#tlaa

[alexthebordercollie]

I accidentally deleted my old tumblr account :/ so if I'm stuck having to start over from scratch I may as well start with reposting my most popular comic. Before this was posted in separate pieces at least now it's all in one and in order. Insight into Bruno's depression and the way his mental health impacts the people around him. From his sobrina struggling with the weight of knowing he's struggling without understanding why to his hermana feeling bitter and abandoned by his withdrawal because she's struggling in her own trauma and doesn't understand the way Bruno reacts to his trauma.

[alexthebordercollie]

Not gonna lie I have a hard time picturing Bruno as straight. Esspecially seeing how eager Alma was to set up her oldest granddaughter with a husband. I feel like Bruno would have grown up with a lot of social pressure to get married. The fact he remained unmarried for 40 years despite this pressure makes it seem very likely to me that he's either gay or ace.

While I'm aware it's possible that literally no woman in town wanted to marry Bruno that just seems less likely to me than him being some flavor of queer. Sure Bruno wasn't popular but the shit-talking probably got worse after he disappeared and became kind of boggiman in the hazy memory of people who didn't know him well to begin with. I'm sure at least some woman would have been willing to marry him even if only for the prestige of marrying into the Madrigal family.

My Bruno is gay and demisexual. His lover and future husband is an outsider who stumbles into town after a series of misfortunes leave him unemployed and homeless. A former posh college professor who's faced the consequences of being publicly outed before.

I also headcanon Bruno as neurodivergent and my OC love interest is also hinted at possibly being on the autism spectrum though he's very good at masking. I feel like queer and ND experiences tend to overlap in a lot of ways so it's fun writing characters who are both of those things.

Some fanart of Bruno and Rafael from right after the movie, when they get united after a decade, and Bruno has built enough courage to finally pursue his own happiness.

Yes, Rafael is an oc. But compared to the cc×cc shipping I have seen from the Encanto fandom's shipping scene, I'd muuuuch rather see more cc×oc.

Rafael Guerrero is a baker. He is 2 years younger than the Madrigal triplets, and was the first person that Julietta healed after getting her powers as he had been born ill and had been bedridden his whole(short) life up to that point. He is never seen without his father's hat, and he tries to live his life to the fullest, both through generosity and his tendency to be wholly himself without shame. And as the Encanto is in a valley that was separated from the rest of the world, the same laws that were applicable for the rest of the world in 1940, were not all enforced in the Encanto.

[sannehnagi]

Rhaitšiip nigiilik I'm gonna kiss your lips Matihivaiita tlaa, I'm gonna make sure, dear, Innaraak arharangitooq That my love sticks utšahambaiitšiik naatik I'm gonna make your legs shake šaitšiip ukkayuvaiišiip I'm gonna make you beg.

[ultracharliea326-blog]

I found this on NewsBreak: Happy Mothers Day - gunalcheesh -tlaa

I found this on NewsBreak: Happy Mothers Day - gunalcheesh -tlaa

[wolftheidioticfan]

TLAA from ttcc be like

Mad.

Might destroy my own office.

[nytehavyn-circle]

Tlaas sat beside the edge of the tub and watched her face. "Stop messin' with the stitches," he gently chided her. "They'll be gone by tomorrow, anyways."

He picked up the shower poof, got it nice and wet, and slowly began to wash around the bullet hole. There was nothing sexual about this. Tolaas only cared whether or not she was okay. She was his responsibility right now. After all, he'd been the one to find her.

"Bon't be worryin' bout yer phone right this moment. Let's get ya relaxed and settled first," he said quietly, looked closely at the stitched wound and nodded. "Yer gonna be here fer 'bout two ta three days," he told her, sitting up straight now and gently washing her back. "Should be completely healed and prolly gone, 'cept fer a scar, by the end a'the week at the most. Like I said, two er three days. An' I ain't gonna let ya exert yerself too much. Ya been shot, darlin', that ain't somethin' ya just shrug off, no matter what the movies might say."

@wayward-roleplays

Main blog for @wayward-roleplays

Nadia stumbled on a piece of pavement that was uneven, yelling as she goes down. Her left hand clutching the part of her sternum as blood slips in between her fingers. She had been shot and she was trying to find help.

Once she's able to find her footing she manages to stand and walk another 50 feet before collapsing in an alleyway.

