#it’s too early to talk about hispanic lit

[all-risejd]

Innocent Manipulations

This turned out darker than we originally intended, but this was a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoy it, comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Warnings: manipulation, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, controlling partner, submissive partner. 

Dom!Dom X Sub!Rhea

April 2023

In the quiet between pure night and early dawn Dominik can’t help but watch Rhea sleep stretched across their hotel bed, the slightly older woman fast asleep with a steady rise and fall of her shoulders, the blankets tangled around her, her dyed black hair inky against the crisp white of the pillows. Sitting in the high backed chair, he rested his chin on his hands, elbows on his knees, as he leaned forward and studied her. When the sun rose they had things to do, but this little moment right now, was his alone. He could plan and plot and choose the night's festivities - but he wanted to just watch his little masterpiece sleep. A true work of art once he’d managed to break down her barriers and gain her trust. His mean little brat, who needed someone in control, he had been more than happy to take the reins for her. A smile pulled on his face as he thought about the twisting game he’d played to get to this moment… 

August 2022

He’d known about Rhea Ripley for some time. But seeing her in the flesh gave him goosebumps of the best kind. She was feral and wild in the way caged animals were. He loved it. The problem was even from his distance he could see how alone she was, the only time she even remotely lit up was in the presence of Damian Priest, and while that made Dominik’s curiosity about her flare, he’d heard all the rumors. He’d also heard the end of her discussions with other females, she’d get snappy and closed off. He’d read the online talk about her (he was often looking out for things his haters would use against him, like the fact that he was builtfat and not one hundred percent muscle like Theory), and he hated how he could tell even from watching her across arenas she let the way those trolls talked about her sneak into her mind and tear her apart. The thing was, he could see, even before they were on the same roster, that she was meant to be more. His father always said he picked impossible goals.

He made Rhea Ripley his goal - either a conquest, a lover, or a friend. He wanted to possess some part of the powerful woman who would have undoubtedly made Chyna proud. It’s an accident, really, (a well-planned one) that allows him to catch her in the gym of their hotel in the early morning light, the frustration and overexertion on her behalf echos the pain he once felt - when he was a teenager and brutally teased for not being more like his father, for not looking like the other football players, for being too tall to be hispanic (whatever the fuck that meant). “Hey, Ripley.” She jolted and turned to look at him, “Wanna beat something up that might hit you back?” He watched her appraise him - before nodding. It’s the start of something, admittedly not the something he so desperately wanted - but something just the same. It becomes a habit, if they are in the same hotel, they find each other between two and three in the morning, and beat the shit out of each other - never going for faces, but leaving the impact bruises just the same. 

While they hit and spar, he draws her out of her comfort zone in another way. Dominik knows he’s got all the charm his father never uses correctly, he also knows there is a darkness inside of him, steadily growing, that he doesn’t mind. It only takes him two weeks to learn she’s forgetful for being a gym rat. She forgets protein, water, workout towels, and changes of clothes - she forgets the step that comes out after working your muscles to jello. But it works in his favor, his gym bag gets heavier, with the additions he makes, but seeing her shy smile as he offers her whatever it is she’s forgotten is worth it. August is a fantastic month, at least behind the scenes, they slowly share about their families - his hatred of being a nepobaby and the fact that everyone assumes he’s going to be Rey Mysterio 2.0, when in reality he wants to be more like Eddie Guerrero, Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, Raven, Undertaker - he wants to be the bad guy, and he knows he can do it, feels it in his soul, resonates in his very core. August in the ring is different - The Judgment Day are a pain in Rey Mysterio’s ass, they are a whirlwind of promised violence, and Dominik get’s it, all three of them are fighting demons, but they aren’t open about it. Dominik’s own relationship with his father is deteriorating - but that might have something to do with the almost arrest for Domestic Violence - Dominik’s not about to dwell on it. 

It’s late in the gym, mid-August, now that Rhea is officially back on the roster and in the ring, their routine has shifted slightly. They meet around midnight, and they avoid making eye contact at work. Not because he wouldn’t meet her gaze, but because she’s distracted. There are whispers (WWE superstars are the worst rumor mill he’s ever seen) that she’s having problems with her AEW boyfriend, it makes him wrinkle his nose. He’s never been a fan of Buddy, and they’d had a storyline together before that hadn’t ended all that well. Dominik grew irritated when Rhea missed three workouts with him - and had to remind himself that he didn’t own her yet. The third week in August brought Alexa Bliss of all people pounding her way into his hotel room, unapologetically at almost one in the morning, “I need your help.” Was all she’d said, before snagging his wrist and dragging him out of his room toward the elevator, “She said you were helping her, before.” Alexa continued, “I fucking hate that tool, he just…” She pushed the L button on the column in the elevator, “He cheated on her.” Dominik, somewhere between sleep drunk and confused, wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him when Alexa drugged him into the gym. Rhea was on her knees by the weight bench, her forehead pressed into the seat, clearly sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe, Dominik knew the signs of an impending panic attack, “She said you helped her before.” Alexa snapped at him.

It got him into action, he moved swiftly if not disjointed from sleep, to drop onto the floor next to Rhea, and haul her into his lap, a messy tangle of arms and limbs - she tried to fight him off at first, but Dominik was stronger, not that anyone would notice that about him. He managed to coil her up in his grip, tucking her head under his chin, then with a sharp exhale, carefully rose from his knees, balancing himself the best he could, “Get her bag.” He told Alexa, “And come on.” The small blonde did what he asked, having to almost run to keep up with him, as he headed back toward the elevator, softly promising Rhea she was safe under his breath, and that he was going to take care of her. Alexa slid into the elevator a beat after he did, and then they headed for the seventh floor, “Thank you, for coming to get me, Bliss.” He offered, as he stepped off, still cradling Rhea, “After you put her bag in my room you can take off.” He offered, giving no room for argument.

Alexa looked a bit miffed, but offered a quick, “She’s rooming with Liv, I’ll let Liv know she’s with you, just so she doesn’t worry, ok?” Dominik frowned as he realized one, they’d left his hotel door open, and two, Rhea had been so upset she’d opted to room with Liv instead of sleeping alone and he hadn’t known. No matter, she’d be in his bed tonight, and the foreseeable future if he got his way - and he was good at that, “Dominik, ok?” Alexa pressed, clearly a little worried about his answer. 

“That’s fine.” He laid Rhea on his bed, carefully, then turned and took her bag from Alexa, “Tell Liv not to bother us until nine ish, I’m going to order some food, and see if I can’t get her to shower and talk to me.” Alexa flicked her gaze between them, Rhea had calmed down the moment he squeezed her to his chest, so he was confident she felt safe enough with him. Alexa surprised him by diving into his arms and hugging him around his middle, “Her boyfriend is a piece of shit.” Dominik offered, as he kissed Alexa’s head, and untangled her arms from him. Alexa raised a brow at him and looked like she wanted to say something, but opted not to, she looked at Rhea’s form again (she was at least breathing calmly), then nodded her head and slipped out. Dominik made sure the door behind her was shut and locked, before he turned to look at Rhea himself, “You’ve been ignoring me.���

Her face was a mask of anguish and confusion, “I…”

“You won’t do it again.” Dominik told her calmly, “Why did Alexa have to come get me?”

Rhea pushed up to sit, her breathing hitching just a bit, apparently the change in his tone from soft and reassuring with Alexa, to demanding and charged with Rhea had been noticed by the beautiful tear stained creature in his bed. “It uh…” She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and that wouldn’t do. He made his way back across the room, standing and towering over her, he used his pointer finger to force her chin up, her crystal like blue eyes were red rimmed and clearly unsure, as she met his gaze, “Buddy cheated on me.” She forced the words out, her chest heaving as she said it, “With that… with his… with his stablemate.” Dominik’s heart clenched a little bit, he’d never understood Buddy but that girl in the AEW had nothing on Rhea. On the bed, Rhea had drawn her knees up to her chest, and had pressed her face down into her knees, and was softly sniffling.

“He is a complete idiot, and you broke up with him, right.” Dominik was trying to coax her to stand, “Why don’t you take a nice warm shower, querida, and let me get you something to eat, you can sleep in here with me tonight?” While it was posed like a question, he could tell when she realized it wasn’t. She nodded her head twice, and let him manhandle her off the bed and into the bathroom - he could have given her clothes from her bag, instead he dug out a clean pair of his boxers and one of his softest old football shirts, he waited until he heard her under the spray of the water to put the clothes on the counter. Buddy was an issue - and someday he’d take care of that over muscled piece of shit - but the man had unwittingly helped Dominik, so maybe he’d send him a thank you card of some sort. He ordered ice cream and dessert because he’d helped Aalyah through more than one bad breakup (ironically he’d shared ice cream with her the night she realized Buddy was never going to take her seriously, and that her crush on him was completely one-sided), and set about building a fort out of the spare blankets he always asked for - less for comfort and more because his father often bothered him in the early hours of the morning looking for a quilt or another comforter. To be safe, Dominik hung the do not disturb sign on the outside of the door - it was something he and Rey had agreed on after his last relationship ended. Rey wouldn’t bother him (and his conquest) when it was on the door.

Rhea emerged from a pool of smoke in the bathroom doorway, backlit by the dim lights of the overhead fluorescents on the mirror she looked ethereal - a bit water logged, but dressed in clothes that belonged to him, that no doubt smelled like him, she looked a lot like she belonged. 

Honestly, Dominik had never witnessed something so beautiful. They spent the night talking about failed relationships and eating the desserts that room service delivered, before the pair crashed out just after five in the morning, Rhea curled up in his arms, in the fort he’d built for them. They woke up to Liv Morgan’s voice - “WE ARE GOING TO MISS OUR FLIGHT BEEBS!” She shouted, and pounded. It was a mad dash to get dressed - Dominik just ended up throwing a pair of his sweets and a hoodie at Rhea, the pair both dressed as casually as they dared. Rhea’s clothes from the night before ended up in Dominik’s luggage, as the pair rushed out of the room and almost knocked Liv down - Dominik caught sight of Rey’s disapproving look from the elevator, as it closed.

“I uh, guess I should mention, I’m not the most adult human at getting to locations…” Dominik watched as Rhea sized him up, before nodding her head, grabbing her suitcase from Liv, and taking off for the next elevator. Dominik shot Liv a wink, the older woman snickered, even as Dominik caught up to Rhea, “Maybe you could be my travel partner? We already work out together…” Rhea shot him a disbelieving look, “Come on, you’d be doing me a favor, I’m helpless.” He pulled out the pouting lip and puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” Rhea offered, then looked at Liv, “Are you ok with going back to traveling with Raquel?” Liv nodded her head, eyes going between the two of them, “It seems I’ve landed myself a new partner in crime.” It was that sentence that got Dominik thinking about it - he wanted to go heel, he’d talked to Vince about it only to be shot down, but he hadn’t tried his luck at Hutner. Smiling to himself as they rushed to board the plane - Liv and Rhea were sitting together, as Dominik dropped into the seat next to Rey, who was still giving him those dark looks. Yeah, his dad wasn’t an idiot, and would more than likely try to remind him that fucking business partners never ended well for anyone involved, but Dominik wanted, needed to captivate Rhea Ripley, needed to keep her on a metaphorical leash at his side, needed to apply just the right pressure to keep her exactly where he wanted her - and the best way to do that? Play dirty, innocently of course.

The next two weeks - through Clash at the Castle are messy. Really it can be summarized into three categories. 

One, Dominik and Rhea work well as travel partners, something Hunter was initially confused about, but now he’s just glad that Dominik is on time to things. Two, Hunter green-lit the betrayal and now Dominik is in The Judgement Day, which means he’s with Rhea Ripley all the time, even on their days off, because he’s helping her move her belongings (along with Damian and Finn) out of the house she shared with Buddy and ironically into Dominik’s San Diego house, it’s a lot of loading furniture, belongings and jazz in Tampa and shipping it via POD across country. Her pets are a bit of an issue in the onset, but Dominik came through to help her with that too, convincing Aalyah to not only watch over them, but handle the movers bringing Rhea’s things into his house. Sometimes, Dominik caught Damian watching him, and wondered if the older man knew exactly what game Dominik was playing. 

The third biggest hurdle came in the dynamic - the Judgment Day had been Finn, Rhea, and Damian against Edge for a bit; now with Dominik added in, he and Rhea agree for the kayfabe she’s got to be the aggressor (her eyes were huge and she immediately spiraled into a loop of I don’t wanna hurt you, you're my friend, this seems messy only to be silenced with Dominik promising he wouldn’t let it go too far), he and Damian work out a sibling like relationship quickly enough (one that rivals Eddie and Rey, and it’s sweet, sweet justice to see Rey’s face hurt by it sometimes), with Finn it’s both easier and harder, Finn becomes his surrogate father for the dynamic - and that’s the end of those struggles. 

September 2022

“Hey, Rips.” Dominik called as he dropped into the seat next to her on the plane, “You forgot this.” He handed her the new anime she was reading, technically she’d left it on the bedside table of the hotel and he’d have been able to return it before then, but watching her light up like a candle on a red-eye was worth it. It’s been less than two weeks since he was unveiled as the newest member of Judgment Day, everything Rhea owns is tucked away in his house, Aalyah is the most competent dog sitter ever, sending multiple updates a day on Berry and Luna, Dominik’s conquest to be in Rhea’s bed nightly has been successful. There is nothing they don’t share, the shock that it’s only been a month is enough proof to him that Rhea needs him as much as he deserves her, and honestly… They are dynamite together and he’s yet to get her naked, so he’s going to assume it might be death for them both when they do finally cross that barrier, although right now he’s hovering somewhere between best friend and crush, he can tell by how her body responds to him. 

“Thanks, Dom Dom.” She was instantly flipping the book open and back to reading, now curled into his side just enough to be comfortable, he let his hand span over her upper thigh - another thing he’d been tentatively adding to their standard relationship - touching her with no alternative motive. She twitched under him, but nuzzled closer. It started with sharing the bed, if he were being honest, from the night Alexa came and got him. He’d tucked her in, and held her just to keep her close, after that once they were approved road partners, he’d started soft touches, gentle pats to her side, rubs of her shoulders, his hands on her lower back, leaning into her when she was talking, kissing her cheek more than once, stuff that could be construed as friendly, but left an underlying notion of decidedly more. He’d learned how much she missed her family in Australia and had secretly purchased them a small nine-day vacation there (getting Hunter’s approval). He’d gently started reminding her to take care of herself a little bit better, just soft things, he’d even taken to packing their belongings into one rolling suitcase and one backpack - Rhea had been confused until Dom had offered, we share a room, a rental, and plane rides - might as well share luggage. He knew Damian had clocked the change, but the older man had yet to pull him aside and talk to him - Damian had his hands full with Finn as far as Dominik could tell. 

“When we land,” Dominik cleared his throat to get her attention, “We are going to the room first.” She bobbed her head in agreement, “Once we put our stuff down we can either explore, meet up with Damo and Finn, go to the gym or nap.” He’d also learned Rhea liked having choices - not endless options, when presented with the phrase you can do whatever you wanna do she froze up completely, overwhelmed with too many choices. Damian, when Dominik wasn’t nearby, seemed apt to answer for her, he was there to guide her, and Dominik’s worries about their relationship had changed in the last month - they weren’t lovers of any nature, they were twin flames, yes, but platonically. Rhea and Damian were two halves of a whole, and filtered between codependent and each other's biggest fans - he and Finn were quickly becoming that  as well. “Which would work best for you?” It also helped if Dominik phrased it as some sort of goal oriented trade off.

Rhea looked up from her book, contemplatively - he liked her best like this, no makeup, her dark hair sort of falling in her face, all of her jewelry in, his clothes on her frame, while he waited for her answer, he squeezed her thigh comfortingly, “I think it would be fun to do something with Damo and Finn, they landed last night right?” Dominik nodded his head, “Want me to text them and see about grabbing something to eat when we land?”

“That’s a good idea.” Dominik ducked to kiss her shoulder, affectionately, even as she smiled at him, “And, querida, are you cold? Do you need my jacket to rest on or?”

“I’m ok, Dom Dom, thanks.” She breathed out, then flicked her gaze around them, “Can I read some more?” They were in first class, with a divider between them, and still as close as they possibly could be. Dominik nodded his head, and smiled to himself as he watched her start reading again, she’d tucked one knee up into the seat with her, he stretched his arm around her shoulders, moving his hand from his thigh, to fan out over her collarbone, she shivered, he smirked to himself - another thing about his beautiful little conquest, she was touch-starved in a way he hadn’t expected. He’d seen her interact with different levels of affection with other people, but when it came to significant one-on-one touch, she was lacking. He had decided to fix that - and ignore the growing issues with his father (Rey had called Rhea a passing phase). 

He’s been contemplating the best way to kiss her - the intricacies of when to do it, and how to do it. Realistically she’s not completely over the minefield left behind by Buddy, and it’s a big one - Dominik has been slowly and dedicatedly reassuring her that she is delicious and perfect the way she is, complimenting her on the small things (her pretty eyes, her ring awareness, her creative pins, the way she operates in the ring, her goddamn character work - which is frankly amazing), and the big things (how her clothes always fit her perfectly, how she always seems put together, and how she always takes care of everything domestic). So, back to the kissing - while she was growing stronger in her own ways, he was contemplating when it would be a good idea to cage her in and kiss her - ultimately he’s going to have to talk to Damian about it, because if anyone has any idea it’s him - but another part of him thinks it would be best to do it quietly, surprisingly. 

Somehow time marches on, easily and irritatingly. They make it almost to the end of September, with him steadily growing stronger in The Judgment Day (the fans fucking hate him which makes him smirk, the darkness in him seems to feed off the boos and jeers at his nature, the darkness always seems the most content when Rhea’s asleep next to him in bed - when he can study her form, and decide his next subterfuge of affection to secure her place next to his side, indefinitely). The kiss he’d been so worried about, handles itself, ironically. They’d just finished up a RAW taping - they’d kicked AJ’s butt, and had Edge challenge them to an I Quit Match, Rhea was giggling and happy, as she darted into his arms - freshly showered, Dominik caught her as she launched upward, and she still laughing pressed a kiss to his lips, his body reacted on instinct, he coiled his arm under her butt to hold her steady, and let his other hand move to cup the side of her neck, squeezing lightly, her arms had wound around him, legs around him, she seemed unsure as she pulled back eyes wide, “Bésame, otra vez, chica bonita.” She looked at him confused, “I’m going to teach you Spanish if it kills me.” He vowed, “I said, kiss me again, pretty girl…” Rhea blushed, Dominik took three large steps, to press Rhea’s back into the concrete blocks of the arena, and pressed his lips more firmly against hers - it’s not a french kiss, but it is a demanding press of lips. 

Damian cleared his throat, Finn on his back, the larger man rolling their suitcases, “Are you two ready, we have a flight to catch.” Dominik nodded, he didn’t let Rhea down, instead he shifted her to one of his hips, and grabbed the backpack and rolling suitcase handle, trailing along behind Damian, “So, we are flying back to Tampa where are you two headed?”

“I’m taking Rhea home.” Dominik couldn’t stop the possessive lit in his voice, Finn twisted to look at him a bit amazed he was being that bold, “We both wanna play with the dogs, and I think Rhea might want to unpack her stuff the rest of the way.” Dominik looked at Rhea, who nodded her head, and pressed her nose into his cheek, breathing out against his jaw. Dominik tilted enough to kiss her lips again, smiling into it, “And maybe I can show you around San Diego a bit.” He whispered, a plan already forming - he had a handful of friends she should meet, the main one however was his best friend - which was bound to cause a bit of tension, seeing as his best friend was female, but he’d drop that bomb on Rhea, later.

They said goodbye to Damian and Finn at the airport - the men headed for a Delta flight to Tampa, while they were headed for an United flight to San Diego. They changed planes once in one of the middle states, before landing in the early morning. Dominik let Rhea nap in the passenger seat, while he called Cat to let her know they had landed - he had arranged for her to drop off groceries and other provisions for them to be there three days, Cat was also supposed to pick up Aalyah, so when they reached Dominik’s house the only creatures to greet them would be the dogs. He also confirmed that she’d swing by later in the day for him to visit with his god-son, and that she’d dropped off all the roses he’d asked for. Honestly, Cat was the best friend he’d ever had, her husband, his other best friend, was in the Army and overseas more often than not. Cat promised she’d done everything he’d asked, which made him chuckle - when Aalyah had been called away from his house, Cat and Alexander had been more than happy to play with Luna and Berry. 

Dominik had carried Rhea in when they made it, because she was fast asleep - his poor little nightmare had worn herself out. He tucked her in and set about arranging the house the way he needed it - putting the roses evenly in every room, so no matter where she looked there would be red, white and black roses arranged in pretty splays. Then he focused on making breakfast for the pair of them, and starting laundry. Rhea woke up about two hours after they arrived, to find him folding their clothes in the living room with Xander playing with both Berry and Luna, Cat had returned because Dominik had a slight emergency - there were no paper towels in the house, Cat had begrudgingly bought some and brought them over, “You must be Rhea!” Cat smiled warmly, “I’m Cat, and that’s Xander. I’m married to Dom’s best friend Robbie.” She explained and warmly hugged Rhea, Dominik watched the way Rhea tensed for a moment but hugged back, “You're more beautiful in person.” She smiled up at Rhea, “And we are going to take our leave, because I know for a fact you’ve missed your furbabies, Xan, come on baby.” Dominik hugged his nephew and watched him run for his mom - three was a fun age, Cat scooped him up, “Oh, I almost forgot, you're going to be an uncle again, but I haven’t told Robbie yet.” She shot Dominik a smile, “So don’t go telling on me, he’s supposed to be home for the next Premium Live Event, and I think we are coming.” She grinned at him.

Dominik thanked her as he showed her out, then doubled back to find Rhea still standing stock-still from the hug Cat had given her, “That was…” Rhea trailed off, “I’m confused.”

Dominik laughed, “Cat and Robbie are my best friends, Xander is my nephew.” He said evenly, “When Aalyah can’t watch Berry and Luna they do.” He added, “For a while when I first started on the road, she lived here, because Robbie hadn’t been in long for them to have regular base housing, now she and Aalyah live together.” He explained, before looking at Rhea up and down, “Did you sleep good?” She nodded sheepishly, “I made you breakfast, and I finished the laundry, once you’ve eaten and had something to drink, I’ll give you a real tour and then we can work out.” She hugged her dogs for what felt like hours, eating her food as she rubbed their bellies and kissed their snouts. Dominik grinned, he’d shown her a bit of how he was with small creatures, now seeing her with the dogs - he knew he was right. Rhea was his match, now just to get her to agree… For the first time, that afternoon she allowed him to choose their sparing workout, and they might not have pulled the punches, bruising and marking each other up - but there was the added bonus of making out. 

From their sparring session they create a flexible workout, something that both of them can work well within, and that will work well on the road. Dominik hangs on Rhea’s every word, she knows more about fitness than he’s ever cared to learn - he exercises as needed, but she’s a devotee, and he’d be willing to bet that was due in large to Buddy, but now it’s a benefit for them both. The design works them out in a comfortable way, and allows for modifications in weights and rep count, but mostly it allows him to get closer to her, breathing in the sweet scent of her sweat, breathing in her prowess as she works - if ever Dominik were to be addicted to something, he has no doubt it is Rhea Ripley as his kryptonite, the kisses are rewards, and they fluctuated between soft presses of lips, to the harsh bite of teeth and the slide of tongues against one another. September ends, much like it begins, with him confidently melding into not only The Judgment Day but Rhea.

October 2022

October is the significant change - Dominik, while obviously devoted to Rhea, has been more than the driving force behind her violence. Back when they started this, he’d been the one to tell Rhea to make the abuse believable, from her choking him out in the ring, to him encouraging her to make him bleed before Clash at the Castle. Now he’s encouraging her violence against others, not that the outside world really knew that. Reddit has named him subbyDom and while he finds it funny, it couldn’t be further from the truth. The Judgment Day is more than gaining real traction and are actively feuding with not only Rey and Edge, but with the OC thanks to AJ Styles - actually most of the roster (except the Bloodline) are apt to want to kick them down a few pegs. 

Rhea, his little demon, is growing more and more confident - she’s blooming loudly and violently on camera. It’s behind the scenes that Dominik is living for, the moment the cameras are off she’s looking at him with big eyes, “Was that good, Dom?” 

While he hates the question, he always responds positively, painting compliments from nothing, and wrapping them around her. In return she offers him comfort, promises him the boos will subside eventually, but they both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Rey, while not one hundred percent understanding of Dominik’s recent bout of choices, is at least understanding of the fact that Dominik and Rhea are something, although he does continue to bring up the ‘mixing pleasure and business is bad’ almost weekly, his father is nothing if not consistent. Aalyah and Cat have wormed their way into Rhea’s life too, with text messages and picture messages, and updates on the dogs - Cat going as far as to send Rhea chocolates and small gifts every now and then - Rhea even has gifts from Xander. 

And Dominik? He’s upped his game.

On camera Rhea’s the one with hands on him, guiding. Back stage, the moment the cameras are off, Dominik backs her into the nearest dark hallway or corner, to press kiss her senseless, he’s patient and understanding but demanding and always has a hand on her. Under his touch she flourishes, she smiles wider, she blushes more, her laughter is back (according to Damian, Liv and Alexa). More than that, he’s taken over a bit more of her overall being - without meaning too, he’s not sure when it happened, but Rhea started asking him opinions on everything, he gives them happily, always eager to see how the choice being made for her seems to calm her down. He even learned to dye her roots for her, which was a fun experience that he’s sure he’s going to repeat multiple times. October also brings Rhea wearing more and more of his clothes - her room in San Diego remains unoccupied, as each trip back she attempts to sneakily put more of her belongings into his room, like he wouldn’t invite her if she asked - but he’s sure she’s not going to ask, so after the Halloween RAW, he holds her tight in the hotel room, pinning her against the door, “Rhea.”

“Dom?” She sounded worried, like she was in trouble.

“Why don’t we stop pretending, you should move into my bedroom at home.” He kept his gaze on her, voice steady, “You belong in my bedroom at home, at our home, do you understand?”

“Yes.” She started to look away but he caught her chin, “Dom?”

“You like how I take care of you, don’t you?” He could hear the danger bleeding into his tone, but didn’t bother to pull it back, she nodded her head quickly, “You want me to keep taking care of you, Demi?” He used her legal name which made her eyes widen, her pretty mouth opened in a shocked ‘o’, but she nodded, “Then you need to tell me when you want things, cariño, do you understand.” She nodded again, “I want you to say it, Rhea.” 

“I understand, Dom.” She whispered, eyes still wide, “I want… I want you to take care of me.”

“What else?” He pressed closer, pushing his chest to hers, caging her in.

“I want to be in your bedroom at the house, uh, at our house.” Her eyes widened a little more as she said it, Dominik rewarded her with a kiss that promised more if she were interested. She pulled back after a moment, exhaling sharply to look up at Dominik with a determined sheen to her eyes, “I want… I want you.” She said evenly, “I want…” She bit at her bottom lip.

Dominik had been waiting for this moment - three months of working hard, he knew he’d have more work to put in, but for a captivating demon like Rhea, he was willing to work his whole life to keep his prize with him, “Want me to what cariño?” He asked, curiously, daring her to tell him.

She flicked her gaze away, face flushing red, “I wanna be yours.” She finally pushed out, “Damian told me, he mentioned…” She trailed off, “You wanna keep me, right?”

Dominik would need to talk to Damian, but he dipped forward to kiss her again, “I want to keep you, I want you to be mine, but I want to be yours, too.” He promised her, “So, if you're interested, I’d like to show you all the perks of being mine.”  Rhea gazed up at him, as he towered a bit over her, still pressed impossibly close, her eyes had narrowed, like she was working out the layers to his statement - and there were many. Dominik had basically asked her to be his, to let him own her in a way that was probably scary, and in the same breath he’d propositioned her, he tilted to the side and flicked his gaze back toward the bed, “We can go at your pace, Rhea.” He promised, evenly, “I will never make you do something you don’t want to do, and I will never hurt you intentionally. I’m not you're past relationships, and I have no intention of becoming one.”

She licked her lips, biting into her bottom one, as she eyed him critically, “Forever then?”

“I would like forever, but I’ll settle for right now.” He offered, watching her carefully, she was breaking down in front of him, “Rhea, let me take care of you.” The power was racing up his spine, the darkness, he could feel it in his voice, in the way she trembled against him, how she pressed even closer, clearly fighting with herself, “Demi,” He said her name with emphasis, “Let me take care of you, I’ve always taken care of you, remember in July when you started to work out again, but no one wanted to spar with you because they weren’t sure about you're injury.” He touched her jaw, “I offered, didn’t I? I just want the best for you.” He assured her, “Let me give you my best, please?”

There was a stretch of silence between them, before she nodded her head, he narrowed his eyes at her and started to remind her to use her words, but she was quick to say, “I want that, I want, I want you.” She rolled her shoulders a bit, “Can we… can we do that now?” 

Check-mate. Dominik grinned, “Of course we can, cariño, I’ve been dying to put my hands and my lips and my tongue on you…” The statement made her giggle and flush again, even as Dominik softly backed off of her, and tugged her a little toward him, but away from the doorway, “But we have plans with our friends for clubbing, so it’s going to have to wait, baby.” Her pout should frankly be illegal but they do have plans with Liv, Damian, Finn, Raquel, Alexa, Askua, Seth, Becky, and countless others. “When we get back, cariño, I promise to reward you, ok? But you put this pretty dress on, and you're legs are delicious, and you already have my jacket on, which makes me wanna pin you against every surface…” Dom had donned dark jeans and a deep blue button up for the night.

Rhea pouted on and off for the next three hours, but she had fun with Liv and Alexa, even with Becky - always finding Dominik’s eyes across the room. “She’s yours.” Damian sounded beside him, “I’ve never seen her trust like she does with you, so you either did something incredibly right, or there is something about you I am missing.” Dominik shrugged, “I approve, as long as you keep her happy and satiated.” Dominik could agree with that, as he turned to say as much to Damian he found the man gone. 

November and December 2022

Hunter wanted them to up the drama, so they did - with tapings and attacks on Rey. That wasn’t the only place things amped up, their relationship was now running steady and fast, really Dominik couldn’t wait to introduce her to his grandparents but because of the messy Christmas recordings he’d had to wait until almost New Years. He met her family in Australia not long after that, he’d won her mother over with his kindness and eager willingness to help her in the kitchen, he won her sister over with tales of Xan and the dogs back at home as well as pictures of him with Cat and Aalyah, her father was a tough cookie, but he managed to win Mr. Bennett over simply by being his usual possessive self when it came to Rhea, which involved him and Buddy getting into a bit of an altercation in Melbourne, but whatever, he’d handled it. After Christmas they’d spent a couple days with Cat and Aalyah, Dominik had watched Rhea like a hawk, there, he wanted to see how she interacted with his sister and his best friend, when she met Robbie in early January, the pair hit it off - her and Xan were never far apart, slowly Rey and Angie came around, and started to invite Rhea in more. Dominik knew he was in love with her when he caught her cooking with both his mother and abuela.

