#ch: cicero

[f1restart3rr]

One of my friends finished reading the first part of my Skyrim novelization

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Limits of Propaganda in the Augustan Regime

I saw a neat post earlier about how Augustus used propaganda to justify his control of Rome and establish permanent one-man rule. It got me thinking about what we picture when we say "propaganda," how Roman propaganda differed from modern propaganda, and how we talk about the interactions between governments and their people.

Augustus' cult of personality has some parallels with monarchist propaganda in early modern Europe, and with authoritarian governments today. But there were also major differences that I think we need to remember, or else we may wrongly project modern assumptions onto the past. In particular, I think the predominance, effectiveness, and superficiality of Augustan propaganda are often overstated. And I think this distortion reinforces a classist bias in our perception of the people of Rome, a bias that contributes to the erasure of ordinary people's contributions to history.

This isn't a formal essay, and I'm not a historian. I may have misremembered some things. But, if you'd like to hear me ramble...

How powerful was Augustan propaganda in shaping people's views of the government?

The word "propaganda" was popularized in the 20th century, in association with mass communication. Modern governments can ensure their propaganda is seen by millions of people at once, and restrict access to opposing viewpoints. Massive amounts of money, equipment, and professional teams are employed to spread these messages.

The only mass media in Augustan Rome were coins, which Augustus could only put very limited text and images on. He erected numerous monuments, but those are limited to a few paragraphs at most, and only to the people who visit them. He could patronize writers and poets like Livy and Vergil, but even they lacked the reach of television, radio or the internet. And all of these methods would have been far more expensive than the mass media of today.

Augustus' propaganda wasn't novel. Roman leaders had been stamping their messages onto coins, monuments, writing memoirs and hiring poets for centuries. Throughout his reign people still would have seen coins and monuments from the republican period, and read the works of Cicero, Brutus, and other republican leaders. In the same way most people today have learned not to trust everything they see on TV, most Romans would have known not to believe everything they saw on monuments, coins, or in state pronouncements.

Nor was Augustus able to limit the spread of contrary narratives like modern dictators can. The Roman government was extremely barebones by today's standards, lacking the bureaucracy and resources to surveil the population. Most Romans didn't get their news from public announcements, state-sponsored art, or politicians' books, but from gossip, letters, and their own information networks.

Over half of all male Romans traveled abroad at some point in this period (Mary Beard, SPQR, ch. 5). They had many different viewpoints available, and other sources of information about what was happening in the provinces. Augustus thus could only bend the narrative to his benefit so far. When several legions were annihilated in Teutoburg Forest in 9 CE, he didn't even try to cover it up; people would've called him on it.

Augustus had more control over how he presented himself and his family to the public than over the narrative of tangible events in the world. Thus most of his propaganda either focuses on shaping his image of himself, his family, or on the personal character of Antony and Cleopatra instead of events Romans could verify or disprove.

But he couldn't stop information from leaking, family scandals from happening, or rumors from spreading. He exiled his daughter Julia, in part for her extramarital affairs, but also because the notoriety of the scandal undermined the squeaky-clean "Roman family values" image he intended for his family to present. When he sent Agrippa to govern the eastern provinces, rumors abounded that some rift had formed between the two. Whether or not such a rift actually happened, the fact that the rumor existed, and survived for 150 years into Suetonius' era, shows how limited Augustus' control of public perception actually was.

How independent were Roman citizens, soldiers, and senators?

These are three very distinct groups that behaved in different ways. Let's start with the general public.

The Roman People

The evidence is clear: we know people organized public protests and petitions throughout Augustus' reign, and even spoiled elections sometimes by voting for the "wrong" candidates.

A group of women took over the forum to protest his tax hike in 42 BCE, despite a wave of proscriptions. He was nearly stoned to death by an angry mob in 39 BCE. The Romans repeatedly petitioned for Julia's freedom, and as late as 9 CE we hear of protests against his marriage laws.

Why did the public express themselves so freely? Well, for one thing, Augustus chose not to suppress popular demonstrations. In fact, he seems to have used the semblance of "free speech" as a tool to deflect accusations of tyranny. By cultivating an image of himself as a moderate who permitted public dissent, he made his political dominance appear less authoritarian and more palatable to the people of Rome.

Augustus probably also thought it was impossible to control what people said, so didn't bother to try. In one of his letters to Tiberius, Augustus says as much:

Suetonius, Augustus, 51

Another big factor was that many public protests tried to persuade him to take on more power. They repeatedly demanded that he take up the dictatorship, or tried to elect him consul when he wasn't running. And no, this doesn't seem to have been the "fake elections" you see in modern dictatorships. The reason is that people's trust in the Senate's competence had collapsed, so when national crises arose like famines, plagues, or debt problems, they tried to make Augustus take back the reins, instead of sharing the power with the Senate as he pretended he was doing.

Which brings us to Augustus' bizarre relationship the Senate.

The Senatorial Class

How independent were the senators? Suetonius gives us a raucous picture:

Augustus also reintroduced competitive elections. Not free, really - everyone knew Augustus' power far outweighed the consuls and praetors. But we do have records of candidates attempting to bribe voters and slinging accusations at their opponents, similar to republican times. This was another way that Augustus tried to distance himself from the dictatorships of Caesar and Sulla, and make his authority palatable to people who valued republican liberty.

He also collaborated with senators behind the scenes, and selected some of them as advisors and proxies for introducing legislation. Augustus' rule was negotiated in a series of settlements, public and private, with the same class of people who had killed Julius Caesar for threatening their place in the public order.

Augustus needed the aristocracy's skills, education, and resources to administer the empire. He also needed to placate them enough to avoid getting the Ides of March Special. They, in turn, needed a way to maintain their dignitas and roles in government, which had traditionally been conferred by elections. By permitting elections, incorporating senators into policy-making behind the scenes, and giving them the outward appearance and status of their old authority, Augustus satisfied them enough to stabilize his rule.

However, the value of elections, and of being in the Senate, clearly declined over time. In the second half of his reign senatorial attendance declined so sharply Augustus introduced penalties for senators not showing up to "work." Eventually elections for the high magistracies were phased out, and the Senate was allowed to elect consuls from among themselves. This was actually popular with senators, since it spared them the expense of campaigning.

And although Augustus did permit senators' input into his government, his control steadily increased over time. Part of this was official, as re-settlements granted him additional powers. And part of it was de facto, as he simply outlived everyone who had experience managing the government. Augustus' longevity, experience, and informal network of advisors effectively made his household the hub of government policy. (His nepotistic habit of giving his relatives the most important jobs also contributed.) Meanwhile, the Senate had a sort of "brain drain" effect as a new generation of senators grew up without the experience of running the state themselves.

By the ascension of Tiberius in 14 CE, senatorial autonomy was dead. Even when Tiberius attempted to step back from government and encouraged the senators to state their own opinions, this only resulted in paralysis. He could not replicate the personal, unofficial relationships Augustus had developed to govern without appearing "tyrannical," and tension between the Senate and emperors would plague Rome for another 200 years.

The Military

Although Augustus took pains to disguise it, we should never forget that he was a military dictator. His power came first and foremost from the loyalty of the army, and their loyalty depended on getting paid. The last great threat to his rule wasn't Antony or Cleopatra, but a huge mutiny in Italy after the Battle of Actium. If he hadn't annexed Egypt and distributed its riches to his troops, there's a high chance he would have been overthrown.

Augustus also needed to convince the legions and public of his military ability, and thus that Rome was safe under his rule. He was not a gifted commander, but he was usually good at selecting them, most notably in Marcus Agrippa, Drusus, Tiberius, and Germanicus. On the other hand, the catastrophic loss of several legions in Teutoburg Forest seriously frightened him. He feared a loss of public confidence, and thus rebellions and political rivals, and quickly sent Drusus and Tiberius with their armies to retaliate.

Augustus established a permanent army to guard the entire empire, which strained the empire's budget to its limit. He managed to pay for it all, barely. Later emperors would repeatedly run into mutinies and even be overthrown by troops who weren't satisfied with their wages.

Augustus' reign was a difficult balancing act between the needs of many competing interest groups, especially early on. After multiple civil wars, the state was poor, the people were exhausted and traumatized, the Senate and citizens feared each other, Romans opposed provincials, soldiers opposed civilians - it was a mess. It's hard to describe the damage to Rome's social and economic infrastructure.

Perhaps the greatest achievement of Augustus' reign was that he managed to navigate between all of these groups, get each of them to trust him to look out for their interests, and gave Roman society enough time to knit itself back together. To win that trust, he couldn't rely on bribes and propaganda alone. He had to prove it through action.

Augustan propaganda had to be justified through tangible benefits, not mere words and imagery.

The word "propaganda" is usually used to refer to rhetoric, advertisements, and manipulation. It connotes hollowness and subterfuge. But Augustus did not trick people into liking him by just hiring the right poets and erecting statues. His most effective propaganda was demonstrated through public renovations and the assurance of public order.

The bar wasn't high to clear. We have to remember that Augustus wasn't a dictator replacing a functioning republic; he was introducing a stable government with competitive (but not free) elections after 20 years of civil war, and another ten years of political violence before that. Peace alone was a major reason why people accepted his rule.

The quality of life for both Romans and provincials mostly improved during his reign, too. From Marcus Agrippa fixing the sewer system and providing the entire city with clean water, to Rome's first permanent fire brigade, to increased economic mobility, to safer long-distance travel, to stabilizing the grain supply, even down to individual tax disputes and court cases Augustus encountered while touring the provinces. The Romans would also have seen Augustus' military victories as a form of public service, a way of enriching the empire and restoring national pride. (And they were officially his victories, since he remained the commanding officer, even if the campaigns were masterminded by Agrippa or another subordinate.)

I think that history books sometimes frame Augustan propaganda as a sort of trick to make the populace accept one-man rule. But you can't really separate the effects of his propaganda from his demonstrable actions that most Romans approved of. The Romans were not simpletons, and they weren't afraid to express their anger with him violently. (Even with the Praetorian Guard present: a mob attacked him and his soldiers in 39 BCE.) Augustus was testing out a fragile and experimental form of government, and had give people results.

That said, we should not attribute the benefits of Augustus' rule to autocracy. We certainly shouldn't use it to justify authoritarianism, as many fascists have attempted. Augustus' government was better than an ongoing civil war; that does not mean it was better than a democracy. And the downsides of autocracy rapidly took effect after his death: first in Tiberius, who initiated the first purges since 42 BCE; then with Caligula, who was...well, Caligula.

If anything, I think Augustus' reign shows how goddamn hard it is to kill people's desire for liberty and their voice in government. If we overlook the protests, the riots, and the constant need for the princeps to justify his regime with military and domestic success, then we erase the input of the common people. And that contributes to a classist view of history in which only rich, powerful men can make meaningful contributions.

Augustus used propaganda, absolutely. But the Roman people were not satisfied with pretty words and images. They paid attention to what the state was doing, they expected it to serve, feed, and protect them, and they even intervened in issues like Julia's exile that didn't personally affect them.

Perhaps we should give them a little more credit.

Further Reading/Watching

Mary Beard, SPQR

Anthony Everitt: Augustus: The Life of Rome's First Emperor

Adrian Goldsworthy, Augustus: First Emperor of Rome

Erich Gruen, The Last Generation of the Roman Republic

Robin Seager, Tiberius

Historia Civilis (YouTube channel)

[loveforcarmen]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 - CH. 3

- 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘰𝘤 𝘤𝘰𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 | - 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯

NOTE: new chapters will always be posted on wattpad first!

lemme know your thoughts on this chapter once you finish, thank you!!

AN: fair warning, this chapter is a bit lengthy

-

back in the day - mac miller

-

The kitchen spent the day preparing for a bachelor party that would be held there later that night, per request of Cicero. It was a compromise so Carmen didn't have to actually pay him back.

The party had only been going on for an hour, but for Margaret, it felt like 5. Once the party seemed to be at a slower speed, she excused herself to go sit outside. The wind blew gently through her hair she stepped outside. The city lit up which made it impossible for her to see the stars.

She leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes. Pulling in a big, shuddering breath, she slid down the wall and sat on the pavement. She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her forearms on them.

-

"Does anyone know where Margy is?" Richie called out to no one in particular as he walked out with a plate of food. He had set it down on the counter as he wiped his hands on his stained apron, waiting for someone to respond.

Tina shrugged, "I think I saw her go outside. Out the front." she called from the lockers.

Carmen looked up and could see the top of her head through the window as she sat on the ground. Richie had also noticed her so he began to walk over there, but Carmen stopped him. "I'll handle it. This behavior isn't appropriate."

Richie backed off, "Just go easy on her. She's been out of it today." Carmen nodded his head then turned to go out the front.

He pushed it open slowly, so he didn't startle Magaret. He let it closed gently then walked outside, standing in front of Margaret. She had put her head down on her arms so she hadn't noticed him.

"It's freezing, how long has she been out here?" he thought to himself as he rubbed his hands together, attempting to generate hear. Carmen cleared his throat to get her attention, which had worked. She looked up at him with glossy eyes, the purple LEDs illuminating her face.

"Why aren't you inside, chef?" he asked, crossing his arms and moving to the side of her. He leaned against the window, the glass chilling his back. He could feel the vibrations from the music inside thumping against his back.

Margaret quickie wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her sleeve, standing up, "I'm so sorry, chef. I didn't realize I was out here for this long." She smoothed down her apron, and went to leave when Carmen caught her arm.

It was an innocent touch, really. So why did she jump?

"Sit down. Or stand, I don't care." he said, keeping his eyes on her. She had clearly been crying, whether it was from sadness or from the sting of the cold wind outside. Margaret nodded her head, and leaned against the window, placing her hands on the sill. She too, felt the vibrations from the music. "What's going on?" Carmen asked, pulling out a cigarette.

"It's..uh.." Margaret took in a breath as Carmen flicked his lighter. She watched him flick it until it finally caught, "My mother's death anniversary." she said, looking down at her restaurant-grade shoes. She twisted the toe of her shoe of the ground slowly, back and forth to distract herself from crying.

Carmen inhaled his cigarette, "Shit. Ok." he said as he blew it out. He stifled a cough, and went to inhale again.

"Yeah." Margaret replied quietly. The silence between them was filled with the sounds of the city and Margaret's occasional sniffle. "Do you miss your brother?" she finally spoke. Her voice choked, so tried to play it off with a cough which ended sounding more pathetic than her voice choking.

This was beyond humiliating for her boss to see her like this.

"Um," Carmen breathed, "Yeah, I would say I do. I probably don't miss him as much as the rest of my family though." He tossed his cigarette on the ground, putting it out with the toe of his shoe.

"Why's that?" she looked over at him, but he kept his gaze on the run down building across the street. She nervously chewed on her bottom lit, body tense from the conversation with him.

"Because I never saw him. I never fuckin' talked to him. He wouldn't take my calls." he looked down at his shoes, "He wouldn't let me work in the restaurant." he paused, letting Margaret absorb his words. "I should've done more." he added.

He silently scolded himself for opening up to Margaret like this. He had known her for less than 2 months and now she knew about his problems.

"What could you do?" she rhetorically asked, still looking at him.

"I don't fuckin know!" he raised his voice, craning his neck up to the sky, and exhaled. "I never thought he was, would f..." but he trailed off.

Margaret nodded, not wanting to press more information out of him. Dead relatives were a sensitive topic for her and imagined it was the same for him.

"You want to go to the bookstore with me tomorrow? I was going to pick up a few titles and add to my collection. If you don't want to come, that's totally fine." she put out. It was a bold move on her part and certainly out of her comfort zone. 

"Um I'll have to check the schedule." Carmen lied. He knew he was able to take some time off tomorrow without the kitchen falling apart. But he didn't want her to know that.

Margaret pushed herself off the window, her ring clinking against the glass. "Alright sounds good, just uh," she pulled her phone out, handing it to him. It was opened to 'create new contact.' "just shoot me a text." she nodded her head.

Carmen took her phone, swiftly putting his digits in. Right as he handed her phone back, the window behind them pounded. He turned around to see Richie pointing to the 2 men fighting on the ground and yelling through the glass.

"What the fuck? You gotta be fuckin kidding me." Carmen said as quickly jogged inside with Margaret close behind him. He flung the door open and ran to break the 2 guys up.

He and Richie quickly tried to separate the men, but ended up unintentionally becoming part of the fight. Loud techno music blared in the back as Richie struggled against one of the men. He punched him upside the head, hard, which caused the man to stumble back. On his way down, his head hit the ledge of the counter, causing him to fall unconscious from the blunt force. Everyone froze and mumbles began to fill the room as Carmen bent over to check on the guy.

"Fuck." Richie muttered, running a hand across his head. He turned to Margaret who looked horrified as she watched the man laid on the ground, "Margy, I'm sorry you had to see that sweetheart." He pulled her into a side hug and rubbed her arm up and down as Carmen called 911.

Carmen finished up with the operator then walked over to Margaret who was still in Richie's embrace, "That uh bookstore plan," he wiped his nose, "might have to happen a little later in the day."

Margaret looked up at him and nodded her head. "Totally understandable." she replied quietly.

-

Carmen looked over at his phone as he heard the text chime, "What's your address?" the blue text from Margaret read. He reached over to his coffee table to pick it up and text back. He typed it in, sending it to her with a whoosh. He sat on the couch, bouncing his leg as he waited for her to text back. The situation with Richie last night had put him on edge.

-

"I'm really sorry, Cousin." Richie said as he was released from holding. Carmen put a hand up, stopping him and shaking his head.

-

"Here." his phone chimed.

Carmen grabbed his black jacket off the hook and shoved his wallet into his back jean pocket. He locked his apartment door then swiftly descended down the stairs. He opened the door to see a red 1965 Ford Mustang Coupe parked outside of his building. It was in great condition and practically shined in the sunlight.

"You just gonna stare at my car the whole time Carmy?" she teased as she got out. She wore a grey crewneck with a red Nike symbol embroidered into it. She had paired it with cargo camo pants and a pair of Chuck Taylors.

"Hey you!" she said happily as she rounded the car to the passenger side.

"You uh.." Carmen walked around, looking at her car, "you keep this thing parked out on the street? Surprised nobody's tried to strip this thing for parts." he whistled.

"Oh no," Margaret walked around back to the drivers side, closing the door with a hard thud. The car rocked from the force and she waved for Carmen to get in. "My neighbors let my park this in their garage," she said as she clipped her seatbelt into place.

"Why don't you drive this to work?" Carmen asked as he lowered himself into the car.

"And leave it parked here for a whole 10 hours give or take?" she looked over her shoulder before pulling off into the road, "No. thank. you." she laughed, re-adjusting the car so she was inbetween her lane lines.

"Fair enough." Carmen looked out the window, watching the buildings merge together as she drove. Margaret chewed on her lip as they drove in silence. Similar to the way they had drove to the kid's catering party. She decided to reach over and flick the volume on. She turned it up as "Back in the day" by Mac Miller came on.

Her hand danced out the window as she started to quietly sing along, causing Carmen to look over. She felt his daggering gaze on her, "My car, my radio rules, grumpy." she said, glancing over at him.

"Can we just turn it down? Just a little bit?" Carmen asked, clearly not in a joking mood. He waited for Margaret's response. She nodded her head and turned the radio without another word.

They rode the rest of the way in almost complete silence, minus some small talk here there.  "Oh that's a great restaurant." someone would say and the other would agree. They finally arrived at Margaret's destination after 5 more painful minutes of driving.

Margaret struggled to park inbetween the cars in the front, so she reversed out and went to find a spot that wasn't in between cars. "What the fuck are you doing?" Carmen asked, looking back through the rearview window at the parking space.

"I suck at parking inbetween cars." Margaret said quietly as she pulled into one of the farthest spaces from the entrance.

