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gremlinwithakeyboard · 1 year ago

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my WIP UltraSun nuzlocke (sort of)

i've realised with my new laptop I can finally continue my ultra sun game on Citra! It's kind of a softcore nuzlocke. Basically it's got permadeath but instead of catching only one pokemon each route, I catch every pokemon on the route. HOWEVER, I can't switch up my team except for when someone dies, and when they do I have to pick the new team member with a random name picker.

My current team, and the story so far told by how everyone else freaking died under the cut:

I got pretty far, and I'm currently somewhere along the Poni Island questline, can't remember where exactly. Here is my current team:

This is Snazzypants. Ever since they joined after I wiped to Totem Marowak and got an entirely new team, he's been hard carrying the run. His offensive power is starting to fall off in the later game, but fur coat is still OP.

The second longest lasting member of the team, Drugs joined after I lost half my team to the first Guzma fight. He's not quite as bulky as Snazzypants, but great at making any opponents way less good at killing all my team.

Then we have these guys who are all kind of new:

Jarvis 2 joined after I lost 4 members to Guzma at the Aether Foundation, Cole joined after I lost one member to Lusamine, Cerberus and 01000101 joined after I was careless while level grinding and lost a couple other recent arrivals.

Now for all the dead mons!

Since there are so many of them, I'll just list their levels and how they died.

Wormy the Caterpie - lvl3 - lvl3 - died to Pursuit from a Zorua I was trying to catch

Spots the Ledyba - lvl3 - lvl17 - also got Pursuited to death from one of Hala's pokemon

Flump the Slowpoke - lvl7 - lvl19 - died once again to Pursuit on the way to Brooklet hill

Molly the Buneary - lvl2 - lvl22 - died to Totem Araquanid

Em the Spearow - lvl10 - lvl12 - died to Totem Araquanid, about half an hour after replacing Flump

Donald the Yungoos - lvl3 - lvl21 - didn't survive the mandatory Battle Royale

Tom the Torracat - lvl5 - lvl25 - put up a valiant effort against Totem Marowak, but fell in the end, sealing the fate of the rest of the team

Cable the Charjabug - lvl4 - lvl22 - one of the final two to die in the Totem Marowak massacre, they didn't stand a chance

Reese the Cottonee - lvl12 - lvl20 - the second one to die in the Marowak massacre, perhaps in a futile attempt to allow a safe switch in

Bobby the Abra - lvl7 - lvl13 - another life tragically cut short by the ruthless Totem Marowak

BetterWormy the Butterfree - lvl10 - lvl12 - I am sorry past me, but WHY was BetterWormy at the front of the party for ANY part of Kiawe's trial???

Not Kukui the Hawlucha - lvl10 - lvl10 - the second one to die to Totem Marowak, probably because past me was a dumbass who forgot to grind

Priscilla the Ekans - lvl9 - lvl11 - got caught up in a Butterfree sweep, how embarrassing

Capt Beaky the Wingull - lvl6 - lvl11 - another one lost to the sheer power of that freaking Butterfree

Jarvis the Pikipek - lvl3 - lvl10 - managed to get oneshot by Silver Wind at the start of the Butterfree sweep, congratulations!

Bruce the Zubat - lvl7 - lvl10 - I'll just post my live discord reaction to Bruce's death:

Garfield the Meowth - lvl8 - lvl17 - Garfield died solely because of my own selfish greed. He was ready to evolve, but I denied him that. I wanted to wait until he was level 30, so he would learn Payday, and I wanted to keep making use of his Pickup ability which would be replaced with Fur Coat when he evolved. Fur Coat would have allowed him to survive that Wingull's Wing Attack.

Rocky the Crabrawler - lvl8 - lvl24 - Top tip! When fighting Salandit pay absolute fucking attention to your pokemon's health! They will Dragon Rage you and your pokemon will die!

Acrylic the Smeargle - lvl8 - lvl25 - sacrificed her life to give Snazzypants a clean switch in during the Totem Marowak fight

Clowny the Mr. Mime - lvl9 - lvl26 - sacrificed so Snazzypants could be switched out to get rid of his lowered defense during the Totem Lurantis fight

Orang the Mankey - lvl12 - lvl17 - got OHKO'd by Take Down

Donut the Alolan Raichu - lvl2 - lvl36 - Guzma's Golisopod made a big First Impression

Shrek the Mudsdale - lvl12 - lvl35 - got taken down by Bug Buzz during the first Guzma fight

Addie the Oricorio - lvl12 - lvl30 - Guzma's freaking Masquerain had Icy Wind too

Splat the Malamar - lvl4 - lvl39 - This guy was gonna be my Ultra Necrozma strat. I really wanted to try Topsy Turvy on it. I'd kept him safe in the back of my party since I got him after the Marowak Massacre. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten about Innards Out.

Capt Beaky 2 the Pelipper - lvl33 - lvl47 - I was fighting a double battle with some Aether people, and I thought I'd be smart and go for U-turn instead of just switching. Unfortunately someone was faster and had an electric move.

Gremlin the Sableye - lvl11 - lvl50 - one of the many lives claimed by Guzma's final battle

TotallyATree the Sudowoodo - lvl20 - lvl48 - got some good hits in, but couldn't survive until the end of the fight

Rosie the Bewear - lvl20 - lvl33 - Capt Beaky 2's replacement who managed to take down Guzma's Vikavolt before being taken down herself

Cerise the Tsareena - lvl22 - lvl49 - the final victim of Guzma's onslaught, which left only Snazzypants and Drugs alive

Rex the Tyrunt - lvl15 - lvl33 - died to a crit Surf while I was training the 4 new pokemon

Dogrock the Lycanroc - lvl14 - lvl48 - got oneshot by a critical Moonblast during the Lusamine fight

Avi the Talonflame - lvl19 - lvl46 - died to Revelation Dance while fighting a dancer to get the focus sash

Rana the Lurantis (totem size) - lvl30 - lvl47 - died to Dizzy Punch while in green health

I wonder who's going to die next!

#gremlin's ultrasun raffle nuzlocke #pokemon #pokemon usum #pokemon ultra sun

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thenixkat · 3 years ago

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HCs for a fic

Big brother Tomura au

–> Legally he is Tenko Midoriya, a student studying abroad and working part-time for his salesman father.

–> Has firebreathing as a secondary quirk thanks to dad.

–> His decay is ALWAYS on. He’s learned to control how quickly and far something decays and how to stop it once it starts if he desires to do so. But it is highly reflective of his emotional state and he does tend to get upset quickly and throw tantrums (something his dad’s very terrified therapist is trying to help with).

–> Tomura Shigaraki is his villain name. Does he have suits to wear for villainy like dad and Nine? Yes. Will he wear them? Only if he has to, he hasn’t really found a decent fabric that doesn’t make him itch on some level. Calls dad Sensei when on the clock.

–> The nomu at USJ was his personal pet he was allowed to design. The nomu’s name is Mr. Beaky. Mr. Beaky is a good boy who doesn’t get called by his real name when everyone is trying to be serious.

–> Usually contacts Izuku via video games and plays with him sometimes. Is technically a youtuber but uploads just whenever. His channel consists of him streaming horror games, especially vintage pre-quirk era games, and discussions on anarchist literature.

–> If Inko needs a babysitter Tomura is there. Does it matter that he himself is being babysat by Kurogiri at all times? No, just means two babysitters for the price of one. Babysitter Tomura likes to watch vintage banned children’s tv with Izuku. (Its banned for promoting vigilantism and illegal quirk use). They like to watch Digimon in particular b/c both of them love the idea of having a fate-assigned monster bff who loves and protects you no matter what.

–> Approves of Izuku’s quirkless friends. Especially the twiggy one that just beats the shit out of that Bakugo asshole. Tomura is a good big brother so if Izuku asks him not to murder someone outside of work he will not commit murder. He will however scare the shit out of fuckers.

–> Prefers to wear safety gloves when interacting with his family b/c he’d rather not accidentally lose his second one.

–> As a bonding experience, he teaches Izuku things like hotwiring vehicles, lockpicking, and forms of minor crime.

–> Every now and then takes Izuku to the local HeroCon. Has become a minor cryptid who always wins at the Dance Dance Revolution contests and sings villain songs at karaoke.

–> Is pretty reserved when around people he likes but wants to financially support the people he loves and spoil them.

–> Met a few of the future permanent League of Villains members on various online forums and became internet friends with them b4 meeting them in person.

–> On one hand yes, he believes that people should be free to be who they are and that everyone rejected by society are his comrades. On the other hand, he can’t just let some shit slide like, you gotta have some limits and rules.

–> Very much does not want his little brother to be a hero. Is trying to get through to Izuku that he’s on the wrong side of the conflict. Is willing to go tough love on him.

–> Does not like people who abuse children. It’s one thing to kill a kid it’s entirely different to abuse them.

–> Calls out Stain for being a fucking serial killer who is too full of himself to just fucking murder people without making it a fucking moral crusade. Also, Stain wants just fucking martyr ‘cops’ and fuck that.

–> Has a hand collection that he adds to if he kills someone particularly memorable. He can’t wear all of his emotional support hands but it’s nice to mix up his layout ever now and then. Is smart enough to not wear/bring any of his hands when he hangs out with the Midoriyas.

–> Inko made him a very nice weighted blanket that he loves very much and Izuku makes him Tsumemon plushies every other year for his birthday. These are cherished items.

–> All people shunned or disrespected by society are comrades (with some exceptions) so Tomura is down with quirkless people too. And mutants. Don’t start some bigoted shit on his watch.

–> Izuku and Tomura recognize eachother at USJ and both go ‘WTF!!’. Izuku has the dawning realization that if his brother is a villain so is his dad.

–> Tomura doesn’t try to kill the kids at USJ nor does he want his assembled villains to do so. It’d be simpler to brutally slaughter the teachers and demoralize the kids to get them to quit trying to be heroes and he is trying to work on a cause. He’s not against maiming kids tho.

–> Has absolutely no issues with Toga trying to stab his little brother and drink his blood. Girls are weird and he’s pretty sure Izuku won’t die. And it helps that it doesn’t seem to be an act of malice on her part, that’s just who she shows affection.

#nix meows #my hero academia #headcanons #aus #shigaraki tomura #is slightly better adjusted here #dad for one au

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fly-pow-bye · 3 years ago

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What’s Airing On Cartoon Network? (July 2021)

While we’re in a rather empty spot for the network, Cartoon Network decided to add another show that was made for HBO Max to its television lineup: Looney Tunes Cartoons! Also, The Fungies continue their airing on television, and there’s new episodes of Total Dramarama and DC Super Hero Girls. More after the break.

Craig of the Creek

For completion’s sake, I’ll list the Craig of the Creek episodes here too.

June 28th:

Capture the Flag Part 1: The Candy - When mysterious circumstances cause issues at the Trading Tree, Craig tries to save the day! (10:00 AM)

June 29th:

Capture the Flag Part 2: The King - The Creek gets help from an unlikely friend. (10:00 AM)

June 30th:

Capture the Flag Part 3: The Legend - Craig goes in search of answers, and finds a legend. (10:00 AM)

July 1st:

Capture the Flag Part 4: The Plan - Craig puts a plan into motion to save the Creek. (10:00 AM)

July 2nd:

Capture the Flag Part 5: The Game - It all comes down to this, the fate of the Creek is at stake! (10:00 AM)

DC Super Hero Girls

July 4th:

#AngerManagement - When Jess coerces Kara into addressing her anger management issues, Supergirl's superhero abilities become seriously compromised! (8:00 AM)

#HappyBirthdayZee - Zatanna makes a birthday wish that forces her to confront the dark side of her magic. (8:15 AM)

July 11th:

#TheGreenRoom - When Jessica is faced with a Green Lantern Corps disciplinary hearing, Hal appoints himself to be her Peer Advocate. (8:00 AM)

#EnterNightSting - Karen is given a mission to prevent the apocalypse by DeathSting, a super-cool future version of herself. (8:15 AM)

July 18th:

#WorldsFinest - When PR whiz Max Lord tells Batgirl and Supergirl he can improve their image by doing publicity stunts, the two friends forget what being a hero is really about. (8:00 AM)

#WorkingStiff - After Babs hooks Karen up with a job at the Burrito Bucket, the two heroes encounter a new villain, the scourge of the fast-food underworld, the Condiment King! (8:15 AM)

July 25th:

#MultipliciZee - Zee magically duplicates herself so she can shirk work and watch TV. Things get out of hand when her copies start to make copies of themselves! (8:00 AM)

#TheMinus - Diana receives her first ever A-minus and becomes convinced that she needs to work harder, however, in order to do so, she resorts to rather drastic measures. (8:15 AM)

The Fungies

July 9th:

Sir Tree's Boy - Seth agrees to take care of Sir Tree's wooden boy, Boy Joy, but quickly pawns him off on Mertha. When Seth discovers that Sir Tree needs his boy back in order to survive, he must stage a heist to steal Boy Joy back before it's too late! (8:00 AM)

Commander Beefy - Seth, eager to explore the stars and find a fellow explorer, sends a signal to space. But the explorer who receives the message, Commander Beefy, has his own shady plans for Earth... (8:15 AM)

July 16th:

The Fanciest Fungie - Seth, frustrated that the Fancies are too caught up in the Fanciest Fancy pageant to listen to his warning about a fungus-eating bacteria, enters the pageant to get his message out. But when he gets sucked into the pageant, he'll have to face the consequences of getting distracted. (8:00 AM)

Snake It to the Limit - When Seth agrees to let an athletic snake replace his arm so he can finally be good at volleyball, he learns he doesn't need a fancy snake arm to make his teammates happy; he just needs to try. (8:15 AM)

July 23th:

Nevin's Cocoon - After a beautiful statue makes Nevin self-conscious about his own looks, Seth helps seal Nevin in a cocoon so that he may turn into a beautiful butterfly. (8:00 AM)

Cool Kids - When Pascal becomes obsessed with a group of cool kids, Seth promises to use his science skills to help Pascal become cool. But is coolness as cool as it seems? (8:15 AM)

July 30th:

Mermove Out - Seth is having a hard time sharing a room with messy Pascal and needs a change. But instead of being honest about the situation, Seth makes Pascal a mermaid tail so that his brother can finally move out-into the ocean! (8:00 AM)

Happy Birthday Nancy - Seth wants his mom to have the best birthday ever, so he creates his own currency in order to buy her an expensive gift. But he learns a little too late that counterfeiting is a crime, putting Nancy's birthday at risk of being ruined. (8:15 AM)

Looney Tunes Cartoons

July 5th:

Curse of the Monkeybird/Marvin Flag Gag: Deflating Planet/Harm Wrestling - Daffy Duck and Porky Pig search for hidden treasure. No one messes with arm-wrestling champ Yosemite Sam - until Bugs Bunny comes along. (9:00 AM)

Big League Beast/Hole Gag: Mini Elmer/Firehouse Frenzy -When Bugs overstays his welcome, an evil scientist unleashes Gossamer to get rid of him. Daffy Duck and Porky Pig make lousy firefighters. (9:15 AM)

July 6th:

Boo! Appetweet/Hole Gag: Plunger/Bubble Dum - Sweet victory turns into a nightmare when Sylvester fears he's haunted by Tweety's ghost. Daffy Duck faces off with a pesky piece of gum. (9:00 AM)

Pain in the Ice/Tunnel Vision/Pool Bunny - A hungry Sylvester sets his sights on Tweety, the ice skater. On a scorching hot day, Bugs Bunny makes himself at home in Elmer Fudd's pool. (9:15 AM)

July 7th:

Pest Coaster/Rhino Ya Don't - Bugs tries to ride a roller coaster, but Yosemite Sam is determined to stop him. At the zoo, Sylvester's lunch plans are foiled by a rhino. (9:00 AM)

Buzzard School/Marvin Flag Gag: Giant Alien Mouth/Wet Cement - Bugs Bunny enrolls Beaky Buzzard in Rabbit Hunting 101. Daffy wreaks havoc on Porky's wet cement. (9:15 AM)

July 8th:

Siberian Sam/Hole Gag: Fishing Pole/Fleece and Desist/Marvin Flag Gag: Mirror/Split Screen Marvin - In need of a new hat, Siberian Sam feasts his eyes on Bugs Bunny. Sam Sheepdog protects his herd from a hungry Ralph Wolf. (9:00 AM)

Grilled Rabbit/Cactus if You Can/Shower Shuffle - Elmer Fudd interrogates Bugs about a theft. Wile E. Coyote's plan to catch the Road Runner gets prickly. Daffy and Porky have shower troubles. (9:15 AM)

July 9th:

Overdue Duck/Hole Gag: Bees/Vincent Van Fudd - At the library, Porky Pig tries to silence a troublemaking Daffy Duck. Bugs Bunny interrupts Elmer Fudd's attempt to be a great artist. (9:00 AM)

Hare Restoration/TNT Trouble/Plumbers Quack - A self-interested Bugs gives Elmer Fudd dating advice. Wile E. Coyote runs into some dynamite problems. Elmer's leaky sink is no match for Daffy. (9:15 AM)

July 12th:

Daffuccino/Hole Gag: Moving Hole/Kitty Livin - Before his new coffee shop goes from grand opening to grand closing, Porky must impress an influential customer. Sylvester may have swallowed more than he can chew when he manages to trap Tweety... inside his stomach! (9:00 AM)

Chain Gangster/Telephone Pole Gag: Sylvester Car Jack Lift/Falling for It - Two bank robbers need Bugs' help to break out of jail. Daffy convinces Porky to go skydiving but forgets one important little thing... (9:15 AM)

July 13th:

Taziator/Marvin Flag Gag: Little Martian/Climate Control - Bugs faces off against Taz in a Roman coliseum. Wile E. Coyote orders a weather control kit, but his chances of catching the Road Runner remain cloudy. (9:00 AM)

Lepre-conned/Flag Won't Stay Straight/Brave New Home - Bugs is looking for Hawaii but finds Ireland and an angry leprechaun instead. Porky's new home has all the modern amenities anyone could hope for, including a computerized assistant - but the voice recognition software could use an update. (9:15 AM)

July 14th:

The Case of Porky's Pants/Fully Vetted - Detective Daffy takes on the case of Porky's missing pants. Tweety's trip to the veterinarian's office gives Sylvester the perfect opportunity for a lunchtime treat. (9:00 AM)

E-Rabbitcator/ Planet Split in 2/The Sales Duck - Bugs must outsmart a new technological foe. Elmer is ready for bed, but persistent salesman Daffy stands in the way of a good night's rest. (9:15 AM)

July 15th:

Pitcher Porky/Cherry Picker/Duck Duck Boom - Benchwarmer Porky finally gets his chance to shine on the pitching mound. With the game on the line, he needs all the help he can get - even if it's from Daffy. Elmer sets his sights on Daffy, but who's hunting whom? (9:00 AM)

Postal Geist/Anvil/Fudds Bunny - Porky and Daffy deliver packages to a haunted manor. Elmer's plan to disguise himself as a bunny to lure Bugs out of his hole doesn't quite go as planned. (9:15 AM)

July 16th:

Shoe Shine-nanigans/Multiply and Conquer/Parky Pig - Elmer visits Daffy for a quick shoeshine. Porky is running late for movie night but finding a parking spot is easier said than done. (9:00 AM)

Shell Shocked/Daffy Dentist - Bugs races against Cecil Turtle for the "fastest thing in New York City" title. The only thing more painful than Porky's sore tooth is a visit to dentist Daffy. (9:15 AM)

Total Dramarama

July 5th:

Breaking Bite - Beth becomes the big dog on campus after she bites Duncan, but being the big dog is a dangerous thing, especially when you didn't actually bite anybody! (5:00 PM)

July 6th:

I Dream of Meanie - When Cody keeps screaming in his sleep Gwen and Duncan take a trip into Cody's dreams to see what is scaring him. (5:00 PM)

July 7th:

Squirrels Squirrels Squirrels - Courtney's attempt to make Chef a better teacher fails when a squirrel gets his hands on her mind-control device. (5:00 PM)

July 8th:

Say Hello to my Little Friends - After telling the kids he will not miss them over the long weekend Chef locks himself into the school and finds out he was very, very wrong. (5:00 PM)

July 12th:

WaterHose-Five - The hottest day of the year and a broke air conditioner leads to a water battle of epic proportions to determine who controls the garden hose. (5:00 PM)

July 13th:

Cody the Barbarian - Cody is set to inherit a video game empire from his long-lost uncle, but only if he and his friends have what it takes to conquer a fantastical live-action video game. (5:00 PM)

July 14th:

TP2: Judgement Bidet - When the city experiences a toilet paper shortage Beth and Harold investigate and discover it's their old rival Sewer Mike who is the mastermind behind it all. (5:00 PM)

July 15th:

Dial B for Birder - Harold uncovers a secret plot that Chef's new parrot is hatching and tries to save his teacher only to discover that Sugar figured it out before him. Or did she? (5:00 PM)

July 19th:

A Hole Lot of Trouble - When rain derails an outside game of catch someone suggests they play it inside. This prompts Izzy to lead the group through her wildly imaginative worst-case scenario. It's an adventure so scary that the kids many never play again. (5:00 PM)

July 20th:

A Tell Tale - After Owen's BBF, Noah, goes through a growth spurt, Owen fears losing his friend and takes drastic action. (5:00 PM)

July 21st:

Chews Wisely - When the floor ends up covered in gum on the day of a big bubble blowing contest, Sugar decides she might help herself win by helping her friends get stuck to the floor. (5:00 PM)

July 22nd:

A Dingo Ate My Duncan - When all their classmates are replaced with well-behaved Australian doppelgangers in a school exchange program, Lightning and Cody start getting suspicious. (5:00 PM)

#fpb news #dc super hero girls #the fungies #looney tunes #looney tunes cartoons #cartoon network #total dramarama

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Written In The Stars LVI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: The ending of this chapter... I really did THAT -Danny

Words: 4,376

Warnings: Punches ig

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Fifteen: The Final Push.

Hagrid was absolutely crushed after the news, he wanted Buckbeak to live so badly, he couldn't bring himself to keep an optimistic attitude.

The words of encouragement had soon worn out, and all they could do was assure him that they'd do everything to give him a strong defense.

They were walking back up to the castle with the rest of the class. Ahead they could see Malfoy, who was walking with Crabbe and Goyle, and kept looking back, laughing derisively.

"S'no good, Ron," said Hagrid sadly as they reached the castle steps. "That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that..."

Hagrid turned around and hurried back toward his cabin, his face buried in his handkerchief.

"Look at him blubber!"

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first — SMACK!

She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.

"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul — you evil —"

"Hermione!" said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back.

"Get off, Ron!"

With all certainty, Mel would keep that memory as one of the best from her time at Hogwarts.

She was standing behind Harry and Ron, covering her mouth in shocked amusement, pride swelling on her chest as she watched the look of utter fear on Malfoy while Hermione pulled out her wand.

"Wands off, 'Mione!" Mel warned her. "If you attack Malfoy with magic you'll get in trouble. However, as of now... one tiny smack means nothing..."

"You made that up," Malfoy sneered.

"Perhaps," She stepped forward. "Would you like to be the one to confirm it?"

"C'mon," Malfoy hissed at Crabbe and Goyle, rushing towards the dungeons.

"Hermione!" Ron gasped again.

"Wasn't she the best?" Mel snickered.

"Harry, you'd better beat him in the Quidditch final!" Hermione cried. "You just better had, because I can't stand it if Slytherin wins!"

"We're due in Charms," said Ron clumsily. "We'd better go."

"I've never been more proud in my life!" Mel exclaimed, but a sudden worry caused her to frown. "Well, maybe just once– That time when we rescued Harry with the Ford Anglia... Hey, Erick's gonna love this story!"

She whispered the last thing to Hermione only, who mouthed a 'Don't you dare!' as a response.

"You're late!" said Professor Flitwick when they got to the classroom. "Come along, quickly, wands out, we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today, we've already divided into pairs —"

"Oh, lovely!" She smiled. "'Mione, let's pair–"

She turned around, finding an empty spot where her friend had been standing seconds ago.

"Hey, where's Hermione?"

Harry and Ron turned without slowing down.

"That's weird," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron while Mel sat behind them. "Maybe — maybe she went to the bathroom or something?"

"She would've waited," The girl replied. "I don't see Hermione turning around after just arriving without asking for permission..."

She got paired with Neville, who was glad to have her as his partner, so much that he managed to succeed after the second try. She made sure to congratulate him lots about it. They walked together to the Great Hall, which was lucky, considering Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle arrived at the same time.

They threw menacing looks towards Neville and he squirmed beside her, Mel held each of their gazes while guiding her friend to their table.

"You shouldn't worry about them for now," She told him. "Want advice? Stay around Hermione, I assure you they'll want to stay as far as possible from her."

"Why?" He asked while sitting at the table.

"Hermione slapped him," Mel said gleefully, taking a plate.

"What?" George's voice pipped up from her left. He was sitting in front of her, next to his brother and Lee Jordan. "Hermione slapped someone? Who?"

"Please, tell me it was Ron," Fred said, taking a huge bite of his food.

"Blimey, thanks for the good wishes..." Ron scoffed, sitting next to Neville and her.

"Way better," She leaned on the table and whispered with excitement. "She slapped Malfoy!"

"WHAT?" The three boys exclaimed, Lee Jordan even choked on his pumpkin juice.

"It was by far the most glorious moment of the whole year."

"You're telling me that for the first time ever, you didn't start a fight–" George pointed at her with a chicken leg. "And Hermione Granger was the first to throw a punch?"

"Hell must be freezing," Mel chortled.

"I can't believe it," Neville said. "Where is she right now?"

"Watching her back if she's clever," Fred raised a brow. "I don't expect Malfoy to go and tell the rest of his peers about this, but if they found out, Pansy will go after her."

"And I will gladly glue her arse to the spot," Mel replied.

Fred, George, and Lee Jordan laughed. Ron, Harry, and Neville stared at her with wide eyes.

"You can't," Said Neville. "It would start a war!"

"Don't worry about it," She grinned. "They're all cowards, won't get in a fight they know they can't win."

"Remember what Dumbledore told you," Harry replied. "You can't let your emotions take–"

"I know, I know," She brushed it off with a lazy hand movement. "It was a joke, I'm not going to actively look or start any fights."

"See that?" George turned to his brother. "Looks like the lady's actually starting to act like one."

"Such a shame," Fred shook his head. "Soon enough she'll be made a Prefect and won't be funny at all!"

"Don't be mean!" Mel argued, and she didn't know what offended her most, being called 'not funny' or being called a 'true lady'.

When they arrived at the common room, they found Hermione sleeping the afternoon away, both boys sat on each side while Mel stood in front of them, examining the papers scattered around the table.

Harry nudged her shoulder and Hermione jolted awake.

"Wh — what?" said Hermione, waking with a start and staring wildly around. "Is it time to go? W — which lesson have we got now?

"Divination, but it's not for another twenty minutes," said Harry. "Hermione, why didn't you come to Charms?"

"What? Oh no!" Hermione squeaked. "I forgot to go to Charms!"

"But how could you forget?" said Harry. "You were with us till we were right outside the classroom!"

"I don't believe it!" Hermione wailed. "Was Professor Flitwick angry? Oh, it was Malfoy, I was thinking about him and I lost track of things!"

"You know what, Hermione?" said Ron, looking down at the enormous Arithmancy book Hermione had been using as a pillow. "I reckon you're cracking up. You're trying to do too much."

"No, I'm not!" said Hermione, brushing her hair out of her eyes and staring hopelessly around for her bag. "I just made a mistake, that's all! I'd better go and see Professor Flitwick and say sorry... I'll see you in Divination!"

Hermione joined them at the foot of the ladder to Professor Trelawney's classroom twenty minutes later, looking extremely harassed.

"I can't believe I missed Cheering Charms! And I bet they come up in our exams; Professor Flitwick hinted they might!"

"I'll help you study next time we go to the library," Mel patted her shoulder.

They climbed up the divination classroom, sitting together in a small table, a crystal ball right in the middle of it.

"I thought we weren't starting crystal balls until next term," Ron muttered.

"Don't complain, this means we've finished palmistry," Harry said. "I was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands."

"Well, Glasses, I'd flinch too– they're so skinny and pale they look like a vampire's!" Mel teased, gaining a soft kick on the leg.

"Good day to you!" Professor Trelawney approached them, appearing from the shadows. "I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned, the fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

Hermione snorted.

"Well, honestly... 'the fates have informed her'... who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!" She said loud and clear. Harry, Mel, and Ron tried (and failed) to keep their sniggers unnoticed.

"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," Their Professor continued. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes, so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of the class."

They sat for twenty boring minutes in silence, trying to see things that were clearly not there.

"Seen anything yet?" Harry asked them.

"Yeah, there's a burn on this table," said Ron. "Someone's spilled their candle."

"This is such a waste of time," Hermione scoffed. "I could be practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms —"

"Would anyone like me to help them interpret the shadowy portents within their Orb?" Trelawney walked past them.

"I don't need help," Ron whispered. "It's obvious what this means. There's going to be loads of fog tonight."

