#ch: ruiz

[jacobmybeloved]

Ch. 97 of [[UWBL]] is up on Ao3/Wattpad!

[Ao3] // [Wattpad]

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 34, 2024

Co-dependent excitatory and inhibitory plasticity accounts for quick, stable and long-lasting memories in biological networks. Agnes, E. J., & Vogels, T. P. (2024). Nature Neuroscience, 27(5), 964–974.

Action sequence learning, habits, and automaticity in obsessive-compulsive disorder. Banca, P., Herrojo Ruiz, M., Gonzalez-Zalba, M. F., Biria, M., Marzuki, A. A., Piercy, T., … Robbins, T. W. (2024). eLife, 12, e87346.4.

The dynamic state of a prefrontal–hypothalamic–midbrain circuit commands behavioral transitions. Chen, C., Altafi, M., Corbu, M.-A., Trenk, A., van den Munkhof, H., Weineck, K., … Ponomarenko, A. (2024). Nature Neuroscience, 27(5), 952–963.

Transformation of Motion Pattern Selectivity from Retina to Superior Colliculus. DePiero, V. J., Deng, Z., Chen, C., Savier, E. L., Chen, H., Wei, W., & Cang, J. (2024). Journal of Neuroscience, 44(20), e1704232024.

Distributed representations of prediction error signals across the cortical hierarchy are synergistic. Gelens, F., Äijälä, J., Roberts, L., Komatsu, M., Uran, C., Jensen, M. A., … Canales-Johnson, A. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 3941.

Learning‐induced bidirectional enhancement of inhibitory synaptic metaplasticity. Kundu, S., Paul, B., Reuevni, I., Lamprecht, R., & Barkai, E. (2024). Journal of Physiology, 602(10), 2343–2358.

Retuning of hippocampal representations during sleep. Maboudi, K., Giri, B., Miyawaki, H., Kemere, C., & Diba, K. (2024). Nature, 629(8012), 630–638.

Encoding Manual Dexterity through Modulation of Intrinsic α Band Connectivity. Maddaluno, O., Della Penna, S., Pizzuti, A., Spezialetti, M., Corbetta, M., de Pasquale, F., & Betti, V. (2024). Journal of Neuroscience, 44(20), e1766232024.

Simultaneous, cortex-wide dynamics of up to 1 million neurons reveal unbounded scaling of dimensionality with neuron number. Manley, J., Lu, S., Barber, K., Demas, J., Kim, H., Meyer, D., … Vaziri, A. (2024). Neuron, 112(10), 1694-1709.e5.

Differential contributions of the hippocampal dentate gyrus and CA1 subfield to mnemonic discrimination. Mitchnick, K. A., Marlatte, H., Belchev, Z., Gao, F., & Rosenbaum, R. S. (2024). Hippocampus, 34(6), 278–283.

Biases in hand perception are driven by somatosensory computations, not a distorted hand model. Peviani, V. C., Miller, L. E., & Medendorp, W. P. (2024). Current Biology, 34(10), 2238-2246.e5.

Parallel processing of quickly and slowly mobilized reserve vesicles in hippocampal synapses. Rodriguez Gotor, J. J., Mahfooz, K., Perez-Otano, I., & Wesseling, J. F. (2024). eLife, 12, e88212.3.

Inferring control objectives in a virtual balancing task in humans and monkeys. Sadeghi, M., Sharif Razavian, R., Bazzi, S., Chowdhury, R. H., Batista, A. P., Loughlin, P. J., & Sternad, D. (2024). eLife, 12, e88514.3.

Theta and alpha oscillations in human hippocampus and medial parietal cortex support the formation of location‐based representations. Satish, A., Keller, V. G., Raza, S., Fitzpatrick, S., & Horner, A. J. (2024). Hippocampus, 34(6), 284–301.

Multisensory Integration Underlies the Distinct Representation of Odor-Taste Mixtures in the Gustatory Cortex of Behaving Rats. Stocke, S., & Samuelsen, C. L. (2024). Journal of Neuroscience, 44(20), e0071242024.

A Bayesian observer model reveals a prior for natural daylights in hue perception. Su, Y., Shi, Z., & Wachtler, T. (2024). Vision Research, 220, 108406.

Sleep pressure modulates single-neuron synapse number in zebrafish. Suppermpool, A., Lyons, D. G., Broom, E., & Rihel, J. (2024). Nature, 629(8012), 639–645.

Reinforcement Motor Learning After Cerebellar Damage Is Related to State Estimation. White, C. M., Snow, E. C., & Therrien, A. S. (2023). The Cerebellum, 23(3), 1061–1073.

Sensorimotor adaptation to destabilizing dynamics in weakly electric fish. Yang, Y., Yared, D. G., Fortune, E. S., & Cowan, N. J. (2024). Current Biology, 34(10), 2118-2131.e5.

Performance errors during rodent learning reflect a dynamic choice strategy. Zhu, Z., & Kuchibhotla, K. V. (2024). Current Biology, 34(10), 2107-2117.e5.

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: “I’ll scream if I need help,” Rosalie said, turning the doorknob with her free hand. She cracked the door open and slid through the small space, then closed the door behind herself before anyone could protest.

CW: Light Violence

CH 1 Prev Epilogue Master List

35. Rosalie's Revenge

The mood in Señora Ruiz’s little cottage on the mountain was about as tense as it could get. Down in the village proper they were counting up the votes to decide whether or not Cicero would stay. In Casita Félix, Julieta, and Bruno were doing their best to keep Pepa from accidentally summoning a blizzard. All through town people walked with their heads down and spoke with their voices low, watching each other and silently wondering what their neighbors had voted for. And it was as if all that tension was wafting off the village, rising up the mountains, and condensing in this one single cottage.

Agustín paced back and forth across the floor, nobody paying any mind to his occasional stumbles. Señora Ruiz was focusing a little too hard on her weaving, occasionally pausing to rub the ache of arthritis out of her hands, and waving off anyone who expressed concern. Felípe and Leandra traded Julio and Rosalie back and forth, then stood side by side feeling helpless whenever Rosalie wanted to hold her son herself.

The night before they had tried to have a sleepover at Casita, Rosalie and Pepa had wanted to wait together. Unfortunately, their shared anxiety fed into each other and nobody got any sleep, so it was generally agreed they would split up until the vote was announced.

Leandra looked up from baby Julio, who was sleeping peacefully in her arms, and found Agustín giving her a look of concern. She gave him a tight smile. 

She was very aware of the fact that if Cicero was allowed to stay he would probably be coming after her. He was a spiteful man, and she was the reason he’d been caught.

Bruno was a nervous wreck over the whole thing, he had knocked on wood until his knuckles bled and coated Casita’s tiles with a noticeable layer of salt. It had taken a lot of convincing to get him to let her out of his sight, and a key part of her final persuading argument was that she would be with Felípe. That fact that Felípe was ready to murder Cicero with his bare hands went a long way to comfort Bruno’s fears.

Agustín sighed noisily, now staring off into space, that same look of concern pointed at somebody not in attendance. Probably Julieta, they were equally worried Cicero would want revenge on the Madrigals, and Juli would be the easiest Madrigal to get to.

Leandra echoed Agustín’s sigh, and turned her eyes back down to Julio. She pressed a kiss to the baby’s head, consciously shoving aside all her fears about what would happen to Julio if Cicero stayed. If she started thinking about that, she might just break down into tears. 

She looked over at Felípe next, who was holding Rosalie in his arms while she nibbled at her lip, her eyes darting over the floor as if she was tracking the movement of a snake only she could see. Felípe occasionally kissed her cheek, a vain attempt to distract her from her troubled thoughts, even as his own brow knitted with the mixture of concern and rage that had plagued him for the past year.

Leandra turned her eyes to Señora Ruiz, beginning to debate trying to convince the elder woman to give her poor hands a break, but before she could really start weighing the pros and cons, her thoughts were interrupted.

Everybody froze, staring at the door, as if they all thought they had imagined the sound.

Then it came again.

Three quiet knocks.

Almost as one, each of them turned their head to look at the clock. It was only noon, and Señora Madrigal had said she’d send somebody to give them the news between 2:30 and 3:30.

Agustín, Felípe, Leandra, and Señora Ruiz all exchanged wary looks. Rosalie watched the door, suspicion slowly hardening her features. 

She stood, shrugging off Felípe’s hands and walked quickly into her room. They stared at her doorway, until she came back, holding something so it was concealed by the folds of her skirt.

