#if they had won gold i would have lost it fr

[violinfantasy]

nothing good ever comes out of being a figure skating fan

[kombuuuu]

yo could you do some domestic spot fluff???? asking for a friend (lie)

Spotty dog?

Spot x Gen!Reader

“This feels demeaning.” “It’s not! Look he’s cute!”

hes so adorable h my god. 101 dalmatian coded fr

June 28th — Your lovers birthday, and two days away. You woke this morning with a determination you knew both you and him held. To out-do your your last gift. Last Christmas, you had thought you'd won. Showing up to your shared home with a pair of matching shirts — reading "I ♡ My Boyfriend" and one equally matching for him.

Along with a multitude of other small things — all sentimental to your relationship. Like the mug that said "No.1 Bad Guy." or a card detailing how he would never just be the "Villain of the week."

But when he'd pulled out matching crocs, with Jibbitz of a goofy looking Dalmatian for him and a cute Bunny for you?

You had resigned as Loser for the months to come. Not without a cheering victory from your Spotty lover. Now though? A thought had been brewing for months— one that would never make you loser of the gifts ever again. What could possibly out-do a man willing to wear crocs branded with a staple of you on them? And a goofy looking bucket hat with your silly matching shirts?

A dog.

Something he's wanted for a while now, something to take care of. He'd lost everything, his friends, his family. With that much gone, he'd clung to you like a lost child. Mourning the losses he'd faced while cherishing his moments with you — feeling a constant sense of peril when faced with the fact that he *could just lose you too. He wouldn't, though. You would never do that to him. You loved him too dearly to cause him that pain.

—

You watched him slip on a blue coat over his "totally regular civilian" clothes. The complaint leaving his mouth going on deaf ears. He slipped on his left shoe, jumping a bit and tripping over himself before steadying himself on a coffee table. "Do we really have to go out today?—" His face-spot downturned, like a sad puppy.

",—Can't we just sit in and cuddle? We could watch Mean Girls and i'll make the hot chocolate you really like!" "Baby." He whined, Spot rolling into a displeased frown. "Where are we even—" "—Ask one more time." He snorted, pulling his last shoe on and tucking in the laces, then going up to you and leaning down to give your forehead a kiss. "Ready?"

He right about swooned at your domestic tone, admiring the way the softened gold lights highlighted your features. You were everything to him, and just the knowledge you loved him back had him tripping over himself. Falling through spots at the sight of you. "Yeah."

—

Jonn swayed as the bus came to a stop, avidly ignoring the curious glances given by other patrons, and focusing more on holding onto you.

"I'm gonna fall over!" "Maybe if you held the bar, and not me." He looked up at you from his waist bent position, arms wrapped securely around your abdomen, clinging onto you like you were the only person there.

"I don't need another lover baby, you're right here." "It's a pole, John." "And I am a faithful man." You giggled lightly at him and wrapped your free arm around him tighter.

—

"Just step off." "It's high!" John stuttered out his reply, dipping his foot down like he was testing pool water. 'I'll just—" He turned around, opening a spot and crawling through it and popping up again next to you. The bus driver gawked at you, paler than the villain walking Brighton's street.

You mouthed a 'sorry' to the poor lady, and grabbed your boyfriends hand, dragging him towards the street of your subject.

"You gonna tell me where we're going yet?" He trailed behind you, getting pulled by his left hand, and tripping over his own feet. Moving in that clumsy kind of dorkiness. 'Nuh uh."

His spot slanted at you, deadpanning. "You're being mysterious— I don't like it."

You side-eyed him, grinning in a glare. "I think it's part of the charm." He dragged his spindly legs farther forward, stepping in front of you and gathering your joined hand against his chest. He walked backwards with you, and his spot widened again. You smiled up at him, continuing on with walking, and waited for him to complain once more.

You hadn't have to wait long. "Are you sure you can't—" "We're here." He stopped walking when you did, spot slanting when he surveyed the shops and stalls around him, trying to read the signs. "a café date?—," He chuckled lightly, chest heaving lightly "'—You know you could have—"

"Not there, baby." You flexed your hands into his, he let one of his drop, and linked your fingers with his— squeezing your palm in interest.

You turned towards the animal rescue centre, giving your lover a mischievous grin and stepped beside him to open the door.

—

The spotted dalmatian looked up at you, glossy and doe eyed.

You cooed at it through the glass, the puppy wagging it's tail at the high pitched voice you were giving him.

"How come you never talk to me like that?" Your boyfriend had his hands on your shoulders, leaning on your crouched form and looking down at the small dog below him.

"Do you want me to?" You watched his reflection through the glass as he contemplated, spot shifting forms until it settled on a stretched thin line. "No." You snorted and continued sweet talking the puppy.

The dog-keeper smiled happily at the interaction between you and the small puppy.

"Would you like to take him outside?"

You turned your head towards her and nodded your head, sounding a pretty please — you put your hands on your knees and pushed up, standing straight again.

You turned to your lover, standing up on your toes, you smoothed your hands over his cheeks and giving his nose a little kiss.

