If officer Garcia was the one arresting picking up the boys in Big Time Audition, he would 100% take the boys for ice cream before taking them to kendalls'.
**This Big Time Rant has no space for racist interactions. If your intention is to spread hate speech or otherwise express indifference toward my take on Carlos Garcia's Hispanic culture, please leave. This is not the post for you. Not only will I be sharing my take on Carlos' culture, but additionally I will be sharing my own thoughts and experiences from MY Hispanic culture in relation to his.**
I wish Carlos leaned more into his identity as a Hispanic-American and spoke more Spanish. I'm not saying he should've been speaking Spanish all the time or even be relatively fluent in the language, but I only recall him saying about 5 words in Spanish ever.
"Mis amigos" (2x: When he said "Stand back, mis amigos" as he busted down the door to a dressing room in Big Time Photo Shoot a short while after the "snowmobile break".)
"Papi" (1x: When his father, Officer Garcia, kicked down the door to apartment 2J in Big Time Break and said, "Did someone lose a helmet?")
"Número dos" (2x: When filing a false police report in Big Time Lies for a robbery he and James staged to avoid getting in trouble for 'soda-bowling' at Rocque Records.)
I just think it'd be great for his character to embrace his culture seeing as he's the only one out of the four guys with TWO VERY LOVING PARENTS in the picture. He strikes me as the kind of person to not really know much about his Hispanic culture because it just wasn't something his parents discussed growing up. They might've given very vague answers if anything when asked, so eventually he stopped asking. Maybe he never learned to speak the language as well as he'd hoped, but he sprinkles in a few words here and there as his way of staying true to his roots.
Perhaps he feels self conscious about not being "Hispanic enough" because he's spent the majority of his life in a predominantly white environment and hasn't interacted with many people like him. When was the last time Carlos interacted with another Hispanic character who wasn't a part of his immediate family?
I feel like focusing more on Carlos' culture (even if just a little bit) could do wonders for his character progression. It'd give a little insight as to who he is, what his quirks are, what he believes in, etc. At least then he'd be more than just a brainless moron whose lack of awareness was the punchline to many a joke (especially when it came to slapstick humor).
Seeing someone struggling with their racial identity and eventually learning to embrace the things they learned about themself would do wonders for an audience of people with similar experiences. Take me for example. Oftentimes, I don't feel Hispanic enough. I've spent my entire life in predominantly white spaces (not because it was my choice but because growing up in Catholic education meant there were very few people of color). My dad never spoke much about his Puerto Rican culture. He gave me very vague answers any time I asked about it, so I learned to stop asking. I distinctly remember him referring to me as a white person because I don't speak or act the way our people do. But that was hardly my fault, I was only a product of my environment. I wanted more than anything to learn about who I was and where I came from, but he wasn't interested in teaching me anything I could learn.
Although, I've learned from the experiences of other Hispanic-Americans that their parents hardly discussed their culture because leaving their home country behind in search of a better life also meant leaving behind a huge part of who they were. While it is truly incredible that moving to America has granted many people of color over the course of history the opportunity to provide better lives for themselves and their families, it is very disheartening to learn that some (albeit inadvertently) have lost touch with their roots and felt that being a proud American trumped being proud of their ethnicity. Perhaps that was the case for Carlos' parents or even his grandparents.
The weight that unspoken stories hold is astronomical. It would've meant the world to people like me to have someone like Carlos to relate to in this respect. There are so many unspoken stories of not just Hispanic culture but all cultures, and filling in the blanks would make answering so many questions about ourselves a hell of a lot easier. It only takes a simple conversation to feel less alienated and alone. Representation matters!
