Okay, I’m hoping for some big battle against the Court of Owls at the end of the season that everyone gets involved in
And it’ll mean Eddie and Ozzie calling a temporary truce to their personal antagonism in order to survive the onslaught of Court assassins being sent after them (or whatever)
Then, during an ‘eye of the storm’ moment when they are hiding and unsure of their survival, they should take the time for a bit of emotional honesty. Which will be all serious and stuff - Eddie confessing he is glad Oswald survived and he is sorry he tried to kill him and Ozzie was right about them needing each other and stuff. And Ozzie would confess he still loves Ed and all that jazz
But MOST IMPORTANTLY it would include something like -
OSWALD [soft, genuine]: I’m sorry I killed Isabella.
So i’ve been pretty against letting dogs sleep in the bed, really didn’t like the idea of it, didn’t want the fuss, the movements, the butt licking, the pointy elbows, the cold nose in my face and the reduced amount of stretching-out-space for like…my entire life
Virgil sighed, glaring at Roman who stood a few metres away, adjusting his headphones then scowling down at his phone screen. The royal boy was being a self-absorbed pain in the neck again. They were both in the ‘lounge’ of the mind, a room between their own rooms, a room where they could just hang out and do nothing without being affected in any way. Anxiety didn’t feel like going back to his dark, gloomy room right now, but now that Prince was here as well he was starting to reconsider.
Roman had his back to Virgil, and had conjured up a straw dummy, who he was attacking with his sword. The hay fell out of the dummy every time the gleaming blade split the seams of its material, but it was immediately swept out of existence by Prince. The sword clacked against the wood holding up the dummy, the material teared with ripping sounds that grated on Virgil’s ears, and Roman was letting out victorious exclamations every time he managed to break the dummy a bit more. His entire presence was annoying, the darkly dressed trait just wanted him to leave already. But he knew from experience that Princey wouldn’t just leave if Anxiety asked, demanded, or bargained with him. He was stubborn like that, and it was frustrating, but Virgil still hadn’t found a way to make the royal boy go away. So he resorted to being petty.
“Oi, go away idiot,” he grumbled, briefly catching Roman’s attention.
“Uh, yeah, no,” Prince said flippantly, and resumed attacking the dummy. Anxiety sighed in annoyance, and when Roman’s back was turned he looked around an object small enough to throw but big enough to be annoying. Virgil’s eyes lit up and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small can of mints and taking one out. He aimed and threw it at Prince’s head, smirking.
The sword was a blur.
Anxiety registered Roman’s eyes flickering towards him, the arm reaching out through the air lightning fast and the whistle as the blade cut through the air. Both Virgil and Prince’s eyes widened in shock as they realised what had happened.
Roman blinked at Anxiety, then frowned down at the two perfect halves of the mint lying on the floor. “Did you… did you just throw a mint at me?” He questioned.
“Did you just cut it in half?” Virgil shot back incredulously. Prince slowly nodded.
“I did.” His expression began to turn to one of pride, which Anxiety couldn’t stand.
“Ok, luck?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at the dramatic trait.
“Nope. Skill.” Roman preened.
“Uh huh, right. If it was skill then do it again.” Virgil challenged. Prince held his sword up.
“Alright, hit me!” He smirked, and Anxiety pelted another mint at him. Roman swung his sword… and completely missed. The mint sailed past him, and he pouted.
“Wow, what remarkable skills you have, Princey.” Virgil said drily, returning his attention to his phone.
“But I cut the first mint clean out of the air! I do have skills! You obviously rigged it somehow.” Roman sniffed, and hacked at the dummy with extra vigour. An idea, or rather theory, trickled into Anxiety’s head. He once again looked around for the closest object, and found Prince’s hairbrush lying on the arm of the couch. He grabbed it and aimed, letting it fly through the air.
A split second before the brush hit Roman, Virgil saw the royal boy tense up, and then he was spinning again and the metal of the word was flashing. A crack resounded through the room, and a second later Prince wailed in horror.
“No! You villain, how could you?!” He screamed, dropping to his knees. The darker trait sat up straighter in alarm at the yell. He watched Roman cradle the two pieces of the hairbrush in his hands, and rolled his eyes, slouching down again. Prince held the two pieces together and fixed them in a second, glowering at Anxiety the whole time. “I cannot believe you just made me slice my brush in half, Mr Emo to the Extremo! I-”
“Emo to the extremo? Really?” Anxiety rolled his eyes again, cutting Prince off, who huffed. “Anyway, nice reflexes Princey, looks like its all instinct.” Roman squinted at him suspiciously, but shrugged it off and returned to the dummy, forgetting about his hairbrush now that it was fixed.
But now Anxiety was having fun, and he had one more thing he needed to test. He waited a few minutes, until Prince was completely absorbed in destroying his enemy, before grabbing on of the pillows next to him and clutching it tightly
“Hey, Roman!” He called. Prince turned around and looked over at him. “Catch!” Virgil told him, flinging the pillow through the air as hard as he could. Roman’s eyes widened and he lifted his sword, but the pillow hit him in the face hard and he went down. Virgil’s eyes widened.
“Oh my god,” he said in surprise, staring down at where the royal boy lay on the floor. Anxiety stood up and walked forward until he was standing over Prince, a smirk forming. “Wow, you suck,” he chirped. Roman groaned and held his face, eyes shut. “I just floored you with a pillow, Roman,” He taunted. Prince groaned again, resolutely not looking at the figure looming above him, fingers prodding gently as his face like he was looking for bruises. Virgil snickered. “Yup, just as I thought. No skill whatsoever.”
Me before Pokemon GO:
Why do people get so worked up about sports teams? Whether your team wins or loses doesn't even affect you that much. I just don't understand how people can be so die hard about a set of colors, a logo, and some guys running around on a field...
Me after Pokemon GO, war paint on face, wearing a team color coordinated outfit, leader's face tattooed on arm: