#gaby reyes

[thingsasbarcodes]

Young Justice 3x17 - First Impression

[thedestructionofgrace]

Just finished s4 of Mayans MC. EZ is ripping my heart into pieces, gaby?! Jay-jay?! Freya?! Making himself president?! The second half of this show (s3-4) has gotten so dark so quickly, it’s killing me man 😫😭

[tarjapearce]

Art pieces sent by talented artists and some doodles of mines <3

BAD TEACHINGS MIGUEL made by @satoshiiarts

BENJAMIN O'HARA (SOCCER FAMILY AU) made by me

RANCHERO MIGUEL AU made by @pinkiemme

RANCHERO MIGUEL AU II

ANIMATION TEST made by @satoshiiarts

DARK KING MIGUEL AU made by @pinkiemme

EL CHARRO NEGRO MOODBOARD made by @plusultrayokai

MORE RANCHERO MIGUEL made by @satoshiiarts

FEM! PROWLER

MIGUEL AND BABY BENJI

CRIMSON CROWN (ROYAL AU MAP)

NERD MIGUEL X CHEERLEADER

BABY ROSIE AND PAPA MIGUEL

GABRIELLA AND MIGUEL made by @satoshiiarts

THE O'HARAS AS THE ADDAMS.

BABY GABRIELLA

ROSIE AND MIGUEL made by @fussyhedgegog

GABI, BENJAMIN AND ROSIE made by @satoshiiarts

SOCCER FAMILY AU'S GABRIELLA made by @smokeywhalee

THELERIAN REPRESENTATION made by @moonvoidpng

MAMA O'HARA

MIGUEL O'HARA COSPLAY

MAMA AND MIGUEL made by @plumplum2099

MAMA AND MIGUEL made by @satoshiiarts

BAD TEACHINGS MIGUEL 2

DUKE MIGUEL O'HARA

BENJAMIN AND ROSIE by @fancymussmuss

ROSIE AND MIGUEL 2

GABRIELLA AND MIGUEL

PRIEST MIGUEL X NUN! READER

A HEATHENS (PT. 2) SCENE by @iwannagutyou

GABRIELLA, BENJAMIN AND ROSIE by @kate-ohara

MAMA O'HARA by @smokeywhalee

MAMA AND MIGUEL 2

CAPTAIN MIGUEL O'HARA

EDWP! MIGUEL

CIVILIAN MIGUEL

MIGUEL AND MAMA by @fancymussmuss

SERIES MOODBOARDS by @miss-canon-event

MIGUEL AND BENJAMIN by @fancymussmuss

MIGUEL AND MAMA'S WEDDING by @miss-canon-event

OC KATARINA REYES

[haenniki]

MEET MY INAZUMA ELEVEN GO OC !!

Tayron Lahey is Raimon Junior High School Soccer Team Defender.

His number is the 19th.

He’s in 2nd year like Riccardo (Shindou).

At first he seems calm and kind but he loves annoying Riccardo when he has the occasion, always making fun of the 1st years. But deep down he’s kind and gives good advice!!

Where Riccardo is Tayron is there too.

He’s a really good friend with Gaby, Aoyama and Ichino!

His best friend is Collin ( Riku ) my sister OC !!

Their hissatsu is called PERFECT HARMONY✨🎵

[bumblesimagines]

❛  just friends don’t look at each other like that.  ❜

❛  remember how we agreed not to catch feelings … ?  ❜

- Ez

❛  just friends don’t look at each other like that.  ❜

❛  remember how we agreed not to catch feelings … ?  ❜

pronouns for y/n: any/gender neutral

"Remember how we agreed not to catch feelings…?"

You nearly winced at his words, fingers drumming against the wood of the bar. You forced out a hum of acknowledgement and nodded, urging him to continue despite the dread bubbling in your stomach. Your eyes flickered past the handsome Mayan to look at his brother but luckily, snores escaped the bearded man and a dribble of drool trickled down onto the seat. If Ez's words hadn't rooted you in your spot, you would've rushed over to snap a picture of him.

"Yeah, I remember." You cleared your throat, looking back at Ez. His soft eyes studied your face for a moment, obviously having picked up on your tone.

Licking his lips, Ez briefly glanced down at his beer bottle. "I, uh..."

"Spit it out, Reyes. You're making me nervous."

"Right." He breathily laughed, his boyish smile making heat erupt on your face. Ezekiel Reyes had many good qualities but his smile never failed to make you feel like a little kid talking to their crush.

The familiar rumble of motorcycles pulled his attention away from you and a small frown appeared on his face. He wordlessly turned back to you and nodded toward the backdoor, rising from the barstool when you nodded. Your shift was practically over anyway, you doubted Bishop would care.

"What's so important you can't tell me infront of your boys?" You asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice when you mentioned the other Mayans. Ez chuckled softly, pulling the door open for you and stepping out after you. When he didn't respond, your throat tightened, anxiously gnawing on your bottom lip. The fact he had brought up the agreement to never catch feelings only intensified the anxiety. Only Hank had noticed your ever-growing crush on the youngest Reyes but he'd sworn he wouldn't tell a soul.

"I promise it's nothing bad." Ez assured you, casting a glance over his shoulder during the short trek to his trailer. You forced another hum and eyed the trailer before following him inside.

His home had become increasingly familiar to you over the last few months. You'd find yourself visiting his trailer after late night shifts, exchanging stories over some beers before allowing the booze to do the acting. The mornings were often filled with light teasing about his tiny bed and complaining about hangovers. It'd only taken two flings before you had decided to set some ground rules, one of them being about feelings. After some turbulent relationships, you wanted to focus on everything but romance. And Ez- still mending the heart Gaby had broken- happily agreed.

But now, as you sat down on the couch, you wondered if the observant man had noticed something. If he had, you were certain he'd let you down easy.

"So, what is it, Reyes?" You asked and leaned back, propping your arm up and praying the fake coolness looked real.

Inhaling deeply, Ez leaned against the counter. "I wanted you to hear this from me, not Angel." His words made you grimace and he chuckled again upon seeing your face.

"Go on, then."

"I realized I haven't been completely honest with myself since we started sleeping together. I thought it would take for ever to let her go but once we started seeing each other I really grew to like you, (Y/N). Everything about you. I mean, shit... You deserve better than the clubhouse. I know the last thing you want to do is get involved with a Mayan but Angel mentioned some things and...  just friends don’t look at each other like that."

