#my mexican friend was always like hahaha WHAT THE HELL

[purplesurveys]

1839

What were you doing at 10:30 this morning? I was at Sunday mass sweating my ass off.

Is there anyone else in the room with you? It would just be me and the wrestling match that's playing in the background.

If you married the last male you spoke to, what would your initials be? RM, funnily enough.

What did you have for lunch today? I had looooooots of sushi and looooooots of sashimi. It was my cousin's 20th birthday and my mom wanted to treat our extended family to lunch, so to a Japanese restaurant we went.

In your phone, who is the first contact listed under ‘L’? Laurice :)

How old is he/she? She's 25 this year.

What colour are your father’s eyes? Dark brown.

Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? Guy.

What’s the 9th song on your iTunes “Recently Played” list? I haven't used iTunes since the first half of high school.

What colour are the eyes of the last male you text messaged? I bet they're dark brown as well because everyone I talk to is Filipino anyway.

Who is the first contact in your phone? What colour is his/her hair? A work contact; black.

How many tracks were on the last album you listened to? Hope on the Street has six songs on it.

Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? My mom, I guess? She rarely does it nowadays though. I do have a relative on my mom's side who once tried to embarrass me publicly by invalidating/questioning my profession, so I'll count him.

Is there a song you can listen to over and over and never get fed up? That would be Closer by RM, ft. Mahalia.

Do you have a friend whose name begins with ’H’? Describe him/her. Hannah! I was closer with her in college and we barely talk now, but she's the kind of friend that you'll...always just kinda have a soft spot for, so I love her all the same. She's very nice and can be cheeky in a very endearing and lovable way if she wants to, and a terrific singer.

Are there any songs in your iTunes library that you’ve never listened to? Don't use iTunes anymore.

So, how are you? Is there anything wrong? I'm okay. I had a terrific 6-day break that I spent running errands and having an extremely productive Wrestlemania marathon, but this Sunday evening I'm winding things down with surveys so I can be relaxed and calm for when I come back to work tomorrow.

How do you handle awkward situations? It definitely depends on the situation, but a safe go-to is to just use my phone and pretend to look occupied.

Who is the most intelligent person you know? Hans, my dad, Andi. Couldn't pick just one.

Who was the last female you were introduced to? Not too sure...it may have been someone related to work. I meet so many people everyday hahaha.

What was your first impression of her? I can't even remember the person haha, sorry!

Who was the last male you were introduced to? ^ Same.

What was your first impression of him? ^ Saaaame same same.

Name one of your favourite foods that starts with the letter 'F’. "Weird? What? What's weird? The only thing weird would be if someone didn't like Mexican food, because I'm making FAJITAS!"

Do you have a close friend of the opposite sex? Yes.

Would you ever consider being more than friends with them? Hell no, he feels much like a brother-in-law at this point lol.

Who is the 8th contact in your phone? Is he/she in a relationship? A work contact who's actually a pretty well-known/established local actor; I have his number as I needed to work with him for a brand I used to manage. He's married.

If you could travel back in time, which year would you go to? I'd love to have been present and conscious for Wrestlemania 17, which took place in 2001.

When was the last time you made a sandwich? What did you put on it? I don't frequently make sandwiches but the last time I had one was two Saturdays ago. I had a(n overpriced) Monte Cristo.

What were you like as a 12 year old? Just as much of a dramatic rebel you'd imagine an angsty 12 year old to be. I fantasized running away and cutting off my family, having tattoo sleeves, and was still busy being the problem child/black sheep of the family. Wrestling was what kept me sane at the time, as it was impossible for me to make friends in school.

What colour are the eyes of the last female you text messaged? Dark brown.

When you woke up this morning, what kind of mood were you in? A little sad since I realized it was Sunday already.

Are you hungry? Craving any food in particular? No. I had so much sushi earlier and still feel full that tbh I don't mind not eating til tomorrow.

In the past week, how many times have you cried? Once, but it was all good tears cause I was just crying over a wrestling match and how nicely-done the storytelling was told lol. For anyone who would care - Warrior vs. Savage, Wrestlemania 7.

On a scale of 1 to 10 (10 being amazing), how good is life atm? 7.5.

[linipikk]

Is your allergy/intelorance to spices why you went to live in Britain for a while?

I-  NONI WHYYY (i’m laughing so hard  but also, THE ABSOLUTE DRAG) Anyway....  I WISH!!!  but sadly....not the reason I chose England I already knew i was going to enjoy the food because no condiments anywhere ever (well, they do use a lot of black pepper for...reasons, and it is still not ideal) But the sad part is that they have a lot of traditional food from all over the world, and I tried some real Korean, polish, Vietnamese, Mexican, Greek food...but i couldn't handle it :’) (shout out to all my friends who just let me try a bit without me having to buy it) I’ll never forget that African restaurant we went at the end of the year, it smelled so SO good..and that i couldn’t take a single bite, by the smell alone i knew i should Not attempt to eat it. A friend changed her very plain rice with me so i could eat something .A very sad day. I have several stories of different times I tried spices and did not end well tbh. I try to remember all because...it is necessary to remember what things can potentially kill you lol. The worst one was when i tried curry , i was young and still didn't accept how bad my allergies could be. A bit graphic but just...after eating it the skin of my face started to gets very red and very dry and just fall off and, let me tell you, it itches Like Hell ... maybe it is the worst one because i wasn’t very aware it could happen. I’ve had...very different reactions to several things including starbucks, very specific oranges and even water!! (more how they treat the water, but still) It seems evolution did a very mediocre work with me. It could be worse tho! At least I know how to cook and I like how I cook (and i can promise is a bit better than common british food)

[rae-gar-targaryen]

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

A/N: So, this is NOT the Angel fic I previewed the other day. That one (and the EZ fic) is STILL COMING, I PROMISE! This just jumped into my head and wouldn’t leave. And I wrote it with a speed I am heretofore unfamiliar with (heretofore? Did I use that right?) I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit. So, apologies in advance for that. 

As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile). 

Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. Also, the reader here speaks a bit of Spanish. I’m half Mexican, so I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.)

Word Count: 15.3K (HAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK all for a TWO AND A HALF MINUTE SONG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????) of ANGST! (SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO ANGSTY) lyrical nonsense and the remnants of sticky, cotton-candy sadness … fluff that makes you feel empty. 

Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, oral (male receiving), fingering and other nastiness -- so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry.)

Summary: You and Angel may as well be strangers now. But why? After all, you loved him once. And he loved you, right? Based on the song “Loved you Once” by Clara Mae. Listen here. 

--

We don't need to be best friends, we don't need to hang again. But tell me why we have to be strangers because I loved you once?

What were you doing here? You haven’t been back to the clubhouse in months. Not since -- well, you know. You hadn’t talked to him since then, either. But that wasn’t your own doing. 

No, Angel had erected a veritable wall of silence, and you respected him enough not to breach it. 

That was what relationships were all about, anyway, right? Mutual respect of the other’s needs? So when Angel had told you in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over, you were … upset. Understandably. You wanted to sit with him, talk about where this sudden insistence that you depart his life had come from, but he was resolute. With the absolute air of authority that comes with either a great deal of thought, or borne of virtually sudden external influence, with nothing in between. He clearly didn’t want to sit and talk about it. 

And so you didn’t. 

Ever mindful of his wellbeing, and when he was and was not receptive to communication. 

"It ain't working," he had said. You had settled for merely imagining the faraway look in his large, oilslick eyes, since he was much more interested in staring at his boots and the grooves in his floor, his forearms laid over spread thighs, unmoving and resolute from his spot at the end of the bed. Refusing to meet your eyes. 

From your seat next to him, you made to brush the arm closest to you with your fingers. When you touched, he gave no indication that you were even there. That he even felt you. Which you knew was bullshit. He always felt you. 

"Angel, what --" you hated the way your voice cracked as you tried to ask him what the hell was going on. You hated how you had sounded so small and quavering to your own ears. That wasn't who you were. You were clear, outspoken. It was always one of the things Angel said he loved about you. Loved.

You didn't know this, of course, but Angel hated it, too. How you’d sounded in that moment. Hated that his words had taken the fire out of yours, your voice unfamiliar in its timidity. 

"It ain't working," he repeated. "I can see it. Not my fault you can't." 

That was it. 

No "I'm sorry, querida." 

No "I hope we can stay friends." 

Not that you would expect an apology, or anything as cliché as a "let's be friends," from a steadfast man like Angel. Predictable in his volatility. 

You should have pushed back. Demanded an answer. You hated that you didn’t, the shock and sudden sadness morphing you into a silent, crystalline girl you didn’t recognize. Your eyes welled with tears, turning your head away from where Angel sat -- at least you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Even if you knew he knew the tears had spilled over your lashes and down your cheeks were of his own doing. 

You had arrived back at his place a day after your tense "conversation" to discover that your items you had come to reclaim were tossed into a box and left outside of the door. 

You had knocked once, in the hope that if Angel was home, he’d at least come to the door to shout through it, or, heaven forbid, would open it so you could look him in the eyes just once more while he shattered you. Your knock was met with silence, though you could have sworn you felt Angel on the other side of the door. 

In the months since then, you had cried (obviously), you had questioned (it was sudden, it wasn't just you; your friends were surprised, too), but most importantly, you had persevered. 

You had taken a bunch of new clients and inked some pieces you were incredibly proud of. You had gone out with your friends a few times, always with a wary eye on the door of the local dive, ya know… you never knew who would walk in.

Santo Padre is a small town, after all. And the cracks in your soul were nowhere close to healed. No molten gold to spill in and repair the fissures of your heart, rendering metamorphosis of something broken to something flawed, but beautiful. You sat, alone, still just… flawed. You had never felt less beautiful. Even after all this time. 

And your friend Aneesa, ever the supporter, would stop at nothing if it meant hyping you up enough to leave your cave of blankets, sheet masks, and comfort movies. Your only rule? All nights out with Aneesa were strictly girls’ nights. She was gracious and understanding of this rule, of course. She and Gilly had been together a touch longer than you and Angel. 

And if Angel had ever asked Gilly to ask Aneesa about you? Well… you never heard about it.

Not that Angel would do any of that. Shit like that was so middle-school. 

So, here you were. Back at the clubhouse after months of self-imposed exile for the sake of self-preservation. 

Coco had texted you -- the first you’d directly heard from anyone within Angel’s circle, inviting you to a patch party for some nameless, faceless newbie. The invitation had a string attached to it, of course -- the tattoo artist’s chair in the corner of the clubhouse needed a resident for any partygoers jonesing for new ink. Certainly, the new patch would need something decidedly “Mayan” to show off his new status. 

You had hesitantly agreed -- Aneesa would be in attendance of course, and offered herself as a human-sized buffer to separate you from people you were otherwise hoping to avoid. 

--

Now, perched near the tattoo chair, you busied yourself with setting out your portfolio of completed pieces, sketches and most-requested designs. You wiped down the chair a few more times than strictly necessary, but you wanted to be ready for anyone who might plop themselves down for a new piece of art. 

The main room of the clubhouse was sweltering -- a familiar blend of desert heat, cigarette smoke, citronella, and the smell of citrusy, foamy beer. The dim lighting and thundering bass giving everything a slightly blurry edge in your party-periphery. You glanced across the room at where Aneesa and Gilly sat together on a corner couch, thighs pressed together. Aneesa tossed her head back in a full-bodied laugh at something Gilly had whispered into her ear, swatting his arm -- Gilly’s reciprocal smile demonstrating his pleasure at having garnered such a reaction from his girl. 

A wave of cheers and noise accompanied the thwack of the clubhouse door swinging open -- more Mayans pouring in, jostling one another's shoulders, slapping each other on the arms, and good-naturedly cajoling. 

There was Coco, mid-pull of the cigarette between his lips, quicksilver eyes flashing around the room, taking stock of who was where. EZ followed, million-watt smile on full display as he gently guided a pretty girl with long, inky hair through the bottleneck at the entryway. 

If EZ was ambling his way in, then, surely, not far behind ...

With an arm around a tall, broad guy you hadn’t seen before, was Angel. Midway through a joke with the guy you assumed was the new patch, you took the opportunity to study the man you had once considered the moonlit orbit of your entire world. 

You hated to admit it to yourself, but he looked good… His arms still replete with thick, corded muscle. His hair was a tad longer on top than you remembered, slicked back and belied with cleanly-cropped sides. His smile as warm and blinding as the cruel light at the end of your better dreams, only for you to awake each day alone. 

As you continued your silent study, you were surprised to see -- still adorning his left arm … the tattoo you had given him on the day you had first met. You had thought he would have blacked it out by now … a cover-up on top of a cover-up. 

But there it was --- the soft, leafy greens creeping down his forearm on sharp vines, abutted with bursting blooms -- small, ornate gladiolus buds and a sprig of purpling rosemary. Such a flowery piece on the arm of someone like Angel might have been laughable. But if anyone dared, he would simply stare, stone-faced, with burning eyes and a set jaw, ready to ask just what they thought was so fucking funny. 

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance. 

‘Cause I loved you, once… 

---

You had moved to Santo Padre from Oakland. Hardly an axis-tilting move, but significant enough to you. 

Your friend Oliver had offered you a seat at his tattoo shop. And you? You were positively itching to get out of the city. A few too many bad nights with a few people you could no longer in good conscience consider friends. 

So, here you sat, resident of one of two chairs in this corner parlour off the so-called “main” drag in sweltering, dusty Santo Padre. 

Your books were pretty clear … Not that you attributed much logic to the ebb and flow in any conceivable pattern of the tide that was tattoo shop patrons, but January seemed an agonizingly slow month. You filled the idle time with keeping the shop neat, disinfecting and re-disinfecting every surface, and organizing Oliver’s books. 

And if you weren’t dreaming up new sketches and designs for the more adventurous prospective client, you were jotting idle lines of lyrical poetry in the margins of your sketchbook. 

If the month dragged on like this, you were sure you could publish an entire book of moody, mid-winter prose that would make Charles Bukowski want to drown himself in stiff Cabernet. 

The dinging of the bell above the parlour door yanked you from your doodling stupor. You looked up to see who had come in, your gaze met with a towering, golden-skinned man donned in a leather vest, his boots squeaking on the shop’s linoleum floor as he made his way to the front desk. He leaned over it and rapped his silver-ringed hand against the top with the ease and comfort of someone who had been in many times before. If the ink trailing his arms was any indication, he may as well be a regular, though you hadn’t seen him in before. There was no way you could forget that jawline, and those shoulders. 

“Yo,” he called in greeting, eyes flashing to where you stood, walking to meet him at the counter. You swore you saw his gaze dart over your form, giving you the old up-down. An easy smile graced his full lips as he made himself comfortable leaning against the counter.  

“Oliver here?” 

You shook your head, the action serving to answer his question and --hopefully-- clear your head of the foggy spell this man was casting over you with his presence alone.

“Nah, sorry. He’s guest-chairing at his buddy’s shop in L.A. Did you have an appointment?” 

“I look like the kind of guy with a datebook?” He chuckled at his own joke. “No appointment, corazón.” 

“Walk-in? Always a risky strategy,” you lilted. 

