Perseus “Percy” Jackson was born on August 18, 1993. Percy is named after the famed Greek hero Perseus by his mother for good luck, because his namesake was one of the only heroes who had a happy ending and died a peaceful death.
Before you say you made a Filipino character or headcanon a character as Filipino
Please ask yourself what kind of Filipino exactly.
There are at least 175 ethnolinguistic groups (or ethnolinguistic nations, if you prefer the term) in the Philippines
— quite an impressive number for such a small archipelago, yes?
— with their own distinct languages, cultures and traditions, yet I keep seeing the same vaguely Catholic, Filipino-speaking flavorlessly pan-Filipino characters running around. Why?
Filipino is more of a national allegiance than an ethnic identity. Filipinoness is not a monolith. There is no such thing as just a Filipino. Filipinos are regionalistic and intensely clannish, and might even be antagonistic towards each other. For example: Tagalogs and Cebuanos are going to be different from each other and they will gladly tell you so, and these are both lowland-coastal Catholic ethnic groups.
To put things into perspective:
As was previously said, there are over 175 ethnolinguistic groups in the Philippines, only twelve of which number over one million members. Namely and in order from most to least populous: Cebuano, Tagalog, Ilocano, Hiligaynon, Central Bicolano, Waray, Kapampangan, Albay Bicolano, Pangasinense, Maranao, Maguindanao and Tausug. The first nine are predominantly Catholic and the last three are predominantly Muslim. Each group speaks a different language and adheres to its own set of traditions.
The majority of Filipinos are from lowland-coastal Catholic (or some other Christian denomination) ethnic groups that have been subject to Spanish colonization, but there is also a sizeable and growing Muslim minority that had never been under Spanish control with cultures quite distinct from their Catholic brethren; might I add that the arrival of Islam predated the arrival of Catholicism in the Philippines? There are also the indigenous peoples that comprise over 100 ethnic groups but only an estimated 3% of the population. The term is a misnomer — the vast majority of Filipinos are indigenous
— and what they mean to say is non-Hispanicized, non-Christianized, non-Islamicized, mostly upland/highland or hinterland-dwelling ethnic groups. There are exceptions, though, and some groups that are otherwise classified as indigenous peoples have largely converted to Christianity (i.e. Ibanag) or Islam (i.e. Sama-Bajau). The lines can be arbitrary. There can be any number of mixtures and overlaps between these three major groups.
Then, there are immigrant and mixed populations, such as the Spanish mestizos (who, contrary to popular belief, are a small minority of the population), Filipinos of American descent, Chinese-Filipinos, Japanese-Filipinos, Indian-Filipinos, Koreans and Indonesians. Of course, they will have their own culture and traditions. Some of these groups have been here for centuries and, as such, have adopted a syncretized culture that combines the foreign culture with Philippine culture, leading to even more diversity.
The Chinese-Filipino community alone is already very diverse in itself. It is very old, with contact between the people of what would become China and the Philippines being established since the 9th Century BCE and immigration taking place as early as then. Roughly 2% of the population of the Philippines is Chinese-Filipino and up to 27% is of Chinese descent. Within this group, you can have different combinations of place of origin, ethnicity and social status in China, wave of immigration, method of and reason for immigrating to the Philippines, number of generations from the mainland, and where they settled in the Philippines and level of insularity vs. integration, and each configuration is going to be different, wildly or mildly, from the others. Some are going to be very similar to the surrounding community while some would be practicing and preserving traditions which are long gone and forgotten even in its native China.
tl;dr: The Philippines is ridiculously diverse for such a small collection of rocks by the Pacific. Disabuse yourself of the notion that you can simply say a character is Filipino and be done with it. Choose one and research.
The same applies to any ethnic group or race which you may wish to write or headcanon.
There’s a saddening lack of books with pansexual/panromantic rep included in queer book recs, so I’ve compiled a list of books for us pans, that I will be continuously updating.
Some notes: I haven’t read the majority of these books, so I’m trusting the people who sent me recs and the research I’ve done. Some of the books are part of series, and I’m not sure if the pan character is in one or some/all books, so keep that in mind.
For each book I’ve put the genre, the names of the characters if I could find them, if it’s canon or implied/hinted, and a goodreads link.
When reading we don’t fall in love with a character’s appearnce. We fall in love with theie wards, their thoughts, their hearts, their mistakes and their flaws. We fall in love with every aspect of their souls. @cassandraclare
this is a story about a sorcerer and a knight. well, a knight-in-training. they go by KiT, a nickname for their title, but a perfectly good name for anyone. kit’s a good squire, for the most part, but they have a knack for getting into trouble.
this time the trouble is they just fuckin decked another knight in the middle of the tavern.
“keep your hands off my friend,” kit tells the shocked personification of grossness, now sitting on his ass on the ground. kit’s pretty sure the message was already sent though the ass-kicking, but it doesn’t hurt to be thorough.
the man splutters for a minute before finding his tongue. “you— you— you piece of shit, you’ll pay for this. i have powerful friends.”
“bring it on,” kit retorts. they’re feeling pretty confident right now.
they’re feeling significantly less confident as two other men step up behind the first guy.
“outside,” the first growls.
“we’re zit and wedge, and we’re going to kick your ass,” the second one clarifies.
zit nods. “but we don’t want to make a mess of you on mal’s floor, since it was just scrubbed and all.”
kit glances at mal, who they rather thought was a friend, to find her nodding appreciatively. “brawlers these days are so polite. out you three go.”
kit wilts. “but… there’s just one of me.”
it’s around this time, when the two other guys are starting to crack their knuckles and look like they’re going to drag kit outside whether they like it or not, that someone else pushes their way through the small crowd that’s forming.