April, 2023

His thoughts were interrupted as Rhea twisted in the sheets. The sun was well and truly up now in California. They had had a long night, coming of WrestleMania with her winning her match, but him losing his - he was proud of her and had literal years to deal with his Rey-shaped feud - so proud they hadn’t made it out of the stadium before their night had started, with him pinning her against a wall, and slipping his hand down the back of her pants as he kissed her until she couldn’t breathe properly, before trailing his lips down her neck and biting hard, she’d cum the first time there. 

Panting and weak even as he’d half carried her to the rental SUV - they hadn’t perfected any sort of sex in the rentals yet, they were both tall and it was borderline uncomfortable, usually with a gear shifter in someone's back or thighs - it was a work in progress. They had, however, managed to successfully find dark corners in most of the arenas they worked in, to either fuck or play - Rhea liked wearing his bruises, and the cute little Mami collar she had started wearing the rings he had bought for her, well he’d bought about thirty since she had a habit of damaging them, or breaking them. 

He quickly climbed back into bed with her, not wanting her to wake up alone, he curled around her, and nuzzled into her short hair, “Good morning, sweetheart.” Dominik kissed her shoulder blades, Rhea grumbled in her sleep, she hated waking up, especially after a long night of work followed by what she lovingly called marathon sex, he double checked the bedside table to make sure her fruit punch gatorade and her favorite cookies (brought over from Australia) were within her reach, “You look beautiful in this light, baby.” He promised as he kissed her shoulders again. 

“Papi, let me sleep more.” She begged, even as his kisses turned harder, his hands which had been innocently rubbing her sides to wake her up, had trailed lower to rub her hips, “Paaaapi.” She whined, as he laughed, and rolled her over. “Dom-” He cut her off with a kiss.

“I love you.” He whispered into the kiss, “Mami, please, let me love you this morning.” He muttered even as he pressed more kisses to her face, “I promise to be soft.” He added when she let out another little whine, he drug his nose along her throat, biting over her pulsepoint, “We have to do press in a little bit, I don’t want you to stress too much while we are there…” 

Rhea let out a pearl of giggles, as he ticked her side, “I love you too, Papi, please-” He kissed her again, he hadn’t told her yet, but he was going to marry her, he’d already picked out the ring, he smiled into the skin of her neck, and aggressively snuggled her. Dominik smiled harder, it was going to be a great day.

#Dominik Mysterio x Rhea Ripley #Dark!Dominik Mysterio #rhea ripley #the judgment day fanfic #wwe fanfiction #mondaynightraw

[mylittlesyn]

Chapter 1: May 25th 2020, June 12, 2020, & August 7th, 2020 (This fic is in a diary format with memory recollections(It's fine, trust me)).

Premise: Aquarela moves to San Diego from Chicago and happens to meet the CEO/CSO of the new biotech company she works at: Dr. Tobirama Senju. She first meets him in the parking lot, when he's experiencing car trouble. So, she helps him out.

TW: None for this chapter other than questionable boss-employee relationships which is pretty much the entire theme.

𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆𝕟𝕝𝕪, 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕤 𝔻ℕ𝕀

MasterPost

May 25 th , 2020

I know I suck at writing these, and I suck at keeping up with these things, but I just finished my first day as a post doc. The drive from Chicago to San Diego was long, but it sure as hell was fun. God I love my miata. Nothing like driving with the top down, feeling the sun on your skin, listening to some ska, singing at the top of your lungs, not a care in the world… Kiki got sick a bit, but she’s better now.

The real reason I’m writing is more about the job. It’s nice and all, people are nice, facilities are nice, the project is hella awesome… Like I’m going to be teaming up with some of bioinformaticists and using their gene expression data to look at potential targets for AAV. The director of this division says I’m on a ‘fast track’ to lead scientist. It’s kind of intimidating honestly but… This could be really good for me.

Also… They don’t drug test. So I won’t have to worry about using weed on the weekends or after work, and needing to explain why it’s in my system, which is a great relief. I used the excuse that I needed to know ahead of time so I could get written excuse from my doctors because ADHD meds will show up, which is true but… Yeah…

Anyways, went on a hella tangent… What I really wanted to say was the CEO/CSO of the company is insanely attractive. Like, look at him!:

Insert photo of Dr. Senju here eventually.

He’s got this hard look to him. I think he might be albino? He’s got this red tinge in his eyes, which might be from the blood vessels but humans with albinism usually have super pale blue eyes, but… Who knows. He’s a silver fox, but he’s only like 33? He built the company right out of his own postdoc and it kind of boomed within the 5-7 years it’s been up and running. His ambition… Fuck it’s attractive. Maybe the stress from building it all caused him to go fully grey so early. He’s also Colombian I guess? If I ever do meet him I’ll have to talk to him in Spanish. So far I haven’t met any Hispanics within the company which kind of sucks. Oh well, I already put my flag in the pencil holder at my desk. I’m sure they’ll find me eventually. Us hispanics congregate in herds, always find each other and then can’t be separated.

Mr. Dr. Bossman and I locked eyes, his mouth parted slightly when he saw me, then he looked away while clenching his jaw. Hopefully I didn’t do anything to piss him off when we locked eyes… I think I was just filling out some paperwork. His ears were red too, but he is rather pale… I’m probably just imagining things. Anyways, I’mma yeet.

June 12th, 2020

The past few weeks have been really busy, with a LOT of reading. Lit review… I still remember spending two months straight at the beginning for grad school just reading papers with Kiki by my side. (Kiki is my dog, for any archeologist in the future who discovers this. She’s a tiny schnauzer and she’s the sweetest, chillest, calmest thing ever and if I win the lottery I will make it my life’s work to clone her.)

Anyways, I’ve been reading about potential therapeutic targets. I had asked them what type they wanted, like for which disease. The dude was like: Just pick a department to collaborate with. So they have a cancer department, so I went with that. Tried looking for glioma targets, and after a lot of work with the bioinformatics team, we went with RB1. Which is kind of dumb because I could’ve just chosen that without needing to fill my head with soooo much gene regulation data. Seriously, that’s why I’m going out tonight. I need to be head empty for a bit. I mean I get why we chose it. It’s statistically speaking one of the most mutated genes in gliomas, and it’s mutated in other cancers so if the therapeutic use is successful, then it can be marketed to other areas. Still, feels a little like I wasted the past couple weeks.

Anyways, I’m actually going to look good when I go out tonight. I’ll paint my face with makeup and put on a pretty dress, maybe a sun dress, and I’ll go out. Maybe find someone to sleep with. I could use a good lay. I found the SCCA region thing here. I’m hoping to do a track day here soon and go autocrossing. Anyways, I’mma yeet and get ready.

August 7th, 2020

I told you I really suck at this kind of thing. I can’t keep up, but I’ve decided to not beat myself up about it anymore. I’ll write when I write. I’ve felt really happy lately. Also I’ve gotten really tan and my hair is kinda gold colored now because of the sun I’ve been getting. Good thing I’ve been wearing short shorts and a tank top so I don’t look like a farmer, but my stomach is sooooo pale compared to my limbs and upper torso. It’s a bit weird but, eh.

So I met the CEO/CSO. Dr. Senju. I was leaving work and I stopped on the way because he was in the parking lot with the hood up. He was waiting for a tow truck but it just turns out there was a coolant leakage. I waited with him while the engine cooled down and then put in some water. I ended up taking off my shirt to remove the cap on the radiator… The whole thing went kind of like this:

I walked to my bike, and unlocked it while bending over in my lycra shorts that started at the waist and ended just below my butt. The bottom of my ponytail tickled the exposed skin on my waist as my red tank top had ridden up my back. I took off my back pack and tossed it into the basket on the back of my bike. After I pulled out my aviator shades from my tank top and put them on, I hoped on my bike and started to make my way out of the parking lot, only to stop when I noticed someone with the hood of their car open. I pedaled my way over to the silver car and stopped in front of it. I got off of my bike that I built from junkyard scraps and put down the kickstand. Once I was sure the, perfectly functional bike albeit sometimes unsteady, was standing still I made my way to the other side of the hood where the owner awaited.

“Having car trouble?” I questioned with a smile as I approached the silver haired man. When he turned around I flinched, noticing it was the CEO/CSO of the very company I had just clocked out from. He was on the phone when he turned to me with an annoyed look on his face. I grimaced and shoved my hands into the non-existent pockets to then awkwardly cross my arms underneath my chest. I started to take a look at the engine on the Audi TTS that was still smoking some. I bet… I took off my sunglasses before I dropped down to the ground and stupidly placed my palms on the hot concrete as I peaked under the car. There was coolant on the ground. I quickly pushed up with a hop and slapped my palms onto my bare caramel colored thighs. When I turned to him again, I saw that he was on the phone, one arm across his chest, and his elbow resting on the back of his palm while he held up his phone to his face. His lips were tight and he was staring at me, though I had no idea what to make of his expression. “I know what’s wrong with the car, if you’re willing to wait a bit, I should be able to get it to where you can drive it yourself to the mechanic.” I announced to him as I inspected my palms. He hung up his phone and walked a little closer to me.

“You’re the new gene therapy addition, right?” He questioned as he slid his phone into his pocket. How he was managing to keep wearing that black turtle neck in this heat was beyond me.

“Yeah, I’m Aquarela.” I told him as I held out my hand.

“Dr. Senju.” He pronounced with a Colombian accent. So he does know Spanish… I started to get lost in those curious brick red eyes of his as I felt my lips part ever so slightly while our hands remained clasped. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand away as he turned to the engine and my eyes followed as well. “So what’s wrong with it?” He wondered as he started to lean on the car bumper only to recoil. Everything is so fucking hot.

“I’m guessing you were sitting in the car with it idling for a while before you started to see smoke coming out from under the hood?” I guessed. He turned over his shoulder to look at me with furrowed brows.

“How did you…?” He trailed off as he folded his arms across his chest and looked back to the engine.

“You’re leaking coolant. You’ve probably been low on coolant for a while but it won’t usually leak if you’re driving. Plus when you’re driving, the cool air travels through the grill and helps cool the car while it’s being driven, so it’s less likely to overheat while driving as opposed to still.” I started to explain and he started to watch me as I continued explaining. “Given the size of the puddle, I’d venture to say that you’ve been leaking for a while which means that it should hold enough while you get to the mechanic, but we need to wait for the engine to cool down before pouring water in, otherwise it will just evaporate… That and there’s too much pressure build up to remove the radiator cap right now.” I told him while I opened the coolant cap. I don’t know that it actually helps release the pressure built, but I’d like to think it helps some.

“Shouldn’t I put coolant in?” He asked with his brows furrowed and jaw clenched… No red ears this time… Huh…

“Ideally yes, do you happen to have any on you?” I asked as I turned to face him. He studied my face for a moment before looking over to the engine, his arms still crossed. He was clearly frustrated.

“No.” He muttered.

“If you really want, I suppose I can go get some up the street. There’s a gas station a few blocks from here that probably has some coolant.” I offered as I shrugged. “It’ll take me a bit but we need to wait for the engine to cool down anyways.” I remarked as he turned to me with his eyes widened a smidge before he shook his head.

“You’re certain using water won’t damage the engine, correct?” He interrogated.

“It won’t reach below freezing and it’ll be fine as long as we fill it up. Just don’t go over the speed limit and you should be fine.” I smiled at him and the corners of his lips raised as he placed his hands into his pockets. “Should we go inside and get some water then?” I questioned while I rocked on my feet.

“Yes, lets.” He acknowledged. He was about to put the hood of his car down but I stopped him while placing my hand on his. His eyes snapped to mine as he looked over his shoulder, and I noticed his ears were red and his brows were furrowed again.

“Let the engine breathe a bit, there’s a cool breeze going.” I suggested, and he gave a quick nod. His brows unfurrowed and our eyes remained locked as my hand lingered on his. I pursed my lips and removed my hand as he shoved the one I touched into his pocket while he went around to lock his car. I went to walk my bike over to lock it back up again, although this time just the body. After putting my backpack on, I started to walk back into the building with Dr. Senju by my side. He slid his keycard through the pad at the door and held the door open for me before I walked inside. We then made our way past the lobby and into the elevator.

I rocked back on my heels and gripped onto the railing as if I were to start to work my triceps, but no… I just stood awkwardly because… Why not? Him on the other hand… Hands in pockets, standing up so very straight after he pressed the button of the floor my office and the lab I worked on was in… Did he know where I worked? That I’m aware of his office is a few floors up from me… “How do you know so much about cars?” He asked, trying to make conversation.

“My dad. He likes to race them and he got me into cars since I was about… 2?” I laughed as he watched my face with a raised brow. “There’s a photo of me holding the steering wheel of my dad’s Datsun 510 when I’m about two years old.” I explained and he scoffed while looking down with the edges of his mouth turned up. “I started to learn how to drive stick when I was about 8, could officially drive stick when I was about 12, started racing go karts officially when I was 11, then I had my first autocross race when I was about 17…?” I rambled as I stared at the ceiling of the elevator.

“Autocross?” He spoke and when I turned to him his brow was raised slightly.

“It’s when you race in a timed lap against other people. It was done completely legally.” I added quickly. “You could probably autocross your audi, should you ever want to.” I remarked with a smirk. “No prior car knowledge needed to participate.” I teased as my smirk grew into a grin. He pursed his lips for a moment and kept the edges of his lips turned up. “Or you could race mine… Or simply ride with me while I race…” I suggested while I elbowed him. He pursed his lips again… Was he trying to hold back a smile…? The elevator door opened and he cleared his throat once again before gesturing for me to go on ahead with his arm. I walked onto the floor and started to head towards the labs. I reached over for my lab coat but he stood close behind me and placed his hand over mine.

“I won’t allow you to go in there without long pants. I can’t risk you getting hurt.” He spoke with such a deep commanding voice. His body wasn’t touching mine, but he was close enough to where I felt his hot breath against the outer shell of my ear and it all sent a shiver down my spine.

“I’m just getting water… I’ll be fine.” I insisted.

“I understand you just got out of academia, but I can’t allow that here.” He demanded as his hand gently squeezed mine before letting go. My hand fell to my side and I turned around, stuck between him and the lab door. His height towered over me as I looked up into his eyes, getting caught in them once again while I waited for him to step aside so I could walk out. He stared back into mine and I could swear his eyes drifted to my lips.

“Dr. Senju… I…” I motioned to the area past him. He cleared his throat and he stepped aside while his ears turned red and blush crept onto his cheeks. I could feel my cheeks growing warm as my fingertips went up to touch them. When I turned back to watch him, I quickly ran to the door and poked my head through. “Ideally we want distilled water!” I clarified quickly as he was about to gather tap water into one of the pyrex bottles. He turned off the faucet and switched to the other one as I indicated and I backed out of the lab. I walked over to my desk and rested up against it as I waited for Dr. Senju… Tobirama… Which, I’m glad I didn’t call him that because clearly he likes formalities.

“That’s right, you’re Puerto Rican.” He commented as he snapped me away from my staring at running shoes.

“You say that like you already knew where my desk was.” I remarked with my head tilted as I straightened. His ears turned red as his eyes looked everywhere but to me. “Do you have everyone’s desk location memorized…?” I teased with a smirk. His eyes narrowed as he glared.

“I am simply observant!” He snapped which caused me to flinch. He huffed a deep exhale as he turned away and I could see his ears were red again. “I saw you sitting there when you first started… I have a good memory… Photographic.” He huffed before he motioned for me to walk ahead of him without looking at me. I stood up straight while a smirk grew and walked ahead of him towards the elevator.

“So, sabes español entonces?” I questioned as I pushed the elevator button to go down. When I looked at him his face was stonewalled and showed no presence of emotion whatsoever. The elevator dinged as it opened and we both walked inside and faced the door. I rested up against the elevator wall and crossed my ankles while folding my arms underneath my chest.

“Hablo español pero creo que deberíamos mantener esta relación, profesional.” He spoke with a stern, deep voice and a slight Colombian accent. His jaw was clenching as I peeked over at him and his ears were red… His ears turned red a lot. I straightened up and tightened my hold on myself.

“Have… Have I done something unprofessional?” I uttered and I started to feel some knots form in my stomach.

“Your attempt to walk into the lab without the proper safety equipment was quite unprofessional.” He remarked and I could feel the blood drain from my face as I stared at the elevator floor.

“I-I…” I sighed and when I peaked up at him I could see him staring at the elevator panel with no emotion in his face. I was starting to feel queasy. “Every lab has their own leniencies for safety given the chemicals used in said lab… Now that I know what the rules are here…” I turned my whole body to him as I stood up straight. “You have my word, I will never attempt that again.” I told him with certainty, hoping to salvage my job.

“I understand how things function in academia, but we need to be stricter here. You’re in industry now.” He clarified, finally turning to me. “Don’t forget that.”

“I hope you won’t hold it against me… I quite like this job.” I informed as I stared down at my feet as I clasped my hands behind my back and rocked on my feet.

“I’m glad you like it here.” He spoke with a soothing, calm… Deep… Dreamy… Voice. I could feel my cheeks turning pink again and I rested back on the elevator wall. “I do actually have plans for you here, so I’m comforted to know you’d like to stay for a while.” He mentioned while studying my face, which was turning redder by the second. “I read your dissertation you know.” He mentioned with a more off handed tone, but even I knew that a man like him would never mention something like that off hand.

“All of it?” I wondered.

“All 214 pages of it. How is ‘the best dog’ doing? Well I hope.” He wore the world's smallest smug smile and I, who usually don’t care or get flustered by what other people think at all… Was trying to hide my face because I was certain my rosacea had me looking like a tomato.

“She’s good. Enjoying being somewhere warm again.” I smiled thinking of Kiki, who was probably eager for me to get home. “Do you have any pets?” I asked, finally having the courage to face him again. Kiki, working her emotional support magic, even from home.

“No. I am quite fond of dogs, but I work far too much to have one.” He mentioned. “Your work… It was very interesting, that concept you came up with… Using microRNAs to silence the mutated gene, which is compact and tried, while also adding in the replacement gene… It’s ingenious really. How did you come up with it?” He rested on the wall facing me now, studying me like a slide under a microscope. Our eyes locked again and a soft smile grew on my face. This man who’s a genius… Wanted to know how I came up with my ideas… The elevator dinged open and he cleared his throat again as we both straightened while motioning for me to walk on ahead. I stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby, before walking alongside him to head out of the building.

“It might be a little unprofessional to tell you, but I assure you… I’m very open about it and I don’t mind talking about it.” I warned, but he didn’t stop me. Instead his brow was raised… He was intrigued. “It’s the double edged sword of ADHD… All of the out-of-the-box creativity without any of the ability to execute your ideas.” I explained with a smile before stepping outside and holding the door open for him. He gave a small nod and the corners of his lips were turned up. “The ADHD meds help with the execution, but dim the creativity… So once in a while I go on ‘holidays’ where I don’t take the meds for a few days-“

“I’m aware of what holidays are… My brother has ADHD.” He remarked as we walked over to his car. When we stopped at his engine, he turned on his heels and watched me for a moment. “You remind me of him some… You’re both very… Charismatic.” He commented before giving himself the world's smallest smile. I grinned before I took off my backpack and my tank top and placed it over the radiator cap, but it was still to hot too hold onto after a few seconds. “You didn’t have to-“

“It’s fine.” I told him while waving him off and throwing my tank top over my shoulder. “I work in these tank tops all the time, they’re used to some car grease.” I told him as I wiped the sweat off of my brow before looking at him. His eyes were wandering and his ears were turning red again before he faced away. Did he… No… I shook my head and crossed my arms under my chest, tugging at my sports bra some. “Anyways, I’ll take a day off when I’ve been hyper focusing and reading about a problem… That’s usually when the ideas come to me.” I mentioned with a shrug. He watched my face closely as I stared back at him.

“Is that how you came up with RB1 as your target?” He wondered.

“Yeah… It’s a versatile target… It just made the most sense honestly. We’ve got a baseline for our cell line now, so I’m going to start designing the vector insert soon.” I informed as I started squinting a bit, now that the sun was in my line of sight. I took my aviator glasses and put them on, now being able to see appropriately.

“I’d like to see your process if you don’t mind…” He mentioned while he was looking down at the bottle in his left hand. His left hand that had no ring… No Aqua… Don’t.

“I think I would… I’d get distracted too easily…” I gripped onto my bicep and shrugged.

“Yes well… Alright. If you change your mind, please do let me know. I’m very interested to see how you work.” He remarked.

“I mean… If you’re that interested, would you mind if I stop by your office if I want to bounce ideas off of you?” I questioned. “I don’t think that will distract me, although I might interrupt you, talk over you, or something else unprofessional while in that state, so I please ask that you don’t hold that against me.” I warned while waggling my finger and finished with it placed over my lips. He huffed a chuckle while shaking his head.

“Again, my brother has it. I’m well aware of what it can look like. Please, stop by my office as you want. I hope to grow this into an entire department… And I’d like you to lead.” He started with his itty bitty smile to then finish with that stonewalled face.

“No pressure…” I joked as he huffed another chuckle. I felt the cap of the radiator and turned it just a smidge to then wait as it hissed and I quickly removed my hand to then wipe it on my thigh. “Soon.” I commented. “So you’re close with your brother?” I asked while straightening.

“Yes… We are very close. It’s just me and him. Plus, despite being the older one, he needs someone to keep an eye out on him.” He clenched his jaw but I smiled at him.

“That’s sweet.” I blurted to then feel my cheeks turn rosy while his ears turned red again. I bent over the engine and loosened the cap some more and stopped quickly when it started to hiss again, leaving it be as I flung my hand back. Dr. Senju placed the pyrex bottle on the ground, came around, and snatched my hand to inspect my palm.

“Are you alright?” He questioned with worry in his tone as his brows furrowed as he held my hands in his.

“I’m fine.” I chuckled as I looked at my slightly reddened palm. He looked at me with a scowl on his face.

“Nonsense with pressure buildup like that you could hurt yourself!” He snapped to then clench his jaw. My smile faded as I stared into his eyes that were looking closely at my palm. He’s so concerned… Yet he’s so angry… How amusing. “Does it hurt?” He muttered.

“No.” I insisted with another chuckle. He smoothed his thumb over it as he didn’t believe me and although it did sting a bit, it was nothing to cause me to flinch. He smoothed over it a few more times, and slowly the redness went away. My lips parted and I felt my cheeks turn red again. When his eyes caught mine, his eyes drifted towards my lips after a moment and he squeezed my hand. He cleared his throat and stepped back as he let go of my hand.

“Just, be cautious… Please.” He pleaded as his head whipped to look at the engine with his ears as red as my cheeks.

“Ok.” I whispered. The hissing had stopped so I finished removing the cap, bent over to grab the bottle, and slowly poured the water into the radiator. “So tell me more about yourself.” I demanded as a way to help break the silence.

“Such as…?” He questioned.

“Whatever you feel is professionally appropriate.” I teased, stealing a glance as I looked over my shoulder to see him narrowing his eyes at me as he crossed his arms against his chest.

“Well… I received my PhD from Stanford.” He mentioned.

“Oh I got rejected from there. They sent me a paper rejection… Paper! Who uses paper in 2015?” I shook my head and chuckled as I straightened once the bottle was empty. “We’re going to need more water.” I commented after handing him the bottle. He nodded so I put on my tank top again, along with my backpack, so we could head into the building to get more water.

“The tattoo on your shoulder blade… What’s the significance of it?” He was asking about my taíno coqui and the scripture underneath: Borincana aunque naciera en la luna. We walked into the lobby and I pressed the up button on the elevator.

“The words are in reference to a poem turned to song. Originally it’s about a Newyorican talking about how akin he feels to Puerto Rico, but to me it’s about how I was born in Florida and was raised in Puerto Rico. My dad was in the Coast Guard, so we were stationed in Florida when I was born, but I lived in Puerto Rico since I was 3 and it was the only culture I’ve ever known.” I shrugged as I leaned back against the elevator. I stole a glance from the corner of my eye to see his face emotionless as he nodded.

“And the symbol?”

“It’s a coqui. The Taíno symbol for it anyways. They were the native tribe that used to live in Puerto Rico before colonization.” I elaborated.

“My brother and I recently had our DNA sequenced, and now that Hashirama knows he’s 25% aboriginal… He wants to take a trip to Colombia to rediscover ‘our roots’.” He motioned with air quotes before he shook his head and huffed a chuckle.

“Recently? I had mine sequenced back in 2012… Pretty much as soon as I had the money to spare for the test.” I remarked with raised brows, surprised that the CEO/CSO of a bioinformatics company only just now had his DNA sequenced.

“Yes well, I should clarify.” He motioned for me to exit the elevator, so I stepped on ahead. “I did sequence my DNA ages ago, but I never gave emphasis to the genealogy aspect of it until Hashirama got his done.” He commented and I smiled as I watched him walk into the lab. I rested back up against my desk and watched him with my arms folded underneath my chest. When he walked back out our eyes met and locked as he slowly made his way to me. His height towered over me and his eyes broke to lower down to my lips, where mine drifted to do the same. I stood up straight and moved my hands behind me to clasp onto the edge of the desk, willing myself to hold back. “I got the water…” He whispered. That was just enough to snap us both back to reality. He cleared his throat and took a step back while he shook his head and I could see his ears turning red again as blush crept onto my cheeks. I chuckled some as a soft smile grew.

“Yes, I see that…” I hummed happily, giving him one last glance before heading over to the elevator as he continued to stare at his shoes. “So how much… Arawak is it in Colombia?” I was trying my best to recall my Puerto Rican history classes in high school.

“According to Hashirama’s latest fascination, the Arawaks are a broad term that include both your Taínos, and our Lokonos, which refers to the indigenous people of the Caribbean and South America respectively.” He spoke almost like he was reiterating from a textbook, which he mentioned having photographic memory… So maybe he was? I chuckled some before stealing a glance at him as the elevator made its way back to the lobby.

“It’s been a while since I studied this. I did a report on the Taínos in my Native American studies class in undergrad, but before that I hadn’t studied about the Taínos since highschool. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m a bit rusty.” I finished with a toothy grin as the doors to the elevator opened.

“You are forgiven.” He bore a small smile that made my heart flutter as we made our way through the main lobby.

“I’m honored to have earned your forgiveness.” I teased with a hand pressed to my chest as I walked backwards while watching him and pushed out on the door with my behind. He pursed his lips, likely trying to maintain his composed and stoic sense of self. I’m slowly catching onto your ways Dr. Senju.

“You are trouble…” I heard him hum under his breath, and I am so happy for my great hearing, so I can tease him further.

“I heard that.” I commented as I caught up behind him while we walked to his car. His ears turned red again and he was trying to avoid my gaze, so I simply snatched the bottle from his hands. I ran up ahead and started pouring the water into the radiator until it was filled, then I closed the cap, and filled the coolant section up to the full mark.

“Would you like me to take you home, so you don’t have to ride your bike I mean?” He offered as I closed the coolant cap and handed him the bottle.

“Nah, I like riding my bike… Feeling the warm sun on my skin.” I hummed happily as I looked up to the bright blue, cloudless sky. “Besides, then I’d have to drive into work the next morning and I don’t feel like paying for that expensive car park.” I shrugged to then look at him with my face scrunched while I shook my head. The corners of his mouth turned upwards and he watched me as I closed the hood of his car. I turned to face him and smiled. “You should be good to go. Just don’t idle in the car before it's fixed, and be more careful with speed bumps… Although I guess it could just be a valve… or a gasket… who knows…” I shrugged while looking at the car as I trailed off. “Anyways!” I met his eyes again. “I’m going to head home. My dog is waiting for me.” I told him with a smile.

“Thank you Dr. Juarbe. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to repay you.” He spoke as he stepped closer to me.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.” I waved him off but he clasped onto my fingertips. His gaze held mine but it broke as his cell phone went off. He took a step back and cleared his throat, letting go of my hand as he reached in his pocket for his cellphone. “I’ll see you soon… I’m sure.” He spoke before he answered his call. I nodded and waved before I walked back to my bike to head home.

So that’s what happened. God is Dr. Senju dreamy… I’m not sure he’s really interested in me though, but if he is, he really doesn’t want to be. He probably isn’t though. I’m just reading too much into things. Ah well… At least I found out I have a good place with the company. And I get to burst into the Bossman’s office whenever I want! Not a whole lot that can get better than that! Anyways, I’mma yeet.

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama fluff #tobirama x ofc #tobirama AU #idk what tags do people use when they make OFCs #tobirama x aquarela

[borahaejenn]

✨Dear Bangtan and ARMY✨

  How are you this week? It’s almost the end of January and February is already near💖You all did well. I came here super early because I won’t be able to post at 6pm lol I must help my mom out with important business. Also Good Morning. lol I know it’s morning in Korea and also good afternoon and evening to ARMY in my time. lol We got through another month. Hehe Congratulations you did what most humans do and this carry on. 😁 although I spent this month semi-stressed, sleepless, and sick lol I was still feeling good on the inside. I am very much practicing heavy work on the inner peace and it looks different for everyone but for me, I feel proud for doing a good job of sticking to it and it felt like this month was a test and I passed it because I got my reward: growth. 😭💪 Gains! Lol but instead of the physical muscles, it was the other most important muscle in the body: my brain. The brain is not a muscle but it sure as hell controls all your muscles in your body lol so being able to control my brain in the sense of disassociating when needing to and using discernment, yes I was flexing those muscles a lot. 🙏😇I don’t mean to control everything but to recognize that I control my choices and how I want to think most of the time. I talk about this more in the videos lol but yeah. I was not able to do certain things but since I did my prayer in the mornings I was not as bummed about it because I thought, why not rest? When I got sick like sure it sucked but I was like “maybe I need this rest to reflect and recognize things” and I felt good about it even as I was laying numb in bed lol 😂 I don’t need to be always in a scenario where I am super healthy and up and running to feel goodness and happiness for a bit. I find it in me whenever and wherever and that is what I was putting into practice. I wanted to detach feeling with circumstance and attach feeling with choices and attitude throughout the day. I worked hard at it. Hehe What have you gained this month? It can be anything. Remember to recognize it. You are also doing what you can. 😉

    I talk about this in the first video lol but I forgot to add some things on the film I watched with my sister and hell yeah I saw BROKER. It is a lovely fam and very light-hearted with dark undertones due to the themes and stories of the characters in the film but I loved it. The ending had me wondering if they all did meet to see Woo-sung but it was nice. Lee Ji-eun did amazing and yes I hype up IU a lot lol because her performance really made me feel. I wanted to protect her character and it was just horrible circumstances she got put in and her attitude was relatable. But it was a different performance from her than her last characters and I commend her for the story she told. I feel like some of the circumstances of the characters are not really talked about or brought to light as issues in society and the film and actors all did so well in bringing it up. 👍 I didn’t talk about this scene but I forgot to talk about when Soo-young was talking to Dong-soo about the rain. She talked about how the rain made her feel like yesterday’s plans got washed away. I felt that. But then she went and took a darker turn with it and said that over time in life it got to a point that she would fear the rain because even if she slept, she would wake up feeling and being the same person she was the day before. It was a very depressive but melancholic thought. I never heard someone talk about the rain in that matter and it was also memorable to me. And because I want to, I wish to say, if you are reading this and see this, thank you for being born. ❤️

  I wish to also give a shout-out to the two Hispanic ajummas that sat next to my sister and me in the theater and had no idea we spoke in Spanish too lol we heard their convos and it was hilarious. Before the film started they kept chatting it up and they were drinking beer lol they were lit 🔥 Yes, they sell beer at our theater lol They were so sweet but I was laughing because they thought we didn’t know what they were talking about lmao 🤣 But this just shows that film has no language barriers and many people can relate to the cinema even past subtitles. Bong Joon-ho is right. He brought that up when he was honored for Parasite at the Oscars and he proved something there and brought up a good message. ✨ My sister has watched many Danish, Turkish, French, and Korean films since high school and has never complained about subtitles and enjoyed each of the films she watched and she got me into them so if you can’t look past the subtitles I just have to say you are missing out. Lol Cinema is for all but open your heart and your eyes. Take it in and appreciate it if you haven’t been able to yet.

