#poc author

[banzaboiieatskilishi]

O.N.E : Abbati

age: 60

height:177cm

weight: 100kg

[jelllycake]

The circle of cameras and microphones during pre game interviews were always a little overwhelming. Knowing that every question is laced with another question, a deeper confession skilled journalists want to coax and hook and wring out. Shane knows what they really what him to say when they ask about his skill set, when they hold large iPhones in front of his eyes, obscuring his field of vision - when did they get so big? He finds himself wondering, reminiscing on the practical BlackBerry he used to own. He refocused his attention to the woman in front of him. She’s young, with a Toronto Metropolitan University press pass loose around her neck, resting flimsily on the white shirt under her navy blue blazer. She’s a student, Shane can tell. He finds they always have the most creative questions.

“Sorry, would you mind repeating that?”

“Of course. You’ve been playing in the league for nearly a decade now, starting at the age of 17, and you’ve gotten a plethora of comparisons to athletes such as Tiger Woods, Tashi Duncan, and Serena Williams. Now, it seems as if you’re on par with their infamy, do you have any advice for young athletes similar to you who are just starting out?”

Shane glanced up at the young woman, finding a slight recognition in her eyes. They both knew what she was really asking. Any advice for the other non-white kids? It wasn’t a bad question, or even an offensive one. Still, Shane always slightly resented the comparison. The way it tokenized him, squished his skill down to simply being good for an Asian kid. Aside from that, the question didn’t even make sense. Shane was 25, he wasn’t nearly as old as Tiger Woods or Serena Williams.

He’d often wondered if he should be doing more for his community. If he should be making his Asian heritage more relevant instead of loosely addressing it during a Tim Hortons limited edition Shane Hollander-Maple-Matcha-Latte (which tasted disgusting, not at all like a proper Japanese Matcha should). He knows he’s fortunate for this position but the thought carrying that — not burden, no— the thought of having to be that symbol, the only representation…

It scared him.

He didn’t want to let everyone down, fail to be the Japanese - Canadian Super Star Golden Boy. Your young Asian kids can look to him, he never acts out, he eats all of his vegetables, he isn’t vulgar or rude or perverted. He doesn’t lie to his parents.

If they only knew.

What advice would he give young athletes similar to him? Push yourself 10x harder than the rest of them, so when the boys mock you from the stands during games and corner you behind the area after practice and pull their eyes back while asking if you even speak English, you can destroy them on the ice. Push yourself so hard that you hope that your outward shell doesn’t matter, not until they ask about it through thinly veiled questions that remind everyone that you’re an outlier.

Shane replies,

“Thank you for your question. When I first started out, I was just trying to focus on improving my skill set and working towards the goals I had. I was lucky to have had so much support to get me to where I am today. Any young athlete should do the same and above all believe in themselves.”

It’s a simple answer. A bit of a cop out. But hopefully for one young Shane Hollander, it’s something.

A voice announces there will be no further questions and Shane gives polite thank you’s to everyone and takes a breath, rolling back his shoulders to try and physically shake off years of frustration. Anyway, it’s game time.

The locker room buzzed with pregame excitement. The guys riled each other up as they all got suited up, ready to be encompassed by the vibrations of fan cheers. Shane felt it too and was eager to get onto the ice, his element. A place where it didn’t matter who he was, a place he could simply dominate.

As he stepped to center ice, Shane thought about how much this game meant to him. It was his life’s purpose, his safe haven. Giving it his full attention, giving it his all was everything.

The heavy puck hovered above Shane’s head as he anticipated the drop. He won the face off.

[420slvtt]

sea, swallow me

eren yeager x reader

chapter ten

masterlist last chapter next chapter

summary: in which eren jaeger, an amazing football player, gets to play for one of the best high schools in marley, the mysterious rich town over. in which y/n y/ln, the well-off girl, tries to overcome her addictions and just wants to be loved and cared for.

content warnings: heavy drug use, trap house, driving under the influence.

you completely forgot that today was monday— you had off today for some reason, they probably told you but you just didn't listen. you had school tomorrow and you were totally unprepared you groaned and threw your head on the table with a solid thud.

