it just don't feel the same.

[excutes]

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔. 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎.

original muses affiliated with @ridefm.

jamie "coop" kuiper, 42, emt, civilian. (michiel huisman).

léon "lee" sepúlveda, 39, saa for the reapers. (clayton cardenas).

isaías "cazador/caz" lázaro, 44, enforcer for the diablos. (santiago cabrera).

𝐈'𝐌 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄.

[excutes]

( SANTIAGO CABRERA. FORTY FOUR. CIS MAN. HE/HIS. ) in texas, ISAÍAS LÁZARO is known to most as CAZADOR/CAZ. they have been riding with the diablos for THIRTY YEARS. they’re originally from SAN JOSE and the ENFORCER is known to be very ABRUPT & STRICT but the other club members will tell you they are OUTSPOKEN & RESPECTFUL. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they’re usually at HOTEL CÁRDENAS, working as a BLACKJACK DEALER. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do DON'T LET ME BE MISUNDERSTOOD by SANTA ESMERALDA is usually heard blasting. ( tattoos covering fingers a neck & any spare bit of flesh visible to the eye, a raspy smoker's laugh echoing down dark alleyways, being smart enough to count cards for the house but smart enough to hide it. )

— quick stats. —

birth name: unknown. alias: isaías lázaro, among others. nickname(s): caz, cazador. title(s): enforcer for the diablos. age / d.o.b.: 44, may 08. gender, pronouns & sexuality: cis man, he/his, heteromantic/sexual. hometown: san jose, california. current residence: straton, texas. occupation: blackjack dealer (hotel cárdenas) (current). enforcer for the diablos (current). unknown other (current). education: unknown. relationship status: unknown. children: none? positive traits: capable, efficient, humorous, intuitive, objective, outspoken, respectful, secure, tolerant, witty. negative traits: abrupt, aloof, boyish, crafty, dogmatic, impersonal, meddlesome, opportunistic, private, strict.

— quick bio. —

i. not much is known about caz before his life with the club - the fourteen short years he lived it before the diablos. from san jose initially (supposedly) he drifted into straton one day and began hanging around hell's gate looking for under the table work. he served as a bus boy for some time, dodging legal responsibilities, and caught a mentor when he hit eighteen. he patched at twenty and did odd jobs for his brothers whenever requested.

ii. his record was markless, and he worked fairly. at 22 he requested to go nomad for a period of time, citing personal issues, and for thirteen years he wandered around in that status ---working whatever odd jobs he had lined up. he never speaks about it, keeps his business to himself, and when he returned at 35 it was with a sum of money he cut into the club upon swearing back into their chapter.

iii. always a little too smart for what little people know of him, caz took a job as a blackjack dealer at hotel cárdenas, mostly legitimately. he counts cards every so often, taking a little extra from the tables and using his work to quietly wash money. some of it comes from the card counting, some of it comes from ... who knows where? or where he even got the money in the first place? and when he came back it was with more tattoos than he left with, until there was barely a patch of skin on him that wasn't covered - save for his face. even his fingers are marked ... what they mean, if anything, is another mystery about him.

iv. it's something of a game among his fellow patches to guess where he's been, what he's done, where he comes from. nobody really ever calls him by his "name" - just caz, and he only ever answers with a chuckle or a grin. a few years after he returned he gained the position of enforcer - because apparently he'd come home with a little aggression that needed working out - and he upholds that pretty well.

v. he still takes off from time to time, but never far. he's at every temple meeting when requested, every run when needed - but something is up. the only answers he gives are his throaty chuckles behind a haze of cigarette smoke. one thing is certain - his loyalty is diehard for the diablos, if not a little for himself, too.

[ladyhawke]

Santiago Cabrera as Amat in TIERRA DE MUJERES Season 1

[vivienvalentino]

MICHIEL HUISMAN 2.22, 2017

[drogons]

Favorite Platonic Relationship + Sons of Anarchy | requested by @annalisekeetings ➥ Jax and Opie

I love you, Ope. You’re my best friend.

