#black pro mist 1/4

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it Anyway?

1941

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Alright you lot! I wanted to post this days ago but it proved to be a more difficult bit of writing than I was expecting! I'm not sure why but I just had a tough time finishing this one. The other POV posts I've done have been pretty straightforward, but this one was a little tricky.

As always, for reference & context, I recommend reading these previous posts:

Whose POV is it Anyway? - Introduction

Lens Filters

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

Let's take a trip to Soho during the Blitz....

We open Episode 4 with Aziraphale driving back from Edinburgh in the very late hours of the night or early hours of the morning. Shax stops him and gets herself into the Bentley. The lighting is cool and misty and since we're dealing with Shax, my guess is we're looking at Hell's Black Pro Mist filter (BPM). Shax reminds Aziraphale of 1941 by mentioning Furfur, and we're drawn into the 1941 minisode.

SO enter 1941... we're in the church, and the bomb has just exploded.

I went back and decided to watch this opening scene from both season 1 and season 2 side by side to see if there were any noticable differences and the HUGE one is the difference in the color grading of this scene between seasons. It's the same footage, though season two's is spliced with bits of nazi's dying, but the footage in season two is so much more green than it was in season one. Take a look at these screenshots, season 1 on the left and season 2 on the right.

These are unedited, same computer screen and everything, season 2 is just so green. We know green is associated with Hell, so I'd posit a guess we're getting the green from the nazi's (Hell's) POV being added in here. We're shown they're still alive for a few moments of this scene. Crowley's sideburns are short in this scene but it is reused footage from season 1 so I'd just disregard it.

Then we move on to the drive home from the bombing, Crowley's sideburns are still on the shorter side, which according to our previous theories would indicate we're likely to be matched with Crowley's POV. However I'm sure you'll agree deciphering a filter from this scene is very difficult, given they are driving through a bombing sequence. We are supported though by the demons snippy tone toward Aziraphale, something we've previously observed him don when in his POV filter with the accompanying short sideburn/hair length. Ex: switch inside the coffee shop & switch outside the pub.

They pull up to the Windmill Theater, there are lovely glowy warm halos around the marquee lights, so I'd say we're looking at Aziraphale's POV now, or the Bronze Glimmerglass (BGG) filter. Crowley's sideburns are also long here, which would fit the narrative that these are connected. Inside the theater the coloring is still warm toned. Inside the bookshop, the lighting remains warm and likely the BGG filter as well.

When we cut to outside shots of the bookshop we see that the lighting outside is again extremely green, reminding us that the agents of Hell are lurking.

We move into the magic shop and I believe we're still in the BGG filter & Aziraphale's POV, evidenced by the fact that after Crowley and Aziraphale leave the magic shop, and the zombies enter, the warm hue disappears as the magic shop owner is attacked.

Cue the magic show. The lighting of what we're shown on stage is warm and hazy and likely still the BGG filter.

In the backroom of the theater Crowley's sideburns remain long and the lighting is hazy and warm, I think we're seeing Aziraphale's POV here as well.

In the backroom of the bookshop however, when Crowley and Aziraphale enjoy their wine together, Crowley's sideburns are short again, and he tells Aziraphale he's terrible at magic. He's being snippy which indicates Crowley's the narrator, but the lighting is still warm.

I'm reminded here of Finney's characterization of the different filters from the VFX article. He specifically described the Black Diffusion FX Filter as "Crowley's Present Day Storyline". Does this mean there isn't a filter change for Crowley as a narrator in flashbacks? The filter is definitely helpful for deciphering who's our narrator in present day but maybe that's why Crowley's hair also seems to be correlated with the POV? Because it isn't a hard and fast rule?

Aziraphale arrives home from the trip, and when Crowley brings his plants out of the bookshop, his sideburns are still long.

NEXT POV The Ball

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 30

chapter 49:

1. jegulus jumpscare (it’s a dream i wasn’t expecting)

2. shit. the dream is about their wedding plans. i- i can’t do this shit while reg is in the arena

3. shit it’s raining and i know reg can’t handle it because of the last crimson river/arena

4. god, sirius wakes up to the rain and his first thought it to go save regulus

5. “"Lily, have you been using sex for favors?"

"No." Lily pauses, then snorts. "Well, alright, so this is how it works, yeah? I'm already having sex, and then I'm like, say, look at you all laid out and desperate to give me what I want; don't you want to do this very small, very simple thing for me? And then they mostly always say yes, and they get what they want, all while I'm having a grand time and also getting what I want. See? Win-win.””

😭😭😭 i love her your honor

6. “”I cannot believe that this revolution is partially running on your competency in sex."

"Oh, if only it could fully run on that. Everything would go so smoothly. Shit, we'd win the war in, like, a week.""

😭😭😭💍♥️ marry me please

7. “”I keep telling [Effie] I know exactly how to make her feel better, but she insists she's a married woman, and also far too old for me. Disappointing, really.”” 😭😭😭

8. james confronting lucius has me scared for remus. like, i know they can’t trace it back to remus, but i’m so scared

9. james is pissed at the world and it’s honestly scary

10. i know james is trying to use donations, but i’m also aware that riddle wants to make sure no donations make it to reg, sirius, or marlene

11. “"Aw, your boyfriend sent you a present," Rabastan teases, his tone lighthearted and good-natured.

"Fiancé," Regulus corrects sharply”

GAGGED. he took james’ words and fucking ran with it like nobody’s business

12. not narcissa welcoming james to the family 😭😭😭😭

13. james sent him a bagel and all the death eaters are making fun of him for being gay over it 😭😭

14. all james sent on the card was “???” 😭😭 pls that’s so funny

15. poor eli

16. the sad bonding over marlene and sirius having recovered from drinking problems

17. don’t tell me that the fucking crimson river hands are coming out the hedges. i- god i hope reg gets to personally witness riddle’s downfall

18. AND THE FUCKING GREEN MIST??? FUCK THIS

19. “You never truly do feel as alive as when death is breathing down your neck.”

oh he’s insane as hell. a black for sure

20. shit. sirius’ mind just went blank in the maze

21. the hallow is cruel beyond belief for this

22. “He has had dreams of Regulus, ah, using his dagger during…intimate moments, but is that something he'd actually do? Well… Okay, bad example.” 😭😭😭😭

23. james was so close to an epiphany about mcgonnagal making everyone hate the games. he was so close

24. “Thorfinn said he'd have to be killed to be stopped from going after Sirius, even though Regulus explicitly told him what he'd do about that, and so Regulus killed him. Newton's third law: for every action in nature there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

bitch do not pull physics into this 😭😭

also that means that sir isaac newton existed in this universe, which if we see this as a future for our universe, it means that homophobia was prevalent at one point and the world straight up just eradicated it. 🤷🏽‍♀️ pro for this universe ig

25. “When he lifts his head, the first thing Regulus sees is his brother.

The second thing he sees is Sirius' fist, just the flash of it, just seconds before it collides with the side of his face.”

he had it coming fr

[tricos-here]

For the mount asks: Asterales, Jessamy, and Alexandrine 💖

@mystery-salad

thank you for the ask <33

1. Does your character canonically have specific mounts?

Astêrales technically has a jackal but it is. largely redundant because she moves around via portals all the time anyway, and the jackal itself comes and goes as it pleases, but they do occasionally travel together and keep each other company 

Jessamy canonically has a griffon named Doirean, it was given to her temporarily during her company’s contract in Thunderhead Keep, but they instantly took a liking to each other and upon her return to Tyria she decided to purchase and keep her 

Alexandrine has a warclaw named Aife, though it’s not so much a warclaw in the sense of “spiritual animal bound to armor” as just a creature bound to the Mists

2. Do you have any canon mount skins / coloration for them?

Astêrales’ jackal is just Shadow Abyss and Tar on the Ceylon Cut Skin, which kinda of creates this starry look in its faceplate (?), if I were to draw might might've also thrown in some aspects of Lucent Sands too

Jessamy canonically is supposed to be using the Point-Tipped Corvus skin but I only have the Northern Feather Wing skin whose only real difference is it has a more angular beak, but either way it’s all black like well, a corvid 

Alexandrine’s warclaw is the Vigilant Saberclaw in all white, may or may not have a longer tail like the Tundra Grimalkin but I’m undecided about that still 🏃‍♀️ 

3. How likely are they to rent one versus own one?

Astêrales would do neither because she can spawn in portals at will babeey. But if she were to lose that ability for some reason cough she’d likely talk her way through borrowing one, ain’t got no money to rent anyway 