“What can I say? I’m a risk-taker,” he replied with the practiced ease of breezy flirtation. 

You smiled softly, grabbing Oliver’s calendar from the desk, flipping to the following week. “He’ll be back in next week, if you want to wait?” 

“That’s no good for me, babe, I’ll be out of town.”

“Ah.” You huffed a bit through your nose “Bike rally?” You asked, gesturing at his worn leather kutte, cringing internally a little at the teasing edge your voice had taken on. Were you always this bad of a flirt? 

The man looked at you shrewdly for a beat -- seemingly trying to discern just how much fun you were making of him before taking mercy on you and peeling back the slight layer of awkwardness the conversation had taken.  He scrubbed the back of his neck before confirming,

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he rumbled a chuckle. “Why? You wanna go?” He raised a full brow at you in a mild challenge. 

Your eyes widened at his seemingly-serious invitation. You took in the quirk of his lips, causing the slightest crinkle at the corner of his warm eyes -- the look of a man borne of good humor and who smiled often. It was endearing, and if you were honest, made you melt a little. Even if you now realized he was teasing you. 

“Sorry, guapo,” you cracked a smile of your own, gesturing at the empty shop. “As you can see, I’m a very busy girl. Highest of demand.” 

“Claro,” he replied. “So, I better get in while the getting’s good, huh? Your chair open now?” 

“Uhm,” you chewed your lower lip, now slightly nervous at the prospect of spending more time with this man. “¿Quieres esperar para Olí? I won’t be offended. You haven’t even seen any of my pieces.” 

A beat of silence passed between you both, the man seemingly weighing his options. 

"I mean," You broke the silence and leaned forward, lightly tapping a fingernail against his bicep. “What if my art style doesn’t suit the king of the bikers?” 

"Something tells me you'll suit me just fine." His smirk was full-bore now. He didn't miss a beat, did he?

You were silent, probably for a few moments too long. Was he actually flirting with you? You blinked. He probably flirts with everyone ... get over yourself, you internally chided.

"Angel," the man said, recovering the moment and holding out a large, ringed hand for you to shake. You gave him your name, shaking his hand firmly. 

You nodded your head over your shoulder, toward your chair. 

"Well, come on back, Angel, you can tell me about what we're doing today."

Angel followed you back to your station, and you could swear you felt his dark eyes on your form as you walked, the thought that this man was looking at you with any kind of discerning attention made your cheeks warm a little. He folded his long body into the chair you gestured toward, and you took the rolling seat next to him. He proffered his left arm to you, tracing down a spot on his forearm.

"Just wanna cover this up," he paused, letting you observe the offending ink. "It's about time." 

"'Clara Forever,' huh?" You took in the faded, loopy lettering down his forearm. "Who's Clara?" Your tone was gently teasing by nature, but he seemed to clam up a bit at the question, regarding your sharp tongue with sharper eyes.

"Well, it wasn't forever," he finally bit out, shoulders now a little more tense than before.

"Aw, cariño," you sighed in good-natured taunting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the number one rule of tattoo? 'Forever' is a certain jinx. And a name is almost never a good idea… unless it's your dog's."

You made a sweeping hand gesture over the rest of his person, your eyes noticeably cataloguing the ink adorning most of the real estate on his arms and what little you could see of the top of his chest. 

"How did anyone let you get this far without telling you the rules?"

He relaxed at the humor in your soft voice, comfortable now that he had confirmation that you were teasing him rather than seriously ridiculing. His posture relaxed once more, he waggled his eyebrows at you, also teasing,

"Le sorprendería saber que nunca fui uno para seguir las reglas?” He asked. Would it surprise you to learn that I was never one for rules? 

"¿Tú?" Your eyes widened in mock surprise. “Para nada.” Not at all.  

"Hey," he swatted your arm gently. "Cuidaté, niña. Insulting your customers? I can see why your chair is empty." He chuckled at his own little jab as you busied yourself gathering your supplies.

You turned and reached for him, holding his arm in one hand and running your now-gloved thumb over "Clara Forever." 

"So?" You queried, "What are we doing with this? How do you want to cover it?" 

Angel shrugged, the leather adorning his shoulders creaking ever-so-slightly with the movement. 

"Figured I would just black it out. I've been putting it off long enough. To hell with her anyway, yaknow?"

"Hmm…" you considered his proposal. "I could do that, if that's what you really want. Easy enough. But…" you trailed.

He shifted in the chair, arching an eyebrow at you.

"But?" He pressed.

Now it was your turn to shrug. You released his arm from your grip and gestured to the booklet containing photos of your most prized work. 

"Why waste the opportunity to give yourself something you really want?" You handed him the book. "Besides… from the looks of things, you have limited real estate left on this arm. May as well fill it with something… more you?” You made to hand him the scrapbook. “You can see what else I've done. See if anything sparks an idea." 

Angel regarded you for a moment. Leaning forward in the chair and slightly more into your space, eyes never leaving yours. He took the edge of the book, deliberately brushing his fingers over yours as he did so, making you hold your breath a little. If Angel noticed, he had the decency not to say anything. 

“Why not?”

You exhaled softly as he leaned away again, flipping his way through your book. 

As he scrutinized the photographic renderings of your pieces, you took the chance to really take him in. His strong jaw and full lips were objectively pleasant, abutted by deliberately-shaped facial hair. He had a prominent brow, something that would surely give away his feelings, even if he decided not to verbalize them. There was no hiding a frown or a smile on that face.  You fiddled with your fingers as he flipped through the pages. 

“This is some seriously top-notch shit, querida,” he voiced his approval, followed by a warm smile. He flipped his way through your minimalist renderings, floral pieces, lines of script, and one particularly involved piece with a burgundy phoenix and lifelike flames...

“Yeah?” You couldn’t hide the pleasure in your voice that he might think of you in a positive light. “Which one do you like?” 

He flipped the book to you, gesturing at a geometric planetary canvas piece you had etched down a prior client’s thigh. 

“Did you think of that one?” 

“The client had their ideas, I just execute, I guess… That was a fun one.” You shrugged, glancing at your shoes scuffing at the linoleum, suddenly feeling very shy under his scrutiny.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he leaned forward once more, his fingers gently brushing along your chin to bring your eyeline to his. “Don’t downplay your talent. You’re a badass. Own that shit.” He gave you a soft wink, releasing your chin from his grip.

Um, wow.

Was it always this hot in the back of the shop? Or were you just spontaneously combusting? Did that seriously just happen?

All you could do was nod. 

“Aight,” he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself comfortable in the chair. “I’ve decided.” 

“Yeah?” You breathed, “What’ll it be?” 

As if he was doing nothing more complicated than ordering fries, Angel pointed at your book. “Dealer’s choice.” 

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe he was just going to trust you to cover up his ex’s name etched into his arm. “¡Oye! Did you hear nothing I said earlier about walk-ins being risky? Nothing about the rules?”

Angel scoffed. “About as well as you heard that I don’t give a shit about rules, babe,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You like rules, huh?” 

Oh. The rumbling tone his voice had taken on with his last question did not go unnoticed by you. If there was any heat to spare in this shithole desert-town, it was now one hundred percent flooding through your body. 

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d had that effect on you… (although, let’s be real, he probably, definitely, already knew).

“Fine, Angelito,” the mocking tone had returned to your voice. “But unlike Clara, this one’s gonna be forever. If I find out you cover up my art, I’m gonna blacklist you at every shop in Southern California.” You raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Can you live with that?”

Angel nodded. 

“Do your worst, Vince.” 

You wrinkled your nose at the moniker. “Vince?” 

“Yeah,” he seemed so assured in his own cleverness. “Like Van Gogh?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Van Gogh!?” You feigned offense, hand-over-heart, lashes batting. “Not even Frida? Come oooon, Angelito.” 

He chuckled. Shifting in the chair and offering his arm to you so you could get him ready. 

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.” 

“Everyone’s a critic,” you sigh, shifting your focus and taking stock of the space on Angel’s arm and what you had learned of him so far.

Someone who was seemingly confident and breezy, whose rough exterior belied something softer that was just out of reach. Someone who clearly cherished things and people he adored, if the tribute you were now covering was anything to go by. And, by the same token, more than a little impulsive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, apparently literally. 

You gathered your inks and began to work, your playlist and the buzzing of the tattoo gun filling the silence. 

It’s not like you had any reason to know it, but Angel considered you as you were working, admiring your focus and the intensity with which you afforded your art. Was he a little nervous about the fact that you were free-handing a design for him off the top of your head? Maybe... But what was life without a little risk? And he certainly wouldn’t mind a little risk with you. You were, it was obvious to him, very pretty. It was more than a little off-putting how easily you traded quips with him, seemingly unaffected by his presence and everything that came with it. If it wasn’t for the little hitches in your breath when he gently flirted with you, he wouldn’t have anything to go off of in terms of your interest. Something that was both respectable and maddening to him. 

He reached his other arm over to the side-table, grabbing your sketchbook and idly flipping through the etchings. 

Not only was the book filled with little designs, splashes of watercolor mixing with pen and charcoal, but he noticed the cramped words in the margins, perusing at his leisure and ignoring the itching buzz of the needle on the skin of his other arm.

“So, not only a Vince, but a Frost,” he broke the silence. 

You paused your work, wiping your brow with the back of your hand and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

He tapped his finger along the lines of prose in your book. “A poet,” he said. 

“Ah,” you said. “Uhm, more like a bad poet,” you chuckled, embarrassed. You made to begin again, when Angel gently gripped the wrist of your free hand. 

“The fuck did I just say?” He lightly tugged, forcing you to look into his maddeningly honey-dark eyes. “Don’t brush off your shit. Would Frida do that?” 

You regarded his eyes for a moment longer, darting your gaze to his pouty lips, resolutely set in their mission of imparting some of his confidence onto you. 

“Point taken, Angel,” you pulled your hand from his grip, which he released, trailing his fingertips over your hand as he did so. “I’m the greatest poet who ever lived, you’ve convinced me. Fuck William Shakespeare.” 

“Yeah,” Angel boisterously agreed, pleased to be bolstering you but surprising you with the little barking shout, “Fuck that dude!” 

You chuckled, shaking your head and silently returning to your work, the silence filled once more with the pleasant buzzing as you drew away. 

When you were finished, you released Angel’s arm, allowing him to inspect the clean lines of the greenery that you had drawn out of his former-love tribute. What were once loopy, cursive letters were now vines creeping steadily along his forearm, soft, yellow and red gladiolus buds emerging from where Clara’s name had once sat, neatly finished with the clean lines of the purpling sprig of rosemary along the edge of the piece. 

Angel was speechless, leaving you to marinate in your nerves. 

“It’s …” he started, “... flowery,” he supplied, lamely. 

“No shit it’s flowers,” you shot back, feeling a little defensive now, but wanting to make a quick recovery. “And they’re for you, Angel.” 

He seemed puzzled. 

“Gotta say, Vince, this is the first time a chick’s gotten me flowers,” he chuckled, “Guess they won’t die?” 

“They won’t,” you assured. “They really are for you, you know? Look at you, the rest of your ink. What it covered. You’re clearly a man formed by your experiences. It only seemed right, si? Gladiolus? They’re for remembrance. Rosemary? Symbolizes thoughtfulness and memory.” 

You continued as you began wipe the piece clean before wrapping it in new saran-wrap, “Your memories and choices make you who you are, sure. But you never know… something good could bloom from them, through the cracks."

His silence at the end of your little soliloquy was deafening. He hated it, you were sure of it. Fuck. Why did you have to get so fucking clever with him? You should’ve just done some black ink in something tribal, something masculine. What the fuck was wrong with you??

You dared to sneak a glance at his face, only to find that he was already staring at you, lips softly upturned in the hinting bloom of a smile, tarpit eyes twinkling with a good-natured mirth he would come to reserve just for you. 

“Fuck Shakespeare. That was damn beautiful, Frida.” 

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly. 

You stripped off your gloves, and made to turn your way to the counter, gathering the aftercare sheet and balm for Angel to take with him. 

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

“Oh! Can I take a picture?” You held up your phone, shaking it lightly. “For the ‘gram?” 

“Sure thing,” Angel dutifully held his arm under the lamp you had used to work, letting the fresh ink and colors pop against the golden dunn of his skin. 

You took a few photos, deciding to scroll through your camera roll later on and post your favorite. You made quick work of wrapping his arm in a sheet of clean plastic wrap before relinquishing your hold on his arm, turning to walk back to the counter. 

“Uhm,” you trailed … the telltale squeak of Angel’s boots on the linoleum indicating he was following you back to the front of the shop. You assembled everything into a bag for Angel to take with him, grabbing one of your cards from the front card-holder, and quickly jotting your number on the back next to your where the instagram handle for your art page was neatly printed, hoping he didn’t notice your sneaky little move. 

Angel resumed his comfortable lean against the counter, turning and tilting his forearm, scrutinizing your work. 

“It’s gonna be a clean one-fifty, Angel.”

He looked slightly surprised at the figure, a light frown dusting his features. 

“You sure about that? For the size, and the color, and time and everything? It’s been, like, hours.”

You shrugged. 

“We’ll call it the friends-and-family rate.” 

He gave you a long look, very clearly looking you up and down now, a prolonged edition of the greeting he had graced you with when he had entered your shop mere hours before. 

“And is that what we are now, querida? Friends?” 

How was it even possible for his voice to reach such a low register when he said these things to you?

While your insides flip-flopped at the flirtation, you hoped your face was the impassive mask you were trying to school it into. You subtly brushed your slightly-sweating palms against the frayed hem of your shorts before bringing an elbow up to the counter, resting your chin in your palm, lightly batting your lashes at him before responding...

“Sure,” you replied. There! Easy, breezy, cool-as-you-please. How does it feel, Angel?

“One day with you and friends already?” He rapped his ringed hand gently against the counter. “Can’t wait to see where we’re at tomorrow.” 

He swiped the bag off of the counter, tossing a few crisp bills onto the countertop and a wink over his shoulder before exiting the shop. 

You counted the bills on the counter, watching as Angel left the building.

Holy shit.

Three hundred bucks. He had tipped you 100 percent of what you charged him.

Cheeky.

Maybe Santo Padre wasn’t so bad, after all… 

---

Now, staring at him from across the room made you feel like you were drowning in the sickly-sweet cotton candy of sugared dreams, now lost to time. The saccharine balm melted to acrid wax, leaving you with only the tinge of bitterness. 

You were jostled out of your reverie by the sudden appearance of EZ’s blocky frame, ambling toward you with the same girl from before on his arm. 

He greeted you with a slow wave and a soft smile. 

“Hey, girl,” he greeted, clearly unsure of how much friendlier and closer he should approach you. 

You took mercy on Angel’s sweet, (big) little brother, opening your arms slightly for a hug. EZ took to the gesture like an over-excited golden retriever, scooping you up and spinning you once, before putting you back where he found you, slightly dizzier than you were before. 

He offered your name to the girl by his side, who looked pleasantly amused at the spectacle before her, her amusement melting to recognition at the name EZ had imparted to her. 

Ah. So she knew who you were. 

You tried not to let that realization sour your encounter, easing a practiced smile onto your features and offering your hand to the girl to shake. 

