dakilanglumpia - Tumblr blog

[dakilanglumpia]

joven and remedios spend their afternoons throwing shade and spilling tea about the military men in their lives

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1st pic: When Epy mentioned the word “Breakup”

VS.

2nd pic : When Epy mentioned the word “Mabinaldo”

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I rarely go to the movies but when I do, it’s for historical-based ones haha

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at tumigil ang mundo, nang a k s i d e n t e n g malaladlad tayo ni epy

Interviewer “What was your most memorable scene to shoot?”

Epy: “Actually for this film, for me it’s the confrontation when Aguinaldo visited Mabini. After… after the Heneral Luna after when Mabini is actually writing against Aguinaldo already and Aguinaldo offers the position of the Supreme Court Justice.

I think that’s a good moment for the Mabinaldos… they call it Mabinaldos, after Heneral Luna there’s been a following of these two characters. They call it Mabinaldo.”

Interviewer: “Like a fan club?”

Epy: “It’s not a fan club but I guess it’s the fans of Mabini and the relationship that he had with the President at the time as the Supreme… uhmmm… as the Prime Minister”

This is not a drill Epy mentions and tries to explain Mabinaldo 😂

Vid from Rappler’s Interview (Aug 14, 2018)

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Thought of you as everything I’ve had but couldn’t keep

Oh she is alive, and she is kicking (and she said she’d post this a week and a half ago but she died for a while…sorry for that). It took her almost two years before writing something for this fandom again (still sorry). But enough of that HAHAHA (belated) happiest of birthdays to @regaliaaas and @durchartist!!! I hope y’all like this t h i n g that’s inspire by that JM-Jennylyn Asus web-commercial (which will also be available on AO3, soon).

Disclaimer: She didn’t edit this before posting. She’ll get to it, soon.

“So, pupunta ka ba?” Pedro sipped his tea as he raised an eyebrow at his friend. His gaze traveled back to the glare of his laptop’s screen to look at the electronic invite for their high school homecoming.

“Ayoko ng gulo.”

“Ano ba sa tingin mo ang pupuntahan mo? Sabungan?”

“Pedro.”

“Miong,” Pedro rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. “Mahiya ka naman. A-Awardan ka sa homecoming dahil ikaw nag-design nung bagong chapel ng high school. Kailangan andun ka.”

“Hindi ko naman hiniling na bigyan nila ako ng award. Ipadala na lang nila sa office ko,” Miong was taking a sip from his steaming mug of coffee when Pedro kicked him in the shin. “Aray!”

“Ingrato ka.”

“Ah basta. Ayokong pumunta. And besides, may malaking project ako na kailangan i-close sa linggong yun. Busy ako.”

“Ano pang silbi ni Greg sa’yo kung di niya kayang i-close ‘yun mag-isa?”

“Masyado pa siyang bata.”

“But that didn’t stop you from hiring him and trusting him to be your VP, diba? Kaya niya na ‘yun,” Treading on unchartered territory, Pedro sat up straight and laced his fingers together on the table. “Ang sabihin mo, iniisip mo kung pupunta siya,”

Miong stopped mid-sip like a deer in the headlights.

“Hoy, Flat Tops, paalalahanan lang kita, ‘no? Matanda na kayo; di na kayo high school.”

“Alam ko,” Miong grimaced as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “Pero kahit pagbali-baligtarin mo ang mundo, sinaktan niya ko.”

“O eh ano ngayon kung sinaktan ka niya? Sa tingin mo ba di niya pinagsisihan ‘yun, kahit konti? Besides, walong taon na ang lumipas. Di ka pa din nakaka-move on?”

Miong shifted his gaze to the people walking outside the cafe’s glass windows. “Nakapag-move on na,” Pedro flicked his forehead, eliciting a wince from him. “Aray! Kanina ka pa, ah! Ang bayolente mo.”

“Sinungaling,” Swiftly, Pedro picked up a teaspoon to pull at a quaint silver chain around Miong’s neck. “Eh ba’t suot-suot mo pa rin yung engagement ring sa leeg mo? Decoration? Daily reminder na hindi niya tinanggap yung proposal mo? Na martyr ka?”

Miong scoffed at him before pushing away Pedro’s teaspoon and hiding the ring under his shirt.

“Diba okay naman kayo dati?”

“Hindi lang okay,” Pole dropped his gaze to his artisanal latte. Too much milk defeats the purpose of coffee, Pole grimaced. “Okay na okay.”

“I would say so, too. Eh ano ba talagang nangyari?”

“He was moving too fast.” Pole looked as if he wanted to say more but bit the inside of his cheeks instead.

“Anong too fast dun? You guys were together for five years before he proposed. That’s half a decade, and you guys knew each other since high school.”

“I wasn’t ready, Isabel—I had just started law school and I had a family to support; siblings to put through school and a mother whose dream business had yet to materialize. And he had big dreams—dreams that he could not chase with me holding him back.”

“Spain?” Pole nodded solemnly. “Eh kung alukin ka niya ng kasal ngayon? Since he’s back from Spain, for good, presumably, and has established his own architectural firm here—handa ka na ba?”