Jessamy technically owns hundreds of mounts under her company’s name so, if we want to get into schematics she she's more likely own one, besides her personal griffon anyway, but if she were in a position where she didn't have access to them then she has plenty of money to throw at some renting agency

Alexandrine definitely more likely to own one, partially because where would she rent a mount in the Mists anyway, but also she does enjoy the companionship as well

4. Are there any mounts they prefer using (or others they can't stand)?

Astêrales has only ever used a jackal and a skyscale, and if she were to choose between the two it would definitely be the jackal, she has no issue with heights or anything but skyscales to her feel comparatively sluggish and unresponsive 

Jessamy can appreciate that each mount has its own uses and pros and cons but she’d generally go for a griffon or if the area asks for it, a raptor, but generally she thinks a skilled rider can get just about anywhere with a griffon anyway. Also finds springers ridiculous and you’ll never catch her on one amen 

Alexandrine’s only experience with mounts is a warclaw so, N/A

5. Do they keep their mounts stabled, take them with them, or some secret 3rd thing?

Astêrales’ secret 3rd thing is that her jackal as mentioned just comes and goes as it pleases, using portals and traversing through the Mists as much as her 

Jessamy will take her griffon with her on travels and the like but keep her stabled at stops, there’s been few occasions where she might bring her inside as some kinda power move but generally yeah, keeps her stabled 

Alexandrine takes her warclaw everywhere, rarely ever leaves her side and yes that included the bed too, something her partner might not approve but it's her castle and she makes the rules (is what she thinks)

[peppermintquartz]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass it on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love! 💙

OK here goes. I'm very shameless about my writing, actually. You might regret asking me this!

One thing to note: I lean towards the darker side, so if you do browse through my fics, be wary and read the tags. Lots of dead doves. And since I tend to write one story in different parts, I have grouped those that tell the same story.

1. Red Mist / Black Moon (Shadowhunters)

This set is one story, starting from Magnus rescuing Alec and then Alec saving Magnus. There are torture scenes which, frankly, I didn't go as dark as I would now, but the main focus for me was the relationship between Magnus and Asmodeus. Incestuous overtones in Red Mist becomes outright references in Black Moon, but there are plot reasons for it. I also loved doing the Chinese bits and also the multi-verse / trans-dimensional shenanigans bits.

2. Finn's Playroom (Pro Wrestling)

This is pure self indulgence. It has porn, plot, BDSM, angst, fluff, romance, friends with benefits, friends(?) with benefits, murder, attempted murder, torture, sexual abuse, recovery from abuse, breakup, make-up, BAMFs out the wazoo, childhood trauma, and lots of lore buried in there. But it's sexy AF. I gained a whole buncha wrestling moots with this fic!

3. In a Cottage by the Sea (Hannibal)

Oddly enough, this is the only one on this list that has no Dead Dove.

I wrote many Hannibal fics, and while I love the work I put into Bread & Music (massive age gap fic without Daddy kink), this one truly tested me as a writer because I tried being super minimalistic and sparse. I think, style-wise, this was the hardest to create, and I genuinely love this particular fic.

4. Contact / Touched / Caresses (Bleach)

Extremely Dead Doves. Be warned.

This is an interconnected story about the love between two of the main villains on Bleach (i reject Tite Kubo's interpretation completely), and in their unrepentant evil-ness, they are utterly devoted to each other. Love does not make a person good.

This was written 20 years ago, almost? so the quality of writing is sometimes 'eeeeeh' but i am proud that i did this in the first place. I wrote three different POVs of the same story, with some chapters happening concurrently, others filling in the blanks between the chapters of the other fics, it was completely insane, and I was utterly possessed by it because I was uploading one chapter every day or every other day. Lots of readers started rooting for the villains to have a happy ending... (see: number 5)

(This was written and shared on FFdotnet and transferred over to AO3 by copy-pasting from a download, so there are many typos. But given there are 263 chapters, and over 596,000 words in total, I am not editing this.)

5. Over All Things / I Will Remember You / You Will Remember Me (Bleach, conclusion to the above)

...And because of the impact of number 4 on this list, I could write this concluding trio of stories, again with multiple POV of the same incident, and I know I made a lot of readers cry.

For the very evil guys.

But, see, I woke up crying because this story unfolded fully in my head, so of course i had to inflict the pain on everyone else.

Thank you for letting me ramble about my fics, I really appreciated this ask!

[crypticfandomtrash]

Theoretical Alphabet Apprentices Part 1

So I thought about making a Wammy's House apprentice for every unused letter and finally did it. I have not consumed any other Death Note media besides the manga as of writing this, so none of these characters are related to anything that happens in the dramas, movies, etc. I may use these OCs in a fic at some point.

G's real name is Gilbert Reinders. He is Frisian and was born in Germany. He speaks German, Frisian, English, and Dutch. He is learning French. His birthday is November 5, 1986.

He is 5'8 in height. His hair is blonde and he has light blue eyes. He hates bullying and will defend others. He is pretty strong.

His mother gave him up after her boyfriend left her, unwilling and unable to take care of him. After spending three years in foster care, he was brought to Wammy's when he was 8. He is very reserved and studious. He excels at mathematics.

He stays in the reformed program despite not caring about being a detective because he doesn't know what he wants to do. Others have suggested that he become an architect because he likes talking about architecture. As of pre-timeskip Death Note, he is 17-18.

H's real name is Hezar Baran. She is Kurdish and was born in Iran. She speaks Kurdish, Farsi, and English. Her birthday is December 4, 1990.

She is 5'1 and half in height. She has tan skin, dark brown hair, and amber eyes. She likes to dance and stretch, so she is fairly athletic.

Her parents were killed during a terrorist attack when she was 10. She spent a year in an orphanage before being taken to Wammy's after he visited Iran and saw her. She loves tinkering with machines and fixing things. She quit the reformed program to study robotics.

She is a Sunni Muslim and enjoys debating theology with others regardless of what they believe. She hates extremists from any religion because her parents lost their lives due to extremism. She wears a headscarf but chooses not to cover her face. As of pre-timeskip Death Note, she is 13-14.

I's real name is Izhi Huapaya. She is a Quechua native from Peru. Her first name apparently means "fog, mist". She speaks Quechua, Spanish, and English. Her birthday is September 27, 1989.

She is 5'2 in height. She has tan skin, brown hair, and hazel eyes from a Spanish-descended relative. She is very stealthy.

Her parents gave her away to her uncle when she was 4 because they could not afford to feed her and themselves. He died six years later due to cancer. She was 12 when Wammy visited her orphanage in Peru and took her to England. She is polite and quiet. Her listening and information gathering skills are top notch. She has no intention of quitting the Successor Program because she wants to be a detective or a spy.

She is Catholic but mixes several of her people's tribal traditions into her beliefs. She is terrified of birds, citing that their beaks and beady eyes are unnerving. As of pre-timeskip Death Note, she is 14-15.

J's real name is Jayesh Sharma. He was born in India. He is the son of an Indian man and a white American woman. He speaks Hindi, English, Chinese, and Japanese. His birthday is November 15, 1985.

He is 5'8 and three quarters. He has tan skin, black hair, and his mother's blue eyes. He is learning martial arts and wants to be a pro.

His parents were shunned in the village that they lived in because they were not married. Eventually they were forced to give him to the local orphanage by the townsfolk. He was bullied for being biracial. Wammy visited India when he was 9 and took him to England. He is friendly to everyone he meets and never taunts anyone.

While he doesn't want to be a detective, he stays in the program to learn as much as he can about it. He genuinely enjoys hearing about L's cases. As of pre-timeskip Death Note, he is 18-19.

[picturesfromhell]

Fuji X100V + Tiffen Black Pro Mist 1/4 - Jpgs straight out of cam.

[diaryoflightandshadow]

Sommer

Shoot Date: October 24, 2022

I had been wanting to shoot with Sommer for awhile, and when I reached out to her it turned out that she'd been wanting to shoot with me as well. Because we admired each others work, I felt we knew what to expect from one another. It made the collaboration easy...except for the weather.

Difficulty With On-Location Shooting

We arrived at Mt. Lemmon, AZ at around 7:30am. It was very cold. I had anticipated the cold, so I brought extra jackets as well as a blanket that Sommer could use between shots...but I felt it wasn't enough. The temperature was around 35°F degrees. But we carried on.

As a photographer, I tend to make shoots very difficult for myself. I rarely use assistants, and I bring heavy equipment. For this shoot my setup included a 4x5 press camera, a Mamiya RZ67 (people that have shot with these know how heavy they are), an AD400 Godox light with modifiers, a C-stand, and two 15lb sandbags. My Pelican Case weighed about 80lbs. The location was also about a 1/4 mile from where we parked. So I dragged an 80lb Pelican Case while also wearing a backpack through 1/4 mile of rough terrain. Luckily Sommer was there to carry the C-Stand for me, as well as the dress I'd made for the shoot.

