#actually!

[dataglitch]

Current wip! Gonna slowly post updates and full pics again since it's been while! 👌👌

I'll try to do a stream for this if I get the time!

[autisticshizuo]

downgrading izaya orihara's deep and beautifully written character to a groomer -who is NOT a groomer- is like saying crime and punishment is a shitty book because it had moral dilemmas in it

[wordpress-blaze-221734350]

My Recommendation

In this post-Afirmative Action world, sans quotas lives a fairy tale of stellar recommendations and grades making their mark… but what happens when a damnation replaces said recommendation?  How do you survive?

 

I used to like to think myself accomplished for my age. I was 27 and had recently finished a prestigious post-baccalaureate program at a prominent university in New York. The world was my oyster and I had put all of my eggs in one basket to pursue a career in medicine. Since the age of 3 it was all I could talk about. I practically repeated the same thing to anyone and everyone that I met. My aspirations to become a physician and what that would ultimately mean…. what my life would be. All that I could fathom was in one tiny inkling of possibility and I relished the prospect daily.

 

The transition from being an English major to the innate submersion of science was overwhelming to say the least.  The words that ebbed and flowed through my mind were constantly all at once washed away by a cacophony of mis-matched equations that led to nowhere, elements that suffered to erase themselves from my tongue as soon as they were spoken, and an uncanny ability to predict the slowing of time based on how complicated a physics equation may be.  I still remember with absolute wonder and horror how I believe that I must have had a vascular event status post an organic chemistry examination where I needed 5 to 10 minutes to really remember what city I was in, what direction that I was supposed to be walking to get to my train, and even where I lived.

 

It was in all of that time that I met an unlikely ally- at least, I thought so at first.  She was one of the most admired and feared professors in one of the most popular science departments in the country.  While she tended to dress like a vagrant mystic, she had mesmerizing large eyes that could laser focus on you in an auditorium of hundreds and put anyone on edge with the cold silence of her question.  As I was recounting a story of this woman’s effect on her class one day, my mother informed me that she believed that she knew of my professor in an unexpected way.  “Oh… that sounds like Sarah’s neighbor…I’m almost certain of it.”  She stated.  We continued our conversation throughout the day and my mother urged me to inform this professor of our social connection.

 

So, I did.  Given that I was determined to bend my mind to science, I religiously attended Professor W’s office hours.  It was in one of those classes where we were debating the amazing superiority of the human cell receptors, that I decided to mention it.  I explained that my mother and “Sarah” had gone to college together and that they had remained friends and kept in touch. “Oh” she exclaimed.  I watched as her round eyes seemed to soften and her smile widened.  It was in my naivety that I believed that with my hard work, my dedication, that I had shown her that I was entirely capable and that I might be able to reach my goal someday with her help.

 

Over the course of the semester, I was able to hone my newfound scientific intellect into a B for my final class grade.  Though I had accepted my perfectionist tendencies, I wasn’t particularly sad with this because I knew all of the hours of work that I had put into this class.  I welcomed continuing on to fight another day; it instilled a new strain of confidence in me that I thought I didn’t have before.  I was ready to go out and sell myself to medical schools.  I subsequently finished my post-baccalaureate program and circled back around to professor W. Since I knew that I hadn’t done half bad in her class and I thought that she had gotten to know me during my time in the program as I seemed to spend more time in her office than any other, I thought that she would be the perfect recommendation reference.

 

I remember walking into the dark paneled mahogany office and sitting down to catch up.  She was pleasant with slightly flat affect, eyes large as saucers that threatened to bulge out of her head with the sheer motion of a head tilt… I took it all in. I thought that I had timed it right.  I handed her a standard form for the university and asked if she would write my letter of recommendation for medical school.

 

  She slightly slowed what she was doing and repeated back to me what I had asked her.  I looked at her and hesitated. “Yes, I would be honored.” I replied.  She looked slowly down at her desk as if contemplating something and said “Well, if you would like me to write you a recommendation, so be it. I will write it.”  I was ecstatic and couldn’t help almost skipping home that day.  It was a beautiful thing to realize that a dream that I was working so hard for, may actually come to fruition…

 

In the next few months, I was a buzz studying for the MCAT, working, and compiling my medical school file.  In what seemed like no time, I had everything complete.  I remember walking to the office with the list of schools that I wanted to apply to and made sure that my post baccalaureate office sent out the letters to the schools of my choice.  It had truly been a labor of love for me.  Once my applications had been sent out to the schools, I spent my time mulling about and counting down the days for a letter for an interview.  What went from days to weeks quickly became months.  I was subsequently completely confused and dejected.

 

I used to go over the wording of my essay, questioning whether I may have made an offensive comment.   Maybe my grades simply weren’t good enough, or my scores?  I wasn’t certain what could possibly have been the problem.  To make it worse, the barrage of denial letters seemed to come at the very end of the period.  I dared not even ask why I wasn’t up for reconsideration and even decided to apply at the last minute to get my Master of Public Health at my undergraduate university.  And this is when time seemed to stop for me.

 

Somehow, I received vague feedback that there was an “discrepancy” with my application.  Something that the reviewers couldn’t comment about but that put my entire application in question and that they had no choice but to reject me.  I felt like I had been forced to the end of the conveyer belt and was now falling into the “FAIL” heap.   I shuddered to think where I would end up.  This was the beginning of many nights of sleeplessness, high blood pressure, and me slowly coming to the realization that medicine may not be for me, that I was simply not qualified.

 

There were other family friends who had seen my application and recommended me reaching out to other Admissions officers in other branches of the university.  However, when I spoke with those officers, they would feign surprise that I was calling them and referred me back to my own post-baccalaureate department without question, almost clucking that I was confused and overzealous. I was trapped.