Carmen groaned and rubbed his hands down his face, "How do you live in Chicago and not know how to park in between cars?"

Margaret laughed, throwing her hands up in conviction, "I don't know, I don't know." she said quickly. "We'll get our steps in." she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car.

"Trust me, I get my fucking steps in." Carmen mumbled under his breath as he got out of the car.

"What was that Mumbles?" Margaret asked, looking at him over the roof of the car.

Carmen gave her a small smile, then looked at the roof of her car, "You have bird shit on your roof." he pointed out then began to walk to the bookstore.

"What the fuck..." she trailed off as she looked at the bird poop on the car. She looked up to see Carmen had left her behind, "Fucker." she said under breath as she jogged to catch up. She hit him in the side of the arm once she finally caught up to him.

As soon as they entered the bookstore, the aroma of paper filled their noses. Margaret took in a large breath then let out a dramatic exhale. Carmen rolled his eyes and encouraged her to start shopping.

"Why'd you even come if you're going to be sour?" she asked as she guided him around the shelves.

Carmen stuck his hands in his pockets, following behind her, "Dunno, it's a little hard to leave work behind after physically leaving the place, you know? Just sticks with you."

But she didn't know what it was like. She hadn't experienced the mental strain that Carmen was constantly under. She would never understand.

"I get what you're trying to say," she turned around to face Carmen, "keep your eyes peeled for Alcott." she whispered to Carmen. He took a step back, surprised by the closeness. She turned back around and her pace slowed as she approached the Ag-Al section.

"Why the fuck are we whispering?" he asked as he helped scan the shelves for Alcott. He looked over at Margaret for her answer but she was silent. She was scanning through a shelf, her finger moving down the spines of the books in the row slowly. Delicately.

She had stopped and pulled out 2 books that were next to each other. She held them out in front of her so Carmen could see the covers. "One or two?" she asked, bobbing them up and down. Carmen noticed her painted nails, a small stars on her ring fingers.

"Why do I have to pick? I'm not the one buying them."

Margaret huffed, "Just. pick." she thrusted the covers further in his direction. Carmen raised his eyebrows as he pushed the books back towards her.

"I guess.." he studied the covers, "2. It has a cooler cover." Margaret turned the books back around towards her and compared both covers side by side. She made a kissy face before making her decision.

"I think I like 1 better." she said innocently, putting Carmen's choice back on the shelf. As she continued walking down the aisle, he rolled his eyes behind her.

Margaret dragged Carmen all around the bookstore, his sole purpose of him being there was to help Margaret narrow her decisions.

"Why not just get both?"

"Because!" she would answer.

-

"You done yet, Maggie?" Carmen asked after watching her go back and forth between 3 books for the past 2 minutes. He leaned against a shelf and looked down at her. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes concentrated as she reviewed the summary of the books for the 5th time.

"Yes, I'm going to get-" she set down 2 of the 3 books then turned to him, "I have a nickname now." Carmen gave her a curt nod then looked away. She smiled at that then continued down the shelf. After a painful 30 minutes of being in the bookstore, she was finally ready to check out.

Margaret thanked the cashier and grabbed her tote of books, satisfied with her purchases. As her and Carmen walked out of the door, she tried to sling the bag of books on her shoulder, which coaxed an 'umph' sound out of her.

Carmen picked up on that, looking over at her, "You want me to carry that for you?" he asked, sounding almost defeated. Margaret turned around, surprised at his offer. She stopped and cocked her headto the side. Carmen took a step towards her and took the bag from her hands, "To make up for being an asshole in the bookstore." he explained as he continued walking.

"You are forgiven." Margaret said as she walked next to him. Once they reached the car, she opened the trunk for Carmen to put the back of books in. He set it down, which caused the car to visibly weigh down in the back.

"How do you get bird shit off a car roof?" she asked Carmen as they both got in the car.

Carmen laughed as he clicked his seatbelt into place, "I really don't know."

Margaret sucked on her teeth and switched on the car. "Well this was fun." she said as they finally pulled out their parking spot.

"Yeah, yeah it was." he agreed. Before Margare pull onto the main road, she turned to look at Carmen. He felt her eyes on her which resulted in him turning to look at her also.

"You wanna get something to eat? Like a late lunch, early dinner? I'm starving right now." She bit her lip in anticipation, waiting for his response.

"I'm not that hungry. You can just take me home or drop be off at the restaurant. Doesn't matter to me." he said.

"Carmen, come on." she pleaded. She put her hands together in a 'praying' motion. He rolled his eyes then nodded his head, giving her the green light. Margaret let out an excited whoop and pulled onto the main road.

"Am I allowed to turn the music up?" she jokingly asked as they approached their lunch destination. "Or am I going to get my hand swatted away?" Carmen shook his head at her comment, half smiling and looked back out the window.

The 2 arrived to a small hole-in-the-wall diner on a corner street. The door opened with a ding and Carmen was smacked in the face with the smell of grilling. As Margaret talked to the elderly woman at the counter, Carmen made a game out of picking apart the scents in the air.

Margaret began to walk away when she nudged Carmen to follow, breaking his trance. The elderly woman seated them at a booth, and said that someone would be out shortly to take their order. The restaurant had an older feeling to it, as Carmen observed the wearing tables, booth leather and barstools.

"So how do you know about this place?" Carmen asked turning back in the direction of Margaret. He picked up a menu and began to skim in, looking for something that would catch his eye. He was a bit underwhelmed by the choices but he was not one to complain. 

"I used to come here with my father when I was younger." she paused, picking up a menu, "Before he was a severe alcoholic." she added, resting her hands on the table. It felt nice to talk about her family situation with someone without receiving the look of pity.

"Oh cool." he tugged on the collar of his shirt.

The waitress came walked over swiftly and pulled out her notebook, "What can I get started for you?" she asked, looking between the 2 of them.

Carmen looked at Margaret, indicating that she could order face. She folded her hands on top of one another and looked over at the waitress, "Can I get a plain burger? Nancy, in front," she pointed to the old woman who seated them, "knows how I take it." she smiled then looked over at Carmen, "Carmen?"

He scratched his chin, looking at the menu one last time, "I'll take the grilled chicken wrap." he grabbed the menus and handed them off to the waitress. She returned the kitchen to put in their order, speaking loudly over the talking chefs in the back.

"It's a nice place." Carmen added. It was a little run down, but who was he to judge on rundown restaurants. He would know.

Margaret looked around as if she had never seen it before, "Yeah it is." she sighed, turning back to Carmen.

"You still talk to your father?" he rested his hands in front of him on the table, hands clasped together. His tattoos were out on display for the world to see, so Margaret decided to defer the conversation.

"What do your tattoos mean?" she asked, leaning back in her seat. Carmen laughed, looking out the window.

"Well which ones?" he asked, turning back to her.

"Um.." she searched his fingers, the tops of his hands, up to his bicep, "773?" she asked, pointing to the tattoo on his bicep.

He looked down at the tattoo, "It's the uh" he paused looking back up at her, "the Chicago area code. Represents my roots, you know, the city that shaped me." he shook his head, "That sounded like a load of bullshit," he laughed. "I'm sorry."bA curl from his hair bounced onto his forehead, covering his eyebrow. He smoothed it back, letting out a breath.

"It didn't sound like a load of bullshit." she laughed.

He smiled and turned his head towards the waitress bringing their food over. She set it down in front of them, each served on a red tray.

They ate their food in a silence. A comfortable silence for the first time. Both were too preoccupied with feeding their growling stomachs to talk.

"You were actually hungry. Glad you came with?" she swallowed her last bit of food, then wiped her hands off with a napkin. Carmen hummed in response, nodding his head and a took drink of his water.

He set the cup down, clearing his throat, "This is actually pretty good." he pointed down to his wrap. "I'm surprised."

Margaret looked at the wrap then back up at Carmen, "Can I try some?" she raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Try my wrap?" Carmen clarified, putting his full attention on her. She nodded her head. "I mean, sure." He ripped the wrap in half as best as he could, giving her the part he hadn't bitten yet. He passed it off to her, small pieces of chicken and avocado falling out in the process.

"You didn't have to give me half of the wrap, my gosh." she took it gratefully, "Thank you." she said as she took a bite. She chewed slowly, savoring the food. Her eyes widened in surprise after she swallowed her bite, "Holy shit." she pointed at the wrap, nodding her head.

Carmen grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth off, nodding his head in agreement. "I know. And I didn't mind sharing, I was getting full anyways. Would've ended up taking it home." he put his hands on his lap.

They finished their food, then called the waitress over for the bill. Margaret paid and Carmen offered to take care of the tip. They thanked the waitress and got up to leave. "Bye Nancy!" Margaret called out as they left the diner.

"That woman has been working there since I was a kid." Margaret said as she opened the car door. She tossed her purse in the backseat next to a couple of shopping bags back there.

"Damn." he got in the car, closing the door with a hard tug. He secretly wished that wasn't him. Working in the same, rundown diner for half his life. But with trajectory of The Beef, his future wasn't looking too hopeful.

Margaret nodded her head in agreement, "She's the sweetest though." she turned the car on, letting the engine run as she put her seatbelt on. "She would give me free food when I was younger." she pulled out from the restaurant then started to drive in the direction of Carmen's apartment.

"Like a grandmother to you?" Carmen asked, staring out the window.

"Exactly like a grandmother." she smiled, tucking a piece of floppy blonde hair behind her ear as she made a left turn.

The sun was setting as the day came to an end, the light pouring onto the streets in a gentle glow. The sky was filled with yellow and pink by the time Margaret pulled up the Carmen's apartment.

"Thank you for hanging out with me today, Carmy." she said, leaning out of her window to talk to him.

He shrugged his shoulders, his hands in his coat pockets, "Anytime chef." he smiled and turned to walk into his building. "Chef." she repeated quietly. She watched him walk to his building, making sure he was inside before pulling off.

She arrived home, having to jiggle the lock up and down just to open the door. This is what she got for spending all her money on an old car. She kicked her shoes off and tossed her keys on the counter in her kitchen.