  Hehe I wanted to talk this week about Jimin and Hobi’s W KOREA interviews. I was not here during Hobi’s promotions for ❤️‍🔥Jack In The Box ❤️‍🔥and I never got to talk about his interview and now that I was able to read both interviews let’s talk and have fun lol 😆 Let’s go back and forth in between both. 🤣

-“Now he perches on before the camera. Jimin- exuding nothing but his distinctive charm- is in full bloom… doesn’t simply jump. Instead he rises and appears to float in the air for an instant.” The way Jimin is described on the article lol it’s chef’s kiss 😘 LIKE YESSSS! I loved the ‘rises and appears to float in the air’ 🥹Jimin, this is proof you are an Angel. Lol 😂 I agree with the distinctive charm. Jimin, you are also unintentionally charming. But I think the goofiest parts of you are the most charming after thinking about it. You do things that are unexplainable when the camera is on you and on stage but off it, I still remember the times you were the one making jokes and saying some of the most random commentaries behind the scenes that it was naturally charming and humorous. I love that the most. I enjoy your humor and that is really charming about you. 😁👍

-“I listened to all the songs before releasing ‘More,’ and I was confident… I put all of my heart in so I knew what I was doing.” Hobi, I think this confidence showed even more when you were asked what would happen if your album was not taken well and you said that then it would be something you would have to bear and face. The idea of having put your heart in it and feeling good about is what I loved about the album. You were aiming for growth and learning and you showed that. Having your own back and standing behind what you created regardless of how it is taken is confidence at its natural source because you truly believe in your work. ☺️

-“beautiful flowers are unlikely to go to waste if each takes some home as a keepsake.” Ahhhh Jimin, I saw the flowers and it was nice to know that quite possibly the staff and production crew took them to not waste the flowers. It was a nice touch to the imagery writer-nim created for the reader. 😭 Homie was like, “there were hella people here. Hopefully, they take these flowers graced by Jimin.” Lol I dig the vibes.

-“I just like what I like so I don’t think you need to name the genres and define them. I try to accept things intuitively and express them, like ‘this mood needs this vibe.’ “ Hobi, this reminded me of Pharrell’s music process with producing. I remember when he talked with Joonie and said that he goes for what is missing regardless if it may seem different or odd to people at first. I dig this lol 😎 I say different or odd because as people at times, we like to have categories and separate things when we forget that everything comes commonly from one source or idea and it is just expanded. We find comfort in seeing things as this or that and when we start to mix things and change from what we are used to it can be scary and deemed as odd or different when it really isn’t. It’s music and for me rhythm is rhythm and you can feel it with any sound it just depends on when you feel it and sometimes we may feel surprised when we feel it in songs and music we didn’t think we would be into. But I think when you make your music it hits differently because you don’t just listen you feel every inch of a track you create. You go for what you feel no matter what. I think that’s awesome. It’s like having a sixth sense than just five.

-“As their influence spans the world, a globe or a world map was, at times, the only tool that helped me estimate the distance they have reached.” Damn this is well written lol This is someone writing about Bangtan too and wow. Haha I loved this point at the beginning of your interview Jimin. I think it’s true. Even before collaborations and awards, I remember ARMY being global and Bangtan has had a worldwide influence that started way back. I remember the beginnings of so many different ARMY translators on Twitter and their pages just growing from Peru, Chile, Africa, France, India, China, Mexico, Argentina, and it goes on. It was built on unity and so many people did fan events and concert events through the years for ARMY going to concerts in the places Bangtan visited in the past. It’s insane.

-“Of course, I do love rock music. But I added those features just to amplify the vibe the song has…But if you go through the whole album, you will see what I meant you to see.” I love that you brought this up Hobi because you also talked about how some people may say that some tracks can’t be rock or hip-hop. Let me just say that I took a history of rock and roll class in college and I learned a lot. Let me just say that rock and hip-hop are the siblings and byproducts of jazz, blues, and soul music. They are one of the same and just portrayed differently. They come from the same parents so, if anyone has anything to say, well tell them that. Lol 😂 I enjoy rock and hip hop when they go together because they are alike in many ways and they complement each other well. I can’t ever say that rock ain’t hip hop when the sounds and rhythms can be alike to those of hip hop and vice versa. People may say I am making no sense but I am talking about the sound here and you have to listen well to notice but they are there. They bleed the same blood. My teacher had us listen to so many songs over and over again to catch certain sounds and beats and I was opened to a whole new world. Lol People need to look beyond the surface and look deeper like you said, to not just put genres and define them when they are subjective but you sure did both justice by allowing them to be naturally together as they should be Hobi. You did well and you get music. You don’t judge it and you feel it out. 👏 Mad props. If I went back to my past college teacher and showed him Jack In The Box he would say the same lol he was a cool and chill dude who knew a lot about music. I got an A in my final report on my own history with music and he was like surprised with what I grew up with and enjoyed my detailed analysis. Lol I am grateful for taking that class now because I got to talk about it here and back up your words, Hobi. Let’s go!!💪 I got you, Hobi.

-“I guess you could say my mind has been busier than my body these days.” Lol Jimin this has been me this current month and I feel you so hard. 😆😆😆😆😆 My brain has been working out more than usual and I can see a bicep forming lol JUST KIDDING.

-“Under some unity. I give each track a twist.” I love this Hobi. 🙌 the unity part lol it’s like saying, I compromised but not fully because I still need to give it that Hope flair.👌YES. Haha

-“I tried to focus on ‘what I feel now.’ I wrote down everything I felt at every moment- precisely as possible- because I was afraid the feelings would go away if I don’t record them. It felt like I had to keep those moments.” Jimin this is very insightful I enjoyed this. I know you said that you would like to go back to what you write if ever those feelings occur again and I think journaling is a really good way to reflect and understand why you felt a certain way. Thinking something is easy but when you have to write out your feelings it becomes harder because you really have to go deeper and write it out. It’s like a confrontation you don’t want to have. I love you for this and I support it to the max. It’s hot. lol

-“I had a clear message that I wanted to convey through the album. To tell the message, I need more strong sound and bold visual effects. ‘Arson’ is listed at the end of the album list. It is not common to put the title at the bottom. But I wanted to do that. The questions that I have been dealing with, do I go for it, or do I need to take a break here, the trajectory of feelings regarding the question is captured in the album.”  With Arson being at the end it felt like you fulfilled that idea of telling a story because with all the trajectory points through the tracks, it was like you finally decided to burn it all and silence those doubts and questions you have been dealing with. Your album ended well. It’s insane because you intended the story to be there but it isn’t apparent unless you listen in order and listen to the lyrics. It’s like a hidden surprise at the end and it really feeds that concept of a Jack In The Box lol it’s like here are all my feelings all my doubts, questions, and thoughts and it’s inside this box only for it to come out finally and you just burn the box. It’s a type of rebirth that is indirect and that is beautiful. You have to look at it from a certain angle to bask in the beauty of the flames or you will miss it. That is how your album feels to me after thinking about it and I love that imagery, Hobi. 🔥

-“ARMY is an obvious answer, but they are the one that makes me the happiest man on the planet. We’ve been together through thick and thin, through joys and sorrows…Spending time with my friends would be more of a small happiness in my life- it’s also my only hobby and pastime.”  I love you Jimin. Even if you never saw my tears, reading this I just want to say that I was glad to have cried with you even from afar. I mean it. 😇 With the small happiness I am glad you even have that. It reminded me of something Kook said before about how in the midst of our difficulties, we should find our own small happiness because it matters during those times. Kook has said a lot of profound things and it’s nice to bring them out these days. But, I support even your small happiness as long as you have friends who treat you well and care for you, I wish to tell them thank you for taking care of you well. 💜

-“I need darker colors to tell my stories and feelings.” Lmao Hobi Wednesday Addams would agree. 🤣But on a serious note I feel you. I like to think that even though we all may be able to smile even once through the day, there is a darker connotation to being able to do that because we all have that darkness that leads us to the light we present today. In life, everything comes with a price that we all had to pay in a figurative and emotional sense. Nothing goes unpaid. This thought is dark and cynical but I think it’s true. The darker colors help us to express that and give us that comfort the light can’t ever give us. By comfort, I mean that of accepting those darker parts and allowing them to be free and real in our lives. When we are in the light we don’t do that because we show the aftermath of that darkness. That is what I am getting at.

-“I was also touched by how he took care of even the smallest details throughout the work process.” Jimin, you speak about Taeyang with respect and admiration and I love how you brought up your interest in his work and music since way back then lol I still remember that video where you played a bit of Wedding Dress on the piano. Lol I was happy for you and that you got asked to work with Taeyang. It must have been so surreal.

-“…'I have a story to tell and I need to speak.’” Thank you for speaking and telling us your story Hobi. I love how you said that you need to speak. I felt your purpose in your words and it was like saying, “I am allowed to take up space and I will do it.” I love it. Pop off Hobi.👏👏👏😎

-“It may sound harsh, but I believe what’s important here is the result. The result of giving your all and the feelings you earn from such results are truly on a different level. In order to achieve the best result possible, you really need to focus on just one thing and put in a lot of effort.”  I love this!!! I don’t think it’s harsh. Lol it depends on the situation or context. In some situations, you could focus on one thing and still not do well with all the effort in the world. But what matters is the feeling you earn from the results whatever they may be because you know you put in your all no matter what. I agree with that too. Hehe If you are someone that exceeds all the time and expects a result that is favorable in your favor, well that just means you want the best and may be an overachiever there is nothing wrong with that. 💪  I support it. Hehe I am not an overachiever so it’s nice to learn from people who are. I admire people who think like overachievers because I could never see myself that way. I aspire to shine like that in my own way but I can’t yet. I’m getting there. I don’t really aim for the best in myself and I can’t ever say if what I do is good or excellent because of my issues with competition and wanting no attention. I still have to heal from that. As a kid, I feared being good at something because I feared being hated for it by others around me. Anytime someone would compliment me someone would have something to say and I hated it. My lack of self-esteem paired with anxiety and depression did not help lol I liked it better if no one said anything and I dimmed my light so I could be left alone and I’m slowly trying to feel okay with compliments and being seen and doing more. Thank you for saying this Jimin. It’s helping me a little more to see things differently, I love you. 😘

-“The very concept of ‘Jack In The Box’ is the one I’ve been discussing with Bang PD long before my debut. Well, I have ‘hope’ in my name. We talked about how I would be a lasting ‘hope’ of BTS, and jump out as to surprise the world.” Hobi, you are a lasting ‘hope’ of BTS. Among the times when you felt trapped inside your own Pandora's Box, you have you to show for it. When so much has happened you never spoke a word until now with your album and it shows how you never let anything dim your light. Your light and energy are lasting. You did surprise me with that twist as well. I was wondering why Arson was last until I got to piece things together now lol as you burn what was, the flame gets brighter.  ✨

-“To be honest, I found it harder to start the projects… I mean, now I have a new bigger respect for the members for that. I think I was captured by the ideas of ‘I want to do this’ and ‘Can I do it?’ at the same time.” Jimin this is the most libra thing you have said lol 😂 I was crying before when y’all admitted that you sometimes run late because that is also the most libra thing ever. They say libras have a hard time making decisions like y’all can make them but y’all are hella meticulously that you need to know the exact ins and outs about something before going for it and that may take a while. All my libra friends had this too lol I had one friend who always ran late and I was always forgiving of it and she always apologized but I was cool with it. Lol My friends always let me make food and clothes decisions for them because they trusted me and they couldn’t decide lol I enjoyed it. They never complained about my choices lmao But, you are not alone. I think it’s in your nature to take a while to decide on something head-on. Take your time. I love you. I only make decisions for people if they ask me. If you asked me about something I will tell you straight up what I would choose. Haha But, don’t fight your nature, just ask for help when you feel you really need it and want it. I tell people this a lot. Haha

-“…people see me as always upbeat and full of energy but the moment I stepped inside home, I am literally, knocked out. That makes me wonder, which one is truly myself.” As someone who is highly introverted, I feel this. This is why I was like, “Hobi really is an INFJ” you are really in my club, honey. Extroverted is a quality we still have but it has its limit. INFJs need to be heavy on alone time to recharge after many social encounters and events and I feel it. When you don’t get enough time to recharge on your own and you don’t feed your introverted cup, it becomes tiring. It’s like burnout if you do less of what you want and need for yourself but it can also be the idea of not facing certain feelings and hiding behind other things to impede that confrontation, but I feel like you have been around many people, and surrounded by many for a long time that the persona of being upbeat became something you felt you had to show and it might have burned you out. You didn’t get the time to recharge and feel all those feelings on your own that when you were alone all of it poured out and you felt drained and tired. I feel you. But I think you are both sides and it’s just that one took over and the other side didn’t get to shine and felt neglected. I make no sense but yeah. Thank you for bringing this up, Hobi.

-“It was in middle school, I was talking with my friends in front of the classroom when I noticed the weekly newsletter listing after-school activities. Break dancing was on that very list. My friends and I signed up because we thought it would make us popular…My favorite memory has to be hanging out at my friend’s house after school. One day we would visit one house, tomorrow another. We would make instant ramen by ourselves and then go out and run around. I think about how good it would be to go back to those days.”  So this was the origins of Baby J lol lil Jimin’s origin. It was nice to read this. I feel like everyone thought that knowing b-boy or break dancing was cool back then. Lol I remember back in middle school hella classmates would do b-boy dances and everyone would get all hyped up over it. Lol I think you were on to something with your friends Jimin. I had to take dance classes for PE in middle school out of force lol I didn’t have a choice but I enjoyed it they played so many of Ciara’s tracks and it made the whole time fun. Lol I feel you with the middle school days. However, I spent them mostly inside downloading music to my MP3 player and playing a ton of the sims 2. Haha I would make myself a ton of Red Baron's single deep-dish pizza. 🤤 It was my favorite instant food back then lol 😂 It would be nice to go back to those days. I tried downloading the sims 2 but since computers are so advanced in their systems now the game lags so bad on my laptop and desktop😭 lol I need to go back in time and get a computer from 2005 and come back lmaoo I can’t believe I’m saying this but sometimes you have to downgrade to play. Lol

-“I have this idea ‘when the light is out, I will be the one who lights the fire again.’… I mean, working on something sets my heart beating. Even though I’m sleep-deprived, tired, and hectic, taking a rest could not help me.” The passion you have had through this process is just insane. I love what you said about how you will be the one who lights the fire again. Very self-reliant and it has confidence glowing there. You talk about everything as almost a passion project but it’s something you don’t give up. You keep going until you finish. When it comes to passion people see it as this fleeting thing and for me, as a person who is born on a sign that has passion overload I can say it is not something that is fleeting. You need to go towards what lights you up. When people go for that hit of dopamine and a small moment of satisfaction people think it’s passion and that it goes away but they don’t realize that passion is not a small hit of joy or happiness. Passion is what makes you have sleepless nights because you want to work towards something and this is figurative. Passion makes you want to do the work not just feel that small dose of satisfaction. Passion is joy in the work not the end of the journey. You have to strengthen your heart and eyes to feel it and see it in every little thing you choose to do and in the people, you love because you want to do something and you want those people in your life. You don’t need something big to feel it but make it big in even the smallest things. Passion is energy and colorful and grand to me and I love it and when I see it in people it’s exciting. I really dig what you said here Hobi. You get it lol 😂I feel seen.

-I feel people had more of a childhood than me. Jimin lol this part “Jackson and his songs really opened a new world to a child who only knew children’s songs and hymns.” I love how writer-nim talked about Michael Jackson’s influence on music and I loved how you shared how you looked up also to MJ and Usher. I have to say I never really learned about children’s songs because I mostly knew Spanish and my dad had me hearing The Beatles and Def Leppard like “POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME” WAS IT lol 😂 I didn’t know what they were saying in their music at that time but my dad would put the cassette tapes and he was always like “you were in your baby seat and you kept moving your head and you liked it” lol 😆 My dad was in the States longer so he knew a bit of English and my mom was always like you listened to your dad's rock music and you just moved your head with the little amount of hair you had and you were happy. Lmao I was bald and my hair grew slowly. As I got older I heard Michael Jackson as well as Whitney Houston a lot. I was very moved by their music. If I can remember the first artists I got into with their sound beyond just hearing music because I listened to The Beatles to get into English more lol like their CD was on repeat after CDs started to come out but it was also Def Leppard because of the way they differed in the alternative spectrum back then and they were unique to me as a kid, also Cher!!!!! Lol I loved her voice so much!!! Creedence Clearwater Revival was also one of my tops because of the instruments I loved moving to the beats. It was different. Missy Elliott was also someone who opened my world I can’t forget the first time I saw The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly) it was a whole freaking culture reset and it had me dancing lol I loved how she changed so much of the industry and her music was on another level. With vocals I was introduced to Céline Dion and Shania Twain first because of my mom lol I fell in love with their voices as a kid and it got me wanting to sing. I started to later go into musicals and I grew obsessed with the OST for the 1999 version of ANNIE and then ANASTASIA. Loved them and they introduced me to another singing range. Lol

-“Oh, I cried many times, saying I was exhausted, tired, and I don’t know what to do.” Jiminie thank you for speaking about this and being open about it.  I feel okay now about making that video for your birthday last year. I was crying horribly but I very much still mean what I said in it still. I think it’s good to cry and even more admirable to admit that you are exhausted and tired of many things and do not know what to do about it. When you speak on things like this it reminds me that it’s okay to not always know. But it’s also okay to express to people that you just don’t know. Something about people not having or trying to find a solution for your problems and just choosing to hear you out is super comforting and nice. Sometimes it’s not about a solution just being heard is enough.

-“The members are my biggest motivation.” Hobi you show this so much. You are always there to support each of the member's own individual projects and I can see you are moved by their own projects. Lol I remember seeing you filming Joonie so hard during his performances at the W Korea event lmaoo

-“Curiosity? I’ve been full of curiosity ever since I was a child. If I couldn’t understand, or if I wanted to know more, I had to look up and find out the answer. But that doesn’t mean that I am that diligent of a person. I think I was interested in useless things.” Lol I talk about this a little in the videos because I RELATE SO HARD.😂 CURIOSITY SQUAD LET’S GO😆✊ however I am a diligent person about it even if it’s useless things at times lmao once it piques my interest I spend my time looking and looking until I’m satisfied with enough intel. Don’t bring something up to me that you don’t want me to look up because no matter what it is I will look. Lol imagine lil Jenn with dial-up internet, a library card, freedom, and no parental guidance lol my mind is a Wikipedia of many random things, and some not for the light of heart. I mean it was not always good for me as it made me anxious and worried about many things in life growing up but I was happy to learn something new.  No one knows what I know unless they bring up a subject on it. Muahahahahaha just don’t ask me about exact dates and history lol I know events and stuff but not good with names and dates and exact chronological order of events lol

-“I got more creative doing a fresh start. I erased them all, and it just cleared my mind. I do not avoid challenges and slumps. I am the kind of person who encounters and overcomes it. Like, ‘let’s just do it!’“  Yes, HOBI!!!!! This is the spirit lol ENCOUNTER AND OVERCOME. 💪 This is why you are our lasting Hope.✨😭

-“My fans tell me the most beautiful things every day that I don’t think I deserve. There is my manager who said he was sorry that he didn’t get to feel all the pain I went through and hugged me when I was having a hard time. The staff who shed tears with me, friends and family who came and spent time with me for days without saying anything. You know, I remember all of it. There is a time when I feel the most strength and a sense of guilt- when the members tell me ‘It’s okay.’”  Jimin, if you think other people deserve your words and love. You deserve the wonderful and helpful things people tell you too. You are very sweet and it’s very honest of you to admit this and feel it. I just wish to say again a big thank you to the people in your life for taking care of you well and letting you feel your feelings and hearing you out. 🙏 I hope they are having a lovely day because that’s real love there. When you talked about your manager like damn. I can’t. They did something most people don’t do and that’s like the bare minimum: to care. That’s what’s up. When you said your friends and family would just stay with you without saying anything like you found good people in your life. It’s very hard to know when to do that when someone is feeling down. Some people would avoid and others would misread that but to just stay there without having to say something in return is like someone really grasping the concept of even mourning and depression.  Like I said earlier, people don’t always need something to be said back they just want to be around you and just be heard. That’s more than enough. Validate their feelings and their presence by just giving the time of day by just being there. You have something great with the people in your life Jimin. That is precious.

-“Embracing. I know I can be embracing. I believe my parents played a huge role in this. I know how to accept. I like to listen rather than speak. If someone is to pour out their emotions on me, I can sit there and listen to them. Whatever reaction and feedback you have on me, I would take it as an opportunity to grow and advance. And more, I am really good at reading people’s minds. So it puts me in a good position as a middle man in the group.” This is just hot. Lol 🔥 “I know how to accept” like yes! Thank you. Most people can’t or won’t even try to. Lol I love how you admit that you read people well because you do and it’s something you have. Be proud of that Hobi. There have been many times when you say things about a situation and it goes as you read it lol 😂 It’s a skill not most have and you do. The “I like to listen rather than speak.” My heart. 👌😭 I checked out lol 😆 Someone who listens like ahhh someone who listens. Whattabnskskkxmdkdkkd. When people say this and it’s rare I fall apart like yes, please give me the time of day. I love that. 🤣🤣Let me say the most random things and just tell me how ridiculous it is later. Haha I will love you for it so much lol I love you Hobi.

-“So, I want to take this opportunity to be proud of myself for going to the members when I felt lost for the first time.” I am proud of you too Jimin. 💜 Fighting! ✨

-“I need to take an interest first to do something.” This is relatable, Hobi. Once I find something I like I go all in until I am satisfied.

-“People don’t know why they are lost when they are lost. We can say we were disoriented after some time, but at that time, we cannot give a clear answer to the question. I mean, I think I just wanted to avoid the situation I was in. One worry follows the other, and I tried to avoid and neglect them, rather than encounter them.” I think the reason why people don’t know why they are lost is that they fell out of bounds with who they are it’s like we keep going and going and later we forget who wanted to be and what we wanted in the first place and it becomes a blur. They say when you feel lost it’s just another way of saying you just have been straying away from yourself and you just need to find your way back. This is just one way of looking at it. But it follows with the idea that one worry follows another and it just piles up the more we choose to neglect them. We become lost. I agree with that. You brought up a good point here.  You admitted to avoiding and I love that you said that. Avoidance shows up in many forms and shapes in our lives and this is one way. Maybe we are not lost we just ran out of reasons to confront what has been following us all this time. We just don’t want to look back but we have to in order to see the path clear up.

-“A dancer boy from Gwangju is my foundation.” Hobi, hell yeah! I think it’s interesting because you have diverse skills and are well-rounded that we can’t just pin one specific thing you are super good at and it’s a compliment lol But, your dancing and control and presence on stage are top-tier, and should be giving the love it deserves. I need to take a minute to appreciate it here today. You are not just a performer you actually breathe dancing and it has been in your veins since pre-debut days as well. It is where you also shine brightly. We love you for it. 🙌

-”Time... I really wish I had more time.” Jimin this is something that I think everybody wants and it is so relatable. I feel you. lol  I have been thinking about this for a while even before because time sometimes feels like such a construct but it is also something very real and present. I got asked this once and it changed my mind so much: “if we lived in a world that had no construct of numbers and time, what would you do in the day? Do your priorities become priorities or would you be in the ideal presence of just living and going by what you feel because there would be nothing holding you back mentally?” It is scary to think sometimes that we created numbers to chain us. Our spirits feel constrained by the concept of numbers and when I realized that lol I was so baffled. If numbers can hold such control over us, it is so easy to feel like we can’t control our lives and like we are not really getting anything done. It was something to think about. The way I see things now is that you will always have time to do what you want to do, just go for it and don’t try to plan and contemplate so much. While spending time contemplating, you are using time that could be used to complete what you want. I know this is easier said than done lol but that is why I am also trying to practice not being so overwhelmed by outward forces to control how I should feel. I am working on it too. Let’s work hard together, Jimin! Let’s go!💪

-”Getting on a chart was never an option for me from the start, it was just about being me, doing what I want to do.” I feel like Joonie was also inspired by you Hobi and it is lovely. Joonie talked about this idea with INDIGO and it makes sense. I love how y’all were just out here vibing and making music and enjoying that process fully. You didn’t let charts dictate how your music should be and I love that. I know that for artists it's not like every track they make was made for charts on purpose because sometimes you make music and it charts high without trying to do so lol The music is just loved and played a lot because of that love, but what I mean is that y’all thought of yourself first here with your first solo albums. It leaves a nice sentiment. 🥰 Plus, I love this idea of not letting numbers control how you should feel about your life and what you do. It just depends but this is one of those times when it is nice.

-”I want to be someone who takes things easy... If you want to have peace of mind, your mind has to be strong, and that means your surroundings have to be solid. I want to be a person who keeps all these words.”  JIMIN FLEX THOSE EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE MUSCLES AHHHHHH I LOVE THIS!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🔥 Your surroundings have to be solid and that is true. Not being careful to tend and mend your crops and fields will define whether your fruits will come to grow or not. If you don’t set boundaries and leave and take out what does not help or serve you mentally, you will start to question why good things don’t happen to you or you start to doubt your worth and purpose. People need to remember to look around them and to who they give energy to and they will get their answer. Who you surround and what you surround yourself with are key to your healing, peace, and growth. Open your eyes and hold yourself accountable for things and adjust accordingly. It was hard for me to do this, but when I admit it and accept it, it gets easier to answer the hard questions and come to a solution on my own. Thank you for saying this! You can take things easy when you get better at working and validating the hard things instead of not confronting them.

-”I feel the absence of the members, I miss them.” 😊 This was about  Lollapalooza and my heart felt soft. lol OT7 FOR LIFE LOL But, I love that you got out there and went for it on your own fiercely, Hobi. I am proud of you and it is inspiring.😁 It reminded me that at the end of the day, it's okay to miss people and things that brought comfort to me but it is time to get that bread and do something for myself and work diligently.  In my mind, I am like, “go and cry Jen, but get up there and do your thing while you do so. Your makeup will be all over the place but your will and strength will be in place.” lol Thank you Hobi!

-”A goofy friend in sweatpants, who loves to have soju with friends at Pojangmacha.” Love you, Jimin. haha this is heartwarming. For me it would be “That one friend who is a little too honest sometimes in shorts, who loves to have deep dish pizzas home alone while watching horror films” lol You are more extroverted lol I am more introverted. I only ever go out with people if they ask me to come out or at times pull me out of the house lol I think you are also a really pure-hearted person at the end of the day, Jimin.💜 It reminded me of Jin. hehe

-”I know I have goals and ambition, but it’s rather close to ‘I want people to know that I exist here.’...I really need to be on that stage alone.” This goes with the earlier point as well. You admit that although you did miss the members you knew what you had to do and you had to walk the path alone. I love it, Hobi. When you said that you just want to prove your existence that was something that caught me off guard because I have not really heard someone say that. It was less of wanting to be widely noticed or prove your skill and more of you wanting to feel your own existence. I didn’t think about this concept and it's refreshing. 💕

-”...’Focus on what you’re doing right now.’ This is my dream now.” I wanted to end this with this last sentiment from you Hobi. This is a nice way to see things moving on forward. Just focusing on what you can and what you do at this moment. It is important and I think this a nice answer to what your dream is now at the moment. It’s not forlorn or hopeless and it's not too overly pushy with force. It is a lovely statement that reminds us that it's the little steps that will hopefully build a dream or dreams along the way if you also don’t have one clearly in your mind yet. 🌈

 I wrote so much ahhhh yesss!!!! I got into the interviews a lot. But, I hope you found some moving words from Hobi and Jimin hehe I also wanted to say before I go that I am happy for you Bangtan, and your choices as brand ambassadors. Enjoy it and y’all are pulling your different styles so well and I am enjoying looking at the fashion. Fighting! 🔥🔥🔥🔥😭And Yoongi I say this a bit in the videos, but enjoy your time in Paris and come back safely. hehe 🙏Fighting, Monsieur Yoongi! ✨I love you Bangtan and Joonie thank you for reminding me to get new glasses lol I love you. haha Taehyung-ah, it was nice to read you had a lovely new year and I will come back after seeing your live haha I have to catch up on Suchwita too. Bye bye Bangtan and ARMY! I shall go and get to work I have much to do too! FIGHTING, EVERYONE! Please make sure to eat something delicious too.🤤FOOD. HAHAHAHAHAHA I love you.

💜I purple you.💜

With love,

Your Jennifer ✌🐰🌼

[bicondean]

this introductory class could’ve been an email

#or at least a prerecorded class come on #it’s too early to talk about hispanic lit #..... 9:43 is like dawn to me now

[unmaskedagain]

Not the Devil, but Twice as mean

           This is a short story that I wrote. Its dark. It does reference suicide early on. It talks about evil and the supernatural so be warned.

“My mother committed suicide,” Claudia told Dr. Sykes dryly. She kept her face blank, like always.  Nothing the therapist could latch on to or exploit. “She did it because she would rather die than raise a daughter like me.”

Claudia had always been Dr. Sykes most… peculiar client. She didn’t come with the usual problems that plagued other schoolgirls her age. There were no body issues, boy troubles, too much pressure to succeed from family, or a desire to improve her popularity at school. Nor did she seem to have any narcissistic tendencies like Sykes thought she would. Claudia was cold, seemingly indifferent to all the troubles that had wreaked havoc on her life but more than willing to discuss them as one talked about the weather.

