#i need to like. blow up. looking for when my brother was an aztec to read tn

[theslitherer]

i have a parasocial relationship with my favorite women authors violet kupersmith and natalie diaz

#i need to like. blow up. looking for when my brother was an aztec to read tn #op

[chris-evanslover]

Captain Patriotic

Summary: OFC Samara is invited by her friend Carly to a patriots game where she meets Carly’s brother Chris Evans

Word Count: 2.2k

The autumn chill floated through the room as I stepped out of the en-suite bathroom wrapped in a fluffy mint green towel. My (now clean) bare feet padded across the hardwood to the beige, brown and white aztec patterned rug that sat on the floor in front of the painted white wood dresser.

What the fuck do you wear to a football game? I stood in front of the drawers with my hands on my hips contemplating giving my coworker and friend Carly an excuse as to why I couldn’t make it to the game she invited me to with her family.

Speaking of her family, I have met her younger brother, Scott and her mom, Lisa but no one else from the Evans family, even though with all the stories she’s told me about the clan, I feel like I know them already.

Shaking my head I decide this is the perfect opportunity to get to know her family, it’s in public and I can leave if things take a turn for the worse right? (which I highly doubt would happen but i’m prepared just in case). Carly invited me last week to come to the Patriots home game since her husband was away on business and in the spur of the moment I thought it would be fun, but now i’m just downright freaking out.

I pull out an off white cable knit sweater with dark wash skinny jeans and start to change. After changing I put on some light makeup and blow dried my hair before throwing on some light brown booties and a brown jacket, grabbing a banana with Nutella and a to go coffee cup, I got in my car and made my way to the stadium.

Frantically arriving 45 minutes later (thanks to Boston traffic) I park my car and shoot Carly a text that i have arrived. Yay! Waiting for you at the Main Entrance, I’m wearing a red shirt, see you in a few! she replied.

‘Main entrance, main entrance, main entrance’ is all that’s running through my mind as I walk from the parking lot to the larger than life stadium. AHA! I found the huge sign that says main entrance as I roll my eyes not knowing how i had missed it while I was scanning the stadium for the past 5 minutes. As I draw closer I start looking for Carly in a red shirt and I see her already looking at me waving with her left hand, and holding her daughter Stella with her right arm, next to her I see her brother Scott who looks like he’s taking a very serious phone call.

I finally reach the pair, smiling wide giving Carly a hug and one to Stella too who ends up jumping into my arms which makes me stumble a bit but gratefully my clumsiness stays in check, for once. I give Scott, who just got off his phone call, a one armed hug saying our hellos and we’re off walking to the box seats they were telling me about on the way.

Scott turns to me while we wait for the elevator up, “So Samara, have you ever been to a patriots game?” “No actually I haven’t been to any football game, my family was really big on Baseball” “oh really what team” “Yankees, being from New York you have to be a Yanks fan or you’re not a ‘true’ new yorker” you replied with air quotes around ‘true’. “Oh boy, don’t mention that team around Chris, he might just kill ya” Carly muttered.

Ah, the ‘famous Chris Evans’ if you will, Carly has told me a lot about her brothers career, even I’ve checked out a couple of those Captain America movies (for science, had to see if he was worth all the hype). There was no doubt Chris was an attractive man which is why my nerves shot through the roof as the elevator doors opened. The four of us walked into the elevator and were ascending to the box level of the stadium. I tried to calm my nerves silently in my head repeating the mantra ‘he’s just a guy spending the day with his family, don’t be weird’.

The elevator ding shook me from my thoughts as I followed Carly, Scott and Stella as we walk down a long hallway to box 35 with a plaque under the numbers that reads

‘America’s Greatest Captain’

Chris Evans

Audibly swallowing I follow them as they open the door to loud conversations and drinks being poured. I spot Miles and Ethan hanging onto their grandpa, Carly’s dad who I’ve yet to meet but have seen pictures of. Scanning the room I see Lisa coming towards me with open arms, I happily return her hug.

“I’m so glad you could make it Samara! We’re gonna have a great day but just a fair warning, Chris and Scott tend to get a little rambunctious at these games” she winks at me. Speaking of Chris, I see his tall figure behind Lisa facing away from us and towards the field talking to Scott. Jesus Christ his shoulders are the widest i’ve ever seen in my life. Lisa ushers me over to Carly and Shanna who are busting drinks out for everyone.

“So great to meet you! Half of my family loves you so it’s great to finally meet the girl who stole their hearts” Shanna laughs. I laugh with her and tell her that she’s prettier in person and she waves me away telling me something along the lines of she already likes me and i don’t have to be polite. I laughed with her and we were interrupted by her father Robert who comes over to say hello, which I graciously reply to and before I know it were talking about my horrible braces experience, seeing he is a dentist after all.

Chris hadn’t even looked my way since I got here and honestly I was very intimidated by him. I talked to the kids for a couple minutes before Scott waved me over, “Samara, meet Chris, he might look tough but he’s all fluff trust me” with that Chris punches Scott in the shoulder in a friendly way and Chris looks up to meet my eyes. Of course his eyes are just as blue in person. I clear my throat and extend my hand, complimenting him on his wonderful family. I think he was kind of shocked by my gesture because it took him a second to register what I had said to him. He laughed and shook his head and opened his arms for a hug.

“Haven't you met my family, we’re huggers” he laughs. I laugh along with him not knowing how long I should hug him for. I settled on a quick 5 second hug because on the inside I don’t know if my poor heart could handle more than that. I needed to put some space between me and mister Broad Shoulders for the sake of my mental health.

When I pulled away I smiled and looked at Scott who raised his left eyebrow at me and smirked. I shook it off hopefully not sabotaging myself by blushing harder than I already was. C’mon Samara get a grip. He’s a huge Hollywood actor, he hugged you to be nice. sit your ass down and enjoy the game.

The cheers from the stadium started picking up as the game began and everyone took seats, I went to the bathroom quickly before the game started and when i came out I saw that there was a seat open in between Carly and Chris. Great, my plan to distance myself from Chris was coming along swimmingly.

I sat down in the seat and tried to calm myself down so that Chris couldn’t see me mentally bugging out. Carly was a blessing in disguise as she started up a conversation about the players and who to watch for. Chris however had the same idea as his sister. “Are you a patriots fan?” How the hell do I break this to him. “Uh-Um not exactly, I didn’t really grow up around football so I admit I don’t know much” I laughed, slightly nervously. “I’m actually very glad to hear that, now I get to make you love the Pats” he winks at me. Yeah you read that right, he winked at me. Cue the dramatic subconscious faint.

I laughed along with him while he told me about his favorite players and what he likes about the game, Me being, well me, hung on to his every word and watched in admiration as his face lit up talking about the sport. Drowning out his voice I noticed I was staring at his lips. Again for science just, making sure they’re uh, there. I noticed his lips turned up into a smirk and that he was no longer talking about football but smirking at me daydreaming about his lips. Shit. I snapped out of my head and nodded, clearing my throat. “You’re very passionate about the game, You ever play?” He laughs and says he tried but he’d much rather watch than be knocked around out on the field.

The game was in full swing at this point, at the end of the second quarter, Chris stood up and asked if I wanted one of his special cocktails. I told him only one since I drove to the stadium to which he replied “I could always give you a lift and you could get your car tomorrow”. Yeah I didn’t know what to say to that either. I laughed and told him “Depends how good this drink is”. He smiled and got to work at the bar, 2 minutes later he handed me probably the tastiest cocktail I've ever had but when I asked what was in it, “That’s for me to know and me only”

Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at Scott who looked at me then Chris and winked at me. I rolled my eyes and decided that if Chris was going to get flirty, two can play that game. Fake it till you make it right, pushing all my nerves down, “I might have to take you up on that deal after all” taking a sip of my drink while staring at Chris through my eyelashes, I turned on my heel and made my way back to my seat.

Chris made his way back a minute later, drying his hands on his jeans and took his seat next to me. Throughout the game, we talked about football and my life since i’ve moved to Boston. At the end of the game, The Patriots won and the Evans family couldn’t have been more excited. The energy they gave off was infectious and I found myself smiling all the way out of the stadium. Chris had made me two more of his drinks and promised to drop me off at home, although I had the drinks hours ago and could’ve passed a sobriety test with flying colors, I wanted to spend more time with him. I saw what Scott meant when he said he’s all fluff, he really is a genuine guy.

Saying goodbye to the Evans family as everyone went their separate ways to their cars, I followed Chris to his, making light conversation about the game. Chris, ever the gentleman, opened the passenger side door for me and went around the front of the Audi to the drivers side and slid in, starting the ignition. He peeled out of the parking spot and did that thing where he put his and on the back of my headrest to back up and I swear I couldn’t jumped his bones right there but managed to keep myself in check.

I gave Chris directions to my house and found out he doesn’t live that far from me, only about 10 minutes. As we pulled up I gathered my things and turned to say thank you but he was already coming around the car and opened my door, holding his hand out. God, why is he the perfect man? I take his hand and open my arms for a hug which he returns, “Thank you for your chivalry Chris, and for the ride home” “it’s my pleasure, I was thinking-” he scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly nervous. “maybe tomorrow, if you’re around we can get breakfast? I can also bring you to your car so you don’t have to get a cab to the stadium”

“only if we go to iHop” He let out a loud laugh clutching his left pec, they’re really so defined, Okay stop it Samara, you’re probably starring again. “you drive a hard bargain Samara, it’s a date, i’ll pick you up at 10” I started walking backwards towards my front door. “I guess I’ll see you at 10 then” “Have a good night Samara” he smiled and got back into his car while I walked up to my front door and unlocked it, I turned and waved once I was in the doorway and he did the same before driving off.

You closed the door behind you and slid against the door to the floor, you were going on a date with Chris tomorrow and you really couldn’t believe it. You went about the rest of your evening, a smile never leaving your face.

A/N: this is my first fic in a while treat her with love! constructive criticism always welcome, send me requests or just to chat💓

Join my Taglist!

#chris evans #oneshots #chris evans x reader #chris evans one shot

[autobuttonsanddeceptistitches]

Viper’s Vengeance Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I am happy to announce that I am returning to writing once again! This story in particular is one I’ve been looking forward to posting. I’d like to give credit to EngineerHoist, a person on YouTube who did a live reading of the first two paragraphs of this story. Without his reading, I wouldn’t have the motivation to continue writing the rest of this chapter and figure out ideas for the future ones to come. Here’s the reading itself alongside the two paragraphs to follow along.

...

A pure black visor stared at the acid green flames dancing higher and higher above the fallen Cobra base. His acid gun slipped down worn fingers, Viper's knees gave way to the course sand surface. Wings lowered and bullet ridden. Spent a whole day, by himself getting rid of his creators. Humans, they've done nothing but cause chaos in his life. Memories racing in his head. Torment, lobotomy, neglect. They're dead, all of them. The red symbol he detests on his wings, the first born human made Cybertronian. Meant to be a weapon against other inferior humans. He got up, taking his battered body away from the sea of acid he'd inflicted on the pitiful humans.

The pain overwhelmed him, those tanks, the copters, forced him to land into the sand once again. Tiny grains blowing against ruined true blue paint. Maybe its best to die now, he killed those who brought him to this world, to stifle his life because of a failure, yet, he danced with Decepticons. As he listened to the fire cackling from back at his 'birthplace', a shadow overtook his vision. One with yellow optics; processor trying to bring back any memories of those with yellow. It stung, its always hurt to look through memories due to the lobotomy. Got difficult to remember important things, most assumed short term memory loss that Shockwave didn't bother to look through. Maybe if he does survive this pit he'll force that lazy scientist to help. For now, this mysterious fellow seemed to be helping him out. Other colors became recognizable. Nightbird...

His processor kept repeating the same visions. A record player of rotating screams of torment. Flesh melting away into the puddles of their creation's tears. Among the fragments is of a human cowering in a corner, his face cut and green jacket torn off. Instead of fear, he scowled.

“I gave you a new life Viper! You can't do this to me when I wasn't involved with what happened! I freed you from your prison!” Luca screamed, shaking his fist up.

“You betrayed the Decepticons, for a few dollars more...” Viper replied, taking aim and letting the green flames come to life... One traitor down, never deserving to wear the silver badge on his jacket.

The agonizing screams started to grow numbing as the malfunctioning processor stopped thinking. Focused on preserving the battered soldier, for his mission is complete at last. Nightbird, the last thought on his mind, wondering why she came. Did Megatron ask the ninja to investigate? Too tired to question, gotta sleep...

Music began to play, the kind that'd be relaxing to whoever took a listen with its keyboards. Optics lit up to the sight of the bright lights meant for surgery. A figure came into vision again, this time, its one with a red visor. Dang it, more faces to identify. At least his bright green paint job helped determine which of the Constructicons this is.

“Well, I thought you wouldn't turn gray because your human made.” Hook smirked, stepping back to grab a few more tools.

“How'd I get here?” Viper tried sitting up, yet pain spiked in his back, forcing him to lie down again.

“Nightbird dragged you in here and told me to get to work. Sounds like you made them all pay. Megatron will be glad to hear the details.” He grabbed one of the wings and began to pluck out the bullets. Viper's servos clenched, wishing he could get up and clobber the mech. Everything's too numb, like something's in his system. It could be either that or armor is still recovering from the trauma.

“Did Megatron ask her to come along?” Optics watched as the boxy helmed mech shook from left to right. His tray piling up with small metal pieces. Other Constructicons began to assist their brother and repair the damaged armor. Hook pulled off the broken black glass, revealing two vibrant blue optics underneath.

“Nope, he didn't order anyone to see your attempts. We thought you would've died. Looks like you're made of sterner stuff.” Viper didn't retort, rest, must rest and wait until he could find that canary and force the answers out of her.

It felt odd to not wear a visor anymore. His once unseen optics inspected the long hallways of the military base. A few Decepticons walked by the broken freak of a soldier. Some glanced by, but others chuckled, giddy that they aren't made by flesh creatures. Viper remained firm as he walked, wings still in pain, but will get repaired another time. Hook and others had to deal with other tarnished things. He's already broken, always been since the failure. All to think about was the silver emotionless face before his processor got torn apart. The former Cobra mech didn't notice the three fingered hand grabbing his shoulder. A great smirk embedded into one's golden face.

“Well done Viper, I enjoy human sacrifices. They were my favorite parts of Aztec history.” The one whose name would send shivers down one's Energon veins. His grin became twisted as a Cheshire Cat's. Viper glanced back, seeing the purple glowing in his vision.

“I don't care Malus, you can interpret it any way you want, but its my story, and I ended it.” Viper tried moving, yet the demigod kept a firm hold.

“Where are you going? Do you believe that I am not worthy for a conversation?” His frown changed as much as a mask for the audience of an opera.

“I want some time to myself. I spent all day fighting for my freedom while you and everyone else sat back and enjoyed my suffering like a show!” Viper's wings flared, even if he's shorter than him, that fire burned in blue optics.

“Your war, not mine.” Oh, if the snake had his acid gun, then there wouldn't be any trace of this rotten fruit anywhere. Who cares if he's the guardian to some shiny balls, none of his business.

“Be lucky I spent all my rage on the humans, rather than you.” He stomped away as Malus scoffed.

“Toodle pip Viper.” Spat out as he transformed into his spider tank alt mode and crawled away.

More faces, the same faces rewinding faster as the figures passed by. Some showing hints of concern, but hidden by their tough attitudes and looks. Viper shrugged each off, not caring if anyone was walking around this morning. Sometimes questions about the ninja, yet none replied. Until he reached up to Swindle with a fist aimed at his face.

“You're the last scumbag I'll ask today, where is Nightbird?” Viper hissed, showing the scars on broken fingers. The mech smirked, trying to cower away from the situation.

“Come on Viper, I know you had one heck of a night, but give me some credit. I didn't sell anything to Cobra,” bam! A fist to the face, letting fresh pain reel in pristine faceplates.

“Say that word again, I could go for another injection of their venom into my veins.” He goaded, before noticing a glimmer of yellow that vanished down the hallway.

“Hey!” The Rattler ran, leaving Swindle to cough up some Energon.

A giant hanger, of all places to hide in. Dark blue came in, broken glass trying to inspect wherever the femme could be. He noticed her shadow among the dim lights. Dancing around old machinery that'd been defunct for a long time. Human made items, Hook would use them for spare parts when needed. Swindle pawning off each piece for big bucks. A flicker of yellow again right beside him. Nightbird, what is she doing? She held up a blade against his neck.

“Sever the cables, and you will do nothing.” She spoke in such stillness that wouldn't alert anyone of her presence. Viper tensed, gripping the yellow weapon and making sure it wouldn't leave its mark.

“I want answers to why you were following me!” He yelled out, flipping the femme over. Nightbird groaned, unable to get up before he pressed his arm onto her neck. His other servo gripped the blade in her hand. They stared, optics burning in the morning sunlight as it crept from tiny windows in the room. Blue and yellow, much like an electric storm.

“Didn't want to continue living?” She whispered, leaning up even when he tried pushing her down.

“My life is over, I have no reason to continue, so why bring me back?” Nightbird looked away.

“We're soldiers, and you're purpose shouldn't end in such a way.” She exhaled, kicking the mech off, Viper stood back up, retaining his balance.

“Then why try killing me if I wanted to say thanks?” Blue optics observed Nightbird's own. A hint of concern behind that bright yellow often coated in anger.

A large hangar door opened, letting Soundwave come in. His armor is much more chunky on the legs and torso. A result from getting kidnapped by Cobra. Red visor caught the attention of the duo, with his cassettes tagging along.

“Viper, our lord Megatrons request to meet with you.” Said in his monotone elegance.

“I'll not keep them waiting, we'll talk about this later.” The Rattler strode away from the short conflict. Soundwave looked at Nightbird, seeing how upset she appeared to be.

“Is something wrong?” The femme shook her helm.

“No, how do you feel about that armor?” She tapped onto his shoulder, feeling the strong materials constructing it.

