#the duel under the hollow hill

[laresearchette]

Sunday, December 01, 2024 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: EARTH ABIDES (MGM+) THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY: HOLIDAY SPECTACULAR (Disney+ Star) THE FINNISH LINE (W Network) 6:00pm THE CHRISTMAS QUEST (W Network) 8:00pm

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA 52 PICK-UP THE ADVENTURES OF THE AMERICAN RABBIT ALEXANDER THE GREAT ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN 2 AN ALL DOGS CHRISTMAS CAROL ALL OR NOTHING THE AMBASSADOR DAUGHTER AT THE EARTH’S CORE ATTACK ATTACK ON THE IRON COAST BABES IN TOYLAND (1997) BABES IN TOYLAND (1986)BABY BOOM (1987) BARBERSHOP BARBERSHOP – THE NEXT CUT BARBERSHOP 2 – BACK IN BUSINESS BEAUTY SHOP BEN-HUR THE BETRAYED A BULLET FOR JOEY A BULLET FOR PRETTY BOY BULLETPROOF MONK BURN! THE BURNING BED CAGED FURY CHRISTMAS CAROL: THE MOVIE COFFEY CRAZY LEGS THE CROCODILE HUNTER: COLLISION COURSE CROSSPLOT DARK BLUE DEAR SANTA DEATH WARRANT DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN DR. SEUSS’ THE GRINCH DUEL AT DIABLO DUETS EIGHT ON THE LAM THE FAMILY MAN A FISTFUL OF DYNAMITE THE FOUR SKULLS OF JONATHAN DRAKE FOXY BROWN FRANK CAPRA’S POCKETFUL OF MIRACLES FUTUREWORLD THE FUZZY PINK NIGHTGOWN THE GALLANT HOURS GET SHORTY GHOST OF DRAGSTRIP HOLLOW GO TELL THE SPARTANS GOD FORGIVES, I DON’T GOOD BOY! THE HALLIDAY BRAND HALLS OF ANGER HANSEL AND GRETEL HERCULES A HOME OF OUR OWN HOSTILE WITNESS HOT UNDER THE COLLAR THE HOTEL NEW HAMPSHIRE THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES HOUSE OF GAMES I’M GONNA GIT YOU SUCKA INVASION OF THE BEE GIRLS THE ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU JOHNNY BE GOOD JUDGMENT AT NUREMBERG JUGGERNAUT KALIFORNIA KHARTOUM KILL ME AGAIN KILL A DRAGON KINJITE: FORBIDDEN SUBJECTS LABOU THE LAND THAT TIME FORGOT LARRY GAYE: RENEGADE MALE FLIGHT ATTENDANT LEAVING LAS VEGAS LITTLE CIGARS LOVE ACTUALLY MATA HARI MEGAVILLE METEOR MIAMI BLUES MIDNIGHT COWBOY THE MIGHTY QUINN THE MINI-SKIRT MOB THE MUGGER NANA NUTCRACKER: THE MOTION PICTURE O ATELIE THE OFFENCE OR UTOPIA THE ORGANIZATION OUT OF IT OUT OF TIME PICTURE THIS PLATOON LEADER PLAYING MONA LISA PORK CHOP HILL POSSE THE PRIVATE LIFE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES PUSS IN BOOTS A QUIET PLACE IN THE COUNTRY RACE FOR THE YANKEE ZEPHYR RECIPE FOR DISASTER RED CORNER REVOLT AT FORT LARAMIE THE RIFT ROBOT JOX ROCK-A-DOODLE ROLLERBALL SABATA SHE THE SECRET INVASION THE SIEGE OF FIREBASE GLORIA SKI PARTY SLOW DANCING IN THE BIG CITY SO YOUNG, SO BAD SOPHIE AND SHEBA THE STRANGER THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW THE WONDERFUL COUNTRY THE YOUNG RACERS TARAS BULBA TED 2 TENTACLES THE TENTH MAN THOSE LIPS, THOSE EYES TRAPEZE TRIUMPH OF THE SPIRIT TWO WEEKS UNDER FIRE VERA CRUZ VOODOO ISLAND WANDA NEVADA THE WANNABE WARGAMES WHAT’S THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN THE WITCHES WITHOUT WARNING THE WIZARD OF LONELINESS WOMAN OF STRAW

CBC GEM THE GOLD (Season 1) JIMMY AND JAMIE’S FESTIVE FEAST

CRAVE TV THE AGE OF INNOCENCE CHRISTMAS AT THE GREENBRIER A HARVEST HOMECOMING NATIONAL LAMPOON’S CHRISTMAS VACATION THE OTHER BOLEYN GIRL THE TRAITORS FRANCE (Season 2) THIS TIME EACH YEAR

DISNEY + STAR THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY: HOLIDAY SPECTACULAR

NETFLIX CANADA BRIDESMAIDS BROS BUMBLEBEE DIVERGENT THE DIVERGENT SERIES: ALLEGIANT – PART 1 THE DIVERGENT SERIES: INSURGENT EDGE OF TOMORROW EGO TRIP FOUR CHRISTMASES GIRL, INTERRUPTED HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA 3: SUMMER VACATION JURASSIC PARK JURASSIC PARK III THE LEGO MOVIE THE LOST WORLD: JURASSIC PARK MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA QUEBEC – MONTREAL REGRESSION SAUSAGE PARTY TRANSFORMERS: AGE OF EXTINCTION TRANSFORMERS: DARK OF THE MOON TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST NIGHT

GRAND SLAM OF CURLING (SN/SN360) 11:00am: National - Women’s Final (SN360) 3:30pm: National - Men’s Final

NHL HOCKEY (SN1/SNPacific) 12:30pm: Canucks vs. Red Wings (SN) 3:00pm: Habs vs. Bruins (TSN3) 4:30pm: Jets vs. Stars (TSN5) 8:00pm: Sens vs. Ducks

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN/TSN4/TSN5) 1:00pm: Chargers vs. Falcons (TSN/TSN5) 4:00pm: Rams vs. Saints (TSN/TSN3/TSN4) 8:20pm: 49ers vs. Bills

NBA BASKETBALL (SN Now) 6:00pm: Celtics vs. Cavaliers (SN1) 6:00pm: Miami vs. Raptors (TSN2) 7:00pm: Thunder vs. Rockets (SN/SN1) 9:00pm: Spurs vs. Kings (TSN2) 10:00pm: Nuggets vs. Clippers

PWHL HOCKEY (TSN4) 6:00pm: Sirens vs. Frost

ELF: BUDDY’S MUSICAL CHRISTMAS (CBC) 6:00pm: Santa Claus tells the story of Buddy's trip to New York to meet the father he never knew he had -- and how Buddy transforms the lives of everyone he meets..

HEARTLAND (CBC) 7:00pm: Jack and Tim try to mend fences with Nathan on a fishing trip; Amy and Caleb save a horse in distress; Lou finds herself in a dangerous situation…..WHAT ABOUT THE HORSIES!

THE BIG BAKE (Food Network Canada) 9:00pm: Brad challenges the baking teams to serve up some cool cakes for judges Ron Ben-Israel, Eddie Jackson, and Danni Rose, featuring skiing snowmen, playful penguins, and other snow-loving folks, keeping it frosty and fun in a winter wonderland.

BORN TO BE WILD: THE STORY OF STEPPENWOLF (documentary) 9:00pm: Hard rock origin of psychedelic underground band Steppenwolf; Canadian arena rockers, German exiles, American symbols.

TROPPO (Super Channel Fuse) 9:00pm: Ted and Amanda attend Julian's eccentric funeral armed with the knowledge about Raph's parentage before preventing a potential tragedy at the local Crimson Lake races.

THE CURSE OF OAK ISLAND (History Channel Canada) 10:00pm: Marty and members of the team travel north to a Viking settlement and uncover more evidence that may connect descendants of the Vikings to the Knights Templar; back on Oak Island, new clues suggest Lot 5 was a place of worship.

[lesmislettersdaily]

A

Volume 2: Cosette; Book 1: Waterloo; Chapter 4: A

Those persons who wish to gain a clear idea of the battle of Waterloo have only to place, mentally, on the ground, a capital A. The left limb of the A is the road to Nivelles, the right limb is the road to Genappe, the tie of the A is the hollow road to Ohain from Braine-l’Alleud. The top of the A is Mont-Saint-Jean, where Wellington is; the lower left tip is Hougomont, where Reille is stationed with Jérôme Bonaparte; the right tip is the Belle-Alliance, where Napoleon was. At the centre of this chord is the precise point where the final word of the battle was pronounced. It was there that the lion has been placed, the involuntary symbol of the supreme heroism of the Imperial Guard.

The triangle included in the top of the A, between the two limbs and the tie, is the plateau of Mont-Saint-Jean. The dispute over this plateau constituted the whole battle. The wings of the two armies extended to the right and left of the two roads to Genappe and Nivelles; d’Erlon facing Picton, Reille facing Hill.

Behind the tip of the A, behind the plateau of Mont-Saint-Jean, is the forest of Soignes.

As for the plain itself, let the reader picture to himself a vast undulating sweep of ground; each rise commands the next rise, and all the undulations mount towards Mont-Saint-Jean, and there end in the forest.

Two hostile troops on a field of battle are two wrestlers. It is a question of seizing the opponent round the waist. The one seeks to trip up the other. They clutch at everything: a bush is a point of support; an angle of the wall offers them a rest to the shoulder; for the lack of a hovel under whose cover they can draw up, a regiment yields its ground; an unevenness in the ground, a chance turn in the landscape, a cross-path encountered at the right moment, a grove, a ravine, can stay the heel of that colossus which is called an army, and prevent its retreat. He who quits the field is beaten; hence the necessity devolving on the responsible leader, of examining the most insignificant clump of trees, and of studying deeply the slightest relief in the ground.

The two generals had attentively studied the plain of Mont-Saint-Jean, now called the plain of Waterloo. In the preceding year, Wellington, with the sagacity of foresight, had examined it as the possible seat of a great battle. Upon this spot, and for this duel, on the 18th of June, Wellington had the good post, Napoleon the bad post. The English army was stationed above, the French army below.

It is almost superfluous here to sketch the appearance of Napoleon on horseback, glass in hand, upon the heights of Rossomme, at daybreak, on June 18, 1815. All the world has seen him before we can show him. That calm profile under the little three-cornered hat of the school of Brienne, that green uniform, the white revers concealing the star of the Legion of Honor, his great coat hiding his epaulets, the corner of red ribbon peeping from beneath his vest, his leather trousers, the white horse with the saddle-cloth of purple velvet bearing on the corners crowned N’s and eagles, Hessian boots over silk stockings, silver spurs, the sword of Marengo,—that whole figure of the last of the Cæsars is present to all imaginations, saluted with acclamations by some, severely regarded by others.

That figure stood for a long time wholly in the light; this arose from a certain legendary dimness evolved by the majority of heroes, and which always veils the truth for a longer or shorter time; but to-day history and daylight have arrived.

That light called history is pitiless; it possesses this peculiar and divine quality, that, pure light as it is, and precisely because it is wholly light, it often casts a shadow in places where people had hitherto beheld rays; from the same man it constructs two different phantoms, and the one attacks the other and executes justice on it, and the shadows of the despot contend with the brilliancy of the leader. Hence arises a truer measure in the definitive judgments of nations. Babylon violated lessens Alexander, Rome enchained lessens Cæsar, Jerusalem murdered lessens Titus, tyranny follows the tyrant. It is a misfortune for a man to leave behind him the night which bears his form.

[istulmys]

The Duel In Hollow Hill by Hunter Heckroth

Part 1 of 4

[branwendaughterofllyr]

A quick meta inspired by the discussion of Sansa and the dawn inspired by the comments on @cappymightwrite‘s post about snowflakes

The Stark sisters being symbolized by the sun and the moon is pretty well known motif for ASOIAF. Ned says it to Arya all the way back in AGOT

Sansa is your sister. You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you … and I need both of you, gods help me." ARYA II, AGOT

The same motif recurs with Brienne, whose arms are a sun quartered with a moon, who is searching for the Stark sisters. (Brienne’s father is also the Evenstar of Tarth, a reference to the evening star, which feels like another connection to the sky imagery of the Stark sisters.)

Arya is connected to the moon, and her moments of triumph or confirmation of her identity are often marked by a rising moon, or a moon being revealed, while she is often at her lowest or darkest when the moon is concealed or dark. In AFFC, she is no one when the moon is black, i. e. gone or hidden. 

She carried neither candle nor taper. Syrio had told her once that darkness could be her friend, and he was right. If she had the moon and the stars to see by, that was enough. ARYA IX, ACOK

If I had wings I could fly back to Winterfell and see for myself. And if it was true, I'd just fly away, fly up past the moon and the shining stars, and see all the things in Old Nan's stories, dragons and sea monsters and the Titan of Braavos, and maybe I wouldn't ever fly back unless I wanted to. ARYA X, ACOK

That night she lay in her narrow bed upon the scratchy straw, listening to the voices of the living and the dead whisper and argue as she waited for the moon to rise. They were the only voices she trusted anymore. She could hear the sound of her own breath, and the wolves as well, a great pack of them now. They are closer than the one I heard in the godswood, she thought. They are calling to me. ARYA X, ACOK

She was strong and swift and fierce, and her pack was all around her, her brothers and her sisters. They ran down a frightened horse together, tore its throat out, and feasted. And when the moon broke through the clouds, she threw back her head and howled. ARYA V, ASOS

The moon turned and turned again, though Arya never saw it. She served, washed the dead, made faces at the mirrors, learned the Braavosi tongue, and tried to remember that she was no one. ARYA II, AFFC

When the moon was black she was no one, a servant of the Many-Faced God in a robe of black and white.  CAT OF THE CANALS, AFFC

Braavos also has extremely heavy moon imagery, with the escaped slaves led there by the Moonsingers, which sounds awfully like an epithet for wolves. There are also the moon pools, where the bravos duel at night. 

Sansa’s imagery with the sun is similar, and her moments are connected to the dawn, the rising sun. (Also, the white cloaks of the KG in Sansa’s story line are often described as being like the moon, or “moon cloaks.” And there's very little rising moon vs. dark moon imagery in her chapters as well. )

Sansa drifted to sleep as the moon rose, Arya several hours later, curling up in the grass under Ned's cloak. All through the dark hours he kept his vigil alone. When dawn broke over the city, the dark red blooms of dragon's breath surrounded the girls where they lay. "I dreamed of Bran," Sansa had whispered to him. "I saw him smiling." EDDARD V, AGOT

Here we have both the dawn and the rising moon, and both Sansa and Arya are with their father, a moment of safety and comfort before everything falls apart. 

Dawn appears again with Sansa in ACOK, after her harrowing experience in the red Keep during the Battle of the Blackwater.  

Sansa was wondering what it might mean when a second bell joined in, and a third, their voices calling across the hills and hollows, the alleys and towers, to every corner of King's Landing. She threw off the cloak and went to her window. The first faint hint of dawn was visible in the east, and the Red Keep's own bells were ringing now, joining in the swelling river of sound that flowed from the seven crystal towers of the Great Sept of Baelor. They had rung the bells when King Robert died, she remembered, but this was different, no slow dolorous death knell but a joyful thunder. She could hear men shouting in the streets as well, and something that could only be cheers. ..... "It's done! Done! Done! The city is saved. Lord Stannis is dead, Lord Stannis is fled, no one knows, no one cares, his host is broken, the danger's done. Slaughtered, scattered, or gone over, they say. Oh, the bright banners! The banners, Jonquil, the banners! Do you have any wine? We ought to drink to this day, yes. It means you're safe, don't you see?" SANSA VII, ACOK

When Sansa realizes that she has survived the Battle of the Blackwater, the dawn is just beginning. It’s interesting that although Sansa is brought this good news while the sun has started to rise, it is a faint dawn, the first hints of it. She is not truly safe yet. 

And it is dawn when Sansa escapes KL. It is night when she enters the godswood, but the sun rises as she leaves. 

One more step, she told herself, one more step. She had to keep moving. If she stopped, she would never start again, and dawn would find her still clinging to the cliff, frozen in fear. One more step, and one more step.The ground took her by surprise. She stumbled and fell, her heart pounding. When she rolled onto her back and stared up at from where she had come, her head swam dizzily and her fingers clawed at the dirt. I did it. I did it, I didn't fall, I made the climb and now I'm going home. SANSA V, ASOS

The eastern sky was vague with the first hint of dawn when Sansa finally saw a ghostly shape in the darkness ahead; a trading galley, her sails furled, moving slowly on a single bank of oars. As they drew closer, she saw the ship's figurehead, a merman with a golden crown blowing on a great seashell horn. She heard a voice cry out, and the galley swung slowly about. SANSA V, ASOS

Again, “first hint of dawn.” Maybe this is not as much of an escape as it should be, considering LF orchestrated it to bring Sansa into the Vale. 

Already the little boat was no more than a swirl of smoke and fire behind them, almost lost in the immensity of the dawn sea. There was no going back; her only road was forward. "Very weary," she admitted. SANSA V, ASOS

The imagery of a dawn sea is very interesting, especially back to back with “her only road was forward.”

The most intense dawn imagery comes with the chapter where Sansa builds her snow castle in the godswood, and there is a lot of it!.

this was not Winterfell, but the Eyrie. And I am Alayne Stone, a bastard girl. The room was cold and black, though she was warm beneath the blankets. Dawn had not yet come. Sometimes she dreamed of Ser Ilyn Payne and woke with her heart thumping, but this dream had not been like that. Home. It was a dream of home. SANSA VII, ASOS

She is not in Winterfell, she is not Sansa Stark, and the dawn has not yet come. This a very purposeful combination (and very similar to Arya’s dark of the moon.) 

All color had fled the world outside. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.

Before she steps out, the sky is still dark. When she does, and tastes the snow, “It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.” She closes her eyes, and when she opens them, it is dawn.

When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me.

Sansa then builds WInterfell in the snow, and dawn appears again.

Dawn stole into her garden like a thief. The grey of the sky grew lighter still, and the trees and shrubs turned a dark green beneath their stoles of snow. 

I’m not quite sure to make of this line. This is the only description of “dawn stealing” in the books, and it feels very important. Dawn, her garden, and a thief? 

I will tentatively point out the connection to the recurring motif of stolen Stark daughters, and this feels like a connection to that. Sansa and rose imagery also occurs a lot, and it is definitely a common motif in her story. The Rose of WF was stolen by Bael the Bard, this story comes up right before the chapter where Sansa “flowers,” Sansa is receives roses, is called the A Roadside rose. It’s all there, and smarter people than I have talked about it. She’s also “stolen away” by Bael-ish. (think of how dawn and her weariness are juxtaposed with each other when LF is revealed as the one orchestrated her escape. This mention of dawn does not have that caveat, but is combined with the lighter grey sky. bringing to mind the Stark colors.) 

I think the explicit connection with the dawn means Sansa might be “stolen” again, but this time as something she actively wants and choses, rather than something she is coerced or decieved into, since the rising sun is positive for her.

(I mean, I have my own theory 😉. I’m not saying it might be related to Jon, but I’m not not saying that.)

Adding onto the dawn and rising sun motif, Sansa is also placed in the easternmost tower of the Eyrie.

Maiden's was the easternmost of the Eyrie's seven slender towers, so she had the Vale before her, its forests and rivers and fields all hazy in the morning light. The way the sun was hitting the mountains made them look like solid gold. ALAYNE I, AFFC

I don’t know about you, but this screams “it is the east, and Juliet is the sun” to me. Very fitting for romantic (and often tragic) heroine. And the idea of the sun being romantically linked has come before in the books with “"When the sun has set, no candle can replace it,” which Tyrion makes fun of, but I think that Loras might be more right here than not. 

So yeah. The dawn imagery comes fast and hard with Sansa, and I think it’s very reasonable say it might be important down the road. 

[cerastes]

Commission of my OC Kaleis Lakatos, by the talented ToraSan.

Kaleis “Kali” Lakatos, a metal manipulator who can materialize and shape metal from her body as well as turn body parts into metal. Though the metal produced by her magic looks like silvery steel, the hardness, sharpness, and strength of the metal is proportional to her own strength and skill with magic, outclassing actual steel several times over. Her left eye and the skin surrounding it are irreversibly corrupted, a symptom associated with the consumption of Fairy flesh. She declines to comment on it. Ex-Pardoner of the Church Knights and rival of “Lavender Haze”, the Oni noble thief and folk hero, Uzuki Reid. After a bizarre turn of events, Kali came to adopt Uzuki’s daughter, starting a bizarre chapter in her life.

Her favorite form of metal manifestation is as a pair of blades. Even when not actively using them, she’ll keep them “unsheathed” in what she calls “bracelet form”. She insists this is fashionable, even when she’s knocking around glasses at taverns when reaching for them.

More details for those interested under the cut!

Laconic and blunt, Kaleis is the daughter to a noble family, but her love for fighting and hatred for all the useless, insincere social rituals of high class society drove her to leave this life of hollow decadence she had no love for. After spending a number of years in the Church Knights and making it as a Pardoner after impressing a high-ranking Pardoner for disobeying orders, juicing herself up with six bottles of adrenaline enhancing potion, and destroying an entire mountain bandit hideout by herself, making it out barely alive but the happiest she’s ever been, Kaleis deserted to try and make a name for herself as a top mercenary, but ended up meeting Uzuki Reid, who handed her her ass impeccably. Though she suffered her first crushing defeat at Uzuki’s hands, Kaleis couldn’t be happier, it had been the very best fight in her life, against an opponent that truly seemed like an insurmountable wall to her. Kaleis, at the behest of her morally bankrupt employers that wanted to drive away the native people that Uzuki protected from their ancestral homelands to install a large-scale mining operation, clashed several more times with the bombastic Uzuki, a smile plastered on her face as they became more and more evenly matched with every encounter.

