#and you want me to give you extra grades to save your ass???????????? my beloved......... choke

[miasanmuller]

I loooove to come into Tumblr dot com and see people dragging teachers around and condemning every single thing a teacher has ever done inside a classroom and pretending that students are silly little pure things who are never to blame in any situation ever

[yesloverboy]

Never Let You Go (mgk! Tommy Lee x Reader)

Requested: Anon

“I have 2 requests but they are completely up to your interpretation anyways, so for one like tommy taking care of his drunk girlfriend or friend or whatever you want and then another request would be tommy (lol love my tommy) where like the reader and tommy are friends and they’re at a bar and readers ex is there and shit goes down. Hopefully those make sense, do what you want!”

Note: Listen, I know it’s been a hot minute but my love for Tommy and Crüe will never die so thanks for being patient! Love y’all bunches and I will be posting about my updated writing schedule shortly. 

word count: 2,712

[Warnings: blood, violence, cheating, toxic relationships, swearing, and alcohol mention.]

permanent tags: @colsonbakersnoseringmain, @lululovesgwtw, @kingbouji3

mötley tags: @lauravic 

tommy tags: @chlobo6

 After your breakup, you were almost certain that not even all the alcohol in the world could drown your problems. Heartache left an unfillable void in your chest that wanted to suck every last bit of your happiness deep down inside, never to be seen again. Luckily, your best friend, Tommy, was determined to spend the entire weekend proving you wrong. According to Tommy, alcohol can drown any problem if you’re with the right people– and he just so happens to be your favorite person in the entire world.

 If someone were to ask you weeks– maybe even days –ago, you would’ve claimed that your boyfriend Kyle, of three and a half years, held the position of favorite in your heart. That is, until you found him grunting and thrusting into a woman that most definitely wasn’t you. Hell, she wasn’t even a woman you knew. As it turned out, your beloved boyfriend had been fucking other women on and off since they day you’d met.

 Teary-eyed and utterly brokenhearted, you went to the only person you knew who could hold you together at a time like this– Tommy. In his usual fashion, Tommy had greeted your desperate raps on his door with a goofy grin and open arms. However, once his blue eyes met your red-rimmed ones, his chipper mood quickly dissolved into concern.

 “Hey button, what’s the matter?” Tommy asked, using his long arms to envelop you in a tight bear hug. Button had been his nickname for you ever since grade school. Tommy had always been bad with names, and the rainbow buttons of your first-day-of-school overalls sealed your place in Tommy’s memory from that day forward.

 You had prepared what you were going to tell Tommy on the cab ride over but, the moment he uttered your nickname, everything fell to pieces. Big, fat tears welled up in your eyes, dripping onto Tommy’s shirt like heavy rain. To your relief, he didn’t press any more questions your way. Instead, he shushed you softly and tucked you through the doorway with a protective arm.

 It wasn’t long before Tommy had you curled on the couch, wrapped tightly in a quilted blanket with your head resting comfortably in his lap. He gave you time to cry out the rest of your frustration as he ran his long fingers through the snags in your hair. Tommy didn’t say much, even if seeing you in crisis mode devastated him to the core. You were always the strong one of the two of you, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to keep it together while you crumbled at his feet.

 After a while, your sobs eventually devolved into pitiful sniffles, allowing you to catch your breath enough to finally speak. When you finally mustered up the courage to tell Tommy what your boyfriend– well, ex-boyfriend – had done to you, his blood began to boil incessantly beneath his skin. Tommy wanted Kyle dead. Hell, deader than dead. If you hadn’t just been sobbing in his arms for the past hour, he’d already be on the phone with Nikki to plot your ex’s demise.

 Tommy physically couldn’t comprehend how a slimeball like Kyle could possibly have it in him to cheat on a girl like you for so long. You were patient, kind, and positively beautiful in Tommy’s eyes. For most people, a guy like Tommy is a lot to handle, but you never asked him to shrink himself in the presence of other people. You loved Tommy’s ‘too-much-ness’, as you affectionately called it, and wanted nothing more than to bottle it up and save some for the rainy days. Unfortunately, this day had been the rainiest of them all.

 Although he would never admit it, you were Tommy’s dream girl, and he would do whatever it took to make you feel like your old self again. Even if it were only for a few, fleeting moments in between bloodshot eyes and broken cries.

...

 It’s that same desire to make you happy that has Tommy dragging you to some sleazy new wave club halfway across town. You and Tommy are renowned metalheads in the L.A. music scene, but you can’t deny the way that the heavy synth and pounding bass lifts your spirits from the inside. As much as you despise its trendy nature, the appeal of cheap pop music isn’t entirely lost on you, and going to the last place anyone would expect to see you is exactly what you need right now.

 The club is packed full of patrons, each demonstrating new and interesting ways to incorporate nylon and neoprene into their glowing ensembles. You and Tommy undoubtedly stick out like sore thumbs, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as he takes your hands and swings you across the dancefloor. You Spin Me Round blares through the sound system, causing the light-up floor to vibrate obnoxiously beneath your feet.

 Tommy picks you up and begins spinning you around in his arms at a dizzying pace, causing you to erupt into a fit of cringes and laughter. The two of you haven’t even made it to the bar yet and you’re already giggling and shoving each other like a pair of carefree idiots. Tommy’s childlike sense of fun and comforting grasp bandaids the gaping hole in your chest for a moment, but the fear of your all-encompassing sadness leaking out again makes you shiver beneath the strobing lights.

 As if he can read your mind, Tommy’s roughhousing ceases so he can stop and look at you. His dark blue eyes scan yours for any sign of an imminent breakdown on the horizon, but you quickly plaster on a brave face. You have no reason to hide the wave of sadness passing through you, but figure there’s no time like the present to practice looking fine in front of those you love.

 Before Tommy can ask if you’re okay, you bounce on your tiptoes and grasp at his shoulder for leverage. “I’m going to get us some drinks, okay?” you project your weak voice into Tommy’s ear, practically yelling over the pulsating music.

 Tommy seems to get the idea and offers you a weak smile as you turn towards the bar. Stay here, you mouth and Tommy shoots a reassuring thumbs up in your direction. With a shaky breath, you maneuver your way through the energetic crowd, doing your best to scout out the farthest available bartender. Initially, the crowd and the noise did a great job of clouding your memory, but now you needed a little extra help from some good, old fashioned hard liquor.

 You belly up to the bar, relieved that the music is just quiet enough in this corner of the club that you don’t have to strain your voice as much. Giving the bartender your best fake smile, you order yourself a double vodka soda and a Jack and Coke for Tommy. It feels like it’s going to be a long night, and you could use all the help you can get to even dream of keeping up with Tommy’s excessive drinking.

 Just as you’re about to grab the glasses and search for your lanky companion, you sense an all too familiar presence at your side.

“Y/N? Baby, is that you?”

 You suck in a breath, the sickly sweet tone of Kyle’s voice driving an icy stake into your palpitating heart. No, no, no, no, you flounder, this can’t be happening. You turn around, mouth running dry as soon as your eyes meet the confident gaze of your ex-lover. It was a look you had seen a hundred times before, and yet the familiarity of it all is exactly what’s bringing you to your knees.

 Kyle takes a step forward and you immediately find yourself taking an instinctive step back, the base of your spin quickly bumping harshly into the bar’s edge. Kyle rests a casual hand on the bar next to your hip, not exactly pinning you to the spot, but making it more than apparent that he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

 “Thought that was you, sweetheart, I’d recognize that tight ass anywhere,” Kyle purs, looking down on you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, “Miss me yet?”

