#this would be too much with món though

[the-offside-rule]

Theo Pourchaire (ART GP) - Dancing Queen

Requested: yes

Prompt: Dancing Queen by Abba

Warnings: drunk???

Y/n found herself somewhere she didn't exactly expect herself to be on a Friday night, or any night. Sure, she planned it, but the idea of sneaking onto a yacht in the Monaco harbour to party was a plan nobody thought would have worked, but it was crazy enough for Y/n to at least try it. And so, she found herself knocking back shots surrounded by people she didn't know. She was asked over and over how she got in. She pretended she was friends with the owner and for some strange reason, they all believed her. Y/n decided, in her moment of drunk brilliance that she should go and dance.

"Qui es-tu ?" A voice asked her. She turned and saw a boy, around her age qith a glass in his hand looking at her very confused. "Well parlez vous you too." She replied, clinking glasses with him. "I don't speak French." She continued on. "Oh, right." The boy looked ever more confused now. "I just wanted to know if I know you?" He asked. "Well I don't think so." She said, pretty unphased. "Who brought you here?" He asked. "Well I was invited of course." He shook his head. "No you weren't."

"Yes I was! The person running the party asked me to come along. I'm just such good friends with-" she paused. "them." Nice save. "So you were invited by Theo Pourchaire?" He asked in disbelief. "Yes, I was invited by Theo." She grinned, thinking her lie worked. "That's simply not true." The boy replied. Y/n was offended. "As if you'd know." She muttered, sipping her drink again. "I do know. I know it for a fact." She nearly spat her drink out laughing. "And how exactly would you of all people know?" She set her glass to the side. "Because I'm Theo Pourchaire." Her face didn't change at all. She still remained cool and calm. "Well there's my best friend." His eyebrows knotted into confusion. "Don't you know? We're secretly best friends! It's so secret that even you don't know." Theo's serious expression softened into a much more light hearted one. "I suppose it was secretive. Now bestie-" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her to the bar. "How about we fill up your drink?" Y/n smiled and nodded. "Sounds pretty good."

For the first time the whole evening, Y/n was seen with her 'best friend' and some even believed it, because it seemed as though they were inseperable. As they danced, on one particular occasion, Theo was pulled aside by one of his friends, so he excused himself and spoke to them for a bit. Y/n decided to go to the bar and treat herself to another drink. As she waited for her drink to be made, a stranger came up to him, smiling. "Hi." She said. Y/n smiled back. "Hi." She replied. "You must be Theo's best friend?" Y/n nodded. "I am, yes." She grinned once again at the misconception. "I don't know if you know but it's quite obvious to me and pretty much everyone else that there is something else going on with you two." Something else? Those words haunted her. "What do you mean?" She asked. "Come now, don't tell.me you don't see it?" Y/n simply shook her head no. "Well, it's very clear to me that one of you likes the other. The only thing stopping you is-" She paused trying to think. "I'm not quite sure. What is making you not want to date him?"

"I barely know him!" Y/n exclaimed, making the stranger laugh. "Oh please. Once the fans figure out he has a girl best friend." Y/n's eyebrows twisted into those of confusion. "The fans?" She asked. "His fans? He's driving in Formula 2! Món dieu and you call yourself his best friend." She chuckled. It had only hit her now what this all meant. She not only gate crashed a rich party, but a rich racing driver's party, one of which probably has a lot of fans. "Oh god." She muttered, taking a sip of her drink that had just been placed on front of her. "Well, I'll let you enjoy your evening." The stranger bids her farewells and dissolves into the crowd. Mortified, Y/n downs the last of her drink and runs frantically about, searching for a way off the boat. What on earth had she gotten herself into? If people on the boat who all knew Theo thought they were in love, imagine what others that didn't know him would think. Those being his fans. Of course they would assume things and to be quite frankly, she wasn't exactly the most angelic person.

"I need to introduce you to my best friend. This is-" As Theo turned, he had just realised there was nobody beside him. "Where is she?" He asked. "You mean the girl that was behind you like ten minutes ago? She left. To the bar I think." Theo began frantically looking around for his best friend but she was nowhere to be found. Like Cinderella after midnight, she disappeared and it didn't matter how hard he looked for the Dancing Queen, he couldn't find her. He ran to the side of the boat and looked again. He saw nothing, while our Dancing Queen stood hidden around a corner and watched him, before turning and fleeing the scene.

