teach me how to be a yoyo master

Once I was seven years old my mamá told me "Deja de llorar, arruinarás el maquillaje." Mun is 18+. Non-native English speaker.

[queciro]

griffinsvanity :

Cariño… The word made Griffin’s stomach clench. It was either that, or the jolt of his misstep. Either way, he ended up in front of the stranger, looking up with glossy blue eyes. It wasn’t Silva. It wasn’t Griffin’s ex. This man was a stranger- a stranger with a soft voice, and warm hands. Griffin could feel the warmth of the man’s hand now against the stark chill that the December night had soaked into his skin. Back to your bar… Griffin thought about it for a moment. He had wanted so badly to go dancing. He wanted to forget the whole night and drown it in lights and warm bodies. Back to the bar meant back to people who knew him and had watched him get drunk. Given the state of things though, dancing was going to be difficult…as was getting home. Passing out at the bar wasn’t a bad choice. Griffin hadn’t realized that he was silent until the man tapped him on the arm, and Griffin refocused on the man’s kind eyes. “Alright, darlin’.” He grinned, offering a nod. “Gracias… eres muy dulce.” The confidence of the rum had him convinced that the phrases he’d learned years ago were flawless and perfectly fit for this situation. He had forgotten most of their literal meaning. He only remembered the context: Silva whispering the words to him as Griffin cooked breakfast for two in the kitchen. 

There it was. He was spaced out again. The tap on his forehead was enough to bring him back around and Griffin blinked a few times and tried to straighten himself up. He wanted to either be more alert, or much drunker. This in between state was dreadful. “Ciro…” Griffin responded with a nod. “Yeah… ’m Griffin Arsenio.” Usually the words ‘maybe you’ve heard of me’ would’ve immediately followed, but as soon as his slurred name left his mouth, a vicious gust of wind whipped between the tall city buildings and for the first time, Griffin really, truly felt how cold he was. His whole body shivered and he had to clench his teeth to make sure he didn’t bite the side of his tongue. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He cursed, sucking in a breath when the wind passed. His body quivered again, more softly this time. “Yeah… my jacket… its back at the bar.” His brow furrowed. What an idiot he was. “Not a bar though… just to warn you. It’s a strip club. Vanity. It’s… back that way.” He pointed back down the sidewalk the way he had came. “Just a couple blocks.” His brow furrowed for a moment. “It’s all girls… Don’t worry about them though. It’s ‘cause its smart. I don’t know how straight guys run clubs with girls. If I had all guys… it’d be harder, you know? So its girls.” Griffin wasn’t sure this was the kind of head clearing he was supposed to be doing, but the talking was keeping his mind off the cold. “They’ll make you a drink though.”

A familiar endearment in his native tongue made Ciro grin. It was all teeth, his heart warming at the memories it brought up from his childhood, before all the shit that went down. Fleeting words spoken by his mother after picking her flowers, abuelita pinching his cheek when he offered to help with dinner, when he bought gifts for his family. Even now, the words reminded him of warm sands and scorching sun back home, but it was brushed away with the wind that swept over his body, reminding him of the cold. His chin met the softness of his scarf as he looked down, letting the compliment fade into the depths of his memories. He brushed a cold hand over his cheek before lift his eyes again, taking a breath to collect his nerves, to leave the old ways of thinking. This was New York, nowhere near Spain. New people, new endearments. Still, the idea of those words being spoken again kept a smile on Ciro’s face through the awkwardness that threatened to fill the air. “Spanish? Estoy sorprendido - I’m surprised.” It was filled with benevolence, not in a way a foreigner would mock someone of a different culture. “It was good. You do still sound like an American though.” Many Americans still sounded like their countrymen when speaking Spanish, but it was the effort that counted. The man didn’t look like he was from a Hispanic country, but learning languages today was easy. It was sweet, really.  