[angels-reyes]

Clayton Cardenas as Angel Reyes in Mayans MC, Lahun Chan

[scelene]

the explosion in her chest seemed to move outward only to come back like a rubber band and swoop her head into the clouds when she saw him fully now. he was in one piece. she didn't have to fear that anymore to the same familiar extent and yet she did worry. her eyes always seemed to scan him expectantly, hesitantly. he was physically fine by all means of the word. selene breathed better now. her chest ached less. it followed by a feeling hopefulness. hopeful of what? god, she didn't know completely.

she wouldn't get THAT call.

the dread ate at her in waves once upon a time. it wasn't something she'd ever mention to him. not out of fear but rather some small part of her knowing that it was what he needed. the bitterness came when she thought, ❝why not need me?❞ in the same way.

for someone with twenty-twenty vision, she sure as shit was blind.

her lips pull into a warmer smile that seemed to reach her eyes with full weight. he was, without a doubt, handsome. a uniform always looked good on him. now she had two chances to see him in action. it was an interesting feeling to say the least.

❝good!❞ she exclaimed with excitement, moving closer to him to close the little gap between them but waited for him to finish up what he was doing in the ambulance. when it came to firehouse and the rig, she would always wait patiently for him to finish if she caught him at a (somewhat) bad time. while here, work came first. she respected that. in fact, she loved that. she loved watching the way he moved with intoxicating confidence of a man who does a job well done. even when a call cut their dinner short, she'd wait for him and if by some chance it was a long call, she'd put the dinner in the fridge for him.

there were plenty of conversations in doing so, sure. less these days though. almost like someone told them to back off and leave her alone... and for someone who chased the faintest hint of a story, she was clueless there.

her smile only grew as she held one bag higher. ❝pad thai from houston if you want to play it safe and a very special plate of curry i made myself if you're feeling adventurous.❞ oh, if only he didn't have her eyesight as well. he'd see she was just as lovestruck. ❝plus, we should talk about new york while i'm remembering it.❞

[excutes]

Missed opportunities.

Everything with Selene had been near-misses. He'd admitted to himself that he had feelings beyond friendship some time on tour. It was only solidified when she'd appeared for work and the flutters he felt were for more than comfortable familiarity. She was, in some fashion, safety for him. The reminder of home - that there was a world outside of the atrocities war wrought. He'd realized she was the bright thought that took him away from the carnage and settled his mind. He could be back in their sleepy New England town doing nothing at all with her and the world would be full of that golden hour glow that seemed to make her more radiant.

Yeah, that wasn't normal best friend feeling. It was more, and he privately acknowledged that when she was gone. When he'd seen her again after he was discharged - duty complete. (Admittedly he was still active duty, but on reserve. He could be tugged back in at any time, he knew.) Moments like these, where she strolled into the firehouse with a confidence only Selene could possess, made him feel like he was levitating. This was a woman he knew inside and out, and somehow it was always a near-miss.

He was seeing someone (always superficial.) She was seeing someone. He was deployed. She was traveling for work. He loved how busy she was, how ambitious and cunning. She was a knife, sharp and smooth, with a beautiful handle. He liked that. He more than liked it. But fuck, that was a terrifying word.

"Oh, I'm feeling adventurous."

He relieved her hands of both bags, dangled them off of his forearm, and nodded toward the innards of the firehouse. He had a little place he liked to go to get away from his crew members - somewhere he'd taken her many times before. The roof. There was an entrance toward the back of the garage and he made for the doorway there. Like a gentleman he held the door for her, then followed up the stairs.

"While you're remembering it, like you don't have a better memory than most people I've ever met."

Playful. When they made it to the top of the stairs he nabbed that door, too and once they'd reached the roof he jimmied the door so it wouldn't lock behind them. It was obvious the space was used by more than himself - a little patio table adorned the roof with more than a few chairs littered here and there. They bore evidence of wear from weather and use, and Coop set the bags down in the center before beginning to unpack them.

"My shift is lasting through the parties, but you'll have to tell me if you dig up any interesting happenings throughout. I imagine you'll be bumming around once you leave here?"

He didn't really want her to leave. But it simply wasn't feasible for her to stay. At least he could enjoy their dinner, milk as much of that time as he could.

