#and when it escaped the game it was still trying to recreate the games by killing as an afton persona

[puhpandas]

this is probably yet another issue that boils down to SBs state but I think mimic would have felt 100% better if they focused on the layers of security it has. like, mimic is just a rusty ass robot and has somehow survived this long and people refuse to try and kill it and trap it instead but right now it just seems frustrating bc it's a frail old robot. but I think if they would actually focus on how like, mimic KNOWS how fragile and vulnerable it is by itself so it created all those layers of security in the pizzaplex and glamrocks and vanny and rab to protect itself but keep doing what it was doing. I think thatd be so much more interesting if they framed more plots as stripping away that security instead of just "nobody has killed this thing yet and all its victims refuse to kill it for seemingly no reason"

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢𝐢

𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

୨ৎ 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢

‧₊˚── Synopsis: A year of the baker by Sevika's side, but the baker still has no bite. This bodes questions from certain ill-intentioned alphas, and Sevika must decide if she's ready to answer them.

Word Count: 5.7k Content/Warnings: omegaverse! if it's not your thing don't read it; nsfw, top!sev, bottom!reader, soft dom!sev, reader is referred to w fem terms/pronouns, reader has female anatomy, sev has a dick, breeding kink, brat!reader if you squint, sub space if you squint, dom drop if you squint, blood, reader is harassed but nothing intense or explicit A/N: holy hell. note to self: do not write a fic you actually really like or you will drive yourself crazy trying to make it's sequel perfect. anyhow, here is said sequel after nearly two months! i'm so sorry this took so long, but i truly do love this series and care just as much about the character exploration as i do the smut, so i really hope the wait was worth it! thank you SO much for all of the love on pt. i, and as always, enjoy!

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

Sevika slides into the booth tucked in the bar’s back corner.

In a practiced manner, her eyes scan the room. Over her shoulder to the stairs leading up to her apartment. To the wrought iron door at the front of the room. Left to the bar, right to the bathrooms. 

She smirks in approval of The Last Drop’s Friday night debauchery, settling in like the foundations of a home well-loved. She reaches for the leather-bound cigar case you’d gifted her a few months back. She keeps the note that had accompanied it in her wallet; a folded piece of pink stationery scribbled in handwriting she’d learned so well after over a year of watching you furiously jot down recipes and grocery lists. “consider this a token of my gratitude and an apology for making you stay up until midnight to taste cupcakes… it most definitely will happen again. :) <3” 

Her cigar teeters in her mouth as a wicked grin spreads across her lips. “You boys are so screwed,” she mumbles, lighting the cigar as she glances down at the game of blackjack in progress. “Whatever,” one of her future opponents jeers, “we’re just warming up. Waiting for your ass.” She chuckles through her nose, relishes in the smooth burn of smoke escaping with it. 

“Yeah? Well, yours is about to get handed to you. Give ‘em here.”

Oxidised copper glints in neon green light as she reaches for the deck of cards to deal a new round, accompanied by the grumbles of her competition claiming she’s “just going to rig the game again.” 

She chortles again, blows a ring of smoke out of her mouth, inhales, and, The smell of honeysuckle. 

She turns back to face the stairs again, a nearly untraceable smile gracing her lips as she awaits your descent. A voice like honey to match as you round the corner, beaming when you finally catch sight of her. “She’s out like a light,” you declare, recalling the sight of the girl you'd just put to bed, all snuggled up and holding her favorite blanket as tight as she had been when Sevika found her. “She’s had a big day,” Sevika shrugs. 

It had been a big day for the now six-year-old, what with all of the birthday celebrations that had ensued. 

Just a few months ago, it dawned on Sevika that Isha had been around for over a year now, but that they’d never celebrated her birthday. It’s unbeknownst to most that tucked away beneath all of her brooding and brawn lies Sevika's firmly held belief that every birthday should be celebrated. She still tries to feign indifference to the occasion, but after a long night of experimenting with different buttercream frosting recipes and a few-too-many glasses of red wine, you’d learned that since her parents’ passing, Sevika always tries to do a little something to honor each of her years. She’d finish off a bottle of her father’s favorite whiskey in her darker days, or recreate her meal from her mother’s recipe book when things felt lighter. 

More than anything, her birthdays were a chance to pay homage to her parents. An acknowledgment that not everyone gets the privilege of another year; a promise that she isn’t wasting the time she’s been gifted. That she's using each and every year she gets to make them proud. 

This past year- and for the first time since she was 15- Sevika wasn’t alone for her birthday.

Instead, she pulls at the chain of the neon “Open” sign in your bakery’s window, switching it off as you lay eyes on your planner one last time. 

You tsk, shaking your head and grabbing a pen to jot something down on the color-coded calendar. “I have to get powdered sugar tomorrow,” you muse, “don’t let me forget.”

“10-4,” she replies, sauntering over to you with an amused grin as she watches you chew your bottom lip; something you always do when you’re focused. She leans down to mirror your position, placing her elbows on the counter and her chin in her palm. 

“Oh- and it’s Doris’s birthday on Sunday! I’ll swing by and drop something off for her… she really likes cinnamon rolls…”

You’re talking to yourself. Sevika still hangs onto every word. A smile stretches across her lips, slow and lazy. Her eyes follow your mindless ministrations; the way you twirl your pen with your dominant hand, the way the other taps rhythmically on the cool granite beneath it, the way you click the pen twice every few moments-

“When is your birthday?”

The question pulls her out of the trance she'd unwittingly fallen into. “Oh… uh…” She knows she’s about to get in trouble for not having told you. She also knows that following the trouble she’s about to get into, you’ll immediately make a fuss about making sure the day is properly celebrated, that she feels properly appreciated. The thought makes her heart ache. You already make her feel that way every day. She can’t stand to ask you for more. Alas, she knows better than to rob you of the opportunity to dote. She grabs your wrist- gentle and gingerly as always- and peers down at the watch face adorning it.

“Well, I was born at 7:02 p.m., so technically, it’s in… 42 minutes?” A bashful smile breaks out on her face, her hands coming up to cover it. 

“Sevika!”

Her name on your lips. She’ll take it any way she can get it, even if it means you’re scolding her because now, you don’t have time to make her favorite dessert. So, she lets you fuss, lets you sing her happy birthday and demand that she make a wish before she blows her candle out, and ends up crying over a slice of carrot cake because it’s been over 20 years since someone cared about this day as much as she does. It wasn’t long after that night that Sevika had her realization about Isha’s own birthday. She spent the next few weeks searching high and low for a certificate of Isha’s birth, or even just information on where she came from; who her parents were, where they lived, and if they might have had relatives who might know about Isha and when she was born. You never had the heart to tell her that she was setting out on a mission made nearly impossible by Zaun’s lack of record-keeping; partially because you figured Sevika could use any and all slivers of hope when and wherever she could get them, and partially because you figured that deep down, she already knew it was a lost cause. 

The two of you are folding laundry on a Sunday afternoon when she finally concedes that she may be out of luck. Her shoulders are slouched in defeat, and her lips are pursed in thought as she thumbs over the silk tag on Isha’s favorite blanket. I get why she does this, she thinks. It does feel nice. 

Her gaze falls down to the silk tag between her thumb and pointer finger, and suddenly, she sits up straight. 

Your anticipatory gaze is already on her when she speaks.

“She turns six next week.” 

Your brows knit together in confusion. 

“Are the prophetic visions new? Or…” Sevika doesn’t answer; just thrusts the blanket toward you, and lo and behold, there it is. Written in black ink on the butter-yellow baby blanket’s tag:

Isha

5-15-2019

The revelation unearths a side of Sevika you’ve never seen. By the time May 15th rolls around, her apartment is covered in confetti, balloons, and stuffed animals wearing party hats; all Sevika’s doing. But, naturally, a birthday party for Isha is nothing without a batch of her favorite blueberry muffins, and you’re more than happy to deliver. 

The recent memory of wiping sugared blueberries from the corners of the girl’s mouth pops into your head, and a warm smile appears on your face. 

“She sure did,” you agree with Sevika, placing a hand on her shoulder as you take your seat beside her. “I’m gonna get a drink in a second; do you-” Sevika’s eyes are still trained on her cards as she slides a vodka-cranberry over to you. “You take such good care of me,” you purr, and she glances over at you with a smirk and a cocked brow that says, ‘Careful.’

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know she gets off on taking care of you.

You innocently shrug your shoulders as you wrap your lips around the two tiny straws in your drink. She chuckles, as always, because, “you know those are for stirring, not for sipping, right?”

Tonight, she makes no comment, letting you sip through your too-small straws in peace in exchange for focusing on the cards in her mech hand and the grip the other has on your thigh.

The grip that tightens a few rounds later when the table’s sore loser is replaced by a newcomer. 

He’s a patron she’s yet to come across. An alpha she's yet to come across. It's unusual. Unexpected. Sevika isn’t fond of the unexpected.

She’s less fond of the way his eyes seem to be drinking you in, and the way you seem to stiffen underneath his ogling.

“Mind if I join?” he queries. 

She might have already slapped this man's cocky grin off of his face if you weren’t to her right, already noticing the clench of her jaw that he doesn’t yet know is a threat. 

You wrap your arm around hers, thumb rubbing circles into the taut muscle of her forearm. ‘It’s okay,’ your touch says. ‘Calm down. I’m okay.’

You read her so well that, sometimes, she thinks you might be telepathic. She relaxes under your wordless comforts so quickly that you think the same of her. 

All she offers the man is a grunt and a single nod toward the empty seat in front of him. Her eyes don’t leave him for a second as he sits. She’s determined to solve this man like her morning crossword, and you nearly mistake the soft whir of her prosthetic for the sound of wheels turning in her head. 

She shuffles the cards, deals two to each player at the table, lights a new cigar. She doesn’t take her eyes off of him once. She’ll kick herself when she finally does, because as soon as her icy gaze relents, he’s got questions, and they aren’t about the rules of the game. 

“She yours for the night?” He asks. He cocks his head toward you, but the inquiry is for Sevika; an inquiry that earns him a deep scowl. 

“She’s not a whore. Walk down the street and hang a left for that.” 

“You would know, huh?”

Strike one.

The look she gives him this time around is scarier. It isn’t one of annoyance, of being mildly agitated. It’s chiding. Stony. The look she gives Jinx and Isha when the answer is no, and you’d better not ask again. 

The man raises his hands in surrender, leans back in his chair with a lazy grin, and says he’s sorry, but you both know he’s happy to be making trouble.

“Just play the damn game, man,” another player bemoans. The rest of the table’s occupants are just here for whiskey and a card game, not to see Sevika beat the shit out of some random prick; and they all know the latter is exactly where this interaction is headed. 

Unfortunately, it seems that said prick wants to get the shit beat out of him more than everyone else wants their whiskey and a card game.

“She’s real pretty,” he drawls, looking down at his cards. 

“She’s not interested.”

Sevika notes a second strike, huffing out a laugh as dry as your words. 

“Mouthy, too, huh? Back in my day, they didn’t let whores talk this much.” Three strikes, and you’re out. Sevika leans back with an eerie calmness. The rest of the table has already begun rising from their seats. 

“Honey?” she purrs, pinching her cigar between two fingers and placing it on the ashtray at the center of the table, “You wanna go get us another round?” Sure, you’ll make yourself busy doing that, but that isn’t what she’s really asking you. 

What she really asks is: “Can I beat his ass yet?”

Your sweet hum of confirmation says, “Yes….” 

The kiss you place on her cheek before you head to the bar adds, “...And don’t go easy on him.”

You’re not even two feet away before you hear the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, his cries of protest as she grabs him by the collar of his leather jacket and drags him out to the dumpsters behind the building. 

“New guys,” the bartender sighs, shaking their head as they get to work on a vodka-cran and whiskey served neat. “They never know when to stop.” 

You’re already halfway through your drink when she returns, walking over to you. To the naked eye, she’s completely unassuming; you’d think she just went to take a piss. The splatter of blood on the collar of her shirt says otherwise, but it’s not like she’d let anyone but you get close enough to notice it. 

The blood stain isn’t what grabs your attention, though. Instead, it’s the look in her eye, the furrow of her brow, the small frown pulling down at her dark lips. 

Uncertainty. 

Sevika is never uncertain after a fight. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, your voice low and urgent. 

She clenches her jaw, shakes her head, exhales sharply through her nose. 

“Nothing. Just tired.”

Your eyes narrow. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night. I should probably stay at my place with the girls tonight. You know, make sure they get to Doris’s alright in the morning.”

You nod, letting her get away with thinking you take her words at face value, but the entire point of having Doris watch the kids was to spend time with each other; to be together, not apart. For all intents and purposes, Doris was like a mother to you, and for all intents and purposes, you’d become something like a mother to Jinx and Isha yourself, so Doris had offered to start keeping the girls every other weekend.“Let me watch the grandbabies,” she’d warmly insisted, “You two deserve the break every once in a while.”

That was the point. That the girls would go off to Doris’s for a few days, and you and Sevika would indulge in some much-needed alone time. But now, for the first time in over a year, Sevika’s asking to sleep alone. 

You let her. You know better than to push too hard when she’s closing up.��

But never, in her guardedness or uncertainty, does Sevika neglect to take care of you, and when she still insists on walking you home, a weak smile breaks out on your face. 

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

You let Sevika sulk for two days before you show up at her doorstep with a slice of carrot cake and a stern request for an explanation. 

You’re not ignorant of the drawbridge Sevika tends to raise when she feels powerless, but this is the longest you’ve ever waited for it to come back down, and you can’t help but worry that, maybe, you’ve done something wrong. 

Her face falls when you admit this, and she knows it’s time to let you back in. You sit across from each other at her small kitchen table, her eyes downcast, but her hand still stretching across the unstained wood to grasp your own. You rub slow, firm circles into the back of her hand, the motion steady and reassuring. Exactly what you are to her.

“You remember that asshole at the bar the other night?” “Unfortunately,” you deadpan. “You fucked his shit up, right?” She snorts, her lip curling up into a smirk. She doesn’t need to tell you that of course she did.

Her smirk falters. There it is again; uncertainty. 

“He just, uh… he said something that kind of got under my skin.”

He was already pinned up against the wall and his nose was already broken when he got these final words in:

“You fight like she belongs to you,” he'd jeered, “but I didn’t see a bite.”

To say this got under her skin was a massive understatement. It rocked her. So much so that she felt the ground underneath her feet quake, and the world she’d built around you fracture. 

She realized in that moment that she holds you the way she does, so gentle and gingerly, because she’s afraid she’ll drop you and you’ll shatter. That everything you have will crumble, that she’ll realize none of this is real;

Because he was right. You don’t have her bite. You aren’t really hers. 

“How so?” you ask, your voice so soft amidst the one she’d been chastising herself with for the past two days. 

She rubs her temples, mulling over your question with a deep sigh.  

“I don’t know… I mean, don’t you feel like we’re just playing house sometimes? I mean, don’t get me wrong, It’s not that I-” She interrupts herself with a huff, and you squeeze her calloused hand, encouraging her to continue.

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to be with you; to be around you, and for you to be around the girls… but I just… I don’t know.” She does know. She’s just terrified to say it.

You give her a knowing smile. 

But you don’t fill in the gaps; you don’t finish the sentence for her. 

You’re going to make her say it. 

And finally, she does. 

“I want more.”

Your hand freezes, but your grip remains firm. Your eyes are glued to her own.

You’re still here. You’re still steady, still constant, but you need her to be sure. 

“You want more?”

Her shoulders slouch as she sharply exhales, her brows knit together, and you swear you hear her whine. 

“I don’t want to play pretend anymore. I want you to be mine.” 

You nod, slow and knowing. A pregnant pause settles over the kitchen table until,

“Bite me, then.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but her pupils blow wide and her jaw ticks. 

“If you want me to be yours, make me yours.”

Her voice is damn near an octive lower when she speaks again. 

“And you know what you’re asking for?” “If I haven’t made it clear that I want a life with you, then I’m sorry for not being forward enough,” you chortle. “I want to be yours, Sevika. I want you. Now.”

She stands with a relieved chuckle. “Now?”

“Right now,” you repeat with a giggle, rising to meet her.  

“Right now? Right here? And ruin my handmade kitchen table?” 

She’s bending you over it anyway.

“You seem to have made up your mind already,” you challenge, pushing back against broad hips. She grabs at the flesh of your own, leaning down to place a kiss on your jaw before she mutters, 

“I’ve had my mind made up since the day we met, sugar.” Her hands smooth over the swell of your ass, kneading at the juction of your thighs just below it before sliding the soft fabric of the white sundress she’d bought you up to pool around your waist.

And then, she’s kneeling before you; like you’re her altar, and she’s come to leave an offering. 

She tugs your underwear down and tastes you like it’s worship. 

Her hands find purchase wrapped around your legs, and her tongue works through dewy petals in slow, purposeful strokes, lapping up the nectar pooling at your core. She swirls her tongue around your clit like the cubes of ice she’d put in her vodka-cran earlier. She hates vodka-crans, but she missed you more, and when she tries hard enough, she can convince herself she’s tasting the too-sweet cocktail on your mouth instead. 

But nothing makes her tispy quite like tasting you does, and she doesn’t stop until she’s drunk off of you. 

You cry out, high-pitched and broken, and she pulls her mouth off of you with a pop.

She stands up, turns you around, looks down at you with lidded eyes and glossy lips tugging up into a smirk. “Why’d you stop?” You pant, brows pulling together. 

“Missed your face,” and she’s so dizzy off of your pussy, she’s damn near slurring her words.

You scoff in amusement, pulling her in for a taste of your own arousal. “You’re such a lover boy,” you muse against her lips. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” she replies. 

“Is that right?” 

She quirks a curious brow at the sound of your wicked purring.

“And if I want you to be inside of me?”

Darkened eyes peer down at you with a new hunger. 

“What you say, goes, baby.”

She reaches down to tap the back of your thigh in a wordless command, and you wrap your legs around her waist. She buries her head in the crook of your neck, shamelessly inhaling the scent of honeysuckle and musk as she carries you to her bedroom and lays you out onto soft sheets and silk pillow cases. 

“They’re so much better for your hair,” you’d excitedly explained as you shoved them into the cart. 

“What you say, goes.”

She’d said it and meant it then, too. 

Your hands are tugging at her belt now. You pull her in, muttering something about how much you missed her, how badly you want her.

She yanks it off in one quick, fluid motion. You make even quicker work of unbuttoning her pants, sliding them off of broad hips and long legs, and throwing them toward the pile of clothes already discarded on the floor. 

When she sits back on her heels to take her shirt off, you do the same, reaching for the hem of your pretty white dress. 

“Uh-uh,” she suddenly chimes, “leave that on.”

You chuckle, leaning back on your elbows as you watch her strip her last layers of clothes off. 

She’s a bronze statue, sculpted by the Gods themselves, glimmering in the golden hour light spilling through her windows. Your jaw is slack, eyes heavy as you drink her in. They dart from feature to feature; the stray tendrils of thick, black hair falling around her strong jaw, the glittering scar spreading across her skin like lightning, the swell of her breasts and the cut of her waist, the dark trail of hair leading straight down to her length, hot and heavy, already weeping for you.

Your eyes snap up to meet her own, and when they do, she pounces.

Just as ready to ruin you as you are to be ruined.

You gasp into a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. She only pulls away to breathe, dazed eyes drinking in your features. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty…”

She plants a kiss on your nose. “You know that?” Another on your cheek. “Such a pretty girl.” Chaste kisses trail across your jaw, teeth find the lobe of your ear, an open-mouthed kiss is pressed against your neck. “Can’t wait to watch you fall apart. So fuckin’ pretty when you fall apart.”

A broken whimper escapes you. You feel her smirk against your throat. 

“Yeah?” She croons, tongue darting out to slide over your windpipe. “You want me to take you apart, baby?”

You whisper a “please,” subtle as the twitch of your hips.

It’s all the begging she’ll let you do for the rest of the night. Being loved by Sevika means wanting for nothing, and she’ll be damned if you ever have to beg for the pleasure she was put on this earth to give you. 

She reaches over for the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand, and you’re already spreading your legs for her. 

“Somebody’s eager,” She teases, stroking her erection and spreading the clear gel over its length. 

“Just missed you,” you pant, all but drooling as you watch her prepare herself for you.

A pang of guilt shoots through her. She knows you don’t mean anything by it, knows you aren’t trying to make her feel bad for closing off, running away. 

Still, she feels bad anyhow. Knows you didn’t deserve that. Props herself up with her free hand, lines up with the entrance of your heat, and vows to make it up to you. 

She drives her hips forward, bottoming out inside of you. You both gasp, and she stills inside of you, gritting her teeth and trying her best to stay calm despite the rhythmic pulse of your walls around her cock begging her to ravage you.

She sure as hell could- and she sure as hell wants to- but just as always, she puts you first. 

Your breath quickens as the sensation of being so full proves overwhelming, and her hand snakes up from your hip to splay across your chest. 

“Breathe for me, sugar,” she lowly coos. “You’re okay.” 

She gives you a soft smile and gentle praise when you obey, her palm warm against your skin as it trails up to cup your jaw. She leans down, body caging your own.

“You ready?” She asks, her mech hand reaching down to hook your leg up and around her waist.

The pulse of your heat around her speaks for you.

“Janna above,” she chortles, letting her head fall down to nestle into your shoulder, “I’m really trying to keep it together, here.”

You lace your fingers through the soft strands of hair at the nape of her neck and turn to place your lips on the shell of her ear. Then, you whisper, low and dangerous.

“I don’t want you to keep it together. Fuck me like you mean it.”

A growl against your neck, sharp canines scraping the skin, and the delicious pressure of the head of her dick against your cervix, all at once. 

If this is how it starts, you can’t wait to see how it ends. 

Your grip on her tresses tightens as she sets a punishing pace, snarling in your ear.

“You gonna tell me if it’s too much?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage through airy moans.

“Good. You gonna remember you asked for this when you can’t walk straight tomorrow?”

You giggle, dazed and blissed-out.

“Answer me, baby,” she warns, gripping your jaw like a vice, the metal cool against your flushed cheeks.

You bite your lip, bat your lashes, and nod with wide eyes, feigning innocence. 

You’re being testy tonight. It isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Out in public, you’re the picture of patience. You never lash out, you never raise your voice, you’re never petty or passive-aggressive. Unyieldingly, frustratingly patient.

She quickly discovers why. Learns that it isn’t for your lack of a backbone, but because you’re patient enough to wait for moments like these, when all she wants is your surrender, your submission. 

That’s when you bite back.

It’s not like she can blame you. She knows you're upset that she all but left you for almost three days, and knows this is your way of telling her.

And if you want your apology in the form of being fucked dumb, it’s not like she’s going to say no. 

She chuckles back, grabs the back of both of your thighs, presses them to your chest, and pounds into you until you scream.

It isn’t long before you’re a mess underneath her. Legs trembling, eyes rolling back, blabbering. She watches you slip into euphoria, and quick strokes turn languid. 

“Look at me, love,” she rasps, setting your calves on her shoulders; and when your eyes flutter open, you find her staring back with pure adoration.

“You okay?” She nods.