“Oh!” EZ chuckled. “This is Gaby -- er, Gabriela.” 

“Encantada,” you eased, gently shaking her hand before having a realization of your own. “Gaby, as in Leti’s friend?” 

She nodded, a warm smile illuminating her already sunshiney features. You could see why EZ obviously liked her. She had the practiced social grace of a debutante, but the friendly aura of someone you had known for your entire life. 

“I hope you’re keeping Ezekiel out of trouble,” you teased gently. 

“Only as well as I can,” she replied. EZ rubbed the back of his neck as you two gossiped about him like he wasn’t standing right there. 

“Listen, hermanita,” EZ began, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottle clutched in his hand as the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, “About Angel --” 

That was a hard no. 

“Coco!” You called as you spotted the lithe man prowling through the crowd after obtaining a drink from the bar, effectively shutting EZ up. 

Coco sidled over, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nodding in greeting to EZ and Gaby. 

“Wassup, chiquita? Over here with all the cool kids?” 

“You know damn well I was never cool enough for the cool kids,” you knocked your shoulder into Coco’s good-naturedly. 

“Dunno about that, pequeña,” Coco took a drag of his cigarette, sighing as he exhaled. “I’ve got some pretty cool body armour thanks to you.” 

“All in a day's work,” you mock-saluted. You were doing great. Keep it light, keep it friendly. You may be able to make it out of this unscathed, after all. 

Gaby and EZ were speaking softly to one another just to your side, as you and Coco continued your conversation. 

“So, who’s the new guy?” You asked, nodding over to where Angel and the still-unnamed newbie were tossing back shots. You tried to ignore that each one had girls placed on each of their laps. Well, mostly you were trying to ignore one girl placed on one lap; tried to ignore as ringed fingers trailed up and down her thigh hypnotically as he howled in laughter at something the new guy had said. 

The longer you stared at the way he was touching her, the more You thought you could feel it on your own skin. And you knew all too well how that touch felt. Memories, make you, right? 

You blinked harshly, turning your face back to Coco’s, only to find his hawkish eyes trained on you as he continued to smoke. Now you were certain he had seen everything you had, and more. And you cursed yourself for slipping. Because nothing slipped past Coco. 

He took mercy on you nevertheless. 

“Andres. He’s aight. You may not remember him from before, when he was just a prospect.” 

“Guess not,” you agreed, shrugging amiably, suddenly very interested in toying with the hem of your flowy little summertime skirt. 

“Mierda,” you heard Coco hiss, glancing up to see none other than the new guy -- Andres -- walk over, his arm around the waist of the girl from his lap, accompanied by none other than Angel Reyes, furnished with his own lap-turned-arm candy. She was giggling in his ear, popping her gum and bumping her hips against Angel’s as she walked by his side. 

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side. 

Great. 

The easy smile you’d had when conversing with Coco now felt positively screwed into place, settling unnaturally, a stranger's face made up of your own features. 

Andres smirked at you in greeting, eyes trailing over you -- the most unwelcome iteration of that gesture in this context to-date. 

“I hear you’re the girl to see about some ink.” 

You bit back the snarky response that rose to your tongue. You see anyone else here, tonto?

“Sure am,” you replied, cool as you pleeeeaseeee. Maybe a little too cool. The ice in your voice was obvious to everyone except the strangers before you. 

You really were doing great, weren’t you? 

“Great,” the new meat brushed the girl off from his side, plopping unceremoniously into your chair. “You did that right?” He pointed behind you to where Angel was standing, gesturing at his arm and your miniscule mural of memorial greenery. 

“Cierto.” You nodded, sparing Angel’s arm the barest of glances.

“Aight, well, none of that girly shit, alright, sweetheart? Angel may have had the good grace not to say anything, but flowers ain’t really my style, yeah?” 

What the fuck.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Coco visibly tense next to you, obviously displeased at the uncalled-for critique of your work. Of a piece he himself had often admired. He would never admit it, but he thought the story behind it was even better. It’s like you had walked out of some shitty romcom Leti watched with her tittering friends and into Angel’s dreams, sinking yourself beneath Angel's skin like a dream he would recount to all of his friends. Coco knew the most about you by nature of Angel's second-hand stories when you were together. Although Coco thought, once he had met you, Angel's stories didn't do you justice. How wonderful and talented you were. How warm and welcoming.

Angel watched the exchange silently, clearly none too keen to defend the piece you had designed for him. That had come to mean so much to you. 

That stung.

You winced, almost imperceptibly. But you were certain Coco saw it, not much escaping his sniper’s eyes. EZ, with his owlish perception and photographic memory, certainly would have seen it, too. If Angel saw it, it’s not like he was going to say anything now. 

Where the fuck was Aneesa? Wasn’t she supposed to be heading this kind of shit off? You glanced over at the couches in the corner where your friend had previously been sitting with GIlly, and was now nowhere to be seen. Fuckin’ typical. 

“Aight, no más flores." No more flowers. “What were you thinking, then?” 

That was you, ever the professional. 

Andres showed you his phone, a rendering of an old-style beastly cat, like a panther from an old folktale, pulled up in his image search. 

“Something for a warrior,” he puffed his chest slightly. “I was thinking here,” he shrugged out of one side of his new kutte, tugging the button-up to expose one side of his chest. 

“You got it.” 

You set to work, cleaning the area to be inked and getting your tools ready. The rest of the group drifted as the project progressed, clearly not feeling the need to stand there for the entire duration of a tattoo. 

You were acutely aware that Angel hadn’t stepped as far away as the others, circumventing the periphery of yours and Andres’ space, not close, but not far. And he still had yet to even look in your direction. Or acknowledge your existence. 

You tried your best to ignore the icy shard of Angel’s indifference that was currently wedging its way between your ribs and lodging itself firmly once more into your heart. At this point, you guessed it would never heal. 

“Sooooo,” Andres lolled his head to the side of his chair to face you, slinging back the beer from the bottle dangling in his free hand. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You were around a little bit when I was prospecting.” 

You opted not to respond, aware that Angel was likely listening, and you would need to choose any words carefully. Andres had no such reservation, clearly uncaring about who might be listening. He pressed on, each word more infuriating than the last. 

“You were Angel’s little sidepiece for a while, right?”   

You tried to keep your despairing sigh to a quiet little nothing. 

“Sure.” You offered lamely. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really work better when I’m not talking.” 

“S’alright, jaina. I can talk enough for the both of us.” 

You hmm’d nonchalantly at that, lip imperceptibly curling over your teeth in distaste at the moniker. You chose instead to focus on the piece. You wouldn’t give a shitty tattoo, even if this guy was a douchebag. And the pleasant buzz of the tattoo gun. Maybe you were etching the lines a little sharper than strictly necessary. If he noticed, Andres gave no indication, continuing on with his diatribe: 

“So, what happened? I mean, Angel knocked that other chick up? Ouch, right?” 

You were now seeing red, the edges of your vision blurring slightly with angry, pinpricking tears. Thank fuck you were just about done with this. 

“But that’s the life right? I mean, we’re not exactly known for being steady with just one chick. You know how it goes ...” He eyed you up and down again, lingering a little too long on your legs before finishing his thought with a smirk “... Clearly.” 

You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done. 

You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement. 

“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath. 

You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude. 

“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment. 

With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air. 

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side? 

---

Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute. 

You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed. 

“Vince?” The text read. 

You bit back a smirk before responding,

“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”

You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met. 

“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.” 

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face. 

“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.” 

“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway. 

“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute. 

“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji. 

Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair. 

“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?” 

Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding. 

“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”

If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth. 

“Boy?” 

You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared. 

“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?” 

Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.

So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?

Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately. 

When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel. 

“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.” 

You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away. 

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.” 

Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings. 

The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind. 

Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude. 

You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime. 

The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat. 

He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you. 

“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.

“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”

“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”

“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”

“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing? 

Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little. 

“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?” 

You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb. 

You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre. 

Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue. 

You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset. 

Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge. 

"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"

Angel chuckled a little at that.

"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"

You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."

Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "

Angel held up one hand, defensively. 

"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"

"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"

"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.

"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.

"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."

"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"

"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."

You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest. 

You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."

"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently. 

"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?" 

You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip. 

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.

"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."

Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town. 

You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.

"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.

"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.

"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.

He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.

You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.

Oh.

You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.

You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso. 

Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.

 You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this. 

You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.

You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted. 

You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.

Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back. 

As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.

He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.

Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day. 

The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point. 

You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.

After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you. 

And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed. 

As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead. 

He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each. 

The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,

"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.

Boys.

The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.

He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.

He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,

"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.

"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."

Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.

"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers." 

"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.

Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me." 

A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.

"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family." 

And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"

Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.

"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome." 

"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.

And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you. 

You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel. 

The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines. 

One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.

He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. 

You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.

"Angelito, everything okay?" 

He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate. 

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts. 

He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours. 

You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.

You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him. 

You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders. 

You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt. 

Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder. 

Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room. 

"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you." 

His breath was shuddering now.

And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.

You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.

The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.

He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine. 

"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.

"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me." 

You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders. 

As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.

You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless. 

Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch. 

You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides. 

"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously." 

As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.

Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.

You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs. 

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.

"Please… use your pretty mouth?" 

You nodded. 

"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body. 

Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention. 

You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together. 

Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response. 

Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth. 

He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue. 

You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.

As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more. 

Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin. 

He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.

"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.

You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"

His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.

The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"

He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.

"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."

He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you. 

He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.

Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.

Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.

You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.

"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside." 

The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form. 

"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"

You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration. 

"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"

He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?

He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.

Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.

Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore, 

"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."

Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours. 

Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.

“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.

You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.

A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you. 

"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.

"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me." 

You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.

Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.

He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.

"Come on then, baby." 

Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.

Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him. 

He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath. 

Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.

"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."

---

Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks. 

Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing. 

The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end. 

How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them. 

The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind. 

Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you. 

But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes. 

Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him. 

Of fucking course.

You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him. 

And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't. 

One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex. 

A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart. 

"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."

You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply, 

"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."

"I care, Frida," was all he offered.

You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?

"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.

"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"  

Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then… 

"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"

You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.

The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him. 

Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.

You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."

“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion. 

You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply, 

“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.” 

Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way. 

"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--" 

You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.

"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"

You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on. 

"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it." 

You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.

Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??

It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why. 

An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite. 

And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it. 

You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more? 

"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it." 

Like he would, you thought.

You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car. 

Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.

You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them. 

The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky  new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.

And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.

What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?

---

Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp. 

Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous  energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.

He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?

He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.

His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning. 

“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. 

Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day. 

“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."

Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.

But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve. 

He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest. 

The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now? 

Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the  pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t. 

All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.

And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel. 

How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.

And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking. 

If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.

Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.

Tagging:

@themarcusmoreno @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @steeeeeeeviebb @qveenbvtch @mxsamwilson @ifimayhaveaword @huliabitch @pettyprocrastination @phoenixhalliwell @flightlessangelwings @cinewhore @velvetmel0n @moonlight-prose @rebeccasficrecs @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @ciriswife @justanotherblonde23 @superhoeva @witching-hour​ @luckyharley1903​

[rexcoatlarchive]

Welcome to chaldea

Time to explore how the hell Rex even got to chaldea in the first place.

*in a suburban home somewhere in Kansas, laying in his bed was the man who would eventually be thrown into some magical bs*

*phone rings*

Me: *picking up the phone* hola?

Gramps: Hola mijo!

Me: oh hey gramps

Gramps: how are doing today?

Me: I'm fine, and you?

Gramps: bien , muy bien. Hey, you think you can come over? It's kind of important.

Me: uh sure I guess I could.

Gramps: and make sure you come alone

Me: oh... OK.

*later on right outside a pretty dingy looking house*

Me: *driving up to the building*

Me: here we are. Wonder what he needs

*enters the house*

Me: gramps! You in here?!

Gramps: *from another room* over here mijo!

*Rex walks to a room that looks a bit like an office. And there at a desk sat an older kinda short looking Mexican man*

Rex: hey Gramps. You wanted to see me?

Gramps: si mijo! There's something I need to tell you about.

Me: uh sure thing, what is it?

Gramps: ...you ever heard of magic mijo?

Me: *already concerned* uh.... yeah.

Gramps: you think it's all just nonsense and fairy tails don't you?

Me: well all evidence I and the world at large have seen points towards it being bs, yeah.

Gramps: well what if I told you it was all true, and all magic users have been keeping it a secret from the rest of the world?

Me: what like Harry Potter? Well first off I'd be concerned about your mental health somewhat.

Gramps: hahaha, yeah I imagine that's an appropriate reaction. But what if I showed you this *just fucking makes fire appear out of his hands*

Me: .....well then. Is it real?

Gramps: course it's real. Try to feel it

Me: *reaches hand out, it's actually warm* ...how the fuck?

Gramps: like I said, magic! Well we call it thamaturgy, we don't consider it true magic.

Me: then wtf is true magic?

Gramps: the stuff of dreams! The things some true magicians can do are beyond imagination and even comprehension!

Me: well then... why are you telling me all this now? Who else knows?

Gramps: no one else in the family. I've kept this a secret for ages.

Me: ages?! How old are you?

Gramps: oof! I don't even remember! But I will say my earliest memory is of some Spanish fools asking about a golden city. And even then I wasn't exactly a spring chicken

Me: *thinking about how old that could be* holy... so you can keep yourself young with magic?

Gramps: yeah, most mages don't but a few dabble in it.

Me: why keep it a secret for so long? And why start talking now?

Gramps: well to answer your first question, it's because most of mage culture is horrible and lacks morality almost entirely.

Me: ...huh

Gramps: and almost all mages are fools, refusing to adapt with the times. They're obsessed with the old ways, it can get downright pathetic honestly!

Me: interesting... again why now?

Gramps: well I figure it's time to stop extending my life so damn much and open the way for the next generation, as in you!

Me: Me?! You want me start doing magic?

Gramps: yup!

Me: why me? Why not dad or mom or someone?

Gramps: because I've been specifically getting you ready for this. Your magical circuits are the best in the family, the only ones that compare to mine.

Me: ...my what?

Gramps: they're called magical circuits. It's the part of the body that allows people to practice thamaturgy in the first place.

Me: so it's genetic?

Gramps: yeah, almost every generation after me had subpar circuits. Slowly over the generations I did small experiments to ensure that eventually I will have a proper successor. Nothing too bad, no one would've noticed. And you are the culmination of that work.

Me: feels really weird to be called the culmination of your work.

Gramps: yeah, that's an understandable reaction. Don't worry, I never needed to do anything to you. You were born ready to go. I just needed to wait until you were old enough.

Me: alright. So how do we start this? You start teaching me how to do this?

Gramps: early on I did have that in mind, but then a friend of mine starting working on something that I think would be better. You see, in the world of magecraft I'm actually kinda infamous. I'm a bit of a black sheep compared to the rest of magus society. Instead of focusing on 1 type of magecraft I decided to travel all around and learn as much as I could.

Me: so you're a bit of a jack of all trades?