“It is an inferior version of myself, but I will adjust.” He transformed and let his little minions climb aboard before driving back outside. Nightbird stared, pondering what thoughts are rushing in Viper's processor right now.

Chapter 2

#Transformers #Transformers Earth Wars #Earth Wars #Transformers fanfic #fanfic #TF #Maccadams #Viper #Nightbird #Soundwave #Story #fanfiction #Viper's Vengeance

[epic-summaries]

British LegendsxPokémon

Gawain

As one a pearl doth prize, measured ’gainst pease, tho’ white, So do I hold Gawain above all other knight!

Didst thou a little lack, Sir Knight, in loyalty,

’T was not for woman’s love, or aught of villainy,

’T was but for love of life, therefore I blame thee less—”

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

For the longest time I had Solrock on his team. But I was never 100% comfortable with it because as the Maiden’s Knight I wanted to give Gawain only female Pokémon and Solrock is genderless (I also thought about giving him Braviary but Braviary can only be male). But luckily for me I looked up the Pokémon Species Type (for different reasons) and we have 4 sun/ne Pokémon (which doesn’t include Solrock).

Gringolet, Gawain’s horse has his own Wikipedia article. Not even Owain’s lion has that! Also Gawain’s Scottish, so unicorn. I was debating between Rapidash and Musdale because Gawain does have a story including a donkey. But Musdale is a working horse and Gawain is a knight. Rapidash feels more knightly.

Ponyta was Gawain’s first Pokémon. Gawain had found her in the field grassing. Slowly, the young (let’s say 5) Gawain would go closer to Ponyta every day. He would leave berries for her hoping she would come to him. Ponyta got spooked the few first times but sensing Gawain was kind, she let him come closer. Eventually, she came to Gawain. Once, Gawain tried to pet her, which surprised Ponyta and Gawain got burned. Gawain learned his lesson and the next time, he asked Ponyta’s permission to pet her. She gave him permission.

Neither one of them noticed when Ponyta left the fields and started to sleep in the stables with Gawain, but it didn’t matter. They were each other’s. (I’m going to make Gawain working at the stables for the Pope, ‘cause why not.)

Ponyta and young Gawain worked together and went on adventure together, both loving to explore. With Ponyta, Gawain was able to go places faster and help people. Classic knight errant stuff, but as a preteen.

Ponyta evolved into Rapidash during a joust. Gawain wanted to impress his uncle. Gawain was actually doing very well. He makes it to the end! And he was against a knight on a Rhyhorn. They would have lost if Ponyta didn’t evolve into Rapidash and won them the joust (Yes I am imagining that scene in the anime where Ash riding a Ponyta evolves into a Rapidash.)

The only time Rapidash goes into her pokéball is when Gawain is outside in the rain. But usually she hates her pokéball. Sometimes Gawain more time on her then he does walking.

Her moveset is Stomp, Fire Blitz, Megahorn and Poison Jab.

The Ralts line is partly based on knights. Why Gardevoir and not Gallade? Gallade cannot be female. (Also Gallade works with Guinevere.)

During his explorations, young Gawain and Ponyta found a Ralts in need of help. She was being attacked by a Ferroseed. She was locked into place unable to teleport. Ponyta used ember and the Ferroseed ran away. Gawain brings Ralts “home” aka still the stables in Rome. (Now I’m imagining them using Ralts during mass, it’s adorable in my mind.) Ralts becomes Gawain’s main battler. They sadly lost their first Little Cup tournament. But both of them worked hard and they won their next tournament using confusion!

She evolved into a Kirlia during a tournament, which because she evolved, Gawain was unable to use her. He lost the tournament.

Kirlia wasn’t just used for tournaments but in his adventures Gawain would often use her in battle and to help fight the wild Pokémon.

And in a reference to the Rise of Sir Gawain, Nephew of Arthur, she evolved into Gardevoir during the pirate battle. (I will never not think that’s cool.)

Gardevoir helped Gawain in negotiations when Arthur sent him away to talk with Arthur’s lords or neighbouring kings. Once when the negotiations were going bad, she created a black hole and scared a King in swearing his alliance to Arthur. (She’s still a fairy and they are mischievous.)

Gardevoir’s moveset is Moonblast, Psychic, Thunderbolt and Calm Mind.

When his character is not being butchered, Gawain is often a peace keeper. Leafeon is a piece keeper. Seriously, Platinum Pokédex: It basically does not fight. With cells similar to those of plants, it can perform photosynthesis. Also it gets stronger in the sun, like Gawain. And might be a reference to Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, being green.

In the forest of Italy (because honestly it’s Arthuriana and the forest is magical and Pokémon has tons of Pokémon in the forest), while training Ralts, they found an Eevee sunbathing. Gawain decided to catch her. Eevee was more peaceful and she didn’t battle unless she had to. Though once a Surskit was bullying Ponyta, Ponyta kept trying to stomp on it but it wasn’t working. Eevee tackled the Surskit helping her friend.

In the Magical Forest of Adventure, Eevee had the nighttime munchies and found a mossy rock. Everyone was very surprised the next morning when Leafeon was sleeping with them. They blamed fairies.

Leafeon didn’t change much in personality. She is still very protective of her family and Gawain. Maybe some times a little to protective, getting revenge on people that wronged them.

Her moves are Leaf Blade, Sword Dance, X-Scissor and Synthesis.

Yes, based on both Mexican wrestlers and Aztec Eagle Warriors (seriously) doesn’t match a medieval knight, he is a hawk. And Gwalchmai may (there’s debate) mean Hawk of May.

After getting knighted Sir Gawain from the Pope, Gawain went back home to find his family. He met with Morgause and Lot and Agravaine and Gaheris and Soredamour. There was a family tradition when the child turn 13, they give them an egg of a flying type. Lot gave Gawain a Pokémon an egg, which hatched into a Hawlucha (I know Hawlucha is in the human-like egg group but magic was involved). Gardevoir and Leafeon were mainly her mothers. I’m also imagining Gawain and Hawlucha practicing fighting moves together. Gawain once wrestled Agravain and Gaheris at the same time using moves he learned from Hawlucha.

Hawlucha loved to tournaments. She made a septicle of the whole thing, which made her popular with the crowd as well. Though, sometimes she got into her own head and while showboating she got hit.

Her moveset is Sky Attack, Hi Jump Kick, Flying Press and Stone Edge.

Did you know Espeon is the Sun Pokémon? It also matches Mordred's Umbreon (spoilers).

Gawain was making a name for himself not just in the tournament scene but also in the adventure scene (sure he had a little hiccup with Owain/Morholt/Gawain maiden adventure but generally it was very positive). While on an adventure, Gawain slept with a woman who’s Vaporeon really liked Leafeon. Leafeon gave birth to two Eevees. Gawain kept one but gave the other to his little brother Mordred who was starting his Pokémon adventure. Eevee was easier to raise then Hawlucha for Leafeon. Eevee was always quick learning and loved to sleep with Gawain at night (which she kept doing after evolving). Some nights Gawain found her on his face sleeping (this did not continue after evolution).

Eevee evolved pretty quickly, like I said quick learning. On a bright day, resting from travel, Gawain was playing with Eevee. He threw a stick and the stick stopped in mid air. Having so much fun, Eevee evolved into an Espeon. (Basically the Eevees evolve in nontraditional ways.)

Espeon liked tournaments and showing off her precognition powers (blame it on Hawlucha’s influence).

Her moveset is Psychic, Shadow Ball, Toxic and Future Sight

Did you know that Volcarona is the Sun Pokémon? It’s partly based on sun spots.

Gawain heard about this magical Pokémon in ancient ruins. So, naturally it was adventure time (the theme of this post). He went to the ruins. It’s full of ghost and maybe a legendary? No, it was just a Volcarona. Not what was expected but still welcomed. There was a fight, where Gardevoir hits the final blow. It was as epic as any legendary battle.

After catching Volcarona, the ruins no longer caught fire randomly. So, the neighbouring town was very happy.

Volcarona like the Pokémon Dex entries say, she likes helping people and Pokémon. But, when angered, she is very dangerous.

Her moves are Fiery Dance, Bug Buzz, Quiver Dance and Heat Wave

Previous: Morgana

Next: Merlin

#yup #there are jousts and tourneys #but with a pokemon twist #pokemonxbritish legends #sir gawain #arthuriana

[elejah-wonderland]

Where Did Your Heart Go?/2

Fanfiction

Part 2 of 3

Elijah Mikaelson x Elena Gilbert

AU - the Originals never came to Mystic Falls. Elena met Elijah, seven years before in Mexico. Though they both fell in love, he abruptly breaks up with her and leaves. Years later she tries to find him as she needs the Original vampire because of …. read and find out. 

a/n: It is a little short story. Thanks so much for reading. xoxo

tags @rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @elejahforever @hides2000

______

Elijah walked to Elena, stunned to see her standing on the beach.                  

"Elena"- he said again as if she was an apparition feeling his heart jump up in his throat.

"Elijah"- Elena said again as he  now stood a few inches away from her. She looked at him with the same loving sparkle like they were never apart, like someone had turned back time and they were on the same beach seven years ago,                

when he would wrap her up in his soaking wet arms, pick her up and she would laugh and scream that he would make her dress wet, but she would be cling onto him nevertheless, and he would smiled as he laid her on the warm sand and look her deep in the eyes as she tangled her arms around his neck not caring about anything but his lips on hers next. 

The dream now burst like a bubble, pierced with a sharpest of daggers, and as the reality of the moment waltzed back in, gathering himself from the aftershock of seeing her again, he said faintly-

"Is it you?"

"Yes. It's me. Hello. Long time -ahm"- Elena said now very composed. She gave him a serious but still quite mellow look-"it took me some time to find you."

"Find me?" - Elijah looked at her perplexed.

"Yeah- this is all weird-  after everything- a bit mind blowing- but - huh- right- I know what you are- I know everything now"

 Elena now felt like her own heart was going to jump out of her chest, and tried her  damndest to keep it cool. After so many years, after all that had happened between them and the way he had abruptly finished their relationship, his presence still had a profound effect on her.

"You know- that I’m -"- Elijah started and Elena cut in,  finishing the sentence-

"A vampire? Yes, Elijah. I found out - a month ago. And that you are not just an ordinary one. Not like the rest of them."

Elijah made a little sigh, taking the towel, twisting it in his hand. He was quiet for a moment and  then said-"No, I am not like the rest of them."

Flashback A month earlier, Mystic Falls

"Who is Elijah?"- Stefan asked Elena, who was now driving like a crazy person back into town.

"He was this guy- huh"- Elena drew a deep breath continuing-"ok-  ahm-seven years ago I went to Mexico to stay with my aunt Jenna, who was doing research on the Aztec connection with Mystic Falls for the Historical Society, and we rented a house for the summer. And- to cut it short- he and I - we had a thing- more than just a thing."

"He is the one you can't forget"- Stefan said.

"What- oh, Caroline told you?"- Elena now looked at Stefan.

"Yeah, she did. I wanted to know who was the guy, who made all other guys look bad. And why had no chance with you."

"Read the diary."- Elena now said to her friend-"well, it turns out he is not just a guy. It's the chapter- The Original Vampire"

Stefan now found the chapter and read all Elena's ancestor wrote about Elijah.

"His blood could cure Caroline and Damon?!"- Stefan now said as he read this chapter. 

"Yeah!!"- Elena now exclaimed as she glanced for a second at her friend-"we have to find him!!!"

They both soon jumped out of the car as they got to Bonnie Bennett’s house.

Sometime later, Elena was packing to leave for New York.

"How did you not know that he was a vampire?"- Bonnie questioned her friend.

"I don't know. He was not showing anything like- he ate all the food like we did, and his body temperature was normal. Like human."- Elena explained.

"Well, maybe because he is not like the others."- Bonnie continued-"Still can't believe it was him- how are you going to- you know, when you see him- he -"

"I am over him. I just need him to save my friends. Tell me what other leads you have."- Elena said to her best friend as she sat down for a second.

"Right. Ok- my dad said that Freya Mikaelson worked with him on the NYU - let's just hope this is the Freya Mikaelson we need."

Now Elena told Elijah how she had found him and the reason behind the trip to Mexico.

"I need your blood to save them."- Elena said straight out.

"You have friends who are vampires?!"- Elijah said somewhat surprised.

"Yes."- Elena replied shortly-"Can you help us?"

"Us?"- Elijah muttered.

Stefan now appeared and Elena, gesturing to the vampire now introduced him to Elijah adding-

"His brother is dying, as is my friend."

“All right. I will help you.”- Elijah said as he put his T-shirt on.

 There is nothing in this world he could ever refuse her, even though Elena would beg to differ. He took his love away. And her eyes now shoot exactly that at the Original as they set once again on him. He could see all the hurt that he had caused, in her eyes, that she hid behind the glistening brown eyes of hers.  Elena kept her calm, and deep inside wondered how she did not fall apart, right there in front of him, although both of her heart and soul has been cut in pieces after he had left her that evening and walked away like she had never mattered to him at all. 

Flashback

A few days earlier in New Orleans- in the Mikaelson house

"Are you Freya Mikaelson?"- Elena asked the woman who now came to meet her in the lounge of the Grand house.

"I am."- Freya said. It was not unusual for people to come and ask for Freya's help as a witch and she now asked how she could help her.

"I am Elena Gilbert"- the brunette introduced herself and before she could continue Freya's eyes leapt up with great interest. The witch had heard about Elena, as Elijah had told her about meeting this woman in Mexico.

"You're looking for Elijah?"

"Yes. How did you- oh- he told you about- us?"- Elena said.

"Yes. He did."- Freya said and then invited the brunette to a neighbouring room where they could talk undisturbed. Elena had told the witch the reason she needed the Original vampire.

"He cannot forgive himself for having left you the way he did."- Freya said-"and - I know you are hurt-"

"I don't like to talk about it"- Elena said-"I would never come- if my friends didn't need help. And for that I will swallow the most bitter pill ever. To save them. Please- I just need his address."

"He does not have a phone. He writes me letters."- Freya said-"Here is the address."

And the address was very well known to Elena, who gulped a bit as she put it in her bag. She thanked the witch politely and left the place, meeting Stefan outside of the house.

Stefan watched as Elena and Elijah exchanged one more look that was obviously something connecting to their past. Elena then moved her head to Stefan and stepping towards the vampire, she took his hand, making out they were more than just friends.

Elijah, making a mental sight now aske were they staying.

As Stefan replied, both then left as Elena slipped a sincere thank you to the Original.

Elijah watched them walk away and didn't move until they were out of his site. Then he picked up his shoes from the ground, his mind turning back to his and Elena’s exchanging looks- his emotions burning him like the flames of living Hell. 

In the little hotel, Elena went straight to her room and as she got in, she slumped down on the bed trying to deal with all the encounter brought back. 

Respectively, having showered, Elijah, sat down on the terrace of the house he had been living at, opening a bottle of Tequila, and as he took a long swag of the drink, his mind now played the past back like a movie.

Flashback Seven years ago, Mexico

Elijah walked to the bar ordering a Tequila. As the bartender poured him the drink, his looked around the place and like enchanted his eyes got glued to a woman that had just walked in who was looking for someone, but as she realized that someone was not there. As she walked to the bar, she asked the bartender-

"Has Jenna been? Her cell is out."

"Yes. She said that you should wait for her. She's gone with Maria."- the bartender replied-"what do you want to drink?"

"T'n'T"- Elena said now catching Elijah's look, who was still gazing at her like compelled.

"What is it? Do I still have paint on my face?"

"No. I am sorry. I am so rude. I just- I wasn't - I didn't want to stare like that. I'm Elijah. Hello."

"Elena."- she said-"Hello. Oh, I remember you now. I saw you with Diego. You bought his painting."

"Yes. You saw me?"

"My aunt Jenna is friends with Diego's sister Maria. I saw you get the painting and taking it with you. We were in the garden. You were on your way out."- Elena explained.

"Right. Yes, I like his work. I am always looking for something that is out of the ordinary. Diego is going to make it big."- Elijah then said.

"Oh, you are an art dealer?"

"No. I'm a lawyer. On holiday."- Elijah said somewhat clumsily.

"Me, too. I mean, I am on vacation. Not a lawyer. A history major at the University of Virginia. Ok. Sorry to go on and on."- Elena sipped now a bit of her drink.

"You're not."- Elijah said. 

And from that moment on, it was like they both entered a dream. Elijah let himself get lost in her, even though his mind was telling him he should stay away that very night. But his heart ruled everything out. 

His witch friend, who was with him on a mission to find an ancient artefact, noticed the change in him as he returned to the place he had rented out. He had abandoned his vampiric side completely. Being this ancient vampire, he had the ability to switch and control the demon inside him.

"This will not turn out good."- the witch muttered one night as Elijah went out to meet Elena, but she knew she could not really interfere, so she let it be. 

And as the witch said, demons and darkness were not far behind. As it was with the Mikaelson family, they never were.

As he returned to the place a night before he was going to break Elena's heart, and consequently his own, the witch informed him that the De Martel demon had visited her. 

"He will use the woman as levearage. Even kill her if they see fit. You know what he is like. We have to leave!"

Elijah looked at the witch with somber eyes, not saying a word. She continued-

"I know that you wish you were not what you are. You had your dream, now return to reality."

Elijah knew that the witch was right. And he knew that he had to be cruel to be kind. He could not risk Elena being hurt by the De Martels and drag her into his family's darkness. 

In her room now, Elena got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom and washed her face. Her heart was not giving her any rest. No matter how much she thought she was handling it, her heart pulled her to the Original.

She needed a drink badly and now went to the neighbouring bar. There, as if foul magic was following her a song by Playa Limbo- El Tiempo De Ti, was now playing that brought even more memories back -  She often played it after she returned from Mexico. Crying, thinking of him kissing her and loving her, making her feel extraordinarily special. How could someone be so wonderful and sweet and then take everything away like it was nothing.                          

Elijah now walked in the bar himself. And Elena looked at him getting up, wanting to leave.

"Please, don't go. I know that I have hurt you tremendously, but I need to explain."

"You don't have to. It must have been vampire business. Huh- and I get it. What I don't get is - why could you not tell me? What did you think I would have  done? Scream? Get away from you? I meant so very little to you, actually, otherwise you would have told me?"

"No- you meant everything."- Elijah said.

"No. I couldn't have. Everything was a lie- it actually was a lie. I don't even know who you are- not really."

"I am - what I am- half man- half demon"- Elijah said-"it was all true. My feelings were true.They still are."

"Your feelings? What feelings? You said you didn't believe in love. Your words. You looked me in the eyes and you said that you-"- Elena now shook her head-"I don't know why I am even going there- can we leave? I spoke to my friend, who is a witch, that things are not good. She can't keep them spelled much longer."

"I understand. We can leave immediately. Where is you friend or - boyfriend?"- Elijah now asked. 

“He is not- I will call him and tell him that we are ready to leave."- Elena now took her phone and pressed the speedial. 

He stepped away waiting for her to finish the conversation, not being able to take his eyes off of her like once before so long ago. Seven years for a vampire was not a long time, but for a human it could be a little life time. Elena was the same woman, with the same warm chocolate eyes full of life, but he could also see beneath that she was changed nevertheless. By the way she spoke to him and the spark in those divine eyes of hers, she still harboured feelings for him. They didn't completely die away - and his heart now felt like that there was still a possibility that she might consider his plea to let consider him.

On the plane, an hour later, Elena played the song from the Mexican band- closing her eyes- trying to fall asleep, but her mind wondered to Elijah’s kisses so many years ago and the night the made love for the first time. And how dearly they talked to one another about future dreams.

 Elijah was doing exactly the same, his heart now hoped for a miracle.            

#Elijah Mikaelson #ElenaxElijah #Elena Gilbert #Elejah #tvd fanfiction #fanfiction #alternative universe

[thevampirediariesdiary]

2.03, Bad Moon Rising

Welp I accidentally took a month-long hiatus but I’m back!  This semester has been kicking my ass, so I’ll do the best I can with getting one of these up each week, but go easy on me.

Damon, Stefan, and Elena convince Rick to help them go through Isobel’s research at Duke University – which is all still there, because apparently her only being missing and not dead means she gets to keep her office??  Tenure is one hell of a drug.  The plan is to find anything on the Lockwood family, because for some reason Damon feels threatened by their very existence, and also Katherine.  

“So are you sure you wanna do this?” Stefan asks. “Which part?” Elena retorts, pouting while she packs her road trip stuff. “Digging through my birth mother’s life work or –” she pauses, says with perfect derisive scorn, “going to Duke with Damon?”  Stefan snorts a little, answers, “Either? Both?”  “Well, I’m sure about the first part,” Elena answers, “but then again Rick is a good buffer, so we can bond in our anti-Damon solidarity.  I wish you were coming, though.”  “You know what?” says Stefan, “Why don’t we hold off a couple days?  Wait until Caroline’s less of a danger and then I can go with you.”  “It’s okay that I’m going right?” Elena asks. “And be honest because if it’s not then I can just stay here and we can take care of Caroline!”  She’s warming to the idea as she suggests it, but Stefan says, “No, listen, I want you to go, okay, I do.  You have questions about your lineage, about Katherine, and look, I’m not gonna let the fact that Damon is going keep you from an opportunity to get some answers.” Elena nods, looks at him, says: “You hate it though.”

“I hate it,” Stefan confirms.

“But I love you,” he says.  “I love you, too,” Elena answers.  They kiss.  And with that, this very ambiguous conversation is over; does Stefan hate it because he doesn’t trust Damon (as established in 1.22)? or because Damon killed Jeremy and he’s siding with Elena in her unforgiveness?  Why must they go to Duke now?  Why is Damon going?  Is Alaric really in anti-Damon solidarity with them, because last I checked they were on fine terms, and we never got a Jeremy-murder reaction from him so why assume otherwise?  Where IS Jeremy?  Is Damon giving him whittling lessons yet?  So many questions left unanswered.  Ah well.

Downstairs, Alaric and Jenna are being Super Mature about the fact that they’re interacting: Rick makes an excuse about how busy he’s been, Jenna tells him she’s grateful he’s giving Elena this connection to her birth mother.  I’m proud of them both, but I’m especially proud of Jenna; Rick offers her an apology for their relationship being start and stop and says “Maybe once I”, and Jenna cuts him off with an “Uhhh, no. Don’t do that,” she says, not unkindly.  “Not the half apology, maybe, hope-for-the-future thing.”  He smiles wryly.  “Do what you need to do, okay?” Jenna says.  YOU GO, JENNA!!  YOU ARE KIND AND PATIENT BUT YOU WILL NOT BE TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF!!  Elena asks her if she’s okay as she heads out the door; “Yeah,” Jenna answers, “just, men and their baggage!”

Now, this next scene is absolute gold.  Damon leans against the car, says while pouting mightily, “Sorry you can’t come too, Stef.”  Stefan ignores him, but Elena throws her bag into the car extra violently and glares.  

Stefan tries to sidetrack her: “Call me if you need anything.”  “Oh,” Damon says, inserting himself again, “I’ll take really good care of her.”

And Elena!!  While maintaining eye contact with him!!!  Grabs Stefan around the neck and makes out with him.  Is this fucking Twilight??  I don’t know but it’s ridiculous and spiteful and I love it.  

And then: they both turn around and look at Damon again?  Stefan kind of…smacks his lips???

“Okay, time to go,” Damon says.  Having adequately antagonized the person who literally killed Jeremy because Elena chose Stefan over him, they pile into the car and boogie on out.

Stefan sits down with Bonnie to convince her to make Caroline a daylight ring; it’s important, he says, to keep Caroline in contact with the people that connect her to her humanity, and that requires being able to go out in the sun.  Bonnie’s not so sure she can trust new vampire-Car; Stefan says, “Then trust me.”

Sighhhhh.

In the car, Damon reaches back and appears to jiggle Elena’s knee??  “How you doin’ back there?” he asks. “You know, this whole pretending to hate me thing is getting a little silly.”  Alaric, stuck in the middle of a classic Damon/Elena mess-around yet again, scoffs. “I don’t think she’s pretending.  You did kill her brother.”  “There is a HUGE asterisk next to that statement,” Damon protests, “he came back to life.”  “Yeah,” says Elena flatly, “thanks to a ring you didn’t know he was wearing.”  “Why are you so sure I didn’t know?” Damon says. “Did you?” Elena says.  “Yes,” he says.  Her eyes narrow; “You’re lying,” she says, unsurprised.  “Elena!” Damon says, “I saw the ring!  It’s a big, tacky thing, it’s hard to miss.”

Bonnie makes Caroline a daylight ring.  “So I don’t get to choose the ring I wear the rest of my life?” Caroline complains.  No, Car, of course you don’t!!  Haven’t you ever heard of engagement rings?  But for serious, I think this line is on purpose.  This is the beginning of a love story between Caroline and vampirism. Also, this is her “skeptical about spell-casting face”:

Over at Duke, Alaric’s hair is doing something awful.

Vanessa, a research assistant, gets them the keys to Isobel’s office, and then attempts to shoot Elena with a crossbow.  Three guesses how that turns out.

Yep, Damon vamps over and takes the arrow for her. Last episode he spared Caroline for her and she stopped Bonnie from killing him; now he’s risked his life to save hers.  And what do you know?  While Alaric is subduing the unfortunate academic,

Elena’s fallen to her knees at Damon’s side to check on him.  This episode has a bunch of purposeful callbacks to Bloodlines – they’re on a road trip, looking for info on Elena’s ancestors, Damon steps in to save her from danger and then she acts worried for his well-being.  But this is where the similarity ends.  When we return from the commercial, Damon is nagging at Elena to pull the arrow out of his back and she’s making faces like she wants to pull it out and then immediately re-stake him with it.  She pulls it out, and then while he’s yelling in pain reaches over his shoulder to drop it, presumably just to be annoying.

Damon blows out a breath, raises his eyebrows (you thought I forgot the eyebrows didn’t you), and announces, “that bitch is deaaaaad.”  Elena’s eyes widen – how dare he talk about killing people when he’s trying to make amends for killing her brother – and she says, “Uh, you’re not gonna kill her.”  He adopts a weird sultry voice: “Watch me.”

“You touch her and I swear I will never speak to you again,” Elena says.

“What makes you think that has any power over me?” Damon challenges.  Elena blinks.

“Because I took an arrow in the back for you?” Damon says, mockingly. He slings an arm over her shoulder, which she immediately pushes off with disgust; “You are severely overestimating yourself,” he says, gleeful.  “Right,” says Elena, “I forgot I was speaking to a psychotic mind who snaps and kills people impulsively.  Fine. Go ahead.  Do whatever you want.”

“You’re trying to manipulate me!” Damon says indignantly.  “If by manipulate you mean tell the truth, okay,” Elena says, “guilty.” Damon, for whom manipulation is all tied up with love, kind of stares at her lips.

“Okay!” says Elena, and makes her exit.  

Archery-happy research-assistant tells Rick she freaked because she thought Elena was Katherine Pierce, and then everyone digs through Isobel’s giant office holy crap how has Duke not given this office to someone else??  Damon makes a crack about Vanessa wanting to see him naked, and Elena tells her that he can be a first-rate jackass.  Damon smiles; this is familiar, this is the way she talked to Jenna about him before everything happened.  A bit later, he comes up behind Elena and tells her it’s too bad they’re not friends anymore, because he knows something she doesn’t know that would help her find more about Katherine.  “Now who’s manipulating who?” she retorts.  Vanessa explains the Aztec legend of the Curse of the Sun and Moon, which will become more or less significant later, and that werewolves in this mythology are hardwired to hunt vampires, who can be killed by a single bite.

Stefan takes Caroline wabbit hunting.  He explains to her that vampirism amplifies natural behaviors and traits.  “So you’re saying that now I’m basically an insecure, neurotic control-freak…on crack?” she asks.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say it like that,” Stefan says lightly, and then offers to go with her to Tyler’s swimming hole party to meet up with Matt.  Seriously, they both shine in this episode.  Stefan’s “that-guy” awkwardness is perfectly foiled by Caroline’s sincerity.

They literally….cribbed this shot……..from a Twilight movie

Anyway… 

“Why are you looking at him with your serious vampire look?” Caroline asks.

“My what – my serious vampire look?” Stefan repeats, aghast.  “Mmhmm,” says Caroline, “I mean, it’s different than your worried vampire look.”

“Neither of which stray too far from your ‘hey! It’s Tuesday’ look.”

“Oh, okay, I get it,” Stefan says, “you think I’m too serious.”  “Well,” says Caroline, “I wasn’t gonna say it like thaaaat.”

Did you notice how many emotions Stefan expressed in that conversation?  I’m so proud of him.  Real Eleanor from The Good Place flirts with Matt until Caroline compels her away; Matt gets angry at Caroline’s jealousy-drama and wanders off, and Stefan gets angry that Caroline used her compulsion for shallow reason.  “So now I have magnified jealousy issues?” she says. “I might as well have stayed dead, my whole personality is killing me.”  Stefan finds this freaking delightful:

“Shut up,” she tells him.

They hang out at the party together until it gets dark and everyone starts to pack up (on Mason’s orders), and Stefan tells Caroline to go talk to Matt. Caroline promises Matt no more drama, and they scamper off into the woods to kiss.  This coincides with Stefan getting a call from Elena to fill him in on all the new werewolf lore – he looks around for Caroline as soon as he hears a werewolf bite can kill a vampire, but she’s nowhere to be found. Mason Lockwood is in the middle of transforming into a werewolf.  Welcome, A plot.

Vanessa informs Elena that a doppelganger is a living, breathing double of oneself, who usually torments the person they look like, tries to undo their life.  “More things we already know,” Elena says flatly. “I just wanna know why we look alike.” “Headscratcher, isn’t it?” says Damon, from over by the bookcase.  “Do you know something or are you just being yourself?” Elena asks with more sass than you would think would fit in her tiny body.  “Well, if I knew anything, I’m not gonna tell you,” Damon says, “not with that attitude.”  Alaric looks like he needs a drink, but also a little bit like he’s trying not to laugh?

“That’s good, Damon,” Elena says, dropping the attitude down a notch, “and that’s coming from someone who wants to be my friend. Friends don’t manipulate friends, they help each other.”

This does not compute.

Back in the woods, Tyler gets the brush-off from Real Eleanor, Mason-wolf jumps out of his car at Stefan, Caroline bites Matt, and everyone runs around a lot.  Thank goodness it’s not more complicated than that, because this recap is getting really long. 

Elena refuses to admit that Alaric’s car is locked and stands fighting with the door handle like a petulant child; it’s been a long day.  Damon arrives as the shining knight and unlocks it, and then opens her door for good measure.  Then, good deed done, he gets all up in her personal space.

“You’re not going to be able to hate me forever,” he says.  She rolls her eyes, says, “Can we just go?”  He sighs and hands over a text labeled “Petrova”, for Katherine’s real name: Katerina Petrova.  “Let me know what you find, I’m very curious myself,” he tells her; he’s trusting her with the truth, trusting that she’ll share it.  She goes to move past him, he says, “You have every right to hate me. I understand.  But you hated me before and we became friends.”

“It would suck,” he admits, “if that was gone forever.”

“So,” he says, with forced lightness, “is it?” She meets his eyes, but her face is more closed than it’s ever been.  “Have I lost you forever?” Damon asks, like it’s a joke, like it doesn’t matter or like it’s impossible.

“Thank you for the book, Damon,” she says.  He gives the smallest of nods, and motions her into the car.

Caroline compels away Matt’s memories of her biting him, and then she and Stefan have a heart-to-heart about their human significant others.  “If I followed my own advice I would have walked out on Elena a long time ago,” Stefan says.  “You think you should’ve?” Caroline asks.  “I know I should have,” Stefan says, “I just can’t.”

Tyler confirms with his (very naked) uncle that he was in fact the wolf that almost killed all of them.  Another secret, out.  I’m resisting making a very stupid joke here, but I’ll probably succumb and post it separately later. 

Caroline walks into the Grille and purposely starts shit with Real Eleanor so that Matt walks out on her.  “So what, are you like, breaking up with me?” she calls after him. “Yeah,” he says, wearily, “yeah I guess that’s what I’m doing.”  He waits, expecting her to fight him, but she only stares back and lifts her chin defiantly. Caroline is strong enough to walk away, and kind enough to let Matt think that he knows why.  As, @itspileofgoodthings pointed out in these tags, she did what Stefan couldn’t do.

Having warned Vanessa against getting caught up in all the supernatural nonsense, Alaric realizes he doesn’t want to get totally caught up in it either, and is able to make good on his half apology maybe hope for the future.

Damon trails Elena up to her porch, exclaiming, “Road trips work well for us!”  “This doesn’t mean things are back to the way they used to be, Damon,” says Elena.  “Oh, come on,” Damon says, “you know I chipped a little bit off of your wall of hatred.”  Elena turns to look at him, says seriously, “I need to know the truth.”

“When you broke Jeremy’s neck, did you know he was wearing the ring?” she asks.

“No,” he says, his voice so strained.  “No, I didn’t.”

“Katherine really pissed me off, and I snapped, and I –” He stops, looks at her intently.  “I got lucky with the ring,” he admits. “And I don’t know what I would’ve done if he wasn’t wearing it.”

She nods, slightly.  “Elena,” he says, “I’m sorry.” She nods again, says, “Thank you for being honest with me.  And the answer to your question, about our friendship?”

“Is yes…you have lost me forever.”

She turns to go into the house.  “But you knew that already, didn’t you?” Damon says, bitter.  She pauses, he accuses, “You used me today.”  She looks at him, unrepentant. 

“You had information about Katherine that I needed to know.”  “I thought friends don’t manipulate friends,” he replies.  She looks back at him, her response left unspoken: they’re not friends, and so it doesn’t matter.  He swallows, tells her, “You and Katherine have a lot more in common than just your looks.”

Both women stood on this porch with him and pretended to be something they weren’t so that he would pour his heart out to them, and then turned around and rejected him.  Living, breathing mirror of oneself indeed. 

Katherine wakes Caroline, tells her not to be frightened. “We’re gonna have so much fun together.”

Music Moments: A Fine Frenzy’s “Ashes and Wine” plays over the final scenes, and wow that song doesn’t fuck around: “don't know what to do anymore / I've lost the only love worth fighting for”, “is there a chance / a fragment of light at the end of the tunnel / a reason to fight? / is there a chance you may change your mind / or are we ashes and wine?”

previous episode

#2.03 #bad moon rising #tvd #rewatch #I KNOW I WENT OVERBOARD #BUT THERE'S SOME DAMN GOOD FACE ACTING IN THIS EPISODE #long post

[confidentweirdo]

Of Pyramids, Fountains and Near-Death Experiences

Note: You thought you’ve seen the last of me with those Story Cubes? Nope. I’m still determined to continue this game, even though literally no one wants me to.

If you have no idea what’s going on - look here. Another example of my creative outburst - here. This time we have #sterek!

“You are not going!” Derek snapped, demonstrating his teeth.

“Oh, I am so going!” Styles snapped back.

Scott sighed, squeezed in between those two.

“Any help?” he asked the others.

Lydia, Peter and Erica looked at each other, nodded in total agreement and demonstratively opened three bags of popcorn, making themselves comfortable on the couch - experience of the last few days implied that those kinds of fights usually lasted at least for a few hours.

Scott hoped that Kira would be the one to help him out, but she was busy getting her toenails done by extremely concentrated Cora - everyone knew better than to interrupt that process.

Boyd and Isaac were the quiet ones; Scott looked at them, pleading for help, but those two were already making bets with overenthusiastic twins.

Malia was kind of busy with her homework and from the sounds she was making Scott deduced it was definitely math, which meant the only thing she was up to at the moment is separating someone��s head from its body.

Finally, Scott laid his eyes on Jackson, who was just scrolling through his social media. Making huge eyes, he nodded towards Stiles and Derek, who were still shouting at each other senselessly.

Jackson rolled his eyes, sighed theatrically, but said:

“Stilinski, for heaven’s sake, you have a broken leg! For once, just stay at home like a useless human-being and let the big guys… and girls,” he corrected himself quickly, shooting one glance towards Cora, whom for some unknown reason he feared to the point of absurdity, “handle the situation.”

Stiles frowned, “It’s a sprain.”

“I don’t care what it is, you still need either your walking stick or your not-really-boyfriend to move,” Jackson pointed out.

Derek smiled victoriously, glad that someone for once took his side.

“Shut up, Jackson,” only half-convincingly said Stiles, ignoring the certain part of the sentence he did not want to hear.

Scott breathed out. Jackson may be a bastard, but every tenth time he can actually be useful.

“Stiles, we’re going to Mexico,” Isaac pointed out, dealing the cards. “It’s not like you’re missing a trip to Disneyland.”

“Of course, it’s not!” Stiles shouted at his maximum lungs’ capacity and poked Liam with his cane. Stiles wouldn’t be Stiles unless he invented a way to torture people even if he couldn’t technically walk at the moment. “It’s so much cooler! You’re breaking into the center of the ancient pyramid to find an actual, real, one and only Fountain of Life! How can that even be compared to Disneyland?! Besides, we’re still going there on Isaac’s birthday, right?”

Stiles bit his tongue and immediately looked apologetic. Everyone in the room simultaneously groaned. That was supposed to be a surprise.

“Nice one, idiot,” Erica commented with her usual bitchy face.

“The point is,” Derek tried to outvoice the pack, “that you are not coming with us, Stiles. You’re just not and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Stiles only smiled in reply to that. Scott sighed again - unfortunately, he knew what it meant.

“If you drop me, I’m gonna bite your shoulder off,” Stiles warned Derek, while Hale was carrying him to the car, bridal style.

“You’re making me regret I didn’t chain you to the bathroom heater,” Derek smiled at him in reply. Anyone who has ever seen that grin could confirm that it gave them nightmares for months.

“Is that what love looks like?” Lydia asked in a loud whisper.

“I know my brother, he is smitten,” Cora shrugged.

“Well, in that case, I know Stiles,” Lydia insisted. “And yes, he’s into it, big time.”

“You do know that we can hear you, right?” Stiles shouted from the front seat.

(“Of course, he gets the front seat,” Isaac mumbled.

“You will too, sweetie. When you grow up,” Stiles promised him with a sugary smile. There were no further objections to that.)

“Yeah, that’s the whole point! Why would we talk about you when you can’t hear us?” said Lydia. She and Cora high fived each other.

It took them around three days to get to the destination point. They slept in motels twice, only for a few hours, to get to Mexico as soon as possible - most parents thought it was a short school trip and everyone needed it to stay that way.

Stiles was pretty quiet the whole trip - he borrowed at least a dozen books from Diton’s library and was constantly checking and then rechecking something. Derek tried to get a closer look on his notes, but the only thing he understood from a variety of different languages, symbols and ancient runes were the phases of the moon and a few pictures of the werewolves.

On the other hand, what did he expect? That Stiles was writing his English essay on the probably most dangerous road trip in his life? Derek snorted at that thought and let him be.

Stiles and him knew each other long enough to figure out other person’s likes and dislikes. For example, Stiles never put his legs on top of the glove compartment, even though Derek knew that it was his favorite position to ride in the car. He also didn’t seem to mind chatting all night long while Hale was driving, because he knew that otherwise Derek would start falling asleep. Betas often made fun of him for that, but Stiles would just always shush them and continue chattering enthusiastically.

On his part, Hale let him chose the music and fast food, made sure Stiles’ leg was always okay and in case it was obvious that he’s tired, they found a place to stay for the night. None of them spoke about those observations out loud, obviously. Mostly it was just glances, careful non-verbal remarks and silent support.

“We’ll be there in three hours,” Stiles noticed quietly, glancing at the GPS. He spoke very softly, trying not to wake the others up.

“Yeah,” Derek nodded. It’s not like he had a lot to say to that.

“Are you nervous?” Stiles asked, examining his face closely. Hale thought about it a little.

“Not really. Just worried a bit.”

“About what?”

“You, mostly,” he shrugged.

“Me?”

Derek chuckled when he heard a genuine surprise in Stile’s voice.

“Yes, you, Stiles. My pack knows how to protect themselves and each other. You, on the other hand…”

“…are completely useless and helpless,” Stilinski smiled brightly, but there was a hint of hurt in his eyes. “I know, I know, I got it, I’ve been told that only a few billion times.”

Derek smiled.

“I wouldn’t call you helpless, not in a million years. You are a man of many talents, Stiles. For example, you can always talk your opponent to death. I’m sure if I left you with some of our - preferably tied up - enemies, they will be begging for mercy in no time.”

“Shut up!” Stilinski punched Derek in the shoulder, but they both knew it was a pretend anger. In reality, Stiles was touched.

“You’re staying in the car, by the way,” Hale informed him calmly, mentally prepared for another fight.

“Yeah, sure.” Stiles nodded in agreement, examining his fingernails closely. He wasn’t even being sarcastic this time.

‘This is even worse than a wave of indignation,’ Derek thought to himself and sighed.

“Okay, Stilinki, where’s the catch?”

“What catch? There is no catch! I’ll just stay in the car, like you told me to…”

Derek was sniffing furiously.

“…I mean, there are so many of you guys, you don’t need my help! I’m sure you can read Nahuatl* hieroglyphs, because you’ve studied everything about the various kinds of traps Aztec people preferred, and you definitely have a few tricks up your sleeve on how to deal with aconite and mountain ash traps, and, well, what can a few special pentagrams against non-humans do? Blow you to pieces? That’s just funny, you guys are much smarter and stronger than that. You’ll be just fine!”

Stiles delivered this whole monologue, still concentrating on his manicure. Derek miraculously suppressed the desire to strangle that little asshole.

“Oh, one last thing! You do remember everything Diton told us about the ritual of scooping water in the Fountain, right? One wrong move and the whole operation goes down the drain, ‘cos the liquid will lose its properties,” Stiles informed him happily, making himself more comfortable on the passenger seat.

“Fine!” Derek roared, tightening his grasp on the wheel. “You can come with us. But if you die, that’s your problem!”

Stiles performed a victorious dance, and Hale felt like he is going to regret this decision very soon.

“Very soon” came, when Stiles miscounted his analgetic pills. He figured that he’ll have to walk or even run with his cane more than usual in the next twelve hours, so the obvious decision was to increase the dosage. After that, the reality shattered into tiny pieces.

He knew he did not lose his conscience, not even once, which was good, because otherwise someone will have carried him around, like a dead weight. That was definitely the last thing Stiles wanted. But he did remember falling into this weird trance from time to time and emerging from it when he was really needed. Mostly, Stiles thought, the feeling resembled being very very drunk. Well, that, plus dizziness, weakness and ringing in the ears.

He remembered the entrance to the pyramids clearly. Remembered tons of riddles and traps they had to solve and neutralize, remembered warning others about possible snares every few steps of their way. At some point, there was a whole set of traps against the werewolves and Stiles - being the only human of the pack - was beaming with pride.

“I just can’t help wondering: what would you do without me here, huh?” he mumbled, while sweeping aconite from the floor and ruining the prefect circles and pentagrams. “Stay at home, Stiles, all of you said. We’ll manage this without you, Stiles, you said. Ha! I would definitely like to see you try.”

The pack was watching him frowningly, most of them pacing back and forth, waiting for Stilinski to finish.

“Look out!” Scott shouted suddenly. Stiles turned his head to the sound but had no time to duck. He just followed the arrow with his eyes, motionless. It was aiming straight into his right eye and all he could think of was “wow Aztecs were really precise people.” And then, when the arrow-head was only a few centimeters from his face, Stiles had been pushed away and saw all the events in slow motion: Derek pushing him and covering Stiles’ body with his own bare arm; the arrow tearing the flesh of Hale’s said arm apart, damaging veins and arteries, probably reaching the bones and crushing them too; Derek growling, but still standing after that, his blood dripping on his clothes and floor. “The stains would be hard to get out,” Stiles thought melancholically. He wasn’t even really worried, because if the arrow-head had aconite in it, Derek would already be screaming with pain. Which meant it was just a regular arrow, and the werewolf regeneration is already taking care of that slight inconvenience. Stiles was just grateful that there was only one arrow in this trap, not five or ten.

“Stilinski!” Derek snarled at him, ripping the shaft of the arrow out of his arm. “Remind me to kill you later!”

Stiles shook his head, smiling at him with the warmest grin anyone saw that day.

“My hero,” he said with a chuckle, and then suddenly put his hand on Derek’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, being careful about Hale’s wounded arm. The kiss was slow, unhurried, very gentle and long-awaited.

The pack exchanged glances, but nobody said anything. Lydia shrugged when everyone stared at her, demanding an explanation, and Scott just smiled, looking at his best friend proudly.

Stiles broke the kiss and enthusiastically said:

“So, are we going to the Fountain or not?” and was the first one to start moving further into the next room.

The moment Stiles turned away from him, Derek’s face acquired a very smug smile. Cora couldn’t bare it anymore and immediately started laughing; that sound turned out to be very contagious and soon the whole pack followed her example.

“Oh, shut up!” Derek said, still beaming like a maniac. Stiles was way ahead of them now, checking up on some books of his.

After that Stiles didn’t remember much. Only the moment he was touching the Fountain (in his special gloves, because that thing’s magic was powerful as hell) and pouring the water into a few bottles for Diton’s closer examination.

The sun just started rising when they left the pyramids, exhausted. Obviously, they didn’t get much sleep that night, but it was still decided to pack and leave as soon as possible. After all, there is no sleep deprivation a good cup of coffee can’t cure.

Stiles was sitting on the grass near the car, sipping on his Starbucks and thinking that his life was pretty good at the moment. He survived the night in the pyramids, didn’t get lost, saved his friends’ lives a few times and got the magic substance they were looking for. Oh, and he didn’t get shot, thanks to Derek. Moreover, his painkillers were still kicking, just without any special effects now. Life was most definitely good.

“Hey!” said Scott, flopping down near him.

“Hey,” answered Stiles, enjoying the first morning sun rays on his face.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m… okay, dude. Why do you ask?”

“Do you… remember anything from last night?”

“Scottie, I was there, you know.”

McCall looked uncomfortable. Stiles smiled mischievously. “It totally wasn’t your idea to have this conversation, Scottie, was it?” he thought to himself.

“Okay, true, technically you were, but in your case, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“There were moments where I was completely conscious. And then there might have been a few where I… where I wasn’t,” Stiles offered. He also noticed that Derek was now definitely eavesdropping on their conversation. He was packing something in the car fifty feet away from them, but stopped now, listening carefully.

“Let me guess, kissing Hale happened during the unconscious faze?”

Stiles couldn’t really see Derek’s face from behind, but he noticed the strained muscles of his neck and back.

“Nope!” Stilinski said, much louder than it was necessary. “The most conscious decision of my life, Scottie.”

Derek’s posture immediately relaxed and it seemed like he was finally able to breathe. Stiles grinned broadly, watching him. He might not see Derek’s face, but he could practically feel Hale’s radiant smile from afar.

*Nahuatl - known historically as Aztec language (honestly Googled it, sorry if anything’s wrong here)

P.S. If there are some fandoms or pairing you want to be represented in the game - feel absolutely free to let me know.

P.P.S. Yeah, the quality of gif is absolutely shitty, but to my defense - I was really drunk, okay? Next time it’ll be much better.

My usual disclaimer: no, I am not a native speaker. I can only imagine how many mistakes this post has but I swear to Merlin I did my best. If there are any errors that make you feel uncomfortable - I am very, very open to good criticism, so again feel free to message me.

#story cubes #story cubes game #Sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek/stiles #teen wolf #OTP #flaff #humor #adventures #no one can stop me #one shot #and my favorite tag #idiots in love #fanfiction #pyramids #cane #fountain

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

With This Ring...

So, this is day 7 of Ficmas for @doctorroseprompts.  This was actually partially inspired by @starry-nightflyer.  In September, I wrote little inbox ficlets for @dwinboxbuddies, three of which centered around a ring for Rose.  Her responses suggested she wanted to see him give her the ring - this is that occasion.

Clean.

2017, Day 7

Tagging @timepetalsprompts for our favorite Tenth Doctor ticks - tugging his ear, touching his neck, mussing the hair (all in one sentence!)

Ficmas Masterlist Original inbox ficlets here

AO3

He didn’t know why he was waiting.

Whenever Jackie asked (which was often – at least once a day), he babbled some vague excuse.

He was waiting for the right time.  He had a plan.  He was working on it.

All of which was just that – excuses.

He wanted it to be perfect, what Rose deserved – going so far as to do research with his limited resources, including sitting through Rose’s awful romantic comedy movies looking for ideas.

He had nothing.

But above all, he definitely had not planned on her family being present, never mind involved.

Which is why it was as much a surprise to him as it was to Rose when it finally did happen.

-

“Doctor?”  Tony’s beseeching eyes stared up at him as the little boy swayed next to his chair.

“Go ahead,” he confirmed, lips twitching in amusement as the child gave a happy shout, pulling the Doctor’s suit jacket from the back of the chair and diving into the pockets with glee.

Almost from the beginning, Rose’s brother had been fascinated by the bigger-on-the-inside pockets to the point where he’d tried several times to climb inside, barely being rescued by the Doctor.

By now, it was standard practice that as soon as he was done eating dinner he’d start digging through those pockets in search of anything interesting, usually bored with the adult conversation around him.

“-so there we are, people dropping like flies, Agatha’s having trouble grasping the alien wasp concept, when-”

“Can I have this?”  Heedless of his rudeness Tony asked his question, holding the item in hand.

“Sure,” the Doctor barely glanced at it, trying to remember where he was in the story, when the glimpse of the treasure processed.

“No!”  He cried in a panic, all but lunging for the little boy and carefully wrestling it out of his hands.  “No, Tony, I’m sorry, but you can’t have that,” he said firmly, grasping it close.  “You’re welcome to pick out something – anything – else, but not this.”

Tony pouted, but went back to digging as the Doctor picked up his story.

“So just as-”

“What was that about?” Like mother, like son, Jackie didn’t hesitate to interrupt him.

“What?”

“What did Tony have that was so important?”  She wanted to know, trying to crane her neck to see her son.  “Is he all right?”

“Wha- course he’s fine. Doesn’t matter what he had,” the Doctor said brusquely, fist tightening around it.  “As I was saying-”

“That was quite an overreaction for nothing,” Pete said curiously, keen eyes watching the alien who appeared to be sweating bullets.

“It’s just – it’s precious is all, and it’s mine and no one else’s,” he babbled, clearly nervous.

“What is it, a ring?” Rose asked, amused at how closely he resembled Gollum at the moment.

It had only been a joke, but the way the blood drained from his face as his eyes widened in full blown panic made her sit up straight.

“No, course not,” he said weakly, entirely unconvincing as he tried to sit on his hands.

“Doctor?”

He simply stared at her, and Rose wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing; now her curiosity was hitting critical levels.

“Doctor?”  She repeated, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm.

Rather than say anything he slowly brought his fist up, fingers unclenching one by one until his hand was flat.

Sitting in the middle of his palm was the most gorgeous ring she’d ever seen.  With a silver band, a decent but not obscene sapphire sat nestled between two small diamonds.

Rose brought one hand to her mouth, looking between him and the ring.  “What?”  She whispered, surprised at the tears pricking her eyes.

“It’s a ring,” he explained unnecessarily, staring down at the piece of jewelry.  He took several deep breaths before admitting in a rush, “I bought it for you.”

“When?”  Is all she can think to ask, but she’s not in any way prepared for the answer.

“Years ago.”

“Years?”

“On Tholla Seven.”

It took her a moment to place the name, brow furrowing.  “Hang on, wasn’t that where I got Mum’s bazoolium?”

He nodded slowly, gaze finally rising to meet hers.

“You bought me a ring?” The idea completely blows her mind. “You bought me a ring.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, hand spasming as if he wanted to hide it away.

“Doctor,” Rose stared at him wide eyed, “you bought me a ring.  Why?”

His other hand came up to ruffle his hair before tugging on his earlobe on its way to rub at the back of his neck.

“Because it’s pretty?” The Doctor suggested weakly.  Her expression did not change.  “Because I lo- because I saw it and I knew you should have it?”

Finally turning in her seat to face him fully, she waited the alien out.

Always uncomfortable with silence, he began to babble as she’d hoped.

“We were there, and you were off, and all I was looking for was a chain for your key – you wanted a new one, remember?  And I saw it, and it just – it called to me.  So I bought it.”

Looking down at the ring, he played with it gently, wondering if he was brave enough to take the leap.  It’d been several months now, and Rose was showing no indication of trying to find her way back again.  They didn’t talk about it, but their relationship was clear, wasn’t it?  How he felt?

“I love you,” he blurted, suddenly remembering he hadn’t told her yet that day, needing her to know.

“I love you too,” Rose said softly, reaching out to take his hand.  “And I want you – that’s all.  As long as we’re together, properly, like we’ve been?  That’s all I need.  Anything else is just – extra.  A bonus.”

Looking up into her eyes, even the Doctor could see the love and sincerity shining there.

“Like marriage?”  He hadn’t meant to say it, but it came out anyway.

“Like marriage,” she agreed, lips twitching.  “By my ways or yours, by the way.   I assume your people had some sort of tradition?”

The Doctor’s heart pounded in his chest at the opening.  He’d long since wanted to bond with her, join their minds together and show her everything; it was one of his biggest regrets that they’d never taken that step before- well, before.

“We did,” he acknowledged, “but that’s a discussion for another time.  I suppose for now, there’s a question I’m supposed to ask?”

“If you want,” Rose breathed, hands shaking slightly.  “But only if you want.  Bonus, remember?”

