#Murmuris

[summermemory]

                                             Whisper of the heart

                                                   (耳をすませば)

In recovering from our creative blocks, It is necessary to go gently and slowly...These are baby steps. Progress, not perfection, is what we should be asking of ourselves.

-Julia Cameron

[fearsmagazine]

Björk shares a new video directed by herself, Viðar Logi, M/M (Paris) And Futuredeluxe for her track “fossora.” She gets into the mycelial universe with this title track is taken from her Grammy-nominated album fossora—named as one of The New York Times’ and Pitchfork’s Albums of the Year—listen here.

A word created by Björk and named after the feminine version of the Latin word for “digger,” “fossora” is a reflection on roots, grounding, love and family in the context of an underground mushroom world.

The video is an extension of the world she molded for the album and sees her perform alongside clarinet sextet Murmuri, and Kasimyn of Gabbar Modus Operandi against an unfolding backdrop of glistening spores that multiply, grow and pulsate as the track’s intensity reaches its peak.

Björk is a multidisciplinary artist who, time and again, innovates across music, art, fashion and technology. From writing, arranging and producing an expansive music catalogue to her collaborations with scientists, app developers, writers, inventors, musicians and instrument makers, Björk continues to inspire and experiment, redefining the boundaries of what it means to be a musician. fossora is available to stream and buy now www.bjork.com

Directors:  Björk, Viðar Logi, M/M (Paris) And Futuredeluxe Original Digital Fungi Typography: M/M (Paris) Cg Design, Animation & Production: Futuredeluxe Post Production: Okaystudio Shoot Producer: Sara Nassim Dop: Shadi Chaaban Editor: Frédéric Thoraval Musicians: Aditya Surya Raruna "Kas", Baldvin Ingvar Tryggvason, Grímur Helgason, Hilma Kristín Sveinsdóttir, Helga Björg Arnardóttir, Kristín Þóra Pétursdóttir, Rúnar Óskarsson, Matthías Birgir Nardeau Björk Dress: Richard Malone Neckpiece: James Merry Jewelry: Panconesi Boots: Burberry Kas Outfit: Ican Harem Band Outfits: Harri, Richard Malone, Rafaela Pestritu, Maison Margiela Stylist: Edda Guðmundsdóttir Hairpieces: Tomikono Wig Make Up Björk: Hungry Make Up Band and Kas: Sunna Björk Erlingsdóttir

Björk www.bjork.com www.twitter.com/bjork www.facebook.com/bjork www.instagram.com/bjork www.bjorktour.com

[luboy7rt]

What Animal Los Vaqueros (+ Valeria)   Would Randomly Bring Home To You (GN - Headcanons)

(Note: This is just what I (My headcanons), enjoy reading!)(Could be seen as Platonic, Romantic?) (GN Reader) (Alejandro, Rodolfo and Valeria)

Alejandro Vargas 

- Where did Alejandro find a literal donkey? Neither of you knew, even Alejandro himself didn't know as he walks through the front door, his arms crossed as he watched the donkey peek her head into the kitchen window, pushing her face up against it to see in.

- When Alejandro spots you, his eyes open a bit wide as he bit his inner cheek, before scrambling to make an excuse. He came up with nothing and just admitted he found her while on a mission, and she was hungry and wouldn't stop chewing on Alejandro's shirt.

- Alejandro would chuckle and ask you for some help, cutting up some apples, carrots and bananas for the donkey who tried to get through the front door. Alejandro quickly ran off to ensure she didn't do that.. moving the donkey to the backyard instead.

- He's actually pretty decent at taking care of the donkey, and teased you, asking if you want to feed or ride her. He's joking, please don't ride the donkey, if you do..  He's standing right next to you, prepared to catch you or calm the donkey down so both you and the donkey will be safe.

- Alejandro's willing to find a new farm or home for the donkey if you don't like her, he would indeed tease You about it though, you don't like that cutie of a donkey? Cue the donkey trying to get through the front door, or looking through the kitchen at 3AM, when you go down for a glass of water, you just see eyes peering at you through the window, like hey... whatcha doing here?

- If you do let the donkey stay, cool. New pet, when Alejandro's home, he does care for her, feeds her every morning, brushes her, ensures she's cared for.

- (Alejandro basically just stole a donkey from someone) he shrugs and says he Just found her wandering far from any cities, and she was now his as he didn't find any owners around back then, he definitely wasn't finding one now.

- You will hear the donkey squeal or grunt throughout the night, or early in the morning, It is annoying at first, and you may never get used to It. Alejandro would get agitated after a few mornings of being back from missions and waking up to the donkey making weird noises outside because she got used to being fed whenever she was loud enough so now it became a habit.

- Alejandro would eventually get a small stall built for the donkey, makes it comfortable but also cute looking from the outside. (Also puts extra food to just attempt for the donkey to quiet down the neighbors have complained. You might be too, Alejandro is definitely grumbley about her being so loud, but puts up with it.

- Also ensures there is plenty of room for the donkey to do what she pleases.

- Alejandro once loudly screeched in the middle of the night, you scrambled out of bed when you heard it. Finding the man murmuring in Spanish, throwing insults and curses at the donkey who had her snout pressed against the window, the moon reflecting her eyes to make it ‘scary’ looking if you weren't paying attention.

If you laugh at him he would give you an unhappy half-glare, gently pushed your laughing face away from him as he shook his head, having had thought you put the donkey away in her pen earlier as it was 2AM.

If you attempt to ‘comfort’ him, he's looking away with a tiny blush on his face while laughing, pulling you close while shaking his head, he would put his hand to the window, and knock to get the donkey to go back to her stall that she somehow escaped.

If you just stayed in bed, he's thankful, at least you didn't hear that. But also, why aren't you getting up when you hear that he screeched, he doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing, a tiny bit offended.

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra:

- Rudy was picking you up in his car, a little squirmy as you got in the passenger seat, a little blanket on his lap, murmuring quietly to himself, a little distracted.

- If you ask what was ‘wrong’ Rudy would smile awkwardly and pull the blanket back a little bit, showing the little rabbit with one ear on his lap, the rabbit fast asleep. 

- He would indeed let you hold the rabbit on your lap instead as he drives, he calls the rabbit ‘Stompy’ as the rabbit stomps around to move. He would smile at you, watching you in the passage seat at a stop sign, he would move to pat your head.. then Stompy's head then going back to driving.

- What You didn't know.. there was two more at home, waiting for you. Three baby rabbits, Stompy (who just got home from the vet due to their ear), Chirps, and Flumpy, all siblings. Rudy would give a awkward and sheepish smile while rubbing your shoulder, like a ‘Please, don't be upset with this choice I made’ look on his face.

- If you do like the rabbits, great, Rudy is happy with keeping them, he takes all responsibility when he isn't working. He smiles warmly everytime he sees them, gets a little silently giddy about the fact he was the one to save these rabbits.

- If you don't like the rabbits, he will sigh quiet, but will figure out where to rehome these rabbits, will be upset for a little while, but wouldn't take it out on you. He would still smile sadly at you, but try his best to be supportive. If you have an allergy, he feels less bad about it, and willingly brought them to a new home.