The knocks happened again.

“I’ll scream if I need help,” Rosalie said, turning the doorknob with her free hand. She cracked the door open and slid through the small space, then closed the door behind herself before anyone could protest.

Rosalie stood on her doorstep, disappointed to have her suspicions confirmed. A part of her had hoped it’d be Padré letting her know her father had left to find a new winemaker, or perhaps her parents themselves coming to beg forgiveness.

Instead, the last person she wanted to see ever again was there, taking a few polite steps back as if he gave a shit about maintaining a respectful distance.

“Cicero,” she greeted, coldly and quietly. She wasn’t yet ready for her friends to come tearing through the door to rescue her.

“Rosalie,” Cicero breathed, voice harsh. His eyes were red rimmed and sported dark bags to carry all the sleep he hadn’t gotten lately. His plush lips had been chewed to the point of bleeding, and his handsome face was a sickly gray color. He didn’t say anything else, he just watched her, hands shaking.

“I am going to show you mercy and give you the chance to leave quietly. I will tell everybody inside that it was somebody from town coming to wish me luck, and nobody need ever know you were here,” Rosalie said, eyes narrowed, but he shook his head as she spoke, first minutely, then frantically.

“I- Rosalie please. I just want to see my son.”

“Your son?” she hissed.

“Sí, my son,” Cicero took a step towards her, then hesitated when she stood her ground, staring down her nose at him. He swallowed thickly then explained, “It doesn’t matter what the town votes, Pá he-. The Madrigals have turned the whole village against my family, we can’t stay. So por favor, just… let me hold my son once, just once, before I go.”

Rosalie didn’t respond for a long time, a part of her wanted to laugh out of sheer relief. He was leaving, no matter what the village voted, Cicero’s father would be taking him out of the Encanto. 

It was almost over.

“Rosalie,” he prompted, voice heavy with impatient desperation, “por favor, he’s my son too. You can’t keep him from me.”

“I can though,” she said, more casually than she had expected, “and I will. Leave Cicero.”

“No,” Cicero frowned, then scowled, taking another step towards her, “no, I want to see my son.”

“He is not your son,” Rosalie corrected him, “you were perfectly content to stay out of his life until now, I’m sure you’ll be content to continue ignoring him.”

“I-.” Cicero started to shout, but cut himself off, eyes darting to the house behind her. She ignored the urge to check the windows behind her to see if her friends were looking out at them, she couldn’t dare look away from Cicero.

Cicero took a couple deep breaths, then continued through gritted teeth, “I was not content to ignore him, you wouldn’t let me see him!”

“I wouldn’t let Felípe see him either at first, he still managed to pay for Julio’s crib, drop off baby clothes, sometimes medicine,” Rosalie pointed out with an arched brow, “I would not have stopped you from doing the same, I couldn’t afford to.”

“Well gee, if I’d known all it took to get in your bloomers were a few gifts-.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered raping me?” she cut in.

Cicero froze for a second, and she briefly thought she’d taken the wind out of his sails, then he scowled. He set his chin, eyes sparking.

“Look, I know I messed up, ok? That has been made very clear to me. But just because I made a mistake doesn’t give you the right to keep my son from me,” Cicero started advancing on her, “now get out of my way.”

Rosalie shifted her weight so her hand was no longer hidden behind her skirt, pointed her revolver right between Cicero’s eyes, and pulled back the hammer with her thumb.

Cicero froze.

She smirked.

“You made a mistake, did you?” she purred, “You just couldn’t control yourself, I’m so beautiful and you wanted me so much, right?”

“R-Rosalie, hold on,” Cicero slowly raised his hands.

“Why? I want you dead, at least as much as you wanted to fuck me, so why shouldn’t I kill you,” she asked.

“I’m the father of your child!”

“As far as I care, Julio’s Papá is Felípe.”

“You’ll be banished,” Cicero tried.

“Ay, por favor. You raped me, attacked a bunch of other women, and now you’ve come to my home and confronted me on my doorstep. What do you think is going to happen if I shoot you? The village is going to assume I attacked you? That I somehow forced you to sneak across town just so I could shoot you in my front garden? Or even better, that tiny, defenseless Rosalie broke into big, evil Cicero’s home, shot him without anyone else hearing the gunfire, then carried his dead body across town, without being spotted, to make it look like self defense,” she shook her head at him, “people are stupid, but they’re not that stupid.”

Cicero’s jaw flapped uselessly for a second.

“Really? You can’t think of a single reason why I shouldn’t shoot you?”

“You- you’re a good person, you wouldn’t-.”

“I would though. You’re a danger to my son.”

“I- you-.”

Rosalie cocked her head at him, and placed her finger on the trigger, idly she wondered why he hadn’t run away yet. Perhaps it just hadn’t occurred to him to do so. She weighed the pros and cons of pulling the trigger, delighting in the sweat beading on his forehead, the tears welling in his eyes.

After what he’d done to her, a part of her wanted to freeze this moment, live in this split sliver of time when he was helpless and she had all the power.

She let out a slow breath through her nose, frowning at him, “I can think of only one reason not to shoot you.”

His eyes filled with hope as she took her finger off the trigger and gently put the hammer back in resting position, “What is it?”

“The gunfire would wake Julio,” Rosalie said, then she lifted the gun over her head and brought the butt of it down on Cicero’s nose. There was a satisfying cracking noise, and an even more satisfying strangled cry of pain as his hands flew to his face. He stumbled back a few steps, out of arm's reach.

Rosalie pointed the revolver at him again, just in case he responded with anger.

Her friends must have heard his cry because she heard the rush of footsteps, then the door opened behind her. Rosalie felt two people hovering at her shoulders, and recognized one of them as Leandra based off of the surprised squeak. Cicero, eyes watering, looked at them from over the hands cupping his nose.

For a second nobody spoke or moved.

“Are we going to kill him?” Leandra asked, without a trace of humor or hesitation in her voice.

“Is Julio still asleep?”

“Sí, but I have a knife,” Felípe turned out to be the other person, “we could do this silently.”

Rosalie once again debated it. If there were three of them involved, things would be a lot less clear cut, and it might be harder to argue that she killed Cicero purely for self defense. Even if she did get off scot free, there was no guarantee that Felípe and Leandra wouldn’t catch any of the blame.

Cicero looked between the three people standing on the doorstep, and apparently, finally, realized he could run. He backed up one step, then another.

She pursed her lips.

Cicero stopped, eyeing the window. Rosalie dared a quick glance and saw Agustín standing in the window, holding Julio.

“Leave now, Cicero, or die where you stand,” Rosalie said, cocking her revolver again, “and if you ever come back to Encanto, I will kill you.”

He tore his eyes away from Julio, and looked at her one last time. Then turned and ran away, clutching his broken nose.

Slowly, and only once she was sure he was gone, Rosalie lowered her revolver. There was a heavy moment of silence. She stared at the path her attacker had fled down and took slow, even breaths. Cicero would be leaving the Encanto for good, she was safe, her best friend was safe. Her son was safe.

It was over.

A/N: I strongly debated letting Rosalie kill Cicero, but at the end of the day, I don't think Rosalie would want to be the person who brought murder to Encanto. I also debated letting Felipe kill Cicero, but he hasn't had a big enough presence in the story to hand him something so important. Besides, it feels like the decision of whether Cicero lives or dies should ultimately be Rosalie's.

[loveinkfanfics]

3, 6, and 9! (Even though I know the answer to 6…but we all love talking about our OCs!)

Hi!!!!!

First of all, I just have to say I LOVE your writing and have been meaning to go back and re-read your Juice/Olivia stories because they're all amazing!!