 

I decided to take a weekend excursion with my parents down South to visit a family friend.  We had a great time, but our friend noticed my consistent anxious and dejected expression.  When she asked me about it, I explained the situation.  I let her know that medical professional administrators had indicated that there were inconsistencies with my application.  I wondered aloud if I needed experience in the medical field more or to take more classes to increase my GPA even more.  As I considered my options aloud, she remained stoic and then told me a story about her daughter’s friend. 

 

She stated that her daughter’s friend was an accomplished Ivy League graduate, like me, who had applied to graduate school and continued to be rejected for some time before she realized that a letter of recommendation had been her undoing. I sat perplexed and captivated as she told me that not all letters of recommendation were affirmative to the applicant for which they were intended.  She explained that there were some professors who put a knife in the backs of certain students to sink their careers. 

 

What is even more disconcerting is that there is really little to no way for anyone to know that this practice is happening to them.  As a student bleeds out their time, work, hopes, and fears other personnel are essentially bound to secrecy.  This is because a letter of recommendation only has merit when it is confidential.  And in having someone write a poison letter, a student all but gambles and seals their fate with a career ending secrecy pact. 

 

It took some time for me to compose myself.  I soon suspected that I may have a poison letter and was able to hire a wonderfully savvy education consultant who was able to help me re-navigate the admissions process.  He worked with me to polish my ideas, speak louder and more confidently. He also recommended that I visit the schools to which I applied and (of course) to hone my application with a different compilation of my letters.

 

I contacted my post baccalaureate admission office and didn’t hear anything back for weeks.  I called again with no response.  Finally, one day I called the office and was met with one of the staffers answering the phone.  When I said hello and who I was, I was told to call that staffer on their cell phone number.  This was in the early 2000’s so, people hardly ever said this.  I complied and waited about 15 minutes for them to leave the office.  Once we were able to touch base, I was told in no uncertain terms to ever call the post-baccalaureate office again and to only contact the staffer.  I was flabbergasted.  All I could do was hear my heart pound in my throat.  They explained that they would be sure to get my consultant the application that had been sent out previously. And both my consultant and I waited…

 

 A week or so after my conversation my consultant received the application and called me into his office and read me something that changed my life. He sat me down at a long table and had two piles- one taller than the other.  As I watched, he began to read me the letters of the numerous faculty members who supported me from the taller pile.  They all had wonderfully glowing things to say about my abilities and spoke of how I would very likely soar to great heights and accomplish my dreams.  I was extremely humbled. 

 

Then my consultant went to the short pile. Which consisted of one letter.  He held it up and asked if I was ready to hear it.  I took a deep breath and nodded yes. I listened as he, in the words of Professor W., started off with “Though Aisha believes herself to be intelligent, she is in fact one of the worst students that I have ever had.”  The letter was a barrage of insults calling me dim-witted, lazy, mentally deficient among numerous other characteristics.  She likened me to have the mentality of a second grader and stated that I would have no business in the university’s post-baccalaureate programs and certainly could never survive the rigors of medical school.

 

My consultant stopped at the end and the silence weighed on my chest.  I took deep breaths to keep it at bay.  He stated that he wanted me to hear how ridiculous this letter was.  How ugly it was.  He turned to me and questioned me on my own insecurities stating that my resume, my education, everything that I had done was leading up to medical school and that he was certain that this letter was the thing that was killing my medical opportunities.  He implored me to be adamant that I was beyond qualified and to believe it in everything that I did from there on.

 

I walked out of the office that day feeling the weight and the exhilaration of racial terror.  On one hand, it was devastating that I had allowed someone to write these lies about me to share with the world.  On the other hand, the words were so hateful, derogatory, and racist that it went without saying.   Say what you might, but I am still convinced that this professor firmly believed in eugenics and could have easily written a compelling case based on her “concern for my abilities” noted in my letter. 

 

I had gone to some of the best schools in the country, constantly challenged and tried (with a strong GPA) and this woman was saying that I was barely qualified to tie my shoes. It took me time to reflect, recollect, and regenerate into Aisha 2.0, a young woman who was not afraid to share the many facets of herself.  To be gracious in my knowledge, my instinct and the trajectory of my dreams.

 

In the weeks after me reading my “poison letter”, I was finally able to receive interviews in the second round of my medical school application process. With a swipe of my consultant’s hand, the letter was removed and my dreams were finally coming into formation.

 

I got accepted into medical school after my second application submission, went on to graduate with honors, completed residency, fellowship, and now continue to practice. But I continually shudder to think about how lucky I was. If I had not had a consultant and a hero in the admission’s office, I likely would never have been a doctor, even though my grades, my resume, my experience, and my background were all worthy of my going to medical school.

 

I am a unicorn, when I should really be a zebra. I comprise 6% of physicians, when there should really be more as more are needed and most importantly, more are capable. Out of the many legions of students of color who started the medical school process with me, only a few remained. One by one, they were lost to dissuasion, humiliation, and terror just like me. How many other physicians and medical professionals of color have been lost to this exclusionary process? Some may think that this is simply what medicine is, a weed out process. But, students should be selected on the basis of merit and not outright sabotage. The lack of acceptance of people of color in medicine serves as a perpetuation of the poison that continues and feeds our medical system today. If you were dying on a stretcher, you’d want the best physician for the job to save you, but continuation of this “tradition” most likely ensures you’ll have a mediocre physician instead as it works both ways. Who is qualified? What does qualified mean?

 

Where does this leave others in this new political landscape?  Is this where professors like W all but determine who gets to go to a “good school”? Is this where cronyism is rewarded?  And what does that do for the world?  Homogeneity dims the light of creativity and innovation.  If we all have the same thoughts and perspectives, how can one be challenged to be greater than they even knew that they could be?