- Rudy would always place the rabbits on you, gently nudging one of rabbits snout against your cheek or your jaw with a smile, would either make a little ‘bonk’ or ‘mwah’ noise when he does.. then places a kiss on your head.

- Rudy does Make little cages for them, ones capable of being a ‘safe place’ for the rabbits, a soft little home for them in his house for then to sleep. Usually lets them ‘free’ around the house, you both could hear Stompy stomp about, always makes sure to keep an eye on the three rabbits.

- His eyes would soften every time he spots you cuddling, holding, or playing with one of the rabbits, his whole body and face relaxing as he never informs you that he is watching from the doorway, just watching quietly with a soft smile on his face.

- You would catch Rudy cutting up carrots to feed them as snacks throughout the day, quietly murmuring praise to the rabbits who followed him around, he would spot you and chuckle, looking a tad bit red as he would smile but quiet down when he was ‘caught’.

Valeria Garza:

- Valeria walks into the house confidently, smiling proudly as she holds a baby fox in her hands. Tilting her head and raising an eyebrow at you, like A silent ask I'd you were bold enough to question what she had done and where she had gotten a baby fox.

- If you don't she keeps smiling, scratching behind the baby fox’s ears, allowing you to pet him as well, but if you do ask to do so, she grabs your hand to pet the fox for you.

- Valeria illegally bought this fox, (the people who sold him have been.. dealt with as well) a beautiful little baby fox with a few small white spots on his orange fur. She held him like he was a new trophy she would bring home to you.

- If you don't like the fox, she will make a face.. Fine, perhaps she could keep the fox at her base instead of home, she will make a proper area for him, that you wouldn't be around.

- If you do like the fox, Valeria looks quite smug, humming in answer as she allows the fox to roam in the home, giving him his own little room. She would ensure his comfort, safety and also give him the best treatment no other animal would ever get.

- You often find Valeria talking on the phone with this little fox on her lap, she could go from harshly ordering people around to talking calmly as if not to scare the fox. The fox gets used to It, your hand could pet his head whilst Valeria's distracted, she would allow you to do what you please as long as you don't bring the fox outside the gated backyard.

-  Valeria treats this fox like her baby, like something that is now apart of her vast collection of things she adores.

- Valeria would randomly bring the baby fox to you, placing him on your lap and telling you to go feed him or go play with him because she's busy and unable or (she just doesn't want to) do it herself. She’d make it up to you later, perhaps a favor.. you want to be done?

- If you are holding or cuddling with the little fox, Valeria would randomly walk past, booping his nose, waiting for a moment, before doing the same to you and then going back to doing what she was doing. No questions asked, none will be answered.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

So like i was just zoning out when suddenly my brain had a thought about That post you had about nonhuman au Leona headcanons and how he'd sit there waiting for you to hop on him cause he's used to the more aggressive and forward Savannah women. I just imagine him laying there peeved that you're not reenacting a bodice ripping scene with him and he's just like

">:[ my shirts unbuttoned and my ankles are out why are you not ripping my clothes off???"

Idk, my brain was half zoned out and it produced this thought and the idea of Leona, known local ass and machomacho sarcasm man utilizing the same mindset as a bodiceripper protag or victorian novelist, sent me into a fit of murmury cackling (i was trying not to do my usual gunshot level throw my head back cackle in the middle of nowhere so it got reduced to murmury chuckling)

That's pretty damn funny.

Like, he's actually kind of offended. 🤣 His meaty man tits are out and his ready to be ridden like the beast he is, why aren't you doing anything?

Oh gosh, him walking around shirtless, and when you look at him, he braces himself, expecting you to jump him like a freaky little sex monkey but you just blush and look away.

[ebenelephant]

i know we all like to have a little haha at gambit's expense, but i really do appreciate how thoroughly cajun he was allowed to be accent-wise. dialects and even foreign accents are watered down in hollywood for the sake of being understandable to US audiences – à la foreign characters speaking english to each other so they don't need subtitles – but remy gets to really lean into it! some of those quick, murmury sections that you and wade didn't understand? he's speaking fucking french! that's great! and yes, wade is making semi-meta jokes at his expense, but a baby step is a step tbh

[olddustorange]

I don’t have that much to say about it and ik its a touchstone in how-dick-is-different-from-Bruce discourse and Ego is a very good Batman text with genuinely pretty much no flaws at all but basically most other bruce stories about the psychological separation bw BRUCE and BATMAN as identities and how they’re not integrated or whatever come off really heavyhanded tryhard like ap psych sincere but lecturey &untrue. Its interesting but its shoehorned i think Yes there are the three visible identities, the fanon term for the first being brucie, the second something we can call for now real Bruce, and the third Batman. Bruce def does not have That much much cognitive dissonance about his dumb playboy act. he acts smoothly/painlessly by and it doesn’t really affect him or drain him to pretend that way and it probably is sometimes amusing even if its sometimes annoying. Switching that on and off is obviously deliberate but it’s very easy and not a big deal or burdensome or whatever. It would be for a normal person in our world and that kind of effortless lying would be really scary in our world!! But it’s just a regular degular chill thing in-universe for this character. Not a really draining arduous task that makes Bruce miserable

But there IS a theme well-established and reiterated constantly in 90s and 2010s canon that there’s the whole Bruce Wayne Isn’t Real There Is No Bruce Wayne It’s All Batman. And that is of course wrong because there IS a real Bruce Wayne, but its also actually correct because the man we’re talking about, Bruce Wayne, is still actually all Batman. and that is because because all of Bruce Wayne and all of Batman are the same. So the only point of saying the real Bruce is to distinguish from brucie. i actually feel like bruce is day-to-day pretty well-integrated. so its true that it IS all Batman but its just that Batman is a sincere clever quiet and humane murmury man the way “real Bruce” (who we can just call Bruce now) is. And Bruce is just sometimes pushed to his physical brink fighting crocodiles in the streets wearing ears. They have different voice pitches obviously but i don’t think Bruce like undergoes some mental transformation every time he pulls the cowl over his head. So it’s a false distinction that writers try to draw. But Bruce in the text recognizes that distinction himself!! And so that leaves us with the question of how to explain why BRUCE says that there is no Bruce Wayne? Well its just depressiontalk yelled while spiraling. but its a construct he recognizes, but recognizes where it does not actually exist, because he EXPECTS to have an identity crisis because that is culturally What You Expect If You Wear A Mask. and its also a little because people treat him so differently in vs out of the cowl. And also having the kids resolves this false distinction because no matter what, he is to them The Same Figure, cowl or no cowl. It’s not actually really different identities but just different settings of behaviors suited for different environments

[nu11lar]

𐚁֙࿐ pervert ! hanma shuji ︱you found out your roommates dirty secret...