 The name, when it registered, gave Ciro a moment to reflect. He recognized the name, but he couldn’t place the face. Maybe it had been someone he had met when he first arrived in America, maybe it was a name he’d heard back home during his modeling days. Maybe it was just his imagination. Ciro nodded, echoing the name in case he had gotten it wrong, or heard something else. The slurred edge to Griffins voice wasn’t helping anything, but Ciro didn’t feel like mentioning it. If it had been earlier, he was sure to be in the same shape. Maybe later, after some margaritas and tequila shots. “It’s cold. I didn’t even realize, here-” He wrapped the scarf from around his neck, the cold biting deep into the bare skin of his neck. Ciro felt his shoulders tense at the sudden shift but still manged to twirl the pre-warmed length of fabric around Griffins neck. “There you go! Warmer, sí?” He patted the scarf on both sides and straightened it before gesturing towards the end of the block. It was getting later, and colder with each passing minute. In retrospect, he should have offered his jacket, but just being rid of the warmth around his neck made Ciro shiver. He wrapped his arms around himself when the step started to take them towards the club. A strip club. If the freeze in the air hadn’t already colored his cheeks red, they would have gained the shade by now. He hadn’t been to a strip club before, no matter how hard Mariela tried to get him to go. It felt strange, and thinking about naked people wasn’t the best thing to do when trying to save a man from hypothermia. “No guys?” He joked, the laugh clouding his breath in the winter air. “Then you will have no trouble from me chico, Not that I would have been trouble for guys either! I’m sorry, I’m sure your girls make a good drink. How come you did not stay there? Or take a taxi? It’s so cold out here.”

[queciro]

Mariela, give me the scoop! What kind of man is Ciro looking for? What have his exes been like?

“ How would I know? Just kidding, I know a lot. first of all, we all know he’s looking for a man. A man’s man, and he’s vain in the way that he likes someone who is as fit as he is. ‘If the right person came along and wasn’t the adonis I’ve imagined, that’s fine. Personality matters more.’ That’s what he says too, so he’s not too picky. But picky in the sense that he’s not going to take any shit from his significant other, he knows his worth. Can’t be too shy either, or anyone who runs away from confrontation. Cousin can bee very… Loud, and straightforward about his opinions. I’ve seen enough of it when we go out clubbing. You have no idea how many times I’ve saved his butt after he starts arguing with some douchebag. It’s not malicious by any means, he’s just very opinionated. It’s a welcomed change from what he used to be though, don’t get me wrong! 

 Now the time I’ve spent with him here in New York has given me the impression that people are put off by the positivity? It’s weird, but what can you do. He’s painfully optimistic about everything, and it can grind some nerves. Maybe someone who understands what he’s trying to see in the world, and not complain about him trying to see the good side in everything. It’s a part of his job, people, he’s going to cheer you up even if you don’t want it. It can be annoying, and he needs someone to handle that, maybe balance it out a little. Please don’t be a jerk though, I will find you if you are. 

He is always on the move, too. He works long hours, and can be a complete mess after he gets to relax and doesn’t move for hours, but after that he’s out and about again. I know he’d like someone as active in life, someone who doesn’t tire of the city and is always ready to go go go. It doesn’t matter if it’s shopping, the movies, flea markets, finding cryptids up on the mountains, or just scoping out all the coffee shops in the area. Someone has to know how to keep up and not chain him down at home, or demand that he spends all his evenings sitting on a couch, watching TV. Twice or thrice a week of that is enough.

It all boils down to trust. He just wants someone who he can talk to and not feel judged for it. I want him to find someone who he feels safe with, and someone who makes him feel like he’s enough. He hasn’t told me this, but if you know the boy, it’s obvious. He’s been alone for a long time with his thoughts, like I mentioned earlier. Someone who could make him happy, while he focuses on everyone else. 

I hope that clarifies some things. I get so carried away when I speak about him that some details might get buried. Just be genuine and he’ll be happy. Relationships take time to grow on him, and he doesn’t jump into anything. Which brings me to the subject of exes. ”

“ Exes. Now, Ciro got two, which is still a big number for a doof like him. The first one was this girl, back when he was, um, twenty… Twenty-six? I don’t remember how old he was at the time, but I do remember her! She was supposed to be a beard, just a fake girlfriend so the paparazzi would get off his back with negative articles. It wasn’t good for the image when the tabloids make up bad reasons for him being single, like ‘messy’, or ‘abusive’ or even uh, not in working condition down there. So, his parents picked out a girl, sent them on a few dates and they became an item. She was weird, I didn’t like that lady one bit. She was always there, like, clinging to him like some sort of accessory. My older brother got married the summer Ciro and whathername dated, but she ruined it. Spanish wedding traditions are sacred, but she spit on all that and did what she wanted. I could go into great detail here, but let’s just say that 1. She didn’t bring a gift, which very clearly is mandatory as a thanks for the invitation, because ‘she wanted to keep what they bought’, 2. stole the bride’s embroidered veil that that the bride’s mother had made, as per tradition, because she thought it would look ‘cuter on her’, 3. got mad drunk and spoke dirty in front of the whole familia, called our younger cousins ugly, and that ‘she and Ciro would have much prettier kids’. After they broke up, the media threw up a storm about it. She told the press that Ciro wasn’t exactly straight, and he never got to do that on his own terms. Some magazines were forgiving, others dragged him through the mud. It took weeks, but she eventually got tired and found someone else to torment. That’s one ex. The notorious, the one I’ll proudly kick in the throat when I see her again.