The children's guards were down, and they burst out laughing at Ron's comment.

"Now, really!" The woman stood before them in annoyance. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!"

Mel watched as Trewlaney got closer to them, examining the crystal ball carefully.

"There is something here! Something moving... but what is it? My dear, it is here, plainer than ever before... my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer... the Gr —"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" said Hermione, causing the girl to jump beside her. "Not that ridiculous Grim again!"

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class, my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane." The woman stood up again, her indignation clear.

"Fine!" Hermione got up and threw her book in the bag with rage. "Fine! I give up! I'm leaving!"

And with that, Hermione moved to the trapdoor, opened it with a hard kick, and disappeared.

Mel turned to the boys and mouthed, 'Never been more proud, I swear...'

"Ooooo!" Lavender exclaimed from her chair. "Oooooo, Professor Trelawney, I've just remembered! You saw her leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, Professor? 'Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!' You said it ages ago, Professor!"

Professor Trelawney wouldn't let that pass, of course.

"Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Miss Granger would be leaving us. One hopes, however, that one might have mistaken the Signs... The Inner Eye can be a burden, you know..."

"The inner eye can also be loads of– Ouch!" She hissed, Harry had pinched her arm.

"Don't make her kick you out too," He whispered.

"Some day Hermione's having, eh?" Ron muttered to them, he looked amazed at their friend's actions.

"Yeah..."

The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third years had never had so much homework. Neville Longbottom seemed close to a nervous collapse, and he wasn't the only one.

"Call this a holiday!" Seamus Finnigan roared at the common room one afternoon. "The exams are ages away, what're they playing at?"

But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows like Lupin's under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears.

Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak's appeal. When he wasn't doing his own work, he was poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology and Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality. He was so absorbed, he even forgot to be horrible to Crookshanks.

Harry, meanwhile, had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day, not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Wood. The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Wood constantly reminded his team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

Mel was surprisingly well, she found her lessons enrapturing, and since her exams were approaching, Dumbledore decided to give her a break from their own private lessons, explaining that she was doing a wonderful job and she didn't need to be pressured, having more important things to attend.

She tried to help her friends in the meantime, Neville and Hermione especially. Fred and George from time to time, who were (not so seriously, but still seemed worried about it) study sessions for their O.W.L.S– and though she didn't know much, she convinced them to make cards she could use to ask them questions. They didn't want to, but she insisted so much that they ended up accepting her help, and it seemed to be working. Next time she sat down to help them, Lee Jordan and Angelica were also there.

The only person who seemed to not need her help was Erick. He still attended their study sessions but instead of helping he would keep his eyes glued to his own work the whole time, silently taking notes on a notebook Mel had given him as a Christmas present (she'd also given him a nice muggle pen that Erick thought was the best thing to exist) and mumbling incoherent thoughts while turning the pages.

He wanted to be a Prefect, and he wanted to get there as the only, the indisputable winner of his year. When Mel asked him why was he so eager about it, he looked at her with a stare that caused her to shiver as he replied:

"No one messes with a Prefect."

"No one messes with you," She raised a brow. "I've seen the Slytherins of your year, they revolve around you like moths–"

He brushed it off like it meant nothing.

"Worship from some kids does not equal the freedom and power that being made a Prefect would give me."

"Sounds like something a villain would say..."

"Whatever," He shrugged.

The Quidditch final stood before them as the final straw to break everyone's nerves. Erick and Mel cut off their study sessions because they certainly couldn't risk being found together in such a heavy time. Students were almost always fighting each other, trying to attack Harry or Malfoy, or any other members of the teams.

The night before the game passed in a dream-like state. Fred and George had so much energy that they looked like rubber balls jumping from one side to the other, making jokes without stopping.

Mel was laughing a lot, she even thought about sneaking to the kitchens (the twins had given her the directions since her first year) and ask for a bunch of food for her and the rest of her friends to calm them down, but it didn't look like the best idea, she didn't want them to get sick.

The twins were loving the attention, it clearly distracted them from their own worries, but they weren't the only friends she had on the team. Soon enough she sat next to Harry, who looked paler and perhaps even smaller than usual. Mel tried to find the rights words but nothing came to her mind, she sat there until Wood asked the team to go to bed.

People made a fuss when the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall, they cheered and applauded, the Slytherins throwing insults and all– At least they weren't fighting violently now. Wood refused to eat but urged the rest of the kids to finish their breakfast.

Just as they were leaving, Mel realized she hadn't wished Harry good luck, (it was the first final he'd be playing, after all) and though she could've done it once he was in the dressing room, she saw Cho Chang wishing him good luck from Ravenclaw's table and Harry blushing wildly at this, so she obviously had to do something.

"Harry!" She ran up to him, pushing her words out of her mouth before she could think it twice. "You got this. You'll win. Good luck." She placed a quick kiss to his cheek.

The former redness of his cheeks meant nothing compared to the way his whole face flushed a deep scarlet after her public show of affection. The whole Gryffindor table whistled and clapped, not helping to their embarrassment. She avoided the twins' eyes and made sure not to look at the rest of the students' faces.

Merlin, why was she so impulsive?

She rushed back to where Ron and Hermione were sitting, and Ron stared at her with a smirk.

"You're doing an awful job at keeping your crush a secret."

"Shut it," She hid her face with both hands. "I don't know why I did that..."

She knew, though. But she'd rather die before admitting she was jealous.

"Come on, we should get going," Hermione stood up. "Before people take the best seats..."

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia! Argh, no — Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field — WHAM! — nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by — Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina — nice swerve around Montague — duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger! — SHE SCORES! TEN–ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of scarlet below was screaming its delight —

"OUCH!"

Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into her.

"Sorry!" said Flint as the crowd below booed. "Sorry, didn't see her!"

A moment later, Fred Weasley chucked his Beater's club at the back of Flint's head. Flint's nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.

"That will do!" shrieked Madam Hooch, zooming between them. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"

"Come off it, Miss!" howled Fred, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia flew forward to take the penalty.

"Come on, Alicia!" yelled Lee into the silence that had descended on the crowd. "YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY–ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

"This is good," Mel assured her friends, though she meant it more for herself. "They only need to be fifty points ahead, thirty more, come on..."

"Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! — Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell, Katie Bell for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field — THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

"Nasty rats!" Once again, she was leaning against the edge of the stands. Hermione, used to this kind of behavior, was already holding the edge of the girl's robes tightly.

"THIRTY–ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING —"

"Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way — !"

"I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"

Harry suddenly launched forward to one end of the field and Malfoy followed suit. It was just to distract Malfoy, though, cause she caught a glimpse of something golden flying away on the opposite side to where Harry was heading.

WHOOSH.

One of the Bludgers came streaking past Harry's right ear, hit by the gigantic Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again —

WHOOSH.

The second Bludger grazed Harry's elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing in.

"They're going after him!" Mel exclaimed.

She was about to pull her wand when Ron stopped her, Harry had turned the Firebolt upward at the last second, causing the beaters to collide against each other.

"Ha haaa!" yelled Lee Jordan as the Slytherin Beaters lurched away from each other, clutching their heads. "Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle — Flint alongside her — poke him in the eye, Angelina! — it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke — oh no — Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, Wood, save — !"

But Flint had scored; there was an eruption of cheers from the Slytherin end, and Lee swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to tug the magical megaphone away from him.

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor in possession —"

It was a nasty show. Everyone had decided to play dirty, their morals long forgotten after what it seemed the tenth penalty of the hour. The score forty-ten to Gryffindor, only twenty more...

Katie scored next, and then both Slytherin beaters threw bludgers at Wood and got another penalty on their favor, now they were–

"Sixty-ten! Fred Weasley throws a Bludger at Warrington, knocking the Quaffle out of his hands; Alicia seizes it and put it through the Slytherin goal — seventy-ten!" Lee Jordan continued.

"Any moment now!" Mel yelled over the deafening crowd. "You can do it, Harry!"

Harry suddenly shoot up to one corner, he was so close... so close...

"NO!"

Malfoy had grabbed a hold of the Firebolt's tail and was pulling it back.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never seen such tactics!" Madam Hooch screeched.

"BLOODY BASTARD!" Mel was unable to stop herself. "WAIT TILL HE'S BACK ON THE GROUND, HERMIONE'S WILL BE NOTHING COMPARED TO WHAT I'LL DO TO HIM!"

"YOU CHEATING SCUM!" Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall's reach. "YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B —"

Professor McGonagall didn't even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her finger in Malfoy's direction, her hat had fallen off, and she too was shouting furiously.

Alicia took Gryffindor's penalty, but she was so angry she missed by several feet. The Gryffindor team was losing concentration and the Slytherins, delighted by Malfoy's foul on Harry, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores —" Lee groaned. "Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor... Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina, COME ON!"

The whole Slytherin team flew out of their way to get her, but Harry rushed over to her, and flew in across and between the girl and the other team, causing them to scatter in the air and helping Angelina to get the clearest shot of the whole game.

"SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads by eighty points to twenty!"

But Mel wasn't looking at the celebration, she was staring -completely terrified- at Malfoy, who had seen the snitch.

"HE'S SEEN IT!" She pointed frantically. "GUYS!"

It all happened so fast Mel wished she could've recorded the whole thing. Harry dived forward at an alarming speed, he was getting there, right next to Malfoy, he did a quick movement to push him away and suddenly...

"YES!"

He had it!

Harry had the snitch!

Later most of her memories would be too blurry to understand, but somehow she'd managed to be the first to run from the stands towards the team, push them away from Harry, and held him tightly against her, shouting in ecstasy.

"You did it!" She moved only enough to see Harry's face without breaking the hug.

"I caught the snitch!" He replied just as happy.

"Malfoy's face! And the way you dodged the beaters! And when you helped Angelica!" She said excitedly. "It was so impressive!"

"All the team was!" Then, as if he'd just remembered, he added. "I think your good luck kiss really works!"

He meant that in a friendly way, of course. Perhaps slightly teasing, maybe he was so happy he hadn't even thought of what that meant for her. Either way, her emotions took the best of her a second time that day. It seemed that she couldn't resist when it came to Harry.

Mel pulled him close by the collar and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Harry had moved his face without meaning to do it –taken by surprise by her sudden actions– and the kiss had landed there, startling both children for the fraction of a second. Before Mel could apologize, the rest of the supporters arrived and lifted Harry and the rest of the team on their shoulders, dragging them away.

Ron and Hermione pulled her along to follow where they were taking the team and watched McGonagall cry her eyes out next to Wood, even Percy had forgotten about appearances, jumping up and down and pointing to his brothers proudly. Wood passed the cup to Harry and he lifted it above his head, the screams growing impossibly louder. For the briefest second, Harry caught her eye.

During a terrible moment, she thought he would look away. However, his smile only grew when he held her gaze, he looked like the handsome hero from her fairy tales, tousled hair and flushed cheeks, an absolutely fascinating sight.

Harry was as bright as the sun.

Mel had the feeling that things would never be the same. How could they, when her opinion about everything had shifted overnight?

"Is everything all right?" Hermione asked beside her, probably taking notice of her state.

She replied, a mix of happiness and terror in her voice:

"I think I'm in love."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @tomshollandz @steve-thotgers @kylosleftbuttcheek @thesuitelifeofafangirl @reverse-hxlland

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #hermione granger #ron weasley #draco malfoy #WITT fic

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theonceoverthinker · 5 years ago

Text

When Will My Life Begin (Fair Game 8/?)

Tumblr: (1) (2) (B1) (3) (4) (B2) (5) (6) (7)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before. AO3

A/N: THEY’RE FINALLY GONNA TALK!!!!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Unorthodox situations were anything but unorthodox to Qrow Branwen.

Being a bandit meant thinking on one’s feet, but the world, especially the world’s criminal underbelly, was a strange place to live in, one that moved in perpetuity. So in the scuffles of his day-to-day goings on, Qrow got used to inserting, disguising, and adapting himself into some bizarre situations, and some of those situations extended between one day and the next.

Qrow had woken up to shrieking sounds before.

Qrow had woken up to the sounds of birds before.

But he’d never woken up to the sound of both at the same time, much less both of them right in his damn ear!

To say it was an unorthodox way of waking up was to say the least -- absolutely a top contender, though not necessarily the strangest.

Qrow’s eyes snapped open upon hearing the screeching noise.

Even though he was awake, his mind took its time catching up with his still groggy self.

He shook his head, eager to get the very bird that had awoken him so rudely out of his ear. Judging by the small pitter pattering sensations in his shoulders that felt like solid rain drops jumping across his clothes as well as the less beaky feeling he had in his ears following the action -- Gods, there were plenty of things he expected to happen today, but to describe anything that touched his ear as ‘beaky’ was not one of them -- it seemed like he was successful.

That was good, at least.

Once the primary source of his annoyance was gone, Qrow continued to look around the room. The view he had access to was limited and mostly covered in shadows, though judging by his posture, he could tell he was in some kind of chair.

Where was he?

What happened to him?

And why did he have such a headache?

Qrow moved his arm so that his hand could massage his head, but much to his surprise, it couldn’t move.

He looked down towards his body to investigate, and he couldn’t believe what he saw when he did.

A life of banditry meant that he’d been tied up more than his fair share of times -- an effort on the parts of his targets or random bystanders to subdue him that was valiant as it was pointless. Qrow was fine with rope and even better with knots.

However, what he was tied in right now was nothing like the ropes he’d dealt with before.

What he was trapped in was some sort of metallic rope -- thin, but tight, bendable, but only to a point. The rope was crudely made aesthetically -- and honestly looked like it was in need of a good polishing -- but as Qrow attempted and failed to pull himself free from its confines, he realized its substance absolutely made up for any style it was lacking. Whoever made this knew what he was doing, and even though he prided himself on being pretty tough, Qrow was well aware no amount of raw strength was going to cut through what he was tied in.

It was also long, even stretching beyond the various loops it managed to make around his limbs, stretching out in front of him and into the shadows.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered as he tried to make sense of his situation.

Qrow had woken up in strange ways before, but compared to waking up to the sound of a screeching bird whilst bound to a chair by a long stretch of metallic string, none of those instances could hold so much as a candle to a strangeness of this magnitude.

...Well, maybe that wasn’t completely true, but it was still strange nonetheless.

With his eyes, Qrow followed the rope from its last point of contact with the chair’s base into the darkness.

The string was quite long, but it did indeed have an end, and its end landed at something that the tiniest glimmer of sunlight made look like a pair of feet.

Qrow figured it was safe to presume that that was his captor.

His captor clearly noticed that he was not only awake, but had a visual -- however obstructed -- of his form.