 

It is in our diversity that we thrive.  It is in our varying perspectives that growth can be cultivated, once and for all.   The lesson of my recommendation is that we need a better way to do better now that the precedent is no more.  The more this country remains divided, the less time that people interact with one another and only increases the possibilities to develop more fears and misconceptions, opening the door for hatred to ensue.  Each possibility of an individual damnation letter is a knife in a student's back, that not only threatens the hopes and dreams of a young soul, but also the progress of a country.

 

 

Source: My Recommendation

[s0ckh3adstudios]

i'm being ATTACKED.

[radiance1]

Subject Alpha was a curious case, in his own opinion.

He doesn't have any memories of himself, nor of anyone and anything else. Only his name.

Alpha.

He had an overhanging feeling that he shouldn't even be alive, that he shouldn't even be existing right now.

But he does.

When he first awoke, he didn't understand anything, know anything. So he just wandered around wherever his legs could take him, slowly pulling together the pieces of this strange world and gaining some level of understanding.

Now though, he came far from where he started out as a nobody, someone with no purpose. He managed to acquire a floating casino all of his own, something he went to great and painful lengths to pull into his hands.

He finally had a purpose.

Of course, he knew no one would take someone who the physical appearance of a child seriously, so he took to wearing a mask and a voice changer to make him seem more adult like.

He barely had any powers to speak of, but a power he did have was the ability to summon and manipulate chains, along with immunity to various poisons and toxins, given to him by a benefactor after he helped them.

Why the resistance to poisons and toxins, his benefactor asked? He had an encounter with poison, he'll leave it at that.

He didn't know what to do with it, at first, but over his short existence, he managed to become proficient in it to pose a threat.

It was insanely helpful when he encountered Omega, it was after he obtained his casino, wanting to trace back his origins took him to the ruined town of Amity Park, a town filled with violent failed experiments and dangerous toxins.

Omega was a relentless, and ruthless, individual. His attacks were quick, precise, and held power greater than his own, and his string was more than enough of a problem for Alpha. The pure flexibility of his chains was one of the only reasons he managed to hold out against him, and his resistance to toxins did come in handy when he used the ones dumped around Amity to his advantage.

Subject Omega, for all of his might, was not immune to toxins, his body may break them down faster than the average human, but compared to immunity he didn't hold a candle to Alpha.

Even still, Omega was relentless.

A relentless greatly backed by his superhuman amounts of stamina, stamina that Alpha was losing.

The only reason he ceased fighting was when his mask was broken by a well-placed nail strike that would have killed Alpha, had he not dodged. Omega paused, staring at his face for a while before dragging him over to what he called the Final Resting Place.

Alpha... didn't know what to feel about his origins, at all. He was glad to finally learn where he came from, but the circumstances of his- no, their creation was a hard pill to swallow. He stared at the boy; the boy killed by his parents that was the template for his creation.

He felt conflicted.

Subject Omega and Subject Alpha were similar enough in design, except for the fact that Alpha had white hair, and Omega black. They both couldn't 'go ghost' like the original, so they just normal humans, though under the term of 'metahuman' if they were going to be accurate.

Alpha was one of the only clones besides Omega to have a 'name' rather than a number.

He... was abandoned, because his hair was white instead of black, and because he was almost unstable that they thought he would have died in a few days at the most.

His current existence proved them wrong. He laughed, a few snickers at first, maybe, then some chuckles to full out laughter.

He outlived his creators after having been abandoned because of short life expectancy. Then started crying, because wow aren't his origins messed up, he comforted by Omega, in his own, weird way by showing the bodies of the Fenton's just laying in bed, as if they were sleeping and not dead.

It brought him some strange sense of satisfaction, seeing that.

Does this make them brothers? He thinks it does, he asked Omega and he said sure. He gained the older brother moniker, due to being created earlier than his Omega.

Then he left Amity Park, he had a casino to run, after all. Though he did have to remake his mask, and the voice changer, but it wasn't something he couldn't do. He didn't try to force Omega out from Amity, he had a purpose and knowing what it was like to not have a purpose made him understand why he wanted to stay behind.

[mx-brahms]

My theory is that you have several terrariums of isopods that you keep

I fucking wish :3

Sadly I have to go to the forest and turn over rocks and logs to get my isopods, like some cavewoman :3

[mirmoria]

I'm never going to be shamed into not enjoying RPF because when I was in fourth grade my diary, my little delusion book, was given to my class teacher, by my best friend, and my whole class found out about all the classmates I shipped (polycules included!) and had written little scenarios for and that I even drew two of my classmates kissing.

[asheanon]

What symbolic fruit are you ?

Apple

The apple is most commonly known for being associated with the forbidden fruit that Eve eats in Catholicism which casts her and Adam out of heaven: original sin. However, apples are also symbolic to Pagan fertility goddesses, the seeds of which are five and showcase a pentagram when cut horizontally. The apple in any case, represents wisdom and knowledge, independent desire and curiosity. You are someone who seeks to understand the world better. You believe in independent thought and asking questions which to some may be hard to answer. There's been times where you may have persecuted for being different from how others expect you to act, but have never let that stop you from speaking your mind and taking what you want. However, be wary of leaping into things you don't understand. Knowledge is a wonderful, illuminating thing, but knowing too much can be a burden to some.

tagged by: @tailoringtay (thank you for the tag, my dude! 💕)

tagging: @oomerkabaoo, @daffodilzae, @vinjaryou and whoever else may have a little guy (OC) who's feeling a bit fruity.~ 🍇🍒🍊🍍🍈

[choccorin]

haven't written in uhm days, i'll try to come up with something later ! (o`ꇴ´o)

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: Now that she was free of him, she felt lighter. Mostly. She was a little annoyed that Cicero had the nerve to imply Bruno was some sort of predator when Cicero was the one going around drugging girls at parties, but whatever. It was fine. Well, no, it wasn’t fine, but he was a bad person doing what bad people did, shifting the blame. So there was no point in letting it ruin her day. The sun was shining, the clouds were puffy and cute, and she was going to see men walk on the moon. Screw Cicero and his games, she was happy, damn it. Pre-Movie AU

CH1 Prev Next Master List

Chapter 8: Sandcastles

Leandra resisted the urge to hum as she strolled through town. She’d already run into Cicero, but had managed to dissuade him from accompanying her by telling him that Bruno was going to give her a vision.