“Right.”  Mouth dry, the Doctor took a big gulp from his water glass before rising from the chair to kneel in front of Rose.  “So, I don’t actually know how this is done, so tell me if I’m getting it wrong, yeah?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“Rose, I- hang on, before I start, am I making a fool of myself?”  He asked anxiously, peering up at her.

She giggled nervously. “Honestly, I hope Mum’s actually recording this like she’s trying to, cause right now I’m just tryin’ to pick our wedding cake.”

“Right,” he repeated, exhaling a nervous breath.  “Here goes. Love, from the moment- can I just make you cocoa instead?”

“What?”

“In Aztec culture, making someone hot chocolate is the equivalent of a proposal.  Er, so I’ve heard.  Anyway-”

“Doctor, did you once get engaged to an Aztec?”  Rose asked, smiling wryly at him.

He grimaced.  “Yeah.  It’s a long story.  My friend Barbara-” he cut himself off with a cough.  “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.  If you want.  Can I just-”

“Please.”

“Okay.”  He cleared his throat again.  “Rose.”  He didn’t say anything for several long seconds, only speaking at a prompt from a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, so, here goes. Rose, will you marry me?”

“Yes!”  She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck as she snogged him thoroughly.

They ignored Tony’s disgust next to them, too happy to care.

Finally breaking apart, the Doctor slid the ring onto Rose’s finger; as expected, it was a perfect fit.

“I love it,” she gushed, holding out one hand to admire it.

“I love you,” he told her, hugging her close.

“Oi!”  Jackie shouted, causing the couple to break apart.

“What?”  The Doctor asked, one arm still around Rose’s waist. “She’s an adult, Jackie, she certainly doesn’t need your permission.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask, though I’m not wasting my breath on that.  But she does need a proper proposal!”  His now mother-in-law-to-be exclaimed, hands waving in the air.

He blinked at her, before frowning down at Rose.  “I got on one knee, I had a ring, I asked the question – what did I miss?”

“The speech!”  Jackie cried in exasperation.  “Before you actually ask, you give her a big romantic speech about what she means to you, and how much you love her, and all that. I got one from Pete – both times! She deserves that as well.”

The Doctor glanced between Rose’s parents.  “Can’t I get her name right in the vows and call it even?”  Rose’s elbow dug sharply into his side.

“I don’t need a speech,” she reassured him.

“Good,” he scowled.  “The very fact that I’m here, living in this house with Jackie, having conversations about paint colors and milk and all sorts of domestics without regurgitating my last meal should say more than enough.”

“It does,” Rose rolled her eyes at the less than flowery language.  “And, I know.”

“Really, how could you not?”

“Right?”

“So, we’ll marry then?” The Doctor double checked.

“Yes.  By Earth customs, but perhaps by Time Lord customs as well?  What are they?”

He stared down at her, wondering if she’d truly be interested in that kind of permanent closeness. “I’ll tell you later.”

“You better,” Rose ordered, as they finally returned to their seats.  “Now – you were saying Agatha couldn’t cope with aliens?”

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #timepetalscollective #31 Days of Ficmas #ficandchips #ring

[tipsycad147]

Aquarius January National Popcorn Day

By shirleytwofeathers

National Popcorn Day is celebrated at the end of January, although its exact date is a matter of debate. Various sources report it as January 19; others claim it takes place on whatever day the “big game” falls on.

Why not use this day for some popcorn magick?

Then he thought if he had some milk, he would have popcorn and milk.

You can fill a glass full to the brim with milk, and fill another glass of the same size brim full of popcorn, and then you can put all the popcorn kernel by kernel into the milk, and the milk will not run over.

~from Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Magickal Associations of Corn:

Gender: Feminine

Planet: Venus, Pluto

Element: Earth

Season: Lammas and Mabon

Deities: agriculture and solar deities

Correspondences: Protection, Luck, Divination, Blessing, Offering, Fertility, Abundance

Popcorn Offerings

I’m not sure if you are aware of it, but nature spirits like popcorn. I have it on authority from Chickadee who has had complex relationship with a number of nature spirits, that they almost all like popcorn, particularly the sea gull spirits. This is a great way to introduce children to the idea of a relationship with the land…however, because of the (practical) negative implications of feeding wildlife, it is important to not leave food out too much or too often and to change the area where offerings are left, so that wildlife do not become accustomed to it.

Popcorn Chains

At Yule, when we decorate our tree, we include a popcorn garland. Part of our tradition when we make it is to use what we add to say a thank you and a blessing for someone we love (not for every single piece, but for our “family strand” of garland that that goes on the top of the tree).

Stringing magic popcorn into edible jewellery is an easy way to add a bit of extra love or joy or healing blessings for the kids, and it even makes a great sibling or parent gift. A few months ago, when my daughter did something especially naughty, got it in her head to make a “sorry necklace” for her brother. After eating caramel popcorn on a string, he was in a better mood to forgive her…

Popcorn Fortune Balls

This should be pretty obvious–think fortune cookie in a popcorn ball. Or, if you are packing a lunch for a trip or a day at school, put in an encouraging note or positive thought. Put a popcorn fortune ball on the end of a straw, and add some pipe-cleaner petals for a edible bouquet gift from the kids. All you need are some small strips of paper with a message written on them, and a popcorn ball recipe–stuff the message in the centre of the ball as you shape it.

Venus Popcorn Spell

Sharing a bowl of popcorn with someone you love is one of life’s simple pleasures. Adding a sprinkle of practical magic may be akin to “gild-ing the lily,” but who doesn’t like to stir up a little love magic now and then? Rent a favourite romantic movie tonight. Pop some fresh popcorn, add butter if desired, and season with love herbs and passionate spices as suggested below. Say as you do so: “Venus, bless us with love and beauty.”

Garlic salt, chilli powder, and red pepper-to rekindle your love life.

Parmesan cheese and dried basil-for Italian style romance

Chilli powder, garlic, and basil-fiery passion.

A touch of cinnamon, sugar, and vanilla powder-for comfort and warmth.

More Popcorn Day Activities

Guess the Amount: Fill a container with popcorn kernels and have everyone guess. The winner gets a nifty prize.

Popcorn Air Hockey: Can you “volley” the kernel back and forth 20 times without letting it fall? For this you will need: a flat surface (table), straw (to blow), coffee stirrers (as paddles) or hands (as paddles).

Popcorn Relay Race: Holding popped corn in a spoon, run relay races to see which team can keep the popped corn in the spoon longest without spilling it.

Popcorn Basketball: Can you flick a piece of popcorn into the basket? Muffin tins or small cups can be used for the basket.

Make a Popcorn Word Search: Use these words: popcorn, pop, kernel, explode, heat, moisture, grain, snack, crunchy, butter, oil, salt, fiber, bag, hull.

Write a Popcorn Haiku (5, 7, 5 syllable pattern poem): Like this!

Oil, kernels, heat, time Many loud explosions heard Pop, crunch, snack time. Yum!

How many words can you make from this phrase? “Fresh hot popcorn”, “Popcorn tastes good”, “I like popcorn”, “Hot buttered popcorn”

About Popcorn:

Popcorn has been around for 5,000 years. Archaeologists and researchers believe it to be the oldest of a group of five sweet corns. Popcorn originated in Mexico but quickly spread globally. Popcorn ears over 5,600 years old were found in New Mexico in 1948 and 1950, they are the oldest ears of popcorn known.

Popcorn was integral to early 16th century Aztec Indian ceremonies. Bernardino de Sahagun writes:

“And also a number of young women danced, having so vowed, a popcorn dance. As thick as tassels of maize were their popcorn garlands. And these they placed upon (the girls’) heads.”

In 1519, Cortes got his first sight of popcorn when he invaded Mexico and came into contact with the Aztecs. Popcorn was an important food for the Aztec Indians, who also used popcorn as decoration for ceremonial headdresses, necklaces and ornaments on statues of their gods, including Tlaloc, the god of rain and fertility.

An early Spanish account of a ceremony honouring the Aztec gods who watched over fishermen reads:

“They scattered before him parched corn, called momochitl, a kind of corn which bursts when parched and discloses its contents and makes itself look like a very white flower; they said these were hailstones given to the god of water.”

Writing of Peruvian Indians in 1650, the Spaniard Cobo says, “They toast a certain kind of corn until it bursts. They call it pisancalla, and they use it as a confection.”

In South America, kernels of popcorn found in burial grounds in the coastal deserts of North Chile were so well preserved they would still pop even though they were 1,000 years old.

Some Popcorn Trivia:

Popcorn is a subspecies of corn called Zea mays everta, and like all corn, it is part of the grass family

An 8 foot in diameter popcorn ball, weighing 3,415 lbs, created in 2006 in Lake Forest, IL is the largest popcorn ball on record

A popcorn kernel needs 14% moisture content to pop

The oldest popcorn popper was discovered in Peru dating back to 300 AD

October is National Popcorn Popping Month!

After bread, popcorn is one of the most popular foods that people feed waterfowl. Unfortunately, feeding waterfowl isn’t a good idea…

Popcorn is the official state snack food of the state of Illinois

Archaeological evidence of popcorn dates back to 4700 BC in Peru

During the Great Depression, popcorn became exceedingly popular due to its relatively low price and was one of a few businesses that did well.

The Science of Popping Corn:

Popcorn works because each individual kernel (thanks to the hard shell) becomes its own pressure cooker, which then explodes, turning itself inside out. Inside the shell is a starchy substance and water. As the kernel heats up, the water turns into steam and the steam cooks the starch into a super hot jelly-like substance that explodes. After exploding, the water evaporates and the starch dries out, leaving the kernel flipped inside out, in the shape we know as popcorn.

Sources:

Web Holidays

LLewellyn Spell A Day

Bay Witch Musings

Popcorn.org

https://shirleytwofeathers.com/The_Blog/pagancalendar/category/january-holidays/page/2/

[sailorgreywolf-legacy]

Legacy - Chapter 38

Mexico took a deep breath. He had been talking very quickly for the last few minutes while he had been describing his fight with Spain. His hands were clenched firmly into fists because of his anger, which was coming back in caustic waves. America didn't speak. He hardly knew what to say. Any commentary on such a critical moment in Mexico's life just wouldn't sound right. So, America held his tongue, despite the fact that he wanted to console his lover.

Mexico started to breathe more deeply and tried to distance himself from the past. He understood the power in his voice and the impact that the story must have had on America. Mexico addressed this, "You may speak, Alfred. I won't hate you for it." America struggled with his words, "I don't know what to feel. I suppose I should just let you keep telling your story. What did it mean when you lost?" Mexico let out a long breathe before saying, "It meant more than just my loss. Miguel stopped the forward momentum just outside of the city as soon as I returned. It is possible that the revolution could have been won right then if not for my weakness. The city was not as well defended as we had initially thought."

America heard a dismissal in the answer, "But what about you? What did it mean to you that you couldn't beat Spain?" Mexico's demeanor shifted and America became aware a half second too late that the question might have not been the most tasteful. Mexico responded, "I would say that I was humbled, but we both know that isn't true. It reinforced that I needed to be underhanded. Trying to fight honorably had nearly gotten me killed, and that wasn't worth it. Emotionally I was shaken though." ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

No one had dared talk to Mexico since he had returned, sullen and bleeding. He had had a very short conversation with Hidalgo and Allende about what had happened with Spain. He had let the mortals dictate the next strategy because he was too drained to think. Allende proposed that a little reorganization would allow them to take the city. Hidalgo, however, was insisting on a retreat. Mexico had a feeling that the retreat was due to the fact that he was injured and drained. He knew that Hidalgo was worried about him and an attempt on the city would most likely result in Mexico fighting again, which would risk more injury. Mexico didn't disagree with Hidalgo, despite his usually aggressive nature. He was shaken and he admitted it, another battle was not something he was prepared to do. Allende, as usual, complained about no one backing him up, but he eventually submitted.

Once that was decided and over, Mexico retreated to a room by himself. Texas quickly and silently bandaged the wound on his side again and then left his brother alone. For a time, Mexico did nothing but stood at the window looking out. He was still attempting to organize the confrontation with Spain in his mind. What bothered him the most was that he had been winning and Spain had simply gotten in a lucky shot. It wasn't really that Mexico had been lacking skill; in fact, he had been winning at the end.

He put his hand down on the windowsill and started to drum his fingers nervously. Looking out at the lights of his capital was like a burning insult. Had he not made one reckless mistake, that entire city would be his home once again. There was no excuse for his weakness other than stupid youthful confidence. Had he just kept on the strict offensive, he would have eventually worn down Spain, whose arm had obviously been weakening. If that had happened, the army would have been able to take the city and this entire war would be won by now.

Mexico looked down at his own hand; it was more comforting than looking out of the window. The good news was that the pain in his side was now a dull throb. Other than the scrape across his side, Mexico's injuries were really quite minimal. He had a few bruises, but aside from that he was physical damage. It was pretty clear that the biggest damage had been to his ego. Mexico turned away from the window and started to walk across the room.

He caught sight of himself in a small mirror that was mounted on the wall. He still had a handsome elegance, but there was something different in his face. He looked exhausted. His cheeks were lacking color and he had black circles forming under his eyes. How emotionally drained he felt was reading all over his face, which explained why everyone was shying away from him. It would have been smart to get some sleep, but he knew that sleep would not come to him now. He was too anxious. He knew that if he even closed his eyes, all he would think about was his fight with Spain. He would visualize every move that had been made and fixate upon it. The frustration of defeat would be, if possible, even more potent than it was now. So, he would not even attempt to sleep tonight, despite how tired he looked.

After the short period of contemplation at the mirror, Mexico continued to walk out of the room. Being inside suddenly felt stifling. He wanted to feel air moving over his skin. He wanted to stand in the moonlight and look at the stars. They sky made him feel a sense of freedom and he desperately needed that right now. So, without much deliberation, he walked out of the room. The lodgings were the usual crude one floor building. Before Mexico sprawled the camp that housed what remained of the army. Still the force was large enough that the night was bright, dotted with fires that burned outside of tents. In some ways, it was magnificence to see the scale of it, the grand majesty of an army that was capable of taking up so much room. But a closer examination showed what Allende had always said and Mexico now saw. These men were not soldiers. Some of them had been hardened by the recent battles, but all the same, they were peasants and farmers who had dared to pick up a gun or a scythe, or whatever else they could to fight the people they saw as oppressive. They had been able to win thus far. But now Mexico found himself wondering if it was only due to sheer force of numbers. All the doubts he had never allowed himself to have before began to surface. The defeat at Spain's hands had shaken his confidence and now he was finally seeing all the truths he had blinded himself to.

It did nothing to lift his spirits, which were low enough already. The light of the many fires lit in the area made it nearly impossible to see the stars, which were hidden behind a thin bank of clouds. Mexico felt himself slowly accepting the fact that nothing was going to make him feel better tonight. Right after he lighted on that discouraging thought, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

He spun around to face a very familiar priest. He had already had a conversation with Hidalgo today involving strategy, but that had been business. Already, the atmosphere felt different. It felt strangely like the first time they had met so long ago. This feeling was compounded when the priest finally spoke, "You seem to be upset tonight. Can we talk?" Mexico shrugged, but on the inside he was relieved. It had not occurred to him to voice his concerns to anyone else, but now it seemed obvious. On all the occasions thus far, opening up to Hidalgo had always made him feel better. So, the obvious answer was, "Yes, of course."

There was no one around that would pay attention to the conversation, so there was no need to go somewhere more private. Mexico allowed the other to start the conversation, which he soon did, "What is bothering you? Is it Ignacio?" Mexico took a deep breath before he started to talk. His emotional walls always seemed to come down under Hidalgo's gaze. He found himself recounting every detail of the fight. He cringed when he got to some of the dialogue because he knew it went directly against what Hidalgo had told him about vengeance. When he got to the end, he started to clench his hands in an agitated manner. He finished with a statement spoken through his clenched teeth, "I should have won that fight. I made one stupid move and I lost."

Hidalgo, as he had on past occasions, stayed quiet and simply listened as Mexico talked. This silence was part of the reason his presence was so calming to Mexico, he didn't comment on anything despite the parts that had gone against his advice. Only when he was certain that his country was done talking, did the priest make a response. Mexico couldn't read the emotions in the mortal's eyes and it was disconcerting. He at least wanted some sort of conformation of the response he expected. Mexico was thoroughly ready for some sort of rebuke for his reckless vendetta. However, Hidalgo seemed to see that a lecture while the Aztec boy was in the current emotional state wouldn't be effective. He said simply, "You did everything you could. Spain simply got in a lucky blow that disabled you."

Mexico sighed and looked down at his own feet. He still felt he had not properly voiced his own concern, so he said it much more bluntly, "But it made me feel like none of this is right. I don't feel like I am ready for any of it." He gestured around desperately in an attempt to convey the meaning. He added, "I just think that Ignacio may be right." Hidalgo knowingly reached out and put his hand on Mexico's shoulder. The contact made him look back up and straight into the priest's eyes. Hidalgo spoke, "Don't let Allende's doubts get to you. You are perfectly capable of winning your freedom." Mexico scoffed, but didn't pull away from the comfortingly warm hand on his shoulder, "If I am, then why did you advocate for a retreat. I agreed because I think I need time to learn and recover before I face Antonio again."

Hidalgo responded at once, while putting his other hand on Mexico's other shoulder, "Exactly because of this. That loss affected you. I can't watch you fall again. You mean more to me than this entire revolution. I fear that one more battle will destroy you, so I want to pull back before you physically and mentally injure yourself further." Mexico felt entirely lost for words. There was a deep feeling and commitment in the honest statement. It was entirely different from the concern that Spain had said he had so many times. This was genuine and pure that it started to warm him even with how depressed he was feeling tonight. But, the words did nothing to lift his confidence. Mexico didn't doubt his own skills with a weapon, he had held his own against Spain. But he doubted his ability to lead and win the revolution. Hidalgo seemed to read this from Mexico's face.

He took a different tact, "I know you are worried about what Ignacio has been saying about our army. But I need to remind you of something." The priest released Mexico's shoulders and took a couple steps away. He made a wide sweeping gesture that indicated that he was speaking about the entirety of the army behind him, "These may not be hardened soldiers. But these are the men who are willing to die for you. They don't even know you exist and they are willing to die for the idea of you. That is the kind of loyalty very few mortal men could ever dream of having." There was something fantastically enthralling in the statement that resonated with Mexico; it worked to ease the doubt he was feeling. He had not thought of what these men were willing to give up to fight for him. Hidalgo continued in the same manner, "You may not believe in yourself at this moment. But I will tell you the most important thing: They believe in you and so do I. You have to remember that and you will never be lost. You are a country and the faith of your people should be your strength." Mexico felt himself start to smile. The words actually worked this time. He naturally didn't feel as confident as he had before, but the doubt he had been feeling had been eased.

He spoke, "You're right, as usual. I shouldn't be worried. Antonio didn't best me with skill; he bested me with luck. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you to confide in." Hidalgo took a step back towards Mexico; his expression had changed to something that was more somber, "Don't say that. I wish I could be here for you eternally, but I can't. I hope I can live much longer and see you grow into the country you are meant to be. But you have to face the fact that I am mortal and you are not." The other attempted to find words to respond to this, but failed. He had taken it to be a given that Hidalgo would be a constant after the revolution succeeded.

Just as he didn't contemplate his own failure, Mexico didn't think of the death of the people he cared about. If he simply ignored the possibility, it felt like he could will it to not happen. Hidalgo continued, "For those of us who can only live one lifetime, the legacy we leave is more important than the minute details of our lives. I trust that once I am gone, you will never let history forget me or how much I believe in you." Mexico simply nodded and said, "Of course I won't forget you. You've made everything possible for me." The priest put his hand on Mexico's shoulder again, "I'm glad. Now you should get some sleep. You look exhausted. I fear we will have to fight again very soon, and you will need your strength."

[viralnewstime]

A few months back Victoria’s six-part streaming series The State of Music brought a much-needed dose of live music magic to our living rooms, thanks to some standout performances from some of Australia’s most-loved acts.

Now, with the state of Victoria still firmly under lockdown, they’re doing it again! Only this time, they’re placing the spotlight firmly on emerging artists with the four-part series The State of Music: Introducing.

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Produced in partnership with the Victorian Government, The State of Music: Introducing invites established acts and legends of the Aussie music industry to lend a little of their star power to their favourite Victorian up and comer, by ‘introducing’ them to a wider audience.

It’s a wholesome idea that so far, has produced wonderful results with the likes of Paul Kelly, The Chats, The Teskey Brothers, Alex Lahey, Tim Rogers and Vika and Linda bringing some truly stellar young acts some much-deserved attention. As well as the chosen artists absolutely turning it up with some knockout performances.

It is a giant musical lovefest, that not only brings some fantastic musicians some invaluable exposure, but that also brings out the giddy music fan in the acts doing the ‘introducing’.

There’s something truly heartwarming about seeing someone so deeply ingrained in our music culture as Paul Kelly rambling on like a starstruck fanboy as he introduces Jess Hitchcock, or Alex Lahey busting out of her boots with glee at the opportunity to bless us all with the gift of Nancie Shipper.

//

It shows that deep down inside, they’re still music tragics like us, and as live music-starved fans ourselves, that feels really nice and comforting to know.

As a bonus, with incredible turns from Jess Hitchcock, Nancie Shipper, CLAMM, Gena Rose Bruce, Pollyman and Kee’ahn, it is also beating the hell out of our lockdown blues here in Victoria, by giving us some quality live music to truly lose ourselves in every episode, while we await the return of our states true god: gigs.

Heading into week four, we’ve witnessed some star-marking moments from this diverse array of acts that showcases the staggering amount of talent that calls Victoria home right now.

Don’t just take our glowing word for it though, check it out for yourself by catching the four most memorable moments from The State of Music: Introducing so far and then do a deep dive on the artists’ back catalogues. Your new musical obsession awaits.

Jess Hitchcock

Introduced by Paul Kelly

“When you sing with Jess, you have to step up to the plate” says Aussie songwriting legend Paul Kelly when introducing Jess Hitchcock. It takes until the end of the first word of her cover of ‘Lay It On Me’ by Vance Joy to understand why.

Jess has one of those voices that just captivates you immediately, whisking you away to another realm for the precious few minutes you are blessed with her company.

Such pristine tone, such power, such emotion, Jess Hitchcock’s voice is a force of nature and it is on full display during this set. Accompanied simply on acoustic guitar by Cristian Barbieri, Jess displays the scope of her considerable talents, as a songwriter, a singer and a performer, making every second of this performance feel like a must watch.

An award winning Indigenous performer, composer and singer-songwriter with three years to her name as a backing vocalist for Kate Miller Heidke, a national run with Paul Kelly during which she was a featured artist every night, and over a decade’s worth of work with Australia’s only Indigenous opera company Short Black, Jess’ list of credentials gives some context to her capabilities, but no amount amount of context will prepare you for THAT voice.

Whether hitting stunning highs on the aforementioned Vance Joy cover or taking you on a gorgeous journey of self-discovery on the title track of her debut album Bloodline, a song about discovering and connecting with your identity as an Indigenous person, Jess’ voice will leave you spellbound.

Checkout ‘Bloodline’ below then take a listen into the rest of her wonderful debut album.

CLAMM

Introduced by Eamon Sandwith (The Chats)

“If you’re a fan of fuzzed-out punk music with aggro lyrics and sick riffs, I reckon you’ll be a fan of CLAMM,” Eamon Sandwith of The Chats decrees and you know what, Eamon, no truer words have bloody been spoken, mate. Exploding from the screen with a ferocious brand of punk, CLAMM bring some much needed danger to proceedings with an opening riot of romp through ‘Keystone Pols’ off of their bonza full-length record Beseech Me.

With guitarist/vocalist, Jack Summers, barking out anti-authoritarian lyrics and ripping out fierce riffs, bass player Maisie Everett hammering down the low end, and drummer Miles Harding going ballistic on the kit, CLAMM unleash a unique and rare energy that cuts through all the bullshit and has you looking around the house for the nearest thing to stage dive off of.

Backing it up with an absolute corker of a cover of Aussie punk legends The Saints ‘This Perfect Day’, proves that this band of inner-southern suburban types have the street cred, taste and talents to be the next big thing in Australian punk.

Check out the banging ‘Keystone Pols’ from this episode filmed at Collingwood’s iconic ‘Gasometer Hotel’ (the ‘Gaso’ to locals) then head to their Bandcamp to pick up the whole ‘Beseech Me’ record. It was the 3RRR Album of the Week for a reason. It rips.

Pollyman

Introduced by Tim Rogers

“They’re my favourite band. It is my enormous pleasure to introduce you, you lucky buggers, to Pollyman.” when Tim Rogers. TIM FREAKIN’ ROGERS, is this hyped about a band, you know you’re in for something special, so it is not surprising that Pollyman absolutely lives up to that sparkling intro.

From the moment frontman George Carroll Wilson steps up to the mic in his retro swag and lets out a rockin’ croon, it is apparent that this is not your average rock band.

Oh no, this is a terrific, original, breath of fresh air of a rock band, one that calls to mind greats of the past, while sounding so contemporary they could almost be from tomorrow.

Opening with ‘Inhibitions’ a slow-burning, off-kilter rocker that showcases George’s unique timbre, by pairing it with artfully chosen chord shapes, rumblin’ rhythms, and just enough space to go on some haunting runs.

‘Inhibitions’ calls to mind so many rock legends, while at the same time sounding nothing like any of them.

The song, much like the performance here, is incredibly accomplished, a perfect display of power-pop infused rock and roll with a sort of weathered sophistication that leaves you thinking about it for days.

Pollyman serves this up alongside a faithful and fabulous cover of Aussie icon Billy Thorpe and the Aztecs’ ‘Most People I Know’ that adds to the timeless quality of their sound. It provides a subtle hint to the origin and intentions of their sound while gifting everyone the chance to have a blast singing along to THAT chorus. This is two songs of rock done right.

Checkout ‘Inhibitions’ below then check out all things Pollyman. Tim wasn’t lying. That album is great.

Kee’ahn

Introduced by Vika and Linda

When industry veterans like Vika and Linda are left in awe of a young performer, you best be prepared for that performer to blow you away.

That’s what Kee’ahn does here with a stunning solo performance of her debut single ‘Better Things’.

Armed with nothing but a white strat, a microphone, and a voice that will leave you breathless, Kee’ahn introduces herself to the national stage with a silky smooth yet emotionally gripping rendition of a genuinely special song.

With a name that comes from the Wik people that means “to dance, to sing, to play”, Kee’ahn lives up to the meaning of her name, in a manner that gives you the sense of something spiritual at play.

There’s a soulful feeling to every note played, while every syllable sung evokes a depth of emotion that has you thinking of the adage ‘an old soul, in a young body’.

A song about reflection and looking forward to the future, this take on ‘Better Things’ has us looking forward to a future when we can see Kee’ahn live IRL.

The accompanying cover of The Temper Trap’s ‘Trembling Hands’ showcases Kee’ahn’s ability to embody a song so effectively that it sounds like it is her own, while somehow still remaining faithful to the musicality and narrative of the original.

The delicate delivery on the chorus’ vocals makes the hairs stand on end. A proud Gugu Yalanji, Jirrbal, Zenadth Kes song woman who has recently ventured from her home town in North Queensland, to pursue her dream in the Kulin Nation (Melbourne, Australia), Kee’ahn is on the verge of something big when her debut full-length In Full Bloom drops.

Checkout ‘Better Things’ here then go follow Kee’ahn on socials so you don’t miss out on the next step of her story.

–

Catch up on past episodes of ‘The State of Music: Introducing’ here. 

The post The Four Most Memorable Moments From The State Of Music’s ‘Introducing’ Series appeared first on Music Feeds.

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[goarticletec-blog]

Beautiful Alfonso Cuarón movie Roma brought back my own childhood

New Post has been published on https://www.articletec.com/beautiful-alfonso-cuaron-movie-roma-brought-back-my-own-childhood/

Beautiful Alfonso Cuarón movie Roma brought back my own childhood

Yalitza Aparicio as Cleo (left), Marco Graf as Pepe and Daniela Demesa as Sofi in Roma, written and directed by Alfonso Cuarón. 

Alfonso Cuarón

I saw the movie Roma by Alfonso Cuarón intending to peek into the memories of his childhood in Mexico City.

When I left the theater, though, I had an intense need to look into my own.

In the late ’60s and early ’70s, Mexican youth fought on the streets of the capital for democratic change, civil rights and freedom of expression. On Oct. 2, 1968, the protests ended in the violent siege of Tlatelolco Plaza that left hundreds dead, but the demise of the movement came in 1971 (the year I was born) with El Halconazo, when government-trained paramilitaries beat up and killed demonstrators during a march in Mexico City.

It’s in this time and place Roma unfolds. The movie, a deeply personal masterpiece of storytelling and cinematography, opened in select theaters this week and will stream on Netflix starting Dec. 14. (Read my review of Roma in Spanish here.)

Roma is based on Cuarón’s childhood memories. In the film, the father leaves the family and the mother struggles to make sense of her new social and practical realities. There are four children and a grandmother, but the movie is really about their servants, Cleo (a fantastic Yalitza Aparicio) and Adela (Nancy García García). They both speak Mixtec, a language spoken in Central and Southern Mexico. “Stop speaking funny,” the youngest kid tells Cleo at the beginning. “I don’t understand you.” This foreshadows what’s to come.

Cleo is the emotional, practical problem solver: She cooks, cleans, does dishes, puts the kids to sleep and lets the matriarch (an excellent Marina de Tavira) blow off steam whenever she needs to.

In the film’s most heart-wrenching scene, we see El Halconazo through Cleo’s eyes. She’s pregnant and witnessing the violence in the streets from a furniture store when her water breaks and she’s taken to the hospital. A receptionist there asks the grandma for Cleo’s full name. “I don’t know her full name and I don’t know where she’s from,” she answers, crying. The transition from national to personal turmoil represents some of the most intense, impactful 20 minutes of cinema I’ve seen in a long time. 

Shared memories 

For many, growing up in the Mexican middle class meant living in a delicate bubble. While we waited for the implosion, we lived with privileges reserved for the aristocracy, but on a more modest scale. That meant we had domestic workers — nannies, cooks and in some cases even chauffeurs — but they were paid menial salaries with no benefits, lived in our homes in miniature bedrooms, cooked dinner late at night and woke up early the next day to have breakfast ready. In return for the lack of compensation, the Mexican middle class treat their workers “as family.”

Roma, in many ways, reminded me of my neglectful obliviousness. I feel mortified and regretful. 

My Cleo was Mari, my grandmother’s cleaning lady, a strong, fair-skinned woman who lost three fingers when she was a kid in separate accidents with a pair of scissors and a firecracker. Every time I went for a visit, she’d make my favorite lime pie. She’d also cook pozole soup, and it was particularly exquisite because she’d clean each kernel of hominy by hand, meticulously extracting its black spots. I don’t remember Mari’s last name, though I was able to visit her in her village as an adult. Her home was furnished with objects she inherited from my grandmother. 

Mari was “like family,” and yet she wasn’t. Growing up, the expression “like family” drove me crazy because of its inherent injustice. “They have their own family, and would rather be with them,” I’d argue. But I don’t remember how many brothers and sisters she had, anything about her parents or where she grew up. Roma, in many ways, reminded me of my neglectful obliviousness and made me feel mortified and regretful of not acknowledging Mari enough. 

In The Labyrinth of Solitude, an incisive and piercing essay about what it means to be Mexican by Nobel Prize winner Octavio Paz, the author describes hearing a noise in his home. “Who is there?” he asks. “I was answered by the voice of a servant who had recently come to us from her village,” he writes. Her reply: “No one, señor. I am.” She’s a Nobody who doesn’t want to call attention to herself, who does what she needs to do, just like Roma’s Cleo.

Someone who denies another human being their right to be, Paz writes, “is also changed into a Nobody.”

Cuarón, who won an Oscar for best director for Gravity in 2014, and who wrote, produced, directed and even did the cinematography for Roma, dedicated the film to Libo, his childhood nanny. In doing so, he not only acknowledges who she was and what she meant to him, but also reasserts that Libo was Somebody. By doing that, Cuarón makes himself a Somebody too.

Cuarón has said he waited to have the emotional maturity to make this movie. It’s perhaps his most personal yet, so it makes sense the director would also take total control of the camera instead of recruiting his regular collaborator, three-time Academy Award winner Emmanuel “El Chivo” Lubezki. He details his memories breathtakingly, filming in black and white: water running on the floor when Cleo sweeps the garage; slow-moving airplanes flying through a gray sky; the family watching TV together with Cleo sitting on the floor.

Alfonso Cuarón directs a scene from Roma, coming to Netflix in December after opening in theaters. 

Carlos Somonte/Netflix

La Roma of Roma

One of the main characters in the film is the neighborhood itself. I grew up 15 miles north of Mexico City in a suburb called Satélite. But my first job was in Colonia Roma, the neighborhood that gives the movie its name.

The movie reminded me of the era’s massive American-made cars, like the Chrysler Imperial or Valiant Acapulco shouldering past the minuscule and omnipresent Volkswagen Beetles crowding the roads. It also evoked the sprawling movie theaters surrounded by peddlers, who sold everything from strange-looking plastic Superman and Batman toys to multicolored balloons in indistinguishable forms. But it’s the neighborhood that’s the center of it all.

La Roma is near downtown Mexico City. Its main boulevard, Álvaro Obregón Avenue, is lined with trees amid big neo-colonial and Art Deco houses. Many of the old structures have been replaced by 20-story buildings with mirrored facades, and traffic today among its tight avenues is relentless, like in the rest of the city.

La Roma, the epitome of bourgeois, was battered twice on an ominous day: Sept. 19. In 1985 and 2017, powerful earthquakes rattled the city, and La Roma was one of the most affected areas with hundreds of multiple-story buildings crumbling. As a character, the neighborhood fits perfectly in the narrative about growing up middle class in Mexico. It’s a seemingly idyllic place, with a modern and European feel, but lies in the center of a city that still struggles with its identity as the former Aztec capital, the hub for Spanish colonial exploits and, today, the epicenter of Mexican hipsterism.

Like La Roma, the Mexican middle class also has a conflict of identity. 

In general, middle-class Mexicans are convinced we’re part of the solution. La Roma is home to many bureaucrats, professionals and intellectuals close enough to power to wield influence, but far enough away to avoid being tainted by rampant corruption. But our little secret is that we’re also part of the status quo, especially when it comes to exploiting others for meager pay and questionable living conditions. According to the National Institute of Statistics and Geography of Mexico, of the 2.48 million domestic workers in the country, 90 percent are women.

While Roma is about Cuarón’s memories, it forced me to squeeze my brain and remember my hometown, Mari and all the women who helped take care of me and my family along the way. I am thankful for all the memories, and the personal reckoning, it sparked — the reason I am planning to see the film again.

Culture: Your hub for everything from film and television to music, comics, toys and sports.

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[sailorgreywolf-legacy]

Legacy - Chapter 35

Mexico had now started pacing as he told the story. America noticed that his lover's eyes seemed to have a glimmer to them that had been absent for the rest of the story. The emotions that had been present during the revolution were resurfacing as Mexico recounted the events. America, even though he was also a country born of revolution, had a hard time understanding how much Mexico's revolution meant to him. The American Revolution had not possessed the same raw passion or emotion. Perhaps it was because he had never truly hated England, or maybe it was because, though the fighting had been hard, he had never had to sacrifice like Mexico had for the sake of his independence. Whatever the reason, America couldn't empathize with the feelings but he could wonder at them. Mexico was never more beautiful than he was when he was overcome by nationalistic fervor. It made the gold in his eyes dance like fire. His complexion even seemed to brighten as the blood rushed to his cheeks. This made the American even more disappointed by the fact that Mexico was choosing to stand and pace instead of sitting next to him.