[ashlingnarcos]

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scrumptious gif choices

WHAT A GOOD OPENING IMAGE. Really sets the tone, plus it's a hilarious image while being impressive at the same time…characterizes Mayo too…ooh skill baby!

"by mistake" ooh they fuckin "It never pays to fall for a family man, isn’t that what the girls say? " I WAS RIGHT

Or was he just at sea like always? love that

But Pancho was good people. He always liked Pancho. Shit, who didn’t like Pancho. a) aww b) clow— sniper takes me out

But he supposed that’s what happened when you let an overgrown manchild, dressed head-to-toe in Versace, stick his gold-dipped cuerno de chiva against the decorator’s temple and threaten to blow them away into semi-automatic oblivion, just for a discount on silk drapes from Rome or wherever-the-fuck. SCREAMING. God this is so colorful and fun and funny…and honestly thru Mayo's eyes it's like these guys are living in trump tower lmfao

It felt quite the honor just to see the man laugh. He got the feeling Mín didn’t laugh much. oh so you been rotisserie-rotissserieing these en. i see. I SEE. I SEE THE VISION.

"the image etch-A-sketched away" fucking love this metaphor

He used to think, what a strange little something you are, Benjamín Arellano Félix, the way one would think fondly of a pet they had growing up. He found himself wishing now that Mín felt just a pet to him. this is super Mayo, he always has this vaguely supercilious vibe which may also be part of his detchment…mm it's giving texture it's giving this mans fucking weird it's giving condescension in an in character type a way

In truth, he didn’t much like it either. But he hadn’t figured out if it was just because she was a woman or because of the kind of woman she was. He never had much patience for anyone with a chip on their shoulder. Inchresting…inchresting.

Though he’d certainly made an exception for Mín who’d carted around a chip so heavy, it was a wonder he never tipped over. LOL. That's the world of these guys tho

Even in his blackest moments, twisting his knife in someone’s gut or getting ready to light them on fire, he couldn’t much find a reason not to be at least cordial. This is so funny but also insanely effective at making him seem a bit Strange…and making the overall point that manners, or at least his idea of manners, really mean nothing and they're all part of weird custom/ego trip stuff. who cares about being cordial if ur killing a guy asdf;lkdsafds

Money in shrimping . SCREAMING I mean I totally believe he'd say it i just. Ooh money in shrimping is just such a funny phrase yk

Mayo looking after Món is such a thing to make Mín into him lbr

They never stood as close as they’d wanted to. They never talked for as long as they wanted to. It was for the best. we love sentence rhythm babey! something about it

KNUCKLE KISSES??????

oh shit fuck wife. you so right. Oh min baby don't do it. he's so hot tho. sobbing

yeah let's go with benjamayo hahahaha <3333 give us more benjamayo soon ??? or anytime at all df <33333

would you believe that i sniper takes me out anyways yeah! love benjamayo and the way you executed it. love how REAL Mayo seems, his lil quirks and the way he sees the world, darkness and strangeness and also just him being a lil guy i wanna put in a bug jar

| Tu cómplice |

⁂

Pairing: Ismael “El Mayo” Zambada x Benjamín Arellano Félix

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober Fanworks collection [October 1 - Day of Firsts]

Word count: ≈ 2.8K

TWs: Canon-consistent violence? Much angst but like in the supes casual way I imagine Mayo does..?

Just the two of them seated at the wrought iron table in the backyard, up till dawn, smoking and talking. It felt quite the honor just to see the man laugh. Ngl guys, this is Basically just Mayo internally but actively pining for Mín? for like kinda no reason?? while he’s negotiating with Dina because Mín’s gone into hiding after the assassination of Cardinal Juan Posadas Ocampo. Idk this is literally just 3k words of nonsense and insanity. It’s legitimately one of the most aimless and ooc things I’ve ever written sksks but hey!! it exists now..?

⁂

The ornate, gilded door knocker felt heavy between his fingertips as he rapped a few times and waited, stubbing out his cigarette in the open mouth of one of the lion statues placed on either side of the stairway. He chuckled to himself. If it wasn’t an ashtray before, it was one now. To him it looked like one anyway. The mansion’s pretentious decor always screamed “New Money” to him, no matter how hard the Arellanos tried to bury Sinaloa in their past.

