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#I love thinking about how different people would play the same character

bread-that-draws · 1 year

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Flowey’s so funny and has me so fucked up like he’s a talking flower. He tries to kill you upon your first interaction. He is ten years old. He is damaged beyond repair. He’s a flower named Flowey. He’s become friends with every single character. He’s killed all of them countless times. He knows everything about everyone. He doesn’t care anymore. He takes care of his mom when she can’t take care of herself. He’s killed her before. He doesn’t care if you kill her. He thinks she’s trying to replace him. He just wants to be himself again. He wants to destroy everything. He hates you. You’re the only one who understands him. He wants his best friend back. He’s terrified of them. He believes in kill or be killed because he died by giving mercy to the wrong person. He believes himself to be the wrong person. He doesn’t understand when you show him that kindness he showed others, even when you know he could kill you for it. He’s tried every route. He asks you if you have anything better to do when you try to do the same. He’s a direct reflection of the player. He’s a fucking talking flower named flowey and his only voice line is by Ronald McDonald and his officially licensed plush does a little dance for you

#‘Flowey would listen to i bet on losing dogs by Mitski and cry until he throws up and Chara calls him cringe from beyond the grave’#-me to my friend when I ranted about this last night #he has me so fucked up like oh my god #how is the best character a fucking talking flower #I love undertale’s writing so much like it’s mastered minimal evidence giving away the biggest parts of characters #i can analyze him i can study him under a microscope #i can put him in a terrarium with a sticky note that says gay baby jail you know #he has me SO fucked up #flowey #flowey the flower #asriel #asriel dreemurr #I’m talking about flowey btw not asriel i know they’re the same person but not to me #like how i consider little baby me and fucked up 13 year old me different people #asriel sits on the playground and cries when nobody wants to play warrior cats with him #and flowey sits in the back of classrooms and answers ‘life is MEANINGLESS’ to every question #not speaking from experience ofc (im lying)#love my edgy flower *puts a magnifying glass up to him and notes how fucked up he is*#i think more characters need to be fucked up beyond repair #undertale #utdr #character analysis

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my-current-obsession · 1 year

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I see a lot of people saying that the royals (mostly Alfred, but I’ve seen a fair bit of complaining about all the others too) are statistically bad in Engage. I have to wonder, what difficulty is this based off of? On my Hard playthrough most of the royals were my best units, and Alfred in particular was amazing. Ivy and Celine were probably the weakest two - Ivy due to being a bit slow and having AWFUL dex and luck, and Celine just lacking power due to splitting her attention between strength and magic.

Is it just Maddening that they’re specifically bad for? I have not (and will not) played that mode in any FE but my impression is very much that Maddening mode is a different experience and you’re basically forced to play a certain way to win. That’s probably even more true here since fixed growths are in play, so you can’t count on RNG to give you good units. You have to find the ones that the game wants you to use, and stick with them.

For me, one of the biggest joys of FE has always been the RNG of it all - I love the random growths meaning different characters shine (and suck) each run, which encourages you to give different units a try. I love that, at least on Normal and Hard, you have enough breathing room to basically play how you want - favor the units of your choice, reclass whoever into whichever classes you fancy, etc - and doing so MIGHT make your life harder but probably won’t doom your entire run. The versatility and random nature of your units growths makes strategy & combat in this game infinitely more appealing and adds to its replayability.

Like I LOVE Persona games and Stella Glow (which gameplay wise is fairly similar to FE) but in those games the characters are what they are, and the stats on level-up are set in stone. Once you’ve done ONE run and know what works, Complacent Gaming kicks in and you repeat the exact same steps in future runs. In FE even if you use the same characters in the same classes, their performance WILL vary based on how blessed or cursed the RNG has been for them.

If Maddening IS as difficult and particular as I’m assuming, and basically every unit’s viability is determined from the moment you get them and you HAVE to play a specific way to win... is it really right to judge units based on that specific difficulty? Like, sure, so-and-so SUCKS on Maddening, but so does EVERYONE except this specific handful of units and if you use anyone else you’re just hurting yourself.

I feel like we should be judging characters based off a difficulty where everyone is at least VIABLE from the beginning, but judging how likely they are to REMAIN that way based on their growths/classes/personal skills/etc.

To put it another way, what would a tier list of a Maddening run look like? My impression is that it has two, maybe 3 categories of who you can actually use, who gets benched immediately, and MAYBE a middle category of who exists to fill a spot on the team and take a few hits/deal a smidge of damage for just a little while until someone better comes along to replace them. Meanwhile on Normal and Hard you can have a full spectrum of who on average is statistically the best through the worst, with everything in between. And considering several “unusable” units on Maddening are at least GOOD or even better on a normal or hard run, can you really call them bad? At the very least CLARIFY you mean they’re bad on Maddening specifically instead of in general.

#fire emblem #fire emblem engage #fe17 #happy for all the people who love maddening mode out there but it's Not For Me #for one i am a casual gamer that doesn't hate myself. I want a challenge but not TOO MUCH #(this is the same reason i don't fight superbosses in KH games. it's equivalent to smashing my head repeatedly against a brick wall IMO)#and if i'm right about how maddening works it also sounds like it takes the most fun aspect of FE out of it for me #since i'd be railroaded into using specific characters and strats instead of being able to play however i want with whoever i want #basically i want people to clarify if they mean maddening mode specifically when they call units awful #because i'm not bothered at all by people saying ANYONE is bad on maddening. i believe you i guess. i also don't care.#maddening plays by a distinctly different set of rules so i barely think of it as the same game #any FE veteran would tell you not to waste EXP on your pre-promote in the beginning #yet awakening lunatic is affectionately called Frederick Emblem so... i've learned to think of that difficulty as its own entity #but most units can be used on hard and the royals specifically are mostly still GOOD on hard #if i had polls i might not have made this post at all btw. because really what i want to know COULD be condensed into poll questions #what difficulty do you prefer/think is default/judge characters by & were the royals GOOD units for you?#anyway my second (hard) run is underway and alfred CONTINUES to be a great unit for me #about to go into chapter 10-11 and alcryst and diamant are doing great so far too #celine however is struggling. she is REALLY hurt by trying to be physical AND magical. she ends up middling in both #she might end up outright benched in this run

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elftwink · 2 years

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this is like entirely because much of my social interactions in early teenage years took the form of online rp forums and threads and tumblr accounts but i literally always forget that people attribute a lot of personal feelings to the way you have a character behave eg when people act like it’s weird or awkward to write or rp romance with a platonic friend who you have no interest in irl. bc to me that is 100% normal like i have zero association between my feelings and the feelings of any character i create. i was talking to a friend awhile ago about dnd and critical role and she was like ‘it must be kinda weird for them to play romances since they’re all friends and many of them are with other people at the table who they’re not romancing’ and i was literally like ??????? like the thought had just never crossed my mind. like obviouslyyyyyy rping romance is simply not everyone’s bag some people just don’t like it and some people would not feel comfortable doing it with just anyone etc etc but imo that’s just like any other aspect of roleplay? right? if it’s not weird for you to get into an in character heated argument and the be perfectly cordial and often very enthusiastic and excited out of character afterward, why would it be weird for the characters to kiss instead. the same way everyone at the table knows you aren’t actually angry with each other just because the characters are, everyone at the table knows the players aren’t actually dating one another too

does romance have some ephemeral quality that makes it different from writing/roleplaying other things that i’m missing? bc i simply like. cannot locate the hangup people have with the general concept

#good idea generator #to be also fair this is because i do not personally think of romance as particularly like. sacred or personal ig?#like the ephemeral q is rhetorical because im fairly certain many ppl feel like there is some impossible to describe quality #about romantic love that makes it Different from other kinds of relationships #i also want it known that this friend and i had a very interesting convo abt this that i didnt go into #bc this post makes it sound like im just complaining about the thing she said. thats not what happened #i just think its funny that she said this in a tone of like 'you know this already of course. what a challenge'#and i was like. the what? huh? challenge? how?#and i only remembered it bc i just saw a post on this topic and thought about it again #same with like people commenting that actors who play couples must have a hard time not getting together #like. i guess? maybe? does not seem like a problem i would have though like just. separate your feelings from your character's #i simply find the problem deeply unrelatable.

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insomnianoctem · 2 years

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So anyways the bard and I absolutely drive our monk insane to the point of they can’t tell if they want us to just be profusely annoyed at each other again or for us to hurry up and kiss.

We agreed on a slow burn and it’s causing agony for our fic-loving monk.

So anyways after almost an ENTIRE SESSION of fighting flirting+neither really want to acknowledge the crush/not know what to do about the crush our characters finally confessed to each other AFTER their fiancé called out my character.

It could be poly if it wasn’t for my rogue and the fiancé mutually thinking “he’s got but he’s everything I’m against”, while the bard is just torn and wants to hold both their hands.

I’ve been playing DnD for 5 years if you include the two year break where I never got to play so I just watched CR and made characters and it is so find having a romance plot line. I love chaos RP and most of our sessions are ‘serious/straight forward quest’ being completely side tracked.

I know that’s standard for many DnD groups but the first DM I played with was a goofball who had fun but had 2 serious veteran players at the table who would bring up the rule book frequently and then the next 3 campaigns I played were far more serious ones with inexperienced RPers and veteran DMs (inexperienced RPers included me).

#DnD #OCs #sometimes I forget that it’s me and another person talking instead of two characters #so I always pull back on the RP because what if im pushing a line?#and every time I get told GO FOR IT AND HAVE FUN YOURE FINE by the rest of the players #but social awkwardness with some anxiety does that to someone I guess #i also found out my DM steps so far outside their comfort zone with the romance stuff because they suspend disbelief really well #and see it was a form of storytelling #which same so it makes me less nervous about it #blah #word vomit #tldr I really love DnD and im having a super fun time playing a flirty bi genasi when I am an ace aro sex repulsed hooman #also side note: I think I get what people mean by sex can be a big character indicator?#like itssupereffectives Jessic Jones overview talked about how her sex scenes tell so much about her character in contrast to Peter/MJ #and it’s like ‘but why have sex at all if this is fiction and it doesn’t need to be there?’#even if it never gets talked about out loud it did make me think about my characters history since it would greatly differ from my own #and that was a learning experience in of itself #also Trash Taste’s interview with Shindo L also made me learn a bit on how it can affect story #I dunno #even if it’s never openly acknowledged I can understand now why it can come times be important for storytelling #that’s a weird and long rant #I’m probably gonna get some anon about that #i probably didn’t even put it into words right #I’m just gonna post this now before I learn the tag limit on tumblr

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yo-yoringle · 3 months

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Neil Newbon on Ascended Astarion

Neil: I do love the fact that I got to create kind of two characters in one.

Blue Owl Medic: I was just thinking that. Yeah, you did.

Neil: So now that the game has come out and the whole thing, we can talk a little bit more freely about the game. No real spoilers, folks, because obviously people are still playing through it, which is amazing, including me. But there is an ascended Astarion, which people probably know, as well as an unascended Astarion. I'm not going to go into details of why, although it is all over the internet, but anyway.

But one of the fun things that I got to do with the directors and the writer as well, with Stephen, and also the other writers that contributed towards Astarion, [is that they] wrote this ascended storyline. And so, when I came across that, I realized that 'Oh, his voice probably changes as well, because his whole status changes and his whole situation changes and his power changes.' So I got to do something else, because that would also be an easy way to switch between one and the other.

And so I decided that, well, I've always talked about Astarion being very theatrical. So what if Astarion's unascended spawn is theatrical, and ascended Astarion is operatic, and I use that as a sort of launchpad. So that one is theatre, one is opera. So the two are the same kind of things, but essentially… Do you know what I mean? It's like that kind of thing.

I offered that up to the directors and they really liked it. Kirsty Gilmore was the first person who I tried it with. I think it was Kirsty Gilmore, who is an amazing director. I'm pretty sure it was her session I did the first Lord Astarion and we set the tone there. And that was really cool.

BOM: And I don't know if that was your choice, but he also holds himself differently.

Neil: Yes, he does, he definitely holds himself differently.

BOM: He stands way more upright, his chest is a little more out

Neil: Yes, that's status. That's all Laban work. We're just using completely different status shift changes as well. So whereas he has a lot of flow and all that kind of stuff and it's theatrical and distracting--it's always 'look over here and don't see how I really feel' with spawn Astarion.

With Lord Astarion, we talked a lot about the idea that the cover is now off completely. So that you see him at his most terrible, and it's completely honest and he doesn't have to pretend anymore. So he loses a lot of the flamboyance and the fun of the theatricality, which is all a distraction anyway. That's all distraction so you don't see how he's hurt and damaged and his vulnerability. Lord Astarion doesn't need that anymore. So we just thought, okay, now *mimics taking off a mask* it's off. He doesn't need to pretend, he doesn't need to do too much. It's all about the status and that kind of stuff.

It was a really fun experience to take a character I've been doing for a long time and then flip it. And that was, again, brilliant writing by Larian, brilliant storytelling by them all and brilliant ideas. So yeah, it was really fun.

--from Neil's February 1, 2024 twitch stream

#astarion #ascended astarion #lord astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #neil newbon

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abd-illustrates · 29 days

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YOU!! I DONT KNOW IF PEOPLE SEND ASKS ABOUT HEARTLESS ANYMORE BUT I RECENTLY RESURFACED BACK TO IT AND I JUST *EXPLOSION SOUNDS* /pos

BRO I cannot express to you how much I think about Doppel and Glass and their character concepts and their dynamic and just generally the story. Man, I don't know what it is about those two, but like...AJHSJHD!!