“I’m okay,” you nod back. “Love you s’much…”

And her heart nearly breaks. 

She leans down, shushing you softly when you mewl at the feeling of her sinking even deeper into you. 

She’s pressed right up against your womb. You can feel her twitching inside of you. 

That’s when it happens. That’s when you picture her filling you up, being swollen with her seed, and then with her babies; and suddenly, you’re reaching down to rub at your own clit, fingers working frantically, hips bucking desperately.

And you’re pushing her head down into your shoulder.

“Use your words, honey,” she pants, rutting into you. “Not until you use your words.”

She doesn’t let you beg. Only makes you say it once. 

“Bite me, Sevika.”

And what you say, goes. 

Sharp canines sink into soft skin. Suddenly, you’re standing behind the counter, wiping flour-covered hands onto a blush-colored apron, letting her know that Isha’s safe. Then, you’re sitting on a barstool in your kitchen, sipping wine and writing down an updated recipe for your famous carrot cake, because she swore it was better with more cinnamon. Next, you’re giving her a slice of that same cake for her birthday, and then you’re doing laundry together, knocking over piles of folded clothes to make out like a couple of teenagers. 

Finally, you’re curled in up in ball on your bed, surrounded by every pillow and blanket you could find, and the hand that rubs soothing circles in between your shoulders ends up pressing you down into the sheets as your velvet walls spasm around her length. 

The flash of memories is so vivid, she nearly forgets that she’s seven inches and two canines deep inside of you, but the cry of her name from your lips sobers her like a splash of cold water in the face, and when she finds you just as inundated in an earth-shattering orgasm, her own is quick to follow. 

She cums with her teeth still planted in your neck. Doesn’t pull away until both of you are boneless and breathless. 

When she does, her eyes are glued to the mark she left. Droplets of dark red bead up on your skin in the shape of her bite. You don’t miss the way her eyes widen, the way her breath hitches, and when she brings her fingers up to her lips to feel for blood, you realize she’s afraid she’s hurt you.

“Hey, hey,” you quickly plead, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “I’m okay, Sev. I’m not hurt. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You sure?” She exhales, eyes still locked onto the fresh wound as she lets you pull her in to lie on your chest.

“Look at me, angel,” you coo. 

She tears her eyes away from the bite and cranes her head to look up at you with glassy eyes.

You’re not surprised that Sevika seems so overwhelmed; that she trembles in your arms, that her breath comes out shaky as it evens out. You’d always heard that giving a bite can be just as intense as getting one, so you went into this more than ready- more than willing- to walk Sevika through whatever that looked like for her. 

You stroke her hair, trace the strong lines of her face, press your thumb into the tight muscle of her scarred shoulder. 

“I’m sure,” you finally respond. “I promise.”

She finally relaxes in your hold. Settles in like the foundations of a home well-loved.

You fall asleep first. She’s careful as she stands to make her way to the bathroom, where she dampens a rag and grabs a first-aid kit. Her heart feels so big she’s afraid it’ll burst as she gently wipes away at the mess between your thighs and disinfects the bite on your neck. 

She lies back down next to you, drapes an arm around your waist, and for the first time since she started taking them, she wearily eyes the bottle of suppressants on her nightstand. 

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

The discovery of Isha’s 6th birthday meant the realization that it was time to send her to school. Sevika knows it’s a necessity, an important milestone, an inevitable part of life when you choose to raise a child. 

That doesn’t make it any less difficult; doesn't change that tears prick her eyes as she walks out of Piltover Elementary, having just dropped the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed girl off for her first day of first grade. 

“Don’t cry, mama,” you smile, squeezing her hand as she turns once more to look up at the opulent school building. It hadn’t been easy, deciding to enroll Isha in a school Topside, and Sevika would be lying if she said her ego hadn’t been a bit wounded for it. Still, she’d be damned if Isha didn’t have access to the best education there was in the safest place there was, and right now, that was Piltover Elementary. 

You promised her it’d be just fine, that she’d be right across the street all day at the Council’s headquarters, and she promised herself to use all of that time fighting for better education in Zaun. 

She knows it’s the right choice. Knows Isha will do great. But no one prepared her for how hard it’d be to have a piece of your heart walking around outside of your body. 

She didn’t think she’d ever have that; didn’t even think she wanted it, but now, she’s watching a line of Pre-K students with bookbags too big for their tiny bodies trail up to the front doors of the school, and a smile is tugging at her lips. 

You read her mind. Nudge her arm. When she looks over at you, you wear a knowing smile of your own. 

“What?” She mutters, looking away bashfully. 

“You want more babies, don’t you?”

She’s getting ready to scoff and brush off such a ridiculous assumption, but then, one of the kids figures out how to blow a raspberry, and a chorus of high-pitched giggles rings out.

She sighs in defeat.

“I want more babies.”

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

Taglist: @mewl3tte, @tsubiki, @lia-winther, @mommyissuesismypersonality, @hbwrelic, @ahintofchaos, @djstinkyfartz, @sevikaswifeomm, @rareanduselessbird, @livslifeonline, @sevikas-baby, @strawberrylipglossx, @sillylittlejellyfish, @sevikaovipositee

(i tagged everyone who expressed interested in pt. 1; if you'd like to be removed, just shoot me a comment or a message and i'm more than happy to do so, no hard feelings!)

[wordpress-blaze-36010151]

I am a Failure

Recently, I have been contemplating failure and its spiritual dimensions. In large part, this is because failure’s counterpart, success, is such a strange thing to pin down. I think Daniel Berrigan was onto something when he referred to success as being a weasel word and horribly American. But this recent contemplation of mine is also because, by all accounts, Jesus of Nazareth was a failure as well. Certainly, he had the makings of a successful person, but in the end, he died scandalized and humiliated on a Roman Cross.

As I was recently reminded at a gathering of Lutherans, many are certainly happy to celebrate Jesus becoming a failure for us, but those qualities that brought him to a Roman cross seem to be overlooked for the systematic nature of Paul’s letters. At times, I am not so sure what to make of this dynamic, because when Jesus’ words are referenced, they are just as quickly taken out of context.

It might seem strange that I am writing about failure, given my background as a pastor and professor with a Ph.D. I think I would be considered a “success” by some. However, in a very real sense, I don’t know what to do with such a judgment. Not because I am against being considered a success, but because there is so much more to me than just these things. There are many places where I might be deemed a failure. I resigned from a reputable pastoral position in part because of interpersonal dynamics, I struggle with OCD, I can certainly worry about the most ridiculous things, and I can be harsh and impatient. My successes can all too easily cover up my failures or, in another very real sense, my humanity. However, what strikes me through all my experiences is that it is in the failures and the struggles that the gold is found. After all, Christians believe that one man’s failure is what saves us from our sins.  

Recently, I read a great interview with theologian William T. Cavanaugh concerning success and failure. In the interview, Cavanaugh explains how, when it comes to positions of power and our desire for them, we rarely ask or consider how the position might change us. Rather, we often view it in the opposite direction, with a very individualistic lens, on how we can change the world through our position. I thought this was such a powerful insight, as we tend to approach the world around us in such ways when, in all actuality, the world around us influences us far more than we influence it. And really, wasn’t that the struggle of Jesus of Nazareth, not succumbing to the influence of the world? Satan tempted him with the very things that make for a successful person: power, prestige, and security, and certainly, no cross. Peter rebuked him over all his cross talk. And certainly had Jesus been more agreeable, he could have found a seat at the table of his enemies, the Pharisees. Yet, the ultimate symbol of failure lay ahead of him for all to see. I suppose we can say that such is what happens when one does not seek success, but instead faithfulness to the ways of God – failure.

Source: I am a Failure

[coolwyous]

┈─★ 𝘪 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 ( 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 — 𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙤. )

  ⊹ ࣪ ˖ after 3 years of dating rising star and hockey team captain megan skiendiel, your senior year of college signals the end of an era. as she approaches her final season, the two of you navigate how much you're willing to push and pull to pursue her dreams— and figure out where yours fit in all of this, too.

         ˎˊ˗  ❄️  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  🔓୭˚.  ⠀ ᵎᵎ ⠀ 🗝️

   ➴ pairing: hockey captain! megan skiendiel x english major! f!reader

         ➴ genre + wc: 18k, fluff, angst, established relationship, poor stress management tbh, also reader keeps a lowkey shitty secret for a lot longer than needed, happy ending.

   ➴ you might want to tune in...: ditto - newjeans

      ┈─★ a/n: chat are we ready to say goodbye to dittoverse.... i'm ngl i'll miss my hockey wigline! so grateful that i got to start my writing journey w ditto pt i and now i get to write this to truly circle all the way around. lmk what you think <3

cw:// brief mentions of recreational drug use, mild violence but once again it's a hockey fic!

“ladies and gentlemen, megan thee skiendiel!”

you announce the introduction into your pen, quickly shoving the makeshift mic over the table into megan’s face. 

“i’d get copyrighted.” she wrinkles her nose. “and my last name is so not tough enough.”

you shake your head, bringing the pretend microphone back to your face. “megan thee captain, then.”

“cheesy,” she grins at you. you match her smile right back. “i need something better for my interview.”

“megan thee girlfriend,” you tease, as she taps her chin as if to genuinely contemplate it.

“that’s a good one.” she grabs her notebook and pretends to jot them down. “megan thee property of y/n.”

“okay, relax,” you laugh. “what’s your day look like?”

the ginger lets out a sigh, and your heart aches as you realize you’ve popped the bubble. the topic you’ve both been avoiding as you try to make the most of your quality time: your girlfriend’s insane schedule. 

“we leave to the airport after class,” she lists off, holding up a finger, “then the hotel, away game tomorrow evening, fly back saturday morning.”

“we prep your presentation, prep your speech,” you add, reminding her what you were working on in the first place.

“oh, and then monday i have to go with the department to do a ribbon cutting at an elementary school,” megan adds. “they started a girl’s hockey team in partnership with the university.”

“you’re terrible with kids,” you laugh.

“i fucking know i’m terrible with kids,“ she groans, burying her face in your shoulder. “how do i not knock them over or accidentally swear in front of them or whatever?”

“things are only going to get busier during midterms.” you frown at the mere thought of how overloaded her schedule is. “so you breathe when?”

“right now,” megan wrinkles her nose, before her mind escapes elsewhere. “we should get a dog.”

“oh, i’m sure my roommate-who-isn’t-you would love that,” you snort. megan still lives in that same house with dani, who now coaches, and lara, who’s finishing up her internship. 

“not now, just later.” she grins and wraps her arm around your waist, scooting your chair in up next to hers far too easily. she brings her nose to your hear, mumbling into your hair. “hey, be my date to alumni night?”

“i’d crash out if you picked anyone else.” you laugh, pressing a kiss into her cheek. “like on the floor, snot all over my face, ugly crying.”

“no, you look so so sad when you cry. thank god you’re the only person i want as my date,” she grins. 

a voice quickly bursts your bubble. again.

“shhhh.” you’ve almost completely forgotten about the couple trying to read across the table from you as you get caught up in your whispers. “library is for studying. less yapping.”

“we’re inside a study room,” you squint at her.

“sorry minji,” megan adds fearfully, her brows furrowing.

“please don’t feel the need to apologize to her,” you wave her off. you’re grateful that your friendship with minji hasn’t just survived the years, but thrived, and now results in you living in a off-campus 2 bedroom apartment with her and her girlfriend. of course, you’d ideally be living with megan, but given her travel schedule, it worked out better for you guys to live apart.

“i’m smarter than both of you,” minji says flatly.

the newest addition to your friend group, megan’s old roommate, danielle marsh, pokes her head out from behind the book she’s diving into, pushing minji gently on the shoulder as a reprimand.

“be nice.”

“thank you, marsh,” megan nods appreciatively, as you stick your tongue out at minji at her girlfriend’s reproach. 

“we should start walking to class anyways,” you wave her off, seeing the time in the corner of your laptop. your girlfriend takes the cue without question and bids your friends farewell with a nod of her head. 

megan, chivalrous, sweet megan, has never let you open a door for yourself, and got it into her head that you shouldn’t carry any of your own things either. you tried to tell her off when she first started doing it, but seeing how sad those puppy dog eyes got when you insisted she stop carrying your bookbag made you give in the next day, and the rest has been history. 

she immediately reaches for your backpack and extends a hand out to you. you take it and relish in how warm her skin is against yours. she makes a face, a wince, as she grabs her own bag and hauls the two of them over her shoulder while you make your way out of the library together.

“is your back okay?” you ask, worried about her reaction.

“it would be if you stopped carrying every single one your textbooks in this damn bag.” she huffs, but the sparkle in her eye tells you she’s still just teasing you. she squeezes your hand reassuringly. “i get that you paid for them but jesus christ baby, get them online next time.”

“we have one last semester, think you can handle my books for a few months longer?” you tease back.

“don’t remind me,” she tells you, but you see something in her face change at the mention of your college experience coming to an end. 

before you can ask anything about it, a few random people come up to the two of you, one girl stopping in your tracks.

“hi, could we get a picture?” she asks, sticking her phone out.  “my dad loves you. says you’ve revamped women’s college hockey.”

you give megan a look but graciously step to the side, letting the strangers squeeze in next to her. megan shoots you an apologetic glance but immediately perks up into a smile for the girl’s photo.

“i think daniela avanzini changed the game, i just followed up on what she started,” she smiles, holding a thumbs up for the photo. they thank her and scurry off, leaving you to reclaim your girlfriend by the hand as you resume your walk to class.

“my mini-celebrity,” you pretend to fan yourself. “want me to sign an nda?”

“oh god, i hate when you say a bunch of letters,” she wrinkles her nose, shaking her head. “my fucking brain is so cooked.”

“chat, do i define nda for her or do i let her guess?”

“nonchalant drippy alpha.” megan grins.

“actually it’s never die, asshole.”

“i think it’s nine dry assholes,” she adds on.

“why did you fixate on the asshole part? and why are there nine of them?” you squint at her, poking her nose with your fingertip. “weirdo.”

“you’re weirder.” she grabs your finger and plants a kiss on it, then another, and another. “and you love me.”

your heart stirs at the sight of her cute brown eyes peeking out at you expectantly from under that stupid beanie. you’ll be stuck with a forever crush on this giant dork.

“maybe,” you shrug.

megan beams, then drops her voice into her stereotypical gamer voice, pretending to speak into an imaginary microphone like how you two had in the library.

“oh fuck yeah. we got a maybe from fineshyt, chat, please clip.”

you roll your eyes, but hold on just a bit tighter to her hand. megan is quick to squeeze right back.

-

your schedule is busy, between finishing your senior capstone project and the full course load you’re taking, on top of the online editing job you work in between it all. you’ve found an effective way to balance your workload, but for every day you want to grumble and complain about your schedule, you look at the google calendar that you share with your girlfriend, and send a silent prayer of gratitude that your days look nothing like hers.

your semester gets off to a slightly bumpy start, as megan tries to fit the beginning of the new season and her captain duties in with the classes she’s taking, but you two have managed to make it work.

and by make it work, you mean do whatever you can to try and spend whatever shred of time she can spare together.

like tonight, for example, when you’re done with classes and calling megan as soon as you’re done with your editing shift before you start homework.

she picks up on the second ring, and you can hear the bustle of people’s voices behind her in the background. she’d likely have just gotten out of practice given it’s this late in the afternoon.

“hi. just checking if i’m gonna see you tonight?” you greet her.

“hi, sorry.” she lets out a sigh, and you can practically picture the way she’s wrinkling her nose from all the stress. “i have tapes to review with the new players, then i have a coach’s meeting with the department, then we’re shooting an ad with gatorade.”

“when do you eat?” you ask, feeling your brows knit together. 

“sometime in between all of that,” she breathes, a quiet laugh leaving her lips. you admire her, the way she doesn’t complain about any of it, but you’re always worried she’s pushing her limits.

“did you finish your homework?” you ask. granted, you’re only a few weeks into the semester, but in your years of dating, you had taken over the role of making sure megan stayed on top of her academics, and you weren’t about to let up now.

“i worked on some things in class,” she reassures you. “i’ll finish when i get home.”

“can i postmate you something?” you offer, but she’s quick to cut you off.

“no don’t worry about it, please,” she says hurriedly, but before you can insist, the phone clatters around on her end and you’re suddenly hearing a familiar voice that isn’t quite megan’s.

“i love you mami, you mean everything to me, my heart bleeds for you,” dani’s voice is loud and teasing over the sound of chatter in the background. you hear a chorus of girls laughing, and it brings a smile to your face to picture megan whining and turning red at daniela’s playful taunts.

“oh my god, fuckin’ dani,” megan groans, regaining control over the phone. “sorry about her. she’s even worse now that she’s a coach.”

“well is she right?” you grin.

“you’re the only thing that keeps me sane some days.” you can hear megan’s voice lighten up, warm and joyful. “i love you so much.”

“i can wait for you at your place,” you offer. megan still lives in the same house with lara and dani which makes the drive from your apartment with minji much easier. 

“i’d love that.” you can hear her smile, picture her little whisker dimples, and it sends a wave of warmth over you. “i gotta go. see you soon.”

you drive over to megan’s place and you barely get a chance to knock before the door swings open, revealing the charming former goalie.

“hiiiii y/n,” lara drawls, her bright smile never fading as she greets you, ushering you in. “how’s senior year treating you?”

“oh you know,” you grimace, kicking off your shoes. 

“you’ll make it through just fine,” she reassures you, “plus you have that—”

you shake your head quickly, to cut her off. “please don’t remind me.”

lara’s perceptive, quick to pick up on your anxieties and dissect them. maybe it’s the fact that you’ve dated her best friend for the past three years, but lara knows you far better than you’d ever have anticipated.

“you haven’t told her yet?” she asks in disbelief, her eyes widening.

“i know i know.” you wince. “the right time hasn’t come up.”

“i trust you, but sooner rather than later, right?” she gives you an empathetic tilt of the head.

“of course,” you nod. “i appreciate you.”

“always,” she smiles, before adding a quick heads up. “make yourself at home. she’s been coming home super late recently, you might be up for a while.”

between homework, studying, and reading, the hours alone in megan’s room melt away. you don’t even realize that you’ve fallen asleep when you hear the door creak open, jolting you awake. you check your phone and see it read just past 1:30am. 

“home invasion?” you smile, worried about how late she’s coming home, but grateful to see her nonetheless.

“hands up, sigma,” megan jokes weakly, setting her bag down in the corner before coming to plant a kiss on your hair. 

“i could smell you from a mile away,” you tease back, taking in the state of her. she looks utterly spent, hair a mess, skin still looking sticky.

“the gatorade commercial people kept trying to talk to me even in the locker room. i didn’t have enough privacy to shower,” she groans.

“my poor girl,” you reach out to stroke her cheek. “you sound exhausted.”

“missed you,” she grumbles, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“glad you’re home,” you tell her. “please come rest.”

megan nods, peeling her hoodie off over her shoulders.

“after my shower i’m passing out,” she calls out to you as she disappears into the bathroom.

“i’ll make sure you wake up on time. c’mon,” you beckon her, taking a look at your phone. if she sleeps in the next 20 minutes, she’ll maybe manage to get 6 hours before she has to be up again to head to campus. you tuck yourself in as you hear the water run, and take to tik tok to keep yourself awake to be ready to hear about her day.

you’re not fully aware of how much time has passed from your scrolling until your eyes flicker up to the time in the corner. nearly 2:15am. 

you hear the water still running. megan deserves the luxury of a hot shower, but almost an hour has never been part of her habits. you jump up and enter the bathroom slowly, as to not disturb her.

“megan?” you call out, only to be met with silence.

you pull back the curtain to see your girlfriend, standing with her forehead against the tile, head slumped forward with her eyes shut. she looks so, so peaceful, but you know you have to wake her. 

“hey,” you shake her gently. she jolts awake with a startle, and she looks so cute with her wet hair slicked back, but you’re extremely worried about what you just saw. “you okay?”

“sorry, sorry. it was so nice and warm,” she yawns, turning the water off.

“were you asleep?” you ask in disbelief, still holding onto the curtain.

she blinks a few times as you hand her a towel. “i think i closed my eyes when i was rinsing my hair and they just never opened.”

“that’s insane,” you laugh. “c’mon, let me braid your hair and we can finally go to bed.”

-

“she fell asleep in the shower last night.” you tell dani on the call, shaking your head in disbelief as you recount the events. “just straight up, literally, i shit you not, standing up.”

“like a horse?” dani questions.

“she’s so exhausted, but she never complains,” you sigh.

your friendships with daniela and lara had deepened in your time dating megan, and dani was someone you found would always be up for a quick call if she was free. though you tended to seek advice from lara about the more emotional things, dani had always given some tidbit of wisdom about the captain duties megan was taking on and how to best support her. this time was no different, though the pause she takes tells you she’s thinking about her words as to not worry you. 

“megan’s always been a workhorse,” she reminds you. “if there’s a gap, she’ll fill it. ‘i can do more,’ she always fuckin’ says. you know her. she’ll find the balance, i know she will.”

you look down at the email in your inbox. you want to tell her, you do, but the last thing you want is to add stress to her day.

“you’re right,” you sigh, and focus on the future.

-

halfway through the semester, and your schedules have only gotten more hectic. you’re grateful to have met megan early enough in her career that she had plenty of time for you guys to get to know each other. at this point, you’re scraping by on whatever in-betweens you’re both able to make work, but you won’t complain. you know she’s doing her best to fit it all in and be the best.

speaking of which, a facetime audio from your favorite contact photo interrupts your train of thought. it’s a picture of megan on her birthday, blowing out a candle, smiling so big it looks like her face might burst. your heart skips a beat to think the girl in the photo is the one you get to claim so proudly.

“hi you,” you greet.

“hi,” she chirps back. “are you still working on your blackstone?”

“that’s the grill,” you correct her quickly, laughing. “capstone is my project.”

“please forgive me, shorty,” she says in a stupid voice. you can practically picture her face.

“forgiven.” you smile, before checking the time. “what’s up? aren’t you supposed to be at practice?”

“they cut it short today cause coach and dani couldn’t stop arguing over about the starting lineup,” she explains, and you both laugh. “you and i haven’t had a real date in so long. can you squeeze me in?”

“i can move some things in my schedule.” your heart flips at the thought of being able to spend actual quality time with her. “i miss you.”

“miss you more. thanks for being flexible. see you soon?” she asks eagerly.

“where am i meeting you?”

“meet me in 20! i’ll text you,” she says, a little too quickly, and you instantly sense something’s up. but before you can question her, she chirps a quick “i love you” and hangs up.

you look down at your phone as you head towards your car and realize she’s sent you the location. you zoom out on the map until you realize where she’s got planned.

the lake….. megan meiyok be SO fr baby if u love me u wld be happy to spend any time w me it’s so cold outside i will bring you hot choco ples pls please pls pleas pls plspslpslpls OKAYYYY fine

the argument is over sooner than it started, and you’re heading over to the frozen lake where megan loves to practice when she doesn’t feel like heading to the arena.

“hi, beautiful,” she greets you, beaming smile. if you were angry earlier, her smile is enough to melt away any of your mild frustrations.