Another one was after he came out, thankfully. I think his name was Javier, but everyone called him Javi. He was a bit older, almost thirty at the time they started dating properly. I don’t know how they came to be, but I remember seeing Javi around even before they got close. He was an old family friend of sorts, from Zaragoza. Owned a restaurant or something, really sweet guy. They had a good time together, complimented each other’s personalities. It wasn’t a fairy tale though, because they had to keep it on the down low and take care no one found out. Javi wanted to be public about it, but he was a good guy and respected my cousins wishes when he wanted to stay secretive. That was the reason for the breakup too. It wasn’t pretty, and Ciro was so crushed after it. I’m not sure if it could’ve been the romance of a century, but it was good as long as it lasted. Javi still sends letters from time to time, but I’e seen the look on my cousins face when he’s mentioned. I guess he’s embarrassed that he was ashamed of bringing it to the public. He’s spoken about it sometimes, when he’s drunk on tequila. Says it was once in a lifetime chance, that someone accepted him before he even accepted himself. I’ve offered to call Javi back to Castellón the next time Ciro is there too, but you should see the panic in his eyes when I do. I wonder if there’s someone like that out there. It was beautiful for as long as it lasted.

Two exes. Many tried to make it into his heart but they were just after the fame and fortune. I’m glad Ciro didn’t let them get the better of him, and now that he’s just a nurse, no one tries too hard anymore. ‘Let it happen if it happens’ he says, but I hope it happens soon. He deserves some happiness. ”

[queciro]

Merry chrusmus everyone! I love this season, I'm a 100% Christmas type. You know what that means? Ciro is also a holiday person, bordering to the obnoxious kind. I'll probably start sending out Christmas presents to your submission boxes later this evening if I collect myself from this puddle of happiness I've melted into ♡ Happy holidays to those who don't celebrate! It's been a joy to be here over these days and the admins never fail to make events like these memorable. Seeing all these NPCs has given me so much muse and you have beautiful characters and backstories that I could never have thought about. I'm all emotion, help. How blessed can a person be to have met this many wonderful writers, I'll never know. This has been a pointless update but I'm feeling feelings and this happens, I'm sorry. Thank you for letting me be a part of this little family ♡

[queciro]

mariela: what do you and ciro like to do together? besides bowling

“ He hates bowling because he keeps losing to me, so that’s one sided at best. We like to go through thrift shops together, find the most ridiculous things anyone has put up for sale. He teaches me English too, which is super fun for me. Maybe I’ll join you here some day! We watch a lot of movies, but just because it teaches me your language, and then we talk about who the sexiest actor and actress was. We do the same when we go out for coffee. Just pick out cuties on the street! Secretly, I’m trying to find him a man at the same time. Shhh. When I’m feeling nice, we go to the gym together. You can’t get this chica to run on most days, watch out. He seems happy though, nd that’s all that’s important to me. Plus, I get to scope out, um, aesthetically pleasing people. For him. I’m a MVP like that.”

[queciro]

MARIELA! How awesome is Ciro from the scale of one to infinity?

“ Infinity times infinity! I don’t care what anyone says, he’s the purest person I’ve eve had the privilege to be related to. God just poured all the love into him and he can’t even handle it himself! He loves all of us, me, my brothers, my sisters, and the rest of the family that deserve it. He loves his parents too, even if they’re legit two halves of  whole devil. I will fight anyone who hurts him, come at me. He’s more of a brother to me than a cousin, really. I just want to pinch his cheeks and mush his face and make him look like a patata. ”

[queciro]

mariela: what is ciro hiding, emotionally? what would he rather show the world?