“Sinaktan ko siya noon, wala na akong karapatan para sagutin yung tanong mo ngayon.” Pole shifted in his seat as he tried to shrink away from Isabel’s determined stare.

“Tinatanong ko lang naman. Hypothetically, ganun,” Isabel rests her hand atop Pole’s and looks him square in the eyes. “What if instead of that night eight years ago, he proposes to you right now? Masasabi mo bang handa ka na?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he tried to pull his hand away from Isabel, but she had it in a vice-like grip.

A single sound escaped from his lips and yet it held the weight of the world as they knew it in its wake.

“Yes.”

“So, and just to be clear, if by some twist of fate, ikaw pa rin ang laman ng puso niya, after eight years, wala pa ring humihigit sa’yo at yayain ka niyang magpakasal, you would say yes?”

“Alam mo, ikaw, ginagago mo na lang ako eh.”

“Isang tanong, isang sagot!”

“Tigilan mo nga ako. I sincerely doubt that after rejecting his proposal, kahit walo, sampu, o dalawampung taon pa ang lumipas, hindi na ako aalukin ulit ng kasal nun. Ikaw na rin ang nagsabi, walong taon na ang lumipas. I’m sure, naka-move on na yun.”

“Ang negatron mo.”

“You call it negatron, I call it being realistic. Bakit ka babalik sa taong nanakit sa’yo?” Isabel retracted her hand from his and crossed her arms above her chest. “You don’t bite the hand that feeds you, right? Well, if you tweak that a bit, it still makes sense. You don’t feed the hand that bites you.”

“Don’t get philosophical on me, Apolinario Mabini.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” He rubbed the finger where the ring could have been and felt an emptiness in his heart. “Humor me. Babalikan mo ba and taong nanakit sa’yo? Babalikan mo ba ang taong nanloko sa’yo? Babalikan mo ba ang taong nagpaniwala sa’yo na mahal ka niya pero iiwanan ka din naman pala sa ere?”

“Eh paano kung tanga siya?”

“Isabel.” He pursed his lips.

“Bakit ba nuknukan ‘yung pagka-guilty mo? The way you talk, you make it sound like you never loved him in the five years you were together—like you stopped loving him in the eight years you were apart. Ikaw ba, hindi ka nasaktan sa nangyari?”

“I can’t believe you actually got me to go.” Pole pulled at his bowtie to relieve his neck.

“You still owe me for not showing up at my wedding. Consider this as payback.” Isabel huffed and Pole’s hand found hers.

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing can undo that. I’m really sorry for not being there for you on your special day. Whatever personal aversion I have towards weddings should have been overlooked. Bestfriend kita. I should have been there.”

“Damn right, you should have,” Isabel pulled her hand away from his to find a handkerchief from her clutch. “I thought not having Dad to walk me down the aisle was bad enough, tapos you weren’t there, too.”

“Do you want to step out muna?” He said as he watched her dab her handkerchief at the corner of her eyes.

“I’ll just fix my makeup in the ladies’ room. Find some company or something while I’m gone.” Before he could reply, she was already walking away, leaving a decrescendo of heels clacking.

He wheeled himself towards his assigned table and called for a waiter’s attention.

“Black, no cream, two sugar.” Another man’s voice said at the same time he did. His head whipped towards the direction of the voice to see a familiar set of eyes looking back at him from the table adjacent to his.

His breath hitched in his throat as he took in the view, as a wave of emotions and well-kept memories hit him.

Miong looked as dashing as he last remembered; a few years managed to catch up to him in the specks of silver in his hair, crow’s feet on his eyes, and laughter lines by his mouth.

Miong sauntered over to his table and took the seat next to him.

“Boss, dito mo na lang i-serve pareho,” The waiter nodded before walking back to the bar. “Pole.”

“Miong,” He took a second to compose himself. “It’s…good to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“I see that’s still how you take your coffee?” He set his hands on his lap.

“Oo naman. Bakit ko pa papalitan kung ‘yun na ang nakasanayan ko?”

“Hindi naman porket ‘yun ang nakasanayan mo eh makukulong ka na lang dun habambuhay—kahit pwede mo naman nang palitan.” He fiddled with his nails as he spoke, avoiding Miong’s gaze.

“Sinubukan ko namang sumubok ng iba, pero wala eh, ito pa rin ang hinahanap-hanap ko.”

Pole cocked up an eyebrow at him, wondering if the conversation stopped being about coffee.

“—and may we call on stage the man of the hour, Architect Emilio Aguinaldo!” Startled, Miong looked at him, before he mouthed ‘go’.

Miong climbed up the stage to receive his plaque, and was ushered to the podium to say a few words.