Other than dealing with the wind (this is why I bring sandbags) and the freezing temperature, the shoot went very well. We shot for about an hour before we had enough of the cold and decided to pack up.

The Technical Stuff

As I mentioned above, my equipment consisted two different cameras, and one flash with a 48" Strip Softbox.

Large Format

I hadn't shot large format in some time, so I thought this shoot was a good opportunity to dust my Busch Pressman Model D.

I loaded four sheets of 4x5 Ilford HP5. My plan was to take four "primary photos" and supplement each with a set of medium format photos. But due to the wind and cold weather, I felt I didn't have the time to setup some of the more complicated shots that I wanted to capture on large format. So I went with "plan b" and decided to keep the shoot simple. I did a handful of basic setups and primarily focused on shooting medium format, and if I liked a composition enough I'd quickly setup the large format camera.

The photo at the top was the very first photo I took, and honestly turned out to be my favorite. I've been experimenting with tilting the bellows of my camera which gives the portrait the tilt-shift effect. I feel it gives the photo more depth than with traditional focus, almost a 3D effect. I plan to continue experimenting; I want to find more subtle ways to use this method.

Medium Format

I brought my Mamiya RZ67 and two backs loaded with Ilford HP5. I shot with a 110mm f/2.8 fitted with a VND and a 1/4 Tiffen Black Pro-Mist filter. I like the 1/4 Pro-Mist filter because it adds just the smallest amount of softness to the photos without looking like an 80's music video.

It was very bright out, so the VND was set to it's darkest (2.1 which is a 7 stop reduction). The RZ67's shutter speed was set at 1/250 and an aperture of f/2.8. The 4x5's settings were set at 1/60 and a f/4.5 aperture. I got consistent exposure between both cameras.

Lighting

I did standard Rembrandt lighting (pretty much the primary way I light most of my photos) using a Godox AD400 fitted with a gridded 48" strip softbox. I don't recall the power level, but it wasn't at full power. I typically try to make my lighting look natural, so I kept the power low enough so the photos didn't look like they were obviously lit by a flash. I used a gridded strip softbox to keep light spill onto the environment to a minimum. The photo below looks the most un-natural of the bunch.

As you can see, the flash casted an un-natural looking shadow. If I'd been able to lower the flash down to her level, and moved the light closer, it might have given a more dramatic look as well as softer shadows. But when it's 35°F I couldn't spend too much time thinking about it.

Developing & Scanning

I developed two rolls of 120 and four sheets of 4x5 in Kodak D76 developer at 1+1 dilution. Nothing exciting.

I scanned everything on my Epson V850 at 3200dpi, converted the negatives using NLP (Negative Lab Pro), cleaned up dust and made basic exposure/contrast adjustments in Photoshop.

In Closing...

I don't have anything else to add. It was a good shoot and I'm very happen with how the photos turned out.

This was my first full blog post in years, and I apologize if my thoughts are all over the place. I do enjoy writing about my work and I hope to keep up with at least a weekly schedule and hopefully over time I can improve my writing.

Thanks for reading!

Links

Website

Instagram

Flickr

[cesarhernandezmomoto]

Frames of Barcelona from César Hernandez on Vimeo.

First short video of Barcelona shot on BlackMagic Pcket Cinema Camera 6K Pro + Tamron 17-35mm f/2.8 and 70-210mm f/4 + @NiSiFilters Black Mist Filters 1/8.

My website: cesarhernandez.me/ Follow me on instragram: instagram.com/cesarhrnandez/ Follow me on Facebook: facebook.com/cesarhrnandezpt/ Follow me on Twitter: twitter.com/CesarHrnandezPT

WHERE I GET MY MUSIC/SOUND FX: I use EPIDEMIC SOUND, sign up for a 30-DAY FREE trial here: epidemicsound.com/referral/1lgd2b/ @epidemicsound

GEAR USED: ALL MY GEAR IN THIS LINK: kit.co/chernandez/my-film-and-photography-kit

1) BMPCC 6K PRO - AMAZON: amzn.to/3JPKlQT 1) BMPCC 6K PRO - ADORAMA with SmallRig Bundle: adorama.rfvk.net/LXayDY

2) TAMRON 17-35mm f/2.8 - AMAZON: amzn.to/3Z3haOG 2) TAMRON 17-35mm f/2.8 - ADORAMA: adorama.rfvk.net/XYyvLX

3) TAMRON 70-210mm f/4 - AMAZON: amzn.to/42oQI4T 3) TAMRON 70-210mm f/4 - ADORAMA: adorama.rfvk.net/NkBvQV

4) Samyang 14mm T3.1 - AMAZON: amzn.to/3LEV6qR 4) Samyang 14mm T3.1 - ADORAMA: adorama.rfvk.net/Y9DvqP

5) Samyang 35mm T1.5 MK2 - AMAZON: amzn.to/42lDar4 5) Samyang 35mm T1.5 MK2 adorama.rfvk.net/JzbvmQ

6) Edition: DaVinci Resolve Studio Bundle - AMAZON: amzn.to/3n2bHuf 6) Edition: DaVinci Resolve Studio Bundle - ADORAMA: adorama.rfvk.net/zNg52m

7) DJI Mini 3 Pro - AMAZON: amzn.to/3lj9Voh 7) DJI Mini 3 Pro - ADORAMA: adorama.rfvk.net/GmX4gE

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PLACE: 1) BARCELONA

[johnnytommys]

[bread--quest]

[ID: A drawing evenly divided into 24 squares, one for each Blessing available in Season 23. Each contains the name + season of the blessing and a small doodle representing it, done in colors related to the blessing and the colors of the 2 teams that won it (i.e. the team that won it in season 23 and the team that won it originally.

season 1, booster pack: two humanoid figures high-fiving happily in red, black, crabs-red, and garages-blue. season 2, literal arm cannon: a close-up of a round, mechanical-looking cannon over a person's arm, in red, millennials-pink and breath mints-green colors. season 3, exploratory surgeries: a distressed humanoid figure with their hands up over their head. an explosion shape is coming out of their middle, their legs look partially erased, and they are surrounded by little stars and broken stars. it is drawn in white, fridays-green, and tacos-purple. season 4, precognition: a stylized eye in garages-blue and sunbeams-yellow, with a bright blue spark in the pupil. season 5, fireproof jacket: a figure shown standing with their back to the camera and head partially turned, wearing the fireproof jacket and smiling. it is in the colors of the fireproof mod, tigers-red, and firefighters-red. the jacket has a fire shape on the back of it that glows red. season 6, lottery pick: a hand in garages-blue and pies-teal reaching down, with red lines rippling out from it, towards a white floating figure, legs and arms dangling. season 7, the iffey jr.: a figure in dale-purple with obscured eyes smiles while holding a glowing sawed-off bat, with fire behind them. the fire and bat are in the colors of the fire protector mod. season 8, blind date: a blindfolded figure in wild wings-orange and tigers-red colors reaches out for a golden hand coming from offscreen. season 9, credit to the team: a figure in magic-pink and worms-brown, looking nervous, reaches for an elaborate golden necklace around their neck. season 10, divisional walk in the park: a figure in sunbeams-yellow skips happily, surrounded by little hearts, stars, and smiley faces. season 11, XII: a skull in pies-teal and mints-green, with fire in the eye holes. season 12, uncle indemnity: uncle plasma, with a plasma ball for a head, wearing a fedora and holding a magnifying glass, in mints-green and mills-pink. season 13, hitting flotation bubble: a figure in lift-pink and taco-purple, floating in a bubble with stars. season 14, targeted evolution: two figures in taco-purple and tigers-red, holding a bat and a blaseball respectively. they're both grinning confidently and have gold stars in circles floating like halos over their heads. season 15, afterparty: a figure in georgias-teal and magic-pink dancing happily with little stars around them and party flags overhead. season 16, skate board: a skateboard in the colors of the pro skater mod, fridays-green, and steaks-gray, with the words "wow" and "so cool", and three boxes saying "lōot approved", and a small figure doing a skateboard trick labeled "skateboard" drawn around it. season 17, set the table: a figure in mints-green and sunbeams-yellow reaching for a bat. season 18, cape of containment: a firefighters-red figure wearing a hooded cloak in the containment mods colors, eyes obscured with jazz hands-blue, and reader-purple zigzags all around the base of the cape. season 19, underhanded: a taco-purple hand wrapped in bright pink bandages, and a mints-green hand pulling those bandages tighter. season 20, heavy handed: a worms-brown figure looking startled as their gray bat hits the ground, little lines drawn around it to indicate hitting hard. season 21, big head mode: close up of a head in mechanics-orange and mints-green, smirking confidently, with little golden wings above them. season 22, gachapon: a taco-purple and garages-blue hand holding a little gachapon sphere, with black mist all around it appearing to be sucked into the sphere. season 23, vault swap: two hands reaching for each other--one flowers-pink fading into light gold at the fingertips, the other light gold fading into flowers-pink at the fingertips. season 24, magnify: a magic-pink hand holding up a magician's wand, with little plus signs and x's coming out of it. towards the very edge of this last doodle, the whole thing starts to fade into black. End ID.]

today's blasetober challenge was "a blessing" and i wasn't gonna do blasetober but then i was struck with An Idea and well long story short i spent like 3 hours on this.

[vanproyenphoto]

tower liquors and records

I think Gold 200 is a little too warm for my tastes, but the warmer look of it really makes things look…dustier? It’s fitting sometimes, like in this shot. Drives home the point that this is in Arizona.

Yashica Mat-124G + Tiffen Black Pro Mist 1/4, Kodak Gold 200

[musings-from-mars]

More sugar rush striker au?

((I know this took forever to answer and I apology

If you don’t follow the sportball I am sorry for writing about soccer. If you do follow the sportball I am sorry for calling it soccer shfgjk))

~~~

There are a lot of cursed numbers in the world that evoke negative emotions. 13 is a common candidate, 666 if you’re particularly concerned about demons, 69 and 420 have their internet infamy. But for Nora, those could not possibly compare to the pure, distilled wrath she felt in her heart for a particular sequence of numbers that had been parroted by Coach Ozpin all practice:

5-4-1.

So, she could understand it a little bit. The current varsity team was basically overflowing with defenders, though none of them were particularly good, so, yeah, put an extra center-back out there. But...one forward? Just one?

For context, in seasons past, the Beacon High School Varsity Soccer Team would field a good ol’ 4-4-2: four defenders, four midfielders, and two forwards. For the previous two years, those two forwards had been Nora, and her teammate Ruby Rose. They got along just fine, not too concerned about one another since neither of them were ever in any danger of losing their status as starters. No one at Beacon was as fast or as skilled as them with the ball at their feet, and if Nora had to guess, 9 out of every 10 goals the team ever scored were either hers or Ruby’s. They did not exactly get along with each other, but if they were getting playing time and opportunities to score, they could be tolerant of one another.

But now, with this ingenious new formation Oz was implementing, that meant only one of them could start, while the other would spend most of the match sitting on the bench with the other substitutes. The thought of having to do that made Nora’s blood boil, and so there was only one option—outdo Ruby in every way imaginable. Stay late after practice, practice twice as much on the weekends, and get in Oz’s ear about making her the starter every week.

But she knew Ruby would be doing the same. If she knew anything about her, it was how determined she was to be the best. And yes, that meant being better than Nora. Especially better than Nora.

She was fine with that, of course. That would only motivate her even more.

“If we scored a goal, I scored it. If I didn’t score it, I assisted it. If I didn’t assist it, we never scored in the first place.”

Nora really wasn’t surprised to see Ruby here too. Of course she was going to start training after school twice as often, just like she was. Once Nora returned from refilling her water bottle at the water fountain down the hall, she reentered the locker room to see Ruby still in her practice attire. She wore a dark red shirt and white shorts, red socks over shinguards and bright red boots. Her medium length black-and-red hair was held back by a thin headband. She passed by Nora, leaving the locker room just as she was entering. She exchanged a look with her, but said nothing. The tension was so thick Nora could practically feel it lingering in the air around her. Fair enough, she thought. They didn’t need to talk to know what was going on—they were teammates, sure, but now they were rivals, two star players fighting for one starting spot.

It was an overcast and cool afternoon, and it would probably rain soon. Nora had no intentions of letting that stop her, though. They don’t call off matches for rain, so why should she call off practice? She was working on set pieces, setting up the yellow metal free kick dummies side-by-side to serve as a wall of defenders. Her and Ruby often split free kicking duties whenever a foul was called during games. It was a perfect starting point for trying to outdo her.

After she got the dummies set up, she looked across he field to the other end. She saw Ruby doing a dribbling course, orange cones strewn about. She moved so quick and precisely, and the ball followed her like it was magnetically attracted to her feet. She turned corners, doubled back, turned toward her goal and struck the ball. It bounced off the crossbar and rocketed up into the air. Ruby watched it reach it’s apex, and as it fell back down toward her, she leapt up, twisted herself in the air, and swung her upper body sideways, striking the ball with her forehead. Right into the inner side netting of the goal. A goalkeeper would’ve been helpless to save such a perfect header.

Ruby landed, and stood with her hands on her hips, as if admiring her work. Then she turned and looked over her shoulder towards Nora.

Nora realized then that she’d been staring for a while, and she looked away quickly, trying to act natural as she paced away from her own goal to practice her free kicks. Her face burned despite the cool faint mist that had begun to blow through the air as the storm clouds drew closer.

Nora thought back to when she was a kid, how she’d watch pro soccer on TV no matter who was playing. She could remember always picking out a player and watching them the entire match. Even if they were nowhere near the ball, if they were on screen, Nora watched them, studied the way they’d pick and choose their positioning, their pace, their runs. One day, she watched a women’s club match. She couldn’t remember anything about it, who the teams were or how significant the match was, except for the way the match ended. It was in the 90th minute, score tied at 2 all, and the player she’d been watching the entire time stood in the penalty box as a teammate took a corner kick, sent the ball her way, and she seemed to soar through the air like a superhero, literally head-and-shoulders above everyone else near her. She headed the ball with such force and accuracy that it shot into the upper corner of the goal. The goalkeeper didn’t even move, because the goal was practically scored the moment the star striker touched it.

To this day, Nora didn’t know who that player was. She had been seven years old at the time and didn’t get the chance to catch her name. But even all this time later, that one goal inspired her. Of the thousands of goals pro players score around the world every year, that single one was the reason why Nora was here on this pitch today. For that reason, she simply started calling it The Goal. It was that important to her.

And as she lined up to take her first practice free kick, she froze. She looked back over towards Ruby, who had resumed her dribbling drills.

When Ruby had headed the ball just now, it looked eerily similar to The Goal. Nora remembered, the woman who’d scored The Goal had black hair, her shirt was red. Nora was certain that she even wore a thin headband like Ruby’s.

Ruby had unknowingly recreated the singular formative moment of Nora’s football fanaticism, practically alone on a high school field. Like it was nothing. For no one to see…but her.

Nora hated this feeling, and she knew it all too well. Who was she kidding? Ruby had always been better, she’d always been the ace. And Nora knew this, because how could she be better than someone that she couldn’t help but look up to?

She shook her head and gritted herself, feebly trying to focus back on her training. She approached the ball set in front of her and struck it.

It bounced off a yellow dummy’s chest and rolled right back to her feet.

“…Fuck.”

~~~

Introducing the Sugar Rush Striker AU

[peppermintquartz]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love <3

5. Red Mist / Black Moon (Shadowhunters - this is a paired work)

4. Over All Things (Bleach)

3. Finn's Playroom (pro wrestling)

2. Bread & Music (Hannibal)

1. The Kaedin Secret (my own novel - currently working on the sequel)

[lukeyshooty]

Pop-punk style shoots are the best. _____ Pentax 6x7 55mm f/4 + 105mm f/2.4 Black Pro Mist 1/2 _____

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Protective Baku, Soft Baku, Stargazing

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Minor content warning for (discussions of) self-esteem issues. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

“Bakugou.”

With an absent hum, Bakugou turns the page, squints, scribbles down a line in his neat, tight handwriting. A piece of black fabric separates his hand from the paper, the same wrapped around his pen, too.

Kirishima leans forward, over his own book-and-notepad combination dotted with scrawled comments and colorful post-it notes. It’s been an hour since any of it has made sense to him.

“Bakuuu. C’mon.”

A sigh, annoyed. Another line is added. Then: “The fuck d’you want?”

It takes a few seconds until the silence has stretched enough for Bakugou to look up and into Kirishima’s pleading eyes. Bakugou’s expression barely changes beyond a raised brow, unimpressed. It’s the one reserved for when Kirishima’s being especially dense – slightly more severe than muttered curses and slightly less so than that God-help-me roll of his eyes he premiered during their last study session.

Which was yesterday. Kirishima would be proud of unlocking a new Angry Bakugou Face in record time… if U.A.’s grumpiest genius wasn’t the only thing standing between him and a frankly impressive row of failed grades.