 The ice in yours and Tommy’s drinks rattles in its glasses, giving away the tremor in your nervous hands. You want to yell, scream, cry– anything, but you find yourself frozen to the spot. The memory of Kyle on top of that mystery woman in your shared bed replays in your head like a threat, reminding you that he never really loved you at all. Feeling small and pathetic in front of the man that abused your trust for so long, you silently pray that the floor might swallow you up.

 You grit your teeth as hot tears blur your vision, but do not speak. A sob starts to build in your throat and, before you’re able to release it, a flash of movement catches your eye. Looking past Kyle, you’re relieved to find Tommy storming over to the scene with bared teeth and clenched fists.

 “Hey asshole!” Tommy growls, jerking Kyle’s shoulder back in an effort to yank him away from your trembling form. The look of overwhelming fear and anxiety in your eyes fans the fire in Tommy’s chest, and it takes all of his strength not to drag your ex to the floor right then and there. In all your years of knowing Tommy, you never imagined he could ever look this furious and you find yourself getting scared.

 You aren’t scared of Tommy, no, you could never be– you were scared for Kyle.  

 Kyle just laughs and brushes at his lapels for show, raising his hands in mock surrender, “Easy there, man. I was just about to ask my girl if she wanted a ride home, is all. Isn’t that right, hon?”

 The cockiness in Kyle’s voice turns your stomach as he looks back at you expectantly, silently willing you to comply. Your eyes dart between him and Tommy, and you can already picture how the next couple of minutes are going to unfold.

 Tommy steps directly into your ex’s personal space, the visible height difference making Kyle shift his jaw nervously. To anyone passing by, Kyle probably appeared to be in total control, but you knew him well enough to recognize the look on his face. He’s in deep shit, and he knows it.

 “Funny you call her that, Kyle,” Tommy spits, his voice dripping with venom as he presses an accusatory finger into Kyle’s chest. “Make no mistake, I heard you had a girl– actually, a long list of girls. But Y/N? Yeah, she ain’t one of them. Never was.”

 Kyle laughs nervously, puffing out his chest in a weak attempt to seem taller. “Is that right? Then what is she, then? Your girl?”

 “And what if she is? What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

 Tommy’s face is only a few inches away from Kyle’s, the tension in the air so palpable that even the bartender across the way seems to be frozen it. The bass from the dancefloor thumps ominously in the distance, its hollow thud matching the heaviness of your heartbeat.

 To your surprise, Kyle is the first to relent. Casting you a bitter glance, he shoves Tommy’s chest away from his and begins backing slowing out of the room. His eyes never leave Tommy’s, watching him with the same caution as a zookeeper getting ready to feed a hungry lion. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it comes far too soon.

 “Fine, have her,” Kyle hisses, “she’s a lousy lay, anyways.”

 The moment the insult left your ex’s lips, his fate was sealed. Tommy’s restraint melts away as he lunges forward, his fist swiftly connecting against Kyle’s nose with a sickening crack. Blood spurts out from Kyle’s face and onto the glowing floor like a broken spigot, instantly causing your stomach to flip queasily. Even in the low lighting you can see splotches of ruby red seeping into the fabric of his stark white shirt.  

 Kyle stumbles backward, falling disoriented to the floor. He cries out in agony but Tommy continues to stalk forward, relentlessly hunting him into a corner like some kind of feral animal. You know it can only get uglier from here and, as much as you’ve enjoyed seeing Kyle eat his words, you really don’t want to add bailing Tommy out of jail to your to-do list.

 Before Tommy can cock back his fist for another hit, you catch his arm. The glasses you were previously grasping in your hands clatter noisily to the floor, the watered down alcohol and soda pooling lazily at your feet.

 “Tommy, that’s enough,” you warn, but the words are cushioned by tenderness you feel for him. All ever Tommy wanted to do was shelter you from all the bad things in the world, and you’d be lying if you couldn’t admit that he did it well.

 With an angry sigh, Tommy begrudgingly allows you to pull him to your side. Snaking his arm protectively around your shoulders, he frowns slightly as you shiver beneath his touch. It pains him to see you this way, shaking with anxiousness in the presence of a man you used to give all your love to– a love that he didn’t even deserve. Without thinking Tommy presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, the touch so faint you almost miss it.

 “I’ve got you, button,” Tommy whispers, his voice barely audible over the music. Your heart somersaults in your chest as you gaze up at Tommy, your watery eyes connecting with his soft blues. Even panting and red-faced from his encounter with your ex, he still has the same happy face that drew you to him all those years ago.

 Without a second thought, you lace your fingers with Tommy’s, holding his arm in place as it rests on your frame. “Let’s go home,” you sniffle, nuzzling his bruised knuckles with the side of your tear-stained cheek.

 You lead Tommy out of the club, leaving Kyle moaning pathetically in a pool of his own blood. Not even a bartender or a bouncer cared to bat an eye at his pitiful display, and you can’t help but wonder if he would look the same after suffering a broken nose. Kyle may have left a permanent stain on your heart, but Tommy made sure he wouldn’t be able to so much as look in the mirror without remembering what he had done to you.

 The summer air is balmy outside the club as you and Tommy await the next available cab. You stand in comfortable silence, your form still pressed firmly against his side as he puffs on a cigarette absentmindedly. Tommy’s free hand curls around the ends of your hair, the small, intimate gesture causing you to blush.

 “So,” you say finally, breaking the silence, “your girl, huh?”

 Tommy’s eyes widen, his blue irises swimming in orbs of white. “Oh, uh, that? That was nothing– just, uh, don’t worry about it–” he stammers, his face flushing pink with embarrassment.

 With a grin, you rise to your tiptoes and place a gentle kiss on Tommy’s cheek, stunning him into silence. “Someday,” you whisper, “Maybe not today, but someday soon.”

 Your words tumble through the night air like a promise, intertwining with Tommy’s ever visible heartstrings and grasping tightly. Tommy always fell for girls hard and fast, but with you it was different. His love for you only grew with each passing moment, embedding itself in every look and every action until it all culminated into a single punch. You were what he had always been looking for, and he was exactly what you had been missing all along.

 Tommy holds you tight for the rest of the evening, playing with your fingers on the cab ride home to eventually tangling his legs with yours as the two of you collapse in a heap on his couch. No matter what happens, no matter how long it takes– Tommy would be yours forever, and forever isn’t nearly long enough.

Masterlist

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Somos Familia Ch 31

Chapter 31: Splintered

Barto was dead.

Inquiries had been made in Jalisco just to be sure, with faint hope that it was not the case. Maybe he had missed the ship the day it set off, after all it wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened. Whether he had slept in, been too sick or too hungover to work that day, any reason would have brought such joy and relief to his family and to Matty as well. But no, his name had been written into the sign-in register for the ship the day it set off, and he did not stay behind in Florida to rest. Bartolomeo Rosales had perished along with the other fifteen crewman of the Doncella Feliz, and his body was now lost in the vast Gulf of Mexico.

The Riveras hurried back to Santa Cecilia to pay their respects to the grieving family, save for Coco. Theresa would not let her out of her commitments to her movie and to her adoring fans. In the end Coco, Julio and Victoria had parted ways yet again, and from the way Victoria had fussed and cried and the way Julio sulked while looking out of the train window it had not had been on the most pleasant terms.

Barto’s family was not as well-known as the Riveras, nor anywhere near as wealthy. The traditional vigil for their son was small and humble, a simple picture of his grinning face in place of a body surrounded by flowers and candles. Rosita and Julio talked amongst Barto’s many little sisters, Imelda and Héctor spoke quietly to his grieving mother, and Matty slowly made his way over to his distraught father. Señor Rosales sat slumped into a chair as he stared at the floor, his whole face and mustache drooping in sadness. He looked so much like his son that Matty was sure Barto would have grown up to be indistinguishable to him, white hair and all. Now, however, that would never come to pass.