“I, uh, would like to thank all of you for this award. This chapel holds so much meaning for our community, dahil hindi na mabilang ang na-witness ng simbahang ito na mga nagsumpaang mamahalin ang isa’t isa habambuhay, as well as symbolizing the importance we place in having God as the base of our relationships. Kaya nang makarating sa’kin ang balitang gumiba ito matapos tayong masalanta ng lindol, you can only imagine how broken I was,” He set the plaque down on the podium before continuing his speech. “Truthfully, I designed this church with a person in mind, the person that I want to marry someday,” Miong’s eyes searched for his eyes in the audience, and when they found him, he had a wistful look on his face.

“Spill!” A tipsy former schoolmate shouted from the far end of the dining hall. Miong let out a chuckle before continuing.

“‘Yung tipong pag dinala ko siya dito sa simbahang ito, siguradong ‘I do’ na lang ang maririnig ko. But that train left years ago, and now I wish for all of you to be able to bask in that experience. Kahit man lang sa ibang tao ay manatiling buhay ang mga pangarap ko,” He felt a pang in his chest as he listened to Miong’s speech. “‘Yun lang naman, at maraming salamat ulit para sa award na ‘to. Please enjoy the rest of the night.”

Miong raised the plaque to the audience in a weak salute and was met with applause before exiting the stage. He returned to Pole’s side and saw two steaming mugs of coffee. He cradled one and took a quick sip.

“Galit ka pa ba?” Pole threw a wary glance his way.

“Hindi na. Ikaw?”

“Wala naman akong karapatang magalit.”

“Galit ka pa ba?” Miong repeated himself and that’s when it hit Pole—Miong, ever the best at reading him, knew he thought his proposal eight years ago was an act of selfishness.

“Hindi na rin.”

Minutes ticked by as they finished their coffee in silence, neither making any attempts at conversation.

Had he still had feeling in his legs, Pole imagined his foot was tapping impatiently on the ground as he waited for any sign of Isabel, but stopped himself at the last minute when he remembered why she excused herself an hour prior.

“Pole?” He was broken out of his reverie at the sound of Miong whispering his name.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“Gusto mo bang sumayaw?” Miong scrunched up his eyebrows. “For old time’s sake?”

“Parang sa ‘Me Before You’?” Pole let out a a gush out of breath he did not know he was holding in.

“Yes, Ms. Clark.” He said in a flawless British accent.

“Alam mo, nakakainis ka,” But he was already scrambling for leverage to climb on Pole’s lap. Miong laced fingers on both hands at Pole’s nape for support. “Bigyan natin sila ng pagchichismisan.”

Pole held Miong with an arm by the waist as his other hand was preoccupied with maneuvering his chair to the rhythm. He’d almost forgotten how warm and flush Miong felt against his skin, and he relished in proximity between their bodies. He’d missed this, but he wouldn’t dare say it aloud.

Music played in the background as couples (High school sweethearts, Pole rolled his eyes.) slowly joined the two of them on the dance floor.

“Nagtitinginan na ba yung mga tao?” Pole’s laughs came in short peals. Miong surveyed the function hall as the wheelchair turned.

“Oo.” He couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Miong insisted they rested after one song, making excuses about how numb his ass cheeks were. Pole may not have felt his weight on his legs, but Miong insisted anyway.

Amenable silence enveloped them as they watched couples waltz around the dance floor.

“Hindi dapat ako pupunta ngayong gabi.”

“What changed your mind?” Pole turned to look at the side of his face, slightly taken aback when he caught Miong already looking at him.

“Ikaw. Na baka sakaling pumunta ka.”

“Na-miss mo ko, ‘no?”

“Siyempre.”

“Na-miss din kita.”

”Eight years is a long time.”

The two shared a long glance.

“Gusto mo bang makita yung chapel?”

Miong offered to wheel him towards the chapel and he begrudgingly agreed.

“Paano?” He didn’t know how to word it politely, but Pole knew what he was talking about.

“High-profile case,” He scrunched up his eyebrows, waiting for Pole to elaborate. “In-ambush ako after a late-night in the firm. Permanent spinal damage.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be. Hindi ko kailangan ng awa mo.” Before he could stop himself, he had already left the words out in the open. Great, just great.

“Kunyari wala akong narinig.” Pole tried to reach for one of Miong’s hands pushing his chair and hovered over it as he calculated his next move.

Miong stopped in his tracks and took his hand softly before letting go to push his chair properly.

They reached the chapel after a while and Miong and left him in the middle of the last row of pews to rush towards the back of the altar. In a split second, warm lights shone and he could finally take in the sight of the chapel.

His eyes feasted upon the smooth stucco, quatrefoil windows, the stark ecru walls, bright red tiles, and dark exposed beams. It was as if Miong took a piece of Spain home and installed it in their quaint town.

He wiped a stray tear before Miong walked back to him.

“So, what do you think?” Miong shoved his hands in his pockets.

“It’s breathtaking. When did you find time to design this?”

“Nung na-realize kong ikaw ang gusto kong makasama habambuhay.” Pole felt a punch in his gut.

“When?”

“High school graduation natin.”

“Ha? Eh hindi pa naman tayo nun ah?”

“Oo. Pero noon pa lang, alam ko na.”