"what's wrong, ladybug?" your mother said making you pick your head up off the table. the four football players and your father were staring at you.

"i forgot school existed. and now i want to crawl into a hole." you said before making your head flop back down on the table—beside your plate of half-eaten pizza.

you groaned once more, picking your head up once again and grabbing a slice of pizza and putting it in your mouth and making your way upstairs. everyone's eyes watched you walk up the stairs.

"she always has to make a scene huh?" your father said, laughing slightly—what felt like awkward laughter from the others followed.

you felt a lump in your throat, you absolutely hated being sensitive. you made it into your room and flopped onto your bed splaying out your limps. you instantly connected your phone to a speaker blasting music—shuffling incubus, trying to push down your overwhelming thoughts.

why were you so sensitive? all your father had done was make a tiny little joke about the scene you caused— which you had done. so why did it upset you. your thoughts overwhelmed you so you stood up off the bed and moved your way over to the closet.

grabbing your infamous shoebox off the floor of the closet, you opened it—to be met with all sorts of things. you had a giant stash of weed that seemed to be disappearing more each day, but as you looked for a stronger substance than weed, you couldn't find one. you were out—completely out, dry. you reached for the lid to the shoebox putting it back on and shoving it back into the closet. you let out a load groan.

you had to go and score something, you needed stuff to make it through the week. looking out the window you noticed that the rain had seemed to be slowing. you smiled and applauded, thanking the rain for finally slowing down.

you sat at your vanity, fixing whatever makeup you had on from the day. you looked down at your outfit, grey yoga pants and a tube top— you knew you were going to throw on a hoodie.

whilst jamming out to the music you had on, a knock interrupted you. "yeah?" you called out. the door opened, it was your mom.

she stepped inside your room, observing it—she's usually not allowed in, your room looked hazy, reeked of weed, had clothes thrown everywhere, and just looked like a tornado swept through it. "hey, ladybug— oh, are you going out?" she said noticing you doing your makeup.

you smiled and looked at her for a moment before looking back at the mirror. "no i'm just going to film tiktok's, watch a movie, then knock out." you said stealing another glance towards her.

she had bought your story. "oh okay, well i was just coming up to say goodnight and that i love you. did you need anything before i go to sleep?"

"i don't think so. but goodnight." you didn't take your eyes off the mirror. she walked out of your room, door closing with a click. now that your parents are going to sleep, it's easier to sneak out now.

you got off of your chair, and began rummaging through the piles of clothing you had searching for for a hoodie, you eventually found one. it was grey had some lettering you didn't bother to read plus it matched your pants.

you grabbed your wallet, your car keys, along with your airpods—you had to take those anywhere you went. you pause the music on your speaker switching it to your airpods, putting one in.

you threw on some slippers, it didn't really match your outfit but it was mostly about comfort. you double checked your pockets making sure you had everything, then shutting off your lights. you opened your door peering out into the hallway, the light was off and the nightlight was flickering, your whole house reeked of cinnamon—definitely your mom trying to cover up the weed smell.

as you made your way closer to the stairs you heard voices and the television from downstairs. you internally panicked, you knew it had to be your brother and hopefully no one else.

you descended down the stairs coming face to face with the living room—your stairs most definitely aren't quiet so all heads were turned towards you.

"where are you going, y/n?" malik asked pausing whatever football game they had been watching.

"out." you said turning towards the front door.

"y/n i'm serious, where the hell are you going." he said it sternly—he almost sounded like your father.

"god malik, who are you dad now? i told you i'm going out, im literally dressed like a bum." you rolled your eyes before continuing. "what if i was gonna go get taco bell huh? how about that?" you moved towards the door.