[sthrngtham]

“  .  .  .  bad  for  you  .  ”  isa  chimed  along  with  him  .  coop  might’ve  been  a  private  person  ,  but  private  people  could  still  be  predictable  .  especially  when  they  checked  on  your  mother  regularly  and  shared  dinners  together  whenever  your  schedules  allowed  .  what  initially  started  out  as  something  apart  of  his  job  description  ,  gradually  turned  into  something  resembling  a  bond  .  isa  refused  to  acknowledge  it  as  such  .  recognizing  coop  as  someone  who  became  an  emotional  tie  in  her  life  meant  confronting  that  he  was  now  some  she  was  tethered  to  and  could  be  separated  from  ;  if  he  one  day  decided  to  just  up  and  be  gone  ,  she’d  feel  his  absence  .  and  how  fucking  depressing  that  was  to  think  about  .  “  you  know  what’s  actually  bad  ?  the  felonies  and  capital  murder  charges  i’d  be  slapped  with  if  i  had  to  deal  with  straton  cesspool  without  my  dear  penjy  .  ” initially  ,  she  rolled  her  eyes  at  his  words  .  annoyed  because  she  felt  like  he  was  still  poking  fun  at  her  tragedy  ,  but  his  suggestion  did  accidentally  strike  up  a  certain  realization  .  “  my  hair  !  ”  her  hair  shot  up  to  the  pun  sitting  on  the  top  of  her  head  where  she’d  used  the  device  to  keep  her  hair  out  of  her  face  .  pulling  it  from  the  bun  meant  her  hair  came  pooling  over  her  shoulders  ,  fringe  finding  itself  back  in  front  of  her  face  ,  but  at  least  her  pen  was  back  in  her  hand  and  moved  back  into  her  mouth  .  she  nodded  along  to  his  words  as  she  took  a  deep  inhale  from  the  wax  pen  .  “  drink  run  .  ”  her  voice  was  strained  as  she  exhaled  the  vapor  smoke  from  her  lungs  ;  the  quick  fix  already  doing  its  job  to  relax  her  shoulders  .  “  which  reminds  me  ,  do  you  know  what  the  fuck  a  throat  coat  is  ?  sounds  like  something  you  would  drink  or  i  don’t  know  recommend  to  patients  ?  ”

[excutes]

She was a little shit.

Coop didn't care for most people. Generally that was thought to be a symptom of something - if someone is such a douchebag, an asshole by nature, there's a reason for it. Maybe a bad childhood, maybe something happened to them during their formative years, or maybe it was a response to something. No, he was just like that. Prickly at best, rough around the edges. When it counted though, he was loyal as could be. Thick skin had earned him a certain place in the world that he didn't take for granted, and while he wasn't the easiest to get close to once that was achieved it was a pretty locked status.

He liked Isa. Her mother was a good woman, troubled with health issues that were difficult to manage on the best of days. He understood that. Isa did her best by that - to provide for, to ensure that mom didn't go without. While his opinion on the clubs were neutral (whatever floats your boat, right?) he could understand the alignment with one to secure work, money, medical care for a loved one. Who was he to judge?

The best part was that she gave it back. If he prickled she bristled and they both laughed it off. Like the kid sister he never had - but Coop would never say that aloud.

"I'd bail you out. Put my house up as leverage, but you'd have to show up to your court date or I'd hunt your little ass down myself."

With his haul tucked into the crook of his arm he stood beside her - two very different heights and builds, and watched her tug the vape from her hair. Brows lifted in a mix between a told you so and seriously? expression and when she mentioned which drink she was looking for ...

He choked. He inhaled at the wrong time - maybe when he was swallowing, and he actually choked on his own spit. Coop covered his mouth with his free hand, hid the massive grin from her, and laughed into his palm once he could properly breathe.

"A throat ---- oh no, no honey. No, that's cum."

And he let it sink in for a moment. Maybe not long enough.

"Throat co---I would not recommend that medically. Perhaps recreationally. Only if that's what you're into."

Bikers were funny.