Her cat, Liho, greeted her with a screeching meow. "Oh my gosh, I'm 10 minutes late for dinner time." she threw her hands up in conviction. She tiredly prepped her cat's food, making sure she got a healthy serving. She bent over, setting her bowl next to her water bowl.

"Little do you know, I already had dinner. So you gotta eat by yourself." she said, petting her cat from head to tail. She pushed herself up and headed to change out of her clothes from today. She rummaged through her closet before pulling out a cropped tank and a pair of old sweats, grabbed a hoodie, and headed out to her balcony.

She grabbed a small box off the coffee table that contained rolling paper, a small jar of weed and a lighter. She opened the sliding door to the balcony and sat down.

She let her feet dangle over the fire escape, rolling a blunt gingerly. She lit the end carefully and inhaled slowly. She exhaled, blowing the smoke into the city. She heard her cat's soft patters on the concrete behind.

She reached behind and softly pet her cat, "This is different than smoking. Much better." She laid down on her back, looking up at the sky that was a fading pink.

-

Carmen got home, taking his shoes off with a huff. He laid his jacket over one of the stools that were under his kitchen ledge. He ran a hand through his messy curls and walked to his living room. Well, what was supposed to be the living room. He sat on the chair, sliding down into it, eyes closed.

He didn't bother to change out of his clothes from earlier as he started to doze off. He felt his head falling, which caused to wake back up. He groaned and stood up to have a cigarette.

He grabbed one from the pack and went out to his balcony. He leaned against the railing, flicking the lighter repeatedly until it caught. He lit the end of the cigarette and brought it up to his lips. He inhaled, relaxing as the lowered the cigarette from his lips. He turned to face the setting sun, warming his skin, as he exhaled, letting his emotions leave in a cloud of smoke.

-

AN: you know the drill, lemme know what you thought of this chapter 🙀 i also apologize for spelling/grammar mistakes!!

with love,

marlowe

[ciaonicole85]

Neighbor Series: Ch. 4 Part 1

A Delicate Ecosystem

Carmy and Syd are moving along like a couple of precious baby sloths. However, people are beginning to talk. Will it destroy the vibes between them or with the restaurant crew? Here's part 1.

"Carmen…is that tellicherry pepper?"

Sydney closed her eyes savoring the egg muffin stuffed with prosciutto, aged parmesan, basil and delicately seasoned with sea salt and ground tellicherry pepper. She was in foodie paradise and had paused on the sidewalk to fully enjoy this treat.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" Carm answered having his own special moment watching her enjoy his food. Ever since they started their planned, instead of "coincidental" walks to work he sometimes made a handheld breakfast.

He took a bite of one his muffins and yes, it was something.

They resumed walking and just before entering The Bear, Carmy offered Sydney the last one.

She greedily eyed the muffin, but shook her head.

"No, you've had like one and I had three!"

"Hey, Sydney, I'll take it!"

Fak came bouncing towards them, his hand outstretched.

"No, I made it for HER, Fak. Besides, I can smell peanut butter from here. You've eaten."

Sydney laughed and went inside stuffing the last muffin in her mouth.

"Carm, this isn't a nice side of you. This is totally Stranger Things season 1. Don't forget your old friends!"

"What?!"

"Sydney is Eleven, you're Mike (on the show, not your brother), and I'm Lucas, who've you tossed aside for girl!"

Carmen who only watched cooking shows and for whom this stupid conversation was far too early, rubbed his eyes.

"Fak, why are you here so early?"

"Natalie asked me to come in to fix the to-go window. The rubber casing is coming off."

"Well go do that."

"Okay, but you're totally Mike."

For lunch it was Tina's turn to prepare family service and it was incredible. She made her family recipe, monfongo with shrimp.

A golden silence fell on the crowded break room as everyone ate gratefully. Everyone except Carmy and Sydney. They had taken their monfongo to a booth in the front to discuss an offer to be featured on a popular food tour's fine dining route. It would be a financial loss upfront because they'd have to open an hour early on tour dates to accommodate the groups. Also, they would have to serve them small versions of signature dishes at a price that would at best break even. However, food tours were excellent marketing. Often culinary enthusiasts and tourists look up food tour guides to plan their dining experiences and skip the tour part altogether. Normally, Natalie would have joined them, but she was working remote 3 days a week to be at home with her baby.

In the break room Richie primly wiped his mouth, checked his sharply pressed dress pants for crumbs and washed his hands. Ever since he staged at Ever he'd become fastidious with his clothing, hygiene, and helped Natalie with HR concerns...in his own way. The crew jokingly called him Mr. Richard now. Then he went to look for Carmen. Uncle Cicero had messaged him with a request they cater his cousin's daughter's engagement party next month and complained that Carm hadn't replied to his texts all morning.

He found them unnecessarily close in a booth that could easily fit 4 people. Sydney sat facing forward explaining something on one of the many papers spread out before them. Carm was nearly in her lap, sitting at 90 degree angle towards her, his left arm on the table boxing her in, looking intently at her profile instead of the paper. He must of said something funny because Sydney looked up at him and began laughing. Then to top off this gorgeous scene he pointed to an invisible speck of food on her chin and gently brushed it off with his thumb.

For a whole minute Richie stood there wondering when they would see him. This situation was getting rapidly getting out of hand. He had long since clocked that Carmen had a crush on Sydney. It had somewhat faded during the Claire era, but it reemerged stronger than ever afterwards. As one of the few real adults in charge, he knew that he would have to reign things in. The one time Sydney quit Carmy had almost let The Beef burn down. If this puppy love imploded…Richie didn't even want to think about it.

He walked right up to the booth and they finally noticed him.

"Hey Rich, what's up" Carmy asked.

"Uncle Cicero has been texting you and asked if you could call him. Now preferably."

"Alright. Sydney, we'll finish this later?"

Sydney nodded and said she needed to check with Marcus about the featured dessert special tonight. Carmy took their plates and went to the back to call Uncle Cicero. As she started to get up Richie beckoned her to sit down. He was silent for a moment. A long moment. Sydney leaned back and folded her arms. The new Richie was far more competent and tolerable to work with, but their personalities still clashed on occasion. It was fun sometimes. She wondered what lecture he had prepared for her today.

"Got something on your mind Richie?"

Richie smiled benevolently.

"Sydney, you are invaluable to the team. You put in the time, you know almost as much as Carmen about culinary stuff and you've got passion. Too much sometimes, but nobody's perfect."

"Uh…I appreciate that I guess".

"However-"

'Here it comes" Sydney said grinning.

"We have a delicate ecosystem here and the key player in this ecosystem is Carmy. If anything or anyone is a big enough distraction the whole thing could be wiped out."

Sydney rolled her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, you're a smart girl. It's obvious that Carmy has thing for you and it looks like it might be mutual. If you start screwing him and things fall apart, how do think he's going handle it? It we stay on track we might be able to pay off Cicero early. If NOT, then we could all be screwed and not in the good way. Would you keep the shop closed at least until then?"

Sydney folded her hands on the table and considered how to respond. She could curse him out for being a misogynistic, tactless moron or she could ignore him. She decided on the latter. There was no reason to taint an otherwise great day.

"Well, Richie I've thought seriously about what you said and if you ever come to me with this again you might get a matching scar on your other butt cheek."

With her most serene smile she stood up gathering her papers and glided through the kitchen doors.

Richie shook his head. Well, he tried to warn her.

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: A lot of hands went up, then out of the corner of her eye she saw Señor Gutierrez raise his hand, she turned to stare at him. The rest of the village followed her gaze, and slowly every other hand sank until Señor Gutierrez was the only person with their hand raised.

CH 1 Prev Next Master List

33. ...Tribulations

“Alright, we have heard from all witnesses and each of Cicero’s victims, it is time for us to make our decision,” Alma said, standing at the table now placed front and center of the church, “will we allow this man to remain in our village.”

The whole village began talking at once and Alma tapped her gavel a few times to cut through the noise. It wasn’t often the people of Encanto went through this, so she could forgive them for being a bit disorderly, but the fact remained they would get nothing done if they talked over eachother.

“One at a time, we will hear arguments both for and against banishing Cicero, I assure you, but we must do this in an orderly fashion.”

It was like the whole village took one collective breath, and released it as a communal sigh. She looked over the crowd, debating who to give the floor to first. After his outburst, Señor Gutierrez had made Cicero stay home. Similarly, Cicero’s victims had already cast their votes and, with the exception of Pepa, were avoiding the trial.

Pepa sat next to Félix, who had Felípe on his other side. Alma pursed her lips. Everybody already knew how Felípe felt, he wouldn’t bring up anything they hadn’t heard him say down at the cantina. Then again, it was hard to find an argument more convincing than “I don’t trust him not to hurt my future wife and baby.” It would be best to end with that.

Padré raised his finger, and she fought the urge to scowl, she couldn’t ignore people who wished to speak just because she thought they would argue on Cicero’s side, but if this self-righteous boy who had the nerve to call himself a priest said anything about forgiving Cicero, after the sermon he’d given damning Rosalie, Alma just might shove her gavel up his ass.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded herself she was a community leader now. She no longer had the luxury of thinking such things.

“Yes Padré? You have the floor.”

“Gracias Señora,” Padré stood, he took a deep breath then looked around at his congregation, “when Señora Rosalie was first found, I gave a sermon on the dangers of alcohol and sex. A sermon I have come to deeply regret.”

He paused as people muttered quietly, apparently marshaling his thoughts.

“It was easier to assume that Rosalie had simply over-imbibed and was trying to save face by pretending to have been taken advantage of, it was less scary than believing her,” Padré continued, “None of us wanted to believe that somebody in our village could be capable of true cruelty. We still don’t, it is still quite tempting to hide behind the fiction that what Cicero has done to Rosalie wasn’t quite that bad. He barely bruised her, after all. And he couldn’t have predicted that her parents would abandon her, surely he didn’t mean to do as much harm as he did.”