Gramps: yeah, that's a good way to put it. I made many friends and enemies in my travels. And many want to know all the secrets I have, because I know forms of magecraft that many would love to get their hands on. For example, I'm ages old but don't look a day over 80 right?

Me: yeah.

Gramps: usually for other mages to achieve this many sacrifices are made, like sanity or their bodies start to deteriorate. But not me! I have access to magecraft that's long since died out.

Me: damn

Gramps: and all those secret will go to you. Or atleast most that I can give. And automatically once I die, all my enemies will be your enemies.

Me: WHAT!?

Gramps: but! Then I heard a friend of mine, from the animusphere family started working on something called the Chaldea security organization. And he needs mages, I talked to him and ensured that you'll join. And in return he'll ensure no one can get to you.

Me: so I'll go their to learn instead of you?

Gramps: yup! Soon enough I'll transfer my crest, which what'll you need to get started, you'll receive a phone call to confirm your participation. Then eventually someone will come get you, and you'll get started from there.

Me: so it's like a job? And is it OK for them to get someone so new to this?

Gramps: they just need bodies, and yeah it's basically a job. But you'll be staying there. So I'm basically forcing you to finally be independent and move out of your parent's home

Me: I'm only 20, it's not that bad.

Gramps: still, this has been set in motion. Are you prepared for what's coming?

Me: not even remotely! But I have very little say do I?

Gramps: nope!

*eventually after a few days, Gramps transfered his crest over to Rex. Eventually Gramps passes, and Rex just waited*

*phone rings*

Me: hello?

*a female voice is heard*

Olga: hello, this is the director of the chaldea security organization. I have a note from the previous director to call this number on this day. Are you the successor of that... unique magus who passed recently?

Me: yes I am.

Olga: and am I correct to assume that you've been informed of your involuntary recruitment into this organization?

Me: yup

Olga: ok, I'm not going to force you to join but I will say it is in your best interest to join. Once other magus find out about you, and they will, you will likely not be safe.

Me: yeah, he made that clear. I've already prepared myself to join

Olga: excellent, a car will be coming tomorrow to take you to a plane. From there you'll be taken here.

Me: alright then. Is that it?

Olga: that's all, see you soon enough

*the phone is hung up*

Me: kind of annoying being thrown into this. But from what I've heard it could be worse. *looks at an envelope left by gramps*

*on the envelope it says "don't open until you get there, and make sure to bring the feather"*

Me: *holding said feather* he gave me this thing ages ago. So I guess this was him getting me ready for all this? Wth does a feather have to do with magic anyways?

*the next day on the plane*

*Rex is seated next to a pair of twins*

Rikka: *trying to start conversation* hey there!

Me: hi

Rikka: what's your name?

Me: you can call me Rex

Rikka: well hey there Rex! You can call me Rikka, and this is my brother Rikko!

Rikko: *is sleeping*

Rikka: *elbows him* wake up bro!

Rikko: huh? What?

Rikka: so why'd you decide to join up?

Me: was kinda forced into this by gramps

Rikka: your grandpa forced you to join?

Me: oh, he's not actually my grandpa. Everyone in my family just called him that because he's older. And yeah I was forced essentially, because a lot of magus don't like him apparently. And as his successor I'm apparently going to have a target on my back. But he said the director would promise my safety if I joined so... yeah

Rikka: well that's kind of messed up! But that's mage culture for ya!

Me: man every time I hear about mage culture, it's non-stop misery and dread

Rikka: do you not know much about mage culture?

Me: no! Just a month ago, magic would've been considered fairy tale nonsense to me! But now I'm being thrown into something I barely understand to stay safe from who knows what!

Rikko: that's very weird. Normally it's driven into your head from birth

Me: but not me! Even the rest of my family knew nothing until I showed them some of the basic spells gramps taught me! He's left me with very little while throwing me into this crazy world. It's kind of weird because he was always that cool relative that was a blast whenever he visited! But now he's the man who threw me into this magic hell and then died! All he's left me with is this journal to figure out basic magecraft and this bite and feather

Rikko: feather? Why the feather?

Me: good question. The note might explain but it says to wait until we get there.

Rikka: well when you do open it can you tell us?

Me: sure I guess

Me: but I've gone on long enough, why are you guys joining?

Rikko: well we just needed some work and independence, and our parents heard about this place and said we should join up

Me: that's it?

Rikka: yup!

Me: huh, ok then

*eventually once at chaldea and after the huge presentation at the beginning the 3 are walking towards their rooms*

Me: man you two kept falling asleep, if I weren't there to keep you guys awake who knows how the director would've reacted. And also thankfully that Mash girl told us the right way to go to our rooms

Rikka: *still sleepy* yeah, thanks for that. And thanks Mash

Rikko: *also sleepy* so where's our rooms anyways?

Me: *stopping at a door* right here it seems

Rikka: cool! Let's get in to read your note already!

Me: don't you want to get into your rooms first?

Rikka: that can wait! I'm too curious right now!

Me: alright then

*the door opens and sitting on the bed is a man with long red hair tied in a pony tail is seen eating cake, along with him is a dark skinned woman with dark purple hair*

Me: uh...

Rikka: hey there?

Rikko: did you get the wrong room?

Me: no... it says right on the paper

*the two on the bed stand up*

Romani: oh sorry about that we were just kind of taking a quick break, this room had been empty for so long we just used it to hang out.

Me: huh... well sorry but I've been assigned to this room.

Rikka: who are you guys anyway?

Romani: I'm Romani Archaman, the head doctor around here though most people call me Dr. Roman. And this lovely woman is my wife, and assistant

Mrs. Archaman: hello there

Me: oh the head doctor huh? Interesting

Rikko: nice to meet you doc

Rikka: ...you guys both have fluffy hair

Roman: yeah we get that a lot

Mrs. Archaman: mostly me though. People always want feel my hair

*out of nowhere comes a little white animal*

Roman: oh is that the fabled mystery creature Mash told us about?

Mrs. Archaman: oh how cute!

Me: wtf is he?

Rikko: squirrel?

Rikka: cat?

Roman: no idea, my first time seeing him

Roman: come here little guy, I'll give you a treat

Fou: fou fou!

Roman: wait a minute, what's with the pitying look in his eyes!?

*all of a sudden the lights go out, thanks to the explosion*

Well that's the pretty much the story

Really wanted to finally show how Rex got into chaldeas in the first place.

Tagging some folks @panyum @grievouslyxorvia @gxymlky @hasereshdoneanythingwrong

Kinda wonder if people will realize who the mysterious wife is

[mindctrlaltdel]

Random Reviews: Mulholland Drive

This movie is BASIC INSTINCT, written and directed by Salvador Dali.

***

Recently, I watched MULHOLLAND DRIVE for the first time for my friend Shawn Eastridge's podcast, MISSING FRAMES (www.thenerdparty.com/missingframes/episode-103-mulholland-drive).

As I watched this odd, funny, disturbing, interesting flick, I took the following notes. Is it, as some critics say, the BEST FILM OF THE 21ST CENTURY? Here's an inside look at my viewing experience as I mulled over MULHOLLAND DRIVE...

[PRESS PLAY]

I love how the first five minutes is basically a bad late 90's Gap commercial, all swing dancing, no point...

The Mulholland Drive sign is calling to us. The street, Mulholland Drive, is Bali Hai for perverts.

Justin Theroux gets top billing over Naomi Watts??

I gotta admit, I saw one of the movie's original posters and thought "Naomi Watts AND the lady from the first MEN IN BLACK is in this? It's the triumphant return of Linda Fiorentino." When I DIDN'T see her name in the opening credits, I was disappointed. She's NO Linda Fiorentino... for this role, she's even better. AND she's a countess (seriously, look it up). Oh, and Robert Forster shows up for 10 minutes.

Not-Linda Fiorentino has some hustle in her for someone who just survived a horrible head on collision.

I like how the street signs kind of tell us where we are and what kind of world we're in. It's like a surreal, dramatic version of that Californians SNL sketch.

You mean to tell me that the red-headed older woman didn't see not-Linda Fiorentino under her kitchen table? UnbeLIEVable.

Holy crap, the wide-eyed guy in Winky's - he plays Jimmy Barrett, the comedian in MAD MEN... and MAD MEN is an interesting connection here, because everyone talks in this measured, paced deliberate way throughout that series, kind of similar to how the characters usually speak in the David Lynch productions I've seen... When I started watching MAD MEN, I thought the actors were purposely directed to speak that way, so everything to seem more "real" as opposed to that fast-talking, old-Hollywood style that you'd expect to see from outspoken, big idea-types. I imagined that Matt Weiner wanted people to seem - at least to modern audiences - the way people actually were - particularly, the inhabitants of the intelligent and cerebral world of ad men, working behind the scenes, on the fringes of show business. But then Jimmy Barrett, an old-timey comedian ALSO spoke that way. And it just didn't seem authentic to me. Anyway, back to THIS movie...

OH and that dingy woman behind the dumpster! She's like if Captain Howdy moved out West and got all LA on us. Is that Cloris Leachman covered in mud? And the music... for some reason, there's nothing scarier than the sound of an HVAC vent on full blast. (According to this article, www.vulture.com/2014/10/mulholland-drives-evil-hobo-breaks-her-silencio.html,the actress who played Evil Hobo #1 said of her audition process: "I don’t mean to brag, but David Lynch said he was looking for the most incredible face he could find. I actually met him at a Twin Peaks party, and he was like, 'Look at that face!'")

I love the X-Files-style synth strings that play over Naomi Watts (Betty) and gram-gram (Irene) as they walk through the hotel, I mean the airport... Aw, these two old people love Betty. What a different life she's living than that countess who's not Linda Fiorentino who's squatting in that redhead's apartment that Betty's about to move into.

Even then, Naomi had a good American accent. (Although I learned she's technically British but split her time between England and Australia), those Australians are great at spitting out neutral American sounds. But once I learned that Betty is supposed to be Canadian, I was very disappointed. It's not THAT authentic. Where are her "Aboots"? And she didn't put maple syrup on anything in this whole movie.

Oh my God, are Irene and her husband, riding in this towncar, ALSO going to get held up, like not-Linda Fiorentino at the beginning of the movie? Oh okay, they're not. We just followed them for no reason other than to see that they look happier than an old couple in a Cialis commercial. I guess meeting Betty really improved their sex life or something.

Coco - of course she's a fading hollywood starlet... AHHH, Coco is played by Ann Miller - good for her. She's basically that kooky old landlady from SEINFELD, the one who worked with the Three Stooges that Kramer met when he went to LA. Look at all these connections!

"Prize-fighting kangaroo who shits all over the courtyard" - do you think Naomi Watts is going to come out and say, "as an Australian, I was actually offended by this line, but I was scared into silence by that power-hungry monster, David Lynch."

The countess - who now goes by "Rita" - does kind of look like Rita Hayworth. I like the connections to old Hollywood and to noirs and how it's all wrapped together. Rita Hayworth is also a redhead, like Betty's aunt. She's of Spanish descent as well... and the actress playing Rita in this movie is of Mexican descent... Connections, connections.

I love that this casting session is basically run by a deep state shadow organization with a weird waiter in a red blazer... This is how Disney cast WandaVision.

HAHAHAH "That is one of the finest espressos in the world sir!" - this is DEFINITELY how Disney casts their movies. And Justin Theroux is the only man with integrity in this room! Does anyone have any class in this town!? They don't even validate his parking.

This is my favorite movie about making movies since BOWFINGER. And I may not be lying. And somehow less weird than THE ARTIST.

Is everyone gonna start killing each other over Ed's famous black book? This is oddly funny.

"Something bit me bad!" This incredibly long fight scene between the blond guy and secretary... it reminds me of the Uma Thurman/Daryl Hannah trailer fight in KILL BILL VOL. 2 but with less snakes.

These closeups of lingering looks on Rita's cash-filled purse are great... She's pulling wads of cash out of that purse one at a time, like Leslie Nielsen pulling eggs out of that blond lady in AIRPLANE!

I want to know what direction David Lynch gave that braless woman who's following the blond assassin around. It's like she's doing an acting exercise... like you know, when you're told to fill the space... "walk around the room, and clear your head. And now you're walking really fast. And now you're slow. NOW, imagine what it would be like to walk with your nose as the furthest point in front of you. Lead with your nose..." And David Lynch did that and told the braless woman to lead with her chest.

Justin Theroux is basically Robert Downey Jr.'s character from BOWFINGER, except NOW, he's the protagonist.

Betty is loving Rita's amnesia a bit too much. If this were my life, Rita would be the most interesting thing to happen to me too. Hell, if I was from Ontario, getting off at LAX would rock my world.

When Justin Theroux enters his glass-walled home to find his wife with another man, well... Justin Theroux may never star in something like HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN, but I can definitely picture him in YUPPIE WITH A GOLF CLUB.

That slinky theme song playing in Justin Theroux's/Laraine's house is a song that I actually listen to in my tiki, lounge playlist - to give you a hint of my music tastes. What I listen to for fun, Billy Ray Cyrus puts on to drown out his love-making.

By the way, BILLY RAY CYRUS!!! WHAT? Is this how Miley was conceived??? I think yes.

Pink paint in a jewelry box! This is much better than the usual throwing-all-his-belongings-out-a-second-story-apartment-window-scene that happens in every other movie.

I wouldn't be THAT excited if I learned MY name was Diane Selwin. BUT the sexxxual tension with the waitress Diane at the diner is palpable!

So, not-Linda Fiorentino has amnesia. How does she know that answering machine is NOT her voice!?

Justin Theroux/Adam Kesher's wife is very aggressive with the large man who's so dedicated to finding Adam Kesher that he keeps calling Adam's name in vain like the secretary in my doctor's office.

I watched this movie in pieces, the first half late at night. The second half the next morning. In between, while sleeping, I had a dream where Betty and Rita were looking over a map and any time one of their hands brushed over another, their hands would turn gold. As if this was a stylistic choice made by the filmmaker directing my dream to show that there's some kind of deeper relationship between these two women. So I've started dreaming in Lynch.

I like how this film is so utterly connected to not only Lynch's subconscious, but the audience's as well. Lynch is TAPPED IN. I don't always love when a film goes all in with a surreal style, because sometimes that's just a cover for something lacking in the storytelling department. But I do feel there's more to it here, in MULHOLLAND DRIVE.

The hooded woman, Louise... I feel like I've run into her on the streets of New York. A Louise will ALWAYS find a way to give you a portent of doom that ruins your day. Friggin’ Louise.

This movie is so moody, you really have to be in the mood to watch it.

There's something magical and prophetic about the cowboy, like he's the seer that the old general sees on the eve of battle... Also, I love how the lead female role in Justin Theroux's movie is his sword of destiny. There's a glitz and gleam and nostalgia to Old Hollywood that naturally gives this movie, set in "modern" Hollywood," a total fantasy vibe.

Hahaha that "You're still here?" scene rehearsal between Betty and Rita is an excellent transition.

James Karen - the real estate guy from POLTERGEIST - is handling casting! "He moved the headshots but he didn't cast the bodies!!"

The casting direction: "Don't play it for real until it gets real." It's interesting how the characters, who work in the "business," seem to control their reality. Betty seems unsure of where the scene is going, then she gets into it. And it really speaks to her conversion from a bright-eyed new arrival to someone who surrenders to the darker impulses of the city.