Awkward silence enveloped them and Pole just wanted to reach for Miong and envelop him in a hug that conveyed all of the love and despair that consumed him in the eight years they were apart—what he would give to be able to whisper sweet nothings in his ear again and profess his love for him until the end of his days.

But he knew things would never be the same again.

For the first time since his career in Law flourished, he had no answers to questions running in his head and he was at a loss for words.

And so he did what he did best; he rationalized and justified his actions aloud.

“In a way, I’m glad I didn’t say yes to you all those years ago,” Before Miong could protest, Pole continued. “I can’t imagine burdening you with all of this. Magiging pabigat lang ako sa'yo.” Pole gestured at his legs.

“You know that’s not true. Walang duda, aalagaan kita. Kukuha ako ng trabaho sa law firm na pagtatrabahuhan mo o kaya sa kahit anong kumpanyang malapit sayo para isang tawag mo lang andun na ko.”

“Exactly my point,” Pole’s hand found the top of Miong’s and squeezed it gently. “I could never live with myself knowing that I kept you from following your dreams.”

“You are part of my dreams, Pole. Pangarap kong pakasalan ka at mahalin ka nang panghabambuhay.”

Pole kept a stoic gaze.

“I saw the letters.”

“Ha?

“Before you proposed, I saw the letters,” Miong slumped down on the nearest pew. “They offered you a scholarship in Spain and a permanent job right after.”

“And I didn’t want any of it.”

“We both know that’s a lie. It’s what you’ve always dreamt of,” Pole turned his wheelchair in his direction. “I don’t want a future where I kept you from being the best that you can be.”

“You decided for us, Pole. You decided for me. Di mo man lang ako binigyan ng chance para magdesisyon para sa sarili ko.”

“I did what I thought would be best,” Pole reached for Miong’s knee. “Even if it meant I was out of the picture.”

“Paano naman ako, Pole? Paano yung feelings ko? Yung puso ko? Itinaas mo ako eh. Inangkla ko ang sarili ko sa’yo kasi noon pa lang sigurado na ako sa’yo, sa atin. Alam mong ikaw ang gusto kong makasama habangbuhay.” ‘Yun din naman ang gusto ko, Pole thought.

“I will never outgrow the remorse for hurting you, but I don’t regret anything. You became the man I dreamed you’d be and more, Miong.”

“Pero bakit hindi pa rin ako masaya, Pole? Bakit may kulang pa rin?”

The walk back to the function hall was tense and quiet—neither of them trusted themselves to think straight and speak. Before entering the hall, Miong took a detour to what used to be their classroom, with Pole following close.

“Why did you walk over to my table tonight, Miong? What did you hope to achieve?”

“Diba nasabi ko na kanina? Na-miss kita.”

“‘Yun lang?”

“‘Yun lang,” Miong ran his fingers along the ledge of the teacher’s desk. “Ikaw? Bakit mo ko kinausap? Bakit mo pa ako in-entertain? Di ka man lang ba nahiya? Gusto mo bang malaman kung mahal pa din kita kahit sinaktan mo ko?” Pole winced. He knew he deserved Miong’s hostility, and yet he stayed rooted where he was.

“Hindi sa—”

“Gusto mong malaman kung may mababalikan ka pa? Kung nagpakatanga ako na maghintay sa’yo?” Pole willed himself to look at Miong and saw fat, hot tears running down his cheeks.

“Miong—”

“Kasi oo ang sagot, Pole, oo ang sagot. Tangina, ikaw pa rin hanggang ngayon. Kaya sabihin mo sakin kung ano bang gusto mong mangyari. Kasi kung ‘yun ang ine-expect mo, pipilitin kong kalimutan yung lumipas na walong taon.

“Bumalik ako para makalaya sa'yo, para makalaya sa konseptong tayo,”

Miong fell to his knees at Pole’s feet.

“Wag mong isipin na hindi kita minahal, o na hindi na kita mahal. Kasi mahal din naman kita. Hanggang ngayon, wala pa ring pumapalit sa’yo.” Pole leaned forward to wipe Miong’s tears with the pad of his thumbs.

“Pero? Ito na yung part kung saan kokontrahin mo yung sinabi mo, Pole. Alam ko na ‘to eh. Palagi mo ‘tong ginagawa,” With trembling hands, he kept Pole’s hands firm on his tear-stained cheeks. “Pwede bang ngayon wag mong gawin ‘yan? Pwede bang ‘yun na lang? Wag mo na dagdagan, please, nagmamakaawa ako.”

“Wag na nating pahirapan ang mga sarili natin, Miong. You know this isn’t going to end well. Sinasabi mo lang ‘yan ngayon, that you’re going to try and forget that night eight years ago and all the heartbreak that came with it. But you won’t. You may want to, but you will never forget it. And even if you do, I won’t. I won’t forget how I snuffed out the glimmer of hope you had of a future with me. I won’t forget the sound of your heart breaking into a million pieces.”

“Pole naman, please, wag mo na akong iwan ulit. Kinaya ko ng isang beses, pero hindi ko na kakayanin ulit.”

“That’s why I’m putting a stop to it now, Miong. Bago ka pa masaktan.”