A few people were nodding, and if she wasn’t currently acting as a village leader, Alma would have given each of them the stink eye. As it was, she did her best to ignore those who apparently held the opinion that Padré was describing. Instead, when Padré looked at her, she gave him one quiet nod in order to encourage him.

“I was only six when this village was founded, I don’t truly remember what it is like to live without the protection of the miracle. I don’t truly know what it is to fear that men may come and pillage our village, raze our crops, and savage our women,” he paused, “and I don’t want to. I am quite happy to live in a world where women need not fear walking home at night, where might doesn’t make right, where we each treat each other with the grace and compassion that God intended.”

Alma glanced at Señor Gutierrez, then did a double take, his face was crumpled with the effort to hold back tears. She gulped, feeling a split second of sympathy for the man. How must it feel to know your own son has desecrated paradise?

“Ignoring the horror, the cruelty, of what Cicero has done may feel safer, but it does nothing to protect you. We have received a blessing from God, a little pocket of peace and security, our very own Garden of Eden,” Padré held his hands out, palm up, as if begging the villagers to listen to him, “is it not our job to maintain this paradise? To tend to the garden? To keep it safe, protect it as it has protected us? I vote to banish Cicero, for the good of our community, and I implore each of you to do the same.”

Padré sat and Alma clenched her fists to keep from applauding. She took a deep breath to keep the smile off her face as she stood and straightened her skirt.

“Very well put Padré, thank you for those words, who wishes to speak next,” she asked, examining the hands that immediately went up, eventually she chose that of Juan, who worked in the coffee orchard, “what do you have to say, Señor?”

Juan stood, nodding his thanks at her before turning his gaze to the other villagers, “Padré is right, we do live in a paradise. I was also a child when we came to this place, and I neither know nor wish to know the depths of human cruelty. But that is exactly what it’ll be if we kick Cicero out of the only home he’s ever known, cruelty.”

Alma sighed through her nose but otherwise made no indication of her displeasure. She braced herself to hear a lot of stuff she didn’t agree with.

“I’m not arguing that what Cicero did was alright, by all means, I think he needs to face some sort of justice. But exile?! You want to rip the guy away from his friends, his home, his future? His son?”

A few people grumbled angrily at that last point, but nobody interrupted.

“What he did was bad, but it’s not like he killed somebody. And now that we know about it, we can protect the women from him. We don’t need to exile him in order to keep our village safe,” Juan scoffed at the idea, “Encanto hasn’t come as far as it has by turning our back on our own. We are a community of people who love and care about each other, and sometimes loving somebody means turning the other cheek. If we exile Cicero for this, what will be next? Will we exile everybody who has sex out of wedlock? That’s half the town!”

One of the women in the crowd started to say something, only to get shushed by her husband. She gave her husband a shocked look then her face twisted with rage, Alma strongly suspected she had just seen the end of a marriage.

“Again, I ain’t saying we let the guy off the hook, I just think exile is a bit too extreme of a punishment. He made one mistake, why would we ruin his entire life over it?” That said, Juan sat back down, a lot of people began talking at once. Alma banged her gavel until the village quieted back down.

“One at a time, remember, one at a time,” she insisted, then took a few deep breaths as the crowd fully settled, “who is next?”

“That’d be me,” the woman who had been shushed rocketed to her feet, swatting at her husband’s hands when he tried to pull her back down, “hola, in case we haven’t met, I am Lucia. Lovely to be here, truly, I can think of no better way to spend my evening than listening to the bullshit we just heard.”

Her husband groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“One mistake!? He made one mistake?” Lucia directed her argument at Juan, “So he mistakenly slipped a drug in Rosalie’s drink, then he mistakenly left the party and waited for her to do the same, then he mistakenly dragged her into her parent’s barn, and mistakenly took her clothes off. Then by complete accident he had sex with her while she was unconscious. Is that what you’re suggesting?”

Juan tried to say something, but she barreled over him.

“And then! And then he mistakenly slipped the same drug into three other women's drinks over the course of a year. Not to mention how he mistakenly slipped something in Leandra’s drink, dragged her into an alley and mistakenly pinned her against a wall while he undid his belt. That’s your argument?”

Juan glared mulishly up at her, face red. Hopefully he was now aware of how ridiculous he’d sounded.

“He did not make a mistake. Cicero got told ‘no’ one time and went on a rampage. That’s deranged, and dangerous, and not the sort of behavior I want in my community. Not only do I vote to kick him out, if we had a giant catapult we could use I’d load him into it myself,” she finished with a nod, then walked away from her husband, sitting in another pew and crossing her arms.

Whispering started up, as far as Alma could tell, it was mostly about the state of Lucia’s marriage.

“Indeed, thank you Lucia,” Alma reclaimed the village’s attention, “who would like to-, sí Señora? What do you think?”

An elderly woman stood, leaning her weight on her cane.

“I think we are glossing over the most important issue, Cicero’s son. While the way little Julio was brought into this world is most unfortunate, Señorita Rosalie herself has said that he is just an innocent babe. He doesn’t deserve to be punished for the sins of his father, and quite frankly, every child needs their parents. Both parents,” the elderly woman said, apparently not feeling the need to introduce herself, “Cicero must face justice, but more importantly, the child needs a father. I feel we should find a solution that fulfills both requirements.”

A few people nodded as the woman eased herself back onto the pew, Alma opened her mouth to ask for who was next, but didn’t get the chance as Felípe shot to his feet, looking for all the world like he might punch an old lady.

“Julio is not without a father, I am his father, and quite frankly I don’t want somebody as vindictive as Cicero around my son,” Felípe all but shouted, “Rosalie turned Cicero down and he took it as an excuse not just to hurt her, but multiple innocent bystanders. And you want that guy to raise a child? You want to let him raise my child? Absolutely not!”

“He’s not your chil-.” The woman tried to say.

“Like hell he ain’t,” Felípe scoffed, “who do you think bought his crib?! His first blanket and clothes? Rosalie has barely felt safe being alone with me but that didn’t stop me from caring about her or our kid. After her parents kicked her out she needed help, so I did whatever I could. I’ve changed his diapers, I’ve bought any medicine Rosalie couldn’t afford, I’ve read and sang him to sleep. You want to tell me he’s not my son?! You want to give credit to Cicero?”

Felípe paused but the woman didn’t fill the silence.

“Cicero hasn’t done a damn thing to help Rosalie with her pregnancy or care for that boy. Oh sure! He offered! But only if Rosalie agreed to marry him, because she refused, he wiped his hands of the kid. Cicero may have sired the boy, but he ain’t the boy’s Pá, I am. And it will be a cold day in hell before I allow somebody that dangerous around my son.”

With his piece said, Felípe sat. Alma waited a beat to see if anyone else would shoot to their feet, then cleared her throat, “Anyone else?”

Señor Matisse raised his hand, then stood when she nodded, “Just to be clear, I will be voting to exile Cicero, but only because we don’t have a system in place to handle something like this. Juan raises a valid point, what Cicero has done is wrong, but I’m not convinced that exiling him is the best answer. And while Julio is not without a loving father, what if this happens again and the babe does not have a trustworthy backup waiting in the wings?”

Alma pursed her lips, the baker was raising some good points. 

“Cicero has proven he’ll commit the same crime again and again, no matter what sort of consequences his victims face, so exile may be our only option, but let’s not fool ourselves. By banishing Cicero from Encanto we are not stopping him from raping innocent women, we are just making sure he does it somewhere else,” Matisse paused sighing deeply, “maybe this isn’t the time to ask all these questions, but it bears thinking about, don’t it? Is banishing the guy really the best way to handle a violent crime?”

Out of the corner of her eye Alma saw a cloud form over Pepa’s head. Thankfully, Pepa stood and left the church before the cloud could turn into a full storm. Some people glanced at her, but the rain falling on her head was all the excuse she needed to leave.

“What? You think we should build a prison?” another man asked, scoffing a little, “Just for one guy?”

Matisse shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t want that guy roaming free around my kids, but it just doesn’t sit right to kick him out, especially since he’ll likely do the same thing wherever he ends up.”

A few people mumbled, others nodded. Alma allowed the low hubbub to dominate the room for a few minutes, it was an important discussion and one she had been trying not to think about through this whole process.

She was very aware that banishing Cicero just meant sending him somewhere people didn’t know what danger he posed.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, there was nothing she could do about that, her duty was to Encanto. These people were trusting her and her familia to protect them, she had to put them first. When Alma opened her eyes, she lightly tapped the gavel on the table and the discussion died down. As usual, everybody turned to her with expectant eyes, so she steeled herself.

“You are right Señor, there is a very important conversation to be had about our justice system. However, for now we must work with what we’ve got. Is there anything else?”

A lot of hands went up, then out of the corner of her eye she saw Señor Gutierrez raise his hand, she turned to stare at him. The rest of the village followed her gaze, and slowly every other hand sank until Señor Gutierrez was the only person with their hand raised.

“Sí?” she asked.

He stood, and started with a deep sigh, “I-. I do not have a good argument to defend my son. I know what he’s done is… unforgivable.”

Gutierrez stopped talking, his head hanging low. The whole room held their breath, watching him, waiting.

The silence stretched uncomfortably long. If it weren’t for the fact that he were still standing, Alma would have tapped her gavel and asked who was next.

“Por favor, let mijo stay,” Gutierrez eventually breathed, “I know-. Let him stay, I will watch him, I won’t let him leave the winery, he’ll spend the rest of his life doing community service, just please. Don’t send my boy away.”

A tear, then another, escaped from his eyes. His voice creaked over every other word. His hands shook, his shoulders bowed, and he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

He was begging.

Alma gulped, her voice came out gentler than she’d intended when she spoke, “You have known this entire time what he had done to Rosalie, you have known he tried again, and yet you didn’t stop him from drugging Señorita Lopez. Why should we trust you to keep him contained going forward?”

“Leandra baited him into-.”

“She handed him a drink while she went to the bathroom,” Alma cut him off, feeling so tired all of a sudden, “she didn’t make him drug her, she didn’t imply she would sleep with him then revoke the offer, she barely even flirted with him. She just handed him her drink, that was all it took. That was the entirety of the trap she set.”