3. What's a fic idea that you have but haven't written yet?

Oof. I haven't had a good fic idea in a long time besides the ones I'm writing (and I feel like I haven't been inspired for one of them in a long time...). Life threw me quite a curveball, and I've been feeling a bit uninspired unfortunately. :(

6. Have you written any fanfictions featuring OCs?

YES!! I've written several!! I've got my Sons of Anarchy OCs and the Fast and the Furious OCs. I haven't written for TFAFT in YEARS, so they're a little far from my mind, though I'll always love Michaela and Alex (I still can't believe I used my own name for this one. I was pretty green writing wise and couldn't think of a better name than my own. She's nothing like me, though lol), but I love my SOA OCs especially Ms. Angela Ruiz. ;) She's a kickass mortician who was inspired but a mortician I met once before. I work in the "death care" industry myself (adjacent to what Ang does), but I really loved researching her side and being able to add it into the fic. I also loved writing a counterpart to Juice who's nerdy in her own way, loving, and there to provide him with support. Their original story is Hands All Over, but I've recently been writing an AU (She Will Be Loved) where they started out as close friends, and I'm loving their relationship in this one even more. :)

9. What's your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written? This is a hard one! Like picking a favorite child or something. >.< I very much love the way I ended 'Hands All Over' (I don't want to spoil it for those who haven't read it). I still can't believe I was able to bring it full circle and use that last line. I also love Ch. 51 of She Will Be Loved. ;) I also just love writing fluff and the cheesy moments. Those are my favorite kinds of scenes. :D I'm not sure that really answers the question, but this one was tough! lol

THANK YOU for the asks!!! This was so fun!! :D

[laurentgudel]

SOLO / MUTE / PAN — DUO WITH OLGA KOKCHAROVA - KUNSTHAUS BIEL CENTRE D’ART BIENNE 

SOLO / MUTE / PAN is a collaborative exhibition project that brings together for the first time Olga Kokcharova (*1985, CH / RU, Geneva) and Laurent Güdel (*1984, CH, Biel), two sound artists whose common ground is their work with listening and sound spatialization. Using various recording and amplification techniques, Olga and Laurent auscultated the Kunsthaus building during the hot summer 2022. Their respective approaches consider phonography (the writing of sound through microphones) not only as a documentation process, but also as a performative and musical act.

Using microphones, sensors and measuring devices, the two musicians recorded the electromagnetic radiation emanating from the lighting in the exhibition rooms, from control panels, security systems and the payment terminal. They also recorded the creaking of the parquet, the grumbling of the air conditioning and ventilation system, and the evening silence of the empty offices. The special acoustic of the Salle Poma was activated with the help of feedback techniques, horn loudspeakers, a small radio receiver and two pairs of shoes. Olga and Laurent also practiced soundwalking, recording each other, without making too much noise, as they wandered through the bowels of the building and its immediate surroundings. For example, they crossed the building from the roof to the basement, where the art depository of the Kunsthaus collection is located, via the staircase of the emergency exit. Sometimes they met tenants of the studios, recalcitrant printing devices or Elmo the cat.

Olga and Laurent have developed a sound piece that extends over two floors of the old building. They have assembled the accumulated sound material into a composition that is played on an acousmonium (an orchestra of loudspeakers with different properties) and distributed through the Kunsthaus’s exhibition space. This setup of loudspeaker refers to the field of electroacoustic music while diverting it from its initial purpose. Thus, the two artists operate in the intermediate space between musical composition and sound art.  Their approach contradicts the very idea of museum architecture – which consists of a succession of exhibition spaces – by relying on the inherent property of sound not to care about walls. Here everything spills over, leaks and opens up.

Each visitor is encouraged to build their own path through the sonic environment of the installation, to find their own rhythm, their own places to stop or their ideal listening position. These choices lead to a unique listening experience. Thus, each person becomes a co-creator of the sound composition.

As part of the exhibition, Olga and Laurent are organising four residencies of artists working at the intersection of music and sound art. During a three-day residency at the Kunsthaus, these six guests* work on, intervene in or expand a part of the sound system installed for the exhibition. Each residency finishes with a performance and leaves a noticeable trace in the composition created by Olga and Laurent.

The exhibition will be documented in the form of an audio tape.

Duration of the exhibition: - 18.9.-20.11.2022

Curator of the exhibition - Stefanie Gschwend

External ear / Sound technique - Thierry Simonot

External eye / Scenography - Fanny Courvoisier, Mathieu Winkler

*Guest & Performances - Caroline Profanter - Annette Schmucki & crys cole - Antoine Läng & Luc Müller     - Jean-Philippe Gross  

Exhibition views - Guadalupe Ruiz

[acapulcopress]