“Señor Rosales?” Matty asked quietly as not to startle the man.

He looked up and smiled weakly at Matty. “Ah, Mateo! Come, sit.” He gestured for the young man to take a seat next to him. Once he had done that Señor Morales patted him heartily on the knee. “I’m so glad you were able to come pay your respects, chico. And thank you for offering to pay for Bartolomeo’s headstone for the cemetery. He might night be buried here, but it will be nice to have something grand to put his offerings on when he comes to visit.”

“I’m glad I could help in some way.” Matty said.

“I’m sorry you had to cut your vacation short, though. I know you must not get much time off from school.”

Matty shook his head vehemently. “No, I don’t care about that! Barto was my best friend, I’d do anything for him!”

Señor Rosales’ mouth drew into a quivering line and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Your friend… Sí …” Wiping a rough hand across his face he coughed loudly before he continued.

“I must be honest with you chico, I… Didn’t care much for Barto when he was a boy. Not that I didn’t love him, no, he was my only and beloved son! But… I did not approve his attitude and of some of his decisions. He got caught up with that mocoso Sergio and acted in a way that shamed both his Mamá and myself. His grades were poor, he was disrespectful towards his family and was always getting into trouble… I was certain that he would end up in jail or worse…”

“And then you became his friend and turned him around. Gracias a Dios that you did! You turned him into a good-hearted, hard-working, honorable man that I was proud to call my son. When he got the job in Jalisco he was so thrilled, chico, and he was so excited to tell you first! Because you inspired him to be better than he ever thought he was.”

“But now he’s dead.” Matty said stiffly as his fingers dug into his knees. “Killed by those damn Germans… If it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have been on that boat.”

“Don’t think that Mateo!” Señor Rasales said as he tried to calm down the boy’s ire. “He was a good man and proud to have gotten such a good job. I shudder to think what he would have become if he was still with that Sergio-”

“Aww, did someone mention my name?”

Both looked up to see the man in question lazily leaning against the wall as he smirked. Sergio was only twenty-two, but the last few years of excess drinking and other vices had aged him an extra ten years. His hair had thinned on top, he had put on extra weight over the years, and he was missing some teeth that Matty was sure he had punched out himself in the past. With their attention now on him he sauntered over and picked up Barto’s picture.

“What are you doing here, cabrón?” Señor Rosales growled, his eyes never leaving the picture in case Sergio decided to do something malicious to it. “You weren’t invited.”

“I thought the whole town always comes to funerals? Though with no body I guess you could just call this a depressing dinner party.” He turned the picture around to face them. “Besides, why wouldn’t I come to mourn the loss of an old friend?”

“You were never his friend, Sergio.” Matty said as he stood up. “He was just a lackey to you. You didn’t give a damn about him, or anyone except yourself.”

“Oh sí sí, I know you both became real tight amigos.” Sergio placed the photo back down between the candles, Matty and Señor Rosales sighing a little in relief. “You know that’s probably what killed him, don’t you? Everyone close to you ends up a corpse, don’t they? You’re cursed.”

Matty slowly inhaled and exhaled the flash of anger away. “How many times do I have to knock you on your ass before you realize that you shouldn’t mess with me?” At this point it seemed unfair for Matty to punch Sergio, being a good foot taller than the bully who seemed to have stopped growing all those years ago from their first fight.

Sergio ignored the question. “What are you going to do now, though? Now that you know who killed Barto? You gonna go kill some Nazis? I’d really like to see you with a gun, do you even know how to fire one? Maybe you should just go over there and befriend them, that’ll be a sure-fire way to drop them like flies.”

His fists and jaw clenching, Matty hissed. “Why don’t you go back to the cantina, Sergio? Your seat is getting cold and lonesome.”

“Ha, I knew it!” Sergio let out a wheezy laugh and pointed at Matty. By now everyone had crowded around the two, wondering if another brawl would occur between the town drunk and the prestigious Rivera boy. “You talk like you care about Barto, but you won’t even try to avenge his death! Coward! Go back to your snotty little school house in America with all your rich friends! Puto! Pinche puto!”

“Callate!” Matty screamed and bore down on Sergio. “I loved Barto! And I will avenge him! I’m going to Africa next week for training and I will be fighting while you sit here wasting away and doing nothing for your old friend, puto!”

“You’re what?!”

With that sudden sharp question Matty suddenly realized he had an audience surrounding him, including his parents. Imelda held her hand over her mouth in horror as she and Héctor both stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief. Matty sighed as he felt an immense weight lift from his chest, but he didn’t feel any better. He just looked at his parents sadly and nodded. “I enlisted in the war effort.” Then he closed his eyes in shame as Imelda started to glare at him, only to open them when he heard a snicker.

Sergio smiled a nasty, gap-toothed grin at him. “Well well, I guess that the cat’s out of the ba-“

Sergio’s head whipped around as Matty’s fist crashed into his jaw and he crumpled like tissue paper to the floor. The audience gasped in shock, but Matty paid no mind to them as he shook his knuckles loose and gazed towards his dumbfounded parents.

“Mierda…”

--------------------------

Miguel sat on the edge of the bed as he watched his older brother pack up his suitcase in silence. Dante laid his head across his lap and he softly petted it, the old dog’s eyes distantly watching his master move around. The soft cloudiness across the pupils showed the beginnings of cataracts, and the skin had grown even more wrinkled than a paper bag. Still the dog was beloved and cared for by the family, and at nearly twelve years old had lived much longer than all the other dogs out on the streets. He still whimpered when Matty placed another folded shirt into the suitcase: Another piece of him going. Going to a place where he couldn’t follow him. To a place where he might never return from.

“Are you gonna fly a plane in the war?” Miguel asked with a hushed tone of wonder. Wars and battles were only stuff he had heard about in bible lessons and tales from old veterans of the Revolution. Now his brother was going to fight in one too!

Matty laughed a little. “Maybe but probably not, I’m pretty sure they want someone with good eyesight to fly a plane.” He said as he tapped the edge of his glasses.

“Oh…” Miguel sagged a little in disappointment before perking up. “Well, are you going to shoot a gun?”

This caused Matty to pause with a shirt still in hands. He looked over at his baby brother, looking up at him with a dimpled grin and wide, shining eyes. A little brother that he loved very much yet barely got to see because of school. The flights across the United States and the long train rides towards Santa Cecilia were long, draining and a real pain in the neck. But he had been determined to come see his family every chance he got, and quite frankly it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford it. He wanted to leave a good impression on Miguel in his early years and be a good brother. Would this be the last memory of himself he would impact on the him? A barely grown man off towards his uncertain fate, with a little boy’s awe and admiration clouding what was otherwise a very reckless choice of action on his part?

He placed the shirt in the suitcase with a cough. “Sí gordito, I know for a fact that I will.”

“Whoa…”

A light knock drew their attention to the open doorway to see their father standing there with grim determination on his face. Héctor stared hard at his eldest son before turning towards his youngest. “Miguel, I need you to go so your brother and I can talk. Why don’t you go play with Victoria?”

“Aww, but Papá-”

“Now Miguel.”

The little boy stiffened at the sudden sternness in his father’s otherwise playful voice. Feeling the sudden tension in the room Miguel hopped off the bed and walked out of the room with old Dante trailing next to him. With one last look at the two of them he sprinted across the courtyard in search for his supposed sobrina but his definite prima.