"What exactly are you saying, Ez?" You asked breathlessly.

"I'm saying I'm in love with you."

[brxkxnhxxrtsclxb]

finally picked up pasión de gavilanes 2 again and… SIGH

it reminds me why i dropped it to begin with ._.

i finished the ACTUAL novela a couple months back and it was so fun. it’s no wonder is a highly regarded classic. BUT THIS ??!!

i’m on what ?? episode 11 ?? 12 ?? around there of season 2 and it’s just eww😭😭

idk if i should give it a little more but i did check the first two episodes after finishing the OG and the vibe was VERY different and NOT IT from the get go. like how tf do we go from a romance storytelling and being character driven… to a murder mystery (which is so stupid cuz the OG had nothing like it) ?? it’s dumb and feels ugly

the new cast is so bland too. like i’m sorry but i really do not gaf about their kids😭 the worst offenders are the freaking reyes twins like goodbye. y’all annoying and ugly. at least be good to look at ?? idk😭😭 (that was mean but at least the three reyes brothers were good to look at in the original >.< they still are but that’s besides the point)

sorry. i just had to get this out my system >.< i don’t think i can continue watching this :// i went back to it cuz i recently found out they’re apparently making a season 3 but i can barely get past season 2 so i might just not even watch it T_T

the little i’ve seen of spoilers is so dumb. oscar wouldn’t have cheated on jimena. he just WOULD NOT. and have a kid without her ?? FUCK THAT. franco would’ve never left sara. why tf y’all got her thinking he left her for someone else and insecure over rosario AGAIN ?? speaking of rosario, why tf is SHE BACK ??!! she moved on from the reyes. she had her villain era when she was trying to keep franco and sara apart in the OG !!!! also the juan david and rosario plot is just so boring and stupid. again, SHE MOVED ON FROM THE REYES (not to mention juan david was literally A BABY WHEN SHE MET HIM BACK IN THE OG) !! don’t get me started on miss gaby (that’s how i call gabriella cuz she would piss me off in the OG lmaoo) NOT believing her granddaughter about her bestie demetrio. DID SHE LEARN NOTHING FROM DON FERNANDITO ??!! also, i don’t like the new don martin. no hate to the actor, it’s not his fault he did his job. he’s just not as funny and doesn’t have the charm jorge cao did T_T

sorry for the rant. this novela went from a cute, lighthearted story about family to… whatever this mess is. sure they talk about family but it doesn’t feel like they mean it. doesn’t even have the comedy bits the original had to help break the tension. of course, the original has some issues and some problematic jokes that wouldn’t have flown by today but i can forgive it as it’s in tune with the times (early 2000s)

also the THEME SONG ??!! i’m sorry but the song originally made sense . it was in tune with the story and now it’s not. this is a murder mystery. sure there’s romance but it literally took the backseat so it doesn’t even make sense anymore. and i don’t like the new version. it sounds bad T_T it just doesn’t fit

this season 2… none of the vibes fit anywhere. doesn’t even feel like the same show. they should’ve just not made season 2 but that’s just my opinion. or at the very least, they should’ve just made it a different version of the characters. kinda like the addams family or marvel / DC comics where we have the same characters, just different versions of them. that would’ve worked better to separate the two but nah. they wanted to continue it thus ruining everyone. it’s ugly ._.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

(Bad, lousy, no good) Renders

I don't know what I'm doing

London fluff (Ghost and Riot)

Super Sergeants - Soap, Gaz, Riot

Zhar and Riot

Sgt. Vega's Urban gear

Bravo 0-7 and Wolf-7

Eyecandy: Price

Eyecandy: Gaz

Eyecandy: Soap

Eyecandy: Ghost

Masquerade ball trope: Ghost x Riot

Eyecandy: König

Soap and Riot on holiday

GAZFEST 2023: Pool

Sgt. Vega at the gym

GAZFEST 2023: Sofasoap's First time

Eyecandy: Nikolai (kind of...)

Zhar and Riot drinking wine

Wolf-7 (Sgt. Vega)

HeadHunters quarters: Riot, Laswell, Cpt. Rico

GAZFEST 2023: Care to join, dove? (sauna Gaz)

The Log Cabin fanart (@rileyslibrary )

Task Force 141 at the bar

Early morning at the MacTavish family farm

Needed a nap - Christine and Johnny

Nikolai and Zhar

Attending a wedding fanart (@rileyslibrary )

Hallway WIP

Eyecandy: Graves

Phoenix Squad's last coffee

Riot and Laswell

Late night munchies

A Heart Full Of Pity Chapter 1: Nikolai and Zhar

A Heart Full Of Pity Chapter 4: Nikolai and Zhar

Powerful women: Kate Laswell

Powerful women: Valeria Garza

Powerful women: Farah Karim

Rock, paper, scissors

Eyecandy: Frank Woods

Eyecandy: Alex Mason

Sergeant Christine 'Riot' Vega, beach scene

Heli nap

Eyecandy: Alejandro Vargas

Beach scene: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley and Sergeant Christine 'Riot' Vega

MacTavish family farm's bathroom: Johnny and Christine

Fanart: This or That (@rileyslibrary )

It's the little things part 7

Captain John Price and Dr Heather Price (neé Green)

Nak, Zhar and Riot (go into a bar... ah, no, it's not that)

Kate Laswell and Gabriella Cruz

Soap and Gabi

Eyecandy: Horangi

OC Dressing game ask: One / Two / Three (with small fic)

Request: Nikolai x Mini MacTavish

Request: Frank Woods x F!Reader

PTSD

Zhar and Riot

Laswell and Riot

Soap and Laswell

Soap and Gabi

Two disasters

Three disasters and their long-suffering handler

Yuri

Request: Soap x F!Reader

Farah Karim

Zhar and Riot training

Christine Vega

Halloween 2023 - The Firebird

Halloween 2023 - The Dark Knight

Gaz and Diego (and Stork)

Halloween 2023 - The Highlander

Halloween 2023 - The Buccaneer

Halloween 2023 - The All-Father

Halloween 2023 - The Enchanter

Request: Nick Reyes (Infinite Warfare)

Halloween 2023 - The Nymph

Halloween 2023 - The Charioteer

Halloween 2023 - The Healer

Halloween 2023 - The Warrior

Halloween 2023 - The Gunslinger

Halloween 2023 - The Executioner

Price and Ghost

Angst (GhostxRiot)

141 out and about

Soap and Riot - Nil Desperandum

Full 141 + Laswell + Gabi

Request: Soap and Gabi

Request: Nikolai x Mini MacTavish NSFW

[rinkwrites]

📚🎧EXPANDING THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME📚🎧

Apologies in advance as this is really poorly worded, but I wanted to put this out there because I think about it a lot.