“What of?” Cicero had asked, managing to sound casually interested despite the tension leaking into his shoulders.

Leandra lied to keep Cicero on his toes, “Well you remember how he had that vision of me being attacked? He wants to see if he can see anything new.”

“Oh, and you’re absolutely sure that he’s not just making this up?”

“Positive. Why would he?” she had watched him carefully, she knew that he tended to cast doubt on the other men that surrounded his potential victims and she wanted to see what he would come up with.

“Well, you are a very beautiful woman,” Cicero had gently taken her hand, forcing her to hide her grimace behind a nervous giggle, “and he’s not… well, he doesn’t have the most wholesome reputation.”

Leandra bit her lip, hesitating, but ultimately chose to defend her (sort of) friend, “I prefer to get to know people before casting judgment on them, Bruno has never made me feel unsafe, in fact it’s nice to have somebody looking out for me.”

He frowned, then squeezed her hand, “I hope you’re right about him, just please be careful, and if you ever need somebody to help you deal with unwanted attention, you can always come to me.”

“Oh,” she took a moment to swallow the bitter laugh bubbling in the back of her throat, “thank you. I appreciate that. A-anyways, I don’t want to be late.”

“Of course,” he’d pulled her into an unwanted hug before releasing her, “I’ll see you soon.”

Now that she was free of him, she felt lighter. Mostly. She was a little annoyed that Cicero had the nerve to imply Bruno was some sort of predator when Cicero was the one going around drugging girls at parties, but whatever. It was fine. Well, no, it wasn’t fine, but he was a bad person doing what bad people did, shifting the blame. So there was no point in letting it ruin her day. The sun was shining, the clouds were puffy and cute, and she was going to see men walk on the moon. Screw Cicero and his games, she was happy, damn it.

The farm land used for crops was on the opposite side of town as the fields used for livestock. Mostly because the side that had the crops got better sun exposure and was easier to irrigate while the side with livestock was shadier and more hilly. She could have followed the river to her meeting spot with Bruno, but cutting through town was quicker.

Then again, the town gossips never congregated around the river, but they did congregate at Roberto’s coffee shop. Something Leandra really wished she’d considered when she noticed one of the middle aged ladies flagging her down.

“Oh, look at you,” Señora Cruz cooed, “where you off to looking so nice?”

Leandra glanced down at her outfit, an old blouse and a plain skirt she didn’t mind getting sandy, not exactly her Sunday best, “l’m-.”

“You’re not seeing that boy, are you? Cicero?” Señora Moreno clicked her tongue, “He’s been telling my son that you’re all over him.”

Leandra wrinkled her nose and Señor Hernandez laughed, “Uh-huh see, I told you, that Cicero boy is just telling tall tales. You know how he’s been lately.”

Señora Moreno shook her head mournfully, “He’s a good kid, but he’s got some sort of bug in his head lately. You know you’re the fourth girl this year, don’t you sweetie? This isn’t going to end well.”

“It’s probably because that Rosalie broke his heart,” Señora Cruz said, “the poor boy.”

Leandra scowled, opening her mouth to point out that Cicero had been chasing girls since he’d hit puberty, and that Rosalie had never given him any reason to believe she would be interested in him. 

“I’ve heard that Madrigal boy has been sniffing around you too, is that true?” Señor Hernandez cut her off.

“Oh, that man gives me the creeps,” Señora Cruz said, before Leandra could answer.

“Mm-hm, and he used to be such a cute kid, it’s such a shame.” Señora Moreno lamented.

“Bruno is a perfect gentleman,” Leandra blurted, desperate to get a word in edgewise. All eyes turned to her, a predatory gleam informing her that she just made a mistake.

“Oh?” They finally remained silent, giving her the space to further incriminate herself.

“Si. In fact I’m off to meet him now and I’d hate to keep him waiting. Adios,” she turned and rushed off before they could ask her anymore questions. She didn’t know if she was more frustrated with them for being such busy bodies, or herself for taking the bait. She should know better!

Now they were probably going to go around telling people that there was some sort of love triangle between her, Bruno and Cicero. If they did that, the story would spread to the entire village and eventually even Rosalie would hear, and who knows what she would think.

Leandra had never asked Rosalie who she thought had raped her; however, Rosalie wasn’t dumb. Cicero had been panting at her heels for months before that fateful night, he prepares her one “non-alcoholic” drink and suddenly she’s waking up pregnant in a haystack?

Yeah. It isn’t a huge leap.

Leandra had never meant for things to get this out of hand. She had only wanted to clear Rosalie’s name, prove that she hadn’t lied about that night, that she hadn’t gotten drunk and hadn’t willingly slept with anyone. 

The plan had been simple, step one: catch Cicero in the act of drugging a drink, step two: call him out on it and challenge him to drink the drugged beverage himself, step three: Cicero would either refuse or drink the beverage and quickly succumb to its effects, step four: the village would see what a snake he is and he would be banished from Encanto, step five: people would reconsider Rosalie’s story, connect the obvious dots, and everybody would realize how unfair they’d been and maybe throw Rosalie a “We’re Sorry” party. 

Sure, step five would probably have been easier said than done, but it would be downright impossible without steps 1 through 4. Leandra figured that once those first few steps were out of the way, she and Rosalie could make a new plan together. Whatever it took, just as long as people stopped treating Rosalie like the town harlot.