"whatever." he mumbled more stuff under his breath before unpausing the game—hearing the annoying announcers and buzzers was enough to make you open the front door and leave.

you felt your phone buzz as you had stepped onto your porch. eren had texted you—you stopped in your tracks and looked down at your phone.

eren:))

where u going

floch's

can i come?

lol i wish, he hates new ppl at his house

oh wrd

             read.

you had lied to eren. you were not going to floch's house. floch only sold weed, mushrooms and sometimes acid. what you wanted was something more. instead you were going to your asshole of a dealer's house—brad was a total junkie who always hit on you but he had the good shit and good deals.

you hopped into your car and put your music onto the car before backing out, you blasted chris travis putting your car in reverse. the roads weren't desolate but it was close—which was a shocker for los angeles. you drove to the shadier side of town where your dealer resided.

your sunroof was down as the rain had fully cleared up, suicideboys had blasted from your speakers and echoed among the city. 'drugs/hoes/money/etc' was the song of choice. you screamed the lyrics, swaying side to side to the beat.

the drive took you about twenty-five minutes, you closed your sunroof and lowered your car's volume. observing your surroundings, most of the buildings in the neighborhood were rundown and not kept up with— some even had boards replacing windows.

you looked away, turning off your car—you hopped out walking up to the door of brad's house. his house wasn't the best either, it was a pale yellow had graffiti and moss on the outside. although it was two stories. you heard music echoing from inside the house. you sighed not wanting to deal with more druggies that you needed to.

you knocked on the door, waiting a few seconds for a response. you heard the latch clicking and a scrawny women with uneven teeth, thin blonde hair, and a sunken face had came to the door. she coughed before speaking. "can i help you?"

"is brad here?" she opened the door wider, allowing you to step in. she shut the door behind you. she grabbed a cigarette pack from her pocket and pulled one out, she moved the pack towards you. you only threw your hand up in a way of saying 'no thanks'.

"so is he here?"

she blew out the smoke from her cigarette."shit right, brad!" she shouted his name across his house. you could hear brad moving to the front of the house from one of the bedrooms in the back. the house reeked of weed, cigarettes and another smell you couldn't pinpoint mold? maybe.

"yo y/n what's up! what can i do for you?" brad said flopping lazy on his worn leather couch, it had rips from dogs scratching it—you could hear the metal creak when he sat in it. the women still next to you locked the door, before moving to a stool in the kitchen.

you moved to the second couch they had in the living room. "do you have cocaine?" you asked, falling onto the fabric couch— you could feel the wood beneath the tethered couch cushion.

"oh shit, i don't. i literally just sold the last bag." he eyed you up and down. "why you ain't want to sit by me?" he manspreaded even more—changing the music they had playing on the worn down tv in the living room with the remote in his hand.

"i wanted my space it looks cramped over there—so what do you have?" you crossed your arms.

"don't you have school tomorrow? why you here n/n." he said copying your crosssed arms.

"do you want money or not?"

"fine. i got blues—." you immediately shook your head no. "ight bet i got molly, acid, ketamine, heroin, mushrooms, and that's all that i'm willing to sell to you." he said uncrossing his arms and picking up his phone. he was getting antsy and you could tell whatever he was high off of it was coming down.

"but you were willing to sell me fentanyl?" you nodded your head—lips in a tight line. while he spewed the words out you already figured what you wanted. "i'll take molly and acid, do you have any xanax?" he nodded his head.

"yeah i got xanax. also can you take some heroin off my hands? ion know if you do that or not but i'll give you a good deal." you heart rate sped up. he noticed the look on you face. "i'll make it free."

you sighed, glancing down at your phone you checked the time ten fifty-three. you swiped up putting your phone on do not disturb. "you know what fuck it."

he cheered. "ayyye. i'll be back with everything in a second." he got up and descended into one of the back rooms. you scrolled through your phone for a while, panic had started consuming you—you've never touched heroin before, although you've wanted to, you never did.

your leg bounced up and down—insane scenarios going wild in your head. "so i got all your shit and since i ain't have your coke i'll give you half off the xans, but you run me bout' $130." you pulled your wallet out, grabbing a one-hundred, twenty and a ten

dollar bill. you handed it to him and he handed you the stuff. shoving everything into your pockets—besides the heroin. you stayed stuck to the couch, panic and nervousness enveloping you.

"i don't know how to do this." you said referencing to the tiny bag in your hand. "can i stay here and you show me how to do this?" you laughed at the thought.