Dr. Sykes resisted to write the word sociopath on her notepad again. She was a thin, middle-aged blond woman with a big nose and a haircut that reminded people of Tinkerbell. “Why do you think that’s true?”

Her patient raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows at the question. It would be an understatement to say that Claudia Valencia was a pretty girl. She had an otherworldly beauty that would’ve been odd on any woman, let alone a girl of fourteen. Her ink-black hair was a mess of endless curls that framed eyes such a deep brown they were easily mistaken for black. She had high cheeks bones, scarlet lips, and her amber skin was flawless and blemish-free as if the teen hadn’t ever so much as had a pimple.

Which was probably true, Dr. Skyes thought. And when she did, she could swear she saw a flicker of a smile on Claudia’s sweet face.

“I don’t think it’s true. I know it is,” Claudia finally answered.

“Uh-huh,” The older woman said. Dr. Sykes had been Claudia’s therapist for two years. She probably knew more about the younger girl than anyone else. “Why do you know it’s true? And what do you mean: a daughter like you?”

           Claudia smiled pleasantly. The answer was the same for both questions. Evil, Claudia thought. She was born evil. She had always known it. Claudia was born with black blood, literally pumping through her veins. The first time she was placed in a crib, Claudia had set fire to the entire room. When Claudia was little, she’d walked the earth with two shadows. One belonged to her. The other did not.

Her mother didn’t mind at first, even when little Claudia had started speaking to it. She wrote it off as a child talking to an imaginary friend. It wasn’t until she finally heard the shadow talk back did she finally have enough. Her mom’s death was the last time Claudia saw her second shadow. Her father’s shadow.

“My mother was a good woman,” Claudia said. “A kind, loving woman. And a fool.” She sighed as she remembered her mother. “She loved fairy tales. She loved books and shows about magic, love, and good, always triumphing over evil. They blinded her of how dangerous such things really are, how dangerous my father was. The reality set in after I was born. I wasn’t the daughter she expected me to be. I could never be the daughter she always wanted. Still, she tried to love me as best she could.”

           Dr. Sykes nodded and took more notes. “And do you think she loved you?”

“As best she could,” Claudia repeated.  

“And your father?” Dr. Sykes. “Did he want you? In our past sessions, you hardly ever spoke of him. I wish to address him now because, as you have stated, this will be our last session.”

           Claudia paused to contemplate what to say, how best to give an answer that wouldn’t end with Sykes accusing her of being the anti-Christ. The situation happened with her last therapist. It was an unpleasant experience. “My father is a cold man, a harsh man. Cruel, even. He demands perfection out of everything and everyone in his life. He despises weakness and stupidity. He firmly believes love isn’t freely given. It’s earned.” It was, Claudia was willing to bet, the kindest words anyone had ever said about her father. “I am exactly the daughter my father always wanted.”

She’d be dead if she wasn’t. I had sisters, Claudia wanted to scream. A dozen, maybe, if she remembered right, give or take one or two. They spanned back centuries. Most of them hadn’t made it past infancy. Too human for Daddy Dearest to even bother with. The rest dead before or by their fifteenth birthday. Too weak, her father had said, to do what was expected of them. However, even though this would be their last meeting, there were some things Claudia couldn’t bring herself to reveal.

“So, he loves you?”

           At the question, Claudia’s face turned thoughtful. “My father is capable of many things, but I had always wondered if the ability to love is one of them. He is fond of me.” No daughter of his had ever lived as long as she had. Only sons. And even then, only pure sons. Never a half-breed like her. No daughter of his had ever come so close to completing the Blood Rites, not that her father knew that yet. Countless of her brothers had tried and died in their attempts to complete the Blood Rites. Or had been killed for their attempts. “He is proud of me.”

           Dr. Sykes straightened up in his seat, “You’ve had contact. The last time we spoke about your dad, you swore you’d never speak to him again.” This was growth, the woman thought.

“I haven’t seen or spoken to him since I was seven-years-old,” Claudia said. The shadows told her everything she wanted to know. They were how Claudia knew she was running out of time. They could travel to places she dared not tread. It was how she knew her father still looked for her and that he was getting close to finding her.

He had been searching for Claudia for most of her life. It had taken five years, and having a child for her mother to admit that the man she loved was, literally, pure evil. Once she had, her mother had taken her and ran. It was the smartest thing she had ever done.

“He doesn’t know where I am,” Claudia whispered. She always preferred to limit any mention of her father. Speak of the devil and all that. “I don’t want him to know. Not yet, at least.” The very thought of her father finding her before Claudia could finish the rites made her entire body tremble.

           Dr. Sykes mistook the emotion for another one entirely. “Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes,” Claudia admitted. She just feared him more. Claudia was terrified of what he would do to the people she loved; her family, her friends. Not could do, not might do; would do. “He was a good dad from what I remember. He always made time to play with me; tea parties, princesses, superheroes.”

“Why don’t you invite him to your birthday?” Dr. Sykes suggested a smile lit up her face. “You’ve talked about it for months. It’s a big day for you. It would be a good time to work out any lingering… issues.”

           Claudia sighed. Dr. Sykes still thought she had abandonment issues. She did not have abandonment issues. She had ‘if father finds out I’m doing the Blood Rites in an attempt to declare emancipate myself from his control once and for all, he’ll have everyone I’ve ever known and loved slaughtered in front of me before killing me himself’ issues. “The timing wouldn’t work.”

“It’s a week away,” Dr. Sykes stated. “Is your father overseas?”

“Practically in another world,” Claudia smirked. “Besides, he’s my father. He doesn’t need an invitation. He’s had this birthday marked on his calendar for years.”

           Dr. Sykes gave her an understanding look. “My mom was deployed a lot when I was young. Maybe he’ll make it in time.”

“He will,” Claudia said, a coldness went down her spine. “Fifteen is a special age to turn in my family.”

“Yes, a traditional celebration for young Hispanic girls,” Dr. Sykes remembered. “Your Quinceanera.”

           Claudia smiled. “My mother used to dream about how’d mine would be. A big puffy dress, going from flats to heels.

“What was your mother’s name?” Dr. Sykes asked. She had finally caved to two years of building curiosity about the young girl’s family. It was her last chance, after all

“Rosemary,” Claudia answered with a soft smile on her face. “My father found it amusing.”

           Dr. Sykes leaned forward, hand on her chin. “Why?”

“People call him the devil,” Claudia answered. “He isn’t, of course. My father isn’t old enough, my grandfather maybe. That old man is where Christianity got their idea of what the devil looks like.”

“What?” Dr. Sykes drew back as if bitten.

           Claudia carried on as if nothing happened. “It’s absurd, of course.”

Dr. Sykes breathed a sigh of relief and ran a hand through her blond hair. Her sleeve caught her attention. That was when she realized she wasn’t in her regular work clothes, a well-fitted power suit, but her pajamas. “Of course…” She said, blinking in confusion. Why was she wearing her pajamas?

“Lucifer was cast down from the heavens,” Claudia added. Evil, yes. Bringer of darkness, yes. But he is no more of a demon than you. Why in all of time and space would he look like one? Or choose to look like the very incarnation of evil. Even my father doesn’t walk around all black-eyed with his horns showing, and he’s very proud of his heritage. It’s tasteless. Though these days, with all that’s going on in the world, some people might actually welcome the apocalypse. Nevertheless, evil is meant to be tempting. Evil seduces.”

           Dr. Sykes barely paid attention to what Claudia had said as too preoccupied with assessing the odd situation she slowly realized she was in. It was like her mind was cloudy, but she was starting to pick out various clues that screamed something was wrong. For starters, she never worked after six, and the view from her window said it was night outside, well after office hours. They were in her bedroom, not her work office, where she only dealt with patients. Her home address was confidential, and she wasn’t listed anywhere. Furthermore, how had Claudia gotten into her house? Why? And why hadn’t she questioned anything until now?

           .

Claudia waited patiently as Dr. Sykes struggled to regain her memory of the last hour. It was the least could do, she knew. Dr. Sykes had been a big help to her in the last couple of years. She was fun, easy to talk to, caring. Odd as it might be, Claudia would miss her.

Panic started to fill the woman. She remembered feeling like she was being watched all night. She remembered red glowing eyes peering down at her from a shadowy corner on her ceiling. Dr. Sykes remembered thinking it was just a dream, her imagination. She remembered getting out of her bed for a drink of water. She had stepped into the darkness of the hallway, and then there had been a pain—blinding pain, and then nothing.

“Ahh, there you go,” Claudia said. “Was that really that hard?”

Dr. Sykes let out a shuddered breath and brought up her terror-filled eyes to meet Claudia’s. “Did you…  Am I…” She asked, but the question she wanted to ask didn’t leave her lips. Instead, the doctor asked, “Why is this our last session?”

“Because I killed you,” Claudia sighed. “And spirits can only stay earthbound for so long.”

Dr. Sykes's mouth dropped. “No! You didn’t! I’m not! I can’t be!”

           Claudia stood up and brushed off the imaginary dirt of her clothes. She was small, dainty, even, and dressed in a dark blue and green school uniform.

As if she was an innocent little girl, Sykes thought bitterly.

“You’ve been floating above your chair for the last half hour,” Claudia put a manicured hand on her hip. “As smart as you are, as you were, I figured you would’ve realized long before now.”

Condescending little bitch, Dr. Sykes thought viciously. Murdering little demon!

           Claudia grinned, red-stained lips spread from ear to ear. “I made it quick, nearly painless. But death is never easy. And I’d watch yourself. Your soul is in this little demon’s hands.” Dr. Sykes’ eyes widened in surprise. “No, I can’t read minds. You’re a ghost, chica—a soul. Souls tell everything. You’ve been talking out loud this entire time.”

           It went quiet. Dr. Sykes was too busy coming to terms with her life being over to talk, and Claudia had decided to be generous enough to allow that.

“Are you taking me to hell?” Dr. Sykes finally asked.

           Claudia waited to answer. She eyed Dr. Sykes over as she grew more and more afraid of what the answer would be. She loved fear. The feelings of other people’s fears always warmed her right down to her toes. “No, You’ll face your judgment like any other,” Claudia told her. “I only needed your life.”

“Oh? Only my life,” Dr. Sykes said sarcastically. “Well, in that case.”

           Claudia laughed, “You always were funny,” She said as she walked to the door, easily stepping over the body in the middle of the room. “I really did like you.”

“Do you kill everyone you like?”

“Some of them,” The girl shrugged. “Usually, just the ones that get in my way. Your death put me just over four dozen. I only killed you because you were born under a full blood moon. That’s harder to find than you think. It was a lucky break that you told me when your birthday during our last session. I already knew the year you were born. After that, it was easy to figure out where you fell on the lunar cycle. I’ll send flowers to your funeral. You liked Madonna lilies, right?”

“I preferred golden rayed lilies,” Dr. Sykes answered drily.

“Oh yeah!” The girl nodded. “I’ll remember that. Goodbye, Dr. Sykes. I hope you make it into heaven. If not, well… I’ll see if I can put a good word for you in hell.” And with that, she was done. Claudia was about to walk out the door when she was called to stop.

“Wait!” Sykes called. “Why do this? Why kill so many people?”

           Claudia paused in the doorway and looked over her shoulder. Her face looked far too angelic for all the evil she had done as far as Sykes was concerned. “Because daddy is going to make an uninvited appearance at my Quince. And I have to be ready for him,” She said. “You think you’re afraid of hell. Trying showing up as a demon with a soul.”

#short story #original fiction #original content #evil #supernatural #writing #unmaskedagain

[cieloxcnco]

this evening’s revue (zabdiel)

Words: 6,600+

Warnings: the promise of smut with nothing actually tangible. sorry for being a tease. but that’s what this sort of thing does, no?

A/N: i wrote this when i was half drunk. i apologize for how fucked up that makes this. like i wonder where my head is the majority of the time to come up with shit like this. no laughing allowed. love you all. -

I adjusted the flimsy plastic birthday crown on my head as I studied my reflection in the mirror, and probably made it a little more crooked in the process. My friends had convinced me that we should pre-game party before they even drove me to the club, so the influence of a Red Bull and vodka was already making my balance and alignment a little shaky. I combed my pink polished fingers through the gentle waves of my hair and tried to adjust my low-cut top so my bra wouldn’t protrude. The black sequined straps were already straining to control my breasts as it was. Feeling like I was looking good, I pulled out my cell phone and aimed the camera to take a self portrait shot. What better time than my birthday night to take a new profile picture? My friend Kayla poked her head back into the bathroom. “Bitch, come on! Enough selfies. The show is about to start.” I followed her quickly out into the showroom and sat in the aisle seat nearer to the back row as she instructed. Sarah and Charace were lost in their own excited conversation about what was to come. We sat down just as the announcer, who looked like an even more muscular version of Mario Lopez, came on stage and cooed smoothly into his microphone. “Ladies. Birthday girls. Bachelorettes. Are you ready to see some sexy men?” The girls all hooted their approval. “Well,” he went on, “Welcome to this evening’s male revue. Feel free to review all the males that come your way. Get your single dollars ready, ladies!” Kayla tapped the bottom of the plastic cup I had in my hand, rattling the ice cubes. “Drink up, baby girl. Let’s loosen you up for this.” I downed the rest of the mystery drink she’d bought for me, strong whatever it was, and nodded. I didn’t really need any loosening up though. I had recently broken off all contact with a long-term love, I was in the midst of an involuntary spell of abstinence, and I was more than excited to have an array of half-naked men in front of me for a few hours. The main lights went dim, the colored strobe lights began flashing, and Kayla dug her nails into the denim over my knee. “Here we go.” The spotlight turned to the area of the room opposite the stage where five men stood in Air Force jackets with rolled up sleeves, unbuttoned necklines, and tear-away pants, complete with Aviators and cocky grins. The dozens of other girls screamed- I just bit my lip at the sight, scanning over each. There was a muscular Latin man to the far left of the triangle they formed, tattoos across the exposed areas of his arms and chest. My eyes went wide; usually Hispanic men with a bad boy attitude and ink on their skin were my drug of choice. A brunette with just as many pictures on his skin but a little more of a thinner frame stood beside him, biting his lower lip and smirking at a large bride-to-be with a wad of bills in between her massive tits. To the far right stood two men of similar cinnamon complexion, one with his black hair coifed back in a swoop and piercing blue eyes and the other with coffee colored eyes and a messy mop of curls that were just begging for fingers to be run through them. Closest to me stood a tall blonde, not as muscular as the rest but with a sculpted body nonetheless. A hand swept over the golden spikes of his hair before coming back to rest low on his belt, tugging it down slightly to entice a few more screams. My eyes were fixated on the sizable girth visible even though his pants were baggy. I didn’t realize that my mouth had fallen open at the sight of him until I gasped aloud. I could tell his eyes locked on mine even through the tan lenses of his Aviators. He grinned in my direction, easing the arms of his sunglasses so they slid down the bridge of his nose. His chocolate eyes sparkled with interest as one eye winked at me. I nearly melted into my seat as he stood back up straight in formation. The DJ in the corner lit up the lights around his booth and a heavy, sexy beat blasted out the speakers. All five men made their way to the stage, each step with a confident swagger that made the tipsy women sitting around swoon. The announcer stepped in front of each man as they made their way to the front platform. “Ladies, let’s welcome to our stage Richard,” the tattooed man with the rippling muscles, “Christopher,” the thinner flirty one, “Erick,” the one that had ice eyes more hypnotic than his gyrations, “Joel,” the one with the dark eyes and curls “and Zabdiel,” the blonde, the one that I could not tear my eyes away from. He clapped them on the shoulders in turn. “Now, gentlemen, let’s give these ladies a good time.” At this, they all ripped their jackets off their torsos together and tore their pants away in sync. Left in only tight black briefs, their sculpted muscles were shining with body oil in the stage lights and on display for us. They danced in time with each other, rolling their abs and hips in the direction of the crowd. The bridesmaids of each bachelorette party screamed and waved their cash over their brides’ veil headbands to attract one of the dancers. The dancers already had their targets locked though, gyrating as they approached. Christopher strode over to me, his duck lips up in a confident smirk. He grabbed the “Birthday Babe” beads around my neck and pulled me close as he straddled me and ground his hips into my lap. He gripped my wrists and pulled my hands to his shoulders, letting them drop down his pectorals and his abs. Too surprised by their early arrival to have pulled out my money, he quickly saw this wasn’t going anywhere and went to move to a more lucrative spot. Kayla leaned over, sliding a few singles down the back of his briefs and slapped his ass. “No, keep going with her,” she encouraged. He turned around in my lap and started shaking his ass against me, the taut muscles of his back rolling with every movement. Sarah reached over Kayla’s shoulder to hand me another drink that I tipped back quickly. Charace stuffed a few dollars in my other hand and led it to the front elastic of his briefs. He aided my wrist in slipping the money down, letting me give his long member a slow stroke before moving on to the bachelorette two rows ahead of us. With no one in front of my group of friends, our gazes fell on whichever dancer we found most attractive. Sarah and Kayla were freaking out over Richard’s movements, but my eyes fell on Zabdiel. He was straddling a young bachelorette near the stage, his eyes scanning the crowd, seemingly not interested that five of the twenty-five girls in her group that were stuffing singles around the band of his underwear. His gaze found mine and he winked again, nodding his angled jaw in my direction. I shivered. Zabdiel’s body was just perfection. He wasn’t overly muscular like Richard, whose muscles were almost overpowering. He was more like a statue of the perfect male body- toweringly tall, firm biceps, a chiseled chest, and a perfect pack of abdominal muscles. The oil covering his tan skin made each rippling muscle shine in the spotlights. My stare trailed down to the tantalizing v-cut of his hips, gyrating against this woman’s waist at a hypnotizing pace. I wanted nothing but to switch places with her and remove any hindrance of clothing between us. He was the epitome of sexy. Kayla went to hand me a cocktail napkin, but my lack of focus forced her to wave it in front of my eyes before I responded. “What?” Kayla giggled. “Figured you would need it. You’re about to drool over that one in a minute.” I nudged her playfully. “Shut the fuck up.” “Alright ladies,” the announcer began. “Let’s get the hot seats going.” My smile widened. I knew what I was expecting. Since it was my birthday, the girls had talked me into purchasing a hot seat ticket. It promised me the opportunity to be on stage with all the strippers and be incorporated in one of their routines. I was aching for the action. The boys eventually all made their way to the side stage door and disappeared while the announcer set up two chairs onstage. “First, let’s have two of our birthday girls up here. Come on up, ladies.” He leaned over and pointed to me and another girl in the crowd, reading our names off a card from the DJ booth. A raven-haired girl with a glittering “It’s My Birthday” sash draped over her impressive chest stood and walked up to the stage with me. She sat nearest the stage door and I took the seat that leaned against the DJ booth. “Alright, birthday babes,” he continued. “Now let’s call your friends up here. The DJ is gonna start the song and they’re going to have thirty seconds to stuff you with dollar bills for our boys when they come back out. The only catch for them is that if they want to dance for your dollars, they have to remove every single bill- with. their. mouth.” At the emphasis, the crowd screamed and clapped their approval. Kayla, Charace, and Sarah raced up to me and took advantage of every crevice. “Let’s hope you get the blonde one,” Sarah laughed as she stuck a couple bills at the apex of my thighs by the fly of my jeans. I went to protest but Charace stuffed a second bill in my mouth. Kayla flashed me a devilish grin. “Now aren’t you glad that I talked you into wearing the hooch outfit?” She lifted part of the strap covering my chest and slipped the corner of a dollar out from under my bra, right beside my nipple. The anticipation of Zabdiel removing that with his mouth made my breathing quicken. “Five more seconds, girls,” the announcer called. Sarah laid a bill against the pulse point of my neck by my shoulder and helped the other two stuff a few more down my top. “Alright, time is up. Now let’s get your men out here. Come on out, Erick and Joel.” The lights went out completely and the DJ began blasting a sultry baseline. Joel directed his attention to the girl on the opposite side of the stage and Erick came towards me, straddling my waist and pistoning his hips. And yeah, it was fun to have him turn tricks with me. Particularly funny when he lifted my seat up off the ground to make his face parallel to my hips and jiggled me so the dollar bills fell from my chest to the floor below. I couldn’t help but be disappointed that my blonde wasn’t the one that was giving me special attention. My eyes rolled back in my head at the pleasurable thought. Erick smirked, assuming my involuntary moan was meant for him. “Gracias, sexy,” he chuckled through his thick accent as he set my chair down and retrieved one final dollar from between my legs. His light eyes smiled as he kissed my knuckles and walked down the aisle with me back to my seat. It was only then that I saw Zabdiel standing near the back bar, his eyes fixated on me as I moved. His amber stare traced my sashaying hips when I made my way back to my chair. I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. I had to be imagining this, though. He was getting paid to make me feel attracted to him. My mind was playing tricks on me to make me think that he was looking longer at me than the other girls. I felt his presence still behind me as Kayla handed me another drink. “That was so fucking hot. He is a fucking God.” “Wait ‘til you see what I do to her,” a voice murmured lowly behind us. Shudders shot up my spine when I turned and saw Zabdiel’s head over my shoulder.  He winked at me again. “Hey, beautiful. What’s your name?” I inhaled deeply to steady myself but all I got was a strong scent of his intoxicating cologne and I went weak, barely able to whisper it. I hadn’t even noticed that Richard had already started and finished a sexy fireman routine with two of the bachelorettes while my attention was elsewhere. He gave me a genuine smile back. “Perfect name for someone as gorgeous as you. Is today your actual birthday?” I nodded shakily. “Yeah.” He ran his index finger over the decals on my crown. “It’s My Birthday,” he read aloud. He then came over from behind me and straddled me. “I hope you enjoy it then,” he whispered hotly against the shell of my ear. The deep bass line of “Take You Down” by Chris Brown was now reverberating through the speakers, and following the sensual speed he began to dance against me. With the others I had been focused at looking at the abdominal muscles already in my line of vision. And yes, the rolling muscles of his stomach entranced me for a moment, and all I wanted to do was lick a rivulet of oil as it trickled down his abs. But then I looked up and was captivated by those eyes. His tongue ran over his bottom lip in concentration. Just seeing it almost gave me the sensation of it running over mine. He ground his hips into mine in slow circles and I could feel his thickness right between my thighs. He grabbed my wrists and placed one over his chest, the other behind his neck to pull him closer. I gasped at the feeling of his perfect body rolling into mine and could only imagine how it would feel if there were no layers of fabric between us. “You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered into my ear again, and I moaned more due to his words than his movements. This man was seducing me- mind, body, and soul. And of course, I was powerless. The drink had already taken away a lot of my control and what little remained I had willingly signed over to him. I tried to regain my breathing while still staring in his eyes, but couldn’t gasp to try. I couldn’t focus this kind of attention to him when I was sure he gave the same compliments to a girl the night before. The just-for-fun mentality had left me as my heartbeat increased. I didn’t know if it was the liquor in my brain or the butterflies in my stomach that made me silly looking at him. He was the antithesis of every man I had ever been attracted to and yet he was absolutely perfect. Not breaking eye contact once, he shifted the spiking of his hips and made me groan at the friction. He was smooth, slow, calculating, and erotic as he moved against me. My hands fell from his chest and neck and explored every contour of his back and side as he danced. It might have been the alcohol that sparked it, but a full-on inferno of desire was raging in the pit of my stomach. He crouched down so our eyes were level, never stopping the slow motions of his pelvis into mine, thrusting like he would if he were making love to me. Enraptured by his eyes, my drunken stupor pulled me closer to him like I would to kiss a lover. He flashed a cheesy grin, kissed the corner of my cheek right against my mouth, and slipped off of my lap to return to the stage. And we had both been so engaged in the dance that neither realized he’d failed to take even one dollar from me. Christopher, passing by, saw the corner of a single still poking out from my top that hadn’t fallen earlier. While my eyes were still on Zabdiel, his mouth latched onto my skin and he wiggled the dollar free with his tongue, rolling it against my nipple in the process. With Zabdiel still on my mind and feeling that stimulation, a jolt of sensation shot through me from my core to my toes. Christopher clasped Zabdiel’s hand in a low-five as they went back to the stage door again to prepare for their next act. “Alright, alright,” the announcer said, tilting his head back and showing his Colgate smile to the crowd. “Now I think it’s high time that we get our lovely hot seat ladies back up here. We’re going to have a little contest for a delicious prize.” Three bachelorettes, the other birthday girl, and I all stood on stage in front of the waiting crowd. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” he went on. “How many of you gorgeous ladies have had a man that can’t satisfy you and you’ve had to fake an orgasm?” I blushed furiously. Sure, I was an extroverted person, but I wasn’t going to volunteer every detail of my sexual escapades in front of all these people I didn’t know. My best friends knew about my past relationships and trysts, but to talk about it in front of all these strangers was something I just couldn’t do, despite how much I had to drink already. The skinny blonde bachelorette beside me, so intoxicated she could barely stand up, raised her hand high. “All the time! My fiance sucks in bed! Why am I getting married?” Everyone laughed good-naturedly, but the stomp of her foot showed me how serious she was. “Well,” the announcer bellowed over the giggles and hollers of ascent, “Tonight we need to see you showcase your skills. We are going to have these five babes show you their best fake orgasm. The winner is going to get a fantastic prize. Are you ready?” I paled. Was he fucking serious? I was definitely not drunk enough for this shit. The first bride-to-be, a short African American woman in a short white dress and a headband with penis-shaped antlers, stepped into the seat. The DJ kept “Bonafied Lovin’” by Chromeo low on the speakers as the announcer handed her the microphone. She raised her legs, shook like she was in the middle of a seizure, and shrieked like a banshee. It was obvious that she was trying to make a joke out of it to not produce the real thing. The announcer egged her on for thirty full seconds of that agony before her troop of thirty friends applauded her ending. I laughed but blushed nervously. She took one of the good jokes, and I needed to prepare myself about what I was going to do, how I was going to perform. I watched two strippers pop out from the side door and watch the girls on stage. Zabdiel had his arms crossed over his bare chest and gave a cocky smile to Richard, whispering a comment in his ear that earned a hearty chuckle from both. The girls were clucking amongst themselves, but I stayed where I stood, not able to take my eyes off of him. The raven-haired birthday girl took some coaxing to get center-stage. “You ready, sweetheart?” the announcer drawled in his smoothest tone. She shook her head nervously. “I’m just sitting here quiet. I’m saving for marriage so I have no practice in faking it.” The DJ laughed, turning his tables to switch the song to Madonna’s “Like a Virgin”. Zabdiel hooted and Richard clapped in earnest, which drew Christopher out from the back room to see what he missed. Some girls sighed in pity but others screamed encouragement. She giggled as she took the mic and narrated in a complete monotone, “Oh, baby. Yes. Yes. That’s it. Oh, yes. I’m gonna cum. Oh, fuck. Yes.” A friend from her section of the room stood up and mimicked the old woman from When Harry Met Sally. “I’ll have what she’s having.” Contestant number three, the rather large Latina woman, laid back in the chair and moaned softly for only about ten seconds. She stopped short and shouted, “Pendejo! That’s it? You gonna get off and not gimme none? Puto, you best put your mouth in work or some shit! You can’t handle this pussy.” She stood up and shook her ass in front of her row of a dozen friends. “I don’t fake that shit. He own it or he don’t!” The blonde bachelorette stumbled over to the chair and just giggled into the microphone. “I’m too drunk to have an orgasm. What is this?” The announcer clasped her shoulder. “Uh oh, I think she needs some assistance to get this going. How about we bring Richard out here?” Richard came out of the back room through a thick blanket from a fog machine and appeared on stage in the complete outfit of Channing Tatum from his solo dance in the film Magic Mike: a white wifebeater, a red snapback cap, gray sweatpants, and white Jordan shoes. The DJ turned up “Pony” by Ginuwine and Richard began doing the whole routine from the scene in the movie in front of her. Her gaze was so glassy that she was just looking right through him, uninterested as he started grinding into her. Rolling his eyes, he picked her up out of her chair and set her down amongst her friends. He danced his way out of the aisle and to the back door again. And then there was me. The announcer guided me to center-stage, and I was thankful that I couldn’t see the massive crowd of girls through the spotlights. The only thing I could see clearly were those stunning brown eyes from the dark corner of the room. “You ready to go, honey?” He went to grab my shoulder but his hand fell to my bra and he gave it an ‘accidental’ squeeze. “Damn, baby, are those real? They’re amazing.” My eyes linked again with Zabdiel’s and I smiled slyly. “Of course they are.” I wasn’t going to confess that my push-up bra probably added two cup sizes. Zabdiel leered at them hungrily. “Take the microphone and show us what you can do,” he murmured sweetly before moving to hand it to me. I shook my head. “I’m not doing this on my own. If she got some help, I say I should get a dance too.” The announcer shook his head in amusement and took the microphone back. “Richard? It seems like he’s still busy with Contestant number four. Why don’t we have Zabdiel dance with you?” “Con placer.” Zabdiel stepped forward, smirking at me with a devilish lust. I was lightheaded already from the alcohol, but got dizzier as he approached. Sitting in the stage seat, I was eye-level with his navel and watched his glistening skin. He got down on all fours, thrust his hips against the stage, rolling his body up over my legs, crawling towards me. I gulped, our stares fixated on each other as his hands skated over my thighs. He slithered up against my legs, kneeling in front of me and gripping onto my knees. Without warning, he spread my legs apart as far as he could, gripping my boots and wrapping my legs around his waist. I could hear the girls shouting encouragement to me, but in that moment no one else existed on earth, let alone in that room, but me and him. His face hit the top of my thighs and he moved his open mouth down, as if to envelop my sex if I weren’t wearing jeans. I had no hesitation of moaning aloud now, gripping the microphone tight in my fist. He grabbed the bottom and back of my chair, lifting my seat up in the air but tight against him. The crotch of my jeans ground against his with my legs tight around his hips. He wound his waist in seductive circles and gyrated his body against mine. He leaned his head against my shoulder and breathed against the goosebumps that were raised on my neck, “You’re so fucking beautiful. Scream like I were really making you cum. Imagine me making you cum, babe.” I bit my lip and I shut my eyes. I imagined us in my room, trying to pull his body impossibly closer. With each gyration against my jeans, I was picturing his thickness slamming into my tight sex, driving me further into oblivion. My groans crescendoed into screams when the friction of the fabric rubbed against my clit, sending electricity sparking through me and curling my toes in ecstasy. I could imagine gripping my fingers tightly through his blonde hair, riding his mouth, riding his dick, working us both further and further to the edge. My body arched against him when I came back from my fantasy, returning to the reality of the showroom with only us. The vision in front of me was gone but the pleasure hadn’t dissipated. It grew stronger and stronger, only for me to tremble against him. He set my chair back down and pulled me to stand only to turn me around and bend me over the seat in front of us. He worked his hips against my ass now, gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail in his hand to yank back. He lightly spanked me and thrust his thickness against me. I was so wet from his attentions that I was sure he could probably feel it through the material. I thought I felt him harden in response, but chided myself for my overactive drunken imagination. “Wow, what an actress,” chuckled the announcer as he took back the microphone. “But I think that Zabdiel wants to coax out a real one, don’t you think?” Zabdiel leaned over the mic and winked at me once more. “You have no idea.” He walked back to the dark corner with the rest of the guys and left us up there for judging. Voting with their screams of approval, the crowd gave first prize to the screaming banshee, considering her party of over thirty girls trumped only Sarah, Kayla, and Charace hollering for me. To my surprise, with their support I also heard a deep male voice from the corner shout for me. “Go, baby! Woo!” The spotlights were strong but I could still see those alluring eyes glittering at me. “Congratulations to Contestant number one,” the announcer revealed. “Now as your prize, pick the man of your choice to give you a private dance in the back booth behind that velvet curtain.” He wrapped his arm around her while she looked at the nearly naked men, now all standing in the gaze of a spotlight. “They say that booth is like Vegas. What happens in there stays in there.” She looked them over and smiled to herself. “Richard,” she decided, walking up to him, grabbing him by the elastic of his briefs, and leading him past the curtain. I let out the breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding. I didn’t want her to pick Zabdiel- I wanted more with him myself. It was childish and ridiculous, as he would have loved dancing for any woman that slipped money into his pants- that was his job. Our eyes met again and I knew I just didn’t want to give up the high that I was getting from this electricity. “Thank you for a wonderful night, girls. We hope you enjoyed the show,” the announcer declared. The boys in the corner blew kisses at the departing crowd. “Now, remember, it’s still early, ladies. So if you’d like to stay, the club is having an after-party.” I looked to my friends who all nodded. We weren’t calling it an early night on my birthday. A few of my friends who couldn’t make it in time for the show had made it to the club and already had drinks ready for me at the upstairs club level. My friend Nadia had just gotten off of work and changed before coming to the club with our friend Tasnia, and both were ready and waiting for me with a pitcher of Stoli Peach Vodka and pineapple juice and three straws for me to share with them “You fucking missed it!” Kayla screamed. “She was on stage with this gorgeous guy-” Nadia interrupted her. “They’re strippers. They’re all gorgeous guys.” Kayla took the shot that was waiting for her on the bar countertop but shook her head adamantly. “No, this guy was some sort of Greek God come to earth. Plus, he was eye-fucking the shit out of her the entire night.” Tasnia shrugged. “They’re strippers. They’re supposed to look like they’re eye-fucking you.” Sarah, inconspicuously hovering over my shoulder to sip from the pitcher’s straw,  piped up, “No, this was over the top. I should get the DJ to play ‘Birthday Sex’ to get the party going. Go find him downstairs.” Kayla interrupted. “Just get this birthday bitch drunk.” She shoved another pitcher at me with four straws and told me to sip. I had no idea what was in it but it was so strong that I knew I would be done in minutes. I was already the life of the party, but with some booze in my system and around my group of even wilder friends, I was dancing on the stage like I was working for tips. I sobered up enough as the night wound down, but I certainly had an eventful night. “No no no,” Kayla admonished. “It’s your birthday. You’re not allowed to sober up.” She dragged me over to the bar and ordered me another mixed drink. I don’t know how much more intoxicated she expected me to be without falling on the floor. A man standing next to me waved his arm past my vision to get the bartender’s attention. “The drink for the birthday girl- it’s on me.” I went to reject the offer, only to see that it was Zabdiel. He had washed off all traces of the slick body oil and was dressed in dark jeans and a loose black graphic t-shirt. The corner of his mouth drew up to show his pearly white smile and I would have melted where I stood if his arm hadn’t snaked around my back to hold me steady. “It is,” he muttered close to my ear, “your birthday after all. Nobody is allowed say ‘no’, not even you.” The bartender set the pink cocktail in front of me and Zabdiel began, “Put it on my tab if you-- what is this?” He picked up my drink and studied it, giving it back to the bartender. “Sex on the Beach? I don’t think so. Jose, give her a Blue Witch straight up. She’s got to do it right.” The bartender smiled at him knowingly and began mixing the new ordered concoction. I scoffed. “Something wrong with Sex on the Beach?” His eyes lowered and his voice grew low and sultry. “We’re not close enough to the ocean for that right now, but maybe some other night.” I flushed scarlet and he laughed. “No, it’s just too fruity and weak for a birthday drink. Today is special; you deserve a special drink.” He pulled my waist closer to his. In my haze, I thought that this was somehow more intimate than our earlier actions downstairs. “So now that the show is over, it’s time to drink with all the slutty girls that were drooling over you before?” Kayla joked, leaning over and looking at Richard to engage him in the conversation. Either the music was too loud to hear her or he was too busy still speaking to Christopher to notice. I had only seen then that all the performers from the earlier downstairs show were cleaned up, dressed, and nursing beers in the nearby corner of the bar. Zabdiel laughed it off. “The girls that come to the shows aren’t sluts. They’re like us- adventurous, easygoing, and like to have a good time. Just because you come to a male revue doesn’t mean that you’re sluts. You girls are classy and fun.” Sarah threw her head back and laughed. “You clearly don’t know us well enough yet.” He chuckled as his thumb played with the thin expanse of skin between the edge of my top and the hem of my jeans. “Why?” he questioned. “Do you get wild when you party?” Charace smirked. “You have no idea.” Christopher’s eyebrows peaked in intrigue and he slid closer to her. “Blue Witch straight up,” the bartender announced, handing me a martini glass that looked like dark magic. “What is this?” I asked him. His eyes just sparkled in answer. The bartender, proud of his creation, leaned over to me. “It’s Bacardi Dragonberry Rum, Blue Curacao, Creme de Banana, and lime juice with a rim of black sugar.” Zabdiel saw my hesitation. “It’s not a roofie martini, I promise,” he assured. “I’ll sip out of it first if you don’t believe me.” He leaned over, took a short gulp and licked his lips enticingly. Kayla giggled to herself and whispered on the other side of me, “He wouldn’t need a roofie to take you anyway. You’d spread your legs right now in the middle of the bar for this stud if he asked nice enough.” She wasn’t wrong. “Special drink for a special night out,” he murmured into my other ear, his lips grazing over the side of my cheek as he spoke. The bartender leaned over and motioned for Zabdiel’s attention. “You want one too, or what can I get you?” He shrugged. “Just another beer, Jose, thanks.” In a moment, he had another full bottle in front of him with three empty ones on the bar. In the smoke of the club I couldn’t read the label, but it smelled strong. I sipped off the top of the glass, licking off some of the sugar crystals in my wake. “So what is it, then?” I asked. “You just stand here at the bar all night watching all us girls?” Joel nodded. “Having a few beers and watching some fine girls dance on the floor all night? Sounds good to me.” The DJ shouted into his microphone, “This is dedicated from Sarah to her birthday babe! Happy Birthday, baby girl! Let’s get it!” With a scratch of his records, “Birthday Cake” by Rihanna started playing out of every speaker. Like the innuendo of the song, my thoughts immediately went to Zabdiel on his knees, twisting his tongue expertly around my pussy. I nearly dug my fingernails into his skin with raw desire. I had to have him. Now. I grabbed the collar of Zabdiel’s shirt and pulled him down to my level. “Well, you were dancing all night. Why stop now?” His eyes flickered with anxious amusement. “What?” I wrapped both arms around his neck down, “Dance with me. Like you said, it’s my birthday. Nobody is allowed to say no, not even you.” His smile glowed in the strobe lights as he let me lead him into the middle of the floor to dance. Kayla finally ensnared Christopher and was pulling him to the floor. Joel was gently tugging Sarah by her wrist to follow and Richard had convinced Charace to dance with us. Erick was persuading both Nadia and Tasnia to abandon their drinks and dance with him sandwiched between them. Zabdiel put his hands on my waist when we got to the center of the dance floor. The smog machine above engulfed both of us in a haze and separated us from everyone else. In the pants he was now wearing, I could feel the thickness of him as he wound his waist into me from behind. He still moved with the same finesse and sensuality as before, rolling his shoulders back and his torso around until his hips worked into mine. I curved my body against him, his taut chest against my back, shaking my bottom to the beat. He grunted hungrily in my ear, his mouth hovering over the curve of my shoulder. Our combined heartbeats hit in time with the rhythm of the new song. We could have lost ourselves in the music, the liquor, and the mist on the dance floor for mere minutes or hours. Our bodies fit together perfectly like we were molded to fit the other. Time slowed with our mouths just centimeters away from each other, or maybe we just slowed to an almost stop in our intoxicated daze. My perfume and his cologne melted together in the heated air between us. It was heavenly, but I could barely gasp for air. The lights began flashing and the DJ rang an airhorn alarm. “Alright, guys, that’s our night. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” Sarah tapped my shoulder, albeit reluctantly. I was sure she didn’t want to interfere between me and my handsome dance partner. “Come on. I have to drive you home. Where are your keys?” I had to think a while before the rum let me remember what I had done with them. “In my right jacket pocket.” She went to move like I would follow her out to the car. Zabdiel held up a finger for Sarah to wait. “Just a minute? The birthday girl should get one last shot.” Sarah hesitated but nodded in assent and went to grab our checked coats to give me another moment with him. Zabdiel tugged me by the wrist to the bar and talked his bartender friend, who had pretty much already closed up, into pouring the two of us shots. Irish Doctor’s Kiss. A single shot of Dr. McGillicuddy’s Peppermint Schnapps and a chocolate Hershey’s kiss to follow. “It’s like a York Peppermint Patty in a shot to finish off the night right. It will freshen you up to head home,” he offered. The sharp smell of mint shook me slightly from the drunken smog that filled my mind. We raised our shot glasses and clinked them together in salute. “To you, bonita,” he said softly before tipping it back at once. It took me a while to even think about taking the drink because I was so fascinated watching him: his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, the inches of creamy flesh down his throat that I was aching to taste, the small flicker of his tongue over his lower lip to catch a stray drop. I eventually followed suit and felt the liquor slide down my throat and warm me from the inside out. “And now the kiss,” he continued. I went to unwrap the candy on the counter but he stopped my hand. Gasping, I thought this my fantasy coming to life. He really wasn’t going to kiss me right now, was he? He clasped my right cheek firmly in his hand, pressing his lips to the place where the corner of my mouth met my cheek, sending shocks through my skin. He inhaled sharply when he pulled away and I knew that the shock pulsing through my veins were thrumming through his as well. Cutting the tense air between us, he popped the chocolate drop in my agape mouth. His sensual smirk was gone and a genuine smile was plastered across his face, but it was still followed by his signature wink. “There, beautiful,” he breathed across my skin. He caressed my cheek once more and made a move like he was about to plant a full kiss on me but thought better of it and backed up again. “Happy Birthday.”