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 ... hanma being a pervert, panty stealing, using your panties as a cum rag, rough sex, hints of sadism, nipple pinching, riding, mating press, "accidental creampie", little mention of breeding, breeding kink hanma (?), dumbification, groping, dacryphilia (?), lmk if i miss any !

your roommate is... odd?

he has been comfortable around you since the first time you two met, calling you his 'lil dolly' was cute but really weird being called by someone who you don't even know properly. he kept on commeting on how cute you look whenever you wear shorts that show bits of your plump ass, or whenever he invites his friends over he purposely puts his arm's around your waist and just sits comfortably like that.

at first it irritated you, but then as month's go by you slowly got used to his behavior. sometimes you even played along with him that only made him excited and... turned on? but what was more weird is that pieces of your clothing suddenly kept on disappearing, especially your panties, and you suspected hanma since he was the only one being with you at the shared apartment. but of course, he kept on making lies saying that he haven't been stealing any of your clothes or underwear, but you still kept an eye on him.

not until one day, when you were about to ask hanma just a simple question you found him, sprawled in his bed with messy hair, jerking off with something that seemed to be like... your panties?!

-

"hnghh- you fuckin' pervert!" and here you are, sitting on his cock that's barely even in.

hanma chuckled, resting his hands behind his head as he watched you struggle sitting on his cock, slowly seeping down on him as you let out small whimpers,"s-so that's where all my panties went hm?" your voice trembled, his cock too big to even fit inside you,"of course dolly, you've finally figured out huh?" a grin curled up his lips, not even helping you sit down fully in his cock, just watching you with an amused grin.

"mmph- help me out won't ya?" your hands pressed more against his chest, but hanma refused obviously,"please shuji-" you whined, your eyebrows furrowing in frustration but also from this overwhelming amount of pleasure,"s'too big." you tried to seep in more into his cock, trying to get balls deep inside of him. a soft moan escaped your lips, biting your bottom lip as you slowly felt more of him. his cock was already covered with his precum, which was easy for you to slip in and out of him, but damn- it was too fucking big.

"h-haah! so fuckin' big shuji! help mee..!" you pleaded, your whole body shaking as you pouted. your eye's already glimmering in tears as hanma was in awe, finally placing his hands on your hips and slamming you down to his cock, making you let out a gasp your eye's widening in shock as your gummy walls perfectly wrapped around him, his tip kissing your sweet cervix and making your body shake already.

your hands clenched tightly that they were trembling, you bit your bottom lip until it swells up and bleeds,"i felt a lil nice so now move." he demanded, his hand going to grope your ass and give it a good squeeze. you grinded your pussy against him, still feeling his cock deep inside you as his tip bulges in your tummy,"look at you! now you're the pervert here." he spoke in a mocking tone, seeing his tip bulge in your tummy, making his cock twitch.

his hands were still placed in your hips, noticing that you're just grinding on him, and seeing you this weak for him makes him even more excited. without any warning or remorse he moved his hips against yours, making you let out a loud moan,"s-shuji!" you moaned out before he gave your ass a harsh slap,"take this dick, slut." he did his job on moving your hips up and down, guiding you to ride him but you were to weak to even handle this many inches.

you were already dumb on his cock, blabbering incoherent words while you tried to move your hips up and down. murmuring pleads to him to help you out but he refused, giving your ass a few good slaps that even left a red handprint. you slowly moved your hips up and down, squelches being heard from your wet pussy and his cock. hanma grunts, feeling your walls tighten around him as you started moving slowly.

"already dumb on my dick?" he makes the obvious questions, of course you're already dumb on his cock! can't he see you blabbering some unexplainable things? you whined in response, trying your best to ride him just like he asked. your boobs bouncing up and down and your ass clapping against his thighs, only to make them jiggle. you hissed in pleasure, throwing your head back when you started going a bit faster, your moans grew louder and vocal, and so did hanma's.

"shit! so fuckin' tight... ohh- ya like that slut? ridin' me like a whore." he bit his lip, throwing his head back in the headboard and closing his eye's shut while you nodded in response,"ah! shujii- so good..!" you moaned out, the bed creaking and the headboard hitting against the wall only grew louder once you started moving faster, there's no going back now, you have to make him cum.

"fuck! m'gonna cum already!" you cried out, feeling close to orgasming and so did hanma. he wanted to overstimulate you so bad, but he'll do that another time since he felt so generous. your pretty folds being spread open by his big, veiny cock that already made you dumb. that virgin hole turning into hanma's personal glory hole, and the only toy he gets to play with like a fleshlight.

your walls clenched around him more, making hanma grunt in response and gripping your hips until bruises show up. your eye's rolled to the back of your head, and your tounge sticking out already made a perfect imagery of the porn magazine's he had read before. who knew a virgin could make these expressions like a whore? hanma felt like he was about to break, and so did you,"ahh- fuckk! cum on that cock dolly!" he hissed, throwing his head back again and moving his hips with the same rhythm as yours.

you let out a small 'uh-huh!' before your hips finally snapped and creamed on his cock, slippery juices coming out of you as if you just squirted. a loud moan escaped that slutty mouth of yours,"haah! gonna breed that little pussy." he spoke breathlessly, making your eye's widen in shock,"w-wait! shuji, don't!-" your words were interrupted when you felt his warm cum just paint all over your gummy walls, making you and hanma let out loud moans. his hands holding onto you for dear life as you could feel his thighs quivering.

your breath came out in soft pants, looking down at him with glossy eye's, your cheeks being soaked in your tears while they were flushed by how much affect his cock had in you. hanma smirked, his hand sneaking up behind your ass and giving it another squeeze,"asshole, you came inside of me." you whined, your lips forming into a frown,"couldn't resist, you're my cumslut now." he made a new petname for you, and honestly you kinda liked it.

you were about to say something, but hanma switches the postion with a blink of an eye. making him ontop of you now,"spread those legs f'me." he cooed, his hands going up to your waist and giving it a light squeeze, your breath hitched. now looking more of a complete mess under him as your hair was sprawled out in the pillows, and your eye's looking up at him while you still kept that small frown. having no choice but to spread his legs like he asked too,"good girl." he spoke in a low voice, his hands now going to your thighs while his fingers squeezed into your sensitive skin and cupping your thighs and raising your legs up high until your knees touched your shoulders.

he got a good view, seeing your tummy rolls when he switches the position into a mating press, your pussy wet on his cock and seeing the previous cum leak into his cock. he could tell that your clit was throbbing and sensitive, your yelp filling in his ears as soon as he lifted your legs up. your toes curling by the fact you're so sensitive that you could feel your legs twitch,"so fuckin' good just f'me yeah?" he grinded his hips against yours, feeling him twitch against your gummy walls.

looks like there's another round on abusing your hole, without hesitation he thrusted deep into you, his tip kissing your cervix causing your eye's to roll and let out a pornographic moan. his thrusts were deep and hard, feeling the veins on his cock pulse into you while he took his sweet time to rearrange your organs. you squealed in response, your legs trembling like crazy while you shamelessly moaned out his name,"shuji! shuji! shuji! t-too much! m' so sensitive right now!" you cried out, feeling your folds spread again from his cock but he insisted on doing so, he wasn't stopping. he needed to fill your hole, breed you, make you his, make your pussy remember the shape of his cock.