By his count, Mayo had only ever been to Arellano house three times. Once by invitation, another by accident, and a third - the last - by mistake. A mistake he couldn’t muster the good sense to regret no matter how hard he tried.

It never pays to fall for a family man, isn’t that what the girls say? Certainly the ones he’d shared a few fleeting nights with between the sheets, a wad of folded bills on the nightstand, couple packs of cigarettes, and some pillow talk that always told some tale of woe about falling for a family man. But is that what happened? Had he fallen? Or was he just at sea like always? Either way, it made for no less than an interesting ride.

The relief-distorted disappointment when it was Pancho who answered the door should’ve told him something, even if he didn’t care to pay it much mind just now. A matter for tomorrow. Except that’s what he’d told himself the whole time. Shit, that’s how he got into this mess. Surely there’d come a point when tomorrow was today, no?

Pancho smiled, “Qué húbole, compa?” and pulled Mayo in, clapping his back twice in a way that was warm and sincere as much as it was overwhelming. But Pancho was good people. He always liked Pancho. Shit, who didn’t like Pancho.

“Nada mucho, nada más,” Mayo winked, tipping his hat as he crossed the threshold into the foyer of the Arellano mansion.

He smirked to himself at the same private joke he had every time he’d set foot in this house: the place’s grandiosity might be as intimidating as it was meant to be if it weren’t so fucking cartoonish. But he supposed that’s what happened when you let an overgrown manchild, dressed head-to-toe in Versace, stick his gold-dipped cuerno de chiva against the decorator’s temple and threaten to blow them away into semi-automatic oblivion, just for a discount on silk drapes from Rome or wherever-the-fuck.

Mayo's eyes stung a bit, hit with the phantom smell of the cigar smoke that came tumbling out of Benjamín’s mouth when he’d laughed himself nearly to tears telling Mayo that story. It'd been just the two of them seated at the wrought iron table in the backyard, up 'til dawn, smoking and talking. It felt quite the honor just to see the man laugh. He got the feeling Mín didn’t laugh much. That was the second time Mayo had been here.

He shook his head, the image etch-A-sketched away like nothing and followed Pancho through the foyer to the dining room and then the living room. Or rather, one of the living rooms. The house smelled so strongly of floral-scented candles and potpourri, he worried he might get a headache sitting in here for too long. They must’ve just had the place cleaned. It bothered him that he even noticed and it especially bothered him why. That it was because there was no hint of that familiar, faint musk that should’ve been there, expensive without trying too hard, that seemed to trail Mín along with a perpetual cloud of neurotic discontent, everywhere he went.

Even from the beginning Mayo liked that about him. The discontent he wore right on his sleeve. He’d noted it when they’d first met at some meat market in Mazátlan, right around the time he first linked up with the Sinaloa crew, just before they arrested Miguel and the whole Federation got dissolved. Just in Mín's discontent, his raw, kinetic ambition, Mayo saw something of himself, even if the two fo them strove for very different things. He used to think, what a strange little something you are, Benjamín Arellano Félix, the way one would think fondly of a pet they had growing up. He found himself wishing now that Mín felt just a pet to him.

But they belonged to each other in a new way now. Darker, tenuous, and confounding in just exactly how straightforward it was. No implications, no questions to be asked. It said nothing about either of them except that they belonged, if only for and evening. Or the amount of time it takes to smoke a full Montecristo and down a stiff drink of scotch.

He turned to the fish tank and stared at his warped reflection, saying to no one in particular, “Things are changing real fast, huh? The army in Tijuana fucking shit up. Coming after your family, no less. Now Benjamín’s gone. Fucking mess, huh?”

He felt it coming. This meeting. Depending on the outcome, it might signify a breaking point and he’d have to choose between what is and what should never be. The Arellanos got caught flying far too close to the sun and they knew it now. (And everyone wondered why he preferred boats.) It’s what set Mín on the lam, no telling how long he would be out there. Floating around wherever he was. Away.

Shaking his head, “Just hoping it all blows over and Benjamín can come back home,” Pancho spilled a glass of some brown liquor, as he set it down on the beverage cart in front of Mayo.

Amused, Mayo tried mopping it with only his fingers until he gave up, taking a sip. There was still plenty to drink, since Pancho had filled it nearly to the brim, almost as high as his own. Suddenly, it made sense why Pancho wasn’t in charge of the family business despite being the oldest. Hombre couldn’t bluff for shit.