#cnco imagines #cnco imagine #cnco fanfiction #cnco fanfic

[wenotaboutlove]

prom night

To start this blog I thought I should start with my earliest memory. This is a sweet yet cringy one, so buckle up!

Prom. A night to remember. Throughout high school I always imagined myself going to senior prom with a hot guy and loosing my virginity to him. Tale as old as time. For me that boy was Sean. Sean was very out of my league. Tall, smart, quiet, popular, athletic, and oh so hot. I only ever spoke to him thrice, but when I did my heart would skip a beat. He had a nonchalance about him, a je ne sais quoi. For some reason I held on to the hope of him asking me to prom. Spoiler alert, he didn’t ask me. No one officially asked me, actually. Instead I “went” to prom with a friend of a guy who wanted to go to prom  with my best friend. I say “went” because we didn’t arrive together, there was no corsage, no limo, nada! We met up at prom and had awkward conversation. Plus there was another girl, a lower classmen, who was continuously flirting with him. I let her have him- I later heard she gave him head at an after party. So Jeremiah, if you’re reading this, you’re welcome. 

During the dance I was actually invested on another guy who was also named Sean. I was hoping he would notice me but he didn’t. My friend and I decided to leave the dance and head to an after party. At that point I was feeling the prom night blues. I didn’t have an actual date. No guy was dying to dance with me. My friends were lame and didn’t want to throw that ass in a circle. Not to mention my makeup lady did me dirty and I looked a hot mess. But it was alright because there was still an after party. My friend and I hopped on an uber and we were on our way! 

I’d like to start by saying we didn’t know whose house we were going to. A friend of a friend sent us the flyer to the party. The uber ride took a shockingly long time. We went from Buckhead to Bankhead real quick. When we arrived we were confused. There were about 10 people there. We thought maybe we had the wrong house. We decided we would give it 20 minutes. If more people didn’t arrive then we would leave.

Thankfully people did start to arrive. We didn’t recognize any of them but hey, it was starting to get lit. Being the social anxiety lil bitch I am, I was a wallflower. I will say i do regret not dancing my ass off, because if I were dancing none of the shit I’m about to tell y’all would’ve happened. 

A group of Hispanic boys are standing and talking next to me. And let me just paint y’all a picture. There I am, full face of cakey makeup, sitting on the floor, wearing my friends tshirt with no bra because apparantley you’re supposed to pack an after party outfit. All of a sudden one of the guys comes up to me and says “ You tryna fuck with my friend?”. Although I was flattered for being considered I politely declined. Eventually two of the boys and I start sparking an actual converstion. I ask if they were coming from their school prom and they said yes. I’ll admit I thought one of them was pretty cute.

Now before we go any further I need to tell ya’ll something about me and Hispanic boys, more specifically Mexican boys. I don’t date them. I will date anyone else but Mexican boys. Before ya’ll call me racist let me explain. I’m Mexican, and I mean I was born in Mexico and had to cross the goddamn border. I don’t go for fellow beaners because they all either look like my brother or my cousins or my uncles. It makes me uncomfortable. Plus, for the most part, Mexican guys are not my style. They’re all so cheesy and corny, it grosses me out. So there. 

Anyways, of course the boy that I was somewhat interested in didn’t really pay attention to me, but his less cute friend did. By that point I was willing to take what I could get. His name was Patrick. Odd name considering he had “el nopal en la frente”. So there we were. Patrick and I being wallflowers at this random after party. I was tipsy at that point after eating some alcohol laced gummies- yes those are a thing. We talked and talked. Well, I talked and talked. I think I told this guy my whole life story. It was getting late and I was thinking “ is this it? Am I going to have sex with him?”. I thought it over and decided that I wouldn’t. He asked to kiss me and I just felt gross, my makeup was droopy, I felt very gutter slut. I said no to the kiss. 

I will say he was a very sweet guy. When I got cold he put his jacket over me. He walked me to the car when my friend’s mom came to pick us up. I caved and gave him my snap. On the car ride I did feel a little gitty. Someone out there liked me, even if I wasn’t too crazy about him. I felt like a teen. All throughout high school no boy had ever showed interest in me. I had never felt wanted. With him I could tell he got butterflies around me. It felt nice. 

The next day at school I was more than excited to tell my girlfriends about my “crazy” night. They were so happy for me. I had finally found a guy that liked me, I was finally validated. My friend told me that he asked her if “my baby had gotten home ok”. He called me his “baby”! I had many thoughts rushing through my head. “Is he going to be my first boyfriend?’”, “do I actually like him or the idea of having a bf?”, “I don’t care, I’ll finally have a bf!”. 

We texted back and forth. I can’t quite remember what we actually talked about but it was nice to have someone to text. Then one day I get a text that says “I have to tell you something”, not sure why but I automatically knew what he was going to say. It all clicked, he’s not 18. I never asked his age, I just assumed he was 17 or 18. He then says “ I’m not 18, I’m 16″. Massive yuck! Any maniscual feeling I had for this boy went out the window. I have a thing where I can not date anyone younger than me, even if they’re just one year younger. I instantly see them as a fetus. I told him it was ok, we could remain friends. He goes on to say that we should still go out. I informed him that it would technically be ilegal, considering I was almost 18 at the time. He was presistant. He said no one needed to know. Umm hecky no, I was not trying to catch a case, especially since I barely even liked the guy!

He did not care. He then proceeds to drop the L word. The freakin L word! I told him it is impossible for him to be in love with me, he didn’t even know me! We had only known each other for about four days at this point! He goes on to say it was “love at first sight”. I came to the realization that he was just a boy of 16. He had no experience. He didn’t know what love is. He was just eager to find someone, a complete stranger. Someone to try and make him feel nice, wanted. I sympathized with him. I agreed to a date.

Now, this date wasn’t for us to further our “relationship”. It was to make him see that he didn’t love me. We are completely different. I saw this date as an oppurtunity to let him down and teach him a few things. 

Lessons on my agenda:

-Veganism. How it can aid in global warming and sustainability

-The crisis in Venezuela. Most people are dying of hunger

-Gun violence

Yes, I did indeed talk about these and only these topics. And of course he was more interested in getting to know me but that wasn’t going to happen. We had decided to meet at a cupcake shop and I strategically got there early and bought myself a cupcake. Prior to that he had mentioned how he wanted to pay because “that’s what gentlemen do”. I guess he wanted to show me that chivalry wasn’t dead. But the awkwardness was alive and well. The whole time he could barely look at me. I could tell he was nervous. I didn’t make it easy on him considering the fact I dressed in the cutest little outfit, I wanted to really make it hard on him. I saw it as an opportunity for him to really grow. We walked for a while and he was bold enough to make a move. He very swiftly grabbed my hand and I very swiflty snatched it away. The date came to an end shortly after that. My parents came to pick me up. My mom always remembers him and ask when I’ll see him again, even after years. After that I made it clear to him that I was never going to date him. Seems harsh but I knew I would never come around to like him. Our texts became dry. Until eventually we stopped talking. 

I still think of him fondly. The first guy I ever went on a date with. His curly hair. His bashfulness. His Irish name. Patrick, thank you for starting my dating career, even if you were underage. 

[chubbychasershortstories]

Early Lessons - Chapters 5, 6 & 7

Chapter 5: Linda, John and Butch

There was a sweet girl about my age working at BK at that time named Linda. She always seemed to smile through the grueling work and I had no idea how she managed it. I worked really hard, but I wasn’t particularly happy while doing it.

We ended a dinner shift together at 10pm and as we left, we headed down the same street. I offered to escort her home as we didn’t live in the safest of neighborhoods. She accepted, thanking me, and asked me in when we made it to her apartment.

We chatted and got to know each other better while sipping on sodas. She was a very warm and caring person. I suddenly had a strange urge and just blurted it out, “I’m gay.” I had never admitted this to anyone I wasn’t in love with. Her response was, “Wow, I’ve never had a gay friend before.” She called me a friend on our first meeting and it felt great. She seemed totally intrigued and asked me questions I hadn’t even considered and couldn’t really answer, given my limited experience.

She opened up to me too and told me she was almost 18 now and had been kicked out of her home for dating someone her parents disapproved of vehemently. The two were married in a civil ceremony 2 months later and shared this apartment. He worked construction on a 10 days out - 4 days in schedule. I really liked John when we met and the three of us would party together and shoot pool at a nearby hall.

Linda had already explained to John that she had a gay friend now and he took it in stride and never made any untoward comments about it. I really respected him for that. We were in Texas after all. The second time we met, John gave me a hug when he got home right after giving Linda a hug and a kiss. He thanked me for being a good friend to Linda. He said he felt better about leaving her alone knowing I would be there for her. It felt really good to have close friends from whom I didn’t need to hide anything about myself. It felt very liberating.

I soon met Linda’s ‘lover on the side’, Butch. He was a reform school kid about our age. He had a very lanky build, weighing barely more than I. He had reform school tattoos that looked horrible and a peculiar haircut with the straight bangs cut at an angle across his face, high to low. He was an exhibitionist as well and I ended up watching him plow Linda with his massive cock on the day we met. Massive didn’t cover it. His cock looked to be 14 inches in length and as thick as a can of beer. I’m not exaggerating. Linda had her head thrown back in a rapturous pose. Butch kept looking back at my awed expression and looked quite pleased with himself at my stunned reaction. Afterward, he would often come by my garage apartment on his own to chat and party and we had a decent friendship of our own going.

John’s current work project finished before the 10-day mark. He arrived home at mid-day unexpectedly and heard a huge commotion in the bedroom. Butch had barely scrambled out the 2nd story window leaving the screen in tatters. John pressed Linda for what was going on and why the window had no screen left.

I heard a knock on my door. It was John with Linda in tow. She was staring at the ground. “Did you just jump out of my bedroom window?” he asked, incredulously. Linda had fumbled for her explanation on his return and resorted to accusing me since John knew I would not have been screwing her behind his back. She really didn’t want to admit to the truth.

I answered, “No?” wondering where the question would have come from. Then the pieces fell into place in my mind. “You LIED to me!” he directed at Linda as she started to cry. “Who WAS it?!?”

I asked them to come inside and talk about it. I don’t know where I found the “wisdom” having no experience, but I sat them down and walked through having them explain what their needs and expectations were. I told them I could feel that they belonged together and that they should work on accommodating each other’s needs to make their marriage work. Otherwise, one or both of them would be suffering until they would inevitably have to break it off. They agreed and worked out a new set of boundaries that they could both accept so that they could remain together in a more honest arrangement. They both hugged me hard and thanked me before leaving for home, hand in hand. Who would have thought that an inexperienced, gay 16-year-old could be a successful marriage counselor?

Chapter 6: The Descent

At work, I continued to outpace every other worker with at least twice the production. I learned my work ethic with my first job at age 5 reclaiming salvaged bricks from demolitions with a hand hatchet and huge screwdriver for a penny a brick.

I had been closing on the weekends for 3 years now. I always hustled while others plodded overnight. I was a smoker and really needed at least a drag or two but wasn’t going to ask for a break. So, I had my smoke in my mouth and lighter in hand as I hustled out the back door with another full trash bin on wheels, headed towards the dumpster in the back of the parking lot. Without missing a beat, I lit the cigarette and enjoyed a partial smoke while quickly dumping the trash and bouncing back. I stomped the smoke out in stride as I hit the back door buzzer.

The closing manager was a tall, skinny Hispanic guy who really didn’t like me for some reason. I think it was straight up racism, but I had tolerated his “white boy” comments and extra assignments without protest. He called me into the tiny back office as soon as I cleared the door. “There was a District Manager parked down the block and he saw you smoking and told me I needed to fire you right now.”

It was 3:30am and I knew he was lying and that he had seen me go out prepped for my partial smoke and was just using the situation to harass me again.

“I know you’re a fucking liar, but here, let me save you the trouble.” I spit my words and pulled my dorky BK uniform off in one motion and threw it into his chest and left. I had another kitchen job in 2 days. Unfortunately, they failed to let me know it was only seasonal and would end with the University’s home-game football season. To my complete surprise, I was laid off in mid-December. This time the job market sucked and no one was hiring. I was set to lose my lease on New Year’s Day.

Chapter 7: Rock Bottom with Butch and Richard

When I let Butch know I was unemployed and about to be homeless, he talked with his roommate and benefactor Richard. Richard decided to take me in, as he had Butch, although neither of us had any resources. He said it would be fine. He laughed and told me I could ‘sing for my supper’ and sleep on the couch. He liked my jokes and loved to hear me play and sing. Richard was very average looking and about 23 years old, I believe.

I was wondering how he could be so generous on his meager salary as an electronics assembler at the Texas Instruments plant. He arrived home on the afternoon of our first Friday as a household grinning like the Cheshire Cat holding his $120.00 weekly paycheck. How could he be so pumped to be holding a weekly check that only covered a third of the rent on his 2-bedroom apartment? I soon found out.

“Come on!” he shouted on the way to his old beater of a car. We piled in and drove by the bank to cash his check then on to his “connection’s” place. With $100.00, he purchased 20 ¼ gram packets of what I later learned was some of the purest crystal meth to hit the city in ages. They called it ‘Crank’. I was clueless but didn’t let on. We sped over to Party A and quickly unloaded the stash for $200.00. We repeated the process, doubling up leaving Party A with $400.00. Back we went to purchase twice the volume then and headed to Party B. $800.00, then $1600.00. I couldn’t believe what I was a part of. I had seen the stuff being snorted at Party A, but at Party B the product seemed to disappear into a back room where the door was always kept closed. I found out later that the users in the backroom at Party B were injecting the stuff. 7 of the IV users migrated to Richard’s apartment to continue the action. I had been given lots to drink and smoke at these parties and was fairly well lit when we got home around 1am.

There was a guy that I was attracted to among the 7 tagalongs. Feeling very uninhibited, I was deep in conversation with him when Butch moved into my side with his back to me while grabbing my right arm off the back of the couch securing it out of my sight in front of him. I tried to finish a thought I was expressing to the cute chubby guy when I felt a sting at the crease of my elbow. Butch held my arm tightly so I couldn’t move. Without my knowledge or consent, Butch and Richard had just mainlined me with 5 of the individual user packets worth of the stuff prepped for a syringe, 1.25 grams. This was apparently my “cut” of the action, along with $50.00 cash.

Before I could get an explanation, the solution pumped through my heart and up to my brain. It felt like being strapped to a rocket. I could feel my rapid, pounding pulse at my temples, ears and neck. After maybe 15 minutes, the initial rush was replaced by a complete sense of euphoria that lasted the majority of 2 days before subsiding. Day 3 was HELL. Every cell in my body ached and yearned. I was grateful that the supply was exhausted or I would have begged, borrowed or stolen for another dose to regain the euphoric effect.

Butch and I were home alone having not slept or eaten yet on Monday, Day 3. That’s when I found out that Butch was Bi. He asked if I would have sex with him. He told me he had wanted to ever since his exhibition show with Linda. He had helped me out of a tight jam and I felt obligated but uninspired as I agreed to try. I warned him there was no way I could take it like Linda had. He assured me he didn’t expect that. Surprisingly, he wanted me to screw him. Try as I might, I couldn’t get my equipment to function for him in my compromised and unenthused state and he settled for a combination BJ and two-handed jerk. I could barely get the head of it in my mouth while guarding my teeth. The experience made me feel hollow inside. I vowed to never have that sort of sex again. Neither Butch nor Richard were my type and I figured they’d expect me to pay for my room and board by having sex with at least one if not both of them. I knew I couldn’t continue down this road. Staying with Butch and Richard would turn me into a meth addicted sex toy.

Stay tuned. More to come.

[lwilson]

our last ride in the bread truck

I remember the rain. It was coming down in silver sheets. It was September 16th, my sister’s birthday and the day I was scheduled to report to basic training. I emerged from my bedroom in the basement with a heavy heart. The news of Ramone’s suicide hung heavy on me. It had been a few weeks since Alan and I had learned of Ramone’s death and I hadn’t slept very well since.

I walked across the kitchen to the dining room. I sat my travel bags on the floor next to the table and walk across the room to my father who was standing in the front of our open front door listening to the rain. My parent’s house was quiet as time on a monument except for the faint sounds of my mother’s sniffles coming from my parent’s bedroom.  It was early, I don’t remember exactly how early, but it was still dark and cool outside.

“ It’s coming down out there this morning,” my father said as I walked up beside him.

“It’s pouring,” I said.

“You got everything,” he asked without looking at me.

“I think so,” I said turning to look at his profile.

“Better check before you go.”

“ I will.”

My father had been in the Air Force and had fought during the Korean war. An experience he rarely spoke of. He was old school, he believed action spoke much louder than words. My father was a quiet man. Stoic, yet approachable. He was not the type of man who went around tossing out I love you’s like they were confetti, but if you were family you knew that you were loved. He was strong, smart, and the most patient person I have ever known. My father was a straight shooter, a guy who as far as I knew always walked on the right side of the line in life. When I was a kid, I wanted to be my father. In many ways I still do.

The economy in the 1980s, the Ronald Reagan era economy was garbage, and finding a decent paying job was hard to come by, but trouble, not so much. You didn’t have to look too long or too hard to find trouble. Because trouble was always lurking in the shadows, hanging out at all the popular hot spots, if you called, trouble would be more than happy to show himself in the form of drugs, alcohol, frustration, and anger before exploding from the shadows. Fuel by the newest and most devastating drug of them all, crack cocaine.

A destroyer of lives, past, present, and in some horrible cases future. The Reagan administration’s reaction, a real quippy new slogan “Just say no,” and legislation that unduly targeted minorities and destroyed families for generations. The effects of crack on the scene were immediate and devastating. As I look back now, I can see that this is where Alan and my views on social and perhaps racial issues were beginning to diverge for the first time. This change also coincides with us moving into young adulthood. Alan and I disagreed over the drug sentences being handed down to minorities as compared to their white counterparts.

Alan thought that people selling drugs should have the book thrown at them. I agreed if it were the same size book. Black and Hispanic offenders were getting harsher sentences than white offenders for almost the exact same crime. Friends of ours that we had grown up with were going down. We were seeing it first hand. Fat Rich Martinez, got caught selling dope and caught a hand full of years, his brother Jumbo went the same way, Flip and Solman went the same way and got sent up, Donny, a white kid in their crew got probation. Alan couldn’t see the glaring difference, I did.

“Donny wasn’t selling crack,” Alan said.

“Cocaine is cocaine, rather it’s rock or powder. They should have all gotten the same amount of time.”

“The sentences had nothing to do with race. Maybe Donny’s parents got him a better lawyer?”

“He had a state-appointed lawyer like the rest of them,” I said.

“Still, I just don’t believe that it had nothing to do with race.”

It’s funny how two people can look at the same thing, yet see something totally different. The differences in the Americas we both lived in was beginning to emerge.

*****

My father understood why I had to leave. He may not have liked it, but he understood it. My mother on the other hand, was hurt and angry and didn’t care to understand. My mother was in her and my dad’s bedroom. She wouldn’t come out. I had joined the Army against her wishes, and I was leaving again, and she wasn’t too happy about it. I had to go. For my own sanity, I had to go.  I had just return unceremoniously from California where I had gone to play football, but health issues,  undiagnosed asthma, put my dreams of playing in the NFL on the rack. So, back I came to Detroit, angry, dejected, and bitter at what I saw as limited options.

Alan offered to get me a job at C.Q. the laundry company he was working, but I turned him down flat. It was a dead-end job and I wanted more.

“It’s good enough for me, but not good enough for you,” Alan said bitterly after I turned him down.

“ It’s not that,” I said regretting not finding a more subtle way of turning him down.

“So what, the rackets. You saw what happened to Jumbo and those guys.”

“ I’m going into the Army,” I said. Thinking back to the shocked expression on his face still makes me smile. My girlfriend, the woman that would later become my wife had just moved to Florida, her mother’s job had been transferred to Jacksonville so nothing was keeping me in Michigan. I wanted to marry her and the Army was my way of providing us with a tangible future.

“She’ll be alright,” my dad said in his calm soothing way referring to sniffles coming from their closed bedroom door. The guilt I felt was overwhelming.

“ I have to go, ” I said with my voice quivering with emotion. He turned to me and smiled. It was a small intimate smile; one he had never given me before or since.