“Bakit? Sa tingin mo ba hindi ako nasasaktan ngayon?”

“Miong,” Pole eased his hands out of his grip. “Wag mo na akong mahalin. Sakit lang ang kaya kong ibigay sa’yo.”

“Ayaw mo bang maging masaya? Sa piling ko?”

“Gusto. Gustong-gusto. Pero hindi na pwede.”

“Bullshit! Ipinagkakait mo lang sa’kin at sa sarili mo yung kaligayahang matagal na dapat tayong meron.” Miong heaves.

“Tapos ka na sa litanya mo?” Pole crossed his arms over his chest, as he fought back tears from spilling. “Sinasayang mo lang yung oras ko.”

“You’re cold, Mabini,” It had been a lifetime ago since Miong had called him by his last name—back when they first met as pubescent boys. “You are cold. Stone cold. ‘Yan ba ang tunay na ikaw na itinago mo sa’kin? ‘Yan ba ang tunay mong kulay na lumalabas pag ipinagtatanggol mo ang mga kriminal?”

“It’s a trick I learned from the trade.”

With trembling hands, Miong reached for his nape and unhooked his silver chain. He bundled the whole length in the middle of his palm before forcing Pole to take hold of it.

Pole fiddled with the cold metal on the inside of his palm as his fingers met with the cool band of silver. His breath hitched in his throat as he realized what the ring was.

“Iyo na ‘yan. Wala naman akong ibang pagbibigyan,” Miong stood up, dusted his knees, and wiped furiously at his face. “Bahala ka kung anong gusto mong gawin diyan. Kahit itapon mo, wala na akong pake. Wag ka nang magpapakita sa’kin kahit kailan. Wag mo na kong guguluhin. Wag ka nang babalik, kasi baka hindi ko mapigilan ‘yung sarili ko, magpakatanga pa rin ako sa’yo.”

Miong spared him one quick glance, silently begging with his eyes for Pole to stop him from leaving, but Pole remained stoic. He sighed deeply before walking away, never turning back.

Only then did Pole let himself cry.

[dakilanglumpia]

SCREAM AT ME I SCREAM BACK FOR A LIVING

one of my favourite things about fanfiction is I can almost always find some way to contact the author, the actual human being who sat down and wrote this collection of words that I love so much and scream at them

and usually they scream back and it’s a wonderful exchange of happy

you just can’t do that with published authors. You can scream, but you’re screaming into a Lovecraftian void and they almost never have the chance to scream back

I love fanfic authors so much. thanks for letting me scream at you about things we mutually love

[dakilanglumpia]

the hamilton cover art but with some of our heroes

[dakilanglumpia]

a few suggestions from the top of my head:

- the prefects and the head boys and girls are collectively called Maharlika

- and the houses' """advisers""" would be called Datu (irregardless of gender)

- Pangangayaw (literally means warfare with the use of the seas): the Philippine version of the triwizard tournament where participants are sent to a remote enchanted island instead of a maze, wherein they have to find the cave where a metal version of the Manunggul jar (portkey) is. The island could be a microcosm of the Philippine archipelago and the participants have to "raid" coastal areas where their opponents are prevent them from finding the cave

- Pintados as the counterpart of Durmstrang

- Diwatas as the counterpart of Beauxbaton

- The Unbreakable Vow but with blood pacts???

- Ok hear me out on this one: replacing unicorns (and getting their blood as elixir) with Tikbalangs and people hunt them down just for a few strands of their tail for a wish???

P.S. Who needs a Voldemort-esque headcanon? M E

Here we talk about a former student of the Institution, let's call him Marko, an orphan whom the Headmaster brought into the school when they found out he accidentally levitated the orphanage he was from with just his mind. He proves to be an excellent student but his thirst for knowledge brought him to the restricted area of the school's library and finds a book on Udip, the taboo art of bringing to life. He rambles to the Headmaster about it--how, if he could master the art he would be able to bring back his parents from the dead and he won't be an orphan anymore--and the Headmaster tells him off for even considering to dabble in Udip. Of course this little shit™ has his hopes and dreams stepped on so he rebels and never comes back to the school after the holidays, only to emerge as a Dark Lord after 20 years in hiding.

Marko now calls himself Anselmo (variant of Santelmo, the fire orb), the Fire That Will Wipe Out The Inferior™, and has 8 horcruxes (I figured 8 could be a significant number because that's how many sun rays are on the Philippine flag). Clever little shit that he is, his horcruxes are implanted in treasured Philippine artifacts all over National Museum. Why is he clever because of this? Because National Museum is guarded by magical people and houses the nation's most valuable artifacts. So how will anyone be able carry it on their conscience to infiltrate the museum and destroy artifacts that are extremely important to Philippine History??? I mean, they can duplicate the artifacts but how will they be able to replace the sentimental value??? So like, no one can ever kill Anselmo now because no one will dare destroy the artifacts that shape Philippine history.