"This feels demeaning." He pouted at you, hands grabbing at your coat.

You giggled lightly, resting the side of your face on his chest.

"It's not!," you gestured to the adorable puppy ",Look he's cute!"

John considered the tiny dog, slacking a bit under you, and conceding. "Yeah, yeah— whatever." You jumped up and gave his jaw a quick peck. "Exactly!"

You ran towards the back door, leading to the puppy playground.

Your lover called out to you— "I better still be your favourite Spot!"

"My number one, baby!" You called back.

He huffed despite his spot melting into a heart.

—

Two days later, when he woke up to a plethora of silly gifts, topped with adoption papers and a pink bow — He begrudgingly gave away his title.

—

+ bonus!!!

"You're just the most handsome spotty boy, aren't 'ya!" A squealing voice followed by a small 'ruff' caught your attention. You closed the door softly, and sneakily dropped your keys in the bowl, and snuck into your living room.

The sight of your loving husband cradling the puppy to his chest as he danced to an unheard tune greeted you. You smiled to yourself, biting your finger and watching him for a moment.

He spun slowly, and when his sight landed on you, he froze. He quickly, albeit gently, placed the small thing back onto the couch. The puppy rolling over and smiling up at you.

John cleared his throat, a closed fist to his throat, and after putting his hands on his hips to "act cool", he spoke.

"His name is The Dot."

You giggled behind your hand, going up and kissing his cheek, not before you pet Dot in passing. "Next time we're adopting a kid."

His spot widened and slid into a heart, blush coating his cheeks.

"And you're not naming them."

He laughed.

[what-the--curtains]

The Salt and The Sea

Chapter 4 – The Ultimate Price

(Eventual Finnick Odair x bi!f!Character)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This chapter contains a huge Trigger warning for suicide. Please skip this chapter if this is a triggering subject for you. You can still follow the story if you skip this chapter. Nothing graphic is described.

Summary: You've survived the arena but the games have just begun. When you try to take your life back into your own hands it costs you everything.

Notes: Hello all :) This is the last chapter in Part 1 and the last chapter of character background! Get ready for an increase of Finnick in the upcoming parts (wooo!!)

TW: **Suicide attempt**, murder, hanging, blood

Word Count: 3.3k

Playlist

Outfits

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're greeted by fluorescent lighting, and warmth as you open your eyes. A warmth you thought you would never feel again. A machine beeps loudly next to you, increasing its pace as you begin hyperventilating, only stopping as you tear the oxygen mask from your face. You sit up, eyes immediately scanning your hands, you flip them over fingers tracing the freshly healed skin that covered once mangled hands. An iridescent tinge appearing when the light hits. You pull back your sheets revealing large, translucent pads filled with a light purple jelly plastered to your skin.

“Regrowth pads. They're filled with cell regeneration gel, makes your skin look brand new, and slightly shiny. A side effect leftover from the starfish whose genes are spliced in there.” Cecelia says, standing from her chair and walking towards you. Apart from the medical equipment scattered throughout the room, there was no indication you were in a hospital. You look up at the four gold posts holding up the white canopy surrounding your bed. The room was painted a deep red, a stark contrast to the white sheets of your bed. Flower arrangements filled every surface, colours the likes of which you had never seen before.

“Am I dead?” you ask

“Nope, almost were thought. Not sure what they would have done if no one lived through the Games,” she murmurs sitting down on the bed.

“Here they fixed your face as well, half of it had frozen solid when they brought you in,” she explains, handing you a mirror.

“Why?” you ask, bringing your repaired hands up to touch your new face. “Looks real,” you admit, impressed with the attention to detail every pore you had before regrown.

“You became somewhat of a favourite, the flowers are from your fans. The president wanted to make sure the people got what they paid for,” she explains tentatively

“What?” you ask, dropping the mirror to your side.

“There’s an underground rule in the Capitol, the people can have whatever they want when it comes to the Games, including the victors,” she admits, eyes remaining on the wall.

“So I’ll have to stay in the Capitol?” you ask

“Yes, in this room actually. This apartment, it’s yours, but it doesn’t come for free,”

“I won’t do it. I won’t stay here,” you state confidently.

“They’ll make you,” Cecelia whispers, the upbeat energy she possessed during the Games long gone.

“They didn’t make you stay,”

“I wasn’t desirable,” she explains, the relevance of her words lost on you.

“I won. That was the deal. I win and I get to go home,” You remark petulantly.

“No one wins, not really,” Cecelia says, straightening her clothes as she stands.

“So what was the point then? If nothing really changes. What am I supposed to do now?” you ask.

“Try to forget , but it’s not over, not by a long shot. Who you were in there that’s who you have to be out here,” Cecelia continues

“I don’t understand,” you say, despite a deep anxiety slowly forming in your stomach.

“You’ll get to see your family, and Shri at the end of your tour, but until then…Well, just hang in there kid,” she says before exiting the room.

Cinna walks in as Cecilia leaves and he hugs you tightly, soothing your stomach.