“ I know you do,” He put his hand on my shoulder as he spoke, “It will be good for you. Get you out of here. You go see the world.” He let his hand drop from my shoulder and stuffed it into his front pocket and turned back toward the door and looked out at the pouring rain.

“Thanks, dad.” I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go into the Army, but what I was sure of was this, I had to go. If I wanted any chance at a decent future I had to go. As I sit here now writing this, I remember standing with him in that doorway listening to the rain slapping down on the sidewalk in front of our house on Promenade Street. I remember staring at his unflinching profile wondering what he was thinking about. I wondered if I was what he had imagined his only son would be like. Was he proud of the man that I was becoming? I wondered if he ever saw parts of himself in me. I don’t know. I’ll never know.

My father died a few years ago while I was in Florida.  We would speak on the phone, not as often as I would have liked. My dad was never much for talking on the phone. When I called my mother would always answer the phone. She would ask how I was, then ask after Carmen my wife, then our son Jamie, she would ask if I would like to speak to my father as if I would ever say no.

“Hey,” he would say. My dad had a rich baritone voice, “How’s everything?”

“Good dad, we’re all doing fine.” I would say happy to be talking to him.

“How’s the wife and baby?”

“They’re fine, Jay’s getting big.”

“ I bet he is. Is he taller than you yet?”

“Not yet, almost though, did you watched the Lion’s Sunday dad?” I’d ask referring to the Detroit Lions.

“Them old Lion’s,” he would say with a chuckle, “they have to win eventually, right? we would both laugh.

“ Alright then,” he would say still chuckling. “ I got nothing else to say, here’s your mother.”

“Alright, dad,”

“Okay then,” and he would give my mother the phone.

           My dad and I stood in the doorway watching as the headlights turned into our driveway splashing light across the front of the house and us. Dad looked at me.

           “You got any money,” he asked seriously. I nodded.

           “I do. I have a couple of hundred dollars.”

           He reached in his pocket and tried to hand me some more money.

“No, Dad. I’m good. This should be enough,” he shook his head.

“You never know,” he said, “Just take it. Put my mind at ease.” He pulled three hundred dollars out of his pocket.

“Seriously, dad, I’m good.”

“ I know that you are, but for me. Put your mother’s mind at ease.” He handed it to me. I reluctantly took the money and stuffed it into my front pocket.

“Thanks,” I looked toward the closed bedroom door. My dad put a hand on my shoulder.

“ Don’t worry about her. She’ll be alright. Go on,” he motioned toward the front door, “let your friend in.” I walked over to the front door in time to see Alan getting out of the car, hunched over running across our side lawn to the porch. I could hear the slushy sounds of his feet on the wet grass. He ran up on the porch soaking wet and breathing heavily. He looked like a soaked poodle wearing a blond helmet.

“It’s raining,” I joked.

“Funny,” he said stomping his feet and shaking off the rain. I opened the screen door and Alan entered our house. The house was dimly lit with only the light from the kitchen and a small lamp on a side table.

“Want some coffee,” I asked as I moved toward my parent’s bedroom which was just down the hall. Alan had already grabbed a cup and was pouring coffee when I asked.

“Thanks,” he lifted the cup in my direction. He knew where we kept things. He had been coming here since he was a kid. He was virtually part of the family.

“Where’s mom,” he asked. I nodded toward the bedroom and shrugged.

“Oh,” he said. There was no need for me to say more.

“I’ll be back,” I said and walked down the hall toward my parent’s bedroom.

“Thelma,” my dad called to my mother as I walked toward the bedroom door, “ Come on out now, the boys getting ready to go.”  I walked over to the bedroom door and stood next to my father.

“Mom, I’m getting ready to go now. Alan’s here.”

“So, you are going to leave after all?” The muffled disbelieving voice came through the door.

“ I have to. I’ll get in trouble if I don’t.” I stood there waiting for the door to open, but it didn’t.

“Fine then, go.” I backed away from the door heartbroken. My dad followed me back into the dining room.

           “Hey Dad,” Alan said to my dad and quickly shook his hand, “Can you believe this one,” he motioned toward me, “He’s in the Army now, god protect us all.” We all laughed as I gathered my bags and made my way toward the door. I shook my father’s hand. I wanted to hug him, but I’m not sure how he would have felt about something like that, so I shook his hand, and off Alan and I went. As we backed out of the driveway and turned onto the street, I could see my mother in the door watching us. I waved and she waved back as we pulled away.

*****

Alan and I rode in silence for a long while each lost in his own thoughts. We had been here before. Our friendship put to the test by time and distance. The first came when my family left the old neighborhood first. In the back of my mind and I believe in the back of Alan’s to we thought this might be it, but it wasn’t. Here we are again almost ten years later facing the same threat and once again we came through it. Neither of us could have imagined the threat Donald Trump would pose to our friendship almost thirty years later.

“You really going to go through with this,” Alan asked referring to my decision to join the Army.

“ I have to now. I’m already signed up.”

“Shit, instead of going to Metro (the airport) we could cross the bridge and before you know it you’re in Windsor.”

“I ain’t running to Canada,”

“Why not?”

“Because I already signed up. They’ll come looking for me.”

“Whose gonna come looking for you?”

“Uncle Sam,”

“Uncle…and who in the hell is that?”

“I don’t know, the F.B.I. or some shit,”

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for you if you don’t show up.” Alan and I rode in silence for a while then he said in a low raspy whisper.

“ I can’t believe he did that.”

“What,” I asked.

“ Ramone, I can’t believe he killed himself.”

“ Yeah,” I said looking out the window, “ It’s pretty horrible.”

“ I thought he was stronger than that,” Alan said glancing at me.

“Sometimes the weight is just too much to bear”

“We all got our problems, you be a man and deal with them, that’s how we were raised, right?” I nodded.

“You don’t take the easy way out.”

“How do you know it was the easy way out?”

Alan looked at me confused.

“You think walking into ongoing traffic was easy, I sure in the hell don’t.”

“Must have been easier than facing his problems like a man.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The atmosphere was radioactive in the car. We rode in silence for the rest of the way to the airport with our friendship teetering on the narrow head of a pin. I remember thinking,

“Ramone is gone, and I don’t know who this asshole sitting next to me is. Maybe it’s time to cut ties with everything and everyone from my past and start fresh. If I were going to do it, now was the time. Yeah, now is the time.” I sat back and looked out the window and watched as Chene street slid by us. Every now and again I would catch Alan stealing a glimpse of me from the corner of his eye.

“FMB bakery,” he said grinning as we passed an old  abandoned building, “We had some good times up on that roof.” I smiled and let my head swivel in the direction of the building as we passed. Alan was right, as kids, we had some great times there. When we were kids our friend Billy and his mother Lexie, and his sister Lucy lived over the bakery and Billy’s mother Lexie worked as a delivery driver for the bakery. Billy’s family was from Kentucky, and I remember one of the first things he told me when I met him was that his mother Lexie was a former Playboy model, she wasn’t, but at the time Alan and I believed him. She looked like she could have been one honestly.

Billy was in our 5th-grade class even though he was a year older than the rest of us, he had Mrs. Drum the year before us and failed and he had to repeat her class. Ramone and Billy never became friends, but Alan and I became good friends with him and would often spend the weekends over his house partly because he was a fun guy, and partly to ogle his super attractive mom who liked to walk around in Daisy Duke shorts or bikini bottoms and a tee-shirt on her days off.

We never had so much freedom, as we did when we spent our weekend nights over Billy’s house. His mother would buy us a case of Pepsi and pizza and basically leave us to our own devices. Our nights were spent staying up super late listening to music, our favorites in case you were wondering were “Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting, by Carl Douglas, Shadow Dancing by Andy Gibbs, and Saturday Night Fever by his brothers, The Bee Gee’s,” and talking about girls in our classroom, Franchesca, in particular. We all had it bad for Franny. A golden brown girl with dark limpid eyes, thick black hair, a small upturned nose, and pouty blushed lips. The product of a white father and a black mother Franchesca looked about as exotic as her name sounded to us all at the time. When we weren’t pining over Franchesca we were leafing through the mountains of playboy magazines that Billy’s mom’s married boyfriend Richard had gotten for him. We couldn’t believe the stack of dirty mags he had and his mother didn’t seem to mind, and we certainly didn’t.

My parents nor Alan’s parents never knew about the dirty magazines, Daisy Duke shorts, or bikini bottoms or we would have never been allowed to stay over. On those clear summer nights, when Billy’s mother went on her deliveries, his sister Lucy and her boyfriend Otis crept off to her bedroom for the night Billy would always want to go and play one of our favorite games, “Stump the Drunk”.

“Come on guys,” he would say in his easy Kentucky drawl. Alan and I would look at each other and off we would go scurrying out of Billy’s bedroom window onto his rooftop. We would duck low and move quickly past Lucy’s bedroom window and over to the edge of the building. There was a high brick wall, a rampart of sorts, it was high enough to hide us from sight, but low enough for us to see clearly out across the main road.  We would then hustle about on the rooftop gathering small rocks and pebbles to throw.

Then like clockwork starting at around 1:45 in the morning men and women would begin to wobble arm in arm out of  “Max’s Lounge”, a glorified hole in the wall on the corner of Chene and Fredrick street. Giggling women in form-fitting shimmering dresses clinging to the arms of fidgeting men of all shapes, sizes, and colors, all dressed in variations of the polyester white suit that John Travolta wore in “Saturday Night Fever.” The hunched couples would stagger across the wide blacktop to their waiting LTD’s, Lincoln continentals, and Cadillacs. As they crossed we would pop up like Jack in the boxes and start chucking our rocks at them, not to hit them, we never wanted to do that. We just wanted to freak them out, and we did do that.

They would freeze like deer paralyzed in the road by approaching high beams. Brains locked, watching as the lights grew wider and brighter until something becomes nothing but a twitching stain dying on a lonely road. For our staggering friends, it was nothing quite that dramatic. Our deer would stand swaying in the middle of the road looking around bewildered and afraid as invisible objects clunked down near them. Some would stand for a moment before the brain snapped back to life and off they would dart back across the street to the safety of the lounge, others defiantly waved their fist into the night sky cursing and daring us to show ourselves, still, others stood as still as rocks in the road half-drunk looking glassy-eyed and uncomprehending.

“ Look at them,” we would all laugh pointing and throwing rocks until we ran out of them. When the last of the rocks were thrown, high and arching invisible in the black sky before falling to earth like a tiny meteor we would turn and scurry off belly laughing until the one night we heard a scream that stopped us in our tracks. We all looked at each other our smiles fading, our eyes wide and afraid. We slowly crept back over to the wall in time to see a young woman holding her head being helped back across the street. Blood was streaming down her face. People were pouring from the bar looking up and pointing in every direction.

My heart was pounding so hard in my narrow chest I thought I might pass out. Alan was as pale as a sheet of paper, his brilliant blue eyes danced wildly back and forth between Billy and me. Billy, on the other hand, seemed as calm as if nothing had happened.

“Come on,” he said as he was slowly backing away from the wall.

“What are we going to do,” I asked.

“Nothing, they didn’t see us. They don’t know where the rocks came from.”

“Fuck you, Billy,” Alan said, “We’ve got to tell someone what happened.”

We went back and forth for several minutes before our fear of getting in trouble from our parents and our pure cowardice at the time won out and we decided to keep our secret, that is until now.

This is a recent picture of Chene street, it’s sad to see how bad it looks now. The last time I was anywhere near here was when Alan and I found out about Ramone’s death and that was about six blocks away from here. When we were growing up none of these buildings were abandoned, it was a bustling fun place to spend our weekends. It’s sad. Back to the story, the woman we hit and no one knows whose rock it was that hit her was fine. Turns out she was a young woman that worked up the block at what used to be a local drug store.

The woman was okay, we saw her a few days later working at the corner drug store at the end of the block, I forget the name of the place, but like everything else, in that area, I imagine it’s been closed for years by now.  The name tag hanging on the shirt of her bland brown and white uniform was Janice.

The three of us walked to the counter carrying out Better Made potato chips and Faygo sodas. I remembered thinking that she was really pretty up close and that she looked way too young and innocent to be hanging out in a sleazy joint like Max’s. She had a small bandage on the right side of her head near the hairline where she had to have stitches.

“ Is that it,” she asked, her voice bored and robotic. She sat her paperback down on the stool next to her. She was looking right at us, but she really didn’t see us.  We were an annoyance, like wiping down the counter or sweeping the floor, we were a chore she needed to get done as quickly as possible so that she could get back to her book, and here Billy was asking her stupid questions.

“What happened,” Billy asked pointing to the bandage on her head. Her eyes narrowed.

“None of your business, you little redneck tard.”

“Sorry,” Billy said slowly turning up the knob on his southern drawl. He gave her a sly knowing smile that suggested that he wasn’t sorry at all. She stared at him for a minute then glanced at Alan and me.

“Yeah, I bet you are… sorry.”  She said to Billy, and then rang our items up and picked up her book and began to read as if we were no longer standing there, we were dismissed. As we walked out she looked up at us and with a slight smile spreading across her thin lips and the devil dancing behind her hazel eyes.

“Bye, bye, ” she said coldly while flicking her wrist at us then went back to her book.

“Jeez, what a bitch,” Alan said as we made our way back up the block toward Billy’s house.

“Yeah, maybe she has a headache,” Billy said trying to keep from laughing.

“Next time we should throw bricks,” I said joking.

“ Yeah, smash the wicked witch of the north,” Alan chimed in. The truth be told we were glad to see Janice was okay, and although no one ever said we shouldn’t do it, we never played “Stump the Drunk,” again. If I’m being honest and I always try to be, the way Janice treated us wasn’t that out of the ordinary. Most older girls didn’t appreciate young knot heads staring at their breasts or backsides. We were a small pack of horny dogs back then and Billy’s skin magazines didn’t help.

That night we went on deliveries with Billy’s mother. It was fun we would eat cakes and cookies until we had our fill, while we visited wonderbread, Bluebird, and several other major bread company warehouses. Most of the warehouse workers were mostly men at that time of night, between eleven at night and four in the morning would always hit on Billy’s mom, women did too. His mother seemed free and open, she didn’t carry the baggage other parents seem to lug around. She was happy with the way she was and didn’t seem to mind if people didn’t like or understand it.

There would be times usually when Lexi and Richard were fighting that she would seem to stay extra long at certain stops. She would be talking to the warehouse manager off in the shadows, and then they would be gone. sometimes for up to a half an hour at least that’s how long it seemed to me at the time. She would appear out of the shadows and without a word slide into her seat and buckle in.

“You boys ready to go home,” she’d asked in that sexy southern drawl of hers and before we could answer she would be pulling out of the dock. By the end of the night, the truck would be filled with empty bread trays stacked in columns against the front wall of the truck. The truck she drove was similar to a UPS truck with open sliding side doors on both sides. On summer nights Lexi would let us keep the side doors open so that we could catch a breeze as long as we stacked our trays toward the back and away from the open doors, and we did. The ride home was usually quiet. Our stomachs were full of cookies and cakes and we were beginning to come down off our sugar highs. We would each find ourselves a stack of empty bread trays and climb in. Our butts and backs were the only parts in the tray and our legs and arms would dangle over the sides and off to dreamland we would go. It doesn’t sound like it would be comfortable, but it was. Lulled to sleep by the sweet aroma of fresh bread lingering in the summer night breeze was great. It’s one of my fondest memories from my childhood to this day.

I remember it like it was yesterday, the night I almost died. The night we went out on the route was like any other night except on this night there had been a light drizzle. Not enough for an umbrella, but enough that if you stood out in it longer than a few minutes you would be wet. We waited for Lexi’s truck to be loaded and off we went. I could tell that Lexi was in a hurry to get done because Richard was going to be there when she got home. She did her route as quickly as possible and before we knew it we were all laying in our bread trays dozing off on the way back to Billy’s house.

The highway was nearly deserted like it always was on our early morning returns, I could vaguely hear the swooshing of the tires gliding over the wet roads. Lexi was unusually quiet on this night, most nights she would play the radio softly and sing along with the songs she liked, but not tonight. I would learn later that Lexi had asked to meet with Richard that night to tell him that their relationship was over and that she was thinking about moving back to Kentucky, the bakery was closing, but that wouldn’t be for another two years. Billy told us later that when he asked her why Richard stopped coming around she told him, she wanted to get married and Richard had broken his promise to leave his wife so she was leaving him. She just wanted to be free of Richard and the harassment of his wife.

As I slept on the bread rack I noticed that the trays were beginning to sway, we had stacked them to high and they were threatening to fall over. I opened my eyes and noticed that Billy was still sleeping and Alan had already jumped down from his pile and was already removing trays from his stack.

“ Your trays are too high you better…” Alan started to say when Lexi slammed on the breaks. A driver who was starting to fall asleep had swerved into her lane. Lexi blew the horn and swerved to miss him. The other driver swerved back into his lane. All the trays in the back of the truck went flying as she swerved back into her lane. Billy fell to the floor and was slammed into the sidewall. My stack of trays slowly tilted and fell forward and I went flying toward the open door. Lexi turned and through her arm out in my direction trying to break the fall, but she couldn’t hold the steering wheel and stop my fall at the same time. I could see the wet pavement rushing toward me glimmering like black ice.

My arms pinwheeled as I grasped for anything that would stop my fall. I remember thinking that I was about to die. I closed my eyes and tried to think of one of the prayers I had heard in church on the few mornings I went, but my mind was blank. The banging and clanking from the tumbling metal and plastic bread trays were deafening. As I slid forward I opened my mouth to scream. Suddenly I was no longer falling forward. I felt a sharp tug on my right leg and looked back and saw Alan holding onto one of the nylon straps used for tying down the trays and the other holding my leg. He was on one knee, his arms were spread eagle, he reminded me of the biblical Samson pushing the pillars apart in the temple of the Philistine leaders.

He was trembling, his head twisting back and forth like a wet dog shaking the water out of its fur. His blue eyes were so light they almost looked white. His lips were pulled back into a snarl exposing his clenched teeth. The cords of muscles in his skinny arms bulged and I could see it his eyes, if I went, he was going too.

“Help him,” Lexi screamed at Billy who was just sitting there frozen. He instantly snapped to life and grab my other leg and they pulled me back into the truck.

“ I got you,” Alan said with a nervous chuckle and patted me on the leg then fell back exhausted.

“You all right,” Lexi called back to me.

“Yes ma’am, I’m alright.”

*****

As we turned off of Chene street and onto I-94 the rain had begun to slow down.  I looked at Alan’s profile remembering that night I almost died. He must have felt the weight of my stare. He turned to me wearing a slightly embarrassed expression.

“What,” he said grinning.

“Nothing,” I said.

“You looking at my pimple,” he brought a hand up to cover the red pimple on his cheek.

“ I wasn’t, but now that you mentioned it.” I laughed.

The rest of the ride was filled with reminiscing and jokes. I didn’t see Alan again for nearly four years.

[reddieaddict]

You’re Gonna Live Forever In Me (Part 2/4)

Prequel to Richie’s Eulogy

Official Cast

Part 1

A/N: Okay so, in this fic, Richie Is of hispanic and latin descent, speaks spanish fluently, and his full name is Ricardo Alonzo “Richie” Tozier. Why? Because I think the cast needs more cultural diversity and because I wrote this shit so I can do whatever the fuck I want. Haha. I hope you guys enjoy!

Oh and his parents names are Margarita “Maggie” Tozier and Rogelio Alonzo Tozier. OMG this is so extra hahaha.

Sorry if this is shit. I am aware the pacing is weird. I am an amateur writer, so like cut me some mf slack, bruh. 

Summary: It’s senior year and Eddie has began to notice Richie exhibiting strange behavior. He is worried he might be hiding something, but doesn’t know how to confront Richie about it without setting him off and making matters worse.

September 1994 

“EDDIE-BEAR!” Sonia Kaspbrak’s shrill whine pierced through the morning calm. “Can you come down here, please?” It was phrased as a question, but only masochist would take it as anything other than an order.

“Shiiit! What the fuck is she doing up so early?!” Eddie whispered-yelled as he shot up from comfort of his twin-sized bed and the warmth of Richie’s embrace.

“I don’t know, but can you fucking answer her before she decides to barge in here!?” Richie’s words were filled with panic, coordinating with the look he directed at his boyfriend. 

“COMING, MA! BE RIGHT DOWN!” The two teenagers would much rather face Pennywise all over again, than endure the shit storm that would ensue if Eddie’s mother caught Richie in his room. Usually Richie would have snuck out through Eddie’s window before Sonia woke up, but she threw their morning routine completely out of whack. “There is no point in sneaking out now, she’ll definitely see you through the kitchen window. Just stay here, be as quiet as you can, and if you hear her coming up the stairs, hide in the closet! I’ll be right back. . . hopefully.”

Richie nodded in agreement as Eddie made his way out of the bedroom, still far too groggy to be dealing with shit. “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Whatever, just hurry back!”

“Okay, I’ll try!” With that, Eddie closed the door behind him and made his way downstairs. His mind reverted to it’s pessimistic default, racing through the possible reasons why his mother would feel the need to speak to him. It was clear by her tone, this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. With each step he took, he braced himself mentally for what was surely bound to become a full blown argument. Once he finally arrived at the kitchen, where his mother stood leaning against the counter, her narrowed eyes and furrowed brow validated and exacerbated his fears. “Yes, Mommy?”

“Edward, would you care to explain what this is?” A bundle of papers were clenched in Sonia’s chubby claw, as she held it up beside her face. The second Eddie’s deep amber eyes glanced at them, he recognized them as his application for NYU. What perplexed him was how she managed to get ahold of it, being that it was hidden in his desk draw, just last night. Well, he wasn’t really perplexed, as it was pretty apparent that she had rummaged through his room and stumbled across it. He had always suspected she went through his things, but he always tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Obviously, THAT was a mistake. Her betrayal upset him none the less, which at this point, was stupid since this was typical behavior for his invasive mother. “You already know what it is, Ma! Why would you go through my things?!” 

“Don’t change the subject! I am your mother and this is MY house; if I feel like inspecting your room then I have every right to do so!” she argued, showing absolutely no remorse for her actions. If anything, she was proud. “What business do you have with this? We agreed you would attend a community college, so you could continue living home. A boy needs his mother, especially a boy as frail as you! New York is too far and too dangerous for such a delicate person, Eddie-Bear.” 

“I didn’t agree to anything!” Eddie’s entire face lit up in neon frustration. “You basically commanded I apply at a community college, and you and I both know its just to keep me firmly under your thumb! I am not weak or fragile, like you’d like me to believe. I don’t want to settle for a community college! I want to live my own life! I need to be my own person, separate from you, Ma!” Eddie was certain that at this point Richie could hear their entire argument from Eddie’s room, but in his current emotional state, he couldn’t give less of a shit about the dynamics of his words. 

“DO NOT speak to me in that tone! You and I are NOT equals and I wont stand for this type of insubordination! This type of behavior is clearly a result of you hanging around those delinquents you call friends. They are filling your head with all these crazy ideas! I KNEW this would happen if you kept associating yourself with those disgusting people, especially that filthy Tozier boy! He’s corrupting you!” Eddie flinched at the mentions of his boyfriend’s name. Sonia’s eyes began to well up with crocodile tears, as she geared up for her performance. “How could you even entertain the idea of leaving me, Eddie?! I have given you everything and this is how you repay me? How can you do this to me? I love you, Eddie-Bear, does that mean nothing to you?!” 

Eddie knew every step and every lyric of this song and dance by heart. His mother had always been a conniving, manipulative woman; and in Eddie’s youth, he might have fallen for her tactics, but now he refused to be so easily controlled. He loved his mother and if her tears were genuine he could have reacted differently, but he was fed up and Sonia dragging Richie into this only fueled the fire within him. “Do you really believe I am so incapable of having my own thoughts and dreams? This has nothing to do with Richie or any of my friends! It ME! Its what I want; and it’s not fair for you to speak of them in that manner! I love you, Ma, but you need to let me be. Whether you like it or not, I am going to apply and potentially attend any university I please, I going to keep hanging out with my friends, and I am going to keep seeing Richie, MY BOYFRIEND! I love him, Ma! Nothing you say and no amount of fake tears is going to change that!” 

“There you go using that word, again! ‘Love!’ Eddie, lets not get into this again. You don’t love him. You can’t. You’re just confused, is all.” Sonia was aware of her son’s sexuality and relationship, but refused to accept, or even acknowledge it. “Eddie-Bear! I love you. MY love for you is real, not like the perverted friendship between you and that disgusting faggot. We can get you the help you need, like we talked about; and maybe when you’re better you can meet a nice girl and forget all about him.” 

Tears began to collect in Eddie’s waterline, threatening to run at any moment, but he willed them to stop. He REFUSED to give his mother the satisfaction of seeing him cry! He was just so exhausted. It was the same argument, again and again. The same shit being thrown at him! Why can’t she just love him as he is? Why does she have to be so cruel? He knew those questions were destined to remain unanswered. He needed to get away before his disappointment and heartache decided to rebel and stream down his crimson cheeks. “Mommy, I-I-I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired. I have to get ready for school. I love you and um. . . I-I-I hope you have a nice day at work.” Crestfallen, his voice came almost a whisper.

“Very well, but don’t think this is over! I am only letting this go because I’m running late for work, but you can expect to continue this conversation once I get home.” Eddie didn’t care anymore, he just wanted this to end. He just wanted to get back to Richie. “Yes, Mommy.” 

Eddie turned to head upstairs, but before he could take his first step his mother decided to add insult to injury. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Eddie-Bear?” She leaned forward, expectantly. Reaching up on his tiptoes, Eddie placed the most abrupt kiss possible onto her cheek. Disgusted with his actions, he ran upstairs, allowing his tears to finally flood down his face, knowing he was safe and out of her sight. 

He stormed into his room, slammed and locked the door, and silently waited until he heard the front door open and shut, a sonic indicator of his mother’s departure. Once he was certain she had left for work, he turned to face Richie, relieved it was finally safe for them to speak and move about his home freely. He expected to be immediately draped in Richie’s consoling embrace, but was surprised to find him sitting at the edge of his bed with an unreadable, stoic expression plastered on his face. 

“I’m sorry you had to listen to that. My mom is just so infuriating!” Eddie mumbled in between sniffles, but got no response from his boyfriend. “Richie, are you okay?” Nothing. Worried, Eddie walked over and kneeled himself in front of Richie’s frozen physique. “Baby, whats wrong? Was it what my mom said?” 

Richie’s gaze remained forward, oblivious to Eddie’s presence. His eyes seemed to be unfocused and glazed over, seeing right through his boyfriend. His rosebud lips were pursed into a thin line, while his face showed subtle but evident signs of tension. It was as though his body was there, but Richie was lost somewhere within it. He seemed trapped in some distant thought, disassociated and unaware of the real world, and not too dissimilar to how the losers had found Beverly in the sewers all those summers ago, only without the milky eyes. Not wanting to think about such a horrible memory any further, he shook off the thought and continued to try reaching Richie. “Rich, this isn’t funny! What’s wrong?! Why won’t you answer me!? Are you mad at me?” With each unanswered question, panic began to further burrow itself into Eddie’s thoughts. Why wasn’t Richie saying anything? What the fuck was going on? “Stop doing this, asshole! I am getting scared! Wake the fuck up!” Still no response, just the same blank expression taunting him. In an act of desperation, he latched on to Richie’s shoulders and proceeded to shake him. His eyes became iridescent as the sunbeams that leaked through the blinds illuminated the tears that formed around them. “Richie, I don’t know what do. I can’t-I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need! Just tell me what to do, baby! Let me in!!” Still, there was nothing. Eddie was bawling uncontrollably, imploring him to come back to him. 

 Taking inspiration from Ben and Bev, he gently, but firmly placed his hands on each side of Richie’s face and willed their lips to collide, hoping a kiss would have the same effect on him as it had on her. Upon impact, Eddie felt him gasp beneath his kiss. He pulled away, only to see Richie’s eyes had widened in shock, his shoulders had risen tensely, and his fist were balled up on his lap, clenching onto the plush fabric of his pajamas. They sat there, exchanging confused looks, each waiting for the other to break the tension. 

“Eddie!” A wide, cheerful smile began to replace the bewildered shock that clothed his face, as he gleefully leaned forward to kiss Eddie once more. “Hey, Eddie Spaghetti! Um. . . We should get ready for school, yeah? If we don’t leave soon, we’re gonna be late and we both know how much you hate being tardy!” He shot up and walked over to the spare drawer Eddie kept for him and began to get dressed, leaving Eddie kneeling in a pool of disorientation. What the hell is going on? 

“NO! I know what you’re doing! Don’t try to play it off like nothing happened! What the fuck was that!?” 

“Uh, I don’t know. I guess I was just tired. It’s not like I got a lot of sleep last night with all the sexy-fun-time we had last night, not that I am complaining, baby boy.” Richie winked smugly, a blatant attempt to deescalate the situation. 

“You-You were catatonic! I kept calling your name, but you wouldn’t answer me! I shook you! It was like you were somewhere else! Like Bev had been. . . “ Eddie lifted himself from the floor and sat himself on the edge of his bed, in the same spot Richie had been moments ago. His cheeks was tear stained and red as a tomato. 

“Eds, seriously it was nothing. Lets not make a thing out of this and just get ready for school, yeah?” Richie was becoming noticeably agitated, wanting to drop the conversation.

“Richie, that was terrifying and you just want to let this go? Has this happened before? Did it have something to do with what my mom sai-” 

“FUCK, EDS! CAN YOU FUCKING LET IT GO!? NOTHING IS WRONG! I AM FUCKING FINE! WHY DO YOU WANNA START SHIT OVER SOMETHING SO FUCKING STUPID?!” Richie’s enraged shouting startled Eddie, leaving him in dumbfounded silence. In that moment, he was especially relieved his mother wasn’t around, as she most certainly would have heard them at this point. He knew there was no point in pressing the topic any further; it would get them nowhere and only make matters worse. When Richie got like this, there was no reasoning with him. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Quietly he began to dress himself, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. He would never admit it out lout, but Richie’s actions had hurt him deeply. It wasn’t fair! After being put through something so traumatizing, how could Richie yelled at him like that just for showing concern? Whatever. It had been enough arguing for one morning, and Eddie just wanted silence for a while. 

Guilt began to overwhelm Richie, realizing what he had done was inexcusable. He made his way over to his petite lover and wrapped his gangly arms around his shoulders, pulling him into his chest. “I’m-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Just. . . please believe me when I tell you everything is fine, okay? I promise. You have nothing to worry about. I’m sorry. Are we okay?”

“Mmhmm. Yeah.” Eddie mumbled into Richie’s chest, before pulling away and offered him a weak smile as reassurance, still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, of course. Everything’s cool.”

“Awesome! Lets get going, Spaghetti-Head!” A big toothy grin spread across Richie’s face as he took Eddie’s hand and pulled him into the bathroom. Side by side, they brushed their teeth and washed their faces, just as they did every morning. All the while, an uneasy, thick silence hovered around them, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid. 