Something my librarian talks about a lot is expanding the range of content you read/watch/listen to, not necessarily in terms of genre but in terms of creators. I think the reason people resist consuming media by people of colour/plus sized people/lgbtq+ people/anyone who strays from the 'norm' of what they know is because of discrimination and also because they worry the content be focused on the discrimination which they don't understand and cannot relate to. And while I beleive you should absolutely challenge yourself to read that kind of thing, but you should also read books by those people which don't cover heavy topics as the main focus.

Here some recommendations. This is based on the kind of stuff I normally read/listen to, please feel free to reblog this with your recommendations if you read other genres.

Romance Books

The Neighbour Favour by Kristina Forest

Seven Days In June by Tia Williams

Who Asked You by Terry McMillan

Set On You by Amy Lea (literally any book by her i love her)

The Fastest Way To Fall by Denise Williams

The Heartstopper Series by Alice Oseman

Red White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (again anything by them I love them)

The What If Its Us series by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera

Something to Talk About by Maryl Wilsned

Podcasts (so a lot of these do cover topics like racism and homophobia etc but honestly they're really interesting please give them a listen)

Wholehearted Coaching by Shirin Eskandani

The Hey Girl Podcast by Alex Elle

The Homecoming Podcast by Dr Thema Bryant

Making Gay History by Eric Marcus? not entirely sure who its by but 100% listen to it

Bad With Money (literally amazing and so interesting, really forces you to think about stuff deeply, and its kinda funny) Gaby Dunn

Queery by Cameron Esposito

Mystery Books

The Luis Ortega Survival Club by Sonora Reyes

Liar, Dreamer, Thief by Maria Dong

Age of Vice by Deepti Kapoor

The Bandit Queens by Parini Shroff

The Raven Thief by Gigi Pandian

Someone Else's Life by Lyn Liao Butler

Sisters of the Lost Nation by Nick Medina

The King is Dead by Benjamin Dean

How to Die Famous by Benjamin Dean

Fortune Favours the Dead by Stephen Spotswood

[hausofmamadas]

| What’s waiting down Zuni Road |

⁂

Pairing: Gabriella Castillo (Mayans M.C.) x Ignacio “Nacho” Varga (Better Call Saul)

Gift for the wonderful, illustrious, prolific @drabbles-mc - Rarepairs Exchange 2023

Word count: ≈5k

TW: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence

It's dangerous to be a woman in love. A brush with death at the hands of the man she loved sends Gabrielle Castillo on the run, in more ways than she expected. Burned in a betrayal she never saw coming, and tipped off by a non-garbage Angel Reyes to a place to hide out, a safe haven, a place to temporarily call home, she books it tf to Albuquerque. She arrives with newfound determination not only to survive, but a conviction to never let love blind her to pinshe toxicos malparidos like EZ Reyes ever again. Still, in terms of an actual plan? She has no idea where to go, who to turn to, or what to do next. That is, until she runs into our fav Walter Matthau-grumpy-old-man, not nearly old enough to be so grumpy, Nacho "forreal don't call me Ignacio" Varga. In some ways, he reminds her of EZ but she's dead set against falling for another pair of brown eyes full of lost hope and squandered dreams. But the more she gets to know him, the more it calls into question ... would it really be the same with Nacho? Is Gaby willing to find out? spoiler alert: she is. she very much is. sorry but like have you seen him? lbr here

⁂

Mamá always told me to watch out for red flags in life. Dime con quien andas, te diré quien eres. Porque when someone shows you who they are, they’re doing you a favor.

She never said it out loud but I learned early on, the ones who waved the red flags most were the boys. Not that I was especially boy crazy at that age, but it seemed wherever I looked, there they were: waving red flags, making promises they couldn’t keep, being unfaithful, disloyal, dishonest.

My older cousin Mercedes had a boyfriend back in Mexico who used to tell her not to wear shorts that were too short because he did not like the way her thighs flattened on chairs when she sat down. At the age of five, I knew how mean it was and to this day, I cannot understand how it didn’t bring her to tears. But it didn’t. And she always listened to him about things like that, until he got her best friend pregnant and the two of them ran off together, leaving Mercedes behind. It was the best thing he could have ever done for her though. Because she never let anyone tell her what kind of shorts to wear after that.

The first boy I ever had a crush on in elementary school told me that even though he thought my eyes were pretty and he liked how I wore my hair in braids, we couldn’t be together because I raised my hand too much in class to answer questions. And girls were not supposed to be as smart as boys. At the picnic tables at lunch, I cried over my usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich, when my friends asked me what was wrong, I couldn’t even explain what it was that hurt me so.

Even Papá, loving and kind as he could be, made Mamá feel small when he told her that having to sell her floral shop in Mexico, so we could come here, wasn’t as great a loss as him losing his career as a police officer. “What’s selling a few flowers to a few abuelitas to putting my life on the line, to upholding law and order every day?” he’d ask. And she would say nothing in return, just smile soft and sad, plopping a scoop of rice onto his plate. It took me years to understand that sadness in her smile.

𖤓

Driving down highway 40, with the windows down, my hair whipping in the wind, and all the desert dust mixing with the faint, floral smell of my shampoo, I feel like I have been mainlining that sadness for the last five hundred miles. Because from the moment I met Ezekiel Reyes, I did not see it coming. It’s not that there weren’t red flags as with all the other boys. But he had a way of making it seem like they were all a force of circumstance. Gee, how did those get there? Someone must have put those up when I wasn’t looking. He was sensitive, compassionate, smarter than anyone I had ever met, and troubled in a way he seemed not to be responsible for.

I should have trusted my instincts. I should have listened to my mother’s advice. But EZ Reyes is also one of the best liars I have ever known. People who lie best are the ones who believe the lie first themselves. That is what he did. It was easy. So it was easy to believe him.