"i mean yeah you just paid me a shit ton of money so i mean why not." he shrugged his shoulders, moving to the kitchen to get the supplies you needed. "yo can you sit in the spot next to me?" he called out to you.

"yeah." you moved over to the spot, putting your airpods in one ear and putting on music at a decent volume. he walked back into the living room with a needle in his hand, a spoon, a water bottle, a lighter, and a belt. "the needle is clean right?" you asked hesitantly grabbing the spoon from his hands.

the women in the kitchen laughed at your words, it sounded more like barking than anything. "yes it's clean, i'm not an animal. so what you're going to do is dump some of the stuff in the baggie onto the spoon, add some water, you light the spoon up, then you inject it into the needle—then yeah."

you only nodded. "how much should i put on the spoon?"

"not that much. here i'll do it." he grabbed the baggie from your hands and placed a teaspoon amount on the spoon, pouring a smidge of water into it before lighting it up. "take your hoodie off."

you scrambled to do so. your anxiety was swallowing you whole. "'ight it's ready." he injected it all into the needle. he wrapped the belt tightly around your arm— it was the part right above your elbow. "you've been paying attention this whole time yeah?" you nodded. "ight don't worry imma give you a shit ton of CLEAN needles to take home with you plus you can take this belt."

"okay." you gulped immediately after finishing saying it. your mouth was dry and your hands were sweaty.

"it's okay y/n. i gotta find your vein then imma inject it in you okay?" you nodded. "nah i may be a douche but i need consent." you laughed.

"yeah you can do it." he nodded before pushing the needle into your arm. at first you didn't feel a difference but then you felt warm, really warm.

your body felt like stars were circling your forehead as if you got hit on the head in a cartoon—not because your head hurt but you just always imagined their body feeling fuzzy and warm—and that's how you felt currently.

you hadn't even realized the needle was still in you for a few seconds afterwards, brad slowly took it out throwing it away. you pictured him as a nurse and started giggling to yourself.

this was the feeling you had been searching for your entire life— it felt of a giant warm hug. like your mother was hugging you, enveloping you in her warmth.

you sank deeper into brad's couch, you had absolutely no thoughts. just wow— you think you wanted this feeling forever, your anxiety had disappeared and you no longer felt depressed.

it felt beautiful—as if a thousand flowers had bloomed in front of you. brad appeared in front of you after walking back into the living room from discarding the needle.

"yo you good?" you smiled back at him,nodding your head eagerly—but it felt slow to you.

"i feel good." he nodded sitting next to you. your music had paused awhile ago, pulling out your phone from your hoodie pocket—that was spewed out next to you. you turned your music back on and started scrolling through your phone. you got notifications that the group chat with annie and pieck was blowing up. you sighed before closing your phone.

you were having a good high and you weren't going to ruin it nothing was— "yo n/n, my girls comin' over and she doesn't like it when other girls are here." he rolled his eyes at how ridiculous it was. "so do you mind going home?"

you froze, you were so fucking high and your mind was mush. "yeah i can go, do you have a bag for this stuff?" you said pointing to the stuff you bought earlier that had spilt out your pockets.

"yeah jenn prolly left a makeup bag somewhere 'round here ." he got up and walked towards the back of the house, turning on lights as he did. "found one." he came back and gave it to you.

you politely took it out of his hands, sitting up you began putting your things into the bag—it was this plush red makeup bag with skulls printed all over it, it was cute and deep enough to fit all your stuff. you set the bag down grabbing your hoodie and standing up.

throwing it on over your head, you tucked your phone, wallet, and airpods in the pocket. while you clutched your newfound bag. you turned towards brad. "thanks."

"anytime." you made your way to the door as brad followed unlocking and opening it for you, before you could get another word out the door was slammed shut behind you.