The rest of the morning, Eddie replayed everything in his head over and over, especially on the drive to school. He would steal glances at Richie as he drove and sang along to the radio at the top of his lungs. He was acting just as he did any other morning. Nothing was different. It was unsettling in it’s normalcy. He played it off so effortlessly and convincingly. It made Eddie wonder, what else could Richie potentially be hiding? It could be anything and he would never have a clue. It was a terrible thought to have and it made him feel guilty for even allowing it to cross his mind. He trusted Richie, he really did. This morning had just left Eddie confused. 

Aware of Eddie’s pensive anxiety, Richie reached across the center console and took Eddie’s dainty hand in his calloused one, weaving their fingers together. With a gentle, warm smile, his eyes caressed his boyfriend’s soft, delicate face. “Hey. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Eddie reciprocated Richie’s smile and gave his hand a playful squeeze, signaling everything was truly alright. It wasn’t thought. Eddie knew better than to allow himself to believe so. Whatever it was that Richie was going through, it was clear this was just the beginning.  

@@bitchardtozier

@bloggingandstruggling

@11stayradstaybad11

#reddie #reddie imagine #reddie fic #fan fic #fanfic #my writing #Reddieaddict #you're gonna live forever in me #part 2 #richie's eulogy #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #eddie x richie #Richie x Eddie #losers club #Stephen King's IT #IT movie #it 2017 #it 2019 #ezra miller #dylan schmid #Jack Dylan Grazer #finn wolfhard

[musicious]

Count It

“Count it, again.”

“I did that ten times.”

It was rather a good day in California. The weather was just nice and warm, there was no traffic sound whatsoever and a bunch of people just got the money they needed for travelling after a year of working.

“Are you fucking sure?”

“We finally made it.”

“Guys,” Jean Fisher smiled as she took a seat around the round wooden table. “Let’s not panic, okay? We did make it, but we have to think thoroughly. What are we going to do with our jobs? I mean, come on, there is still life after this, you know.”

“Jean,” said the blonde haired girl, sitting across the brunette. “You are right, but stop.”

“But, Kimberly-“

“No buts, this is just for summer, anyway,” Kimberly Watson added. “We have a whole life ahead of us and the jobs were temporary, you know that.”

“I know,” the brunette protested. “I just… It doesn’t make sense to spend it all on vacation all of a sudden, that’s all.”

“Fuck, I knew one of you would bring this up,” Brandon Williams groaned, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We made a fucking deal and we made it clear that the money is going to be spent on travelling, Jean, don’t be a party pooper.”

“Okay, okay,” a black haired girl cut in, her hand resting on Jean’s shoulder for support. “It is normal for her to have second thoughts, this is a great amount of money, you guys. But we can’t back off now, this is a great opportunity.”

“Ava is right,” a tall, blonde guy added as he ripped off the name tag that said ‘Rick’, which he was wearing for his job. “We are going, end of the discussion.”

Ava Parker smiled and opened the cover of the small, blue notebook next to the money. It looked like a basic notebook, with ‘Places’ written on it and a small, simple heart drawing. She looked at the first page and read it out loud for her friends. “Travel, not for the eye, but for the soul.”

“And for the girls,” Brandon muttered with a smirk.

“And to see La Liga for real,” added Rick Barton and gave his friend a high five.

“And to find myself a handsome Eduardo.”

“Amen, Kimberly, amen,” Jean laughed out loud. “I can use a Felipé, too.”

“Or a Chavez.”

“And a Diego.”

Ava rolled her eyes, though a small smirk was playing on her lips. “Okay, can I have a Léon? Or a Javier?”

“Oh, anything you want.”

“And they say men are perverts,” Rick narrowed his blue eyes. “All we can think about is whether we can get a fucking photograph with Lionel Messi and they are thinking of banging a Hispanic dude.”

“Okay,” the black haired woman held the notebook in the air. “Who wants to know our first destination?”

“God, please let it be Ukraine.”

“Damn it, Brandon, let it be fucking Spain,” Rick cut off. “I want to see some Eva Mendez.”

“Who’s talking now?” Kimberly shook her head, fingers crossed behind her back.

“It will be Arabia and all you’ll be seeing will be Fatima’s,” Jean stuck out her tongue at her friend.

“God, please don’t let it be Arabia, yet.”

Ava read the second page of the blue notebook, where they had written down their destinations one by one when they first thought of the idea. Decorated with images found on Google and some cheap glitters, she read it out loud with excitement. “Guys, we are going to France.”

They all exclaimed happily and felt the sudden feeling of relief rushing down their bodies. It wasn’t Arabia now, but it was Arabia someday. They wondered why they even put that in the notebook in the first place, but it could be arranged anyway. They could always go to Egypt, instead.

They spent the next hour calling their friend, Stacey, from the travel agency to get them the most affordable plane tickets and hotel bookings. They had the money, but that didn’t necessarily mean they could spend it for anything they wanted. They had a whole summer in front of them and they had to make a plan to use it in the most useful way.

That very night, they called their bosses from the temporary jobs to quit. It didn’t go smoothly, but they did not expect anything different, anyway. They signed up knowing what would happen in the end and they signed up exactly for it.

Ava zipped up her luggage and stared at it dreamily, it was a big, red one with her name tag placed on it. She knew it was all she had dreamed since she was a little child and finally witnessing that she was achieving it on her early 20’s made her a winner.

She fixed her black leggings and stretched her legs as she stared in the mirror. She wasn’t exactly tall, she could even be called petite with her nearly average height. Her black, wavy hair was reaching down to her back and matching her dark brown eyes.

Another feminine figure caught her attention in the mirror and she smiled at her friend’s reflection. Jean was sleeping in the bed next to hers, curling her knees up to her chest and a happy smile on her lips. Her straight brown hair was pulled into a ponytail tightly as she made a stirring sound.

With one final glance at the mirror, she left her bedroom that she was sharing with Jean and went downstairs –only to find no one in the first floor. It was two in the morning and she didn’t feel tired at all from all the excitement.

She took a seat in the kitchen counter and made herself a filter coffee with milk. It was a great chance that they found plane tickets the very next morning. For the first time in their lives, the chance was on their side.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

She shrieked lightly, her frown was replaced with a genuine smile afterwards. Brandon was always a late sleeper, she was even curious at times that he didn’t sleep at all. She, on the other hand, loved sleeping. “I don’t sleep early, thought you knew that.”

“Yeah, I know,” he began, attempting to make himself a coffee. “But with all the travel plans and shit, I thought you would be the first one sleeping with a smile on her face.”

She chuckled and took a sip from her coffee. “I had been dreaming of this for so long, it doesn’t seem real to me now.”

Brandon opened the drawer and grabbed some M&M’s, offering her some as he spoke. “As if it’s not going to happen? Been there, but we actually have tickets, so have some rest,” he added as his phone rang a couple of times and he silenced it in the exact moment he saw the caller ID. Letting out a loud sigh, he shrugged his shoulders at Ava, who had been giving him a suspicious eye.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, pulling her black hair into a ponytail. “Oh, you are such a mess, you know that? She is sad, you two broke up last week. What do you expect her to do, anyway?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, we might have been broken up a few hours ago.”

“Are you kidding me?” She shook her head, her jaw dropping. “You, asshole.”

“What? She showed up at my workplace a few days ago,” he said, hands in the air in defense. “Also, do you have any idea how good she is in bed? And I didn’t even mention that she gives great head.”

“Oh, my god,” she exclaimed. “I don’t wanna hear it, pervert.”

“Ava, don’t act like you never tell me these stories.”

“Yeah, but I don’t talk about giving heads.”

“You should.”

“Fuck you.”

He chuckled and brushed off his black hair back with his fingers, it was shoulder length. The dark shade of his hair exposed his green eyes, which she thought it was the only feature in his face that actually repressed his personality. Besides that, he looked like a regular type of criminal.

He was very much like her other friends; young, energetic and dying to learn new things. However, despite his cold and distant look, thanks to his lean body shape and blank stare, he was secretly a caring person.

She watched as he lifted a cigarette and let it rest on his bottom lip while he searched for a lighter in his pocket. She knew that he was a smoker, they had been very close friends for a few years, but he was a serious smoker now and she was tired to tell him to quit whenever he lit a cigarette.

“You’re staring.”

“Because you are getting deeper into that shit, everyday.”

“I know.”

He exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. It was the burning feeling in his throat that made it harder for him to quit smoking, he liked that feeling. It was just that burn at the moment and he liked not thinking about anything else.

Brandon pulled up the zip on his black hoodie and tilted his head towards the garden, offering to go outside since it was house rules not to smoke indoors. “Take your coffee, let’s sit outside.”

“Sure, I want to hear about all the useless stuff you packet in your suitcase.”

As both headed to the garden, Jean woke up upstairs with a mumbling by her side. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned.  Come on, everyone knew she loved a good sleep, which involved minimum eight hours of sleeping.

“Jeanie, wake up.”

It took a moment for her to clear her vision before sitting up slowly. “Kim?”

Kimberly muttered positively and sat back in her friend’s back, nudging Jean by the leg. “Wake up”

“What’s up? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, I can’t sleep.”

Jean groaned and let her body fell back to the pillow, but woke up again by Kimberly’s instant nudging. She pulled her legs up to her belly and tried to ignore her until it became impossible for her to do so. “Well, what can I do to help, Kim?” she asked eventually, sounding helpful, yet, irritated.

“You can tell me that it will be the best decision of our lives,” the blonde muttered, playing with her long nails. “You can tell me that… we all will find ourselves in this trip, literally, of course.”

Jean sighed softly and sat up, resting her back on the wall. “It will be, Kim, you already know that.”

“But what if it’s a waste of time?” she blinked blankly. “I mean, I know that I spoke very sure of myself today, but I’ve been thinking since we bought the tickets… It’s just, what if everything goes bad? What if we run out of money or something? All of our families are here and-“

“Dear, god, Kimberly,” the brunette laughed lightly. “It will be fine and we will have so much fun. You helped me to think positively, come on. If anything goes bad, we turn back. If we run out of money, we just… work or find a plan there. Don’t be anxious, it’s very unlike you.”

“I know,” she smiled. “It will be my first time, did you know that?”

“What, first time going abroad?”

“Yeah, besides all the worry and everything, I’m literally dying to see Paris.”

Jean fixed the sleep band on her forehead and returned her smile with a giggle. “Don’t worry, you’ll find a hot Spanish guy and have him attend this trip with us for the rest of the travel, we will take great pictures and you will post them on Instagram.”

Kimberly exclaimed happily and lay on the bed, her medium length blonde hair resting messily around her. “Will you find a guy, yourself, too?”

“Yeah, why not? I will find a Pierré.”

“A French, huh?”

“Yes, with a mustache.”

“Nice,” the blonde smiled and sat up. “Where is Ava?”

“Probably drinking some tea,” Jean stretched her arms above her head and placed herself into the sheets again, poking her friend with her leg. “We’re all excited, but I need sleep, girl.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going to sleep, too,” Kimberly nodded, also stretching her body when she got on her feet. “Thanks for the talk, Jeanie.”

“Anytime, love.”

The brunette pulled down her sleep band as she heard her bedroom door closing. She wasn’t sure if everything she had said to Kimberly was right, but it was a vacation after all. A vacation that all of them had been working their butts off for. They could always work something out if something went bad or something.

An hour later, the house went silent as everyone was asleep peacefully. All of them dreamed of places that they have never been and people they have never seen, but it felt familiar whatsoever. And eventually, their alarms went off and they opened their eyes with excitement.

It was beginning.

        ���-~

[skiphunt]

The Sun Card - Eclipse + Palenque, Mexico 1991

I just remembered the name of an eccentric, bohemian woman I met in Palenque, Mexico many years ago. Her name was Hilda and she was the person who told me about the mystical place called Huautla de Jimenez in the mountains of Mexico. I referenced this place in another account called “The Reluctant Curandero”. She also went by the name “Coco” when she was with the Mezatecas. 

Hilda ran a little cafe in the jungle. Only vegetarian, bottled soft drinks, and cerveza. The cafe was open-air in the jungle. All the tables and chairs were made of large tree slices, and there were some hammocks around. You really didn’t feel like you were in a cafe at all, but more like you were relaxing in the thick jungle, only with amenities. There was a basic kitchen behind a simple bar, and a small cottage attached. 

Hilda made the most amazing vegetarian dishes. I wasn’t even vegetarian, but I recognized the culinary artistry to make healthy food taste like pretty much anything you wanted it to taste like. Hilda was a wizard with many things, and the culinary arts was definitely one of them. 

I was staying down the road at Maya Belle in a palapa hut and sleeping in a hammock. On a previous trip, Hilda had told me about a near total eclipse that was to occur right there at the Palenque ruins on July 11th, 1991. She said I ought to try and be there for it, and I managed to make it all the way back a week before the eclipse would occur.

The only problem was that I’d been robbed on the bus. Nothing violent, just wasn’t paying attention and left my bag untended while I got off the bus to use the restroom. Or something like that. I didn’t lose everything, but there was only enough money for a bus back to Texas. I’d have to miss the eclipse I’d come so far to witness at one of the most mystical Mayan ruin sites I’d been to at that point in time. 

There was some hidden money in my backpack, and a few travelers checks left. I calculated that if I stayed in the simple open-air palapa for about a dollar a night back then, and took the least expensive buses all the way back up to Texas, I could just barely make it a week if I didn’t eat anything. Once I got back over the border, I could get more money for the last portion of the trek back home to Austin. 

A week without food was going to be a stretch though. I didn’t even have enough extra to get some cheap food items from the local produce market. So close to being able to stick it out, but about $20 short of being able to pull this off. 

I’d already paid for the first night in the palapa and planned on catching the first bus out in the morning. Sadly moped back to Hilda’s cafe to lay in a hammock and enjoy my last evening in the jungle. The stars were incredible and I could hear howler monkeys making this omnipresent, low pitch that sounds like the entire jungle is snoring. The insect buzz comes alive with this almost electronic drone that overtakes the senses. The jungle at night is an extraordinary thing to experience. You sort of just melt into the surreal soundscape, while fireflies, and random eyes glowing in the dark forest underneath a thick blanket of stars. And I was going to have to leave early after only one night.

I dug one of my last cigarettes out and flipped open my Zippo lighter. The flame seemed exaggerated in that perfect darkness. It caught the fancy of Hilda’s partner Mario. He came over to the hammock I was floating in and asked to check out my Zippo lighter. He flipped it open several times, and then made out like he was a Clint Eastwood movie star cowboy flipping open the  lighter off his jeans:

“Que bueno… I like this Zippo. How much does one like this cost in Estados Unidos?”

“Thanks, not sure about the cost… it was a gift. They sell knock off copies that aren’t very expensive, but this is a real one. They’re made a little better and have a nicer feel when you flip them open.”

“Would you sell me this one and you could get another one when you get back to the United States?”

“Hmmm… I kind of need it, and I have to leave tomorrow.”

“You’re not staying for the eclipse?!”

“No, that what I came here for… but I got robbed and don’t have enough money to last the week. I’ve got just enough for the bus home, and the palapa I’m renting, but not enough to eat. So, I have to go home early.”

“What if you trade me this Zippo and you can eat and drink as much as you want here at the cafe for a week? Maybe not too many cervezas, but a couple a day would be okay.”

“Really?!”

“Oh wait, this takes special fuel yes?”

“I’ve got a container of lighter fluid that’s nearly full I could include.”

“But when I finish that one, I won’t be able to find something like that here in Palenque.”

“I’m sure you can, it’s not really that special. Besides, I read that these were actually originally made to burn any kind of fuel for soldiers in the field. I think they’ll burn kerosine or even gasoline… but I’ve never tried and wouldn’t recommend it.”

Mario flipped the Zippo open to light and tried to get fancy with his opening and closing moves. He lit a joint with it, took a huge drag, then passed it to me. As he let out the smoke he said:

“Si, we have a deal compadre. I keep the Zippo, and you can eat and drink for free for a week so you can stay for the eclipse.”

“Yes! Thank you! I’ll bring the fuel back mañana and I think I have some spare flints too.”

“You can have my cheap plastic lighter to use and I’ll include some cigarettes from the bar in the deal too.”

“Gracias!”

There were some other backpackers, a hippy couple from Montana, a girl from Australia, a cigar puffing grad student from Indiana, and I couple of brothers from Austria. We’d all sort of been hanging out for the day since we were all palapa neighbors and kept running into each other at either Hilda’s cafe, previous destinations before Palenque, or around Maya Belle. They were all sitting around Hilda’s cafe having some cervezas when they overheard that I was going to able to stay for the clips. They all raised their beers and cheered at my great fortune as Mario brought me the first free beer of our trade. 

I’m not sure why this little group so quickly formed a bond as if we’d known each other for years. It might’ve had to do with none of us were of the dreadlocked bongo-playing variety of backpackers. None of us spoke Spanish with much fluidity. We all just clicked I guess. 

At night we’d either chill out at Hilda’s cafe, or the cafe at Maya Belle… and then late at night we’d convene at whichever palapa was the most convenient or had a nice fire going. We’d talk about what each of us had experienced that day, and the Anthropologist grad student would fill us in on what was known of the Maya from their ancient book called The Popol Vuh. 

One day I was walking between Hilda’s cafe and Maya Belle, when a taxi from the town of Palenque pulled up next to me. A man wearing a blue turban got out and was clutching a very large book covered in worn leather. It looked very old, but I couldn’t make out the inscription language on the cover. The fellow seemed in a hurry, and maybe a little rude in asking directions. He wanted to know if I’d seen a woman from Nebraska, and if the ruins were nearby. I told him that I’d overheard earlier in the day people talking about this and wondered who she was:

“She’s believed to be the reincarnation of Guadalupe of the Americas. Do you know where she is?”

“No, I think someone said she was going to spend the night at then ruins for some reason… that she had some kind of special permission or something.”

“Yes, she’s going to spend the next couple of nights in the ruin called the observatory.”

“Why is that?… if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Many years ago there was a crystal skull found a this ruin site. It was taken away and many bad things have happened since then. 

“Does that have anything to do with the coming eclipse?”

He got visibly a little agitated at my incessant questions at this point.

“Yes. It has everything to do with the eclipse. She’s preparing for the ceremony and will return the crystal skull from where it was taken.”

“Hmmmm… the reincarnation of Guadalupe is a woman from Nebraska?”

“I have to go… which way to the ruins… I must reach her before nightfall.”

“Just keep going straight, it’s just another couple of kilometers down this road, around some curves at the end.”

The turbaned man jumped back into the taxi without saying anything else to me, and then ordered the taxi driver to proceed toward the ruins.

That night at Hilda’s cafe I asked around and confirmed that there was indeed a woman from Nebraska there, and that she was believed to be the reincarnation of Guadalupe. So odd, I thought. Not that it mattered, but I asked what she looked like. Wondered if she was even hispanic. They said she wasn’t hispanic and looked pretty much like any average middle-age housewife from Nebraska. 

Joined up with the group I’d been hanging out with. They were already seated around one of the rough tree-trunk tables and drinking cervezas. The anthropology dude fancied himself some kind of Indiana Jones character… with a jungle pith helmet, mostly khaki garb, and puffing on a cigar. I’m not sure that he realized that he looked a bit pretentious and well… silly. Yet, I liked out he kind of stood out from everything else in this scene. 

Caught the eye of a woman with dark, olive skin. Her eyes were smoky and a bit sunken into shadow, but sort of attractive… or maybe spellbinding is a better description. She was dressed all in white flowing fabric that you could almost see through like muslin cloth, and her hair was wrapped in the same white cloth in sort of a loose turban fashion.

Noticed she was staring at me and smiling. At first I thought maybe she was just observing our little group… or maybe she was amused with the Indiana Jones dude’s get up, but her eyes were definitely locked with mine. I pointed to myself to confirm. She nodded in affirmation. 

The others didn’t notice and were all half intoxicated and in the middle of a loud conversation. I walked over to the woman’s table and sat down. Asked what she wanted, but she said nothing. Just kept staring at me and smiling… somewhat seductively. I wasn’t sure. She didn’t answer any of my attempts in English or Spanish to make conversation. Staring and smiling. 

I was about to head back to the table when she slid her closed hand across the table toward me. She slowly turned her and over and opened it. In her palm were three small mushrooms. She motioned for me to eat them. 

Although I’m no stranger to the magic of mushrooms, normally I would’ve asked a few questions, got a better feel for the intent of the person giving them to me, and made sure of what I was about to eat was reasonably safe… or, at least not poisonous. This time I didn’t. I just stared back at her, picked up the mushrooms and ate them. The turbaned woman in white nodded affirmatively, then stood up and sort of floated away into the night. At least that’s what it looked like with the flowing muslin like cloth and the way she moved so effortlessly. 

I returned back to the table and tried to catch up on the group’s conversation. 

Didn’t even seem like the group had noticed me gone, or the strange woman in flowing muslin white. The anthropologist was pontificating about something and the Australian girl was making fun of him a bit. We all had some great laughs over more cervezas. 

Maybe less than an hour later, I started feeling a little bit queasy. I’d completely forgotten about the mushrooms the woman in white gave me. I knew what the effect of magic mushrooms should’ve been, but this wasn’t it. Well, it was to some degree. My head spun and I definitely felt drugged, but not in a pleasant way or in a way I’d known before. 

Hadn’t mentioned to the others anything about the woman in white yet and didn’t feel like I could communicate. Thought I was going to pass out or get throw up. Walked out into the night toward the edge of the jungle for some privacy. My head spun even more as I scrambled into he jungle a bit further from the light of the cafe. Went in a further than I really needed to because I didn’t want anyone to hear me vomiting. 

In my rushing scramble, I slipped on a moss covered rock and fell down pretty hard. The fall was broken by my knee making contact with the sharp edge of another rock and cutting pain shot up my leg. My knee felt wet from mud and kind of sticky warm. 

After I’d finished emptying my stomach in the jungle, I managed to stumble my way back toward the light of the cafe on my injured knee. The Australian girl gasped when she caught sight of me:

“Oh man! What happened to you?! My god are you ok?!”

The others came rushing toward me. I did have a good deal of jungle mud all over me, but my knee was split wide open with blood gushing out. Someone handed me a cloth to put over my knee and helped me to a chair. 

Hilda came over and took the cloth off to examine the extent of the damage and clean off some of the mud. 

“What happened?”

“I fell out in the jungle. There was a woman here earlier in white..”

“You didn’t talk to her did you?”

“I wouldn’t saw we talked, but she motioned for me to come to her table.”

“Oh no… you should’ve have gone over.

“I didn’t know. She gave me some mushrooms.”

“And you ate them?”

“I wasn’t thinking…”

“Hold this on your knee, I’ll be back in a moment.

Hilda took a flashlight and went toward the back of the cafe to cut some plants. She came back and started scoring some of the leaves and fronds with a knife in a criss-cross pattern until they oozed. Then, she started applying them to my knee.

“This is a very bad woman. Wicked. If you see her again, you should turn the other way.”

“What did she give me?”

“Quiet sabe… who knows. Poison…”

Hilda wrapped my knee with more strips of palm fronds and tied it very tight. 

“Leave that until tomorrow. You’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean, looks like it’s pretty deep. Maybe I should go to Palenque in the morning and find a doctor to get some stitches?”

“You don’t need stitches. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

I wasn’t sure what to do. From my past experience, this definitely looked like a bad enough cut that it could use at least a dozen or so stitches. At the same time, I completely trusted Hilda’s medicine. 

We all walked together back down the road to Maya Belle. The cafe there was already closed so we all piled into nearby hammocks to enjoy the night sky and listen to the jungle sleep.

Early the next morning, the brothers from Austria joined me for some mushroom hunting in the cow pastures. These are psychedelic mushrooms like I’ve mentioned before, only these grow in the cow manure. Same species that grows in the United States, only the effect can be very different. I’m told it’s because the cows there eat much different plants than the cattle in the U.S. 

We left early because if you don’t, the caballeros (Mexican cowboys) will have picked them all to sell to the backpackers. We were out there early enough, stomping through all the mud, picking out stickers, scraped by thorns, sweating from the intense humidity, etc.

After we all had a nice bag full for us and our compadres back at Maya Belle, we headed back toward the main road. Only to be met by caballeros who demanded we hand over our bounty or pay them. Dang! All that work and we had to pay anyway. Next time we’ll just sleep in and wait for the caballeros to bring them to our hammocks instead of dealing with all the mud, manure, thorns and stickers. 

Later that afternoon I wandered back down to Hilda’s place for some food and drink. Hilda greeted me and asked how my knee was doing. I told her it seemed fine and I’d almost completely forgotten about it. The tied frond wrapping was pretty frayed but still holding together. Hilda said I could go ahead and take that off now. 

I pulled out my pocket knife and cut the frond and dressing off. What I saw was absolutely incredible. There wasn’t even a scratch. It was as if the wound hadn’t even happened at all. I looked up at Hilda in amazement. Literally couldn’t believe my eyes and started searching all around my knee for evidence. All perfect, no markings at all. 

“How could that be?”

“Is Maya medicine. She heals if you let her.”

“But, seriously… this was a pretty serious cut last night wasn’t it? Everyone saw. It wasn’t just me!”

“Is Maya.”

Hilda just smiled and returned to cleaning the bar.

“Hilda… I meant to ask you… where are you from exactly?”

“I am from everywhere.”

“I mean, are you from Mexico? Or Europe? Another country in South America? I can’t quite place your features.”

“I am from todo mundo, I’m from the whole world.”

She grinned and then disappeared into the kitchen area.

The next couple of days leading up to the day of the eclipse were mostly hanging in hammocks, reading, hiking in the jungle, and telling each other stories of Mayan lore and myths. 

One evening I joined the anthropologist in Indiana Jones attire, for a hike in the jungle behind Maya Belle. There are several footpaths in the jungle that I’m told lead to some Lacandon indian villages. The Lacandon are considered to be decendants of  the Mayans. Many of the paths eventually take you to the ruin sites. 

I’d told Indiana Jones that I knew of one trail that takes you to a place called “The Queen’s Bath”. No clue why they call it that, but it’s a nice set of waterfalls in the jungle that form a pool beneath you can swim in. Perfect way to cool off under the canopy of the jungle. 

Not far into the jungle, Indiana started hacking away at vines Indiana Jones style with a cheap machete he’d bought in down. The trail was pretty clear so I don’t know why he felt the need to whack away at vines, but he wasn’t wasn’t harming anything. 

Until, one of the whacks disturbed a huge snake the was wrapped up in the thick vines above. Indiana dropped like a rock and turned white as a ghost. The size of the serpent started me a bit too, but there was enough distance that I wasn’t too worried. Indiana started fumbling around in his pockets to retrieve a cigar and a lighter. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, so I took the lighter and held it while he puffed. 

“Gracias”

He puffed away creating a thick mass of smoke that encircled us.

“De nada. You’re welcome. Do cigars relax you in stressful situations?”

“Yeah, a little bit. But that’s not why I’m smoking. The cigar smoke should keep snakes, jaguars, and pretty much any animals away from us.”

“Smoke?”

“Yes, they’re terrified of fire and will keep their distance if they smell smoke.”

I’d never heard that before, but it made sense. Besides, even though I’m not wild about the smell of cigar smoke, whatever Indiana was smoking had a decent aroma. And, it made our hike to the Queen’s bath for a swim, a little more “Indiana Jones” like.

Finally, the morning of the eclipse had come. Every day leading up, there were more and more people arriving. I didn’t know where the others had gone, so I walked down to Hilda’s cafe for a coffee and to relax before going to the ruins for the event. 

Hilda was busy cleaning up around the cafe. I got into one of the hammocks to read for a bit, when Hilda came over and told me that I would be coming back to the cafe to do her a favor. 

“Sure, no problem. But, after I leave here, I’m going to stop back by Maya Bell to grab my bag and head to the ruins for the eclipse. I won’t be coming back this way.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Well, I didn’t really plan on walking all the way back the opposite way. Can’t you just give me the instructions for the favor now before I leave?”

“It’s not time. You will return before the eclipse.”

“Ok, well… alright. I guess I’ll come back.”

Hilda smiled, nodded, then returned to her cleaning.

I didn’t really plan on walking back. It wasn’t all that far, but in the tropical heat it was a bit of a hike. And, I’d have to walk the distance twice since the ruins were the opposite direction away from my palapa at Maya Bell. 

There were a few others hanging out in the cafe by that point. Someone was playing a bongo drum, and another person was banging on one of tables like a drum. It was getting a little hard to concentrate on my reading, so I waved to Hilda and walked back to Maya Belle to chill out in my own hammock.

Fell asleep reading back at Maya Belle. When I woke up I briefly panicked because I thought that after everything, I’d ended up sleeping through the eclipse! Happily, I still had a good hour and a half to go. Tried to tell myself it’d be cutting it too close to try and hike back to Hilda’s before the eclipse, and that she’d understand that I’d fallen asleep. But, I knew that was a lie. I easily had enough time to go back to the cafe to find out what favor she needed me to do, and still make it to the ruins for the eclipse. 

After grabbing my daypack, and some water I headed back to Hilda’s cafe. When I arrived it was completely empty. No one around at all, but I could hear some Indian Hindu music playing over the speakers. Figured someone must be there so I sat down at one of the tables and called Hilda’s name. 

From the garden behind the cafe, Hilda came toward me smiling and dancing seductively to the Hindu music. She had changed clothes and was wearing a flowing saffron-colored sari. Her hair was bound up like a turban in a matching lace scarf that had small amber charms dangling from it around her face. And, she had a small colorful parrot perched on her shoulder.

I watched her move and twirl about. She almost looked as if she was in some sort of a trance, and that trance was starting to feel like it was having an effect on me as well. 

Hilda motioned for me to stand up and follower her as she danced out of the cafe and into the adjoining cottage. I’d never been in the cottage, but was surprised how sparse the decor was. In the main room there was almost nothing but a beautiful white hammock that was hung from one corner of the room all the way to the opposite corner. 

She motioned for me to continue following her into the bedroom. This made me a bit uncomfortable… as I obeyed and followed her into the bedroom. I wasn’t sure what was about to transpire. Hilda motioned for me to sit back on the bed as she continued to dance and twirl. 

While dancing, she scooped up a deck of large tarot cards on a white dresser. Everything in her place was white. She started shuffling the tarot cards as she danced and then suddenly flung them all across the bed. She instructed me to select a card. I told Hilda that I didn’t want her to read my cards… that I knew of someone who was told they would get cancer from a fortune teller. This person did in fact get cancer and I never knew for sure if it was because the fortune teller actually foresaw it, or if it was the suggestion itself. 

Hilda told me not to worry, that she was not going to read my tarot cards. She instructed me to pick one card and look at it, but don’t show it to her. Then, mix the card back into the rest of the cards, and then shuffle the deck a few times. After I shuffled the deck about 3 times, I handed it to Hilda. 