'Tía Abelina' | Aclaración pertinente

Sin daños a terceros » ÁNGEL | BLANCO massiosare@mmsn.com ) Acapulco Press Agradezco a algunos amigos y lectores sus observaciones y confianza al expresarme sus dudas o sospechas en torno a algunas publicaciones donde se han mencionado algunos puntos favorables que por sí solos le asisten a la alcaldesa reelecta de Acapulco por Morena, Abelina López Rodríguez. No hay necesidad de 'alarmarse' o 'escandalizarse' por lo publicado en dos artículos anteriores donde hacemos un análisis de las posibilidades de la 'tía Abe' para ser gobernadora de Guerrero y las razones legales que respaldan sus 'desafortunadas' declaraciones de 'rebasamiento de facultades' que fueron usadas para hacer un escarnio de su imagen a nivel nacional y que su oficina de prensa debió contener y precisar para evitar más vilipendios y sornas mediáticas contra la señora López. Tampoco había necesidad de difundir o viralizar en Whatsapp que "el periodista Ángel Blanco ya se vendió con Abelina López", como hicieron circular algunos que leen pero no comprenden aún algunos contenidos periodísticos donde la razón otorga 'honor a quien honor merece'. Quien transita de manera profesional en el periodismo sabe que un buen periodista jamás se erige 'juez, jurado y verdugo' de ningún hecho noticioso, ni asume poses partidistas o políticas si desea ejercer una profesión ética tendiente a servir a la sociedad, mas no para congratularse con quienes la gobiernan. Un periodista está obligado a informar cualquier asunto de interés social (salud, seguridad, protección civil, normas, etcétera) sin necesidad de compromisos publicitarios o 'patrocinios' de por medio (alguna vez solicitamos los boletines del Ayuntamiento de Acapulco y Chilpancingo con ese propósito de difundir completamente gratis lo más destacado de las acciones de gobierno, pero jamás atendieron nuestra petición; a cambio recibimos burda cerrazón y obstaculizaciones absurdas); de la misma forma, un buen periodista está comprometido a conceder la razón y dar crédito a quienes 'honor merezcan' cuando las circunstancias lo demanden, sin que haya incentivo o patrocinio algunos para tal efecto Ni de forma personal ni extrapersonal existe compromiso alguno con la alcaldesa Abelina López. Concederla la razón cuando se la merece es parte de nuestro oficio, aunque a la señora López la malinformen y sus destacados asesores le indiquen que no tenga tratos con nosotros porque somos unos "hijos de la 'ch' que solo 'atacamos' y nunca publicamos nada a favor de ella". Muchos usuarios de las redes y lectores que gozan denostando a la alcaldesa de Acapulco quisieran que durmiéramos soñando con Abelina y despertáramos pensando en Abelina y que día tras día nos dedicáramos a vilipendiarla y denostarla por mero ocio o manda, tal como ocurre con quienes 'sospechan' que somos anti 4T, anti AMLO o anti Morena y nos tapizan los buzones de Messenger y Whatsapp con videos o audios cargados de saña e infundios contra ellos sin argumentos y sustentos siquiera lógicos o congruentes. El mismo caso ha ocurrido contra quienes creían que apoyábamos a Xóchitl Gálvez Ruiz y luego a Claudia Sheinbaum Pardo, y se alejaron cuando quizá comprendieron que distintas cosas son "comunicados" y "análisis políticos", los cuales sí llevan contenidos u opiniones más personales de un periodista. De sobra hemos demostrado reiteradamente que, así como criticamos, también hemos exaltado algunos hechos noticiosos del Presidente Andrés Manuel López Obrador, Claudia Sheinbaum y algunos otros personajes de la 4T... y del PRI, del PAN, del PRD y de MC, sin asumir posturas partidistas o afectos políticos. Quienes nos han criticado o calumniado que trabajamos por encargos de patrocinios no han podido sustentar sus acusaciones... ni lo harán, no mientras ejerzamos nuestro oficio con imparcialidad y transparencia, aunque a algunos fanáticos sin criterio ni razonamiento insistan en esparcir sus toxinas por el placer de joder y dañar la imagen de quien se les ponga en frente. Un periodista apartidista no necesariamente no debe publicar temas políticos; el apartidismo implica mantenerse imparcial respecto a temas y afectos políticos, para poder ganar credibilidad y mantener su decoro como periodista. La función del periodista es informar, denunciar o señalar yerros y aciertos sin compromisos o patrocinios publicitarios. La postura de un buen periodista debe impedirle crear afectos, compadrazgos o patrocinios mercenaristas para tapizar de flores, aplausos y alabanzas a los gobernantes o políticos. El buen periodista no está para hacer tampoco campañas de desprestigio a ningún político, solo los mercenarios del periodismo emprenden pleitos personales contra algún político o gobernante cuando el 'chayote' o los privilegios o convenios publicitarios se acaban abruptamente o se transforman en 'alfombras rojas' de quienes los apapachan o les avientan un 'chayote' por ser 'buenos chicos'. Un periodista deberá aceptar ser cuestionado, criticado y hasta denostado cuando confunda su función de informar y se avoque a ser 'matraquero' de algún compadre o patrocinador político. En contraparte, un buen político sabrá entender la función del periodista y no sentirse agraviado ni atacado cuando en ocasiones se señalen sus errores y, a la vez, se destaquen o exalten sus aciertos. En los artículos que respecta, a la señora Abelina López jamás se le lisonjea, se le aplaude o se le exalta reptilescamente por encima de todos los políticos, no. De la misma forma que neutralmente se señalan sus errores, también se le reconocen sus virtudes con bases y argumentos congruentes y hasta legales. A Abelina López se le reconocen sus facultades y limitaciones conforma a lo que expresan la Constitución Política de los Estados Unidos Mexicanos, la Ley del Municipio Libre, el Reglamento de Policía y Buen Gobierno y, principalmente, la Ley Federal Contra la Delincuencia Organizada, tema delicado, polémico y escabroso que la ha mantenido en el centro de la diana como blanco de algunos dardos envenenados... por el desconocimiento de las facultades reales de un alcalde o gobernante, como ocurre en el caso de Acapulco y a nivel estatal, donde se quiere ver como culpables a quienes la ley demarca facultades y responsabilidades bien precisas y detalladas. Ningún gobernante estatal o municipal podrá hacer frente a la delincuencia y crimen organizado mientras el jerarca más encumbrado haya decretado abrazar a los criminales, en lugar de perseguirlos y combatirlos. Lamentablemente, es un tema que perdurará seis años más, porque así lo ha anunciado repetidas veces la presidenta electa Sheinbaum, lo que indica que gobernadores y alcaldes seguirán maniatados de sus facultades para hacer frente al 'narcocrimen'. En el tema que respecta, no hay necesidad de que un periodista o medio de comunicación social defienda a Abelina López. Para defenderla está su dirección general de Comunicación Social, donde para reforzar esa tarea la alcaldesa reelecta contrató a un "profesional del periodismo"... lamentablemente, aún no se refleja la función ni operatividad de quien ostenta ese cargo, pues lejos de ayudar a la alcaldesa parece que le ha ocasionado más daños que beneficios que los anteriores actores que han transitado por esa oficina desde donde se han fraguado los grandes desacuerdos y desencuentros entre gobierno municipal y la prensa. En conclusión, no, nos hemos vendido con Abelina López ni tenemos pensado hacerlo jamás. Un periodista profesional sabe que está permitido vender espacios publicitarios, menos la conciencia. Cuando un periodista sucumbe en 'vender su alma al diablo' también vendió su dignidad, su honorabilidad y su calidad moral, no solo su conciencia. En Acapulco Press ofertamos espacios publicitarios sin distinciones políticas ni partidistas, tal como cualquier otro medio de comunicación social que acepta publicidad política o comercial de forma legal y transparente. No hay pecado ni delito en que un medio de comunicación establezca compromisos comerciales con algún político, gobernante o empresa privada, ni tiene que pedir permiso o consentimiento a nadie para subsistir publicitariamente. Mientras exista legalidad y transparencia, todo compromiso publicitario será lícito. Lo que denigra o demerita la función periodística es el 'chayote', los negocios bajo la mesa y el mercenarismo de algunos medios y periodistas que venden sus 'almas al diablo' a cambio de un embute o convenio a veces burdo y ridículo. Algunos periodistas, lamentablemente, por 200 o 500 pesos se entregan en cuerpo y alma a políticos y gobernantes que solo los apoyan para quitárselos de encima, no porque necesiten de sus plumas o medios para publicitarse. Lo hemos y dicho y lo sostenemos: "Quien dude de nuestra postura personal, que acuda a Comunicación Social o Presidencia municipal o solicite a través de la dependencia correspondiente si Ángel Blanco o Acapulco Press se han venido con Abelina López. Seguiremos en la postura de denunciar lo que tenga que denunciarse o criticarse y en destacar o exaltar lo que tenga que reconocerse de todo político o gobernante que merezca que su trabajo o acciones avalen sus logros o aciertos en beneficio de la sociedad o sus propios proyectos políticos. No es pecado denunciar o señalar lo que está mal, solo los políticos sensibles consideran "ataques" los señalamientos de sus malas acciones. Tampoco es delito ni pecado saber reconocer cuando un político o gobernante hace bien las cosas. Somos humanos, propensos a cometer errores; no somos dueños de la verdad ni pretendemos ser la excepción, simplemente hacemos un esfuerzo extra por ejercer nuestra profesión de manera más digna y decorosa. No es fácil. A mucha gente no se le tiene contenta con nada, pero nos debemos a la sociedad pensante que valora un buen periodismo. No nos vale 'misa' la opinión que tengan de nosotros, por eso nos defendemos de acusaciones divulgadas con saña, con intenciones más de difamar que de ayudar a corregir nuestros errores. Conscientes estamos que no es fácil hacer periodismo en un país donde el fanatismo político se ha apoderado de las redes sociales y donde el periodista es visto como vil 'chayotero' cuando denuncia y critica a políticos y gobernantes farsantes, oportunistas y corruptos o como buen periodista cuando aplaude, repta y matraquea a los dioses políticos de las hordas o chusmas que se han reproducido y propagado con la llegada de la llamada 4T. Pero es el riesgo que asumimos quienes transitamos por este oficio y aceptamos con gusto los retos.... hasta donde Dios permita. Contribuido. Sin daños a terceros. www.acapulcopress.com Read the full article

[stateofsport211]

Murcia Ch SF: Henrique Rocha [Alt] def. Pablo Llamas Ruiz [6] 6-3, 4-6, 6-2 Match Stats

📸 ATP official website

H. Rocha controlled the flow from the baseline in the most parts after several games in the first set, but P. Llamas Ruiz tried to shift the flow afterward with his regained range until H. Rocha regained his point construction while both players were at it under pressure. Even though P. Llamas Ruiz converted 50% of his break points, mostly thanks to his down-the-line approaches, it was H. Rocha who won 17% more of his break points (in percentage) after daringly started from the baseline until executing the re-drop shot nicely at the net to signify his solid point construction during the important moments.

Service game-wise, H. Rocha appeared more solid than P. Llamas Ruiz despite the second-set slight dip. The former scored thrice more aces than the latter (6 to 2) to win 82% of his first serve points, 15% more than P. Llamas Ruiz, which got him out of most troubles. On the other hand, even though both players double-faulted once, including P. Llamas Ruiz's sole double-fault for H. Rocha's victory in the third set, the Spaniard's second serves appeared more vulnerable by a 5% difference due to his frequent third-shot rushes in the third set, while H. Rocha won 53% of his second serve points.

Becoming the 10th person born in 2004 that reached a Challenger-level final, H. Rocha will face (trigger warning, domestic violence-related albeit already acquitted) qualifier Nikoloz Basilashvili in the former's maiden Challenger-level final, the latter of whom advancing to his first Challenger final since 2016 after defeating first seed Albert Ramos-Vinolas 6-4, 6-2 in the semifinals later that day. While game-wise this could be intriguing to find out who appeared more aggressive in this match, this might pose as a challenge to H. Rocha as experience might have guided Basilashvili to be back again. The more offensives will help with an out-passing contest being possible. Could be a neat one.

[12endigital]

El Ayuntamiento de Orihuela solicita a la CHS un plan de choque para acondicionar el entorno natural de las Norias Gemelas

La concejala de Medio Ambiente, Noelia Grao, y el edil de Patrimonio Histórico, Matías Ruiz, mantuvieron la pasada semana una reunión de trabajo con el comisario adjunto de la Confederación Hidrográfica del Segura (CHS), Adolfo Mérida y junto al juez de Aguas, José Bernabé. En esta reunión se trató el convenio que está pendiente de firma por parte de ambas instituciones (Ayuntamiento de Orihuela…

[charrovirtual]

Charro completo Ruiz Ibarra se corona en infantil B, al igual que Coss y León en juvenil del Nacionalito

EMOCIONANTES FINALES DE CHARROS COMPLETOS INFANTILES “B” Y JUVENILES Andrés Ruiz Ibarra se coronó campeón de categoría Infantil “B” Julio Alberto Coss y León se ciñó la corona de categoría Juvenil H. Ch. “Diamante” y Alteñitas de Gdl encabezan finales femeniles Concluyeron las actividades de los charros completos dentro del XXX Campeonato Nacional Charro Infantil, Juvenil y de Escaramuzas…

[zaenight]

wanheda commander of death ch

young lynn collins as young leah shaw(age 14 and up)

Mckenna grace as a young Cordelia shaw(10-14)

Marcel ruiz as a young brandon carver (age 14)

Cordelia was surrounded by five Rotters,you see her and Carver went on a run when they came across them.