Señor Gutierrez frowned, but she could see in his face that he knew she was right. Cicero didn’t need to be baited into attacking women, he just needed an opportunity.

In the back corner of the room, Agustín stood, “Disculpe, but… what guarantee can you give us that Cicero won’t sneak away and retaliate on Leandra, Félix, Rosalie, or even one of the Madrigals? Are you going to keep him locked inside?”

Señor Gutierrez’s mouth flapped for a second, he slowly shook his head, eyes wide and lifeless.

For a second, Alma wished she could show mercy if only for his sake. Señor Gutierrez had always been a good man, a loyal one. He was hardworking, kind, responsible, and most of all, a doting father and husband. He did not deserve any of this.

Sadly, however, he was choosing his son over the rest of the village. It was an understandable choice, one Alma might make herself if she couldn’t keep the village’s fear of Bruno from turning to resentment, but that changed nothing.

“Señor, Cicero is a danger to others. He has demonstrated a vindictiveness that almost ruined a young woman’s life, simply because she loved another,” Alma said, not without sympathy, “And now… well we have all seen how enraged he is by Leandra, and everybody else who helped to investigate him. If there were some other way to protect this village from him, I would be happy to discuss it, but… there isn’t.”

For a second the church was silent as they watched Señor Gutierrez crumble. Then, Julietta whispered to Agustín, quiet enough that you wouldn’t usually be able to hear it in the crowded church. But thanks to the silence, the whispered statement carried over the crowd, striking Señor Gutierrez across his face.

“If he really loves his son he’ll take him and run. From what Bruno said, Cicero will probably get murdered if he stays.”

Gutierrez turned and gaped at Julieta, who suddenly found herself to be the center of attention. For a split second she looked embarrassed, then she took a deep breath and stood.

“You heard Bruno’s prophecy, none of us are going to trust him after this. Those of you arguing on Cicero’s behalf? If your daughter or sister or wife comes to you and says she’s been raped and she doesn’t know who did it, who’s gonna be your number one suspect?”

Next to her, Félix started nodding, while others exchanged glances. Nobody disagreed with her.

“We’re sitting here debating whether or not we’ll be safe if he stays, but, well, maybe you should be asking yourself if he’ll be safe,” she continued, “I-I won’t heal him, not just because I hate him for what he tried to do to my sister, but because I don’t feel safe going anywhere near him.”

“We won’t sell to him, or you for that matter, we got cousins to worry about,” Félix said, after exchanging a glance with Felípe and their mother.

“Neither will I,” Señor Matisse admitted, “even if he stays, I won’t want him anywhere near my bakery. That’s where my kids are.”

“I won’t carry your wine if he stays,” Señora Moreno, the owner of Encanto’s finest restaurant said, almost apologetically, “I just-, I don’t think people will buy it after this. I’m already struggling to sell what we have.”

There were a few murmurs of agreement.

Señor Gutierrez sank to the pew, lips pursed and eyes a thousand yards away. 

Alma sighed through her nose, she looked around at the rest of the room, waiting for somebody else to put up their hand. Nobody did, most sat there looking contemplative. Whatever arguments people had been about to make before Señor Gutierrez and Julieta spoke, they were silent now.

Just in case, she asked, “Anyone else?”

The silence rang loud and clear.

“Very well, you have until tomorrow evening when the market closes to cast your vote. The ballot box will remain here in the church, as well as the ballots and some pens. Would anyone like to volunteer to guard the box from tampering? There will be six shifts, lasting four hours. I want two guards each, three alternates just in case, for a total of-. Felipe, thank you, but I would prefer if the volunteers were people who are less biased.”

Felipe slowly put his hand down, frowning, and Felix gently patted his back. Meanwhile, Alma chose fifteen volunteers and asked them to stand with her at the front of the church.

“Everybody else, you may go. We will count the votes tomorrow evening, and should have the results by the next afternoon,” Alma turned to look at Señor Gutierrez, “I will tell you and your family first, señor, then I will announce it to the rest of the village.”

Señor Gutierrez nodded stiffly, standing back up and shuffling out of the church. The village waited long enough to watch him go and gossip about how far he’d fallen, then slowly trickled out onto the streets. Alma wished she could hate him the way she hated his son, it would make watching his world fall to pieces so much easier to bear.

She shook her head and turned to her fifteen volunteers. Alma no longer had the luxury of wallowing in sympathy and sentiment. She needed to focus on making sure this vote went smoothly.

[dk-thrive]

I might say with truth that I was never less alone than when by myself.

— Edward Gibbon, from "Memoirs of my Life" (Folio Society, January 1, 1991). "Alone. Never less alone than when alone. Cicero originated this apt and striking paradox in his " De Officis," lib. in. ch. i.: « Nunquam."

[ms-march]

Last Sentence Tag Game

Thank you sm @yr-obedt-cicero for the tag!!

Rules: in a new post show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.

This is from the LBL ch. 33 (an unreal number) rough draft <3. I swear that Adrienne is not actively committing violence again Hamilton, it just sounds like it

“It is more fun when ones victim is so unsuspecting. Wouldn’t you agree, Colonel?”

I do not know that many active authors nowadays so :( but ofc no pressure tagging here!

@tallmadgeandtea

@culper-spymaster

@musicboxmemories

@halcyondays2

[incorrectlooneytunesquotes]

(After Cicero wins at Poker by cheating)

Porky: C-C-C-C-Cicero, I saw you ch-ch-cheating.

Cicero: Okay Porky, what is it? Your usual 50%?

Porky: L-l-l-l-let's make it s-s-s-60. That way, you l-l-learned your l-l-lesson.

[popsixsquishcicerolipschitz]

Miss Chang - Chinese Man feat Taiwan MC & Cyph4 - OFFICIAL VIDEO

PO! SI! SQ! CI! RO! LI! PS! CH! IT!

POP! SIX! SQUISH! CICERO! LIPSCHITZ!

[thetldrplace]

SPQR- Mary Beard; Ch 7

7 From Empire to Emperors

Cicero versus Verres In 70 BC Cicero took on a high profile case against Gaius Verres, governor of Sicily. He was trying to get compensation for the systematic theft and depredations of the defendant in his official role. The notorious case ended with Verres' self-imposed exile to Marseille, having seen how badly he was losing the case. This was just one of the controversies about Roman rule overseas. The nature of Roman power and Roman's assumptions about their relationship to the world they now dominated had moved from an empire of obedience to an empire of annexation.

Gaius Gracchus had passed wide ranging legislation to root out corruption and abuses of the system, and it clearly showed that there were those in Rome who were concerned about the abuses. The senate's incompetence and greed in overseeing the provinces came up with Sallust asking hard questions about their incompetence in governing. The senate was seen as an old boys network not up to the challenge of the new realities.  

One of the "new men" that so many saw as an answer, was Gaius Marius. Marius was sent to Africa to deal with some upstarts, but he enrolled anyone he could find in the army, rather than those from landed families. These new legions were promised land after their service. But where would that land come from? It turned the soldiers into loyal followers of their commanders, or whoever was promising them the best package, rather than loyal servants of Rome. But this change in attitude saw popular assemblies regularly voting vast resources to those they thought would best defend them, or expand the empire. They began to vote autocrats into power.

Pompey the Great In 66 BC, Cicero addressed the public pushing for Pompey to be given vast powers to subdue Mithradates. He pointed to Pompey's success the year prior clearing the pirates from Italy's waters. He was essentially arguing that new problems called for new solutions. As the empire had expanded, Rome's government had not kept up. It's style was still to limit power and control through checks and balances- which hindered officials from getting stuff done. What Rome needed now was the best general, with lengthy command, over the whole of the affected area, and with the resources needed to accomplish the job.

The first emperor Pompey could lay claim to being the first emperor. The honors he accepted and claimed were on a completely different and greater scale than before... at least in Rome. The only thing that stopped Pompey was a rival- Julius Caesar.

The Gang of Three In 60 BC, Pompey was frustrated the Senate was dragging his eastern settlement out. Marcus Licinius Crassus, the recently returned general who had defeated Spartacus, was annoyed his case was being slow-walked through. Julius Caesar was hoping to get elected consul and secure a lucrative military command. Mutual support seemed the best way for them to get what they wanted, so they teamed up to pool their resources. Caesar was elected and he pushed through programs of the other two. Crassus was defeated and lost his life fighting the Parthians in modern Iran.  

But there were increasing breakdowns in public life, with more political violence occurring. In 52 BC, Pompey was elected sole consul. He was also granted the power to settle the uncertainty in the streets, which he did within a few months.  

In 58 BC, Caesar had left for a military campaign in Gaul. He had military ambitions beyond what had been seen to date, and he conquered more land for Rome than Pompey had in the east. It was a particularly brutal and bloodthirsty campaign and shocked even Roman sensibilities. Some suggested he even be prosecuted back home. There was also a question of what he would do with the power and wealth he accumulated while in Gaul. Caesar was in charge of 40,000 troops. Would he invade Italy as Sulla and Pompey had done?

IN 50 BC, the Senate voted in an overwhelming majority that both Pompey and Caesar should give up their posts and Caesar should return home. He crossed the Rubicon in 49 BC and 4 years of civil war ensued. Between battles fought in Africa and Spain, Caesar was rarely in Rome. He fought against Pompey, his old ally, but now rival, for control of Italy. Pompey was eventually beheaded as he tried to land ashore by a local leader who thought he could earn some points with Caesar. It backfired and Caesar supported the leader's rival- Queen Cleopatra. Cleopatra's interests were with Caesar at this point and they had an open affair, and, if Cleopatra is to be believed, a son.  