Crack (but could actually work: Joke's on him though because the problem ends when the head curator of the museum reveals in her dying breath that all the artifacts in the museum are merely duplicates and the real ones are hidden somewhere in Malacañang.

forgive me im a dysfunctional human being

*SLAMS FISTS ONTO TABLE* LET’S MAKE HEADCANONS ABOUT THE PHILIPPINE WIZARDING SCHOOL PLS

[dakilanglumpia]

Apolinario M. Mabini July 23, 1864 - May 13, 1903 Phillippine Revolutionary Leader, Educator, Lawyer and Statesman First Prime Minister of the Philippines of the first Philippine Republic The foundation of this town was a result of the labors and preaching of Father Friar Andres del Espiritu Santo who initiated the construction of a church under the patronage of the Holy Name of Jesus. Although the exact date is not clear, history points that a large settlement called "Coventa" started to exist in the area as early as 1610. The town was near the mountains but gets flooded during the season of rains. In the early part of the 18th century, Mabini was a part of the Zambales Provinceand was known in the name of "Balincaguin," derived from Zambal words "Bali lan caguin" meaning "Abode of Bats" because if the tremendous species of the winged creatures that inhabited the numerous caves of the town sprawling under the hills and mountain ranges especially in the dark and gloomy portions that made it a natural habitat for them. In early 1800, the exact date of which could not be ascertained, a town leader Don Isidro Puzon founded the town with a population of 770 families. With the town divested of records when the Spaniards left, the Parochial Church (now Sto. Niño Parish) which was built in the 1930s by Spanish friars or Augustinian Recolletos is the only existing evidence that points to the presence of a large settlement in the area. The revolution that broke in fourteen towns including Balincaguin on March 7, 1898 led to the death of the Recolletos Parish Priest who sided with the calzadores and civiles. After the Declaration of Independence on June 12, 1898 a great surge of nationalism swept the country and the people of the place saw the spirit of idealism and patriotic character of General Aguinaldo's Chief Adviser, Apolinario Mabini so the inhabitants initiated petitions to change the name of the town. On November 21, 1903, Balincaguin, together with six other towns of Zambales was merged to Pangasinan Province by USPC Act No. 1004. And effective November 23, 1929, the name "Balincaguin" was changed to "Mabini" in honor of Apolinario Mabini, the "Sublime Paralytic" and the "Brain of Katipunan" by virtue of Act No. 3552, 8th PL, 2nd Regular Session. Today, Mabini is the second largest municipality in Pangasinan in terms of land area covering a total land area of 29,100 hectares and home of more than 25,000 God-fearing, peace-loving and business friendly individuals.

Fun fact: The locals leave fresh flowers on his bust regularly.

Photo taken on July 24, 2016. Caption taken from the plaque on the bust. Click on the photos to see the full image.

[dakilanglumpia]

me @ mabinaldo

do u ever just point at two characters and go “i want that one to get hurt and i want the other one to get really angsty about it”

[dakilanglumpia]

It must have been good (but I lost it somehow)

I was gone for approximately seven months (SEVEN MONTHS WITHOUT CONTRIBUTING TO THIS SHIP AND THE FANDOM WTF RIGHT), but I came back to drop something off.

Happy birthday, @ruscano! I wanted to be one of the last ones to greet you today, and no way was I gonna greet you without my gift. (Akala mo ba nakalimutan na kita i-greet?) I love you, and I wish you all the best!

Yes, the title is from one of my favorite songs of all time. Also, this “too little too late au” is inspired by an excerpt from a play that Selya and I watched last May.