Unfortunately, step 1 had been way harder than she’d expected. Cicero was sneaky, and she’d started to think she was never going to catch him. When she finally did she’d panicked, frozen to her spot in the shadows as Cicero walked away and handed the drink to Pepa. By the time Leandra had reached him he had already proposed a toast and Pepa’s drink was half gone. She figured it was bad form to shout “Gee! Look everybody! Pepa’s about to get raped!” but she had to do something.

Now, in hindsight, Leandra figured she could have gotten Julietta’s attention. She and Bruno had been hovering near their sister, but were obviously not Cicero’s focus. That’s what she had done the last two times, there was no reason it wouldn’t have worked this time. But actually seeing the drug enter the drink had made everything ten times more real, and all her careful plans seemed foolish in the face of an actual rape attempt.

Granted, those careful plans were a lot less foolish than walking up to Pepa and upturning a plate of food onto her lap.

Bright side, Cicero had been so busy howling with laughter that he hadn’t even noticed Leandra hurriedly whispering “He drugged your drink” to Pepa. Down side, she was now the center of his attention.

Leandra kicked a loose pebble and muttered a curse at it as it skipped merrily away.

“S-something wrong?” the sudden voice startled her, she whipped around to find Bruno walking a half step behind her, “Sorry, sorry, I-I didn’t mean to startle you. I- you’re- I was c-coming to walk with you b-because we’re going- well you already know we’re both going to the same place. I-I don’t have to tell you that. Um I w-was trying to figure out how to greet you, you know, without startling you but then I noticed-, well it seems like-, are you upset?”

Leandra let out a loud huff. She couldn’t complain about the thing that was bothering her the most, but she could complain about what was bothering her the second most, “Just ran into the town gossips.”

“Oh,” Bruno was wringing his hands together, he kept opening and closing his mouth, apparently struggling to figure out what to say, so she saved him the trouble.

“Why do you let people talk about you the way they do?” she sounded angrier than she meant to, but hopefully he understood that she was angry at the people who spoke ill of him and not him.

He didn’t understand that, of course, because he was very used to accepting responsibility for things that weren’t his fault, “W-well what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Call them out on the fact that they’re idiots,” Leandra flung her hands out, “you’re one of the nicest people in the village! They have no right to- to…”

“Not like me?” Bruno filled in for her, then shrugged, “It’s normal for people to not like other people, e-especially if those other people have a bad habit of delivering bad news.”

“Bad news?! More like a warning,” she groused, “and you’re just doing your job! Where would the village be if you hadn’t warned us about that hurricane? What would have happened to me and Papa if you hadn’t helped us prepare for that Barn Flu?”

Leandra huffed, stomping onward as Bruno struggled to respond to her. It was flattering, sort of, to hear her say these things, but what exactly did she expect him to do about it?

As they walked through the orchard Leandra seemed content to scowl at the trees and grumble at the grass until she suddenly turned around and prodded a finger into his chest, “You perform a valuable service to this community! People would be literally dead without you. Dead! You have saved lives! You have saved farms and, and other things people do to make a living! You are a fucking blessing Bruno!”

“Are- are you um a-accusing me of being a blessing?” he asked, hands raised in surrender.

Leandra simply made a frustrated sound, wheeled around and shouted, “People should be thanking you! Not- ugh!”

Bruno watched her stomp towards the river bed and briefly debated turning around and going home. He had no idea how to respond to somebody angrily complimenting him, and honestly, trying to figure out what the rules were for this particular social interaction was already giving him a headache. A part of him wished she was insulting him instead, he knew what to do about that. Sort of.

But he had promised to show her men on the moon and that was what he was going to do.

“Some people do,” Bruno told her, quietly, when he caught up to her.

“Well everybody should. If they turn to you for a glimpse of the future then they should thank you for giving it,” she grumbled, wagging a finger at all these hypothetical people who should be thanking Bruno, “and if they don’t you should tell them off for being dickheads!”

“What about people who find out that a loved one will be dying soon?” he argued, “Should I call them names just because they’re overcome with grief?”

Leandra pouted a little, he had a point, “No… but everybody else! You’re way too nice to people who are being jerks, you should let loose on them a little.”

Bruno rolled his eyes and drawled, “Right, that’ll improve my reputation. Yelling at people who get upset about bad news.”

Leandra’s anger was just about spent, settling into a simmer rather than a boil, “Well, might not do much for your reputation, but it would probably be very satisfying.”

Bruno sighed and shook his head, “I’m a Madrigal, we have a duty to the community, I’m not going to jeopardize that for, for temporary satisfaction.”

He was caught off guard when he looked at her and found her pouting, her angry scowl replaced by misty eyes, she mumbled, “The community has a duty to you too.”

“I-I guess. But… it’s different.”

Leandra stopped at the edge of the riverbed and turned to stand in front of him, she looked so genuinely upset for him that Bruno found himself tempted to hug her, comfort her, tell her he wasn’t that bad off. He still had his sisters after all. He fiddled with his ruana in an attempt to keep his hands from reaching for her. She was the enemy, he reminded himself, not his friend.

“How is it different?”

“I-it just… I have a gift, they don’t.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she rolled her eyes, “just because I can get pregnant and you can’t doesn’t mean I’m obligated to pop out a baby for you anytime you ask.”

Bruno struggled to find a convincing argument for that, although he wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be arguing. Was he arguing for people thinking he was a creep? That’d be dumb. But at the same time, he knew with absolute certainty that he couldn’t go around telling people off for being upset about bad news.

Eventually he sighed and asked, “Do you want this vision, or are we going to spend the rest of the day bickering?”

Leandra crossed her arms. She wanted to throw up her hands and tell him that it wasn’t fair that he got treated like a creep for doing his job while that lazy pervert, Cicero, was “a nice boy who’s just acting out”. But if she revealed what exactly she thought of Cicero this whole complicated mess she’d created would just get more complicated.

