like the other girls so whenever someone was nice to her, she proceeded with caution. Not to mention her own mother commenting on her weight whenever she was eating, trying on clothes, sometimes her mom would look a at old pictures of her and say ‘look how skinny you were’ and would even text her old pictures of herself and say ‘you looked so pretty, try to lose weight’ (yeah…that’s my mom, everyone). Years of receiving mean comments from her classmates and her own mother made her think she did not deserve a happy ending, didn’t deserve to be loved. She is very insecure, has self image issues, it’s a whole thing. However, with Xavier, she let her guard down, all those voices she has in her head suddenly go mute when he’s around, everything was going well. She likes the way things are. Xavier and Y/N were in the Weathervane.

“Y/N, you already had three brownies,” Xavier said,

“Then can i get one more brownie to make it even?” Y/N asked with her puppy dog eyes, she’s comfortable eating with him. Xavier looked away but then looked back and Y/N also added a pout.

“Anything for you.” Xavier said, kissing her cheek, and going to the counter to buy another brownie. Xavier came back. “Here you go, sweetheart, all warmed up.”

“Thank you, Flaquito.” Y/N said, kissing cheek. “Now what did you and Ajax do again? I still don’t understand how you guys could stone the principal.”

“It was an accident! The principal didn’t know that Ajax was a gorgon and they reached over and took his beanie off, I covered my eyes, the principal got turned to stone. Besides, he shouldn’t try to take someone’s hat away without asking ‘why are you wearing a hat’ so that is their fault completely.” Xavier said.

“Alright, fine, i believe you.” Y/N said. They talked some more, then took an Uber back to Nevermore, and now they are in Xavier’s art shed. “Why did you bring me here? Are you going to kill me or are you trying to kidnap me?” Y/N asked jokingly.

“Those are the two conclusions you came up with? Damn, sweetheart, you’re slipping.” Xavier.

“Haha, pero de verdad, why am i here?” Y/N asked.

“I wanted to show you something, hold on.” Xavier said as he pulled out a big canvas underneath a white tarp. When he unveiled it, it was a portrait of Y/N. Since Y/N has the power of botanokinesis, she can control plant life, Xavier painted Y/N surrounded by plants and with flowers in her hair.

“Flaquito, this is so beautiful, thank you.” Y/N said, hugging Xavier.

“I know we’ve only been dating three months but…I love you.” Xavier said. Y/N’s heart dropped. She backed away from Xavier.

“You’re kidding, right?” Y/N asked awkwardly.

“Kidding? No, Y/N, my feelings for you are real, i love you.” Xavier said, walking towards Y/N but she out her hands up in defense and back up.

“Xavier, you can’t love me, it’s only been 3 months, not even 6 months, not even a whole year.” Y/N said.

“Love isn’t a timing thing, it’s just what you feel and I feel great when I’m with you, you make me feel safe, you feel like home, I love you, Y/N.” Xavier said,

“Can you please stop saying you love me?” Y/N asked exasperated. She looked at Xavier and he had tears in his eyes.

“You don’t love me, is that it? You want to break up?” Xavier asked through tears.

“I don’t think you understand something, you can’t love me.” Y/N said.

“You don’t understand, you can’t tell me what my feelings are for you, why can’t you just accept the fact that I love you.” Xavier said.

“Oh my gosh, please stop saying that. I like that you painted me as Persephone, that’s how you see me, cool, I accept that, but I’m not Persephone, I am not good for you.” Y/N said,

“I think that’s for me to decided. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re good for me.” Xavier said.

“I think we need a break, Xavier, just to think things over, so I can think things over.” Y/N said. Xavier gave Y/N a weak smile and left the shed, slamming the door. Y/N began to cry. She loved him, but she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t deserve it. It’s amazing how Xavier could see her as Persephone when she doesn’t see herself like that at all.

She was on the couch, crying, thinking about how sad she made Xavier, that made her cry even more. He didn’t need Y/N to burden him with her problems, but she also didn’t want him to think she doesn’t care about him. After a few more minutes, she went back to her dorm she shared with Enid and Wednesday.

“Hey Y/N, wait, why are you crying, what’s wrong?” Enid asked her, immediately getting off the bed to comfort her friend.

“Mm Nothing, Xavier told me he loved me and I said I needed a break, so here I am.” Y/N said as she was wiping her tears.

“You really liked him, Y/N, why did you decide to have a break?” Enid asked.

“Enid, It’s clearly a personal decision to Y/N, she doesn’t need to tell why she wanted a break, it was up to her, she did it, leave it be.” Wednesday defended Y/N.

“Thank you, Wednesday.” Y/N said. She went to the bathroom to do her business, brush her teeth, wash her face and change into her pajamas. She walked out and went to bed. However the events of today replayed in her mind and she hated it so much.