A humid breeze hit him soon as he stepped out of the cab. He had missed this, the taxi culture—rosaries, figurines, and bobble heads adorning the dashboard; the fusion of rank and sampaguita invading his senses; and the unwarranted but strangely welcomed small talk from the driver. He watched the cab’s retreating bumper, gradually shrinking until it turned at the corner, never to be seen again. It had been years since he was last here, yet his last memory of that day played vividly in his mind like it had happened a few moments prior. A lot of things had changed since his last “visit,” mainly, that there were now houses erect on the vacant lots they had played in when they were children. He knew that this was an executive village, and that houses (mansions, he corrected himself) would soon sprout like mushrooms, but had time really gone by that fast? “I got off at the wrong house.” He mutters under his breath as he spots the beige stucco at the end of the street. With a deep sigh and a resolve to fulfill his mission, he trudged on to his destination. He took in the sight of the stucco. It was just like how he remembered it, save for the grand stairs on the patio. He remembers the stairs in its full spread, but in its stead was half the stairs he envisioned and the other half a ramp. (Tito and tita were quite old when I left all those years ago.) He noticed that the gates were open, and he took it as permission to enter. The whole place felt like home, and it was. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door slowly creaked open as a man in a wheelchair appeared. (So that’s what, rather, who, the ramp’s for.) “Hi, how may I help you?” He took in the man in the wheelchair. He looked relatively older, and there was a certain tiredness in his vibe, but his eyes, his eyes were different. (Like that of a kindred soul, or some shit.) “Um, is Pole there?” “Pole?” His eyebrows were knitted together. “Apolinario Mabini? Does he live here, still?” “Why ye—” “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Emilio, by the way. I’m a friend of Apolinario’s. We were childhood friends and I spent most of my summers here. Well, weekends, too, now that I remember clearly.” “You seem to have known him well. What brings you here, Emilio?” “I, uh, I wanted to check if he still lived here. We kind of ended on a bad note, and now that everything’s clear to me, I came back to fix the shit that went down.” “…Shit?” The man looked torn between laughing and frowning at him, but Emilio was too caught up in his thoughts to notice. “I’d known him since I was little. Heck, I’d go as far as to say we’re best friends, but I was too slow to catch on, and I hate myself everyday for it.” “If it is true that you and him were,” Emilio’s face contorted to that of one offended. “are, best friends, then whatever you did wrong has long been forgiven. At least, that’s how I see it.” “But you don’t understand. You don’t know what happened.” “Then make me understand.” If the man’s tone was pointed or invasive to a certain extent, Emilio paid no mind. “We’ve been friends since we were little. Since I was little, really. He was three, four years older, but by some twist of fate, he was stuck with snotty little me. Our mothers were friends from way back when, so it was impossible for him and I to not go down the same road—since we lived in the same village and they always met up on Saturdays to gossip over mimosas at the Country Club.” “You live in this village, too?” “Haven’t for the longest time,” He turned to look at the yard. “They enrolled us in the same school and things just fell into place, you know? We didn’t hang out much in school and our personalities were different, but we clicked. We knew each other better than we knew our own siblings, such a shame, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” “What went wrong, then?” “I knew him so well, and yet I didn’t know him enough. Him being gay was no issue. He was still my best friend even if he liked boys, and the little things and interests we shared didn’t change. Sure, there were times I didn’t want to hear all about some actor’s shapely ass, and I hated him a bit for being able to talk freely about things as such, but I went on a road to self-discovery when we moved away and I found out that I was projecting what I couldn’t be at the time.” “And you were?” “Confused. Utterly confused about who I was and what I really wanted.” “And do you know now?” The man raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes. What I wanted was in front of me for so long, and I didn’t even know,” Emilio brought out a stick from a tin can in his breast pocket. He lit the cigarette and took a drag before exhaling wisps of smoke. “Disgusting.” The man scrunched up his nose, dismayed at Emilio’s choice of action. “It’s a habit I never learned to break. Sorry.” The man waved his apology off with a flick of his wrist. “He disapproved of my smoking, and for some time I stopped, but after that day, I’d depended on it to destress.” “That day?” “He asked me to go on a road trip with him to Tagaytay. We ate breakfast at Antonio’s and that was when he told me he loved me. I don’t recall exactly what transpired after that, but I remember that we were both in tears and none of us were talking. That was the longest car ride I had ever been on. I told him I would think about it, and I promised I’d be back after three days. I never came back because next thing I knew, I was booking the first flight to the US. My family and I weren’t scheduled to leave for another month, but I chickened out on confronting Pole and ran away,” Emilio laughed bitterly. “I’m sorry, I must be keeping you from important matters with my nervous rambling.” “Pole! Dinner’s ready!” A distant voice shouted from within the house. The man in the wheelchair took off his glasses and sighed. “Pole?” Emilio whispered in disbelief. “Surprise.” Pole chuckled softly as he awkwardly scratched at the back of his head. “I didn’t recognize you at all,” He eyed Pole from head to toe, bewildered. “How?” “Polio.” They solemnly nodded at each other as they were engulfed in unadulterated silence. “Look, I’m–” “You’re sorry. Yes, I figured just as much.” “I truly am, please believe me. I didn’t mean to run away from you, from this, all those years ago. I was terrified of what would happen because I was so afraid of losing you, even if that meant that I had to live with the fact that we would only be just friends. But now, I’m ready. I don’t give a shit what others would think about me and you, about us. I love you, Pole.” He knelt down. “I know.” Pole cast a downward glance at his feet. “Please forgive me. Let me love you like I should have done all those years ago. Let me make you forget all the hurt that I’ve caused you,” Emilio held both Pole’s hands in his. “Let me worship every inch of your skin. Please, love me again.” He locked eyes with him before kissing his knuckles, only to feel the cold sting of a silver band on his lips. “I’m sorry, Miong,” That long-forgotten nickname. Emilio longed to hear it again, but not like this. Never like this. “You told me to give you three days, but I gave you more. Three days turned into three weeks, and then three weeks into three months, and even that into three years.” “I didn’t know.” “Of course you didn’t. Not even a single letter came through the mail, not even an e-mail in my inbox. It was like you disappeared without a trace.” Pole should have sounded accusatory, but the rawness in his voice brought out the young man Emilio had broken—innocent and pleading. “Does he make you happy?” “What makes you so sure he’s a he?” Emilio narrowed his eyes at him.

“Just answer the damn question.”