Matty stared at his father for a few long seconds before turning back to his suitcase. “So… I guess you drew the short straw.”

Héctor shook his head. “No, your Mamá… didn’t want to say or do something that she might… regret.”

The conversation between him and Imelda had been rushed and in harsh, frantic whispers as they argued back and forth about what to say to their son. Imelda had been willing to go in there and hogtie Matty to the bed or try to beat some sense into him. When Héctor tried to calm her, her ire turned towards him.

“The you go talk to him if you know what to say! I’m tired of being the disciplinarian in this family! It’s your turn! Try acting like an actual father rather than an amigo!”

That had hurt. He knew he was always the more easy-going parent out of the two of them, but did she really think that less of him? He stood there for a few shocked moments to calm himself and maybe, just maybe, let her realize what she had just said and try to apologize. When she just continued to glare at him he nodded sadly and had made his way over to Matty’s room.

“Well there’s nothing to say, Papá. Mexico has declared war on Germany. I am a young, strong and able-bodied citizen. It is my duty to fight for my country in order to prevent more death from reaching here.”

“You don’t have to do this mijo.” Héctor said softly. “There are other ways you can help with the war. I could send money, supplies even, to help support the troops. Rivera Shoes will make the best combat boots for the soldiers. You can go back to school, continue on with your dream. No one would think less of you for not going out to fight.”

Matty scoffed. “What, you expect me to hide away from the fight in the church attic like you did?”

Héctor’s eyes widened and again he was shocked into silence. Slowly the icy hurt began to thaw and a slowly simmering rage started to boil in his chest. “I… I-I-I was twelve years old, Mateo… They were ripping children away from their homes to fight in war that they should have had no part in! I told you all that story to warn you kids about the dangers that your Mamá and I faced when we were young, and all this time you thought of me as a coward?!”

Matty closed the suitcase with a sigh. “No, Papá. But I’m not a child anymore. I’m a grown man. I’m going of my own volition. Nothing you can say will stop that.”

“What about your studies?!”

“They’ll be waiting for me when I get back. You think I’m the only student to go off fighting?”

“When you get back? If you get back, you mean!”

“Papá…”

“Can’t we at least wait on it for a while?” Héctor pleaded. “Think this through? This is a very sudden decision and you’re not thinking straight-”

“I enlisted two months ago Papá.”

Héctor reeled back at what his son had just told him. Shaking his head in disbelief he tried to rack his brain over what he was just told. “Two… Two months ago?... And you never told us?! What, you were just going to sneak off to Europe and make us think that you were still safe in New Haven? Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

“But…” Héctor shook his head again. “Wait a minute! Mexico just declared war! How could you have already enlisted?!”

Matty sighed as he rummaged through his bedside drawer. “The United States is letting any Hispanics staying in the country enlist. They need the men.”

Héctor laughed bitterly and started to pace across the room. “Of course they do! And you know why? Because they are putting all of their boys through a meat grinder and are running out of them. So of course they would try to snatch up any kid they can find! Mexicans, Cubas, Puerto Ricans! I bet they’re also taking in Africans and Asians! All the people that they have exploited, abused and cast out in the past! Remember all those years ago when they kicked all of the Mexicans out of their country? And now they want us back?!”

Héctor steped forward and grabbed his son by the shoulders and shook him hard. “Don’t you see?! They are going to use you as fodder! They think of you as expendable! But… You are not to me. Not to our family. You are priceless! Por favor, Matty… Por favor…”

Matty looked at his father, his lips a thin line that Héctor saw tremble a little bit. They stared at each other for a few long moments before Matty finally broke eye contact and looked down. When Héctor looked as well he saw what his son had been looking for in his bedside drawer: A white linen handkerchief cradling a golden, jewel-encrusted pocket-watch. A gift from his godfather all those years ago. When they had all been so happy and carefree. And across the watch Ernesto’s immortal words were etched: Seize your Moment. Héctor’s heart clenched at the sight and then dropped in despair when Matty’s fingers clenched around it and shoved it into his pocket.

“I have to do this Papá.” Matty said with resolve. “I’m not changing my mind. You don’t know what it was like back in America. How shaken everyone was when they bombed Pearl Harbor. I saw families ripped apart, grown men sobbing hysterically over their lost loved ones. They’ve only sunk a few oil tankers here. What happens when they come for the major cities? Mexico City. What about Coco and Tio Nesto?... No, I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to seize-”

“Don’t!” Héctor hissed, his anger returning. “Don’t you dare finish that phrase! I’ve always hated it and it doesn’t suit you! You talk about families ripping apart. What do you think you’re doing just now?!”

Matty growled and shoved his father’s hands away. “I’m going Papá!”

“I forbid you to go!”

“You can’t do that! I’m a grown man! I don’t have to do what you tell me to do anymore!”

“I will not just sit here and let you die!”

“Why not?! You let Leti die-”

Matty instantly regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth. Just like Héctor had instantly regretted the moment his fist struck out and punched his son off of his feet and sent him to the ground. The air stood still as both men panted, one in pain and one in rage. Matty finally managed to look up at his father with watering eyes and a trail of spitty blood drooling out of his mouth from where his cheek had torn against his teeth. Several emotions raged through them: anger, sorrow, guilt, fear. They both glared at each other until Héctor finally broke the silence.

“There… See?... If you can’t stand a punch from an old man… What makes you think you can take on Hitler’s war dogs?”

Matty’s glare deepened and his face flushed red as he wiped the spittle off of his face. Shakily he lifted himself off the ground, never breaking eye contact, and he finally shouted back with a voice crackling with emotions and unshed tears.

“I’m going Papá! Hate me if you want, but my mind is made up!”

…..

…..

…..

Time stopped.

Time reversed.

Héctor saw the past. His past. When he was a young man, not much older than his son standing before him, walking away from his best friend and their chance of success, their dreams of wealth and stardom. To go back to where he belonged. Back to his family. His heart had led him, not his common sense telling him he needed to make money for his family. Not his childish dream of cheering crowds, elaborate stages and beautiful music. Not his sense of loyalty towards Ernesto. No, he had followed his heart. And he had never regretted it. Not for a moment.

His son was doing the same right now. Héctor didn’t know he would later achieve fame and success with Ernesto when he had left at the time. It had just happened. Just like Matty didn’t know if he would triumph against the forces trying to claim their world, or that he would perish so far from home.

It wasn’t the same. Not by a long shot. But his son had made up his mind about where he was going with his life, just like he had. Who was he to change it?

His deep thoughts were broken when Matty roughly pushed past his shoulder, suitcase in hand, and started his way out of the complex. With a gasp Héctor whipped around and chased after him, calling out.

“Mateo! Wait!... Stop!... Please wait!”

To his great relief Matty did stop with his back ramrod straight before turning to glare at him again. ‘What could you possibly have to say now?’ he seemed to say. Héctor panted a little, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. A faint tickling sensation down his cheeks startled him. He was crying. Matty must have seen the tears too as his shoulders dropped a little and he seemed more willing to listen.

“I-” Héctor croaked out, sniffling. “I could never hate you… I couldn’t… begin to fathom how I could even start to hate you… You’re my son, Mateo… I love you more than life itself. But you have to understand that there is no going back from this. Do you?”

Matty stared at him a little longer before he sadly nodded. “I know the risks… But I have to do this…”

Héctor nodded back, rubbing his face harshly before stepping up towards his son. Matty eyed him wearily, obviously anticipating another strike from his father, and Héctor felt sick at the sight. Instead he held out a hand towards him, an offering of peace and love, and was immensely relieve when Matty put down his suitcase to clasp it back.