"gonna fill this hole 'till this pussy remembers my shape." he grunted during each thrust, the speed was quick and animalistic. it's like he's the bitch in heat, he's been craving you since he first landed eye's on you,"m'gonna breed you- hngh! s-so fuckin' good!" his voice trembled, the skin against skin motion grew louder that the bed could break at any moment.

one of his hands left your thigh, making you cup your thigh as his hand went up to your boob. groping it and squeezing it, he continued thrusting deep into you when you soon felt his fingertips pinch your nipple making you let out a squirm, he was getting rougher now that it started to hurt at this point but hanma didn't stop, not at all,"shuji! it hurts- slow down!" you pleaded again, feeling the pain in the pleasure as more tears soaked up your cheeks. who knew your first time would end up this rough?

"fuck dolly- m'gonna cum! cummin' on this pretty pussy yeah?" he was breathless at this point, his thrusting getting sloppier and inconsistent. once you pleaded him to slow down only fueled up his sadistic acts on doing more, but he knew he had to stop soon incase he would hurt you. your moans were loud that your throat could sore up later, feeling his last few sharp thrusts before the both of you came at the same time, you creaming on his cock while he pumped you up full with his cum.

both of you becoming a moaning mess, your vision getting blurry and now you're mumbling nonsense. he really fucked your brains out, and you liked every one of them. your breath was hot and heavy, milking him until there was no single drop coming out, you whimpered softly as you clenched on the soft pillows,"came on me twice..." your voice was hoarse and raspy, your bottom lip was glossy from the drool and your mind was a blurr. hanma's lips parted into a smile, still having a firm grip on your plush thighs while his eye's dazed around your body, up to looking at your perky tits and down to see your throbbing pussy still stuffed from his cock.

"you're so pretty when you're fucked out like this, i should do this more often ya know?" he leaned closer to you, pressing his hips into yours and burshing the tip of his nose against yours and humming softly before giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

"wanna go for another round?"

a/n: TYSMM FOR 300+ NOTES FOR THE TOJI ONESHOT, I NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN!! 💗💗💗 reblogs are much appreciated!

© 2023. do not plagiarize, translate, or steal my work. all credits go to me.

[tyunkus]

i can't stop thinking ab dumbification n humiliation in terms of korean dirty talk now kumi help 😭😭

beomgyu n his satoori too? O.O

no honestly me too and IM KOREAN. BEOMGYUS SATOORI IS SOOOOOO SEXY MAN ESPECIALLY BECAUSE his voice runs much deeper when he speaks in that dialect and yeah. MAN IT'S SO DIFFICULT TO TRY TO EXPLAIN WHY ITS SEXY IN ENGLISH BUT YOU JUST GOTTA KNOW TO KNOW 😭

anyways yes sitting at beomgyus feet n he's looking down at you lips curled into a smirk.. squishing your cheeks together when he grabs your face n cooing at how stupid you look on your knees for him. pretty girl can't think, huh? not without his cock you can't, how pathetic, he can almost smell how fucking wet you are from up there, aren't you embarrassed? it's okay, pup, you're his now. his to ruin, his to play with, his to fuck whenever he wants and however he wants <3 saying all that in his hot raspy voice, whispery n murmury n slurring his words together because i've observed that he tends to do that sometimes <3333 i love beomgyu

[sleekervae]

The Bride [0.6]

Masterlist

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: Eleanor gets a visit from the notary

Warnings: attempted assault, mentions of familial death

Word Count: 3,763

Tag List: @poppyflower-22 @ponyslayer

Eleanor stopped counting after two weeks. The days dragged, the heat growing to be unbearable, and despite the money Jesse was making from his jobs, the gang was constantly on the move. Some days they'd find empty houses to inhabit, other days they were camping out under the stars, restless until they could make it to the next town. And every day that went by, Eleanor couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop worrying about Billy.

She was thinking about him while she was washing clothes in the riverbank. Camping was nothing new to Eleanor, and while the gang weren't too far off from the river, there was always trouble lurking around the corner.

The icy water numbed her fingers as she scrubbed a shirt against the washboard. The cold air seeped through her clothes, making her shiver. She preferred the solitude, the rhythmic task giving her a rare moment of peace.

The crunch of boots on rocks pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see a cowboy approaching, his hat shadowing his eyes. He was tall, lanky, she'd put him around Jesse's age with a weary, weathered approach. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach.

"Hi there," he greeted her. Eleanor didn't respond, she just kept cleaning, "What's a pretty thing like you doing all the way out here?"

"Working," Eleanor replied simply, not bothering to look his way.

“You need a hand?” he asked, his lips curling into a smirk, "I'm an avid worker myself,"

Eleanor straightened, clutching the wet fabric tighter, “I don't need your help. Leave me alone,” she said, her voice clipped.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence invasive, "What's your name?"

She scoffed back, "Eat dirt,"

“Aw, come on now. Don’t be like that,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm.

"Hey!" she jerked away, her pulse quickening, “I said, leave me alone!” she repeated, grabbing her stuff to take off. She hoped he'd take the hint to get lost.

But of course, he didn’t. In an instant, he grabbed her, wrestling her to the ground. Eleanor’s world narrowed to the feel of his weight crushing her, the scent of his sweat and tobacco filling her nose. She kicked and clawed at any part of him she could, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, but he was too strong for her.

A shout pierced the air. The cowboy was ripped off her, and Eleanor scrambled to her feet, chest heaving. She looked up to see Jesse and his crew descending on the man. Fists flew, the dull thud of punches and the cowboy’s grunts mixing with the rush of the river.

Eleanor backed away, her legs trembling. Jesse’s face was a mask of fury as he struck the cowboy, each punch a release of pent-up rage. His men joined in, their combined force overwhelming the attacker.

She wrapped her arms around herself, watching the brutal scene with wide eyes. The cowboy lay on the ground, a bloody mess, groaning in pain. Jesse finally stepped back, his chest heaving, and turned to her, concern replacing the anger in his eyes.

“You okay, Eleanor?” he asked, his voice softer now.

She nodded, though her body still trembled while her shirt and pants were stained with mud, “I’m fine,” she said, the words barely audible over the pounding of her heart. Her mind raced, processing the violence, the fear, the relief.

Despite his moment of calm, Jesse turned and grabbed the cowboy by the scruff of his neck. He gurgled and choked as Jesse dragged him over, propping him up on his knees before the frightened girl as he roared, "Apologize to her!"

The smug and snarky cowboy was now a bloody mess, crimson drool running down his chin and mud and cuts covered his face and arms. He looked so pathetic now, so weak and impudent as he coughed out a raspy "I'm sorry,"

Eleanor didn't respond, couldn't find the words to speak before Jesse took her under his arm, murmuring reassurances while he told the boys to 'finish up'. Eleanor stayed looking straight ahead, even when she heard more scuffling behind her, even when she heard a gunshot go off, she stayed looking straight. Her thoughts brought her somewhere else, somewhere a little bit more comfortable. Despite Jesse’s timely intervention, she found herself wishing for Billy. She longed for his steady presence, his comforting arms around her.