Mayo took the seat by the beverage cart, as Pancho practically melted back onto the giant couch across from him. Doing his best to affect it, almost like an afterthought, Mayo leaned back in the chair and said, “Send him my best, yeah?” He took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pockets, giving them a little jiggle and raising his eyebrows.

Pancho got what he was asking but Dina startled him with an answer before Pancho got the chance. She spoke from behind them, standing at a large window, “Of course, please. Make yourself at home.” She waved her own lit cigarette as if to hammer the point home. “I do it in here all the time. Drives mamá mad. The smell gets in the drapes, she says.”

How long had she been standing there? Her beige suit blended so well with the drapes she spoke about with such indifference. Mayo half wondered if it was some kind of business tactic, camouflaging with the furniture. Better to hear all chisme whispered in these halls by house staff or other scheming subordinates a quien no le gustaba tener una jefa. In truth, he didn’t much like it either. But he hadn’t figured out if it was just because she was a woman or because of the kind of woman she was. He never had much patience for anyone with a chip on their shoulder.

Though he’d certainly made an exception for Mín who’d carted around a chip so heavy, it was a wonder he never tipped over. So, maybe it was the woman thing. Did it much matter? Not really cuando sabía que ella había planeado quitarle sus huevos. All these months later, and that cool twenty mil still burned a hole in their coffers and there was no making eyes at Dina to make it all go away, least of all when they were hurting for the cash. Not that he wouldn’t try. That is after all how he and Benjamín started off doing ... Well, whatever the fuck they did.

He thought of Dina’s wedding, how light and alive, self-assured Benjamín was. In his element. A new look he wore so well that, in Mayo’s estimation, he didn’t get to enjoy for long enough. Now look where they all were.

“So look, Pancho,” he brushed Dina off because if her goal was to blend in with it, well, he was happy to treat her like the furniture. “Amado’s expanded operations. Taken over the port in Peñasco, made it hard for my boats to unload. I was hoping to redirect them through San Ysidro, and not pass them through Tijuana.”

“That would put all your business in our plaza, wouldn’t it?”

The smirk of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar broke across Mayo's face and he dragged on his cigarette, nodding in the affirmative.

“And yet, you refuse to join our organization?”

He offered the answer that seemed to satisfy anyone who challenged his go-it-alone approach. It satisfied Mín well enough when he'd approached Mayo at the wedding. “Es qué, a mí me gusta ser mi propio patrón.”

Nothing less than the truth. In an industry of professional con artists, backstabbers, hustlers, and murderers, maybe like her brother, she’d appreciate it.

“Yes, so you’ve said.” She didn’t.

And she still hadn’t turned around to face them. For people so concerned with blending into high society, the Arellanos weren’t the most well-mannered. Mayo’s working-class manner of dress might, to the untrained eye, indicate that manners weren’t something he cared about. But he did. Even in his blackest moments, twisting his knife in someone’s gut or getting ready to light them on fire, he couldn’t much find a reason not to be at least cordial.

Fighting for a lifeline, he glanced at Pancho who almost looked like he was trying to become one with the couch, drink limp in his hand, as he stared at the All-Knowing Queen in white.

She finally turned to grace them with her full attention, gliding over and resting her hands on the back of the empty couch next to him. “You owe us twenty million dollars. What’s your plan to repay us?”

Back in the days when Miguel held court and favored the Sinaloa faction at the expense of his own family, dicking the Arellanos around as though the petulant kids he’d watched grow up would remain petulant kids forever, Mayo remembered thinking that Mín’s attempts at diplomacy weren’t well-earned by their uncle. And he’d told Mín as much. Even Dina agreed at the time.

But all these years later, with Dina the sharp tip of the lethal spear that was now the Arellano Félix Organization, Mayo wondered if they couldn’t do with some of Benjamín’s trademark diplomacy. Mín liked people. He knew how to talk to them. Dina was trickier to deal with. Though savvy like her brother, she was nothing but prickly, sharp edges. Good for dealing what needed to be dealt to their enemies. Not much for making friends.

Mayo tried his hand at diplomacy, “Money in shrimping, eh … moves slower than I’d like,” but ire crept in anyway when the absence of his— his— of Benjamín was screaming at him. “Benjamín understands that. I pay as it comes.”