“hi you,” you greet back, pressing a kiss into her cheek

“we haven’t had a date on ice in a while,” she notes, handing you your skates that she keeps with hers.

“you’re determined to teach me how to skate,” you roll your eyes.

“you’re going to know how, our kids are going to know how, our crusty ass dog is going to know how.” she reaches out to you and steps onto the ice with the confidence of someone who’s never fallen. “we are for sure a skating family.”

you laugh and take her arm. you love the idea of the future she has pictured. 

“do you remember the first time you tried to take me on the ice?” you ask, as she pulls the two of you along on the bumpy frozen-over lake.

“you were so bad at it,” she laughs.

“everyone looks bad at it compared to you,” you frown.

“i think i expected you to be more graceful,” she grins.

“you’ve been skating since you could walk.” you roll your eyes and try to push her, but the movement just makes you wobbly on the ice. “cut me some slack.”

“while you studied your books, i studied the motherfucking blade,” she tells you.

“ok, relax naruto,” you laugh, trying to get your bearings as she lets go of your arm and skates ahead of you, turning backwards to face you effortlessly. show off.

“dare me to hit the most vile jutsu known to man?” she grins.

“literally what does that even mean?” you shake your head.

“it means i hit a nasty pose and copy myself a million times,” she beams, and you can’t stop laughing at the various poses she starts to contort herself into. 

“the bitches of the wnhl are gonna loooove you,” you sing song, watching her continue to hit what you can only assume are the most complex of nerdy naruto poses. 

“coach said he’s already getting teams ask about me,” she says excitedly, reaching back out for your hand to guide you along the ice.

“i bet they’ve been asking about you since your freshman year,” you reassure her.

megan’s smile softens as she looks at you, then looks at your intertwined hands. “we have grown a lot since then.”

“so much.”

“i feel really lucky.”

“how come?”

“everything just sort of worked out for me. about to graduate, captain by my junior year, met my college sweetheart. it’s like, so convenient.”

“you have worked extremely hard for everything you have,” you reassure her, reaching up to play with the hairs at the base of her neck. “i can’t think of anyone who works harder. you deserve everything good in your life.”

“some days i feel like i never deserved you,” she admits. 

“what? don’t be silly.” you squint at her. “you’re the superstar. i still get shy knowing i’m the one you call at the end of the night.”

“all these years and you still feel shy?” she looks at you with those wide, beautiful puppy dog eyes.

“you’re very, very good looking,” you admit, though you’ve told her a million times before how attractive you’ve found her. “and very funny, and unfortunately, extremely awkward, which meant i was doomed from the start.”

she makes a fist with her free hand and beams. “i bagged the baddie using my undeniable weird girl swag.”

“weirdest of weird girls,” you laugh. “i wouldn’t want anyone else.”

the weight of the email starts to strain inside your chest. lara’s words ring through your ears. this needs to be the time you say something.

“meg–” you start.

the buzz of her phone vibrates loudly against her pocket, cutting you off. she pulls her phone out and winces, letting go of your hand.

“it’s coach. i have to take this, nike wants to do an interview tomorrow and he’s losing his shit about it. i’m so sorry,” she offers you the most apologetic kiss she can muster.

“go for it.” you nod, but you feel the sinking in your chest. “i know what i signed up for.”

megan has to leave as soon as the call is over, and by the look on her face, she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. you can’t possibly bear to add something else to her plate. 

you head home, grateful for the tender moment you were able to share. maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you didn’t get to spoil it with your announcement.

you’re home and settling into your night when you get a text from minji in the other room. 

this you?

a post from a college sports gossip blog. it’s a picture of you and megan, on the ice, holding hands. 

you grimace. sure, the lake is in a public park, but who’s weird enough to be taking pictures of you at your most private times?

your fingers keep scrolling. 

you know dani had gone through this when her relationship with the coach’s daughter had gone public. megan had told you all about how they tried to keep it just between the team at first, but even with dani stepping down as captain, she was still a hot topic and being locked down by her coach’s own daughter made them campus celebrities for months. 

you’ve tried not to let the same thing bother you, but facts are facts: megan is one of the best college hockey players in the country, and dani made women’s hockey something to talk about. megan, by default, becomes something of a mini-celebrity on campus, and you are unfortunately stuck as her hockey wife. 

you look at the bright side. you knew her as a sweet, bright eyed freshman without a clue in the world, and despite all the recognition that’s come to her, she’s still the same old megan you fell in love with. you pick megan, and that means picking all that comes with her.

-

with midterms quickly coming and going, you and megan survive the grueling test season and make it out on the other side relatively unscathed. you know at this point in the semester, her team is starting to heat up, and with such a dominant performance so far in the season, her team is easily top in their conference, all but guaranteeing their spot in the playoffs. 

you’d think that she’d take it easy to maintain her pace, but lately, megan has been harder to get a hold of, somehow even less available than you had thought was possible. you cheer her on at every home game, and she was thrilled when you crashed with sophia to cheer her on at an away game, but lately, even lara mentions how much megan has been blowing her off to practice or tend to her captain duties.

you take it upon yourself to wait for her outside of the conference room, knowing she’s busy reviewing a recent interview she did with ESPN with the athletics department. when she finally comes out of the room, you feel yourself light up at the sight of your girlfriend.

what hurts your heart is for the first time in years, she doesn’t light up at the sight of you. her eyes are tired, and while she acknowledges you with a hug, the unintentional cold shoulder admittedly stings.

“hi,” she greets weakly, reaching out as you initiate a hug. 

you try to shake off your nerves at the interaction and squeeze her as tightly as you can. she takes heavy steps to lead the two of you out of the building. 

“i saw your interview. tried calling you in between but i know it was a busy day for you,” you chirp. “how’d you think it went?”

“not good,” megan shakes her head immediately. “i lost my shit so fast.”

“why are you being so hard on yourself? you did amazing,” you frown.

“thank you.” a beat, and she nuzzles her head into your shoulder. a flash of your familiar megan comes back, and it soothes your heart. you run your fingers through her hair to comfort her, and it seems to help as she lets out a sigh. “yeah, sorry. i’m stressing about my grades.”

“you have so much on your plate,” you tell her worriedly.

she groans. “and i’m barely holding on to this passing grade in my world literature class.”

“i can help with that,” you nod. “easily.”

the two of you find yourselves on a bench outside the building, sitting side by side. a brief moment of peace with your ever-busy girlfriend.

“i don’t want you always doing my english homework for me,” she tells you, biting her lip.

“i’d never, you know that meg. but i can help you make sense of it all.”

“glad one of us likes english,” she wrinkles her nose, reaching over to press a kiss into your temple. “i like that so much about you.”

english. your mind wanders to the email. it’s been months now since you told yourself you’d say something to her. you steady yourself with an inhale and reach for her hand.

“speaking of english, i wanted to find a good time to tell you,” you start quietly.

“hm?” she arches a brow, those puppy eyes looking at you nervously.

“i got an offer for a master’s program in the UK.” you confess. “lodging would be paid for, i’d be a research assistant which would cover the costs of my program. it’s literally perfect megan, like a dream come true.”

megan’s eyes are wide. you’re waiting for the hug, the congratulatory cheer, but instead, she just stares back at you.

“oh.” she says simply. “you actually applied?”

“yes.” you furrow your brows. “i didn’t just mention it to mention it.”

“i didn’t think you were serious about it,” she admits, and it stings to hear her tone. dismissive. something you would have never expected given all the wins you two make such a big deal of celebrating.

“why do you say that?” you question, trying to regulate yourself.

“it’s so far,” she says quietly, opening her mouth to add more, but nothing comes out. she looks away, pulling her hand from yours.

“hey,” you push, scooting closer to her on the bench. “you okay?”

“i’m anxious,” she admits. 

“i know,” you sigh. “just between practice, and your meetings, and your interviews, there’s never enough time to talk about the heavier stuff. i didn’t want to let more time pass. we haven’t exactly had a ton of time to talk about next steps.”

“y/n, you know it’s either hockey, or nothing for me after college ends. i need to go pro.” her eyes are determined, but there’s something more to them, something that worries you. “if i lose this season, my future is out the window. i can’t lose you too.”

“dani was the best player in the country and she didn’t end up going pro. everything can change so fast. you need to be prepared with a backup plan, meg,” you remind her. it’s not that you don’t foresee her succeeding, but you remember how torn up she was when dani got injured, and how fast it all changed. “you’re so much more than this sport.”

“i am nothing without hockey,” she says quickly, her face tensing. you don’t like what’s coming over her, but more so, you don’t know what’s coming over her. she’s never gotten like this in all your years together. determined, sure, but never this insistent, never this aggressive.

“yes you are,” your brows furrow. 

“it’s everything to me.”

“what about your friends? your hobbies?” you press, before your voice softens. “what about me?”

“i wouldn’t have any friends without hockey. i don’t have hobbies,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “and i wouldn’t have met you without hockey.”

“but you got all those things along the way. hockey didn’t do that for you, they just happened. you made your friendships happen, i like you for you and not what you do.”

“no i get that, i just feel like i really need to focus. i’m really sorry.” she lets out a deep breath, and reaches again for your hand, and you feel slightly reassured by the gesture as her body relaxes. “i’ll make it up to you.”

“i know you will. just take it easy on yourself, please?” you plead, reaching over to brush some hair out of her face.

you see her wipe at the corners of her eyes. you reach for her and lay her head down on your shoulder, playing gently with her hair. 

-

“i’m worried about megan,” you say quietly, later that night on another phone call with daniela as megan is off to do another tape review with the team. 

“she’s been dreaming of this since she was a kid,” dani sighs. “the only thing she loves as much as she loves this sport is you.”

“i’m scared she’s going to burn out,” you confess.

“if there’s a time to push, it’s now,” dani reminds you.

“do you think i’m maybe doing too much?” you ask. you stare at a framed photo of you and the ginger that you keep hanging above your desk in your room, a picture of the two of you on a picnic. “like i’m asking too much of her?”

“that’s not a question for me,” dani tells you. “i’m in no position to be giving relationship advice. barely figured out how to make one work on my own.”

you laugh softly. “you know, it was easier when you were in charge.”

“i made that shit look soooo easy.” you can hear her smile over the phone. “nobody gets how hard it was. megan’s good at it but she’s not ever going to half-ass something.”

you stare at the photo. megan’s adorable dimples, her shining eyes, her wide smile: things you haven’t seen her do in what feels like weeks. 

“i don’t think she has enough of herself left to give,” you say quietly.

-

the alumni night rolls around, and it’s a blast for you to see all the girls who graduated. they open up the arena for a few hours of free ice skating and talking to the team. it’s a welcome few hours to enjoy with her, and as you promised, you show up extra early to be her date.

megan, forever the adorable face of the team, gives a quick welcome speech on the ice and thanks everyone for being there. she poses briefly with a few of the donors for some pictures and then finds you to guide you onto the ice. 

you’re wobbly, as expected, but megan keeps her arm held out to you, anchoring you as she pushes off strong enough for the both of you to lap lazy circles around and around without much effort on your end.

“i’ll get good at this eventually,” you reassure her, trying your best not to wobble and fall. 

“that’s what i’m here for,” she smiles back at you. “also looks sick to have such a pretty girl on my arm.”

“you’re sweet,” you grin. after your talk, things had been tense, but you had tried to ease up and just support her. dani’s words would ring through your head, about how bad you want this, and you remembered how much you love megan’s determination. 

“my babies, always looking more and more grown up,” lara sing songs from behind you both as she catches up on the ice. you spot lara’s girlfriend, plus yunjin, and dani, plus dani’s girlfriend, all joining you. 

lara chats to yunjin about her therapy internship she’s doing at a local mental health center, and yunjin rambles excitedly about how boston is going for her and the super cool job she bagged straight after graduation. dani barely counts as an alumni considering she works at the university now, but she’s still wearing an alumni name tag, enjoying the attention of people asking her what it’s like to be on the other side of it all. 

“zuha just got here!” yunjin announces loudly, looking down at a text on her phone with a beaming grin. 

“kazuha signed to the vegas golden knights right after graduation,” megan says quickly. several of the seniors that year got drafted and you remember megan following all their stats meticulously.

“hoping to join her?” you ask curiously, trying to be a good sport about it all. 

“just want to know what it’s like, she calls but she’s too busy to talk very long.” you can sense the urgency in her voice. “do you mind if i chat with her?”

“don’t be gone too long. i might get brave and try to skate again without you, might lose a tooth,” you tell her, smiling.

she presses a kiss to your forehead and sets your arm carefully on the wall, allowing you to pull yourself along to the exit. 

you sit on one of the benches to unlace the blades from your feet, when eunchae comes to join you.

eunchae greets you with a broad smile and you return it, happy to see the once star-struck rookie who had blossomed into megan’s right-hand on the ice. megan had stayed close with dani and lara since they didn’t move away after graduating, but eunchae, being a year younger, had quickly become megan’s new closest teammate. 

“it’s like ghosts came back,” she says as she sits next to you. “i missed everyone, but things are so different in just a year.”

“so different,” you agree.

“i’ll keep an eye on her for you,” she tells you, as if she can read your worries. “i know she’s been off lately. the new girls don’t know what she was like before she was captain, but i do. i can tell she’s been struggling, this year more than ever.”

you give eunchae an appreciative smile. “you have no idea how much that means to me. dani keeps saying she’s fine, but i feel like this year is different for her.”

“it’s a lot of pressure. we have the playoffs and if we do well, the championships. megan’s been part of the championship team since she was a freshman. it would look terrible if we started losing once she became captain. i think she’s trying to look at it from all angles,” eunchae explains, and it starts to click little by little for you.

“she doesn’t think she has any wiggle room,” you sigh, and the two of you spot her out on the ice, beaming widely at something kazuha is saying to her. your sweet, dorky megan, who shows up in flashes every once in a while.

eunchae offers you a nod of encouragement. “she’s got this, but i’ll let you know if i get worried. i can’t imagine this is very easy on you either.”

megan spots you from across the ice rink, and waves to the two of you. she says something quickly to kazuha before skating over to you, motioning for you to come back and join them. you and eunchae oblige, hopping onto the ice together.

“doing okay?” you check in.

she nods, but turns away for a moment, and you can see her trying to stifle a yawn. “i’m peachy.”

“how long have you been up for?” you question, holding onto her arm as eunchae chats kazuha’s ear off.

“um, i got up at 4 to do conditioning, then solo practice, radio interview at 6,” she starts to rattle off. you sigh and slip a hand into her back pocket, melting into her embrace.

“you need to fix your sleep schedule,” you chastise her.

“totally,” she agrees. “we can leave whenever.”

you’re about to suggest cutting the night early when a few extra voices cut in.

“cap!” 

megan squints at you apologetically before turning to greet the source of the noise. “hi guys.”

megan and eunchae welcome a wave of the newer girls. you recognize them freshmen and sophomores you’ve met in passing. haerin, moka, and maya, who all approach excitedly. 

you smile. years ago, it was you and megan who were the babies of the group, your sweet ginger being at her most bright-eyed and eager.

“this place is packed,” moka, one of the newer defenseman, gapes.

“insane, right?” maya, the starting goalie, agrees.

“hey, are we still good for an early practice tomorrow?” haerin asks megan, her voice quiet. you recognize her as a left wing: a high pressure spot with huge shoes to fill considering that was daniela’s former position, and works directly with megan as center to score the goals. you can’t imagine the pressure of being daniela’s replacement.

“for sure,” megan nods, and you can’t help but glare at her. so much for catching up on sleep. but these girls clearly admire her, and you won’t stand in the way of her being a doting team leader.

before they can keep going, a random guy comes up alongside you all, waving wildly at megan as if he knows her.

“my betting bracket depends on you,” he tells her, and you realize it’s just a fanboy. megan has had plenty in her time. “i’m putting it all on you getting us a dub.”

“thanks,” she says weakly, and eunchae gives her a quick glance as if to check in if she should do anything. you guys are all caught in an awkward silence as he simply skates alongside you all.

the guy opens his mouth to say something, but then notices your hand interlocked with megan’s, and brings a finger up to point at you.

“don’t fucking distract her, okay?” he warns.

you know he means it teasingly, but you can already feel megan’s body lurching at the gesture.

your girlfriend grabs him angrily by the sleeve, a warning look in her eyes as her grip locks tightly on his elbow. you see the younger girls freeze, all of you coming to a standstill as megan grabs him.

“don’t talk to her like that,” she warns harshly, her voice low. you can see the guy’s eyes widen in surprise, but more to your concern, you see the girls’ faces change. moka and maya are staring at each other, and haerin looks like she’s seeing a ghost.

“hey, relax,” you shake her arm, trying to bring her back to reality. you can tell she’s not all there by the way her dark eyes are still locked in on him, her grip still tight on his elbow. “he didn’t mean it like that.”

she blinks once, twice, and breathes slowly. “i’m sorry.”

“you can let go of him now,” eunchae says quietly, as if to not embarrass her. megan complies, and eunchae mentions something to the guy that has him skating off with a smile on his face, hopefully saving their interaction.

“sorry you guys had to see that,” megan tells the girls, shaking her head. “that was really not cool.”

“it’s okay, cap,” maya reassures her, if a bit too quickly, as if she’s kissing up. you smile at how hard they’re trying to cheer her up, but you can tell megan’s worried about how this affects their view of her, by the way she’s chewing her bottom lip.

“hey, it’s fine,” you reassure her, and moka nods in agreement.

“totally cool to protect your people,” she nods.

“i promise i’m not usually that quick to flip,” megan offers quietly, and you feel your heart ache at her embarrassment. usually, her protectiveness of you comes from a good place, but with all the stress, you can see her fuse is much shorter than normal.

“no, they know you’re a good person,” eunchae nods reassuringly.

“you’re thoughtful, and kind, and a good leader,” you reassure her, and the girls nod in agreement. “you work hard, harder than anyone i know, and you’re always willing to learn. you have zero ego.”

“alright, alright, i think i’ve blushed enough to reset my aura back into the negatives,” megan waves you off, wrinkling her nose, and the girls all beam back at you excitedly.

“i dunno cap, i think being a lovergirl actually proves you have rizz,” maya says, and haerin simply nods in eager agreement.

“yeah, coach dani loves telling stories about how you used to be this bitchless loser with zero social skills—” moka rambles, and you burst out laughing loud enough that it cuts her off.

“damn, your loser legacy lives on forever,” you grin, pinching her cheek.

“remind me to break her other knee once the season’s over so she’s got two bad legs,” megan groans, and eunchae laughs her off.

megan holds tightly onto your hand as you all continue to skate. eunchae chats excitedly with you and megan about some random stats, haerin is doing her best to listen and keep up, moka and maya are simply goofing off skating circles around each other on the ice in front of you all. 

your heart warms looking up at your girlfriend, never having been able to picture how far you two would come from just being dorky little freshmen. you know it won’t be for long, but the brief peace it brings you is enough to power you through the rest of the day. you hope it’ll last, but make peace with the idea that this might be the eye of the storm.

-

(the peace only lasts the night, and the storm stirs starting the very next day.)

this week, with a deadline for your senior project approaching, you’ve been the one with limited time to squeeze in megan. you make it work between facetimes and quick coffee dates, the two of you agreeing to spend at least a few nights out of the week together even if it’s just to sleep alongside each other, but you can tell that your schedules are working in opposite directions.

even today, when you’re done with all your obligations and studying in the campus library by yourself, you’re hoping to surprise megan with a quick dinner after practice, but your plans get thrown off when you get an unexpected call.

a call from eunchae, of all people, with the most random favor in the world to ask of you.

“hey, will you come to practice? like, now?”

“what? is everything okay?” your voice jumps an octave in disbelief. 

eunchae knows that you don’t come to practices, unlike some of the other hockey girlfriends, due to just how distracted megan gets by you being there. megan can focus when you’re cheering her on for games, but she’s explicitly banned you from practice after one too many missed shots because she’s too busy being nervous around you.

you’ve always found it sweet, and you know eunchae knows megan’s rule, so that’s why it’s surprising you that she’s explicitly going against the captain’s personal expectations.

“meg’s been, uh, how do i put this…” she pauses.

“eunchae?” you ask, worried with how long she’s taking.

“acting out,” she finally blurts, and you feel yourself grow even more confused. “it’s weird.”

your megan? your laser-focused, super professional megan, acting out?

“i’ll be there,” you tell her quickly, shutting your laptop and hurrying over to the hockey arena where they practice in a few short minutes.

eunchae is waiting for you by the entrance of the rink, out of view of the team, holding a tampon much too obviously in her hand. you laugh realizing this is probably the excuse she used in order to get off the ice and avoid suspicion when she gave you a call and waited for you in the middle of practice.

“acting out how?” you ask her, feeling your brows furrow in confusion.

“watch how she gets with ryujin,” eunchae tells you, before handing you the tampon to hide and putting her helmet back on, heading back out to the ice. you sneak in, trying to make yourself small and unnoticeable amongst some of the other girlfriends who are sitting and studying or watching from the bleachers.

megan is too focused on the ice to notice you. you can see the sweat dripping down off the tip of her nose, a testament to how hard she pushes herself every practice, how eager she is to give her all. she zips past the other girls during the drills, and you’re almost starting to feel guilty for spying on her. 

but then, as the practice comes to an end and they split into two teams to practice a quick scrimmage, you see it happen.

it’s almost lightning fast, and you’re not really good enough at hockey to know the intricacies of what it’s supposed to look like, but you can tell that megan is expecting haerin to pass something to someone else and get it to her to make a shot. 

haerin does as she’s supposed to, taking a pass from eunchae to send it over to ryujin, but ryujin is too busy blocking off the opposite wing to notice the pass. the puck slides past her, between her legs, into the waiting hands of the opposing girl, who skips past the wings and sends it straight past maya’s glove, scoring the other girls a point.

“left side wins,” dani announces easily. “good game, ladies. see you all tomorrow.”

you can tell the scrimmage is supposed to be light hearted (they only played for one point, for christ’s sakes,) but the moment dani announces that megan’s team didn’t win, you see the ginger rip her helmet off her head and throw it angrily into the plexiglass. you feel yourself jolt at the clang of the helmet against the barrier, the loud thud it makes that rings through the otherwise quiet rink.

and then you hear her voice, loud, booming, aggressive, echo through the arena.

“hey, if you’d get your head out of your ass, you’d have seen that shot, you idiot.”

ryujin instantly stands up straighter, and you see her whole body tense. “sorry meg.”

“i don’t want sorry, it want it fucking right.” megan scoops another puck from behind the box and drops it on the ice, sending it flying towards haerin and motioning to ryujin. “run it again.”

“but practice is over,” ryujin says weakly. 

megan shoots a glare at haerin, who quietly complies and recreates the pass over to ryujin. ryujin ignores the pass and stares at megan, but this just infuriates the ginger even further. she grabs yet another puck, sending it more aggressively at haerin once more.