They afforded Eleanor all but half a day of rest before the demands of cooking, caring for the horses, and tending to other chores resumed. The weather was shifting as late summer approached, the heat becoming only slightly more bearable. Each day seemed to drag on endlessly, and without a job to report to, her situation felt increasingly hopeless. Soon enough, their camping endeavors came to an end when they stumbled upon an old ranch house. It was unoccupied, the perfect new hideout.

Early afternoon offered little to admire. Eleanor sat inside while the gang discussed their next job. Jesse had suddenly exempted her from attending the meetings. Though she didn’t think lightly of it, she was at least grateful he seemed to be giving her some space.

She spent her afternoon mending John's coat, a futile task given the garment's age and wear. She was surprised it hadn’t fallen to scraps already. Her attention was piqued when she heard a rise in the chatter outside, followed by the boys rummaging through the camp, calling for weapons.

Eleanor dropped her sewing and moved to the window, her heart racing. A man on horseback was approaching quickly. She knew the drill:

"Anything happens, stay inside until we come get you."

Jesse was the first to confront the man, while his gang stood ready with their guns. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

The stranger approached slowly, raising his free hand while holding the reins. "You boys the Seven Rivers Gang?" he asked, his worn, greying eyes scanning their faces.

"Who wants to know?" Jesse retorted.

"I'm looking for a Miss Eleanor Aubert," the stranger replied.

Jesse glowered. "Again—who wants to know?"

The stranger reached into his coat, prompting the gang to take aim. Keeping one hand raised, he pulled out a piece of paper. Eleanor watched intently from the dusty window.

"The notary wants to know. Henry Aubert is dead," he announced, "His daughter has a claim in his will."

Eleanor’s world shifted. Grief and disbelief collided within her, leaving her momentarily paralyzed. Her father was dead? Her fingers clenched the windowsill as she tried to process the news. She could hardly think straight.

Her instincts screamed caution. She didn’t trust this stranger. He might be telling the truth, but she couldn’t be sure. For all she knew, it was a trap laid by the army Captain, another weak ploy to lure her home. Nevertheless, with a steely resolve she stepped outside, drawing the attention of everyone present.

“I'm Henry's daughter,” she told him, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The man turned to her, his expression softening, “Miss Aubert, I’m sorry for your loss. Your father’s will states that you have a claim to his estate. I’m here to ensure you receive what’s rightfully yours,”

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed, her mind racing. “And who are you, exactly?” she asked, come to stand before him, "I know my father's lawyer, you're not him,"

"No ma'am. I'm Mr. Roan's paralegal, William McTavish. They sent me on a wild goose chase trying to track you down," he handed her the paper, his gaze sincere, “I have documents to prove it. You can check my credentials, hell, you can talk with Mr. Roan yourself,”

She glanced at Jesse, who remained wary, his hand still on his gun. She turned her attention to the paper, and sure enough she was skimming the details of his death certificate.

She scoffed, "Ya'll found him in the marsh?"

"The doctor suspects he drowned after a drunken stupor," McTavish’s face was lined with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes, “I know this is sudden, Miss Aubert. But I promise, I'm just here to carry out your father's will,”

Eleanor took a deep breath, the weight of her father’s death pressing down on her. She wished Billy were there, his presence a source of comfort and strength. But she had to face this alone. She turned to Jesse, “Drop your fuckin' guns,”

Jesse hesitated but finally nodded, signaling his men to lower their weapons. The stranger dismounted and approached Eleanor, extending the documents. She took them, her hands trembling slightly. As she read, a mix of grief and determination filled her. Even as Mr. McTavish rambled on about the details, what she was entitled to, how she had to come back to Rosario, Eleanor was only half listening.

She knew it wouldn't sink in until she saw his body, or his grave even, but Eleanor had to accept that her father was really dead.

Billy had found a new life for himself across the border in Chihuahua. He’d settled into the rhythm of the town, quickly learning that the locals didn’t always welcome gringos with open arms. But some of them, like Melquiades Segura, turned out to be more than alright. Melquiades, with his rough exterior and guarded nature, slowly became a reliable friend, a steady presence in Billy’s otherwise tumultuous life.

Despite the fresh start, trouble had a way of finding Billy, even in Mexico. Over the course of a few days, meeting swindling seńoritas and card king pins, he was left breathless and shaken, his heart pounding with the realization that running away hadn’t solved anything. He couldn’t keep dodging the shadows of his past, couldn’t keep pretending he was someone he wasn’t.

On his way back into town he met another character, Pat Garret, who he came to find out was riding with Jesse and his gang. The thought of reuniting with the group sent a chill through him, though at the same time Billy knew he didn't have many options.

So he followed Pat back to Jesse's new hide out, another old, abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. To say Jesse was surprised to see Billy was an understatement, and despite his lingering resentment, he welcome Billy back into the gang. He promised him work, a place to sleep, somewhere he could actually call home.

Everyone was still there. Bob, John, and Pat -- who stood out among the crowd in his dapper suit and sharp-brimmed hat. But the one person Billy couldn't help but notice was Eleanor—or the lack of her. Her absence felt like a gaping hole in the gang.

After a souless dinner of canned beans and dry bread, Billy found himself sitting across from Jesse. The tension between them was almost palpable, but Billy couldn't ignore the question burning inside him.

"Where's Eleanor?" he asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

Jesse looked up, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Billy wondered if he would even get an answer, fearing that perhaps he'd done something to her.

"Took off," he replied simply, "Said she'd be back within a week, she's been gone for two, now,"

Billy cocked a brow, a new fear riding within him, "Where'd she go?" he asked.

"Rosario. She got a message that her father passed and he left his land to her. She went to go claim it," Jesse explained, looking non-too worried for her absence, "Oh, don't worry, she didn't go alone. Some highf'lutin paralegal went with her,"

"You don't think it could be a trap?" he said.

Jesse scoffed, "Hey, we offered to go with her, she insisted she'd be fine. I'm not her keeper, Billy," he replied.

While Billy wasn't surprised by Jesse's aloofness, he couldn't believe how unmoved he seemed about Eleanor's disappearance. Just a month ago, Jesse had been so enamored with her that he'd practically threatened to fight Billy over her.

"And what if she doesn't come back by week three?" Billy pressed. "You gonna' go find her? After all, you're the one who swore to protect her..."

Jesse shrugged, an infuriating gesture to Billy as he stoked the firewood crackling in the pit, "Eleanor's a grown woman. If she wants to come back, she'll come back. If she doesn't, then she doesn't. It's a free country, after all,"

Billy clenched his jaw, holding back the words he wanted to hurl at Jesse. He could see through Jesse's cold facade. Jesse was heartbroken—just as heartbroken as Billy was. Only Jesse refused to show it in front of the boys.

Billy lay in bed that night, as wide awake as the owls that hooted just outside. The rough fabric of the blanket scratched against his skin, but it was the unease gnawing at his insides that kept him from sleep. His mind wandered to Eleanor, his heart aching with worry. Where was she now? Was she safe? The thought of her out there alone gnawed at him, and he couldn’t shake the image of her face from his mind.