“ I guess he hasn’t told you if you feel like asking, but let me tell you! Have you heard about his childhood? That is what he hides. He’s still a little kid that’s afraid of letting people down and he doesn’t want to show that he’s hurt. You didn’t believe anyone was that happy all the time, did you? It isn’t just a facade though, of course, but he focuses on the better aspects of his life now that he’s moved here. You should have seen him in Castellón, before he decided to change. He was so afraid of everyone being disappointed, getting angry at him for doing something wrong. A pushover, did everything anyone ever asked him. He had no personality! Abuelita tried to talk sense to him for a long time, but when he finally decided to live for himself and not everyone else, he changed. He smiled more, tried not to be so meek all the time. I’ve seen the change here too. He makes an effort to make friends, he wants them to be happy, he’s so kind it hurts my heart. But he’s still afraid of being vulnerable, you know? Has he told any of you about his youth? About his devil parents? About how close he was to taking his own life when things got bad? No, because he doesn’t want anyone to feel bad for him! He’s an idiot, that what he is, and I want to smack him over the head until he realizes he needs to talk about these things with someone that isn’t me! I’m getting so worked up, it’s ridiculous!

  He’s talked about this with me though, and I do appreciate it. He wants to show the world that he’s a survivor, that much is obvious, but he can’t do that if he’s avoiding the subject of what he survived. He goes on to rant about how he wants to stand up for everyone who doesn’t have the capability to do it for themselves, and he wants to show people that your past isn’t what defines you when you get older. He’s old now, he’s built himself anew for five years. He left the showbusiness and does something that helps people. Maybe that’s his way of showing the world he’s done better than was expected of him. He’s still here, and he’s leading by example; Especially to us, his cousins, we who still live in the traditionalism of our parents, and our extended family. 

  … I just told you a lot of personal information. Don’t tell him I told you any of that, he’d probably disappear again. You didn’t hear this from me. ”

[queciro]

[contemplativeckik]

[darkmoonhyena]

chaotic neutral

[kazualbrekkuparchive]

@sleepygirl-writes

[queciro]

@hcatheralcott

[queciro]

hcatheralcott :

Cariña.

That was familiar. For a second, a chock-full of smile almost brimmed her mouth, memories of his presence were enough to turn her briefly into a childlike figure, eyes lighting up because he had always been such a wonderful person to spend time with – but then three steps in and she felt a hitch in her breath when the small bruise that had originated from her nightly lack of sleep smeared her ribs, filling her with the reminder of how fucking shameful her life had been - felt - for the last few months. She stopped in her tracks, winced for a second, then completely put her guards back up again despite her tight smile. She felt small – Ciro had always been so caring of others, so observant of her progress and the last time they’d seen one another she’d been better, the bags under her eyes hadn’t been so apparent, and there had been no scars from where she sought out rage that could no longer satisfy or soothe her anymore. She remembered the gleaming pride in his eyes and she was too ashamed to look at them now. The blonde chewed her lip, wanting to conceal herself but she’d already taken too many steps forward to retract. Her gaze focused on his belongings instead, and she swung her arms to grab some of the books that had collapsed. “What even are these books, C?” She tried to remain playful, grabbing one book out of the stack and bopping the top of his head with it. “Nerd. Are you not used to how fucking bizzare this place is yet?” 

The bonk on his head was unexpected and Ciro ducked for a moment, but the grin still brimmed his lips as he struggled to get the last of his belongings up from the ground. Snow stuck to the edges of the books and he brushed it off, shaking his hand free of the substance a moment later. The cold didn’t other him as much as it should have, but he felt warm from the inside. Seeing Heather brought up a lot of good memories, in turn for the bad ones that were there too. Her battle--born body wasn’t as battered to the eye anymore, but it didn’t elude his notice when he looked p. She looked tired, and her voice was nothing short of it- Nightmares were sound on his mind when he thought back. They never had the chance to discuss it more, but he wasn’t going to push it now. A guilt gnawed at his bones when he thought of the last time they met. It had been brief, a quick hello to an old friend, but then he had disappeared again. How often he could betray her trust like that, it was a wonder to think about. Not this time. He wasn’t going to let her down again. “Rude.” He chuckled and shoved the books that fit in the bag. “Es medicina. You can never be too prepared, no? Many new illnesses, and I better my English by reading it.” The future could have held a study to become a trauma surgeon, or a emergency physician, but he couldn’t make up his mind just yet. When the bag hung properly from his shoulder, Ciro straightened and accepted the book Heather held, and tucked it back under his arm. “I’ll never get used to how strange this place is. How long did it take you? There’s always something new going on, and everyone is always in a hurry.” He paused and took a step to the side, making way for someone passing by. He tried offering them an apologetic smile but they just harrumphed and kept on their way. “Grumpy people, I will never get used to. But you! How have you been cariña? I haven’t seen you in a long time! Which is my fault, sí, and I apologize. Am I talking too much? I have missed you, my friend.”