Characters: Logan Hortense Mitchell, Kendall Knight, James Diamond, Carlos Garcia, Officer Garcia, Jennifer Knight, Katie Knight, (The Mention of) Phoebe Nachee
Content Warnings: Questioning Gender, Gender Dysphoria, Closeted Trans Girl, Transphobia, Mentions of Physical Violence
Word Count: 2,132
This prologue takes place at the end of Big Time Break and expands upon Logan's return from the Phoebe Nachee math lecture. I wanted to test the waters of my Transfem Logan headcanon(s) by writing this snippet before committing to writing a fully-fledged story. If you do not like/agree with my Transfem Logan headcanon or are not comfortable reading about the content warnings listed, please do not interact. Otherwise, enjoy!
divider by @cafekitsune
"I had such a crazy day!" Carlos exclaimed as he popped down on the neon-orange sectional sofa while giving his beloved hockey helmet a double tap. "Check it out—"
"I had the best time today," Kendall interjected as he sat beside Carlos. "You guys gotta hear what happened!"
"Well, you're not gonna believe what happened to me!" James chimed in as he punctuated his statement with a direct point in his direction.
"Okay, alright, guys. So how do we decide who tells their story first?" Officer Garcia queries as he and Mrs. Knight set some healthy snacks on the coffee table.
The door to apartment 2J fell forward like a drawbridge, successfully releasing itself from its hinges as Logan kicked it down with one of his ankle boot heels. He wobbled into the living room, his heels clicking without rhythm against the floor, his red dress torn and mangled like a chew toy, and the wavy locks of his wig an unkempt mess. Logan clung to the massacred strap of his purse like a dog leash and dragged it behind him while his Phoebe Nachee math textbook hung by a thread in his other hand with its myriad of shredded pages.
Everyone in the room turned their heads to the boy clinging to any shred of balance he had left in him. He stood before them as his vision blackened around his peripherals. "Logan goes first," everyone agreed in unison.
Logan fell to the floor face-first, his math textbook dropping at his side with a loud thud as everyone scrambled to help him up. Carlos grabbed his right arm, Mrs. Knight grabbed his left, and everyone else circled around him in a frenzy.
"She's fine, she's fine!" Kendall assured under pressure.
Logan rose to his knees and groaned with exhaustion as everyone helped him over to the corner of the sofa. He sunk into the cushions like a stone underwater. The knotted locks of hickory brown waves draped over his face and clung to the remnants of his smudged makeup.
"Alright, guys, give her some space," Kendall warned as he held out his hands at opposite sides of each other.
In Logan's exhausted daze, he perked up at the sound of Kendall's voice. He held his head up from the cushion below and grumbled, saying, "W-What did you say?"
"Oh! Sorry," Kendall squeaked apologetically. "I meant to say he. You just look so much like a girl with that wig and your makeup, and everything."
"You think so?" Logan beamed instinctively. It was one thing to be perceived as a girl but something else entirely to be addressed as one. It felt different—tingly and warm as if he were receiving a thoughtful gift or a particularly kind compliment. It almost felt like home in a sense.
Logan noticed he'd been deep in thought for a moment while everyone else stared silently at him. "I mean, it's whatever," he murmured as he swept his wig off his head and scrunched it in his hands. He sat up against the back of the sofa and kept the wig loosely in his lap.
"So, what happened, son? We're all curious," Officer Garcia commented with loosely crossed arms. "Do I have to arrest anyone for giving you trouble?"
"N-No! I—"
"Yeah, and why are you wearing a dress?" Carlos inquired with a puzzled squint.
"Well—"
"I think the better question is," James began as he pointed a limp finger at Logan's shredded attire. "Why is it torn apart like that?"
"Erm…"
Kendall pensively narrows his eyes at Logan's dress, its candy-red shambles concerning him. He starts to visualize the dress in one piece, and suddenly it becomes familiar. "Mom, is Logan wearing your—"
"Okay, that's enough! No more questions!" Jennifer interjected as she shielded Logan from the onslaught of curious eyes and concerned questions with the barrier of her outstretched arms. "Logan is clearly exhausted and needs some time alone, so why don't you boys help yourself to some snacks and tell each other about your day while Logan rests?"