Tolaas had heard a gunshot and immediately started running in the direction it came from. He was one of those people who stupidly ran toward danger instead of away from it. But it was how he was. If someone needed help, he would try to be there. So the gunshot called him in that direction, instead of scaring him to run the opposite way.

He slowed his running when his nose caught the scent of fresh blood. He searched around and sent his feelers out. Someone was hurt. He followed the scent of blood and his feelers and was led to an alleyway.

"Shhhit," he whispered when he saw the woman lying there. He knelt down and grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket. he folded it and pressed it hard against the wound. "Hey, hey, darlin'? Ya 'wake? Want me ta call a ambulance?" He could tell by her aura she had power. But what kind, he wasn't sure. Witch, maybe? Witches auras looked mostly the same as regular people's, but they seemed to 'throb' more than a regular person's. He didn't know what kind of magic she had, but it apparently wasn't serious healing magic.

Tolaas said again, "D'ya want me ta call a ambulance? Can ya hear me?"

@wayward-roleplays

[maddysacademics]

Think Like An Anthropologist - Matthew Engelke

WOW

I have only ever been emotional finishing one other book- Eger’s The Choice; that felt very justified because it was an emotional autobiography about hardship, war, and self-fulfilment. I have just finished TLAA (rather unexpectedly, since my kindle only suggested I was 3/4s in, but the last pages were all notes and references) and strangely I am feeling rather emotional! I didn’t cry like I did with Eger’s autobiography, but I feel...nostalgic? Definitely not the word I’m looking for, but I just wish I could go and reread the entire book for the first time again because it opened my eyes to A LOT.

I thought I knew social anthropology- not very deeply, but I thought “hey, I get the basics, and I know I’ll enjoy the expert sections at uni, so I will adore HSPS.” I was certainly right about the second part, but I did NOT know anything. I knew just the tip of the ice berg in comparison to what I was shown by that book. I felt like Rapunzel in Tangled where she leaves her castle and is a little scared, but insanely excited by the new things around her! Reading the book, I was getting so in my head about how much information I was retaining, because I wanted to remember every single line. It just felt so educational, like I would be missing out if I forgot a single element of the book, but I just had to tell myself to enjoy it because I started overthinking about how I’d remember everything. 

I’d like to add also that the book title totally summarises the book in the most perfect sense. Why? Because every time I read a new theory, idea, word, etc, it would pop up around me for the next week! I cannot get these ideas out of my head; I thought it was bad enough analysing everything with a sociological and political lens, but now that I really understand how to Think Like An Anthropologist, the way I analyse the world has, again, been totally shaped.

“You know when you’re a little bit tired while reading so you’re not as invested in the words?” No. Not with this book. I was clinging on to every piece of information on the page, trying to remember all the names of the communities and cultures and practices. Now that I finished, I feel like I remember nothing, yet I remember so much- I feel it’s because I understand that out of what I read, I could probably only remember around 20% of the content, yet that 20% is so educational and informative that all I can do is hope to take more in next time.

I only remembered the highlight feature on a kindle existed half way through reading, which is such a shame because I totally exploited it while reading Handmaid’s Tale, and it really helped me pinpoint all the sections I loved. However, out of the bits I did highlight, I can see that most of my ‘notes’ are coming from the Nature chapter. I think the way in which Engelke explored nature was so interesting, especially because in Western culture, nature is something so important to us. I consider myself an open-minded, culturally sensitive person, but I got thrown off when things I considered to be fact were subjective to other cultures, making me realise, either a) it was not fact, or b) even accepting/rejecting fact is up to a culture. 

The book as a whole just felt like the perfect introduction to social anthropology. I thought I had already been introduced, but now I know that I have the right outlook on the subject to further explore it, as well as apply it to my daily life.

I’ve never understood why people reread books. Until now. 10000/10. Not exaggerating. 

[franthonysalzman]

Day 5 TLAA 2021 ICONOGRAPHY WORKSHOP Working on the Holy Mandelion at the beautiful Diakonia Retreat Center. Last day. Great week. Hard work. . . . . #art #painting #whimage #fun #creative #imagination #sketch #drawing #graphics #artwork #artist #fineart #paint #instaart #couples #coffee #painting #wine #adventure #travel #surfing #attitude #artcard #notecard #business #love #marketing #grammer #theology #faith #contemporary art https://www.instagram.com/p/CTGhhoLr8IK/?utm_medium=tumblr

[buhbuhbuhbuhbeanz7654]

HOEP TLAA MAUSIC SO FUCEKEN GODOD WOOOOOWWA

[missmxrcy]

A squeeze of the hand. Goodbye godson.