Understands, yes. Present tense. He was gone, not dead and even with Dina in charge, he still must’ve been keeping tabs from somewhere. She couldn’t have the final word here. Not really.

Unwilling to follow his lead in diplomacy, she shot back. “How much have you got?”

“Here with me?” Now he was annoyed.

And that was met with a haughty huff from her, along with a scorn-filled smirk, so acrid and bitter he nearly tasted it in the air between them. She had him where she wanted him and it twisted his gut, knowing where this was about to go.

“You aren’t moving anything through this plaza until the tax is paid.”

It was over already and he knew it. That didn’t stop him from trying one final time, “Qué dice, Pancho? Esa es la última palabra de la familia?” like it might speak Benjamín into their living room.

Of course, when it didn’t work, the thought of Mín, knowing what he’d have to resort to next, only served to make his stomach churn more. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. What’s that thing they say about purple elephants? Because before the first don’t, the image of Benjamín’s gentle brown eyes in the moonlit backyard, full of that kinetic ambition, not for success but for something else —belonging— flooded Mayo. The third time he’d been here.

᪣

It had only been a few months since the wedding. A celebration at Roxanne’s gone awry and he’d had to bring Ramón home before he tore the club apart, going after Chapo for some snide comment about what they all knew happened to Rayo. The bad blood between the Arellanos and the Sinaloa crew was so long standing without erupting into an all-out war, it seemed to make sense at the time to at least attempt to avoid tipping it over the edge. In hindsight, the whole shitshow was gripped with such inevitability, it seemed more like going against the will of the gods, now that he thought about it. But you only know what you know when you know it. So, he done the sensible thing, intervened before things got ugly, agreeing against his better judgment to remove Ramón from the equation, by driving the rowdy motherfucker home while he sat in the passenger's seat of his pickup, three sheets to the wind, sprawled out, passed out, and snoring. Despite the fact he’d had no love para el pinshe huevón, there was love in his heart somewhere. And so it was easy to say, “yes” after shucking Ramón off his shoulder onto one of their house staff's, when Mín offered him a cigar and a drink. An opportunity for another of their little chats that they’d come to enjoy whenever they crossed paths. Though Mayo had noticed, in the distinct lack of one, every one of those times happened to be under the unconscious supervision of a crowd. So that when Benjamín complimented him on his business savvy, and said things like, “Fuck, man. You’re better than that,” the grin that spread across his face never got as wide as it wanted to be. They never stood as close as they’d wanted to. They never talked for as long as they wanted to. It was for the best. Because without the safety net of nosy onlookers, talking about life, growing up in Sinaloa, the incessant hustle, the never ending grind to the top, commiserating over the absurdity of this business they’d both come up in, ambition, what all of it even meant? Could they do something else? Should they do something else? Was it really worth it?— they both folded like a pair of cheap suits. And so he didn’t remove it, when Mín’s hand found itself on top of his. The contrast of how smooth, almost manicured it was compared his own, weather-worn, brought to light disparities that extended far beyond the physical and yet didn’t make a bit of difference. The words tumbled from Mín’s lips suddenly. “You know ... I do love my wife.” And that trademark cloud of anxiety that made him think too much came swept over them with a fury. Not long for this world, Mayo waved it away. “I know you do.” “You do?” It was almost funny. Despite the evident affinity they shared in these little chats, Mín’s shock reminded him just how little they really knew each other. How much of a gamble he’d just taken. “You know that I know that this,” Mayo lifted their hands, fingers interlaced together, and placed his lips against one of Mín’s knuckles, “and that,” then bobbed his head toward the house, “can be different but true, at the same time.”

᪣

He sighed and swallowed the memory hard.

“‘Ta bueno, ‘ta bueno,” nodding vigorously because he saw the whole fucking thing coming before he’d set foot in the house. Standing up and putting his hat back on, he muttered cooly, “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time.”

Striding toward the fish tank, he thought of Mín again and turned back around. He met Dina’s eyes in a challenge, you did this but simply tipped his hat, “Patrona,” a gesture of faux respect she was undoubtedly smart enough and petty enough to see for what it was.

On his way out of the house, he was already hard at work, scouring his brain. What was the last number that he had for Amado? Fuck, that shit was months ago. He'd probably have a new one. Oh, well. It'd be worth it. Or ... would it? Well frankly, if he was really honest with himself, he'd probably stopped giving a shit the second the words, "make yourself at home" came out of her mouth.