The Ides of March Julius Caesar was killed on 15 March 44 BC. This has been framed as the template of principled assassination in order to preserve liberty ever since. But looking back, it was just the latest in a series of murders of powerful politicians. Julius Caesar had initiated a vast series of reforms. He updated the Calendar. He launched a large number of overseas colonies to resettle Rome's poor elsewhere. He extended Roman citizenship to the north of Italy, and at least Latin status to Sicily. He instituted vast reforms in Roman government. These reforms became a takeover of Rome's democratic processes, and it smacked of him trying to become king. He seemed to not be taking the elected offices of the Roman republic seriously. Even his most famous virtue, mercy, was the virtue of a king. Only those with the power to do otherwise can exercise mercy.

So the assassins saw themselves as guarding liberty and Republican values. They told everyone the Roman people had been liberated. But getting rid of a tyrant turned out not to be the same thing as getting rid of tyranny.

[raisab332012]

Answer to Why did Cicero throw his support behind the young Octavian to undermine the considerable power Mark Antony had after Caesar's death? Did he know he was simply advocating one wannabe autocrat over another? by Alex Mann https://www.quora.com/Why-did-Cicero-throw-his-support-behind-the-young-Octavian-to-undermine-the-considerable-power-Mark-Antony-had-after-Caesars-death-Did-he-know-he-was-simply-advocating-one-wannabe-autocrat-over-another/answer/Alex-Mann-32?ch=18&oid=1477743670006946&share=6ab6fa9d&srid=7KVRc&target_type=answer

[sonjatwogreyhounds]

Beauty and Performance review

Ophis Maath

Sire: Cicero Do BR Reino

Dam: Naima

Male

16 Mar 2017

SOC CH - Social champion

#breeder Pierpaolo Pica

#owner Antonio Criscione

[courier-sux]

trying to get back into drawing, here’s some doodles!

tex belongs to @gohnnyjuitar, cicero and charlie belong to @comrade-shrimp <3

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: Hopefully, that would be enough to get Bruno’s attention. Hopefully, Bruno didn’t mean what he’d said. Hopefully, he was willing to do something as conspicuous as leaving his mother’s conversation in order to fulfill his promise to Pepa.

That was a lot of “hopefully”.

Pre-movie AU, cw: dream sex and masturbation in the beginning

Ch 1 Prev Next Master List

Chapter 11 Recasting

Sunday morning found Bruno lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondering what was wrong with him.

Sometimes, Bruno had prophetic dreams. Never anything huge, never anything that resulted in a tablet, just little snatches of scenes. Glimpses of the inevitable, the pieces of his day that were already set in stone. Sometimes these dreams heralded the perfect birthday gift, sometimes they heralded a tear in the knees of his favorite trousers, but usually they told him he would hear a bird caw while he just so happened to be staring at the clock, or he’d hold a spoon at dinner.

Last night, Bruno did not have a prophetic dream.

Nope.

Last night, Bruno had a dream that by all means should have been a nightmare, should have been disgusting, and terrible.

It started out normal enough. He was at a party somewhere that was simultaneously Casita’s courtyard and his favorite spot by the river. Pepa was being carried bridal style around the party by Felix while Cicero watched through gauzy white curtains. Reina emerged from the river wearing a villainous black gown and a sparkling crown. When her eyes landed on Pepa she grinned haughtily.

Bruno had swept forward to intercede, “Don’t even try it.”

“There are a lot of things I’d like to try, guapo,” her eyes had raked him up and down and her grin had turned flirty.

“You can’t try anything, not unless you behave yourself,” the scene changed around them so they were now in the cheese stall, only the stall was in Bruno’s vision cave instead of the market.

Whereas before she’d been standing right in front of him, now she was suddenly twenty feet away. She closed the distance, hips swaying with every step, “And how exactly would you like me to behave, Big Bad Bruno?”

“You need to be nice,” Bruno had said, catching her by her suddenly bare shoulders before she could reach him. She had giggled and reached out to run her hands down his chest, apparently not caring that her royal gown had just turned into a barely there silk slip. 

“What’s in it for me?” she whispered, although her mouth remained stuck in a sultry pout.

“Come with me,” he’d pulled her out of the cheese stand by her wrists, walking backwards and magically not tripping despite the fact that his eyes had never left her face. When he pushed backward out of his vision cave he found himself walking down the stairs at the entrance of his room, Reina now carried in his arms. When they got to the last step the sand curtain parted to reveal the secret cavern under the stairs and he took her into the tent he thought of as his real bedroom.

Bruno laid her down on his bed and she wasted no time pulling his face to hers, kissing him deeply with a satisfied hum. After a few minutes he pulled back and pinned her down by the shoulders.

“Do you promise to be nice?”

“If you make it worth my while,” she breathed, untying the belt holding the lace robe she was now wearing. Slowly, she opened it, revealing herself to him.

Bruno watched his own hands caress her stomach and his fingers gently squeeze her breast. She gave him soft words of encouragement and from there the dream lost its thread. It became a slideshow of unfortunately enticing images. One second he was exploring her naked body with shy touches and the next he was sucking ardently at the underside of her breasts and the instant after that he was rutting into her as she offered him gentle praise. The images repeated themselves in no particular order and the scenery changed in the erratic way dreams had.

But every glimpse of a moment had the same focus, him and Reina in his bed.

When he woke he was hard as a rock and his mind kept unhelpfully replaying the image of her opening her robe for him. The details had been fuzzy, but the very idea of it was just… 

He gulped. 

He needed to get ready for church, but he couldn’t exactly hide his current state in his Sunday best. The obvious solution was to… take care of it, but he couldn’t do that! Not if he’d be thinking about Reina while he did it. Not again! 

It seemed extra bad to do this when she was upset with him. At least the last time he had done it she’d given him every reason to believe she wouldn’t mind if she knew. This time… this time she would probably mind.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about her opening her robe, a sultry gleam in her eye.

Ay dios, something must be terribly, horribly, incredibly wrong with him. But what else was he supposed to do? Go to church with a raging hard on? He slapped his hands over his face and groaned.

Ok. Ok! He’d make this quick.

Bruno pushed the shorts he wore to bed down his hips until he got his hands on his dick. He didn’t bother with lubricant, he sort of felt like he didn’t deserve it, not when he was masturbating to the idea of his arch nemesis undressing for him.

Where had this even come from?! Sure, she was beautiful, charming, and mysterious, but, but, he didn’t even like her. He didn’t. He definitely didn’t want to see her naked, pin her to his bed, play with her breasts until the nipples hardened and bury himself in her. Sure, maybe she would purr compliments and praise into his ear, tell him how handsome he was, how desirable he was, how good he felt inside her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear those things. A-at least, not coming from her.

Joder, yes he did. Just the thought of her fingers running through his hair while he sucked on her neck and pumped himself into her, desperate and for once in his life unrestrained, had him whimpering quietly in his bed. And the idea of listening to her praise him, tell him how wonderful he made her feel, had him spurting off all over his hand.

He closed his eyes and breathed raggedly. What was wrong with him? The villagers were right, he was creepy. How was he ever going to face her again? Maybe he should just give this whole thing up.

No. he couldn’t do that. Pepa had asked him to keep her and Cicero separated. He would stick it out, for her sake. 

He’d just have to do a better job of not liking Reina, no matter what.

Mind made up, Bruno cleaned himself and got dressed for church. He stayed silent through breakfast, which his family was used to, and avoided his own gaze while he brushed his teeth in front of the bathroom mirror. As they walked through the town, one of his sisters on either side of him, Bruno kept his eyes on the ground, just in case they passed Reina.

If he had been paying more attention he would have noticed his sisters both waving cheerfully at Leandra and Rosalie as they passed the pair sitting in the back of the church.

Leandra eyed Bruno as he shuffled into his seat in the front row. He appeared deep in thought. She had spent the rest of Friday afternoon complaining to Leche about the whole situation. She had reimagined the argument with Bruno so that he had an epiphany half way through and suddenly, magically, understood that Cicero was the one who had hurt Pepa, not her. Then he’d be suitably apologetic about allowing his assumptions to override the time they’d spent getting to know one another, agree to take her out to dinner to make up for it, and vow to work with her to bring Cicero down.

Now that she saw him, she found herself worrying that he was going to make good on his accidental threat to leave her in the hands of a rapist.

She couldn’t risk it, she needed to find a better way to keep herself safe from Cicero. Or, fix the situation once and for all.

“He’s very kind,” Rosalie interrupted her thoughts.

“Hm, what?”

“Bruno, he’s a very kind man,” Rosalie was grinning at her, holding little baby Julio in her arms, “when I was staying with them he caught on to the fact that men make me uncomfortable and he went out of his way, in his own home mind you, to give me all the space I needed. You could do a lot worse.”

Leandra quickly checked over her shoulder where her father was chatting with Señora Ruiz, “Ay, say it louder why don’t you.”

“I would, but we’re in a church,” Rosalie teased.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I wouldn’t date Bruno,” she whispered, “but the situation’s kind of… complicated.”

“How so?”

Thankfully, Leandra was saved from answering when Padré called for everybody’s attention. She allowed herself the petty pleasure of thinking to herself it was all he was good for, even if she knew that wasn’t true.

Rosalie paid polite attention to the sermon, although her brow twitched whenever Padré remarked on the virtues of kindness and the evils of apathy. On one occasion, he accidentally made eye contact with Rosalie, and immediately stumbled over his words as his eyes flicked down to the babe in her arms and back up. Rosalie did him the favor of turning her attention from him to Julio. 

Leandra wondered if anyone else heard Rosalie mutter, “Hypocrite.”

Maybe the real reason Padré wanted to build a bigger church was to make it easier to avoid looking at people sitting in the back row. 

Idly, Leandra mused over what would happen if Padré found out that Cicero was the wolf in sheep’s clothing that walked among his flock. Would he cast Cicero out? Condemn him the same way he’d condemned Rosalie? Or lecture and pontificate about forgiveness.

Padré instructed them to open the bible and Leandra took a beat longer than the rest of the congregation to do so. She was the only one that saw the look Padré gave Rosalie.

Oh yeah. That guy definitely knew he’d messed up, bad.