"C'mon, honey, let's get you cleaned up," Jennifer sighed as she draped Logan's arm over her shoulder and steadily guided him into the bathroom. She pulled open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror as Logan took a seat atop the toilet lid and kicked off his heels. His wig suspended from the hand knotting through its shriveled locks and grazed the ceramic tiles at his feet.
Logan hung his head low in defeat and slouched with his forearms atop his thighs. The glimmer of hope in his downturned eyes dwindled like the waning flame of a candle wick. It was a miracle he made it home in one piece, but his spirit was far from intact. Mrs. Knight unfastened the packaging to her makeup remover towelettes and pulled a sheet through the slot with her thumb and index finger.
"You wanna tell me what happened at that lecture?" Mrs. Knight asked as she swept the towelette across Logan's lips to wipe away his lipstick. "You've never come home looking like this before."
Mrs. Knight gazed upon Logan's sunken face, wiping away his blush and mascara as if she were sweeping up a crime scene. She grimaced at the loose, flimsy, disarrayed threads of her dress on Logan. It was undoubtedly unsalvagable in this condition.
"I know. Things were going so well until I got there," Logan sighed, reluctantly looking up at Mrs. Knight as she kept his head still by his chin.
"What do you mean?"
Logan's face sank with distress as he recalled his final moments at the lecture. He was frightened to open up to Mrs. Knight, but he knew if there was anyone worth telling, it'd definitely be her.
"Walking through the lobby, I felt like I blended in so well. No one looked at me funny or treated me any differently," Logan explained exasperatedly. "But I noticed that I stood out in the lecture hall. I got a lot of weird looks and I could hear people whispering about me."
Mrs. Knight narrowed her eyes pensively as Logan told the tale of his misfortune. A sympathetic glint flickered in her eyes, a small token of heartbreak shining through her gaze and reflecting in the diminishing light of Logan's sunken spirit.
"I ignored them, though. By the time Phoebe Nachee entered the room, I stopped caring about everything else," Logan continued. "But she started talking about how girls are way smarter than boys and how she hasn't met a single boy who could understand her book."
"So what did you do?" Mrs. Knight inquired worriedly.
"Well…" Logan began, inhaling sharply as if to brace himself for impact. "Everyone laughed at her offensive remarks, so I stood up, took off my wig, and told everyone I was a boy who clearly understood her book."
"And I guess they didn't take that well, huh?"
"No, not exactly," Logan sighed defeatedly.
"What happened after that?"
An eerie, deafening silence befell the room. Fear had swallowed Logan's voice and sewn his lips shut, forbidding him from ever repeating this event to anyone. He wasn't sure it was safe to admit to the violence and torment he'd been subjected to. What if he'd be made fun of? What if he'd be dismissed entirely? There was no telling what would happen with such a frighteningly concerned look on Mrs. Knight's face. Logan felt her peering into the depths of his soul, her eyes flickering with perturbation and sketching out the lines of his cowardice.
"Logan, what happened?" Mrs. Knight reiterated sternly.
Logan choked back a sniffle and nervously clung to the remnants of his dress as he fought to stifle the stinging onslaught of tears brimming in his eyes with a forced squint. "You won't… make fun of me if I tell you, will you?" he croaked begrudgingly.
"Sweetheart, no," Mrs. Knight cooed as she knelt down on one knee before Logan and caged his hands in hers atop his lap. "I'm here to help you."
Logan's eyes creased warily. He looked down at Mrs. Knight's hands holding him securely and keeping him afloat like a rescue buoy in the deep end of a pool. Mrs. Knight was hardly visible through Logan's wayward tears that dared to betray him by trickling down his tragedy-stricken cheeks.
"I need to make sure you're okay, and if you're not, we can figure this out together," Mrs. Knight assured as she glided her thumb near the corner of Logan's eye to wipe away a stray tear. "But I can't do anything if I don't know what happened, so I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what's going on. Can you do that for me?"