Stepping out into the midday sun at the top of the steps leading down to the driveway, he caught the carcass of his cigarette laying in the lion's mouth out of the corner of his eye.

Dina would regret this and probably never even know why.

But Benjamín would.

En ese mundo de complicidades y traiciones, un día tu mejor enemigo es tu cómplice y al otro se convierte en tu peor enemigo.

═

taglist: @narcosfandomdiscord @ashlingnarcos @narcolini @drabbles-mc

[ducavalentinos]

Rafa x Sofía | Narcos México: 1x04: Rafa, Rafa, Rafa!

@curaheed imagine all this, but with our Móncito sorry not sorry 💕

[thesolotomyhan]

There's a lot we could talk about with Món: from his speedo, to his ass (or lack of lolol) to how he would propose, but i'll go right into the serious important question here reina: do you think he could be committed, faithful to a woman 100%? like Mín is with Ruth, as far a we know? bc i have to say s3!Món did established he's a party boy, he likes having fun, likes going out with his friends to the clubs, where obviously he attracts the attention of viejas who dgaf if he's married or not, so would he have the strength to say: thanks, but no thanks i'm married? I can see it going both ways: him cheating, not seeing the big deal about it and just asking you to forgive him later, OR him following Min's path once he found the one. I love mi ninõ hermoso with all my heart, pero I have doubts if he could do faithful...perhaps once he's older, what do you think? PS: This though was prompted by me reading the wedding hc, which btw made me feel SO MUCH AND CRY !!!! ( hermoso cariño oh my goddd !!!!!!!🥰🥰😭😭) it was perfect! BUT it got me thinking about this like: ok what happens after the marriage? would he let go of his partying ways? would be faithful to his princesa? Or would he act a bit like Pablo you know? su esposa claramente es el amor de su vida y su prioridad SIEMPRE, but he also compartmentalizes some of his feelings and needs with a different woman. SO SORRY! this got long and deep.....no pressure for you to answer it! it's just a thought I had and needed to share with you! I'll shut up now dssjdjsds ;)

ayy dios- wow ok bestie sooo,,, my ass wants to lean into him following benjamins example once he for sure knows he found his amor de la vida ya know like to the point where he finds no other comparable and he becomes infatuated,, and i mean looking at benjamin and francisco who are both married but still go out to have a guys night i feel as though ramon would start to become more like them,,, like by s3 hes starting to become more mature so if were talking about that then yeah haha,, but also i can see where your getting your doubts from because yeah hes joven and just feels like one not being the type to be held down but honestly i do feel like when hes finally found the one hes going to be out here acting a bit more mature when you’re not around and following mins example :(

awwww 🥺 thank you for that comment haha that wedding hc had me llorando media noche for him :((( i couldnt handle it :( im happy you enjoyed it haha and again UGH YOUR QUESTIONS LOL como me pones a pensar,,, so maybe ,, maybe not if you get where im coming from but he would love to go partying with you tho if you wanted to but he might occasionally go partying just maybe not so much and if he becomes infatuated with you :( there is no one like you for him to be looking at someone else :( ayy no because i feel like it runs in the family that no one would be disrespecting your name much less putting their hands on you in front of him ,, so i feel like he wouldnt lean into being like pinche pablo you feel? ok ok im done rambling too haha

[ielts1984]