“Then I wish you luck.” Héctor said with a watery smile. “And you have my blessing to go.”

Matty’s eyes widened in shock for a moment before he sighed deeply, a weight off of his chest. “Gracias, Papá.”

“Your blessing?”

Both of them turned to see Imelda standing there, her fists clutching against her dress and her face a mixture of disbelief, sadness and anger. She marched up to her husband and glared daggers at him. “I told you to go talk him out of this nonsense and instead you give him your blessing to go?!”

Héctor cringed back from his wife’s glare. “Imelda, I tried. But his mind is made up.”

“What kind of a man sends his son off to his certain death with a blessing?! Estas loco?! Ay, Héctor how could you?!” Imelda hung her head with a dry sob and turned away from the both of them. “How could you?!”

Héctor reached out towards his wife. “Imelda, it might not-”

To his great surprise Imelda whipped back and slapped his hand away before he could even touch her. Héctor recoiled and held his stinging hand to himself as she let into him.

“Don’t you dare touch me! Not after what you did! I feel like I could strangle you right now!” She pointed a finger into Héctor’s face and growled, “Hear this now, Héctor Rivera: If our son dies in this stupid war, then his blood will be on your hands.” As Héctor gaped at her words she turned her blistering ire towards Matty. “And you! Don’t think that if you die that I will mourn you. You know that I don’t suffer fools lightly, and right now you are perhaps the stupidest person I have ever come across!”

Matty sighed, “Mamá, please-”

Imelda continued to scream, tears running down her face. “No no, just get out! Get out of here! Go on your little crusade, go away from your family! Just leave! That’s all this family does nowadays anyway! You too Héctor!”

Héctor shook his head fervently. “No, Imelda! I promised that I will never leave you!”

“I want you to leave!”

And at that moment all the years of tension, distance and loneliness turned into a sharp blade. A blade that swiftly and mercilessly struck down and sliced his heart into pieces. She wanted him gone. She didn’t want him. Didn’t love him anymore. This was what finally brought it all out in the open. He had finally lost her. Feeling the tears returning, he still had to ask. “Imelda… why?”

“Because I can’t stand the sight of you! Of either if you!” Imelda screeched, her tears now turning into sobs. “So go inside and p-pack your things and say goodbye to Miguel! I want  nothing to do with you, Héctor Rivera! So just go!”

And with that she ran back into the house, crying all the while, and slammed the door shut behind her, leaving two heartbroken men in her midst. And from the window on the other side of the complex Miguel watched in fear and anguish as his mother cast his father out from their home. If going to fight a war brought this much sadness to his family then maybe fighting wasn’t so cool after all.

--------------------

It was awkward.

Very awkward.

Matty sat on the train station bench in a defeated slouch, looking at his father out of the corner of his eye. Héctor’s suitcase was bulging with haphazardly folded clothing, some of it sticking out of the case, and Héctor looked the picture of absolute misery. Wearing a wrinkled traveling coat and a hat smashed against his messy hair, Héctor simply leaned back over the bench to stare up at the sky in dejection, his throat bobbing up and down painfully.

Matty decided to break the silence. “I can’t believe Mamá did that.”

Héctor snorted. “I can’t believe she took this long. This has been a long time coming…”

“Really? Why?”

“… I wish I knew.”

Matty stared at the ground, his heart aching for his father. “I’m sorry Papá…”

Héctor groaned and leant forward, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes to ease the ever increasing tension headaches that he had been getting recently. “I know you’re sorry. You’re always sorry. When are you going to realize that simply saying sorry isn’t going to cut it?!”

“Fine! I’m s-… Whatever…” The awkward silence continued for a little while longer before he had to ask. “Where will you go?”

“Back to Ernesto’s.” Héctor mumbled. “Promised Miguel I would do another movie for him, might as well pass the time doing exactly that. He wants it to have lots of music and animals. And Coco will be there too, so it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Juuust fine…”

Matty nodded. Coco being there would help, as well as Tio Nesto. His Papá wouldn’t be deprived of all of his family. Not like himself. But no, he had made his decision. He would do his duty to protect his country and his family.

           A sharp whistle caught both of their attention and they saw a billowing engine coming towards the station. Checking his pocket watch Matty sighed and cleared his throat. “That’s my train… Heh, I-I am not looking forward to it!” he said as he cracked a weak smile. “I have to travel to Texas, then I have to fly to Florida. Three stops in between, by the way. Ugh, and I dread going over the ocean to Africa. It’s going to be hell, I can tell already-AH!”

           Matty was suddenly pulled from his seat into a standing position and enveloped into a crushing hug. Héctor held on tightly to him as he memorized his warmth, his smell, his sense of being, his son for what he knew could be the last time ever. He squeezed even tighter, burying his face into Matty’s shoulder and shuddering in fear and sorrow.

           “Papá!”

           “Promise me mijo! Promise me that whatever happens that you return home. Whether that is alive and well, hurt, missing parts or d-… dead… that you will come back home to your family. Don’t become a nameless face in a ditch. Come-back-home! Promise me! Please!... Promise me…”

           Matty wilted into his father’s embrace and returned it, tears running down his face as he nodded. “I promise Papá… I promise… I love you Papá…”

           Héctor finally let out a sob. “I love you too, Mateo Rivera!... I love you so much!...” Both men clung to each other, their cries drowned out as the train pulled into the station with a loud screech and a piercing whistle.

           The train soon left after that, carrying Mateo Rivera off to face his destiny. And across the town an old Xolo dog shook himself loose from an afternoon nap in the sun and trotted out of the Rivera complex. Down the winding roads he traveled, passing all the other citizens going about their daily lives towards his destination: Pantéon Santa Cecilia. Weaving between all of the headstones he finally reached the one belonging to one Leticia Rivera.

               The aging dog went around to the backside of the tombstone and, with no one there to witness it, disappeared on the other side. Leaving behind only a flurry of orange flower petals.                                                                                   

[revchainsaw]

Raya and the Last Dragon (2021)

Wow! I can't believe I'm about to review a mainstream Disney release of all things on this blog. Eh! I make the rules and this thing is close enough to a high fantasy/martial arts film and who knows I may give a crack at Disney's Cruella later if the film strikes me the right way.

The Message

Set in the fictional land of Kumandra, Raya exists in a world where dragon lore is at the center of everything. Kumandra is a prosperous land that exists around a dragon shaped sea, and the different Kumandran tribes that live there are named after the part of the dragon they inhabit. Fang, Tail, etc, etc. It's no wonder that the Dragons are so revered in these cultures, as the prosperity that the world is now experiencing is due to the great sacrifice where the dragons gave their lives to create a magic jewel that keeps a horrible race of sprits called the Druun at bay.

The jewel is protected by the Heart tribe, particularly the lineage of the Heart chieftain. Raya is the heir to this immense responsibility. Her father the current guardian of the jewel is an idealistic sort and believes that the Kumandran people can be united, however the other tribes have their own interests and biases, even about the Heart people who they believe are using the power of the jewel to unfairly benefit themselves. Raya is an apt disciple of her fathers ideals but unfortunately this leads to her falling for a ploy by the people of Fang to steal the Jewel, when she 'befreinds' the Fang Princess Namaari.

A battle ensues over the jewel that ends up shattering the macguffin of power, and releasing the Druun back into Kumandra. The Druun now unleashed upon the world begin to create a ruin. Transfroming anyone they come into contact with into stone. Raya's father saves her before being petrified himself.