HEAVY BREATHING.

Ugh friggin' Bob...

I love how Lynnie, the casting director, pulls the rug out from under that scene. There's always a jaded casting person who totally wrecks any good feelings about every audition. It's a thing.

David Lynch uses nostalgia and a latent love for Hollywood to draw the characters (and us) into his world and then subverts our expectations. A lot.

Why is the screen test just a lip-synching contest? ...I think it feeds into the nostalgia element for the movie at large but it seems like a waste of studio resources here. Early-aughties Hollywood spending, amirite?

Rita's reaction to finding the body is played very much like the reaction a character would have in an older film... The horror! The fear! The silent gaping terror while possessed with the inability to scream. I was watching the original KING KONG before this (which is may be a sign from the universe that I had to watch this Naomi Watts vehicle, as she starred in the remake), and specifically remember the scene where the director Carl Denham is coaching Ann Darrow/Fay Wray on how to act in a horror film - "now look up, and you see it, you see it in all its horror. And your jaw drops and you try to scream but you're so frozen in terror that you can't!" - I imagine that's what Lynch is doing to not-Linda Fiorentino off-camera as they filmed this scene.

Uh-oh, Rita is single-white femal'ing Betty now... She doesn't have a personality of her own, so she's going to take Betty's.... And now we're just getting NUDE with each other. This erotic thriller immediately turned from skintillating to Skinemax.

"I'm in love with you" - is Betty just saying that to convince herself? It feels more lusty than real. Betty's so bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Rita is gonna chew her up and spit her out!

I like the shot when they're sleeping together and, as they rest, their faces overlap thanks to the perspective of the framing. How much of the same person are they becoming? Where does one personality start and the other end?

The weird 2am theater. How'd Rita and Betty find this place? I love how this pop-up slam-poetry reading in this opera house is as terrifying to Rita and Betty as finding the dead body.

So Betty starts convulsing in her seat and then the poet disappears in a kind of old-style, cinematic I'm disappearing effect. I dig it.

Wait... is this a mysterious, magical show that just appears in LA, like Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead, that town in THE MUMMY that only shows up at sunrise on the third day or something like that? Or is this just a poorly attended Spanish-language talent show that could only afford to book this theater at 2am on a Thursday?

I love that Betty and Rita are tearing up over Rebekah Del Rio's performance (Rebekah Del Rio is a real person, by the way). Then, Rebekah faints as her voice keeps singing - is NOTHING real? Has Betty totally given into this weird world to the point that she doesn't really know what's authentic and what's fake anymore OR was Betty fake before she got to LA so it was easy for her to get acclimated.

This movie is like THE MATRIX, from the perspective of characters who only took the blue pill and didn't look back.

OOOH, Betty has the box and Rita has the key! But the box is empty except maybe its the Gom Jabbar pain-box from DUNE. Is David Lynch using MULHOLLAND DRIVE as an excuse to make good on his promise to produce a good version of DUNE.

WAIT A SECOND, the cowboy knows the dead girl? Does this even matter?

Now, wait ANOTHER second. Is Betty performing or DREAMING when she's Diane or is something else going one??

What's the BLUE KEY doing there?

"Two Detectives"??? Is she talking about Betty and Rita OR Robert Forster and the pudgy guy? OR someone else entirely - the two guy's from Winky's???

The movie became more interesting the moment the perspective shifted to "Diane" and "Camilla." When that happened, Naomi Watts really amped up her performance... reaching a level of intensity we hadn't seen since Betty's audition... it does take 2 hours to reach that point.... But then, when Betty and Rita are topless on the couch, I couldn't tell who they were supposed to be until Rita/Camilla called her "Diane."

Wait, now Rita's acting?? OH, so Rita was an actress? And Diane wasn't? Or Betty looks exactly like Diane?

The weird shifts in focus. The sad masturbating. This is the most depressing soft-core ever made!

Did Betty get killed and have amnesia too?

They take a shortcut to Eddie's house which looks EXACTLY like where Rita/Camilla was taken at the beginning of the movie by the hitmen in the towncar before that wild accident with those teenagers made her life weirder... OR less weird. You be the judge.

IS this a flashback or the future. Eddie and Camilla are having an affair?

MY MOTHER? COCO - what's real and what isn't????

The jitterbug competition.... Diane/Naomi wanted the lead so bad, Camilla got the part but in Mulholland Drive, Naomi is the star.

Then, Camilla is kissing that other blond actress who Betty watched screen test...

MULHOLLAND DRIVE is just David Lynch telling us that LA is a place for lust and jealousy and no matter what, purity gets ruined.

WHAT, the blond waitress is BETTY? And Diane hires the blond guy, who's officially labeled as a hitman.

Diane is also from Canada...

Are Diane and Betty just different versions of the same people in nearby parallel universes? I certainly HOPE so. This is too much insanity for ONE universe to handle.

The blue key will be found where the blond guy told Diane. Okay, that makes sense. But if this were to mirror real life, the key was in her hand the WHOLE time!

OH, and hobo-Cloris Leachman comes back... AND she's holding the blue box/Gom Jabbar... WHY the hell did those two old people wander out of that paper bag??? Do they represent longstanding guilt? Seems like it. Because they've just crept into Diane's apartment.

MULHOLLAND DRIVE is almost silly to the point of pretentiousness at points - at least with the last word to be uttered on screen - "silencio." That said, it does evoke the HAMLET line: "And the rest is silence," so THAT's poetic.

Sadly, Robert Forster was barely in this movie...

Oh, and Lee Grant played Louise - the old-Hollywood connections keep coming!

I can't believe this movie was intended to be a pilot?

***

Now, some final notes:

On the swapping of characters and relationships in the last 30 minutes -- my first thought was that Betty/Diane and Rita/Camilla look similar and/or they're connected by a parallel universe, and the diner is like the central hub between worlds, and hobo-Cloris Leachman is the gatekeeper between the two worlds... I buy the "dream world" explanation that some critics espouse, that's something I considered myself as I watched. But I'm not sure I believed Betty is Diane's dream version of herself. Also, I think David Lynch has a feeling about how everything fits together, yet I don't know if he's even settled on an explanation for everything. He just trusted his subconscious and he's so confident in his latent abilities, that we trust him to show us everything we need to see and take us everywhere we need to go.

I enjoy how it's a surrealist answer to SUNSET BOULEVARD. I hope in 2050, someone makes "The 405" really tying all these movies and Los Angeles roads together.

MULHOLLAND DRIVE is weird but good. Still, I don't know if, to me, it's more weird than good. It's also funny. But is it funny because it's weird or because it's actually, genuinely funny? Are these questions David Lynch actually wants me to ask or does he make it weird on impulse to cover for the fact that the film is simply just weird and based entirely on impulse? MULHOLLAND DRIVE is almost like a parody of a film noir, made by an inter-dimensional alien life-form who studied a bunch of movies from the 40's through the 90's but doesn't have a full grasp on human behavior, and DESPITE THAT, it's more of an emotional experience than a logical one. It's somewhere in between. It's self-indulgent in a way but also very giving. It's a paradox wrapped in an oxymoron wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a coffee-stained napkin covered in cigarette ash locked in a small, blue box.

***

Summing it up: I don't think there's a world where this movie would get a perfect score from me. Because ultimately, for all it's interesting and exciting moments, it's more of a passion project for David Lynch than a piece of entertainment for the audience, no matter how entertaining it may be. To me, it's a vision board more than it is a complete film. And yet, it IS a complete EXPERIENCE. And there's nothing wrong with that.

All of that said, I know David Lynch doesn't really like to give viewers a clear cut, traditional narrative. So, I had a feeling the mystery was just that, a mystery. Or even moreso, the FEELING of a mystery. It's not about where we're going, it's about the journey to the destination. And while the general atmosphere is moody and evocative and often powerful, MULHOLLAND DRIVE plays more like a 2.5 hour piece of music than a cohesive narrative. Maybe that's the best thing about it.

In the distant future, when our way of speaking has become as archaic as the words of Shakespeare are to us, it's the feeling and emotions and images of movies like MULHOLLAND DRIVE that will still have a timeless impact on the future audiences who view them.

[kittenwannaplay]

hi baby! 💖 💕

I love those movies! when I was a teenager we have the DVD of grease and my sister and I were so obsessed with the movie that in one Christmas we wanted to show it to our cousins and at first they love it! but after the 20th time of watching it one of my cousins was sick of it that he broke the DVD nskdkkd now i remember it and it's funny. I love music and lyrics too! the songs are so cachy that every time I watch it I keep singing the songs for days! 🤭🤭 have u watch that movie?

I completely agree with u!! Asian food is one of the best foods! and it has a lot of flavors! I love Italian food too, bc pastas is one of my fav food! but also Mexican food! ufff they have a little bit of everything! do u like Mexican food?

ohhhh I think bc here isn't too windy? that i kinda love that kind of weather? that ur face hurts and at some point u can't feel it 🤧 I like it bc when u put something hot it feels so good! and here where I live is more dry hot! whis I prefer bc ughh humid hot make me feel super sticky and like sick with the flu??? 😭 😭

ur earings sound soo cute! 🥺💖 I have my ear piercing when I was born but honestly I don't use any earing >< they feel super uncomfortable! and i always forget to use them! so I'm not good with piercings >< do u have more piercings or tattoos? I'd love to get a tattoo! but im still in the phase of didn't know what to get? :/

ohhhhhh I love that! I used to save little notes of my friends too but the tickets I find it so amazing! like u said a little part of a memory? 🥺💖 I never saw it like that! instead I like to collect mangas >< that's my guilty pleasure! 🤧

whisking u sm luck babie! 💕 💖 just one little step to finish! and u gonna nailed it! 🥰

see u tomorrow love <33

hiii love! I think we can start the countdown to xmas?

hsjahshshs ur cousin did that? straight up breaking the dvds? so much chaos hahaha. yesss those songs are good! and I love louis version of them too! do you have any music that stuck in ur head so easily? for me r&b get stuck in my head so easily. as well as the album forever neverland by MO! every time I listen to the album, like you said, I’ll sing them for days!!

I like Mexican good! tacos, nachos, fajitas!🥰 and Mexican food are spicy too!! like the spicy taste is so pure, it can be numbing😧

dry hot is so much better!! high humidity and extremely high or low temperature are never a good combination. it makes it even colder/hotter I think!!

oh no! I’m sorry you find earrings uncomfortable, I’m already used to them so I sometimes can even forget I have earrings on. i always feel like earrings are a important part of my overall look haha. and no, i don’t have other piercings, cuz the ear pierce hurt like hell for me.😣

I’m thinking about getting a tattoo of a ghost bunny, like a line sketch figure? it’s because I was born on Halloween haha, so ghost bunny embodies me!

mangas collection! yes I heard that series of mangas can contain lots of volumes! good luck with that hon it sounds funnnn!

yessss finally, the end of this semester. hope you have a great day as usual, and I’ll see you tomorrow! 💜

[breathofuwu]

was tagged by the Crust Queen herself, @romanticnailbiting            

RULES: Always post the rules. Answer the questions asked, then write 11 new ones. Tag 11 people to answer your questions, as well as the person who tagged you

1 - How is babby formed? I ask myself the same thing 2 - What’s your favourite thing about yourself? I’m pretty witty I guess 3 - Favourite season? Winter 4 - What is your least favourite colour? Brown 5 - How many push ups can you do? hahaha 6 - What’s your favourite flower? roses 7 - Do you trust horses? Why? What’re they up to now? 8 - What is your opinion on bees? Y’all cute, but stay away from me please 9 - Pears or apples? Apples, especially in pies 10 - Did you shower today? yes

11 - Would you be a good teammate, should the Zombie Apocalypse happen? TBH, I’d probably already be a Zombie, I cant run for shit lol

1. How was your day? So long

2. What’s heavier, a kilogram of steel, or a kilogram of feathers? Uhh

3.   Would you rather fight 1 Danny Devito sized duck, or 100 duck sized Danny Devitos? 100 duck sized Danny Devitos, more eggs for our trying times

4. What’s your favourite animal? Bison, deer, and wolves

5. What are your top 3 songs at the moment? Hymn for the Weekend by Coldplay, Music! Music! Music! by Teresa Brewer, and Faded by Alan Walker ft. Iselin Solheim 

6.  Top 3 TV shows? AHS, Dance Moms, and I Love Lucy

7. Favourite colour? Maroon

8. What superpower would you have and why? Black Magic cause why not

9. Do you believe in ghosts? Yeah

10. What inspires you? Everything I observe

11. What is something you like about yourself? My eyes

1. Where would your dream vacation be? Traveling with someone for free

2. Do you have more than one best friend? I believe I do, unless someone playing to me

3. Top 5 songs? Same as above and Shape of You by Ed Sheeran and All This and Heaven Too by Florence and the Machine

4. Are you easily frightened? Hell yeah

5. When was the last time you called someone? Last Friday when I called my dad to ask if he was picking me up

6. Favorite movie? Ugh, I can’t choose just one but I’ve watched Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame so many times

7. When did you last cry? Like last night

8. Do you have a favorite car? The one that belongs to me lol i can’t even drive

9. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate

10 Cats or dogs? Both

11. Rural or city? Can I meet in the middle?

1. What’s your worst nightmare? My mom dying or getting Alzheimer and forgetting me

2. Favorite spot to hide? In my bed

3. Can you talk as fast as the scatman? Imma die if I try

4. Favorite smell? Anything that smells like man

5. Would you rather cut your hair or OR WHAT!?

6. Do you know a lot of slang? I know a lot of memes

7. What languages do you speak/understand? English only I’m a terrible mexican

8. Can you recite the American ABCs backwards? No

9. How well do you think you sing? A yowling cat is more in tune than me

10. Do you like card games or board games? Both

11. What time do you usually daydream? All the time

1. Favorite Disney movie?

2. How old are you?

3. What’s your favorite hobby?

4. Favorite YouTuber?

5. Long or short hair?

6. Dream job?

7. Samsung or Apple?

8. Greatest fear?

9. Favorite scary movie?

10. Favorite restaurant?

11. Current Fandoms?

I tag: @imakemyownblog @icryfor64hours @atombombboobie and of course anyone who wants to do it, especially all my spam bots :D

[111the--unknown--one111-blog]

It has officially been 1 year since we sat down on that small couch in my living room saturday night after you went to color festival on a date with someone else and I realized that I couldn't share.  I realized that I needed you for the rest of my life and I knew that I had to do something about it right then.  So I asked you to be my girlfriend!  We have come so far. And through all the months that have come and gone we have been writing each other letters, kind of like “journals of love” so to say. And now that it has officially been 1 year, I'd like to tie it all together.  

In the first month of our relationship we were still getting to know each other, you were afraid that we were gonna get “complicated” and break up, but you always told me that it was just easy to be with me.  You were still trying to get used to my music choice and I was trying to get used to yours.  We watched conference together and took our second picture ;)  and in this time I realized that I was going to spend Eternity with you.  