She stayed there, in her car, unmoving, for too long.

She just wanted to protect her family. Was it selfish? Yes. Was it wrong? ...Was it?

      “You burned it down. Didn’t you.“     “How can we solve any of this if we keep running in circles by ourselves?”

The voices began to overlap each other. So loud. Did he really think she would burn down a Home for kids? Did he think she was that... determined? evil?

“Why you’d burn it down? For fuck’s sake, Mercy, because of-” “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come back here-” “You're an AGENT for god's sake, you were trained for this,”   “You’re done, lass. Stay. Away.-“ “What happened?” 

Mercy closed her eyes, hoping the voices would get quieter..

----

The last time she saw her mother was through a window at the nursing home. The nurses had called Mercy a couple hours before, but now the woman was sat upright and smiling as she ate her food.

“Seems like she’s doing okay.” Her grandmother spoke, “Ke tlaa bona, ne?” { see you soon, okay? } After spending not even 30 minutes standing next to each other, her grandmother left. Neither of them had entered the room since arriving. They barely spoke to each other. Gogo didn’t speak a single word to her own daughter. And if gogo wouldn’t speak to her own daughter...

Mercy watched her best friend, her mother. She was doing well. Mercy wanted nothing more than to go into the room and hold her hands, tell her about the day she had, ask her mother about her day. But she knew that wouldn’t happen. She knew exactly what her mama would say ::

----

The moment her eyes opened, she caught a glimpse of her herself in the mirror.

     You.

        Who are you?

[alexthebordercollie]

I made this for an Encanto secret santa. Glad my kid enjoyed their gift ^.^ you can read the attached short story below the cut.

︵‿୨ - February 14 1912 - ୧‿︵

The hike up the steep mountainside was more exhausting in the rain. Slogging through the thick sticky mud that grew deeper the higher Bruno climbed. The closer he got to the source of the storm. Bruno spotted Pepa’s ruffled yellow dress peaking out against the murky landscape. The winds whipping the bright fabric about like a flag. Contrasted against the murky shadow the clouds coated across the lush greenery. Washing out all color save for that bright yellow dress. Soggy and miserable as it looked.

 “Can I sit?” Bruno carefully approached the small splash of sorry color sitting alone in the sea of sullen browns, greys, and blues. He pointed innocently to the patch of muddy ground next to his sister.

Pepa looked up at Bruno with the fattest pout. The rain blended with the tears that streamed down flushed red cheeks. Indistinguishable from each other. Green eyes narrowed before looking away. Pepa scooted an inch to the side to make space on her little patch of mud. Bruno sat down beside her. The ground squelching unpleasantly through his trousers. The wind blew Bruno’s hood about but he didn’t bother trying to keep it on his head. There wasn’t much point. He was already soaked clear through to the bone and had been for a while. From up here, the two siblings could watch the wild tears stream down the mountainside and into town. Occasionally a stray neighbor would step outside to brave the storm. They looked like ants. Scurrying wildly about the empty streets to dodge the rain.

“Julieta’s talking to Mamá right now.” Bruno stated awkwardly. Unsure how to make conversation. He knew Pepa didn’t want to talk, but Bruno figured she might feel better if they did. 

He didn’t have much reasoning behind the conjecture. After all, he was the one who caused this storm. Him and his big mouth. His bad luck. Bruno had a habit of making most things worse. He knew Pepa was upset but in her moment of stunned silence, he made the rookie mistake of trying to lighten the mood with a joke. He was stupid. He knew that, but then again… things couldn’t get much worse than they were now. He still wanted to help. Even if he wasn’t very good at it.

“Good for her.” Pepa huffed.

“Mamá’s pretty mad.” Bruno observed. He pulled his poncho over his lap and watched the water collect before wringing it out tightly in his grip. Not that it mattered. He’d stretch it back out again to watch another puddle form.

“Mamá’s always mad.” Pepa spat back in frustration.

“That’s not true.” Bruno countered meekly. Wringing more water out of his poncho. “She’s never mad at Julieta.” 

“At us Bruno!” Pepa snapped. Furrowing her brow in frustration at her brother. 

Bruno said another stupid thing. Of course he did. “Correcto, porque somos los jodidos.” He replied simply. Not sad or resentful. Just a statement of fact. One he knew Pepa was just as self-aware of as he was.