The next day, she did her morning routine and went to the quad for breakfast in her uniform. Out if everything, Y/N just grabbed a banana.

“You’re not going to eat anything else, mama?” Ajax asked.

“Just the banana, papito, I’m not very hungry.” Y/N said, gotta make up for eating four brownies yesterday, she thought.

“Okay, just checking.” Ajax said and walked away to sit next to Xavier,

“Did you notice anything weird?” Xavier asked immediately after Ajax sat down.

“I just saw her grab a banana for breakfast, that’s it.” Ajax informed him. “I’ll ask Enid if she knows anything if that helps.”

“Yes that would help, thank you.” Xavier said. He was looking at Y/N’s table. He didn’t take his eyes off her until the bell rang. As everyone was leaving the quad, Ajax went to talk to Enid.

“How’s Y/N doing by the way?” Ajax asked.

“She was crying yesterday because of Xavier, but she hasn’t told me anything about why she asked for a break. She really liked him, I don’t understand what could have happened, she was so happy to go to the weathervane with him.” Enid commented.

“It’s a mystery, Xavier is also curious about what changed. Maybe it’s a shapeshifter that looks like Y/N and the real Y/N is trapped somewhere!” Ajax exclaimed.

“Are you stoned?” Enid asked,

“Of course not, it’s too early. I’m gonna sit with Xavier today.” Ajax said,

“And I’ll sit with Y/N.” Enid said. They went to their classes and as promised, she sat next to Y/N in all the classes until school was over. During lunch, she noticed that Y/N only ate a salad and nothing else. Which is fine, nothing against it, but she chose a salad over her favorite food. Enid was starting to get worried. “Wednesday, you like observing people, have you noticed anything strange happening with Y/N?” Enid asked.

“Not really, just looks like her habits have increased.” Wednesday commented.

“What do you mean about that?” Enid asked.

“At lunch, she only eats half her food and saves the rest for later, right now, she’s eating half and throwing the rest out, meaning she doesn’t intend on eating later anytime soon.” Wednesday said.

“Thanks, Wednesday.” Enid thanked the goth girl. She was about to talk to Y/N when Xavier approached her.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” Xavier said. Y/N agreed and went to the woods with Xavier. As they were walking, Y/N tried making wildflowers grow in the grass, she succeeded and that brought a smile to her face. “Why did you ask for a break?” Xavier asked and Y/N stopped playing with her powers.

“What?” Y/N asked.

“Why did you ask for a break?” Xavier repeated.

“Xavier, i love you, i really do, but im not emotionally stable for you, don’t you see? The longer you’re with me, the more you are going to see how broken I truly am. I don’t love myself, I can barely believe that you love me, what I see in the mirror is nothing like what you painted, there are going to be moments where I would restrict myself to much that I will go to bed starving because the last meal I ate was at 3pm (which does happen to me often), I don’t want you to regret being with me. As the months this go on, you’ll see how much of a burden I am after you have to reassure me time and time again that you only love me, and you’re going to resent me because I’d be holding you back. I don’t want you to resent me, okay?” Y/N explained, at this point she was full on crying so Xavier went closer to her and pulled her in a hug. That’s when she let out a sob. Xavier’s eyes started to water, he started letting Y/N’s hair, trying to soothe her. After her sobbing has calmed down, Xavier pulled her away and lifted her chin up with his finger so he could see her face.

“You are not a burden, okay. As for the self love part, we will work on that together. I’ll be with you no matter what, I won’t resent you, if you see that I’m unhappy, although I doubt that I would be unhappy by your side, talk to me about it and break it off. If you feel like you’re broken, we’ll put the pieces back together. I would never regret being with you, you just need to talk to me about all these doubts you’re having. When did it start? How long have you been feeling like this?” Xavier asked, wiping away her tears.

“It started since I was younger, you know how ethic moms are, they always have something to say about your weight. My mom still makes comment about my weight, then there’s the elementary school bullies, so I always felt like this.” Y/N said with glassy eyes.

“You never told me that before. You have been carrying that around for years, have you?” Xavier asked. Y/N nodded, holding back a sob with teary eyes.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone but it feels so good to let it out.” Y/N said.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, okay. We will work on your self esteem, you will learn to love yourself, we will do this together.” Xavier said. Y/N nodded and hugged him. “We won’t date until you’re ready, okay.”

“Thank you, i need that.” Y/N said.

“Anything for you.” Xavier said, kissing the top of her forehead.

The End

Don’t know how to feel about this. I will admit I cried a little since I’m technically writing about my own experiences, it came out a little short but hope you liked it though!

[rose-wine-selfships]

Felt like crap today. Had to draw some vent art right here while I was at work.