[queciro]

what would be your ultimate goal in life?

“ To live a good and fulfilling life before I die. There is so much to see and experience! I want to see everything, travel all over the world and meet new people. I want to be happy with the work I have done at the hospital and save more lives. I want to build friendships that I can think of when I grow old and sit in that rocking chair, mumbling to myself. Maybe having someone to share my life with at that point, some sort of true love that lasts until death separates us. That turned sad quickly, I’m sorry. I just want to live a happy life and not regret my choices once my time comes, you know? And in the end, I hope someone remembers me as I was, and not just some face on a magazine. ”

[queciro]

What scared you the most as a child?

“ My parents come to mind. I was afraid of disappointing them. Papá was violent if I did something wrong so I always thought of him as a monster, especially after my manager called him. I learned to look at his face, his lip would twitch if the photos didn’t turn out right, or if my acting hadn’t been perfect. Mamá was more of a yeller. She didn’t hit so often but it wasn’t uncommon either. You could tell if she was about to scream at me if she took a deep breath. She collected herself I guess, but I never know what her tactic was. She did have  way of words that crushed a bebé like me. My cousins get a share of that now, and sometimes I think about getting back at her. Tell her how terrible she was to me. Papá too, but I’m not going to hit an old man just because he did so to me first.  ”

[popokko-deactivated20210315]

bird: *bounces instead of walking*

me: fucking superb you funky little dinosaur

[queciro]

griffinsvanity :

The collision was minor and brief, but with his mind and body already unsteady, Griffin stumbled into the wall. Through the haze of the rum, he could feel the cold of the brick against his bare skin. It was the first real rush of cold he’d felt since he’d stepped out of his club. Griffin’s blue eyes focused on the stranger he had run into as the man began to speak. His voice was soothing. It reminded Griffin of a boyfriend he’d had in his younger years- a man that had shown him the magic of Dominican food and late dinners with starlit walks. Griffin looked into the man’s smiling face and his own lips parted in a white smile. Alligators in the underground? “I’ve been at my own place, man. My club. An’ the drinks are good…if you wanna go.” His voice was a little slurred and his warm breath produced a faint cloud of condensation in the December air. When the man asked him if he was okay, Griffin’s brow furrowed for a moment. Why wouldn’t he be okay? He felt fucking great. Your arm… Griffin glanced down at the arm that had collided with the brick wall. The rough stone had torn the surface of his upper arm enough to leave soft pink marks on the pale skin. “Oh… shit.” He breathed, mostly confused as to why he hadn’t felt it. “That’s my bad. Guess I’m a bit drunk.” He tried to take a step towards the man, but he found himself swaying on his feet as he stepped forward. A quick hand shot out and hovered near the stranger’s arm for a half second as he steadied himself. “Shit. Sorry, man.”

It wasn’t like Ciro hadn’t met anyone rich in NY, but he was still surprised whenever someone brought up owning something. Usually they were snobbish about it, looking down on a plain working man like himself, but this one seemed to keep that ego under wraps. It could have been the drink that was still prominent whenever Ciro took a breath, but he wasn’t about to look the gift horse int he mouth, or whatever the English said. “Sound’s like a party, maybe I’ll visit.” There was more to add to it, like Ciro asking for an address and questioning how safe it was for someone... varying, from the general population. One conclusion Ciro could come to in the short time knowing the man, was that he cursed a lot. English curses still sounded funny to his ear, like a child throwing a tantrum over something. Not that his profanity was any better, but there was more power behind them. The curses he had listened to for most of his life. 

 Almost offering to call a cab, that was Ciro was about to do when the man moved. It was quick and there were reflexes that the Spaniard had honed during his years in the chaos of the ER room, and he grabbed the man by the arm when he came forward in a rush. “Easy there, cariño, you’re not as steady as you think you are.” It was familiar, and Ciro couldn’t be mad at the guy. God knew he had been in similar situations, but yelling at someone yelling at him- it was a complicated affair. “What if I lead you back to your bar? You drink water, and I get a margarita. Good?” He patted the man on the arm a couple of times to get his attention. It was an instinct to take care of these types of people, and maybe it came from the profession he chose. Or maybe it was something inherited from his grandparents. Something like that. “People start with names!  I’m Ciro, your friendly neighborhood guardian angel, taking you back to the bar where I hope your jacket is. Sound good? Clear that head of yours while walking too, no?” He poked the guy in the forehead instead of the arm this time, a laugh reverberating whilst he did so. He had been told it was too much contact before, but the guy was drunk s what would he care? Maybe it would knock some sober brain cells awake in the process. Flawless medical assessment.

[queciro]

oriionsgalaxies :

Night time was typically perfect for his artistic creativity except for nights like these where it dredged into early early morning and he was running on fumes. If there was less traffic noise in his own head, perhaps he would have been able to nod off right then and there. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, finding himself instead subject to listening to whoever wanted to talk in his mind and seeking an outlet. His mug was still clutched in his hands firmly when the only other being in the diner retorted back to him, apathetic green eyes shifting to his face over the rim of the mug. Sarcasm at its finest in the early hour, he took a pause to sip from the mug before deadpanning, “Inglês é a minha terceira língua.” He’s not from this country just as much as the next emigrant; the only difference is from where he came. And though the Pallas household was primarily Gretian-speaking, he learned Portuguese from his Brazilian grandmother. English was his third language, where it’s his brother’s second- Cyrek’s been trying to learn Portuguese, hasn’t gotten that far. “Not my first language either,” Orion spoke then as he lowered the mug with a cheeky expression on his face. Eyes lowering to the notebook again while the other man attempted to dredge up the word he was thinking of in English, his pen traced lazy doodles into the corner of his paper, his head immediately snapping up when he found it. Visionary. Of course, why hadn’t he thought of that? Damn, he must be extremely drained. “Perfect. That’s what I wanted. It was on the tip of my tongue, I couldn’t grab it.” Heh, figures of speech, something that brought him a moment of internal humor. Scribbling it down and flipping his notebook closed, he replied, “Trying to float my thoughts out there, put them in solidarity, reorganize them later. I’m a philosopher. Um…” His head tilted to the side, fairly certain the translation for it in Portuguese was relatively similar to Spanish. “Filósofo.” His gaze lifted again when the man got up and moved closer, intuitive emerald eyes fixated on him until he asked to sit with him, eyes flickering to the booth. Considering the man addressed him as if he were alone, it’s enough to solidify his head is playing tricks on him. Company wouldn’t be so bad, in that case. “Ah, sure. Not expecting anyone. Come sit.”

There were words there that rang familiar to Ciro right when they were uttered and his face lit up in joyful recognition. It wasn’t Spanish, no, and it broke differently between vowels, but he felt the homesickness linger in the accent. The linguistic cogs in his brain tried to make sense of the words, and the start of the confession was clear. Língua sounded foreign, but a renewed determination made it to his eyes when the stranger clarified it. “Ah, língua in Portuguese, idioma in Spanish.” However similar they might’ve been, Ciro couldn’t for the life of him manage to talk Portuguese. It had been a gnawing desire, to learn the language just to have control over both the sibling tongues. Before he can launch into something akin to a rant about how amazing it’s to meet someone who understands him, and someone who speaks three languages, Ciro reached back to his own booth and picks his cup of coffee and parks himself down on the booth. The jacket around is shoulders is positioned not to press him in the back as he cranes his neck to take a sneaky glance at the things the guy might be writing. It would have been better to just wait for the answer, but it was intriguing and he couldn’t help himself. There were some words, big words, some he didn’t understand, but they were upside down after all. “Filósofo.” He echoed with a grin, leaning back in his comfy seat. Hands wrapped around the how much as he nodded along. “A philosopher. You make sense of the world, yes? The world that you see. Pensador etéreo. Ethereal thinker.” It was something his abuelita was keen on. She read so many books, quotes so many great thinkers that Ciro knew he could never live without the wise words she taught him when he was just a child, eager to listen. “You’re a big thinker, sí? Is that why you’re here so early? I’ve never seen you around before, and I come here sinfully often. They make the best coffee,” He glanced down at the mug in the man’s hands and made a brief face of regret. “And tea. I don’t drink much of it but they try to sell it to me. Hope it’s good. I’m sorry, I talk too much. It’s the coffee, and the morning.” 

