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passmethemolly · 4 years

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dteam fencing au

dream and sapnap work at a fencing studio

they call each other by their fencing nicknames (dream and sapnap obvi)

bad is the owner who comes in on wednesdays and fridays to graduate students to techno’s fencing studio

techno’s studio is literally the same thing but for older/more advanced students

sapnap and dream like the younger kids bc they find it hilarious watching them fight

they like to show off to the students by absolutely obliterating each other

dream is a dirty fighter and uses parkour in his fights

but its okay, he’s allowed to. he’s the head teacher

sapnap has a lil flame on his jacket

dream as a smiley face on his

sapnap always starts fights with dream

he’ll walk up to dream and start poking him with his foil (the sword thing)

dream will grab it from him and start beating the fuck out of sapnap

dream: thats! *whap* the! *whap* last! *whap* time! *whap* you! *whap* poke! *whap* me! *whap whap whap*

when they met george, he was looking for lessons

george said he took some lessons in high school but when dream challenged him to fight, he knocked his friend on his ass in three seconds

overtime, george got better

when george was finally hired as another instructor by bad and he needed a nickname, he panicked and said george by accident and was too awkward to change it

sapnap and dream never let him live it down

george: *minding his business*

sapnap: hey george- i’m blanking on ur nickname can u tell us again?

dream: oh yeah, what was it?

george: im going to need you two to shut the hell up

bad is the only person that can beat dream in a duel

bad doesn’t like to fight, but he will put dream in his place if his friend gets too cocky

bad is surprisingly excellent at such a stabby sport

dream always tries to train with bad to learn his ways bc he doesn’t like to lose and bad always declines

bad: dream ur already perfect at fencing in your own way :)

dream: and? come on, fight me again idc

Sapnap and george always judge each other harshly in the stupidest ways possible

george one time said that sapnap breathed at the wrong time and it threw off his aim

sapnap never started another fight so fast

rip george

dream, sapnap, and george tried to fight each other all at the same time and they ended up breaking the mirror on the wall

dadboyhalo yelled at them and took it out of their paychecks

it was worth it though

george gets frustrated easily and overworks himself

dream is always there to stop him and offer to stay after to help him

they were once there until 2 am fencing and talking

dream gives little comments of encouragement during fights and he gives george a few cool down seconds when he gets a hit in

dont tell george, but dream sometimes throws a duel to give his friend a confidence boost

alternatively, sapnap is the first to go every night after cleaning the fencing equipment

dream has never seen anyone haul ass out of a building that quickly

sapnap does stay after to help occasionally

he sits against the mirror and gives george tips on some of dream weaknesses

sapnap knows that george himself is one of those weaknesses

hes such a good wingman

he also records them fighting and posts it on snapchat to mess with them since they look stupid

the first fencing competition they had together, they took a selfie after since they all had matching helmet hair

dream has that photo framed in between george’s third place trophy and sapnaps first place trophy in the studio

bad once suggested they do a 3v1 against dream since he was getting too good

eventually, sapnap and george dropped out of the fight because of exhaustion

but bad kept coming back and at the last second, he poked dream right before dream poked him

bad keeps his fencing crown like the king he is

the kids love sapnap and george

george doesn’t like kids but they cling to him like theres no tomorrow and they always ask to fight with him

dream tries so hard for the kids to like him and sapnap constantly makes fun of him, which makes the kids like sapnap more

george always goes to dream and tries to convince the kids to go to him but it never works

sapnap is like the cool brother who lets them take terrible photos of george and dream

his phone background is a photo of george with a double chin looking down at the camera by accident

they call themselves the dream team

george finally got his jacket with a red box as a present from bad

dream and techno have a loose rivalry

they once had to fight each other at a fencing competition and techno won by a second

they give each other an ungodly amount of respect though

if they ever team up- the world is ending

tommy fights sapnap which ends up being hilarious to watch since tommy’s tactic is to confuse his opponent.

sapnap just stands there in confusion as tommy says the stupidest things and dances before tommy lunges and poking sapnap in the chest

it gets him EVERY TIME AND SAPNAP WANTS BLOOD

tubbo looks up to dream and when george isnt begging dream for lessons, he offers tubbo tips and helps him with his stance

wilbur and george fight and wilbur tries to convince george to come to techno’s studio

wilbur: come on, you don’t want to be with these americans dont you?

george: isn’t techno american?

wilbur: he doesn’t count he’s never there

tommy is feral with fencing when he gets into it

dream is convinced he is genuinely trying to stab people

tubbo started fencing because of tommy and he fell in love with the strategic part of the sport

wilbur was dragged into fencing bc of them and he doesn’t take it too seriously

he brings the snacks and plays the guitar as background music

he played the pirates of the caribbean theme when dream and techno dueled

george and dream always go out in the morning before they go into the studio

if one of them cant make it that morning, the other buys a drink for them anyways

dream likes to leave little notes on george’s soda can

george likes to get dream the worst snack and drink combination

for example, george bought dream milk and doritos

dream wanted to cry

whenever the gang has a fencing competition far away, george and dream and sapnap always sit in the back of the car together while bad and techno take turns driving.

george uses dream’s arm as a head rest

dream likes to hold george’s hand under the blanket

sapnap sleeps with his mouth gaping open and music blasting in his headphones

wilbur is stuck taking tommy and tubbo in a separate car and when they show up, two hours behind bad, wilbur always looks traumatized

bad’s fencing studio got five stars on yelp and he started crying

they all celebrated by going out to get pizza and then beating the shit out of each other in a chaotic fight

it was all of them. dream, tommy, george, wilbur, sapnap, tubbo, bad, techno- all fighting each other.

when george won his first competition, sapnap and dream and bad went berserk on the sidelines and all tackled him in a hug

#i am thinking #i love writing these lil au's man idk #im supposed to be writing a whole fic rn but eh #dream team #fencing #fencing au #technopig #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #badboyhalo #tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #au #feel free to add more!!#dreamnotfound #sorry #forgive typos and grammar

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echo-bleu · 4 years

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Lay Your Throne

Malex Musketeers AU. I’m reposting this little series here (from AO3) ahead of the @alterarnm fic I’m hoping to finish by Thursday (but I probably won’t). This was originally written for the Whumptober prompt “Secret Injury”. Part 1.