Through fighting Uzuki over and over, she found the first person she truly loved, and Uzuki managed to convince her to side with the village instead, as it was tragic to see someone as skilled as her lending her muscle to an amoral company. Kaleis agreed on the condition that Uzuki fight her again after they were done. Together, they decimated the living hell out of the company’s forces and sent the survivors packing. Kaleis realized that fighting for fighting’s sake, as fun as it is, is still lacking that certain something she was looking for, more so than just a strong opponent and someone that could truly get her: She had a tangible effect on the lives of others, helping save the village’s sacred homeland, and her being able to live freely, do what she wanted, and make her own decisions was truly what she wanted. Kaleis parted ways with the Oni fencer after one last duel, which Uzuki won, promising to meet as enemies again sometime. Uzuki, instead, recommended Kaleis drop the mercenary plans altogether and instead adventured, that she should face the adversity and challenges beyond merely fighting like a musclehead if she truly wanted to improve, advice Kaleis took, bringing her short stint as hired muscle to an end.

The metal manipulator’s trails eventually led her to the Floating Gardens of the Fairies, where she—[transmission lost] – which had the side effect of permanently altering her left eye. With newfound wisdom, ache, and command over lightning, Kaleis put her long adventure in the Floating Gardens behind her and made her way back to the desert hills where she first met Uzuki, feeling ready for the rematch. Upon arrival, she learned that Uzuki Reid had passed away, and had left a message for her, entrusted with a courier. Devastated, Kaleis read the letter, brief and to the point, contrary to Uzuki’s usual prose dripping in purple and wrapped in flair, which merely read as an apology and begged for a favor from Kaleis: “I apologize, but our eagerly awaited reunion won’t be possible. I beg of you, Kali, please protect my Hazuki”.

Kaleis asked the courier what this meant, who knew nothing except the location of this Hazuki: After 4 days of traveling the desert, in a remote location at the edge of the forest, where the sand meets the shy blades of grass past the river, there was a small village, absent in many a map. In a humble cabin that had a few signature items of decoration indicative of Uzuki, a small figure peeked from the window, a head of red hair and black horns, just like her mother’s…

Things took a strange turn for Kaleis, but this was the least she could do for her beloved enemy. Maybe this, in time, would yield the answers she wanted.

[violet975]

Random thoughts.

So i replayed BOTW a while ago for the first time and decided to write down some of the random thoughts that i get while exploring Hyrule, here they are.

… A lot of these things gave me some fanfic ideas and I hope that they will do the same for someone more competent.

It's realty in character that the response to being asked why you took the man's torch is either to bludgeon things to death with it or to be a pyromaniac.

When the tower pedestal shines, Link instinctively leans back for a second before diving right back in because curiosity kills the cat.

The message from the slate/tower is to watch out for falling rocks which either means that 

1: zelda is writing them (and has a fair bit of free reign still).

2: the ancient Sheikah could see the future.

3: Ai to the likes of Fi.

Ganon kinda reawakens when the towers are up so maybe he was resting and building a body until he was interrupted here, which could be why his form later is such a hodgepodge of the Blights?.

Link is not too naive since he kinda clamps up in his answers to the totally unimportant old man.

Did Link briefly make eye-contact with the camera when he got the spirit orb!?

Link is a bit freaked out in his "How did you know!?" Response cas now he knows something major is up when the old man directly mentions the spirit orb.

Again, in character that you can choose to be an impatient brat with the "paraglider please?" Or inquisitive when Roam points out the slate.

Either run out of temper with the "that wasn't the deal!" Or be resigned with "so I need more now?" When the old fart sends you off to the other three shrines.

Ohh, another adrenaline junkie option with the "got it!" Over climbing the tower for a good view or a Deadpan "are you joking?".

"Or so i heard quite some time ago.. I do not know if it actually works as such" so they did not get teleporting to work before? or he just didn't learn how it was done.

So the monks, according to how the Triforce signs they held, apparently associate Power with Magnesis, Wisdom with bombs, Stability with stasis and Courage with cryonis?

The monks dissipate into green specks like Ganon’s soul does under the castle!

I'm not into men but damn if Link doesn't look good in the Warm Doublet.

Oh. My. God, he was King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule!!!!!

Link is such a dumbass, you get to ask Kass "are you a ...bird?" As if the man isn't standing right in front of you. No shit Sherlock! What next, is that a recorder?.

OhhohoHO! You either say "no(, i have not heard of them)" or "Ancient songs?" As if you do not initially realize why they are thought to be ancient which either is old memories warring with the now world or Link not realizing what impact The Calamity had on culture.

Another flat-faced sarcastic remark everyone!

When Manny mentions that his job is checking for beauties/sus people you can either be a dumb dunce and ask about the said beauties or a little menace with "sounds though".

Manny is an Incel, talks a big game and puts himself on top of a pedestal alongside being demanding and a creep.

Does Hateno not have a goddess shrine? Just the ~Evil~ one?

There is a pair of rusty knights sword and shield by the leftmost part of the walkway of Fort Hateno. Some knight probably died laying there, watching out over the field of guardians having been/being purged by Zelda.

A traveler (Chelessa) is interested in history and wants to question Impa about it, and is on her way to do so in fact. . Describes her personality as very pleasant, that must be wrong.

The Yiga know exactly how Links first waking moments played out so either they have extensive knowledge about his character and the setup of the Shrine Of Resurrection or Ganon was watching in on Zelda's call and relayed it to a minion in the clan.

"Hero boy" - derogatory.

Arrow in the eye of the bridge at the entrance of Kakariko, the Yiga are petty and I love it.

Piano's (the painter) hair bun thing that is styled like a pencil has paint on the tip... this man painted with his hair.

So the great fairy Cotera makes it sound like she will enchant your gear because you rejuvenated her, not because you bring the materials to do the enchanting.

The levels of enchantment seemingly depends on physical closeness to the Fairy (blow< indirect kiss< kiss < sex)

She can not enchant beyond Lv 1 without her sister's help, so they share power?

Paya specifies that they have watched over the Orb since the grandmother of the grandmother of Impa, that's 9 whole generations of long lived Sheikah! roughly 1000 years of recorded history!

Again with Link being a dense Shonen protagonist with "where is it?" Or a sly bastard with "really, though?"... maybe so that she would want to prove it ;) 

…”I'll answer you some day, just not today!”

Either Paya is just not ready for that or she is so nervous that she did not think about the fact that her own grandmother was in the room when she said it!

“Served the royal family in secret” so it's not common knowledge that the royals have a village of Magic ninjas!? No wonder it took a damn demon to topple it instead of rebellion or infighting... probably has been like this since the old old king banished 'em.

"The royal family was destroyed, and the members of our tribe scattered."- okay so it was probably some Sheikah that either thought the royal family was completely extinct and either fled or, according to this next bit- "Sadly, there were some who swore allegiance to Ganon at that time. They joined together as the Yiga Clan, seeking out all who opposed Ganon... cutting them down, one after another." 

So from that we get to know that not all Sheikah deserters became enemies (unless the Sheikah dislike defectors enough to hunt them down) and others who either joined an existing opposing group or simply up and created the Yiga clan that then aligned itself with Ganon... probably under either the belief that Hylia's line was extinct and that it was join or die or because they wished to spite the goddess and her followers.

I actually like this way more because it makes no sense that the Yiga could survive before the Calamity when the Royals would have an entire damn country and anbu black-ops to hunt them down with.

"Master link, now that you are awake, you are surely the most formidable opponent standing against them!" Either hero worship or the Sheikah are freshly out on capable warriors with Ninja magic tricks, probably the latter which would explain why the world isn't infested with Lynels or why hynoxes haven't just trampled every settlement.

"No doubt they will come for you, employing whatever underhanded methods they can device" 

oh come on! Do not tell me that i'm stuck with the goodie two shoe ninja clan!? Underhandedness is your bread and butter! No wonder you served the royals in secret because you and them by proxy would have been a laughingstock otherwise!!!

"The great fairy Cotera... few remain who know that this village was built under her watchful eye." So the village is fairy new and the Yiga came about before Kakariko or it is old and so well protected that they can't get in... at least not easily.

"The mysterious power of Cotera is that of sacred protection..." so the Great fairies are linked to either Hylia or the gods, good to know.

So it’s not that Cotera “-would be happy to help” but, instead “i can't think of any reason why she wouldn't be happy to help you”. so either she only directly helps men or the earlier "you can put your trust in the great fairy" means that she judges more favorably for the chosen hero.

"I heard that the weather is going to be beautifully tomorrow... to bad you won't be alive to enjoy it"

So they have weather accurate~ich prediction? through magic or old time methods?

Again: Hero boy - derogatory... It's a common nickname for Link within the Yiga.

The lush green shrine could tell that a buck was on it, so the platforms are most definitely scanners.

A travelers sword by a campfire at the foot of mount Lanayru, so someone either took a swim and died to the Lizardfo, dramatically quit or got killed in their sleep.

Love the effect when you have metal weapons on the ground and swing a ThunderBlade!

You automatically reflect the Octorock's rocks, goes faster if you do it manually.

There is a hollowed out part of a hill/mountain with a lot of fic potential to the North-West of the Sword by the campfire.

Located where the lines meet if you draw a line to the right from Rabia plain and up from Trotter's Downfall.

Koko of Kakariko has been deceived by my cunning and slight-of-hand. 

Yes, Sagessa (woman by the lake of the Dueling peaks stable), there is, in fact, something "quite romantic" in Link's "endeavor" to save Zelda, thank you for noticing!

The chests inside the shrines can only (non-violently) be opened by use of the Sheikah slate so why not steal a few? prefect safe-keeping for more stuff to keep in Links house.

Dunce moment everyone! 

The Yiga traveler tries to seduce Link and you either go with "OK..." so he either has no damn idea about what is going on or is just not good with women? 

Orrrrr you go with a straight "I refuse!" cas you see through their ruse and want to rub their face in the dirt!

According to Mina the Hylian, taking out two Bokoblins is considered as great martial caliber which both she and her traveling companion could not do while decently armed.

Best way to deal with a guardian scout when you have weak weapons: hit with electricity, switch weapon, hit 2-5 times, switch to electric, repeat.

When you first enter the area around Hyrule Castle, smoke Ganon throws a fit until Zelda slaps him away. 

This either means that Zelda canonically gets a larger workload from there on and out or that the both of them push harder against each other every time you get close.

According to Zelda's diary, Link was assigned as her guard after the champions had been appointed.

How Link was focused on her yet did not voice his thoughts apparently "makes my imagination run wild!". Either romantic or dense.

Link admits to staying quiet because of the pressure of being the boy chosen by the sword. 

King Rhoam mentions that he decided to honor THE royal family's traditions by naming his daughter Zelda, and that he is "not a man accustomed to frivolous musings". 

Basically confirming that he is not the parent of royal blood.

They probably knew about The Calamity for a good while cas the page after zelda's naming speaks of the fortune teller, probs 3-8 years since Zelda was described to already have vast interest in the relics.

Pikango gets up at 10 past 5, I spent the night watching him and Beetle sleep.

According to all known laws of aerodynamics, Rito should not be able to fly, is Revali's gale then just an absurdly strong variation of some kind of sky Arcanum that all Rito possess? Do all the races possess one as Well?

Slimes ate the Bokoblins in the tree base at the center of the west Hyrule fields.

Savelle is a helpful guy without a pension for violence.

Munk Shae Loya is just flexing on all the other Munks, those old farts need to sit down while he's been squatting on one leg the last 10'000 years.

Chork of the Tabantha Bridge Stable is drunk.

Toren is either naive or a simp for the Faireys.

If you have the Hylian hood equipped with no weapon while riding at max speed then your cape will flap.

"Sweet boy..." "...I see now that my first impression of you was correct. You most definitely are pleasant to look at." 

So link has some kind of presence/soul-thingy that appears pleasant to mystical creatures? Might be the spirit of the hero or this link in particular.

The Fairy Kaysar makes Link blush! No player input needed! We’ve found one of his types!... either that or he's just shy.

The fairies almost never use normal materials to enchant, it's always either monster parts that don't dissipate or things that grow in magical arias.

The Sheikah towers are sturdy as all hell, the Tabantha tower did not even get a scratch from a giant fucking pillar falling on it.

Okay, am I just crazy or is a Lizardfo and a Moblin holding a class for 5 bokoblins just to the left of the Tabanta fairy fountain!?

Lester, the wise curry rice guy at Rito Stable, describes Link as sunny boy, another point to the soul/aura theory thingy.

Phontos laughs to hide the pain.

According to the story that Kass sings. 

Calamity Ganon was the result of sealing the enemy at its source.

It fought not only the spawn of the Goddess and the bearer of the Spirit Of The Hero but also the army of Guardians and the Champions that piloted the Divine Beasts for quite some time, as implied in the "and the guardians protected them throughout every hour".

So what i get from this is that the attack 10 000 years ago was the first sighting of what we know as calamity Ganon. 

It was also far stronger than the one that attacked 100 years ago which implies that that one was either a rush job or that Ganon bounds had been tightened, both of which would drive him to seek out other methods like corrupting the Guardians.

...And the Guardians are apparently powered by the ancient blue energy which was, time-line wise, first shown when the Golden Goddesses created the world.

No wonder that Ganon was capable of doing this since he most likely is running on fumes, spite and the power of the Triforce which likely is made of/channels said energy.

According to the rumor mill, you need the blood of the Hero in your veins to wield the Master Sword, if this is accurate then that means that Fi is sentimental or that Link has magic blood.

Wildberrys are fucking massive.

Genli (the salmon child) is a cunt, one kid was crying about someone Vah Medoh killed and then Genli is all like "no don't stop it, if you do then i have to go to class again!", She would fit right in with today's youth.

Monk Akh Va'quot has the best position so far, he is just done with your shit.

"You adventurers are Crazy" -> "you're right"

You get nothing if you melt all the ice by the Tabantha tower! You lose! Good day sir!

Monk Daka Tuss got bored during his self-inflicted quarantine and started stacking his arm bands.

Tula (the bathing Zora) said "wow either you are a Hylian or hideously deformed"

Phura has vandalized and mounted one of the spirit frog statues above her door.

Okay but the fucking noice that comes out of Bolson when you buy everything!! It's as if you just walked up and twisted his nuts with the power fit to shield block a Lynel’s charge.

Is the flower by Link's bed a Korok version of a Silent Princess?

The monsters of Hyrule are show to have interest in consumption based on three accounts. 

1: the Bocoblins and the Moblins by Hateno bay steal cattle. 

2: Hynoxes carry around warriors foodstuffs. 

3: Moblins (or at least the ones by the camp near the Serenne stable/forgotten temple) have a resting animation where they dig through the dirt and stuff something down their goblet.

...not to mention that nearly every camp has a bit of meat roasting by the fire.

Koyin has joined the fan-club!

God, the Naydra snowfield is fucking loaded in chill-shromes!

Stasis is perfect for looking for ingredients in forests, just open it, look around and bam! No more hidey hoe.

Why no shiny text for hylia's statue!?

I really do not like that they changed Naydra's colors when the malice was removed, they were so cool and then bam! White! White is not the color for ice and cold!

When praying by the spring of wisdom you are facing Hyrule castle, the same with courage and power if my memory serves me right.

...The master Torch

The Katona Aug shrine is just fucking mini-golf, how is that meant to prepare the hero?! Imagine how that Monk goes to the afterlife and has to look his fellows straight in the eye and admit that he was so lazy that not only did he make the hero play golf, not only was he so lazy that he made the Hero play mini-golf, but that he was so lazy that he did not even make a course! It is literally just a straight line!

Robie wants to see Links scars to verify that he is who he says that he is, Robie was likely one of the ninja that took Link to the shrine of resurrection.

Oh and Robin has two interesting sketches in his lab, the first is a detailed graph of a Sheikah tower so those were likely known about long before Link activated one (the one closest to Robin would be the one covered in malice and guardians so he could not have gotten enough detail from that one).

And the other is a sketch of what I believe is either a tier 2 or tier 3 guardian scout. Now, how can Robin know how that looks if only Link can/could enter shrines?

The Sheikah shrine that has the Barbarian helm is located at the end of the Sinai maze, did they just plop the shrine down there and steal the treasure of the ruin to later present to the hero?

There is one usable room in the citadel.

There is no compendium slot for the malice eyes that litter Naydra, Hyrule Castle and the Divine Beasts.

You can change the element of already elemental slime, not just the neutral kind.

Those head-spitting fuckers inside the divine beasts! They are partially reanimating mobs! So it's not that the Blood Moon is the time where Ganon is at his strongest, it's just where he chooses to revive everything.

The edge of duality can also be found in the shrine at the top of the dueling peaks.

[skyeventide]

4 and 37 for the writer asks!

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

okay picking favourites is always real hard so I’m just going to link the three latest things that I had open and really love:

remember us, with our eyes full of dust, which is a reembodied Caranthir/wife and the writing is the most excellent thing, just really tolkien-esque and beautiful.

Beneath the Green and Hollow Hill, once again with feeling the language is incredible, this is a Finrod/Celebrimbor, and I love the ideas and attention to characterisation in this.

On Behalf of the Band, which is a Maglor through the ages story, who is now the manager of the Beatles, and is trying to convince Tolkien to let the Beatles make that LotR movie

37. Give an update on your current WIP - if you don’t have one, give a sneak peek to a title or idea that you have and would like to write.

my current wip aka haha lmao fuckin daeron/maglor, I swear I’ll go somewhere with it. I’m considerably more unstuck now though after a nice chat, I guess I have to tackle matters of Fate and The NarrativeTM, and perhaps a duel of song, and I guess I have to make myself care about Lúthien for two seconds so that Daeron can think she’s hot

the last bit written

The same one – the great ornate reed flute that he had carried to Ivrin’s Well, under the shadows of the mountains, where water had laughed and music echoed as if the world were answering his notes in perfect counterpoint. Each of the pipes had been engraved and painted with motifs of leaves, and silver threads had been woven into the double row of reeds, keeping them tightly flush, shining under starlight. He had played it at the feast for the coronation of the Golodhrim’s High King, where they’d promised each other peace, and union, and mutual help, and other such lies.

No. No, that flute he had left in the halls of Menegroth. That flute is now below the waves.

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 3

The Rift

 Ichigo wonders, more often than not, why it is that even though he can see ghosts, he never sees the ones he wants to. His mother, and now his friends from Chaldea. He can’t see them anymore. The singularities are gone, and humanity has returned to the way it always was. But it’s missing so many people, from his own point of view. Olga Marie isn’t bound to him anymore. She’s moved on.  And the rest…

 Ichigo sits in front of his mother's grave with his dad at his side. Karin and Yuzu have gone for drinks, leaving them alone for the time being. Rukia, and Kon too, sit on a hill, watching over them and waiting for trouble. He doesn’t want to admit it. He’s carried the guilt in his heart for so long, but now… it’s possible that Rukia is right. That the reason his mother is dead is because…

   “Hey, old man,” Ichigo looks towards his dad, who’s been acting weird since he’s come back. More than once he’s caught him just staring. Like he’s trying to figure out what changed his kid so much. As if they were ever that close in the first place. Ichigo let’s him. There’s no way for him to understand what’s changed Ichigo into the person he is now. It’s not something that can be easily explained, and in any case the Mage's Association was pretty clear. No one is supposed to know that magic exists. Including his own family. Anyone who finds out must be killed.

 “Yeah?” Isshin looks his way, away from the grave that reads his mother's name.

 “About mom. Could she ever see ghosts, do you know?” he looked right at him. Testing Isshin, watching his eyes. He’d never noticed before…

 That his dad was hiding behind a dozen walls. And they all started to come up when Ichigo asked his question. Ichigo has spent years with master assassins and traitorous knights. He can see clearly now, for the first time ever. His dad isn’t such a colossal goof off after all.

 “Why are you asking this all of a sudden?” he asks and it      hurts    . It hurts more than Ichigo thought, to know that he was keeping this secret for so long. To know that he could have told him, that both of them could have told him when he was young and he couldn't tell who was alive and who was dead, that he wasn’t alone in it. Karin had always had him, and they’d learned together after their mom had died, who was real and who was not.

 Why? Why had they hid these things from him? And could he trust their dad to tell them the truth now?

 “... No reason. I was just thinking about her.”

 No, he decides, looking back at the headstone. He can’t trust his old man to tell him the truth. So, he’ll have to learn it some other way.

 *

 Sometimes, Isshin looks as his son and he sees a complete stranger.

 He’s still brash and angry, and he would die for Yuzu and Karin, might have while Isshin wasn’t looking, but he’s not himself. He isn’t the same son that had climbed onto a plane for what should have been a simple job months ago. He’d only been gone for a week. How could he have changed so much?

 He was taller, for one thing, and yeah teenagers have growth spurts but they don’t grow three inches in seven days. Their hair doesn’t grow out in a week either, and they don’t get so strong or so self assured that fast.

 More than that, his son has this look in his eyes…

 A terrible age, even though he’s only fifteen. He looks at them like he’s afraid they’ll disappear. He looks like he’s always waiting for something. For something to go wrong, for the other shoe to drop.

 Even before Rukia had shown up and given her powers over to him, and then started living in his son’s closet of all places, he’d been the same. On edge. And the way he’d greeted them…

 Ichigo did a lot of things when Isshin attacked him. Hugging him wasn’t one of them.

 On top of all that, he’d gone to see Kisuke, to ask what was going on in the spirit world, where he could no longer see, and it turns out that Kisuke agrees. There’s something strange about Ichigo. He’s stronger than he should be, and stronger than he ever was, even without Rukia. And he doesn’t know what exactly happened between Kisuke and Ichigo, but it’s enough that now the old captain is interested in him.

 It’s not nearly as comforting as Isshin wishes it was. When Kisuke got involved, things rarely went well. No matter how good his intentions were.

 Then he asked about Masaki, and Isshin had faltered.

 It was time, it was the perfect time for him to tell him the truth. To sit him down and explain what had happened all those years ago, and tell him about the kind of heritage he had, and what it might mean. He’s wondered, whose power did he get? Isshin, or Masaki. Shinigami, or Quincy? Or both? Or hollow? It’s hard to tell.

 But he chickened out. The words got stuck and the world closed off and Ichigo turned away from him. The moment was lost, and now Isshin doesn’t know what to do. It’s so much easier raising daughters than sons.

 * *

 By the time his ridiculous duel with Uryu is over, Ichigo is willing to bet money that his mother was a Quincy.

 Ichigo ends up sitting on a bench, breathing fast but he’s not so exhausted nor so beat up as Ishida, who sits patiently while Ichigo carefully stitches up his arm. It’s easy enough to pass this particular skill off as one he learned from his father and not knee deep in a war, trying to help Roman with the dozens of injured Chaldea staff.

 “Isn’t your dad a doctor? Wouldn’t it be better to have him do than let me?” Ichigo finds himself asking They’re lucky Uryu had a needle and thread on his person, even if they did have to bend the needle in an awkward, sloppy approximation of the ones used for real stitches.

 It’ll do for now.

 “It’s best if my father doesn’t know about this,” he says simply.

 “Oh yeah?” Ichigo grins at him. “I take it that means he doesn’t want you doing this kind of stuff then.”

 “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Uryu sniffed at him stubbornly. Ichigo glowers at him, and pulls the next stitch harder until Uryu yelps. “Hey! Watch it!”

 “Of      course    it’s my business. This whole stunt that you pulled was insanely dangerous.”

 “Are you admitting that you’re weaker than I am,” Uryu lifts his chin, his nose in the air, and Ichigo has to stop himself from karate chopping him in his throat.

 “It doesn’t matter if I’m weaker or not! What matters is that we’re not the only people in town that you could have gotten killed with this stunt! Didn’t you notice? There’s hollows that disappeared that neither one of us took out.”

 He snaps the thread and grabs Uryu by the front of his shirt, watching his blue eyes go wide and realization dawn for what is apparently the first time. “That means other people are fighting. Other people might be dying. My sister has high spirit levels too you know?! When you pull shit like this you’re putting the lives of everyone around you into the same danger, without even telling them about it! How can someone with top grades be so damn stupid?!”

 Ichigo forces himself to lean back, anger still bubbling under his skin. All this trouble because Uryu hates shinigami, and Ichigo isn’t even a real one.

 “      Listen    ,” he leans in , forcing Uryu to bend backwards over the back of the bench, ��I’ll fight you one on one any time you want. But this hollow fighting isn’t a game. And if you ever put other people in danger unnecessarily again, I’ll beat your goddamn face in.”

 “Y-you!” Uryu pushes against his chest but Ichigo is immobile, stone and still.

 “Do you understand, Uryu Ishida?”

 “I. Yes,” he says at last, looking down and away. Only then does Ichigo let him go, leaning back and letting out a grunt when it pulls at his shoulders. He’d over strained himself, just a little bit.

 “Hey, Kon!” Ichigo waves his body snatcher over to the pair. “Gimme my body back already, huh?”

 “Ah, you’re no fun,” Kon whines, but he sits on the bench and lets Ichigo slide back in without a fuss. Ichigo pulls Uryu up off of the bench and gives him a shove.

 “C’mon. I’ll walk you home.”

 “I don’t need you to do that!”

 “Well I’m doing it anyways. You’re injured, what if there’s still a few more hollows lingering around, huh? Just shut up and start walking.”

 Uryu scowls, but starts walking forwards anyhow, with Ichigo in his shadow. During his whole trauma speech and background story Ichigo’s mind had been turning over and over. His dad was a quincy too, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and if Uryu was to be believed, they were the last of them.

 Goat-face isn’t going to answer his questions, so Ichigo follows Uryu home, to a house that far too big for just two men alone. He feels old, walking into it. It’s fanciful, but he’s seen the theatres of Rome and the courts of King Arthur.

 Ichigo will never be a sensor, but he’s gotten used to trusting the sense inside him that says when someone else is around, and even though it took him a while he’s good enough to be able to follow it if he has to. He didn’t know about the spirit ribbons. Ichigo is used to being clueless, but he’s not stupid. He files the information away for later, and quietly memorizes that feeling of Uryu. It’s more like a taste, clean and sharp, and vaguely like citrus.  

 His father is much the same. And he is utterly unimpressed by Ichigo arriving on his doorstep with his son in tow.

 His eyes are colder than ice, not exactly something Ichigo would want in any doctor he has.

 “Hey, old man,” Ichigo raised a hand and, with his usual level of tact, asked ever-so-discreetly, “Did you know my mom?”

 * * *

 “Do you know where you are?”

 The scent of roses and daffodils and the feeling of soft worn wool brushing against his cheek. A ribbon made of magic brushing his nose.

 Ichigo opens his eyes and looks into a pale blue sky, wisps of cotton candy clouds stretching across from one horizon to the next.

 “I am in a dream,” he says dutifully.

 “Very good Dolores.”

 Ichigo punches him in the stomach, sending the mage doubled over in a fit of coughing and laughing together. A smile that’s far too mischevious to be soft is aimed at him.

 “You have an amazon prime subscription out here?” Ichigo asked, sitting up slowly. The tower still floats, through the sky at the end of the world.

 “Well yes. I do run a blog, you know?” though it’s said with a straight face he can see a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, where even eternal youth hasn’t been able to curb laugh lines. He’s good humor, and a good company.

 “Seriously?!”

 That gets a laugh out of the mage of all mages. He lays back in the flowers that climb and bloom, thriving in his very presence. He is life and light and mischief, a watcher and a strange sort of guardian.

 “Well yes. I can’t spend all of my time merely      watching     people. The internet made things much more fun! Humans are such innovative creatures, even without magic to help them along.”

 Ichigo nodded along with him. “Does that mean that you can email me instead of hijacking my beauty sleep?”

 “Oh, you mean you don’t enjoy my company, oh great Master of Humanity?”

 Ichigo scowls at him, but there’s a smile trying to pull at his mouth. He struggles to squash it, and he can tell from the glint in his companions eyes that he fails.

 “Stop calling me that,” he says for a millionth time.

 A firm hand pushes him back into the flowers, under the warmth of the sun in the soft crush of fragrant petals. There’s no perfume that could ever compare. This is a strange place, a beautiful cage, and Ichigo doesn’t fully understand how he can be here and home at the same time. Not that that’s new. He’s been in two places at once more times than he cares to count, and he still only vaguely understands how it’s possible.

 “I understand that your life is interesting once more.” The mage stretches out beside him, taller than he and cloaked elegantly in his same old robes. He’s showy and modest at once and it hurts Ichigo’s eyes to look at him for long.

 Ichigo groans. “If you mean my entire existence is one giant clusterfuck then yeah. It’s real ‘interesting’ again. But I’m not time travelling again yet so…”

 “Poor little master. Your life is so very hard…”

 “I’ll hit you,” Ichigo threatened. “Master mage, but a shit fighter. I can take you.”

 The laugh that he is granted is bells on the wind.

 “True, true. But I believe that things will get worse before they get better. Perhaps you should begin your mage craft training once more.”

 “You know I always sucked at that. I could only use real magic if I had a mystic code. Every other time, it exploded in my face. I’m a secondrate mage, that’s how it’s always been,” he says it all simply.

 “That is true… Isn’t it funny how that works out? A boy who cannot cast a single spell without assistance ends up defeating the most powerful mage in history. You really are a remarkable human, Ichigo.”

 “And you’re trying to get me to do something for you, aren’t you?”

 “Aha! You do know me! Yes, I need you to mail something very important to me…”

 “You get mail here?!”  

 * * * *

 It’s the tenth time he’s been thrown into the dirt today.

 A normal person would have given up and packed it in. A normal person would have humbly accepted that the strength of these titans was beyond their abilities to keep up with.

 Instead, Ichigo stands again.

 He picks up his borrowed practice sword, dulled so no one can get hurt, and faces his opponent once more.

 Mash, Cu, and Medusa, his constant companions, watch him narrow his eyes and plant his feet again.

 “One more time, Nero!”

 “He’s stubborn, if nothing else,” Medusa mused, not quite out of his earshot. Cu nods his agreement, his eyes never wavering.

 “Tha’ll help him,” he said simply. Ichigo didn’t know why but his accent seemed to change just a little each time he opened his mouth. Sometimes he was barely understandable. Sometimes it is perfect english. Or whatever language the magic was auto-translating it to. Japanese for Ichigo, english for Mash, and probably latin for Nero and the surrounding soldiers.

 “ ‘He’ can still hear you!” He glared halfheartedly at the pair of Servants, who looked perfectly innocent. The longer he was around them, the more familiar he was with the small changes in disposition and expression, their likes and dislikes. And, to his eternal surprise, the      feeling    of them.

 Cu Cullain felt like trees. Like thick moss on a stone, and early morning mist rolling through thick, ageless trees. His presence was as familiar as an old, trusted hound. They’d only been together for a few months, but his spellwork and the steady draw of his mana felt as natural as breathing to him.

 Medusa was the deep ocean, power beneath every surface but beautiful to behold. A crash of waves against the stony shore, her every touch fleeting and feather light while her chains lashed with horror and the chthonic strength born in the age of gods. She was the smooth brush of scales against his wrist, the flash of teeth behind a sweet smile, and gold eyes in the darkness that Ichigo alone did not flinch from.

 Theirs was a tenuous relationship. She kept looking for him to stab her back, to cut her head and use it as his weapon. Ichigo was still half expecting to wake up as a statue one day. They only had the barest trust between them but…

 She hasn’t let him down yet, and Ichigo endeavours to repay that much if he can.

 He raises his sword and barely blocks a vicious strike from Nero. She was shorter than him by far, but he had no chance matching her for raw strength. Or speed. Or her damn near perfect swordplay.

 “Focus on the performance at hand,” she orders, her mouth curved in a strange smile. Ichigo didn’t totally understand her. They’d been travelling with her for over a month now, on the way to reach what would one day be london.

 “Right,” Ichigo lunges for her, his strikes quick and hard. He’s not worried about hurting her since he can’t even      hit    her.

 It’s graceful, elegant, and nearly effortless for her to knock him flat on his ass again, smacking the flat of her blade against his chest so hard he sees spots. He’s left sucking desperately. His nails bite into the dirt and his grip on his sword tightens until the leather wrapped around the hilt creaks.

 “That’s enough for today, I think,” Nero decides. Ichigo wants to argue, but he doesn’t have any breath for it. So he groans like a dying whale and lays in the dirt, his hands shaking, his body refusing to move at all.

 Nero lowers herself to the ground, on her knees beside him and how strange is that? A goddamn emperor kneeling with him in the dirt. A demi-goddess, and a druid, and a demi-servant. And Ichigo, just human. But Nero is human too. She’s as alive as he is and she is wiping the fucking floor with him.

 “You’re a - fuck,” he wheezes and finally gets his elbows under him so he can sit up.

 “Now that’s very rude to say, considering that I’ve been training you out of the goodness of my own heart,” Nero sniffs at him, tilting her chin to the sky.

 Why did Ichigo always get stuck with these kinds of bewildering people? Everyone he knew was so weird…

 “Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Nero.” A perfectionist and slave driver, but Ichigo was getting better every day. By the time they reached their destination, maybe he’d even be able to land a single blow per bout. Ichigo had never expected to get along with a roman emperor of all people, but even outside of fighting Ichigo has always been, if only mildly, interested in the arts, and Nero only stokes those embers.

 Nero smiles beatifically at him. “You have the makings of a fine performer. Even without an Imperial Privilege. I enjoy teaching you.”

 Her smile is interrupted by a pinch of her brows and purse of her lips.

 Ah, another headache.

 It’s very strange, trying to reconcile the young woman in front of Ichigo with the tyrant from history. She’s put her people ahead of her at every turn, and helped Ichigo and his friends. She’s under no obligation to teach Ichigo swordplay but she does, even after long days on the march.

 At the same time, there’s a reason Boudica is only her reluctant ally. Nero cared for her people but she was, in another word, a merciless bitch when she put her mind to it. But she was on their side, for now, and Ichigo is learning not to look gift horses in the mouth. So he gets up and goes to her side, and shows her how to press her fingers into pressure points on the back of her neck, and hold it for a few seconds until the headache goes away.

 He’s made an archduke for that one.

 * * * * *

 A rift forms in the Kurosaki household.

 It’s always been there, a cut stitches tenuously together by blood and loyalty, and reinforced by love, but now it’s split.

 A gaping chasm, and Ichigo doesn’t know what to do with it.

 It feels like it’s not something he can bridge. Like this is one obstacle that even he cannot conquer. Master of Chaldea, Final Beacon for Humanity. Commander of Heroes, Beloved, the First Guardian.

 He is a hundred things but at the end of the day he is still.

 A teenager.

 Fifteen and eighteen and four thousand at once.

 His dad had lied to him. If not directly, then by omission. For years, for so very long he’d let Ichigo hold the responsibility of Masaki’s life in his hands, had kept quiet when he grew frightened and dark and closed off from the living, so preoccupied was he with the dead.

 Never once did he offer reason. Never once did he show his care or cradle his son, or tell him that the monsters were real and it      wasn’t his fault    .

 Not once, in six, seven, eight, nine years did he tell Ichigo that he was not alone. That he and Karin were merely Masaki’s children. That they were born of quincy blood, even if that never put a bow in their hands.

     Half the blood means half the power,”     That was what Ryuuken had said. And how sad is it that Ichigo had had to hunt down a veritable stranger, once who’s son had spent the entire day bickering and competing and hating his guts, to get answers from?

 “      Does my old man know all of this?”    Ichigo had asked.

 Ryuuken was honest, even if he didn’t want to get into the tangled web of family drama.      “Yes,”    He’d said, “      But it’s more complicated than that. Isshin has the entire story.”  

 And he wouldn’t tell Ichigo.

 He didn’t tell him on the bloody banks of the river, when a child wandered in desperate hope of finding a phantom of his mother.

 He did not tell a ten year old at the foot of a grave marker. He kept silent at eleven, at twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

 Fifteen. Under the watching grave of his mother Ichigo had asked. And Isshin had not told.

 The house is tense like it hasn’t been since Ichigo got back. It’s tense like a storm, cracking along the edges of the walls and windows. Tense like there’s no coming back from this and Ichigo cannot take the building static in his veins or the hissing of betrayal in his ears, like snakes.

 He misses Medusa, suddenly. She would take his pound of flesh for him and then some.

 Ichigo go knows, for certain, that if he stays in this house he’ll go mad. Yuzu and Karin, they know something is up. Ichigo’s pretty sure Karin saw the hollow, Grand Fisher, at the grave site. Dead now by his blade, but the vengeance tastes like ash on his tongue. His mother is still dead. His father is still a liar.

 His sisters still love them both.

 Ichigo loves them, too. More than anything in the world, he fought gods and demons for their sake. For them to be born for them to have a future.

 But he can’t spend all of his time at home, and Chad is starting to ask questions that Ichigo has a difficult time answering.

 Not ‘was that a demon ghost you just punched in the face’ hard. That answer is ease. ‘Yes’.

 But ‘is everything alright at home’ hard. Chad had asked the first time he saw Isshin launch himself at his son in a surprise attack and he’s about to ask it again, Ichigo can feel it in his bones.

 So he makes a phone call.

 The rest of the world will never know what they did.

 The world will not know about him or Mash or Roman or Olga Marie, or the countless others that built Chealdea and kept her running. They’ll never know how much they fought, how much they bled, how much they sacrificed for the sake of the future.

 It’s fine with him.

 But there are some who know. The Mage's Association, and the United Nations. And a select few people from the Clock Tower in London, where Ichigo has already been offered schooling and job. They know that he stopped the incineration of humanity.

 And they      owe    him.

 Three years of pay for working in Chaldeas, and even more for everything else he’d done.

 He finds a backpack while he waits for a familiar voice to answer.

 “Do you have any idea what time it is?” There's a shuffle of sheets and a groan in the background and Ichigo barely pays it any mind as he stuffs a hoodie into his bag and goes looking for his running shoes.

 “Not a clue,” he said blandly. “But listen, Waver. I need a favor.”

 * * * * * *

[aion-rsa]

How the Saving Private Ryan Cast Launched a New Generation of Stars

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This article contains spoilers for Saving Private Ryan.

Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan (1998) is known for a number of things: the gut-wrenching, visceral terror of its battle scenes (especially the opening landing at Omaha Beach), the shocking way in which bodies are torn to pieces during the course of those battles, the attention to period detail, and a powerful performance by Tom Hanks that rates as one of his finest.

But one thing that the film may not be as widely recognized for is the lineup of young actors who played members of Capt. John Miller’s (Hanks) squad, or soldiers they met along the way as they searched throughout Normandy for the missing Pvt. James Francis Ryan. From Matt Damon to Vin Diesel, Spielberg recruited relatively new faces who were all, in one way or another, either launching their careers outright or just starting to make their mark on Hollywood.

Saving Private Ryan is now considered one of the greatest war movies of all time. Part of that is due to its incredible realism, part of that is due to the skilled direction by Spielberg at the top of his game, and no doubt part of it is thanks to the work of its youthful cast. Let’s look back at who those actors were then, and what they went on to accomplish afterward.

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Matt Damon (Private James Francis Ryan)

Matt Damon was largely unknown until around 1996 when he gained some good critical notices for his role in Courage Under Fire. At the same time, he and childhood pal Ben Affleck got to finally see their screenplay Good Will Hunting filmed, with Damon in the title role. The movie was in rehearsals in Boston when Steven Spielberg — who was shooting some scenes for Amistad there — stopped by the set to visit with Robin Williams, who introduced Spielberg to Damon. That led to Damon getting the title role in Saving Private Ryan. He’s the young soldier than Tom Hanks and company are trying to find — and who must “earn” his ticket home.

By the time Ryan came out in mid-1998, Damon had gone from unknown to star thanks to the success of Good Will Hunting (which arrived in December 1997), and his and Affleck’s Oscar win for Best Original Screenplay instantly became the stuff of award season legend. Damon has stayed a superstar ever since, starring in the Bourne and Ocean’s Eleven franchises, along with other hits like The Talented Mr. Ripley, The Departed, True Grit, Contagion, The Martian, and Ford vs. Ferrari. Next up for Damon is in Stillwater and reteams with Affleck as co-writers and stars in Ridley Scott’s The Last Duel, both due out later this year.

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Edward Burns (Private Richard Reiben)

Ed Burns had already garnered some attention before landing the role of the feisty, rebellious Pvt. Reiben, one of the few members of Miller’s squad to survive the film. He wrote, produced, directed, and starred in two independent features, The Brothers McMullen and She’s The One, with McMullen in particular earning acclaim and awards (including an Independent Spirit Award for Best First Feature).

Reiben was Burns’ first role in a major Hollywood production, and he followed that up with parts in films like 15 Minutes (2001), Confidence (2003), Life or Something Like It (2002, and the notoriously bad sci-fi thriller, A Sound of Thunder (2005). He also continued to make his own pictures, including No Looking Back (1998), Ash Wednesday (2002), Newlyweds (2011) and Beneath the Blue Suburban Skies (2019), while also creating, directing and starring in a TV series called Public Morals (2015) that lasted for one season on TNT. Not exactly a household name, Burns has nevertheless remained active and prolific.

DreamWorks

Vin Diesel (Private Adrian Caparzo)

Before being cast as Pvt. Caparzo — the first member of Miller’s squad to die while searching for Ryan — the only credits Vin Diesel had to his name were a short film called Multi-Facial, an uncredited walk-on as an orderly in 1990’s Awakenings, and the tiny 1997 indie release Strays, a semi-autobiographical piece which Diesel wrote, directed, and starred in himself. He was, for all intents and purposes, a complete unknown when he was gunned down by a German sniper in a memorably tragic scene early on in Saving Private Ryan.

Things happened quickly for Diesel after that, as he landed the title voice in The Iron Giant (1999) and launched two franchises back to back: in 2000 he introduced the world to the space criminal Riddick in Pitch Black while 2001 brought the film The Fast and the Furious, not to mention Diesel’s signature character, Dominic Toretto. While his other films since have had varying degrees of success, the Fast and Furious series has turned into one of the biggest box office behemoths of the past decade, with F9 coming this summer. Diesel has also played in the world of comic book movies, voicing Groot in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and launching his own superhero film venture with last year’s Bloodshot.

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Paul Giamatti (Sergeant William Hill)

The same sequence that features the death of Vin Diesel’s character also introduces the sardonic, war-weary Sgt. William Hill, played by Paul Giamatti, whose inadvertent collapse of a wall leads to a tense standoff with a hidden group of German soldiers. Before Ryan, Giamatti had bounced around in small film and TV parts for the early part of the ’90s, scoring his breakout role in the 1997 Howard Stern biopic, Private Parts, as radio station program director Kenny “Pig Vomit” Rushton.

After Ryan, Giamatti continued to work steadily and garner more acclaim for outstanding performances in films like Man on the Moon, American Splendor, and Sideways, a movie for which we’re still angry that Giamatti did not receive an Academy Award nomination. He did earn one the following year for his supporting role in Cinderella Man and has continued as one of today’s best working actors in movies like Barney’s Version, Win Win, The Ides of March, 12 Years a Slave, and Private Life, along with his exemplary starring work in TV on John Adams and Billions. He even won an Emmy for playing the United States’ second president.

DreamWorks

Nathan Fillion (Private James Frederick Ryan)

He’s only onscreen for a few minutes, but Nathan Fillion makes a distinct impression as the “wrong” Pvt. Ryan, a soldier with nearly the same name whom Miller and his men come across — only to realize that they have to keep looking. The Canadian-born Fillion first scored some attention in the mid-1990s as Joey Buchanan on the daytime soap One Life to Live (he returned briefly in 2007). Aside from an obscure 1994 film called Strange and Rich, Saving Private Ryan was for all intents and purposes his major motion picture debut.

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Since then, Fillion has worked steadily with his biggest successes coming on TV and in the world of geek culture, where he remains a fan favorite. The Joss Whedon-created sci-fi series Firefly didn’t even last one full season between 2001 and 2002, but has become a cult classic and spawned the movie Serenity (2005). Fillion’s later series, Castle and the currently airing The Rookie, have proven more durable. His other notable film and TV credits include James Gunn’s Slither, Desperate Housewives, Modern Family, Santa Clarita Diet, and Monsters University, while his voice work has also included a recurring role as Green Lantern/Hal Jordan in a number of DC animated films. Next up: more comics-related fun as Floyd Belkin/TDK in Gunn’s The Suicide Squad, and the voice of Wonder Man in Hulu and Marvel’s animated M.O.D.O.K.

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Jeremy Davies (Corporal Timothy Upham)

Jeremy Davies is unforgettable as the terrified, cowardly Cpl. Upham, a nerdy translator who is brought on the mission for his linguistic skills and can only stand paralyzed paralyzed with fear as his fellow soldier Mellish is stabbed to death just up a flight of stairs by a Nazi. Like many of his castmates, Davies kicked around in small acting jobs before garnering acclaim in the 1994 black comedy Spanking the Monkey, which also marked the directing debut of David O. Russell.

Saving Private Ryan was his next big attention-getter and cemented his position as one of the more quirky and compelling character actors in film and TV. Following Ryan, Davies worked in films like Ravenous, Solaris, Secretary, and Rescue Dawn, but has also found success on the small screen in series like Lost, Sleepy Hollow, and Justified. He’s also appeared as Dr. John Deegan in the “Elseworlds” arc of the Arrowverse shows The Flash, Supergirl, and Arrow. We’ll see him next in Scott Derrickson’s The Black Phone, based on a story by Joe Hill.

DreamWorks

Giovanni Ribisi (Medic Irwin Wade)

Acting since he was a young child, Giovanni Ribisi already had a substantial career under his belt before playing the doomed medic Wade in Spielberg’s powerful war epic. He had recurring roles in the late 1980s and early 1990s on shows like My Two Dads and The Wonder Years while guesting on a number of other series as well. In the latter half of the ‘90s, he landed parts in movies like That Thing You Do!, Lost Highway, and The Postman, with Ryan easily his highest-profile big screen effort during that time.

After that, Ribisi continued to do character work in movies like Gone in 60 Seconds, Lost in Translation, Cold Mountain, and Public Enemies, before landing the part of the villainous corporate stooge Parker Selfridge in James Cameron’s massively successful and creatively groundbreaking Avatar (2009). He’ll return in Cameron’s upcoming Avatar sequels and has kept busy on the big and small screens, most recently finishing up a three-season run in the title role of the Amazon series Sneaky Pete (fun fact: Sneaky Pete was co-created by Bryan Cranston, who also has a small role in Ryan as one-armed War Department Col. Bryce).

DreamWorks

Barry Pepper (Private Daniel Jackson)

Hailing like Nathan Fillion from Canada, Barry Pepper had just a handful of small credits to his name when he landed the role of the God-fearing but lethal sniper Jackson in Saving Private Ryan. Jackson is perhaps the deadliest weapon in Capt. Miller’s arsenal, although he is eventually killed along with Miller and most of the others during the film’s climactic defense of the bridge in the shattered town of Ramelle.

Pepper probably remains best known for his portrayal of Jackson, but he scored notable roles soon after that in The Green Mile (1999), the TV movie 61* (2001) as baseball legend Roger Maris, and Spike Lee’s 25th Hour (2002). He also appeared in the starring role of 2000’s disastrous Battlefield Earth with John Travolta. Pepper’s recent film work has included roles in The Maze Runner franchise and the sleeper horror hit Crawl (2019).

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Adam Goldberg (Private Stanley Mellish)

“Juden,” says Pvt. Stanley Mellish, pointing to himself and the Jewish Star of David he wears around his neck as a stream of German POWs is marched past him. It’s a small but powerful moment in Saving Private Ryan for the defiant, wisecracking Mellish, who’s there to wipe out as many Nazis as he can. In the movie’s climactic battle, he bravely and viciously fights hand to hand with a German soldier before the latter sinks a knife slowly into his chest in one of the film’s most intensely horrifying moments.

Adam Goldberg had already appeared in a number of notable films before Ryan, including Billy Crystal’s Mr. Saturday Night (Goldberg’s 1992 debut), Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused (1993), John Singleton’s Higher Learning (1995), and the cult horror classic The Prophecy (1995). Mellish remains perhaps his most famed role, but other standouts like A Beautiful Mind (2001), Déjà Vu (2006), and Zodiac (2007) dot his filmography. He’s guested frequently on TV as well and currently has a regular role as Harry Keshegian opposite Queen Latifah on The Equalizer. He’s also directed three features of his own, recorded four albums of his own music, and has exhibited his work as a photographer.

The post How the Saving Private Ryan Cast Launched a New Generation of Stars appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[rowenaaclark]

The One where Adrian’s a Hufflepuff

Promised to post for the likes of @padsmcfoot and @unsuallyfurry - Here’s a Bloodlines HP AU solo fic drabble!

Adrian wandered down the candlelit hall, whistling to himself.  Portraits of witches and wizards long past eyed him suspiciously as he passed by, as the time of night was odd for even Prefects to be out and about. 

He never thought he’d end up in any sort of leadership role here at Hogwarts. He had never aspired to it, nor did he think he was even capable of such a task. In fact, he’d been quite happy somewhat bludging through his time at Hogwarts, scraping through his OWLs by the skin of his teeth. Professor Sprout had sat him down however and given him a long talk about why she thought this was an opportunity for him to not only take some pride in his character, but learn about responsibility and what it means to look out for one’s own classmates. 

He’d palmed it off at first as a joke, but the old witch just gave him a smile as she ushered him out of her small office. “I see great potential in you, boy. You just need to see it for yourself.”

A familiar cat sat on the windowsill, just down from the Hufflepuff dorm entrance, its black tail flicking petulantly. Adrian grinned, turning from the dorm entry and walked over to lean on the windowsill by the animal that almost blended into the night sky outside. 

“You know someone will eventually catch on when they realise you don’t actually have an owner here,” he murmured to the cat, offering it his hand to sniff. It was quickly batted away though by it’s paw, shaking their head in almost disgust at the gesture. “Aw puss, don’t be like that now. You won’t fool anyone with that attitude.”

He grinned as the cat stood up and shook out its fur, before transforming into the shape of a teenage girl, her long legs draped outside of the window and long dark hair catching the breeze. 

“I must admit the cat form is great, but you definitely look stunning this evening Miss Clark,” he said, folding his hands together. She all but hissed at him, running her wand across the ends of her hair, returning them to their usual lavender hue. She hated the fact she had to hide the colour half the time, but she knew a half purple cat would draw more attention to herself when she transformed. 

“I can’t wait until I perfect the spell so I can do it at will, though. McGongall says this month looks good for a storm after the full moon to finish off the incantation. Transfiguration is one thing, but I can’t wait until I get this Animagus form down,” Rowena said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. 

“But then you have to register, and think of the trouble you’ll get in then if anyone catches you out this late.”

She grinned at Adrian, a mischievous glint in her eye. “As if I’d get caught. Now, let’s go raid the kitchen for snacks.”

***

“You know, I don’t know how you both have so many extra pastries to snack on throughout the day.”

Sydney took a seat beside Adrian on the grassy hill overlooking the Quidditch pitch. Rowena glanced over at her brushing crumbs off her vest and finishing her mouthful. “Excuse me, but Beaters need all the extra calories we can get. Consider it building energy to crush Slytherin this weekend. Not to mention your pain of a half-brother in Gryffindor next month.”

“I just have hollow legs and like sweets,”Adrian said, nonchalantly, wrapping one hand through Sydney’s as she sat. Both Rowena and Adrian had been enjoying the rare sunshine that had graced the castle that afternoon, sleeves rolled up and stockings and shoes ditched beside them. “How’s your day been?”

Sydney sighed, taking out a book out of her satchel. “Arithromancy seemed to drag on forever this morning, but transfiguration and potions were both a walk in the park this afternoon.”

Rowena snorted. “No doubt because you’re already trying to beat out Marcus at his NEWTs and you’re in fifth year.”

Adrian nudged his best friend, almost knocking the unfinished pastry out of her hand. “Can’t you see Sydney is far too pure in this world to be in competition with him?”

Sydney raised an eyebrow at him, before flipping open her book in her lap. “I’m not going to deny I love a bit of competition with him. He was furious with me when I got that pass by him at last week’s game.”

Rowena laughed, stretching out on the grass. “This is why I recruited you for the team obviously, Sage.” 

Adrian looked back and forth between the girls. Rowena, with her fiery personality, had made Captain for the Ravenclaw team this year, the first female beater in a long while in the school’s history.  Somehow, over the summer, she’d convinced Sydney to try out for a Chaser this year after a few family games. Adrian had never been one for athleticism, preferring the commentary box instead, but he had to admit even the thought of his girlfriend letting her competitive streak out made him weak. It caused him more discomfort to think of watching her fly around, practicing with Ro that summer in minimal clothing in the heat. 

Sydney flicked over a page in her book, looking over at the foggy faraway look on Adrian’s face. “Earth to Adrian, you may want to stop that train of thought before something else happens,” she said with a smirk. He cast her a knowing glance, before lifting their intertwined hands and kissed the back of hers.  Rowena made a slight gagging noise before sitting up bolt straight, and letting out a chuckle. 

“OI FINCH, YOUR SHIRT ISN'T TUCKED IN, PRINCESS,” she yelled across the grass where the Gryffindor team were leaving the pitch after practice. Most of them looked up, but one looked the most displeased out of all of them. The blonde headed boy waved off to his teammates before swaggering over to the group. 

Marcus Finch was seventh year with Adrian, however the guy was awfully serious much like his younger half sister about his studies. He also happened to be Head Boy this year, which meant a lot of time dealing with Prefect meetings with the guy. The only benefit of those meetings was Sydney was there as well. Despite being only half-siblings, they both were somewhat similar and the pair of them were formidable when they took the same side of an argument.  

“Funny you guys are here, the team and I were just talking about how Ravenclaw is no match for us this year actually,” Marcus teased, dropping his broom in the grass in front of them. Rowena gave him the finger as he smirked and took off his arm guards. Marcus and Sydney were one dynamic, but Marcus and Rowena were the complete opposite. They enjoyed stirring each other to the point where arguments sometimes got to the verge of duel challenges. On other days, they were thick as thieves. 

Adrian snorted. “I love how none of you have faith in the Hufflepuff team this year.”

All three of them stared at Adrian before bursting out into laughter. Adrian rolled his eyes at the lot of them, loosening his yellow tie. The only other Hufflepuff in their small group of friends was a young girl called Jill, who Adrian had taken under his wing when he’d noticed her being bullied back in second year. She was only a year younger than Sydney, but fell into Rowena’s category of choice of subjects. It was an easy introduction to make, and Ro was happy to tutor the younger kind witch in Divination and Potions. Both Adrian and Ro had a talent for chasing off bullies too; Ro had a reputation for throwing punches and Adrian had a talent for a prank here or there. Both factors made the bullies disappear, and Jill had made fast friends with them all, even introducing one more to the group. 

Eddie Castile was a classmate of Sydney’s from Gryffindor, and their friendship had only improved since he had started dating Jill. Eddie was sensible and courteous and Adrian enjoyed teasing him on the regular, but he’d fit in well with the rest of them. 

Sydney looked over at Adrian, swinging his arm to rest around her shoulders and leaning into him. “I love you, but there’s no way Hufflepuff has a chance this year, sorry. They’re far too….nice, this year.”

Marcus nodded, rolling up his practice robes. “You’re all too nice really. All your fire seems to have gone to Rowena this year. She’s far too feisty with that bat.”

Ro smirked at him. “You’d know from personal experience too. You pissed me off far too much that first game.”

Adrian pouted down at Sydney, tightening his arm around her. “I’m not just ‘nice’ to you am I?” 

She chuckled, running a hand over his chest. “No, you’re chivalrous too I guess. You’ve let your bad boy ‘pureblood’ attitude slip far too much to be credible as a once were,” she mused. She smirked at him though. “Although you’re still pretty smooth I’ll give you that.”

 “Well, he tries at least,” Rowena added, Marcus chuckling at her comment, “Sage, we all know that you run this relationship, pick up lines or no.” 

Sydney laughed, patting Adrian’s leg in jest. Adrian sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Look I’m not going to deny, Sydney has me wrapped around her finger, but can I keep some sort of illusion of manliness?” 

Rowena shrugged. “Nah, I read it in your tea leaves. She’s a dominant presence in your life, and it ain’t changing anytime soon.”

“And there goes Clark’s credibility, everyone!” Marcus exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. Ro lashed out with her foot from where she was sitting to tip him over while he wasn’t looking, but he caught her ankle on the way down and dragged her with them so they were both laughing in the grass. Marcus caught his breath and sighed still. “You put so much into Divination though, it’s going to get you nowhere.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Hey she’s predicting a damn few good things from my tea leaves, not to mention that time-”

Rowena gave him a sharp look, cutting him off. “It’s just been tea leaves, nothing else Adrian,” she said, her voice suddenly turning hard. Her eyes pleaded with him to stay quiet, and Adrian made a slight nodding motion at her silent request. No doubt, Marcus would only tease her more if he found out she’d blacked out one afternoon with Adrian while studying for her OWLs last year. The weird thing was though, she’d started talking about their lives like they were 30 years older. She’d quickly snapped out of it, and swore him to secrecy, clearly shaken from the event.

Sydney gave her a worried look, before turning to Marcus. “Have you heard from Dad this week?” 

Marcus shrugged, brushing the grass off his robes. “Nope. Although no doubt I’ll get some letter of disappointment that once again I’ve refused to make friends with one of the sons of one of his more important colleagues in the Ministry. Half of me wants to blow off being an Auror because he’ll be there, hovering at every moment.”

Adrian gave him a knowing look. Disappointing their fathers was something of a shared bond between Marcus, Sydney and him. Although, he didn’t tend to put much disappointment on Sydney. She was often met with resentment from Jared, mainly for the fact she was a girl. He’d never acknowledge just how talented and accomplished she was because of that one factor. Adrian smiled down at her still tucked into him, enjoying the sunshine on her face. She deserved nothing that her father threw at her, and Adrian knew he would die trying before he let her believe anything her father told her. 

“Well, you can always join me in flying by the seat of your pants and having no firm plans for after this year?” Adrian offered to Marcus, shrugging. “I mean, it’s a tough life, and I’d understand if it’s hard to dedicate yourself to but someone’s gotta do it.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “I can definitely confirm, I won’t be doing that but thanks for the offer.”

Sydney gave him a knowing look, and let out a sigh. “It’s going to be weird when you’re both not here bickering. I may just have peace and quiet out here to study next year.”

Adrian gave her an incredulous look. “What, so you’re just assuming I’m not leaving Rowena with instructions to annoy you instead? I have a whole host of owls at the ready to send you my daily insights already too. You’ll barely get that peace and quiet I assure you, Sage.”

A distant bell tolled in the distance. Rowena perked up from where she’d been sunning herself. “Dinner time, excellent. I’m starved,” she said, grabbing her shoes and stockings. Marcus groaned as he pulled all his Quidditch gear together, Rowena picking up his broom for him and handing it to him after he stood. Adrian quickly slipped on his own shoes and socks, and caught up to where Sydney waited for him. The other two had started to make their way ahead of them, no doubt keen to fill their bellies from the long day.

Adrian took Sydney’s book bag from her before taking her hand. “I know I’ll be leaving at the end of the year, but you know this won’t be the end of us right?”

Sydney sighed happily, swinging their hands. “I know, Adrian. You’re the one thing that makes this studying and regular routine worth it. A little distance won’t come between us. Besides, now I get letters everyday apparently? That’d be nice.”

Adrian laughed. “I mean I can start now, but kinda defeats the purpose when I can just tell you how stunning you are in person, right?”

Sydney smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Time to start cherishing it, I guess.”

[desperationandgin]

Take Me Home (Jamie x Claire post ‘The Devil’s Mark’)

Rating: Mature

Also Read On: AO3

A/N: This is set after the fade to black at the end of the episode, after Claire asks Jamie to take her home to Lallybroch.

My hands wound through Jamie’s hair as we kissed and cried together, the salt of tears between our lips. My decision at the stones, what should have been the most difficult of my life so far, had actually come easily. Frank was a good man, a good husband, and I’d loved him. But there must be different types of love, because what I felt now, for Jamie, was love which felt all-consuming. Every thought, every want centered around my new husband; my body felt alight when he was near and my very bones felt cold when we were parted. My next breath depended on Jamie, half of my heart relying on him to complete me. So, the decision had come easily, quickly. As he’d walked away from me I felt my soul ache with the thought of goodbye.

What kept me far longer than it should have, was letting go of Frank.

He deserved the farewell that I couldn’t imagine giving to Jamie. I’d studied my two rings, eyes moving back and forth between gold and old, worn silver. One given to me in the rush of looming war, the other made of something beloved and welcoming, given to me filled with love already. When I’d met Frank just after losing my last piece of family, he’d taken care of the aching loneliness I’d felt. I fell into happiness with him. I was happy to have him as my own, happy to spend my days with him and could have been content for the rest of our lives together. I enjoyed him, and he enjoyed having a pretty, caring wife. He didn’t under-value my intelligence, and he was kind.

The moment I realized I was in something with Jamie was the day he was hurt after the duel at Sandringham’s calculated behest. I’d stitched him as my stomach twisted itself into knots with thoughts of what if and I cannot lose him. I felt his pain as if it were my own, my heart ached, and it struck me that I felt more than comfortable caring for him. Then, when Colum sent Jamie with Dougal, I’d felt a chilling panic spread until I found myself kissing him desperately. I hadn’t wanted him to go, I’d known then nothing good would happen with us so far apart. It wasn’t until I was locked away with Geillis and she blithely proclaimed I said Jamie’s name in my sleep that I realized what I felt was love. I was in love with Jamie and whatever I’d thought love was supposed to feel like hadn’t even been close to how I felt now: as though the world would be grey and colorless until Jamie’s return to me.

I apologized to Frank on that hill, sitting in front of the stones and speaking it aloud. He would likely never know what happened to me, but I hoped he could move on with his life. Perhaps I was a horrible person for it, but my future wasn’t in the 20th century. After making my way back to Jamie in the dark, I watched him sleep, his face tense with loss and sorrow. I’d done that to him, and I wanted nothing more than to soothe him. Once I was in his arms we kissed desperately until I needed to take a deep breath and gather my bearings.

“Ye didna leave me.”

His voice sounded awestruck, almost, and I looked up at him, reaching out to push errant curls away from his face. I’d thought of what to say, of all the things I could pour out to him, but only one thing made sense now.

“I love you, Jamie Fraser. More than I have ever loved anyone.”

More than (and differently than) I ever loved Frank. That guilt, I suspected, would stay with me for a long while to come. But the way Jamie’s face changed; the look in his eyes only re-affirmed that my decision was correct.

“Christ, I love ye, Sassenach. I wasna ever sure if ye loved me the same, or if ye would grow to,” he confessed, and my heart tightened in my chest.

Reaching out, my hands cradled his face, making him look directly into my eyes. “I love you,” I repeated firmly. “My home is here, with you. The thought of never seeing you again, Jamie, I couldn’t bear it,” I finally confessed. I sealed my words with a hard kiss to his lips, my mouth yielding to his tongue as he maneuvered my body with ease under his own.

“Ye truly are mine, Claire?” he asked, his mouth pressing to the hollow of my throat.

As one of my hands moved through his soft curls, I spoke with a breathless voice thanks to his lips. “My heart is yours, Jamie.” The most precious thing I could give him.

Ducking his head, his lips pressed to my chest against the thudding of my heart. “I promise, Sassenach, to protect it, always.” It was a sweet interlude, a vow I knew he would keep seriously forever. After sealing his words with a kiss, his hands moved down and then back up, pushing my skirts along the way.

“Will ye have me, Claire? Inside of ye now?”

“That’s what I wanted before,” I murmured softly, chasing his mouth with my own.

Jamie’s body came to rest between my thighs, my legs spread for him to fit comfortably. “I needed to watch ye, Sassenach. I kent it would be the last time. I didna think ye’d ever choose--”

Tears I couldn’t explain blurred my vision as my hands pushed and shoved at his kilt until I could guide him into the warmth of my body. For a moment we were both still, breathing one another’s air before I turned my head to press a kiss to his jaw. “I will never make you feel that way again.” It was a vow of my own. He would always be loved by me, never would my heart belong to another. Slowly, my hips rocked against his, consummating my promise to him.

When he moved, his hands braced themselves on either side of me as my own pressed to his shoulders. With my feet pressing to the backs of his thighs, I urged him deeper, harder, and cried out into the dark every time his pelvis rolled against tightly wound nerves.

“Tell me again, Sassenach.” His breath was heavy, shuddering as he tried to kiss me, lips brushing mine. One look at him and I knew what he wanted to hear.