“shin, do it the fuck again,” megan demands, her gaze hard and serious as the other girls simply watch, dumbfounded and clearly in fear. “you’re not off the ice until you fix it.”

you look to dani to do something about it, but she’s too busy talking to the other coaches to notice what megan’s doing. 

ryujin misses the pass once more, and you can see her face turning more and more red as megan drops puck after puck, insisting she go until she gets it right. the girls all stay frozen, watching the events unfold, until haerin exhaustedly sends a pass to ryujin that she finally catches, sending the pass to megan. 

megan catches the pass, and as if to prove a point, slams a shot so forcefully into the empty goal, it shoots the net backwards several feet. you feel your stomach drop at the display of anger. megan waves them off wordlessly and gets off the ice. 

eunchae’s eyes come up to meet yours from where you’re hiding on the bleachers, the girls all silently trickling off the ice. you can hear ryujin crying as she rushes past the rest of the girls into the locker room.

megan stays, and so do a few of the other girls like maya and moka and haerin, practicing a few more maneuvers with their captain, but nobody says anything among them. it makes your heart ache, remembering how she’d used to spend an extra hour here with kazuha, yunjin, lara and dani, practicing, laughing, catching up. now, the extra practice is heavier, silent and solemn, with none of the joy that used to have megan coming home rambling like an excited puppy about whatever nonsense they had gotten into between the five of them.

you wave her over, and see her brows lift in surprise as she realizes you’re there. she skates over to you, but doesn’t stop for a kiss or even a greeting. she simply gives you a look, as if to ask what you’re doing there, and you can tell by her clenched jaw that she’s still holding onto some frustration from that interaction.

“what’s that all about?” you ask, crossing your arms, motioning to the display from earlier.

“she’s just cocky.” megan shakes her head, making no attempt to apologize or explain otherwise. “but she has zero reason to be that arrogant. makes me irritated.”

“i’ve never seen you get irked like that before,” you say worriedly, your brows furrowing. “much less talk to a teammate like that. megan, you made the poor girl cry.”

“did you just un-ironically use the word irked?” she asks, ignoring the rest of your comment. you feel the irritation build up at how casually she’s treating all of this. your megan would never dream of turning the rink into something so toxic, so full of fear.

“i’m serious.” you warn her. “chill out. if your coaches thought ryujin needed the extra work, they would have made her run it over again.”

“fine, fine, i’ll apologize,” she shakes her head, reaching for her water bottle. “maybe i was too intense. sorry.”

“don’t say sorry to me,” you wave her off. 

you wait for her to finish up with the rest of the girls, but you can’t shake your discomfort at the side of megan you saw.

-

as it turns out, this isn’t the last incident megan has where her temper flares.

you’ve never once thought of her as an angry person, and considering the sport she devotes her life to, that was something you felt like you lucked out on. you somehow managed to bag the only hockey player in the world without a raging temper, your silly little girlfriend, easygoing and mellow. this lack of temper was what made her so good in her role, focused and intense, able to lock into what she needs to do without the distractions of her emotions. sure, anxiety would run rampant through her, but she’d turn that adrenaline into fuel to work smarter, never using it to snap at others.

you know it’s the stress getting to her, but after eunchae has to call you several times throughout the next few weeks, it’s starting to wear you thin, on top of already worrying you.

(what is happening to your sweet megan?)

your presence doesn’t do enough to deter her from some of the comments she makes, some of the harshness she takes out on the girls. dani’s obviously used to the verbal abuse she takes from the head coach and doesn’t do much about megan’s occasional tirade, but even if she did, you wonder what it’d take to get megan out of this headspace. you can see the way the girls look at her, eyes equally full of admiration and fear, and you never would have imagined your sweet captain would lead by fear, not in a million years.

with finals coming up, of course you’d rather focus on studying somewhere quiet, or going through flash cards with minji and marsh, but eunchae has asked you to stay just a few more practices. they’ve made it to the finals, and championship games are always a stressful time for the whole team, but if eunchae is worried, you know you should be too.

this night, she takes it too far, with haerin slipping up on a pass and accidentally sending it in the opposite direction of where the play requires. 

megan, seeing this, gets so angry that she takes her stick and snaps it over her knee, skating over wordlessly to grab another one without so much as a second look in haerin’s direction. you can see the younger girl and how her lip quivers, the way all the girls on the bench flinch as megan approaches, the way megan skates as if she has a chip on her shoulder.

practice ends, and you walk out wordlessly, deciding to wait for megan outside the building instead so you don’t end up calling her out in front of her friends.

she spots you as she steps out, showered and looking so cute with her skin pinking up against the chill of the december weather, but her eyes are dark and unreadable. you can tell she’s still internalizing the anger of the practice, still holding on to everything from the ice.

“that was too much, by the way,” you tell her, your voice stern and even. you’ve had enough of trying to guide her gently to self-correct.

“haerin keeps messing up the flow on the ice,” she defends herself, making no effort to reach for you.

“she’s new, she’s still getting the hang of it,” you remind her. “she’s just a freshman, megan, balancing the same things you did back then.”

“but i didn’t mess up when i was a freshman,” she pushes back, and your heart thuds painfully at how gruff her voice sounds. 

“megan, you’re also like a child prodigy,” you remind her gently, trying to bridge the gap by reaching for her hand. “you can’t expect everyone to be as good as you were.”

megan lets you hold her hand, but makes no effort to squeeze back. “dani expected that of me and look how i came out.”

“but you’re not dani,” you say. “and more importantly, they’re not you.”

megan shakes her head, dropping your hand to bite at her fingernails, an anxious habit of hers. “she can’t go pro making mistakes like that. none of them can.”

“megan, not everyone wants to go pro,” you remind her. “i get that you’re really good, but let people make mistakes and learn from them. i’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but you sound like a jerk.”

you realize the last part slips without your meaning to, but by the time you try to correct yourself, she’s already taken a step back, her brows furrowing.

“a jerk? seriously? for what, for trying to help everyone get to where they need to be?” she asks. “hard work is the only way to get there.”

“okay, relax ego,” you narrow your eyes at her, so, so confused where this stranger has come from. “yes, hard work is important, but so is knowing when to take a step back and just breathe. working hard shouldn’t cost you everything.”

megan dips her head, her serious eyes meeting yours in the dark of the evening, her expression cold and harsh.

“y/n, you’re not understanding. i’m the only person who can get them there. it’s me, or it’s nobody, and i’m not letting this team fail.”

“you’re not thinking straight. you’ve always been a captain that cares about building the girls up, not tearing them down when they don’t act like you.”

“if they gave half as much of a shit as i do, i wouldn’t need to set them straight,” she says frustratedly.

all you can manage to do is to take a step away from her, away from this unrecognizable stranger. you can empathize to the moon and back, but this isn’t your megan, and talking to her as if she is starts to make your stomach hurt.

“figure out what you want, and what it’s worth, because i don’t know what version of you this is,” you tell her, trying to step back, eager to put some space in between you and this stranger.

megan’s eyes are intense, nearly panicked, and for every step you take backwards, she moves forwards to keep looking in your eyes. 

“what if this is the only version of me? what then?” she pushes, her face tense.

“i don’t believe that. you can work hard and still be kind. you’ve never lost one in being the other. i don’t get why you’re letting yourself start now,” you push back, shaking your head.

“i can’t believe you’re picking a fight with me this week of all weeks,” megan groans, taking a step back and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“megan, i’ve been trying to be sensitive because i know you’re going through a lot, but it’s not just this week,” you tell her, frustrated that she’s trying to pin this on you. “it’s been the last few months.”

“i’m under a lot-” she starts, but you hold a hand up to cut her off.

“a lot of pressure, i know.” you grimace at the excuse everyone’s made for her, but you’ve had enough. you try to soften your voice, to plead with whatever part of her could rationally hear you. “i’m not asking you to give anything up, i’m just asking you to consider where your head’s at.”

her voice softens, meeting yours, and she lets out a quiet, pained breath. “i can’t lose focus.”

“i’m not trying to distract you,” you reassure her, reaching for her arm. “i just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

“i’ll be okay when we win and i’m drafted,” she says firmly, fixing her eyes on the ground.

“you’re losing yourself in the process,” you plead with her.

“this has always been me,” megan says quickly, finally bringing her gaze up to meet yours.

“no. you were never like this,” you push against her words, holding onto her hand by her index finger to reassure her. “i know that for a fact. you have never once been like this. when i met you, i thought you were the biggest jerk alive, and you proved me so wrong. that’s why i fell in love with you.” 

though you treasure the memory of getting to know her, something about the way you bring it up sets her off, her face hardening again as she pulls away from your grasp, yanking her arm back.

“i’m not that stupid freshman any more, and you’re not some hero who can save me again. i’m fucked if i don’t figure this out on my own. nobody’s coming to my rescue,” she spits angrily, a tone that shocks you.

“i didn’t mean it like i saved you,” you furrow your brows. “tutoring you was the best thing that ever happened to me. you’ve never been stupid—”

“i know you think i’m taking it too far but not everyone can just ace every class,” she blurts, interrupting you, taking another step away from you. “some of us don’t just get everything handed to them that easily.”

her words cut harsher than you could have ever imagined. firstly, the implication that you haven’t worked for what you’ve gotten to is extremely unfair, but even worse, it’s like your body wasn’t prepared to hear such words out of her mouth. in all your years together, megan had never once raised her voice, never once snapped at you, no matter how bad your disagreements got. she’d go quiet, take some space, and come right back ready to see things from a new perspective. never once had she insulted you— your walls have been down far enough you never thought that was a danger you’d need to protect yourself from.

“don’t talk to me like that,” you say simply, blinking back tears. “you’ve never talked to me like that.”

she’s too far gone into whatever headspace has taken over. you can see her eyes glaze over, forgetting where she is, who you are to her.

“i think-” she starts.

“megan,” your voice is sharp, a warning.

she blinks once, twice, her eyes fixing on something beyond you, unable to meet your eyes. “i think i just need a little bit to figure some things out.”

“i trusted you when you said you wouldn’t dream of hurting me,” you snap, hurriedly wiping the tears from your cheeks when you feel them fall, unsure of when they started spilling in the first place. “i don’t know where that girl went.”

you can see it shift in her eyes. the memory to her first championship game. your confession, her confession, how long ago it was and yet how fresh it felt to you.

“i’m hurting you,” she whispers, her face tensing.

“when you figure yourself out, let me know. when my megan comes back, you tell me, because i have no clue who you’ve turned into. i’ll be here.”

you turn on your heel and leave her to figure herself out. you don’t know where this leaves you, but she doesn’t chase after you, and that’s enough for now. 

-

minji and marsh are gone when you get home. you assume they’re on a date, which stings mildly as you remember all the double dates the four of you were able to fit in over the summer. you don’t need to bother minji with your drama right now, but being alone in the apartment means you need to figure something out to get megan out of your head and give her space. you’re hoping a few hours will give her what she needs to cool off, but the evening trickles by and you’re mindlessly on your phone, nothing to be heard from megan.

it’s close to midnight when you’re dozing off, startled awake by a sudden buzzing in your hand.

lara raj. she isn’t one to cold call, usually texting first, so you’re a bit worried about what this means for you.

you pick up, curious as to what she could need so late in the evening. 

“hey y/n,” she drawls, clearly trying to sound casual. “not to be super crazy or anything, but nobody’s seen megan since practice, and her location is off.”

“is she with you?” dani butts in quickly. 

you check your phone and realize megan has turned her location off for you as well, something she hasn’t done in your time dating (except for the time she tried planning a surprise birthday party for you, which she gave herself away several times with her terrible ability to keep anything secret.)

you figure she’s not planning any surprises and let out a sigh. “is she not replying?”

“no,” dani says.

“she hasn’t come home yet,” lara says simply, the concern palpable.

you take a beat before thinking back to her most likely spots. “have you checked the lake?”

“oh, duh, have we checked the lake,” you hear dani say in the background. 

“can you come with?” lara asks.

“i don’t think she wants to see me right now,” you admit. “we had a pretty bad fight.”

“a fight?” you hear dani’s disbelief palpably through the phone. “what the fuck?”

“megan?” lara clarifies, as if you could be possibly talking about anyone else.

“i don’t know who it was,” you shake your head.

“we’ll be there in a few.” dani tells you. “let’s go get her head on straight.”

they pick you up as promised just a small while later, and the three of you drive out to the park to see if your guess was right.

you can hear her before any of you see her. the clack of her stick against the ice, slapping pucks into the snowbank over and over again. you’re shivering even beneath your thick jacket and sweatpants, and you can tell megan’s been out here for a while based on how flushed her skin is, even in the dark.

“go away,” she says shortly as the three of you try to approach as peacefully as you can. lara and dani take the lead and you hang back, hoping to not make it feel like an ambush.

“baby’s grumpy?” lara teases gently, stepping out onto the ice with her, trying to keep her balance in her gripless sneakers. “c’mon meg.”

“fuck off,” megan responds curtly.

“um, who shat in your shoes?” dani arches a brow. “relax.”

“i need to focus,” she waves them off, and you realize she hasn’t spotted you yet.

“meg, don’t be rude,” lara pushes.

“you’re not the boss of me,” she snaps quickly, skating away to turn her back on them.

“i think you should go,” lara tells you quickly, eyes widening as she approaches you again.

“she doesn’t care that i’m here,” you scoff, motioning to how easily she can head off without realizing you’re there. you’ve never been mentally prepared for her cold shoulder, and being on the receiving end hurts more than you’d care to admit.

“she cares,” dani says quickly. “she’s just being stupid. i’ll prove it.”

“y/n?” megan looks up at the sound of your approach, and her eyes linger on you with something more, something like an apology in waiting. 

“apologize,” daniela says firmly.

“what?” megan gapes in surprise.

“fix it,” dani emphasizes, pulling you along towards her. you feel dani’s hand drop to your waist. 

in all your years of being friends, she’s never once tried anything with you, so the gesture feels both platonic and unusual all at once. you know she’s absolutely crazy about her girlfriend, and assume this has something to do with getting under megan’s skin, which you’re not thrilled about.

“don’t do that,” megan says quickly, and you can see it. her eyes darkening. you realize dani’s intention to set her off to prove a point.

“apologize. to lar first, and then to y/n,” dani repeats, her tone hard and bordering on aggressive. you remember this version of her, the night that she got into that fight, the way she so fearlessly stood up to those girls from the other team. you can’t believe megan’s at a point where her own best friend has to step up to her like this.

“i was never fucking scared of you,” megan snaps back, yanking dani’s hand off of you. 

she’s rough with dani, but when megan reaches for you to move you back, her hand is so gentle against your hip gently moving you to the side, and part of you relishes in the touch. you’ve missed her gentle self, the way she reaches for you with such tenderness. 

“well you fucking should be,” dani growls back. “you’re pissing me off, puppy, and off the clock, not as your coach— i’ll beat your ass.”

“dani, don’t ever put a finger on y/n again,” megan warns, and you feel yourself wish you could escape whatever is about to go down.

“you don’t get to be jealous girlfriend when you’re being the world’s biggest dick. y/n loves you, you owe her an apology,” daniela argues, kicking a puck in her direction.

“it’s fine,” you shake your head. “megan, i tried coming here to fix things, but you’re too stuck in your own head to see it. when you’re cooled off, i’ll be here. when you care about literally anything else but yourself, let me know.”

“you guys don’t care,” megan snaps, her brows tensed across her face angrily. “stop ganging up on me.”

“where is this victim complex coming from? we just want to help,” lara sighs.

but megan’s not finished, and she points her hockey stick threateningly in dani’s direction before looking to you apologetically. “and dani, don’t ever use y/n as bait again. i’m sorry they dragged you into this.”

“you’re dragging her into this with your fuckass attitude,” daniela calls her out, taking a challenging step closer. “give her a real apology.”

“megan…” you start, but megan and dani are too lost in their stand off for her to hear you.

“fuck you dani,” megan spits angrily. 

“they might have patience for you, but i don’t. fix it, now,” daniela presses back, reaching out once more for you as if it’s a threat.

in a flash, megan is rushing forward, dropping her shoulders to grip dani in a locked grasp and tackle her flat, slamming her back onto the ice.

“no, enough!” you scream quickly, leaping in to try and pull them off each other, but a soft pair of hands reach for you first.

“let them,” lara stops you, holding you back by the sleeve. “meg needs it out of her system.”

“not like this,” you grimace, trying to reach for her again, but lara simply holds a hand out to stop you.

“it’s a hockey thing,” she shakes her head. 

you watch as daniela wrestles for control over the grapple, what megan has over her in size and strength, dani more than makes up for in technique. megan’s on top for a few frightening moments before dani maneuvers them easily into a flip, quickly wiggling her way out to now straddle the taller girl. you gasp and feel your stomach drop as dani doesn’t hesitate to land one, two, three quick blows to megan’s exposed face, the ginger bringing her arms up to try and shield herself. 

megan ducks out of the way of the fourth punch and lets dani punch the ice beneath them instead, the older girl groaning as her fist makes contact with the solid, frozen wall. megan uses the quick break to land a harsh blow of her own to the side of dani’s face, throwing her quickly off of her as daniela reels from the strike to her eye.

you’ve had enough. yes, you’re mad at megan, but that doesn’t stop you from caring about her, and watching her fight some of the people she loves most pains you beyond imagination. you turn on your heel and escape to the street, quickly seeking the closest uber to come pick you up. you feel sick at what you’ve seen them all come to: megan, her friends, her team. you hope a night apart will give them all a chance to sort themselves out.

-

you’re too distressed to sleep even in your own bed, not wanting to be surrounded by the memories of megan cuddling you or the pictures of her you have scattered throughout your room. you come home and fall asleep on the couch in the living room, hoping you’ll wake up to some sort of clarity. 

no texts from megan, a missed call from daniela, 3 missed messages from lara.

you bite back the knot in your stomach and close your eyes, deciding you’ll ditch class today to focus on studying.

you sleep through the morning and wake to the smell of breakfast from the kitchen, the sound of the tv kicking on with no concern for your sleeping body. leave it to minji to play animal crossing at full volume even when you’re clearly trying to sleep.

“you’re such a dick, dude,” you groan as she sits next to you on the couch, unphased by your attempts to rest.

“good morning,” minji pokes your cheek. “it’s noon, by the way.”

“what do you want?” you roll your eyes, trying to turn the opposite direction.

“haven’t seen you sleep out here since we moved in,” she observes, eyes focused on the tv the whole time as she assesses the status of her island. “you good? where’s puckhead?”

“she’s been busy,” you say simply, not exactly eager to relive the events of last night.

“ah,” minji says simply. “too busy to say hi to her friends?”

“too busy to be nice to her girlfriend,” you say, hoping it’s enough.

“pouting doesn’t suit you, it’s gross,” minji grimaces. 

“be nice,” marsh yells out from the kitchen, always so quick to run to your rescue. 

“what are you trying to get at?” you wrinkle your nose at minji.

she shrugs, taking a hit from her pen as she keeps her gaze steady on the screen. “megan is a massive loser, yes—”

“minji,” marsh warns once more, as if it’s the only thing she’s capable of doing. “be nice!”

“i am best friends with the most emotionally incompetent person in the world,” you groan, trying to hide your face behind a random throw pillow.

“listen to me, i’m cooking or whatever,” minji says irritatedly. you find it hard to believe that she’s worth listening to: your half-high roommate, in her spiderman underwear and an old oversized t shirt, acting like she’s some oracle. but you’re sort of out of options, and minji’s put the controller down, so at this point you might as well hear her out. “megan is a loser, because she’s scared of a lot. and when she’s not being a loser, she’s acting not-scared, but what are the chances of her still being scared?”

“i know who megan is,” you tell minji, hoping she gets to her point sooner rather than later.

“you’ve never seen her too scared to find a solution. this might be it,” she says simply, staring into your eyes with her own serious ones. “she might be pushing you away while she thrashes around, ‘cause she’s never figured out how to navigate hard shit around others. she’s always had someone to fall back on, now she’s the fallback.”

“i know all this,” you say as if it’s obvious.

“but does she know that you know all this, or are you still just bagging on her for not having it figured out the way you do?” she asks, and the weight of her words hits you. “are you judging her for getting it wrong, when she’s never been taught how to get it right for something this serious?”

“thank you,” you whisper quietly under your breath, realizing this is the wakeup call you needed. you sit up and check the calendar— megan’s schedule is packed to the brim until her game at 6. 

her final championship game of her college career.

“you wouldn’t be with her if it weren’t for me.” minji says, self-satisfied smirk on her lips as she goes back to playing her game. “think of that next time you insult me.”

“you’re not that emotionally constipated after all,” you beam, wrapping her into a quick hug. even though she simply sits there and grunts, you know your roommate has your back.

“told you she could be nice,” marsh laughs from the kitchen, coming out to offer you a smoothie she’s put together. “we can drive you to the game later, if we’re still invited.”

“of course you guys are,” you reassure her. “i wouldn’t be with megan if it weren’t for minji.”

“and i wouldn’t be with minji if it weren’t for megan,” danielle beams. “we all sort of owe each other, in a weird square sort of way.”

“meg loves all things weird,” you smile. 

-

the first championship game you ever came to, you made it late. every game since then, you’ve been sure to show up at least an hour early, seated in front of the player box, where megan’s tickets get you the best seats in the whole arena, and this time will be no different. 

you still remember how excited she got when you custom ordered a university jersey with her last name, especially since college sports don’t allow selling custom merch. wearing your one-of-one “skiendiel” jersey seems fitting.

you think to text her and see if you can steal her away for a second, but before you can do anything, you spot the flash of ginger wandering out of the locker room. you can see the paleness in her face, the way her lip is bright red from how hard she’s been chewing it, the clear tells of how unwell she’s feeling. your heart aches for her, and before you can help it, you’re barrelling towards her, not caring where she might possibly need to be right now.

you collide into her with enough force to push her backwards, but she’s steady enough on her feet to take the hit and keep you both standing. your arms wrap around her and you’re breathing her in, her comforting scent, her familiar warmth, her strength and her softness all at once.

she melts into you as soon as you grip into her, pressing her nose into the top of your head as her arms wrap even tighter around you. the hug feels so, so comforting, leaving so much in the air lingering without causing either of you to suffer for a moment longer.

“you still came?” she asks in disbelief, those big eyes taking you in as she moves to take a step backwards and eye you over. you can see her seriousness melt away as she takes you in, the jersey, your presence, your genuine excitement to see her. 

“i haven’t missed a championship game since i met you,” you remind her, offering a gentle smile as a peace offering. “sure as hell wasn’t going to miss your very last one.”

megan opens her mouth to say something, but she pauses, her face twisting into something pained. you can tell she’s remembering the events of the night before. you take her in, realizing there’s some bruising around her cheekbone from her fight with daniela.

“i hurt you,” she says simply, clamping her eyes shut with a grimace.

“well i love you, and i have for a long time, and i think i know you pretty well. i don’t think you meant to hurt me.” you offer quietly, reaching for her hand. “i think my megan is in there still, just scared.”

“i’m fucking terrified.” you finally hear her admit it, and you look down to realize her hands are shaking. “of everything. this game, my career, our future.”

“you don’t have to be,” you reassure her, trying to reach out to steady her hand.

“i don’t have anything else going for me,” she breathes out, trying to even out her nerves. “you don’t understand.”

“i don’t see it that way,” you push back gently.