As we fast forward Raya has become a cynical adult bent on finding the last dragon of legend in hopes that she can defeat the Druun, and return the world to the way it was, abandoning her hopes that the Kumandran tribes can ever be united. It should come as no suprise then that Raya does in fact discover the Last Dragon, Sisu. Sisu is a fun loving, comedic, and hyper energetic creatuer with a love for humanity and trusting nature that is at odds with Raya's trauma and cynicism, it also doesn't help that her special power is "swimming".

As they journey across the Dragon shaped land of Kumandra, they gain friends and face foes. Raya holding onto her hurt and refusing to trust the other peoples they meet enough to think that maybe Sisu is a Sacred being who is important to their cultures as well. It is this lack of trust that eventually leads to tragedy for Raya.

At this point I'm going to uncharacteristically avoid spoilers. Raya is left with the fall out of her distrust and must either turn to her survivor nature and endure this world the way it is, or put her trust in those that have wronged her and bravely and boldly take a leap of faithful expectation that a better world is possible. It's a Disney movie, so I'm sure you know where this goes, but I'm not going to give you the specifics. It's pretty sweet and powerful.

The Benediction

Best Creature Design: Tuk Tuk: Available at Target

I can't lie. I work on the road and I have to use the bathroom all over town if I need to. My secret for finding the cleanest place to go is to generally avoid gas stations and rest areas when I can help it and to hit up grocery stores and book stores etc. as often as possible. My favorite is a local target, the bathrooms are generally less in demand than a gas station, much cleaner, AND at target they usually have a starbucks so I can also grab some joe. All that said, I have seen these absolutely massive Tuk Tuk toys in the toy section and I'm going to buy them for all the kids that I know. I just think he's a fun creature. Im not a big enough fan of Raya to justify having this basketball sized toy in my collection, but I think that kids will love having a giant armadillo bear monster to pal around with.

Best Character: Dragon's Heart

Sisu is an endearing figure and her offbeat but kind nature reminds me exactly of my favorite kind of people to meet in the wild. It's hard to be a lover and not a fighter. It's hard to be so understanding. It is an archetype that we see all over any media with a semi-spiritual message and I don't think we've seen it with quite the comedic edge as Sisu. Aang from Avatar comes close, but his light hearted attitude is certainly on par with Sisu, his comedic sensibilities are decidedly less "on". It also kind of says something that I forget that I'm talking about a dragon here.

Worst Aspect: Rayatar the Last Water Dragon

Alright, this might be a hot take but. Avatar: The Last Air Bender did it better. I can't call it parallel thinking as Raya came out almost a decade after Avatar. The two are playing off of very basic heroes journey style narratives that have existed in human story telling for longer than either show so it's completely unfair to claim that Raya was "ripping off" Avatar, BUT it's also a bit naïve to think that Disney wasn't banking on familiarity to move some product. Disney usually goes after public domain properties and fairy tales we are all vaguely familiar with and that's no accident. There's a clear pattern that people gravitate toward the familiar, it's why franchises won't just die. It's why they can repackage all their animated films into mediocre live action form and sell you the exact same movie over and over again. Even if the plot of Raya didn't have similarities to Avatar, which it does, the marketing certainly was attempting to banking on the beloved animated series.

When Raya was first coming out i saw a lot of people claiming that the fashions and character designs were copying Avatar and guys, that's kind of racist. Both shows are creating fantasy worlds with heavy influences from East and South Asian cultures. There's going to be some things that to a white American eye look pretty homogenous, although I'm sure with a little education are in fact very distinct. So as far as the "look", my only gripe is with the Logo.

Now, all that said. If you do want a show where an American animation company created a lore heavy fantasy world that draws heavy inspiration from Asian history and folklore, where a group of special spiritual individuals were wiped out but one remains and is the only hope of uniting a world populated by nations of people with very basic easy to remember names like "fire, and fang, and heart, and earth", where the chosen one is a goofy pacifist who uses the power of love and spiritual values to pull an impossible victory out of their butt at the last minute, but it still makes you cry and want to be a better person, then I have good news for you. You're spoiled for choice, I'm not gonna say Raya "copied" Avatar, BUT ... Avatar did do that particular story better. It may be a bit unfair, as Avatar had three seasons to do so and Raya had like an hour and a half.

Best Weapon: Shifty Sword

I just like Ranma's sword. I'm gonna use this category when I see an extra cool weapon. Oh man! When I review Flying Guillotine am I really going to have to talk about how bad ass the flying gullotine is?

Rayas weapons is actually not a sword at all but is called the Jade Dragon Keris. A Keris is an asymetrical indonesian dagger, and no it doesn't turn into a whip like in the movie, but it is cool that hers does that. The animators really do some creative things with that.

Summary

Raya is unfortunately shaping up to be one of Disney's forgettable features. I think that's a shame as it's stronger in my opinion than many of the recent films that have come out. But as is the case when Disney does a lot of it's more 'action/adventure' films, audiences seem to largely ignore them. Here's to you Treasure Planet. The good news is those movies do have the most passionate and interesting fans. The appeal is more focused than it is broad, and that's okay. As pointed out above, don't expect Raya to give you anything new, but if this is your kind of story then I'm sure you'll be happy to add it to your collection. There's room enough for lots of these.

Overall Grade: C

[5hfanfiction]

The Maid - Chapther 1

A/N: So I thought of this  idea two days ago and since I was bored af I decided to write it. It was supposed to be a one shot, but I got too excited. That rhymed, oh damn. lol

Omniscient Narrator

Lauren Jauregui was one of the most well-known business women not only in Miami, Florida. She owned a company named after her last name that made millions and millions of dollars every month, making her one of the richest people in the United States.

All of this wasn’t handed to her by God and it wasn’t any kind of luck like some people would say, she was able to achieve all of this power by working her ass off while she was in college and if you add to that her intelligence and her innate ability to make business her success was pretty much understandable. As if all of that wasn’t enough she also possessed an undeniable beauty that didn’t go unnoticed by the media, earning her a lot of first cover pictures in several renowned magazines.

But there was a side of Lauren Jauregui that nobody really knew and that was because she made sure to hide it deep within her. When people first encountered her they would feel intimidated by everything that that woman emanated, her power, intelligence and beauty. She could have any man or woman she wanted in her bed, but she didn’t. She didn’t go to parties and beside the hours she spent at work she barely left her home, she had always been like that, an introvert. In college, when her friends, yes she actually had friends, would hang out they would’ve to literally insist for her to join them for approximately 20 minutes before she finally accepted. It’s not like she didn’t know how to talk to people, in fact some classmates found her funny because she would always make silly jokes in class or at launch time, but it was the fact that she neglected going to social gatherings what made her not have social experiences.

Regardless her cold personality when interacting with people, she actually managed to have a boyfriend her first year of college only because he was the one that approached her and asked her out, Lauren accepted since she felt like she needed to experience being with someone, at that time she still hadn’t even had her first kiss yet.

 Despite of her inexperience in that department she had always been a really sexual person, ever since she turned 14 and discovered all the pleasure her own hand and touch could bring her. Her relationship with Brad didn’t last more than three months, she got bored of the fact that he was being too clingy and constantly pressuring her to go out with him. She felt like she never really loved him, she had first agreed to be with him to experience her sexuality but her desires were far from romantic. Since that relationship she hadn’t had sex or been in a relationship with anyone and she was almost 26 years old.

Lauren was the type of person that felt more comfortable alone than with people, even her friend, but when she was alone there was still a part of her that wanted to get out of that loneliness. She desired to be alone, but still she hated being lonely.