In our second month, you were coming up on your graduation.  And I was very scared that you would go off to collage and you would find another guy up there and I just couldn't imagine losing you. So one brave night up on potato hill I asked you the most important question I have ever asked anyone.  I asked you to marry me. And of course you said yes! You would always reassure me that you would love me forever and that your feelings would never change.  But I was still scared with the college thing.  We did a lot of fantasizing this month, about what our future held.  We were looking forward to summer and we were planning a bunch of things we were gonna do. It was exciting. This is the time we connected intimately for the first time as well, and it was pure bliss and beauty.  

   We came up on 3 months with incredible speed, our relationship was fading into life, it was starting to feel like I had been with you my whole life and had never been without you. In this month we went to lagoon alot, we went with lynzie and her dude friend which brought the time you first called me a Kinky Bastard.  It's also the month that I started at Alexanders and you  started coming to sunday dinners every week. We went through alot this month, one of the more amazing things is that we fell asleep for the first time together, you were sick and we went to lagoon with your family and left early.  That was perfect! Though I'm sorry you were sick.

4 months had come and gone.  But the best 4 months of my life had just finished.  Our relationship just kept growing and progressing.  We hit a couple rough patches in this month, we both went on really big trips.  I went to New York and you went to country festival with Jade and your skanky mexican… at least I think she is a mexican.. Then also in this month my mom told you to tell me to go on a Mission.  That was one of the most emotional days we have ever had together.  And I hope that it will all still work out.  At the end of the month you gave me a list of songs to listen to if I ever get down and need to know how you feel about me.  And my love for you grew stronger and stronger. 

Month 5.  It was time to start school.  It was august and we were both nervous. You had just moved up into your dorm at the U and I was still where I am right now XD sitting at my grandpas house mooching the free rent.  We decided we would be study buddies and do homework together, but usually you would do the homework and I would just play a video game haha.  You stayed up at your dorm for the first night but after that you came and spent the night here with me.  We decided we would only sleep together a few times a week if we were lucky but we just kept finding ways to get you down here every night. There was only 2 days total you actually slept at your dorm. The rest of the nights you spent right next to me in our bed.  As we saw each other every day our love for each other depend to places we didn't even know existed. Sleeping with you every night gave me a strong attachment that I have for you clear up to this day.  I love you darling 

Ok… so 6 months later and we still haven't killed each other XD this was the month where we started to reach new heights of comfort with each other hahaha.  And being more comfortable also led to new kinds of fights.  But even when we were fighting or arguing we would stop and laugh at each other in the middle of it all.  This month I wanted to do something nice for you, I took you over to the city creek mall and then out to eat, I told you to where something nice and then we went to the roof in Salt Lake, dinner was amazing and you loved the drink they got you.  After dinner we went and we saw despicable me 2 and it was just amazing to spend that even with you. In this month we got into the biggest fight we had yet to be in, we started in the car, then to my grandpas house, then to the steak center where lots of interesting things broke out.  But through it all I knew that there was no one else that I wanted to be with. 

7 months. Holy cow we had been through alot! School was starting to take a toll on you.  Homework was boggess… and there was a lot of it.  You would still come stay at my house and you had just about all of your stuff here at my house hahaha we lived together.  It was amazing.  A Lot of the nights at this point we were living off of corn dogs, hot pockets, and pizza bites XD but we still had an amazing time together and I couldn't be more grateful for the time we spent watching movies and cuddling every night.  Thank you sweetheart, I love you.  

Now we rolled up to 8 months of our relationship. You just bought your car! And of course it had problems XD hahaha… me and your dad spent a lot of time working on it and trying to fix it. But after a couple months of working with it and letting sit in different lots we finally got it licenced.  I appreciate you and all you put up with when it comes to me.  

Holy 9 MONTHS IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!! This was the best christmas I have ever had, during the day we spent the time with our families but when the evening rolled around we went over to my grandpas house to spend christmas together.  We plugged in his sad little try and put all the presents we got each other under it and spent the rest of the night opening and playing with the gifts we got each other.  And I am so grateful for the christmas I spent with you.  Thank you my love for choosing me through it all.  

10 months brought the start of a new year,  which meant a new years party at the beginning! Along with new years goals and resolutions.  We had finished the semester of school that we were both taking and just starting to prepare of a mission, you also moved out of your dorm and back in with your parents which was a struggle. You almost moved in with your freaky friend that likes old dudes but your dad convinced you just to come back home.  Unfortunately with that, it meant that we couldn't “live” together anymore… that was a hard time for me to adjust too.  It was very hard not having you right next to me.  January went flying by as we coasted into the future.  I love you sweetheart.  

11 months came so fast,  we had valentines day this month!  We got together after work, I brought you flowers to the door while you snuck around the back and put gifts in my car.  We went to carvers while dressed very nice with lynzie and frank.  After dinner we went straight over to my house where I had set up the bed with rose petals, chocolate covered strawberries, and little gifts to make it special.  I also lit a candle and turned out the lights to make it look really good.  I let you look at the things I got you and then we made love.  Time flies when you spend it with the love of your life. 

Oh sweetheart, my Darling, my Love.  look at where we have come.  Today marks 1 year of everlasting love, devotion, and respect for each other.  We have been through hell and back, there is no denying that.  But for you darling, I'd go through the deepest part of hell and give up everything I have just to be with you.  I can't believe how good we have been, how we fit together just like a puzzle.  We were made for each other and I couldn't be more grateful for you.  We are going to the festival of colors in just a few hours from now and I couldn't be more excited to go spend that time with you.  Thank you for everything you have done for me sweetheart.  You always go out of your way to try to help and comfort me. Especially lately because I've been having a hard time with my anxiety about our future.  I just want to make sure we will be ok.  I know we will be married, I just worry that you could have found someone who would treat you better, but I will do my best to treat you like royalty.  I love you darling, don't you ever forget that.  Happy 1 year love, thank you for choosing me through it all.

                       I love you my sweet Baby Girl

[michaelfallcon]

2019 Los Angeles Coffee Masters Champ Carlos De La Torre: The Sprudge Interview

Add another trophy to the shelf for Mexico’s Carlos de la Torre! The Mexico City coffee polymath has already taken home some serious hardware, having won national titles at Cup Tasters (2012), the Brewers Cup (2015, 2016), and the Barista Championship (2018, 2019). And he has just added Coffee Masters Champion to his CV in his first-ever appearance in the competition. If this isn’t a coffee EGOT, I’m not sure such a thing exists.

Yet, even with his impressive résumé, keeping the US Coffee Masters title in a producing country (matching the efforts of 2018 New York Coffee Masters Champion Remy Molina of Costa Rica) would be no easy task. Standing in de la Torre’s way were no less than three national champions, multiple finalists, and two Coffee Masters Runners-Up. But even as a rookie, de la Torre was able to call upon his vast competition experience to rise to the occasion, even mowing down two of those national champions along the way.

To learn more, Sprudge caught up with Carlos de la Torre after his big win to find out what the fast-paced weekend was like and what’s next in store for him.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

Hey Carlos! Congratulations on your Coffee Masters victory! By way of introduction, can you tell us a little bit about what you professionally in the coffee world?

I’m the green buyer and head roaster at Cafe con Jiribilla and I’m in charge of Quality Control and Training at Café Avellaneda, both in Mexico City. I have an oncoming Cold Brew project and I run the coffee program for the new bar Cafe Ocampo. I’m also the current Mexican Barista Champion and I’ve been involved constantly in barista competitions as a competitor and coach for other baristas, and randomly I give some workshops and lectures on coffee.

As an experienced coffee competition veteran, what was it like competing in your first Coffee Masters?

It was an amazing experience. Even before I knew I won the competition I was saying to my wife, “I guess I’m not winning, but it was a lot of fun, I’m going to try again next year.” But now I guess there’s no Coffee Masters for me in the future at least as a competitor.

How did it compare to other coffee competitions?

It has long performance times with the big stress of competing one-on-one, so it demands a lot of energy and focus. I was so tired after it all that I didn’t even go out to celebrate, just a quick takeaway dinner before going straight to bed. But the most notable difference is not just the variety of abilities that the competitors need to display, but the fact of having the competitors perform against each other under the same circumstances, which removes a lot of advantages some competitors may have; it’s all up to the skills and knowledge inherent to the competitors.

Do you feel like your extensive competition experience (and success) gave you a leg up in Coffee Masters?

Yes, for sure. I was already a national champion in Cup Tasters, Brewers Cup, and Barista, which relates directly with the cupping, order, sig drink, espresso blend, and brewing disciplines at Coffee Masters, so it was sort of familiar to me and I guess that helped me a lot. On the other, I have almost no experience at cupping various origins or presenting latte art.

There were a handful of other national champions at Coffee Masters this year. Was it intimidating going up against such accomplished competitors?

For sure it was intimidating. Since Round One I was asking myself, “what the hell am I doing here?” I heard a lot of great things from Cole Torode about the competition when we hung out in China at the Fushan Cup last summer, and that inspired me to compete but I never expected to face him in the Semi-Finals. I was just scared as hell since he is not just the third-best barista in the world but one of the professionals I admire the most. Then Shin [Fukuyama] at the Finals, man!! He is a latte art god (fourth in the world) from a prestigious company and he trained so hard. Obviously I was so intimidated by every competitor and I respect them A LOT, but they were very friendly and supportive with me because it was my first time and they had more experience in Coffee Masters, so it made for a good friendship.

What was your favorite discipline in Coffee Masters?

I guess it was the cupping, I’ve always loved the rush of combining speed and precision in a competition.

What was the most challenging discipline?

I guess the origin because I have so few experiences cupping non-Mexican coffees.

Can you tell us a little bit more about your signature beverage?

It was a cocktail with “overnight espresso,” made with tamarind, lemon, Sotol (a Mexican distilled spirit), and gin. So refreshing, complex, spicy, and harmonious that I couldn’t resist to drink one with the judges so I crafted one for me too.

It’s actually a cocktail I created a while ago, thinking about giving “second chances” to the espresso that some times you don’t use when serving single shot drinks using a double spout portafilter, or just the coffee you forgot to drink at home and is “overnighted.” We used to have a lot of those espressos at the coffee shop and we would throw them into the sink, so this cocktail is crafted with stuff you can find at any party or in some fridges very easily; it’s almost a cocktail built from scratch turning a wasted espresso into an amazing drink.

Originally about recycling “overnight coffee,” for Coffee Masters we turned it into a concept drink using some Mexican ingredients representing the L.A. Mexican and Latin culture and also the second chances we look for when migrating to the US. Actually, that was part of bringing the ingredients across the border by car haha; we really wanted to build the experience of the drink and believe the story ourselves. For me, it was a very meaningful drink because it connected my passion, my origin, and my family (my wife is from Chihuahua, and that’s where Sotol comes from).

And more importantly, where did you get that wonderful pink silk robe in the video and will it a regular part of future competitions for you?

Hahaha! It’s my wife’s robe, I got it as a gift for her when I went away from home for two weeks to help out at Coffee in Good Spirits at the International Coffee Week last year. I don’t know if it’s taking part in competitions hahaha but surely in more funny coffee videos I’ll be borrowing it from her.

How does this win compare to your national competition victories?

It’s unbelievable, the warmth of an international audience giving you recognition as a well-structured professional in a field in which you have invested a third of your life in some way gives you a big satisfaction, but not quite as satisfying as having the opportunity to give a bit of exposure to Mexico and Latin America, not just as producing countries but also as consuming ones.

Any big plans on what you will do with the $5,000 cash prize?

Yeah!! I’m going to use it for the birth expenses of my son and the remaining cash I’ll use it for my road to WBC in Melbourne, maybe equipment, tools, or some training expenses.

Is there anyone you’d like to thank?

The other half of my success in coffee, Yaris Barrientos who supported me all the way, giving me advice, tasting, helping with stuff I may not be able to handle alone, even when she is currently having some difficult time expecting our first son. No one can read me better than her, she’s a wonderful woman and an amazing coach struggling with the fact that she cannot actually drink a lot of coffee or any alcohol. But she has that super-sensitive nose that her pregnancy gave to her as a very helpful side effect hahaha.

I also want to thank Cris Mancilla (Mexican Latte Art Champion) and Ale Lugo (two-time Latte Art finalist and Brewers Cup Runner-Up) who helped me improve my pouring. And last but not least, Sam Ronzon, my friend and coffee producer who supported us a lot during the competition days, showing that the relation between baristas and producers is not just about coffee; it’s not meant to be just a business relation but a great friendship supporting each other, not just as professionals but as human beings in regular everyday circumstances… and also, Sam smuggled my ingredients across the border.

Thanks, Carlos!

Zac Cadwalader is the managing editor at Sprudge Media Network and a staff writer based in Dallas. Read more Zac Cadwalader on Sprudge.

Photos courtesy of Los Angeles Coffee Festival/Coffee Masters

The post 2019 Los Angeles Coffee Masters Champ Carlos De La Torre: The Sprudge Interview appeared first on Sprudge.

2019 Los Angeles Coffee Masters Champ Carlos De La Torre: The Sprudge Interview published first on https://medium.com/@LinLinCoffee

[shebreathesslowly]

2019 Los Angeles Coffee Masters Champ Carlos De La Torre: The Sprudge Interview

Add another trophy to the shelf for Mexico’s Carlos de la Torre! The Mexico City coffee polymath has already taken home some serious hardware, having won national titles at Cup Tasters (2012), the Brewers Cup (2015, 2016), and the Barista Championship (2018, 2019). And he has just added Coffee Masters Champion to his CV in his first-ever appearance in the competition. If this isn’t a coffee EGOT, I’m not sure such a thing exists.

Yet, even with his impressive résumé, keeping the US Coffee Masters title in a producing country (matching the efforts of 2018 New York Coffee Masters Champion Remy Molina of Costa Rica) would be no easy task. Standing in de la Torre’s way were no less than three national champions, multiple finalists, and two Coffee Masters Runners-Up. But even as a rookie, de la Torre was able to call upon his vast competition experience to rise to the occasion, even mowing down two of those national champions along the way.

To learn more, Sprudge caught up with Carlos de la Torre after his big win to find out what the fast-paced weekend was like and what’s next in store for him.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. 

Hey Carlos! Congratulations on your Coffee Masters victory! By way of introduction, can you tell us a little bit about what you professionally in the coffee world?

I’m the green buyer and head roaster at Cafe con Jiribilla and I’m in charge of Quality Control and Training at Café Avellaneda, both in Mexico City. I have an oncoming Cold Brew project and I run the coffee program for the new bar Cafe Ocampo. I’m also the current Mexican Barista Champion and I’ve been involved constantly in barista competitions as a competitor and coach for other baristas, and randomly I give some workshops and lectures on coffee.

As an experienced coffee competition veteran, what was it like competing in your first Coffee Masters?

It was an amazing experience. Even before I knew I won the competition I was saying to my wife, “I guess I’m not winning, but it was a lot of fun, I’m going to try again next year.” But now I guess there’s no Coffee Masters for me in the future at least as a competitor.

How did it compare to other coffee competitions?