They both knew they were the problem children. Pepa because her emotions always got the better of her and Bruno? Well… what wasn’t wrong with Bruno? He couldn’t exactly explain what the problem was. He couldn’t answer that question if he tried. He just knew he was wrong. Everything he did or said. He was strange. Stupid. Bad luck…

“Ajá.” Pepa sighed in resignation. 

Bruno was just stating the obvious again.

Bruno tucked quietly under his poncho. Wrapping it tight over his knees and resting his chin on the flat surface the tent created. His rat Lupita squirmed up to his collar to poke her head out. The little doe sensed the tension in the air as the deafening silence settled between the two siblings. The storm was loud and raging around them, despite Pepa’s still silence.

“Estoy bien mija.” Bruno soothed to his furry little friend. Petting her sopping wet fur between the ears. He liked talking to his rats like this. When he talked to them he could pretend to be a grown-up. That was always nice. He somehow had a feeling he would never get to be a grown-up for real. He couldn’t explain why. It was just a feeling.

“Puaj, puf, puf, puf, puf, puf!” Pepa suddenly shrieked. Scrambling back away from Bruno. The thick mud staining the little yellow dress that stuck out against the storm. Smothering that little spark of color. “You brought one of your rats?!”

“It’s just Lupita.” Bruno defended. Plucking the small doe from his shoulder and cupping her protectively in his hands. “She’s nice. She was worried about you and wanted to come make sure you were ok.” 

“It’s all soggy and smelly!” Pepa whined. She shuttering and squirming as she leaned as far from Bruno as she could without getting up.

“But she’s so nice.” Bruno protested. Holding up the dripping little doe to show his sister. Showing off Lupita’s bright beady eyes. 

“Ay!” Pepa shrieked as Bruno shoved the rat into her face. Flailing and trying to shove it away. Lupita began to panic and squirm in Bruno’s hands. Attempting to flee Pepa’s shrieking. A bolt of lightning zapped the ground next to Bruno and made him jump. Barely dodging a very painful strike.

“Just hold the rat!” Bruno demanded irritably. 

“I’m not holding that thing!” Pepa yelled back over the howling winds. “It’s gonna bite me!”

Bruno huffed and puffed up his cheeks. He filled his lungs with air and gathered his courage before grabbing Pepa by her arm and forcing Lupita into her hands. “Ahí, ves?” Bruno challenged. Pepa kept squirming but Bruno held her hands clasped over Lupita. The frightened little doe curled up and shook in their hands. “She’s not gonna bite. Just hold her, you’ll feel better.” He insisted.

Pepa anxiously sucked in her lips. Her shoulders bunched up around her neck. Slowly she opened one eye and looked down. She gradually relaxed as she looked at the caged little creature in their hands. Trembling and sweet. Not an ounce of malice in Lupita’s tiny body.

“Feeling better?” Bruno asked softly. Watching Pepa slowly unwind. Bruno’s chest swelled with a sense of pride. He loved his rats. Knew just how sweet they were. How good they felt to hold. Bruno slowly loosened his grip on the girls and guided Pepa’s hands till she was holding Lupita comfortably. The little wet rat continued to shake for a bit before finally looking up at Pepa with wide pleading eyes.

Pepa sniffled and the wind gradually slowed around them. “She’s warm.”  She muttered softly.

“And soft.” Bruno chirped with pride.

Pepa nodded slowly before her puffy red cheeks began to swell. Her eyes welled up as she stared back down at Lupita. Broken wailing sobs escaped her, rattling her delicate frame.

Bruno’s heart lurched up into his throat. Panic setting in with the fresh wave of icy cold downpour that soaked him to the bone. “Oh, oh no, Pepa, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to…” Bruno rushed to try and hold his sister but couldn’t find an opening through the cracks of lighting and harsh winds.

“He said he dumped me 'cause I’m crazy.” Pepa sobbed.

“You’re not crazy!” Bruno scolded sternly. Shouting over the rain. 

Angry tears continued to pour over Pepa’s flushed face. She sucked in a few sharp wheezing breaths before choking out her words. “I feel crazy.” She hugged Lupita to her chest and sobbed into her sopping wet pelt. “No matter how hard I try… It always rains…” 

Pepa’s words dug into Bruno’s chest like a knife. They struck at something, at feelings he didn’t know how to put words yet. He knew Pepa wasn’t the crazy one. She didn’t deserve to feel like that.