Final’s Week is brutal, even for heroes-in-training. Especially for heroes-in-training. So: Desperate times, desperate measures.

“Slap me”, Kirishima tells Bakugou, hushed in their corner of the library. “As hard as you possibly can.”

The arch of Bakugou’s brow climbs higher, utterly devastating in its wordless criticism. He says, “What”, tone Aizawa-levels of flat, and it’s not a question. It’s a command: Explain or else.

Kirishima is in no state to resist. The confession bubbles out of him in a whiny rush.

“Dude, I slept like… zero hours last night ‘cause Kami got Pokémon Colosseum – y’know, the reboot? So cool – and we kinda lost track of time. I know, I know, it was a stupid idea, I swear it was an honest mistake!”

Bakugou continues to stare as he puts down his pen and wipes his palms on the edge of his shirt. Kirishima ducks his head, hiding behind the limp strands of his hair.

“Don’t look at me like that, man. I’m seriously about two minutes from passing out here and there’s like a hundred pages of this thing I haven’t read yet, let alone understood, and oh shit Mic will hand me my ass with words tomorr–”

It all happens so quickly: Kirishima catches a blur of motion headed his way and squeaks; his skin hardens about half-way before there’s sparks and his cheek smarts, and a hissed “Motherfucker” sounds right in front of him.

The sharp slap! noise registers only after the fact, when Kirishima holds his face and Bakugou holds his hand and they both stare at each other in mutual bafflement as their skin turns red with the impact.

That moment is like glue, clear and sticky as it extends past its natural limit – then Bakugou snorts and starts to laugh, a cackling hyena-laugh that Kirishima’s never heard in full and certainly not like this, loud and unrestrained, and all hopes of holding back his own laughter is lost as he cracks up, too.

They laugh and laugh, until Kirishima’s stomach starts to cramp up and there’s the sheen of tears in Bakugou’s eyes. “Your f-fucking face”, Bakugou wheezes at some point. “Fucking bastard, you almost broke my hand! With your fucking face!”

All it does is send them into another round of hysterics.

At some point, Kirishima glimpses some of their classmates poke their head around the bookshelves secluding their study corner from the rest of the library, faces ranging from exasperated to deeply disturbed. There’s Ashido, giggling at the sight of both of them bent over and struggling to get some sort of grip, and Kaminari, who just mumbles “What the hell, guys” while straddling the line between sleep-deprived and intensely fascinated by what he’s seeing.

And hey, at least Kirishima’s really freaking awake now. There’s the problem of trying and failing to breathe without dying, his face helplessly flushed and sweating, but the world’s colors are back to being bright and sharp. Across from him, Bakugou isn’t faring much better, shaking his head and the back of his hand covering the broad smile he can’t seem to get rid of.

“Fuck you, you stupid, moronic idiot. For fuck’s sake, Kirishima.”

Kirishima rubs at his chest, the ache in his lungs starting to lessen now that he’s marginally back in control. “I’m so sorry but like”, he waves at himself and he can’t help his grin despite the stinging protest coming from his cheek. “Thanks, dude!”

“Eat a dick.” There’s no bite whatsoever in Bakugou’s grumbling as he sits back down and digs his nose into his book once more, thoroughly ignoring their flabbergasted audience.

After a moment of pantomiming what amounts to I’ll tell you later to their friends, Kirishima joins him, ready to tackle the final boss that is the English language.

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥 )

yo nitro (sent 17:48)

where u at? (sent 17:48)

-

why (received 17:52)

-

why what 🤔 (sent 17:53)

OH uh to hang out? (sent 17:55)

dw dude it’s just me (sent 17:55)

-

[location] (received 18:10)

-

bakugou katsuki what are you doing in the middle of the woods??? (sending…)

NO WAY (sending…)

signal’s gone AGAIN i’m going feral (sending…)

screw it (sending…)

*

The GPS signal craps out twice more before Kirishima heaves himself onto the edge of a cliff and spots a familiar silhouette. Sheltered by a bend in the rock bed, the glow of a fire illuminates a backpack set aside, a pair of discarded hiking boots – and Bakugou, leaning against solid stone with his arms crossed behind his head.

“Took ya long enough”, he says, the lazy smirk on his lips cut in flickering shadows.

“Listen.” Kirishima wipes beads of perspiration off his temple; a spontaneous rock-climbing session by the last light of day is not what he had hoped for after hours of exhaustive quirk training. “We already have a perfectly good camp. There’s, like, leftover curry and hot springs and stuff down there.”

Bakugou scoffs. “Yeah. And a bunch of extras.”

There’s an exasperated reply on his tongue – They’re called classmates, genius. Y’know, friends? – but Kirishima knows it’s pointless to even start that debate. He snipes him with his sweaty headband instead, celebrating his own marksmanship when it hits Bakugou square in the chest with a wet thwap.

“Wha– Shitty Hair!”

“You made me climb this stupid cliff in the middle of the night. Deal with it.”

Bakugou just throws it back, the force of an explosion propelling the thing past Kirishima’s shoulder and off the mountain entirely. Kirishima watches singed white fabric disappear into the abyss, bidding it goodbye with a somber salute.

“Well, that’s lame.”

“You’re lame, fuckface.”

“Bro.”

Shaking his head, Kirishima laughs and joins him by the fire.

It’s quiet for a bit while he gets comfy and Bakugou throws a chunk of wood into the flames, sparks bursting into life immediately. This far up, the air feels… brittle, in a way, thin and cold enough Kirishima wouldn’t have been surprised to see his breath mist. The breeze ruffles the crowns of the trees around them, the rush of rustling leaves in the distance strangely soothing.

Bakugou’s gaze is lost in the night sky when he starts to speak. “Been thinking of borrowing my parents’ car and driving out here by myself. Y’know, once I got my license and shit. ‘s got some good trails, people were talking ‘bout it on those shitty hiking forums. Forums, like we’re in the fucking 2000s.”

His elbows on his knees and his head propped on his hands, Kirishima hums and looks up as well. The moon is a thin island of white in an ocean of indigo blue growing steadily darker, a myriad of stars coming out to keep her company. “Yeah?”

“Mh”, Bakugou makes around a soft breath. “Guess they’re all shit out of luck though ‘cause it’s the personal playground of pro heroes, apparently. It’s a miracle none of our idiots got fucking lost coming out here.”

‘Our idiots’, huh? Kirishima nudges his chin lower and into his palms to hide his smile. “Kinda far of a trip to make just for some hiking, isn’t it?”

A casual shrug, followed by a nod upwards. “Not for this. The lodge is the only structure for miles in any direction and even with us here, it’s got fuck all on an entire city. Get it?”

“Yeah! No light pollution, right?”

“Yup”, Bakugou confirms, popping the ‘p’. A small grin is shot Kirishima’s way, teasing rather than mocking. “What’s this, huh? Don’t tell me you paid attention in fucking physics after all.”

Kirishima breathes an offended huff, mock-hurt.

“Pshh, please. Y’know how everyone has that one niche thing they randomly obsessed over as a kid? That was me with astronomy. Back in Middle School I had like, a huge model of all the planets in my room and my favorite constellations mapped across the ceiling with those glow-in-the-dark stars. Years of useless knowledge, all stored right here.”

Kirishima’s thumb taps his forehead as he smiles at Bakugou; Bakugou’s lips pull into a smile of his own, small but there. When he turns back to the stars, Kirishima does the same, sighing wistfully.

“If Thirteen’s class were just about that I’d freaking ace it, dude. I get that I’m kinda dumb with literally anything else, but space is my jam. Did you know that–”

“You’re not.”

The train of thought Kirishima was about to gleefully jump onto screeches to a halt. “…huh?”

Bakugou frowns at him. “You’re not”, a vague wave in his general direction, “stupid or whatever.”

Perhaps the dumbfounded blinking Kirishima’s doing in response is already enough to prove Bakugou wrong on that. Still, Kirishima sits up a bit straighter, eyebrows pulling together tightly.

“Um. I appreciate you saying that, bro, but I’m only here ‘cause Aizawa decided to get in touch with his merciful side after all. Like, Cementoss totally wiped the floor with me back home. There’s no point in lying to myself about that.”

“So you’re calling me a fucking liar, is that it?”

“Huh?”

Kirishima can only watch as Bakugou’s mouth twists beyond the usual doom and gloom and into something… frustrated. Genuinely annoyed. An iron weight settles in Kirishima’s gut, heavy and hard to ignore. “I didn’t– Look, man, can we not fight over this? I’m just saying I wanna face my mistakes and do better, that’s all.”