[griffinsvanity]

It was easy to be over-served when you owned the bar. His employees were well acquainted with his rum-fueled temper. It was easier for them to keep pouring than it was to fight the man. It didn’t happen frequently, but it had happened tonight. Over the hours Griffin let one drink turn into a dozen. It was remarkable how much friendlier the world seemed the further he sunk down into the buzz. Griffin had slapped the wood counter and pointed at his bar manager with narrowed eyes. “We shut down at four. No earlier. If there’s trouble, sort it out yourself.” He instructed roughly. The warmth of the rum made him forget the leather jacket that had been slumped at the end of the bar. In his white tank and blue jeans, Griffin wandered out into the cold Autumn night with no particular destination in mind. A club perhaps. Some place loud. Loud enough to kill. Walking was harder than he’d anticipated back on his comfortable bar stool. As he rounded the corner towards the main strip of clubs, his left shoulder connected with a stranger. “Oh fuck. Shit.” Griffin gasped as he jolted away from the impact and stumbled to the right, banging his right arm into the brick wall beside him. “My bad.” He lifted a single hand in apology as he tried to find his footing.

[queciro]

Walking around the city had become a hobby for Ciro. The night time was beautiful and a boyish wonder always found itself present when the Spaniard got to see the lights of the city, the relative silence of the streets when the clock ran on without anyone paying attention to it. Walks like these were the norm now, and Ciro had thought the situation to be perfect for a phone call. He didn’t know how long he had spoken, or how many hours he had been outside, but the numbness of his fingers around the phone spoke of more than mere minutes. A back and forth conversation was held between him and his cousin, her never ending questions about life in New York as funny as they were exhausting. He was lost in answering those questions when he rounded the corner and ran straight into someone, the phone slipping from his hands. Luckily enough his reflexes caught it just in time, the phone pinned between his bicep and forearm. “Jesus Christ, what...” Ciro plucked his phone and hung up, planning on sending his cousin an apology later. With the device securely in his pocket, Ciro turned to the man. He looked vaguely familiar, but then again, Ciro thought that about the majority of people he met. “Hey, don’t worry about it hermano. You saved me a headache. My cousin asks the weirdest questions, about alligators in the underground tunnels.” He beamed again, holding the smile while keeping an eye out for the sway in the man’s step. “Where have you been? You look drunk as hell, can I ask where that club is? Looks like they have great service.” He laughed, straightening the overcoat that got rumpled on impact. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I completely forgot to ask that. Try not to scrape you arm on the wall there, yes?”

[queciro]

How have you been? Anything interesting happening? Got a mans now or nah?

“ Slow down, so many questions at once! I have been good. I visited my family in Spain and it was an experience. Abuelita was good! She is still strong and stubborn. I heard my mother complain about it when she spoke with my tía, my aunt. My parents were… They were intense, but the whole familia was there so they didn’t do anything bad to me. Which is a lot if you think about how they acted when I was younger. I was expecting at least some violence, yes? But there was none! Papá didn’t call me a faggot this time, and mamá didn’t cry, or hit me so it was a surprising visit, in a good way. They aren’t okay with me yet, but I doubt they ever will be and I am fine with that now. My cousin, Mariela, is thinking about moving to America so I gave her some English lessons and helped her with the paperwork. It would be great to have a part of my family here with me, and Mirela is the best of the lot. She’s like a young abuelita, so strong and open-minded. She would do great in America. I think that’s that? I have more stories about my time in Castellón, but unfortunately I did not find a man there. I did meet some, went dancing and drinking with them, but that was just for fun. I think I will find someone here in the U.S instead, but I’m in no hurry. Single life is what I’m used to so why would I change that on a, a ‘whim’? That’s correct? My work is very difficult too so, I quote, ain’t nobody got time for that. ”

[queciro]

Welcome back, stud.

“ What a warm welcome. Gracias dulce extraño, I am not leaving for a while now, don’t worry. You’ll get sick of this face soon enough. ”