On the road, when it gets dark, I start to see his eyes like they were the last time I saw him. They are every pair of headlights in the rear view mirror: two voids with a kind of frigid, lifeless pain inside. Any echo of the love between us snuffed out, washed away, sterilized like a surgeon’s scalpel. Nevermind that candle in my heart might have burned for him forever. But it seems we do not love the same way.

One of my hands comes off the wheel to touch the spot at my ribs on the left side where he had held the gun. A shot I would have never seen coming, were it not for Angel’s screaming and tackling us both to the ground, shoving me away, telling me to run as fast as I could and never look back. If only I had fallen for that big lug instead of Ezekiel. But that one wore his red flags on his sleeve, screamed them from a mile away. That honesty I misjudged as a warning was really an asset. Porque Angel no podía mentir una mierda, ni siquiera a sí mismo. But we cannot help who we love.

Wiping sweat from my forehead, I pass a mile marker and then a bigger sign: eleven miles to Albuquerque. Good because Angel’s check engine light has turned on and I need gas. I drag my hand across my forehead again. Leave it to Angel to have a car with no AC. Well, no. I remind myself I’m no fool. The car probably wasn’t his. They would’ve stolen it before they got to the hospital.

The sun has been beating down on me through the driver’s side window, relentless and my face is so damp, I can’t seem to tell the difference between the sweat and the tears that periodically drop down to dot my cheeks. I stopped bothering to wipe those all the way back in Tucson. The dust has stuck to them too, so the skin on my face is stiff and my lips have a grainy feel to them. There is something about it that I like, that feels tangible. Algo sobre la tierra en mis lágrimas es un consuelo, y en mi dolor me hice sentir menos sola.

My cellphone buzzes in my bag. Low battery. It is a miracle it has lasted this long. Perhaps my last tether to civilization, I wonder if I shouldn’t let it die and disappear from my old life completely. No, with Mamá back home there is no old or new life. I escaped Santo Padre with the only one I have. Angel said he would get word to her, let her know I was okay, tell her where I was going. A place I didn’t even know.

Once I hit the city limits, I reach in my pocket and pull out the crinkled cardboard pack, an empty cigarette box Angel had hastily scribbled an Albuquerque address on. I triple check to make sure I have remembered it correctly, then take the fourth exit.

𖤓

After I left Angel and EZ, grappling with each other on that hilltop by the hospital, I went to Mercedes’ house to hole up. It was a dingy little duplex not far from the hospital but EZ didn’t know where it was and that’s what mattered. It was kind of funny. I had not expected Angel to follow up, texting me, asking if I was okay, where I was. But he did. Even after I told him, I had not expected him to do anything with that information, certainly not stop by or send someone. But he did. So, when a knock came at the front door, in a frenzy, I lurched off the couch and lunged for the baseball bat that I’d taken from the coat closet earlier and set against the front door before dozing off. Glancing through the peephole, I half expected to see EZ's cold, hard eyes, peering back at me across the threshold of warped glass. Mercifully, it was somebody else. Someone I didn’t recognize. Judging by the kutte over his hoodie and the large black script inked on his neck that spelled Mayans, another proud member of the club. Someone I had not met before. He stood in front of the door, hood up, hands clasped in front of him at attention, almost like a bouncer at a nightclub but without the air of compensation. On the contrary, he was at ease, almost serene when I swung open the screen door, wild-eyed and bat in hand. “Are you Gaby?” He'd barely batted an eye. I nodded slowly. “Angel sent me with some stuff for you.” I furrowed my brow, suspicious but too frazzled to form words. “Yeah, uh— He wanted to deliver this himself, but homie had to take care of that trifling, mocoso cagado brother of his, chase that motherfucker back down to Santo Padre. But I stuck around, so he sent me instead.” He extended his hand. “I’m Manny.” With some hesitation, I set the bat down and shook his hand, then motioned to allow him inside. He refused, head rattling from side to side. “Nah, I don’t— I can’t stay long. Just wanted to give you these.” He held out the crumpled cigarette box and the keys to 'Angel’s' car, dropping them in the palm of my hand. Through tears that I wasn’t even aware had begun to fall, I joked tiredly, “So, I narrowly escape getting killed by the love of my life and Angel thinks I’m ready to take up smoking?” “Yea, right? Guess when you cheat death, seems as good a time as any to pick up a habit that causes terminal illness.” Manny stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets and leaned against the doorway, eyes cast down, chuckling at the ground. “Nah, actually there’s an address on it. A guy we know in New Mexico from a job Yuma and Santo Padre did with him a while back. His people’ll take care of you.” “Who is it?” “His name— well, he’s a guy who’s connected enough in Mexico that EZ can’t come after you there. Y’know, bad for business.” With a knowing smirk, he tipped his head, “Si me sientes.” There seemed a reluctance to say this man’s name outright but I couldn't understand why. Oh, right. Connected in Mexico. One of the cartels. So more of that then. Standing in the doorway with my arms crossed, at the manic pace only akin to that of an animal backed into a corner, I evaluated the options presented to me now. Could this truly be my only one? Something else my mother used to say was already at the tip of my tongue. “Lo peligroso que es ser una mujer enamorada.”** I began to cry harder now and Manny’s head snapped back up to look at me. “Aw easy now, ma,” he said gently, stepping closer to brush a tear from my cheek with the back of his hand. “Todo estará bien.” I nodded weakly before choking out through something that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, “I know this is a weird question but— pero ya puedes abrazarme?” He smiled softly, stepping back with open arms, and the moment my head hit the shoulder of this kind stranger, I came apart at the seams.

𖤓

It had only been two days on the road but the writing on the cigarette package is already faded, probably from so much time spent folded up in the pocket of my jeans.

6611 Zuni Rd SE,

Albuquerque, NM

ask 4 grumpyass mf named Varga

I am not sure why I bother to keep looking at it when I have the address memorized, seared in my brain because I had charted my route the old fashioned way, on a map I got from a gas station back in Lodi. A measure that seems silly now given that my phone is still somehow clinging to life.

I pull into the parking lot of 6611 Zuni Road and slide into an open spot, of which there are many. Business does not appear to be booming. In quaint, Hot-Rod red cursive along the top of the building, it reads “Tapizados, Custom Upholstery, Reparación.” Auto upholstery. As good a front as any, I suppose.

My nerves are fried and the entrance of the shop taunts me while I stare at it, trying to figure out how to smoke out this Varga. It would’ve been helpful to have more than just a name. Was it a first? A last? Based on what little was in the note, Varga could be a woman for all I know. Although Manny had specifically said it was a guy. Tracing the hastily scribbled address on the wilted cardboard, I am filled with warmth, reminded of my gratitude to Angel for doing the best he could with what he had. I can do the rest. I simply have to.

A broken bell clangs pitifully as the door of the shop closes behind me. It is empty of customers and seemingly, anyone who might work there. There is another bell on the counter and I wonder if that one is broken too. If it isn’t, with the Norteño music blaring in a room in the back with a bunch of tables with sewing machines, I wonder if anyone would hear it. Before I get a chance to find out, two men in matching uniforms arguing in the parking lot outside catch my attention. Partly because they’re arguing but largely because they both seem to be wearing matching uniforms, an indication yes, someone indeed ran this fine establishment and didn’t leave it to the norteño corridos to manage.

An older man with a thick, dark head of hair and a dark mustache alternates between pinching his forehead and speaking through gritted teeth to a younger man with hair buzzed so short, he looks almost bald, whose back is turned to me. Mustache man looks to be the boss and when the other man steps aside for a moment, I spot the name on his shirt. M. Varga. Simón! Él es un gruñón de verdad like Angel said. He looks just like another gruñón I know too. In fact, if his hair wasn’t so dark, I might have actually mistaken him for Felipe Reyes. He shared the same proud nose, perpetually furrowed brow, and lines etched deep into his forehead that say he’s had someone important to worry about for a very long time. Who was this Varga’s someone?

More heated now, Señor Varga points to the building and I think I can make out the words 'vuelve ahí dentro' coming out of his mouth. Exasperated, the younger, short-haired man throws his hands on his hips and tips his head back, as if pleading with the sky but whatever the old man has said trumps his silent negotiation with the Above. Varga throws him a set of keys and shoos him in the direction of the shop before stalking off back to the garage.

It takes me too long to realize I am staring. The short-haired guy makes it to the sidewalk in front of the windows, but by then it is too late to play it off like I’m just a clueless customer. Swinging my purse from one shoulder to the other, I attempt to anyway, and turn to examine the fabric swatches hanging on the walls and the stand full of pamphlets about “The Wonders of Kaptex!” and “Chrome-Tanned Whole Cowhides!” leafing through as if I know what I am looking at. The look of confusion on my face is the only honest thing about it. I have no idea what I am doing here, in more ways than one.

The short-haired man walks in, sighing heavily as the broken bell claps against the door handle, making another pitiful, pinched sound. It is not until he turns around to put something in the register that I finally see the name on his uniform. I. Varga.

Qué se chinga, of course there is two of them. Of course.

I nearly tear the cigarette box yanking it out of my pocket to study it again in the hopes I have missed some detail, some clue Angel might have left to differentiate the two Vargas. But no. There it sits, staring back at me, the same phrase I’ve read repeatedly, over and over and over: Ask 4 grumpyass mf named Varga. The qualifier doesn’t even help. They both seem equally grumpy. Could I just ask? Would Angel or Manny have thought ahead to let this Varga know I was coming?

A voice cuts through my panic. “‘Scuse me, miss? Something I can help you with?”

My head snaps up to meet a look of cool intensity from the younger Varga. He was younger sure, but I couldn’t venture a guess as to how old he might really be because even asking the most mundane of questions, there is something heavy in the tone of his voice and a weariness in his eyes that betray the gaze of a boy aged beyond his years by forces out of his control. I know this look. I am well acquainted with this look, yes. The headlights in the rearview mirror on the drive here flash in my mind. But there is a softness in this one’s eyes that I don’t remember EZ having. Not even in the beginning. By the time I finally understood, it would do me no good, but everything about Ezekiel Reyes was hard. And always had been.

All of a sudden, I am self-conscious, unsure of how long I’ve been standing there, not saying a word in response. Taking a deep breath, I finally open my mouth to answer, but instead of words, what comes out is some kind of throttled sigh.

“Prefieres que hablamos en español?” He is polite but with enough of an edge of impatience that it does nothing to distinguish him as the less grumpy of the two Vargas.

“A mí no me importa,” I shrug, trying my best to seem casual. “Puedo hablar de los dos.”

“O sí? Pues la podría preguntarte de nuevo pero ya sabrás que es la misma en ambos.”

Maybe this Varga is more prickly than grumpy. Would Angel know the difference? Probably not.

“Hmm,” I hum. He seems skeptical, so I switch to English. Two can play this game. “Huh? Yes. Yeah. Actually yes. I need- I’m looking for someone na—“ I start heading toward the counter but in the process, my purse swings to one side, knocking over the wire display of pamphlets. Varga is nice enough to come around from the counter to help me pick them up off the ground, even if he is chuckling to himself at my expense.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what-” I pause, closing my eyes, searching for the words. “I have not slept much. I just came here all the way from California and did not make many stops.”

Varga picks up the last of the pamphlets and with a resigned smirk on his face, offers his hand. “Ah, well, you wouldn’t be the only person to end up in ABQ who’s running from something.” I accept and he pulls me to my feet.

On his way back around the counter, he shoots me the look of a parent worried their kid is going to tear through the candy aisle at the grocery store. Pointing to a technicolor display of stacked, neatly wrapped, little trees, I laugh. “Oh, not the car fresheners. It looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to make these look nice,” I tease, holding up my hands in defeat. “I’ll keep my distance.”

Varga shakes his head, suppressing a laugh like he doesn’t want me to know I have said anything he’d find funny. He resumes doing whatever he was doing at the register. Not sure what to do with myself, I just stand there, watching him, moving the cash trays to the back counter, industriously counting the bills, scribbling in some kind of ledger. Without turning to look at me, he calls out, “So, you were saying?”

“Sorry?”

“You were about to say you were looking for someone right before you decided to go full Jenga with my pamphlets over there.”

“Oh,” I blow a puff of air out of my lips, sending stray pieces of hair that have fallen out of my ponytail floating above my forehead. Glancing around the empty store, something in me snaps and I decide. Why not? What is the worst that could happen? I say the wrong thing to the wrong person and they kill me for it? They’d have to get in line. I am already on borrowed time and dancing around the issue might only serve to end that time. Entonces a la verga con esa chingadera. So I shoot my shot. The contact my hand makes as it smacks down on the counter with the mangled cigarette box is loud enough to surprise Varga. He stops and spins around.

“Alright, I have danced with death,” I hold my index finger and thumb up together and squint my eyes, “once this week already. I have also been driving for two days straight. I am exhausted. And you know what? Truthfully, I have never been good at this– hmm, what is it called? Playing my cards close to the chest? I never had to be. So, I'm going to come right out and say it. My name is Gaby Castillo. I came here from Lodi, California. My ex-boyfriend is EZ Reyes from the Santo Padre chapter of the Mayans motorcycle club. Two days ago,” the lump in my throat hurts as I swallow it, but still choke up despite myself, “he tried to kill me. His brother, Angel Reyes, told me to lie low here in case he tried to come after me again.”

Instead of the appropriate shock one would express at the stream of insanity I just blurted out to a perfect stranger, he seems entirely undisturbed. Just as I'm about to give over to reassurance at his calmness, it all at once becomes more jarring that he has no reaction. My heart kicks up, pounding so rapidly, I wonder if it’s visible from the outside, if he can see it's picked up speed.

Aggravated by the silence, I snap my fingers in front of his face, grumbling, “Uh, hello? Does any of this sound familiar?”

Face impassive, he crosses his arms and just keeps staring at me before finally breaking the silence with one infuriating word. “Vest.”

“Mm? Pardon?”

“You said chest. You meant vest.”

He is like a brick wall. I am still not getting it.

“You meant vest. You said,” he flattens his hand bringing it down to punctuate the end of each phrase, “‘playing your cards close to the chest.’ The expression is ‘playing your cards close to the vest.’ Like back in the day, old guys playing Poker in saloons and shit.”

How dumb must I look, standing there, eyes narrowed, mouth gaping open in disbelief that we are calmly discussing grammar after everything I said? The motorcycle club? The attempted murder? I can only imagine. He does not even seem to notice. What’s more infuriating, he turns back around to the money trays and the ledger and continues talking at me like that. “Yeah, yeah, I got a call from Manny, told me someone was coming. I remember those Reyes brothers too. One of them’s a wiseass and one of them’s a dipstick. Which one almost killed you?”

Poor Angel. My cheeks are burning and my chest floods with indignation on his behalf. “Angel is not a di–” the word is new to me and comes out of my mouth clumsy, “dip-ssstick.”

Varga’s shoulders rattle as he chuckles, “So it was the dipstick,” nodding to himself like he’s just shared some private joke that he happens to also find hilarious.

I roll my eyes and turn my back to him so I can lean against the counter. My head sinks back to look at the ceiling and now I’m the one who’s pleading with the sky. “No, it wasn’t the d– no, not Angel. He’s the one who saved me, told me to come here for help. Not that I would call,” I wave my hand around at nothing in particular, “whatever this has been, 'help.'”

Varga says nothing, so I continue. “No, it was the other one. Ezekiel. EZ. He’s the one who– well.” I stop, my thoughts invaded again by Ezekiel's eyes in the headlights, this time mixed with flashes of that night on the beach. How soft and gentle his fingertips were on my shoulders. How cold the barrel of his gun felt pressed into my side. Tears begin streaking from the corners of my eyes. With my head back like that, they drip down across my temples and into my hairline.

Another pair of fingertips gently brushes my shoulder. I jerk forward violently and turn around to see Varga on the other side of the counter, with his hands up, as if to say, 'oh god, don’t shoot.'

“Hey, look. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so— such a dick. I forget what it’s like for people not—” he wavers, running his hand up and down the back of his head, searching for the words, “well, normal people. People not in our business.”

I scoff, "Normal. That's funny, normal."

He looks at me perplexed, waiting for me to clarify. But I can't even begin. So, staring at the air fresheners almost catatonic, I simply say, "Normal is not what I feel."

Varga seems to accept this well enough because he starts putting the cash trays back in the register and locks them up with the ledger. On his way back around the counter, he grabs his car keys and motions for me to follow him. “C’mon.”

He stops at the door once he realizes I am not following him. More speaking to the door than to me, he calls out, “Yo, you coming or what?”

“Coming? Coming where?”

In an oddly graceful gesture, he spins around, arms swinging, coming to rest on his hips, as he tips one out to the side. “You like milkshakes?”

“Do I like—?”

“Milkshakes. Y'know, milk, ice cream, they blend it all up with like chocolate or strawberry or confetti sprinkles or whatever sugary shit people like. How do we feel about them.”

“I mean—” I shrug. “Who doesn’t like milkshakes.”

“Great.” He nods, with a small smile on his face that reaches his eyes for the first time. It softens his otherwise prickly demeanor, exposing a charm so authentic in its self consciousness, it is plain to see he doesn’t smile with true joy often. Something clicks just then and it occurs to me: what if he’s the someone the senior Varga, M. Varga, has had to worry about all these years? He turns back around, grabbing the door handle. “Let’s get a milkshake.”

“Wait.”

I watch his shoulders rise and fall, an unmistakable sigh of frustration. A reaction I immediately resent. “Hey.” I cross my arms. “No mames, hombre. Like it is unreasonable for me to be uncertain about letting a perfect stranger take me to some unknown location, in a town I have never been to before, for a mystery milkshake.”

Turning back around, he strolls slowly over to me, smirking and fiddling with his keys. “Mystery milkshake, huh?"

Still unamused, my eyebrows are halfway up my forehead. I wait.

“Yeah alright, you got me there. But I think I’ve got a solution for that. You said your name's Gaby, right?” I bob my head once and he holds out his hand. “My name’s Nacho.” He seems to take notice of my eyes darting to the name tag on his uniform. “Well, Ignacio, but no one calls me that.” Leaning forward, voice dropping low and quiet, he pleads like it’s a secret. “Yeah, please don’t call me that, seriously.”

I can’t help but smile, accepting his hand. Though firm, it's also warm and softer than I expect, sending goosebumps up my forearm that take me by surprise.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” I beam at him, our hands moving up and down in tandem, "Señor Not-Ignacio Varga.”

“Oh good,” he says, smile deflating slightly as he cocks an eyebrow. “Another comedian. Remind me never to introduce you to Lalo.”

It seems I’m already treading dangerous ground, but that only makes me beam at him more. “Who is Lalo? And why should you never to introduce us?”

“Pues,” he looks me up and down, assessing me before rolling his eyes, “hay muchas razones pero la primera? Eres demasiado guapa y chistosa para conocer a un hombre peligroso así. But he’d sure think you’re— I dunno, something.”

O, demasiado guapa? Nacho is becoming more interesting by the minute. “Hmm, well–," I muse as he turns to open the door. "And what does Not-Ignacio think?”

He shoots me a look like don’t go there through half lidded eyes. It is the first time I notice how long his eyelashes are. Tú eres guapísimo también. He seems like the type to not really know it. Or at least, the type to be unconcerned with it anyway. Of course it’s just a hunch, but for some reason it warms me to him even more. Nothing like the Reyes boys. Well, except Felipe, who had never seemed especially preoccupied with his appearance.

“Okay, okay,” I put my hands up, “last time, I swear. So, what does Nacho think?”

“I think...” he takes a long pause while holding the door open for me, scratching his head like he is considering the question with genuine sincerity. “I think ..... thaaat it’s time for a milkshake.”

Stepping outside into the simmering Albuquerque sun, it is my turn to roll my eyes. But for some reason, I decide to up the anti by crinkling my nose and sticking my tongue out at him like a petulant child. Maybe it’s the sleeplessness, or maybe it’s just nice to talk to someone after 3 days of running. On the road alone. He laughs at me, letting the door slam shut, and waves me over, in the direction of his car.

Despite my pretend annoyance, I walk around to the passenger’s side of Nacho Varga’s car and a feeling hits me as suddenly as a flashbulb of an old camera: relief. For the first time since I left Lodi, I finally feel like I just might be okay.

As it turns out, I am right. I would be okay. Just not before all hell breaks loose.

═

taglist: @narcolini

[untilthcyrot]

THAT'S AMORE!! VALENTINE'S DAY SYMBOLS. | 🍓 to surprise my muse with breakfast in bed asked by @godsdefied for gaby & ez

Gaby had been spending so much time at Mr. Reyes' place helping around that house that she forgot what it was like for someone to do something nice for her. EZ had proven himself to be a romantic at heart, when their romantic endeavors weren't interrupted by his club business that was. It probably shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that he would have gotten up earlier than her so that he could sneak into the kitchen to make her breakfast. In the haze of just waking up for the morning, she almost forgot what day it was when he set the tray of breakfast goods down on the bed for her. Then it hit her, and sleepiness was forgotten in exchange for a bright smile. ❝ You remembered, ❞ she said happily, sitting up and reaching for a strawberry.

[mar-liam]

Nuevo diseño de Frisk de mi AU y un dibujo también pedido por @gabi._kitty .

Frisk de mi AU Underbrilliant.

Datos:

Edad: 21 años.

LV: 19 (determinación LV 30 )

·Genocide: LV 90.(asesinatos 25.000)

Hp: 50000/50000

Arma: lanza mágica (creada por la misma), la arma si es chaquea los dedos y el corazón del medio provoca una grande explosión, a la vez los restos de la arma si este es tocado por el oponente darían pequeñas explotaciones así aturdir e dañar gravemente.

Amistades: Asriel Dreemurr, Sans, Papyrus, Muffet, undyne y Alphys.

Némesis: Chara, Mar (finje una amistad con ellos) y los demás guardias.

Conocidos sercanos: Gaster, Llily, Asgore, Toriel, Mettaton, Napstaton y Betty.

Familia: Chara (prima), Kris (hermano mayor) y Reyes del Reino humano (tíos).

Título: Guardia Real del Reino humano (una de las más fuertes).

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. #underbrilliant #friskunderbrilliant

#undertale

#undertaleau #frisk #chara #oc #sans #undertaleaus #papyrus #undyne #ocs #myart #myoc #asriel #alphys #mettaton #draw #toriel #myartstyle #ocdrawing #myocs #asgore #ocart #kris #friskau #traditionalart #illustration #draws #artstyle

[wrenchings]

WRENCHINGS . TUMBLR . COM — it won't survive me. [ind. & sel. raven reyes of the hundred. interpreted by gabi.] a focal study in loss, transformation, & coming out on top of an avalanche of pain. various space alternative universes available.

[zaenight]

Crazy but she's mine ch10

May 24th guys! season five !

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

small tw and smut warning

Ez woke up feeling pressure on his chest , checking his phone it was four in the morning.

Illiana texted stating she would be staying with Natalia , the guys stayed at the clubhouse.

Jackie groaned as she woke up staring Ez in the eyes.

"Fuck are you looking at?" Jackie questioned realizing she was laying on top of him , although she made no attempt to move.

"You okay querida?" He questioned as he stroked her cheek.

"Fucking perfect , look when I told you I was falling for you , I was just in a mood , didn't mean it." Jackie said as Ez had a bit of hurt in his eyes , but he understood she wouldn't let him in easily.

"Stop that." She said to him , stretching her arms.

"Stop what baby?" Ez said as she traced shapes on his chest.

"Thinking about what I said , me and you would never work , Your the president of a gang and me?,Im just a chick trying to survive." Jackie said kissing his neck.

One thing Jackie does to hide her feelings is be what everyone expects her to be ,

even if those feelings are towards someone she hates.

"Camila stop that , you say you hate me , so why are you acting-" Ez started as he gripped her chin , only to be cut off.

"Like a whore , a slut , a girl who every guy wants to get their dick wet in ? , isn't that what you wanted!?,I know you want to fuck me Ez , C'mon I'll let you fuck me Ezekiel , don't bitch out on me now." Jackie said grinding on him to make a point.

"As much as I would love to do that , I like when the woman Im with , wants to

do it , not just to make a point , Camila I want us to

be something , Mierda we adopted Illiana , we live. together , what more do you want me to do , What more do I have to give you , name it." Ez said as Jackie leaned in.

"I can't ask you for anything else , you have given me everything already , Your

still a dick , a piece of shit ,

but I fucking fell for you Ezekiel reyes , you don't deserve me , and I sure as hell don't deserve you , and the two of us are raising a teen , that we also don't deserve , but you know what? we're fucking amazing

at it , because people like us,we gotta make,no force  , our own happy ending's." Jackie ranted as Ez admired her as he sat up.

"Dijiste que te estabas enamorando de mí , pero yo sé una cosa , ya me enamoré de ti Camila." Ez stated as his gaze softened , She leaned in as she kissed the corner of his mouth.