“Then say it!”

There’s a severity to the words that catches Kirishima off guard. Bakugou is staring him down with eyes so intense they possess their own gravitational pull, closer to black than crimson in the fire’s light–

Kirishima likes to think he knows Bakugou, at least a little. What makes him tick, what makes him angry – because there is a reason and a rhyme to his anger, a pattern to the things that set him off that Kirishima has yet to properly figure out. It’s just that Kirishima isn’t usually one of those things, not anymore.

“You lost me, Baku”, he admits, quietly, after a beat or two of tense silence. “What do you mean?”

Bakugou sighs, a harsh noise between them. The deep breath afterwards is new, however, a sharp inhale followed by a calmer exhale before Bakugou points at him, a wordless listen up.

“Just– Okay. You fucked up and wanna learn from it? Cool, fucking say that then. Not some bullshit about being too dumb to do shit ‘cause you’re not. Fuck right off with that.”

Mouth opening, Kirishima is stopped by a flurry of firecracker sparks and a terse growl of “Shut the hell up, I’m not done.” Finally, Bakugou’s look snaps elsewhere, one sock-clad foot kicking at a loose rock in clear irritation.

“Studying isn’t your strength, who gives a fuck? You got into U.A. top-fucking-two, you’re one of the only capable fuckers around and if you seriously think you don’t deserve to be here because Cementoss got lucky one fucking time then you got another thing coming.”

Kirishima sits there in a state of mild shock until Bakugou huffs and glares at him again. The threat behind it is ridiculously empty considering the impromptu speech he just gave and holy shit, Bakugou Katsuki is praising him. Kirishima Eijirou.

He might actually cry.

“What? You’re competition, bitch, so don’t make me a fucking liar by pretending otherwise.”

Scratch that, tears are definitely part of the picture now.

Wet-rimmed eyes and a quiet sniff, that’s as far as Kirishima gets before Bakugou’s expression suddenly falls, crestfallen to an almost comical degree. Kirishima does laugh then, a watery little chuckle that doesn’t seem to make things much better, either.

“Sorry, just… Damn Nitro, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. You really think so?”

And okay, yup, that’s a real glare, this time. Bakugou throws up his hands. “You’re so– Urgh. Did I fucking stutter?”

Kirishima rubs the moisture out of his eyes and smiles. “Nope.” Faint embarrassment heats his cheeks; he focuses on the warmth curling in his chest instead, glowing bright and comforting like the embers at their feet and the stars above.

“Good”, Bakugou mutters.

More wood is tossed into the fire and rekindled with red-hot palms. Scooting closer, Kirishima holds out his hands and hums happily as it chases away the ever-cooling temperatures. They can’t stay up here forever – Aizawa will have his hide for sure if he doesn’t show up to the remedial course tonight – yet Kirishima figures they have a few more minutes.

Bakugou goes right back to his earlier sprawl, unaffected by the cold: arms crossed, eyes on the sky like he can’t get enough of the sight. Kirishima thinks of glow-in-the-dark stickers, faded over time. Quietly, he wonders which constellation is Bakugou’s favorite.

“Kiri.”

“Hm? Yeah?”

Shoulders relaxed, voice even, Bakugou says: “Tell me something. About space, I mean.”

As complicated as being friends with Bakugou can get, it can be so, so easy, too. Just a while longer, Kirishima decides as he settles in next to his best friend and starts talking.

>>Chapter 4

[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Final Match” || YEAR 3 – Ch.32 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

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Day posted: 12/1/2020

Word count: 4, 201

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

 Hello! Sorry I didn’t post for a few weeks! I needed to take a break and deal with some mental health stuff but I feel much better :D I hope everyone’s been ok! Also I will be going back to the normal twice a week schedule so yay :D enjoy the chapter!

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~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Easter break had been the most tiring holiday Heather had ever experienced. Practice twice a day, essay after essay, having to pay attention to Ron and Harry and not seem exhausted by their presence, and even help Neville avoid a nervous collapse. As absolutely worn out as Heather felt, it was nothing compared to Hermione.

Mid break she had stopped responding to them all together, focusing only on her essays and studying. She was so off her usual self she didn’t even want them wandering around the library when they needed to look up books. ‘I need to stretch my legs anyways,’ she claimed and would go fetch whatever book they needed so long as they stayed put.

Hermione was so stressed she was constantly on the verge of tears, especially after coming back empty handed, unable to find the book Ron wanted.

“It’s alright, Hermione, Really.” Ron looked around uncomfortably. “I’ll just… read Harry’s book upside down. I’ve gotten good after three years of potions exams.”

While Hermione studied and during any time either Harry or Heather was at Quidditch practice, Ron read and gathered as much as he could for Buckbeak’s appeal. He took out books like ‘Fowl or Foul? A Study on Hippogriff Brutality’ and ‘The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology’ and was so engrossed in it that Heather wondered why he didn’t put that much energy and effort into their normal essays. Ron seemed as hardworking as Hermione in those instances, except he was much more willing to call it quits when he’d had enough.

By the end of the Holidays, several of the Slytherins had done exactly what Marcus had told them to do and gone out and earned points any ways they could. Slytherin was ahead of Gryffindor for the House Cup by two-hundred points. Now if Gryffindor won the match, they’d either tie bare minimum or would have to work as hard as possible to earn over fifty points to beat Slytherin in the House Cup.

The Quidditch Cup however, was much more difficult. Marcus had sat the whole team down in the locker rooms and explained how tricky this match would be with Harry’s advantage. If no one scored any points at all and Harry caught the snitch within seconds, then Slytherin would lose the match but tie with Gryffindor and no one would earn the Quidditch Cup.

“So Bletchley, don’t let them score at ANY cost.” Marcus turned his intense eyes on Heather and Graham. “Potter, Montague. We’re plan b. By the end of the match we NEED to have scored at least one-hundred-and-fifty points to stay in the lead for House Cup. We’ll each aim for five scores each.”

Heather nodded and looked at Draco who was leaning against the lockers, sulking. All break long he’d tasked Crabbe and Goyle with getting into a fight with Harry but they hadn’t succeeded yet. Harry was constantly surrounded by his Quidditch team as often as possible ever since he’d told Wood what she had said.

“’Cept we won’t need that when I catch the Snitch.” Draco crossed his arms.

Marcus nodded. “Potter won’t be attempting to catch the Snitch until the Gryffindors have earned enough points if they’re smart. All you’ll have to do is catch it before he does – and I’ve no doubt he’ll do his best to stop you, though the Gryffindors aren’t the physical type so that’ll be easy.”

Draco kept his brows furrowed and glared at the nearest bench. There was more than just the Cups riding on this match. Heather knew Draco was still upset over the mud-throwing incident and Harry was even more furious with him after the fact of Buckbeak’s trial. Their rivalry was at its peak for the year, and it had even bled into her and Draco’s friendship.

It was weird to call it a friendship, considering she was supposed to hate him but there were the odd conversations with him that she enjoyed, and he never left her out like Pansy did, glad to talk to her about himself and how great his family is all the time. Now that he felt he was losing to Harry though, he could hardly look at her for very long without scowling at her. She was a Potter after all.

As the week went on, all Professors seemed to be assigning less and less homework on account of the match Saturday. It seemed like the whole school was anticipating the match and Slytherins and Gryffindors most of all. Scuffles broke out in the corridors, hexes and jinx were thrown during breakfast and lunch, and all the Gryffindors gathered around Harry constantly to keep him safe while all the Slytherins seemed to want to be tripping and elbowing him.

It was Friday night and Heather paced the dungeon corridors trying to keep her anxiety under control. She braided and re-braided her hair as she walked, holding her breath, counting to five, and letting it out. Five goals. That was all she needed to score. Just five. It seemed like a lot suddenly. All of Slytherin would be angry and Marcus would be furious if she didn’t do her part.

She headed back to the common room and sat on a cushion by the door and observed everyone talking about the match tomorrow. Marcus, Miles, and Graham were talking to a few girls and on the other side of the room Peregrine and Lucian were smacking hexed curtain puffs they’d ripped out. Draco was of course surrounded by his usual crowd by his favorite desk. Pansy was talking on and on to the group of third years but Draco just sat there, shaking his leg.

The common room door opened and she looked up to see it was Snape. He stepped inside and closed the door. He was searching the room and quickly spotted Marcus. “Flint.” His voice was low and yet everyone in the room seemed to recognize it immediately. Everyone hushed and turned to look at their Head of House. “I suggest you get your team to bed at once. I don’t intend on giving up the Quidditch Cup over a bunch of drowsy brats with no sense for time.” It seemed even Snape could sense how difficult the match would be.