The only question was, did he have the courage to do anything about it. If he did, stopping Cicero would become a whole lot easier. With both him and Señora Madrigal backing them up, Leandra, and Cicero’s victims wouldn’t need to jump through hoops to get the rest of the village to believe them. Nobody wanted to be the guy who ignored the word of the only holy man in town for a bottle of wine.

Of course, that would mean asking Rosalie, Pepa, and Señora Madrigal to trust said holy man, which wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. Not after that stupid sermon.

It would also mean telling Rosalie about everything Cicero had done in the past year.

How would Rosalie feel if she found out he’d tried the same thing he did to her on at least one other woman, probably three, and maybe more. What would happen to little Julio if it got out that Cicero was the father? Would people try to pressure Rosalie to let Cicero into her son’s life?

It was for the best that Rosalie never came into contact with him ever again. Not that that was actually possible in such a small village, but in the past year, she had only ever spoken to him once that Leandra knew of. 

She didn’t know exactly what went down, she had been talking to Félippe and had looked up to see Cicero had cornered Rosalie. This was back when she was just beginning to show. They had rushed over and Cicero’s glare had turned into an easy going smile, he gave them a friendly nod before walking away.

There had been other times Leandra had caught him staring at Rosalie, or Julio, but he never made a move.

Leandra wished she could erect a force field around her friend, she wondered if she went to Casita and asked the candle to catapult Cicero into the sun, would anything happen. Rosalie had been through enough, the last thing she needed in her life was more Cicero.

Still, Rosalie needed to know what was happening. Honestly, Leandra probably should have told her from the very beginning. 

When the service ended and people began milling about, talking amongst themselves, Leandra quietly told Rosalie that she needed to tell her something very serious. 

“Uh-oh, now you’ve got me all nervous,” Rosalie joked in her quiet way, “are you breaking up with me? Was it something I said? I swear, I can change.”

Leandra smiled, wryly, “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just… it’s kind of a doozy. It’s something I should have told you about sooner but I didn’t want to, to upset you, I guess. I-It’s pretty upsetting.”

“Oh,” Rosalie hummed and bounced Julio in her arms as he began to babble and coo in response to the mumble of multiple conversations, “so, we should probably have this upsetting conversation in private?”

“Si,” Leandra nodded, and the two women stood as one, it went without saying that they would have this conversation near Julio’s crib in case he needed a nap. Leandra told her father she was going to spend some time with Rosalie and he wished them a fun afternoon.

“Is this conversation about why you and Bruno are ‘complicated’?”

She rolled her eyes, as they passed through the open doors of the church, into the sunlight. It was a beautiful day and people lingered in the town square to chat and enjoy the gentle breeze. Leandra caught a glimpse of Padré speaking to the town doctor, they made eye contact and she neglected to greet him. Instead, she walked a little closer to Rosalie.

“Well, yeah, si, that is a part of it. But it’s a small part,” Leandra grinned mischievously at her friend, “although, the whole Bruno thing is the best part. Turns out that under that ruana and bad posture the man has the body of a-.”

Leandra cut off when Rosalie froze, face going pale. She clutched her baby closer to her chest and squared her shoulders. Leandra gulped, knowing without turning her head what she was about to see, and sure enough, when she followed Rosalie’s gaze she found Cicero coming straight for them.

Leandra looked frantically around, her eyes landing on the Madrigal family. The triplets were standing politely still while Señora Madrigal laughed with a few members of the choir. Bruno was still staring at the ground, apparently pondering the meaning of life or something.

“Señorita Lopez,” Cicero greeted, making it as obvious as he could that he was ignoring Rosalie entirely.

Leandra stepped ever so slightly in front of Rosalie and in her loudest, most enthused sounding voice, cried, “Cicero! It’s been a while since we spoke! How did you like the service?”

Hopefully, that would be enough to get Bruno’s attention. Hopefully, Bruno didn’t mean what he’d said. Hopefully, he was willing to do something as conspicuous as leaving his mother’s conversation in order to fulfill his promise to Pepa.

That was a lot of “hopefully”. She really, really, needed to find a more permanent solution to the whole Cicero problem.

“Oh, it was wonderful, Father really is on a roll, isn’t he?” Cicero’s eyes flickered to Rosalie, “I particularly liked the one about drunks being an affront to god.”

“Really?” Rosalie responded, voice cold, “I really liked the one about lechers burning in hell.”

Leandra glanced over at Bruno, he was watching them with wide eyes. She looked pointedly at Cicero, then smirked.

“Oh? I would think a woman of your nature would find that part rather worrying,” Cicero sneered.

Come on Bruno, come on.

“God knows what happened that night,” Rosalie held her head high, “somehow I doubt my son will meet his father in heaven.”

Cicero briefly scowled, but wiped it off his face quickly and turned back to Leandra with a smile, “Honestly señorita, it is perhaps unwise to associate with somebody who has Rosalie’s… history.”

Leandra squared her shoulders, determined to defend her friend regardless of the risks to her own safety,“I-.”

And then she was cut off by the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard, “Hola Cicero.”

Cicero practically jumped out of his skin at Bruno’s sudden appearance, “Br- Señor Madrigal! Hola. Hi.”

Bruno stepped in between the women and Cicero, his voice low and dripping with irony, “You know, it’s funny, I haven’t seen you hanging out with Pepa lately. Did something happen between you two?”

Cicero gulped, clearly thinking Bruno was referencing Pepa’s being drugged, “Look, Señor Madrigal, I know things look bad, but it’s not what you think.”

Bruno made a doubtful sound, “Right, yeah, I’m sure this whole thing is a big misunderstanding.”

Cicero nodded, he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the crash of thunder. Everybody whipped around to see Pepa standing not ten feet away, a storm cloud building over her head. Her eyes were trained on Cicero, suddenly a bolt of lightning scorched the Earth a mere foot to his side. He yelped and stumbled away from it.

“Cicero,” she hissed, she tried to say more but seemed to be choking on her anger, the wind whipping around her, finally she growled, “Stay away from them.”

There was a pause as he looked between the two Madrigals, then Leandra, and finally, Rosalie. Something passed across his face, but she didn’t know what it was. Maybe his eyes were widening out of fear, or maybe he’d just realized something, maybe that was the look of a crazed man; maybe his jaw tensed due to the stress, maybe he was frustrated, maybe he was determined. Before Leandra could figure it out he had turned and walked away.

The storm faded as he retreated. Once it was gone, the only sound in the town square were Julio’s cries. For a few seconds, nobody moved.

Señora Madrigal walked over, calm and poised as always. The entire village was watching them, and looking to her for context, she looked first at Rosalie and Leandra, “Are you girls ok?”

There was a mumble through the assembled crowd.

“Si Señora,” they said in unison, then Rosalie excused herself to calm her son down.

Señora Madrigal turned next to her own son, “Bruno, it was very brave of you to stand up for these young women, I am very proud of you.”

Bruno blinked, stuttering over a question his mother silenced with a hand.

“Would you please make sure they get home safely?”

“Uh, si Mamá,” he agreed.

Señora Madrigal turned towards her daughter but found that Pepa had already run off, which explained how the storm had died off so quickly. With a bracing breath, Alma turned to Cicero’s father, Señor Gutierrez. She looked him up and down as if appraising him, then pursed her lips, “Perhaps you should have a conversation with your son about the proper way to court a young lady. I think it is time the young man settled down, before he runs out of skirts to chase, don’t you?”

With that she turned and walked away, beckoning Julietta to follow her. The rumor mill began churning out story after story as everybody tried to cobble together what had happened before Pepa Madrigal had called all of their attention with a thunderbolt.

It was no secret that Cicero enjoyed the company of women perhaps a bit too liberally, but surely the son of such an upstanding pillar of their community wouldn’t go too far, would he? Then again, in the past year he’d dated four girls and each of them avoided him like the plague once it was over.

And did you see the way Pepa reacted to him? She’s had a couple of bad break ups, but have you ever seen her that angry before? What did Cicero do that would warrant that sort of reaction?

Bruno watched his mother walk away, very confused. He turned to ask Reina what just happened but found her gone. After a panicked second he saw her standing in the shade, having a hushed conversation with Rosalie while she allowed Julio to play with one of her fingers to calm him down. Bruno walked over as quietly as he could, trying not to pull attention their way.

“-isn’t what I planned, but what was I supposed to do? Just let him get away with everything?!” Leandra hissed, not noticing Bruno coming up behind her.

“Si, exactly. You’re going to get yourself hurt,” Rosalie answered.

“No. No! It isn’t right, Rosalie, you’ve suffered so much while Cicero just… goes on playing his little games,” she shook her head, “I can’t stand it, it chokes me, whenever I see him I- you didn’t deserve- nobody deserves-. It isn’t fair!”

“Life isn’t fair,” Rosalie snapped, “believe me.”

“It can be though, if we fight for it. If we play this right, he-.”

“What then? What’s your plan? What are you going to do?” then Rosalie noticed Bruno standing nervously behind Leandra, she put on a polite smile, “Hola Señor Madrigal, thank you for intervening back there. Cicero was being quite unpleasant.”

“O-oh, I-, n-no problem,” he looked at Leandra, who was avoiding his gaze. Seriously, what was happening? 

When he’d abruptly left his mother’s side he’d been expecting a lecture for being rude, but Reina had thrown him that smug little smirk and well… he’d made a promise to Pepa.

Instead, his mama was proud of him and everybody seemed to be angry at Cicero. Everybody seemed to know something that Bruno didn’t.

“We should get going,” Leandra said, “Julio is cranky after all this excitement.”

“This conversation isn’t over,” Rosalie told her quietly.

Leandra sighed, “I know.”

The two women started walking and for a second, Bruno just stood there watching them go. If he hadn’t promised his mom he’d walk them home, he would go back to Casita and ask Pepa what was happening. He shook his head and sighed, then hurried to catch up with them.

Nobody said a word the entire walk to Rosalie’s house.

[milffish]

cicero sipping his dumb bitch juice. 

t-shirt is here.

[f1restart3rr]

They…uwu

Obvs inspired the iconic image of Anne Hathaway in 12th Night

website / twitter