They snarled and tried to reach for her,until two of their heads got blown off.

Cordelia sent a nod to her husband,her eyes telling him that she was okay.

Cordelia then grabbed her dagger and plunged it into one of the Rotters heads,then She threw another one planting into anothers head.

Carver plunged his weapon into the remaining walker,checking for any more he rushed over to Cordelia.

"You good?" Carver asked his wife,checking everywhere for injuries.

"Brandon im fine,are you okay?" Cordelia said while also checking him for any wounds.

"Im good." Brandon said pulling Cordelia into a hug,kissing her lips.

--------------

After returning to camp,the Couple washed off,they luckily found cases of water and canned foods that would last them around half a year with the food they had from their last run.

They may be small in numbers,but their skills made up for that.

But anyways.....

Cordelia sat inbetween Brandon's legs,staring at the large bonfire.

She rested her head on his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair,hearing Leah laugh as Matthew was chased by Bossie,for being the only child he was quite easy to keep occupied.

Cordelia laughed as Brandon picked her up pulling her more into his lap as he kissed her neck softly.

"God is Angry,he is furious!" Pope exclaimed.

You see a small group of five people thought they could force the reapers out of their compound,causing rotters to enter the walls and destroy where they kept their food and water.

They were tortured and killed by Carver,Turner,Bossie,And Pope himself.

They are the reason they'll have to find a new place,due to the fact their compound was slowly falling Apart.

Brandon and Cordelia listened as Pope continued his rant,the man looked like he would blow a gasket at anytime.

After he was done with his rant they decided that getting some rest would be a good idea.

---------

⚠️Tw: Abuse,Rape,neglect,drugs(Parents using),(Past occurences),Ptsd,anger issues(mentions) and depression from misscarrige.

*Flashbacks ahead*⚠️

------------

In the bedroom Brandon stroked Cordelia's hair as she spaced out thinking of her past and of their miscarriage,he knew of her past as a kid and what had happened to her.

When he met her they connected off the bat,they were only fourteen when they had met in a foster home,he would protect her the best he could from the abusive foster "Parents" and the older kids,even took a couple of hits for her.

At sixteen he managed to get into military school for his skills,however that didn't stop them from having a relationship,and when he got the call she was in the hospital he was furious.

he was cautious until she reached out and cried into his chest,that day would forever scar the two.

At seventeen he proposed and they got married four months later.

When he got into the military and came home from Afhganistan he would lash out,and have bad episodes, breaking and slamming things , he never felt safe until he was in Cordelia's arms,they were eachothers saving grace.

Cordelia would hold him in her arms until he fell asleep or snapped back into reality , which took minutes or even hours depending on how bad the episode was.

He would get help by going to meetings , Cordelia right by his side.

But you might want more details,so here are the flashbacks of Cordelia Shaw Carver,please read the warning above.

---------------------

Age 10

a fourteen year old Leah sat with her ten year old sister Cordelia,her lip busted and her sister's teary eyes were the first thing the police noticed when they arrived.

And yet they did nothing,they left after their father paid them off,dirty cops they were.

"How many times have I told you to clean this damn mess!" Their father,Vincent Shaw, exclaimed as he wacked Leah with a belt.

"F-Five!" Leah yelled.

The mess in question was a pile of beer bottles and cigerette buds scattered on the floor and table.

Their mother,Debra Shaw,just watched and wacked Cordelia on the head,a disapointed look on her face as she lit her pipe,smoking whatever was in it.

"FIVE DAMN TIMES AND YOU DIDN'T DO IT!" Vincent yelled,grabbing a freshly lit cigerette.

"Dad-What are you doing!? I'll clean don't please!?" Leah screamed as her father went towards her little sister.

"Im sorry! - Daddy please don't hurt her I'll clean!" Leah exclaimed,tears rushing down the teen's face.

"Sorry isn't good enough,that's somthing you'll learn one day." he said,pressing the cigerrette bud onto Cordelia's arm,while slamming it harshly onto the counter.

It wasn't until a crack was heard that Cordelia screamed with Leah watching in horror as she wailed louder and louder.

-------------

Age 11

Leah had brought home a dog , a german shepard that was a search dog in training , however since she was only a puppy,they decided she had to be let go.

Their loss,because for a puppy she was pretty good,the girls found their parents meth stash and other drugs with her help,not that anything could be done about it, finally they decided on thr name viola.

Viola was easy to keep from their parents at first,she was quiet and relaxed,but when their mother came into the room unexpectedly one day,they wanted to run and never look back as she gave them a harsh glare and cursed them out.

They got beaten and bruised that day,but they got to keep viola at the end of it , so that was a plus.

"See Viola looks like you do belong somewhere , maybe one day I will too." Cordelia whispered to the sleeping dog.

------------------

Age 12

"Where are you going?" Cordelia asked her sixteen year old sister,who had a backpack on.

Didn't take a genius to find out what was going on.

"On a trip,I'll be back soon." Leah said.

"How long is soon!" Cordelia exclaimed quietly,not wanting to wake their parents.

"I dont know,hey do me a favour?"" Leah said in a hushed tone.

"What?" Cordelia questioned.

"Take care of viola while im gone,and take care of yourself okay Delia." Leah said,a tear slowly falling down her cheek.

"Why can't I go with you!?" Cordelia said quietly,hers eyes watering.

"Im sorry." Leah said going out the window.

"Please don't leave me here with them." Cordelia cried softly in her bed,viola cuddled up against her whining quietly.

--------------------------

At 13 her Parents were arrested for Abuse and neglect,after leah left the signs were harder to ignore.

Burns,scars,and bruises lingered on her skin,any sooner and she might've been killed.

"We're sorry about what happened to you." an officer said,his tone soft.

"Then where were you when we needed you!?" Cordelia exclaimed crying,voice cracking.

All she wanted was her sister,It was safe now,so where was she?where was Leah?

and thus began her adventures into abusive foster homes.

---------

age 14

All of her foster homes were bad,both to her and Viola,the poor dog would have rocks and anything you could imagine thrown at her,especially when her parents got released on "good" behaviour and lack of space,luckily the judge granted a restraining order preventing them to go anywhere near her.

But they could manage , especially when Cordelia made a new friend , Brandon Carver in the home she was currently in.

When they saw each other they just clicked,he became protective of her , and soon he became more than a friend.

....

Brandon stood infront of her as one of the older boys threw a punch that he managed to dodge,pulling Cordelia behind him so she wasn't hit,the two fourteen year old's were being cornered by the oldest boys in the home,by next year they'll be aging out of the system and get kicked to the streets by their current foster parents,who could care less about what was going on,all that mattered was that they got their money.

"Stay still you little-" one of them exclaimed frustrated.

It wasn't until the other teen came from behind them and held a pocket knife to Cordelia's neck.

"Stop moving or your pretty little girlfriend gets it." he said.

"Maybe we'll have our fun with her after we beat the crap out of you." the other replied as he held onto the collar of Brandon's shirt.

Big mistake,when he said that Brandon saw red,Punching the older teen,hitting him so much that his knuckles bled.

Cordelia was tired of being  weak,tired of the beatings,and fucking tired of the knife being held against her neck.

She managed to disarm him, as Viola ran into the living room,growling as she bit the legs of the teen holding Cordelia,She was now full grown,smalller than most but still a healthy size.

The boy screamed as Viola bit his leg,blood coming from the wound,She then went over to Brandon,who gasped for air when he got caught in a choke hold.

She growled and bit his legs causing him to scream

and then grunted as Brandon managed to puch his stomach.

The two brawled on the floor neither giving up anytime soon.

Cordelia managed to flip the teen over her,causing him to land on his back with a look of suprise.