Heather could smell the tangy scent of pickled tree oysters coming off his black trousers and the unmistakable smell of the penetratingly sweet base liquid used for almost all potions they brewed. She stayed seated in her spot as her team gathered their things and went into the dormitories. She wasn’t ready to go to bed with her anxious thoughts, and certainly not by Snape’s command.

She pulled her legs up to her chest and cursed to herself. Her movement had caught Snape’s attention out of the corner of his eyes. He glared down at her but she refused to look into his cold black eyes. She could feel her hair stand on end and finally gave in, standing up and marching to the girl’s dormitory, slamming the door hard before huffing and marching to her dorm.

She changed and fell back on her pillow, wishing she could have stayed downstairs and just ignored Snape. It would’ve been at least a small victory for her against him. Her eyelids began to close and she let them. If she were Harry, she’d just make potions incredibly annoying for him to get him back for bad mouthing her father. She could ask about the difference between Horn of Plenty and Trumpet of the Dead and whether they were less or more reactive than Black Chanterelle – which are of course all the same mushroom which would annoy him extra.

She fell asleep thinking about making her toad even more mossy on purpose next lesson instead of finally de-mossifying him and woke from a dream about replacing all of Snape’s Bladder Campions in jars with actual tiny bladders. Heather sat up and looked at the clock, seeing it was the perfect time to get up and shower before heading down for breakfast.

She got dressed in her Quidditch robes and headed out of the common room towards the Great Hall.

“Heather!”

Heather turned around and searched for Harry as he whispered her name again. She spotted his red robes hiding behind a column and walked down to him.

“Harry? What is it?”

He crossed his arms and bit his finger. He shook his head and sighed. “Alright. I know it’ll sound crazy… I think I saw Crookshanks walking with the Grim last night.”

Heather frowned.

“Listen!” Harry looked around and sighed again. “I woke up from a nightmare about the match and got up to get some water and I looked out the window and saw Crookshanks followed by the Grim and he was leading the Grim around the side of the castle!”

Heather tilted her head. “So… Hermione’s cat is friends with your Grim? Harry, the Grim isn’t an actual animal. It’s a sign. I saw the Grim in the clouds and Professor Trelawney sees it in leaves and mist and floating dust clumps… Are you sure you really saw it?”

Harry rubbed his neck and shook his head. “I tried getting Ron to see it too but he fell back asleep too fast.”

Heather placed her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s just the match nerves. Or maybe you know deep down Slytherin’s going to win,” she teased.

“You wish.” Harry smiled and pushed away from the wall, stepping out from the column. “Maybe it was just a dog or something from Hogsmeade.”

Wood came out from the Great Hall and called Harry down to him.

“Good luck,” Harry said and quickly punched her arm before jogging over to Wood.

Harry entered the Great Hall to enormous applause, leaving her standing alone in the empty Entrance Hall. She really hoped she was right about it not being the Grim. She took a deep breath and entered after him.

She could see three out of the four tables were wearing as much red as possible. Hufflepuffs had on red hats and small twirling red signs while Ravenclaws held scarfs in their hands ready to swing in the air. Gryffindors were all wearing red shirts, red sweaters, red trousers, red socks, and red hair clips – it was a sea of red that looked to bleed onto the other tables.

She sat at the center of her Slytherin table with the team and picked up some toast and a few small links of sausage. Was she hungry? Was she starving? It felt like the butterflies in her stomach turned to rocks every so often. It was the hardest meal she’d ever had, having to watch the stone cold face of her captain as he glared at the rest of the school behind her, and even Draco looked sickly pale next to him.

Heather kicked Draco under the table making him jump. “We’re going to win and you’re going to catch the Snitch, alright? Harry’s not even going to try until they earn enough points and Bletchley won’t let them score any. You’ll have enough time.”

Draco nodded and took a bite of his toast, getting jam on the corners of his mouth. “I’m catching the Snitch first thing.” He nodded again as if cementing the idea in his head.

Heather relaxed a bit after some color returned to Draco’s face. The cheering had gotten too loud to ignore now and Pansy started cheering for the team, looking around at others and glaring at them until they joined in with her. Soon the Slytherin tables were thumping their fists on the table, filling the air with bangs and the slight clatter of metal forks bouncing off glass plates. It did a good job of drowning out the cheers for Gryffindor.

It was time for both teams to head out and Heather stood with her team and walked down, high fiving every stuck out hand from the Slytherin tables. She looked left and saw the Gryffindors were doing the same. Harry was walking down the other side of the Gryffindor table closest to the Ravenclaws when he stopped momentarily next to the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, and went red. As they left the Great Hall Heather tried catching Harry’s eyes but it was no use, Wood was talking his ear off.

Heather grabbed her broom with Draco and they both entered the locker rooms, ready for whatever talk Marcus had in store for them.

Marcus paced the small space between the walls and stopped as they joined the rest of the team. “Win,” he said firmly. “Just win. By any means.”

“And just like that our nerves are gone,” Miles scoffed.

Marcus pulled him up by the collar and shook him. “What nerves? We’re Slytherins. We’ve been winning the Quidditch Cup for almost a decade. And no Potter will ruin that.”

Heather swallowed, feeling like he was also kind of talking about her.

Draco lifted his broom handle towards the team and yelled “No Potter can ruin that!”

The team smacked their broom handles against Draco’s and Heather had no choice but to join. She supposed she could consider this motivational somehow?

Marcus led them out onto the field where they took their spots. The whole school was cheering and making noise on the stands and although there were waves and waves of red, the Slytherins did their best to cover as much space with deep green and bright silver. In the front row behind the Slytherin goal post sat Snape wearing green like everyone else around him. He had on a grim smile and looked to Professor McGonagall who laughed and gestured to the stands of students waving ‘LIONS FOR THE CUP’ and ‘GO GRYFFINDOR’ flags.

“ON THE GRYFFINDOR TEAM,” Lee Jordan started his commentating, “WE HAVE POTTER, BELL, JOHNSON, SPINNET, WEASLEY, WEASLEY, AND WOOD – THE BEST TEAM CAPTAIN ON THE BEST HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH TEAM WE’VE SEEN IN A GOOD FEW YEARS – ”

His comments were drowned out by ‘boos’ from the Slytherins sitting not too far from him.

“AND ON THE SLYTHERIN TEAM IS CAPTAIN FLINT AND IT SEEMS HIS MAIN STRATEGY THIS YEAR WAS MAKING SURE THERE WAS MORE SIZE THAN SKILL ON THE TEAM – ”

Even Heather booed with the Slytherins at that. She and Draco were the smallest on the team for certain, but at least Graham and Miles had some skill too, even if they were enormous. Marcus, Lucian, and Peregrine however, they could do with less aggressive plays.

“BY SIZE THERE IS ALSO MONTAGUE, BOLE, DERRICK, BLETCHLEY, POTTER, AND MALFOY.”

Heather looked over at Draco to see him close his mouth and hide his look of shock. He glanced at her briefly and scowled, making her hold in a laugh.

The morning was fairly bright and there were no winds at all, making it perfect conditions for an intense final match. The Gryffindors mirrored their positions on the other side of the half-line and she gave Harry a tiny thumbs up which he matched for a split second. Madam Hooch came out with the ball-chest under her arm and set it down, ready to unlock on her whistle.

Heather gripped her broom hard, feeling her palms already sweaty and kicked off hard at the loud shrill of the whistle blow. Fourteen brooms rose in the air and darted into positions as Marcus and Wood fought for the Quaffle.

“GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION – QUAFFLE TAKEN BY SPINNET HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE SLYTHERIN GOALPOSTS – LOOKING GOOD ALICIA! ARGH! NO – QUAFFLE INTERCEPTED BY MONTAGUE AS HE TEARS UP THE FIELD AND – WHAM! GOOD ARM THERE GEORGE. QUAFFLE CAUGHT BY JOHNSON AS SHE TAKES IT ALL THE WAY BACK – SWERVES AROUND POTTER – DUCK! OHH – OH! SHE SCORES!”

The Gryffindor fans filled the field with whistles and cheers as they waved red flags and scarfs in the air. Miles avoided looking towards Marcus but Heather gave him a thumbs up, he nodded his head as the Quaffle was recovered.

Heather gasped as Marcus smashed into Angelina Johnson, nearly knocking her off her broom.

“Didn’t see her!” Marcus yelled to the booing crowd of scarlet below. “Sorry!”

Heather rolled her eyes at him and gasped again as Fred’s Beater’s club flew through the air and smacked Marcus on the back of his head, making him smash his nose on his broom handle causing a nose bleed.

Madam Hooch flew up between them and blew her whistle. “Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to THEIR Chaser!” Before they could argue Madam Hooch blew her whistle again and Johnson flew forward to take penalty, eyeing Marcus with immense loathing.

“JOHNSON TAKES THE SHOT AND – SCORE! SHE’S BEATEN THE KEEPER YET AGAIN. TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR, FIRST TWO POINTS MADE BY ANGELINA JOHNSON.”

Marcus flew forward with the Quaffle under his arm and aimed at the Gryffindor goalposts where Wood sat ready on his broom.

“FLINT TAKES THE SHOT AND – WOOD’S SAVED IT! HE’S SAVED IT! THAT’S STILL TWENTY-ZERO WITH THE BEST HOGWARTS TEAM STILL IN THE LEAD!”

Heather groaned and felt the little butterflies in her stomach all drop dead and turn to boulders. The Gryffindors were much closer to getting the necessary points they needed to win both cups and allow for Harry to catch the Snitch. Draco flew by quickly, desperately searching for the Snitch as Harry trailed him meters behind – a distance afforded to him by the firebolt.

Heather nodded at Marcus and took her position again as the Quaffle was recovered and put back into play.

“GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION – NO – SLYTHERIN IN – NO BACK IN GRYFFINDOR POSSESSION AND ITS WITH BELL AS SHE STREAKS UP THE FIELD – THAT WAS DELIBERATE!”

Graham had swooped down and grabbed hold of Katie Bell’s head instead of the Quaffle, making her drop it in an attempt to dislodge her head from under his arm.

Madam Hooch flew back up and yelled at him before awarding Gryffindor another penalty which Katie gladly took.

“THIRTY-ZERO! THAT’S RIGHT, KEEP CHEATING YOU DIRTY – ”

“MR. JORDAN, IF YOU CAN’T COMMENTATE AS UNBIASED AS POSSIBLE – ”

“JUST SAYIN’ IT HOW IT IS PROFESSOR – ”

While the game was stalled on Lee Jordan and Professor McGonagall’s arguments, Heather flew over to Marcus and Graham. “Drop the whole ‘win by any means’! We’re losing! Stick to the plays!”

Marcus glared at her but nodded. “We’ll take those points back. Stick to the plays.”

Graham nodded and they split up, taking their positions around Marcus like they normally did. The game was back on and as they wrestled with Gryffindor for the possession of the Quaffle, Heather spotted Derrick and Bole closing in on a speeding Harry just as he pulled up out of the way and they collided against each other.

“HA HA! SOMEONE GET DERRICK AND BOLE AN ICE PACK, THEY SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN WHY THE FIREBOLT’S THE BEST BROOM ON THE MARKET!”

Graham had barely grazed the Quaffle when Johnson intercepted.

“GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION – MONTAGUE FLYING ALONSIDE JOHNSON – MONTAGUE IN POSSESSION! OH NO FLYING TOWARDS THE GRYFFINDOR GOALPOSTS – BELL AND SPINNET CLOSING IN ON HIM! – FLINT IN POSSESSION NOW – NO STOP IT WOOD! – ARGH! SLYTHERIN SCORES.”

The Slytherins behind the Slytherin goalposts erupted with cheers. Lee Jordan swore and Professor McGonagall tried tugging the magical megaphone away.

“SORRY! WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN! – THIRTY-TEN, GRYFFINDOR STILL IN THE LEAD BUT SLYTHERIN HAS POSSESSION AGAIN – ”

The tide was turning now that they were more focused on plays and not cheating. Heather followed close beneath Flint and on cue caught his dropped Quaffle and scored the second points for Slytherin. Wood pounded on his handle and the Slytherins cheered again.

“THIRTY-TWENTY, COME ON GRYFFINDORS DON’T LET THEM CATCH UP!”

Four of five goals down, she just needed five goals total to reach her own goal. That was the plan. She zoomed forward and cut off Spinnet, sending her diving down to avoid collision, freeing up space for Marcus to throw to Graham. Graham shot forward with the Quaffle in hot pursuit by Bell and Johnson and just as he aimed to throw into the goalposts, Bell snatched it from his hand and made her way across the field. Gryffindor scored freely for the last time that match.

It was forty-twenty and now even Heather felt the same angry fire behind Marcus and Graham’s eyes. Marcus scored, and then Graham, and just after Heather had rammed into Johnson to stop her from cutting between Marcus’s throw, Heather caught the Quaffle and scored for Slytherin once again.

Forty-fifty and Slytherins were in the lead now. Bell was on Heather’s tail from then on as she shadowed Marcus to his right. A Bludger nearly knocked him off his broom but Graham saved it and scored again. Fred and George were now focusing their efforts on Marcus as Lucian and Peregrine aimed for them.

Heather looped on her broom to lose Bell momentarily to help pass the Quaffle to Graham again as Marcus dodged two Bludgers, and he scored again. On and on it went cleanly until the score was forty to one-hundred and Heather had scored her five goals. Then Lucian hit Alicia Spinnet with his club, stopping her from taking possession and George elbowed him in the face.

Madam Hooch gave each team a penalty shot and Miles finally blocked it. Wood didn’t let Marcus score. Bell attempted to score and while Fred and George were distracted trying to help block Graham and Heather from closing in on her, Peregrine and Lucian aimed the Bludgers at Wood, giving Gryffindor two more penalty shots. Miles saved one and the score became fifty to one-hundred. Wood climbed back over his broom and clutched his stomach.

Slytherin quickly took the points back. Heather scored twice more after Flint scored twice and Graham scored once.

“SLYTHERIN IS AT A HUNDRED POINT LEAD… WHERE’S THAT SNITCH!”

The game was dragging on and Harry and Draco were now searching the skies and ground for the Snitch. Draco kept on Harry’s tail as best he could as they circled the Quiditch pitch once, twice – Harry dashed forward and reached out for the golden speck twenty feet in front.

Draco sped after him, managing to cut the distance on a quick turn as the Snitch flew away from them. Harry had the Snitch inches from his fingers when Draco jumped forward and caught the tail of Harry’s broom in his hands, dragging him back.

Harry swung a fist at Draco’s face but couldn’t reach. Harry turned back and slowed, realizing the Snitch had disappeared from view.

“CHEATER! CHEATING! YOU FILTHY CHEATING SLYTHERIN – !” Lee was dancing out of McGonagall’s grasp.

“Penalty!” Madam Hooch yelled.

Spinnet took the shot and was blocked by Miles who was still laughing at Draco’s penalty. Heather felt her team was newly invigorated by Draco’s desperate ‘by any means’ tactics.

The game was back on and Johnson had the Quaffle. Heather and the other Chasers flew after her, closing in at once when Harry cut through them like a red bullet, making them all scatter to avoid falling off their brooms and allowing her to score.

“Harry!” Heather yelled and quickly noticed Draco across the field streaking up towards a tiny shiny speck.

Harry noticed and tore after Draco, closing the field-wide distance within seconds. Heather watched, frozen in place, as Draco closed in on the Snitch. Marcus took this chance to score once more as everyone’s attention was on the Seekers.

Draco’s fingers were stretched, arm fully extended as he leaned forward on his broom. His blond hair whipping back as he cut through the air.

Harry had reached Draco and was now urging his broom to go faster as he stretched out his arm towards the Snitch.

They were both inches away from it, closing in – Harry threw himself forward, knocking Draco’s arm out of the way and caught the Snitch in one cupped swoop of his hand.

“HARRY POTTER’S CAUGHT THE SNITCH! THAT’S TWO-HUNDRED POINTS TO ONE-HUNDRED-AND-SIXTY! GRYFFINDOR WINS!”

The crowd erupted with cheers and the field below filled with red and gold as everyone touched down. Heather walked up to Marcus who was fuming but surprisingly remained calm. He clenched his fist and looked at all of them as they gathered around him quietly.

“We won the cup. That’s all that matters. They needed at least a fifty-point lead before Potter caught the Snitch.” Marcus looked at Draco and nodded. “Good try, Malfoy.”

Draco looked like he could murder anyone who looked at him the wrong way. He nodded and headed towards the broom shed, shoving and pushing any and all Gryffindors in his way.

The Gryffindor crowd was lifting Harry on their shoulders, satisfied with the win and victory over Slytherins and Draco. Heather trailed behind the crowd not wanting to bump into Ron or Hermione. Although the cup was still and would remain in the safety of Snape’s office, the loss against Gryffindor was felt among all Slytherins.

Draco almost had it, inches away, seconds away, but was doomed to lose against Harry’s firebolt.

Was everyone doomed to lose against Harry?

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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