(You said you were falling for me , but I know one thing , I already fell in love with you Camila)

"Fucking show me then." She said as He pulled her in for a kiss , it was soft , To her It was like he was being gentle with her , but to him , it was like before , before he was president , before Gabi , before all of the shit that happened.

"Ez bedroom now." Jackie demanded as he gripped her by the thighs , her hands in his hair , clothes being ripped off.

The sexual tension , The sadness and anger crashing

into them , like waves meeting the shorline , or

glass shattering until nothing but a dagger is left , the need to cut away the issue being left to fulfill.

"Fuck Ez more." She gasped his hands traced down her wet entrance.

Their clothes long gone , Eyes filled with lust and if you looked close , you could spot the love and respect they held for eachother.

"Are you sure?" Ez said as she whimpered , a girl who was usaully dominant was now putty , Jackie usually would be in control , but she was letting him have it , for once.

"Fuck yes." She said as his lips met hers.

He entered her as moans and grunts filled the room , the two broken in their own ways , the darkness affecting

them very differently.

But that darkness , that hole in their hearts was slowly being healed , it will never go away , but it will be subdued , Jackie and Ez

were two broken souls ,

coming together as one.

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

short chapter

Jackie and ez finally admitted

what they were to scared to say and do.

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

[wrenchings-a]

it won't survive me,

private raven reyes from the cw's the 100. [personal interpretation, not canon adherent. a focal study in loss, transformation, & coming out on top of an avalanche of pain.] interpreted by gabi. sideblog to @prophetice. affiliated with @fevrals, @noncriminal.

more information under the cut.

* guidelines.

fcs used are melissa barrera & lindsey morgan.

psd is mine. icon border is also mine.

this is my own interpretation of raven. i'm not familiar with show canon much outside of the major key plot points. i'll be writing her as i deem fit & under the impression of her being a mechanical genius, even at her young age, & ultimately going through too much loss— more than a person should have to bear.

raven is disabled. please be respectful. ableism & ignorance will result in an immediate block.

i'm too old for ship wars. idc to partake. leave me alone. no love triangles either. [cough cough clarke/raven/finn.]

mun is gabi, 21, she/her, lesbian, cst timezone. this is my first time writing raven so plz bear w/ me. idk what i'm doing.

* canonical notes.

tba bc i'm lazy teehee

* exclusives.

@fevrals :// octavia blake.

@noncriminal :// john murphy.

@wsteros :// ahsoka tano & din djarin.

[the-pleasure-garden]

Pasión de gavilanes (Julio Jiménez, 2022)

Pasión de gavilanes es una de las mejores novelas colombianas a mi juicio. Con influencias fuertes de la novela tradicional mexicana, encontramos actores de diferentes nacionalidades para darle a la historia una idea de ruralidad en los límites que se nutre de sus colindantes.

La novela brinda una fuerte perspectiva del territorio como la madre naturaleza de la herencia familiar. Dentro de esta dinámica la familia Reyes Elizondo comparte una gran hacienda dividida en los tres núcleos familiares: Juan y Norma, Sara (y Franco) y Jimena y Oscar. Los primero se presentan como la familia modelo constituida de manera hegemónica (dos padres y 3 hijos varones), se encargan de la ganadería y crían caballos. Su haciendo pocas veces se ve amenazada y manejan un gran terreno además de gran cantidad de personal. En el caso de Sara, se muestra una fragmentación de familia en el sentido los padres, Sara es una mujer divorciada y más que todo con una noción de abandono por parte de su esposo. Así, se muestra como sus dos hijos se ven constantemente fragiles frente a los obstáculos de la vida (Gaby) o en una constante rebelación frente a la normativa familiar. Finalmente, Oscar y Jimena, se encuentran fragmentados a tal punto en el que la infidelidad ha causado que uno de estos fragmentos cree una familia por separado. Al no tener hijos, Oscar cae en el desespero y engendra a un hijo extramatrimonial, ocultando este secreto ante Jimena el territorio se divide entre los espacios que habita como padre del niño y como esposo en una familia sin hijos.

A pesar de todas estas diferentes categorizaciones que se pueden hacer alrededor de cada uno de los mimebros de la familia, los Reyes Elizondo suponen en sí un particular estatus de privilegio. Primero que todo se ubican en la periferia de San Marcos. Una ciudad que ha ido creciendo y modernizandose desde la primera temporada, y que sin embargo, se encuentra al margen de las actividades de la familia. Esta distancia no supone una desventaja, por el contrario hace que la familia tenga un panorama de prestigio y exclusividad al ser la familia más exitosa de hacendados y participar en eventos de renombre para el pueblo.

Las dinámicas de posesión del territorio involucran también las tendencias del western y el machismo que este acarrea. Los roles de género se muestran casi inamovibles y demuestran los arquetipos que se configuran en la categoría de novela a la cual evidentemente pertenece. Las mujeres como matriarcas tienen un espacio pequeño pero significativo al evidenciar el respeto que se les adjudica frente a los hombres. Es decir, un "verdadero" hombre jamás le pegaría a una mujer a menos de que sea el villano. Con lo cual, se presenta un estereotipo del mínimo de respeto de un hombre como razón para exaltarlo, y, por consecuencia, los villanos tienden también al extremo en una tendencia muy dicotómica.

Finalmente, y como punto diferencial que se evidencia con mayor frecuencia en esta temporada, la diferencia generacional se convierte en una característica determinante que detona la mayoría de los problemas (el resto surgen a raíz del machismo). Con el abuelo Martín como primer eslabón generacional, se evidencia ya no una idea de temor sino a un confindente con sabiduría infinita y mayor discreación. Su hija Gabriela es ahora quien deja de infundir ese temor y se convierte en quien no conoce aspectos de su familia por ser quien aún se mantiene en la ola más conservadora, y que se escandaliza facilmente. Los padres, son entonces la verdadera autoridad que despierta temor y genera represión en los hijos, quienes finalmente caen en la siguiente generación que no ha madurado y sigue volviendo a la toma de malas decisiones propia de los más jóvenes.

Sobre el título: Es indiscutiblemente un título de novela con la pasión como carácter erótico y amoroso pero también, quizá, desde lo religioso como lo sagrado y que parte de la voluntad de los sentimientos fuertes.

Una novela de:

romance

vaqueros

familias particulares