The news of her father's death must have hit her hard. He could picture the grief etched on her delicate features, the sorrow in her eyes that she always tried to hide but never quite could. He wondered how she was coping, if she had anyone to lean on. The thought of her going through this alone gnawed at him, though at the same time it so reminiscent to him. It was one thing to know you still had people in the world, it was another to know they were gone for good.

Billy rolled onto his back, staring at the dark ceiling. He couldn't stop the relentless parade of "what ifs" that stormed through his mind. What if she was hurt? What if she needed him and he wasn't there? His fists clenched with the helplessness of it all, the frustration of not knowing where she was or if she was alright.

“You don’t love me, Billy... You don’t even know what that means,”

So what if he didn't? Wasn't it enough that he wanted her? Was it selfish of him to want to find her and convince her otherwise?

He ached to be there for her, to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. But instead, he was miles away, lying in the darkness, powerless to help. The thought that he might never get that chance made his chest tighten with dread. Billy turned onto his side, eyes squeezed shut, willing sleep to come and bring a reprieve from his worries.

But it never did. Instead, he lay there, the weight of his fears pressing down on him, the ache in his heart a constant reminder of the girl he loved and the hope that somehow, someday, he’d find his way back to her.

The days turned to weeks, and still there was no sign of Eleanor. Not even a letter telling the boys that she was okay. Anything could've happened to her out there, and scenario after scenario would play out in Billy's head. It seemed though that he was really the only one who was concerned as Jesse never brought her up again. It was as though she never existed in the first place.

He wondered if she was thinking of him, if she missed him as much as he missed her. The nights felt colder, the days longer without her presence. Every memory of her was a bittersweet reminder of what he’d lost. The way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the softness of her voice when she spoke his name—it all haunted him.

Nevertheless, life had to go on. Cattle were rustled, guns were fired, lives were lost. And much to his chagrin, Billy's name was getting around more and more. Pat Garret came back after an errand in town, touting a newspaper that detailed the crimes of the Seven Rivers Gang, as well as the "illustrious criminal career of Billy Bonny".

He didn't care to sit and listen to the rest of the article, his mind too tangled in his own thoughts. The weight of the lives he had taken pressed heavily on him. Guilt gnawed at his conscience, each face haunting him in the quiet of the night. He never pictured himself as a criminal, never imagined he’d fall so far from the person he once was. His mother’s disappointment was a constant shadow. She had raised him better, instilled in him values that he now seemed to trample with every wrong turn. It seemed that no matter what he did though, he could do no right.

His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, soft and loving, yet tinged with the pain of seeing her son stray from the path. What would she say if she saw him now? The thought twisted his stomach. He could almost hear her sigh of resignation, feel the warmth of her hand on his cheek, forgiving but forever changed.

And then there was Eleanor. She had a way of soothing his troubled heart, her words like balm to his soul. He could almost hear her voice, soft and reassuring, telling him it was okay. She would understand, she always did. She’d look into his eyes and see the good still within him, reminding him of the man he wanted to be.

Billy clenched his fists, the heat of the bonfire grounding him. He wanted to believe her, wanted to grasp onto the hope she offered. But the darkness was overwhelming, the guilt a relentless tide. How could he ever face her, knowing the blood on his hands? Yet, in the depths of his despair, he clung to the image of her, to the possibility of redemption through her eyes.

Jesse kept a watchful eye on Billy, still harboring doubts about his trustworthiness. Yet, he couldn't deny the impact the new environment was having on him. Billy was different—a sensitive soul in a world hardened by criminality. He needed time to adjust, to acclimate to the harsh realities they faced daily.

Despite Billy's initial hesitations and uncertainties, Jesse saw potential in him. He sensed an underlying strength and determination that could make Billy one of the most formidable members of their gang. With patience and guidance, Jesse believed Billy could grow into a great gunslinger, capable of navigating their dangerous world with a blend of resilience and compassion.

There was hardly any time for grief or contemplation of internal conflict in the following days, not when Frank Baker came to the gang touting the opportunity of a lifetime in the city of Lincoln.

"There's a big player up there, goes by the name of Lawrence P. Murphy," Frank explained, his voice smooth despite his rough and rugged exterior. "He owns stores, cattle, supplies Fort Stanton and the reservation offices with grain, cattle, horses—everything they need." Frank's distinguished manner contrasted sharply with his appearance, adding an air of credibility to his words. As he continued, his eyes kept drifting to Billy, who stood off to the side, listening quietly.

"Naturally, he wants to protect his operation, and that's where we come in," Frank went on, detailing Murphy's wealth and his desperation to keep his supply chain the only game in town. To do that, he needed some muscle, the hard, unfeeling kind.

Jesse and the boys were more than eager to take the job. Cattle rustling only brought in so much money, and a steady income from Murphy could secure them for a long, long time. But Frank's attention lingered on Billy, who remained unmoved and expressionless throughout the pitch.

"And Billy?" he called out to him, none the wiser to the grin that faded fast from Jesse, "I need to know where you stand in all this,"

Billy said nothing at first, letting him make his pitch, "If you agree to join us I guarantee Murphy can hire us. I'll tell you sum'thin' else," his smile broadened, "We'll make sure you get the biggest slice of the cake when it comes time to cut,"

"Just -- wait a minute there, Frank," Jesse intervened, his prior excitement having melted away into dismay, that lingering feeling of resentment returned to him.

Frank simply chuckled, "Billy's name alone is worth that," he told Jesse.

Jesse however would have none of it, "This is my gang, these are my boys," he replied sharply.

Pat meanwhile turned to Billy, watching him look off in the distance, still without saying a word. He looked pensive, conflicted, so mature and still Pat had to remind himself that Billy wasn't even twenty-years-old yet.

"You got to understand it, Jesse," Frank continued, "It's just not the same --" his words cut short as Jesse suddenly stood, sizing him up, his fists balled at his sides. No one would've been surprised if he took a swung at Frank, but they also knew what sort of stakes were at play if he did.

Finally, Billy spoke, eliciting nearly the entire table to turn his way, "Calm down, Jesse," he called, finally turning to the boys.

"You know he's right; I'm William H. Bonny," Billy touted, giving his head a shake, "Reason you came here, right Mr. Baker?"

Frank simply nodded, further intrigued with this young man as he continued to talk, "So from now on, if people want my services they're gonna' have to pay for it. As simple as that,"

If this was the life he was destined to lead, if this was how he could scrape by, Billy figured he might as well make the best of it. He had to ensure it paid him what he felt he was owed. After all, this was the role Jesse wanted him to embrace. And deep down, Billy couldn't deny the small hint of satisfaction bubbling in his gut at seeing Jesse so riled up.

"Sit down, Jesse," The look on Jesse's face alone was murderous, for a moment Pat swore he would lunge across the table and go for Billy's throat. Nevertheless, with his lip stiff and his eyes blown wide, he sat back down in silence. He wouldn't dare embarrass himself in front of Frank now, not with so much on the table.

The rush of adrenaline and the thrill of asserting himself in a world that demanded toughness—it was a stark contrast to the sensitive kid he used to be. Billy knew he had to adapt, to shed any remnants of his former self if he wanted to survive.