She needed to talk to Pepa. She needed to know why Bruno didn’t know. And if it was all a big misunderstanding, she needed to clear things up, otherwise this whole thing would drive her insane. For now, there was nothing she could do but deal with the mess she made.

“Let me check,” she told him snootily, before marching into the dry river bed. 

Bruno followed her as she walked purposefully to the middle of the riverbed, where the ground was the sandiest. When they got there she looked around, then held up a finger as if feeling for the wind. He opened his mouth to ask her what she was doing, but she put the finger to her lips, shaking her head minutely. Then she bent down, picked up a handful of sand and tossed it into the air, watching it fall with a serious expression on her face.

Finally she told him, “We’ll do the vision, then find something else to bicker about.”

She barely got to the end of her sentence before she was giggling at her own antics. Bruno shook his head, opened his mouth to tell her that’s not how his gift works, but then settled for rolling his eyes and groaning. This reaction just made her giggle more.

“You know what,” Bruno held up his hands, “I’m leaving.”

“Wait no,” she reached for his hands even as he lithely dodged around her, “stay!”

“Nope! Don’t think I will,” he put his nose in the air, then quickly sidestepped her attempt to catch him, “clearly you’re not taking my gift seriously.”

“Well, no, not really,” she admitted feinting to one side then catching his hand in both of hers when he fell for it, “but…”

“But?” he could have pulled his hand free, but he let her hold him in place.

“I’m thinking, hold on,” she idly waved his hand side to side in between them, “buuuuuuuuuuuuuut… oh! But if you leave I will be deprived of the greatest joy a woman can experience.”

“Seeing man walk on the moon?” he asked.

“Seeing you smile like that,” she grinned, then did something with her face that sort of looked like one side of it had crumpled while the other was still grinning.

Bruno ignored the compliment, and the way it made him feel, in favor of asking, “What-? Is your face ok?”

“I can’t wink,” she admitted, somewhat morosely.

“Oh! That was a-? Really?”

“I think I’m overthinking it,” she tried again and it looked just as painful as the first time.

“Hm yes, well, there’s a lot to think about when it comes to closing one eye,” he said dryly, then winked at her.

“Hey! Don’t be mean!”

“I’m not,” he winked again, this time with the other eye.

“You are, you’re making fun of me!”

“What? Nooooo. How am I doing that?” he winked with one eye then the other.

Leandra pouted playfully and made a big show of dropping his hand, “You know what, on second thought, you can go.”

“No, no,” wink, “I owe you a vision,” wink, “and I wouldn’t want to miss out on the greatest joy a man can experience.”

“Making fun of me?”

“Si.”

She laughed, swatting at his arm, and Bruno found himself laughing too. Pepa’s face as they walked away from the party flashed behind his eyes and he immediately stopped laughing, clearing his throat and shifting from one foot to the other.

Leandra noticed his sudden change in mood, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I-,” he sighed, “can you please apologize to Pepa.”

She blinked, she looked down at her feet, pursing her lips, “If I do that, are we ever going to talk to eachother again?”

He frowned, unable to meet her eyes when she looked up at him with a searching expression. It was all the answer she needed.

“Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice smaller than she’d expected, “To never talk to me again?”

His eyes flicked to hers, looking briefly startled, then he looked down at the sand between them. She didn’t know what to make of his expression, or of his silence. She tried to believe it meant the answer was no, but she was having a hard time convincing herself the answer could be anything other than yes. Leandra sighed, deeply, she really had made a mess of things.

“I’ll um, I’ll talk to her after the market closes tomorrow,” she promised, her voice almost a whisper.

Bruno’s stomach twisted unpleasantly, but he tried to convince himself that it was a happy feeling of sudden queasiness. She had just told him he was getting what he wanted, that was a good thing. He was very happy and not at all upset to realize that he no longer needed to guard her from Cicero. And he wasn’t even a tiny bit hurt that she was giving up the chance to spend time with him that easily, nope.

“Great,” he nodded, “th-that’s great.”

She would talk to Pepa tomorrow, and ask why Bruno didn’t know about Cicero, if Pepa gave her the go ahead to explain things to him, then Leandra would. And if Pepa didn’t… well, then Leandra would just have to find another way to deal with Cicero. She should probably figure something else out anyways.

“So,” she clapped her hands together with false enthusiasm, “vision! Moon! Men! Is it anything like the Jules Verne novel?”

“No, uh no, it’s- you’ll see,” Bruno reached into the bag he’d brought and pulled out some sage. He arranged it in a little pile on the ground then pulled a match from his pocket, striking it in one smooth motion and using it to light the pile of leaves aflame. Leandra lowered herself to sit across from him, taking his hands when he offered them. 

He elected to ignore how nice they felt in his, or the way she was looking at him with something that almost looked like longing.

He closed his eyes and took a few breaths, reaching out for the future, it rushed towards him, eagerly showing him the answers to questions he hadn’t asked. With a bit of concentration Bruno waded through all the little instances of certainty and reached for a trail he’d already trod a couple times. When he was on the right path, he opened his eyes and everything but the future he sought melted away.

Leandra gasped when she saw the glowing green of his eyes. She’d been told, of course, how this all worked. She received a vision from him before, when an illness swept through Encanto’s livestock, and though he hadn’t invited her up into his tower, he’d explained the process.  The sand, the wind, the glowing eyes. But she’d never expected how handsome he’d look while giving a vision.

Bruno was always handsome of course, always a sight to behold with his soft hazel eyes, his shining curls, and his angular jaw, but now he looked almost otherworldly. He looked powerful. 

He must have misinterpreted her gasp because he frowned and said with just the hint of bitterness, “Still think I should let loose?”

A shiver went up her spine, “Si, por favor.”