[famxshedsaints]

at first, for a slight moment, she worries she found the wrong person to help with this. the way the zipper slides down a smidge, it mirrors the way her stomach drops, but she doesn’t say anything, almost like she knows she can’t. because she does know that. she’s always known that, hasn’t she? her opinion comes second to others, her pain, her unease, but luckily this time she doesn’t have to dwell in it. she exhales a small breath when the garment zips all the way up, when she feels snug inside the sequined corset. hand smooths down the front, admiring how much better she looks now in the hundreds of mirrored reflections around her. hazel eyes lift to find his, impish grin on her face.  “you might be an angel for this.” she says it with a straight face, like he isn’t standing there looking like an actual angel of death. most of the club members in the town carry that same hollowed out, dangerous look, so maybe that’s why she felt safe enough to invite him in her with her in a state of such undress. turning, she faces him full on, arms out. “you can’t tell what i am?” brow furrows slightly, a tease, though she does feel like it’s obvious. reaching to the side, she grabs a matching top hat that has a sparkly black bow attacked, holding in on her head, then raising it like she’s already dancing. “come on! didn’t you watch alice in wonderland?” her eyes widen. “i’m going to be the mad hatter.” eyes roll. “well, the naked version, anyway. i can’t believe that didn’t read.” 

[excutes]

An angel. He actually snorted at the notion as he stepped back to fill the doorway more - to create a space between them to ensure he wasn't encroaching. Shoulder leaned into the door frame and for a moment he looked her over - at her behest, and tried to coerce his mind to what she was supposed to be.

Ah ... there.

"Prolly not the best gauge for that. Dear old gramps didn't really encourage the watching of Disney movies growing up. All I know is I can't breath for you in that thing."

With his head he gestured to the corset. He understood the appeal - hell, he was one of the men that liked a woman in something so shapely, tight, accentuating - but seeing one put to work like that. Zipped up, confining - it gave the same sort of feeling that he'd had moments ago with desperation to escape from the club. Instead of showing his he swallowed and chuckled roughly.

"Naked is a reach. You're still wearin' something. Regardless of what I know about cartoons, you look good. You'll kill em."

Now he felt like he was lingering too long. Time felt funny that way with alcohol dictating its flow. He straightened and backed up a bit more, opening the doorway for her to come and go as she pleased without his body blocking it.

"When are you due on? Don't want your boss to chew you for missing your mark."

Or him for being on her property.

[scturnz]

location  :  deseo  time  :  9:45  pm status  :  open  to  all  !

“  do  i  have  ‘  gullible  idiot  ’  printed  on  my  forehead  ?  please  get  the  fuck  out  of  my  face  .  “  already  filled  with  tension  as  the  club  filled  up  ,  kendra  had  stepped  over  to  the  hostess  stand  where  a  young  man  had  tried  to  fake  a  reservation  for  a  vip  booth  on  his  phone  .  biker  associated  or  not  ,  deseo  had  become  one  of  the  best  clubs  in  texas  ,  due  in  part  to  the  hard  work  she  had  put  in  .  tonight  ,  the  place  was  packed  and  she  was  not  going  to  let  some  fresh  out  of  college  little  moron  scam  his  way  into  a  vip  booth  and  rob  them  of  $150  .  as  a  bouncer  carted  the  boy  away  ,  kendra  sighed  ,  looking  down  at  her  phone  that  hadn't  stopped  pinging  all  night  .  ”  there  is  no  way  we  are  out  of  coronas  ,  we  are  in  texas  for  fuck's  sake  !  "

[excutes]

He was never really the kind to be nervous in big crowds. No, Lee thrived in the center of them where he could either draw from all of the attention or sink into total anonymity. There was something very enticing about the duality of that ---but that was always Lee. He liked to live straddling the defined lines of one versus the other, of a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde sort of dynamic. It was how he felt with Kendra shouting at the young and dumb kid like his grandfather used to shout at him.

Part of him liked hearing that fire in her. Part of him remembered when it had been directed at him. (Our last fight.)

His lips cracked a wicked grin as the bouncer dragged the kid away - and for as much as it could in a tightly packed club (her successes were pleasant, he was happy for her) the space between them cleared. There was no escaping that moment ... face to face with one another.