I really like thinking about angst and ways that you can make both of them complex and stuff, you know, separating from just "haha silly comic relief guys!" I like thinking about them and how their not the same, and how they're both technically separate beings kinda? And how they're different and stuff and AA-

ALSO I love they're character design man? Like, it looks...crunchy. that's probably a bad way to put it, but they feel like those sensory videos where people take wax and slime and crush it all up and its really satisfying and crunchy.

AUGH they're all so awesome and I love love LOVE thinking about Heartless as a story and how it would play out and stuff. Keep up the good work and stuff, sorry for word bombing you I just suddenly got a lot of feelings and had to get it out somewhere

sgssgfjsgh thank u so much for taking the time to send this ask dude!

Seeing any love for the Heartless gang always sparks more joy than I can convey, no matter when -- but ur timing is uncanny haha, these two have been on my mind a lot lately too! (Especially since the new Madds Buckley song dropped 'cause it's just sO--- 👀😩🤌)

I'm not very articulate rn but pls take this doodle as a big thank u for the encouragement and for sharing ur thoughts about 'em! 🪞💜

#abd illustrates #heartless #doppel & glass #this was such a nice message thank u again (^^)/#I've been pondering their backstory (and a bunch of others) more recently #so ur not alone in the “heartless hyperfixation resurfacing” club haha #tis the season #I won't get into it rn but “Drivers Seat” has been on LOOP since it dropped and it sparks such an AMV in my mind about them

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old-lorarri · 4 months

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꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 ─ 𝐋𝐒𝟐 ˚₊· ꒱꒱

─ summary . . . ❨ your friend forces you onto a dating app and to be honest you weren't expecting much but maybe it was worth it ❩ ─ pairing . . . ❨ logan sargent x fem! non-famous! reader ❩ ─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩ ─ author note . . . . ❨ now tbh I was meant to do this for a different driver but changed last min so I hope this is still good so enjoy! ❩

❨ taglist | masterlist ❩

WELCOME TO L♡VE LINE

the app where you are destined to find the one

create an account . . .

number: xxx-xxx-xxx

name: Y/N L/N

birthday: xx xx xxxx

nationally: british

idea type: funny, nice, and not a serial killer

about you: creeps stay away 🤺🤺🤺

add a profile picture . . .

please wait while we find your matches

loading . .

thank you for being patient,

we have found 4 matches

matt markson has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: november 10th, 2002

nationally: american

ideal type: sexy, funny, and submissive

bio: best haircut in ohio

matt

hey baby girl 😮‍💨

how about you give me a show 😏

Y/N

no 🥰

also you hair is fucked

you have blocked this person

try again

yes no

lukas morris has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: january 21st, 2000

nationally: poland

ideal type: hot, horny, shy

bio: drug, drinking, sex 4 life

lukas

what are your thoughts on gun play?

Y/N

...

lukas

not a fan I see

how about blood play

has anyone told you

that you would make a beautiful corpse 🥵

Y/N

goodbye 👋

you have blocked this person

try again

yes no

amir abbas has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: july 19th, 1999

nationally: uae

ideal type: modest, kind, god fearing

bio: habibi come to dubai

amir

you are so beautiful ❤️

Y/N

aww thank you ☺️

your good looking to 👀

amir

I would love to bring you to dubai 😉

Y/N

bit soon don't you think?

amir

I think it would make it easier to get to know each other

you know face to face

Y/N

yeah ig

amir

great

just don't tell my wife

Y/N

your what?

amir

my wife

also you can't post me

and I can't post you

but I'll buy you channel and a ferrari ❤️

how does that sound habibi

Y/N

fucking awful

I am not some fucking side hoe

hope your wife finds out what a piece of shit you are mate 🖕

you have blocked this person

yes no

logan sargent has requested to message you

accepted decline

birthday: july 19th, 1999

nationally: usa

ideal type: funny, kind, honest

bio: american f1 driver

logan

oh thank god

this app has finally matched me with someone normal 😮‍💨

Y/N

right?!?!?

eveyone on this app is givning either serial killer or scum bag 😭

but I gotta ask dude

what's up with that pfp 💀

logan

my friend alex took it

he forced me to make this account

he said it was a good photo

is it not?

Y/N

wait you got forced on here too??????

same 😭

my friend megan said I needed to

"meet new people"

what ever tf that means

also

if I were you

I would sue alex for defamation of character 💀

cuz that photo does not do you justice

makes you look like a ✨ serial killer ✨

very ✨ted bundy✨

also question

american white man

which type of american are you 🤔

logan

florida baby

RAHHHHHHH 🦅🔥🇺🇸

Y/N

oh dear 😅

it's always florida or ohio...

but anyway

thoughts on taylor 🧐

logan

queen 👸

icon 💅

the moment ✨

mother 😌

Y/N

hummmm

you have passed the test ✅

logan

yessss

anyway question

Y/N

shoot

not literally florida

figuratively 😭

logan

florida really?

anyway

what do you do for a living?

Y/N

barista

I know I know

before you say it yeah customers can be a bitch sometimes

but I'm a sucker for free coffee

what about you

logan

f1 driver for williams racing

Y/N

oh cool

don't really know what that is sorry 😭

I only really watch football

liverpool fan till i die 🫡

logan

you mean soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

football

logan

soccer

Y/N

it's football you twat 🥰

listen we don't call american football

kick run catch and occasionally punt now do we

logan

okay speak your truth queen 👸

Y/N

thank u king 🤴

okay but why when I googled your name

this was the first thing that came up 😭😭😭

logan

oh god

sorry you had to see that

Y/N

not a problem mate ☺️

logan

wow 💔

I just got mate zoned 😢

going dark 😞

Y/N

no no no no no

I'M SORRY 😭😭😭

I'M BRITSH IT'S IN MY DNA

logan

all I hear is excuses 😞

Y/N

WHAT CAN I DO TO MAKE IT BETTER

logan

I think you number would heal my broken heart rn 🫣

Y/N

smooth america real smooth 😭

logan

thank u thank u

Y/N

xxx-xxx-xxx

if you turn out to be a serial killer I'm going to be pissed 💀

logan

Is the photo really that bad 😭😭😭

Y/N

yes babe 😌

dw when we go on a date I'll take some yummy pic's of you

logan

bet

text me the deets

Y/N

will do mr miami 🫡

logan reacted with a ❤️

read

─ inspired by . . .

@landitolover ─ dulce hotline

─ requested by . . .

anon ─ Any driver of your choosing where the reader doesn’t know who they are and is just a regular person

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 5 months

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he set my house on fire, you lit my heart ablaze; when the smoke cleared, you stayed, coughing up ash with me.

jh86 x reader: the revenge plot doesn't go as planned (ft. ex-fiance am34).

(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's on the tamer side, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), spit and descriptions of bodies and stuff like that, hair pulling (big fan), lots of talk about toxic relationships and being mean and using people and sad moments (we can thank this fictional am34 for that), oh, and slight bullying of tz11). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: hello, favorites. thank you so, so much for your patience and softness. today i bring you a story that took me so, so long because i worked so, so hard on it (and it's really long! 14k worth). we have checked all the boxes: terrible ex-fiance am34, sweet boy jh86, schemes and plots and the like. no, i don't think any of these characters are like this in real life. no, nobody acts like this, but it's getting colder, so i think a lot of us are craving that gentle domesticity. and yes, i wish someone had shown up with flowers after i finished undergrad midterms. there's probably a ton of plot holes but shh! don't tell anyone. also tried out a new format, the smut is in the middle instead of the end, let me know how you feel about that. anyways, i miss you and i love you and i think of you often and fondly. i hope you and your snakes are doing well and knowing what you deserve and accepting nothing less. let me know what you think, what you want next, etc. go canucks, of course. oh, and no, i do not think it's a coincidence that all the guys i write about are having a great season so far (except the ducks that refuse to play). how could it be? definitely a causal connection. all my love to you. until next time).

since you were a young girl, you had known that your greatest motivation, your deepest truth, perhaps your fatal flaw, was just how deeply you felt.

when you were little, that meant tears came easily, anger festered like weeds in a prized garden, and happiness felt like flying.

it also meant you could read others' emotions almost as clearly as your own.

it made you different, it made you a good friend, it made you the person you were. for much of your life, you had made peace with the fact that your well of emotions went deeper than others. you had loved that part of yourself, even.

but the night you broke off your engagement to auston matthews, you wanted nothing more than for everything you were feeling to disappear, to evaporate into the air as if it had never been.

"you couldn't've at least tried to hide it from me?" you had said, willing your fragile voice not to break.

and he had sat at the kitchen counter, that massive body on the stool that you had carefully selected for the house that you shared, that you thought you would share forever. and he had sighed, sounded almost annoyed. "would that have made it better, angel?"

his indifference coated your bones like lead paint. that name, once one you felt would call you out of a coma, would lead you out of hell like a northern star, now felt like nothing but a condescending, patronizing taunt. silly, stupid angel, the god might as well have said, how could you think you could ever be enough?

understanding settled like ash on your eyelashes. "you think i'll forgive you," you said, little more than a whisper. "you think i won't leave."

he scoffed at that, then. at you. "and go where?" he asked, sounding almost genuine. "where do you have to go?"

how superficially he knew you, it seemed, at that moment. how had you not seen this before?

"you honestly think i could ever look at you the same?" you asked.

he shrugged, his shoulders so imposing, stature so suddenly frightening. a body you knew better than your own, suddenly foreign. a ghost. "maybe differently, but still looking," he said, "your eyes have only ever followed me, angel."

and maybe he was right, but you were done proving him so.

"send my things to my parents' place," you said, cold, devoid of anything. emotion welled up in you like a flood, but you froze it before it could crest through your mouth, come out like some mythical fire-breathing dragon. you slipped off your ring, placed it on the counter.

you didn't feel lighter without it, though. you felt so devastatingly heavy, like cinder blocks were tied to your ankles, like liquid stone filled your head.

"are you kidding?" he asked. to your silence, careful pause, he tilted his head, shook it once. "you're just gonna quit?"

your hands were shaking. you could feel rage rattle through your body, shake your bones. you clenched your fist so tightly you wondered if blood would drip from your palms, stain the light hardwood floor that you had spent so long deciding on. "how dare you," you said, begging your quivering lip to still.

his smirk was cruel. "not like it matters," he mused. "you've never been able to quit me."

you had seen him mean. on the ice, sometimes to journalists, sometimes to fans, sometimes to you, even. but this was past mean. this was past elementary bullying, past joking insults that don't land. he was trying to call your bluff, trying to push you into forgiveness, trying to hurt you.

"watch me," you said, your voice made of ancient rock.

"are you mad because she's hotter than you?" he asked, his brow contorted in false concern. "is that it?"

despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your mouth. a smile that made your eyes glitter. a smile that should have scared him. a warning.

"she is beautiful," you conceded, because she was. what good would it do you to deny that? you approached him, then, in his personal space for what you believed would be the last time. he turned to you, your eyes meeting in a clash, like sword on sword. cruel, brutal arrogance and pure, pretty wrath. you held the side of his face in one palm, the other hand resting on his shoulder. "but when a beautiful person hits on me, auston, i say no."

his eyes flickered down to your mouth, simmering with lust. you laughed at this, at him, raw and true, let pity soak your tone like acid. "i'm not mad at her, auston," you admitted truthfully. "i'm not even mad at you." you patted his cheek, perhaps a little harder than you needed to. "i'm just so disappointed."

that had been weeks ago. you had moved back to the states, so embarrassed on the plane at how you couldn't stop the tears from flowing, until finally you were back with your parents in new jersey. they had welcomed you so warmly, so easily. it had taken a few weeks for the tears to finally slow, for the utter devastation to fade, for your red eyes to brighten again.

at first, it had been hard to remember anything but how his embrace felt like home, how tightly he hugged you after games, how his eyes shone when he laughed, how he had teared up when you had accepted his proposal, how he had gushed about picking the right ring.

but as the sadness faded, as it festered into something much more serious, you remembered less of the fairytale moments, less of his perfect smile, less of the "pretty girl" utterances in his rough bedroom rasp. soon the sadness gave way to steely rage, to an almost bloodthirsty need for revenge. for him to hurt the way he had hurt you.

and no one does bloodthirsty like a group of university-age girls. after catching up with your childhood friends, and getting them caught up on your situation, you looked at your confidants with eager eyes. "what do i do?"

your best friend from high school spoke first, banging her fist on the table. "burn his house down?" she offered. "steal his dog?"

her friend from college put a gentle hand over her fist, "i think for now we try to avoid the federal crimes," she said, then turned to you. "when my ex cheated on me, i got with the lead singer of his favorite band." her eyes shimmered. "and then bought his dream car and wrapped it pink."

you giggled in delight. "oh, you're good."

your childhood friend nodded. "phycological warfare." she looked at you. "who's his idol?"

you thought for a moment, tapped your fingers on the table. "i don't know if idol is what i should be going for," you thought out loud.

"who's someone who would make him uncomfortable? insecure?"

"his dad!" your friend said, making you shake in a laugh.

"his biggest insecurity is the spotlight leaving and not coming back," you told them. you had known that for a long time.

"being forgotten?" your friend asked.

"being replaced," you said, your eyes widening with understanding. "with someone better. more promising." you shared a look with your friends, felt anger solidify into a plan. into hope.

"you look like you have someone in mind."

a memory flashed across your mind like a shooting star, engulfed in flame.

"how was the game, aus?" you had asked when he got home, stirring the pot of soup on the stove.

you heard some kind of grumble as he dropped his things in the mudroom, made his way into the kitchen.

"what's wrong?" you asked when you met his eyes, sensing something wrong like smoke in the air.