That look soon turned into pain when Cordelia twisted his arm and a loud crack was heard,the two brawling boys had froze staring at the screaming teen who was holding his arm, cursing out Cordelia,saying he would get her back one day.

She stared at the second boy on top of Brandon,who had a proud look in his eyes,his nose was bloody and a black eye was slowly forming.

But that didn't compare to the damage he did to the other dude,a bloody nose,bruises,and scratches littered the others face,and one eye swolen shut.

as Cordelia slammed the Pocket knife of his friend into his shoulder he screamed and cried,looking at the glare settling in Cordelia's eyes.

"Get the hell off of him,your going to stay the hell away from us or this knife ends up slitting your neck." Cordelia said,her voice not wavering.

"You heard the lady." Brandon said,managing to lean up onto his elbows,yanking the boy's head back by his hair.

The two ran scared, while Cordelia and Brandon laughed as Viola chased after them barking.

"If I said I was in love with you what would you say?" Brandon asked the girl,his eyebrow raised and curious for the answer.

" I would say show me how much,because everyone I love leaves me." Cordelia said to him.

She was cut off when he slammed his lips on hers,shocking her.

"Then their fucking stupid." Brandon said,smirking at the blushing girl.

"C'mon lets get cleaned up." Cordelia said blushing,letting out a laugh as Brandon carried her to the restroom where the bandages were kept.

-------------

Age 16 (Tw: Rape)

Brandon managed to get into military school while Cordelia managed to become one of the youngest doctors in the country after graduating,the two of them also going to court to be emancipated.

Both were proud of eachothers achivments,Leah had finally turned up,turns out she was now in the military with carver .

Cordelia was pissed but she still forced Leah to tell her about the years they were seperated,Leah also ended up taking in viola, who Cordelia and Brandon couldn't care for with their jobs somtimes taking up alot of their time.

-

Cordelia was finished with her shift,the girl went out the hospital doors,walking down the dimly lit road.

It wasn't until a rough hand yanked her by the hair into the allyway,she screamed and punched,until a gun was by her head.

"Shh! Shu-Shud up you bi *Gulp* tch." A drunk man slurred,eyes staring her up and down,he looked familiar,but she couldn't place his face as she tried to fight him off.

The gun hit her temple,knocking her out,she woke up with a loud scream,her scrubs were torn,ribs bruised and broken,she was a mess.

Next to her the man laid,his pants down,laying like he did nothing.

Cordelia saw the gun,grabbing it she pulled the trigger,listening to the man scream as he held his penis,Cordelia kicked and screamed at him as much as she could as her vision was fading,her body sore.

She staggered into the road,a car almost hitting her,her vison finally turning black as she fell.

" Oh God!"

"Stay with us kid."

"Your gonna - fine."

"- Call 911!"

The voices yelled until she blacked out.

-

Brandon Carver was on his way to suprise his girlfriend,flowers in hand,and a smile on his face,waiting until she got home.

Opening the door of their shared home,thinking of what to do in the meantime,when he got a phone call from Leah,the woman screamed and cried as she explained what happened.

Brandon Couldn't breath,dropping the Flowers and his phone as he ran to the hospital.

-

In the hospital Leah Sat holding Matthew,a little boy,now one,she had adopted him last year when his mother,one of her military friends,died in childbirth.

Brandon ran into the waiting room as Leah got up setting the child down,pulling Brandon into a tight hug.

"What happend! is she-" His words were cutoff by Cordelia herself,with an Iv drip.

"Mrs. Shaw! you should be laying down." A nurse yelled.

Cordelia didn't care she walked towards him ,Pulling him into a hug and crying in his gentle hold,Brandon Carver never felt more vunerable as he held the woman he loved cry in his arms,scared that one wrong move would freak her out.

"I got you,I swear to God Im gonna kill the son of a bitch who did this to you." he murmured in her ear,stroking her hair gently when she looked into his eyes.

Cordelia Sniffled as she was taken back to her room,with Carver and Leah following close behind.

Leah held Cordelia's hand as she slept,the three spoke about living on base when the time came,also seeing if Cordelia could work as a doctor for the soilders or atleast help around base.

"I love you,we'll get the son of a bitch."Carver said getting up as he kissed her forhead,and that they did,they put the bastard in the same hospital.

"Cordelia im fine,you need rest." Brandon said,his hands bloody,as the blonde scolded him,she was still shakey, however she wasn't scared at all,not of men,and especially not Brandon,Leah had gone home with matthew already so it was just them.

He saw the bastard,and even after years,he recognized him as the boy who held a knife to cordelia's neck at fourteen.

Old memories resurrfaced and all he saw was red,that boy got more than a shot dick, Carver gave him bruised ribs and a ripped off ear, he was cuffed to a bed the officer was distracted so it was easy to get in the room.

How Carver got away with it,he didn't even know,almost having a heart attack when Cordelia let out a scream of rage,and then laughed sorrowfully,causing his eyes to soften as she held onto his hand.

"He said he would get me back , and he did , he did get me back,but I got him too,and he's gonna go away for a long time." Cordelia said with a shakey laugh,she's never felt so many emotions before,guess that's what trauma does to you,it just fills you up until you let it all out.

But all that matters to Carver right now is that Cordelia is here with him,alive and breathing.

-----------------

Age 17

Brandon did it,he proposed to Cordelia and they got married four months later,and she was beautiful.

*Popping the question*

"Can I look now?" Cordelia laughed,her arms around Carver as he carried her.

"Not yet." He chuckled.

"Now!" He said uncovering her eyes.

They were on a hill,and the view was Amazing,you could see the city.

Fairy lights on the trees brightened the area,a white canopy with a picnic awaited.

Soft music filled the air as Carver wrapped his arms around her,she laughed as he spun her around slowly.

Leah,along with his mercenary friends,such as Turner, powell, bossie,and Austin helped him set it up.

"I never saw myself doing this,I thought I would never get tied down,but then I met you,and I wouldn't have it any other damn way." Carver started.

"Cordelia Shaw,Will you marry me? Make me an even happier man then I already am?" He asked her,kneeling on one knee,a beautiful ring displayed in his hand.

After Afhganistan, the group had issues with money and paying bills,but that didn't stop them from trying to make the most of it,and the smile on Cordelia's face was worth it.

"Fuck yeah!" She exclaimed,Carver laughed as she launched herself into him,sending him to the ground.

After a moment the sound of kisses,flashes,whistles,and clapping echoed around the area.

As the two looked up they saw the group smirking with confetti poppers in hand.

The couple laughed as Matthew aimed the confetti bomb at Powell,only it turned out to be a glitter bomb leaving the man sparkly.

They laughed and danced,when Leah pulled her sister into a hug Cordelia smiled brightly.

*Wedding*

At the wedding Mancea would be the one to marry them,They couldn't be more grateful for their found family.

Pope did the honors of walking Cordelia down the isle,the music drowned out as Carver saw her,she was Beautiful,and nothing else mattered but her.

Their I do's were said,an after party was held after with jokes here and there,Cordelia and Brandon each thought they didn't deserve eachother,but in truth they saved eachother.

-----------

Age 18 a few months before the apocolypse.(Tw: miscarriage and depression.)

Cordelia cried as the doctors told her she lost her baby, Brandon's baby,THEIR baby.

It had been three weeks in the hospital,after she almost lost her life due to a blood clot.

Brandon had to practically shove food down her throught so she wouldn't starve herself,He wasn't gonna loose her,not after they lost their child.

Anytime Leah brought Matthew she would have to hold back tears,thinking of being a mother hurt,alot.

Matthew somehow always saw her distress and bear hugged her,which resulted in leah joining in and they would watch disney movies and eat Ice cream,however that feeling,that ache,would always stay with her.

Brandon would take his anger and grief out in the gym or his personal favorite,the shooting range.

Thats how she ended up going with him,a doctor with military training was a sight to see.

It helped alot,Both knew they would always think about their angel baby,how they could of had a little girl or boy to hold,play,and love.

If they had any kids in the near future,they'll make sure they know their big sibling is watching over them.

---------------

*Flashbacks over* what made you cry the most?

----------

Brandon gently layed Cordelia on her pillow kissing her forehead,a soft smile on his face when she scooted closer to him.

If Cordelia Shaw ever gets hurt or dies,the world better watch out,or else Carver and Leah will show you somthing worse than hell.

-------

This took me 2-3 days to write its the longest chapter i've ever wrote lmao😭

What made you cry the most,what would you like to see our walker killing couple do next? and yeah.