"damn." you muttered— walking back to your car you hopped in the front seat throwing the bag in the passenger seat.

you turned the car on then immediately turned the air on L.A weather was so indecisive. you connected your phone to aux and started driving. the clock below your dashboard read one-twelve. "holy shit."

the streets were quiet—which you were so thankful for because you were so high and the road lines had started squiggling all over the place. you yawned as you drove back home.

you could feel the car swerving, your music had barely kept you awake— you partially fell asleep for a split second—because your brain reminded you what would happen if you fell asleep and instantly were wide awake.

making it to your house you pulled into the driveway—noticing that reiner's car along with porco's car was gone. had eren left too? you could only hope.

you turned off your car, grabbing the bag from your passenger seat. getting out of the car you locked the car before making your way inside. you input the four digit code needed to enter your house, it was just some lame assortment of numbers.

the house was silent, living room tv off, all the lights off besides for a lamp that always stayed on at night. you took one final glance at the living room and made your way upstairs.

you opened your bedroom door to be met face to face with eren, he was sitting on your bed. his phone on your pillow next to him. you squealed at the sight of him. "holy fuck eren! you scared the shit out of me." you said clutching your chest.

he laughed. "where'd you get the bag?" he asked you as you shut your door stepping more into your bedroom,

you picked up the red-plush bag as it had fallen on the floor. "oh this? floch's sister gave me it said she didn't want it anymore."

"oh." was all he said. "i just wanted to say goodnight."

"did you stay in my room the whole time i was gone like a creep?" you laughed at the thought— eren snooping through your things, playing your records, trying on your clothes.

he laughed. "no im staying here tonight and i heard, your car lock so i came here to wait for you."

"oh okay, well goodnight eren." you smiled moving to your vanity to set the red bag down.

"trying to get rid of me already?" he smiled, grabbing his phone and standing up. "goodnight y/n." he looked at you from across the room, letting himself out of your room he shut your door with a silent thud.

you turned off all of your lights, took your slippers off and stripped of your pants—jumping into bed, drifting into an amazing sleep where the first time in a year you didn't have a nightmare.

[desdasiwrites]

– K. Ancrum, Icarus

[asablehart]

My short story "Seen Thrice in Serpent's Flesh" is in the Gods and Monsters themed issue of FIYAH magazine. The hipparch, Kalliros, seeks out the oracle of Delphi after witnessing a brutal battle with the undead, but the answers he seeks live far in the cosmos, where a sleeping goddess plans her return to earth.

[buttercupblu143]

writing on tumblr has taught me that there are no rules. write what you want however you want. somebody will eat it up.

[amourflores]

◞ 𓏼 ۟ 𓊆 𓏴 DISCORD SERVER FOR POC

⠀⠀･｡ .⠐⠀i have decided to create discord server for any poc writer on tumblr , no matter your fandom — you can join it ! of course, if you are caucasian you can not join ( i’m sorry ) .

⠀⠀･｡ .⠐⠀ofc this server is +18 only ! i will not make any exception.

⠀⠀･｡ .⠐⠀however , i am still building this server so i will accept anyone who wishes to help me <33

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝓵𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝓱𝖾𝗋𝖾.

[tealeavesand-roses]

status: read rating: 4.5/5

The Bewitching by Silvia Moreno-Garcia ✨

Ooh, this was a good one. I’ve been a fan of Silvia Moreno-Garcia for a while. I loved Mexican Gothic and have a few more of hers waiting on my TBR, but The Bewitching really pulled me in. It’s told through three POVs and timelines: Alba in 1908 rural Mexico, Beatrice in the 1930s, and Minerva in 1998 New England (who is researching Beatrice’s old thesis). I love multi-POV stories, especially when they jump between different time periods like this. It kept things layered and mysterious in the best way.

The 1998 timeline had that perfect mix of spooky academia and late-‘90s atmosphere — the kind that feels both eerie and nostalgic. And Alba’s chapters really stood out to me. They reminded me so much of the stories my grandma used to tell me about growing up in her small town in Mexico. The imagery and tone just felt familiar in a way that made it hit deeper. And for the twist, I did not see that coming. I was genuinely surprised by who the witch ended up being.

Overall, I thought it was such a good read: haunting, beautifully written, and full of that slow, creeping suspense Silvia Moreno-Garcia does so well.

✨disclaimer✨: collage is not mine. here is a link to the Pinterest collage 🧚🏼