"just this young kid," he muttered. "'s nothing, really."

and you knew then that it wasn't just nothing, because he never tried to hide things from you, to diminish his feelings, unless it was really bothering him.

you turned the stove off, approached him, wrapped your arms around his middle and hugged him tight. "who's this new kid?" you asked, muffled by his chest.

his arms pulled your closer, tighter. this had always been where you felt warmest, safest. "some h name," he muttered. "hicks? hughes, maybe?"

you smiled into his chest, knowing him, and knowing he would never have forgotten the name of this kid. knowing auston matthews never forgets people who make him feel like anything other than the world's brightest star.

"whoever he is, probably just had the game of his life," you had said, your voice a comforting lullaby. you had pressed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "nothing to worry about, yeah?"

he had smiled back at you, but something dark had swirled behind his gaze. something like knowing, like ominous understanding, like an empire, falling. "already forgotten, angel," he had said, but you knew, even then, that he was lying.

the memory fizzed and dissolved like baking soda in vinegar.

you looked at your friends and smiled. "what do you guys know about jack hughes?"

from there it was surprisingly easy to shift from a tangent line outside jack hughes's circle to someone inside of it. you were patient, too, careful not to rush. you wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, after all, refused to enact any plan that wouldn't end in exactly the revenge you sought.

one of the other wags from toronto, whom you had grown close to, insisted on helping, giving you the numbers of some friends close to the devils.

"i'm honestly so, so proud of you for leaving," she had told you over the phone, her voice nothing but genuine, knowing. "all of us, we all knew you were way too good for him."

"did you?" you asked, maybe a little shocked. having been so completely deceived, so absolutely blind, for so long, it was interesting that others had not been as deluded as you. to hear their perspective, to see what you had not been able to before.

"sweetheart," she said, gently, "everyone who meets you can see that you're good. that you deserve someone good." there was a pause. "and everyone also sees that he was never that."

you let her words settle like glitter on a childhood craft. "thank you," you said. "i miss you."

"we miss you so much. see you soon?"

you agreed, thanked her for her help.

"i hope he's good," were her closing words. "maybe better, at least."

having started classes with your old friends, intent on finishing the degree you had so quickly and thoughtless abandoned for auston, you had ample time to plot.

"feels like we're in a spy movie, or something," your friend had said excitedly.

"we'll be your guys in the chair," the other chimed in. "here the whole way."

the rest of the initial plan came easily, with the help of the people who were on your side, which you quickly learned was a group made up of more people than you thought.

very soon, it was time for step one, and you were in front of your mirror, having just finished getting ready, your friends by your side.

you took a deep breath. "what if this isn't a good idea?" you whispered.

they squeezed at your hands. "no going back now, okay? we'll be there the whole time."

"what if he's not interested?"

"look at yourself," one of them said, "don't be stupid."

"what is he thinks i'm a crazy stalker?"

your oldest friend shrugged, her eyes full of mischief. "what if you are?"

so you found yourself at a dingy, run down bar, the lights low. according to your contacts, this was where the team and their friends came after home games.

when was the last time you had come to a bar looking for something? for someone? it felt distantly familiar, but so strange, like hearing a language you spoke as a child but that hadn't graced your tongue in decades.

you had been with auston for years, after all, having met him when you were 19, him 23. a whirlwind, a tornado, a perfect tempest of pink dust and white teeth. a proposal two years later, a break off a year further.

you were 22 now, and had never felt further from your nineteen-year-old self. a foolish child, a delicate doll, a phantom cloaked in a desperate desire for acceptance, for love.

you didn't know how to flirt in this new body, new being. you didn't even really know to how flirt with anyone but auston - it had been so long since you wanted anyone else. and you didn't even really want jack, at this point. you just wanted justice.

a cluster of motion and noise behind you ripped you from your thoughts. you didn't turn, though, just stirred your drink, let the liquid settle again until you could see yourself in the reflection. until you could make out your eyes, until you could plead with your mouth to tell you what to say.

a game, the beautiful girl mouthed to you, a secret code, it's only a game.

your hazy eyes caught on a pool table in the corner of the bar, vacant, the lamp above it flickering. you smiled to yourself, made your way over, picked out a cue, ran your fingers along the edge of it.

you took a sip of your drink before setting it down, lining yourself up to break. with a swift, even motion, a pleasant cracking noise rung out, colorful balls moving in different directions.

you scrunched up your nose, having sunk none initially, gracefully lining up to go again when you felt a few figures approach.

the first one who spoke, the one right next to you, was not someone you recognized. you didn't even think he was on the team, but he had the build of a hockey player, probably a quick center.

"need a private lesson, there, sugar?" he asked sleazily, his voice the arrogant drawl of a child, almost endearing in its steadiness. he leaned on the table as you looked up at him, straightened, tilted your head to rest against the cue.

"awful kind of you, coach of the year," you teased before nodding to the other person who had joined you, looming across the table like a shadow. "gonna help me beat your friend?"

your new coach scoffed, ran a hand through his long, unruly hair. "trust me, sugar," he said, "you don't need any help beating him."

you locked eyes with the figure across the table, whom you had only seen before on a screen, the one you had heard about in the arms of your ex-fiance. here he was, the soft contours of his face shimmering in the dim light. the mythical and heroic jack hughes, the shaker of the unshakeable auston matthews.

he was shorter than you expected. "not much of a competitor, is he?" you asked the man next to you, talking about jack as if he wasn't right there. as if you hadn't been looking at him the entire time. "doesn't like to play?"

you tilted your head, dared him with your eyes to prove you wrong. the familiar fire of flirtation, of the chase you hadn't engaged with in years flared when he took a step out of the shadows, letting you see him clearly and up close.

during your research, you had seen pictures of him, but they didn't do him even a semblance of justice. he was gorgeous in a fairytale prince sort of way, like he might save the day with a true love's kiss at any moment. his eyes were a striking blue, his nose almost dainty, his jaw angular. your gaze caught on his full mouth before finally landing on his eyes again. he had the kind of complexion and expression you could tell lit up when he smiled. your stomach twisted at the thought. a game, you repeated in your mind. only a game.

"i'll play," he said simply, his voice goofy in a way you weren't used to. not sleazy, like his friend, who was currently behind you while you bent forward, lining up the cue. it wasn't the classic baritone you were used to hearing in auston, but something more cautious, something sweeter.

the game progressed, each of you sinking shots with the tell-tale soft thud. it was his long-haired friend, the one who kept calling you sugar like you were some southern belle, who was much closer to you, who was adjusting your hips and arm placement before each turn, who was flirting with you so openly, his breath hot on your neck, his gaze open and obvious.

even then, a quick exchange of glances with jack felt much more intimate than any innuendo-filled comment and fumbling touch from his friend. whenever jack would sink a ball, his eyes would flutter up to meet yours in a fleeting catch of flame, of promise, of knowing.

with only a few balls still on the green felt of the table, his careful voice broke you from your trance. "what are we playing for?" he asked, eyes alight.

the look you shared was teasing, probing, yet deadly serious. this is everything, the look said. are you ready to give everything?

"how about this?" you began, your tone light and smoky. "if you win, you get my number." his full mouth quirked upwards in the slightest of smirks. "and if i win, i give it to him," you finished, nodding towards his sugar-spewing friend.

jack looked at his friend. "good with you, z?" he asked.

his friend, z, you guessed, let a cocky smirk drape across his face like velvet curtains. "more than good," he said, "as we're gonna win."

with the stakes agreed upon, the game continued until only the eight ball remained. you lined yourself up, your ever-so-involved coach just next to you as you called your pocket.

"have a game, sugar, here we go."

you ignored his friend's voice, lining your cue up perfectly, the smooth wood resting delicately between your fingers, the angle of your arm and neck smooth and sensual. everything about your preparation lent itself to a winning strike, everyone at the table knew it. you could feel it in z's early celebration, see it in the slight quiver of jack's hand.

bent over the table, in the final seconds before your strike, you peered up at jack through dark lashes, all dim light and foggy promise. you gave him a sly smirk as you followed through, the black and white ball missing the pocket by an inch, hitting the side of the table with a soft sound.

jack narrowed his eyes at you with a curious sort of look before quickly calling his pocket and immediately sinking the ball.

his friend sucked on his teeth before throwing up his hands in defeat. "christ, sugar, didn't take you for a choke artist," he said. "unless you're into that." he shot you a wink before heading off to grab a drink.

for the first time, it was just you and jack. you leaned on your cue, let your gaze fall over him lazily, in the same way you knew he was doing to you. he was close now, close enough that you could see how blue his eyes were, how long his lashes, how high and soft his features, how his hair was just a little too long on the sides.

"you let me win," he said, a gentle observation, not anything accusatory.

you smiled. "prove it," you said, to which a matching smile graced his own face.

"must be my lucky night, then," he said as he handed you his phone and you typed your number in.

you laughed. "i don't know," you mused, "you seem like a guy who's used to getting what he wants." and he did seem like that - who could say no to those pretty eyes?

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, a motion you tracked. "'m a guy used to earning what he wants," he corrected, and you hummed. a distinction that auston had never made, even though he worked hard, sure. but he was a natural. what would it be like to be with someone to whom everything didn't come just so, so, easily?

"like to work for it, hm?" you teased.

his gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before returning to your eyes.

you stepped forward, pushed and poked at the imaginary line between the two of you. you looked up at him, gently swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb, felt heat rumble between the two of you, something volcanic. "don't work yourself too hard, yeah?"

without a second glance, you placed your cue against the table, grabbed your bag and made for the door.

on your way out, you overhead the conversation that had erupted in your exit.

"i was the one talking to her the whole time," that long-island-ish drawl said.

"if you think she was into you for even a second, you're an idiot," jack replied.

you swore the door was chuckling as it shut behind you.

everything had gone exactly as you'd hoped, exactly as you'd known it would, so you weren't at all surprised to receive a text the next day asking if you were around that night to get a drink.

so you found yourself at a different bar, this one a bit more upscale, quickly spotting jack as he waited for you outside. you blew out a breath as you approached, as a smile made his face glow. it was still so new to find someone else beautiful. when would you get used to his imperfect teeth, his oceanic eyes, his feminine nose, this greek sculpture opposed to autson's roman one?

you blinked. "hi," you said, suddenly feeling lame.

his mouth quirked. "hey." he opened the door for you, nodded. "after you."

"i'm gonna warn you," you started as you ducked past him and into the building. "i haven't been on a date in a while."

he shoved his hands in his pockets, a juvenile habit that made you blush. "find that hard to believe," he said, his tone playful. "pretty girl like yourself."

you scrunched up your nose at that. pretty girl. auston had called you that so many times, but for the first time you actually thought about its meaning. something flipped in your stomach at jack calling you pretty, but it was the girl part that had you pausing for a moment.

you were a girl, pretty much, you were jack's age, but you hadn't felt like one in so long. maybe it was being with someone a little older, but you felt almost ancient, so tired, so drained. but here you were, on a date, every bit the pretty girl he had deemed you.

you just laughed, taking a seat at the counter, smoothing out your dress against your legs. "real sweet talker, are you?" you joked, turning to him and meeting his eyes.

his mouth quirked like he knew something you didn't. "somethin' like that," he said.

the night went by fast, conversation flowing easily, no sign of pressure or anything of the like. you asked about his career, what he did that day, his family, his friends. he made you laugh, and it came so easily, so fluidly. he asked you about what you liked to do, what you were studying in school, how you were enjoying jersey.

surprisingly, you found yourself wanting to be completely honest with him, even though you couldn't be. you found yourself wanting to tell him everything, to answer any question he asked, to never leave him wishing or wanting even for a second.

you got hung up on the curve of his upper lip, on the slope of his shoulders under his button down, on his girlish laugh, his firefly of a smile.

the night was over too soon. too soon, you had the sinking feeling that you were in over your head, that perhaps you had chosen the wrong person for your revenge plot. you wanted to hurt auston, after all, but not yourself. certainly not this shimmery spark of a boy in front of you.

he walked you out, both of you pausing outside the bar, under the dull streetlight, a theatre spotlight for your praiseworthy performance.

you turned to look at him, and him at you, sinking into each others' gazes like quicksand, the air thick with expectation.

"i don't kiss on the first date," you blurted out, talking to his lips, talking to yourself.

he smiled, his shoulders rumbling in a laugh. "'s okay," he breathed, "like to work for it, remember, baby?"

you shook your head as your cheeks erupted in a delighted rosy flush. "goodnight, jack," you said, your voice every bit the giveaway. he returned the sentiment with a knowing grin.

the next day, you invited your girls over to watch him play. as you all settled on the couch, a homemade cocktail in your hand, you couldn't help but hide your face when the camera lingered on his profile during the anthem.

one of your friends gave a mock-salute. "god bless america," she said, shaking her head as you threw a pillow at her.

"alright," you chastised.

"what?" she asked, raising a brow, "just appreciating the wonderful offerings of our country."

your other friend shook her head. "you don't usually go for guys like him, eh?" she asked. "i mean, ever since we were in middle school you always went for the guys with biceps bigger than my face." she held her hands in front of her face for visualization.

"'s not like he's tiny," you said, almost embarrassed.

"no, no," she amended, "but he's no auston. he's just, i don't know, pretty."

you smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. auston was so masculine in every way, and jack was softer, somehow, pretty in a way you didn't usually go for.

pretty in a way that made you smile at your phone when he texted you the next day, asking if he could cook you dinner later that week.

you were blushing to yourself, the morning of, after he had texted you asking if you had any dietary restrictions.

and you didn't, but wasn't it just the sweetest, most thoughtful thing to ask? would you have even thought to ask?

i want you to be comfortable, his text said, i want you to laugh with your mouth full in my kitchen.

careful, angel, a deep voice called from the back of your mind, from the inside of your teeth. this is about me, remember?

your fingers twitched with the reminder as you stood on his front stoop, waiting for jack to answer the bell. the air had a brisk twinge of a chill to it, a chill that had your nose turning pink and your feet stiffening in your boots.

but he answered the door, and the breath you blew out rose between the two of you like a misty curtain, one you resented, because it distorted your view of him, even just so.

the mist settled, and his smile was left in its wake.

a smile that silenced all the gossiping voices in your head, left the throne of their malevolent king vacant, abandoned.