After she also shuffled the deck 3 or 4 more times, she quickly flung the deck back onto the bed and the cards all spread out. Instantly, she reached down and plucked a card from all the cards and turned it around toward me. 

“Is this your card?”

“Yes!”

“This is the seven card… the Sun Card, on the day of the eclipse.”

I examined the card and it had a figure holding up the sun I believe. Hilda took the card from me and rolled it up in a long piece of muslin cloth. She put the wrapped card in a cotton bag, along with some oranges, and some calla lilies. I think there were some other small items she put into the bag as well, and handed it to me.

“Take this to the ruins and give it to the woman from Nebraska who is the reincarnation of Guadalupe of the Americas.”

“But, I don’t know where she is, or even what she looks like.”

“You’ll know who she is and where she is when you get there.”

“Ok. Is that it? I should get going now or I’m going to miss it!”

“Yes, please hurry and don’t forget to give this to her.”

The time was getting a bit short, but I still had enough time. I just couldn’t dawdle much and had to walk quickly. 

The closer I got to the main entrance to the Palenque ruins, the more people there were. It looked as if they’d all arrived today and what a bizarre bunch most of them were! Like some strange multi-cultural, international convention of astro-space aliens from the planet of dreadlocks and tie-dye. So many in fact, that I didn’t think there was any way possible that’d I’d be able to find a person who I didn’t know their name or what they looked like. All I knew was that it was a she and that she was from Nebraska. 

Just after I passed the largest Temple of Inscriptions pyramid on my right with the observation tower complex on my left, I had  sort of a “knowing” or intuition that the woman I was looking for was on the top floor of the stone ruins tower. 

At the entrance of the tower there were two men in suits. I couldn’t make out where they were from, but they they spoke English with a foreign accent. I nodded to them as I passed into the entrance, when they held out their arms to block me.

“Excuse us Sir, but no one is allowed to pass into the tower right now.”

“Why not? I’ve been here a week and have been up there several times. Why can’t I go up today?”

“Very sorry, but you can go anywhere else you like on the grounds, just not up to the top of the tower.”

“Oh, ok. It’s not that I have a burning desire to go up there, but there’s this local cafe owner named Hilda who gave me this bag of stuff and told me to take it to the woman from Nebraska who’s supposed to be the reincarnation of Guadalupe.”

The two men looked at each surprised.

“Ok then. You may enter.”

Whoa, that was weird. How did they know? I didn’t ask anymore questions and started up the narrow stone stairway to the top level of the tower. 

At the top level, the walls are open on all four sides with the roof supported by 4 stone columns. There were 7 people sitting in a circle chanting with a light-haired woman presiding. She looked to be in her early 40’s and looked… well… like she might be from Nebraska. All of their eyes were closed. I didn’t recognize the others except for the man with the turban I’d given directions to a few days prior. The woman from Nebraska opened her eyes, looked at me and smiled as she nodded. It felt a little bit awkward, like I was interrupting something. So, I took the bag Hilda had given me and set it down in front of the woman from Nebraska. She closed her eyes again and joined back in with the chanting. The language they were chanting in wasn’t familiar to me.

For a short while I stood in the corner and watched, then quietly backed out, down the stairway, and continued out to the grounds to wander around the ruins site. It seemed that most of the people at site were of the strange variety I mentioned before. Mostly of the bohemian sort and they were all performing various rituals that involved dancing, singing, chanting, and there was a bit of primal wailing as well. 

I didn’t have any eye protection, so instead of trying to view the eclipse directly I focussed my attention on all of the bizarre spiritual circus taking place all around me. 

At Palenque, the eclipse wasn’t total, but it darkened to about twilight. The entire surrounding jungle erupted into a cacophony of buzzing night sounds with howler monkey drones. Most of the singing, drumming, and wailing raised a couple octaves in pitch as it blended into the jungly symphony. Time felt like it stopped, or at least the perception of time did. 

After what must have only been a few minutes, the light brightened as the sun shone full again. There were gasps and some singing, but the tone was more subdued. The jungle sounds went back to a normal daytime nature, and there was a palpable spirit of peace in the air. 

I wondered around the ruins for awhile, and down the trail toward the Queen’s bath to cool off. Wasn’t quite sure how to feel about what had just transpired, but I knew I wanted to hang onto the feeling as long as possible. 

Some time later, I meandered down the jungle trail and back toward Hilda’s cafe. When I arrived, it appeared empty. I heard some voices behind the cafe. It was the hippy couple from Montana… of our little group. They acted like they were somehow still enchanted. I felt that way too. A lingering feeling. They asked me where I was for the eclipse.

“I went to the ruins. Lots of people there. Very odd for the most part, but cool. You?”

“We had planned to go to the ruins too, but instead we wandered out into a cornfield. Not sure why, but it was also very cool.”

“Cool in the cornfield?”

“Yeah, it was. The corn stalk leaves created little pinholes that were projecting the shapes of hundreds of eclipse shadows on the ground. When the breeze would blow the stalks, they’d all dance about. And, the jungle sounds!”

“I know! Wasn’t that incredible? It was pretty intense being at the edge of the jungle at the ruins with all of the singing and wailing going on.”

“Oh, I bet…”

“Hey, have either of you seen Hilda around?”

“No, why?”

“Before the eclipse I came by to do a favor for her. She was dressed up in a saffron outfit with a parrot on her shoulder. She was dancing and around and summoned me to her bedroom…”

“Was she playing with some tarot cards by chance?”

“Yes!”

“And did you pick the seven card… the Sun card?”

“Yes! How’d you know?!”

“She did that exact same thing to each one of us over the course of the morning. All seven of us! And we all picked that same card. You must’ve been the last one to go.”

“She wrapped it in muslin and put it in a bag with some other items… oranges, calla lilies, and some other charms I think. Ended up taking them to that woman from Nebraska. Know idea how I knew where she’d be.”

“She was at the ruins too?”

“Yeah, doing some ceremony in the observation tower. Mostly chanting. Hey, there were seven in her chanting circle too. Including that dude with the turban I mentioned before.”

“What a wild day. Such a blessing. I think I hear some people in the cafe now.”

We all walked back inside Hilda’s cafe where there were several people gathering. Hilda smiled and was putting out some food and drinks. I saw the woman from Nebraska talking with some others from the circle. Said my goodbyes to the group after we compared stories of the seven card… the Sun Card, on the day of the eclipse. I shook everyone’s hand including the woman from Nebraska, and a kiss for Hilda.

It was difficult to leave just then, still processing the events of the week, and this incredible day… but, I’d made it all the way up to the day of the eclipse with barely a peso to spare. I’d already purchased my bus ticket heading toward Mexico City, and on toward the Texas border. It’s a long trip and I couldn’t drag my feet anymore. I’d already packed my backpack and only needed to catch a collectivo taxi to the bus station in the town of Palenque.

On my way out of Hilda’s cafe, I saw the man with the turban with his giant, ancient holy book opened. He was reading a passage to himself, but in a language I didn’t recognize. Then, he spoke to me in English.

“You are leaving us now?”

“Yes, I’ve got to get back home. I’ve been gone awhile.”

“Buenas Suerte. Good luck on your journey. And thank you so much for all that you’ve done. I am from the Mexican town of San Cristobal de las Casas in the mountains. It’s beautiful there.”

“Yes, I’ve been there before. It is very beautiful. But I was robbed there a couple of years ago.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that. Please return to our city. I promise the next time you will be welcomed with open arms. Again, I’m very grateful for all you did to help us.”

“You’re certainly welcome, but I don’t really feel like I did much of anything at all. All I did was give you some directions when you arrived, and dropped off a bag with a tarot card, some fruit, flowers, and trinkets during the eclipse. I don’t even know what any of that meant.”

“It’s not important that you understand. Just know that your blessed involvement played an important role in our ceremonies and intentions… especially during the eclipse. Muchas Gracias.”

The bus trip back North was a long, uncomfortable, marathon of a journey. Did the whole 33 hours or so, in 3 hops. Overnight 12 hours to Mexico City, then another 16 hours overnight to the border, and another 5 hours from the border back up to Austin, Texas. Barely even noticed the trip at all. I was still in that state of wonder I think. Replaying the events and what they’d meant. 

Still baffled as to why the woman in white muslin would try to poison a complete stranger. Or, how a few carefully selected jungle plants could heal a long, deep gash in my knee overnight without even evidence of a scratch remaining. Or, what any of that ceremony related to the seven Sun tarot card on the day of the eclipse meant. 

I think what meant the most to me though, out of all the entire trip, was the realization that sometimes… likely most of the time… it has little to do with you. Your purpose isn’t always related or even meaningful to your own personal story, but instead you may be playing a crucial role in a much larger narrative that you may never completely comprehend. 

© 2018 Skip Hunt

~~~

Patreon is now fired up again! Some posts will be public and some will be for Patreon subscribers only. I'm also going to start posting a much larger mélange of artful expression here in addition to travel stuff from the road. Content like audio experiments, stories in short chapter form, video art, and maybe something called "Psychogeography" projects... more on that later. 

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#eclipse #mayan ruins #mexico #mystic #palenque

[karenuse54-blog]

Talking baseball with John Thorn, official historian of Major League Baseball and coauthor of The Hidden Game

(John Thorn, photo by Alison Richards; Bill Savage, photo by Rich Lalich.)

In 1984, John Thorn and Pete Palmer helped launch what would become the sabermetric revolution in baseball by publishing The Hidden Game of Baseball: A Revolutionary Approach to Baseball and Its Statistics. More than thirty years later, we have seen the game of baseball absorb the insights of Thorn, Palmer, and those who came in their wake in a way that no one could ever have predicted back in the days when RBI, batting averages, and pitcher wins were king.

In 2015, we were proud to bring The Hidden Game back into print. To kick off the baseball playoff season, we hooked up our old friend Bill Savage, lit prof and Cubs fan, with John Thorn to talk about the book and the game.

In The Hidden Game, you and Pete Palmer helped explain new forms of baseball statistics to fans (and the powers-that-be in The Game).   Many of these stats have come to be widely accepted, despite the stubborn adherence to BA/HR/RBI and W/L records among the more retrograde fans. Which of the even more recent statistical categories do you think most add to our understanding and enjoyment of players’ accomplishments?

I admire the work of modern statistical analysts even as, over the years, my interests have drifted more to the history of the game, particularly its earliest period—even before statistics entered the discussion of which player was better than another. Voros McCracken’s FIP (Fielding Independent Pitching) has seemed to me to be a great breakthrough in the way we look at the game, and how we measure it. BABIP (Batting Average on Balls in Play) is also a solid new stat, as it reveals the good luck or bad that may inform short-term outcomes. WAR (Wins Above Replacement) is a refinement of Pete Palmer’s Linear Weights System, with the principal difference being its baseline of a mythical replacement player (available via callup from Triple-A) rather than the LWTS baseline of zero. The latter still seems to me more elegant mathematically and philosophically, as an average team will go 81-81 and thus provide no extra wins above a team that is 0-0 on Opening Day.

What’s your take on the new measurements of hitters (launch angle and exit velocity) that are based primarily on technological advances rather than new mathematical ways of framing the game’s data points? Back in the day, people might have seen such things but not have been able to quantify them.

Interesting . . . which is to say that I am interested in their likely assistance in evaluating hitters’ future chances and perhaps their suitability in certain trade ruminations. I am not, however, impressed by these measures’ in-game or in-season utility. They seem to me to be the shiny tinsel on the otherwise perfect tree.

The powers-that-be in MLB are concerned with how long a game takes—but recent research by Grant Bisbee of SBNation.com (comparing two games with strong statistical parallels, from 1984 and 2014 https://www.sbnation.com/a/mlb-2017-season-preview/game-length) suggests that the difference between today’s game and the game of a generation ago is simply how long pitchers take to throw the ball.  Why not just have a 20-second pitch clock, as some minor leagues do?

As it has turned out, few pitchers exceed the 20-second mark with any regularity, so this argument may be moot, or at least window dressing, compared to other problems of pace/length, e.g., number of relief pitchers used, number of pitches thrown (deep counts), time between balls put into play (“Three True Outcomes”), and so on.

The powers-that-be in MLB are also worried about their aging fan base, and blame pace-of-play and length of games for a potentially lost generation of young fans.  But my experience is that some young people (many of my students at Northwestern, for instance) love baseball, and the pauses inherent in the game fit with their constant fiddling with phones, Tweeting and texting.  (Ahem.  I have been known to tweet between innings as well.) If you could mandate anything to get younger fans into baseball, what would it be?

This is above my pay grade, of course—I work for the Commissioner but do not presume to mandate anything. As an advanced fan, however, I might speculate that more balls in play, fewer strikeouts, and fewer situational relievers might well make the game more appealing to fans of any age.

Part of baseball’s historic continuity is the relative stability of the rules, with the lowered pitcher’s mound and the DH being prominent counter-examples.  Is it worth changing fundamental rules to speed up the game?  The gesture for an intentional walk, starting extra innings with a runner on second, and so forth?  Some sports chatterers are even suggesting making the game 7 innings long.  I’d (unseriously) suggest just starting every batter with a 1-1 count, like in park district softball.  How should baseball balance historical continuity with modern demands?

I think most fans do not appreciate the fairly violent gyrations in the rules that characterized the game into the twentieth century, and those that characterized the 1960s and early ’70s. Baseball has always had an experimental quality—just as one might say of the America’s evolving adventure into democracy. Both the nation and its pastime may be viewed as solid, inert institutions, inhospitable to change, yet that is not the way I see either. Continuity, yes; obdurate resistance, no. Traditionalists will tend to be older and bound to affirm their life’s experience of baseball (or America). But older fans, while they may dominate today’s marketplace of ideas, do not represent the economic marketplace of tomorrow.

Baseball is America’s most ancient and historic game—yet many people think MLB doesn’t do enough to teach its history to current or potential fans.  As MLB’s official historian, how would you like to see teams in MLB (and the minors) use the game’s history to enrich the fan experience?

My dear departed friend Larry Ritter, author of The Glory of Their Times (1966), liked to say that the best part of baseball today is its yesterdays. For older fans, certainly that is true. But I think baseball’s past enriches the experience of younger fans, too, and when a seemingly unique event resonates across the canyons of time to recall another, similar happenstance, the effect is warming, enriching, beautiful. I believe that my mission as MLB’s official historian is to share the pleasure I experience in making such connections, and perhaps to inspire a new generation to explore the depths of this endlessly fascinating game. No sport connects with its past on a daily basis the way that baseball does. Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, Cy Young, Christy Mathewson, Walter Johnson—these are names that all baseball fans know and revere. Can the same be said of our other team sports—say, for Red Grange (football), or George Mikan (basketball), or Howie Morenz (hockey)?

One huge issue lately is cultural differences between “old school” baseball people and younger players, especially stars from Latin America, who play with more overt emotion and exuberance.  This moment parallels the reaction of many players, coaches, and executives to how Negro League players brought their style of play to the Bigs after Jack Robinson’s debut.  It seems ironic that MLB can simultaneously worry about not appealing to young fans, and criticize players whose style might very well appeal to such young fans, accustomed as they are to the more emotionally-charged behavior on basketball courts and football fields.  The term often used in this conversation is about “respecting the game.”  What does it mean, to you, to “respect the game”?

Respecting the game has meant different things in different eras. The ungovernably rowdy 1890s nearly placed baseball permanently in the shade, trailing college football, cycling, golf, and automobile races. When decorum returned to the game, female fans did too. In the 1950s, Mickey Mantle ran around the bases with his head down after a home run, so as not to show up the pitcher. Given its roots in sublimated martial activity, baseball has sometimes struggled to strike a balance between chivalry and bravado. I am utterly confident that it will do so again, embracing Hispanic conventions while not abandoning North American reserve.

Electronic strike zone: Yes or No? If yes, how?

It may come. Certainly cricket and tennis have accommodated it. I  have always accepted mistakes as an inevitable feature of human endeavor, and almost miss the vanishing error in the field as much as I miss the triple. But it is hard to deny the appeal of greater accuracy.

The Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown is not directly run by MLB.  Right now, while executives from the PEDs Era are being inducted (Selig, Cox, LaRussa, Torre), the writers who vote on players seem pretty set on excluding Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and other players whose records they call “tainted.”  If you could mandate how players are selected for the Hall, what system would you enact?

I do mandate how players are selected for the Hall of Fame between my ears, but not for the one in Cooperstown. It is a grand institution, and part of its enduring vitality may be accounted to its annual controversy, stirring fan interest and sometime outrage.

  Source: http://pressblog.uchicago.edu/2018/10/01/talking-baseball-with-john-thorn-official-historian-of-major-league-baseball-and-coauthor-of-the-hidden-game.html

[thedummymen-blog]

The Flow That Stills as it Kills

by Aharon E. Joseph

Speaking in general terms, Hip-Hop, and more specifically Rap, emerged from the de-industrial dystopia that is early 1970s New York City. Or to be more to the point, Hip-Hop is born in, as Hip-Hop sociologist Tricia Rose states, “the deindustrialization meltdown where social alienation, prophetic imagination, and yearning intersect”. A New York City space-time where Black and Hispanic communities would be the first to experience the terror of being alienated from the alienation they had experienced as racialized workers in the worker-capitalist relation. A New York city already facing the socioeconomic consequences of late 1960s white-capital flight. A city that would be amongst the first to be lashed and gutted out by the austerity measures of the burgeoning neoliberal political and economic order of the day. An era that would come to fruition in wake of both the collapse of the international monetary system created at Bretton Woods in 1944 and the collapse of the Great Society spurred on by Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal. Here, we frame the political economic order that demarcates the libidinal economic scene that feeds the psychic unconscious needs of an anti-Black world, as it is and as it spins.

To put it crudely, the overcapacity of production and the resultant stagnation of production forced capitalists to find an elsewhere outside of production for un-investible surplus capital to be circulated for the purposes of profit generation. For the Capitalist West and its Liberal Democracies to survive the Financial and Labor regulations of the Bretton Woods institutions would have to be curtailed. Namely, so bankers could retool and repurpose international capital for speculative activities outside of production in the realm of finance.

Here the Marxian idea of capitalism always having to restructure itself in the midst of a crisis is disproved. Mainly, because in this period production - even as it is being redomiciled to the newly formed east Asian post-colonial states - was transformed, not restructured, in the American mainland by the advances in information and telecommunications technology. Coupled with this advance was the deregulation of labor. GDP still grows in this particular moment, albeit at a slower rate than the immediate post-war years. Therefore, the Mecca of Hip-Hop, New York City, as Tricia Rose points out, given “its status as hub city for international capital and information services” is the first to feel the social, economic and political consequences of these larger structural changes in capitalism.

To go back to this point of alienation. When we examine this scene we see that one is even alienated from the memory of being alienated. Of being dispossessed from the products of one’s labor. Neo-liberalism is slavery’s paragon. Namely, because in the neoliberal horizon one is constantly in a state of forgetfulness. One is in a perpetual state of out of mindedness. And this out of mind state is brought about by the unrelenting barrage of moves and techniques of capture made by the state, civil society and multinational corporations which intend to dispossess the Black. One is possessed by the desire for the body to think as it is shimming; and as the mind is captured the body drunkenly dances a fugitive dance. A back and forth Davidic-like dance that keeps oneself from falling into the abyss. But it is the stillness of the abyss that will free the mind from its shackles - that will bring about the conditions for the mind to think itself back into consciousness. Is this not the case? Is this not Fanon’s leap into invention? Nonetheless, these moves, the dance conceals, operate as the master's whip - drumming out of mind the memory of one being tied to the products in which they have labored to create; of being the possessor of labor time in the form of life, liberty and property. The recollection of memories in this scene are thus horrendously painful; one stands on knives as they think, as they remember. Here, one is alienated from their alienation. This obfuscation, this murky scene, marks the Black as Black and creates the conditions from where one is not able to see, nor be seen as, being. Indeed, as Anthony Paul Farley states, “we bear the deathly Black mark of dispossession.”

We are those captured from the formally stockpiled African seashores. Seashores stockpiled by loud shouting energetic bodies derived from the motherland’s monadic hinterlands. One thus becomes to be possessed not by an essence particular to themselves - of being for oneself and then for others - but is rather possessed by the wanton desires of market forces and the whimsical boom, bap and bust of the business cycle. This amnesia, this sleepy forgetfulness, is an endless repetition of one’s being alienated from their alienation, from memory- and this episode repeats endlessly like the sampled drum loop.

I talk of remembering forgotten aspects of the past not for the purposes of creating a vendetta, per se. But rather as a way to reconstitute one’s fragmented ego drives into a singular persona. Therefore, like the recurring dream that visits us in our sleep we must remember what is forgotten in order for the dream that eternally recurs to cease from ever returning again. One must recognize the message in the bottle offered up by the unconscious. And this is done so that we may be liberated from the Sisyphean scene repressed from the conscious parts of our psyche. Bringing on a remembering that would institute a violent self-making - an emergence of being - one Malcolm X often alluded to - by way of a healthy dialectical relationship with life and death. A dialectics that develops one’s ethical framework and disposition to the world through, as Friedrich Nietzsche put it, “a triumphant affirmation of oneself.” An encounter with death that would enable the Black to find themselves in deaths affirmation of life rather than in its negation. And if we are to go deeper with this life affirming ethos, one finds a transformative type of affirmation of the self in the negation of the self, by the self. In this way we are like Frantz Fanon, in that in “the world through which [we] travel, [we are] endlessly creating [ourselves].” Thus, a necessary self-making violence must take place. A self making that up until now has been sublimated and relegated to the imaginary by, as Fanon discovered in his classic ‘Wretched of the Earth’, the “symbolic killings, figurative cavalcades, and imagined multiple murders” projected by way of the mass media popular culture apparatus: namely, in the realms of film, song, dance, sport extravaganza, gaming and the numerous cults of celebrity/personality spread throughout the modern day temples of worship on the worldwide internet.

I offer no grandiose vision of Hip-Hop’s telos. I only offer up this particular heretical interpretation of its its origins and of its utility. Here, I want to focus on a particularly marginal aspect of Hip Hop: the Fast Rap vocal performance. A stylistic of Rap that merges both form and content into one - and indeed makes them indistinguishable features. I am therefore appealing to a style and technique that merges vocal delivery and lyrical content in such a way as to have each dynamic of the style eclipse the distinctness of the other. A style that perfects Hip hop’s modus operandi of being a supremely lit bombastic sonic light show, of being the grandest of stage spectacles one can encounter. Hip Hop is a universe where the speed of sound is equal to that of the speed of light. The sound and light wave are intermingled beyond relativity. Both vocal delivery and content merge and emerge as a harmonized singular continuum of flow - of a flow that shape shifts, morphs and mutates without beginning nor end. Albeit, a flow that stills as it kills.

This stylistic of Rap, the fast rap - if I may indulge myself in a basic and all too inadequate genealogy - found its most sophisticated articulation in the mid 1990s with the grammy award winning group Bone Thugs n Harmony. All though precedents for the style - going far back to, as pointed out to me recently by my fellow podcast colleague Mez G, the 1968 redo of James Moody’s “Moody’s Mood for Love” by King Pleasure. A style that would later be exhibited by rappers such as LL Cool J, Heavy D, Kool G Rap, Mc Ren, Jaz-O and Freestyle Fellowship (who were contemporaries of Bone in the early 1990s). Contemporaries of Bone, like Twista and Do or Die from Chicago, similarly like Bone claimed the tongue twisting fast rap as their sole creations. For me these posturings, albeit typical of Rap’s insistent need to appeal to the authentic, to the real, obscure for us the political and psychic significance of the style. These posturings obscured what it was that the fast rap in its most sophisticated articulations and enunciations aimed to convey, albeit unconsciously. For in a Gadamerian sense, the artist, as a conduit, is often unaware of the hidden meanings contained within the art they create. 

My point in all of this is to break the genrified bonds that have gentrified Rap music away from the styles of Black ‘new world’ musical articulation which have preceded it - of which it is merely a continuation of. Rap is seemingly a return of the Same - as a novel musical response to the eternally recurring ethical dilemmas that existence in the ‘new world’ has brought on. It is a death-bound scream to be seen, not heard.   

For when we look solely to those enacting the novel style of the fast rap and not to the conditions from which those enacting the style arose from, we mistake the finger pointing to the moon for the moon. We get caught up in an idolatrous relationship with the phenomena before us. Turning our heads from the real, from the thing that torments as it repeats. Forcing the real, that is the cause for suffering, to constantly re-present itself in new and obscuring ways. And If we are to do a cursory look at the conditions, both material and psychic, the neoliberal instant we are/were in currently in is none other than the paragon of slavery. It is none other than the perfection of the racial capitalism which created the slave estate. A slave estate that made modernity and its ethos of progress possible. Neoliberalism as slavery’s paragon disappears the abolitionist positionality of the Black. It imprisons Black positionality by terraforming it into the subject position of the self-advancing individual the Chicago school and its adherents deemed to be its own generator of capital: human capital. Into the self made entrepreneur. Into the human as capital. Here the Black framed as worker is doubly framed as capitalist, in waiting. And tell me, what is Hip-Hop other than the conversion of near zombified Blacks into entrepreneurs of the self? Into creators of the Self? When there is nothing of a self that exists there is nothing of a self to be saved, only a self to be made.

Neoliberalism in an oxymoronic sense is the death of human capital. Namely, because before this human capital can actually be actualized - this fictionalized form of capital in the form of the Black - it is rendered un-actualizable by the social, economic and political policies of austerity coterminous with neoliberalism. Human capital is a ruse. And as Peter Fleming would suggest human capital theory itself was a mere ideological tool the American empire would use to combat Soviet aims to bifurcate the world into workers and capitalists; where the Trotskyist-like notion of a permanent revolution would be taken up by the world’s proletariat, in an attempt to create a communist-socialist world order.    

Here, in this scene we have restaged in this piece, the hardcore sublime turn in rap, the fast rap, comes to its full fruition in a post-cold-war era - at human capitals end. What emerges after the demise of the idea of human capital is, as R.A. Judy states, “the “nigga”, who “understands that all possibility converts from capital, and [that] capital does not derive from [human] work.”  

In a purely economic sense, in neoliberalism, as Costas Lapvitsas writes, “monopolies generate an ever expanding surplus which cannot be absorbed by the sphere of production and thus results in stagnation. To relieve stagnation there is an inexorable rise in unproductive consumption (including pure waste).” There, in the rusting decaying industrial mainlands of the US, in places such New York City, the socio-economically immobile Black - out of work - was inundated with the pure waste, in a real material and psychic sense, created by the products derived from capitals overproduction. Rather than being the consumers of the frivolous products of consumption characteristic of mature capitalism, the Black was buried by the psychic and material waste stockpiled in the soon to be redeveloped, renewed and gentrified localities they had heretofore called home. Here, the abandoned subject, emptied and hollowed out, innovates new spasmodic and robotic means of life activity and vocal articulation to fight off being buried alive by the pure waste. One finds themselves in the break, in the dance that breaks, in the dance that intensifies the breaking of the self: the breakdance.

To return back to the fast rap now. The staccato fast rap style of the 1990s is the furthering of the innovations started by James Brown in the 1960s. Namely, Brown’s turning of the Bass and Electric Guitar into percussive instruments: into drums. The drum being the first mobile technology. The drum as the conveyer of messages across space-time boundaries. The fast rap staccato-legato vocal performative style particular to Bone Thugs n Harmony is the complete turning of the vocal into a drum. A war drum. A war drum mimicking the sounds of a machine gun. The voice becomes the simulacra of the machine gun. All of this signals to the death of call and response as a logos. It is John Coltrane throwing his saxophone to the side and beating his chest. It is Luther Vandross at the Five minute and Fifty-Seven second time mark of the song ‘A House is not a Home’ breaking down into repeated hushed tone utterances of the lyric, “are you gonna be”. An utterance popularized by its sampling in rapper Twista’s 2003 song ‘Slow Jamz’ featuring both Kanye West and Jamie Foxx.

The fast rap is the death of the call and response logos. It is the end of narration as a means to attaining self determination. The staccato-legato form of the fast rap foregoes the pretense of the want for recognition, of the pretense for the want for love and embraces death not as life’s ultimate end, but as life itself. It embraces Black life, as David Marriott writes, “as the work of death, [as] the work born of fidelity to death, but without transcendence.” Bizzy Bone sums up this sentiment rather cogently in the song “Father” when  he raps: “Life is a fight to the street life, tonight I might go meet the reaper, and I will give him a hug, And tell him ‘Thug love won, and I’m so glad to meet ya”.

Up to this point the rapper has been the spiritual descendent of the spurned native and slave estate informant. Presently, the stylistic development of the fast rap has created the conditions for the long overdue death of the informant. Reborn in this horizon is the warrior-chief who had formally chosen to commit suicide rather than to forego her/his life lived ethically for mere biological preservation. Now the possibility of a horizon without the deprived saboteur informant exists. The willfully ignorant unconscious saboteur who eagerly told tales of murder, sex, drugs, the sex trade, dilapidated housing, for nothing - the one who so eagerly revealed the territory covered by the map, who revealed the inner secrets of dead inner city space - who would be the primary source for the tales eager travelogues would scribble down in the precolonial and colonial periods.

This information gets distilled by the academic industrial complex - and to civil society writ large. It is then shuffled over to the governmental apparatus, to the city officials and then to private interest i.e. the developers and multinational construction conglomerates. These agents of societal change act as the missionaries, geographers, traders and anthropologists of times past. These agents of change - these gatherers of information - prod, open, investigate and analyze the content supplied by the street poets, rappers, graffiti artists and dj’s. These informants roles are no different than that of the griots, the coastal sultans who were tied up in the Red Sea, Mediterranean Sea, Indian Ocean and Atlantic Ocean slave trade, the guile merchants, and the slave raiding military regimes who ruled the African hinterlands. And all of this information is used to find new ways to dispossess and create new markets for exploitation; whether through imminent domain, redevelopment, gentrification or renewal projects. All of this is urbanization. And seen from the unthought position of the Black, urbanization is the means of capital accumulation that has replaced industrialization as the most dominant form of capital accumulation in this neoliberal era.

Nevertheless, the fast rap, as the flow that stills as it kills, is a love, a deathly type of love, a hara love. A love not included in the 6 forms of love identified by the Ancient Greeks. It is a love that submerges the surveiller/listener into the oceanic, into the quiet storm - it is the smooth killing of a smooth criminal. It is, subverting Tricia Rose’s words, an “aggressive public display of counter presence and voice” that forces the white, locked and sealed in a parasitic and eternally transcendent state of being-ness, to finally withdraw into the zone of non-being. Into the poetic mode of existence the Black has been encased into. A poetic mode of existence that midwife’s the burgeoning and dormant unmanifest life potential - the Platonic Ideas/Forms that lay latent in space - into the plane of the living: into time.

#hiphop #antiblackness #capitalism #neoliberalism #black art