“You fought well, Captain,” the King says to a kneeling Alex. “But my son is an excellent swordsman, and you are obviously injured. Do you accept your defeat?”

“I do,” Alex says, raising his head. He's still reeling from the blow Michael dealt to his head, which knocked him out long enough for the rules of dueling to be satisfied, and Michael didn't try to start the duel again, instead looking at him on the floor with something akin to concern on his face. Alex doesn't know what to do with that.

“Very well. Then I declare Michael, count of Dimaras, the winner of this duel. Michael, will that satisfy your call for justice?”

“It will for now, my King,” Michael says, kneeling beside Alex. “The rest of my claims will be settled another day.”

“Well fought, my son,” the King says, rising to put a hand on Michael's shoulder. In that moment, Alex's defeat is well worth the look of pride on Michael's face. Until Alex meets his father's eyes, and notices his smirk. He is basking in Alex's humiliation. Alex grits his teeth.

“Captain, will you be able to return to your duties?” the King asks.

Liz takes a step forward at that, opening her mouth, but Alex waves her back. “I will, sire. I'm fine.”

He bows again and gets back to his feet, taking care not to show any weakness. He almost fails when the world turns on its head as soon as he's upright, but he blinks the dizziness away and reforms rank with his Musketeers. Liz and Maria immediately come to flank him.

“Alex! The King would have given you leave to go if you'd ask!” Liz exclaims. “You're in no shape to stand guard.”

“I can't,” Alex says. He lets Maria set his arm back into the sling, though, and a sigh of relief escapes him when it eases some of the pain away.

“But why?” Liz asks.

Alex doesn't dare look back to where his father is still sitting, but Maria nods toward him discreetly. “Because of him?” she asks.

Alex doesn't answer, too busy trying to swallow back the nausea.

“You don't have anything to prove to him, Alex,” Liz murmurs.

“I know,” Alex whispers back.

He does know. He's more respected and loved than his father by the whole kingdom, royal family included, even though Jesse Manes still outranks him. He has the King's ear, but everyone's confidence in the Prime Minister is waning, after years of unnecessary wars that ruined half the kingdom. And yet, it's not enough for Alex.

Is it for Michael? Alex searches for him in the crowd. He's standing by the Princess now, across the dais from Jesse Manes, their similar red uniforms standing out amid the Royals' greens. What is his endgame? Why did he challenge Alex today?

If he's still the man Alex remembers, a duel without bloodshed would never satisfy his wish for revenge. Michael has never believed in the justice of the law, or in the gentlemen's codes of honor. So either he's not out for revenge against Alex, or he has a larger plan.

Being close to him again today, touching him, was incredible and terrifying. Alex still can't believe Michael is really alive. It's been ten years since he watched him hang. It shouldn't be possible.

And yet here he is. It's his hand that stabbed Alex a week ago, his elbow that got him in the head today. His eyes on him, right now. Alex meets them, and the surge of emotions makes him stumble−unless that's the dizziness again.

Michael nods at him, the ghost of a smile on his lips, and Alex wants to cry.

Alex doesn't know how he manages to fight the mounting nausea for another two hours, as the Royal Family amuses themselves in the gardens. He's sure it must show on his face, because the King dismisses him the moment they're back inside the palace, and asks Liz and Maria to escort the Prince and Princess instead.

He finds himself, without really knowing how, leaning against a wall in a random corridor in the east wing, struggling against dizziness. He must have a concussion. He looks up as someone approaches, trying to stand up straighter.

“Hey,” Michael says, striding down the corridor in his red leathers. Alex would be dreaming about this, if he wasn't five second away from throwing up.

Michael is all swagger and smirk until he takes a closer look at Alex. “You alright?”

Alex opens his mouth to say he's fine, but what was bound to happen happens, and he retches instead, unable to stop himself. He barely misses Michael's boots.

“Alex!”

“'s nothing,” Alex mutters, but he can't hold himself up. The world is turning around him, and he falls to his knees. Michael catches him and gently lowers him to the floor. “Concussion.”

“Why did you hide it? You stood there for hours!”

“'m fine.”

“Clearly,” Michael rolls his eyes. “Don't move.”

Alex nearly moans as Michael's hands leave him, suddenly feeling cold. But Michael comes back instants later with two male servants.

“Take him to my chambers,” he orders. “Be gentle.”

His strength gone, Alex can only let the two men carry him through the empty corridors. He wonders what Michael's intentions are. Does he want to kill him, get his revenge fully? No, he had plenty of chances to kill him already. But then what? And why is he being so nice?

The servants put him down on a large bed, in a richly decorated room. Alex squirms, fully aware of how filthy he is after he met the dirt floor of the dueling ground more than once, but Michael doesn't let him stand up.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Don't worry about the sheets, they can be washed.”

Why is he so gentle? Alex wants to scream. He doesn't deserve this. Is Michael doing this so that his revenge will be even more cruel? Is he trying to lead Alex on into some twisted head game?

Michael brings a goblet of water to his lips. “Drink. You'll feel better.”

Alex obeys, for lack of a better idea. He's spent. He almost wants to give in, let Michael care for him, even if it makes what will inevitably come harder.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks.

“Because you're hurt,” Michael says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Let me go back to the garrison. I'll be fine.”

“You're in no shape to ride, Alex.”

Alex tastes the sound of his name on Michael's lips again, for the first time in ten years, and it's as bitter as it is sweet. The last time he heard it before today, Michael had a rope around his neck.

Michael brushes a strand of hair away from Alex's face, far too intimately, and Alex catches his hand. It's his left, the one he kept behind his back during the time of the duel, as per fencing tradition.

It's mangled. Half of it is covered in scars and the fingers have bends in places they shouldn't.

Alex closes his eyes and shudders. The moment his father hit Michael with a hammer, after catching them in the gardener's shed and seeing the brand on Michael's shoulder, has long been eclipsed by the memory of the noose around Michael's neck, but it's still there.

“Alex,” Michael calls.

“Are you trying to punish me?” Alex asks, meeting his eyes again. He doesn't melt into the golden brow irises this time, too shaken by the memories.

“What? No!”

“Then−

“I was angry at you for the longest time, Alex,” Michael sighs. “I resented you for not doing more to protect me, for not finding a way to free me. I'm still angry, sometimes. But I understand now, the hold he has on everything. If you had helped me, you would have condemned yourself.”

“I would have done it for you without a thought,” Alex says. “But he knew. He took away any leverage I could have used. I tried, I pleaded with him, with my brothers, I even tried to bribe the hangman, but he found out. I wasn't strong enough.”

Michael's eyes widen. “But you were, Alex. I always wondered, who it was that helped me escape. You saved me.”

“What?” Alex asks, confused.

“You rode away.”

“I couldn't watch. I just...I thought I owed you that, but I couldn't.”

“It's a good thing,” Michael says. “Alex, the hangman you bribed, he saved me. He pulled me down before I could choke and helped me escape.”

Alex chokes on his breath and bites on his finger, hard. He wants to weep, to curse, to scream, but he doesn't.

“You saved me, Alex. I didn't know. I thought you'd abandoned me.”

Michael pulls him into a hug then, careful of his injuries. Alex buries his face in Michael's shoulder and gives him to the tears.

“Ten years,” he sniffles after a while. “I could never forgive myself.” He traces the scar around Michael's neck, just barely visible above his high collar.

“You enrolled,” Michael states.

“Yeah. After you...after I thought you died, I had no reason left to fight my father's wishes. I started in the Army, and made my way to the Musketeers.”

“Did you choose them just to spite your father?”

Alex laughs between his tears. “A bit. I couldn't let him win everything.”

“What happened to you, Alex?” Michael asks, growing serious again.

“Um?”

“Your leg.”

“Ah, you noticed that,” Alex sighs. He knows his gait remains irregular, even with a wooden leg from the best crafter in the kingdom. It shows even more during a fight, where he has to compensate for his lack of mobility. But still, he wishes Michael could have been spared from seeing it, at least for a little longer.

He pushes Michael away enough to pull up his pant leg. Michael's breath hitches.

“Fuck, Alex. I didn't−”

“I'm okay,” Alex says. “It was rough for a while, but I'm okay now.”

Michael nods slowly, only half-believing him.

“Where were you?” Alex asks. “For all these years?”

“I traveled a lot,” Michael says, which Alex knows is code for 'I didn't dare stay in the same place for two night in a row in case I got caught.' “Other cities, other countries. I went looking for where I come from, and it led me back here.”

“So you're the King's son, huh?” Alex asks.

“Apparently,” Michael shrugs. “My mom was a woman of the court, but she died in childbirth, so I was given away. But there are records. They weren't easy to find.”

“At least now my father can't touch you. And you have a title and lands, I'm guessing. You won't be poor ever again.”

Michael talked to Alex only once, about growing up in an orphanage, starving and without shoes. That's what led him to stealing food, to being convicted and branded.

That's the excuse his father used to call off the wedding and have Michael hanged, when he found out. He had full powers, on his own lands, to call for an execution. Here in the city, he doesn't anymore.

“It doesn't erase what happened,” Michael says darkly.

Alex hangs his head. “Of course. I'm sorry.”

“No, I didn't mean it like that,” Michael reassures him immediately. “Alex, look at me.”

“I'm−”

“Alex!” Alex looks up. “I don't blame you, not anymore. He did all this. And he's going to pay for it.”

“He's untouchable,” Alex says.

“No he's not,” Michael shakes his head, but he doesn't elaborate. “I'm sorry I stabbed you the other day,” he says instead.

“I probably deserved it,” Alex shrugs with his good shoulder.

“No, never. But I needed to establish myself with the Red Guards, and also to make sure that you would lose today.”

“I'm flattered that you think I need to be injured for you to beat me, but why did you need me to lose? Why challenge me at all?”

“Because I have a plan,” Michael says, giving himself a mysterious air.

“A plan to what?” Alex raises his eyebrows. “Overthrow the King?”

Michael smiles. “No. A plan to bring your father down, once and for all. I needed you to lose against me today so you can win against him, when the time comes.”

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #musketeers au #mine #echo's fanfiction #injury tw

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notes-from-sarah · 4 years

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Disney’s Zorro Episode Transcript

Season 1, Episode 1 - Presenting Señor Zorro

Title: Spanish California 1820

[Diego and ship captain fencing]

Ship Captain: Well done, Señor de la Vega! I shall miss these daily bouts!

Diego de la Vega: I, too, sir. They have made the long voyage most enjoyable.

Captain: Your agility with the sword, sir, should serve you well in California.

Diego: Why do you say that?

Captain: How long have you been away?

Diego: Three years.

Captain: I am afraid you’re going to find conditions quite changed when you reach Los Angeles. Everything is rules and regulations. Military force has taken over.

Diego: When did all this happen?

Captain: A year ago, when the new comandante was appointed. I hate to disillusion you, but I have the feeling that you will soon wish that you had stayed in Spain.

Diego: Is it as bad as that?

Captain: Worse. But you will see for yourself. If you are bringing in anything of value, hide it. The soldiers at the customs house have a habit of confiscating anything they take a liking to.

Diego: Thank you for the warning.

Captain: We’ll be dropping anchor soon. I shall say good-bye when you disembark.

[In ship’s cabin with Bernardo]

Diego: Haven’t you finished packing yet? We’ll be going ashore soon.

[Bernardo points out window]

Diego: Yes, California is beautiful. Where did you put my father’s letters? I want to read the last one again.

[Diego opens letter]

Diego: “My dear son, it is with a heavy heart that I ask you to give up your studies and come home. Certain matters have arisen that I can no longer face alone.” You know how puzzled I’ve been over this? Well, now I know what he was trying to tell us. We’re heading for trouble, Bernardo.

[Bernardo signs shooting a bow and arrow]

Diego: No, no, not Indians, politicos. I have just learned that our pueblo is under the heel of a dictator. We are certain to be searched on our arrival. Burn this. No one must suspect that my father has summoned me home. We must find a way to deal with this tyrant.

[Bernardo signs stabbing with a sword]

Diego: Ah, the direct approach? No, Bernardo. When dealing with a powerful enemy we must play another game. You know the old proverb “When you cannot clothe yourself with the skin of the lion, put on that of the fox.” I must convince the new comandante that I am perfectly harmless, but how?

[Bernardo signs reading a book]

Diego: Ah! An excellent idea! Instead of a man of action, I shall become a man of letters. An innocent scholar, interested only in arts and sciences! Why these books that I am taking to the mission priest, they will be my most prized possession! Ha, ha!

[Diego looks in box]

Diego: Well, as for these fencing medals and trophies… They are no longer part of my life. Throw them overboard.

[Bernardo closes box]

Diego: No, Bernardo. Get rid of them. Here. This too. Go. Bernardo this is no time for sentiment. Throw them out!

[Bernardo throws trophies out window]

Diego: Now, get me my fanciest jacket. The one with the gold braid. And my walking stick. It shall be part of my new character.

[Bernardo signs asking what character he shall play]

Diego: You also, you also want to be something you are not? Very well. You shall play the fool!

[Bernardo pulls on his ears]

Diego: You want to pretend you cannot hear? Even better! You shall be the eyes and ears behind my back. From now on, you not only cannot speak, you hear nothing. Bravo, Bernardo.

[Coach drives into Los Angeles]

Diego: Cochero, why are we stopping here?

Cochero: All vehicles passing through Los Angeles must be inspected, patrón.

Diego: But this is an imposition. We have already gone through customs!

Sergeant García: All baggage to be opened! Passengers have their identity papers ready. Don Diego de la Vega! I thought you were still in Spain.

Diego: Obviously, I have returned sergeant. What is this nonsense about another inspection?

García: For you, Don Diego, a, a mere formality!

Diego: Oh, then my luggage does not have to be opened again?

García: Forgive me, please, but Capitán Monastario, he allows no exceptions.

Diego: Is, uh, he the new comandante?

García: Ah, for over a year now. Please, señor. He makes the orders, I only carry them out.

Diego: Very well then, sergeant, get on with it.

García: Sí.

[Diego signs to Bernardo to open the luggage]

García: What is this?

Diego: Oh, I’m instructing my mozo to remove the luggage.

García: He is deaf and dumb?

Diego: Since childhood, but he’s a remarkably good manservant.

García: Well, with your permission, Don Diego, I shall tell the comandante that you have arrived.

[García knocks on door to comandante’s office]

Capitán Monastario: ¡Pase!

García: Forgive the interruption, mi capitán.

Monastario: What is it?

García: Diego de la Vega, the son of Don Alejandro, has just returned from Spain.

Monastario: Very well, García. Have him wait, I will see him in a moment.

García: Yes, comandante.

Licenciado Piña: I don’t like it. Why has the son returned so unexpectedly?

Monastario: What difference does it make, licenciado?

Licenciado Piña: The de la Vega’s are the most important family in southern California. Do you think Don Alejandro called him back?

Monastario: Even if he did there’s nothing to worry about. If he is a troublemaker I shall handle him as I did all the others. Nothing shall stop me from being the richest man in all of California!

[Outside the cuartel]

García: Capitán Monastario will see you in a little moment, Don Diego.

Diego: Very well, sergeant. Would you mind helping my manservant with the luggage, please?

García: Sí, Don Diego, sí.

[Man guarded by soldiers rides into town]

García: Out of the way! Clear the street!

Diego: Sergeant García, that is my neighbor, Nacho Torres. Why is he being brought in?

García: ¿Quién sabe? Don Diego. The comandante ordered his arrest

Alcalde: One moment. Why have you taken this man prisoner?

Don Nacho Torres: Help me, señor alcalde. I am innocent!

Alcalde: What are the charges against you, Don Nacho?

Don Nacho: They accuse me of treason, but it is a lie. I dare to speak out against injustice.

Monastario: It is forbidden to speak to this prisoner. Take him inside and lock him up!

Alcalde: I must protest, capitán! This man is no criminal!

Monastario: Señor alcalde, this case is not a civil matter. The crime of treason comes under military jurisdiction.

[Monastario walks over to Diego]

Monastario: Are you Diego de la Vega?

Diego: At your service, comandante.

Monastario: Capitán Enrique Sanchez Monastario. I am sorry to inconvenience you.

Diego: No, comandante. As a matter of fact, it gave me the opportunity to finish this last chapter. The Effects of Moorish Culture on Spanish Poetry. Have you read it?

Monastario: No, I have not.

Diego: Oh, then I must lend it to you when I have finished.

Monastario: Thank you. Some other time. Would you please make yourself comfortable in my quarters? I shall not detain you long.

Licenciado Piña: Did he say why he has returned?

Monastario: I shall find out, but certainly we have nothing to fear from that fastidious señorito. Get back to the inn. We should not be seen together.

[Monastario sees Bernardo on the coach]

Monastario: What are you doing up there? You! Come down here! I’ll teach you to spy on me. Come down, I say! What are you doing here? Speak!

García: Your pardon, capitán, your pardon! But this man, he cannot answer you. He is deaf and dumb.

Monastario: Who is he?

García: Don Diego’s servant. He brought him from Spain.

Monastario: Are you certain he cannot hear?

García: Oh, positive. Watch this.

[to Bernardo]

García: You have the face of a donkey! You-you smell like a goat! Your father… you father was a baboon!

Monastario: Get on with the inspection, sergeant. And make sure to inspect carefully!

[García and Bernardo climb the carriage, Monastario fires a gun behind them]

García: Help!

Monastario: Carry on, sargento.

[Monastario enters his office again]

Monastario: I know you are anxious to be on your way home.

Diego: Yes, it’s been a most fatiguing day.

Monastario: Please fill out this brief declarations, if you don’t mind. Your return is rather unexpected, is it not? Your father gave the impression that you would be at the university another year.

Diego: Well, I decided to forgo it. There was an overemphasis on gymnastics, swordsmanship. Do you know there were even duels among some of the students.

Monastario: Really?

[Monastario swings his sword cutting the quill Diego is holding]

Monastario: Ooh! How this Toldeo blade sings. A thousand pardons, Don Diego. Your father would never forgive me if anything happened to you.

[García enters]

García: Sergeant García begs to report that the inspection is complete, mi capitán.

Monastario: Good.

Diego: I trust you found no contraband?

García: Every trunk and bag seemed full of books. Heavy ones!

[Monastario hands García his sword]

García: What do you want me to do with this, capitán?

Monastario: Hang it in my quarters, stupid one!

García: Oh.

[Monastario turns away and Diego jabs him with the quill]

Monastario: Ow!

[Monastario turns to García]

Monastario: ¡Baboso! Put it away!

Diego: Well, I really must be going, comandante. It’s been very nice.

Monastario: Gracias, Señor de Vega.

[Coach stops in front of hacienda]

Juan: Welcome home, Don Diego!

Diego: Juan! It’s good to see you! Is this Pepito? How is my father? Have you taken good care of him?

Juan: We have tried, Don Diego.

Diego: Juan, this is Bernardo. He cannot speak nor hear but he would die for me if necessary. Show him where my room is.

Juan: Sí, patrón.

[Diego enters the gate]

Diego: Father!

Alejandro de la Vega: My son! It fills my heart to see you again! I send a boy to Spain, and a man returns! Diego, I have many things to tell you, but they can wait until you have changed and we have had supper. Come, your old room is waiting for you.

[In the sala Diego is playing the piano]

Diego: The vaqueros use to sing this as they rode home from work. You know, this piano needs tuning.

Alejandro: Are you not interested at all in what I have been telling you?

Diego: Extremely so, Father. I am sorry to find the situation so unpleasant.

Alejandro: Unpleasant? It is intolerable! The rancheros are being taxed out of existence. Those who cannot pay are flogged and thrown into prison. The Indians are torn from their families and forced into slave labor. All for the benefit of one man, Capitán Monastario!

Diego: I’ve met the gentleman.

Alejandro: Gentleman? Ha! He is a blackhearted scoundrel! If he remains in power, our country faces ruin. We must get rid of him, Diego! That’s why I called you home. Someone must do something!

Diego: You’re right, Father. I’m going to sit down and write a detailed letter of complaint to the governor!

Alejandro: It would never reach him. Monastario’s guards intercept all mail sent to Monterrey. Our neighbor, Nacho Torres dared to protest and this morning he was arrested for treason.

Diego: Well, have you, have you appealed to the civil authorities? Certainly we have rights under the law?

Alejandro: Monastario is the law! He brought in a crooked lawyer from Mexico City to make his crimes appear legal!

Diego: Then I fail to see what we can do.

Alejandro: We can stand up to him, fight him!

Diego: Calm yourself, Father. The use of force should be our last resort.

Alejandro: I hardly expected such...such discretion from a son of mine. You are tired, my boy. Go to your room and sleep on it. We shall discuss it tomorrow.

Diego: With your permission.

[In Diego’s room]

Diego: Bernardo, I’ve just had to do something I’m not very proud of, I’ve convinced my father that I’m a spineless weakling. And if I were to take open action, as he wants to do, his life would be in danger. Now I’m free to act alone. You remember what I said this morning? “If you cannot clothe yourself in the skin of the lion, put on that of the fox.” Well, from now on, I shall be Zorro, the fox!

[Diego carves a Z into a piece of sheet music]

[The next day Diego and Bernardo ride to the box canyon]

Diego: I’ve brought you out here to meet a third member, an ally. Like you he can be trusted to keep a secret, Bernardo. His name is Tornado. An old shepherd has been keeping him for me. He was a colt when I left.

[Diego walks to Tornado]

Diego: Tornado, Tornado. Come here. Here, Tornado. Come on, boy. Here, boy. That’s a good horse. I’ve got something for you. Come on. Here, I have a carrot for you. Here, boy. There. Yeah. It’s been such a long time, huh? Have you forgotten the tricks I taught you? Oh. You think you can kneel? Come on. Let’s see if you can kneel. Kneel, Tornado, kneel. Kneel, kneel. Good boy!

[Diego takes Tornado’s mane and leads him to Bernardo]

Diego: That’s a horse, huh? Well, Bernardo, our second mission is accomplished. Even my father wouldn’t recognize this horse. Tornado, you and I are going for a long ride tonight. Come, boy.

[Los Angeles plaza at night]

Town crier: Ten o’clock! On a warm summer night all is well!

[Monastario exits his office]

Monastario: Sergeant García!

García: At you orders, mi capitán!

Monastario: Bar the gate and dismiss the guard. Leave one patrol saddled. After final inspection, report to me.

García: Very good, señor comandante.

[García walks away]

García: Bar the gate!

[Monastario goes inside his office]

Licenciado Piña: How long must we wait?

Monastario: Half an hour or so. By then, everyone will be asleep.

Licenciado Piña: Suppose something goes wrong!

Monastario: You are more of an old woman than you are a lawyer. What can go wrong? And stop pacing about! You will make me nervous. Better still, wait in my quarters until the sergeant reports, and don’t worry!

[Zorro sneaks into the cuartel, García walks to the cells]

García: Well, Señor Torres, you are still here, I see. All safe and snug for the night, eh? Buenas noches, señor. Sleep well.

[Zorro sabotages the horse saddles, García enters Monastario’s office]

García: All prisoners accounted for, mi capitán.

Monastario: Is the prisoner Torres secure? He is a dangerous man, sergeant, full of much cunning.

García: I, myself, have just examined his cell.

Monastario: ¡Excelente! I will mention you in this report, García.

García: ¡Gracias, señor comandante!

Monastario: You may go to bed now, sergeant. And, leave your keys on the desk.

García: ¡Gracias, capitán!

[Zorro comes to the cell door]

Zorro: Señor Torres!

Don Nacho: Who are you?

Zorro: A friend. I’ve come to help you.

Don Nacho: God love you, friend, but how can you help me? I am chained like an animal.

Zorro: Who has the keys?

Don Nacho: Sergeant García.

Zorro: Then I will relieve him of them!

[In Monastario’s office]

Monastario: Now, in a little while, you will take the keys and release the prisoner.

Licenciado Piña: But won’t he suspect something?

Monastario: You are a lawyer. You will tell him you have reviewed his case and there has been a mistake. When he crosses the courtyard you will give the alarm. I will be waiting right here. It’s already in my report. “Fugitive shot while attempting to escape.”

[García’s quarters]

García: La la la la la lahhhhh

[Zorro puts his sword to García’s back]

Zorro: The slightest sound will be your last!

García: What do you want from me?

Zorro: The keys.

García: Keys?

Zorro: To the cell door and the prisoner��s chains.

García: The comandante has the keys. I just gave them to him.

Zorro: Get up! Go to the corner.

García: You’re not going to kill me, are you?

Zorro: Not unless you move. I’ll be standing right behind you!

[Licenciado Piña exits Monastario’s office and goes to the cell]

Licenciado Piña: I have good news for you, Señor Torres. I’ve come to set you free.

Don Nacho: Why are you releasing me now? You are the lawyer who signed the accusation papers.

Licenciado Piña: I have just discovered that the charges against you are false.

Zorro: Thank you, licenciado. You have most kindly solved the problem for us. I advise you to make no outcry. Señor Torres, I do not trust this lawyer. Chain him to the bars. Now, close his mouth. Now I suggest we take our leave over the wall. There’s a horse by the tree.

Don Nacho: Señor, who are you?

Zorro: A friend of the people. ¡El Zorro!

[Zorro carves a Z into the cell wall]

[Monastario exits his office and shoots at Zorro and Don Nacho then begins to duel Zorro]

Zorro: Escape while you can!

Monastario: Sergeant García! Sergeant García! García! Sergeant García!

[Monastario tries to stab Zorro but stabs the wall]

Zorro: Beautiful! Coupé to the wall. You must show me that again, comandante! Now would you please get inside the cell?

García: Lancers to arm! Our comandante is in danger!

Monastario: Who is that masked demon?

Licenciado Piña: I don’t know, he calls himself El Zorro.

Monastario: Zorro? The Fox. García, idiota, pick up your sword and fight!

[Zorro holds García at sword point]

García: Oh! Oh, señor.

Monastario: Lancers! To arms! To arms!

García: Please, señor.

Monastario: Fight!

[Zorro pushes García into a well]

Monastario: Do not let him get away! After him! To your horses, stupid ones! They must not escape!

García: To horse! To horse!

Monastario: After them!

García: Open the gate!

[Zorro escapes the cuartel and rides to catch up with Don Nacho]

Zorro: Go to the mission at San Gabriel. Padre Felipe will give you asylum there.

Don Nacho: I do not know who you are, Señor Zorro, but I owe you my life. I will never forget.

End

#Disney's Zorro #Zorro #Season 1 #Episode 1 #Presenting Señor Zorro #Episode Transcript #Zorro 1957

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niiqhtmare · 4 years

Photo

▓┊★ ‹ Pippa Atherton.

Pearls around her neck and her hand around yours, stroking or choking, Pippa Atherton was capable of much more than what she let on. She consisted of wild eyes, soft lips, and a look that dared you to get closer. It was the look of a siren; enchanting and distracting, ready to lure in the victim and into a deep grave when reality hit them a second too late. Pippa was pink, but she had the potential to be TERRIFYING if she worked up enough effort to unearth her lethality that slept beneath bright smiles and the highest of heels standing upon its grave. In truth, her untapped potential laid dormant in the cage beneath her chest, and Pippa fully intended to keep it that way. It bubbled up occasionally, peeking through the most in her fencing, and only mentioned if the current (often darker) company required it in rarer scenarios.

▓┊★ ‹ rose garden; full of thorns.

Pippa was beautiful. She knew it, and her parents had made a correct conjecture before she even graced the earth with her birth. It proved true, and she was given a lofty name to match. Philyra - a beautiful nymph chased after by a God. The blonde enjoyed being chased, but she wanted to be her own legend. Pippa. It was bright, beautiful, and bubbled in the throat. Pippa Atherton would write her own destiny along the way. As the product of a foreign affair, she was bred for them. Well-traveled, well connected, and eager to please – both herself and any potential lovers. She had plenty, but they had what she wanted - information. She liked to worm her way in and gather it piece by piece, in the heat of the moment, and then store it away. Pippa was playing a dangerous game, sinking her teeth into both sides to stockpile secrets like weapons. A deeply shallow, vapid facade carefully hid it all away beneath a shell of pink glitter.

‹ a nightmare ; dressed like a daydream.

Happy is a complicated word for Pippa, and the one that slips most easily in its spot is fun. Pippa Atherton is fun; a bright hurricane of a girl. She is bright smiles and the exciting pop! of champagne corks. She is a bruise left on a long neck by soft lips, demurely hidden by scarves in winter. She’s a taunting pink lipstick print and daring, mischievous eyes. Pippa is a glittering facade of many things, but true happiness is not one of them. She is happy enough, but she excels at being fun.

Anyone that signed their name as P. Graves was bound to leave an impact, but the usual choice was not a sparkling, midnight ink. The Graves are touted as a powerful family in both connections and skills, and Pippa is no different. Her exceptional dueling prowess was encouraged from a young age. It flourished into a love of fencing, in which Pippa is internationally ranked. She may or may not be known to enchant a suit of armor to spar with her when intoxicated.

‹ it’ll leave you breathless ; or with a nasty scar.

She had a creepy situation with a teacher/authority figure depending on verse when she was underage and it has left her scarred and a little guarded, and it’s a large reason why she has a glittery facade. Later stabbed him with a letter opener when she tried to extricate herself.

Here’s a small blurb about the teacher, but underage + age gap tw,

it wasn’t common knowledge how cupid’s arrow stabbed and splintered as it broke the skin and broke her heart. it wasn’t common knowledge how she clutched it to her chest while he clutched her to his. they didn’t know how much it bled when she plucked the arrow from her body, and how much it took to snap it over her knee. they didn’t know that deep splinters were still working their way to the surface, and how long she picked herself apart to find them and to find answers. she didn’t know that it was more than stolen glances in a room full of people and the thrill of first love. she hadn’t known it would lead to crying on the bathroom floor, feeling worthless as she applied another coat of lipstick for him to smear. feeling violated and alone, and how it hurt so goddamn much when he ripped her heart out when it all turned out to be a lie.

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

PERSONALITY

Label: The Minx Positive Traits: Charismatic, charming, honest, intrepid, friendly. Negative Traits: Blunt, manipulative, vain, reckless. Goals/Desires: Dancing through life, skimming the surface, and gliding where turf is smooth. Fears: Abandonment, Claustrophobia Hobbies: Fencing, Archery, Languages, Thrill Seeking, Dueling Quirks: [ will do the quirks list asap ] Likes: Fencing, Candles, Lingerie Dislikes: Silence, Losing

TESTS

Myers-Briggs: ENTJ Enneagram: Type 7, the Enthusiast Temperament: Sanguine

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

Playlist

Girls Your Age - Transviolet

100 Letters - Halsey

The Party & The After Party - The Weeknd

Champagne Room - Sizzy Rocket

Lurk - The Neighborhood

Sex & Stardust - ZZ Ward

Pretty Head - Transviolet

Boys Don’t Cry - Natalia Kills

0 notes

howtofightwrite · 8 years

Note

What challenges would a character with extensive training in modern fencing face in switching to *real* blades and using them for the first time in a life or death swordfight?

Dying.

Modern fencing and historical fencing are different beasts. The sword weight is different. The sword length is different. The weapon class is different. Everything is different, including the vectors of attack and the possibility of death. Now, to be fair, someone who went from historical (HEMA) fencing into a sudden life or death duel with a historical personage would also be screwed. They’d be slightly less screwed, but still screwed. The same is pretty much true when you put most sports martial artists up against cops or professional soldiers. They’re not trained for it.

Modern fencing has moved in the direction that is beneficial to itself as a sport rather than as a form of combat. There are a great many techniques performed by fencers that are excellent in competition but would get you killed (or at least a double suicide) in a live bout with live weapons.

This is true of any type of sport martial art. When you remove death from the equation, people have the opportunity to be more reckless and, in some ways, more creative than they would be if there was a chance of actual impalement on an enemy’s blade.

The real problem for this character though is going to be the blade weight. Even if they’re just shifting to a historical epee from a modern one, they’re going to pick up a few pounds. Given no time to adjust, that additional weight will hamper everything from speed to accuracy to their endurance. The time they waste adjusting to blade weight is time their enemy has to break their defenses and stab them. They will face similar difficult with the historical sabre. That’s if they’re lucky enough to hit a historical period with a blade they recognize. They won’t know what to do with the rapier, or any of the other swords.

There are also three types of modern fencing blades that each have their own associated rule set. This could be a problem for them.

Fencing Rules for the Novice Parent has a good breakdown, but I’ll list the basics here.

The Foil - thrusting only, hits only count when struck with the tip of the blade. Striking is limited to the torso, but covers the groin, neck, and back.

The Epee - the epee like the historical epee is a dueling sword, strikes include the whole body. Thrusting weapon, scored only with the tip.

The Sabre - the traditional sabre is a military/cavalry weapon, it is curved. It’s a cutting and thrusting weapon, and the entire upper body is an available target. So, this includes the arms.

It’s worth noting that “cut” and “thrust” with modern fencing weapons mean which part of the blade touches the opponent’s body. It is possible to be hurt with a modern fencing blade when not wearing protective gear, but it’s nowhere near as dangerous as the historical swords.

You don’t have to take my word for the differences though. Here’s Matt Easton talking about the differences between sport fencing and historical fencing. He refers to it as a game of “electrified tag”. Modern fencing isn’t about swordsmanship in a classic sense, it’s about scoring points and getting around the (rather restrictive) rules.

This doesn’t mean the sport doesn’t have value, it does. It’s an incredible form of exercise, show of athleticism, developing incredible reaction speed and timing. It’s great for your brain. It isn’t combat. It doesn’t prepare you for combat.

However, assuming they survive, those ancillary skills they mastered in sport fencing can be re-applied to a study of historical fencing. They go into this story athletic, quick thinking, strategic, creative, and with reaction times that are well above average. Sport fencers are fast on their feet.

There’s some good maneuvering that can be done with this character on a story level, but their skill set isn’t on a 1 to 1 parity with a practiced swordsman straight out of history.

-Michi

This blog is supported through Patreon. If you enjoy our content, please consider becoming a Patron. Every contribution helps keep us online, and writing. If you already are a Patron, thank you.

#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #fight scene #fencing #swords #historical fencing #modern fencing

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niiqhtmare · 4 years

Text

i. overview

Species: Light Blooded Wytch

Full Name: First Name ( UTP ) du Plessis.