“i’m going to go play this game, and then i’m going to beg for forgiveness for being the worst girlfriend ever and a shit communicator.” she quickly takes both your hands in hers, bringing them up to her chest. you can feel her racing pulse against your palms, thudding against her ribs. “and if you’re still mad at me, i totally get it and i’ll go jump off a bridge asap.”

“shut up,” you laugh, and she breaks out into a smile that makes you feel like everything might just end up being okay.

“i’ll keep apologizing as a ghost, i’m serious,” she’s still sticking to the bit, but you can see her eyes start to tear up. “i messed up so bad. i’m really sorry.”

“go do what you do best,” you reach up to kiss her nose, careful to avoid the bruising. “i’ll be here, cheering you on like always.”

“i don’t want this to be the only thing i do best. i want to be a good friend, and a good girlfriend, and a good person,” she says determinedly.

“i love you,” you reassure her.

“nice,” she beams, and you laugh at how only she could make a tender moment so, so stupid.

“at least say like, samesies or some shit,” you beg.

“will you accept ditto?” she asks.

“if i have to,” you wrinkle your nose.

“cool then, ditto,” she grins, reaching down to press a gentle, pleading kiss against your lips. “i love you a lot, y/n. i’m sorry again.”

“you got this,” you reassure her once more, and you can hear the calls of the coaches beckoning her over. 

you wave her goodbye and find your seats again, busying yourself debriefing minji and her girlfriend, shooting a text to lara to let her know the resolution you’ve reached.

the two teams make it onto the ice and you spot the ginger braids peeking out from beneath the helmet, the way megan waves to the entire arena for what will be the last time in her college career. you can see her taking it in, deciding what she’s going to make of tonight, who she’s choosing to be right now. 

you spot dani coming out with the rest of the coaches, sporting a particularly gnarly black eye, no doubt courtesy of your girlfriend. she seems tense, but as soon as she spots you in the stands and glances back at megan, who is simply smiling at you, she nods approvingly and claps to get the team’s attention. they have a team huddle, and you can see the nervous eyes of so many of the newer girls darting around as the cheers from the arena get louder and louder, announcing the impending drop of the puck for the face-off.

eunchae leads them in a chant, and megan sends them off with the team battle shout, each of them slamming their gloves into the helmet of the girl next to them, a tradition dani had started with megan as a sophomore. it’s so cool to see them hyping themselves up, turning their nerves into pure adrenaline, and you see megan lock into her mindset of pure focus as she heads onto the face-off with a look of sheer determination.

the puck drops and she’s off like lightning, the puck nearly invisible with how quick she wields it. you look out to the ice, seeing the new faces, the way things have changed. eunchae stays in the back, holding down the defenseman’s position, but instead of lara, maya guards the goal protectively. instead of yunjin covering defense with eunchae, now it’s moka, looking determinedly out across the ice. instead of kazuha and dani working together to move the offense back and forth in their favor, like clockwork, like mirror images, it’s ryujin and haerin, a bit more scattered, but still quick, still eager, still lightning fast on the ice to pressure their offense.

and the anchor of the team, megan as center, carrying the weight of the team on her shoulders. it’s up to her to score, to call plays, to navigate traps, to see holes in the defense and predict where the offense is going to be. it’s her job to protect maya as the goalie from ever having to see the puck, to trust that moka and eunchae know what they’re doing and can cover the back end of the ice on defense, it’s her job to read ryujin’s movements and see where haerin is trying to take them, to weave between the two of them and catch every pass or assist every shot they try to make. 

hockey is the thing you almost lost your megan to, but watching her on the ice, the way she seems to almost float effortlessly and maneuver the puck with insane expertise, reminds you exactly why she’s poured all she has into this sport— to be the best, nothing less.

you stay on your feet for the entirety of the game, eagerly watching each stolen pass or shot taken. even minji, seated next to you, and often unbothered by most sporting events, seems moved to cheer for megan every time the ginger steals another pass or tries to move into a shooting position.

the game is tense. the first period ends in a drought, a simple 0-0 that sets the tone for an even more aggressive 2nd period, the other team ramping up their efforts to blitz maya in the goal with a more aggressive offense. 

megan, who picks up on this immediately, calls out to eunchae, and eunchae immediately compensates by playing harsher on the incoming offense, clearly indicating that she will not hesitate to protect her goalie at all costs. you can see maya’s confidence grow with each protective shot cut off by eunchae, the way moka eventually finds her stride and manages to cut off several incoming attempts, shooting them straight back up the ice at megan. 

you’ve never been part of a team like that, but you can tell that the girls are finding their groove, megan’s leadership doing more than just keeping them from losing, but building their synergy, the trust between all of them. you see an opposing offense come in, slipping past ryujin, but moka is quick to call out to maya, who in her increasing confidence, is all too quick to catch the puck before it can even try to hit the net.

megan doesn’t take a chance to let her guard down, but she pumps her fist excitedly at the save, yelling out something to the defense line that has moka beaming and maya matching her smile. 

eunchae catches your eye by the end of the second period, sending you a thumbs up. you feel your chest lighten. you see it in the way they move, in the way megan keeps nodding back at all of them, orchestrating them on the ice, hearing the coach’s directions and implementing them as she sees fit. the joy in her eyes is back. she’s truly, sincerely enjoying herself for what looks like the first time all season.

0-0 in the final period is not a good sign for either team. you know megan is going to ramp up her attacks. she’s described her playstyle as more opportunistic before— whereas kazuha was conservative, and daniela had the stamina to be relentless, megan has always described wanting to play smarter, to find holes and exploit them instead of waiting for clarity or rushing to catch the defense off guard. any other players would start to panic, maybe play sloppy, but megan is a threat because she can wait, and she can watch, and be quick enough to strike without hesitation.

you can see it in the eyes of the other team’s girls, trying to goad her into picking a fight with one of them. they’re getting rougher with her, slamming her around more aggressively than her position would ever call for, even when she doesn’t have the puck. 

but megan, more determined than ever, keeps her gaze laser focused on exactly where she needs to be.

the clock trickles down, and even though their defense has done an amazing job of preventing any shots, you know it’s up to megan and the offense to get a score up on the board. they wrestle over the pick over and over, the push of both teams trying to get up on the other. you watch in eager anticipation as the game risks going into overtime, the minutes trickling down into the very end of the game without a single score between the two of them.

the other team gets sloppy in one of their attempted scores and you see megan lock in on the mistake. eunchae blocks the shot and their full team is pushed too far up, the pass she sends to megan leaving the center wide open to take an easy shot. it’s obvious, painfully so, that this is it. you feel the stadium pause with baited breath as the puck makes it into megan’s possession, her feet making quick work of moving her halfway up the rink to close the gap in seconds.

megan looks at the goal, then back at the girls. a split second decision. you know it’s her shot to take, wide open and easy enough for her to send.

you see something flash over her features, the vision of her future in front of her very eyes.

in a move that shocks even you, she sends the puck forward, flying straight to haerin. 

haerin freezes, handling the puck for a brief moment before realizing the opening she has. she’s waited a bit too long, by the time she takes the shot, the other team’s defense is already swarming in on her.

the next 20 seconds are a blur. the opposing team gains possession of the puck and megan does everything in her power to chase the other center out of their box, but they’re too late. the opposing offense makes quick work of overwhelming eunchae and moka, leaving a gap for their center to take a shot. maya, despite her speed, isn’t fast enough to block the shot, and you hear the buzz of the shot making it in. seconds trickle by, and the final buzzer goes off to announce the end of the final period.

you look at the finishing score. 0-1.

you hold your breath, spotting the girls all dumbfoundedly shaking hands with the other team as they celebrate their victory, and making their way off the ice. even the coaches are in silence, and you can see megan’s face, hard and stony, as she takes her helmet off her head.

the team crams into the box, all looking expectantly to their captain. you’re half worried she’ll erupt, but you trust her. you walk up to the box and watch their interaction through the glass.

she breaks out into a gentle, almost goofy smile. she looks like a little kid, good naturedly taking the loss on the chin.

“good game,” megan nods, and the girls all seem to take a breath of relief at her simple words.

“i cost us the shot.” you hear haerin’s voice pierce through the air, quaking angrily. the forward throws her stick onto the ground, her face tensing. “why didn’t you just take it, megan? you would have made it.”

“you had just as much chance of making it as i did,” megan says firmly.

“i lost us the game,” haerin’s eyes water.

“i believed in you, it’s okay.” megan pulls her glove off with her teeth, reaching her bare hand to grab haerin by the back of the neck and pull her closer, forcing her to look up at the captain. haerin is still biting back tears, but megan nods reassuringly. “it’s not your fault they made their own shot. kang, you’ll make your shot next year.”

“next year you won’t be here,” haerin pushes back anxiously.

“i was here this year and we didn’t win. i’m not what matters. i’m just glad i had an amazing time playing with all of you,” she smiles once more. “thanks for the kick ass game, guys.”

maya is the first to break out into tears, tackling megan into a giant hug that the rest of the girls swarm into immediately. 

“we’ll make the shot next year,” ryujin promises, between sobs.

“i’ll kill someone to make sure they don’t ever get a point over on us again,” moka threatens, crying into megan’s shoulder.

“you’re missing the point,” megan glares at the underclassmen, laughing as the girls take it too far. eunchae, still panting from the game, beams back at her.

“thanks for thinking i could do it, cap,” haerin tells her, her voice soft. “i’ll make sure it happens next year.” 

daniela having watched the whole thing, shoos the girls to break up their huddle and eyes megan, before patting her on the back.

“that’s what a captain does,” she says simply, approvingly. “good call, meg.”

megan wrinkles her nose sheepishly at the assistant coach, noting the bruise she’s sporting. “sorry for the black eye, dani.”

“that was you?” eunchae asks in disbelief, but the two friends ignore her.

“i’m just sorry i didn’t break your nose. don’t ever piss me off like that again, ‘cause i’ll do real damage next time, alright meiyok?” dani threatens, but instantly hooks megan by the neck and presses a kiss into her head. “i think someone wants to talk to you.”

dani motions to you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, megan’s eyes light up as she catches sight of you.

years ago, the older girls would tease her and make kissy noises when you’d come up to her after a game. now, megan’s respected, the leader figure, and the girls all scatter to give you guys some space as she takes off what she can of her gear before making it out of the box and coming up to you.

“what was that?” you ask, curious into her mindset about giving the pass to haerin. she could have taken the shot and clinched the win to no-one’s criticism, so you’re truly curious what her mindset was for this call.

“dani always trusted me to make shots. she gave almost all her shots to me by the middle of my first season. that’s what gave me the confidence to try, and to get good, and to feel like i could do it and keep up with her.” she explains. “and you trusted me enough to give me a chance. that’s what helped me branch out, and know i was capable. i love teams, i love improving, i love the trust. not winning. i’m sorry i lost sight of that.”

you smile and wrap your arms around her neck. you see it now— megan gives up her investment in herself to invest in the future for these girls, the thing she truly believes in, the thing that made her the perfect captain. she gives up the win to instill the love of the sport in the next generation.

“i have a lot to make right to you,” she continues, her hands shaky as they wrap around your waist, and you feel so, so at home in her embrace. “i have a lot to make up for.”

“i missed you,” you shake your head, just grateful to have her back. the rest will easily fit into place.

“i missed you too.” she hums, pressing her forehead against yours. “never letting that out of sight again. i’m sorry.”

you decide she’s done enough apologizing. you scoop her chin into your hand and melt into a kiss, the sweat from her nose dripping onto you, but you don’t mind. she wraps her arms even tighter around your waist and kisses you back so eagerly it makes your heart thud.

“i was crazy about you then, i’m still crazy about you now,” she tells you, lifting you and spinning you around. “probably gonna be crazy about you forever.”

you laugh and hug her even tighter. the whole thing feels like a win in your book. 

“you know what?” you beam. 

“what?” she grins back at you curiously.

“ditto.”

-

the next morning, megan is giving her statements about their loss in the conference room, but she isn’t solemn or sullen about it. she’s bright-eyed, eager, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. 

after the coach announces eunchae as next year’s captain (the department clearly learning their lesson about letting the captains make such an announcement) there’s a quick question from one of the reporters to megan about her future in the wnhl and her plans to pursue hockey.

“hockey gave me everything, and i gave it everything,” she says simply, nothing more, nothing less. she flashes a quick, nervous smile, and it’s perfect for her, the balance of sincere and dorky that made you fall for her in the first place.

“what’s next for you?” another reporter asks, trying to goad her into opening up further about her prospects.

“whatever is next, i’ll give it 100%,” megan says carefully. “and i’ll be grateful, and i’ll remember what matters to me. the love of the game, nothing else.”

she nods awkwardly and excuses herself from the table, letting dani and the head coach take over the rest of the questions about what they plan to do without their star player.

you greet megan with a kiss on the cheek, and she returns the gesture by pressing a kiss into the top of your head.

“what’s really next?” you ask, motioning to the google calendar you share that she hasn’t updated for the day.

“uh, will you help me study for finals?” she asks, almost shyly, and you can almost see it play back. your first class together, how awkward she was asking for your notes. it makes your heart flip inside your chest.

“no more interviews?” you question.

“coach and dani can do them together. i need to focus on right now, and right now is a bitchass english final due in 48 hours that my girlfriend would know exactly how to study for,” megan informs you, and you laugh at her determination.

the two of you escape hand in hand out of the building and start making your way towards the library to get a head start on preparing for finals.

you catch her staring at you as you walk, peering out of the corner of her eye. her cheeks flush as she realizes she’s been spotted, and she tries distracting you instead by taking off her letterman jacket and insisting on placing it over your shoulders.

“what?” you question, accepting the jacket without protest.

“you are really so pretty,” megan breathes out nervously. 

“thank you,” you smile back at her. those big brown eyes, her button nose, her dimples. “you’re so fucking cute.”

“you make me nervous,” she mumbles quietly.

“still?” you ask in disbelief.

“always have,” she nods, and the way she breathes out makes you feel like she’s finally able to start thinking about what she wants, instead of what she’s afraid of. “you have from the start.”

-

finals are grueling, but you both manage to pass all your exams, and spend your winter break making up for lost time now that the season is over. your anniversary quickly approaches, and megan ditches off-season practice where she’s supposed to be training eunchae in order to spend the whole day with you.

(it’s her first time ever ditching practice since starting the sport, and you don’t take it lightly.)

she’s losing pitifully to you in the snowball fight you’re currently halfway through, and it doesn’t escape you that she’d put her phone on do not disturb in order to focus on you. the last time you two were at the lake, it was her fight with dani, and the time before that, your date that had gotten cut short, so this date feels like it’s making up for all the terrible experiences you’d previously shared.

and what’s best, is that megan is perfectly fine with just playing in the snow, no longer insisting on teaching you how to skate.

her phone falls out of her pocket as she tries packing another snowball to toss at you, and you notice that even through dnd, her mom has called her at least four times since your date has started. megan’s mom is close to megan, but not exactly the clingy type, so this raises a flag for you.

“why is your mom blowing you up?” you ask, pointing to your phone as she picks it up out of the snow. “everything okay?”

“i’m not interrupting another date to take a stupid phone call,” she furrows her brow, preparing to tuck it back into her jacket.

“it’s your mom, meg,” you reassure her, laughing at her determination to be better. “it’d be different if it was coach.”

“fine,” she grumbles.

she takes the phone off and brings it to her ear, a quick greeting in cantonese before you hear her mom rambling something at a million miles an hour. you grin and tackle her backwards into a snowbank, the two of you sinking into the powder with a laugh as you simply rest on top of her while she keeps chatting away with her mom. 

it seems like the usual check in until you see megan’s face change, her features widening, her skin going pale. you almost insist that she put it on speaker before she quickly hangs up. you realize her hands are shaking as they slip the phone back into her pocket.

“you know how my mom does all my management stuff?” she starts, voice wobbly.

“loser,” you laugh, realizing that megan has kept all her management as her mom’s job instead of hiring a real agent. “but continue.”

she gives you a blank stare, her mind clearly not fully there following the phone call.

“they want me for the olympic women’s hockey team,” she says simply, and you feel your jaw drop.

“holy shit, megan,” you gasp.

“the winter olympics are in london next year,” she tells you, and the two of you connect the dots at the exact same time. “you’ll be halfway through your program.”

“that’s convenient,” you beam.

“olympic players always go back in the draft,” megan tells you, her words picking up in pace, her voice growing more and more excited. “i’ll take a month or two off to sight see, and then i’ll go to the combine for drafting. if i’m lucky, a team will pick me up as soon as i’m done.”

“megan, that’s amazing,” you bury your face into her neck to wrap her in a tight hug. “your dream is coming true.”

“my dream isn’t hockey,” she corrects you quickly, running a hand through your hair. “it’s just a future where i’m happy. think you’ll be part of it?”

“wherever you get drafted i’ll go with you,” you nod reassuringly. the smile she gives you back is worth everything to you.

she scoops up a pile of snow and shoves it in your face. you scream with laugher and scoop up one to smash right back into her nose, watching as she tries to wiggle herself out from under you and shove you further into the snowbank.

-

the semester is grueling, but you make it through in one piece, and so does megan. graduation rolls around before you even realize it, and your time as college students is quickly coming to an end. 

at the graduation, you and megan have to split up as you separate into your different majors and departments, but she presses a kiss to your forehead before you depart. 

“i’ll be the loudest cheer in the room,” she promises, smiling at you. you can’t help but admire how cute she looks in her cap and gown. the way the cap just slightly brushes her eyebrows reminds you of how low she used to wear her beanies, and how she still sometimes will.

you shuffle into line and take inventory of all your friends from the year, all the things this university has given you. sophia in the crowd next to your family, minji and danielle in their own caps and gowns waving from their section in the graduation lineup. you know daniela and lara are cheering you on from their spot with megan’s family.

the department heads read off the names, and you feel your ears perk up as they approach the name of the ginger that had come out of nowhere your freshman year and changed everything for you.

“megan skiendiel.”

you hear an air horn go off, followed by another, and the whole arena erupts into an echo of cheers. you can see from the crowd where several people have printed up blow up heads and are waving them around. you can make out some of the newer girls and realize nearly 2 full rows of seats are taken up by the entire women’s hockey team, the babies who’d follow megan anywhere even with all they’ve been through. they wave the blow up heads wildly around, cheering at the top of their lungs as if they’re at a game and not at some respectable academic demonstration.

you see megan’s cheeks flush as soon as she spots the stupid display, no doubt daniela and lara’s idea. she takes her degree and makes her way off stage.

your department comes next, and you beam as you take to the stage.

“y/n y/ln, graduating magna cum laude.”

you can hear the uproar from your loved ones, but one voice is cheering longer and louder than all the rest. you look down at the graduates and see megan with her hands cupped around her mouth, cheering as loudly as possible. you see her eyes shining brightly. she’s usually not a huge fan of bringing attention to herself, but your stupid, goofy megan doesn’t stop cheering the whole time you’re on stage.

your families join after the ceremony into one giant group, made even more chaotic by the fact that the entire women’s hockey team is eagerly trying to fit into the picture as well.

megan smiles at you, and takes your hand in hers. in that exact moment, you can’t picture anything you’d ever want more than this.

-

your phone background is a countdown of how many days are left until megan lands. it’s been a grueling 4 months without her, but she’ll be in your city prepping for the olympics in no time at all. plus, she’s sent weekly care packages, and her twice daily facetimes make it a little more bearable. 

you admire your desk, the way your life has all fallen into place. 

on your bulletin board, pictures of your life: you, minji, and marsh, all posing at one of megan’s games your junior year. you and megan celebrating her second championship game win. you and megan on the beach when she had brought you to hawaii to meet her family the summer after sophomore year. a photo of the two of you at the surprise party the underclassmen had planned just before summer ended. one of you and sophia at the renaissance fair. megan cheering you on at your senior capstone presentation. the photo of everyone from graduation. one of the first photos you had ever taken of her, a picture from freshman year during one of your many study sessions.

your hands unpack the envelope that megan had saved for you specifically. the magazine drops into your hands, and the familiar eyes look back up at you from the photo on the cover. 

you hold the magazine up and look up proudly at the cover. the sullivan award, amateur athlete of the year: megan skiendiel. 

megan. your megan, as she’s always been.

[nina-ya]

When You Fake It (Law x Reader NSFW)

A/N: Idk what came over me when I wrote this but here yall go! I'm thinking of turning this into a series I already know what I want to do for zoros next Pairing: Law x AFAB!Reader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI Oral, reader receiving WC: ~1.3k

Law’s breath was hot against your skin, leaving trails of kisses along the inside of your thighs as he worked his way to the core of your desire. He settled between your legs, his fingers gently parting your folds as his tongue flicked out to taste you. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity down your spine, and the room soon filled with soft sounds of pleasure and the wet, sinful noise of his mouth at work. Despite the scene unfolding between your legs, your mind was elsewhere, distracted by thousands of little thoughts that refused to be quieted. 

You faked it. An unconvincing performance at best, hoping it would be enough for him to move on without a comment. You moaned loudly, back arching off the bed, thighs tightening around his head, but there was no true conviction behind it. 

As soon as the faux moans escaped your lips, Law’s movements paused. Piercing eyes rose to look up at you, brow furrowed in thought as if he was piecing together a puzzle. 

“Really?” he asked, an eyebrow arching, his voice laden with disbelief.

“What do you mean?” you replied, trying to maintain a facade of breathless satisfaction. You hoped your voice carried the illusion of genuine pleasure, but the edge of your desperation seeped through. 

Law’s contemplative gaze remained on you. “Right there, that little performance of yours sounded like something out of a porno– you’re not fooling me,” he said, his tone almost challenging you to deny him. 

His fingers still lingered between your legs and began to move gently, tracing your body with an almost clinical interest. “Don’t try to sidestep me,” he murmured. “If you’re not feeling it, I want to know. No more pretending.” 

You shifted uncomfortably, embarrassment spreading across your features. “I’m just not really in the mood right now,” you admitted, your voice wavering as you tried to avoid the gaze that bore into you. 

Law’s eyes narrowed, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “Was it something I did?” he asked, genuine concern threading through his voice as he continued, “I need to know so I can fix it.”

You sighed, frustration creeping into your voice as you responded, “Law, I really don’t want to play this game right now. Can we just–”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “We’re getting this right. Trust me.”

He returned to the task at hand with a renewed focus. His tongue lapped at your clit with a hunger that bordered on ravenous, swirling and tracing patterns. It was a delicate assault on your senses, each stroke of his tongue a hot, wet caress that had you twitching and mewling underneath him. Inked fingers dipped between your folds, pressing and probing with an intimate knowledge, the digits on a mission to seek out every sensitive spot inside of you. 

“You’ve always been a terrible liar,” he murmured against you, the low, gravely vibrations rumbling through you. “I know how you react when you’re close. Your breath catches in this specific way, your thighs start to tremble and shoot out as if you’re possessed, and your voice, that’s not something you can recreate unless you’re really feeling it.”

You struggled to steady you being, anticipation and frustration swirling within you. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted, your voice a soft, breathless murmur that barely escaped your lips. “You’re being too hard on me.”

“I’m not being hard on you,” he said, stopping his movements to look up at you. “I’m just being honest. Now, let me make this right.”