Lauren’s POV

I had just moved into my new house three days ago, well… it was more like a mansion than just a big house. It was placed near the coast since I always loved the beach, it was really modern and its architecture was certainly unique, it had a huge glass windows in the living room allowing you to enjoy the beautiful view of the imposing sea.

It was Wednesday night and I was at my home’s office room working on some stuff for work and arranging details regarding my new place. When I finally finished I stood up and checked my watch, it was almost 11p.m and I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. It had only been three days since my beloved maid Maria had renounced because of health problems, it wasn’t anything serious she was just getting too old for this job. However, I was already going crazy, I needed someone to cook, wash my clothes and clean the house because I didn’t have time nor clue on how to do that.

I decided to go out and buy some pre prepared food, I chose lasagna and was really excited because I fucking loved lasagna. After following the instructions and serving it on a plate I brought a spoonful to my mouth and after tasting it I literally shed tears. “Oh my god that shit is disgusting. People eat that? Why would you do that to lasagna?” I said to myself with a look of displeasure plastered on my face. I really couldn’t last one more second living like this. I needed a maid as perfect as Maria was and since I trusted her to death I decided to call her and ask her if she knew someone who could help me.

“Ya se quien le puede servir señorita Lauren” (I know who can help you Miss Lauren) Maria said over the phone after spending some seconds thinking.

“En serio? Quien?” (Really?Who?) I answered excitedly. If Maria was recommending her, she must be good.

“Se llama Camila Cabello, es mi sobrina. Escuche que necesita dinero extra y es muy buena en las cosas de la casa. Su mamá le ha enseñado de pequeña ya que tenía que cuidar a su hermana menor.” (Her name is Camila Cabello, she’s my niece. I heard she needs some extra money and she’s really good at housework. Her mother has taught her how to do house work since she was young because she had to take care of her little sister) Maria explained.

“Bueno, si usted dice que es buena, la acepto. ¿Sabe cómo la puedo contactar?” (Well, if you say she’s good then I´ll take her. Do you now a way I can contact your niece?) I replied expectantly.

After Maria gave me the new maid’s phone number I decided that it was too late to call her, its better if I wait till tomorrow.

—-

It was 11 a.m. the next day and I was at my company, sitting in my office chair working nonstop, I’ve been there since 8a.m so I needed a break desperately. As I threw my head backwards to try and rest for a second I remembered that I needed to call this Camila girl and ask her if she was willing to work for me and be my new maid.

I dialed the number I had saved the night before and waited for someone to answer. After some seconds a slightly raspy but feminine voice was heard. “Hello?”

“Hello, Camila, right?” Lauren asked.

 “Yes. And I guess you’re Laur- I mean Miss Jauregui.” Camila replied.

“Y-yes actually, I am” I said a little taken aback by the confidence present in the girl’s voice. I wasn’t used to it, people often felt intimidated by me. “How do you know my name?”

“My aunt told me you were going to call. She said it was a great opportunity and then she started screaming at me in Spanish to not fuck it u- oh sorry, to not mess it up for like an hour.” She confessed and I slightly chuckled due to her attempt at covering up her cursing.

 “You know what I need then?” I questioned as I played with a pen in my hands.

“Yep, basically housework and cooking. I’m super good, trust me, I’ve been helping my mom in the house since I was eight so yeah, I’m ok with the job.” Camila said confidently, trying to convince me that she was suitable for the job.”Emmm, I need to know the schedule though, like the days and time you need me to be there because I’m in college and I can’t skip any classes.”

“Wow, you’re in college I thought you were going to be older?” I asked surprised by what she had just said.

“Ah, yes. Do you have a problem with that? I mean, were you looking for like an older lady or something?” Camila asked and I could sense she was worried or disappointed.

“No, not at all, I was surprised that’s all. I don’t care as long as you are good and hardworking, that I’m sure you are” I explained myself. “Oh and in relation to the working days I only need you to come three times a week, I think that’s reasonable. And regarding the time, I really don’t care as long as you do your job so you can decide what schedule is best for you” I explained as I stood up from my chair and started walking towards the large glass window that gave me a wonderful view of the city.

“Ah, thank you. I need this job, but I don’t want my grades to be affected. Wait, let me check” Camila said and went silent, I assumed she was revising her college time table. “Ok. What about Tuesdays and Thursdays from six to eight p.m and Saturdays in the morning. Is that okay?”

The fact that she was worried about her grades made me believe that she was a really hard working person which was just perfect and everything I wanted from my workers. “That’s great. I’m usually at work at that time on Tuesdays and Thursdays but I can give you an extra key for you to get inside the house” Lauren replied and internally celebrated because she would no longer have to eat those meals that tasted like paperboard. She felt like this girl would do her job right.

Lauren’s trail of thought was cut off when her secretary entered her office. “Lauren, Mr Callender is here, he says it’s important.” Normani explained with a wary look on her face because she wasn’t planning on interrupting Lauren’s conversation over the phone.

Lauren made an ok sings with her hand. “Sorry Camila, I got to go. I’ll text you all the details later. Have a nice day.” Lauren apologized.

“No problem, see you soon.” Camila replied after ending the call.

—–

Camila’s POV

It was already Saturday morning, two days have passed since my conversation with Miss Jauregui. I knew this woman was rich as hell, but my aunt had also told me that she was a really nice person, she was really humble and always treated her kindly.

I was on my way to Miss Jauregui’s house, it wasn’t that far from mine, but not close either. I took the bus my aunt suggested because it dropped me off only two blocks away from Lauren’s house. I was super nervous since it was my first job as a housemaid, but when I thought about all the money my billionaire boss was willing to pay me all my nervousness would disappear.

After getting off the bus, I started walking towards what I thought was Miss Jauregui’s house according to the instructions she had sent me the night before. “Well, holy shit” I whispered to myself as I studied the house. “That’s not a house, that’s a freaking mansion.”

I started walking to the main entrance through a garden path that was surrounded by some beautiful and colorful flowers, the whole front garden was just gorgeous. When I reached the door I took a deep breath and rang the bell. I waited for more than 20 seconds and when I was about to try again the door swung open and I almost fell on my ass because of what I saw.

“Oh, hello Camila. You’re right on time” the goddess in front of me said. I was just speechless, this girl was the most beautiful girl I´ve ever seen and I wasn’t exaggerating. Her eyes were the first thing that called my attention, they were strikingly green and so penetrating that I had to avert my gaze down. That wasn’t the best thing to do either because when I looked down I caught a glimpse of her body and realized that she was only wearing a sports bra on and some tight leggings, she was probably having a work out session when I rang the bell. Her body was just as attractive as her face, I could see a hint of her abs and I felt like I was dying. She was just fucking hot, I don’t know why I was expecting a thirty year old cat women that just happened to be rich. But now that I remember I did find her voice attractive when we talked the other day. I was so fucked, oh my God. 

—-

A/N: Hey Guy I’m going back to college in like five days and I’ll prob not have that much free time, but if you enjoy this I’ll try to continue. Sorry for any mistakes Englich isn’t my first language. Have a nice day.

I’ll post this on my wattpadd too. @sofiasbangtan

[theliterateape]

American Shithole #11 — Scott Pruitt: Ambien From Oklahoma

By Eric Wilson

“I don’t want to write about these bloviating, Machiavellian fuckfaces this week!” I raged, as Monday morning slid unproductively into Monday afternoon. I nervously plucked at my guitar while watching the news cycle blitzkrieg on my monitor a few feet away — a now daily ritual.  

Mostly, I love writing this column. Some days though…

Later, from underneath the covers, I howled the muffled words “I don’t want to write about these soul-sucking servants of the shitgibbon every seven days for seven more years!” as I buried myself under a mountain of pillows.