“I wouldn’t bother struggling if I were you.” It was a man’s voice that came out of the figure, a voice with an exaggeratedly cocky tone. However, even though he must have been over ten feet away, Qrow could feel a tenseness from him as if they were right beside each other that betrayed that tone.

He could hear his captor take a deep breath.

“I know why you’re here, you know,” the man continued, that abrasive cockiness still in his tone, but now more clearly faltering under the stress of that dominating tenseness, “b-but be warned that I’m not afraid of you.”

“Huh?” It was all Qrow could think to say -- not the most eloquent of sentiments, but it was at least a sentiment that was both accurate and honest.

Qrow could hear soft, but firm steps coming from his captor as he stepped closer to the outskirts of the shadows.

“Now, who are you,” the man continued, abandoning his cockiness for a more adamant tone, “and how did you find me?”

“What?”

For the next few seconds, another deep breath from his captor was all that Qrow was seemingly rewarded with for his question.

Then, he heard more steps, steps that stopped just as soon as they started.

There was a pause, as if his captor had arrived at some kind of threshold he had to dare himself to cross.

Then, he stepped fully into the light.

“I said,” the man carried on, “‘who are you and how did you find me?’”

At the sight of the man’s full form, all Qrow found that he could do was stammer both without aim or words as he took the man in from his head to his literal toes.

This man...everything about him was unorthodox.

The first things that stuck out to Qrow were his captor’s bare feet. Of course, not everyone wore shoes all the time, especially in the privacy of their own home, but especially for a situation like this, a lack of shoes stood out like two sore thumbs with five sore thumbs of their own each.

Frankly, it almost felt uncivilized for such an occasion.

Also standing out to Qrow were the man’s white clothes, or rather, how pristinely white they were. The man clearly wasn’t royalty -- Qrow at least hoped he wasn’t because any members of the monarchy should have had better things to do than capture mostly petty bandits like himself -- and while regular people of the kingdom like himself did wear white, apart from people of royal standings, those who wore white tended to really be wearing off-white after he first few times sporting them.

Was this guy just a neat freak?

Well, he was a freak, alright -- that was for sure, neat or otherwise.

Additionally, his shirt lacked sleeves entirely, exposing strong looking, muscle-packed arms, one of which housed a red armband. In his line of work, Qrow came across plenty of strong people, both allies and enemies. Those who had particularly large amounts of muscles often had ones that looked overblown, as if it almost was more of a hindrance to have them than a help, but compared to them, the ones this man had were more balanced between toned and versatile. They weren’t too much, and they weren’t too little.

That all having been said, large muscles or not, few that he encountered, unless they had tattoos to show off, lacked sleeves like this man did.

His hair was odd, too -- short and straight in the back, but messy and almost spiked in the front, resting just above his teal eyes.

Qrow didn’t even know what to think about that, apart from the fact that this man clearly had a lot of free time.

The man coughed, taking Qrow out of his thoughts.

“Who are you, and how did you find me?” he repeated, this time putting emphasis on every one of his question’s words.

Qrow took a deep breath.

Clearly, despite the fancy metallic string he was using, what Qrow was dealing with was an amateur at this whole capturing business.

Perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing for him.

Qrow felt he was a charming man…

Granted almost no one ever agreed with that sentiment, but hey, those charms -- either in abundance or absence -- got him this far.

Maybe they’d do the trick now and help get him free.

At the very least, Qrow felt it was worth a shot.

Luckily for him, unlike many instances of this situation in the past, the target of his charms this time was pretty handsome, and that always made this scheme in particular easier to pull off.

“I can’t say that I do know who you are,” Qrow said, throwing on his most vulnerable, awestruck-looking expression, “nor do I know how it was that our fates were intertwined, but, if you’ll allow me the pleasure, I must say...hi.” Qrow then put on the most outwardly flirty face he’d ever put on before in his life -- a raised brow, a toothy smirk, narrowed eyes, and a clicked tongue. “Qrow Branwen’s what they call me, but you can just call me a bandit after your own heart. But enough about me,” Qrow continued, letting his eyes drift to his knuckles as he casually admired his hands before drawing them back to the man. “Tell me about you.”

The man’s eyes grew -- startled.

That was a good first step.

However, it didn’t last before his captor strengthened his resolve, gripping the weapon in his hand tighter as he took a step back. Qrow tried to get a look at what the weapon was, but the man was at the ready to distract him with another question.

“Who else knows my location, Qrow Branwen?” he asked, placing a strong emphasis on his name.

Well, so much for charming his way out of this...at least, for now.

“All right, muscles,” he said, abandoning his act and returning his face and tone to normal, albeit not enough that he couldn’t return to it later if he wanted to.

“Clover.”

“Eh, ‘muscles’ works better, don’t you think?” The man glared at Qrow, but he ignored him. “Look, here’s what happened,” he carried on. “I was in the forest, there was a little...let’s say altercation, and I came across your tower.”

Suddenly, a memory jumped at him -- a memory of the very subject of that altercation that brought him to this tower in the first place.

Qrow looked all throughout his bound body as well as the visible floor of the tower, hoping against hope that this man -- Clover -- had neglected to take notice of his satchel.

He had no such luck.

“Where’s my satchel?” Qrow demanded, further dropping any and all charming pretenses he still had up.

Clover looked at him, openly smirking.

“Somewhere you won’t be able to find it.”

Panicked, Qrow’s eyes raced across the room.

Then, as his eyes met a certain location, the panic stopped.

Amateur.

“It’s in that pot over there,” he said, now matching Clover’s smirk with one of his own, “isn’t it?”

There were probably more unorthodox responses to having a bluff be called out, but as Qrow once more succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness, he had trouble coming up with a list that was all that long.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Uncle Tyrian was right about a lot of things.

If not for his opinions on the species that his best friend came from or his feelings on a quick field trip to see some lights, Clover probably would’ve said he was right about everything.

But in the moment he knocked out Qrow after Qrow successfully called out his bluff, he wagered that his uncle’s assertion that Clover was perhaps a little too sensitive for his own good was so right that it hurt.

Well, it at least hurt Qrow.

Qrow Branwen…

Clover didn’t know what he expected to happen when conversing with someone from the outside world that wasn’t his uncle, but whatever it was, it wasn’t that.

Qrow was by all means indescribable.

Weird.

That’s it -- Qrow was weird.

He wasn’t mean, he wasn’t nice, he wasn’t gracious, he wasn’t malicious, or anything in between -- he was just weird.

But just because he was weird didn’t mean he couldn’t help Clover.

After hiding the satchel again, Clover and Raven exchanged a single glance at each other before executing the same plan that brought he and Qrow to speaking terms in the first place.

Qrow yelped as he came back to the conscious world. His shoulder jumped and the impact made Raven fall to the floor.

“Would you stop that?” he yelled at her.

Clover turned to Raven.

“Are you okay, Raven?” Raven looked a little dizzy, but gave an affirmative squawk nonetheless before turning her gaze back to Qrow.

Qrow shot Clover a look, one incredulous, semi-confused, and almost pitying in nature.

“You named your pet raven Raven?” he asked. “Not exactly the most creative of names, you’ve got to admit.”

Clover casually brandished Kingfisher. “I will knock you out again,” he threatened, though only semi-seriously. After all, while those outside the tower weren’t monsters, he wasn’t, and it was important to show that, even when making himself seem tough.

Thankfully, Qrow seemed to get that, sporting a deadpan expression before, during, and after the threat.

“No need,” he said, raising his hands as much as he could given his bound state in a surrendering nature.

Then, he did something curious.

Qrow leaned himself toward Clover and started studying Kingfisher closely.

“What is that weapon?” he asked. “Some kind of fishing rod?”

He seemed genuinely curious, and even a little fascinated.

Clover hadn’t expected curious and fascinated of all things to be the elicited reactions.

Immediately, he fought off the heat he began feeling in his cheeks, his brow furrowing as he glared.

“What it is is none of your business,” he said firmly. “What is your business is that I’ve hidden that satchel of yours again, and this time, I know it’s somewhere you’ll never find it.”

Qrow’s eyes narrowed and he scoffed. “You sure about that?”

“Yes, I’ll admit that I may have underestimated you earlier, but I didn’t let that happen again.” Clover was proud of himself. Of all of his tower’s hiding spots, he picked a real winner this time. “Now, let’s get back to business,” he said as he approached Qrow once more, brandishing his weapon as he circled him. “What do you plan to do to me? Keep me for yourself?”

Qrow looked at him, confused.

“What?”

“Sell me?”

“No!” he shouted, gesturing his hands in a way that pleaded with Clover to settle down. Clover obliged. “Listen, muscles, the only thing I want to do with you is to get as far away from you as humanly possible.”

Well, that was good to hear...sort of...

“A little rude,” Clover muttered.

Clover swore Qrow’s eyes tripled in size at that comment.

“I’m trapped in your fishing rod!” he shot back, now shouting even louder as he pulled against his restraints. “We’re well past ‘a little rude,’ and newsflash -- I’m not the one who got us there!”

Another retort was just about to come out, but upon realizing something, Clover stopped it.

“So wait,” he said, loosening his grip on Kingfisher ever so slightly, “you’re not here for me?”

“You’re not bad at capturing people for an obvious beginner, but no -- I’m not here for you. Look, what happened was that I was being chased, I saw a tower, and I climbed it. That’s all.”

Raven squawked, and Clover turned to her. She was glaring at Qrow, scrutinizing him for lies. She then sent a resigned look Clover’s way. Clover had no idea how to take that, but upon receiving another nod from her, an ‘o’ shape formed in his mouth as he finally put the pieces of his friend’s reluctant message together.

Qrow was telling the truth.

He was just a man who -- for whatever reason -- wanted his satchel, some privacy, and nothing more.

There was still a question of why he was chased in the first place and why he needed that satchel so badly -- questions Clover had at least a guess as to what the answers to them were -- but Clover’s secret was still a secret as far as it related to this man.

His plan could work.

For a few moments, he and Raven communicated with each other through a series of squawks and exchanged glances, and all the while, Qrow was trying to helplessly scooch his chair away, no doubt to see if he could find the satchel’s hiding spot.

Even with his semblance always at play for both of their benefits, Clover knew that wasn’t about to happen.

Satisfied with his and Raven’s resolution, Clover turned back to Qrow.

“Okay, Qrow Branwen,” Clover said. “I’m prepared to offer you a deal.”

“Deal?” Qrow cried, incredulously.

“Look over here,” Clover demanded. He couldn’t believe he was showing off his painting to a second person today when up until today, only he and Raven had ever laid eyes on it before, but today was one that promised change, and Clover was intent on embracing that if it meant fulfilling his dream.

Without giving Qrow much of a chance to properly orient himself, Clover tugged Kingfisher so that his sight would align with the painting Clover wanted him to see. Unfortunately for Qrow, the pull wasn’t balanced, and while he landed basically where Clover needed him to, it was on the ground, face first. It wasn’t the kindest of moves, Clover would admit, but in this rare situation, he’d throw kindness to the wind to keep himself looking intimidating...or at least as intimidating as Qrow probably believed him to be.

“What can you tell me about these?” Clover said, pointing with Kingfisher to one of the painting’s green lights.

Clover almost felt his heart burst as he saw a flicker of recognition in Qrow’s eyes.

“What? The lantern thing they do for the General’s son?” he clarified, unaware of what truth he had just informed Clover of.

“Lanterns?” Clover gasped.

So Uncle Tyrian was wrong about them!

“Lanterns! I knew they weren’t stars!” The celebration was cut short as Clover remembered what he was trying to accomplish during this encounter. He coughed, regaining his composure. “Yes, as I’m sure you know, tomorrow night, those lanterns will light up the night’s sky.” He then pointed Kingfisher at Qrow. “You will guide me to the lanterns, and ensure I get safely there and then home. Once I’ve returned, then, and only then, will I return your satchel to you. That is my deal.”

Clover felt pretty confident about the arrangement he set up. It was fair, got both himself and Qrow everything they wanted, and would ensure Clover’s safety and timely return back to the tower before Uncle Tyrian even knew he was gone.

It was perfect.

“Can’t do it,” Qrow said.

Apparently, it was only almost perfect, but not quite.

Seriously?!

“Look, the kingdom and I aren’t on the friendliest of terms right now, so no, I won’t be taking you there.” Qrow gave him a deadpan look, but there was a certain element to how he spoke, one that reminded Clover of how he felt whenever Uncle Tyrian beat him at chess.

It was a lowkey smugness.

Clover could appreciate a lowkey smugness -- it seemed like part of that ‘outside-the-tower’ brand of humor that he’d love to one day understand -- but he wasn’t willing to put up with it, let alone settle for it where it concerned the difference between him seeing the lights and not seeing the lights.

No, Qrow wasn’t getting out of this that easily.

“Something brought you here, Qrow Branwen,” Clover said, pulling Qrow back upright and then closer to him with well-angled tugs on the fishing rod’s line. “Call it what you will -- fate, destiny-”

“A string of terrible life choices.”

“I’ve made the decision to trust you.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

“But trust me when I say this,” Clover insisted. His tugs had finally pulled Qrow close enough for him to be right in Clover’s face, albeit with Clover at a height advantage.

It was an advantage Clover was excited to have for what he planned to say next.

“You can do whatever you’d like to with this tower -- tear it up, tear it down, destroy it to the point where no one ever would believe that there was ever a tower here at all -- but without my help, you’ll never get that satchel of yours back.”

Qrow now seemed to come to terms with his situation.

“So I take you to see the lanterns, bring you back home, then you give me my satchel,” he paraphrased. “That’s the deal?”

“Exactly. I promise.” At Qrow’s look of disbelief, Clover strengthened his resolve even further. “And if there’s one thing I don’t break, it’s promises.” Raven gave Qrow an affirmative squawk that backed him up. Clover wasn’t sure if he’d get that, but either way, hurt.

Qrow took a deep breath.

That was a good sign.

“Look, muscles,” he commiserated, “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Clover was tempted to step back, but ultimately stood his ground.

So much for that good sign.

Qrow couldn’t hurt him, right?

He would’ve by now if he could’ve, right?

Without being given time to ask for an explanation, Qrow continued.

“Here comes the Smoulder.”

That was all he said before it happened -- the Smoulder.

Qrow pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes so that they formed crescent-like shapes in one way while his brows did the same in the opposite way.

...This man -- Qrow Branwen -- he was weird.

The Smoulder -- is that what he called it?

To say Clover wasn’t exactly amazed would be an understatement, and he made sure his expression communicated that without a shred of doubt.

Thankfully, Qrow seemed to get that message pretty quickly. “Today is just not my day, is it?” he said.

“Nope,” Clover smirked. “It’s mine. So, do we have a deal?”