If only that was easier done than said...

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

Zor-El's Return

Personally, I found Zor-El's acclimation to Earth a little unsatisfying, so here's a fic that's been sitting in my drafts for over a year.

The first thing Zor-El notices about this planet is that it is bright. Kara blinks in the sudden sunlight as well, so he brushes it off as just another change from the phantom zone. Zor-El has been to planets with different colored suns before: red, blue, and once, briefly, a planet orbiting a yellow sun. That planet had been so far from its star that there’d been no effects on his body (He’d also never gotten direct sunlight due to the need for constant atmospheric and temperature control.) In any case, his previous experience has yet to get rid of the wrongness he feels when he looks out on a planet without a red star. The sky is a color he thinks must be blue, but it’s so bright, so saturated, it hurts to look at. Kara has no trouble. She looks straight up into that blinding sky and beams.

The planet smells weird too. Slightly burnt. And tangy in a way that makes his nose itch. Kara inhales deeply, like there’s not enough air in the world to fill her lungs. Zor-El thinks this might have been justified because she’s just begun to exhale when the one with red hair— Alex, he remembers— starts pulling her inside to something called a sunbed. It restores her powers and helps her heal, the girl in the strange white and— blue?— jumpsuit explains. She says her name is Nia. He asks if he’s supposed to go to the sunbed too. Nia shrugs. Alex said that would be a bad idea— and she’s usually right about this stuff. A large man with dark skin and eyes a little more calculating than Zor-El is entirely comfortable with, explains further. Your powers can be disorienting. Kara has experience, so we can afford to recharge her quickly. It’s safer for you and for us if we let this go slowly. Over the next hour or so, Nia explains the powers he is to develop. Kara had given him a brief description in the Phantom Zone but had included none of the dramatic anecdotes of her heroic— or not so heroic feats. Zor-El supposes that using heat vision to crisp meat is as valid a use as any. He does have to ask for clarification as to what, exactly, a “turkey” is. Nia pulls up a photo on some device she was keeping in her back pocket. Zor-El thinks he preferred Earth before he learned about the turkey.

… His powers come in gradually— until they don’t. He can manage the slowly increasing strength with some concentration, but there is nothing he can do when Nia calls out, and he looks up to respond, and suddenly he’s looking at the inside of her skull. Zor-El yells, and others come into the room. He doesn’t know who they are— can’t identify them from their masses of bone and twisting ligaments. He tries to cover his eyes but the only thing telling him his hands are pressed against his face is the feeling of his nails digging into his forehead. He falls to his knees, and the floor cracks beneath him.  Someone is giving orders— a woman, her voice quiet but sharp— and then something heavy— something that would have been heavy an hour ago— drops over his head and shoulders. 

He can’t see. Zor-El is shaking— he knows he’s shaking, and his breaths are ragged. He doesn’t dare to take his hands away from his eyes or to shift the blanket that hangs over his body. The woman is talking to him now, voice much more gentle than it had been a minute ago. It’s alright, she says. It’s alright. 

That was your X-Ray vision. The blanket over you is lead-lined, so you can’t see through it. We’ve got some glasses that are like it. You can put them on when you feel up to it. Zor-El means to say he’s fine, that he’s going to take off the blanket, and to please hand him the glasses. But all that comes out of his mouth is a strangled grunt, which the woman seems to understand just as well. J’onn is getting them. We’ll just keep the blanket on for a little longer.  You’re doing good, she says. You’re doing so well. 

She keeps murmuring to him until heavy footfalls sound at the edge of the blanket, and they pull it off. He doesn’t have time to see their skinless bodies before a pair of slightly too small glasses are squished onto his face. He blinks, and Alex Danvers is peering down at him with more tenderness than he’s ever seen her give. I’m okay, he pants out. I’m okay. She nods, and the moment is gone. 

The noise doesn’t come as suddenly. It grows slowly, a building pulse in his ears that makes his teeth rattle. A vehicle crashes somewhere 4 streets over, and Zor-El puts his hand through a desk. J’onn and Alex glance at him but say nothing. Nia looks concerned. A man they all call Brainy remarks on needing to build tables out of a stronger alloy with all the “peoples of enhanced strength” around, and a woman over by the computers, he does not know her name— they have not been introduced— eyes him as he tries to stand the table back up. She has a strange look in her eyes, one he doesn’t understand. It makes his skin crawl.  … Earth is loud, harsh, and abrasive. The sounds dig at his ears, and every color seems to grate at his eyes. 

He tries to imagine being a child here.  He prays to Rao for forgiveness.  … Kara tells him of her failure to raise Kal-El. He does not forgive her for this. How could he ever have blamed her at all?

Sometimes, silently, he is glad of Kara’s delay. Glad that she had landed with her cousin already grown. Zor-El does not know these people who took in his nephew, these Kents. They’re good people, Kara had said, a never-ending refrain. They’re good people. He wonders if they would have been quite so willing to take in— to protect— the baby, if his daughter had been with it. His daughter and her more obvious… differences. 

He wonders why they didn’t take her in when she arrived. Martha was old, Kara says. And Jonathan dead. Besides, I came with unusual challenges.  … In the phantom zone, he had shrugged it off. Children do grow up, after all, and that place, it… changes people. 

But he knew it was more than that. 

He remembers his Kara. His Kara would flit about the room, like gravity lost its hold, like there was too much energy in her body, and she had to move, had to jump from person to person, bounce from experiment to experiment, mind whirling a hundred miles an hour. 

This Kara is still. She does move a little, still bounces and skips more than any of the others he has met— but her movements have a forced weight now, each step as careful and precise as it is buoyant. 

She doesn’t experiment anymore either.  … When Kara had told him of her arrival on Earth, she had not mentioned Fort Rozz. When one of her friends finally mentions it offhand, she goes stiff, and turns her face from his. When he does catch a glimpse of her expression, it is twisted with shame. Zor-El is not sure whether it is aimed at herself or at him.

Alex stares at him often— and doesn’t look away when he notices. Her eyes are cold and hard. She reminds him uncomfortably of Astra, especially when Kara is there, soaking up her attention, and the ice in Alex' eyes just begins to melt. Then she looks at him again and all the warmth is sucked from the room. Looking into her eyes, he sees hatred. Kara notices. She says nothing. Her eyes are colder than they used to be too.

[relatosnocturnos]

"La nina de l'àtic"

Sofia sempre havia escoltat històries sobre la casa abandonada al final del carrer. Una nit, decidida a descobrir la veritat, va entrar. L'aire era fred i pesat, i l'olor de floridura envaïa els seus sentits. En explorar, va trobar una nina trencada en el sòl, amb ulls buits que semblaven seguir-la. Un murmuri gelat la va fer girar: "Ajuda'm". La veu provenia de l'àtic. Amb cada pas, el pis cruixia sota el seu pes, com si la casa protestara. En arribar a l'àtic, la foscor la va embolicar. De sobte, la nina va aparéixer enfront d'ella, somrient. "Ara eres part de mi", va dir. Sofia va sentir que el seu cos es paralitzava, i en un últim crit, va saber que mai eixiria d'allí.