It has long performance times with the big stress of competing one-on-one, so it demands a lot of energy and focus. I was so tired after it all that I didn’t even go out to celebrate, just a quick takeaway dinner before going straight to bed. But the most notable difference is not just the variety of abilities that the competitors need to display, but the fact of having the competitors perform against each other under the same circumstances, which removes a lot of advantages some competitors may have; it’s all up to the skills and knowledge inherent to the competitors.

Do you feel like your extensive competition experience (and success) gave you a leg up in Coffee Masters?

Yes, for sure. I was already a national champion in Cup Tasters, Brewers Cup, and Barista, which relates directly with the cupping, order, sig drink, espresso blend, and brewing disciplines at Coffee Masters, so it was sort of familiar to me and I guess that helped me a lot. On the other, I have almost no experience at cupping various origins or presenting latte art.

There were a handful of other national champions at Coffee Masters this year. Was it intimidating going up against such accomplished competitors?

For sure it was intimidating. Since Round One I was asking myself, “what the hell am I doing here?” I heard a lot of great things from Cole Torode about the competition when we hung out in China at the Fushan Cup last summer, and that inspired me to compete but I never expected to face him in the Semi-Finals. I was just scared as hell since he is not just the third-best barista in the world but one of the professionals I admire the most. Then Shin [Fukuyama] at the Finals, man!! He is a latte art god (fourth in the world) from a prestigious company and he trained so hard. Obviously I was so intimidated by every competitor and I respect them A LOT, but they were very friendly and supportive with me because it was my first time and they had more experience in Coffee Masters, so it made for a good friendship.

What was your favorite discipline in Coffee Masters?

I guess it was the cupping, I’ve always loved the rush of combining speed and precision in a competition.

What was the most challenging discipline?

I guess the origin because I have so few experiences cupping non-Mexican coffees.

Can you tell us a little bit more about your signature beverage?

It was a cocktail with “overnight espresso,” made with tamarind, lemon, Sotol (a Mexican distilled spirit), and gin. So refreshing, complex, spicy, and harmonious that I couldn’t resist to drink one with the judges so I crafted one for me too.

It’s actually a cocktail I created a while ago, thinking about giving “second chances” to the espresso that some times you don’t use when serving single shot drinks using a double spout portafilter, or just the coffee you forgot to drink at home and is “overnighted.” We used to have a lot of those espressos at the coffee shop and we would throw them into the sink, so this cocktail is crafted with stuff you can find at any party or in some fridges very easily; it’s almost a cocktail built from scratch turning a wasted espresso into an amazing drink.

Originally about recycling “overnight coffee,” for Coffee Masters we turned it into a concept drink using some Mexican ingredients representing the L.A. Mexican and Latin culture and also the second chances we look for when migrating to the US. Actually, that was part of bringing the ingredients across the border by car haha; we really wanted to build the experience of the drink and believe the story ourselves. For me, it was a very meaningful drink because it connected my passion, my origin, and my family (my wife is from Chihuahua, and that’s where Sotol comes from).

And more importantly, where did you get that wonderful pink silk robe in the video and will it a regular part of future competitions for you?

Hahaha! It’s my wife’s robe, I got it as a gift for her when I went away from home for two weeks to help out at Coffee in Good Spirits at the International Coffee Week last year. I don’t know if it’s taking part in competitions hahaha but surely in more funny coffee videos I’ll be borrowing it from her.

How does this win compare to your national competition victories?

It’s unbelievable, the warmth of an international audience giving you recognition as a well-structured professional in a field in which you have invested a third of your life in some way gives you a big satisfaction, but not quite as satisfying as having the opportunity to give a bit of exposure to Mexico and Latin America, not just as producing countries but also as consuming ones.

Any big plans on what you will do with the $5,000 cash prize?

Yeah!! I’m going to use it for the birth expenses of my son and the remaining cash I’ll use it for my road to WBC in Melbourne, maybe equipment, tools, or some training expenses.

Is there anyone you’d like to thank?

The other half of my success in coffee, Yaris Barrientos who supported me all the way, giving me advice, tasting, helping with stuff I may not be able to handle alone, even when she is currently having some difficult time expecting our first son. No one can read me better than her, she’s a wonderful woman and an amazing coach struggling with the fact that she cannot actually drink a lot of coffee or any alcohol. But she has that super-sensitive nose that her pregnancy gave to her as a very helpful side effect hahaha.

I also want to thank Cris Mancilla (Mexican Latte Art Champion) and Ale Lugo (two-time Latte Art finalist and Brewers Cup Runner-Up) who helped me improve my pouring. And last but not least, Sam Ronzon, my friend and coffee producer who supported us a lot during the competition days, showing that the relation between baristas and producers is not just about coffee; it’s not meant to be just a business relation but a great friendship supporting each other, not just as professionals but as human beings in regular everyday circumstances… and also, Sam smuggled my ingredients across the border.

Thanks, Carlos!

Zac Cadwalader is the managing editor at Sprudge Media Network and a staff writer based in Dallas. Read more Zac Cadwalader on Sprudge.

Photos courtesy of Los Angeles Coffee Festival/Coffee Masters

The post 2019 Los Angeles Coffee Masters Champ Carlos De La Torre: The Sprudge Interview appeared first on Sprudge.

from Sprudge https://ift.tt/37otCyX

[skiasurveys]

SAD SECTION 01. Have you ever really cried your heart out? many times. 02. Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? yeah i have.  03. Have you ever cried on your friend’s shoulder? i have with one friend, and ive cried in my boyfriends arms. It’s a very weird feeling 04. Have you ever cried over the opposite sex? yes 05. Do you cry when you get an injury? no, unless its super painful hahaha but more like tears not crying 06. Do certain songs make you cry? some do , especially if they remind me of someone or a certain time 

HAPPY SECTION 01. Are you a happy person?  no. not really. I can be happy for a small amount, or if im doing somthing. im usually just low or neutral. 02. What can always make you happy? youtube videos, my friends/boyfriend, memes.  03. Do you wish you were happier? I do. I wish i didn’t get so fucking sad all the time. it happens, it makes me so mad because i want to be happy and it happens randomly so it’s fucking annoying 04. Is being happy overrated? no unless youre being happy all the time and at wrong times, then it’s weird? 05. Can music make you happy? yea

LOVE SECTION. 01. How many times have you had your heart broken?  many times. 02. Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d die for them? yeah, currently right now. 03. Anyone besides your friends/family ever said they loved you? yeah my boyfriend 04. Have you ever been head over heels? yeah, i am. 05. Who are three people you love right now? my boyfriend, my best friend and my cat

HATE SECTION. 01. Who do you actually hate? I hate the man who assualted me. And I hate my ex best friend. Fuck them. They can burn in fucking hell. 02. Have you ever made a hit list? no 03. Have you ever been on a hit list? I dont know lol 04. Are you a mean bully? no i don’t bully people, and if i have ever bullied someone then it was intended. 05. Do you hate George Bush? lol idk

SELF ESTEEM SECTION. 01. Are you good looking? Not overly. 02. Do you wish you could be someone else? no i just wish i looked different.

I HAVE … [x] done drugs [ ] been to a rave. [] ridden in a taxi. [ ] jumped a ramp with a bike. [x] been used. [ ] ran from the cops. [ x] been fired [ ] snuck into a movie. [ x] got hit by a car [x ] fired a real gun. [ ] snuck out of the house. [ ] been arrested. [] gone in a mosh pit. [] stolen something from your school. [ ] celebrated New Year’s in Times Square or Disney World [ ] gone on a blind date. [x ] had a crush on a teacher [ ] celebrated Mardi-Gras in New Orleans. [] been to Europe. [ ] been to Australia [ ] been to Hawaii [x] skipped school. [ x] thrown up from drinking. [ x] played ‘Clue’. [x] had a sleepover. [x] gone ice skating. [ ] been cheated on. [ ] had your tonsils out. [x ] have/had a TRUCK. [x ] driven a car. [ ] totaled a car. [ x] flashed someone [ x] been flashed

DO YOU … [x] feel loved. [ x] feel lonely. [] feel happy. [x ] hate yourself. [] have a dog. [x] sing along with your music. [ ] listen to Hawaiian Music. [x] listen to rock [x] listen to punk [ ] listen to hip hop [ ] listen to rap. [ ] listen to country. [x ] listen to reggae. [ x] listen to techno. [ ] listen to hardcore. [x] listen to pop. [ ] listen to r&b. [ ] listen to jazz. [x] listen to indie. [ x] listen to christian music [x] listen to bands that can’t be put into a category. [ ] listen to showtunes [x] have hobbies [ ] skateboard. [] get good grades [] play an instrument. [x ] have slippers. [ ] wear boxers [] wear eyeliner [x] wear mascara [x] like the color blue. [x] like the color pink. [ ] like the color red [x] like the color green [x] like the color black [x] like the color purple [ x] like neon colors [ ] think all those colors are okay except the ones you x-ed are better [] like to read [x] like to write. [ ] have long hair. [x] have medium length hair. [ ] have short hair. [x] have a laptop. [ ] have a pager. [x] have a cellphone

ARE YOU… [x] bored ] happy [ ] upset [x ] blonde [] brunette [ ] a redhead [ ] Samoan [ ] Philipino [ ] Korean [ ] French [ ] American [] Italian [ ] Black [ ] Mexican [ ] Asian [x ] A Christian [ ] A Muslim [ ] Polish [ ] Irish [ ] German [ ] Austrian [ ] Russian [ ] Norwegian [ ] Danish [ ] Hispanic [ x] Other [ ] No clue. [ ] a Hindu. [ ] a scientologist [ ] agnostic [] atheist [ ] satanist [ ] religiously confused [x] short [ ] average [ ] tall. [] realistic. [x ] an emotional person. [x] texting someone. [ x] scared to die. [ ] buzzed [ ] high [ ] caffeinated [ x] annoyed. [ ] hungry. [ ] thirsty. [ ] on the phone. [] in your room. [ ] drinking something. [ ] eating something. [x] very ticklish [] listening to music

LOOK AT ME. 01. What is your current hair color? blonde 02. Whats your natural color?  brown 03. What color are your eyes?  brown 04. Current Piercings? none  05. Straight Hair or Curls?  curls. straight hair looks ugly ( i mean extremely straight)

CURRENTLY WEARING. 01. What shirt are you wearing? its a grey band tshirt thingy 02. Shorts? no 03. Shoes? no

THIS OR THAT. 01. Rock or Rap 02. Coffee or Hot Cocoa 03. Wild Night Out or Romantic Night In 04. Chocolate or Vanilla 05. Hummer or Sports Car 06. Bracelet or Necklace 07. History or Science 08. Sleep In or Early To Rise 09. Beach or Boardwalk 10. Hoodie or T-Shirt 11. Night or Day 12. High School or College 13. California or Florida

HAVE YOU EVER. 01. Hugged someone? OF COURSE  02. Been on the phone until the sun came up? yeah, ive done it with skype a lot too, or when my boyfriend and I first started to date we would talk all night on the phone ( cus he worked night time so he was always up from 11 pm- 6 am) 03. Put a song on repeat for more than an hour?  i have and it ruins it  04. Laughed so hard you peed in your pants? YES. when i was like 16-17 my best friend and I walked to Mcdonalds and on the way back we kept laughing and i actually full on peeds myself, like empty bladder pee. lmao it was so awkward. and we had to walk home still

LASTS. 01. Person you talked to in person? my sister 02. Person you talked to online? sasha  03. Person you talked to on the phone? mom 05. Laugh? a few hours ago 06. Last time you had a shower? this morning 

OTHER. 01. Do you like surveys? im addicted to them 02. What kind of shampoo do you use? whatever is in the shower 03. Do you get along with your parents? for the most part. 04. Do you have mental breakdowns? Ive never had a mental break down, if were talking about an ACTUAL ONE. But i have had days where ive shut down and tried to kill myself.

05. Did you ever fake being sick? i did a lot in like middle school and sometimes in high school. I did once and got the swine flu when i was like 12. LOL karma

CURRENT. 01. Current Mood: lonely 02. Current Music: im listening to my video game music but thats it 03. Current Hair:  In  a pony tail  04. Current Longing: idk 05. Current Thing I Ought To Be Doing: right now, nothing

06. Current Windows Open: facebook and tumblr 

07. Current background picture on your phone: art 08. Current Favorite Music Artist: Pink floyd

[whinniedaily]

OOH LA LA’S ZARA MARTIN & WHINNIE WILLIAMS ON MUSIC, FASHION & SOCIAL CAUSES

Zara Martin and Whinnie Williams are the fashion It-girls and musical tastemakers that make up DJ duo, Ooh La La. In between playing for some of the biggest names in entertainment and music the ladies also find time to promote social causes and they still love a down and dirty basement party. Check out our interview below to get the inside scoop on the world of Ooh La La.

The Untitled Magazine: How did you meet and end up DJing together? Zara Martin: We met on a photoshoot and kept seeing each other around and were like ‘Let’s be friends.’ Whinnie Williams: The first time I saw Zara at the shoot I thought she looked really cool and like a proper boss. I knew we would be best mates.

UM: What made you decide on the name, Ooh La La? ZM: Tequila? I don’t remember how that happened but Whinnie went through a “French phase” and I didn’t put up a fight. WW: I went hard in French themed stuff for a bit, haha.

UM: You got your big break when you played at a P Diddy party. How did that all line up? ZM: It was thanks to our lovely DJ Booker, Justin, who organizes our life and we terrorize on a daily basis. WW: He loves to hate us

UM: Whinnie, you are a musician. How do you balance that with DJing?WW: It’s works out really nicely. I spend the day in the studio finishing my record and DJ at night. Z: I’m her groupie!

UM: You both are known for your style, how do you decide what to wear on gig nights? Do you coordinate? ZM: Sometimes! Other times it’s just too difficult so we give up. It’s mostly a lot of hair and heels. WW: If we get to borrow clothes from a brand we are DJing from you can always bet we pick the same thing and turn up matching.

UM: Any favorite designers or make-up? ZM: Fendi, Miu Miu, Gucci (low maintenance). For beauty products I wear Modern Muse Nuit fragrance, L’oreal ink eyeliner pen & Kerastase hair products. WW: Everything Zara just said lol. Zara’s make-up is the dream!

UM: What are your favorite current tracks to hype up a room? ZM: “Panda“ by Desiigner is still doing it and anything Kanye. WW: Kanye for sure.

UM: What about for a mellow vibe? WW: Lauryn Hill’s “Doo Wop (That Thing)” or my music, LOL. ZM: I’m really into Banks & Michael Kiwanuka at the moment.

UM: Best crowd that you’ve played to so far? ZM: I’m sure Whinnie will enjoy telling you about the time I was having so much fun playing in Azerbaijan I fell off the stage, so I will leave that to her…Generally, the grimier the party, the better because people are there to dance. At fashion events no one’s paying attention the the music. We played this party under a Mexican restaurant in east London and people were losing their shit. WW: Azerbaijan was a fave, Zara fell off backwards and some prince caught her. Also the time I tore up a bouquet and threw them at the crowd as we played – I had a few glasses of wine so it seemed really poetic at the time.

UM: Where do you like to go when you are in NYC? ZM: I love staying at the Bowery Hotel & il Buco for dinner. Also, anywhere that serves guac and Margaritazzzzzz! I love NYC because Hip Hop lives! I can’t handle going out and listening to EDM all night… WW: I like Nitehawk Cinema and there’s a cool jazz place next door. Coney Island is great for mega-size burgers and chips.