“Fine!” Qrow at last relented, dropping the Smoulder entirely. “I’ll take you to see the lanterns.”

“Great!” Clover said, unable to keep how impressed he was with himself out of his voice.

“You broke my Smoulder,” Qrow grunted, though Clover could tell he was just a little impressed, too. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

“Well, as you now know, I’m full of surprises.”

“Can’t say I could ever forget that...no matter how much I try,” Qrow mumbled. “Now, let me out of here so we can get out of here and get this over with.”

“You got it!” Clover couldn’t help but jump with excitement.

There were a lot of things Uncle Tyrian was right about.

Perhaps he was right about what would happen during a trip to see the lights, too.

However, this was for once going to be a matter where Clover decided he’d figure out what was right or wrong for himself with his own eyes, and nothing was going to stop him now.

#fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #rwby #tangled au #raven branwen #fairgame #lucky charms

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taylorroger-s · 5 years ago

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shooting star // ben hardy x reader

a/n hooooolyyyy shit it has been a while since I've written something. this has actually been in my drafts since june, and was originally a response to an ask following me reblogging a prompt list. to the anon that requested it, sorry about that. but hey, it’s now done and personally, I think it’s pretty good. hope y’all think so too

plus, I've been in a ben mood after the 6 underground trailer so that gave me the motivation to finish

masterlist here!

enjoy :)

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you really weren't in the mood to leave the house.

your friday nights were usually spent curled up in your bed, eyes glued to your old hunk of a computer, burning through cheesy rom-coms and seasons upon seasons of any mildly interesting show you could find.

but after a brief pep talk by your roommate, you had dragged yourself to a university party where drunkards snogged in dark corners and booze was in no short supply. you were settled comfortably in the corner of a well-worn sofa, nursing a cup full of what you assumed was vodka and lemonade.

the party itself wasn’t as bad as you expected. letting loose once in awhile always helped relieve some of the stress built up by tests and essays. prior to sitting down, you had spent a good thirty minutes dancing to a strange assortment of classic rock ballads and eclectic disco melodies. once exhausted and glistening with a thin layer of sweat. you grabbed the mystery vodka concoction and sat down.

you were just starting to relax when one of the alcohol-fueled “men” stumbled into the growing circle of people seated in the middle of the chaos, haphazardly leaning on one another.

“yoooo,” the boy slurred, “let’s do… truth or dare!” you groaned, moving to leave when your friend ashley tugged on your arm, dragging you back to her side.

“cmon… it’ll be fun” ash pleaded, throwing her arms around your neck to pull you closer. you could smell the cigarettes, weed, and crude cocktails on her breath. with a dejected sigh, you sunk back into the couch, curling up against ashley. you had never really enjoyed the game of truth or dare. ever since your junior year, when you were pressured into stealing something from the headmaster’s office and ended up with a month of detention, you had avoided it pretty successfully.

“i don’t think so.” you muttered, finishing off your drink with one last gulp. that’s when you heard an achingly familiar voice. ben jones, childhood friend turned sworn enemy somewhere in junior high.

it was difficult to piece together how the rift between the two of your formed. your friendship was so pure, so uplifting. there was no one in the world you trusted more. the beginning of the end came when you had your first serious crush. a boy in your french class named john had asked you to the movies to see the third harry potter film.

but that was the issue. ben and you had seen the first two together, read the books together. suffice to say it was a sacred tradition between the two of you. so when you broke the news to ben about your date, he wasn’t the most supportive. it escalated into a heated argument, before you angrily left his room with tears streaming down your face. later that night he called and apologized, but things were never the same after that. the last true conversation you had ended with both of you renouncing your friendship and going your separate ways. for weeks after, you would catch yourself staring at the phone, waiting for a call; or waiting for the courage to call first. but every time you felt the urge to run back to him, the final words he said would come back to haunt you.

“you abandoned me”

“how could you?”

“i hate you.”

since then, things were never the same. no more late night phone calls, no more movie marathons. when john broke your heart, you didn’t have ben to turn to. you didn’t realize how much you cared about him until that moment. but you weren't about to run back into his arms. so you stayed silent, grew up and went to university without so much as a backwards glance to your former best friend. just your luck that he ended up in the same school, even if he was in a different major. as university dragged on you walked past him in the halls less and less. but then you would see him at parties, exchanging furtive glances when you thought the other wasn’t looking. you hadn’t has a direct conversation in years. so the fact that he was at the same random party, giving you grief, made your blood run cold.

“you don’t have to be such a downer, bugs.” ben chided, taking a sip from the beer in his right hand. there was another, unopened bottle in his left. he had the audacity to call you by a nickname you hadn’t heard in years. at the age of six, the two of you had become obsessed with the looney tunes, watching old reruns from the seventies and following along as new episodes came out. you had been dubbed bugs in honor of bugs bunny by him, and you took to calling him beaky. you could remember vividly scratching the words ‘bugs and beaky forever’ into a tree not far from your primary school’s front yard. he called you bugs? well two could play at that game.

“that’s rich coming from you beaky.” you shot back, keeping your eyes trained on a generic painting hanging on the opposite wall. you could feel him shift on the other side of the couch’s arm, taking a seat no more than two feet away from you. after a moment you couldn’t resist the pull and took a quick glance at your ex-best friend, sucking in a breath as he came into view. he had ditched the justin bieber hair you remembered, letting it grow and curl around his ears. you pressed your lips together in a firm line, slowly tearing your eyes away from his chiseled jawline and striking green eyes.

“alright, everyone have a drink?” the boy who introduced the game called, holding up a cup of his own. everyone raised their own in response. you glanced down at your lap where the empty cup sat. whoops. just when you were toying with the idea of simply bailing from the party, an unopened bottle dropped into your lap, cold against the denim fabric of your jeans. you whipped your head to the side, where ben was quietly watching the plastered people arranged in the messy circle. you stared at him for a moment before he spoke.

“you’re welcome” he huffed, taking a sip from his own, identical bottle. you twisted off the cap, twiddling it between your fingers for a moment.

“thanks.” you said through gritted teeth, shutting yourself up from saying anything more with a long swig from the bottle. and so the game began. you sat there, head on ashley’s shoulder, laughing at the silly dares asked and often scandalous truths. someone would spin an empty bottle in the center of the circle, and whoever it landed on they would ask that stupid, fated question. truth or dare?

you weren’t subjected to anything too horrible. anytime you reached a question or dare that you were uncomfortable with, you would simply take a quick chug from your steadily emptying bottle and laugh. as time dragged on you had confessed the worst cocktail you ever drank, the weirdest dream you ever had, and had given someone a brief kiss on the cheek.

once your turn rolled around the third time, you reached for the bottle, spinning it with a bit of difficulty due to the beer pumping through your system. it spun in two complete circles and then just a touch more, landing square on ben. just your luck. you turned to him, locking eyes with his stunningly green ones. he really was quite gorgeous. it made your breath catch in your throat as you pushed out the question.

“truth or dare?” you breathed, raising an eyebrow in challenge. your mind filled with a number of different options and possible outcomes for his response. part of you wanted to be malicious and embarrass him for some crude form of revenge, but deep down you still cared deeply for ben and would hate to see him miserable. there truly was a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other.

“truth.” ben stated, crossing his arms firmly across his chest. his nonchalance steeled your spine and you held your chin high. your judgement was admittedly impaired by alcohol, but it was too late for you to change your mind. you needed to know the truth, whether or not it was in front of an audience.

“what’s the biggest lie you’ve told?”

he took in a sharp breath, moving his steely gaze to the frayed edges on his shoelaces. no more than a few seconds had passed between your question and his response, but it felt like an eternity. you clenched your fists repeatedly in your lap, habitually cracking them as the room stayed quiet. ben sighed, lifting his eyes just a tad to watch you through his long eyelashes.

“that i hate you. that you abandoned me. that i never wanted to see you again. take your pick” he almost hissed out the words, jumping to his feet and walking out when he had finished. you sat in stunned silence with the rest of the group, slowly processing what he said. someone coughed, another sneezed. still the silence stretched on. then ashley elbowed you in the ribs.

you whirled around, mouthing the word ‘what?’ and giving her a glare. she rolled her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. you crossed your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at her as you waited for an answer. she pointed wildly towards the door that ben had disappeared into, eyes wide as she gestured. it was very easy to read her exaggerated movements. she wanted you to talk to him. you knew you had to talk to him. but you didn’t want to. yet, after a beat, you groaned internally and headed towards the door, flipping ashley the bird as you left.

ben was a few rooms away, brooding silently as he gazed out a window. you took a seat across from him, resting your head on the chipped window frame. there was a plush bench situated against the wall, pillows tucked up against the glass. the two of you were seated on the floor, curled in similar positions, mirroring each other. the party seemed to have resumed in the other room, giggles and fits of laughter filling the air.

"so…" you began, grappling for some way to start up a conversation. you heard ben let out a heavy breath through his nose, tucking his hand under his chin. his profile was bathed in moonlight, casting a monochromatic glow on his chiseled features. his lips were turned into a distinct frown.

"so what?" you rolled your eyes. just as stubborn as he was when the two of you were kids. it summoned a memory of him nearly beating up a boy for calling you names, while you did your best to drag him away. always your defender, whether you needed it or not. another memory to make your heart ache as you sat straight across from that same, hot-headed boy.

“are we going to talk about what just happened?” you said, tone slightly terse. you suddenly wished you were back in your room, curled up in your covers, repressing memories of a happier time. a time where your only worries were what games to play and looney toons episodes to watch. a time where it was just you and ben against the world.

“suppose so.” he sounded just as tense as you, which for some reason pissed you off. he didn’t have to answer the question with something that hadn’t ever been addressed between the two of you. he could have said something inconsequential and you both could have continued on with your lives. but his admission needed to be dealt with, and it fell to you to make him explain.

“since you seem so keen to begin a conversation, i’ll start. why did you lie in the first place?” you could feel a lump rise in your throat. even after years of no contact, you still cared about him. his rejection all that time ago still stung. you deserved to know the truth.

“next question.” ben answered, voice still flat and emotionless. however, you could tell that he wasn’t unaffected by your prying. the muscles in his jaw had tightened, and you watched as he ran a hand through his hair. his gaze was drilled on something out the window, as if he was adamant not to look at your face.

“fine, smartass. why did my going on a date piss you off so much?” you were now fully focused on him, silently begging to any god that might exist for an answer that you had waited so long for.

“it wasn’t that you were going on a date,” you raised an eyebrow, doubtful of his answer, but he continued speaking, “it was that you were going to see harry potter. that was our thing. our tradition. in my adolescent boy brain, you were replacing me.” he suddenly sounded years younger, just like the boy you would play football with in the dead of night and share sweets with after school. his expression had also softened, eyes tentatively flicking back to you every couple seconds.

“you know that nothing would ever replace you. thick as thieves, mum used to say. i never would have replaced you for a middle school crush. so, why. did. you. lie?” you sounded strained, mad that he had ever for a moment thought anyone was more important to you than him. no person could fill the space he left behind.

“because i was jealous alright? jealous that you chose him over me. jealous that he got to hold your hand, take you to dances. i was jealous because i loved you, and you slipped away before i did anything to show you how much i cared.” ben snapped, tone softening as his confession went on, voice cracking near the end. he had been waiting to say those words for what felt like a lifetime. a weight was lifted of his shoulders, and, by association, yours as well. despite the somber nature of your conversation, you could feel a smile spread across your features. you were now entirely looking at each other, stupid, love-struck kids once more.

“ben, you total dork. i would have chosen you over him every time. you were who i truly cared about. but i’m not a mind reader, so when you never said anything, i assumed it was because my feelings weren’t reciprocated. therefore, i tried to move on. didn’t work by the way. nothing i did could make me stop loving you.” you reached out a hand and he gently took it, lacing your fingers with his. he too had a soft smile on his face, gaze shifting to your intertwined hands. his thumb rubbed small circles on the back of your hand, warming your skin with his touch.

“guess we're both idiots.” he looked back up, locking eyes with you. all at once, your feelings came rushing back. you could do nothing else but smile as the minutes passed by, still connected to ben through his outstretched hand. you tilted your head to look back out the large window, tracing the shapes of constellations between the stars. one flew by; a shooting star. your wish was simple: that you never had to let go of ben ever again.

“guess so.”

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yee haw kids i’m finally getting back into it (if you call finishing off a draft that’s been there since june getting back into writing but shh)

here’s to more motivation in the weeks to come!

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #benhardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy angst #ben hardy fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #angst #idk if it can be called either but oh well #writing #please oh please reblog #help a girl out #that'd be stellar

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leafyaria · 5 years ago

Photo

2/??

These was done by @shin-holly I wanted to group them up together since they was all made by her! ((she’s a really amazing artist and Character designer! :D

Beaki

Still technically in the Military, too scared to say no whenever he’s called away, no one expects it until they see his little spiked up hair

Part of the troop that was told “intermingle with the inklings” but he was so scared to he ended up always hiding away in Agates bakery, miraculously he’s never met Ponda until recently, if he had he would of simply died on the spot, f’s out to Ponda but he’s different

Agate taught him how to cook a little bit, she saw herself in him if she hadn’t ran away, so tries to slowly coax him away

Despite him being nervous, he has killed people before, being a fantastic shot with the snipe and other weapons, he dosn’t regret killing people, he only regrets not having his own life

He loves using bombs though, he carries around a support dud in his backpack, where he also carries a water bottle, snacks from Agate and a pocket knife.

Neoli

Was an experiment to mass control the Cucumbers off the underground, it worked but an explosion happened with agents and she ended up running away, being rared up on scraps other passengers dropped.

She heard the fated song with Off the Hook and that inspired her to start singing, with luck the cucumbers actually enjoyed this, so she started hosting mini concert for people of the underground

Of course the Sanitised found her, but had decided to let her stay unsanitised.. after all, her singing was bringing curious octolings and inklings down and why would you ruin that?

She has a brother, but she can’t.. remember his name, so he must be dead ((he isn’t)), she calls her cucumbers her family

Saying that, she isn’t Naive, and she will call you out on your shit if needed to, fantastic with the kids, not so much with anyone else LOL

Sal(mi)

Brother to Neoli, does remember her but was told “she went missing” at a young age, he took a guess DJ Octovia killed her off or something, it wasn’t exactly uncommon for that to happen if they was weak and needed to make stronger octolings

Saying that, it would be easier to locate your sister if you hadn’t decided to get rid of the mi in the end of your name Sal :////// ((he did this because “sal” sounded much cooler than Salmi))

As the above suggests, he was a gang member, stealing from others ((he worked with/for Crowley)) until he tried to rob Cuttlefish, who proceeded to smack the fuck out of him with a cane, afterwards he was offered a job to become a agent, one he was surprised.. but took, and is the best in what he does (( he’s called Agent 12 because that’s how many times Cuttlefish smacked him until he gave in fighting back))

He’s also a side-time Rapper, often challenging squids to rap in the middle of the plaza ((and most he’s won!))

He’s really great with the blaster, but can also use other weapons ((he has met Ponda once, they did not work out well when on a mission together because they both was using duelies and Sal tried to micro manage how she used them- ended up splatting eachother ))

Myaro

Trans rights! also Gay rights!, this is noticeably by the female hair he has ((Trimmed down))

Super rich, Known to big families such as the enberry family and popstars ((cannot sing for shit, but he can make clothes/weapons and has helped fund them))

Is a Brella main, it’s the only weapon he can manage to use, he’s useless in turf war ((this doesn't stop him from trying though))

Has scars on his tentacles, he calls them “birth marks” but realistically he had wandered off and ended up nearly killed by the Octarian Military, he’s very nervous around Octolings, when he met Marina he sweatted so much he ended up turning into a squid until Pearl managed to coax him around.

He’s kind hearted and only wants the best for the inkling race! this can lead to trouble though... not that he minds, he just puts on a dorky smile if things go wrong and tries to make everything right

#Splatoon #Octoling #Inkling #agent #splatsona #Cucumber #art #Leafys art

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sunlitroom · 6 years ago

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Gotham – s5e02 – Trespassers

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Did you miss the finale of season 4 and only now tune in? For anyone who somehow forgot, Jeremiah’s bid to get Bruce to notice him helpfully coincided with Ra’s need to speed Bruce’s destiny along by destroying the city. Jim helpfully tells us that the city is now up for grabs. Tabitha made an absolute mess of attempting to get revenge for Butch – going out not only irritating and unsympathetic, but really, really dumb. Barbara wailed. Jim shot Oswald in the leg, for which he has put a bounty on his head. We are reminded that Jeremiah shot Selina – and a nurse with very distinctive eyebrows recommended that Bruce go find the witch. A lisping big-eyed orphan child pleaded with Jim for help.

As always, long post will be long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

We open on the boy, Will, from the last episode. Jim and Harvey watch from the doorway as he is examined, and fill us in on his situation. His parents were killed in a home invasion and he was taken to a factory, to be a slave alongside lots of other children. The people responsible are known as the Soothsayers.

Harvey’s never heard of them before – but can hazard a guess as to the location of the tunnel they’re building near the docks.

Winsome orphan boy begs Detective Gordon to save his friends, because they’ll be punished for his escape.

Jim and Harvey leave – Jim resolved to go rescue the children. Harvey reminds him, though, that Oswald has a bounty on his head and he can’t safely leave the station. Someone appears and tells Jim that there’s a call for him from the mainland

Jim goes to take the call. The voice on the other end tells him that confrontations must be avoided. Jim tells him to please think of the children. The voice says that his dedication is admirable but he lacks perspective – he runs the risk of sacrificing many to save a few. He’s told that it’s the ‘collective opinion’ that he stand down and keep the green zone safe.

Jim protests – and says they need supplies. The voice says they cannot risk any more pilots. Jim snaps that they can preserve the lives of a few over many, but he can’t. The conversation is seemingly over and Jim stares consideringly into the distance.

Harvey enters with Lucius. Jim immediately starts to plan a rescue mission. They need to go through the Dark Zone. Harvey reminds Jim of the ammo situation. Jim says he’ll talk to Barbara. Harvey reminds Jim that she might not be amenable. Turning to Lucius, Jim asks him to sort out some sort of housing for the children they’ll rescue. Harvey makes an unhappy face about the general risk of it all.

(An aside – in a desperate bid to extract something of interest from an episode that was pretty turgid.

I know we’re probably not supposed to complicate matters to this extent– but anything this straightforward is boring, so I feel like some over-analytical meta is needed to problematise everything.

It occurs to me that this desperate time of suffering is maybe the happiest Jim has ever been in Gotham.

St Jim of Gotham. They love their Jim Gordon. Detective Gordon can save us.

He constantly gets to be heroic – Jim Gordon keeping everyone safe, bringing them supplies. His word is law – Harvey and Lucius might pull faces, but they do what they’re told. He has no boss, no troublesome politics to play. There’s no awkward shades of grey – just good guys and bad guys. The voice of authority is just that – a voice – and so perfectly unreasonable and hateable and removed – so absolutely in the wrong. Hell – Jim should send Jeremiah a bouquet for this.

It’s telling, I think, that when Harvey later spots the candle burning in the abandoned building Jim’s head goes straight to the Wild West. If you want to sell me that Oswald is enjoying playing benevolent leader over in City Hall, then it must also be accepted that Jim’s equally loving playing Gary Cooper at GCPD)

We hear night time noises and see Bruce at the gates of an abandoned mansion. He’s looking for the witch. As he enters the house, we see ivy climbing over the walls. As he progresses, we see it weapped around statues, and – more alarmingly – twisted around various corpses.

We see movement behind him. Someone has sneaked up on him – but Bruce had spotted them, and easily disarms him.

Are you with her?

What? I’m not sure why Gotham went with characters from a Hammer Horror - but, whatever. It’s all corduroy waistcoats, flat caps, and English accents.

Basically – they’ve decided Ivy is a witch who can talk to plants and knows magic and can take souls. They’ve trapped her in a windowless room with no food or water, and salted the floor. Eventually, they’re going to burn her. A few months of isolation and apparently parts of Gotham have turned into small superstitious English hamlets from the eighteenth century. There’s terrible doings up at the manor! His Lordship’s up to no good!

Bruce quickly makes up a story about a missing brother. Credulous villager from another film says he’ll let Bruce talk to Ivy. Bruce shines a torch into the room – and we see a sleeping Ivy. She’s wearing a sequinned jumper that also impressively manages to look like slimy moss.

Hello Ivy

At Sirens, where people are eating and drinking and generally having a good time. Barbara, meantime, swigs from a bottle at the bar.

Jim enters. We see there are lots of other men there. Jim tries to make small talk about how busy the bar is. Barbara points at his head and reminds him of Oswald’s bounty. She asks if he’s out for one last hurrah. Jim says he wants a favour.

Barbara laughs

A favour? That’s why you stood back and did nothing while my best friend on this earth was stabbed through the heart?

(Best friend. Best friend. Wow.)

Jim protests weakly that he put Oswald down – but Barbara shrieks, eyes bulging with rage.

You restored his limp - he should be dead!

Jim takes what I think the Marquise de Mertueil described as ‘a marital tone’, and delivers an admonishing

Barbara

On this – Barbara starts shrieking

Everybody out!

Jim asks if she’s planning revenge. Barbara retorts that

Someone has to do something about that freak

(An aside - Again with the ‘freak’ word. It really does nothing to make her more likeable. Also – the only things she could pair with it in the warehouse were the fact that Oswald has a beaky nose and a limp. That’s all it takes for Barbara to decide you’re a freak. Writers - if you want to cultivate any sympathy whatsoever for Barbara and her lost ‘best friend’ – it’s perhaps best not to remind the audience that they’re both beautiful entitled rich girls who looked right down their noses at almost everyone else who failed to fit that description.)

Jim tells her he has an army – it would be suicide. Barbara angsts it up and tells him to look around – they’re all slowly dying. Some get to choose how. I think this is meant to be about how she’d choose to die killing Oswald – but all it does is remind you that Tabitha most definitely opted for her fate – and renders it all less than sympathetic again

Jim tells her he’s sorry about Tabitha, and that things got out of control. What things? When she ran into a warehouse filled with Oswald’s men and a bunch of ammunition?

He goes on to say he’s trying to keep the city from falling apart. Barbara stares back at him and tells him he’s too late. Jim frowns.

She goes on – though, and asks him about the favour. He asks for trucks. She asks what for – and Jim stodgily replies that it’s a police matter. Barbara laughs at the absurdity of it – catapulted back to the compartmentalising days of their engagement – and says they could write that on his tombstone.

She caves, though, and gives him the trucks. She then bizarrely screams after him, though

Knock yourself out - drive into the nightmare you created. Here he comes, Gotham – your judge, gaoler, most hated son. Have at him - rip him to shreds. No-one deserves to die more than he!

So don’t give him the trucks, then. Make your mind up, Barbara.

Her lip wobbles and she drinks again. I’d give it a rest, Barbara – that was mental. You’re one drink away from a self-indulgent karaoke song.

Jim and Harvey drive through the city – specifically under a bridge, where we can see bodies hanging. Apparently, this area was a cesspool before – but is now even worse. People dressed in gothy, skull-heavy outfits suddenly appear alongside them, flinging Molotov cocktails and firing arrows.

Welcome to the Badlands.

We’re at the location the place Will mentioned, where there’s child slave labour overseen by some tools in gasmasks. One complains that the oldest boy we see – Gabriel – allowed Will to escape. He thought Gabriel had promise – and offers a chance to inhale whatever is in his mask for energy or to see the future.

He then witters on about the tunnel they’re building that will give them exclusive access to the mainland for trade. Until the situation is resolved. Or, you know, someone just comes in and takes it from them.

Gabriel points out that the tunnel is too narrow. Progress is slow, the roof is leaking, and it’ll collapse when they hit the river.

Beardy gasmask guy gets cross at this. He had high hopes for Gabriel. He points his gun at him, but is disturbed by one of his minions telling him to get out front.

Outside – we see trucks parked. Beardy irritably asks who was on watch. One of your tedious stoner mates?

Put your weapons down

Is that the James Gordon?

We get western-style music

Beardy comments that if they kill him they’ll get bullets and be in Oswald’s good graces. They draw guns – but are surrounded by GCPD. There’s a bit of back and forth – but Jim takes his keys, and goes into the building, telling Harvey to kill him if he moves.

The children all stare adoringly at Jim. He gives the keys to Gabriel, who starts to release all the other children’s manacles/cuffs/whatever. It was a pretty tooth-rotting moment.

Outside, leader man asks Harvey why he’d be a cop in this town. Harvey says the costume shop was out of gas masks – so it was either this or sexy nurse.

As they talk – the leader’s eye flits to one of his men, creeping up. There’s a disagreement that quickly turns into a full rammy. Most of the children escape in the trucks – but Jim, Harvey, Gabriel and two little girls are left fleeing on foot.

Back at the mansion, Bruce approaches Ivy. She seems relieved – asking for his help. She says she didn’t kill the men in the vines – it’s the park. The trees, plants, roots – speaking to one another. The men came to kill her – but the plants saved her

Bruce tells her that he needs help for a friend who was shot – not naming Selina. The nurse directed him to The Witch – and here he is. Ivy said she would usually help – but this park is behaving so oddly.

We hear a knock at the door – jaunty waistcoat villager. Bruce asks him to wait. Ivy says there’s a magical seed under the oak – she’ll help him find it if he protects her.

Back at the Library, Ed wakes up. He's chained himself down – and is exultant that it seems to have stopped his sleep walking.

Doesn’t he…. have the key? Jfc, Ed.

He unlocks the padlock and gets up, heading to the bathroom

Why am I seeing this?

I don't need Ed peeing

As he relieves himself – he talks to himself in the mirror about how the sleepwalking was likely just stress.

We hear grunting from somewhere else in the room. Ed pulls back the shower curtain, and finds a burly biker man tied up in the bath.

Ed looks away, back into the mirror and tells himself there’s nothing there – laughing hysterically. His laughing fades and he closes his eyes.

He pulls back the shower curtain again – this time wielding a plunger. Without washing his hands.

He asks the biker who the hell he is. The biker is massively disgruntled.

Are you serious?

Ed admits he doesn’t remember. The man’s name is apparently Tank. He’s part of the Street Demons gang.Ed asks if he hit him, etc. Tank is still sullen – and says Ed wanted information, but he wouldn’t give it. Ed eyes him

I’m gonna guess you gave it to me

Oo-er, missus.

Ed says he can't remember the info – so they’ll have to do it all again, and hauls him out of the bath.

Jim and co running through the streets, hunted. Shooting Oswald was dumb, Jim. I know he’ll forgive you shortly – but it’s inconvenient in the meantime.

They run into a nearby building. Harvey points to the candle burning, and warns that someone else is there. Jim’s all caught up in the romance of his sheriff fantasy, and says that settlers in the Old West would sometimes leave a candle burning as a sign of sanctuary. Maybe there’s still good people left in Gotham

Harvey raises an eyebrow at this romanticism, and then complains when Jim sends him to search the basement in this creepy hotel. Jim meanwhile heads upstairs. The children are left behind – and we see a shadowy figure pass behind them, looking sort of Victorian.

(An aside because this episode is boring – it’s odd how our collective imagination heads straight to Victorian stuff when it comes to ghosts)

Jim walks along the upper floor. It’s a nice, creepy atmosphere. There’s a room with a flickering bulb. Jim offers a very tentative GCPD. A small boy dressed in a school uniform runs out. Jim reassures him.

Harvey in the basement, which is actually a proper kitchen like you would get in a big old house. Less traditional are the containers on the table containing jewellery, glasses, teeth, and fingers.

Harvey starts to quietly panic. He’s then accosted by the masked Victorian woman wielding a razor, and starts to loudly panic.

Jimmmm!

Back at the library, Ed hits the biker in the face. Am I expected to believe Ed was able to overpower this guy?

He caves and passes the info – which is pretty pedestrian: Ed wanted to know where the Street Demon base was and whether their boss, Emmanuel Vazquez, would be there.

Ed asks the man what his demeanour was like last night. Was he confident, flamboyant, charismatic? Or a little repressed? Conservative? Nerdy?

The man says he seemed stiff – in a daze. Ed digests this, and then they leave.

Back at Ivy's impromptu 60s horror film. Bruce leaves the room with a faux terrified Ivy. Bruce tells the villagers to stay calm – he’ll take responsibility for her. Ivy promptly kills them all.

She turns to him – a hand on his throat – and tells him he’s utterly naïve. Bruce says she didn’t have to kill them, but she replies that she wanted to.

Bruce stares balefully at her. He tells her the friend he’s here for is Selina – she’s paralysed and has lost the will to live. Ivy glares back at him.

Good. That bitch destroyed the last drop of Lazarus water. Let her suffer

Bruce says he doesn’t believe her. Ivy avoids answering him like Jim has avoided awkward discussions about killing Oswald. She tells him she wasn’t lying about the park. She’s been feeding it corpses. It consumes them then flourishes. She says she’ll plant Bruce. What will grow, she wonders.

He tells her those men she killed were right. She’s a murderous, callous witch. She smiles

Trying to bait me, boy?