Of course, Lee had come here of his own accord. Slightly tipsy from pre-gaming at The Forge and deciding that fuck it - Deseo was in his town just as much as anyone' elses, he could go where he damn well pleased ... with his own actions meeting their consequences. Like that kid getting tossed out. Full circle.

All he could do was grin. Like a fool. Maybe puff himself up to be more confident that he certainly felt because while being the SAA of the Reapers carried a lot of weight on it's own (where his own reputation for being a shit-kicker, a yes man didn't already carry, of course) she had a way of making him feel like he was a child. Terrifying. Thrilling.

"You wear responsibility well, querida. Look good like this."

He nodded at her, crossed his arms over the broad width of his chest, and allowed the veneer of confidence to exude off of him. Or liquor. One of the two. (It took a lot to get him drunk, he was a tank of a man, but he'd really downed just that much.)

"All boss bitch and all."

[famxshedsaints]

OPEN STARTER

➼ where: deseo ➼ when: during both parties

bass thrums through the floorboards and up through her bare feet. she feels it in her molars, in her rib cage, in the hollow between her collarbones. the mirrors that line the walls multiply her into infinity, a hundred callas, a thousand, each with the same dark brown hair cascading over bare shoulders, each with the same chocolate eyes rimmed in soot, staring back with an intensity that doesn't quite match the smile she practices. ten months at deseo, and still the mirrors unnerve her. too many reflections. too many versions of herself. she lays out her costume pieces with methodical precision on the small vanity. her fingers hover over each item. the precision soothes her. in the religious household where she grew up, chaos was a sin. order was godliness. control was love. here in this den of supposed sin, she finds herself clinging to those same rituals, though the purpose has changed. now, precision is armor.

she slides the corset around her torso, feeling the cool satin against her skin. the structure of it calms her racing thoughts. she reaches behind to fasten it, muscle memory guiding her fingers to the zipper pull. it moves up an inch, two, then catches. she tries again. the zipper doesn't budge.a small breath escapes her lips, not quite a sigh. she twists her body, trying to see the problem in the mirror. the zipper appears to be caught on a thread, the corset hanging half on her body, neither on nor off, a state of limbo that feels suddenly significant. her fingers fumble with the zipper again, more forcefully this time to no avail.

in the mirror, her eyes widen. she sees herself— not the dancer she's become, but the girl she once was, standing in a darkened room in her parents' house, the door locked from the outside. a punishment for a transgression so minor she can't even recall it now. what she remembers is the tightness in her chest, the sense of walls closing in, of time stretching endlessly before her. she blinks, and the memory dissolves, leaving only her reflection— half-dressed, half-undone. 

“fuck,” she breathes the word, standing before she can fully release the idea, grabbing the silk robe over the back of her chair and moving out of the dressing room into the corridor. as busy as the night is, it doesn’t take long for her to spot someone. someone who likely isn’t here to help her, but desperate times. 

“psst,” she calls. then, “psst.” even louder the second time, enough to make them look. when they do? slender hand rises to crook a finger at them, beckoning the unsuspecting soul inside with her. and when they do, off comes the silk robe. calla turns, hair tossed over her shoulder to show the snagged zipper. 

“help a desperate girl out?” 

[excutes]

He was a goddamn idiot.

They didn't call it liquid courage for nothing, though.

Lee had a habit of being a little raucous. It was what earned him his title within the Reapers, what made him stand out among the patches for more than the legacy he carried. Back home, or rather now at The Forge, Santiago Sepúlveda was proud that his only grandson had carried on the legacy - surpassed it. Santi himself had never gotten titled beyond patch, never had anything extra adorning his kutte. And yet Lee had been ballsy enough, maybe dumb enough, to do really anything the Reapers had asked. Clawed his way up. Here he was, third biggest title in the MC and acting like a fucking fool.

Kendra had made it clear in no uncertain terms that their relationship had come to a full stop. But of course she had to go and revamp Deseo, make it the kind of place Lee would like to visit in his spare time but! But he respected the distance they both needed, even years after their divorce had been finalized. Of course he knew she was in town. He'd known the moment she reappeared, as if he could sense it. Spider-man felt danger, Lee felt his stomach drop. It was a one for one match.