“You’re not crazy.” Bruno mumbled as the howling winds died down again. The rain falling straight down like a bucket dumped onto the mountainside. Weighing Pepa’s hair and clothes down like lead. Bruno pulled Pepa close and hugged her. Resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re just a kid.” He told her. “It’s okay to be sad. It’s not your fault.”

Pepa sobbed into her brother’s neck. For a while, it was all she could do. Just sniffle and grieve. Exhausted and sad and broken. “I tried so hard.” She whimpered.

“I know you did.” Bruno replied softly. 

“I was going to be the best novia ever.” Pepa grieved. “We were going to get married someday.”

Bruno winced and tilted his head. “Well… I mean, I knew that wasn’t gonna happen.” He replied.

Pepa shoved him back with one hand. Lupita still perched in the other. “You knew he was going to dump me this whole time and you didn’t say anything?” 

“Oh, no,” Bruno held up his hands in submission. Shrinking back before he risked getting zapped. “I didn’t know what was going to happen I just, like, your baby, in the future, I knew they weren’t his.” Bruno told her. “I don’t know who you’re supposed to marry but I saw your daughter once in a vision.” 

Pepa grew quiet and hugged Lupita again. The tired stressed little rat looked like she was growing impatient with being squished but made no effort to escape her grip. “Could you uhm…” Pepa looked away and tugged at her limp braid with one hand. “Could you see who my husband is? Maybe then I won’t have to waste my time…” 

Bruno quickly shook his head. He immediately knew how that would go. A deep pit in his gut told him if he tried to it would only make life harder for his sister. “I don’t think that’s a good idea Pepa. What if I jinx it? What if I see you with someone terrible and ugly and then you're stuck with him?” Bruno challenged.

Pepa sighed. Her shoulders sagging. “I guess you’re right…” She conceded. She turned away to stare aimlessly back down the muddy slope at the town. Petting Lupita in her lap. “Mamá says real women don’t get their heart broken over stupid little boys.” She pouted softly. 

Mamá was always telling them what it meant to be a grown-up. All the things they had to do and be. None of it sounded very fun. Most of it sounded impossible to Bruno. He wasn’t sure he would ever be a real man. He didn’t know how to be, and seeing the future didn’t make the answers any clearer.

Bruno curled up and hugged his knees. Staring down at the town again. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” He admitted. Manhood was already hard enough to wrap his head around. He couldn’t begin to figure out being a woman. “I’m pretty sure Mamá thinks I’m a stupid little boy.” He chuckled awkwardly and quacked out of the side of his mouth. “So I guess you better not let me break your heart.” He teased. Turning to look back at his sister. “Then we’ll both be in trouble and I won’t even be able to help cause you’ll be too mad at me.”

Pepa let out a little snort that turned into a laugh. One laugh turned into two, before devolving into more tears again. Her genuine smile a brief flash of light that was quickly snuffed out by a fresh wave of pain. “Dios mío, duele tanto.” She wept. Overwhelmed by a pain Bruno had yet to know.

“Lo siento.” Bruno replied softly. “I don’t know how to make it better.” He looked down at his feet and hugged his knees. His hair clinging to his face and forming thick black curtains over his eyes. He could just see his toes soaking into the mud between the clumps of black. The gentle sound of his sister’s cries just barely audible over the fat lazy raindrops plopping against the ground.

Bruno’s eyes scanned over the mud. Counting the raindrops. Eventually, his gaze landed on a long sturdy branch with a fork at the end. He perked up and squinted at the stick for a moment. A thought occurring to him. Pepa looked up at him curiously as Bruno got up to pick up the stick. He didn’t mind Pepa’s stares. She’d understand in just a moment. Bruno scurried about the slippery hillside and surrounding woods looking for the right sort of branches. It took some searching but he found another similarly forked branch and broke a bit off the end to make them the same length. More sticks, some large fronds that had been knocked from the towering wax palms by the storm.

“What are you doing?” Pepa narrowed her eyes at Bruno skeptically as he approached with his bundle of waterlogged kindling.

“Helping.” Bruno replied simply. 