Bruce says he wouldn’t waste his breath. There’s no good left in her. The park isn’t beautiful and colourful and flourishing. It smells of death.

Ivy doesn’t like this. She purses her lips and tells him it’s a work in progress. Bruce says it’s a nightmare. She looks at him, and says if she helps him, he’s to leave her alone. They leave for the garden.

Back with Jim and the kid from the room

(An aside – it struck me here that the pacing in this episode felt really off. This should have been tense – but we spent too long with Ed and Bruce, and now we’ve lost a lot of tension.)

The boy tells Jim that his parents are dead – the woman here found him – the ghost. She was kind at first.

They’re interrupted by Harvey. He says that there’s a crazy woman here. Jim tells the boy that they’ll protect him. As they start to run, the boy says she makes him call her mother.

They head into a room off the corridor, but the boy slips out and shuts Jim and Harvey in. We see the lights in the room flicker and strobe. The boy, stone-faced on the other side of the door tells them

The lights will make you dizzy. Then fall asleep. You won't feel a thing

Harvey starts to fold. Jim kicks at the door. The boy calls that he should give into it. As he does, we see the woman behind him, and she slashes out at him with her razor.

There’s a scuffle. Harvey smashes the window – allowing light into the room. Her mask falls off, and the ghostliness is all gone. She screeches at Jim – she’s the only mother the boy knows. Harvey tells her she’s a crazy bitch – but she protests that she’s protecting him: she taught him how to survive.

She also manages to kick and slash Jim, and makes her escape.

At the biker hideout, which is apparently deserted. As we look round, though, we see lots of stabbed bikers – including the boss. Tank asks if Ed does this, to which Ed honestly responds that he can’t remember

Turning, we see a really boringly painted message on the wall

Penguin was here.

The biker growls: Penguin did this

Ed looks dubious. I think not

Tank replies that whoever it was, someone started a war

Back at Ivy’s park. She reaches into the earth as Bruce watches and extracts a seed. It looks incredibly gross.

She hands it to Bruce. He asks her if that’s human blood that it’s coated in. She tells him that if Selina ingests it, it will find the way to the wound. Bruce asks if it will cure her. Ivy shrugs. Everyone responds differently. The only thing that’s sure is that she’ll be altered forever – the darker angels of her nature unlocked and set free. You very rarely see that one listed in the side-effect section of the information pamphlet.

She asks if Selina can live with it, then eyes him shrewdly and asks if he can. Bruce tells her he doesn’t know any other way. Ivy smiles – and tells him to go then, give her the seed. She adds that he still doesn’t know if he can trust her. Bruce agrees and she replies.

Good – you’re finally becoming a man

Bruce asks where she’ll go, and she says that’s none of his business. He needs to hurry: the seed will die if exposed to the air for too long.

(An aside - if I desperately scrabble to get more fro this episode - I could say that there’s maybe a Jim and Bruce parallel. Jim’s doing good - but he’s definitely getting something from what he’s doing now. Bruce’s actions are to save Selina - but also to salve his own guilt at how she ended up shot in the first place)

Back at the haunted hotel, Harvey and Jim run downstairs and usher the children out. As they do, Harvey turns to Jim

Not everyone wants help, Jim Gordon

They run out into the street. We get a slightly too loud bit of dialogue between Harvey and Jim to let us know that Jim only has two bullets left. It had a real look out for snakes! quality.

The soothsayers and the goths show up. There’s a standoff where they both have guns pointed at Jim – both keen to collect the bounty.

Bruce is back in the ward. Alfred tells her that Selina’s not great – hasn’t uttered a word since he left. Bruce tells him the witch is actually Ivy. Alfred looks dubiously at the seed – which does look really nasty.

Bruce says it might help. Alfred says Ivy is a maniacal cold-hearted killer

Selina suddenly pipes up

Give it to me

Bruce says he has doubts. Selina says that she’s suicidal anyway – so if Ivy wants to kill her, she can have at it. Bruce hands her the pill. She asks if she’s just to swallow it, and then does so without hesitation. Bravo, Selina. That seed looked gross.

They watch. She exhales

Still here

Alfred laughs.

Selina says she knows Ivy has lost her mind – but Selina found her when she was first on the street, after her parents died. It was a cold winter – and Ivy got really sick. Selina took her under her wing: showed her how to find food, a roof. Eventually she got colour in her face – and Selina kept checking in with her every day.

I know she looks old now – but she'll always be that little girl to me

Alfred and Bruce look fondly at her – but as they do, she starts to sweat and convulse. Doctors and nurses rush in, and Alfred holds Bruce back

My God. What have I done?

Back at the standoff. This is really unforgiveably boring.

Blah blah - Jim has two bullets. Basically, Barbara arrives before things can go very wrong. She’s had a change of mind since their chat. Beardy guy takes aim at her from the ground, but Jim shoots him. Barbara comments that it must be love, since it was his last bullet.

She steps closer and tells him to

Help me do what needs doing - kill Penguin

(An aside -I’m so very done with this stupid notion that Oswald is the big problem in town. It makes absolutely no sense. If anything, the only reason we don’t have all-out gang warfare is because there’s not enough ammunition to go round, because Oswald has a grip on it. As for the notion that Barbara is somehow better – she’s hoarding food and drink to run a brothel while there’s not enough to go round. If they show doesn’t make clear later that Barbara’s stance is entirely personal and irrational, I’m going to be very grumpy.)

Jim says they’ll table this discussion for later.

(An aside. Barbara. Harvey. Jim is not going to kill Oswald. If you don’t know this by now, then you haven’t been paying attention. He didn’t do it to placate Falcone. He didn’t do it to string Theo Galavan along and get a conviction. He didn’t do it to guarantee silence after Theo’s murder. He didn’t do it when Oswald’s actions threatened to disrupt his work with the Court of Owls. He didn’t do it when he was apparently all darkness and rage with the Tetch virus. He didn’t do it at the bequest of Sofia Falcone, and he didn’t do it most recently, when the city is a wasteland and Oswald controls virtually all the weaponry. It’s a no, guys. If he changes his mind on this, then it’s an ooc swizz.)

In the Green Zone - where the lighting is all idyllic. Lucius shows off the new lodgings he’s found/created. It’s not ideal – but it’s better than anywhere else. Citizens are gathering, and it’ll be full by lunchtime.

A woman approaches with her children to thank Jim for delivering them. Barbara rolls her eyes and leaves – calling over her shoulder:

See you around, killer. We have unfinished business

I have to ask – is anyone invested in this? Anyone?

Back with Selina. The doc says whatever she took put her into shock – but she’s now stabilised. Bruce looks solemn. There’s a statue of Jesus behind him. Hi Jesus!

Alfred says they should go. He walks on, but Bruce lingers to peek in, and is shocked to see Selina’s bed empty and the window open. He rushes in and looks out the window. Selina walks up behind him

Bruce says it's a miracle. Selina’s eyes are closed, and she smiles beatifically. She says she feels no no pain. Bruce says he thought he’d killed her, but Seline says she’s even better than before.

They hug, and over Bruce’s shoulder, we see Selina open her eyes – which momentarily look just like a cat’s eyes.

General Observations

Ugh. With a couple of exceptions, that was a slog.

No Oswald at all. I’m not sure why this would be the case – but the episode palled badly without him. If it’s to try and easily paint him as a flat villain in his absence, it failed. Life in Gotham is mind-bendingly boring without him.

It’s not that I’m not interested in Ed, but there’s not really much need for interpretation or further examination for what’s going on. It’s either part of his own subconscious (we’ve seen that this can happen with Ed), or something to do with Hugo’s tinkering. I’m not quite sure why I feel a sort of weird lack of tension with this plotline, but there it is.

Barbara

Likewise – Barbara’s revenge plot is really just tiresome. I will admit to being nakedly biased towards Oswald, but even if that weren’t the case - it’s hard to feel real sympathy here. Babs – Oswald didn’t invade Sirens, seek Tabitha out and then stab her in the heart. She went looking for him, and then left him with no other options. Not only that – but she was fully aware that getting revenge for Butch meant leaving you alone. Last, but not least: She. Murdered. His. Mother. I know the big female solidarity thing really only extends to women 18-40 who can turn a profit for you – but still. Take a moment to think this over.

Look I get that it’s easier for her to be angry at Oswald than it is to be angry at Tabitha – but it’s still a bit tedious. A lot tedious.

Jim

As previously discussed, there’s more meat to Jim’s story right now – but I’ve no idea whether it’s intentional. I’m sure Jim does genuinely care about the citizens who need help. However, Jim is also loving this. All that murky stuff from the past is gone. Here, he’s Big Jim Gordon, the heroic sheriff in a Wild West town. His deputies do what he says, and Miss Kitty who runs the brothel can help out when needed. Big-eyed children rush to him for help, mothers thank him, and he gets to rush headfirst into fights outgunned whenever he wants.

I’m not sure where that fancy-dressed guy with the European name and the limp fits in to his story, but maybe Jim’s watched more Westerns than I have.

Hopefully this might head in a more complicated direction. A couple of the scenes with Jim and the children seemed deliberately too saccharine. Harvey warned him that not everyone wants his help. Let’s see where things go.

Jim and Barbara

I remember, way back when, commenting that the lack of real closure between Jim and Barbara felt unrealistic. Jim’s serious-minded and quite traditional (or seemed so at that point, anyway). He and Barbara were engaged to be married – church booked and dress bought, as Barbara told us. The relationship did have had its problems: Barbara was depressed and day drinking, while Jim was busily emulating his father and compartmentalising like crazy – but it always felt like they would have more definitively closed the chapter, as opposed to just moving on like it was a short-term relationship. I think what we’re seeing here is basically unfinished business being played out. Probably better for it to play out with the help of contraceptives, but hey, we know where they’ve decided to go with this.

Again - if you want to make it more problematic in a desperate bid to make things more interesting - killing Tabitha, having Barbara trade in ‘information’ instead of all out violence, masking what goes on in Sirens, putting a nice white coat on her: it’s all to ‘purify’ her character to make her suitable for the pregnancy storyline later. Not too, pure, though. My guess is she’ll die nobly at some point, and Lee will wind up raising the baby with Jim.

Recaps are a lot faster and easier when there’s no Oswald and the episode is a bit lacklustre.

Thoughts?

#gotham commentary #gotham s5e02 #trespassers

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fe-ship-hcs · 6 years ago

Note

Hello! Who are your favorite characters?

Oh goodness where do I begin. I guess I’ll do one guy and one gal from each of the games I’ve played. Will also include favorites from second gens in the later games.

Blazing Blade: Hector and Ninian! Big buff goofy man and pretty dragon lady.

Sacred Stones: Colm and Natasha. Sneaky beaky and softspoken cleric.

Path of Radiance: Sothe and Nephenee. Yet another rogue-type and strong lady.

Awakening: Don’t really have a male that stands above the rest so I’ll have two gals for the 1st gen. Tiki and Olivia. Because they’re both so cute, what can I say? For 2nd gen hands down Owain and F!Morgan. Goofball of a powerhouse and sassy little tactician.

Fates: Will do some for each route and neutral characters

Fates Neutral: Silas and Azura. They’re both so adorable in their own ways and they seem like good cuddle friends.

Fates Neutral 2nd Gen: Sophie and Dwyer. Sophie is such a good friend and tries her best at everything. Dwyer is very relatable and a constant mood.

Fates Birthright: Hinata and Rinkah. S-strong… Also Hinata is a goof and I love him. Rinkah could punch me in the face and I’d thank her.

Fates Birthright 2nd Gen: Again, none of the guys really stand out too much. so Selkie and Caeldori. Selkie may be a bit hyperactive but she’s reliable and means well. Caeldori is a great friend and wishes the best of all.

Fates Conquest: Odin Arthur and Flora. Arthur kinda reminds me of me with his luck. Flora is very loyal and calculative. Wish I could be smart like her.

Fates Conquest 2nd Gen: Another deal where none of the guys seem like much to me. Velouria and Soleil though. After you get past Velouria’s fixation of her dad (which actually makes sense, btw) she’s a great friend and I bet she is great at cuddling. Soleil is a big flirt with pink hair which kinda reminds me of one of my characters. She’s also big gay™ and that’s important.

Shadows of Valentia: Dividing into Alm’s Path and Celica’s path.

Alm’s Path: Switching things up a bit. Two guys! Kliff and Python! They’re both snarky and really hot. I’m shameless, I know.

Celica’s Path: Sonya and Leon. Mysterious, purple haired, looks like they could seduce anybody with a wink. Big Oof.

#Fire Emblem #not hc #Mod Glint

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fenril · 7 years ago

Text

The days dwindle.

(Music for this: https://youtu.be/257aE9OCSfQ )

Fenril wasn’t found this night at the office, not Command, not even her forge. No. She could be seen at the Stormwind stables. A stall was kept open and rented out for Beaky, that stall would be where Fenril was this night.

Beaky was laid out in a batch of soft blankets and hay, the sassy bird was spoiled rotten and relished in said spoils. Fenril took his casual demeanor to sit and lay against him. Her back pressed into Beaky’s midsection. The stall had a sunroof Fenril propped open so the dynamic duo could stare upwards at the night sky. “You know my old friend…you cannot come with me this time. Every war…every bit of combat since I’ve met humanity you’ve been at my side…now…now you cannot come with me.” Fenril wondered if he understood. If he knew what she was saying, though as she did a hand extended to finger through his aging feathers. Once vibrant reds, blues, and greens now dulled and silvered out. “Yaesa left the unit…maybe she will not have to go…not to hell. That…that is where I am going Beaky. Hell.”

She kept staring at the night sky. Her eyes closed after a long moment. “I will find someone to take care of you…if not Yaesa…someone. You will not be left to fend for yourself at your age my friend…you will not go down like that…”

Fenril in this moment realized fate was not hers to determine. Every battle, every war, every inch of combat in her life she’d been able to aid, command, make tactical plans. -Something-. Now she made armor, she comforted what people would listen to her. Many in Stormwind she realized had faith in what she did day in and day out. But would that same faith come again on the battlefield? Would the elder Kaldorei find herself on the field of battle calling the shots? She wasn’t sure herself what would happen on Argus. There were blissful moments of clarity in war that she had sure fire answers, those were few and far between lately. Fenril wanted what was right done, that was her goal, her drive, her purpose. That’s what got her where she’s been, where she is. Doing the right thing, it does pay off.

But her mind didn’t dwell on that for all too long. Would she even make it past the initial landing on Argus? Her mind went to Draenor, the horrors heard and seen of that conflict. The sole war she’d hadn’t been to in five thousand years. Then to Outland, the push through. The gates as they opened to the maw of demons. Honor hold came to mind. Faces of men and women lost…the Broken Shore. Every battle she’d been to, every one and thing she’s killed in service. She in this time realized the hours ticked by slower and slower…the deployment to Argus was so close and yet; even a woman that’s lived this long felt time couldn’t go by any faster. Seconds felt like hours as she stared at hell itself in the sky. How could Fenril hope to make it past this?

The truth was she never planned to. Surviving hell didn’t mean escaping it, tricking the mind to think there’s hope in the darkest of hours. No. Fenril wouldn’t fancy hope and dreams, she knew reality, the stakes, the risk. She turned her head to look at Beaky. “My friend…if I come back…if I come home…may you be here waiting for me. Whether it be in a casket…or in the flesh. You…you be here.” She patted his wing, the bird cawed in confusion. What was his best friend doing?

Her response was to reach in her pocket, a piece of beef jerky produced the once mighty hippogryph would gladly gobble up. It calmed him in the moment, relishing in the treat given. It gave Fenril enough time to come to a stand, leaving that sunroof open for Beaky as she picked up her things to leave. Her bags and his saddle taken out. She’d have to clean everything up and prep for departure. Whomever would end up taking care of him would be given his simple riding saddle, with nothing attached. No one needed to know why Fenril was so emotional with her favored flying companion. They needn’t understand anything. She’d add another note to her will, to give a letter to whomever took care of Beaky while she’s gone if she should perish. That’s when it would matter. That’s when someone should know.

But Fenril wouldn’t say goodbye to Beaky, she never will. Goodbye implied she’d never see him again. No goodbye? They’ll see each other again. Whether it be in this life or the next.

She would see her best friend again.

( @yaesaduskwhisper for the mention.)

#ArgusPrep

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benevolentgodloki · 6 years ago

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Tales of Mischief #4

Earth wasn’t going to avoid its fate this Halloween night. Once more it found itself terrorised by alien life, this time of supernatural origin. The difference was that it was far less deadly, save for the faint of heart or the overly reckless.

With the barriers between the mortal and spirit realms weakened, a particularly powerful denizen of Hel had chosen his ideal moment to break out. It was no mean feat avoiding his sister, either.

Amid a swarm of howling spectres and snarling undead, Loki was free, alive again, and if here to stay if he had anything to say about it. The human city was plunged into ongoing night, a vast illusion blanketing the streets and buildings, turning everything black or gleaming green; wherever anyone turned there were monstrous shapes and beaky gargoyles as well as a plethora of curved horns. Ancient skeletal warriors scrambled down the streets, causing widespread shrieks as they smashed windows and pursued frightened humans. Not many had discovered it but Loki had ensured they would harm no one. Anyone caught by these monsters would simply get a bony hug before they barrelled after their next victim. Strange creatures and lost ghosts ran and flew rampant as he looked on.

Loki strode down the centre of the road, fully armoured. He smiled horribly at fleeing pedestrians and swerving cars alike, but his attention was most drawn to the figure heading toward him. Someone else not of Midgard.

“My dear Lady Sif!” he called. “How wonderful it is to see you alive.”

@womanwarrior-rp

#tales of mischief #hope this works for ya #was gonna do this kind of thing with my ghost Loki stuff but didn't get round to it #so you get the honours ;D #Thor is gonna smack him #if Sif doesn't manage to bahaha #womanwarriorrp

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resultsmeasuredineffort-blog · 6 years ago

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The Prince

I didn’t choose kingdom. I ran away from it, for more years than I’d like to recall.

The young prince lay unconscious; his chest hardly rose with the shallow breaths that vainly attempted for normality. His brown hair was golden soaked from the desert sun, the color of the earth. His hand was draped over his face, a paltry attempt at preservation.

The sun beat down on his unprotected body, each degree dragging him closer to the looming grip of death. Insects looped in and out of the parched, splintered earth. Miraculously, the desolate wasteland hummed with a myriad of lives, struggling at full capacity to live. The singularity of it all could easily be overlooked, the scene passed off as a death land, but the careful observer could see the small blinks of life taking shelter underground.

Far above the Prince’s inert body, vultures glided, lazily waiting for the inevitable. Their wide arc spiraled, closer and tighter towards the being.

Death drew near. The vultures surrounded him unimpeded by the soft breaths that still escaped his lips— a cocoon of bony feathers and the rank smell of carrion.

From far away, something approached. The only precursor was a slight rumbling of the ground, a pebble shivered. The vultures didn’t mind, and the sun ignored everything. The Prince did not realize either; he was too busy dying.

And then the pair barreled into the wake of vultures, causing it to rupture like a beaky, feathery volcano. The vultures’ screeching shattered the dry air, oddly harmonizing with the newcomers’ chortling.

As the last of the vultures hobbled away, the two figures wheezed and giggled. One was thin and lanky, like a twig, with a reddish mop on his head. His mischievous grin told he was the mastermind behind their shenanigans. His friend was portly and strong, with a warm face; he knew how to laugh. Theirs was a friendship borne of their mutual inability to act as adults. The two companions paid no attention to the burning sun, the surrounding death lands, or the fact they were clearly outcasts. Instead, they continued their constant stream of aviary jokes. They did not like vultures.

Twiggy dusted his shoulders, feeling absolutely proud of himself. Portly walked off, still jumpy from the adrenaline.

Portly suddenly ceased guffawing about the persistency of birds and made a sick sort of sound. “Uh, oh” he said, guilt seeping into his voice. He called his friend over.

“I think its still alive,” said Portly about the limp, unmoving body. Though there were few signs of life, Portly did not want to be branded as a murderer. He was only having a bit of fun with buzzards, not trying to take lives.

Twiggy’s face pulled into a disgusted grimace, “Yeesh,” he began, but quickly regained his professionalism. He wiped his hands of the metaphorical dust of the whole situation.

“Let’s take a look, what have we got here?” The lanky one was miffed at the sudden cloud over his tomfoolery, and he had no plans to take responsibility for this lost soul. He sniffed.

The Prince may have been young, but his stature was still larger than that of the scrawny architect of mischief. Corpulent Portly stood to the side, still shamefaced over the consequence of their actions.

It went without saying Twiggy was the leader of the meager syndicate. He began inspecting the fallen body, making short observations under his breath. When he lifted the Prince’s hand, Twiggy’s bravado escaped like a drop of water on the scorching earth. He loudly exclaimed and grabbed his friend to run, wanting to place as much distance between them and the terribly threatening, near dead figure.

The kinder of the two, Portly rebuked his friend. He pointed out the desperate proportions and state of the lone Prince, making a strong case on his behalf. Smoothly, he transitioned to asking Twiggy if they could take this ward into their charge. It was, after all, the morally right thing to do.

Twiggy was appalled, and his panicky voice cracked through his normally cool front.

“Are you nuts?” He asked reverberatingly, making sure his friend could hear, and hopefully, possibly grasp the full nature of the situation. Twiggy pointed out all the Prince’s flaws, which amounted to a grand total of one—the very nature of the Prince’s face.

Twiggy yelled out the obvious reason. Why his friend was so dull was beyond Twiggy’s comprehension.

Portly was unconvinced and pointed out that such a young being could not be any threat to anyone. Portly’s girthy stature might have inhibited his fear, but the same could not be said for scrawny Twiggy.

Twiggy glared up at his friend and asked Portly about the young Prince’s future.

“Maybe he’ll be on our side?” Portly asked with a hopeful smile, grasping for straws of persuasion. Something in his heart refused to let him leave the lonely being to perish alone, at the beaks of ruthless buzzards.

Twiggy brushed the dusty earth from his sleeves and shoulders, snorting and laughing darkly.

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” he snorted and mimicked his friend’s nasally voice, “maybe he’ll be on our side,” when he was seized by a thought.

“Hey,” he said in a whisper of brilliance, as the thought hit him—a stroke of genius. “I got it,” he continued, raising the previously chiding finger. “What if he’s on our side? Having him around might not be such a bad idea,” the youthful confidence remerged and Twiggy was the leader once more.

He pretended as though he had never lost his cool; his ample friend ignored the plain thievery. Portly was just glad they weren’t going to abandon the individual. He iterated his joy in the form of a question, ensuring they were taking charge of the young thing.

“Of course! Who’s the brains of this outfit?” Twiggy asked, voice full of leadership and self-assured bluster. It had an interesting way of growing on one, like a wart one simply learns to accept.

“Uhh….” Portly replayed the last few minutes, and decided it was not worth it to try and reason with Twiggy. He dedicated himself to lifting the fallen Prince to shelter.

“My point exactly,” Twiggy said, arms crossed. The heat of the sun began to blister their foreheads, and the leader pointed it out.

“Gee, I’m fried. Let’s get out of here and find some shade,” Twiggy said as he wiped his forehead. They dashed off, carting the Prince with them.

Twiggy and Portly were raised in the crook of the desert’s dry arms, and the two knew exactly where that arm ended and the oasis began. They found a nice burbling river and let the Prince’s body rest beside it.

Twiggy began splashing water at the Prince’s face; Portly had laid him down under the shade of a generous palm tree. A soft breeze danced across the land, watching as three fates began to intertwine.

It took some time, but eventually enough water lodged itself in the Prince’s nose to cause him discomfort. He frowned in his comatose state and lifted his head slightly, eyes only just cracking open. The death spell fell back. The Prince gave a grunt and turned his wavering gaze to the source of the blessed annoyance. The cool water was paradise on his dry, splintered tongue.

“You okay kid?” Twiggy asked, in a half wary, half brotherly tone. The nerves only just showed.

The Prince hesitated but was still too dazed to fear the strange faces, “I guess so,” he mumbled in a gravelly voice that would have made any self-respecting desert proud.

The Prince turned his face away from Twiggy and Portly, an overwhelming guilt settling on his young brows.

“You nearly died,” exclaimed Portly with a genuine concern.

“I saved you,” Twiggy intervened, patting his chest with both hands to convey his extreme generosity.

Portly gave a disgusted snort at Twiggy’s direction, demanding a more honest story line.

Twiggy amended in a modest tone, indicating Portly’s help, albeit with an annoyed frown. He placed his hands commandingly on his hips and re-amended, “A little,” waving a casual hand in the air.

By this point, the Prince’s guilt shadowed his face entirely. He had regained enough consciousness to remember what the tugging, constant, dreadful voice was echoing. Your fault, it whispered.

The Prince ambled onto his feet and started to walk away. He hung his head, degraded, and slowly paced away.

“Hey! Where you going?” Twiggy wondered aloud. His body guard plan was quickly unravelling with each of the Prince’s steps. Twiggy was not about to watch it fall without a fight.

“Nowhere,” was the solemn response.

Something in the Prince’s tone made Twiggy pause. That was not a youthful tone. It held the regrets and agonies found only in the breasts of old men.

“Hey, he looks blue,” Twiggy pointed out eloquently, speaking out of the side of his mouth to Portly. The two friends watched the Prince’s retreating back.

And while Portly had a heart to rival his nickname, he was not always the quickest cheetah on the plain.

He squinted, wondering what his friend was talking about because it was quite obvious to him, “I’d say brownish gold,” he said matter-of-factly.

Portly glanced at Twiggy and hoped Twiggy hadn’t eaten more of those suspicious looking roots that grew at the edge of the oasis.

Twiggy was not a stranger to Portly’s gradualness and corrected his friend without pause.

“No, no, no. I mean, he’s depressed.”

“Oh,” Portly narrowed his eyes in humiliation. It passed quickly and he trotted over to the Prince and asked in a way that only he could, “Kid, what’s eatin’ ya?”

The Prince turned his head toward the sincere question and gave a look. He felt ready to spill the contents of his heart.

This was when Twiggy opted for comic relief as the cure-all and made a rather basic pun, alluding to the Prince’s strength and potential. He found his joke a highlight, and proceeded to laugh in an undignified manner, shrieking in a wheezing howl. He nudged the Prince, and repeated the pun, giggling.

The words seemed to depress the Prince further, and Twiggy began to feel the uncomfortable tension of a joke fallen flat. Too late to undo the process, he tried to cover it with an unconvincing grin. His giggling ceded to a throat clearing sound, and the Prince’s head drooped further still. Twiggy was not used to this reception, usually Portly laughed at all his jokes whether he understood them or not.

“So…” Twiggy tried to save face by changing the topic, “where ya from?”

It didn’t really help; the Prince dodged the question and began to walk again. “Who cares, I can’t go back.”

These words seemed to hit home with Twiggy, who felt them echo in his own chest.

“Ah! You’re an outcast,” he proclaimed with a confident smile, ignoring the depressed princely looks. “That’s great! So are we,” he raised both arms above his head in a welcoming manner.

Twiggy was glad things were finally going in a saner direction, that coincidentally ran parallel to his own somewhat selfish desires.

Portly cut in, not wanting to be left out of the loop, “What’d ya do, kid?”

The Prince’s face was grief, for a second before he closed his eyes and muttered, “Something terrible.” He turned his head away, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Twiggy had no qualms, “Good, we don’t want to hear about it,” he said cheerily, holding his hands across his chest.

Portly felt his friend was being a bit crass and muttered as much to his buddy. He turned and in a louder voice asked the Prince, “Anything we can do?”

The Prince looked back despondently, his golden eyes darting this way and that, “Not unless you can change the past.”

“You know kid, in times like this, my buddy here says, you gotta put your behind in your past,” Portly said in a hearty voice.

“No, no, no!” Twiggy intervened, waving his arms again, implying Portly’s vast foolishness.

“I mean…” Portly meandered abashedly.

“Amateur,” Twiggy muttered, “Lie down before you hurt yourself.”

“It’s,” Twiggy paused for effect, “you gotta put your past behind ya,” he held his hands out like a professor.

The Prince did not waver from his sorrowful expression. Twiggy redoubled his efforts.

In a stronger voice he said, “Look kid, bad things happen. And you can’t do anything about it. Right?” The Prince looked at him with a morose face, and sadly replied, “Right.”

“Wrong,” Twiggy jumped loudly, jabbing his finger at the Prince’s face for super emphasis.

Twiggy’s face contorted to that of a lone adventurer, a single hero outcast. He swished his hands dramatically, illustrating the hordes that had ostracized him. He spoke, “When the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world,” he finished triumphantly, closing his fist in a tone of finality.

“Well, that’s not what I was taught,” the Prince said, shaking his head. He wasn’t willing to be talked out of his grief.

“Then maybe you need a new lesson,” responded Twiggy, who loved challenges.

“Repeat after me,” he said cheerily, and then cleared his throat, “Hakuna Matata.”

#creative writing #long story short #tbt #humor #for the lols #prince #story time #regrets #kingdom

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