He looked briefly confused, although he wasn’t looking directly at her. Experimentally, she tried to wink at him and when he didn’t so much as twitch in response she realized he couldn’t see her. She bit her lip, tamping down on the sudden urge to surprise him with a kiss. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she muddied the waters even more.

“There,” he gestured with his chin, eyes trained just above her head. She twisted to see a tower of some sort forming in the sand.

Bruno stood so she stood too, still gripping his hands. As they watched, the bottom of the tower erupted into flame and it began to move. It lifted off the ground, propelled by the flame at its tail and launched up into the sky. The image faded into another, this time the tower was floating and pieces of it were falling off.

“What’s happening?” she asked, carefully stepping around the sage and relinquishing one of his hands so she could move closer to his side.

“I don’t know, but I think it’s supposed to happen,” he didn’t take his eyes off the vessel floating through the sand.

She glanced at it to make sure she wasn’t missing anything groundbreaking, but found she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from Bruno’s profile. He couldn’t see her staring, and she didn’t know when her next opportunity to be this close to him would be. There was a bit of stubble on his jaw, there was always some stubble on his jaw. She would have to ask him if he ever thought about growing his goatee into a beard. If he was anything like her Papá, he wouldn’t be able to grow a full beard until at least his thirties, but she thought he would look good with one. Her free hand itched to trace his dark brows and she had to press her lips together to keep from leaning over and kissing his high cheekbones. His eyes widened and his lips parted in awe and she took that as her cue to turn back to the vision. 

There was earth below the vessel now. No, not earth, but still ground. The strange contraption lowered itself to the dust, then came to a stop.

“Is that-?” she breathed.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Wow, it’s really happening, we’re really doing it! We walk on the moon!”

“Yeah,” he let out an incredulous laugh, “It doesn’t matter how many times I see this, it’s still…”

“Amazing,” she breathed, squeezing his hand. 

The image changed again, three men were in a cramped space, putting on strange suits. They secured large, fish bowl like helmets on their heads, talking and grinning to each other. Then the vision was back outside, on the moon, watching as the door of the ship opened and one of the men stepped out onto the little ladder.

Leandra bit her lip, her free hand coming up to grip Bruno’s bicep while she pressed herself closer to his side. She felt like she was vibrating from the excitement. He smiled in her general direction, putting his free hand over the hand on his arm.

“This is the best part,” he whispered excitedly.

Then the man stepped off the ladder and onto the moon. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment the future looked so… magical. She found herself bouncing on the balls of her feet, barely containing sounds of excitement. Bruno was grinning, eyes still trained on his vision. Together they watched man pause and observe the heights he had reached. 

And then the vision began to fade, the sand around them whipping faster, gathering, coalescing. Bruno let her hands go to reach out and take hold of the glowing green tablet forming before them.

He held the tablet out to her. And there it was, man on the moon.

She gaped at it for a second, then launched herself at Bruno, crying “Gracias!” over and over. After a beat Bruno’s arms came up to return the impromptu hug. She squeezed him, squealing into his shoulder, as her feet danced in place.

“That was amazing! Incredible! It- I can’t believe- Gracias Bruno, gracias!” she pulled back to smile at him, keeping her arms around him in case she decided more hugging was in order.

Bruno, who was not used to beautiful women hugging and wiggling against him in response to his visions, struggled his way through a response, “It was my pleas- I-I mean I was happy to. A-Anytime you want to see s-something like that you can- I will. You’re welcome.”

She giggled and gave him one last squeeze, then twisted to grab the tablet he’d offered before, “Dios! Look at this.”

“I-it’s yours,” he said, not sure if he was supposed to step back or if she planned to squeeze him some more, “I already have two at home.”

She made another sound of excitement, her shoulders wiggling as she hugged the tablet to her chest, without thinking, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Gracias Bruno! You’re so wonderful!”

He laughed nervously, then cleared his throat. Enemy, he reminded himself, enemy. He tried not to stare as she grinned broadly at the tablet in her hands, her eyes wide with wonder. Her cheeks were flushed from her excitement and she kept bouncing on her toes, eventually she tilted her head back and looked up at the sky, exposing her long neck. Bruno found himself suddenly certain that if he ran his tongue up her neck and nibbled at the underside of her jaw, she would dig her fingers into his hair and tell him again how wonderful he was. He shook the thought from his head and looked up at the sky as well, simply because it was safer than staring at her.

“We should have done this at night,” she remarked to the moonless sky, “under a full moon or something.”

Bruno nodded, “Myeh. Would have made for great ambience.”

“I hear your vision cave is really dramatic, really adds to the whole experience,” she grinned at him, “the next time we do this I want to see it.”

Bruno blushed, he generally tried to avoid taking pretty girls into his tower, it probably wouldn’t do him any favors if he went around luring women into caves, “Wh-what else would you want to see? From the futu-what other visions would you ask for, I mean.”

She sighed wistfully, glancing at her tablet, “More stuff like this, o-obviously not anything in my own life, that’d be a bad idea, but… do we ever encounter life from other planets?”

“If we do it’s not set in stone yet,” he answered with a shrug, “I can only see things that are certain. Futures that have solidified.”

She bit her lip, leaning closer to him, “What about… future technology? Anything mind blowing?”

Bruno gulped, but didn’t step back, “Well, th-there’s the television, that’s pretty- oh! Oh! You would love some of the things people do with live theatre.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely! Some of the special effects are incredible,” he nodded eagerly.

“Then I’ll have to stop by sometime,” she was transfixed by the way his eyes seemed to twinkle when he got excited, “so you can show it to me.”

“That'd be great,” he grinned, “there’s actually a lot of really cool stuff in the future that nobody ever asks about. I-I would love to have more visions about, y’know, all that.”

She hummed distractedly, “I can’t wait.”

