#i keep saying this fic isn't that sad but i only ever post the saddest moments oops

[louis-ii-reyes-strand]

thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings @birdclowns @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut for the tags today 🖤 and shout out @birdclowns @lemonlyman-dotcom @reyesstrand for tagging me for out-of-context lines yesterday... i went to sleep early and missed them 💔

Learning to make tortillas was a rite of passage for any child learning to cook in the Delgado family. The first time Carlos got to make them– a sunny Sunday afternoon spent with his mom while his dad took Ana and Luisa to the ranch for riding lessons that Carlos wasn’t big enough for yet– it didn’t go as well as he hoped. He didn’t roll the dough thin enough so when it came time to cook them, parts burned while others remained doughy and tasting of flour; he was beside himself when he tried them. But his mom taught him a very valuable lesson that day of sticking to the recipe– flour and oil with a pinch of salt– and always trying again.

Now, Carlos enjoyed how simple it was more than anything. Sometimes he was allowed to experiment with adding herbs and spices to the dough, or the way he cooked them, but today he longed for simplicity; the ability to sink into routine and exercise the control he’d been grasping for all day. 

While he left the dough resting on the counter top with a tea towel covering it, Carlos methodically cleaned up after himself, rising the mixing bowl of the sticky dough before stacking it in the dishwasher, then cleaning up as much flour as he could without disturbing the resting dough. He didn’t start speaking again until Andrea had removed the ground beef mix from the pan to let him toast his tortillas in the leftover oils. 

“No one remembered my birthday.”

i think everyone i usually tag in these has already played the game today so open tag for anyone that wants to join in on the fun 🖤