IELTS 1984 - vocab

Phở (English below) -> Một bài về món Phở với rất nhiều vocab cho mọi người, mình viết cả tiếng Việt (với phụ đề tiếng Anh) và 1 full version tiếng Anh bên dưới cho mọi người dễ theo dõi nhé. Phở có lẽ là món nổi tiếng nhất trong ẩm thực Việt Nam (Vietnamese cuisine), và cái mùi thơm đặc trưng của nó đã theo bước chân của người Việt đi đến nhiều ngóc ngách trên thế giới (reach every corner of the world). Phở được yêu mến đến nỗi bạn có thể tìm thấy quán phở (a Pho establishment) cách vài bước chân ở thành phố, từ xe vỉa hè (a humble food stall) đến nhà hàng sang chảnh (a bourgeois sit-down restaurant) với máy lạnh để giúp khách ăn (patron) thoải mái ăn Phở trong thời tiết nóng ở VN. Thứ mình yêu nhất ở phở là nước dùng (broth), nấu từ hầm (braise) thịt nạm bò với lửa nhỏ (low heat) trong nhiều giờ, cùng với nhiều loại thảo mộc (herb) được nướng trước để tăng hương vị (enhance the flavour). Nước dùng đúng chuẩn phải trong vắt, có vị và hương bò, và một lớp mỡ mỏng bên trên (a thin film of fat). Cũng như tiếng Việt có rất nhiều giọng địa phương (dialect), mỗi vùng lại có cách riêng để nấu phở. Ở miền Nam, phở được ăn kèm với tương đen và tương đỏ (chilli and hoisin sauce), thứ không có ở miền Bắc (not present), nơi tỏi ngâm chua (pickled garlic) được ưa thích hơn. Một điều khác nữa là cách ăn kèm với rau, ở miền Nam phở được ăn với nhiều loại rau sống (an assortment of fresh herbs) như quế, ngò gai, trong khi ở miền Bắc rau được thái (chopped) và đặt lên trên, để trang trí (garnishing) và cân bằng vị béo (rich flavour) của nước dùng. Dù phở là món nổi tiếng nhất của cả nền ẩm thực (the nation's food culture), mình phải thừa nhận là không nên ăn phở hàng ngày. Phở có nhiều natri (từ muối và bột ngọt (MSG) trong nước dùng), có quá nhiều thịt đỏ (packed with red meat), và gần như không có chất xơ (fiber). Tốt nhất là không nên xem phở là một thức ăn cơ bản (a staple food), mà nên xem là một món quà đặc biệt (a special treat) và ăn 1-2 lần/tuần là tốt nhất. ===== Pho is likely the most well-known dish in Vietnamese cuisine, and its signature aroma has followed the footsteps of Vietnamese migrants far beyond their homeland, reaching every far-flung corner of the world. It is so beloved a soup, that you may find a Pho establishment every few steps in nearly every major city in Vietnam - from a humble street food stall, to a bourgeois sit-down restaurant, noticeably never lacking an air conditioner to help patrons survive enjoying this typically hot dish in the oppressive Vietnamese heat. What I love the most about Pho is the broth, which is made by braising beef brisket over low heat for hours, coupled with a variety of herbs like cinnamon, star anise, and onion, all of which are pre-grilled to enhance the flavour. A quality, authentic Pho broth must be transparent, packed with beefy flavour and fragrance, and have a thin film of fat on top. However, I am not really a fan of the pho noodle itself, as it seems a bit too soft to me. I personally prefer the harder texture of the noodle in Bun Bo, a classic, spicy Vietnamese soup. Just as all the dialects of Vietnamese are incredibly diverse from one another, every region in this country also has their own way to prepare each dish. In the South, Pho is typically served with chilli and hoisin sauce, while that practice is not present in the the North, where picked garlic is preferred instead. Another difference is how herbs are served; in the South we often eat Pho with an assortment of fresh herbs, like Thai basil or sawleaf, in contrast to the North, where herbs are chopped and put on top, both as garnishing and to balance for rich flavour of the broth. Even though Pho is a traditional delicacy and the most renowned dish of the whole nation’s food culture, we must regretfully admit that it is not advisable to have it every day. It is often high in sodium (from salt and MSG in the broth), packed with potentially too much red meat, and there is virtually no fiber at all, except from the greens. When watching one's diet, it would be best considered not as a staple food, but as a special treat to be enjoyed once or twice a week at most, to ensure no guilt or negative consequences arise from such a lovely meal. ----- Written by IELTS 1984's academic team --

[hausofmamadas]

DESMADRE PERSONIFIED | Our one and only pinche menso, pistolero loco, lovable psycho, and personal Jesus, Ramón Arellano Félix

♫ To the tune of Depeche Mode’s Personal Jesus bc duh ♫

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Hear ye, hear ye - gather round and bear witness to this demon that I have finally exorcised from my mind, body, and soul. All i have to say is f u c k Adobe Premiere Rush for making me start almost from scratch … not once … no, not twice … but THREE GOTDAMN MF TIMES ughsksmwmduej pinche mas allá de la chingada mierda, por dios

To be honest, if I never hear this song again, I probably won’t be upset not me telling a guaranteed lie, this is a lie and furthermore, if I never see another clip of Manuel Mansalva’s stupidly handsome face again, that would probbb be fine too djdjsjsjsjs not me lying thru my teeth like beyond full blown felony fraudulence, but you take my point mmkay. I even had another long, blathering essay that I was going to assault the interwebs with, like I did with my Benjamin video. It was going to be all about how great the show was at dropping little context clues or hints, as a device for character development in a show that was very much not a character study, which resulted in some surprisingly rich, dynamic side characters like our sweet Tasmanian devil Ramoncito, along with a selection of choice THoT Thurst Thoughts for all my Món sisterwives of the OG Narcos/Nmx Thot congregation. But I’m tired, cranky, and hangry, so I’ll do us all a kindness by making this brief.