“I love you, Jamie. I love you, and I’m yours.” His to love and be loved by, his to spend the rest of his days with. I wanted it, I realized. I wanted the life he’d described at Lallybroch, what we could have, all of the things we could do. I wanted to be his Lady Broch Tuarach and tend to our tenants as healer.

At my declaration, he moved faster and I felt myself plummet into oblivion. Crying out, my hands grasped at his sides, gathering handfuls of clothing as my back arched beneath him. It only took another half-dozen thrusts before I gasped out his name, jerking in his arms and reaching up to tug at fistfuls of his hair. As my body tightened around him, pulling him in, I heard him whisper words I couldn’t understand save for my name. Warmth made me whimper in bliss as he spilled into me, forehead pressing to mine. We stayed that way for what felt like hours until he finally moved and laid on his side before pulling me into his arms, my back to his chest.

“Will ye ever change your mind?”

He asked it so softly, that had he not been directly by my ear, I might not have heard him. Reaching for his hand, I pressed my lips to his palm, then to his wrist before tucking myself closer to him, pressing that hand to my chest.

“Never, Jamie. I will never leave you.” I turned then, needing to see him, wanting him to see me. As soon as we were settled again, I finally ended my statement with words pressed to his lips.

“I promise.”

[ren-c-leyn]

To Duel a God...

 It’s been a while since I’ve done a short story for this blog, thought I might give it a try since I’m still under the weather but want to try to stick to the habit of writing. This is a fusion story that I’ve been squirreling away prompts for for a while. I’m excited to finally have enough pieces in place to write it.

 The prompts in question are these 1,2,3,4,5,6 by the always amazing @thependragonwritersguild, this one by @thewholekitandkabobble, these 1,2,3,4 by the lovely @givethispromptatry, and these 1,2 by @humdrummoloch. Thank you all for your hard work to make so many amazing prompts ^-^

Story warnings: This is a fight story, so there is fictional violence. It also mentions death in passing, but nothing in any great detail. There is a little swearing, as well.

~

 It started with an old memory; a tiny cry from the void of hollow emptiness that had been eating me alive since that living nightmare.

 Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t have to be any of those things to become a great hero. After all, heroes of legend are not the strongest or the wisest of us. They are those who had the selflessness and courage to do what was right.

 But I know I am not one of those people. I had never been one of those people. If I had been, I would have been able to save him. If I am now, I would be able to avenge them now.

 Perhaps my first warning that I still wasn’t one of those people should have been the way her face blanched at my statement and argued with me for an hour over it. Or, perhaps it should have been in my statement itself.

 I’m going to challenge a god to a duel at sunrise on the anniversary.

 Maybe they’d even add a line to the adventurer’s hand guide dedicated solely to warn against my insanity at the end of this: ‘Protip: Don’t challenge gods to duels.’

 “You must understand! It was a hard fought victory; a truce that you are threatening to tear apart!”

 “I don’t care. I promised nothing and was privy to no truce. I walk my own path and care little for the gods and their business.”

 My best friend, my former comrade, the woman I had shed sweat and blood and tears with just searched my face with a lost sort of expression, similar to the one we had both worn that day, the anniversary, as we stared at the piles of corpses stacked up to impossible heights.

 Eventually she sighed, shoulders sagging as her eyes closed.

 “Why do you always do this?” she asked, voice tired and raspy.

 “Why do you always ask me that when you know the answer you’ll get?”

 And those dull, rust-colored eyes opened partly again.

 “What’s going to happen to everything after you are gone?”

 “I dunno. I’ll be dead, my friend. Figure it out for yourself.”

 She snorted.

 “So you admit this will be what finally kills you?”

 “It’s more that I admit that I cannot guarantee it won’t, even with my so called talents. Still... can we really just sit back and say we’re fine with how things turned out in the end?”

 “Obviously you cannot, and I cannot stop you. Go then, Payback. Do what it is you do best. I won’t join in your foolishness, but I will stand witness to your duel. I trust it will take place in the usual ring?”

 A grim smile crept onto my face as I turned away from her desk and began to stride to the door.

 “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 With my friend and queen’s permission, or at least reluctant surrender, on the matter, I set about issuing my challenge. This proved to be the hard part. No priest or priestess in their right minds were willing to send my message to the war god, not even those of questionable sanity wanted to get involved, and several temples threw me out on my ear, quite literally. The last of which was the war god’s high temple itself. 

 Well, fine then. If I couldn’t get my challenge to the bastard through a third party, I’d just have to do it myself.

 I climbed up the pillars, ignoring the indignant shouts of priests and temple guardians as I scaled up the front of the so called holy site, clawed my way through the ornate carvings depicting great battles and heroes, and then finally drug my armored arse over the lip of the roofing to get on top of the building itself.

 Standing as straight as I could, I cupped my hands to my mouth and inhaled. Then, all at once, I roared up to the sky.

 “WAR GOD!!! I CHALLENGE YOU IN SINGLE COMBAT FOR THE HONOR OF MY FALLEN FRIENDS! COME TO THE HILL OF ROSES ON THE SUNRISE OF THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE DAY YOU BUTCHERED THEM LIKE THE COWARD YOU ARE AND I SHALL HONOR THEIR MEMORIES WITH YOUR HEAD!”

 Then, there was silence. A dead silence that was quite out of place for any part of the capital city. I wasn’t even sure if the people who heard me issue my challenge were breathing, but I couldn’t care less. They could hide in fear all they wanted, but I had faced god beasts and their other minions in the fields of battle during our war against the gods. I had looked servants of death in the eye, and even played cards with one during my queen’s negotiations for peace. There was nothing for me to fear from the other side.

 Still, I found the silence a bit uneasy. Was I being ignored? Usually, my opponents responded to my challenged rather quickly. For example, you know the wizard accepts your challenge when a crimson bolt strikes. You know a thieves’ guild leader accepts your challenge when you have a knife and a dead snake pinned to the inside of your inn door the next morning.But how does one know when a god decides to accept a challenge?

 Blood red lightening shot down from a cloudless sky and shattered an ancient oak that had been on the grounds for centuries.

 I guessed that answered my question. The bastard had heard me alright, and it looked like he accepted my challenge. A broad grin split my face. Good, this would be fun.

 Two weeks passed with nonstop training and uneasy anticipation. The nightmares of the past came and went in tides, mixing in with the present. Instead of falling victim to them, I used them to motivate myself, remind myself why I had to do this.

 Then, the fateful morning came, or rather, the pre-dawn darkness before a fateful morning came. The queen and I stood on my usual dueling grounds, a flat-topped hill crowned with blood-red roses. It was a fitting place to die... for my enemies. Neither of us said a word to each other as we watched the eastern sky, waiting for our old enemy to appear. 

 Just as the deep blues of night began to turn yellow, and rays of sunlight began to caress the rosebuds, we felt it. That familiar stomach-twisting sickness from raw power. Both of us tensed.

 Red lightening struck again, dancing in the center of the ring before us. It balled up, glowing brighter, and then went out entirely, revealing a tall man in strange armor made of heavenly metals and fangs and claws and hides of god beasts. A giant sword rested in his left hand, and a battle ax as broad as the queen’s shoulders rested in his right. Behind him was a cloaked figure I recognized as the commander of the war god’s army. She gave a nod to the queen and I, and we gave a nod back.

 “Well, mortal, I believe we have a score to settle. Yes?” the war god’s deep voice growled out slowly, mockingly. “It shouldn’t take us more than a minute.”

 I grinned up at him.

 “I would think not. I should have your ugly head ready for my wall in thirty seconds.”

 He howled out a laugh.

 “You think you can kill me?”

 “I think I can try and if I can’t then at least I can be an obstacle. I might even be able to make you bleed, or worse. Whose to know if we don’t fight?”

 He chuckled darkly with a smirk to match.

 “You will be lost in the land of the dead long before you make me bleed, mortal.”

 A dark smile of my own surfaced.

 “ I’m already as dead as my mercy. Come to think of it, you’re the one that killed me, on the inside anyways. You see, after you lose everything good in your life, all you can do is laugh. Laugh because you somehow managed to die along the way, but can’t remember where. But don’t worry, I have just enough mercy left in me to just make my vengeance killing you, instead of killing everyone you care about and turning you into a living ghost too.”

 He sneered at me.

 “Bold words for the empty shell of a pitiful creature. Don’t worry, I’ll put you out of your misery today. Witnesses! Begin the proceedings.”

 “Yes,” the queen and the general answered instantly.

 They both stepped back into the roses on opposite ends of the massive ring. Part of me wondered if they’d be okay, but it was a little late to take that into account now. They ran us through the dueling formalities, asking us to bow to each other, step back the appropriate number of steps, get into our stances, and then they began the count.

 “Three, two, one, you may begin.”

 They hadn’t even finished saying begin when the war god was bearing down on me, bringing both of his massive weapons down on each of my shoulders. I heard the queen scream, but I could only grin.

 Invincibility is a real good time. Whenever someone tries to maim you, they always end up taking the damage. I just wish I had clothes to support that fighting style. Well, the cost of this armor was nothing in comparison to the priceless look of shock on the dumbass’s face when his own divine weapons bounced off my bones and sunk into his shoulders.

 “H-how? What sorcerery is this?!” he hissed as he stumbled back.

 “Oh, I guess no one told you. What a pity, for you. I’m the last person you want to fight. Every time you hurt me, it just reverberates back to you. My friends call me Payback.”

 He laughed.

 “I see, I guess I’ll have to stop fighting you like a mortal, and fight you as an equal!”

 Lightening struck me and I felt it burn down to my bones. His weapons glowed red and he swung at me. Instinct kicked in and my body jerked out of the way, but the sword still caught my hand, leaving the first wound I had received on a battlefield in years.I retaliated with my own blade, going after joints and thinner spots of the armor. He blocked, dodged, countered, I ducked, rolled, and stabbed.

 The longer the deadly dance of steel and lightening strikes went, the more of my blood dripped onto the trampled grass and hardened earth.

 Ah. The one person I can’t defeat. Lovely.

 And despite myself, I started laughing at the thought. Laughing as I rolled under his ax’s head and came up right in front of him, only to be kicked in the gut by the boot. I went down, and red lightening made sure I stayed down. As I laid there, jerking uncontrollably, I heard the heavily armored boots advancing on me.

 Then, there was a bright white light.

 “Enough,” a woman’s voice echoed.

 “Out of my way, Life, the punk challenged me, not you.”

 “The battle has been decided, War, lay down your arms.”

 “It has not ended, it was a duel to the death.”

 I heard her laugh, laugh right in his face. Had to hand it to her, she had nerve. I respected that. As much as a person spasming in the dirt can respect anything, of course.

 “What’s so funny?” War demanded.

 “In accordance to the treaty we made with the humans, duels to the death are prohibited.”

 “Then why did you allow him to issue the challenge?!”

 “I assumed to accepted knowing that you weren’t allowed to kill.”

 “And if that mortal were to have defeated me, would you be hovering here in my defense as well?” he demanded.

 “Of course, of course, it is my duty to uphold the treaty. Now take your bow, do your boasting, and let us return.”

 I blacked out about half way through his big victory speech. Whether it was from boredom or the lightening still working its way through my body, I couldn’t say.

 When I woke up, I was laying on the floor in the queen’s office while she scribbled something down with her quill.

 “Still breathing?” she asked after a moment.

 “Yeah....”

 “Good.”

 There was a long stretch of silence between the tense good and the end of whatever it was she was writing. When she put the quill down, though, I knew I was in trouble. She slowly turned in her chair, rust eyes narrowing at me.

 “You know what? I’m gonna say it: you deserved that. You deserved all of that, including the awful speech he gave at the end of your duel. What kind of idiot challenges the war god to single combat? He’s the god of combat you twit!”

 And it was half way through her speech that I realized Life had even less mercy than I did.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 15

Blargage. Sorry about the pause guys, work got crazy there for a while. For the record, I understand that there is a second season to Brotherhood (for some reason broken up into multiple parts on iTunes), I was just expecting that there would be an intro change at the season halfway point cause I’ve gotten used to that from other anime. Granted, the ones that come to mind are one-season or currently-only-one-season shows like KlK or AoT, so that perspective’s probably a little skewed. Onwards with Brotherhood!

Episode 15 - Envoy from the East We open in a city at ni- wait, what’s with the electricity? I thought the Terminator died last episode? Ah, an Alchemist duel, got it. In the alleyway the smoke clears to show what. What is this. Why am I looking at an Evil Mister Monopoly?

Mr. Monopoly is chuckling as he fights oh hai Scar, how’s it going? No sunglasses? Heeey, this episode doesn’t have any subtitles. How am I supposed to spell this guy’s name then? (currently boasting that he’s the Silver Alchemist, name sounds vaguely Italian) Whatever, I’ll just stick with Mr. Monopoly. Not like he’ll be around much longer, facing Scar. Mr. Monopoly is certainly living up to his name, Transmuting numerous presumably silver weapons to fling at Scar. Doing fairly well too, dodging the Ishvalan’s attacks when he has a peg leg. Captain Monopoly, then? But it doesn’t last, one scratch is exchanged for a broken peg leg, the Silver Alchemist takes a bath and gets a Face Death Grab. Bye, Captain Monopoly! Ooh, new intro! Seems we’ve got a guy singing the intro this time, pale-shaded Al and Ed before we get normal-colored Ed on a hill reaching towards the sun/title. Hey, the captions are back! Wait no, it’s the gossiping at Central from last episode, Roy walking through the hallway. Guess the captions are broken this episode, turning them off. Odd. Intro continues with clouded skies, Ed and Al sitting under a tree- suddenly panda? Yeah there’s a little girl with a little panda on her head, striking martial arts poses. The titular “Envoy from the East”? Now another new character, older black-haired guy with a ponytail and sword standing on some ruins, what looks like a pair of ninjas drop into the scene before we transition. Quick shots of Roy’s Crew (Havoc, Furey, two others I don’t remember but one appears to be a Big Eater, and Riza) and Roy himself. Now we’re back to Ed glaring at the camera, a clear shot of Hohenheim/Papa Elric glancing back? Ooooh, they’re looking at each other in a graveyard, no doubt over whose grave is between them. Shot of metal-armed Ed getting pulled into the Gate, while a human right hand reaches for him? Dunno if symbolic or if he frak’d up again. Winry is sitting at a desk next to a picture board, we see the Elric Family with Papa Elric’s face still covered. Quick scenes of Scar surrounded by flames (“dang it, I did leave the stove on”), Lust and Gluttony on a rooftop at night (what the heck is up with Gluttony’s face?!), a dark red-eyed face surrounded by screaming masks (charming), an Uroborus left eye that I recognize as Bradley/Wrath, and Father/clearly Papa Elric sitting in his Pipe Chair holding a cup of “wine”. What is his deal, even? More fight scenes, Ed earthbending at Envy and Gluttony, Bradley firebending at Lust, werewolves charging at Panda Girl? Who’s got some neat Alchemy moves, cool! Then we get Bradley swordfighting Sword Man and the ninjas, who are actually getting in some hits? Seeing as we know that Bradley is a Goth now, this makes me very happy! Then Screaming!Scar fighting Screaming!Ed, screen whites out from their attack before we get Ed closing his watch (Don’t Forget Oct. 11), and the Elric Brothers walk along a traintrack into a desert. Episode proper continues with Scar, who does not seem happy and is asking “Who is this?” Inside the dilapidated house is that weasly guy from last episode who led the bounty hunters to Scar, is Scar crashing at his place? There’s also Intro!Girl, who politely introduces herself (going without captions here, apologies for misspelling) as Mei-Chang. And that is a little panda she has with her. Cute! Mei-Chang’s saying that “Master Yoki” (Scar shoots Yoki a look at this) found her collapsed by the side of the road and brought her to the house. Scar tries to shoo her out as she’s feeling better now, but Mei sees that Scar’s leg is cut, and says that she’ll close the wound. She sets up a standard circle-star TC, but puts shuriken at the corners? Oooh, we get to see foreign Alchemy styles now, neat! Scar and Yoki are shocked to see the injury healed so quickly, Mei says that’s it a skill called (please forgive the spelling, not having captions is really annoying) “Alcahestiry from the land of Shing”. Yoki scoffs at Mei’s claim that she crossed the desert from the east, Mei insists that she did it along with Shao-Mei (Assuming the tiny panda here). Scar is shocked when said panda looks back at Scar while Mei’s saying all this, he reaches out to either Hand O’ Doom it or pet it, I can’t tell which. Mei looks back though, and Scar freezes. Which means Mei sees his tattooed arm and identifies it as Alcahestiry? Ooh, Scar family backstory! Scar says that his brother researched both Alchemy and Alcahestiry (so there’s a distinction between the practices, then). Mei is very complimentary of his brother’s skill. Methinks that Scar doesn’t like to think about how he got the tattoo, though. Yoki notes that with Scar healed they can continue on to Central, Mei invites herself along. Saying something about immortality? Yoki dismisses her, and gets a bite from the panda for his rudeness. Ha! We get a mental monologue from Mei that she knows immortality doesn’t work with Alcahestiry, but it is possible through alchemy (Yoki’s behind her still screaming about the panda eating his hand, Scar’s sitting clearly already Done With This). That’s why Mei’s here, to meet the man she’s heard so much about. Wait, what’s with the roses and music… uh oh. Oh dear Leto no. Mei’s got a crush on Edward Elric. As cute as that is, I think Ed’s a little old for you, dear. Also, Winry. Central at night now, a blond woman (looks kinda like Riza) is walking her dog through an alleyway when the dog spins around and starts growling. Creepy laughing? Aw crap I know that hollow-voice, that’s Barry the Chopper! Run! Wait… ha! Ok, sorry for not recognizing you properly Riza, haven’t seen you out of uniform before. When faced with a Soul Armor serial killer, Riza just pulls a pistol from her groceries and starts blasting at the panicking Barry. Who tries to freak her out by removing his helmet? Pfft, sorry dude. That might work for some civilians, but Hawkeye knows Al. She just blasts his helmet away. Which makes Barry start crushing on Riza? Ew, no. Also, props to the dog who’s gnawing at Barry’s cloak. We’re at a warehouse now, puppy standing guard as it seems that Barry’s being questioned by Roy and his Totally Non-Military Civilian Friends. With Barry the crew’s got the lead on the secret lab that Bradley ordered Armstrong not to discuss. Now that Roy’s clued into the military producing Philosopher Stones, he wants to investigate the researchers- but it seems that when their research was done they got used to make Stones as well. Roy also asks if Barry was the one who killed Hughes, but that’s a dead end. Hey, it’s Rush Valley! Finally, we get to see Winry again. How’s her apprenticeship going? The mechanist is walking out of a story when she hears a familiar voice: Edward! Who’s reeeealy hoping that she’s in a generous mood today. Because yeah, Ed’s arm took a bit of a beating in the last episodes. Winry is not happy about this. Later, Winry is patching up Ed’s arm (who is slumped on a table, blood-stained wrench by his side), chiding him for getting into trouble even when their pickpocket acquaintance has an honest job as an odd-job woman. As for the brothers, they’ve made some progress but can’t give any details. Winry’s dones with the patch-job, but still needs a few parts to finish it, so until then she shoo’s the two out to kill some time. Ed’s complaining about there being nothing to do as a non-engineer in a town of nothing but automail shops. But Al’s found something in an alleyway. Aw, do we get a cute “caring for a stray cat” episode? Actually, wasn’t there a white cat in the credits scene? Oh! Not a cat then, rather an unconscious Intro-Sequence character in the form of Sword Guy. And rather than an extended healing sequence, we cut right to the guy (who sounds an awful lot like Vic from Red vs Blue) chattering away at a table piled with dishes, saying that they shouldn’t quibble about who’s paying (not him). Sword Guy says that he’s from Shing (sorry, actual map shows up saying that it’s Xing), and he crossed the desert to visit the ruins of Xerxes. *notes namedrop for future episodes, there’s no way that mention won’t pay off later* Sword Guy (when are we getting his actual name?) is info-dumping about Alcahestiry, saying that it’s actually Alchemy, or probably closer to Bio-Alchemy given the emphasis in Xing for healing. Ed remarks that for Amestris it’s more for military, what with border skirmishes to the south (Aerugo) and west (Creta), with a huge country Drachma to the north, with a sort of Russian Agreement: tentative non-aggression treaty and there’s a wintery mountain range between them, but relations are dicey. Finally there are introductions, Sword Guy says he’s Ling-Yao. Buuuut he’s not actually an Alcahestrist, he’s just in town looking for something: *dramatic eye opening* The Philosopher’s Stone. Aw come on, I was just starting to like this guy. Don’t tell me he’s another “Immortality at the expense of other lives” jerk. Ed claims that he doesn’t know anything, Ling wonders if they’re lying, snaps his fingers and SUDDENLY NINJAS!