"Y-Yeah, I think so…" Logan replied apprehensively after taking a shaky breath and haphazardly nodding his head. He couldn't quite look Mrs. Knight in the eye yet, but her constant reassurance paved a smooth road for him to follow, and he appreciated that more than he could express.
"They, uhm," Logan muttered "They… may have beat me up."
"THEY WHAT?!" Mrs. Knight squawked with unbridled fury.
Logan fearfully shushed Mrs. Knight and waved his hands to somehow relinquish the incandescent panic and outrage brewing inside her.
"Sorry, I'm fine. I'm calm," Mrs. Knight grumbled. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
"No, it's okay. I'm fine. I managed to scramble out of the building before I got seriously hurt," Logan assured plainly, dragging an open palm across his face to dry the remainder of his tears. "But they called me all sorts of names when I did—creep, freak, pervert."
"Honey, I am so sorry," Mrs. Knight sympathized earnestly. "Do you want to file a report with Officer Garcia?"
"I don't know. I don't think so," Logan said diffidently. "I think I just need to be alone right now."
"Okay, I'll make sure the boys stay busy for a while so they won't bother you," Mrs. Knight declared as she rose to her feet. "Do you need anything else from me before I—"
Logan immediately ensnared Mrs. Knight in a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her and clung to her like the clutch of a life jacket. "Thank you," he uttered quietly. Logan felt the urge to say more. He had a monologue's worth of words lingering on the tip of his tongue, but he'd exhausted his voice almost completely the second he thanked Mrs. Knight for her comfort and reassurance.
Mrs. Knight's lips rounded with a barely audible 'aww' as she returned the hug and rubbed gentle circles onto Logan's back. "You're very welcome, Logan," she cooed.
Logan begrudgingly pulled away, continuing to wobble slightly when finding his footing. He glanced to the side and awkwardly cleared his throat. "At least now I know being a girl isn't in the cards for me…" he chuckled weakly, hoping his desperate attempt at lighthearted humor would lighten the mood.
"Well, good thing it was just pretend, right?" Mrs. Knight replied with a grin and a shrug. She gave Logan one last reassuring squeeze before she left the room to tend to the others.
Logan gave another weak chuckle in response. He turned to the mirror once he was alone and grimaced at the wig lying limp on the floor by his feet. It seemed to mock him with how shriveled and knotted it was. "Just pretend, huh?" he repeated quietly as he returned his focus to his flushed reflection. Logan traced his jawline and cheekbones with his fingertips, almost trying to correct them because they started to feel unfamiliar.
He narrowed his eyes and stared himself down in hopes to make sense of his appearance, but he was undoubtedly stumped. Logan withdrew his hands from his face and held them out, lightly curling his fingers and gazed at his palms in distress. Had his hands always looked so large and calloused? Had his arm hair always been so long and thick? Had his jawline always been so square and sharp?
Logan felt surprisingly imprisoned in his body, but he couldn't stop gazing at himself in horror and disgust. It wasn't until he saw Katie in his reflection that he was startled out of his downward spiral. Logan shrieked and turned his back to the mirror, nervously clutching the rim of the pedestal sink with both hands.
"Are you done in here?" Katie asked dryly as she stood in the doorway.
"O-Oh, yeah! Sorry," Logan squeaked as he quickly scrambled away and retreated to the confines of his bedroom.
Katie shuffled into the bathroom and was immediately met with the sight of Logan's discarded wig lying flat on the floor. "Gross," she muttered to herself as she closed the door.
Instagram shenanigans made by me (to my verse where Nikki is a police officer)
nicolegarcia Train as hard as you can. Sweat and aching muscles make me feel alive, no matter what mood I’m in. P.S Working in a precinct, full of men makes you want to stay in shape all the time #trainhard #sweat #ilovemywork