[alencar-mission-failed-if]

How would each ro react to mc talking about how they found a picture of the hottest person in the world on their phone but when the ro looks, it's a picture of them?

Anastasia: She smiles affectionately at the mc while shaking her head saying "you're an idiot"

Augustus: He gives the mc a smirk "It couldn't be any different, could it?"

Azhey: They rolled their eyes trying not to show how flustered they were. But deep down, they're feeling flattered.

Cam: They immediately blush as they take a closer look at the photo (to make sure it's really them there) and then they look back at the mc. "Are you…I mean, are you serious? Me?"

Dominique: "What do you think about having a Full photo album of this person then?" they look significantly at the mc as they start posing for the photo

Olivia: She raises her eyebrows and gives the mc an approving look "Hmmm you really know how to appreciate what is yours, don't you"?

Roman: "Well if you say so..." he doesn't show much reaction but deep down he's happy with the way the mc feels about him.

Ruiz: "I guess I'm going to have to disagree with you on this, love" and then he takes out his cell phone and shows a picture of the mc. "This is the hottest person in the world"

[lcightonmeester-a]

my muses x halloween 2020 aesthetics

psd: mine

[lordlazrps]

Alejandro took a long inhale of his cigarette as the flame caught the end and started to burn through the tobacco, and he could begin to feel his buzz start to evolve into something more as smoke settled in his lungs. Behind him, music pounded through the walls of a house party, and out the corner of his eye, he could see a small, blonde figure begin to approach. “Oh, whoa,” he said, stepping out onto the sidewalk to block her way, “I think you’ve got the wrong house, sweetheart.”

@enj-rps

[itcars]

Lamborghini Centenario

Image by Santix Ruiz de Ch.

[stateofsport211]

Szekesfehervar Ch R1: Franco Agamenone def. Abdullah Shelbayh 7-6(2), 6-0 Match Stats

📸 ATP official website

Shelbayh had his fair share of chances as soon as he absorbed Agamenone's pace in the middle of the first set, but the latter controlled most of the flow except the moment he got broken. He ended up going even deeper with his first strike, thus he got Shelbayh run over to his forehand side before the latter's failed drop shots also did not help. As a result, Agamenone converted 80% of his 5 break points, while Shelbayh could only convert 50% of them in the first set.

Furthermore, the Italian also had firmer service games. Despite both players equally scoring 2 aces, Agamenone had an exceptional first serve winning percentage with 73%, which often got him out of trouble, especially in the first set. Comparatively, Shelbayh had problematic second serves due to his 3 double faults, fading his second serve winning percentage to 54%, 11% below Agamenone considering the second set erraticness.

In the second round, Agamenone will face Nerman Fatic, who stunned fourth seed Pablo Llamas Ruiz 6-4, 6-7(5), 6-0 in a dramatic match concluding moments after this match was finished. This could be another possibly dramatic match in one way or another, but it could also be interesting to see who can keep up with the pace and stay in control of the flow whenever one gains it. Should be an exciting watch!

[dontspillthefrijoles43]

Una canto de una voz a tus oídos, luego a tu corazón

Ch.1: The Runways stop running...for now

Word count: 2353

Warnings: Mild cursing, descriptions of violence

Summary: Cantría and Fabián have travel around, looking for refuge. They end up finding Leta Ruíz deep in the jungle in Cocora valley. She offers them a ride to her village, where it takes in people like them. With not much choices, they take her offer. 

Likes ❤️ , reblogs 🔁 and comments 💬 are much appreciated :)

October 17, 1920- half past noon

Thrum

Thrum da dum

Thrum thrum

Her fingers gracefully pluck a melody, eyes closed in concentration and peacefulness. Not even occasional bumps and sways of the wagon distracted her.

Thrum thrum da dum dum

Thrum thrum

Thr-INK!

“¡Chingado!” She cursed as a string came out of tune.

“¡Cuida tu boca Mija!” Señora Leta called from the front.

“Lo siento Señora.” She called back, trying to adjust the string, “This string. Always giving me trouble.”

A tsk sound from the corner caught her attention, and her mood suddenly soured. 

“Maybe it’s ‘cause your guitar is ancient. More than my abuela and abuelo combined.” Fabián commented, earning an eye roll from her. 

“This guitar may be old but it plays better than you sing.” 

Fabián gasped dramatically. “Òye! I am a great singer, pendeja! You just don’t have taste for my talent!” His curls flicked dramatically.

“Langue!” Leta scowled at him.

“Yeah Fabián, cuida tu boca!” She taunted and stuck her tongue out at him.

“You’re so childish!” She glared.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“AM NOT!”

“ARE TOO, TONTA!”

“¡ÓYE, FABIÁN! ¡CANTRÍA! ¡CÀLLATE EL HOCICO!!” jerked the wagon to a screeching halt: the teens flew forward with the force, as the donkey brayed in alarm. “Quit acting like children! Or so help me dios! I’ll turn this wagon around! ¡Portan bien! ¿¡Entienden?!

They nod their heads in fear. 

“Bein.” She sighed and fixed her hair strands that fell out of place. “Vamos. We’re almost there.” 

 Churro, the donkey, pulled forward. The sways and bumps began again. Fabián laid back to his spot with his hands tucked behind his head; while Cantria began to adjust the broken string. 

There was silence for a few moments. 

“¿Señora Ruiz?” Cantria meekly asked. 

“¿Qué?” Leta hummed.

“How was Encanto formed?” 

She chuckled at her childlike curiosity. “You know I’ve told this story a few times our whole trip here….and It’s quite sad.” 

“Sí, yo creo. Pero…I like hearing it. It tells that good things... eventually happen.”

She smiled and cleared her throat, “Bueno. It was October, 1899. I was only 15 years old…” Leta began to tell how the old village was left in flames: 

A “política movimiento” against the government. People were fighting for everything. She didn’t understand at the time. She believed everything in the world had trouble, but at least  there was no war. 

Then dead in the night, fire everywhere. In a panic the family grabbed what they could and sacrificed the things they couldn’t take. With heavy hearts they fled the village. It took most of the night and they made it to a river. 

They were far away from the old village, the current wasn’t as strong. People were hopeful for a new beginning. They began to cross, it was just a few feet away. Leta vividly remember was the sound of hoofs and shouts, “¡Ahí están! Los liberales!” 

It was a fight or flight moment. Women rushed with their skirts up and grabbed their children. Some men held back and pulled their wives or others who had fallen. 

Leta finally made it across and turned to see Pedro madrigal making sure everyone was across. 

He looked to see that the refugees had not stopped. He turned back to Alma, with a brave face and kissed the foreheads of his children. He gave his wife a kiss full of all the love in his heart as she looked at him in confusion.

Slowly he walked towards the men, with his hands up shouting “We mean no harm! Por favor we have our families with us!” 

The one leading them, slid the machete from the holster and pointed it up. With all the force in his arm, the leader swung it down to Pedro. There were screams of pain and agony. 

Out of nowhere a bright light exploded, the earth trembled with it. The men flew with the force of the light. Mountains shot from the ground up as far as the sky could reach. Once her tears had stopped. The villagers looked at each other in disbelief. 

“And that’s how the miracle came to be.” Leta finished. 

“Wow.” Cantría murmured with gleam in her eyes. 

“Exactly.” 

“I have a question.” Fabián announced, his face showing unimpressment, “If the mountains ‘stretched to the sky’ -how do you get into encanto?” 

“Hmn, that’s easy. You just follow the path.” Leta answered nonchalantly. 

“That’s it? No weird magic Voodoo? No guardian keeping soldiers out? Or some brujería?” Fabián integrated, throwing his hands up -baffled. 

“Not necessarily.” She hummed, “The mountains that surround us protect us from danger. But it is hidden to those you wish to cause danger. So those looking for an escape or safe haven, will find Encanto. The magic welcomes people, refugees, like a warm embrace.” 

“How do we know it will accept us?” Cantría gestured towards herself and Fabián, “We aren’t exactly the most ‘pure hearted’. Or have the same experience as you all suffered through.”

“Doesn’t matter what difficulties you went through. They were still issues. The Encanto knows who needs that safe haven. And it will accept you. I am sure of it.” Leta spilling wisdom like always. “Besides, I have been coming and going out of these mountains for ages. You’ll be fine.”

“Why do you come out of Encanto?” Fabián pestered, eyebrows raised. 

“You sure ask a lot of questions, chamaco.” She deadpanned.

“I’m almost twenty! No soy un chamaco.” He pouted back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“¡Ah sí, eres un niño precioso!” Cantría cooed and pinched his cheek teasingly. 

“¡AYE!” He cried annoyed, “¡BASTA CANTA!”

“¡Pero tú eres muy lindo, precioso chiquito!” She pulled and pinched his cheek harder, making sure he felt in the muscle. 

“Canta, no te burles de tu hermanito.” Leta laughed seeing him wincing in pain. 

“You’re not helping!” Fabián grimaced as he pushed her off.

“Lo siento, lo siento.” Leta apologize, trying to hold back her giggles. He only grumbled and rubbed his sore cheek. While glaring at Canta. “Òye chamaco, I’ll answer the question if it makes you feel better. Asked it again.” 

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, hesitating to ask. Leta waved her hand: go on. “You told us that you come in and out of Encanto. Why? Isn’t the town hidden from everything else? Are you the only one that goes out?”

“Sí claro. We're isolated from the rest of the world.” Leta explained, “But Doña Alma and a few of our elders have created a protection:  A few other locals and I scout the mountains from top to bottom, sometimes around it. We mostly savage outside things that were abandoned by people who got too close. Or grab crops to plant in the fields. It can take days. Weeks. Sometimes months 

And whenever we see people we alert the Encanto right away. Some people carry fireworks, some use smoke signals, and I use flaming arrows. -Both kids shot a look to her- 

Anyways, I usually scout and scavenge.” 

“Have you found anything interesting?” Cantría piped  up. 

“Lots of things over the last few years. Pero tú y tu hermano, you might be the most interesting thing I have ever discovered.” She flashed a small smile to them both. 

“No puedo decir si eso es algo bueno o algo malo.” Fabian remarked with a small smirk.

“Por tù es un algo mal. Para ella, es algo bueno.”  Cantria snorted at Leta then began to belly laugh at Fabian’s expression of disbelief. 

Just as he was about to say another witty remark- a THUNDK! sound could be heard as the wagon swayed and tilted to the far right. 

“¡Ayé!” Fabián and Canta both jumped (unwillingly) at the force, while Leta tried to pull it back into balance. 

“Alright steady now.” Leta murmured aloud to no one in particular. A few more harsh bumps passed, with teens yelping in surprise after each one. Then it stopped. 

“¡Dios mío! ¿Qué pasó?” Canta huffed, spitting her curls out of her mouth. 

“The path gets rocky near the end, Olvidé decirte eso.” Leta commented, “But we’re here!”

Both of the teens scrambled to the front of the wagon to see the magical and wondrous-

“Boulder?!!” Both of them yelled in confusion and disappointment. 

“¡Claro! Un roca.” Leta chirped happily much to their dismay. 

There blocking the rest of the path stood a boulder: along with the mountain holding it in the palace. Nothing could get in. She hopped off the wagon and walked over to it

Instead of attempting to move it, she began to clear her throat and do weird vocal warm ups.

“Camoròn camelo, camorón camelo” she repeated over and over again, “Zorror zorror pide socorror con un gurro.” 

“She’s crazy.” Fabián exhaled in disbelief, “Should have turned back a while ago. But no, you wanted to see a maaaagic village.”

“Hey it was either with this loca. Or all those locos with machetes in the jungle. Which one was less likely to kill us?” Canta jestered to Leta doing even weirder noises. 

“I’d say her. ¿Pero quién sabe?” Fabián snarked, looking away from Leta to Canta. She shrugged at that as Leta finished her weird noises, then cleared off her throat. 

“Alright, here goes nothing.” Leta cracked her knuckles and her neck.

She pouted her lips, looking like a fish. With her right thumb and index finger she pinched the bottom lip gently. 

Then a high pitch kettle-like whistle echoed all around them. 

Seconds passed by and the sound was gone. 

“Was that supposed to-” before Fabian could get a word out the ground trembled. Suddenly the boulder rolled, and sank into the ground. Where everyone stood the path shifted downward.  It was adjusting itself.

Now where the rock had laid, there was an open cavern. Dark and hidden by fog, you couldn’t see where it led. Cantría leaned over to try to see what laid beyond the incline. She shuffled over slippery rocks and tripped.

“Woah!” Canta reached for Fabián, trying not to fall down. With a quick protective reflex Leta grabbed her elbow and pulled her back up. 

“¡Mija con cuidado¡” she said, puffing slightly. Pulling her away from the edge, “It’s easy to slip on this.”

“Perdón.” 

She waved off her apology, “You didn’t know. Next time be careful. Now come. It’s better if we ride on the wagon. Walking through there is more time consuming.” 

-

It was dark and misty in the cavern. A colorful variety of minerals dully glimmering through it. Stalactites hung from above with water droplets dripped down in a plink plink plink plink rhythm.  Only the rustle of the wagon and Churro’s hooves were Clip-Clop Clip-Clop Clip-clop-ing 

 Realization occured to both Canta and Fabián. The magical village could possibly exist. Overwhelming amount of hopefulness had hit them. No longer running from villages to cities, to towns, states, and countries from Mérdia to Botgá. All the secret train and wagon hopping. Trying to stay hidden between cargo or hay- hoping and praying that if anyone found you… you wouldn't be killed. 

 ‘Could it really be that simple?’ They wondered. Nothing was ever this easy. Life was always throwing something in your face. And well-si te caes siete veces, levántate ocho. Always. Yet there w

as ever this easy. Life was always throwing something in your face. And well-si te caes siete veces, levántate ocho. Always. Yet there was nothing kicking them in the face. Not yet at least. 

“Oye Niños. You’re awfully quiet.” Leta noticed, “Are you two alright?” 

“It’s…um a little weird…we’re so used to being on the run…” Canta trailed off, “Temporary homes…and all that.” 

“I see.” Leta noted, “When the mountains first formed. It was a bit strange. Some of us were skeptical at first. Hesitant even. Eventually it grew on us. And we became the safe heaven we needed that night. And eventually for other refugees.”

“It still feels hard to believe that a community could be so welcoming,” Fabian replied, “We are not so used to it.” Coming from Fabian, as a musician who is supposed to be friendly and outgoing to entertain, it surprised Leta a bit. 

“Well, there is a celebration today.” She started “Today is actually the anniversary of the miracle. And the birthdays of Doña alma’s children. Maybe it will surprise you how Encanto is.”

“Will there be music?” 

“Will there be food?”

They asked at the same time.

Leta grinned “Of course. What kind of celebration would it be if not? You could even get to perform if you’d want.” 

Both hummed delighted with that idea. 

“That would be fun.” Canta beamed, “I’d like to show off my skills,” She strummed her guitar playfully. 

“I would swoon the ladies with my singing.” Fabián smug smirk, “singing Dulce como la miel. Te quiero sólo a ti~”

“Please as if they’d fall for your charms.” Canta scoffed, whipping her hair as she did. 

“You don’t believe in love, Canta. You’re cold and heartless.” He quipped as she huffed. 

“You just flirt with them. That isn’t love.” She retorted, making a face of annoyance. 

“Forgive me if women can’t help but fall in love with me.” Fabián mocked in a sad tone, “I can’t help if all the women in Encanto fall in love with me. And I make people fall in love through my voice.”

“Well you’re in luck because we are here. You can show off. ” Leta remarked amused by him. It went unnoticed to them that they were out of the cave. 

Both teens rushed to the front of the cart, hoping not to see another rock. 

Instead, there was a dirt path leading to an archway into the village. It was beautiful:

Colorful buildings that had red stoned roof tops all over. Valleys with flourishing fruits, and palma de cera surrounding it. Their leaves waved with the cool breeze and shade the gleaming sun. From over here it looked like the town was lively.

“¡Bienvenido a Encanto!” Leta announced, “We have a few hours left to unload and get ready. Then we can party in true Colombian fashion.” 

“This is gonna be great.” Fabián grinned mischievously, looking at his sister.

“God help all those single hopeless romantics, because here comes Fabián to serenade them into their feelings.” Cantría sighed 

-Meanwhile- 

Bruno felt himself shiver as his bother in laws stared at him weirdly, “¿Por qué me siento perturbado?”

Translations

Chingado- Fuck

Cuida tu boca - Watch your mouth

Mija- term of endearment to girls who are like family

Òye- hey

(A/N: First chapter of my encanto fic reposted from my other blog! Working on all the translations, I’ll probably be done by the end of the week)