But seriously, this concept has been living in my mind, rent-free for months since the first time I saw that legendary scene at Christine’s in S3 a scene which I still maintain is one of the most masterful uses of a song in a tv show in the history of television, whatever fight me that sparked yet another Depeche Mode music kick in a series of about 8 or 9 total Depeche Mode kicks I’ve had in my life, thus far.

Sidebar/update no one asked for: as always, I stan for my main Mr. Mín but making this vid did reignite mi pasión, mi corazón for all things Ramón-related, so might be into a Mon phase over here shhhh don’t tell anyone. And even though tumblr has giffed the shit out of every possible scene he was in, I’m prob gonna gif the shit out of him too anyway, so do prepare. But have no fear fellow Min stans I know all -12 of you were clutching your pearls aghast that you may be deprived of all of my Min/Min-adjacent/Alfonso content sksksksk I have some exciting Carlos Calles Aqui en La Tierra gifs that are guaranteed to make Tumblr and perhaps the internet collectively bust a nut so

Enjoyᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

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taglist: @tinylittleobsessions @cositapreciosa @cherixrosa @criatividad-e @ashlingnarcos @purplesong1028 @kesskirata @southotheborder @mandaloria314 @narcos-narcosmx @curaheed @gangstababydoli @artemiseamoon @carlislecullenisadilf @mmasalva @mmasalvafics @thesolotomyhan @fleurfatale89

[ducavalentinos]

but why all these doubts with móncito? the last season show too he is a loyal guy with who he loves so why wouldn’t he be with the love of his wife you know

DJDJSJDSJDS I hear you anon, you’re right. I was just thinking aloud with that ask, but that's what I do often, I tend to think and question things, sometimes way too much (pls feel free to ignore it lol), I'm super stunned it sparkled this deep conversation over fidelity and Móncito (this nickname is so cute too ayy <3) Okay, I will put my thoughts underneath here and basically my thought process as to why I was being doubtful:

Overall, I just think men, on average, tend to instinctively compartmentalize more, which it’s not a bad thing in itself imo, and their approach and relationship with s*x and women is obviously different, in particular ways, than our own is. I think it’s more complex, paradoxical and to use a spanish word here: a desmadre haha, (and it can’t be all attributed to s*xism, as much as some school of thoughts insist on it). It’s interesting and it’s something I’m only beginning to understand, I was completely lost when I was younger, but now I’m like: OOohh I see, I think I get it. For example, since I was talking about Pablo in that ask, I now understand his need for the relationship he has with Valeria on the show, which during my first watch I was like: que cabrón!, even though I also understand why it hurt Tata, why it hurts women and I don’t think any woman has to accept that, but it is a fact that many men will be pulled into that behavior, esp. when they are young (as Món is), or if they themselves don’t understand the factors that drives them towards that, or maybe if they are simply uncaring about their loved one. With Móncito, I can see this happening, hence my doubts, not because he would be uncaring towards his princesa and her feelings, quite the opposite I think, I think cheating would bring him a lot of self-loathing actually :(( but just because of what I mentioned above, however, it’s def. something I can also see him outgrowing as he gets older. We don’t know how Mín or Francisco were in their 20′s do we? perhaps they were like Món is in S3, if less chaotic lol, and then once they found their true love, once they became fathers, they changed their acts, as far as we know. I also think fatherhood would deeply change Ramón, and of course maybe there would be some slips up, and it would also depend on the woman he’s with and her personality, her boundaries and all that, but ultimately I think he has potential for faithfulness now that I really thought about it. Again I was thinking aloud when I wrote that ask and trying to get a better picture of him and what married life would be like with him on this aspect. So yeah, that’s it honestly, next topic: let’s talk about which shampoo and hair conditioner that man uses, because that is something I need to know asap! 😂😂😂