Birthday & Age: June 2nd, 1997 / 22

Skill: Telekinesis & Twin Telepathy

Level: Favoured Soul

Occupation: Socialite / Fashion Influencer / Exchange Student at Astoria University.

Neighborhood: UTP or Belmonte Estate, # bed(s) # bath(s) - lives with UTP.

Hometown: South Dakota, United States

Residency Status: Newcomer, UTP weeks

Sexual Orientation: UTP

ii. personality

+ poised, labyrinthine, charming, & trait.

- vainglorious, ruthless, reticent, & poisonous.

iii. about the species

wytches are humans with the power to affect natural or unnatural change by magical means. they connect themselves with divine forces in order to practice magic. with regular practice they can become highly skillful, dangerous if endeavors lead to malecium. there is a general curse to their existence; they tend to become addicted to supernatural forces and due to their constant use of magic, to misuse they will surely go down a path of becoming increasingly amoral towards human life as a result. the concept of wytches has existed across various cultures both primitive and advanced, throughout recorded history. their general misconception of their kind is primarily rooted in the mass carnage of the middle ages, against people, particularly women, who practiced any form of belief or healing that could be deemed anti-christian.

iv. the past

Pearls around her neck and her hand around yours, stroking or choking, Ariadne du Plessis was capable of much more than what she let on. She consisted of wild eyes, soft lips, and a look that dared you to get closer. It was the look of a siren; enchanting and distracting, ready to lure in the victim and into a deep grave when reality hit them a second too late. Ariadne was pink, but she had the potential to be TERRIFYING if she worked up enough effort to unearth her lethality. It slept beneath bright smiles and the highest of heels standing upon its grave. In truth, her untapped potential laid dormant in the cage beneath her chest and Ariadne fully intended to keep it that way. It bubbled up occasionally, peeking through the most in her fencing, and only mentioned if the current (often darker) company required it in rarer scenarios.

‹ rose garden; full of thorns.

Ariadne was beautiful. She knew it, and her parents had made a correct conjecture before she even graced the earth with her birth. It proved true, and she was given a lofty name to match. Philyra - a beautiful nymph chased after by a God. The blonde enjoyed being chased, but she wanted to be her own legend. Ariadne. It was bright, beautiful, and bubbled in the throat. Ariadne Atherton would write her own destiny along the way. As the product of a foreign affair, she was bred for them. Well-traveled, well connected, and eager to please – both herself and any potential lovers. She had plenty, but they had what she wanted - information. She liked to worm her way in and gather it piece by piece, in the heat of the moment, and then store it away. Ariadne was playing a dangerous game, sinking her teeth into both sides to stockpile secrets like weapons. A deeply shallow, vapid facade carefully hid it all away beneath a shell of pink glitter.

‹ a nightmare ; dressed like a daydream.

Happy is a complicated word for Ariadne, and the one that slips most easily in its spot is fun. Ariadne is fun; a bright hurricane of a girl. She is bright smiles and the exciting pop! of champagne corks. She is a bruise left on a long neck by soft lips, demurely hidden by scarves in winter. She’s a taunting pink lipstick print and daring, mischievous eyes. Ariadne is a glittering facade of many things, but true happiness is not one of them. She is happy enough, but she excels at being fun.

Anyone that signed their name as P. Graves was bound to leave an impact, but the usual choice was not a sparkling, midnight ink. The Graves are touted as a powerful family in both connections and skills, and Ariadne is no different. Her exceptional dueling prowess was encouraged from a young age. It flourished into a love of fencing, in which Ariadne is internationally ranked. She may or may not be known to enchant a suit of armor to spar with her when intoxicated.

‹ it’ll leave you breathless ; or with a nasty scar.

Here’s a small blurb about the teacher, but underage + age gap tw,

v. the current

a few months back she was giving the finishing touches to her makeup and turned to her mother with a smile plastered on her face. her mother was shining with pride for being invited to host the charity ball of the year. couture dress, designer jewellers. groomed to be the image of perfection. obviously, she needed to ruin her happiness and share the news. she was moving to south dakota. “absurd. your place is here in france, not among them.” calliope du plessis takes a deep breath before continuing, now the mask was slipping. “I knew that boy was a bad influence, he is just like his father. should have never allowed him to...” her sentence is interrupted when the mirror breaks and various glass shreds levitate in the air. like daggers hovering next to her. silence while her daughter places red lipstick. “do never speak of my brother like that.” hell could freeze over with her detached tone. “now smile, we have a role to play. don’t want to cause a scandal would we?” she adds closing her black louis vuitton clutch. the glass shreds explode into tiny pieces, returning to sand. as she was turning around to leave, a hand moves towards her forehead. “your son says hello, dearest mother.” while she might be a light blooded wytch, she is by no means good. that´s a burden she never had to carry.

vi. connections

✗ CHURCH OF EDEN - deeply ingrained in the history of france and the church of eden, her maternal grandfather was the former high priest. the young woman was expected to follow the path that was laid before her. many others of the family did, but she refused to be their perfect porcelain doll.a rebel at heart, she will do whatever she sees fit and may the heavens forbid who dares to stop her. never one to commit foolish acts, she will keep all the fame and fortune that the du plessis name allows. perhaps even start using the belmonte name as well when she arrives in america. in both sides of the ocean she is royalty and it´s time everyone becomes aware of that.

✗ LUCIUS BELMONTE - her mind is a temple of depravity and insatiability shared with her twin brother. half of a soul in each one. it’s as if the universe had to split such perversity in two or affect the balance. they have no secrets, it’s practically impossible given their twin telepathy. and experience shows that when their psychic connection is severed both suffer from it.while they feed their inside demons, they also serve as an anchor to each others sanity.their insanity would be an even bigger punishment for the world. lucius is actually the voice of reason, both amoral creatures she is more impetuous.there is a secret that they keep about their skills or rather what happens when they bound them together. but that is a story for a posterior date…

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