And here he was, stepping foot in the very place he'd avoided for years. And how was that fair? That Kendra could take the things so many of his brothers and sisters found enticing and dangle it in front of him like a cat toy. Fucker.

He was nosy by nature. Tipsy and slipping into the staff only section of the venue was easier than it should have been (Kendra needed better security) and he was feeling, admittedly, a little claustrophobic. Now don't get him wrong! Tight spaces didn't bother him! But the need for a cigarette (or forty) clawed at the back of his neck and the way the world swam slightly, the bass compounding that even if it was muffled - he was headed for the back door to book it the fuck out of dodge before he was seen by the worst person to see him.

Then he heard it. Not once, but twice. And out of his reverie he yanked, plummeted back down to earth where he realized in sudden sobriety (however momentary) that he was not somewhere he should have ever been. Lee cleared his throat, screwed up his brows, and analyzed the moment.

Oh? Color him curious. He followed into just the doorway of the dressing room and watch the dancer turn, drop her robe enough to indicate the problem, and he felt himself chuckle at the back of his throat.

Easy enough.

"I always wondered how people zipped themselves into this shit. Guess I know, now."

Thick fingers grabbed the zipper track at the middle and pinched. His other hand grabbed the actual zip itself and - with surprising gentleness - he worked it free from the fabric. No tear, no snag. At first he zipped down just the slightest to make sure the track was truly free before it went up ---sealing her into whatever character she was becoming.

"All good."

[scelene]

at the fire station with coop. @excutes

she'd only been in town a few weeks and yet it seemed far too easy to fall into a routine. the small town be damned for the little girl in her who hadn't even wanted to go back to the small town she hailed from in new england. if there had been an incentive, maybe... but the incentive these days? far more better than just family dinners every sunday with brothers who couldn't see her as anything but the little sister-brother they raised her to be. she was a grown up now. she felt too old to be shoving someone into a puddle or having her hair get messed up from a noogie. at least here, it was interesting.

at least here, coop was on the same continent and mostly safe. her worries had lessened but never waivered.

so there she was, falling into the routine of walking up the belt with two bags in hand. there was a party somewhere, one she'd most likely be joining at some point, but her real focus was the man she had been in love with for, oh, more than twenty years? and yet she had, had weeks to tell him that and hope to god he might feel the same. she hadn't taken the threat in new york seriously. selene truly thought she could handle it. her fear button was broken and yet when her eyes met his, her breath caught in her throat. it was fear she felt. it masked the explosion of love she felt deep in her chest. ❝are you free? i thought we could try something different tonight.❞ she asked as she neared him. finding her footing was hard.

[excutes]

The fire station was a routine that Coop had fallen into pretty easily. Stratford and Newton weren't the biggest by means of towns - definitely bigger than sleepy home - but they were busy enough. The military had taught him rigid time management and while he was free from the clutches of touring foreign countries with men he was closer to than he would like to admit (seeing the inside of someone was pretty intimate, in the grand scale of things) some habits were hard to shake. A day off for Coop was planned out ahead of time because the truth of it was he just couldn't sit still. The same went for here.

Around him the fire fighters jabbed at each other while they did their tasks. Every so often the jests and poking would bleed into the EMT team and he was just prickly enough to serve as a special kind of fun for their prodding. It didn't bother him, but people back home - here, the States - had thinner skin than he was used to. And mentally he was gearing up for a long night. Already a can into his energy drink stash (the other had his name written on it in thick sharpie, stowed in the communal fridge and if anyone touched it he would stitch their head to the lounge carpet) and while he wasn't sure if they did anything the psychology of it helped.

When Selene popped up he was sorting through rig inventory: making sure everything was replenished, in its right place, ready to go. The one person in the world who could break his resting bitch face. It was hard to keep the smirk from his eyes - the way it turned the corners of his lips up and nudged his dimples to show, even through his stubble ... the way it lit his eyes.

The boys in the station house knew better than to fuck with her. Once? Perhaps one tried to catcall and Coop nearly twisted his head off. Off limits. His not-girlfriend, they called her. He ignored it, mostly. But now?