[murmuriu]

Lil OC x Canon comic coz I love ford

Hiiii!!! I haven’t used Tumblr in so long but if you’re more interested in my content go check out my tiktok account! -> murmuri <-

Although I’m still working on Renée (my gravity falls oc) lore I just wanted to draw this based off of from my ai ford bot (unfortunately) not sure whether or not I should add this to her lore but I’ll think about it 😼

[starryvibed]

25.8.23

The city has been having a dry spell for the entire month but i like the occasional light rain ☔️ I’ve only been studying on the morning train 🚊 to the 🏥 and post dinner 🍲 . There has been a low patient load last week thankfully so I’ve been focusing more on the diagnostic workups of each individual case. The campus has been flourishing in the rain and its such a beautiful sight to see on my morning pre-rounds 🥹 Also, my 2D echo understanding is getting better cause we’ve had a lot of murmury 🫀dogs recently.

[longingforthemist]

It’s windy and cool. The autumn as I prefer it. This weather makes me quietly dream of sea: lapping waves running up to me, me standing on the shore, eternally waiting for them to catch up with me.

I haven’t been writing in my journal for a while. Some thoughts seem too insignificant, others too big or too dark. As if once written down they will exist forever. As if they don’t exist at all if they stay inside my head.

Dear diary, I made apple porridge which consists mainly of apples than of porridge. I’ve been having headaches lately. My cats are running around the house and seem most happy. Dear diary, I want to go to the sea. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to l—

The grape vine sheds leaves, it’s rustly and murmury in the backyard. I almost hear sea whispering at my door.

[maintohthakgayibhaishaab]

bhabhiji: hamri murumri kho gyi

bharbhuti: bhabhiji it's not murmuri- voh toh hum khaate hai, it's memory!

[lesfoteses]

Moderant el caos

30 de gener del 2023

He moderat una xerrada que ha acabat amb els Mossos emportant-se els ponents. M'explico. Ja fa un temps em van trucar d'una revista on fa anys col·laborava escrivint textos sobre arquitectura. I diràs: "tu en saps, d'arquitectura?". I òbviament la resposta és que no, però soc periodista, es tracta de fingir que pots parlar de tot si saps trobar amb qui. Total, que em van trucar fa un temps dient-me si em venia de gust moderar una conversa entre dos arquitectes amb l'objectiu que reflexionessin sobre l'urbanisme del futur. Me la paguen, així que vaig dir que sí, perquè ara que m'acosto als 30 m'he tornat més pessetera (i pobre). La cosa era senzilla: la conversa havia de durar com a molt tres quarts d'hora, per això sortia a tres o quatre preguntes pels dos ponents: una així més genèrica, dues perquè s'enganxessin una mica (és a dir que hi pogués haver una mica de debat) i una ja més típica, del pal "quins reptes tenim". Puntualitzo que no soc de les que fa aquesta merda de preguntes, tipo "l'habitatge cooperatiu, què?", o "i la visió de gènere, què?".

Ha començat bé, o almenys m'ho ha semblat al principi. Han fet una exposició sobre el panorama actual, han citat el model Colau i les superilles, han parlat de la transició ecològica... Tot anava sobre el previst, sí. I de cop quan he encetat el següent tema sobre quins aspectes socials determinen l'arquitectura de les ciutats, s'han enganxat. Els anomenaré Fulano i Mengano, per por de les represàlies (a veure si els arriba aquest text i encara em quedaré sense cobrar, que de moment no m'han pagat). El Fulano s'ha sentit agredit, textualment "insultat", perquè el Mengano -segons Fulano- ha insinuat que la mobilitat no era més que una derivada de l'empobriment general de la societat. La meva cara mentre això passava era de pòquer total, no sabia molt bé on mirar, així que primer he mirat l'ampolla d'aigua mig buida, i quan la conversa s'ha escalfat he mirat el rellotge per certificar que encara quedava més de la meitat de l'estona prevista. M'he cagat en Déu internament i els he demanat als dos que per favor respectessin els torns de paraules i que no es faltessin el respecte. Murmuris generals per part del públic, enfadat amb els dos arquitectes ferits d'ego, que continuaven retraient-se coses por lo bajini. Sorprenentment, m'han fet cas tant el Fulano com el Mengano i han callat. Però només havia fet que començar el drama.

Quan he volgut obrir el següent meló sobre la relació amb la perifèria de les ciutats, s'han tirat els plats pel cap. El Mengano venia escalfat de casa, es notava que buscava el merder des que s'ha assegut al sofà des d'on presumptament havien de defensar les seves tesis com a persones educades i desenvolupades que s'espera que siguin. I quan dic que s'ha escalfat, vull dir que al pavo no se li acut res millor que llençar un zasca al Fulano, dient-li "pringat". Pringat. És que a sobre escull aquesta paraula, que és de ser pringat voler-te ficar amb algú dient-li pringat. Total, que el Fulano s'ha enfadat de veritat i s'ha aixecat de cop del sofà: "Què m'has dit, subnormal?". Subnormal. Pel meu gust, ha escalat massa ràpid aquest emprenyament, no té cap sentit passar de 'pringat' a 'subnormal' només a la primera rèplica. És de P3 de baralles, no? En fi, que el Mengano s'ha aixecat també al moment. No he reaccionat. I el Mengano li pregunta: "m'estàs dient subnormal?", mentre li posa les mans a la camisa agafant-lo del coll. I ja tot després ha sigut molt ràpid. El primer que he fet ha estat apartar-me, perquè el Fulano li ha fotut un cop de puny a la cara que quasi el tira a terra i de pas, em tira a mi a terra. La gent del públic cridava "pareu, pareu", i llavors han començat com els crits i corredisses entre els assistents. I de cop a sobre de l'escenari ja hi havia dos homes de l'organització, intentant-los separar. I el Fulano vinga a cridar: "que sé on vius, rata", i l'altre "calla, desgraciat, o et trenco la cara". Coses així.

I de cop, els Mossos. No sé què collons hi fotien allà dos Mossos, però allà estaven. Un agent: "Senyors, siusplau. Parin". I llavors passa el que fa rodona la tarda més esperpèntica que conec: el Fulano empeny el Mosso i el Mengano li diu al poli: "Tu calla, que no pinteu res aquí". I mare meva la que s'ha liat. El Mosso dient-li que callés, que no pot desafiar l'autoritat, que el denunciaria, i el Mengano vinga anar dient que els deixessin trencar-se la cara en pau, que marxessin si no volien acabar apallissats i no sé quines coses més. "Vine, sortim d'aquí", de cop un dels de l'organització ha vingut a per mi i m'ha tret d'allà.

Un cop fora, s'ha encès un cigarro i me n'ha ofert un mentre em deia: "Em sap greu, no entenc què ha passat. És veritat que el Fulano i el Mengano tenen perspectives diferents, era la gràcia de la conversa, però no m'imaginava que fos tant". Jo tampoc, li he dit, "Perdona'ns aquest show. Et pagarem 100 euros més per les molèsties". No li he dit res, he acceptat el cigarro i crec que amb això ja he fet el dia.