“’scuse me, pardon me. hello. what’s going on here?”
she’s got bright blue hair, of the kind that you get from mucking around with magic too much. everyone immediately reassesses the situation, and watches her warily. a sorcerer can quickly change the way a brawl plays out, if they feel like intervening. kit sincerely hopes she does.
“miss,” zit jumps in before kit can get a word in, “this young… person, here, just brutally attacked my poor friend, and me and wedge think we ought to be able to teach them a lesson in manners.”
the sorcerer studies him for a moment, as if considering his statement, and kit grabs their chance.
“pimple here is completely leaving out the fact that their friend wouldn’t leave my friend alone, after she asked him to go away twice!”
zit bristles, and looks to the sorcerer for her judgment.
she considers for while. “can anyone vouch for this knight’s statement?”
“i was the one getting hit on!” tea shouts from behind kit’s shoulder.
the sorcerer digests the witness’s statement. “hm. i’m inclined to see this as a case of self-defense, through the channel of someone who was not the self being hit on. i would suggest that all the parties involved accept the ruling of “he who gets their ass kicked probably deserves it”, and move on.”
“fat chance,” wedge growls. “the pack sticks together. we have to defend our leader.”
werewolves, kit sighs internally. it just figured.
there’s a dramatic pause, then the sorcerer says cooly, “you try it, and you’ll get your asses kicked too.”
zit and wedge eye her warily. kit eyes all three of them, which is hard with only two eyes.
“i reckon we could take a sorcerer,” wedge hypothesizes— an idea that would be quickly proven false in any laboratory experiment.
but this is a tavern, and the sorcerer has a delayed reaction, only raising her hands when zit charges at her. kit flinches back, sure she’s about to be crushed, but the next moment flames explode in the small space between the sorcerer and zit. there’s a yelp, and mad scrambling back from the sorcerer.
“i have nowhere to be until book club at midnight,” the sorcerer informs them calmly, her hands still out, palms up and ready to summon more flame. kit squints at them. “so i have plenty of time to teach you a lesson.”
apparently rescinding their hypothesis, all three werewolves make a mad dash for the door and disappear into the night.
the sorcerer smiles victoriously, and shakes her bright hair out of her face. kit squints at her scalp as she turns to them. “all good?”
“yes, thank you,” tea says, sounding impressed. “wow… a fire summoner. i didn’t know there were any teenagers powerful enough.”
kit has no other specific places to squint, so they just stare hard at the sorcerer’s face. “yeah… thanks. that was really cool.”
she waves their thanks off with one hand, a few strands of smoke issuing from her sleeves. “all in a day’s work. i’ll be off now.”
kit leaves tea with mal, though they frankly no longer trust her so much, and follows the sorcerer out the door. “hey, wait! you, blue hair magic person. what are you?”
“a masked vigilante,” she says, after a pause. “without the mask, because magic.”
kit blinks at that, before realizing she’s perfectly right. besides the definite ideas that she’s female and blue-haired, kit seems to forget what she looks like one moment to the next. kinda neat, honestly, though disconcerting.
they shake their head. “no, i mean… you’re not a sorcerer. i’ve seen people summon fire, and it comes from a loosely closed fist, not an open hand. also, your hair is dyed, not magically changed.”
she doesn’t answer for a moment, then looks stumped, and continues to not answer.
“well?” kit asks.
“fine,” she admits. “i’m a sorcerer in training, but the fake mask is about the most complicated magic i can do. the hair is so people will take me seriously when i do masked vigilante stuff.”
“and the fire?” kit persists.
after a moment, she shakes out her sleeve, sending a tiny purple dragon tumbling into her other hand. “my helper. my fire aid, if you will. you’re the first person to notice, you know?”
“just logic and being awesome,” kit says with a shrug, feeling pleased. neither are skills they get to show off a lot. they kinda feel like they’ve earned something for it. “hey, can i ask you a question?”
after a pause, the sorcerer in training says, “go for it.”
“why do you wait a second before responding to anything?”
their question is punctuated by a pause before she answers.
then the sorcerer motions kit closer, and tucks her hair behind her ears. the knight-in-training leans in, gaping. there’s a green dragon no longer than the length of one finger perched behind her ear, claws holding onto her piercings for balance. it unwedges one tiny wing to wave at them.
“what the fuck,” kit says, unable to find a reason for this from logic or being awesome.
“what the fuck,” the dragon repeats, pushing its snoot practically inside the sorcerer’s ear.
“this is peep,” she says. “my hearing is shit, so it helps me out. i call it my hearing aid.”
the draconian hearing aid preens under the knight-in-training’s stare.
“I have seen her. Walking across the courtyard from her first class this morning, her expression thoughtful, her book bag casually thrown over her shoulder. I had seen photographs, of course; I knew she wore clunky glasses and her hair in a youthful dreadlock style, that her clothes would be dynamic and colorful. I knew she would be 1.63 meters tall, that she would weigh 50kg, that she was coming away from a neurobiology class; I knew what to expect…But I was not prepared for her insouciant manner, the way she squinted and smiled up at the gathering rainclouds, aware of the gray weather in a way that the other students missed, immersed in their phones or conversations. I did not think she would kick at a pile of leaves. She walks loosely, comfortable in her skin, her face as open and expressive as Ms Hendrix’s is closed.” - from the diary of Dr. Delphine Cormier.