On Wednesday I cried, “I’m staring into the void!” as I fumbled around my closet looking for a comfortable pair of pants. There was no reply from the darkness within.

“You’re fine,” I finally thought to myself, “you’re just reading too much about that conniving motherfucker, Scott Pruitt.”

Ugh, Scott Pruitt — bane of the Environmental Protection Agency. I never would have imagined that someone could actually bore me to death. Is this how he's killing the environment? Is he boring it to death?

He is a slow internet connection personified.  

I’ve read nearly 50 articles about the head of the EPA over the last few days, along with ingesting and digesting a fair amount of CNN coverage about the man — and I was uncharacteristically disinterested with all of it.

Even writers for the New Yorker and the New York Times were unable to capture my attention, as they, too, failed to bring color and life to a man will all the charm and allure of an abandoned Porta Potty.

It was the most painful slog so far, and I’ve already spent a week reading about Stephen Miller!

Never has there been a more boring villain in the Trump rogue’s gallery, than this litigious Jesus freak. Reading a bio piece on Scott Pruitt is like reading a 40-page white paper on the chemical properties of Vaseline.

I have been distracted this past week; I admit that could be part of it. A week dominated by the dangerous surgery my father was forced to undertake. (I love you, dad! Get well soon.)

But this Pruitt goon is just such an ordinary, run-of-the-mill bad guy that he can’t compete with the hyperbolic carnival barkers and legitimately terrifying shadow figures that have all come out of the woodwork. I fell asleep reading about him two nights in a row, and I’ve successfully read Moby Dick!

Okay, I haven’t. Fuck that tome. But you get the point.

In the age of comic supervillains, Pruitt comes off less like an evil genius, and more like a creepy office temp — the kind of guy that’s always looking at you when you happen to glance in their general direction.

Stop creeping on me Pruitt!

Conversely, if Pruitt were a superhero, you would find yourself constantly asking what his powers were. He’s just sort of, there. If the Trump administration were the Avengers, Pruitt would be Hawkeye.

I can just imagine eavesdropping on the conversations about Trump’s Avengers at Comic-Con:

“So what’s this Pruitt character do again?”

“He furthers the conservative agenda from within his department, he abuses housing, finance and travel privileges on the tax payer’s dime, and in general he behaves like a bought and paid for horse’s ass, born of the cronyism era of political yore.”

“So basically, he’s just a republican.”

“Yes. One that can skewer libruls with a nifty composite bow, and also turn invisible.”

“C’mon now, he can’t turn invisible, he’s just really, really boring.”

“Yes, but if his boringness results in what would effectively be invisibility, then that should be considered a power.”

“I disagree. That would be like saying…”

Ah, Comic-Con. How I long for your Nerdspeak. Someday I shall find you as crowded, overpriced and befouled by virgin body odor as I imagine you to be…

I managed to read enough about Pruitt — through caffeine-assisted focus — to understand that he is clearly another incompetent and grossly overconfident fool within this administration. They are all terrible fools, but some of them are so spectacularly inept in their villainy. Following the lead of Trump’s almost laughable bungling of everything he touches, I suppose.

What kind of fucking idiot disobeys this White House when they expressly forbid you to give lavish salary increases to friends in your department? What kind of numbskull defies this president by circumventing the law with an obscure loophole via the Safe Drinking Water Act to get two buddies roughly an extra 70K a year?

What kind of muttonhead lies about a private email account used for communications with his ties to the oil and gas industry, during the Senate confirmation hearings on his appointment to the EPA? – a crime itself.

What kind of fool perfectly positioned to dismantle Obama era EPA initiatives and regulations — something he’s worked years to accomplish — breaks the law by accepting the gift of cheap D.C. housing as quid pro quo for awarding a lucrative pipeline contract?

The boring, invisible kind of fool, apparently.

“So what’s his origin story?”

I’ll handle this, Comic-Con nerds.

Scott Pruitt is a lawyer (J.D.) and politician from Oklahoma, so his origin story is that he’s a good ol’ boy. I lived in Oklahoma for four miserable years in my youth, and if there’s a barren and lifeless place filled with more wingnuts and whackadoodles, I have not seen it.

I do not wish to ever visit such a place.

Here is a brief aside offering insight into the mindset of Oklahoma’s educational system. When I was in sixth grade in Oklahoma, they gave the incoming class various aptitude tests, and then separated the exceptionally high-scoring kids from the herd, to be educated elsewhere, along with the children exhibiting behavioral problems. I have always found it interesting that the troublemakers and the intellectually gifted were considered the same in that cultural backwater.

That was 40 years ago. I couldn’t possibly imagine what Oklahoma’s public schools have devolved into today. Oh wait, yes I can imagine, as the teachers for the entire state are on strike, due to the gross undervaluing of their services, among other indecencies and injustice.

Pruitt wasn’t formally educated in Oklahoma, he grew up in Kentucky, but you couldn’t possibly care about that, dear reader. I certainly didn’t. He moved to Tulsa in the early '90s, but no one really cares about that either. Or that he was a State Senator and then Oklahoma’s Attorney General. Zzzzzzz. Boring. He’s the Benadryl of Evil.

His whole life story is boring as shit.

I hope he gets fired so that at the very least, I never have to read about him again. Reading about this stone-faced conservative boor actually made me care less about the environment he so desperately wants to destroy; so please universe, no more Pruitt.

Unless I have insomnia, then get me that bio, pronto.

He is dangerous though, and he certainly seemed devious from the get-go. Not only did he spend several thousand dollars sweeping his new offices for bugs, he also built a super-spy silent phone booth in his office with 43K of tax payer funds.

I’ll save you all the usual links; trust me on this one, I did the fucking reading for you, and I am a less-interesting man for the effort.

There is a lot of conjecture over whether or not Pruitt is next on the chopping block. Opinions are all over the place on this one, so I’ll throw in my two cents. If he were from a family of billionaires, I would say no, he stays. This is one of the reasons DeVos will be around for a while. Pruitt is not from upper-crust wealth though. Trump ultimately sees the Pruitt types of the world as lesser, and therefore expendable; and considering the amount of bad press he’s generating for the administration, well, Trump has gotten rid of people for far less.

So, unless the heat dies down, its adios, you boring motherfucker!

Breaking News: Pruitt on the controversial pay raises for his staff: My staff did it, not me!

Here's Pruitt hammering nails into his own coffin Wednesday evening, and in an environment you would expect to be simpatico. This is a FOX News interview with Ed Henry, no less. My new prediction is he is gone by the time this posts Thursday.

B.S. Report

In case you missed it, another conservative talking head looked to belittle one of the Parkland survivors in the digital arena — this time it was Laura Ingraham gunning for David Hogg. She was outmatched. She came damn close to losing her show.

These assholes are dropping out of elections, losing advertisers — losing their jobs — every damn time they say some evil shit about these kids. THAT is power. That is their own beloved capitalism biting them in the fucking ass. Taking out a good chunk. How’d you like them apples, Laura Ingraham? I’d wager you shit your spanks when those advertisers started dropping like flies. I bet your knees were shaking like twigs in the breeze when the boys from the FOX News home office called to inform you if you still had a job.

So this goes out to all of the Fox News family, and their ilk.

Enjoy scrutinizing and fretting over every miserable fucking thing you used to be able to say with impunity — for the rest of your miserable lives — you overvalued, right-wing, shitgibbon-blowing, squawk-box media whores.

You sold out our country for ratings, and eventually America is going to make you pay for that, dearly.