For a few seconds they just stared at each other, Leandra couldn’t stop staring at his eyes, picking out all the flecks of green and brown. She thought again of how imposing he’d looked before, and the idea of being alone with him in his cave as he showed her his favorite glimpses of the future sent a thrill of anticipation down her spine. Maybe after she spoke to Pepa, after this whole mess was cleared up, she could convince Bruno to take her on a picnic, or go swimming with her. 

Meanwhile Bruno watched the soft smile twitching at the edges of her lips. She was the enemy, yes, sure, of course… but, maybe if she did a really good job of apologizing to Pepa, if she was really, really nice to Pepa, then they could be friends. Just friends of course, because he knew she had feelings for Cicero, and he might not understand why, but he still respected that. It would be nice to have somebody to share the great parts of the future with. 

A dark shape appeared on the ground in Bruno’s peripheral, startling him. When he glanced at it, it was just a bird pecking at the sand, but it officially ended the moment between him and Reina.

He backed up a step, clearing his throat, “I uh, I should probably get back. I-I promised Padre I would give him a- he’s trying to decide where to put the new church.”

“They’re building a new church?” Leandra asked, then immediately decided that of course they were building a new church. The old one had started getting a bit cramped once their generation reached the baby making stage of life.

“Oh, um,” he laughed nervously, “p-pretend I didn’t say that. It’s- well it isn’t a secret but… it isn’t not a secret.”

“My lips are sealed,” she said, pretending to lock her mouth shut and throw away the key. 

“Great. Gracias. I’ll um, see you tomorrow?”

“Of course! You have to make sure I don’t seduce Cicero before I get the chance to talk to Pepa,” Leandra joked.

“Exactly!” 

“Exactly. So, tomorrow.”

“A-and I won’t forget the pants this time. Promise.”

“Gracias. Although feel free to forget your shirt.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes and she pretended to blow him a kiss and neither of them made any move to leave. Bruno bit his lip and debated inviting her back to his place so she could start making up with Pepa immediately. Leandra fiddled with her vision and thought about telling him he looked even more handsome than usual when he was using his gift.

The bird flew away.

“We’re going the same direction,” she pointed out, hooking a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the village.

“Right,” he finally started walking, smiling when she fell in step beside him, “I-I knew that.”

“So, any plans today other than some light city planning?”

“I’m going to help Julietta make dinner,” he shrugged, “you?”

“Pull some weeds in my garden, make some soap, check on the cheese, the usual,” she shrugged.

They chatted all the way back to the village square, then lingered where their paths diverged until Leandra saw Padré coming.

“Ugh,” she made a quiet noise of disgust, noticeable only because she cut herself off to make it. 

“Ugh?” Bruno asked, he turned but saw nothing that would warrant that sort of reaction. Only Padré approaching them.

“Nothing, sorry, I just- When Rosalie was attacked, he shamed her for it, his support would have made everything better for her and instead he made things- ugh,” she began backing away, “excuse me. If I’m forced to speak to him I will not manage to be polite.”

When Padré waved to her she simply frowned at him.

When he had given his pointed sermon on the dangers of alcohol and pre-marital sex in the wake of Rosalie’s rape, Rosalie had approached him in private and politely informed him that God knew better than he what had happened that night and if he wished to cast stones he should perhaps double check what the Lord’s policy for that sort of thing was. Leandra had stood by her side during that conversation, and she hadn’t quite managed to withhold a look of disgust when Padré had gotten defensive and essentially called Rosalie a liar.

Rosalie on the other hand, poised and graceful as she was, had simply lifted her nose a hair higher and told him, “I will pray for your soul.”

It had been clear from the look on his face that Rosalie had somehow dealt a devastating blow, and Leandra had wanted to land another. Physically. She wanted to punch his teeth in. However, it was Rosalie’s show and she was already walking away with her head held high.

Leandra had settled for looking Padré up and down and quietly saying, “Shepherds are supposed to protect their flock.” before turning and following Rosalie.

Apparently, their words had made an impression because Padré never used the pulpit to shame Rosalie again, but he also had yet to offer Rosalie an apology or any sort of support. He avoided her eyes to the best of his ability, and on the few occasions he tried interacting with Leandra, he was neither surprised nor upset when she avoided him. If she didn’t know any better, she would go so far as to say that he looked guiltier and guiltier every time she snubbed him.

She could only conclude that he knew he messed up, and was too cowardly to do anything about it.

Bruno watched her go then turned to examine the town Priest. He had never really thought about Padré’s part in what had happened to Rosalie, although he knew his mother had not been happy about the sermon Padré had given. He thought she may have had a word with him about it, but he wouldn’t know.

It was pretty obvious that men made Rosalie uncomfortable so he had always done his best to give her space, even when she was staying at Casita. Especially when she was staying at Casita. That was when she was her most vulnerable.

“Hola Señor,” Padré greeted him, though his eyes lingered guiltily on Reina’s back.

“Hola Padre,” Bruno said, respectfully, even as he re-examined his previously respectful opinions of the other man.

Padré opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, shook his head and began explaining the possible building sites for the new church.

[how-to-be-a-tree]

It was at this moment Jae won decided to get drunk!!!

[theslybrownfox]

I wasn't expecting to cry so soon today, but... here we are.

The Choctaw-Irish Brotherhood(via)

[the-future-is-chrome]

the neurodivergent experience:

20% of the time: wowwieee!!! i love my passions and interests!!!!! they make me so happy i want to jump up and down!!!!! weee!!!!!!! :3333333333

80% of the time: this mind is a prison

[shamebats]

[yuttikkele]

hey gamers I’ve started watching star trek does anyone else see the romantic tension between captain kirk and mr. spock

[suffering-and-misery]

adhd executive dysfunction sucks bcuz im just sitting there and my brain is like

YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME YOU ARE WASTING TIME

no work done no rest gained. literally no point of this at all

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