He attempted to break the revelry by saying, "You think very well of Hidalgo don't you?" Mexico looked at his lover, but it was almost like he was looking through him, his mind still lost in the memories of the past. All the same, his response was very grounded, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. He was human and I allow for that. He wasn't perfect by any measure. He, like almost everyone, desired his own elevation above everything. He was more in favor of creole dominance than he represented to me. But, I will always remember him as a hero despite that. Excluding my actual father and Portugal, he was the closest thing I had to a real father figure." America nodded because he was not entirely sure what to say. In truth, he felt that way about his revolutionary leaders. He knew that none of the founding fathers had been saints, but that fact didn't stop him from loving them.

Mexico continued talking, "I soon sent for my brother and Piri, I knew that my capital wouldn't be the safest place for them now that revolution had actually been declared. We set up camp in Dolores for the first days before the real violence started. For my part, I counted the days until the reports of Miguel's speech reached Spain. I wanted to see the reaction. I wanted to see the pain when Spain realized that he had put his trust in entirely the wrong person. When I got bored, I decided to get the revolution moving. That was when I got the first real insight into what I was capable of." _________________________________________________________________________________________

Mexico was sitting playing a simple game of cards with Philippines in a small building in Delores. Texas was sitting by himself in a different part of the room, writing a letter. It was something he had been doing a lot lately. Mexico hadn't gone to the trouble of monitoring his brother's letters. He didn't have the time to read every letter. He doubted they were to Spain anyway, because the other had no reason to love Spain any more than Mexico did. His presumption was that he was writing to America's sister. His obsession with her had gotten irritating. He always spoke about her on the rare occasions that the two brothers talked.

They were waiting for two different things. Presumably, everyone was waiting for the whole of the militia to arrive and be organized. But Mexico was waiting to hear word from Mexico City; he needed to know that Spain knew and understood. This was his vengeance and he wanted it to be perfect. After all of the waiting, scheming and maneuvering, he wanted to see that it all worked out. Hidalgo would disapprove of his drive for vengeance, but Mexico couldn't silence it. The hate that had simmered inside of him for so long was finally being fulfilled.

Philippines laid down her cards, apparently frustrated, "Mexico, you aren't paying any attention to this. What is distracting you?" Mexico put down his cards as well. She was right; he had not really been paying attention. He was too preoccupied with everything else to be good at cards right now. He responded, "I'm sorry, Piri. I'm thinking about Antonio. What kind of emotions do you think he is feeling right now? I've got some guesses." She leaned back and looked at the ceiling, "That's strange. I have been trying to not think about him. He's probably livid." The Mexican boy disagreed, "I doubt it. He's probably confused and sad. I'd reckon there is a good deal of denial too. He's probably blaming Miguel, blaming Alfred, even blaming Francis. But I know one thing: He's blaming everyone but me. You see, I am precious to him and he can't believe I would be the one to betray him. That will be his downfall."

Unexpectedly, Texas cut into the conversation and his tone was highly critical, "You have everything planned out, don't you? You're putting on a brave front because you think you know what will happen, but I know you're scared. We're all scared. Do you remember, brother, what happened the last time Antonio went to war on this soil?" Mexico was genuinely taken aback by this. He hadn't let himself contemplate defeat. He was so certain that he would win, that all of his plans would come to fruition. He certainly hadn't forced himself to think about his mother's death, which was, of course, what Texas was referring to. History would not repeat itself; he would make sure of it. Mexico responded to his brother, "I know, he destroyed our mother." The words were delivered as coldly as possible despite the fact that the event that he was referring to was the one that had caused the anger within him in the first place. Texas nodded, now sufficiently distracted from his letter, "Exactly, and we both know that time has not made him kinder. If we fail, all of our lives will be forfeited. We should be terrified."

Mexico found it hard to believe that Spain would ever kill him. There was too much between them for cold blooded murder on Spain's part. If he was really forced into it, Mexico was certain that he could talk his way out of it. He could say that it was momentary insanity. Spain, of all people, knew what it was like to make rash decisions that were later regretted. His response to Texas didn't reveal any of his thinking, "That makes it simple then, doesn't it? We don't lose for the sake of our survival." Texas shook his head, as though he didn't quite believe what his brother was saying. He refrained from saying anything else, probably because of his loyalty to his brother. Philippines spoke, her silence had been unusual, "You have confidence that anyone would kill to have."

There was a sharp knock at the door, which, thankfully, disrupted the conversation. Mexico walked over to the door and opened it. Hidalgo smiled, "You look bored. I think it's past time we moved to make the revolution more than just words." Mexico liked the sound of that; he had been waiting far too long anyway. He responded, "That sounds promising. I assume you mean that you want to march to Guanajuato." The feeling in the air shifted dramatically. Suddenly it was expectant, as if everyone in earshot knew that something was about to happen. The priest nodded, "Our army is large enough by now to take the city. It will be an important blow to strike since the city is a mining center." The Aztec boy nodded. Satisfied, the priest added, "I'll give you a few minutes to tidy up here and then we will start moving."

Once he was gone, Mexico turned to the other two in the room and said, "My first real combat experience, this should be interesting." Philippines stood up at once and said firmly, "I'm going to come with you. You need me by your side." Before Mexico could manage a response, Texas stood up as well. The man's black eyes were filled with something that resembled anger. He spoke directly to Philippines, "He's my brother! If anyone is going to go with him, it will be me." The Mexican watched this confrontation feeling a little bewildered. He had no idea that Texas felt jealous of the relationship forming between him and Philippines. This whole thing was an unnecessary distraction that he did not need at this time. The only solution at this moment that would free Mexico to go lead an army was to say, "That is enough. Both of you are staying here. I will send word when the city is taken. In the meantime, I suggest you deal with your issues."

In all honesty, he would rather take Philippines, who was battle trained. But at this point he couldn't afford the argument. Neither of the other two people in the room looked happy about the decision, but they were no longer speaking. All the same, Mexico had to be sure; he said, "Is that clear to both of you?" They both nodded grudgingly. Mexico turned and walked out of the room and into a smaller room that housed his, somewhat limited, personal belongings. He had only brought what was strictly necessary. He was already wearing most of the clothing he had. From the room, he grabbed a coat that was extravagant enough to show his authority, but plain enough to keep him from being more noticeable than necessary. He grabbed his sword and attached the scabbard to his belt.

He didn't intend to use this today. Simple mortals could be dealt with using a gun or a knife. The sword was meant for one person and only one person: Spain. On the side of his belt opposite the sword, he attached a holster with a pistol. This would be a far more practical weapon for close combat with mortals. He remembered another weapon he had at his disposal. Mexico took off the jacket and rolled up his sleeve. From the small pile of clothing and weapons he had brought with him, he removed a small dagger with a very unique scabard. Mexico strapped the leather scabard to his right wrist. It was designed so that it could be worn without the blade of the dagger doing any damage to the skin. But, a specific wrist flick would cause the straps to release and the dagger to fall into the wearer's hand. It would be a useful last resort. The blade itself was very small, but sharp enough to cut through flesh easily. It was long enough to kill a man if a strike hit between the ribs. With the edition of the dagger, Mexico now had all the weaponry he was probably going to need. After he pulled the coat back on and buttoned it, Mexico stopped for a second to look at himself in a small cracked mirror on the wall. There was something splendid about the reflection, even though the figure was not wearing a true military uniform. All the same, he looked commanding and regal.

Mexico had to admit to himself that even though he had plotted to be standing in this position for centuries, there was something overwhelming about standing here, ready to go fight for his freedom. It made him feel almost lightheaded. But, the key to winning would be to keep a clear head. He could not let his feelings cloud his mind when he should be focusing on the fight, Portugal had taught him that a long time ago. So, Mexico took several deep breathes before walking back out into the main room of the building. As he had expected, Philippines and Texas were not talking to each other. Instead, they were sitting in different quadrants of the room attempting to do anything but look at each other.

Philippines noticed Mexico's presence and stood up to meet him at the door. He allowed her to put her hands on his shoulders and pretend to be straightening the coat. Mexico reached out and put his hand on her cheek, which caused her to look up at him. He spoke first, being careful to make this feel casual, "Hold down the fort for me, Piri. And if news comes from my capital, make sure I hear about it as soon as possible." She nodded, "I will. I should be going with you, but I am sure this will be nothing more than a simple skirmish." Quite suddenly, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek lightly. It would not have been a strange gesture from someone like Puerto Rico, who was inclined towards affectionate contact, but coming from Philippines this was odd. Mexico had to comment on it, "What was that for?" The Asian girl smiled up at him and said simply, "For luck." But, Mexico saw for a second that there may be something more to it in the glimmer of her eyes. But, he chose to ignore what could have just been a trick of the light. Mexico turned and walked out of the door. _________________________________________________________________________________________

The ride to the town was uneventful. It might have even been considered boring if the even that it brought them closer to was not so monumental. Hidalgo had cautioned against Mexico, despite his eagerness for battle, riding into unnecessary danger. For that reason, Mexico was holding back with the priest and Allende instead of fighting. They waited just outside of the main entrance to the city while the rest of the militia did most of the menial fighting. Mexico was leaning forward in his saddle looking out at the city as though he could see the whole of the fighting if he just looked a little bit harder. He could easily hear the sound of gun shots and the occasional whinny of an injured horse. It was a cruel tease to Mexico, especially since he could feel the need for bloodshed in his own mind.

It was a sentiment carried by almost all of the country by this point. Most of those who were fighting in the revolution wished to spill Spanish blood as recompense for whatever injustices they thought they were fighting to correct. The loyalists wanted to put down the revolution, and if that meant blood, they were not going to object to blood lust. In short, the whole of the country waited with baited breathe, rather like a crowd watching a match of gladiators, for the first drops of blood to truly be spilt. When he closed his eyes, Mexico could feel it pulsing through his body. The example made here today would both satisfy and accelerate that blood lust. It would prove that the Spanish were not untouchable because of their social standing.

Mexico's thoughts were interrupted by Hidalgo putting his hand on the boy's shoulder. The priest looked to be nearly as excited about the fighting, but his restraint was better. He spoke directly to Mexico, "Are you alright? You seem agitated." Mexico responded at once, "I want to be in the thick of things, not waiting back here. I want to fight for my freedom, not let others win it for me." The priest smiled knowingly, even though he couldn't possibly understand what his country was going through at that moment. His response was hardly something one would expect a man of the church to say, "If it is Spanish blood that you want, you shall have it. But I caution you again, do not let your hate control you and lead you into reckless decisions. When you have the proper opportunity, I will not restrain you."

In some part of his mind, Mexico saw the sense in this, but that didn't stop him from being disappointed. Allende eased his horse forward so that he was on the other side of Mexico. He fixed his eyes on Hidalgo as he spoke, "You shouldn't speak about things you don't fully understand, priest. Killing isn't something that should be taken lightly, especially in the context of war. You shouldn't seek to spill anyone's blood. That only leads to the slaughter of innocents. The only people who deserve to die are those who would kill you first if they had the chance." Mexico wasn't listening very attentively. He respected Allende's ability to organize and command the militia, but if this was to be about morality, then Hidalgo would naturally have the high ground.

The sound of gunfire had decreased significantly while they were talking. Once this came to Mexico's attention he turned to Hidalgo, as though silently asking permission. The priest gave a slight nod, which was enough for Mexico to urge his horse forward at a quick trot. There were the largest piles of bodies right near the entrance of the city, where the fighting had presumably been the fiercest. It appeared that there had been a relatively small force protecting the city, despite its significance for mining and governance of the smaller surrounding towns. This made sense, considering that only the ports had had any reason to protect themselves. No one had attacked this city for as long as it had existed. Until now, the defenses had been untested. Mexico carefully maneuvered his horse around or over the corpses, which had no importance to him. None of them had enough significance. He did not expect to find the governor of the city among these bodies. The governor was the only man that Mexico wished to find, as he was the physical representation of Spanish authority.

Mexico glanced to his right and caught sight of Allende, who was riding just behind him. Hidalgo was farther behind. Allende spoke to Mexico, "It is always sad to see the destruction that war leaves. Is this the first time you have seen death?" The Aztec boy smirked and attempted to not make himself think about the most painful death in his life. Instead, he went for a different response, "Of course not. Some time I will have to tell you about my mother." The man responded in a somewhat scornful tone, "A boy your age should not be so jaded. It's sad to see how cold you are."

They reached a granary in the center of the city, which is where most of the militia was gathered. Allende walked up to one of them and said, "Give me a briefing. What is going on?" The solider responded, gesturing over his shoulder to the closed doors to the granary, "The city's higher-ups have barricaded themselves in there. We need to decide what to do with them." At this point Hidalgo's voice came from right behind Mexico, "It shouldn't be a question. We need only break through and kill all of those inside. Mexico dismounted and walked over to stand next to Allende so he could see Hidalgo. But it was the other commander who spoke first, "Yet again, you show your ignorance, priest. I suggest we persuade them to let me in, I will talk to them. They may be more willing to support the revolution than you expect. Massacring everyone is not the answer."

Mexico was, yet again, more inclined to side with Miguel, but he tried to stay silent. The priest quickly dismounted and walked over to the other two. There was a fight rising between the two mortals. Hidalgo responded, "Ignacio, don't let your pride get in the way of this. They will not listen to you. They are loyalists and should be made an example." Yet again, Mexico agreed with the priest. One example of what would happen to those that defied the revolutionary forces would be enough to frighten the rest of the country. His mother had taught him a long time ago that fear could control people more effectively than any other force. Though the display would have to be violent, but it would eventually be a deterrent to everyone else. That was the logical side of his desire, but that wasn't what was really driving him. He wanted to make a show of savagery to let Spain know how serious he was. It would let Antonio know what he was truly capable of, and hopefully the Spaniard would be horrified. That was his real drive, the idea of the look on Antonio's face when he heard of this.

Between the other two, the argument continued. Allende was on the defensive, "You don't understand the delicate politics of revolution. I'm certain that more than one of the people in there secretly sides with the movement. I am of the noble class, I understand their concerns." The bickering was irritating. Mexico finally felt the need to speak, "I agree with Miguel on this. The example is necessary." Allende looked somewhat shocked. He said, speaking directly to Mexico, "Can we talk, without the priest present?" The Aztec boy shook his head, "Time is short and there has been enough discussion. He glanced over at Hidalgo, who nodded in approval. The priest spoke, "Alejandro is quite right, we must make our move now. I outrank you, Ignacio. Fall into line, as is your duty." The military man glared at both of the other two and said, his voice little more than a growl, "I will not take part in this massacre, whatever you say, Miguel." With that he turned and walked away.

Once he was gone, Hidalgo turned to look at Mexico and said, "Don't mind him. Let him have his tantrum, we have work to do." It took the soldiers very little time to actually break through the barricaded door. Inside, all of the people were unarmed. Mexico said to Hidalgo, having a sudden thought that may pacify some of the objections, "We should exile those who seem to not be a threat." The priest nodded, "But the rest must die, we are in agreement on that, are we not." Mexico responded simply, "Si." The priest strode into the room and said to the gathered people, "By hiding yourself in here, you have proven yourselves to be loyalists, and for that you will die."

Mexico walked up to Hidalgo and said to him, "Hold a moment, I want to take care of the governor myself." The priest smiled, "This seems rather like vendetta, but I will allow it for now. He would die anyway, it doesn't matter who kills him." He waved to two of the men who were now standing in the doorway, waiting to storm in. The two walked into the crowd of people and came back with a single man between them. He was obviously the governor of the city based on the clothing he was wearing. The Spaniard glared at Hidalgo and then his eyes found Mexico. The Aztec boy took several steps forward so he was standing just in front of the governor.

The man spoke, which Mexico had not expected, "I remember you, Alejandro. Spain introduced us before I took this position." Mexico had no recollection of that meeting, but that hardly mattered right now. This man was proof of the Spanish control here and he was going to die. The man continued, "You have lost your mind, boy. You can kill me if you want and carry on with this unholy rebellion, if you would like. But Spain will quickly put this down and then he will hang you like the traitor you are." Mexico couldn't feel wounded by the words. The threat was a hollow attempt to frighten him. It may have been more effective if the man had not been so obviously scared for his own life. False bravado would not more Mexico, if anything, it was amusing to him.

He smirked and leaned forward so he was very close to the Spaniard, "You speak very boldly for a dead man. Kneel, Spaniard." He nodded to the men on either side of the governor. They forced him down onto his knees. Mexico walked around so that he was standing right behind the man. In a single movement, he pulled the gun out of his holster and put it to the back of the man's head. He couldn't resist getting in one more statement. He said, with some measure of triumph in his voice, "Antonio will not destroy me, but I will destroy him. But first, I will destroy you first." He felt no hesitation as he pulled the trigger. The bullet immediately smashed through the back of the man's skull, into his brain, and out the front of his skull. Blood splattered across the stone floor. The body remained kneeling for a couple seconds and then it fell to the side.

Mexico felt nothing about it other than a slight sense of triumph. Killing was not as satisfying as he thought it would be. It didn't quicken his blood like he expected it to. He stepped over the body and walked back over to Hidalgo. He said to the priest, "I leave the rest to you. Remember to exile some. Kill the rest." As he walked out of the granary, Mexico heard the sound of rifles being fired. _________________________________________________________________________________________

A couple hours later, the bloodshed had been completed. By the end of the day, the death toll was high despite the fact that the fighting had been so minimal that it was not even enough to be considered a proper battle. Mexico found himself walking around the city attempting to sort out his feelings, or lack thereof. He expected the feel amazing now that the revolution was official. Guns had been fired; blood had been shed. There was no turning back now. And yet, Mexico didn't feel anything. There had been bits and pieces of excitement, of triumph. But none of it could be considered solid and lasting. There needed to be something more. He needed full vengeance, not this building tension.