UM: What do you like to do when you aren’t playing? ZM: Eat. WW: Hahaha, yes, Zara! We like to do weird sleepovers in random places on work trips. We are savages with a room tab.

UM: Are there any social issues or causes or that you feel strongly about? ZM: I’m an ambassador for a charity called Women for Women International, an incredible organization that helps rebuild the lives of female survivors of war. WW: I work with a few animal charity’s and personally rescue animals….I have ten!  I promote a vegan and veggie life and ways to save our poor planet, watch Cowspiracy guys!

UM: What’s can we look forward to from Ooh La La in the next year? ZM: We’re coming for you NYC! WW: Hell yea!!!

Photographer: Erica Bergsmeds Stylist: Dee Moran Makeup: Sarah Jagger Hair: Steven Riashi Stylist assistant: Alicia Barnet

http://untitled-magazine.com

[johnnyfizz89]

Project Gooey Bear

Project Gooey Bear

By: Johnny

August 11, 2012 11:46PM First Edition Typed

Started writing again-1/21/2017 1:35pm

Hey this is Johnny Fizz.  I contacted you about the Gooey Bear Project 6 months ago and haven’t heard back from you guys.  Yes sir we did a background check and couldn’t find any information on any Johnny Fizz.  The CDC can’t be contacted by people that haven’t had a full background check and since Johnny Fizz doesn’t exist.  Ok so hold on, if I give you my true name you’ll contact me?  That is correct sir.  I won’t do it I’ll just come to you.  Ok sir, have a nice day.  Ok screw you and thanks for wasting my time.

         Yes can I speak with Sargent 32789045?  Can you please hold sir, yah I’ll hold? Hello who’s calling?  J, how’s it going man, long time no speak.  Johnny, what is it this time my friend?  Straight to the point, that’s why we’re still friends. So what’s up, what laws have you broken and need me to fix?  Oh it’s nothing like that.  Look your branch of the Military works with the CDC right?  Frequently, but I can’t tell even you what we’re working on my friend. No I was just wondering if you could perhaps set up a meeting for me with the head of the CDC.  What are you going to do interview them?  Can you do it for me or not, PLEASE?  Wow, please even, you must really want this.  I’ve never heard please come out of your mouth before.  Ok Johnny I’ll set it up for you but you’re going to owe me big.  How about tickets to the US Open, you like tennis right?  I do love tennis, you got yourself a deal. Thanks J I’ll talk with you later man.

         Knock Knock, doors open.  Johnny, where are you at?  I’m in the Kitchen.  Colt, what the hell are you doing here?  Um, have you had a bad day or something?  No I’m just a little surprised to see you here.  I always come here on Free Movie Fridays to pick you up.  Shit that’s tonight isn’t it?  Are you sure you’re alright?   Yah I’m fine just a little nervous about meeting with the head of the CDC.  You actually got ahold of the HOT and they actually want to see you?  You call the CDC the HOT?  Yeah it stands for head of the CDC.  Whatever I did have a little help from my Military friend, but yes I’m meeting with them sometime.  Well you can worry about that later because we got a free movie to get to my friend. You’re right let’s get out of here. Hold on I better lock the place up before we go.  Ok but hurry man we’re already late.

         Hey guy where you two headed?  Its Free Movie Fridays at the mall.  I thought you worked on Fridays Andrea.  I just got a call from my boss, I get a 3 day weekend starting today.  Listen guys do you mind if I tag along, I don’t have any plans for tonight.  You’ll have to ask Colt he’s driving.  What do you say Colt?  Hop in the back seat.  Cool, so do you guys know what we’re going to see?  Nope, we decide when we get there.  It makes it more fun.

         Really guys a zombie movie?  Oh come on what’s better than watching stupid people get eaten by zombies.  Well I'm not a fan of zombie movies that’s all.  Well than you sure picked the wrong guys to tag along with because we happen to love zombie movies.  Your right, so how long is it?  Let’s see, it says 130 minutes so just over 2 hours.  Oh I am so picking where we eat after this.  Fair enough just try not to scream throughout the whole move, we’d like to enjoy it.  You are an ass.  Hey I'm just trying to warn you.  Zombie movie fans can be dangerous when chickens come to watch their movies.  It ruins it for everybody else when they scream the whole time.  Just pick a seat and shut up, I promise I won’t scream.

         You know what guy’s I have to admit that was a pretty good movie.  Yah Milla never disappoints in a movie.  So where are we going for food, I'm starving.  I'm hungry too, we could go for Mexican.  How about the Food Court at the mall, that way we each can get exactly what we want.  Great idea, we’ll head there.  RING RING, RING RING, Johnny answer your phone.  No I don’t answer that thing at all when I'm driving.  You can go ahead and answer it for me.  Hello who’s calling?  This is Dr. Tom Frieden I'm the Director for the CDC.  Is there a Johnny Fizz there?  Oh he can’t talk right now he’s driving can I take a message.  Yes tell him that I want to speak with him as soon as he’s not busy.  We need to discuss his project and since you’re not him I can’t tell you anymore about it so I’ll say goodbye.  He has my number so please have him call me.

         Well by to you to.  Who was it Andrea?  Some jerk dude from the CDC asking for you about some project.  I was waiting for that call did he say anything else?  No he said since I wasn’t you that he couldn’t discuss anything more and hung up on me.  He said you have his number and to call him as soon as you can to talk about your project, that’s all he said.  I’ll have to call him back at the food court.  What in the hell kind of project could you and the CDC have going on? None of your business, I can’t go telling everybody in the world friends or not.  

         You guys go get your food and I’ll call the Jerk guy.  You want me to get you anything?  A Subway foot long, jalapenos, pickles, green and black olives, mustard, pepperoni, cheddar cheeses lettuce and no mayo, thanks Colt.  Yeah there’s no way I’ll remember all of that.

         Ring…Ring… hello.  Yes is this Dr. Tom Frieden at the CDC?  Yes who am I speaking to?  This is Johnny Fizz you called me about 20 minutes ago while I was driving.  Oh yes I'm glad you called back I need to talk with you.  Are you free now?  I'm free what do you need to talk to me about?  Can we meet now or would that be difficult?  No not all I'm at the Southern Hills Mall Food Court.  Good I'm driving through Iowa and I can be there in 10 minutes. I think you’re going to like what we have to talk about.  I’ll be right here waiting.

         So did you call the jerk at the CDC?  He’s not a jerk and yes I called him.  He’s on his way here right now to talk to me in person. You mean we have to wait here until he gets here.  Guys come on this is important to me, he said he’d be here in about 10 minutes.  Ok I can eat slowly, here’s your foot long dude. Wow, you did remember everything. How can you eat that combination? It’s like a pizza and nachos and pickle goodness.  MMM this is so good I love jalapenos and pepperoni on my sandwiches.  If only they could add French fries and chips on it. Yah I don’t think Subway would be down for that, its Subway eat fresh not Subway eat saturated fat. Oh hahaha I suppose I’ll have to open my own Subway and make it my way.  So it’ll be the Burger King of Subways?  Of course it will be.

         I think your CDC friend is here.  Where, I think behind you in a Lab Coat.  What, why is he wearing that in public?  You must be Johnny Fizz, a pleasure to finally meet you.  Who are your friends?  I'm Colt and this is Andrea.  Hi, you spoke on the phone with me not to long ago.  I remember, hope your all having a good night.  Can we get to the point you said you needed to talk to me about something.  Yes well I can’t discuss anything around them.  Well then excuse us, they’re both my friends and I’ll just tell them anyways about what we talk about so sit or leave.  Alright it’s your project after all.  I am pleased to tell you that you were absolutely correct about the gooey bear. It has officially survived the atmosphere of outer space and we will be sending a sample specifically with the gooey bear as the host and seeing if we can finally develop a strong enough cure for illnesses here on earth.  That’s great when do we start, when does it launch for space?  As soon as you give the ok, we are paying for it and I am in charge of the CDC but it’s still your project.  Well you have my full approval Dr.  Send it as soon as you want.  I’d like to be there to watch it being launched if you don’t mind.  That can be arranged, your friends can accompany you if they like.  Sweet, I'm down.  You know you’re not a jerk after all Dr. Tom Frieden.  Thanks Andrea, wait how did you know my full name?  I googled it on my phone before you came here.  Well I must leave you now I have an important meeting at headquarters to discuss a recent outbreak at Yosemite National park.  

         Well this has been a great night guys I thank you both for allowing me to come with you.  Good night Andrea, see you guys later.  Hey Johnny do you think she’d go out with me?  Dude your married already.  I mean if I wasn’t married do you think she’d date me?  I don’t see why not, try asking her that sometime.  Listen Colt I have a new project I'm working on and I was wondering if you could help me with it.  How can I help?  I need to run a test on myself but I need somebody to record the data while I'm doing the testing on myself.  I’m confused but I’ll help you man.  Good can you be here tomorrow at the crack of dawn.  You got it man noon tomorrow I’ll be here.  Ok noon tomorrow but just be sure you get here by then or we won’t have enough time to do the experiment.

         Ok so where do we begin.  First I need you to promise not to tell anyone about anything that we do.  I promise not to tell anybody what we are about to do.  Good now I'm going to take this Zinc Sulfide and I need you to write down every reaction I have to it ok.  What the heck is Zinc Sulfide and why are you injecting yourself with it? Its white pigment and it already exists in the human body anyways, I'm just injecting a little more is all.  Oh ok that sounds safe.  I hate needles and that stung a little, write that down. How should I title this stuff? Just Day 1- He has injected himself with Zinc Sulfide and it stung a little.

 Ok it’s been 6 hours how long is this going to take man?  I should be feeling something or seeing something by now. Wait I feel light headed and my throat feels sore.  Go lay down and I’ll write the symptoms down for you.  It’s been 6 hours since he injected himself with the Zinc Sulfide and finally he appears to be showing symptoms.  He has a sore throat, he’s light headed and he says his eyes are itchy and he has a runny nose.  Colt I have to tell you what else I injected myself with.  You remember the guy from the food court?  The CDC Doctor dude, sure what about him?  He handed me a sample of my project under the table before he left.  It’s called tardigrades, it’s a water bear practically microscopic.  So that’s why you called it project gooey bear, well are you going to die or something?  I don’t know, I'm the first human test subject.  I'm growing weaker by the minute but if I survive I’ll know the gooey bear is compatible with a human host.  If I die then the gooey bear could turn me into something bad.  Should you have done this in your home Johnny? Johnny you need to answer me you’re freaking me out. Whoa Johnny, you alright man?  He passes out and Colt runs over to Andreas.  He bangs on her door and she answers.  Colt, what the hell are you doing here and why are you banging on my door?  You need to come with me I think there’s something wrong with Johnny.

A few hours pass and Johnny starts to open his eyes. Andrea what are you doing here? Colt you were supposed to keep this a secret, I trusted you man.  Hey don’t blame me man you were about to die and shit and I freaked out I had to tell somebody.  So how do you feel now?  I have to go throw up.  Colt I don’t think you should have called me, he seems pretty pissed off.  Hey write this down, after symptoms started 6 hours in, subject passed out for, what time is it? Just after 9 p.m.  Subject passed out for 3 hours and upon waking up had to vomit.  Anything else?  No actually I feel really great.  Turn the lights on would you.  Yikes, look at your arm.  Give me the pen.  There is an increased white pigmentation at the injection site and no signs of itchiness or burning or any discomfort.

So what’s next Johnny?  Well now that I know it doesn’t kill humans I can do more tests to control the pigmentation.  Well as long as you’re done doing these tests on yourself I don’t see any reason why you can’t.  Listen guys I'm really glad I have you two as friends.  I need to ask you both a favor.  That all depends on what it involves I'm not going to be your guinea pig. No, I want you two to help me with another experiment called project bacon.  You want us to cook bacon?  No that’s the name of the experiment I want the three of us to work on together. Does it involve pork at all?  No Andrea it doesn’t involve pork, bacon is just an anagram.  For what exactly breakfast?  Ba is Barium, C is Carbon, O is Oxygen and N is Nitrogen on the periodic table of elements. When placed together they spell bacon but it’s nothing more than a happy mistake.

So what’s this bacon experiment all about and why do you need 3 people to do it?  This experiment is part of the Gooey Bear project I'm doing with the CDC only they don’t know about it.  What so you’re doing this behind the CDC’s back.  That’s right, which is why I need my 2 best friends to help me with it. Listen man I trust you so, I'm in. Thanks Colt, what about you Andrea? I suppose as long as no animals get hurt or me then, I’m in also.  Thanks guy. Ok I have almost everything we’re going to need for this experiment but 2 things are still needed.  I'm going to need an Oxygen tank and more Barium. Don’t mean to sound uneducated but what the heck is barium anyways?  It’s used for medical diagnostic testing.  English Johnny, it’s a type of dye used for medical things.  Things, now there’s dumbing it down for you.  Just worry about the Oxygen tank and Ill head to the Hospital for the Barium and we can meet back at my place this afternoon. Alright man sound good just don’t get arrested.  Please I get Barium from the Hospital all the time.  My mom used to work there and I became friends with all the doctors and nurses so I can get things most people cant.  

Hey Johnny how’s your day going?  It’s going great but I need some more Barium for an experiment I'm doing, do you think you could help me out?  I’ll need to call a doctor to help you I'm kind of busy at the moment my friend.  Please take your time I don’t want to rush you.

Daylight is gone.  There is only darkness now.  Soon it will consume all light on Earth.  Johnny wake up, hey wake up my friend.  Sorry guess I dozed off for a few minutes.  That’s quite alright just be careful where you fall asleep in here man, it is a Hospital.  Don’t want one of my nurses carrying you off to some operating room by mistake.  You must be the doctor my friend sent for. Yes she said you needed to get some barium.  Yes I need some for an experiment I’m doing and I was wondering if you could help me out. I'm not sure if I can give it to you without asking what the experiment is first, standard procedure of course. Oh yes of course I would ask for it without telling you what I'm using it for.  You see I'm working on a project for the CDC and I need Barium to test a microorganism sample they sent me.  Interesting, well as long as you know what you’re doing.  I'm going to need you to sign a release form so that if anything does go wrong or I find out you’re misusing it, proper action can be taken.  Thanks so much for this doctor, this is a big help. Don’t mention it just use it carefully my friend.  So did you get the barium?  I got it, drive to my house.

Colt what the hell took you so long to get here? It’s not my fault man there was some kind of solar thing.  It wiped out all electronics and vehicles and everything else for a while.  You didn’t notice anything at all?  No, guess I must have dozed off again and missed it.  What do you mean again you’ve dozed off already today?  Yah at the hospital but that’s only because hospitals are cold and cold make me sleepy. You know that about me.  No Johnny this is serious you need to log this dozing off stuff.  It could be a delayed side effect to your injection of Zinc Sulfide stuff.  Maybe your right but that was days ago.  Still I want you to record every time you doze off. Write down what time you think you dozed off and the time you wake up from it so we know if it’s getting better or worse.