"you're here," he breathed, almost like he couldn't believe it, like he couldn't believe you.

"and it's your fault," you teased, scrunching up your nose.

he shook his head, laughed at some joke in his mind, stepped aside. "you must be freezing, baby, come in."

the butterflies in your chest soared as he helped you shoulder off your coat, his fingers leaving just a ghost of a touch on your wrist, the back of your neck, leaving scorched skin behind. you shivered, took in his graceful figure hanging your coat up on a hook by the door, let a smile come easily to your face when he turned back to you.

"what?" he said, grinning.

you let out a half-laugh. "nothing," you said, looking around as you kicked your shoes off. anything to avoid the white-hot light of his undivided attention. "i like your place."

and you did like it, truly, it was just so unexpected. homely, not cluttered, but definitely not the modern, futuristic, almost barren aesthetic you can come to associate with successful hockey players.

he flashed you a shy smile as he led you into the kitchen, bowing his head, making his hair fall into his face, almost bashful. "it likes you too," he told you, swinging his hand up to hit the top of the doorframe like a basketball-obsessed middle-schooler. you bit your lip to stop your grin.

what a pleasure it was to get to know all the most intricate and intimate manners of someone new.

"everything's almost done, now," he said, quickly turning off the stovetop and peering through the glass of the oven.

his tone was much more at ease then when you had talked to him before. he was at home here, and you could tell. he wore home like a hand-me-down sweater, too big in the shoulders and worn in the elbows, but lovely and familiar in all of its comfort.

you sat atop a stool at his counter, nervously rubbing the sole of one foot into the top of the other. "thanks for cooking, jack," you said, "you really didn't have to do anything fancy, or anything." suddenly, sitting here in this space, surrounded by the evidence of his effort, you felt guilt settle deeply into your body. unworthiness, perhaps, of the smell of food in the air, of the drink he had poured for you so gently, of the smile he kept throwing your way.

that voice in your head huffed. look at all this, he said, look at the burden you are.

and you were feeling it, so heavily, until jack took a sip of his own drink and waved you off, furrowing his brow as if confused. "'s how a date works, right, baby?" he said. he tilted his head, teasing, "tellin' me no one's ever pulled out all the stops for you?"

and you laughed, shook your head, because you supposed it was, supposed no one really had.

you got to know each other even better over the meal he had cooked, surprising you once again with how easy everything felt between you.

"tell me what you did today," he might say, his voice soft, muffled from chewing.

and you might tell him about your classes, how midterms were coming up, how you were nervous but felt pretty good about most of them.

maybe then you would ask about practice that morning, to which he would tell you some story about his teammates, how they were giving it to him all morning.

"why?" you might ask, to which he would look up at you with that bashful flush.

"'cause they knew you were coming over tonight," he admitted, pushing broccoli around his plate. "kept saying how i was probably gonna make you a box of kraft or something."

you laughed, a genuine rumble from deep in your chest, tilting your head back. when you looked back at him, he was looking at you with something like wonder.

and maybe later, you would ask what his favorite part of his house was, and he would say it was his wall of framed pictures, which would make you melt a little bit, your heart a puddle of feeling.

too soon, you were setting down your fork and knife, crossing and uncrossing your legs in restlessness.

"did you like it?" he would ask, his voice so full of hope it could have killed you.

so full of hope that you reached across the counter to hold his hand in yours, if only for a moment, to squeeze his fingers in meaningful emphasis.

your touch caught him by surprise, hesitant for a moment before locking eyes with you, simmering, then squeezing your hand back in his warm, callused grip.

a grip that said i'm no natural, but i'll work for it. for you.

"it was perfect," you said honestly, because it was. "but please, please let me do the dishes," you pleaded, looking at him through your lashes, just wanting to do something to help.

it would feel so wrong to be doted on for the whole night while giving nothing in return. at the very least, it would feel foreign.

he shook his head playfully, but relented. "you can help," he conceded, "but 'm not letting a pretty girl clean up my mess by herself."

you scoffed with a smile, squeezed his hand a final time before pushing yourself off of your stool, gathering all the plates and glasses in a single go.

"where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked, genuinely, as he followed you to the sink.

you carefully set everything down in a graceful swoop, let your lips quirk upwards in nostalgia. "once a waitress, always a waitress," you explained, referring to your short-lived stint at a busy restaurant in toronto before auston insisted on you staying home.

and at the time, even a little now, it was a sweet gesture, one you had taken as him wanting you to relax, wanting you to have the freedom to do whatever you wanted with your days.

you just secretly wished he had considered that what you wanted to do with your days was working, going to school, doing something for yourself.

jack leaned on the edge of the counter, his lopsided grin like an electric jolt to your heart. "what, did they show you the door 'cause you were making all the tips?" he teased, nevertheless making you blush as you washed the plates with soap. "not fair for everyone else, 's that it?"

you gasped in dramatic accusation, flicking sudsy water from your fingers his direction. "how dare you?" you exclaimed before turning away from him in a huff, feigning sadness. "'s not like i can control this face."

his mouth widened in shock, then took on a scheme-filled smile as soon as the water hit him, a short laugh escaping him. "you didn't," he said, dipping his hand in the soap and flinging some at you.

you squealed, holding your hands up to shield your face as he reached in for more, bubbles filling both of his palms. "wait, jack, i'm sorry!" you laughed. "i swear, i didn't mean to!"

"liar," he cooed, his gaze sparking like a lighter, you swore you could hear the clicking sound. then he was right in front of you, only a breath apart, so close you swore you could feel the beat on his heart in your own chest.

he reached down and gently held your face in his hands, the soap now all along your jaw and cheeks.

you closed your eyes for a second, sighed in defeat, still so aware of him so close, of his touch, feather-light on you skin.

when they opened again, you both had not moved, frozen in place, perhaps willed by the moment, compelled by the growing sensation of rightness, of being exactly where you were supposed to be. when he spoke, he was speaking to your lips, dragging his gaze back up to your eyes like it weighed something stark.

"do you kiss on the second date?" he breathed, and your breath caught, your heart stuttering at his utter politeness, his thoughtfulness, the idea that he remembered things you had told him.

you bit your tongue, because, if you were being honest, you usually didn't - you took the rule of threes very personally. you liked to take your time, savored that lovely period of what could be. besides, you had learned the hard way what happened when you let people in your life too quickly, too hastily. you knew all too well that giving in to a toothy smile and a sleeve of tattoos only led to shrugs met with tears.

but here, now, with jack's soapy hands on your face, in the space he had so warmly accepted you into, you had the feeling this boy in front of you was going to be an exception. that he would be an exception for many things, perhaps the exception.

as if hearing your internal dialogue loud and clear, he dipped his head down until he was impossibly close, so when he spoke you could feel the words on your lips.

"please let me kiss you, baby," he pleaded, his eyes hooded and heavy, his voice a rasp.

deciding he was an exception indeed, you answered him by pressing up on your toes, meeting his mouth with yours in a kiss that bruised.

and later, you would think about how auston had never been a please let me kiss you man, instead he had been a give me a kiss, angel kind of guy.

after, you would think about how it felt so much more personal, so much more sweet to be asked please, can i instead of being ordered give me, give me, give me, like a demanding, red-faced child.

later, you would think about how the previous kisses in your life paled in comparison to the feeling of jack's lips on yours. how before this moment, you were used to kisses that felt like transactions, like the necessary box being checked before the next step, how they felt like being swallowed.

after, you would swoon over all the details and nuances, but, right now, there was nothing but his lips, his hands, the way he melted into you and practically whimpered when you kissed him harder.

kissing him didn't feel like being swallowed, it felt like taking the biggest deep breath of your life after slowly suffocating for years. you forgot you had soap bubbles all over your face, you forgot about auston, you forgot about everything - there was only him, and you, in this moment.

he held your face like you were something precious, moving one hand into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he tasted like lemon and rosemary, as well as something so deliciously him you could feel yourself become addicted immediately.

his grip in your hair was soft, and when his lips moved against yours it felt like melting snow in the warmth of the morning, pure and sweet and natural and right. kissing him felt like waking up with sunlight streaming through the windows, like laughing while taking your makeup off, like cinnamon and clove and home.

when you pulled away from him, only just slightly, both of you catching your breath heavily, he opened his eyes slowly, almost reluctantly. his eyes were almost glazed over, and you had a feeling yours looked in a similar way, syrupy and hot.

he gently swiped his thumb along your swollen bottom lip as if testing to make sure you were real, not just some shadow, not just a dream.

you traced your nails along his neck, smiled as he brought his hands down to wrap around your middle, resting them on the small of your back.

"god, you're just so fucking pretty, aren't you?" he breathed, like a revelation.

you swore he had your head spinning for days after, days you unfortunately and cruelly had to spend apart due to a week-long road trip for the team.

you told yourself it was a good thing that he was going away for a bit, as it would give you a second to regroup, to revaluate, to familiarize yourself with what your initial goal was for your plan. you reminded yourself over the week apart that jack was a means to an end, that whatever had blossomed between the two you had a finish line, that all of it was meant to make a point, then hopefully leave this whole hockey world behind after the damage had been done.

but then one of your girls would throw on the game, and jack's expressive face would fill the screen, chewing on the fingers of his gloves during warm ups, and your heart would sink at the thought of leaving him behind. and it just about combusted at the idea that you were using him, even though that's exactly what you were doing.

you've only been on two dates with him, only kissed once, you reminded yourself. he's probably seeing other people, anyways, probably with some other girl right now. it's not like you're exclusive. this is probably not a big deal to him.

the thought was comforting but also devastating, a brick in your stomach.

while he was away, midterms came and went. as you walked into your last one, you thought about maybe texting jack after, trying to get together tonight, since he would finally be back.

then your pen hit the paper and time passed in a blur.

you exited the lecture hall in a flurry of relief and pride, happy to have accomplished something so concrete, something that you had truly worked hard on.

walking down the stairs outside of the entrance, your smile stilled, frozen in shock, when you looked up from your feet and saw a familiar, beautiful figure leaning against his car, an excited grin on his face, flowers in his grip as he locked eyes with you, making your breath catch.

"is that jack hughes?" some kid from your class said altogether too loudly to his friend. you had seen that same kid wearing devils gear more than once.

his friend didn't look up from his phone. "who's jack hughes?" he replied.

you couldn't stop your disbelieving laugh, your smile, already making your cheeks sore as you finished descending the stairs, until you were in front of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before you even realized what you were doing.

this was so unlike you, really, letting yourself feel as deeply as you could without filtering it, but anything else would have felt so wrong it could have killed you. especially when he brought his arms around you without even a second's hesitation, held you tight and close, so you could feel the petals of the flowers on the back of your neck.

"you're here," you said, breathlessly, still shocked, into his firm chest.

"had to make it back for your last test," he said into your hair, both of you not wanting to let go.

"how did you know?" you murmured, pulling away from him, only slightly.

he loosened his embrace, pulled away to get a look at you, let his eyes run over you carefully, indulgently. he pushed your hair back from your face, his touch gentle, like you were a relic, something worth treasuring. "you said so, last week," he said simply, like it was obvious.

he said it as if, for years of your life, you had wished and yearned so reverently for auston to remember the little things, like your coffee order, like the dates on which your parents were coming to visit, like your anniversary.

he said it as if it didn't mean the entire world that he had listened, that he had remembered.

you only leaned into his chest, looked up at him with something seriously dangerous in your eyes, something that was not supposed to be there. "'d you bring me flowers, jack?" you asked, a playful note in your tone.

he flushed, so lovely, hid his face behind the bouquet, peeking only one deep blue eye out, as if embarrassed. "too much?" he asked, still shielding his face.

you laughed, squeezed his bicep lightheartedly. "just enough," you assured him, your eyes full of meaning, willing him to lower his shield, let you see the face you had been dreaming of all week. "thank you. i missed you."

you would have told him that a thousand times just to see the way his whole face lit up, like he could never hide how happy your words made him. he wore the late afternoon sunshine like a dream, the dewy rays dripping down his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, slow and golden as honey.

he had this way of making you feel like you were first choice, every time, and it was so foreign that you hadn't known you had been craving it until he had laid it at your feet like an offering. every time he texted you to check in, to ask how your day was, to finalize plans, it would send a flurry of butterflies swarming your chest, a rosy flush to the bridge of your nose.

he was so, so beautiful, inside and out, that you effectively forgot what the whole point of your plan was in the first place. you basically had forgotten about it, that day that he dragged you along with some of his friends to pick out a christmas tree.

"do i know any of these friends?" you had asked on the way up, riding shotgun, reaching over periodically to run your nails along his neck, just below his hairline, your way of saying i'm happy you're here. and he would reach over and rest his hand on your thigh, not possessive, just a reminder of your presence. a reminder that made your insides twist with want, nonetheless, that made your gaze simmer.

one of the things you appreciated so genuinely about jack was that he didn't rush you for even a second, so happy to go at whatever pace made you most comfortable, whatever pace would keep you around the longest. it felt almost wrong that his acceptance of a slow pace made you want to speed things up, made you want to know what he felt like in your hands, what sounds he might make if you teased him, what his voice would sound like in your bed.

he let out a rumble of a laugh at your question, shaking you from your daze. "you'll definitely recognize one of them," he said. "though i don't know if he's fully recovered from your last meeting."

"oh no." you paled. "not him." you winced, thinking about how you had probably bruised his inflated ego. not beyond repair, though, you knew. for guys like that, never beyond repair.

jack traced circles on your thigh with his thumb in affirmation. "don't worry, baby," he said, "told 'm to be on best behavior."

when you arrived, you recognized that boisterous voice immediately.

"so good to see you again, sugar," he drawled, his tone especially toying.

you decided to cut any hard feelings immediately, going up to him and giving him a quick hug in greeting. "i think i owe you a thank you, coach of the year," you said, pulling away with a smile.

luckily, he seemed to forgive quickly, even to appreciate your efforts. "i prefer my thank yous in hot chocolate form," he said, and you promised to fulfill his request later. he gave you his name in exchange for yours.

you spent the afternoon leisurely ambling around the grounds, looking at potential trees, but really just enjoying the company of those around you.

most of the time, you spent laughing, tucked into jack's side, finding warmth in the firm feeling of his hip against your waist.

"what about this one?" trevor asked, holding up an especially short and stout one.

the two of you decided jack would need a taller one to better suit the ceiling proportions in his living room.

walking around, it felt like you were in your own dreamy winter wonderland, in a fog of laughter and warmth and a million other beautiful things.

"you leave again tomorrow?" you asked at one point, unable to hide the slight disappointment in your voice. you peered up at him, your eyes warm, your cheeks rosy from the cold.

he met your gaze and nodded, hugged you tighter into his side. "back in a few days," he said.

you couldn't help but pout just a little. jack's roadtrips felt longer and more lonely than auston's ever had.

jack ran his thumb along your bottom lip. "what's that for, baby?" he asked.

you shrugged. "just gonna miss you, 's all," you told him honestly.

something sweet bubbled up in his gaze, but the moment was effectively interrupted by trevor's voice coming from behind you, now shockingly close.

"oh?" he said, dramatic, "what's this? is that - mistletoe?" he emphasized all of his words with dramatic pauses. you briefly thought that maybe, if he hadn't been all in on hockey, he would have made an excellent theater kid.

you both turned to find trevor standing right behind you, holding an alarmingly large branch of something that resembled mistletoe.

"where did you find that?" jack asked his friend.

"never mind that," trevor said, waving him off.

you elbowed jack lightly. "looking for an excuse not to kiss me, are you?"

he shook his head incredulously, as if you had said something funny. you were about to tease him again, but he didn't give you the chance, immediately taking your face in his hands and angling his head down slightly to meet you in a kiss that seared every bit of chill from the air.

would you ever get used to this? would his lips ever not feel like they belonged on yours? would your heartbeat ever not thrum, like some perfect harmony?

the warmth of his hands on your face, the security of yours against the plane of his chest, all of it, everything - it was so perfect you wanted to stay here, just like this, forever. and the thought didn't even scare you as want began to pool inside of you, hot and heavy.

a mixture of a cough and a laugh had the two of you pulling away from each other. one of jack's other friends who had tagged along let out a low whistle, making you blush deeper.

jack just slung a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

luckily, trevor's attention had already strayed, as he was now holding the branch over his own head and the head of the other friend. "don't fight it!" he was calling out as the friend broke out into a light gait.

"get away from me, you scumbag," the poor kid called out over his shoulder.

your eyes were stuck on jack's face, still hazy from your kiss. he turned to you, his mouth quirking up. "staring, baby?" he said, low enough for only you to hear.

you nodded, shameless. "want you," you told him plainly, barely recognizing the tone of your own voice.

the fire in his own eyes welled up as you placed your hands flat on his chest. "fuck, now, baby?" he asked, looking around to where his friends chased each other around.

you bit your lip, pleaded him with your eyes. "please, jack," you said, "please take me home."

he took your hand in his immediately, tossed some parting words over his shoulder to his friends, who paused, watched the two of you stumble into jack's car with urgency.

as he started the engine and pulled away, you heard a faint the hell are we supposed to do with this tree?

the car ride back felt longer than it really was, both of you practically buzzing with want. you kept a hand in his hair, his palm planted firmly on the inside of your thigh, close but not close enough.

you let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway, let him pull you into the house, push you up against the closed door, kiss you again with heat and force and somehow, such softness.

it was the softness that filled you with want. his desire was obvious, especially when he pressed his hips up, hard against you, but that didn't mean he wasn't just so gentle with you, so in tune to what you wanted.

you fisted your hands in his hair, pulled until his posture faltered, until his lips parted further and he moaned into your mouth.

you hooked a leg around his hip to bring him closer, relished the way he began to rock against you.

"fuck, baby," he breathed out, strained, stuttering in places, "don't wanna fuck you against the door."

later, you would think about how auston had never had such a problem. he had never cared where you were, how uncomfortable a position had made you. sometimes you had thought he found his own bed boring.

but jack just pulled you into his room, lightly rocked you back onto the bed, pressed soft kisses down your jaw, your neck, your stomach. you both pushed and pulled clothes aside, looking to give the other as much access as possible.

"so fuckin' pretty," he mumbled against your stomach, making you flush all over.

"please, jack," you whined as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds, making you shiver.

"what do you need, baby?" he asked, pumping himself a few times, up and down, his voice low and rough.

you sat up for a moment, took hold of his hand, peered up at him through your lashes as you spit into it.

he groaned, ran his hand over his cock, now glistening with your spit. desire glowed in your eyes like fireflies. "tell me," he begged.

you laid back on the bed again, the smell of him everywhere. another time, you would insist on feeling him in your mouth, maybe on feeling his mouth on you, but you knew the both of you were far too desperate for that.

"just need you inside me, baby, please," you said, your eyes raking over his figure above you, all gentle slopes and hard lines together.

"ask me so good, baby, so good for me," he said, a careful rasp. he thumbed your clit, making you jolt, dragging his fingers through you again before bringing them to his mouth. "and so ready, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, your mouth falling open as he finally pushed into you, his groan deep.

you whined, the stretch so surreal as you reached forward to grasp at his forearm, anything to ground you.

staying still in the stretch for a second, you waited for the feeling to weaken, but it didn't, not really.

he dropped his head, his exhale coming out shallow, the muscles in his shoulders constrained.

you tightened your grip on his forearm, let your nails dig into him to pull him back to you.

"fuck, baby, i can't," he bit out, "can't, i swear."

you rolled your hips back and forth, trying to will some movement from him. "please, jack, please move," you begged. "please fuck me, baby."

never one to deny you, he began a slow pace, the friction and depth almost unbearable. one of his hands dug into your hip, so hard you could feel bruising, the other beginning to rub careful circles on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"you're so deep," you choked, "faster, baby, need you faster."

he obliged, picking up the pace of his rhythm, moving his hand faster against your clit, making that wave well up within you, forcing moans from your throat.

"fuck, sound so pretty, baby," he said, a glistening sheen now painted across his brow, his collarbones. "so pretty, squeezing me so perfect."

the muscles of his stomach began to contract as you felt yourself dangerously close.

his rhythm continued, bruising in depth and force, so lovely in softness. you tugged his hand from your hip, placed his fingers on your tongue, desperate for something to do with your mouth. you sucked, pulling a guttural moan from him. "don't stand a chance when you do that, baby, swear," he said, "fuck, don't stand a chance with you, hm?"

you felt yourself smile around his hand, your eyes watering, glazed over.

"gonna make me cum, baby," he whined, his motions becoming jerky, his voice little more than a plea. "cum with me, baby, hm? make me feel so good, yeah?"

you fell over the edge at his words, felt his orgasm follow yours almost immediately, the air warm and sticky around you. he collapsed on top of you, his exhales like liquid on your skin, yours like dreamy sighs as he pulled you to him, held you close as you waited for the rise and fall of your chests to settle.

he drew his fingers lazily around the flesh of your thigh, your hip, you pushed his hair back from his face as you both fought sleep, wanting just a few more seconds in the conscious presence of the other.

everything was so lovely you could barely stand it.

you should have known it wouldn't last long.

a day into jack's time away, you received a text from one of your friends in toronto. it was a picture from auston's instagram with the message just thought you should know. we miss you.

something cracked in your chest at the photo of your ex-fiance and this new girl. it wasn't really jealousy, definitely not desire, no, it was harder to pinpoint.

maybe it was the fact that after four years of being together, and after a whole year of being engaged, auston had never once even thought about posting a picture of the two of you.

and you had always chalked it up to the fact that you didn't have any social media, but now, you realized there was something to be said about letting the world know that you were taken.

and you also knew, now, that that was a statement auston had been unable to make your entire relationship.

a voice in the back of your mind, tone watery with tears, wailed. what makes her so special? it pressed. what makes her so much better than me?

it didn't help that she looked absolutely nothing like you. you wondered passingly if you would have preferred a look-a-like to be staring back at you through your screen. you didn't really know, but you did know that her features were sharp to your soft, your eyes are hair completely different in coloring. her face had you questioning if he had ever really found you beautiful, or if you had been the exception to his regular type. the idea weighed heavily on your shoulders like a cape made of cement.

but you knew, at the end of the day, that it was not about her.

and so you decided that as much as your relationship with jack had become genuine, maybe it was time to bring back the plan, just a little.

it can be two things, you told yourself, jack doesn't need to get hurt.

so when jack arrived back from the road, your relationship now teetered on a tightrope, balancing between two things, two motives like a trapeze artist.

still, you tried your best not to let your desire to rip out the heart of your ex-fiance stand in between you and jack. you could be bloodthirsty and gentle at the same time, you told yourself. two things.

the idea became easier when jack began to ask you to come to his games.

at first, you had been skeptical. auston hadn't wanted you there until maybe a year and half into your relationship. you didn't want to push this, press your luck, make yourself a burden, in fear of him abandoning you.

"are you sure you want me there?" you had asked the first time, a little timid, your face resting on your clasped hands, sitting at his kitchen counter, keeping him company as he made something on the stove.

he had turned to you, head tilted, confused. "of course i do, baby," he had said, calmly and clearly. "i want you everywhere i am."

and that had been the end of that.

so you began to become a regular attendee at his games, getting to know the people of his life more closely, becoming a fixture in his life more solidly.

you let him post a picture of the two of you, so touched that he would even ask. he showed you the post when he was done.

you kissed his shoulder in response. "your eyes are closed, jack," you said, half-laughing at the fact that he had chosen this picture, so flawed in nature.

"hm?" he looked at the picture again, then shrugged. "hadn't noticed. no one's gonna be looking at me, anyways."

you shook your head, disbelieving. he was making it hard for this to be two things. he was making it really, really hard to care if your ex-fiance even saw this post. he was making it really hard to care about your ex-fiance at all.

"i don't believe you, sometimes," you mused aloud.

he twirled a lock of your hair, mesmerized. "how?"

you tilted your head back to allow him easier access. "you're pretty perfect, you know that?" you smiled up at him, blissful. "too perfect."

seeing his face go pink with your praise made you make a mental vow to tell him more often.

and he gave you every opportunity to be surprised by his perfection, over and over.

every kiss was something teenage you would have dreamed about, every time he led you into his bedroom was something current you dreamed about. how he seemed to enjoy every moment no matter what you were doing, even how clearly he communicated with you during your first fight, all of it astounded you.

he made all of your friends jealous, but so happy for you. he met them, one time, when he dropped you off to get coffee with them after class.

he was so respectful with them, asked them genuine questions, but never anything that told you that he wasn't in on you one hundred percent.

when auston met your best friend in toronto, he had dropped your hand that he had been holding.

"didn't tell me she was so pretty, angel," he had said, and you had hoped it was just to show you he was putting in an effort to impress the people that were important to you.

when jack said he had to be going, to get to morning skate, he just kissed your cheek. "use my card, yeah, baby?" he called out, waiting for your nod and smile before he drove away.

how had you stumbled into this? was it possible that it wasn't too good to be true?

jack had asked you to come to toronto when the devils headed up north to play the leafs, because he knew you had lived there, because he had lived there, too, and wanted to show you around. and it had reached a point where refusing him when he offered a piece of himself to you seemed cruelly impossible.

you told yourself that it was just another game, just another day. it helped that you honestly didn't feel any attachment to this rink, even to this city. you had watched jack play plenty, now, and you were determined to treat this game just the same as any other, if not rooting for jack with just a little more urgency, a little more emotion.

you loved how easy he was to cheer for. you loved how you could see how much he loved the game, how he smiled after every good play, how he saw things you could have never seen on the ice. you could practically hear his laugh in the rafters, see his imperfect teeth in the glass. he was everywhere, here, are you loved it.

of course, you noticed that your ex-fiance was here, but it honestly wasn't even that bad. if anything, it was confirmation that you were over him, that what you had with jack was real, that you weren't in for revenge anymore. you weren't in this for auston at all.

until he scored, and his goal song echoed through the arena. you knew that this year, the leafs had decided to try out individual goal songs after players scored, songs that they chose before the season started.

you did not know, however, that auston matthews' goal song was the song that, months ago, was set to be the soundtrack to your first dance.

the crowd was eating it up, of course they were, the juxtaposition of auston's dynamic scoring ability with the old-fashioned crooning of you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.

the song seemed to reverberate off of the walls, into your head, behind your eyes, where it settled like thick fog. it smelled like champagne, waxy makeup, hairspray. your eyes began to water, which made your throat constrict.

like a dream, maybe a hazy memory, your first dance that never was flashed across your mind. an ornate, almost gauche white dress, the beautiful heels you had been practicing to wear. his pressed suit, slicked back hair, stupid designer socks that used to make you laugh. his hand on your waist, your arms around his neck, the two of you lost in each other, swaying, swirling around the floor to this song, surrounded by loved ones, high on laughter and the future and love.

slowly, the image blinked out of your vision as the song faded and the puck dropped, play starting up again.

it blinked out like a dying star, and then it was exactly that. dead.

because as you trained your eyes back on the ice, never once did they stray from 86 in red. never once did anything like regret or nostalgic desire well up in your heart, because you were not the one who lost. you were not the one with something to prove.

finally, you buried that wedding dress, laid it six feet under, let the soil spoil it, knowing one day you would wear a white dress and it would mean something to both parties involved.

in a breath, the game ended, and jack won, and he was truly all you were thinking about.

waiting for him, though, practically bouncing up and down, you were suddenly pulled into a side hallway by a grip you would recognize anywhere.

you were not surprised to look up and see the calculating eyes of auston matthews looking down at you with some lethal combination of heat and arrogance.

"angel," he said, a greeting that made you grind your teeth.

you pulled your arm away from him, shook him off of you, willed strength and stone into your posture and tone. "cool goal song, asshole," you bit out.

"i missed you too," he cooed, not taking you seriously, even now. his frame seemed so imposing now, looming large, too large for someone you didn't trust.

you rolled your eyes. "if you'll excuse me, i'm waiting for someone." you turned to leave the hallway, go back to the exit where jack would surely be walking out of any minute.

auston grabbed at your wrist, and it burned. "what, you mean that kid?" he scoffed, but didn't let go. "c'mon, angel, you know he's nothing to you." he rubbed a circle into your wrist that once, might have been soothing, but now made you feel sick. "you know you're all for me."

and you could have said so many things. like how that kid was your age, actually, so what did that say about him? like how that kid was twice the man he would ever be. like how this would be the last time you ever saw him, the last time he would ever have your attention.

the opening of a door ripped you from your thoughts as both you and auston glanced up to see jack in the doorframe, his bag slung over his shoulder, his face flushed from the game, tired blue eyes caught on auston's hand around your wrist.

time froze for a millisecond as you felt like you were pulled between worlds. it can be two things, you had told yourself once. it was never two things.

you watched as painful realization settled in jack's eyes as he simply turned away, let the door close behind him.

you ripped your arm from auston's grasp. "you've never taken me seriously," you told him then, looking him square in the face, your tone steady and serious as anything. "but if you believe anything i say, let it be that you are nothing to me, and you never will be again."

for the second time, you were the one to leave, this time running towards something worth saving.

you cursed under your breath, looking around for that head of soft brown hair.

you found him in a different hallway, sitting on the ground, his bag slumped next to him, his back leaning against the wall, his feet flat on the ground.

for a single moment, it was so quiet you swore that your exhales echoed against the walls. he didn't turn to face you, but obviously knew you were there.

"so you're with him, then?" he practically whispered, his tone like a cleaver to your chest, so defeated and blindsided, almost like he was talking to himself.

you slowly made your way over to him, sat down next to him, mirrored his position. side by side, but he felt so far away. "i'm not," you said back to him.

he let out some kind of bitter laugh, a sound you hated, a sound you hoped you would never have to hear again. "so that was you making friends?" he picked at a thread on his dress pants. "just meeting new people, 's that it?"

you turned to face him, then, but he still faced forward, as if looking at you would ruin him. "it's not what you think," you said, softly.

"well, what is it?" he paused, looked at you, then, and he wore his sadness like a suit fit for mourning. "be honest with me, please."

you took a shaky breath, knowing that this, very possibly, might be the last time you would ever be so close to him. knowing that your next words, your explanation, it might drive him away from you forever, before you had even really had the chance to have him.

you savored this breath, this liminal space between the truth and the now.

"i was going to marry him," you said, and the confession felt like letting go of every single vengeful thought you had ever had, like all the spite and disdain in your body had evaporated into dust.

"you were going to marry auston matthews," jack murmured, his face blank, his tone confused.

"yes."

"but you're not anymore?" he asked, looking at you, leaning his cheek onto his knees like an impatient elementary school kid waiting for recess.

you shook your head. "no. he cheated on me."

there was a pause, brutal silence, as his brow furrowed in confusion, his fists clenched briefly before letting go. his gaze fell to his hands for a moment, and when he spoke again it was so cautious, so pointed, that your stomach sank. "and then you just happened to start dating me?" he looked so tired. "same job, same goals, pretty much same life." he let out a breath. "you can't tell me that's a coincidence."

you sighed, prayed to whatever god would listen that honesty would count for something. "no, it wasn't a coincidence." your heart felt like it was lulling itself to sleep. "you were never a coincidence."

he dropped his head between his knees, and hurt vibrated through the air like sound waves. you could feel his hurt in your fingertips, could have melted in down, frozen it, wielded it like a weapon. "tell me something, baby," he pleaded, muffled by his legs. "please."

you knew it was unfair, but you laid a gentle hand on his fingers. "let me tell you all of it, please, jack, and then you don't have to see me again if you don't want to."

he took a breath that you felt in your bones, then in an act of mercy you cherished, gave a soft nod.

so you did. you told him the whole story - how you had been so devastated and hurt that you were blinded by a desire to make auston suffer. how you had chosen jack on purpose, because you knew it would cut the deepest. how you had not simply shown up randomly at that bar, all that time ago, how all of it was part of a plan, down to flirting with his friend, down to that first game of pool.

he didn't push your hand away, actually leaned his leg into your arm as you told him the story. the scary part's over, you wanted to say, you can stop hiding under the covers, now.

and so you told him about how he had hijacked your plan entirely. how you never expected to determine how good your day was based on how often you heard his laugh, how no one could have predicted how often you dreamed of his smile, how days when he was away truly felt like a loss.

"if i had known you, i never would have put you through this," you told him, finally, honestly. "i would have left you alone."

he was quiet for a moment, and then he picked his head up and looked at you, genuinely, thoughtfully. "you never would have used me to get back at your ex-fiance?" he asked, but there was not really any bite in his tone.

you tried your luck, reached up, brushed his damp hair from his forehead. "i did use you," you admitted. "and i don't have an excuse." he looked at you with clear eyes. "it was mean, and cruel, and all i can do is say that i'm so, so sorry and i will never hurt you like that again. i promise, that's the truth."

in the silent moments after you finished speaking, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, waiting for his reaction.

when you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. he opened his legs and knees wide, held open his arms, waiting. "i believe you."

it took no convincing for you to settle into the space he had created for you, to lean back against his chest, feel his heartbeat between your shoulder blades, his arms coming around your sides to clasp in front of your middle.

"you believe me?" you said, almost a whisper. you picked up his hand, held it to your chest, shocked that he was letting you. shocked that he was still here, making space for you.

you let the smell of him engulf you. it felt similar to walking into your mother's closet - the evidence of her living, loving, everywhere around you. the evidence of jack was everywhere, now, all over you, growing like some carnivorous plant over your heart.

"you promised," he said simply, into your hair.

and how spectacular it felt for someone to take you seriously, to take your words at face value, to understand that when you promised something, you meant it.

it felt like words were failing you, so you brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his palm lightly.

he hummed into your hair. "tell me about now," he said, voice steady and patient.

"hm?" you twisted your neck to look him in the eye, leaned back further until the back of your head rested on his chest.

"you told me about before. about him," he said, his eyes swimming with home, with hope. "tell me about us. tell me about now."

you searched for words, wondering how you could convey just how important he was to you, just how deeply you cared.

you could have said that his eyes were the most beautiful ocean you'd ever swam in. you could have said that kissing him felt like swallowing stardust, that listening to him talk about his day was a privilege and honor.

you could have said how you loved his voice after a long day, how he wore his emotions openly, shamelessly, how kind he was to those around him, how he didn't let you leave his house in doubt for even a second about his feelings, how he let laughter come easy, how he was many things but never, ever, indifferent.

you could have said so many things, but sometimes poetry and fancy words are inadequate, just diluting the true meaning, make it taste like watered-down juice, faint and lacking.

you could have said so many things, but you just told him the truth.

"i wake up every morning and i think of you," you said. "every moment you're not with me, i wish you were." you willed every ounce of meaning into your gaze. "you are my first choice, every time, jack. and it's not even close."

there was a silence as he processed what you said, and something like adoration dawned in his gaze like a springtime sunrise.

he tilted his head down, pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that told you he understood.

that no matter how you had gotten here, you were here, now.

"tell me again," he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled into his. that, you could do.

fin.

#hockey #nhl #hockey smut #nhl smut #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #toronto maple leafs

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artsekey · 5 months

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Disney's Wish

Look, Disney's Wish has been universally panned across the internet, and for good reason.

It’s just…kind of okay.

When we sit down to watch a Disney film—you know, from the company that dominated the animation industry from 1989 to (arguably) the mid 2010’s and defined the medium of animation for decades—we expect something magnificent. Now, I could sit here and tell you everything that I thought was wrong with Wish, but if you’re reading this review, then I imagine that you’ve already heard the most popular gripes from other users across the web. So, let me focus in:

The biggest problem with Wish—in fact, the only problem with Wish—is Magnifico.

Whoa, that’s crazy! There’re so many things about Wish that could’ve been better! The original concept was stronger! The music was bad--

I hear you, I do. But stay with me here, okay? Take my hand. I studied under artists from the Disney renaissance. I teach an adapted model of Disney’s story pipeline at a University level. I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting degrees in this, and I am about to dissect this character and the narrative to a stupid degree.

First, we need to understand that a good story doesn’t start and end with what we see on the screen. Characters aren’t just fictional people; when used well, characters are tools the author uses (or in this case, the director) to convey their message to the audience. Each character’s struggle should in some way engage with the story’s message, and consequently, the story’s theme. Similarly, when we look at our protagonist and our antagonist, we should see their characters and their journeys reflected in one-another.

So, what went wrong between Asha & Magnifico in terms of narrative structure?

Act I

In Wish, we’re introduced to our hero not long into the runtime—Asha. She’s ambitious, caring, and community-oriented; in fact, Asha is truly introduced to the audience through her love of Rosas (in “Welcome to Rosas”). She’s surrounded by a colorful cast of friends who act as servants in the palace, furthering her connection with the idea of community but also telling us that she’s not of status, and then she makes her way to meet Magnifico for her chance to become his next apprentice.

Quick aside: I'm not going to harp on Asha as a character in the context of Disney's overall canon. Almost every review I've seen covers her as a new addition to Disney's ever-growing repertoire of "Cute Quirky Heroines", and I think to be fair to Asha as an actor in the narrative, it serves her best to be weighed within the context of the story she's part of.

As Asha heads upstairs for her interview, we're introduced to the man of the hour: Magnifico. He lives in a tower high above the population of Rosas, immediately showing us how he differs from Asha; he’s disconnected from his community. He lives above them. He has status. While the broader context of the narrative wants us to believe that this also represents a sense of superiority, I would argue that isn’t what Magnifico’s introduction conveys; he's isolated.

Despite this distance, he does connect with Asha in “At All Costs”. For a moment, their goals and values align. In fact, they align so well that Magnifico sees Asha as someone who cares as much about Rosas as he does, and almost offers her the position.

… Until she asks him to grant Saba’s wish.

This is framed by the narrative as a misstep. The resonance between their ideals snaps immediately, and Magnifico says something along the line of “Wow. Most people wait at least a year before asking for something.”

This disappointment isn't played as coming from a place of power or superiority. He was excited by the idea of working with someone who had the same values as he did, who viewed Rosas in the same way he does, and then learns that Asha’s motivations at least partially stem from a place of personal gain.

Well, wait, is that really Asha's goal?

While it's not wholistically her goal, it's very explicitly stated & implied that getting Saba's wish granted is at least a part of it. The audience learns (through Asha's conversation with her friends before the interview) that every apprentice Magnifico has ever had gets not only their wish granted, but the wishes of their family, too! Asha doesn’t deny that this is a perk that she’s interested in, and I don't think this is a bad thing.

So, Is Asha’s commitment to Saba selfless, or selfish? I’m sure the director wanted it to seem selfless, wherein she believes her family member has waited long enough and deserves his wish granted, but we can’t ignore the broader context of Asha essentially trying to… skip the line.

Then, we get our first point of tension. Magnifico reveals his “true colors” in snapping at Asha, telling her that he “decides what people deserve”. This is supposed to be the great motivator, it’s meant to incite anger in the audience—after all, no one gets to decide what you deserve, right? But unfortunately for the integrity of the film and the audience's suspension of disbelief, at least part of Magnifico’s argument is a little too sound to ignore:

Some wishes are too vague and dangerous to grant. Now, there’s visual irony here; he says this after looking at a 100 old man playing the lute. The idea that something so innocuous could be dangerous is absurd, and the audience is meant to agree.

... But we’ve also seen plenty of other wishes that might be chaotic—flying on a rocket to space, anyone? The use of the word vague is important, too—this implies wording matters, and that a wish can be misinterpreted or evolve into something that is dangerous even if the original intent was innocuous. His reasoning for people forgetting their wish (protecting them from the sadness of being unable to attain their dreams) is much weaker, but still justifiable (in the way an antagonist’s flawed views can be justified). The film even introduces a facet of Magnifico’s backstory that implies he has personal experience with the grief of losing a dream (in the destruction of his home), but that thread is never touched on again.

What is the audience supposed to take from this encounter? If we’re looking at the director’s intent, I’d argue that we’ve been introduced to a well-meaning young girl and a king who’s locked away everyone’s greatest aspiration because he believes he deserves to have the power to decide who gets to be happy.

But what are we shown? Our heroine, backed by her friends, strives to be Magnifico’s apprentice because she loves the city but also would really like to see her family's wishes granted. When this request is denied and she loses the opportunity to be his apprentice, she deems Magnifico’s judgement unfair & thus begins her journey to free the dreams of Rosas’ people.

In fairness, Magnifico doesn’t exhibit sound judgement or kindness through this act of the film. He’s shown to be fickle, and once his composure cracks, he can be vindictive and sharp. He's not a good guy, but I'd argue he's not outright evil. He's just got the makings of a good villain, and those spikes of volatility do give us a foundation to work off of as he spirals, but as we’ll discuss in a bit, the foreshadowing established here isn’t used to the ends it implies.

While I was watching this film, I was sure Magnifico was going to be a redeemable villain. He can’t connect with people because he's sure they value what he provides more than they value him (as seen in “At All Costs” and the aftermath), and Asha’s asking for more was going to be framed as a mistake. His flaw was keeping his people too safe and never giving them the chance to sink or swim, and he's too far removed from his citizens to see that he is appreciated. Asha does identify this, and the culmination of her journey is giving people the right to choose their path, but the way Magnifico becomes the “true” villain and his motivations for doing so are strangely divorced from what we’re shown in Act I.

Act II:

His song, “This is the Thanks I Get!?” furthers the idea that Magnifico’s ire—and tipping point—is the fact that he thinks the people he’s built a kingdom for still want more. Over the course of this 3:14 song, we suddenly learn that Magnifico sends other people to help his community and doesn’t personally get involved (we never see this outside of this song), and that he’s incredibly vain/narcissistic (he's definitely a narcissist). I think feeling under-appreciated is actually a very strong motivation for Magnifico as a character-turning-villain, and it works very well. It’s justified based on what we’ve seen on screen so far: he feels under-appreciated (even though he’s decidedly not—the town adores him), he snaps and acts irrationally under stress (as seen with his outburst with Asha), and he’s frustrated that people seem to want more from him (again, as seen with his conversation with Asha in Act I).

But then… he opens the book.

Ah, the book. As an object on screen, we know that it's filled with ancient and evil magic, well-known to be cursed by every relevant character in the film, and kept well-secured under lock and key. But what does it stand for in the context of the narrative's structure? A quick path to power? We're never told that it has any redeeming qualities; Magnifico himself doesn't seem to know what he's looking for when he opens it. It feels... convenient.

I think it's also worth noting that he only turns to the book when he's alone; once again, the idea of connection and community rears it's ugly head! Earlier in the film, Amaya-- his wife-- is present and turns him away from taking that path. In her absence, he makes the wrong choice.

This decision could make sense; it contains powerful magic, and if it were framed in such a way that the people of Rosas were losing faith in Magnifico’s magic, as if what he can do might not be enough anymore after what they felt from Star, going for the book that we know contains spells that go above and beyond what he can already do would be logical. Along the lines of, “If they’re not happy with what I do for them, fine. I, ever the “martyr”, will do the unthinkable for you, because you want more.”

It would keeps with the idea that Magnifico believes he's still trying to help people, but his motivation has taken his self-imposed pity party and turned it into resentment and spite.

But, that’s not the case. Instead he talks about reversing that “light”, which has had no real negative or tangible consequences on Rosas. Everyone had a warm feeling for a few seconds. Again, it’s meant to paint him as a vain control freak, but… he hasn’t lost any power. The citizens of Rosas even assume the great showing of magic was Magnifico.

Act III

Then, we get to the consequences of opening the book (and perhaps my biggest qualm with this film). The book is established as being cursed. Magnifico knows it, Asha knows it, and Amaya—who is introduced as loyal-- knows it. The characters understand his behavior is a direct result of the book, and search for a way to save him. This is only the focus of the film for a few seconds, but if you think about it, the fact that his own wife cannot find a way to free him of the curse he’s been put under is unbelievably tragic. Worse still, upon discovering there is no way to reverse the curse, Magnifico—the king who built the city & “protected it” in his own flawed way for what seems to be centuries—is thrown out by his wife. You know, the wife who's stood loyal at his side for years?

It’s played for laughs, but there’s something unsettling about a character who’s clearly and explicitly under the influence of a malevolent entity being left… unsaved. If you follow the idea of Magnifico being disconnected from community being a driving force behind his arc, the end of the film sees him in a worse situation he was in at the start: truly, fully alone.

They bring in so many opportunities for Magnifico to be sympathetic and act as a foil for Asha; he’s jaded, she’s not. He’s overly cautious (even paranoid), she’s a risk-taker. He turns to power/magic at his lowest point, Asha turns to her friends at her lowest point. Because this dichotomy isn’t present, and Magnifico—who should be redeemable—isn’t, the film is so much weaker than it could’ve been. The lack of a strong core dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist echoes through every facet of the film from the music to the characterization to the pacing, and I believe if Magnifico had been more consistent, the film would’ve greatly improved across the board.

I mean, come on! Imagine if at the end of the film, Asha—who, if you remember, did resonate with Magnifico’s values at the start of the film—recognizes that he's twisted his original ideals and urges him to see the value in the people he’s helped, in their ingenuity, in their gratitude, & that what he was able to do before was enough. Going further, asking what his wish is or was—likely something he’s never been asked— and showing empathy! We’d come full circle to the start of the film where Asha asks him to grant her wish.

Pushing that further, if Magnifico’s wish is to see Rosas flourish or to be a good/beloved king, he'd have the the opportunity to see the value in failing and how pursuing the dream is its own complex and valuable journey, and how not even he is perfect.

The curse and the book (which, for the purposes of this adjustment, would need to be established as representing the idea of stepping on others to further your own goals/the fast way to success), then serve as the final antagonist, that same curse taking root in the people of Rosas who’ve had their dreams destroyed, and Asha works with the community to quell it. Asha’s learned her lesson, so has Magnifico, and the true source of evil in the film—the book—is handled independently. Magnifico steps back from his role as King, Amaya still ends up as Queen, and Asha takes her place as the new wish-granter.

This route could even give us the true “Disney villain” everyone’s craving; giving the book sentience and having it lure Magnifico in during “This is the Thanks I Get!?” leaves it as its own chaotic evil entity.

All in all, Magnifico's introduction paved a road to redemption that the rest of the film aggressively refused to deliver on, instead doubling down on weaker motivations that seem to appear out of thin air. Once the audience thinks, hey, that bad guy might have a point, the protagonist has to do a little more heavy lifting to convince us they're wrong.

Look at the big-bad-greats from Disney's library. There isn't a point in the Lion King where we pause and think, "Wait a second, maybe Scar should be the guy who rules the Pridelands." Ursula from the Little Mermaid, though motivated by her banishment from King Triton's Seas, never seems to be the right gal for the throne. Maybe Maleficent doesn't get invited to the princess's birthday party, but we don't watch her curse a baby and think, Yeah, go curse that baby, that's a reasonable response to getting left out.

What do they all have in common? Their motivation is simple, their goal is clear, and they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of what they want.

Magnifico simply doesn't fall into that category. He's motivated by the idea of losing power, which is never a clear or impactful threat. His goal at the start seems to be to protect Rosas, then it turns into protecting his own power, and then-- once he's corrupted-- he wants to capture Star. The problem is, there's no objective to put this power toward. Power for power's sake is useless. Scar craves power because he feels robbed of status. Ursula believes the throne is rightfully hers. Maleficent wanted to make a statement. Magnifico... well, I'm not really sure.

#wish #disney #review #magnifico

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galedekarios · 2 months

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i'm reading a new interview tim downie gave about gale and it offers some of tim's own headcanons about gale, as well as tim's thoughts and insights on gale's character:

Nerds & Beyond: I like that you mentioned that the game is full of rounded characters because they are, they all have different aspects that make them feel real. I adore that Gale specifically is so serious and studious, but at the same time he has this really playful side — he often jokes about how he was a mischievous youth, he encourages other people like Arabella to do so, he understands when The Dark Urge first mentions their violent thoughts. There is a lot of nuance and depth there. But the quality that I love with Gale most is that obviously he is very ill when we first meet him – not that we know immediately – and he’s dealing with a lot of chronic pain. I find him incredibly selfless because he takes that day-to-day head on to help the party, which is an aspect I feel continues to show throughout the three acts. What’s your favorite quality of Gale’s, or what did you take away from him? Tim Downie: It’s so interesting hearing you say that, because I had so many different feedbacks about what people take from the character and sometimes things really surprise you. It’s interesting hearing that such and such has taken that particular aspect, because there are broad things like “He’s funny,” and that’s quite nice, that’s a nice trait, though not one you necessarily get to see that much. It’s so interesting hearing other people’s views about what they take from Gale. The idea of dealing with chronic pain I found really interesting and an interesting subplot to play, and that was the great thing about doing something like this is that it is so unbelievably nuanced. You have so many layers that just keep going and going and going, as much as we all contain multitudes within ourselves. We all deal with these things, but only certain things pop up to the surface at any given point. What did I take from Gale, though? I liked his studiousness. I would imagine that he was probably bullied as a kid for it, and he was probably a bit of a joker because he was bullied, and he uses that as a defense. But an even bigger defense for him is “I now know stuff that I didn’t before,” and that’s a power. It’s very similar to when you are being bullied and you’re the funny one – that’s your power, that’s your thing. “I may not be able to hurt you in a traditional sense, but I can say things that will make you feel pain,” which is a very different thing because you physically can’t go after them. That’s the wonderful thing about acting and this character as well is being able to explore all these things that you might not have, that you might have gone, “I’m not gonna look at that again, I don’t want to deal with that,” and then it brings it up again and it’s like, “Oh, this is actually quite cathartic,” to re-explore these these moments of sorrow and loss and how you deal with grief and things like that and heartbreak and how you get over that. It’s not all just tears, you do try and make a joke of it.

i really like that they are addressing the topic of gale's chronic pain. it's something that doesn't get addressed often, not even in the game itself.

i also found his answer as to why people might connect to gale very nice:

Nerds & Beyond: Gale is the most popular origin character to play as. What is it about him that you think allows so many different players to connect with him to the depths the fandom has? Tim Downie: I really don’t know. I think you’d have to ask the players that, ‘cause I don’t know, to be quite honest with you. He’s a wizard, and who wouldn’t want to be a wizard at the end of the day? I always say the difference between wizards and sorcerers is that sorcerers just pretend – they just assume they know what they’re doing, but a wizard has really learned this trade. And so there’s that kind of weight of knowledge and learning, which I would love to play as and be for a length of time. I think it’s also the frailties. I like characters, and a lot of people do I’m assuming, that have flaws, otherwise you’ve made them completely unapproachable. To be completely superhuman or completely extraordinary at something then removes the humanity from it because it becomes like, “Well, that’s never gonna happen.” But when there’s a flaw, when there’s, “Oh, I’ve got that wrong, too,” or like, “My knees hurt” as you say, or “I’ve got a bit of a headache. I really don’t want to do this,” “You’re really annoying me, this is very annoying, could you please hurry up?” or “Stop licking the damn thing,” it’s always those moments that are fun because it shows what we’re all thinking at that point, it removes it from almost archetype and stereotype and it becomes human in a way.

gale is approachable and likeable, has flaws, but is genuinely nice. i think that very much sums up his character.

this bit here made me laugh:

Nerds & Beyond: When you’re talking about those different layers in the humanity building, I think one of the most important aspects in this game is the more “background” or passive dialogue, so dialogue that is prompted in the world and not in the cut scenes. For instance — the first time I made Gale sneak he immediately complained about his knees, and it was such a real moment where he was just like, “Oh, don’t make me do this. This is not what I’m here for, I’ve got bad knees and I’m not made for this.” Did you have any of those background lines or moments that stick out as being particularly fun to craft? Tim Downie: I remember the first time I ever had to do waiting, I found it infinitely interesting in so many ways. The idea that I did actually just have to wait and just actually, “Hmm…” Those little things I find really funny because they’re probably the closest to me that the character ever gets. His waiting mannerisms are kind of very English – slightly annoyed and I’m not going to show it to you though because we’re all being very nice, but I’ll do it with a huff and a slightly sarcastic, “Well, that’s great. Another 20 minutes. That’s great.” Those kinds of sentiments I found wonderful and incredibly fun, and funny, to do.

if you want to read the whole interview for yourself, you can do so here!

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tim downie #ch: gale dekarios #actor: tim downie #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #please keep in mind that this is not canon and just tim sharing his thoughts #i'd just like to add that as a general disclaimer

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cloudcountry · 4 months

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SUMMARY: to blanc, you are the change he needed, and your pressing secret won't change that.

WARNINGS: mentions of mortality, blood. Vampire stuff.

COMMENTS: ok ok so @vivislosingitagain here is my thought process YOU like biting people and sucking their blood so YOU are a vampire. and HEY GUESS WHAT vampires are IMMORTAL kind of. and im pretty sure blanc is really fucking old so i think mortality angst would work great with him BUT WHAT IF HIS PARTNER WAS AS OLD AS HE WAS AND BIT HIM. that's the post.

also im so sorry if blanc is out of character i have seen this man three times in the routes ive played + the prologue oops.

It’s a clear night. The stars are bright in the sky, just as they were hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Blanc doesn’t know if they’ll ever change, but he takes comfort in their consistency. They’re stationary, unmoving, unshifting, just like him. He’s always been in Cradle, long enough to see the shattering of bonds between the armies and the first Alice fall. He’s seen the skirmishes and the blood and the carnage.

And he’s seen you, the one who followed him into the rabbit hole and into Cradle.

He remembers thinking you were cute. He remembers Oliver scolding him for speaking his mind, and he remembers you tearing your eyes away from him, a shy smile on your lips. You’ve always been alluring, in a way he never anticipated, and it makes him wonder if someone from the Land of Reason can really be magical like the people of Cradle.

It’s no use though—he knows the passage of time will take you away. He knows love (what he feels for you, there’s no doubt about it) is a powerful force, but it cannot break the way the sun and moon rise and fall, it cannot stop the stars from dying light years away, it cannot stop your inevitable aging.

He knows this, and yet he can’t let go. He greets you in the morning with a soft pat on your head, leaning over your bed as you stretch and yawn. His gaze softens when you rub your eyes and look over at him, and you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing you ever want to see.

He’s so selfish—he wants so badly for you to only look at him.

For someone so keenly aware of how mortal you are, he knows he's being awfully flippant about it. It’s the folly of man, to be so foolish as to yearn, but there’s always the possibility that fate will take pity on his poor soul and listen to its cries for his love to stay.

And so, the next night, a night that should be no different from any other, he breaks his routine. He keeps you up late, chatting over tea as the full moon rises in the sky, asking you if you want to go home. He watches you as you go quiet, your previously bright smile fading into a thoughtful frown. You’re staring into your tea as if it can give you the answer, and Blanc hopes the tea will give you the same answer he would.

I wish you would stay. I wish you would stay with me. I wish you would think I’m worth it. I wish that if I had to be hurt then you would be the one to hurt me because I’ve never loved anyone like you and I doubt I ever will. I wish you would be the one to thrust this dagger into my heart so fate doesn’t have the chance.

“...I want to stay with you.” you say, and Blanc knows you’re hiding something from him but he can’t bring himself to ask when you already look so worried.

“Are you sure?” he asks, reaching across the table to place a hand on yours.

Your head jerks up and you meet his gaze with parted lips—almost like you want to tell him but are far too scared.

“You can tell me anything.” he stresses, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m not...” you purse your lips, looking away again as you choose your words carefully, “I’m not having doubts about staying here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Blanc holds back his sigh of relief in favor of another inquisitive glance. Your brow furrows and he knows you feel his stare, your cute canines poking at your lower lip as you gnaw on it pensively.

“I have a secret I don’t think I’m ready to share yet.” you say softly, turning back to him, “I will someday. I just...need time.”

Blanc laughs, a sound that's full of relief and love and sounds like the wind chimes that hang in your no longer temporary bedroom’s window, the ones that have been there since you came and will be there when—if—you leave.

“Darling.” he breathes, staring straight into your eyes with so much love, “I have all the time in the world.”

The full moon sinks beneath the horizon and the sun comes up again. The teacups from the night before have been cleaned and placed back on their shelves, and the cake you two cut slices out of remains in the fridge. There are still traces of you within the house—your skincare is still in the bathroom, your toothbrush is next to his, and your chair still has a cushion of your favorite color. None of those things have been removed because you didn’t leave.

You’re still in your bedroom, sleeping soundly, but this time Blanc is there with you, his arms wrapped around you. His body is tangled with yours, your legs intertwining as the bed sheets knot themselves around your limbs. Your head is resting right over his heart, the part of him that’s pounding away for you. Gently, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and stares down at your sleeping face, the face that shows him all of your thoughts and emotions, the face that belongs to the person who loves him enough to stay.

He wakes you up with a kiss on your forehead, a kiss on the bridge of your nose, a kiss on your left eyelid and a kiss on your right, a kiss on your jaw—

He sighs when you start to stir, propping yourself up on your elbows. The bed sheets fall off your body like water cascading down the side of a cliff, and your bleary eyes have never looked more beautiful. He lays there, admiring you in the morning light as the wind chimes chime, the soft breeze from the cracked open window ruffling through your hair.

You shiver.

“Darling,” Blanc calls, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Good morning.”

You smile when you turn to look at him, and you allow yourself to fall back against the mattress next to him.

“Good morning.” you murmur, your nails tracing the curve of his cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “You look so handsome.”

Ever the charmer, he’s rarely been charmed himself. And so he does the only thing he deems appropriate, and thanks you with a kiss on the back of your hand.

Weeks pass, and Blanc finds himself growing into this new routine. You're a sign of change, that he knows for sure. His own room remains vacant for the most part unless you decide to pull him into his room instead of your own when you’re ready for bed. It makes no difference to him where you go, only that he can follow you like the lovesick fool he is.

Except you’re not leading him to either of your bedrooms tonight.

You’re leading him outside, under the pale moonlight and into the chilly nighttime breeze. He looks up at the full moon and holds your hand a little tighter.

“Thank you for giving me time.” you say, the wind swelling as it passes between the two of you and further into the night, “I’m ready to tell you what I’ve been hiding from you now. It’s...not fair to keep it from you any longer.”

“I understand,” he smiles softly, cupping your cheek, “Go ahead.”

“I’m a vampire.” you say, and it takes his brain a few moments to catch up, “I’ve...found it hard to get blood in Cradle but since meeting with Kyle’s he’s managed to get me blood when I need it. I don’t like drinking from animals or people but it...has to be done for me to stay alive.”

Blanc’s brain is whirring as you spill your guts to him, your mouth moving faster and faster as you explain how despised vampires are in the Land of Reason, how people view them as monsters and how you’re certain you’re cursed.

Cursed. What a funny word to say to him.

“Is that why your canines are so sharp?” he blurts, leaning closer to your face.

You stop talking, bending backward just a bit at his sudden closeness.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” you ask, looking confused.

“Ah, well....I always thought they were cute.” he smiles kindly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I...” you blink owlishly before shaking your head in disbelief, “Blanc, I just told you I’m a vampire.”

“Indeed you did.”

Your mouth falls open as if looking for the right words to say, and yet you come up with nothing.

“You can feed from me if you wish. I don’t want you to suffer any longer.” he offers like its the most natural thing in the world.

Still, you say nothing.

And then he murmurs your name, as soft as the flower petals brushing against your ankles.

“I don’t want to use you like that. I don’t want you to be a food source for me.” you grit your teeth, staring at the ground like you couldn’t be more ashamed, “I don’t want to be the monster the Land of Reason made me out to be.”

“You’re not. I give myself to you willingly, and I'll do it over and over again.” Blanc murmurs, hands slipping away from you.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, leaving his collarbone open to the nighttime breeze and your eyes.

“My love.” he opens his arms for you and his shirt slips off his shoulder, leaving his skin vulnerable—

“I give myself to you.”

And he pulls you into his chest, as he whispers words of love telling you that you can bite him, drink from him, take all that you need and that it will be okay because he’d give you everything if you asked for it, and that you changed his life for the better, you brought springtime’s flowers and winter’s shimmering ice and summer’s warm sunlight and autumn’s delicate, beautiful leaves to a life that was so repetitive and boring until you arrived—a life that belonged to the man you see before you but not anymore because its yours and it will always be yours.

Tears prick your eyes as you kiss his skin, worshiping each freckle and small scar you can reach. Your canines poke insistently at his skin and you ignore the urge for one, two, three, four, five seconds before your mouth opens and you bite down, hoping the small gasp that leaves his lips isn’t one of pain. You’re careful not to take too much but it tastes so good and who knew drinking from the one you loved could make you feel so happy and full.

Blanc looks up at the moon as you feed, happiness and adoration blurring his vision as he thinks about you, you who trusted him enough to bite him, to tell him who you were, you who stayed behind for him even though you could have left.

He stares up at the moon and sighs because he’s in love. He’s in love with you.

And after you’re done, after you pull away and lick the puncture marks to soothe them, after you press a dozen more kisses to his skin, Blanc still loves you. His blood is smeared around your mouth but he pulls you in anyway, kissing you with everything he has because you deserve nothing less than that.

And he loves you.

Over and over again, he loves you.

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be aging or how long you will have by his side, but he knows that if you will forever be his constant, he’ll come out okay in the end.

#auburn talks ikerev <3 #auburn's fics <3 #blanc lapin #ikerev blanc #ikerev blanc x reader #blanc lapin x reader #ikerev #ikemen revolution #cybird

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jonnywaistcoat · 8 months

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Hi Jonny, if you don't mind I have a question about the TMA TTRPG! So I noticed that on the player's guide there's this guy, who my friends and I assumed is probably Jon. If it is him, is this a canon design, or more like some of the non-canon stuff that's in the merch?

So, I hope you don't mind if i use this ask to go a bit off on one. I'm not specifically dragging you (I'm actualy glad you asked, as I've thinking about posting on the topic), but all the discussion around the RPG art and how "official" or "canon" it might be is, to my mind, slightly silly.

First up, is it "official" art? I mean, yeah, its art for the officially licenced Magnus Archives RPG. This means Monte Cook Games have commissioned someone to do a beatiful illustration broadly based on some aspect, episode or character from the podcast and it goes in the book. But that's kinda all it means. "Official" is a legal distinction, not an artistic one. The fact that it's in an official product doesn't make it any less one artist's cool interpretation of a character that has only been vaguely described in audio.

Second, is it Jonathan Sims the Archivist? I mean, it's probably based on the idea of him, but it's certainly not set in stone. When we were first discussing art with MCG, we advised that character pictures be more vibes-based and not explicitly tied to specific people (ie. a portrait inspired by Tim wouldn't be captioned "This is Tim" and wouldn't be placed opposite a profile for Tim Stoker, archival assistant.) This was mainly because we wanted the artists to have plenty of freedom to interpret and not feel too tied down by the need to know everything about the podcast. But, to be frank, it was also because we know that there are a few fans out there that are kinda Not Chill about what they've personally decided these characters look like and can get a bit defensive over depictions that differ.

It strikes me as particularly strange to be having this discussion about art that's for a roleplying game book. Something that's explicitly and solely designed to give you the ability to play in your version of the Magnus universe. The idea that this is the thing where we'd for some reason try to immutably establish unchangable appearances for these characters would be pretty funny if some folks weren't taking it so seriously. Similarly ridiculous is the idea we could reasonably have said to MCG "We'd love for you to make a huge beautiful RPG book of our setting... Just make sure you don't depict any of the iconic characters or events from it!"

But... is it "canon"? Now, to my mind, this highlights a real weakness in a lot of fandom thinking around "canon", which is that it generally has no idea what to do with adaptations. All adaptation is interpretation, and relies on taking a work and letting new creatives (and sometimes the same ones) have a different take on it. Are the appearances of the Fellowship of the Ring in the LOTR movies "canon"? How much, if at all, does that matter? Neil Gaiman's book Neverwhere was originaly a 90s BBC series made with a budget of 50 pence; is anyone who makes fanart of Mr Croup that doesn't look like the actor Hywel Bennet breaking canon? What about the novel that describes the character differently? Or the officially licenced Neverwhere comic where he looks like neither of them? Which is his "canon appearance"?

Canon is an inherently messy concept, and while it is useful for a creative team trying to keep continuity and consistency within a creative work, for thinking about anything beyond that it tends to be more hinderance than help.

Anyway, all this is to say that the above picture and all the others in the RPG are exactly as canon as every other picture you've ever seen of the Archivist.

#sorry for the huge answer #been thinking about it a lot recently #and wanted to get my thoughts down

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sprintingowl · 1 year

Text

What Non DnD TTRPGs Feel Like

Okay, quick thread about what playing different non DnD ttrpgs feels like.

Pathfinder

This is DnD. It feels like DnD. It's like going to a slightly different church. Some of the words used during the service are different, but at the end of it the pulpit turns out to be a mimic and you cast Entangle and summon your direwolf.

Fate

This is Rule Of Cool with additional rules. The GM has powers to one-up you or lead you into temptation, but you have powers to one-up the GM, and all these powers use the same kind of token that you ultimately shuffle back and forth.

Savage Worlds

Handwave-style DnD (positive connotation.)

The GM has a lot of freedom to pick genre and setting, and the gameplay is sleeker, rule-of-cool-ier without losing meaningful combat or character building.

Call Of Cthulhu

You may not be an old librarian, but you sure are built like one. Most acts of violence can flatten you in a couple of hits, but violence doesn't happen often. It's the punctuation mark at the end of a long sentence. Atmosphere and pacing rule over this land.

World Of Darkness

This is a game about getting deep into your character's headspace. It's about figuring out who they are and roleplaying them passionately. Your backstory choices and powers have a huge affect on how you interact with the world around you.

Warhammer Fantasy / Dark Heresy

You are Scrumbles McGrumbles, a walking heap of morbidity and washed-up soldiering. You are trying to find your place in a world that's having an even worse day than you are. Your best friend is a ratcatcher. Together you will be heroes.

OSR (Mork Borg, Mausritter, Into The Odd, Dungeon Crawl Classics, Labyrinth Lord, Cairn, tons more)

DnD boiled down to two components: GMing + Making A Guy. GMing is made as easy as possible and PCs are somewhat disposable, so the story is the hijinks you get into together.

The goal is to get into trouble and stir up drama. Succeeding on a roll with no consequences is rare, but when you fail you fail forward into even bigger, messier drama.

Blades In The Dark

You go on missions and then return to your base. The missions are about choices as much as about rolls, and you build your base together to make yourselves more powerful as a squad.

Trophy

Your goal is to lose. Specifically, it's to lose in a dramatic and harrowing fashion that sticks with everyone at the table. Think movies like Annihilation, but as oneshot games.

Golden Sky Stories

You like everyone at the table with you. When someone does something adorable, you can award them exp. The highlight of the session is someone getting flustered and/or speaking in a squeaky voice.

Ryuutama

You are going on a journey and helping other people along the way. Important choices include packing lunch, wearing appropriate clothing, and completely filling your canteen. Combat is a cozy, pastel color jrpg.

The Indie

There are so, so many games that are just completely their own thing, and that I can't squeeze into a single thread. If you discover you like game mechanics and you want to Get Weird with seeing what they can do, there is an entire scene here waiting to welcome you.

Stuff I Missed

There's lots of stuff I haven't played, or didn't remember in the moment, or absolutely love but it would take a whole thread to explain why I love it. I will do more game recommendations in the future, but you can also comment systems you like below!

#dnd #ttrpg #ttrpgs #ttrpg design #ttrpg homebrew #indie ttrpgs

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