“Selong’s not you, but I love him and he loves me.” “That’s all I need to know,” Emilio stood up and took ahold of his belongings. He felt slender fingers on his wrist. “Today’s the 11th. You told me to give you 3 days on the 8th of July. You pushed through with your 3 days, after all.” Emilio let out a cough in an attempt to let the awkwardness dissipate. “I’ll show myself out.” “Please promise me you won’t disappear again.” “I promise.” He took one last glance at Pole, to memorize every curve and every wrinkle of his face. It was the last time they would see each other, and Emilio was determined to see to it. And Pole knew. They always had known each other best.

[dakilanglumpia]

[laging may ipinaglalaban] • heh conching's ig is full of domestic things and papa pole

Lunasona + IG profiles 7/?

(Top to Bottom: Adela Reyes,  Constancia Venecia, Consolacion Valderueda, Leriang Sentido, Beata, Dolores Nable Jose, Poleng)

Cc: @kapitan-patatas @dakilanglumpia @anak-ng-heneral @ruscano @girl-in-a-well @beautiful-as-endless 

[dakilanglumpia]

letters to our heroes in 140 characters or less

moving these here from my original twitter thread in light of the national elections so far. and possibly for what will be of our future too.

to padres mariano gomez, jose burgos, and jacinto zamora: death by garrote is much much quicker than accepting this fate. this dark fate.

to the first expatriates in europe: you left your country with high hopes. our hearts wish to leave now too, but She needs us most.

to graciano lopez jaena: you may have fooled a lot of people with your speeches, but that’s nothing compared to how they fool us now.

to marcelo del pilar: could it be possible as well for him (or her) to give up the position for someone much worthier?

to juan luna: you could paint us. as you see everything at this moment. in reds, in black, in grey. in all violence hidden and unhidden.

to jose rizal: how difficult was it to write the ultimate goodbye? how difficult to love a country, with people ignorant of love?

to apolinario mabini: you saw the world, this country, in legality and the contrary. what about now? what is right? what is wrong?

to andres bonifacio: where? where’s the hope you’ve been shouting, you’ve been fighting for? is it gone? is it waiting to be unearthed?

to emilio jacinto: you sacrificed youth for freedom. you wrote so much. and, my dear, i guess this is the path i may have to choose now.

to melchora aquino: mother, could you ever heal our broken hearts? mend our fatigue minds? feed us wisdom instead of fallacies?

to gregoria de jesus: we are lost too. in this forest. going in circles. searching for something. a corpse maybe. or burying the country.

to gabriela and diego silang: teach us how to love. despite revolution. love, alongside and permanent, with fighting for everything good.

to emilio aguinaldo: does who have not, must forgive you. because this, this atrocity, is the one deemed to be unforgivable at all.

to antonio luna: brashness was not the answer. and i believe this was what you thought, when betrayal and bullet and blade robbed your life.

to gregorio del pilar: i can forgive you, you know. just not this. not him. it’s tirad, murderous and fatal tirad, all over again.

to artemio ricarte: you were right. somehow. the revolution did not die with bonifacio, or with you, or anyone else. it continues. now.

to manuel quezon: do you still prefer a government run by filipinos with all this evidence right now? it’s hell, and will be hell.

and to every unsung hero, to our ancestors of thousands of years: this is our country now. this is us now. a disgrace. a pity. i’m sorry.

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writing fanfic more like:

have I used that word recently *ctrl + f* shit

“are you still working on that fic?” last edited: 24th January 2005 “haha of course”

that feeling when someone comments

planning a fic down to the words you’ll use without anywhere to write it down and getting home and remembering none of it

it’s just a fic no one will care about inaccuracies *spends four hours researching a 2000-word one-shot*

grammar

*sees word in advert* yes that’s a good word I’ll remember that word *never uses word*

my last four fanfics are centred around this character and while it means their characterisation is perfect, people are yelling at me

“oh you write? can you name a character after me” “ummm”

is that a real word *red line appears* well why isn’t it

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Duwende - Short Film

Now this was an interesting project to make since it was the one with many ups and downs. From pitching the project to IAFT to the production process it was a wild ride for us. We’d like to do more to expand the world of “Duwende” in the future, Philippine folklore has so much potential and material for a great film! But for now it is as it is. 

The film centers around a group of tourists who have traveled to the Philippines for some vacation time. Along the way the end up angering the ancient dwellers of the forest, the Duwendes (Nuno sa Punso), and must fight for their lives.

The film can be viewed on our YouTube page.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggOqr4oTlqo&list=PL5RhZvq_EXSIp684QjToL79DpXdXa1tIH&index=3

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I wish that there wasn’t this feeling of “Haha, I suck.” Among fan fiction writers. Don’t apologize for not being able to update regularly. Don’t apologize for what happens in your life. Enjoy taking your time with things. Update when you want. Consume other works when (and while) you’re stuck. You’re not a word generating machine. You’re a person, and I am grateful that you’ve chosen to share your stories with us. Thank you.

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art takes hours to produce and seconds to consume so dont act suprised when artists get upset when their posts only get likes and no reblogs

similarly a piece of writing that takes a few minutes to read could have weeks of work behind it… dont take creativity for granted when ur getting it for free