His fingers continued their movements, pressing and curling inside of you while his mouth was a hot, wet worship of your clit that left no room for pretense. He sucked and nipped, eyes locked on you, watching and studying your reactions to know what he needs to do to get you seeing stars. 

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against your sensitive skin. “Let me make you feel good.”

His fingers curled and pressed within you, brushing against those more sensitive spots that had you quivering on the precipice of ecstasy. His mouth lavished attention on your clit with an insatiable hunger, tongue tracing lines of devotion over your clit, drawing out sweet, desperate sighs from the depths of your being. A gasp, trembling and desperate, slipped from your lips. “Yes, right there,” you breathed, a plea caught between heaven and earth. 

Law's eyes darkened and gleamed with the satisfaction of a conductor in the throes of his performance. His smirk was nothing short of triumphant, as he continued to sculpt and mold your pleasure.

Your hands were driven by an unrestrained need and wove into his hair, fingers threading through the raven locks, gripping with a desperate longing as you sought to ground yourself. Your body writhed and arched, the torture he imbued onto your body nothing short of exquisite. Every movement he made was spellbinding, each pump of his fingers and each caress of his tongue drawing you inexorably closer to your release. 

The heat that burned between your legs was a consuming fire, a desire that intensified with each passing second. Your moans heightened in pitch, dripping with desperation as the unrestrained evidence of your rapture was pulled from the depths of your soul. 

“Come on,” he murmured. “Surrender to it. Let yourself go for me.”

Your body trembled, his efforts building to a peak that left you gasping for breath, like a crescendo of a symphony instead played on your arousal. Your muscles strained and quivered, contracting with an almost painful intensity as your orgasm began to crash over you. Your sweat slicked thighs clamped around his head, pulling him almost impossibly closer. His fingers inside of you were squeezed by the pulsing of your inner walls, each contraction pulling them somehow deeper than before. 

Choked gasps fell from your lips, each breath ragged and desperate. Your back arched off the surface, each muscle in your body taut and straining, the feeling bordering on discomfort. Your arousal gushed over his face, seeming to drive him mad as his mouth worked to lick and slurp every last drop of your ecstasy. 

As the final tremors of your climax began to subside, an overwhelming exhaustion overtook you, and your body collapsed back onto the bed with a soft, content sigh. Law’s face glistened with the essence of your pleasure, his eyes filled with a joy that he was able to bring you to such a blissful end. His fingers stilled within you, allowing you to come down from your high while his tongue gently lapped at the remnants of your release, savoring every last drop.

Each flick of his tongue against your oversensitive clit left your muscles twitching involuntarily in response to the continued stimulation. You whined out, weakly shoving his head away as you muttered something about being too sensitive. 

He pulled away for a moment, and his fingers emerged from your cunt, the digits still connected to you with a string of your essence before it snapped. He brought them to his lips and licked them clean, savoring every bit of pleasure that he coaxed from you. He smirked at you, expression still filled with a predatory hunger. 

Now that's the reaction I was looking for," he murmured, voice thick with desire. "Let me see it one more time to make sure you got it right

Before you could respond, he was back in between your thighs, his tongue and fingers resuming to their previous song and dance, renewing the growing waves of your ecstasy, making you wonder why you ever had to fake it in the first place. 

[fujoshi-her]

dolly dog man readthrough #8

grime and punishment

THERE'S SOME INSANE SYMBOLISM IN THIS ONE

also yes i skipped a readthrough and yes it is in my drafts, im publishing it later bc i had problems with the image files

this is a metaphor for life and having the autonomy to choose your own path and this is probably gonna be the theme for the rest of the book

im guessing

all of grampa's experiences with others in life have been transactional, likely since childhood, to the point that he is unable to see others in any way other than a means to an end

while his son, petey, fits an NPD diagnosis almost exactly, grampa seems to fit an ASPD diagnosis almost exactly.

anddd

andddd

this is the most open he has been about his feelings. and its in an altered state

this is a metaphor for people who avoid therapy and medication, instead opting into dependence on recreational drugs to regulate and process their emotions

petey hangs onto the hate towards his father because it's the only thing he has left with him in relation to his father. giving up the hate would mean giving up his father, and deep down he still just wants to be loved, so he settles for what he's given

being a witness to abuse is really hard, especially when you're trying to explain it to someone who wasn't around to see it, someone younger. you want to protect them from the harsh knowledge, but you want them to understand your pain. it's even harder when you have to watch your other parent simply take it, settle with the abuse, because they feel like there's no escape. it makes you lose hope and really shapes your expectations for what life will look like for the worse.

OH FUCK. SHIT

side note: the composition of these frames is really nice... in the second frame, his son's speech bubble comes from behind him, as if it's sneaking up on him. the sizzling of the pan goes off the page to the right, continuing as his son talks, but it abruptly stops once he finishes the sentence. it literally shows the room going quiet.

in the last frame, petey is super far behind him. there's a divide between him. it's as if li'l petey is fading into the background and an invisible barrier, petey's memories, is brought to the foreground. a divide between them, really showing how different their experiences of life are.

i also appreciate how the color changes of the background went through these panels, starting a deep angry color, fading to a more neutral, some tension with the yellow, and then desaturating as the question is asked.

silhouette comes in clutch every time. this entire scene is genuinely a cinematic masterpiece

i appreciate that they took the time to show that even when there's tension between them he still makes sure to take care of li'l petey

sickening page

this was created so beautifully.

the third panel is absolutely stunning, the symbolism managed in the imagery in such a simplistic comic is incredible. the bottled weeds from earlier in the book on the counter, the weeds that li'l petey specifically referred to as dying, which ended up symbolizing resistance in struggle... in this scene, it means both of those things at the same time. there's a duality.

also, the buds of the weeds being white i assume symbolizes grief and loss. outside, it's dark, the world is a dark place, but they've made a loving home together, which is why the walls are still multicolored. petey is struggling with issues from the past, but this time he's not alone and he can't give up. it's a lot of mixed feelings, just like the mixed colors on the wall.

he has a point, the little anarchist has a point

ACAB chief my beloved

he just does it for the fun of the game

i feel like im witnessing a Socratic seminar in comic form

to hate or not to hate

or smth

YEAH TELL EM LI'L PETEY SET THOSE BOUNDARIES

bro needs to stop parentifying his child !!

I KNEW THAT WAS GONNA COME BACK.

shitt bro...

let go of your baggage or it will only weigh you down

also i rlly liked the artistic decision to make petey's outline glow more when hugging his son so cute

fun fact this is actually a DBT crisis skill called "Pushing Away"

when there's nothing else you can do to make a situation better, you're allowed to give yourself the benefit of retiring from it. you're not required to stick it out for every problem in your life. you are allowed to have peace of mind

and now grampa has no choice to accept the situation for how it is. it's settled and boundaries are set. he can't wriggle out of them. it was a direct, neutral statement with no judgement. when you're in the wrong, sometimes that's the hardest thing to sit with. if someone tells you something you did with no judgement and you feel ashamed because of it, you can't blame it on the way they said it, you can only blame it on what you did.

PERFECT DBT SKILLS. PERFECT BOUNDARIES SETTING.

yeah this is essentially what people are saying when they try to make you explain your boundaries

if you fight enough with someone they may forget their footing and adjust their boundaries, but you don't have to fight, you don't have to explain your boundaries, you can just set them and leave it.

real shit bro real shit

IM FUCKING TWEAKING HOLY SHIT

that bottle again,,,,

after years of struggle he lets his inner child finally feel and see. he travelled his path and now he's ready to share his resilience with the rest of the people in his life, ready to reconnect in a new way, instead of hiding his resilience in private, ashamed, as if it's a show of weakness. he's learnt the strength of being open

YOU CAN COLOR IT ANY WAY YOU WANT......

FIEND! FIEND! FIEND! FIEND!

so THISSS is the sauce they put in this book...

EACH BOOK KEEPS GETTING BETTER AND ALSO MORE HEARTBREAKING

IM GONNA GENUINELY START TWEAKING

DAV PILKEY WHAT ARE YOU

[byhees]

when you find their baby photos.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 700 genre fluff established relationship non-idol au warnings not proof-read skinship petnames light profanity (god) mention of food — more

a/n. i really dug through my drafts n found this keke

heeseung would snatch that little picture out of your grip in an instant, cheeks lightly brushed with a pink tint; “what’re you doing, love??”, but it’d be laced with slight bashfulness and embarrassment. would hold the photograph high up in the air, arm outstretched and everything, making it exponentially harder for you to retrieve the little treasure piece. “baby picture? what do you mean, love? i don’t see any around here.” is trying his hardest to conceal the painfully obvious flush of his face…

jay would stare at your phone screen, wide-eyed; first thought to run through his mind would be ‘how did you even manage to find that??’ would awkwardly clear his throat, whilst being bombarded with heaps of compliments— “woah, you look so cute here.” the tips of his ears are reddening. “aww, look at your little cheeks!” at this point, they’re probably neon-red; given your cooing at the slightly pixelated image, he doesn’t find it that surprising that his baby picture is adorning your phone lockscreen the day after, a shy chuckle escaping his lips...

jake would simply gawk at your phone; ‘oh, no yeah, who’s that?’ would be an ample encapsulation of his expressions. would be so so embarrassed (because who wants their significant other to see a picture of their younger selves striking a questionable pose— he’s definitely not a part of that population). would try to divert your attention away from the photograph of baby jake— but would fail miserably upon seeing you swipe to another picture, his little plan crumbling in pure mortification of the photo. “oh my god, what am i even doing…” is what he’d say, face buried in the palms of his hands, cheeks heating up with every passing compliment…

sunghoon would, first, let out the tiniest of shrieks because, is that a baby picture— correction, his baby picture— being shoved into his face? is dramatically swinging his arms in the air; would raise a hand to your eyes, as though to shield his photo from your gaze. “sweetheart, this is very embarrassing, by the way,” he’d say, awkwardly coughing. would, lowkey, smile a little upon hearing your soft coos; ends up holding you close to his embrace, smile growing with every endearing comment…

sunoo would tilt his head ever so slightly, and blink rapidly in confusion; after all, you did just burst into the room, a small, precious baby picture clutched in hand. honestly wouldn’t mind too much, finding himself really cute, actually. would say things like “don’t my cheeks look as squishy as before?”; manages to, somehow, convince you to reveal a baby photo of yourself— both of you would wind up entangled in a lazy hug, hushed squeals falling from your lips at the sheer adoration of it all…

jungwon would take a brief look at the photo and pause; he had not expected to see a zoomed-up picture of his younger self, holding a little heart gesture towards the camera. would burst into immediate laughter— snorts at how ridiculous he looks, posed with his slice of pizza; unintentionally recreates the image, face twisting to the same, jubilant smile. tiny tiny screeches along the lines of “that was cringe, please forget that”. would spend the night scrolling through his chat history with you, adamant and determined to find a baby picture of you in the midst of the chaotic texts— just wants to say “my baby’s still so pretty”, to you...

riki would, initially, be flabbergasted, gobsmacked even; a very audible gasp would fall from his lips. tries to get hold of the little rectangular device— that is, your phone— but fails because of how adept you are at defence; “hoho, two can play that game,” he’d say, whipping out his phone from his pocket; you both end up shoving baby pictures of the other in each others’ faces, lips pressed into thin lines to suppress uproars of giggles and disbelieving “what am i doing, oh my god”. your wallpapers are now baby pictures of the other…

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @vnsux @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @nwjws @ibsysbsfsunsbs @rikisly @amyysfics @mixtape-racha @berry-and-kkami @rikislady @gweoriz @czlluvriki @okwonyo @okwons networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

[wordpress-blaze-36010151]

I am a Failure

Recently, I have been contemplating failure and its spiritual dimensions. In large part, this is because failure’s counterpart, success, is such a strange thing to pin down. I think Daniel Berrigan was onto something when he referred to success as being a weasel word and horribly American. But this recent contemplation of mine is also because, by all accounts, Jesus of Nazareth was a failure as well. Certainly, he had the makings of a successful person, but in the end, he died scandalized and humiliated on a Roman Cross.

As I was recently reminded at a gathering of Lutherans, many are certainly happy to celebrate Jesus becoming a failure for us, but those qualities that brought him to a Roman cross seem to be overlooked for the systematic nature of Paul’s letters. At times, I am not so sure what to make of this dynamic, because when Jesus’ words are referenced, they are just as quickly taken out of context.

It might seem strange that I am writing about failure, given my background as a pastor and professor with a Ph.D. I think I would be considered a “success” by some. However, in a very real sense, I don’t know what to do with such a judgment. Not because I am against being considered a success, but because there is so much more to me than just these things. There are many places where I might be deemed a failure. I resigned from a reputable pastoral position in part because of interpersonal dynamics, I struggle with OCD, I can certainly worry about the most ridiculous things, and I can be harsh and impatient. My successes can all too easily cover up my failures or, in another very real sense, my humanity. However, what strikes me through all my experiences is that it is in the failures and the struggles that the gold is found. After all, Christians believe that one man’s failure is what saves us from our sins.  

Recently, I read a great interview with theologian William T. Cavanaugh concerning success and failure. In the interview, Cavanaugh explains how, when it comes to positions of power and our desire for them, we rarely ask or consider how the position might change us. Rather, we often view it in the opposite direction, with a very individualistic lens, on how we can change the world through our position. I thought this was such a powerful insight, as we tend to approach the world around us in such ways when, in all actuality, the world around us influences us far more than we influence it. And really, wasn’t that the struggle of Jesus of Nazareth, not succumbing to the influence of the world? Satan tempted him with the very things that make for a successful person: power, prestige, and security, and certainly, no cross. Peter rebuked him over all his cross talk. And certainly had Jesus been more agreeable, he could have found a seat at the table of his enemies, the Pharisees. Yet, the ultimate symbol of failure lay ahead of him for all to see. I suppose we can say that such is what happens when one does not seek success, but instead faithfulness to the ways of God – failure.

Source: I am a Failure

[starcurtain]

We are only in 3.0 but do you have any theories how the story is going to develop? (Especially with no one having any idea where the prophecy came from)

Also maybe it's just me, but I think they made Phainon just a little bit too fond of Mydei to the point I can feel my alarm bells going through the roof...i don't know if it's a death flag but it's defintiely some kinda angst flag...

How does it feel to be the smartest person in the room? Predicting them Phaidei death flags all the way from 3.0. Good job, anon!

To be honest, I have given up on trying to predict Hoyoverse stories because if at some point someone told me Penacony was going to be invaded by viral meme talking monkeys, exunt pursued by a ninja, I would have asked them what kind of crack they were smoking, but... here we are...

However, I do have a wild conspiracy theory about Amphoreus, and it goes like this:

Amphoreus itself is one gigantic "allegory of the cave" meets "lotus eater" plot.

The Amphoreus that the Trailblazer and Dan Heng are currently trapped in isn't a real world at all--it's a simulation maintained by the combined powers of Remembrance and Erudition (possibly with the third aeon involved. If the third aeon is actively involved, it may be Enigmata. If the third aeon is not involved with maintaining the simulation, it might be an enemy instead, i.e. Destruction). I believe that this simulation might be running with a person--Cyrene/Elysia--at its core. This is the reason that Amphoreus only appears in the Garden of Recollection's mirror--because it was never a real place and only ever existed as a fictional location in someone's mind/memory. It also would explain some of the inexplicable elements the plot keeps bringing up, like Trailblazer's synesthesia beacon being able to work on Amphoreus despite the planet supposedly never being connected to the Silver Rail.

My basic speculation is that the person at the core of the situation has lost their original world, and is using the power of aeons to keep their world "alive" through a simulated reality. This invokes the lotus eater plot: Someone is intentionally "refusing to wake" from a dream, indulging in a fantasy to escape from a cruel reality.

However, I suggest that the person who is maintaining the simulation isn't trying to accurately recreate their original world. Instead, they're telling themselves a story. They're not remembering a real world or 100% real people--they're filling in gaps, piecing together different elements of truth and creating entirely new material in efforts to produce a version of the story that will finally have a happy ending. Rather than attempting to bring reality back, they're creating a fairy tale, combining jumbled memories, rewrites/revisions, and entirely retelling portions of the tale when something goes wrong.

This invokes the "allegory of the cave" plot. The person at the core of the simulation isn't seeing reality, but instead watching nothing more than shadow-play, shallow imitations of forms, acting out one-dimensional imitations of reality and accepting that one-dimensional re-enactment as their only "truth." The story we are watching as players is, in fact, nothing more than a story in-game as well.

This accounts for the strange skips between times, places where the plot collapses in on itself--events are occurring both thousands of years and two years ago, all at the same time--places where things don't add up (how did Tribios escape on her own?) and the odd clash of archaism and modernity (people still use stone tablets as reading material but also have cellphones with cameras). It also accounts for the "black tide" manifesting in ways that look like computer viruses--the simulation itself is being attacked and dissolving.

In fact, we could see the "black tide" itself as the way the story reconciles with reality--the simulation may be crumbling or failing (either internally or because of external pressure such as an enemy aeon), and that manifests as an "impending apocalypse" inside the story!Amphoreus as well.

Simultaneously, there's a meta aspect to the "allegory of the cave" plot: None of the Amphoreus natives recognize that they're in a story. They all think that what they're seeing and experiencing is reality. This makes them literal "allegory of the cave" participants. They stare at the false projections on the "cave wall" and are convinced that's reality. At the core of their adventure is the idea of "flame-chasing"--that is, they are spellbound by the flame that projects the false shadows on the wall. The prophecy is the chains that keep them bound, unable to look away to any other possibilities and discover the truth outside their "cave." This accounts for the fact that the characters' themselves don't seem to notice the odd discrepancies in their timelines (i.e. Tribbie handwaving Tribio's inexplicable escape and Mydei not pausing to go "Something isn't right here" about the strange gaps in his own backstory). They don't question the story--because they're part of it. (Anaxa, then, becomes the one exception, the one character who is trapped in the illusion but aware enough to tell everyone that they're in an illusion.)

But this creates a conundrum. If the characters don't follow along with the story and pursue the prophecy, then they might be marching to their own inevitable ends, because it is entirely possible that either all of them are already dead or none of them ever existed. Trailblazer and Dan Heng obviously need to escape the simulation, to then and only then find the "true" Amphoreus--whether that is a real-world hidden from us by the simulation... or whether there's nothing left to find at all. But the Amphoreus natives themselves? They might not have anything left outside their shadows on the wall.

Basically, Amphoreus is just the plot of Princess Tutu, is what I'm saying.

That's my tinfoil hat conspiracy!

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Yandere Alphabet: Killua Zoldyck

He was a lot of fun to get into. The first crush I ever had on an animated figure, roughly 10 years ago. It was a lot of fun for me to come back to him.

Killua Zoldyck

The heir of a famous family of assassins. Manipulated since birth and tortured since childhood. Someone, who knows more ways to kill someone, than you can even imagine. A deeply hurt boy, who just wants to heal. Though I fear, the he is going to be the last of your worries. There are others, far more dangerous people in his vicinity, that I would rather watch out for.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He is a bit socially stunted, maybe even emotionally. He won´t be the first to admit it, but he will admit it. Still, he is trying. He observes what the couples on the streets are doing, and then hesitantly, he will try to recreate it. Shyly, he will grasp for his darlings head, turning his head away to hide his rising blush. He is not used to it, so when you pull away, he will let go. Maybe he did something wrong? He doesn´t know, and it shows.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He won´t quite recognize some actions as flirtations, if they are not obvious, so that won´t be a problem. Though, he does understand a threat when he sees one, and that is also the moment, when blood will flow. Probably not, where his darling could ever see it, but the problem will be removed. Clean and efficient, for something his childhood training had to be good for after all, no? So, if someone threatens you or makes you uncomfortable, they will be gone the very next day.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He isn´t one for abduction in the first place. Instead, he simply won´t leave your side. Travelling somewhere? It´s obviously more fun with another person around. Just resting at home, he just can stay as well, no? He doesn´t kidnap his darling, but they also won´t be able to get rid of him any more.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

Well, as his darling, you can very early on bide your personal space farewell. It will never return to you either. He sticks close to his darling, even if it just staying in the same room. He always makes sure, that you somewhat around each other. The only time, he will ever forcefully take control of a situation, where it might cut into your own autonomy, is when the two of you faced with a danger that will be deadly. Then he will flee with you, if you want to or not doesn´t matter in that moment.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

The truths slip out, when he least expect it most of the time. It´s not that he even tells his darling everything that he knows, and more that he, even unconsciously, has laid his entire heart and emotional well being into your hands. His darling is supposed to be his moral compass, his balance in everything. When he runs into an emotional barrier, he tends to look to his darling for guiding. He really put his all with you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He doesn´t understand it. Not at all. What is going on? He tries to find the logical reason behind what is going on, but it takes a long time for him, to even get an idea why you are fighting him. Are you trying to play with him? But then, why do you look so serious, while fighting? That boy has no clue. Still he keeps trying, maybe he will figure out along the way, or his darling will stop on their own. Whatever comes first.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He doesn´t even register his darlings escape attempts as such. Though, he does wonder, why you would want to play hide and seek now out of all times. It´s not, that he doesn´t enjoy a good game, but he had been actually sleeping for once. He would even giggle, when you break out in a mad dash to get away from him, amused by your antics and apparent playfulness, to play tag now. Yes, your escape attempts are just games for him, because there is nothing you would need to escape from after all, right? Though he can´t help himself but to look over his shoulder, because sometimes his darling looks so afraid.

Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

He wouldn´t even be at fault for his darlings worst experience with him, because it would simultaneously his own worst experience as well. It´s when his family, specifically his oldest brother, catches up to the two of you. Killua is terrified, as he desperately tries to get you back from the hands of his family, while you suddenly decide, that maybe he isn´t all that bad. After all, you just got confronted with how bad it actually could be, and you know what. You rather keep just Killua, than getting into contact with the rest of the family one more time. Except Alluka, she seems to be nice. Oh... Well, nevermind. You prefer the boy, thank you.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He is someone who is already glad to simply stay by the side of his darling for as long as he can. He doesn´t imagine anything special or detailed. The only thing, that Killua desires of the future is, that whatever might happen, or wherever he may go, that it will still be by his darlings side. He doesn´t want that the path of you two will ever part again. So just stay, will you? By his side, while he stay by yours.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Sometimes, there is this biting feeling in his chest, that he doesn´t quite understand. The one, that makes him grab for you, to pull himself closer to you, that makes him frown and glare at other people. A feeling, that almost feels like annoyance, like bloodlust slowly trickling in. He hates that feeling so much, and so he leans closer to you, because it will leave if his darling is close. It will leave, when he nuzzles himself into your side like an affectionate cat. Your smile is the only solution he needs, when that feeling burns him.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

It´s actually rather often, that people are reminded of a cat, when looking at Killua. He is dangerous like one, moves like one, and some would even swear that he grins like one. They would no be wrong. His darling also sees him like a cat. An excessively affectionate one, but a cat nonetheless. Nuzzling you randomly, and a limb always thrown over you when you sitting close to each other. When you are walking he is close by, shadowing your footsteps. Sometimes he nudges you with his head. You tend to ignore it, when he starts to chew on something gently, without breaking skin or fabric.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

One day, he simply approaches you, introducing himself and naturally you would do the same. He would just throw the two of you into a conversation, somehow always finding something to keep the conversation going, and before you know it hours pass, while the two of you are still joking around with each other. He would offer you food every now and them, either part of his snacks or pay for dinner. In your conversations you might notice, that he sometimes talks about what he achieved. It never sounds boastful, and more often that he is just talking about it. He also stays rather close, and sometimes tends to act like a cat around you.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

When one considers his childhood, the thought that he tends to keep his actual emotions and thoughts under lock and key, seems reasonable. Even though his emotions always shimmer through, when he is around you, not only because he uses you to understand what he is feeling, but also because he doesn´t feel the need to hide away with you. Though some things stay hidden, even from you. Especially if he might feel some kind of bloodlust, it will not show in anyway. His insecurities on the other hand, always seem to be so obvious to you in the way he holds himself, even if he is completely unaware of it.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Even though he grew up in a violent household, being tortured and poisoned all his childhood along, he can´t do it. He isn´t able to inflict any kind of pain onto his darling no matter what had happened before. Even though violence should be one of the most normal things for him, and mostly it, he still can´t bring himself to do it. He is sure, that if you ever in pain, that he would feel it as well, it twist around in his chest and it hurts so much, and so as punishment, he can only hold onto you and cry, his grip tight and bruises blooming under his fingers. He will apologise in the end as he pushes some chocolate into your hands.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Be aware, that he will always be around you. There isn´t really any physical space left between the two of you, as he for some reason always tends to brush against you. With the fact, that he takes up a lot of your physical space, your privacy will also suffer from it, though that is to be expected. Though the loss of these things, tend to not appear to obvious to his darling, because he knows how to keep it hidden. Also, you tend to keep so many of your freedoms, and he manages to twist your words and actions so much, that you are the one pulling him along anyway.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He is very patient in his advances, and tends to wait. After all, why would he be impatient at this point anyway. He already got everything he wanted. He has your attention, stays close by your side. All he wanted, he has achieved. There it nothing more that he could want, and so he is able to lean back and just wait. His darling will surely come back to him again. He simply knows it.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

There are a few ways, it could play out. It is all depending on how the darling leaves. If you ever die, he will follow you. He wouldn´t even think twice about it, before leaving as well. If you escape without him noticing, he will assume the worst and think you had been kidnapped, and will go on to search for you. He wants to find you again as quickly as he can. There is also a peaceful way, that he will leave you. If you manage to convince him, that it would be the best for the both of you to part way, he will follow your wish, but he will harbour the wish in his heart to meet you again, when he can.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He can´t really regret kidnapping his darling, because if you want to get technical he never kidnapped anyone. In the end, he never abducted anyone. He follows you around, not the other way around. He never forced you to follow him either. Is he persuasive, if he wants to? Yes. Still, doesn´t mean that he kidnapped anyone.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

The root of his problems is to be found in his childhood, to absolutely no one´s surprise. He was depraved early on, of affection, human connections and the emotions that come with all of those things. As he grows older, he kind of missed the timeframe in which all those things would have still come naturally to him, and so he tends to be a bit extreme in all he does. It takes a while till he recognises an emotions, and even longer to figure out how to react to it.- from childhood on depraved of affection, human connection and emotions

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

It pains him everytime to see his darling in any kind of pain. He doesn´t quite know what to do at this point, and it scares him. He feels helpless and insecure, feeling as if he is incapable of even doing the smallest things for his darling. Soon he tries to awkwardly imitate people he saw comforting someone else. In most cases, it will make him sound somewhat motherly.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

What makes him different is the amount of the control the darling holds. He is already dependent on you for a majority of things, while you aren´t. He also doesn´t plan to make you dependent on him in any way. You decide where to go next, what you talk about, while he is content to simply follow you along, and nods along to whatever you tend to say. You are the one in control, not him.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He is absolutely codependent on his darling. Relying on you to give what he needs to fulfil his emotional cravings. He will also do whatever it takes, so that you can keep meeting those as well. Killua tends to be slightly insecure, when it comes to interacting with you. He doesn ´t want to overwhelm you with the teachings of his family, and so he is always walking a fragile line. Especially because he was raised the way he was, he has troubles understanding his own emotions, and quite frankly doesn´t know what a healthy relationship looks like. It´s something, that he desperately wants, and you are his focal point when it comes to that.

Wit's end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He doesn´t want to ever hurt you. Still, it will happen. He will grab you sometimes too tightly, thinking you are just as sturdy as him, while you simply aren´t. His nails sometimes catch on your skin, pulling bright red gashes over you, as he panics when the smell of blood hits his nose. He truly doesn´t want to harm you, but it becomes quickly clear, that he is not always aware of his own strength, and that you are so much more fragile, than he could ever be. Accidents happen, and he cries over every bruise and scar. He tries to be so careful with you, but he never can be.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He hunts for a relationship outside of his family. It doesn´t matter to him if it´s friendship or something else, as soon as he has it, he reveres it. This is what he so desperately wished for. The one thing, he would give everything he had for. So it is only logical, that he reveres the people he holds these relationships just as much. He treasures these people and holds them close to his heart, as he does everything he can to be allowed by their side. He wants so badly to be here. To bask in the warmth, that blooms in his chest, the quiet crackle, he only feels in the presence of those he loves.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Killua will yearn forever for his darling, if he has to. Staying by your side keeps his temper in check, as he simply enjoys being with you. Though, there is one thing, that will make him snap like a bowstring. It´s when his family gets the bright idea to involve themselves with you as well. It´s a panic, that will drive him from this moment onward. He is afraid of losing you to his family, and so he will stick as close to you as he can. In that moment, he also stops to hide of close he always is to you, how much of his attention always lingers on you. It´s the only way he can ensure your survival. Making it clear, that he will know.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

It is not something, that would ever cross his mind, and if it ever did, it would horrify him to no end. While he sometimes misjudges his own strength, he never once harmed you mentally. He is surprisingly attuned to the way your mind works. Your thought process is not a secret for him, as he follows it effortlessly. He is very careful with you and around you. Minding how his actions might impact you in the long run, and taking care to not traumatise you. This time, his trying succeeds.

[wandererxiv]

Now that I am home and have time, I'm going to type up my joys, responses, and theories about patch 7.2! Spoilers and etc. below the read more!

Most of this is comparisons to FFIX, which is a lot of reaching on my part. This post is image heavy, as well. Please listen to me talk about my favorite Final Fantasy.

So, I think we were all pretty much aware that somehow a real Sphene was going to show up. I thought it would be Ascians taking over her form, but hey "you were essentially dead but good morning" works, I guess.

I put this next to FFIX's Garnet as the real Princess Garnet dies at the age of six and in a twist of fate the playable character Garnet arrives by ship with her deceased mother after a storm. She looks exactly like the recently passed princess and is taken and raised as a replacement.

The fact we didn't get to give her a nickname was a lost chance. At this point in FFIX, when Garnet is escaping Alexandria, she takes an alias to keep her identity hidden. This is how she becomes "Dagger". I got excited for a moment thinking Sphene would take an alias similarly, but she didn't.

As another little nod to IX, the design on Sphene's jacket is reminiscent of Garnet's cloak.

Now more reaching from me: When they talk about the aetherytes being shut down due to the war, I think about how similarly the airship gates were locked in IX because of war and unrest. There's also the "railroad" between Lindblum and Alexandria. In IX, this is Gargant Roo, an underground passage between the two kingdoms where you travel by giant gargant (The first boss of the new dungeon!). Similarly, the gargant's fight in the dungeon is similar to the mechanics in IX.

In FFIX, gargant climbs upside down and along walls on a vine and you have to use levers to control the flow of sand to allow him through.

Now, I squealed at this one. Dali Coffee. Dali is the first village the group encounters in IX. Outside of the village is a tower where an old man named Morrid resides. In IX there is a mechanic called a "Collector's Rating" that relies on you finding "collectables" throughout the game. In Morrid's home, there is a model airship that you want for this rating. To obtain it, Morrid asks you to find various coffee beans around the world and bring them back to him!

In Final Fantasy IX, you explore the planet of Gaia. However, there exists a second planet, Terra, that you find is trying to fuse together with Gaia, taking Gaia's souls to feed itself and empower the people of Terra who have died. I don't think this is the plot point of XIV's Calyx, but it's the same concept as "eating" a shard.

Now for the Dungeon!

I am sure most of you know that it is a recreation of Alexandria's castle in IX, but did you know the song? It's called Two Hearts Not Captured. It's actually from the ending of IX... so if you want to see that, it's here. (The video is the entirety of the ending, but I have linked at the timestamp specifically where this song is played.) This made me tear up.

We didn't get Brahne's giant portrait with a cat... thing? We got a curtain on the wall instead. So upset.

I've already talked about the first boss, so let's talk about the second briefly. The design is a mechanized Alexandrian Soldier and was done incredibly well. I was so happy with how they translated it.

Now, something I noticed around the castle... the candles. Sure, Alexandria was using electrope, which is purple, but the candles? They're purple... hmm.

In IX, you are trapped in the main antagonist's palace and you encounter purple glowing lights (they're purple, fight me about it). Turning these off does two things: it gives you an item reward, but also "locks" boss mechanics! It disables the "security" system in the palace from using various attacks. And what is the security system in place?

It's our friend! Valia Pira!

By the way, one of the songs that plays after this is Fleeting Life, but I call it Bobby Corwen's song.

If you're still here, bless you.

Here, Sphere speaks about learning magic with a tutor. In IX, Garnet had a childhood tutor named Doctor Tot (pictured below) and, though born a summoner, is mainly a White Mage through the game. Sphene wanting to learn healing magic is a neat touch.

She also mentions later that she has a grimoire she can use. I am reaching with this, but there's a hidden boss in IX that can be encountered twice. He's a book. A grimoire. And I just needed that little pinch in there. He's actually really cute.

OKAY LET'S TALK ABOUT the xiv recreation of BEATRIX.

A loyal knight who sought to protect the princess. Now, Beatrix isn't always this figure. In fact, she's an antagonist in the beginning who destroys an entire city and commits war crimes, but a lot of people love her and she's so cool.

Everything to the touches on the sword are done well. Now, Beatrix's theme song is Rose of May, which is why she has rose themes in her attacks, but she also uses actual skills she has in IX when you fight her and the one time you get her as a guest in the party. The theme that plays is perfectly named for a sworn knight, Protecting My Devotion. (In fact, right before we played the patch, I said to @notleriff, "I have two requests, and my first one is they use Protecting My Devotion for the trial. I was so happy.)

Okay, a few reaches I have with what happens and what's said by Sphene in the following quests/story beats.

The fear of death.

Of course, this is a real thing we all deal with, but in IX one of the themes is

The regulators remove the memory of those who died from the wearer. Even Sphene touches on this. There is also the fact that the mist on Gaia is created by a machine called the Iifa Tree to make fiends and cause wars. This feeds souls into the lifestream and they are then directed to Terra. Very similar to how Solution 9 works, yeah? Though, our Iifa Tree doesn't hold a boss that just constantly mustard bombs you when you don't have a cure for it...

Vivi is also all about existentialism. (I mean he's not even a real person...)

The main antagonist of IX struggles with his own immortality, realizing his ambition is meaningless, so he just decides to destroy everything. "If I can't live, no one can." I'm trying to see the comparisons to Kuja in Calyx, but Calyx is more like the Garland of IX, who sees the race of Terrans as superior and is the sole caretaker of their souls. His entire goal is to revive his people and is using the souls of other planets to do so.

I ate good this patch. I am so happy and excited to see more IX stuff. If you made it this far, thank you for wasting your time on my fangirling over silly things.

[fandom-go-round]

Hello!! Can I request headcanons about Yandere Arjuna Alter from Fate/Go?

I haven't gotten to Lostbelt 4 yet, but it would be cool if the reader (fem) was from Ritsuka's group. Spoilers are not a problem

Even if my request isn't chosen, I appreciate you making content for the fandoms I enjoy, thanks

Warnings: Angsty, Yandere, Stalking, Character Using Powers for Evil (Godlike Powers), Potential Lostbelt 4 Spoilers, Kidnapping, Treating Reader like a Pet

You have no idea why this Arjuna seems so fixated on you. It’s hard enough, dealing with the kali and trying to stay alive without Arjuna doing his best to follow you. You’ve been doing your best to stay out of Ritsuka’s way so they can get things done but it’s not safe to be alone either. It’s an awkward game of cat and mouse, and you are, without a doubt, losing.

There’s a part of you that’s relieved when Arjuna Alter finally takes you; at least the others can focus on figuring this Lostbelt out with less attention on them. That doesn’t mean you’re happy; you’re scared shitless. He doesn’t say anything, watching you with wide, unblinking eyes. It takes him days to notice you need food or water, only giving you nourishment when Asclepius reminds him to. You have no idea what’s going on, and do your best to gather what little information you can.

Arjuna has no idea why he took you besides you’re interesting and he wants you. Chaldea inside his Lostbelt is annoying but, ultimately, nothing serious. He wants to keep you for himself and why shouldn’t he? He’s the ultimate God. Most days he’s content to watch you; even cowering away from him, he enjoys you. Another day he makes you kneel in front of him so he can pet you. Arjuna doesn’t have need for human emotions but humans can still be novel, it seems.

When the cycle first resets and your friends escape, you’re wailing, thinking they’re dead and gone. He doesn’t correct you; it’s not worth the effort but he does make you sleep. Arjuna likes you better this way, pretty and quiet. The spell he places you under almost stops your heart but it’s a minor detail. He doesn’t need you alive, just sated. And if you’ve never able to wake up? He could recreate you. Or maybe not. Novelties wear off after all.

[mmikmmik]

One underrated aspect of Mouthwashing is that it's really good as a video game.

I thought the player feedback was super strong. There's so many little gimmicky nightmare worlds and "minigames" and the game really helps you understand them very quickly and keep up the momentum. There were only a couple times I got stuck for long enough that I felt like it was breaking me out of the narrative, and I was able to resolve them pretty quickly. And one of them was my own fault - I was trying to use an item somewhere the devs had already indicated it was impossible, because I forgot about the little framing that pops up to indicate you can go into "interaction mode". That's a great little UI mechanism for making it super obvious what is and isn't interactive while still being unobtrusive and letting you feel immersed in the ship environment. Oh, and using the birthday cake scene to introduce the sawing mechanic? So when the player saws at Curly's leg, it's an incredibly powerful callback and the player already knows what they're supposed to do, defending the emotional punch from a "wait... which buttons am I supposed to press for this...?" moment? Brilliant.

Mouthwashing also has beautiful interplay between its gameplay elements and its storytelling. I think of Mouthwashing as "movie-like", because I feel like the pacing + tone + themes remind me very much of horror movies, but this story is meant to be a game. Think of the scene where Jimmy is basically telling Curly that he intends to destroy the ship. It starts with the player controlling Curly in first person POV. But right as Jimmy is talking about how Curly doesn't have agency in his own life ("You're standing at the top. Feet in cement. I get it now.") the camera escapes Curly's perspective and moves into a third person perspective, giving us our first look at pre-crash Captain Curly.

That was the last moment Curly had to avert the tragedy. He knew Jimmy had attacked Anya. Anya told Curly that Jimmy must be physically prevented from accessing the means to hurt the rest of the crew. Jimmy said it would be best if they all just died and then walked away saying "I'll take care of it" and Curly stood there watching him and did nothing. In chronological order, the next scene is the first time the player controls Jimmy. The agency and control, the status of "player character", has left Curly. He let himself become a character in Jimmy's story. And by the time he gets control again, it's already too late.

(Not that I think the game is actually presenting "player character" status as something that's true or real. Look how much Anya's internal life and deliberate choices shape the story, before and after the crash, even as Jimmy casts her as an annoying quest-giver NPC.)

I also really like how much playing through the little nightmare vignettes have the player recreate Curly and Jimmy's decisions. Like when Jimmy is forced to stare directly at the post-it note that's telling him to take responsibility (or whatever the exact words are), but he simply backs away from it. It's all about the way he finds mental and emotional loopholes to get away from what he's done, no matter how directly he's forced to confront it. What other medium could so intimately guide you through that metaphor, to express its internal logic so clearly without words? God, I love video games.

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Clair Obscur spoilers. Full game.

I think way too hard about the fact that when Alicia first touches Maelle, the moment she physically grasped Maelle’s hand outside the Manor when the Disaster Exoedition is trying to hunt the Curatress, you can hear a man screaming.

Specifically, Painted! Alicia is in some way triggering Maelle’s memories of the real world beyond the canvas, the fire set in Dessendre Manor that would permanently scar the original Alicia’s face and killed her beother Verso.

The man you hear screaming? That’s the original Verso as he begins to burn in the flames trying to save Alicia.

We never get any confirmation of how OG! Verso died, so we are left with the possibility that he was burned to death shielding Alicia, struck or trapped by falling debris, or it may have been the result of smoke inhalation, or a combination of these factors. Or, you know, the horrific concept of him succumbing to his wounds after being pulled from the wreckage possibly in a hospital.

Also think far too much about the initiation of the fight against The Paintress at the monolith - when the Curatress reappears, and for a brief moment sets the Disaster Expedition alight.

I’ve seen mentioned and theorized that Aline hates and resents Alicia for the fire that killed Verso, by somehow (even if unintentionally) allowing the Writers into the manor which in turn permitted them to set the fire in the first place. Hence why Painted Alicia’s face remains scarred, and why Maelle is the first of the expeditioners to be set ablaze.

Not hating on the theory, as I think it does make a lot of sense - for instance, Painted Renoir who is no doubt influenced by Aline herself + her perception of her husband (as well as the many years and what he was told by OG! Clea) states that Maelle was at fault for what happened without even knowing, and it adds a depth to the duality of loving, hating, and grieving for a loved one.

There’s also many different spins you could take on it (Aline blames and resents Alicia because she is somehow towed to the Writers getting into the manor, Aline would have been able to cope with physical disfigurement of her children as long as none of them had died and therefore the fire still happened but Painted Verso didn’t die, etc).

On the other hand, I wonder on the concept of if Aline did not intentionally paint Alicia scarred - we never learn if Aline painted her family prior to or following the fire, or if the origin of the fire was different between worlds.

It’s never discussed if the Writers existed as a faction in Verso’s canvas - and considering the Paintress is considered a solitary figure rather than one of many. I kind of considered it a possibility that, well, they don’t.

First and foremost, the Canvas was originally Verso’s in his early childhood. We don’t have a firm grasp of when he stopped painting or adding to it, but when the Canvas was originally made - he may not have been able to firmly conceptualiza who the writers were, why they were dangerous to his family, etc (all things that aren’t touched upon much in-game anyway).

Second, Aline escaped to Verso’s canvas to attempt to cope with her grief - attempted to recreate her family as she saw them prior to Verso’s death out of Chroma. It doesn’t make sense to add the Writers, the root cause of her grief, who murder the OG Verso through manipulating Alicia in some way to gain access to the manor, onto the Canvas as well.

This, presumably, would include Alicia’s own injuries sustained in the fire - and possibly the fire itself.

Similarly to the disappearance of the Painted Aline and Painted Clea, the Painted Alicia may not have originally been painted scarred and unable to speak by Aline - maybe she was instead disfigured by the Fracture and the resulting chaos stemming from that caused by OG! Renoir entering the canvas and trying to get Aline out.

It would have been almost on par with an ambush, a betrayal - perhaps similar to the real world fire set by the Writers. Possibly triggering a recollection of that day in her memory, as Renoir is attempting to help Aline move beyond Verso’s death, and leading to her unintentionally painting it into the world of the Canvas around them.

The other possibility is - the Fracture was literally a physical event which occurred in the canvas, shattering the existing continent originally made by Verso, with Clea later creating Nevrons that would partially destroy certain areas and Renoir/Aline creating different areas. It quite literally razed parts of the city of Lumiere, painted by Aline, to nothing.

The Dessendre Manor and its inhabitants, as depicted on the Canvas, would not have been spared. From Nevrons, the general panic, the disorder, etc.

In regards to the Monolith fight, I think trauma plays a fair amount in how the Expeditioners - and Maelle - are set alight.

Because no matter how much Aline tries to escape from her reality, how much she tries to hide away from it within the canvas, she can’t forget it - and Maelle is a stark reminder of Alicia as she was and should still be, unscarred, a reminder of what Aline wishes was reality.

At the same moment, she is as she shouldn’t be - because the fire still happened, whether it was by the Writers or the Fracture. Alicia is scarred in both worlds. The only difference was that, in the Canvas, her painted variation of Verso survived.

Maelle also is still Alicia -> an Alicia who was overwritten by Aline’s chroma for sixteen years in the canvas, who only regained her own memories after she is Gommaged following Aline’s ejection from the canvas, but Alicia nonetheless . She has her own Chroma, separate from Aline’s - Clea’s words when she first entered the canvas indicate a Painter or Paintress’ Chroma can be differentiated from one another in some way.

The Curatress, on some level, could literally be able to tell that Maelle is the original Alicia - the basis for the Painted Alicia.

On top of the that, Aline isn’t mentally healthy. She’s in deep grief for one, and it’s also canonically states that being in the canvas for so long will actively kill her if she does not leave it soon - that also, no doubt, places strain on a person’s mental state.

(something I’ve never seen brought up before is the possibility that the countdown on the Monolith would be the amount of time left that Aline had in the canvas before it killed her).

The Curatress sees Maelle, but she is also seeing Alicia, and the tragedy of the fire, of Alicia’s disfigurement and Verso’s death is so integral to her role as the Paintress that she remembers it - and the chroma around her reacts. It stops when Verso attempts to shield and comfort Maelle because, ultimately, it is Verso’s death which led to Aline retreating into the canvas, into her role as the Paintress, in the first place.

Just. Random thoughts like that. It’s painful either way, because after all, Family is…complicated.

[your-favourite-yapper]

hi. opinion on toxic/adusive tedromeda? (Ted tonks x Andromeda black)

HIII ok so my vision of them is minda df ?? Like both of them are toxic to me anyways here u go

so

Andromeda was supposed to be the good one the nice one the one who escaped but what everyone forgets is that she is still a black and you cannot outbreed that level of toxicity in one generation unfortunately

Sshe looks at the mess that is her family and goes "ew gross disgusting get it away from me!" and then proceeds to spend the next five years actively recreating it in her own relationship bc she has zero healthy relationship models..... classic andromeda moment

And then teres ted whos what happens when you give a middle-class boy a taste of power ( by power i mean the attention of a girl who was raised in a house where affection was conditional.) he sees the way andromeda clings to him like he is oxygen and he likes it bc in his head he is the hero here he is the noble mudblood who saved her from her evil racist family and if that means she owes him a little bit of loyalty a little bit of obedience a little bit of herself then like. that's only fair right?

Andromeda lets him think that bc shes played these games b4 bc she grew up in a house where love was just another form of control so she adapts and learns to feed ted’s savior complex the same way she learned to feed her parents’ expectations. she lets him think he's the one in charge bc at the end of the day that means she is the one in control (she’s not..none of them r)

And at first it’s fun bc toxic relationships are fun when you’re young and hot and in love and andromeda is so good at pushing his buttons she insults him for everything his accent his background his stupid muggle clothes and ted eats it up bc he knows if she were really like her family she wouldn't be here so obviously this is just how she shows affection right? right??????