*Sigh* Yep, Ling smirks and says he want’s to achieve immortality. Well we did kill off Greed last episode, I guess we needed someone to take his place. Mid-episode pause here, we get character portraits for May Chang (w/ Shao May) and Ling Yao. Ok, so got Sword Man’s name right, I blame Avatar for mistyping May’s name. Back to the show, Ling’s telling Ed to spill the beans, Ed bluffs that it’s a bunch of nonsense. Then he breaks free nope boot to the head. Al gets tossed too, these guys are no joke. But if they can survive Teacher, they can survive these ninjas! Across the city pickpocket-girl (sorry I can’t remember your name) notices the sparks and smoke from the fight, and Ling just laughs as he sees the fight move away and orders some dessert. Sliding along some awfully large pipes now Ed transmutes a metal staff (and of course damaging the infrastructure like that causes no immediate problems), but Silent Ninja is easily beating Ed in this close-quarters combat. Experience fighting other Alchemists? Ed rants about getting attacked just because he didn’t give them information, “you and your boss with the freaky closed eyes”- wow ok Silent Ninja really didn’t like that, tried to poke out Ed’s eyes. Yeesh. Aw, poor baby Ed. He was so proud to finally land a hit on Silent Ninja, but nope another boot to the head. But now that Ed’s seen that Silent Ninja’s weakness is insulting Ling (hmmm, sudden suspicions about Silent Ninja from that), he has a plan. Begin the trolling! On Al’s side of the fight, he’s running down the street when pickpocket girl starts calmly jogging along side him. Al’s happy to see Paninya (thank you!) again, asks her for a favor. Mustache Ninja is thinking about how “every living person emits a flow of ki”, but he doesn’t sense any from Al. So he doesn’t know that Al’s a Soul Armor, then? Quick Al, pull a Barry and remove your helmet! Suddenly Al and Paninya turn around, Mustache scoffs at the aid of one person- and we’re back to Ed vs Silent. Ed is doing what he does best and annoying the crap out of his opponent, a dodge and gutpunch later he’s got Silent by the mask and yup no surprises here that Silent is a lady. Ed is shocked (shocked I say) that he’s been fighting a girl. Buddy, you of all people should be aware that the ladies are some of the biggest badasses in this show. Riza, Winry, Teacher, a quick flash of Paninya aiming her cannon-knee… and Silent’s now neutralized Ed’s arm and dropped a grenade in his face. Ouch. The townfolk panic at the dual explosions (really? You lot live in a town revolving around Automail, I’d think you’d be used to events like this), Mustache is thinking that this county is a force to be reckoned with, when Al swoops in and binds him to the town’s sign and demasks him. Mustache is surprised to see “Alkahistry without an array”, reminder at how special the brothers are to Transmute without TCs. On brother’s end… things could be going a little better. We see Ed’s mechanical arm reaching up through rubble as Silent walks up, and now I need a new name for her as she complains that she overdid it and that Master Ling will be furious- aha, the arm’s detached! A snare is sprung and the ninja’s hoisted into the air, Ed reclaims his arm and chides her for using a weapon that would have killed anyone else. Callback to the island, setting traps for rabbits. Nice continuity! Al and Paninya arrive with Mustache in hand- And then Sword Man shows up all chipper, complimenting their skills and offering them jobs to take over the country. Ed’s giving this the proper response, when… uh oh. The townfolk aren’t very happy right now, somebody’s gonna have to cover all these damages. Ed points to Ling, who suddenly can’t speak Amestrisian good and skedadles. And of course in the few seconds we looked away from the ninjas there’s nothing but cut ropes now.

Welp, now to fix everything back up- oh right, Ed’s armless. Wait, why is it surprising that Al can Transmute without a TC now? This is a recent thing? I honestly thought he could do it from the beginning, my bad. Aw, chin up Ed. Just because your younger brother is taller than you and now he’s got your super special no-TC style as well, it doesn’t mean you aren’t important. Just… less so. Poor, poor Ed, collapsing in despair and writing something in blood. No subtitles here, can someone translate for me? Later that day, the Elric Brothers return to the AutoMail shop where Winry is apprenticing, and guess who they find? [Ling]: “Hello, we meet again!”

Ed immediately bashes Ling over the head with his detached arm, who just tries acting all friendly. Still hoping to hire the brothers? Ah, info on the ninjas! I’m approximating the girl’s name as Lahn-Fahn, and the old man is Fu. Their family (so they’re related? Father/daughter?) has served his for generations, and are quite good as we’ve seen. So what about Sword Man, what’s Ling’s deal that he has ninjas working for his family? (Also, this guy in a purple shirt and suspenders drinking tea with Ling, another employee?) Oh, Ling’s “the Emperor’s son”! The Elrics… burst out laughing? Ling’s a little nonplussed about this reaction, but the Elrics explain that they just didn’t see it coming, that the guy who they found collapsed in an alley and mooched food off of them is a prince. Lahn-Fahn does not approve of this disrespect, yikes. Oh, a lesson in Xing politics, the country’s broken up into 50 clans, and the Emperor gets married to a daughter of each of the clan leaders (yikes). Currently Ling shares the prestigious title of Prince with 23 other sons, with him at #12. Obviously this family setup makes succession complicated, and with the current Emperor’s health iffy all the clans are working to gain favor. Ling’s attempt is to discover immortality, I’m assuming for himself to increase his own survival rather than give it to dear old pops and never get the job. So he asks again for info, Ed refuses to say anything, and the noble Prince immediately latches onto Ed and declares that he’s sticking around until Ed cracks. Ed beings wailing on Ling with his arm, Lahn-Fahn prepares to respond to this aggression- Uh oh. Winry’s just arrived, talking about how there was some sort of fight on Main Street. Just in time to see Ed waving around the broken arm she’d fixed earlier that day. Ling watches with a vapid grin as tools go flying and Ed pleads for nonexistent mercy, until Fu pokes his head through the window for his young lord. On the rooftop, Fu asks why Ling is acting subservient to a commoner, Ling just says that with the fate of 500,000 clansmen on the line a little bowing is a small price to pay. Huh. So is his clan at risk if he doesn’t become Emperor? Inside the shop Winry’s asking where Ed plans to go and break his automail this time, working away at the arm as Purple-Shirt looks on (I’m assuming that he’s the mechanic Winry’s working for right now). Al mentions that they’re planning on continuing their investigations in Central, Winry asks to go along to- uuuuuuuuuuuuugh. [Winry]: “I’d like to go see the Hughes’ family again.” Whyyyyy. Why must these poor kids be heading towards such bad news? Ugh, the scene where they’re told what happened is going to be excruciating. Al asks about Winry’s work in Rush Valley, Purple-Shirt (who Winry calls Mr. Garfield and who I now headcanon as having tea and discussing prototypes with Leeron) encourages her to take a break. [Ed]: “Okay, we’ll all go!” [Al]: “Central, here we come!” [Winry]: *Cheerful giggle* [Ling]: “Oh, we’re going to Central? How exciting!” Snrk. Cut to a wagon, with a sleeping May and Shao in the back (based on tropes I can guess that May’s a half-sister Xing Princess who’s off to try and find the secret of immortality like Ling, although I’d be impressed if the writer subverted expectations by having them be unrelated). Yoki’s chattering about how he doesn’t know Scar’s name, the Ishvalan says that names among his people are considered sacred gifts from God. But he’s renounced his name, and snaps at Yoki to keep moving. [Scar]: “I am walking down a path with no return. So I will leave behind me every gift I have received from God.” New credits sequence! Singing is a mix of English and Japanese, a view of the countryside behind a short white-stone wall. Winry’s standing against a blue cloudy sky with hair blowing, Ed’s looking away from the camera in his red cloak, same with Al, shot of their burnt-down house. The new characters of Ling and his Ninjas get dramatic determined poses, May and Shao get their own against a sunset background. Flashback of Baby!Ed and Baby!Al shopping for groceries, then walking along a path back home as the sun sets. Return to the wall of pictures (with Papa!Elric’s face still covered, come on show we know what he looks like), and then Papa!Elric looking away from the camera towards Central. And back to present Ed and Al walking towards the horizon, sequence ends with a night-time shot of the Rockbell’s home. Alright! New characters from Xing promise some new shenanigans, with everyone going back to Central I’d say things are coming to a head but we’re only a little over halfway through the first season. Bleh, our poor babies learning about Hughes is going to be awful, can we get that out of the way soon so it’s not hanging over our heads anymore? Assuming that they manage to get back home next episode and aren’t delayed by filler, we’ll see how things shake out in Central.

[energonalucard]

Heterogeneous (pt. 1)

A story made after the discovery of the Dynamite Abs by @medics-secret-shipfic-folder and me wanting Demo and Medic flexing on some foes in matching cosmetics... And then I added plot and relationships (later). 

Rating: T (violence, but more so next chapter)

Pairing: Demoman/Medic/Sniper/Spy (Poly), hinted Heavy/Medic

Characters: A lot, but all classes are here so... we can check off those boxes. 

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The room where they all sat held a lot of commotion, the dining area loud with chatter and mutters as conversations about strategies and pulling their weight today filled the walking masses as they exited to file in for the war games they had planned for today. As the long-standing defenses for this location, the RED team hoped to come out victors today in light of some of the BLU's being shipped out after their last failure.

Truth be told, the site dubbed "Sawmill" could be infuriating and tiresome to deal with when the defenses that RED had figured worked long ago where airtight in synergy. Long standing allies or simply bitter alliance set aside for the RED team, they worked together as best they can.

The only RED Spy huffed, flipping his zippo out to light his newly rolled clove as he followed his team to the teleporters to the battlefield. The duo Scout's in front of him shoving and leaning on each other as one pulled down his Flipped Trilby where his friend had tried to flick it off. The Spy tried to make his way past them without gaining attention, but his cloves and mightier stature gained the attention of the two Scout's.

"Nice hustle yesterday suit-n-tie, gave the Engie's hell." The obnoxious friend wearing to much said, but notably he was wearing the Flapjack. Its undershirt colored Zephaniah's Greed, much to the Spy's jargon. "Hopefully you scared all those Engie's away last night onto that train that came. It'll be Scout's outta hell then!"

Gods, he was obnoxious. Even with his friend being a bit on the tame side, Flapjack himself was enough to make Spy's mood plummet. So he kept walking for the teleporters and tucked away his zippo in hope for some peace. Well, you can never have peace with twelve men, but at least it wasn't a Scout he'd be listening to.

His shoes made hollow but prominent taps across the wooden floor as he entered the empty room with four teleporters lining the wall with pipes and rods sticking out into the wall. The Heavy wearing a Sinner's Shade was laughing at his Medic wearing his Grimm Hatte and Medi-Mask. The Doctor's eyes, before disappearing, were jovial and squinted in his hidden grin at his partner. The team's single Engineer also disappeared before Spy could get a good look at him but their Demoman took his place and went on the respective teleporter next, not as intoxicated as usual with his eyes darting about like they always did when not under the influence. Anxious fool. But he was a top of the line Demolitions Expert, so they take what they can get. From the last teleporter, their only Sniper was standing in his full on water work clothing line, wearing Wet Works and Cammie Jammies.

Spy hated he could remember their names at all. But he was the one who intercepts packages for the team to make sure they are getting and receiving normal mail; not sending private information for Mann Co. and all. 

The Sniper disappeared and before the two Soldier's could get up from sitting on the floor, Spy breezed past them to get there first. The oldest Soldier, here before even Spy himself, just flopped back down and sighed. The other, not as courteous as his friend and not as smart as to not pick fights, got up and pointed at Spy as he stood on the teleporter with his teeth bared. 

"Very gentlemanly, Frenchie. Very classy!" He said as condescending as he could, trying to provoke his teammates ire or a negative response.

Ever the gentleman himself, it seems. Spy sighed and drew his hand up to try to pluck his clove from his mouth, but stopped as he looked at his allies. This Soldier wasn't a helmet wearing type, it was common knowledge after the man had gotten a crate and traded away any helmet type cosmetics. (They long found out Soldier's helmet WAS a cosmetic, not an actual piece of army wear. Sniper's headshots proved it by tearing through them.) He'd mostly wore the Skullcap or Hat With No Name. But today, he had a simple bandana and his usual Mistaken Movember-esk beard was shaved to a single stripe down his chin. He looked like a thug and Spy had no idea what he was doing with it anyways. Had he missed a check stub going to Mann Co. for hats? Had he missed the Soldier raving about a case?

He had little time to ponder it as he was teleported through and awaiting the respawn system to arrange them all in order for the fighting to begin.

                                 ▄ ▄ ▄ ▄ ▄ ▄ ▄ ▄

After about thirty minutes of waiting, the RED team was quickly popped into their places inside the spawn of Sawmill, all twelve members standing in rows where they were dropped. Some continued the conversations in which they had started while waiting in the war room; guilty as charged belonging to the Medic and Heavy and the two Scout's swiftly switching between their primaries and secondaries in anticipation for action. Spy reloaded his revolver to pass a few seconds as they awaited the door to open and their feet to march.

Today was King of the Hill, so hopefully the Sniper had fun.

In his daze of reloading to skip the taunts around him, he missed the last few numbers in the Administrator's countdown and missed the front wave running past him. The Engineer pulling out his PDA and flicking the side past him before he ran forward and cloaked out the door. Sniper jumped off the team's spawn battlements and followed in after their Demoman and bandana Soldier. The Spy ran across the small banister and onto the rooftops on the tail of his teammate Scouts. One split off for the center point in the barn while the other continued to run the rooftops, probably hoping to jump a Sniper or Soldier with his Force-a-Nature.

Spy followed neither of them and fell from the rooftops onto the muddy ground, marching his way across the small makeshift bridge across the small pond breaking the bases apart. This is where he cloaked, his Cloak and Dagger draining as he ran into a more enemies infested territory and spotting a small group around a BLU Medic. 

The sounds of gunfire and explosions suddenly started outside of his range of sight, making the ambience of the alpine mountain mill almost flush away with the sudden pops in his ears. The roaring of the BLU Pyro's casually flame spurting Phlog didn't help as he ran forward with an ally BLU Engineer. 

So, the Scout's weren't going to reign supreme this match, oh well. They'll just have to be smarter today. 

The group surrounding the Medic consisted of a Heavy, Soldier, and a Sniper all making their way to the front lines from probably building a Uber off of the Soldier rocket jumping in place by their own spawn. The Medic, notably, was handling a stock Uber handle with presumably enough charge to hit an Uber after some damage was taken by peaking RED Team on point. 

But it was too risky to stop this push. Yes, team's usually celebrated when Spy's risk their life for taking out a Uber push. Sure, no thanks were ever given but that was a given itself. He was no Engineer nor a Medic, so that was that. And Spy couldn't deal with that today, he just hoped his own team's Pyro was smart enough not to die before the enemy push. 

Spy just kept walking, no sign of his own counterpart and the only Sniper he had seen was with the Uber Medic's posse. He hoped not, it'd be nice to not have to be the action Spy who dropped from the top of stairs and roofs on unsuspecting power classes to get kills. 

He really hoped he didn't have to resort to camping ammo and health packs for kills either. There was only so far he'd fall. 

That shipment of new BLU's better have something for him or he'd be very disappointed and move onto the Diamondback and Dead Ringer for active participation. 

Soon enough, he ran the length behind the enemy lines and found little of anyone to pick off by standing near the ammo and health pack near the spawn. The gun fire and sizzling fire only interrupted by bombs going off and the occasional boom of a Sniper rifle piercing the air with a heavy bass.

The Spy sunk his kunai into the back of a Soldier running from BLU spawn swinging his Disciplinary Action like anyone was around, the Soldier's weight falling forward fast from his long strides and splatting in the mud and water from the recent rains. Spy stepped back from the body to retreat and actually make plays on point now he had enough health to withstand a bit of enemy fire (for when the Pyro came around or a sentry locked onto him before he could pop away from sight). He heard duel footsteps too heavy to be his clapping across the wooden battlements above and behind him. 

He cloaked as fast as he could and ran forward until he knew he was fully under cloak and back pedaled as fast as he could against the wall of the barn outside of BLU. A Demoman came charging with an Eyelander, swinging as fast and hard as he could to look for the Spy. A Medic, Quick Fix equipped, kept pace with his patient and upon arriving to the Spy's old position whipped out his Ubersaw to start slashing around the pack.

When Spy got far enough back to consider himself safe from just random Spy checking, he took a look at the Demo and Medic pair and he almost had to spit out his clove from… whatever he almost let spill out of his vocal cords. 

The BLU Medic's headgear wasn't anything new like the RED Soldier's bandana, his head was clean of any hats and he simply had a Mutton Man style sideburns. He was starting to grow other facial hair too with a dark shadow on his jaw. And the Medic wore the Burly Beast, and the soft rain and wind were not helping draw away any attention as the man violently swung around his saw. The Burly Beast was not new, a cosmetic specifically tied open and manufactured to show off a Medic's assets by the big Australian man upstairs. The only class cosmetic to show anything overly masculine about the features of the equipped area, specifically to be provocative. 

Until today it seemed. The Demoman was also in his… own version of the Burly Beast. The entire middle part made in the Demoman's classic jumper, but ripped in half and fake shredded across the ripped sides to make the impression of tearing look real. His shoulder length sleeves were also "ripped" as well, but cut off at the shoulders with tears and ended at his elbow where a bit of remains were left dangling. Worst of all, he was wearing the Cool Breeze below his top cosmetic, adding to the vulnerability of his skin. 

Spy had been shocked so much he hit his back on the BLU team's barn, almost slipping in mud as the clove from his mouth finally couldn't stay in and hit the grass under him. He panicked and took off to the right, away from their spawn and he heard the sound of a distance Soldier spawning from the window. But the clattering of his weight hitting the barn did not go without the Demo and Medic hearing him, as they had already toned out all the war ahead of them and simply focused on him. A BLU Scout spawned shortly into their endeavors as they called out Spy to alert him, and the boy took a few pop shots around the corners before running off past them. 

Spy, when he dropped his clove and basically gave away his place, had found his way out immediately and took it. Well, he took himself as far as he could. The more distance he traveled, the less cloak he had and he didn't dare sit on top of the ammo kits for any help with those two watching for him. He stood on the trunks in the corners of the map behind the planks of wood, watching them from thirty feet away as they slowly gave up their chase. And once the Medic trained back on his pocket with his QuickFix, Demoman soon gave up as well. Putting his sword away for his grenade launcher.

As he started to load it, he looked at the ground and started to stomp on something. The Demo took his boot, and shoved it three times next to the barn before smothering whatever it was under his foot. The Medic ushered him forward and the Demo ran after him, being slower by nature.

Spy stood there, waiting for his cloak to regenerate. But really, his heart was pounding and his legs felt not under his control. He stayed there and just waited until an unlucky Engineer came over for metal away from his nest (if he even had one). The swiftness his legs suddenly gave him to make his way behind the lonely Engineer to stab and gained back his advantage knocked his senses back into place. 

His job! His team! He had something better to do then think of the obscene amount of hair he just saw.

[rebekahrosecresslia]

Meet my Hollow Knight OC, Cinderella and her friends and her younger sister Emily

Cinderella is one of the few bugs that are hybrids, her mother was a human and her father is Grimm the Nightmare King however her mother died when she was little by sacrificing herself to the nightmare heart in Grimm’s place and also some how give birth to her younger sister Emily who is mostly human with magical powers who was from the dimension of the starlight stars and galaxies.

Cinderella figured out the truth that Emily was is mother incarnated like a Grimmchild however Emily is also aware of this, she was able to read anyone’s hearts and thoughts without saying a word.

Years went by until the two along with their father Grimm and his troupe came to Hollowhest to learn of Ghost’s disappearance and Cinderella then encountered encountered two bugs who were not very trusting towards her and she honestly insisted she was not there to fight or hurt them. Few days later Cinderella and her family became close friends with the two bugs she had in countered called Phantom and Reve. Cinderella also helped Reve how to control his powers and how to fight to defend himself however he let his guard down and ended up getting hit by accident enrage and lost all senses Phantom attacked Cinderella unprovoked and Reve was worried she was gonna get killed or badly hurt by luckily Cinderella was able to dodge and defend herself until she worn Phantom down enough so Reve could call out to him and tell him to stop. Cinderella had proved she was more than just a very talented circus performer but she was also a very strong warrior.

And sometime during the week however she and her new friends Pyro and Phantom had encountered new buy hybrids who also take on human forms like Emily.

The Pale Princess Josobelle, a traveling daughter of the Pale King from and alternate universe where the Pure Vessel is her younger brother and she had defeated the Radiance by pacifist means and treated her like the aunt she never had which took a little while for the Pale King, her father to get use too. She’s mostly traveling and looking for clues and Hollownest how the Hollow Knight her younger brother came into existence but not by normal means because she could easily sense he was made out of the void.

The last bug hybrid they encountered in Hollownest was easily sensed by Cinderella because she can read auras and sense powers she’s familiar with from very far distances even though she is mostly in the Starlight Tent where she lives up on the hills near Dirtmount.

And the last bug hybrid she sensed and encountered was....

Princess Solrange Radia the daughter of Raidence and her father was also a human with magical powers within the Light and Creative Dimension. During Cinderella’s first encountered Princess Solrange was in the the Queen’s Garden tending to the Delicate flowers that were dead or when they were about to sprout out their seeds by cutting the tops off the stem so it would furtlize the soil and dirt in the garden and she was scared of Phantom at first but Cinderella managed to have a normal conversation with her. Princess Solrange Radia would be attending to the Queen’s Garden from time to time, she my be shy and timid but she is very strong and knows how to fight to defend herself.

Sometime later on Reve found Cinderella crying by herself in the mines of Hollownest, her father Starlight Grimm who also known as the Nightmare King Grimm but different, asked Reve to go find her since she hasn’t returned since she left after breakfast. It turns out Cinderella had visions of Phantom getting attacked from behind and getting his arms ripped off by an infected beast named Velius and before she even knew it her vision turned out horrific vision turned out to be true when it was too late but that is only when she wouldn’t see Phantom for quite sometime.

{Fun fact, most of this was on a long rp I’ve been doing with @saphir-chan22 on discord.~}

Cinderella has the ability to enter other’s dreams if they invite her but she can also enter nightmares, and she can even feed on nightmares in the waking world without hurting anyone, she is a duel sword/nail wielder in combat, has lighting speed and also has incredible reflexes. She can also sing like her mother who has a voice like an angel, Cinderella is also good with kids and is very overprotective over them. Her mask covers the human skin part of her face and under it it looks like that part of her face was smooth over with clay so basically Cinderella only has one eye. Cinderella’s cloak is actually her wings and their natural appearance are butterfly wings.

Emily doesn’t know how to fight yet but she does have Telepathic and Telekinesis.