Bruno dug a couple of holes in the mud on either side of Pepa and wedged his forked branches into them. Drilling them down into the ground and caking the base in mud till it was enough to hold them upright. Another branch draped between the two pillars. Its ends woven into the forks. Once he did so he laid a few other branches he’d stripped of any straggly bits diagonally from the ground to the top branch. He layered palm fronds over the frame he’d created till he’d built a decently solid little lean-to. The walls of packed leaves caught the rain as it fell and offered Pepa a small shelter.

Bruno could feel Pepa’s eyes burning holes into him as he came to sit back down beside her under the palm fronds. “En serio?” She chuckled softly.

Bruno shrugged. “What? I made a shelter. Now you won’t get rained on.” 

Pepa laughed again. A bit more genuine this time. “And? We’re both drenched. What does it matter? We’re still wet.”

“Sí.” Bruno replied simply. “But now we’re a little less wet.” He reasoned. Hugging his knees and listening to the rain hit the leaves and slide off. “I figure that’s still better.”

“Sí, creo que sí.” Pepa replied softly. She flopped sideways, resting her head on Bruno’s shoulder. Lupita looked up at Bruno pleadingly from her perch in Pepa’s hands. Pepa didn’t really know how to hold a rat right but Lupita was doing her best to be patient. Bruno was considering taking his rat back when the next words out of Pepa’s mouth took him by surprise and disrupted his thoughts.

“Gracias Bruno.” Pepa sighed. Closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the rain.

“De nada.” Bruno assured her. Resting his cheek on top of her head.

More Encanto short stories here-

To love for today - Chapter 1 - alexBDcollie - Encanto (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

[tebogoregasegile]

🤜🏾🤜🏾🤜🏾🤜🏾🦋🦋🦋 life ya me ke yame kana. Go re batho ba tlaa reng tota nna ga di nkame.tseo ke dikgang tsa lona. (at Corona Cigar Company) https://www.instagram.com/p/CiWiVJpMSCS8KmKcJ-yWwbyIDYg5xbxOziz7Vo0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[goneahead]

@jareckiworld I don’t know any Gwich’in poems, but there is a well-known San Francisco poet with Athabascan roots. Mary Tall Mountain was Scottish and Koyokun. (The Koyokun and Gwich’in both speak Athabascan languages and live in the Northwest quarter of North America)

note: sokoya is Athabascan for aunt

There Is No Word for Goodbye

Sokoya, I said, looking through

the net of wrinkles into

wise black pools

of her eyes.

What do you say in Athabaskan

when you leave each other?

What is the word

for goodbye?

A shade of feeling rippled

the wind-tanned skin.

Ah, nothing, she said,

watching the river flash.

She looked at me close.

We just say, Tlaa. That means,

See you.

We never leave each other.

When does your mouth

say goodbye to your heart?

She touched me light

as a bluebell.

You forget when you leave us,

You’re so small then.

We don’t use that word.

We always think you’re coming back,

but if you don’t,

we’ll see you some place else.

You understand.

There is no word for goodbye.

~~Mary Tall Mountain

Margaret Nazon — The Tadpole Galaxy  (velvet with beading (glass, plastic and organic material), canvas backing, 2016)

[revistatrayecto-blog]

Ordena INAI a CFE informar sobre evaluación a Central Nuclear de Laguna Verde

Ordena INAI a CFE informar sobre evaluación a Central Nuclear de Laguna Verde

La Comisión Federal de Electricidad (CFE) debe entregar versión pública de los resultados obtenidos de la evaluación de los Programas de Gestión de Envejecimiento (AMP) y de los Análisis de Envejecimiento Limitados en el Tiempo (TLAA) realizados en la Central Nuclear Laguna Verde entre 2019 y 2021, instruyó el Instituto Nacional de Transparencia, Acceso a la Información y Protección de Datos…

[fairylights101writes]

while i’m updating, i’d like to also make the formal announcement that TLAA will end prematurely. there was a lot more planned for it, but i’ll wrap up the story to make it complete. my heart just isn’t with that series anymore due to certain things, but it will be finished. before the next decade. lmao

[dailyeconomicsnet]

The Government of India has introduced a new Section 115BAC in the Finance Act 2020. The memorandum to Finance Bill 2020 says it is an incentive to Individual and HUF (hereinafter referred to as taxpayers), which are in line with options given to the Corporates under Taxation Law Amendment Act,2019 (TLAA).

Individuals and HUFs have the liberty to choose Tax Rates under the New Tax Regime. There's more to it - the fine print is worth reading.

Read More: https://rb.gy/rtv197