As he made his way back to the granary, he noticed a familiar figure. He hailed him, "So, you finally return, Ignacio? You left in quite a state." Allende turned around to face Mexico, his gaze was icy. His voice was just as cold, "Do you understand what you have done because you blindly follow Miguel? Those people were innocent and they were slaughtered by your direction." Mexico sighed; he should have suspected that Allende's moral compunctions had not faded. He responded, "Yes, this was brutal, but it was necessary. Already, the peasants are eager to join the revolution." The mortal took several steps forward to close the gap between them. He spoke, "You have told me what you think you have gained; now I will tell you what you have lost. I will continue to lead the troops because I believe in the movement, but I refuse to fight for Hidalgo. I will not let that murderous, immoral priest tell me what to do."

Mexico immediately saw the problem with this and he quickly said, "That will divide our forces. We hardly have the discipline to operate with one leader, having the men divided between you and Miguel will destroy us." This did nothing to change Allende's glare, "That was the decision you made when you chose to let Miguel kill the innocent. Now you have to live with it. Tell me, Alejandro: was your vengeance against the Spanish worth it?" He gave Mexico one more look before he walked away leaving the boy wondering if he had made the right decision.

[sailorgreywolf-legacy]

Legacy - Chapter 22

He found his colonizer in another room, attempting and failing to do paperwork at a desk. He was still obviously frazzled. Mexico knocked, although more out of courtesy than necessity. Spain's head automatically snapped to look at the door, although he relaxed as he saw who was standing at the door. Mexico didn't wait for an invitation; he just walked in and sat in the chair opposite Spain. He let the other speak first, as was proper.

Spain said "That girl! If I didn't have to tap into the trade from China, I wouldn't bother with her!" Mexico reached across the desk and grabbed Spain's frantic hand; this was to make sure he had the other's complete attention. He said "I know, Tony. I want to take her off your hands". Spain blinked blankly for a second before he replied "You want to do what?" Mexico had figured the whole arrangement out while he was searching for Spain so he was ready to answer "I want to make her my ward. You control me, so you would still control her, but you wouldn't have to directly deal with her. I can manage her finances and send the profits to you, just like I have been with my own. It would also give me something to do, and thus curb my own need for change."

He paused to let Spain come to terms with this reasoning before he continued "Tony, you don't need this stress right now. You have more important things to deal with, like France and England trying to encroach on our empire." He put emphasis on the word "our" as if he were controlling this with Spain and not just another colony along for the ride. He was well aware that Spain was worried about the English, especially since they had sunk the armada. He slightly wondered if Alfred had been whispering in England's ear to try to turn him against Spain. But that was, of course, ridiculous.

Spain smiled "I don't know what I said to you, but I am so glad you finally care for me like I have always cared for you. I will make the arrangements, you may deal with her if that's what you want." Mexico nodded, although he already knew that Spain wasn't going to deny him. As the Spaniard had already pointed out, he couldn't afford to be fighting with Mexico. All the same, Mexico couldn't show how much he power he knew he had over the other. He said simply "Thank you, Antonio, I won't let you down".

He stood up and started to walk away, but he was stopped by Spain's voice "Have you heard about the 13 colonies? Apparently he has been acting out, throwing tea in Boston harbor and such. Nothing serious yet, but there is a nasty rumor going around that he might rebel." These words caught Mexico off guard, they seemed so sudden, but he recovered quickly. He knew it must be a test. Spain wanted to see if Mexico cared about Alfred enough to react to this news with worry. But, he was determined to show no such emotion "He couldn't possibly win if he chose to rebel, but I doubt he will. He's not an idiot."

Spain responded "No, I don't think he could win. But this turn of events does make one think. He's the colony England got along with the best, it wouldn't even be stretch to call him his favorite." Mexico suddenly got it; this wasn't about Alfred at all. He voiced his realization "Just like you and me. Do you think I would betray you, Tony? After all we have been through?" He turned around to look straight at Spain so he would be able to gauge that Spaniard's reaction more carefully.

Spain had obviously not been expecting the question to be turned back on him, but he rebounded "I don't know, Alejandro. I want to believe you would never want to. In my heart, I know that you never would betray me. But my mind says otherwise, you are New Spain, my colony, but you are also Mexica, your mother's son. So, can I trust you? Only you can tell me that." Mexico walked back towards Spain slowly, and when he was close he said "I've been your colony for almost 200 years, we have so much history together. We've had our fights, we both know it but I have never once thought about betraying you. Whatever part of me was Aztec is long since gone"

This part felt the most like a lie, because he had to mentally apologize to his mother's spirit. The proof that he was still Aztec was warm against his heart, even at this moment. He even slept with the medallion on because it reminded him of the vengeance he would eventually exact. He continued to lie through his teeth "If I were ever going to rebel, I'm sure you would see the signs and stop me before I even had a chance to try." The appeal to his ego was the final blow in the had won. Spain smiled again, and there was a sincere light to the smile "I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that. I know I shouldn't worry, but sometimes I just can't help myself. I am lucky you are more grateful than that English idiot." Mexico inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Spain couldn't see through the empty lies and flattery. Yet again, Mexico turned to leave and this time Spain didn't stop him. ___________________________________________________

He returned to his room relatively quickly. The discussion about rebellion had shaken Mexico; he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Spain either trusted him completely now, or he would be watching Mexico more closely. The point was that America, that complete and utter idiot, had come very close to blowing Mexico's cover. Mexico opened the door and without actually looking around the room, walked in and closed the door. He spoke "I spoke to Spain. You're going to be directly under my control and I will report back to Spain".

He was still facing the door when he felt the flat of a blade against the back of his neck. He registered that it must be his blade because Philippines hadn't had a blade when she came in here. Her voice spoke behind him and it was stronger than it had been when he'd left her "Lies. You said everyone lies better than I do. Then this sword must be your lie, the one you would do anything to hide. I had to look quite hard for it." Mexico responded, although he was not entirely sure if he was supposed to "Yes that is a part of my lie, but only a part of it."

She snapped "Then what is the rest? I demand you tell me!" He laughed, he liked this girl already, "Do you think I enjoy giving up all my pride for Spain Do you think I really trust him? Or love him? I lie, every time I am in front of him. Every simpering sentimental word I say to him is a lie." He felt the sword lift and he knew he was free to turn around.

The sword looked too awkward and large in the Filipino girl's hands. She was looking up at him with a new respect when she said, "You hate him, don't you?" Mexico smirked, now free to show his Aztec side "Of course, he thinks he can control my life. He thinks he can change who I am. It will be too late for him when he finally realizes how wrong he is. That's what the sword is for." Philippines shivered; she understood perfectly "You mean to kill him then?" Mexico reached out to take the sword, which she surrendered easily. Once he had it in hand, he ran his fingers over the blade to check for damage as he said "I am of an older bloodline and an older religion. Only blood pays for blood and only life can pay for a life. I plan to pay him back in kind for murdering my mother, and by doing so I will win my freedom."

Philippines walked over to the bed and sat down awkwardly. She kept her eyes on Mexico, obviously entranced. Mexico, once he was sure that the blade was not at all injured, placed the blade in the bottom of his traveling chest. He then put layers of clothing back on top of it, effectively hiding the blade. After he was sure that it was hidden, he turned back to Philippines, who asked "If you hate him, how can you force yourself to look at him and lie? Have you ever shown him your hate?" Mexico walked over to the bed and sat down next to her.

Then he answered "I used to let it slip through from time to time. I thought he didn't see what lied beneath. But Juan told me that I was not lying effectively enough. He told me that he could see that Spain did not trust me completely." Philippines shifted her position on the bed slightly before saying, "If he didn't trust you before, how can he trust you now? It seems that he does trust you, especially if he is letting you control me." It was the same question that Mexico had asked himself months ago. But Argentina had also given him the answer to this, and it was by far the most important insight Mexico had learned from Argentina.

Now he vocalized it so that Philippines would understand "You need to understand that Spain is a devout Catholic and he fears his God. Killing my mother and the Incan empire has tormented what little conscience he has to him, raising me is his penance for his deed. So, you see, he wants to trust me, He wants to believe that he has been a good enough brother for me to truly love him. He wants to believe he has won God's forgiveness. I play to that and pretend I respect him for what he did, even if I may not know what he did."

This statement was followed by a couple seconds of silence where Philippines seemed to be thinking. Mexico knew exactly what she was going to ask next, it was the next most logical question. She proceeded to ask it "So if you have his trust and you have the opportunity, why have you not cut his throat yet?" Mexico responded with the answer he told himself "I need to have the right opportunity. I know that I will eventually be able to raise an army and take him down. But my time has not yet come, too much of my population is loyalists. If I were to rebel now, it would tear me apart from the inside out."

The sky outside of the window was darkening, and Mexico did not fail to notice it. He needed to find Philippines a room soon. They could not go on talking like this all night. He stood up abruptly, leaving the Asian girl sitting on the bed. He walked over to the door and pulled it open, saying as he did so "We'll have time to speak later. Needless to say, you must not spread what you have heard outside of this room. It is your word against mine. Who do you think Spain would believe?" She stood up as well, which seemed to make her hair dance again. Her dark eyes had turned back into ebony jewels, which were filled with a fascinating kind of cunning.

Mexico couldn't help but think that, with the right training, he could harness that cunning and use it to further his own exploits. Once her temper was under control, this girl could be a weapon and a very effective one at that. But at the moment, she was more likely to be a liability. He shouldn't have told her all that he did; now it was likely that she would let it slip in some moment of anger. He would have to keep a close eye on her from now on. But, as he had said, she had no real proof that his loyalty did not belong to Spain, so it would be her word against his and Spain trusted Mexico.

The girl walked over to the door and looked up at Mexico "Your lack of trust in me is somewhat sad. But, I do understand, we have only just met." Mexico responded "Of course I do not trust you, girl. You will have my trust when you have earned it". She smirked, although there was still hesitation "You don't have to call me that, Mexico. I have a name" He arched his eyebrow skeptically "Oh and what would you rather I call you?" She was still smiling when she said "You can call me Piri or Philippines, but preferably not 'girl'." Mexico applauded her for her confidence, even if it was slightly irritating "I'll keep that in mind, girl"

[sailorgreywolf-legacy]

Legacy - Chapter 23

America cut in again "She never let me call her Piri!" Mexico groaned, these interruptions were as random as they were irritating "Maybe that's because you're a complete idiot. I understood her or she understood me. Either way, we were of the same breed. You chose to try and keep her in a cage, she doesn't work that way." America rolled his eyes "This coming from the man that stabbed her in the back. I think you're the last person who should be defending Philippines." Mexico looked about ready to hit America "Oh you just had to go there. I had no choice, as you will see when I get there. I do care about her, despite what my actions would suggest." America rolled his eyes "What did you do with her that night?" The darker of the two answered "She roomed with Venezuela. Barbara thought Piri was a problem child in need of guidance, so she was eager to take her in. The next morning was interesting though." ___________________________________________________________

Mexico rolled over and opened his eyes slightly. He caught sight of a blurred figure with long dark hair. His heart skipped a beat and he jumped a couple inches in his shock. He said groggily, facing towards the female figure "What the Hell!?" Philippines said sharply "I want to talk." Mexico groaned and grabbed a pillow "Well I wanted to sleep, but it appears neither of us is going to get what we want." Philippines seemed to be ignoring this statement when she said "I want to learn from you. I don't have the control to lie, but you do." Mexico finally gave up on the thought of sleep and sat up.

It seemed at this moment Philippines noticed that Mexico was hardly wearing any clothing. She didn't blush, instead she smirked "I see. You're rather muscled as well as being a good liar." Mexico refused to feel self conscious about the fact that Philippines was right there looking at him. Instead he responded "I will make you a deal, I'll teach you if you promise to be loyal to me and only me." Philippines smiled back "Of course, I have no reason to be loyal to Antonio." This time Mexico couldn't help but laugh, he understood her eagerness but he also understood that she didn't understand what she was giving herself over to. He clarified "I need you to understand that I will spare no rigor because you are a girl. The training I have in mind will be very hard both mentally and physically. You will hate me at times. I need your promise that no matter what I do, you will not turn on me. Can you accept those terms?"

She looked down at her hands for a couple seconds before saying "I can, I have very little choice as far as I can tell. I would rather hate you and gain something from it than hate Spain to no avail." Mexico nodded slightly, satisfied that the girl knew what she was getting herself into. He stood up and stretched, getting the knots out of his back. Philippines spoke again "So, when do I start my training? I hope that it's soon." The Aztec man smiled back "I adore your eagerness, but you should not be so hasty. First I need to know what exactly you want from this and what past training you have." Philippines was already standing. She walked over to the trunk in the corner, the one that had the sword hidden at the bottom. She spoke as she pulled out a shirt and tossed it to Mexico "I need to learn the control that you have, and I need to know how to lie like you do."

Mexico caught the shirt and pulled it on "My control comes from a very stringent study of swordsmanship, which teaches one control over ones emotions. What you need is weapons training; the other abilities will come later. So I'll rephrase my question: Do you have any training with fighting. Judging by your attitude, you were raised to fight." She nodded again "I was raised in a warrior culture and I was raised to believe that I have the right to fight for my own autonomy. But, my only experience is with a staff." Mexico had suspected as much based on the rumors he had been hearing before her arrival. Her story sounded almost a bit too much like his own, perhaps that was why he felt the need to help and protect her.

He responded "Ah, I see. I know how you feel about being here then. I felt the same way. Spear was my first, it's not dissimilar." He walked over to a different corner, where a broom was leaning, probably left there the last time Texas has cleaned the room. He grabbed the wooden handle with both hands and planted his foot on the head of the broom. He twisted the handle hard, which broke the head of the broom cleanly off. He tossed the wooden shaft to the girl "Show me what you can do, girl". She growled as she caught the handle "I told you not to call me that!" Mexico responded "Land a blow, and then I will stop."

She twirled the staff between her fingers before charging forward. Mexico easily dodged to the side, which sent the girl straight towards the wall. She pulled herself up and glared at him. He spread his arms, inviting her to take another swing she swung for the ribs next, which was not hard for Mexico to dodge either. He smirked at the angry aggravated look on her face. Just to enrage her he said "You are even more desperately bad than I was my first lesson." This time she went for an up cutting blow that was meant to strike just above the hip and travel up the body, breaking ribs and the collar bone along the way.

This time Mexico was able to predict her attack before she made her move. He caught her arms with one hand and with the other he cleanly struck the staff and broke it in half. Philippines gasped "How did you do that?" Mexico let go of her arms and said "Your anger makes you easy to read. A heart worn on the sleeve is a heart that is easy to stab." He turned his back on the girl, although this was intentional. An honorable person wouldn't attack a man with his back turned, but being honorable was a weakness.

Philippines shifted one of the halves so that she had the opposite grip on it. She leaped and lunged for Mexico's back, intent on hitting a shoulder. He turned in time to deflect her leap and redirect her momentum. Her petite body hit the soft bed. It was enough force to knock the air out of her and both of the pieces of the makeshift staff out of her hands. Mexico seized the handle of a dagger from under his mattress and put it to her throat. Philippines automatically went still and said "That isn't fair, you introduced a new weapon." Mexico smirked "Here's your first lesson: Fighting fair will only get you killed by someone more underhanded. You have a lot to learn, girl".He put the dagger back under the mattress and walked away, saying as he did so "I expect you to clean up the mess you made of my room". He left her there surrounded by a mess of sheets and broken parts of the staff.

Mexico got out of the room before he ran into someone else that he really wasn't in the mood to talk to. Texas stepped out right in front of his brother in the middle of the hall. Mexico rolled his eyes and leaned slightly against the wall "It looks like it's going to be one of these kinds of mornings. What do you want now Diego?" Texas's eyes were shining with some sort of worry, but Mexico couldn't stir himself enough to care. The younger boy responded "Have you heard about the 13 colonies?" That seemed to be on everyone's minds, and it was irritating. Texas was most likely not attempting to expose Mexico's feelings about Alfred, and he was probably the only one. Although the primary emotion Mexico would show was contempt, but there was something else. He had somehow been able to forgive America for the remarks about Spain, but that hardly suggested he felt some kind of attraction between them.

All the same Mexico was aware that he needed to handle his emotions very carefully all the same, he couldn't trust anyone to keep his secret. He played this neutral "I have heard about the incidents". Surprise passed over Texas's face "Aren't you worried? They do border us and well… I care about them." Mexico picked up on the subtle change in his brother's manner of speaking "You're referring to Alfred as 'them', I wasn't aware he was more than one person. He seems to actually be one person with half a brain actually, but it's still the same." Texas nervously picked at the hem of his shirt as he said "I was referring to the fact that the 13 colonies is two people, Annabel is as much a part of it as Alfred is. If she gets hurt because of something idiotic Alfred did, then I'll…"

He stopped himself. Mexico caught onto it and he had to remind himself that Texas was, in fact, his brother and they both were concealing a much darker side. He refrained from commenting, it was better if Texas didn't know how easy he was to read. But he did let out a laugh "Oh, I see how it is. Diego, I do believe you are in love with that little blonde chica." As he expected, Texas looked down at his hands, which were still working on the bottom of his shirt. His gaze lingered there for a couple more seconds, and then he looked back up at his brother "I am not, at least I don't think I am. It's just that I am fond of her. I am also quite fond of Alfred, maybe more than I should be."

Mexico didn't stop himself from smirking, this was amusing. Texas was so transparent; Mexico could easily tell that his brother was at least partially in love with both of the Americans. He also had no idea that Alfred had feelings for Mexico, or he would have been more reserved about his feelings. Mexico couldn't hint at the fact either, it would drive a wedge between them and that could be catastrophic. He finally responded "They won't actually rebel, Alfred is all bluster but he isn't fool enough to actually go through with it. You don't need to worry."

Texas looked less than relieved "You didn't hear the argument he and Spain had, Alfred has more of a temper than I think you know." Mexico couldn't help but think back on the way that Alfred has snapped back and accused him of sleeping with Spain, there was a temper there. But yet again he responded "He's all bluff, England will sort it out with his colonies soon."