"Yeah, yeah I'm free."

He pushed the tackle box lid shut and offered her a raised index finger - one moment - while he put it back on the rig. When he hopped down from the back he smoothed his palms over the front of his uniform, the stitched in KUIPER, then pushed back stray strands of long hair.

"Something different, huh? Color me intrigued."

Stupid smirk. He looked like a lovestruck idiot.

"Whisk me away."

[sthrngtham]

✧  𓂅  open  starter  ,  straton  gas  &  convenience  !

the  reapers  had  to  be  fucking  with  her  .  as  grateful  as  isa  was  to  earn  her  prospect  spot  ,  sometimes  their  requests  felt  like  hazing  .  as  she  stood  in  front  of  the  humming  fridges  of  the  straton  gas  station  on  a  reaper  requested  drink  run  ,  she  was  sure  someone  was  fucking  with  her  .  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  throatcoat  .  being  sent  on  any  errand  was  stressful  enough  when  it  came  from  a  reaper  .  isa  was  a  recovering  overachiever  .  the  thought  of  getting  something  wrong  made  her  start  fidgeting  .  “  they  have  to  be  fucking  with  me  .  ”  she  reiterated  out  loud  ,  her  hands  searching  her  pockets  for  her  beloved  penjamin  when  tragedy  struck  :  penjamin  was  missing  .  “  fuck  !  ”  she  exclaimed  ,  she  wasn't  an  addict  .  she  could  stop  at  any  time  .  frantically  ,  she  patted  her  jacket  and  jeans  for  any  sign  of  it  ,  opened  and  closed  the  refrigerator  ,  and  even  made  a  loop  around  the  aisles  only  to  end  up  back  where  she  started  ,  only  now  there  was  a  frame  where  she  once  stood  .  “  have  you  seen  penjamin  ⸺   a  pen  ,  a  vape  pen  .  it's  purple  and  black  ,  has  a  little  spider  web  sticker  on  it  ?  i  swear  i  had  it  when  it  came  in  and  now  i  can't  find  it  anywhere  .  ”  she  took  a  step  toward  them  holding  her  jacket  pocket  out  .  “  can  you  stick  your  hand  in  there  and  see  if  it's  there  .  maybe  i'm  just  missing  it  .  ”  again  .  she's  not  an  addict  ,  she  can  stop  at  any  time  .  this  was  completely  normal  behavior  .

[excutes]

He had but precious little time before his shift started in earnest. (It was an hour, he was being dramatic. It always felt like it went by in the blink of an eye.) On his way into the convenience store he straightened his uniform belt and swiped a hand over the somewhat crinkled pant leg because he was too used to uniforms being just that ---uniform. He'd ironed it, but even sitting was enough to make the cheaper (in his opinion) fabric fold in on itself. Typical. First stop would be to load up on energy drinks - his lifeblood for a shift - then to pay for gas and maybe scroll on his phone for a while before he headed to the station. Tonight would be fun … the yearly get-together almost always was.

"Smoking's bad for you."

He chided, but it wasn't serious. For as long as he'd known Isa (which both felt longer and shorter than it was) she had a vape in hand or close by. It didn't mean he wouldn't give her shit for it, though. That was just who he was. Without a second thought he reached forward to fish long fingers in the pocket of her jacket, then pulled back empty and with a tut on his tongue.

"No dice. Check your back pocket? Behind your ear?"

Into the freezer he went - plucking two special flavor energy drinks from their spot and tucking them into the crook of his arm. When the door sealed with a soft thud he turned his full attention back to his friend.

"Shouldn't you be at the party? Or do they have you playing courier?"

[dcmsonidris]

ANGEL & EZEKIEL 'EZ' REYES Mayans M.C. — 5x10

[visitmonstralis-deactivated2025]

@excutes

[vivienvalentino]

MICHIEL HUISMAN talks ‘The Age of Adaline,’ 2015

[angels-reyes]

Clayton Cardenas as Angel Reyes in Mayans MC, Lahun Chan

[luthienne]

Mahmoud Darwish, from Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (tr. Ibrahim Muhawi)