But then it stops being fun bc andromeda isn’t just pretending to be cruel she just is and ted isn’t stupid he starts to realize that the andromeda he fell for is not actually real that she is just a collection of survival tactics wrapped in expensive silk and charm and by the time he really sees her it is too fucking late

But neither of them leave. bc ....idk man ted needs to be needed and andromeda needs to be wanted and at the end of the day what’s a little mutual destruction between lovers?

They will be married for years before they realize that this was never love it was just two people desperately trying to fill the void inside themselves with each other and failing spectacularly but by then it will be too late bc they will have a child and a house and a life together and andromeda will wake up one morning and look at ted and think you are the worst thing that has ever happened to me and she will get up and make breakfast anyway bc that is what shes supp 2 do.

But it’s fine it’s fine bc at the end of the day at least she is not her mother right?

right????????

[ruva-fjura]

An Important cohost Post, Recreated on Tumblr

(Original Publication Date: August 16th, 2024)

I got pretty distant from my dad once my parents split up. He wasn't really all that great to me, but he was trying his best, and he had anger problems like me. All the same, I sort of understood, and thought maybe after the decade apart, I could forge a new relationship with him.

This is a story about how getting invested in stories causes them to find new ways to suckerpunch you. About how character creation does deeply impact how you experience a game. And about how grief is like having twisted an ankle when you were twelve: You think everything's fine and then you do something weird and it hurts all over again.

This is a story, about Ruva Fjura, Warrior of Light.

Content Warning: Final Fantasy XIV Spoilers, Heavensward Spoilers, depictions and discussions of death, discussions of trans identity and grieving.

I've been getting into Final Fantasy XIV recently thanks to the introduction of Hot Cat Women (I am predictable.) A few years before this, I had made an attempt to play FFXIV when I was really itching to play WoW with my friends. Legolas Lordofthering did not inspire a connection to the story. This time, now that I could play as a species that I could feel connected to, not a smoothskinned human-alike, but a real anthro Lady… Since, when I bought the game, I was given a free month of sub, a month before Dawntrail's actual release, I decided to fold that into my WoL's backstory. Ruva Fjura is a trans hrothgar, seeking to adventure to earn the gil to afford the expensive body-changing medicine Fantasia.

I even made sure to take a screenshot of her very first dress.

Ruva would, over the course of A Realm Reborn:

clean up a little,

and polish her look as she set forth to defend Eorzea. (Don't tell anyone, but relatively early on I start using plugins, so everyone appropriately addresses Ruva with the correct pronouns. Shoutout to PrefPro!)

Originally I'd intended to use the Magic HRT that is the Fantasia potion right at the border between A Realm Reborn and Heavensward, because I'd tried to play the game a few years ago and knew the story beat there makes a good point for an identity update… but having accidentally blitzed the story of ARR in 2 weeks, and having more time still to play before Dawntrail drops, a few friends suggested another story point I was likely to get to by the time Dawntrail dropped:

Right after the Vault. (For those of you who already know what happens in the story, you can see where this is going.)

Now, I don't always remember to screenshot things, and my screenshots aren't particularly well-organized, so I don't have a lot of visual material for my man Haurchefant. You first meet him during a segment of A Realm Reborn when you're attempting to locate Cid's airship, and dealing with the Ishgardians. While they're mostly religious isolationists at this point, Haurchefant welcomes you rather more warmly and openly, to the best his ability and rank can afford him to. You assist him a few times, and he is consistently the most helpful hand and face in the whole of their region.

It's under his guidance you're able to escape from the major regions after being framed for assassination, to House Fortemps, the house he calls home as a knight and bastard son. (Ishgard has some of that Noble Houses stuff going on.) He's super chill. He's a bro. You interact with him a lot during Heavensward.

Ruva ventures forth in the surrounding region of Coerthas, assisting Ishgard with trying to end a war that has lasted a millenium, makes enough money to purchase an apartment, decorates it for her friends, and, one night, stops and gets to think:

"Soon, I won't be trapped in this body any longer."

It's the night before the servers drop for The Maintenance That Installs The New Expansion, and I finally come to the Vault. You're trying to save a different person, Ser Aymeric, who's been INSTRUMENTAL in keeping you safe and helping sort things out in Ishgard from being captured and possibly killed trying to confront his father. I ask my friends to assist, since this is the last thing I'll be doing narratively before Ruva Fjura finally gets her magic HRT shipped in. (Mechanically I've had the consumable since before the end of A Realm Reborn, but narratively.)

You join him to run off after your friend, but suddenly, an enemy knight who had been standing on the tower walls of the building behind you launches a spear of light your way. Haurchefant tries to do his best to intercept it, defend you, block it with his shield, but…

It's too powerful.

The wound is too deep. Your companions' best healing cannot hope to stop his injuries enough to heal him. You're here in his final moments.

He looks up at you, and delivers the line that nobody in my friend group, myself included, could have predicted would utterly decimate me.

"Oh, do not look at me so."

This is one of the most famous lines from Heavensward, involving to my experience on of the biggest character deaths in the series. It's touching, but on its own it probably would not have hit me as hard as what happens next. Because he says this, and the camera immediately cuts back, to Ruva.

Pre-HRT.

... ... About two years before I started playing Final Fantasy XIV, my father died suddenly. The details aren't important, but given that I had never had a great relationship with him growing up, I didn't feel that loss as much as my sister, and the rest of my family, did. Atop this, it takes a lot to make me cry, just because of the kind of person I am. I can feel strongly, but I usually just feel tense, and achey, and anxious, far before any tears flow.

A year ago, I had started really started feeling out how I expressed and embraced my gender in real life. Slowly, but more than I'd done in the previous three decades. I'd started wearing dresses, changed hairstyles, dyed my hair, asked my family to call me Astra rather than my birth name. I didn't get to show my father this side of me. I started this journey after his death. He never got to see me be who I really want to be, who I really am. And- And I just-

And that potion is in-transit, it's coming tomorrow, and this man, this close companion, an elezen who has never treated me as anything less than the woman I have always been, who sees The Warrior of Light and thinks 'friend', is dying. He is dying right in front of me, and his final words are commenting on a face that doesn't feel truly mine! He never got to see me be who I really want to be, who I really am-

I sat there. In the voice call with the friends who had assisted me in that dungeon run, who I'd been sharing my experiences in the game with, who had told me to make these cutscenes the last thing Ruva did before Dawntrail's release.

And I sobbed.

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

A few days pass. Dawntrail drops. I log in, use the Fantasia, and log out so I can enter the options. I fiddle with the character creator to get that final polish. I make the Ruva Fjura I bought this fuckin' game to play as. I log back in.

Before I do anything else, I travel to the highest point I can get to in Coerthas. Nothing else matters. I have taken the fantastical gender potion, Ruva has finally achieved that which she first started adventuring to achieve. And she has to get as close to the heavens as she can.

I have to make sure he can see.

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

I have fallen into becoming a tank main. I'm a Dark Knight main, though I play most every tank. (It's a little near-impossible, playing a properly effective healer on controller.) I have helped end a war that has lasted a millenium. The head of House Fortemps has gifted me a shield bearing the crest of his household. It is the same sort of shield that my closest friend once used trying to protect me.

In the background is a browser window with information on informed consent clinics within my area, as well as the price of various estrogen medications. The shield I have obtained completes a set I have since worked to put together. I will not lose anyone else without them having seen me for who I want to be. For who I really am.

I will never forget him. I will always honor how he has touched my life.

... now if only Paladin wasn't the most awkward of the tank rotations-

[eskewcity]

Eskewcity's Top Ten Games of 2023

Hello!!! I've decided to compile a list of the best games I played this past year. As such, this list is not limited to only 2023 releases (in fact a majority of the games I played are several years old atp). Additionally, I only considered games that I had completed by year's end. This means that fantastic games such as Signalis and The Talos Principle 2 will not be included, though I still highly recommend them.

Finally, I will put my ranking under a read more for the sake of not clogging anyways dash. Hope you all had a good 2023 and maybe can find something that interests you mwah <3

10. Subway Midnight by Bubby Darkstar

Board the train! Run away from a weirdo! Solve some puzzles! Make friends with some ghosts! Try not to become a ghost yourself!

While I am not someone usually willing to gloss over a somewhat lackluster story for the sake of gorgeous visuals, I will give Subway Midnight an exception. Even with a game that largely takes place in a subway car, it was exceptional when it came to its visual design. It has a blend of a cartoonish style for the characters mixed with extremely realistic environments. The gameplay itself was also quite fun, if not tedious in multiple runs and I really enjoyed the variety of characters that players encounter.

9. Broken Reality by Dynamic Media Triad

A humorous adventure set in a 3D parody of the internet. Diverse puzzles, beautiful worlds, friends, experiences, upgrades and more, await those who 'log on'!

Depending on yourself, Broken Reality might either be a headache inducing cacophony of colors or a fun exploration game about the internet and the commercialization of products and each other. For myself, I choose to look at it from the latter perspective. I found the game to put quite humorous and I really enjoyed all the different worlds to explore. Much like Subway Midnight, I would not recommend it much on its story but I think the design and concept certainly carries where that lacks.

8. Hylics by Mason Lindroth

Hylics is a recreational program with light JRPG elements.

At its core, Hylics is a game with a pretty simple concept. Fight your way through the world with the end goal of defeating the big bad, Gibby, King of Moon. However past that, get ready for a confusing and abstract adventure. This accounts for several reasons. For one, the dialogue of Hylics consists of randomly generated sentences that feel almost coherent while maintaining a healthy amount of head scratching. The game was also created through claymation leading to characters and environments whose shapes twists and turn in perplexing patterns. While this may seem to take away from the experience, I found this not to be the case at all. In fact, I would say it enhanced my time playing greatly. I could not stop thinking about Hylics after I played it simply because its weird and purposely lacks focus which makes it all the more memorable.

7. Babbdi by Sirius & Léonard Lemaitre

BABBDI is a short, first person exploration experience with light narrative and platforming elements. Visit the town of BABBDI, a forsaken district in the outer ring of the megalopolis. Meet its inhabitants and discover how to escape.

In Babbdi, your goal is to leave Babbdi. You must search through the city to find a train ticket that can guarantee your escape. However, the ironic part of playing this game was that I did not rush to leave. While being a free-to-play game, it had an incredibly sizable area to explore. The game actively encourages the player to search every inch of city to find its secrets while also reminding the player that their goal is to eventually leave all of this behind. If you have an hour or so to spare and love games focused more on exploration than action, this is definitely one to check out!

6. Who's Lila? by Garage Heathen

A reverse-detective adventure, where you control your character's face

In Who's Lila, you play as a young man named Will who cannot properly control the expressions on his face. As the player, your job is to ensure that he reacts properly to the world around him. The game even starts with a tutorial on how to respond accordingly to a variety of situations. While a seemingly simple concept, this game is not as it may appear. In fact, and without giving much away, Who's Lila requires multiple playthroughs to order to begin to piece together what is truly going on.

5. Hypnospace Outlaw by Tendershoot

Greetings Enforcer, and thank you for enlisting in the Hypnospace Patrol Department! As the world falls into its slumber, Hypnospace becomes a bustling global village. These virtual streets aren't going to police themselves!

Taking place in 1999, Hypnospace Outlaw tasks you as a moderator for a new form of technology which allows users to surf the internet in their sleep. As the player, you're tasked with seeking out policy violations and handing out warnings and even banning users, if necessary. There is so much about this game I can say but I find going in blind is the best. I definitely found some frustrations which some of the puzzles and how obtuse their solutions were but its undeniably one of the most unique games I have ever played.

4. Return of the Obra Dinn by Lucas Pope

Return of the Obra Dinn is a first-person mystery adventure based on exploration and logical deduction.

In Return of the Obra Dinn, is a mystery game where you not only have to determine the fates of one person, but an entire ship's crew. Additionally, you have to determine the names of each individual based on existing records. By going in the past to witness the last moments of each individual, players can be able to slowly work out the mystery of the Obra Dinn. As someone who plays many puzzle games, I found this to be one of the most satisfying I've ever played. I also thought the game just looked gorgeous and was extremely fitting for the vibe it was going with.

3. Papers Please by Lucas Pope

Congratulations. The October labor lottery is complete. Your name was pulled. For immediate placement, report to the Ministry of Admission at Grestin Border Checkpoint. An apartment will be provided for you and your family in East Grestin. Expect a Class-8 dwelling.

As a border patrol officer, your job is determine the legitimacy of the documents that are brought to you by people wishing to enter the country of Arstotzka. This requires things such checking if their paperwork has expired, if they match their passport photo and if they have the necessary seals for entry. However, what if someone comes to the border fearing for their safety if they are denied, without the correct paperwork? Will you let them in, risking punishment for yourself or deny them, ensuring that you will able to provide for your family at home? Papers Please is a game that will continuously make you question your own ethics under a authoritarian regime. I found this game to be incredibly emotional and made me replay several days simply because I decided against my initial judgments. Certainly one of the most impactful games I played this year.

2. Presentable Liberty by Wertpol

You have been imprisoned without being told why. All you can hear day in day out is the faint ticking of a clock in your cell. That is, until the first of 5 fateful days begins.

Sometimes there are short indie games in the world that fundamentally change you and this is one of them for me. With that in mind, there is not much I want to say about Presentable Liberty since I find its best experienced blind. The short of it is you play as a prisoner as they receive letters from those on the outside. The gameplay is minimal since the player is stuck in their cell for the majority of the game but promise you when I say it does not much that action when its biggest strength comes from its writing. While this game had its short lived success on Youtube, I implore everyone out there to play it and see why I choose to rank it this high on the list.

1. Cry of Fear by Team Psykskallar

Cry of Fear is a psychological single-player and co-op horror game set in a deserted town filled with horrific creatures and nightmarish delusions. You play as a young man desperately searching for answers in the cold Scandinavian night, finding his way through the city as he slowly descends into madness.

Honestly, it's insane it took me so long to play this game especially when loving a piece of media that's a psychological horror featuring a depressed character wandering a city is kind of what I'm known for. However, I finally got around to it and I'm so glad I did. While not the most technically savvy game out there, it is incredible what Team Psykskallar managed to pull off while offering players the opportunity to experience the entire thing for free. Several times throughout playing Cry of Fear I couldn't stop thinking how much better it was than many of the games I've paid for. Like I said, its definitely not the most polished horror game out for sure but damn was I charmed. Even after I completed this game, I immediately had to restart so I could play with director's commentary as I was just that damn interested in learning about as much of this game's development as I could. And its because of how invested I got in playing this game but also its background, that I choose to make it my number 1 pick this year.

(fuck that train level though)

[wordpress-blaze-36010151]

I am a Failure

Recently, I have been contemplating failure and its spiritual dimensions. In large part, this is because failure’s counterpart, success, is such a strange thing to pin down. I think Daniel Berrigan was onto something when he referred to success as being a weasel word and horribly American. But this recent contemplation of mine is also because, by all accounts, Jesus of Nazareth was a failure as well. Certainly, he had the makings of a successful person, but in the end, he died scandalized and humiliated on a Roman Cross.

As I was recently reminded at a gathering of Lutherans, many are certainly happy to celebrate Jesus becoming a failure for us, but those qualities that brought him to a Roman cross seem to be overlooked for the systematic nature of Paul’s letters. At times, I am not so sure what to make of this dynamic, because when Jesus’ words are referenced, they are just as quickly taken out of context.

It might seem strange that I am writing about failure, given my background as a pastor and professor with a Ph.D. I think I would be considered a “success” by some. However, in a very real sense, I don’t know what to do with such a judgment. Not because I am against being considered a success, but because there is so much more to me than just these things. There are many places where I might be deemed a failure. I resigned from a reputable pastoral position in part because of interpersonal dynamics, I struggle with OCD, I can certainly worry about the most ridiculous things, and I can be harsh and impatient. My successes can all too easily cover up my failures or, in another very real sense, my humanity. However, what strikes me through all my experiences is that it is in the failures and the struggles that the gold is found. After all, Christians believe that one man’s failure is what saves us from our sins.  

Recently, I read a great interview with theologian William T. Cavanaugh concerning success and failure. In the interview, Cavanaugh explains how, when it comes to positions of power and our desire for them, we rarely ask or consider how the position might change us. Rather, we often view it in the opposite direction, with a very individualistic lens, on how we can change the world through our position. I thought this was such a powerful insight, as we tend to approach the world around us in such ways when, in all actuality, the world around us influences us far more than we influence it. And really, wasn’t that the struggle of Jesus of Nazareth, not succumbing to the influence of the world? Satan tempted him with the very things that make for a successful person: power, prestige, and security, and certainly, no cross. Peter rebuked him over all his cross talk. And certainly had Jesus been more agreeable, he could have found a seat at the table of his enemies, the Pharisees. Yet, the ultimate symbol of failure lay ahead of him for all to see. I suppose we can say that such is what happens when one does not seek success, but instead faithfulness to the ways of God – failure.

Source: I am a Failure

[romancomicsblog]

Sinister Six: How Sony can make a halfway decent film & universe

It's no question that Sony has been floundering while attempting to make a cinematic universe without Spider-Man.

With the exception of the Venom films, Sony has continuously made ridiculous decision after ridiculous decision when making this universe. From making Madame Web separate from the others and in the past, to the lead of Morbius being Leto, to the potential El Muerto spin-off, it has been one headass move after another.

It doesn't seem like Sony has any potential for stopping. With the end credits scene of Venom The Last Dance setting up Knull as the Thanos of this B-list supervillain universe.

While having Knull as the main antagonist isn't a bad idea, the characters they'd set up are all over the place. Not to mention they barely resemble the Sinister Six we know in the comics.

Can Sony make a dynamic team, full of characters we care about, with different personalities and motivations and make a satisfying film?

Probably not. But I have a couple of ideas to help them.

First, let's breakdown the team, their roles in the film, and on the team. Most will be characters we know, but I will also be pitching two new members of the team, actors to portray them, and how it can fit into an overall narrative.

The Lead - Tom Hardy: Eddie Brock

With Knull as our main villain, Eddie will be our main hero. As we know Knull in The Last Dance is looking for Eddie and Venom because they hold the Codex.

In this story, after Venom has sacrificed himself, Eddie is now reporting in New York City again, mostly writing, content overall but missing his buddy. His only problem? He is having intense nightmares.

Knull is in his mind, threatening and haunting his mind, determined to find a way to the Codex, escape his realm and destroy our world. Why? We'll get to it.

What we will find out eventually is Eddie still has traces of Venom within him. Not enough to be Venom but enough for him to be connected to Knull, and even potentially recreate the Codex within him.

These fragments will be reignited, to turn Eddie into....

Anti-Venom.

This version could feel like Venom, but more positive and balanced, or like in the comics, a non being, a suit without a personality, given Eddie more peace.

The Skill - Aaron Taylor Johnson: Kraven the Hunter

While we are unsure where Kraven will end at the end of his film, I have a solid idea. Kraven will continue being this big game hunter, looking for the ultimate hunt.

We will find him in Area 51, looking for the ultimate killing machine.

After finding evidence of the Xenophage, Kraven will be looking for any traces of one, putting him on a direct course to Eddie in New York.

Kraven will be one of the few able to kill Xenophages, with his strength and skill he'll be able to understand their weak points and lead our team in the fight. If Venom is our Tony Stark, Kraven will be the teams Captain America. He's tactical and essential for the fight.

The Outsider - Michael Keaton: The Vulture

While this is one of my favorite characters on this list, this one was one of the hardest to fit into the film.

Vulture had an incredible debut in Spider-Man Homecoming, as a criminal with strong ties and motivations to his family. So that's what we're going to keep.

Adrian Toomes will also be a pivotal reason why Knull is coming, directly tying him into this.

When we see him next, he's trying to scrap together parts for two reasons: 1) to go home and 2) to contain his monster. Who is that?

The Monster - Jared Leto or whoever we want to recast: Morbius

After their proposed team up, Morbius became a liability, killing and even became a threat to The Vulture. Vulture decided very early on to contain Morbius for his safety and the safety of others, but couldn't do it without help. Who is help? We will see.

Morbius will be in monster form throughout the film, and be the least trusted, but also the must crucial in the fight. He will turn the tide, against the Xenophages.

But who is helping contain him?

The Brains - Doctor Octopus

The next film in this franchise should easily be Doctor Octopus. He is often on the Sinister Six team, and is a fan favorite character.

In this version, Otto Octavius is the lead scientist for Smythe Robotics, where he is fired in order for the Founder, Alistair Smythe, takes credits for his "Slayers".

Otto then has a psychotic break, and uses a design he created as a potential prosthetic and creates a powerful weapon. This revenge story will end with Otto killing Smythe and being locked up.

The end credits will have the Vulture breaking Otto out to contain Morbius.

Otto will be working on a number of projects in this film, including bringing out Antivenom, working on opening up the multiverse, for Vulture but for his own gain, and how to summon Knull. We'll get there.

I think Cameron Britton of Mindhunter, Shrill & Umbrella Academy would be the kind of energy I'm looking for, but I'm open to suggestions.

So Doc Ock is with Vulture & Morbius, and Kraven finds Eddie. Who is the fifth member, and how does everyone meet?

The Cyborg - Silver Sable

A Silver Sable project has been in the works for a while, usually as a Black Cat and Sable team up. I think Sable should have a revenge story going after her gang leader father, Silvermane.

By the end of the film, I want Sable to be saved by the same advanced Robotics her father used, upgrading herself but losing some humanity.

Kraven will track her down as the only other muscle he knows of in New York, and Doc Oak will find her to use her technology to advance his projects. Once they all realize their interests align, they will come together to find our major threat.

I'd love Halle Bailey to get some love. She has a kindness to her that is great, and has great franchise potential as a lead.

The Story

Knull throughout this film will continue to send Xenophages. While he is unsure where Eddie is, he knows he's in New York due to the visions Eddie is getting.

Knull wants to destroy this world and take over due to sensing the multiverse has been created. When Vulture came to earth, Knull sensed a much more powerful universe where he would not be able fight what comes.

Fearing his eventual distraction, he wants to escape more than ever, take over the earth and create a new army to fight the "Secret War".

Once everyone is together, Doc Ock comes up with a solution.

Eddie must draw out Knull. With the members here, Morbius the Monster, Doc Ocks reprogramed Slayers, they think the only way to stop the Xenophages is to kill Knull as he is.

Turning Eddie into AntiVenom, AntiVenom will let Knull out, leading to an all out war against the King of Black. Leading to Eddie finally returning as Venom, for the two to bite off Knulls head.

With the team assembled, and the war ended, they use Knulls sword to finally unlock the multiverse and send Vulture home. The rest of our "heroes" look out at the multiverse, deciding what they should do next with their new found power and friendship.

And that's the pitch! It incorporates every character, makes a fun team, and hopefully a satisfying movie.

Thank you for reading! If you like this, be sure to follow me on all my socials here! And let me know what you think: What do you wanna see in a Sinister Six film?