Josobelle’s weapon is a special type of battle axe with a scythe like blade at the other end and it was created by the help of her father and Raidiance. She even super jump real high unlike some bugs and she is very knowledgeable and thinks like a detective sometimes.

Solrange has the ability to enter dreams and helps cheer up the sadness, she can use summon magic and healing magic but she can’t restore broken or torn limbs (yet) because the spell for that is too high and wastes too much of her energy, but she can heal the wounded easily without any problems. And she is very helpful and kind to the folks out there who need compassion.

And in the future, Cinderella will make her own decision which will make her into a god bug like her father but at the same time stopping the dying and reincarnation cycle. And Cinderella will be a full flesh bug god, which you see in the next picture.

Well that’s all you need to know about my Hollow Knight Ocs.

And shout out to my sister @saphir-chan22 and her friend and fan @fxllencxaos for their characters.

And credits to Dolldivine.com and the base makers on Deviantart.

See you guys next time.~

[sailorgreywolf-legacy]

Legacy - Chapter 58

Mexico paused while he remembered the triumph of the moment, and how he had let himself, for that brief shining moment, think that it could really be that simple.

He heard America speak behind him, “I thought you would be happier when this point came. You got rid of Spain.”

Mexico couldn’t restrain the scoff that escaped his lips at the naiveté of the statement. He replied, “It doesn’t work that way and you know it perfectly well. England didn’t let you go easily. There was no way Antonio would let a treaty stop him. I was naive to think it would.”

He thought back on the feeling of that final battle and there was a hollow awareness that it would not be the end. Spain did not stop, though he had been defeated.

But, there had been such hope as he rode into the city. It was one of the purest moments in his life. He had triumph, albeit short lived triumph. But, he knew he had been young and still hopeful.

Mexico tried to put himself back in that moment, and the unadulterated joy he felt. He took a deep breath and put himself back in the place he was on one of the happiest mornings of his existence.

The sky was golden, lit by the brightest sun imaginable. The hills looked lusher than they ever had before, green and full of life. Mexico felt like the morning was completely new and it belonged to him. The whole of existence felt like it was his to take, for the first time in his life. If he could defeat Spain in battle, then he could do anything.

There was nothing left now but to have Spain sign the treaty. Once that was done, Mexico could banish Spain from his shores and never again fear the look of lust in his eyes.

Mexico knew that it would come with the last of the rage that Spain would direct at him, but there was nothing Spain could do now to hurt him. He was free.

He pulled on his coat and started to do up the buttons. Every button was shining from a quick polish. All of the gold needed to look opulent.

He had spent time the night before making sure that his uniform was in order. It would not do now to look like he had been at war for a decade. He had to look every inch the spirit of the country when he rode in; he could not show any of the years of struggle in his face or his clothing. It would be best to ride into the city like a demigod, as beautiful, glorious, and powerful as ever.

Once he was done with the polished buttons, Mexico reached for his medallion, which was lying on the bed next to his other pieces of regalia. Though he usually wore it under his shirt, he wanted it to be visible now. He wanted people to see it and remember who he was, who was finally riding in triumph into the city that had been his mother’s capital. After so many years pretending to be a good colony, Mexico could finally wear it openly.

He put the medallion around his neck, and then turned to the rest of his regalia. He fastened epaulets to his shoulders and admired the golden glint of them. Mexico wanted to look as handsome as possible.

He ran his hand through his hair and swept it into a low ponytail that curled at his shoulder. It looked best this way, only barely contained.

He was still wearing his swords, but it was more for the appearance of might. He was only armed to show that his was a warrior now, forged in the heat of war.

Only once he was done, did Mexico step out of the room. Outside was a rush of activity as the last of the camp was packed away. His own things had been mostly dealt with, though there was not much to worry about.

He caught a familiar face in the crowd and walked towards it. Philippines seemed to be busying herself with the last of the bustling about.

Mexico walked up behind her and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She turned at once to face him and a smile spread across her face. Mexico said, “Are you excited?”

He thought, briefly, of the day they met, and how he had promised her then that they would both be free. It had seemed so distant then, like a promise of a far off dream. Though he had always been sincere.

But now they stood on the threshold of freedom. Nothing was left to do but claim the triumph. She smiled up at him and replied, "Of course I am. We are finally going home, and this time we will be free." Mexico nodded in agreement and said, "Yes, we will. I promised you, didn't I?" She nodded and said, her voice sincere, "I never doubted you. I knew that you would be able to win this for us one day.”

Mexico smiled. He was glad that it was over, and that there was at least one promise he had been able to keep. The thought came, only briefly, that Texas should also be happy about this turn of events. He would be able to have the freedom to pursue whatever he wanted without the threat of Spain. Despite his own betrayal, Texas would still have the benefits that Mexico had fought for.

Mexico had no idea what Texas thought, since he had not spoken to his brother at any length since the last fight. He rather suspected that his brother was avoiding him for fear of another confrontation. Perhaps, though, he should have spoken to his brother on his own initiative.

But he pushed the thought away. It did not matter when he was facing Philippines, who had done everything to support him along the way. He said, "Are you packed? We should start marching soon." She nodded again, and said, "I also took care of most of your things."

He inclined his head slightly in thanks, though he knew that she didn't really want any from him. She did it out of love.

A quick glance around revealed that the movement around him was as fervent as ever, which meant that he would be needed somewhere. He turned back to the young woman in front of him and said, "I need to find my general."

He could have sworn that he saw a slight scowl pass over her lips. For a moment, he was puzzled by it,  until the memory came back that she had disapproved of their closeness from the time that he had met Guerrero.

She said, clearly trying to hide her own feelings, "You need to be careful. I know you care for him." Mexico scoffed, though it sounded empty to his own ears, "He is my commander and  my friend. It's natural for us to spend time together."

She bit her lower lip, and seemed to be measuring her words carefully, "I know it is more than that, and so do you. I just want to make sure you aren't hurt." Mexico shook it off lightly, and he intentionally ignored the topic as he said, "Meet me at my house. I am very much looking forward to being able to return."

She looked like she wanted to say more. But, he was in no mood to depress his current good mood with thinking about however she imagined Guerrero would hurt him. If there was one person who Mexico had complete faith in, it was his general.

He turned into the crowd of moving people again and walked in the direction that he hoped he would find Guerrero, and probably Iturbide as well.

It did not take him long, as his generals were standing together at what would become the front of the column. Guerrero was the first to catch sight of Mexico and the smile on his face was so bright that it made Mexico's heart beat a little faster.

The mortal had been in a good mood since Mexico had returned from his fight with Spain. When Mexico had recounted the duel, detail by detail, Guerrero had smiled and hugged him at the joy of the moment. There was nothing sweeter than being able to beat Spain easily on the battlefield, but the night after, when he had been able to recount his victory to his commander, had been almost as sweet. It was the victory he had told Guerrero they would be able to achieve.

Mexico walked up to the mortal, and did not yet speak. He knew that every commander in the combined army was around, but he would not put any of them above Guerrero. None of them had been by his side through the war the way he had.

The mortal spoke first, "There you are. I want you to ride next to me. We deserve to have this moment together." Mexico responded quickly, "That is exactly what I want. I want to be seen. I want the people to know that I am coming home."

Iturbide must have heard his voice over all the noise. He turned and smiled at them both. He had returned as soon as he had heard the outcome of the battle, with an agreement with the viceroy in hand. He claimed that he had already drafted a peace treaty to end the war, but Mexico wanted the chance to look it over before it was presented to Spain.

Iturbide took several confident steps towards Mexico and said clearly, "You look magnificent. I'm glad." Guerrero repressed his dislike subtly, but Mexico could still see it. He said, "He will inspire confidence, and that is exactly what we want."

It was a marvel how they could be agreeing and yet still sound like they were arguing. But even their bickering could not dampen Mexico's spirit on this day, and he was certain that even with their arguing, he had his victory. He responded, diplomatically enough to agree with both of them, "I intend to. I expect the two of you to ride side by side to show our unity and the strength of our ideals above all else."

He knew that they disliked giving any sort of power over to each other, but he expected that much for a public gesture like this. Iturbide nodded and said, "For you, we can show unity."

Mexico looked at Guerrero, who nodded shortly and flashed him another smile. This one felt like it was even meant to be conspiratorial, meant for Mexico's eyes alone.

With that promise at least agreed to by both of them, Mexico said, "Then, I am very satisfied." The golden sun was warm on Mexico's face as he mounted his horse. It was a beautiful day and it was about to become the most beautiful one of his existence.

He glanced to his sides to see Guerrero on one side and Iturbide to the other. As he glanced backwards, he caught sight of the other commanders and he felt his heart swell. This would be such a strong show of unity, and it would make it clear to Spain that the independence would be permanent and strong. Mexico was certain that Spain would not accept this blow easily, but he would have no choice now that he had been defeated.

Mexico took a deep breath, allowing the feeling of contentment and warmth to spread through his chest. He turned to Iturbide, and the mortal nodded. That was the sign he needed to start the procession into the capital.

Mexico spurred his horse forward. He kept his pace slow, though he had the urge deep in his heart to charge forward. He was moving forward to embrace his destiny, and he longed to dive headfirst into this new freedom. In his heart, he was already at a full gallop.

The entrance to the city appeared on the horizon, framed by green hills. Mexico felt like he had never appreciated the sheer beauty of the city that was his heart. In this moment, it was the promise he had fought for during the last decade. The gates were thrown open in welcome, and that was enough for Mexico to believe that his people had longer for this moment as much as he had.

There was a cheer in the air as they approached. The closer he got, the more distinctly Mexico could hear voices on the wind, raised in obvious jubilation. He could feel himself smiling more widely than he remembered doing in years. He felt light, buoyed by the love of his people. It took every piece of self control to not ride as fast as he could.

The sound that had only been distant before grew into a roar as they passed under the gate. Mexico could feel his heart beating against his ribs. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Guerrero spending up his pace slightly to ride beside him.

It broke the carefully crafted image of the solidarity between the commanders, but Mexico could not bring himself to care. It was better, as he was close to the gate into the city, to be right next to the man who had made it possible for him. Guerrero looked over at him and gave him another reassuring smile and said, "I want to be by your side. Now more than ever."

Mexico understood it entirely. Years ago, though it seemed like an eternity now, Guerrero had promised to do everything in his power to finish what Morelos had started. In that moment, it had only been the two of them alone, with two glasses of wine. Now, it seemed right to be together again, the two of them against all the odds.

He heard a disapproving huff and the sound of hoof beats speeding up behind him. Iturbide came level to Mexico on his other side and shot an angry glare at Guerrero. He said, quietly enough so that only Mexico and Guerrero could hear it, “We had a plan.” Guerrero shrugged, almost imperceptibly, and said, “This is still unity. No one will notice anything.”

In other circumstances, Mexico might have told them off for arguing, but he was in no mood. Instead, he closed his eyes and tilted his face towards the sun. He felt its warmth for what felt like the first time in a  long time. He felt it in his heart as he heard the roar of the crowd grew.

He urged his horse forward ever so slightly. When he opened his eyes again, he was on the streets of the capital with buildings rising all around him. There were people on the street and in every balcony. Mexico felt a swelling in his heart at the sound of so many voices shouting his name.

This was everything he had fought for, everything he had hoped for. There were flags flying, his flag, and he could only guess where people had gotten them. He could hear people shouting to him, or to the two men at his side. It was gratifying to hear it finally yelled instead of whispered like a conspiracy.

It was triumph that he could be himself in this moment. He was no longer the colony. Now, he was the son of two empires riding into his own capital with the love and support of his people.

The crowd of people only got bigger as they rode towards the center of the city. When they eventually reached the square in the very heart of the city, the procession began to slow. Their goal for now was the viceroyal palace.

The viceroy himself was standing outside of the entrance. This had been what Iturbide had negotiated. It was a show of surrender that would make it perfectly clear who was in charge of the city, and the country by extension.

Once they were close, Iturbide took the lead before pulling his horse to a  halt. Mexico followed closely and stopped his horse and watched as Iturbide dismounted and walked up to the viceroy.

The sound of the people quieted in the moment to a somber hush, waiting for any last hint of resistance in the loyalist cause. But, there was no fight left.

The viceroy took the sword from the scabbard at his hip and presented it to Iturbide. The general took the sword firmly in hand, and placed it in the empty scabbard on his own belt. This had all been negotiated beforehand so that there would be no mistakes in this ceremony of submission.

Mexico was impatient, even as he watched. He leaned forward in the saddle, but he did not move yet. He knew he had to be patient through this pomp. But he already wanted it to be over and final.

Next, the mayor of the city offered Iturbide the keys to the city, representing the insurgent army’s mastery of the city. He handed them to Iturbide, who took them with a seemingly gracious inclining of his head.

Mexico knew that it was almost over, but he could not wait until it was over and he could say that the city that was his heart belonged to him again.

Once he had both the keys and the sword, representing the surrender of both the army and the city itself, Iturbide turned to the assembled crowd and said, his voice carrying over the careful silent, “The war is over and we have won!”

There was an immediate enthusiastic roar in response. Mexico smiled to himself. He had waited so long to hear that, and now it felt surreal to know that he was in the middle of his own capital, hearing the declaration that he had defeated the man who had controlled him for three centuries.

He felt his heart beat quicken even faster. He felt incredible clarity as he looked at Iturbide and felt, in this moment, like everything was right.

Only once all the ceremony was concluded, and the viceroy had stepped aside and let Iturbide take the full glory, Mexico turned his horse towards his own home. It felt like it had been a lifetime since he had last been here.

Then he was an inexperienced boy who had left home with certainty that he would be free. That was a world away. He felt like he had changed more in the last decade then he had in the last century.

It would be strange, he thought, to be back in his old room surrounded by the trappings of his colonial past. Over the noise of the crowded square clearing slowly, Mexico barely heard the sound of hooves behind him.

But, he felt Guerrero’s presence at his elbow before he even turned. He was never surprised to find the man just a few paces behind him, even now. He turned his head and said, “You aren’t staying?”

He thought that Guerrero would want to stay longer, if only for the sake of appearance. But, the look the man flashed Mexico made it perfectly clear that he would rather escape the theater of it all. He said, coyly, “I would much rather be with you than Iturbide.”

He rode faster to be level with Mexico and then added, “I imagine he is enjoying the attention.” Mexico laughed shortly to himself before smiling and turning to Guerrero. He knew that Iturbide would be happy to take all of the triumph to himself, but it may complicate some of the public support. But, Mexico had heard Guerrero’s name shouted by the crowd enough that he did not doubt that the people loved the man.

Instead, Mexico said, “Then you will get to see where I used to live.” As he spoke, Mexico remembered that Guerrero lived in the south and would likely be staying at whatever quarters the officers arranged, while Mexico had a palace to return to.

The thought of being parted after spending so many years only a few doors away from Guerrero sent a lonely pang through his chest. It was a strange emptiness at losing a close comfort. Mexico said, not thinking completely about what he was saying, “You could stay with me if you would like.” Guerrero responded immediately, likely not considering his response carefully, “I would like that.”

The look in his eye made Mexico think that he would miss the close contact as well. Mexico did not mind. He did not want to be parted from his dearest general, even if it would only be for a few nights.

He finally arrived at the gate to the palace that had been his home when he was a colony, and now seemed silent.

He heard a sharp intake of breath next to him, like Guerrero was surprised at the size of it. Mexico knew that if the exterior was shocking, then the wealth Spain had lavished on him and displayed for his own grandeur would be more so.

Mexico was struck by the feeling of uncertainty at the idea of how Guerrero might react when he saw the opulence that lay behind the walls of the palace. He hoped that the man would see that it was nothing more than a lavish harness for an unruly prized stallion.

Mexico said, hoping to make himself clear, “Antonio never spared any expense, but it was all to for his own status. I was never free to leave or voice my opinions.” He hoped it would be enough to explain that the opulence had been little more than a facade. Guerrero turned his face to him and said, “I don’t blame you. I know you weren’t free to do as you pleased.”

Mexico nodded and then dismounted. Philippines was already standing next to the gate, with a look of frustration that Mexico could only guess was the product of Guerrero’s presence.

There was also a guard standing at the gate, casting looks at Philippines like he was uncertain whether he was allowed to talk to her. When the mortal caught Mexico’s eyes, he sunk to one knee and held out a set of keys. Mexico said, “What is this?”

He suspected the purpose, but he wanted to hear the answer from the soldier’s mouth. The man said, not turning his eyes up to look Mexico in the face, “Spain says that this is yours now.”

Mexico smiled to himself, so glad to hear those words spoken aloud. He reached out and took the keys without giving the man a response. He walked to the gate and felt himself holding his breath, like this moment might end and return him to reality at any moment. But, as he unlocked the gates, nobody stopped him from stepping through and claiming his own.

Mexico continued to walk, feeling a little bit of heady triumph with each step. He reached the door and unlocked it. It felt like such a incredible victory to know that Spain would not be waiting for him behind him, there would be no control now.

Philippines walked to his side and said, “Welcome home.” Then she gave him a short hug. He had not anticipated how it would feel to stand in this place and to know that he was free. He replied, not knowing how to put all of his feelings into words, “Thank you.”

He felt a laugh rise in his throat from pure joy. Mexico couldn’t think of a time he had felt like this before. He watched the girl he loved as a sister walk away, knowing that he had won his freedom and been able to keep her safe.

Mexico turned again in the direction of his room. He remembered where he had last been here, that was where Spain had taken up residence to command during the war effort. He was struck by the idea that, vindictive and grieving, Spain may have done something to the room, or left some kind of unpleasant surprise.

Mexico knew that Guerrero would be able to find the way himself, and he would rather that he had the chance to see what Spain had left before his general arrived. It would only invite Guerrero’s anger and ire, and that would be counter-productive to the peace process.

Mexico walked swiftly, trying not to feel rising dread at the idea that Spain could have made one more jab at him. He pushed open the door and breathed a slow sigh of relief.

The room looked like it had been stripped of most of the decoration. There were empty spots on the wall where he remembered paintings hanging, including a portrait of him and Spain. That had always been one of Spain’s favorite paintings, and Mexico knew that he shouldn’t be surprised that he had taken it with him.

It was so strange to think that Spain had left with likely more than one wagon of goods. But, taking the things he had given as gifts was the least Mexico had expected. If those things had been given out of some sense of love, then it made sense that he would have taken them back. But, it was the least that he could have done, and Mexico could easily forgive it.

It was better this way, so he didn't have to explain the portraits, which had been posed to please Spain.

Mexico turned and spotted one thing that had not been immediately obvious when he walked into the room. There was a folded letter on one of the table, and Mexico could see Spain’s wax seal, even from this distance.

Mexico knew he was being naive not to expect one last message to him, but the sight of it still made his blood run cold. His fingers felt numb as he took it in his hand and broke the seal.

He would have liked to leave it where it lay, but that was impossible. Ignoring Spain’s words would not make them disappear.

He opened the letter in the hopes that it would not be too vile. It was far shorter than anything the man had written him before. It read simply, “This is not goodbye, my dear. Enjoy it while you can.”

The threat was implied, but clear enough. Mexico crumpled the parchment in his hand. It didn't matter what Spain said now. He had won and this was the end of it. He threw it down and then turned to walk out.

Scenarios where Spain would be able to make good on his threat played in the back of his mind, but he kept them firmly there. He would let himself be happy for this victory.

He found Guerrero standing in the front hall, looking up at the painted ceiling. Mexico found his way to his side again. The mortal turned to him, and said, immediately recognizing the look on his face, “Are you alright?” Mexico shook his head but said, dismissively, “It is nothing important.”

The arch of the man’s eyebrow told Mexico that he did not believe him. The mortal said, forceful but not demanding, “Tell me what it is.” Mexico knew that he could have refused to tell him, but there was no point in keeping it secret.

He said, shortly, “Antonio left me a threat.” There was a brief spark of rage behind the other’s eyes. There was something thrilling about seeing the warrior in him, still ready and willing to defend Mexico. But, he was able to compose himself well enough to only say, “It doesn’t matter now.”

Mexico took one of the mortal’s hands in his own, and tried to rub his hand soothingly. He said, trying to be as calm as possible, “Vicente, come with me. I’ll show you the house.”

They were sitting at dinner, at a table still set as Spain usually commanded, with more food in front of them than was necessary. Mexico looked across several steaming dishes at Guerrero. The mortal looked a bit surprised by everything; this was not how dinners had been on the war trail. It was a very tactile show of the plenty that was possible with peace.

Mexico said, chuckling slightly as he did, “It seems that Tony had plenty to himself.” The other’s look was close to disgust, but he said, “If he had focused more on the war, then perhaps he could have won.”

It was meant to be a jest, but Mexico could tell that the bitterness at Spain’s opulence in his voice. So, he built on the lighthearted attempt, “Soon we will sign the treaty that makes it official.”

Mexico liked to remind himself of that fact as often as he could. Every time he repeated it, it felt like victory again. But it didn’t seem to bring a smile to Guerrero’s face.

Instead, the man leaned forward, ignoring the dinner in front of them. The look on his face was careful as he said, “Ale, I wanted to talk to you about that. I have spoken to Agustin.”

That was a surprise, but Mexico was not entirely surprised that they had spoken about the peace. It was better that they agree between themselves. But, his tone made Mexico cautious. It sounded like there was something else Guerrero wanted to say to him. He replied, “What did you two talk about?”

He saw the mortal take a deep breath, as though he was readying himself for what he was going to say. Mexico waited with a sense of apprehension. Guerrero finally said, “We agreed that your freedom comes first. If Spain makes demands, we might have to meet them. But we will never do anything to compromise your freedom.”

His tone was not one Mexico expected, but the words were what really struck him as odd. He had not thought of the idea that he would have to compromise with Spain once he had won.

He was the victor and that meant he should dictate terms. Mexico voiced this thought, though he suspected that he would sound naive, “But, we won. Why should he get to demand anything?”

He saw his companion take another deep breath, like he didn’t want to continue. Mexico was beginning to get the sense that the generals had spoken and agreed that Guerrero was the best person to tell him this. The thought made him feel like an insolent child who was being managed. He clenched his hand under the table at the thought.

The mortal said, in a calm that sounded forced, “He still has a sizable army and navy. We may have won, but you know we cannot face more war. We cannot give him reason to renege on this peace treaty.”

Mexico weighed this before he responded. He found himself staring at the flame of one of the candles on the table as he attempted to give this objective thought. It was true that Spain could still command impressive numbers, and bring a large army from either Madrid or Barcelona.

And Mexico could feel how exhausted his people were; he felt it in his own body. He would give anything to be able to lay down and rest, and know that he had the peace to do it.

But, the idea of letting Spain dictate peace terms was so odious. It was giving the man one last bit of control in his life, even after this defeat. He chewed absentmindedly on the inside of his lower lip at the thought.

What could Spain really ask of him that he could change anything now? He could not demand that Mexico give back his independence.

Mexico spoke slowly, trying to be reasonable, “I understand that. And I can agree to compromise for the sake of maintaining peace.” He was tempted to add the caveat that he would never allow Spain to say or do anything to degrade him. But Guerrero said, cutting off the thought, “That is all anyone is asking of you.”

Then he smiled with genuine amusement and said, “You can say what you feel to him. I am not going to stop you. I’m sure you have plenty to say.”

Mexico took the glass of wine from in front of him with a small smile. He could certainly think of a few things he wanted to say to Spain now that he could. He said, “I do. But, I will try to keep it diplomatic.” He put the stress on the last word to make it perfectly clear that it was diplomacy only for the sake of appearance.

Guerrero nodded, and said, “You know I won’t leave your side and I will always put you first.” Mexico had the sudden urge to reach across the table and make some contact with the other, but the food between them prevented it.

Instead, he took a drink of wine and tried to turn the conversation back to the food on the table that was slowly getting colder. He said, “Enjoy what we have now. Freedom means we have plenty.”

To illustrate his point, he began to serve himself from the dishes in front of him.

But, to his continued confusion, Guerrero stood and walked around the table. He stood next to Mexico and said, “I got you a gift now that the war is over.”

Mexico felt a heat rise in his cheeks at the thought. Though, he wondered if this was because of the gifts Iturbide had been giving him. But, he would not voice that thought, since he knew it would discourage Guerrero. It was far better to allow this tender display without any comment.

Instead, he stood so that they were looking at each other on the same level. The mortal took one of Mexico’s hands with his left hand, while pulling something from his pocket. He then pressed something metal into Mexico’s open palm.

Puzzled, the country looked down at his hand and saw the unmistakable silhouette of a locket. The chain was fine, almost soft, in his hand. Mexico turned it between his fingers and opened it so he could see the portrait inside of it.

He had expected it to be of Guerrero, but he was still surprised at the smile that curled across his face as he looked at the beautifully painted miniature of the man standing before him. Guerrero spoke as Mexico examined the locket, “I know it isn’t as much as someone else might be able to give you. But I hope the memory is enough. A hundred years from now, you can look at this and remember me and this moment.”

Mexico felt an unbidden rush of emotions, and an increadible tenderness. He replied, on impulse, “I will always remember you. You freed me.”

The moment was broken by the sound of a door opening. Mexico turned to see Philippines standing at the door staring at him. He realized how this must look to her, and swiftly tucked the locket into his pocket and stepped backwards.

Then, Mexico turned towards her and said with what he imagined to be an inviting smile, “Piri, come have dinner with us.”

But, she didn’t move from where she was standing at the door. She shook her head briefly and said, “I will have to decline.”

Then she turned and walked away. Mexico knew immediately that she had wanted to talk to him. There was no reason that she would come to find him if her intention was to immediately leave. He turned to Guerrero only long enough to say, “I should talk to her.”

He then followed her as quickly as he could without seeming to run after her. It didn't take long for him to catch up to her and to say, “Is there something you want to say to me?”

She turned to him as she stopped walking and her face made it clear that she was not happy with him. But, she said, “It is nothing important.”

Mexico could hear a strain in her voice that left him with little doubt that she was lying to him. He said, firmly, “It is important to you, so tell me.”

He put one hand on her shoulder, hoping to communicate some comfort to her. She sighed, and gave up the pretense. She said, “I don’t like seeing you with him.”

Mexico could hardly be surprised. She had said as much earlier. But it perplexed him that she had always shown so much disdain for Guerrero. It seemed to him that it should be easy to support an incredible general and a loyal soldier, even if she did not personally like him.

Mexico sighed and said, “Why do you dislike him so much.” She exhaled sharply and responded sharply, “I don’t! He’s a good man and I understand why you love him. But that is what scares me. You love him too much.”

Mexico shook his head, as if he could deny the deep affection he felt for his general. But, he could not believe that this was a bad thing. He said swiftly, “How can I love someone too much?”

She looked up at him with something that almost looked like pity. She spoke softly, “I just don’t want you to be hurt when he’s gone.” She took his hands in hers and said, meeting his eyes, “You’ve won so much, and I don’t want you to be hurt now, after all of this.”

Mexico felt all of his aggravation at her melt away. He couldn’t be mad at her for being cautious on his behalf, not when it was a combination of love and her own fiery temper.

The feeling was followed by a pang of regret that he had been so distant from her for what felt like years. It had been his mistake to focus so much on his war and the little conflicts between his commanders.

But, the war was over and everything could be different now. Mexico knew that he would have the time to speak to her, and to council these anxieties.

He tighten his hold on her hands and pulled her forward with soft tenderness. He saw all the anger go out of her eyes, and she let him pull her into a hug. Mexico kissed her softly on the forehead and then said, “Everything will be better now. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She smiled at him sincerely and he could see small tears forming in her eyes. She replied, “You can’t tell me what to do. You know you can’t.”

He squeezed her closer, trying to comfort in a way that he was slowly realizing he had failed to do before. He then repeated, “You can come have dinner with us. Vicente won’t mind.”

She shook her head, but this time it was with a smile. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and replied, “No. Have your night with him. We will have plenty of time.”

Mexico nodded, satisfied now that he could let her leave without feeling like so much was unsaid. He let her leave her arms in full certainty that there would be so much more time for them to talk.

Mexico found himself once again trying again to make himself look as impressive as possible. His uniform was in careful order, but this time there was no sword at his hip. He was dressing so that Spain could see him and know that he was a country in his own right now.

It had been agreed that this was the day they would meet to finalize the treaty. As Mexico looked at himself in the polished glass of the mirror, he felt the profound desire that he was out of place.

This room held so many memories of carefully composing himself for Spain’s gaze. Now was different. He wanted to show he was strong on his own, and that he could demand his autonomy. The medallion was laying on his chest, clearly in view.

Spain would have to see it and fully come to terms with the fact that he was his mother’s son. Everything he had done to erase every trace of Aztec had been in vain.

Mexico looked at himself in the mirror and tried, for a moment, to see her face in his own. Their eyes were the same, but he saw little else that reminded him of her.

He let out a low breath. Spain would see him and know this was the end of any relationship between them. That should feel like a victory, but the euphoria of the last few days seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a gnawing anxiety at the idea of facing Spain yet again.

He kept running the sparse words of the letter Spain had left him in the back of his mind. It was perfectly likely that they were empty threats. But Mexico knew he should not underestimate the man.

He thought, letting his mind wander yet again, that it was impossible to guess what Spain might do in jealous, scorned rage. In Mexico’s mind, Spain was a wounded animal desperate enough to do anything.

Mexico shook his head to banish the needless fears. He tried to concentrate his thoughts back on himself. He looked handsome, and almost imperial, even if it felt like a tableau at the moment.

It felt as though anyone could see through the part he was prepared to play to all the fear and the anger that could rise at a moment’s notice. But, what mattered was that Spain saw that he was not a little boy anymore and he could not be bullied.

He straightened one of his epaulets nervously. He hoped that it looked intimidating at least.

He hated the fact that he had to leave his swords where they were sitting on the table next to his pistols. But, it was bad faith to bring weapons to a negotiation. The thought itself rung hollow and ironic in his mind. When had Spain ever dealt in good faith?

But, Mexico knew he had to face this one last trial before he could have the liberation that he craved to the core of his being. He took one more deep breath to steady himself before he turned away from the mirror.

The room chosen for the signing was once used for colonial government and it gave sufficient room for the document to be signed and settled. But, the specifics had not yet been entirely decided.

For that reason, Mexico had agreed to meet Spain with his generals present to negotiate. But, as he walked through the door, he could not shake the thought that he would much rather have this be final. Then, there would be no reason to exchange word with Spain.

Instead, he looked across the room to where Spain was standing. The man looked far less composed than he usually did. His brown hair was ruffled as though he had attempted to put it in order, but only halfheartedly.

Mexico could see that there were dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps he had not slept since he had to realize that he had lost. Mexico could also see red in his eyes, like he had been crying. And the thought of Spain crying over him made Mexico feel a strange pity.

As soon as the feeling occurred, he wanted to rid himself of it. Pity was the last thing he should feel, but it was there all the same. He had never seen Spain looking so ragged.

When he met Spain’s eyes, he found them as hard and determined as he had ever seen them. There was something even deeper and sharper in those green depths. It looked like every restraint within him had broken, and he had a hungry desperation.

Without even a word, Mexico felt a terrible sense of foreboding. The man in front of him was one that would make good on every threat that left his lips. Mexico could feel Spain’s eyes burning into him with pure possessive rage and it made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He took a deep breath and walked up to the table. He could feel Guerrero and Iturbide behind him, so familiar now. Mexico wondered if they could feel the raw hostility coming from Spain’s eyes. But he didn’t dare turn to them. He trusted that if Spain attempted to physically harm him, he would be protected.

Mexico fixed his eyes on his old colonizer and said, “Antonio, let’s finalize this.” In response, Spain let out a short laugh, “Oh, I have read your terms. It is very naive of you to assume that any prince of mine will want to be king here.”

Mexico felt like he was being mocked, but he refused to feel ashamed about his demands. He was being fair, demanding little more than autonomy. As he had said to Iturbide, he did not believe that a Spanish prince would take the offer of a crown. But, he would not show that certainty to Spain.

Instead, he said, “If one of your royal family prefers me to you, then I can’t blame them. Don’t underestimate ambition.” Spain fixed him with a truly terrifying, almost manic gaze, and said, “You are an impudent, fickle boy. Anyone who takes your throne for ambition will be thrown off of it just as quickly.”

He stole a glance at Iturbide, like he suspected the ambition that moved the man. Then he added, with a cruel smirk, “They will be lucky to live after they make that mistake.”

Mexico wanted to bite back, but the statement sent a cold bolt down his spine. It made no sense that Spain’s comment should make him feel a sense of such terrible foreboding.

Mexico took a moment before he recomposed himself and then he fixed his gaze just as firmly on Spain. He hoped his lapse had not shown. He replied, “After this moment, that will not be any of your business.”

Spain recoiled momentarily and then regained his own confidence. He waved his hand dismissively, “I have no objection to you terms. But I know you are a fool for thinking this will succeed.”

Mexico completely ignored the second sentence and moved forward with the first admission. He heard some of his frustration in his voice as he said, “If you have no objections, then sign the treaty.”

Spain put up one hand like he was silencing a willful child. The gesture made Mexico’s blood boil, but he clenched his hands into fists so that he wouldn’t speak in anger. Spain said, “Patience, Alejandro. I am not finished. I have one demand of my own.”

If Mexico did not have caution, he would have said that three hundred years was more than long enough to wait to prove his patience. But, instead he said, “And what is that?”

He was ready to hear something degrading, even if he could not imagine what Spain could ask that he would have to honor. The smirk that appeared on Spain’s face before he spoke was warning enough for Mexico to know that it would be painful. Spain said, “I expect to get back every gift I gave you.”

Mexico could almost sigh from relief. If that was all Spain wanted, he would gladly be parted from all of the material pieces of wealth. He had spent the last ten years without any of it, and hardly suffered for it. If anything, he had been freer without the weight of the gifts and the implicit guilt that they brought.

He said, “Fine, Tony. Take back your little trinkets.”

Spain didn’t react the way he had anticipated. Mexico expected this to be another blow. If the material signs were so meaningless, it would show Spain that the relationship had meant nothing. But Spain said, the same sadistic smile on his lips, “It’s more than trinkets. I want the Philippines back.”

The sentence hit him like a slap to the face. It had never crossed his mind that she could be considered a gift. Foregoing all control and caution, Mexico snapped back, “You can’t!”

This time, Spain was level and calm when he responded, “Actually, I can. I gave her to you because I could trust you to govern her on my behalf. Now that I can no longer trust you, I want her back.”

Mexico opened his mouth, ready to retort and deny the request. But, before he could speak, Spain added, in a tone that was impossibly smug, “Unless you want to fight me for her.”

Mexico felt a hand take his own wrist and he turned to the right to see that Guerrero had grabbed his wrist in caution. He met the man’s eyes and suddenly he understood, without a word between them, that he could not continue to argue.

The mortal shook his head slightly enough that Mexico could see it. But, he would not accept this. He had promised her that he would win her freedom.

He pulled his hand angrily out of Guerrero’s grip. He understood the politics of the moment, but he his mind was rebelling against the idea of betraying Philippines.

He turned to Iturbide, looking for some way to get support to fight back. But, Iturbide gave him a hard look that told him clearly that they were in agreement. Mexico felt a terrible sinking realization. There was no way that he could avoid caving to this demand.

Mexico finally turned back to Spain, who was watching him with undeniable enjoyment. Mexico knew him well enough to see that it was a look of vindictive pleasure. And he hated himself for reacting the way that Spain wanted him to. Despite how much he wanted to walk away, Mexico tried to return to the moment at hand. Spain was trying to provoke him in an attempt to prolong the war.

Mexico said, speaking between gritted teeth, “Very well.”

Spain took the pen from the table and signed the treaty. The Spaniard finished signing but his pen was paused at the end of the word. It seemed like he was not capable of pulling it away, because that would finalize the independence.

Mexico could leave him in the moment, but he refused to be that kind. If Spain was going to take this moment to exact his own little revenge, then he did not deserve a moment of quiet.

He cleared his throat pointedly, and Spain’s head jerked up. The rage in those green eyes was stronger than Mexico had ever seen it. But, that would not stop Mexico from taking this last step to independence.

He took the pen that Spain had discarded and added his own signature next to Spain’s. Then he stepped back, not yet allowing himself to feel any triumph.

Mexico kept his eyes on Spain as his generals signed the treaty. He saw the anger simmering so close to the surface that he was certain it would break through at any moment.

Once the treaty was signed, Mexico took a step backwards, ready to leave the room. Spain’s last restraint broke and he said, a snarl in his voice, “You are going to fail! I will see you fall!”

He stepped forward, and Mexico took a step backwards. He would not put it past Spain to raise his hand and hit him, as he did when Mexico was a colony.

But, Spain continued to rant, “Don’t think this is over!” He pointed emphatically from Guerrero to Iturbide, “I will see you both executed for your treason.” Then he looked directly at Mexico, “And I will see you on your knees serving me again. It’s where you belong.” With one more angry huff, Spain turned hard on his heel and stormed out.

Mexico fumed all the way back to his own home. He knew he should feel such relief and happiness at the fact that he was finally free, on paper and in practice. But, his mind would not let go of the terrible betrayal he had let himself be forced into.

He walked into the front hall with Guerrero behind him. Mexico had not said a word to his general since the treaty had been signed. He knew that the moment he let himself speak, all of the rage he had repressed in front of Spain would come spilling out. He could feel a toxic mixture of guilt and anger pulsing in his chest, longing to get out.

He stopped in the middle of the front hall, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He closed his eyes and could feel his pulse pounding in his head.

The sound of Guerrero’s footsteps on the floor behind was deeply irritating. Mexico hadn’t let himself think about how deeply angry it made him that the man had used the affection between them to guarantee that he would listen and back down in the moment. That little shake of his head was playing on repeat in the Mexico’s mind and it felt like such a betrayal.

He thoroughly wished that he could be alone to order his thoughts and let the anger subside. But, that was not possible.

Guerrero said, “Ale, are you alright?” His tone was gentle, but the presumption was insufferable. Mexico opened his eyes and rounded on the man, “How could you make me do that?”

The mortal stopped in his tracks. But, he did not look surprised. He spoke, trying to placate Mexico, “I told you that there might be compromises.”

Mexico countered, louder than he intended, “She is not a compromise! She is a girl and Antonio is going to hurt her because he can’t get to me!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how true they were. Spain couldn’t have his vengeance on way, then he would do it another. The thought of what that might entail only fed his rage. Mexico added, “I made her a promise!”

Guerrero stepped towards him with the air of a man approaching a rabid animal, and said, “Alejandro, you cannot fight another war. Whatever you promised, you have to worry about yourself.” Mexico mirrored his step forward. He could not back down, not now. He countered, “I betrayed her. How can you justify that?”

The mortal was matching his anger with firmness, much to Mexico’s surprise. Guerrero said, “I will not let you lose to Spain, not over anything or anybody. I can’t lose you.”

Mexico looked him straight in the eyes and saw a pain that defused his anger. Guerrero was saying this out of care, not malice. He could see that the mortal was holding in his own worry and concern with only the barest self control. Mexico couldn’t keep yelling.

His voice sounded so much weaker when he said, “Whatever Antonio does to her is my fault.” His voice sounded like it could break. Guerrero reached out and took him firmly by the shoulders. He said, “You have a noble heart, and I know this hurts. But you can’t sacrifice yourself for anyone.”

Mexico’s anger cooled to a deep ache. It was so wrong to return Philippines to Spain, but he knew it was necessary. But, he felt so selfish. Guerrero saw the look on his face and said, soothingly, “You don’t have to be the one to tell her. I will send a few soldiers to escort her, and she will be gone.”

Mexico shook his head. He knew that it would hurt to break his promise. But, he would not be the kind of man who would pass off the responsibility of what he did. He said, “No, I may be a liar but I will not be a coward.” Guerrero nodded in reply, and said, “If that’s what you want. I will send a few soldiers with you.”

Mexico found Philippines in one of the upstairs rooms, and Mexico vaguely remembered it as one of the rooms she had stayed in when she lived here with him. That thought did not help his state of mind.

He walked in, and she heard his footfalls. The face she turned towards him was blissfully unaware of the terrible news he was carrying. But she knew him well enough to know from his face that something was wrong. She said, walking towards him, “What happened?”

Mexico walked past her until she was between him and the door. Then he turned back to her and said, “I signed the treaty with Antonio.”

It was an honest answer, but he knew how he was lying by not coming to the point. But, it was worse to say it immediately. She smiled at him, which broke Mexico’s heart a little more. He wished that smile was warranted. She said, “I don’t understand why you have that look on your face. This is good news.” He forced himself to look down at her as he said, “I have my independence.”

Philippines said, sounding even more confused, “Then why are you scowling? We are free, just like you said we would be.”

Mexico shook his head slowly. He couldn’t keep the terrible truth from her anymore, even though he knew that she would react with anger. If she cursed him, that was what he deserved. He saw her smile fall as he shook his head. Mexico said, hoping it would be enough, “Not we, just me.”

Her eyes widened in shock. Philippines stepped backwards, away from him and shook her head like she could make what he had just said untrue. She said, “What do you mean by that?”

Mexico knew this shock would not last and would soon turn into anger. He explained, hoping to skip any hope that she had and move straight to the anger that would inevitably followed. He said, “Tony’s price for my independence was you.”

She recoiled like someone had hit her. Then she said, the words coming out hesitant and halting, “But, you refused. Didn’t you?”

Mexico shook his head again, more strongly this time. He wished he could have told her that he did, that he stood his ground. He saw the realization dawning on her face. He didn’t need to say anything; she understood.

She said, sharply, “No! I will not go back to him!”

She was facing him, so she did not see the two soldiers step into the room at the sound of her yelling. But Mexico was perfectly aware that they were standing there. He said, trying not to show any of his emotions, “It isn’t a choice.”

The soldiers were walking closer to her in the lull before her anger made her unmanageable. Mexico hoped she didn’t notice. She stepped away from him while slowly shaking her head in disbelief. Mexico found himself lost for words. He didn’t know what he could say that would make any difference to her.

One of the soldiers seized her by the shoulder. She seemed to register exactly what was happening. In one fluid motion, she drove her elbow into the man’s nose. The crack of impact echoed around the quiet room. As it made contact, the soldier released his hold.

Philippines took the momentary freedom to take several running steps to Mexico. She seized the front of his jacket in both of her hands. He looked down into her desperate eyes, and still could find nothing he could say that would matter.

She said, “You promised, Ale! Please, don’t let them take me. Please find a way!”

He felt his heart rending in his chest. Every piece of him wanted to tell her that there was some way to avoid this. Mexico met her eyes as he put his hands on hers. All he could say was, “I’m so sorry. Piri.”

His voice broke over the words and he could feel the tears forming in his eyes. He wasn’t certain if she could see the pain this caused him, or if it even mattered.

He used his hands to pull hers off of his jacket.

Both of the soldiers grabbed her from behind, and effectively pulled her away from Mexico. She yelled, “Let go of me! No! I won’t go!” But, the soldiers were able to pin her arms behind her back.

Mexico felt the ache in his chest deepening as she was pulled away from him. As she disappeared out of the door, he felt more alone than he had in a very long time.

Tears began to roll down his cheeks in earnest.

He turned away from the door, as if looking away from the crime made it less of one. He clapped one hand over his mouth as he let out a pained sob and sank to his knees.