“I’m so sorry about Azlon,” he says,

“Me too,” you admit, as he pulls back from the hug

“Are you ready to go home,” He whispers, rubbing his hands up and down your back reassuringly.

“I can never go home, I should have let the careers kill me,” you sob quietly.

“You can’t afford to think like that,” he whispers as you lower your head into your hands. “Look at me, Look at me,” Cinna states sternly “your family needs you. Your friend back home, she needs you. You have to keep them safe. Do not underestimate the cruelty or the power of the Capitol,” he stresses. You sniffle, eyes meeting Cinna as you blink back the tears.

“I’ll be with you on your tour, every step of the way, I told you mother I’d keep you safe and I plan to make good on that promise. Now, I’m afraid your presence is expected at a coronation.” He says. You roll your eyes as the style team enters into what was now your apartment. Each of them looked delighted at your current situation, as they babbled on about how wonderful it was you were here.

“Come now let's get you out of that dreadful hospital gown!” One exclaims as the others begin moulding you into the image you had created for the Capitol.

“I thought you’d want to wear black tonight, for Azlon,” Cinna explains, revealing the dress to you. It was adorned with crystal stars beginning from the top of the dress, thinning out as they reached the semi sheer bottom.

“Thank you,” you murmured as its pulled over your head. A sheer black glove is rolled up just above your elbow and secured with silver bracelets and bands. An oversized black feather boa placed across your shoulders. Your head left unadorned in preparation for the crown.

“Be strong, don’t show any fear. Don’t give them the satisfaction,” Cinna says. offering you his arm. You walk through the marbled hallways of the victor's apartment complexes out onto the street looking up to see the president's mansion a few blocks back, sat atop a hill. The dictator watching over his subjects. It's a short walk and you're escorted quickly around the back of the mansion.

“This is where I leave you, look for me in the crowd. I'll see you later,” Cinna says, leaving you with two guards that lead you upstairs until you’re face to face with two large oak doors. You press your ear to the wood, only just able to make out the crowd chattering away behind it.

You move back as a muffled microphone silences the bustling crowd. You inhale deeply as the doors open, smiling while applause fills the room. You walk towards the throne to the left of the president's own elaborate seat. The crowd continues cheering as you sit down offering them a wave. Your head turns as the president enters the crowd silencing as he raises his hand.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Panem, I implore you all to join me in congratulating the winner of the 68th Hunger Games. It was perhaps the most exciting Game we’ve seen in some time. Congratulations and may the odds be ever in her favour.” he states glancing towards you, his smile as plastic as your own. He walks towards the crown and lifts it from it’s silk cushion. He strides over to you each step perfectly executed.

“Miss Aalto,” Snow whispers as he approaches, raising the crown above your head.

“President Snow,” you say, standing before him

“Congratulations, but why wear black on such a momentous occasion?” he queries, placing the crown atop your head. You strengthen your neck, ensuring you are not seen wavering under its weight.

“I am in mourning president Snow, for Azlon and the others,” you explain, eyes refusing to meet his.

“Well, I suppose that is understandable, but just for tonight. Especially considering because of you we almost had no winner at all, what a mockery that would have been,” he finishes turning back to the crowd lifting your hand up as he does. The cadence of his words leave you feeling uneasy. Though you weren’t sure why.

You awake the following morning in a cold sweat. Another night, another terror plaguing your sleep leaving you restless and on edge. You shift up and out of bed, feet hitting cool marble sending a shiver down your spine. You’d have to buy a rug. The sky’s dark as you walk out onto your balcony, the noise of the city drowning out the remainder of your nightmare. You could never quite remember what they were. Your brain spared you that much at least. Leaving you only to deal with the nightmare of your reality. You dress yourself for the first time in what felt like forever and descend the apartment's stairs, making your way over the mansion. You were to go over the details of your victory tour, and your future. You were hours early, but what else did you have to do? The meeting is long and boring, but you play your part dutifully, never speaking out, just nodding along. The meeting concludes and you watch as the planners and coordinator exit leaving you alone with the president.

“I hope you're excited for your new life here in the Capitol,” He states, voice reverberating off the high ceilings as he stands from his chair walking into a small offshoot. You wait a moment before following him.

“While a great honour President Snow, I will be returning to live with my family in 8,” you respond, hand tracing along the table as you move, stopping when you reach him. The room is filled with broad, leafy plants, and tall palms. You look up at a small snake that slithers along a vine, to the right a monkey sits chained to a tree, eyes boring into your own. Snow’s back is turned to you.

“Oh, Miss Aalto I’m afraid that choice isn’t yours to make,” he replies, turning towards you revealing a small bird sitting atop his finger. It was a meadowlark. You saw them in the fields behind Shri’s house during the summer.

“Excuse me President Snow but it is. It’s written down in the rules of the Game. Unless I have misunderstood as I have won, I am free. So after the tour, I will return home,” You state clearly watching the birds movements intently.

“Let me rephrase. We all have a choice in Panem, but every choice has two possible outcomes, an effect and a consequence. A destiny and a fate if you will,” Snow continues.

“Two sides of the same coin if you ask me,” you respond, focus turning back to the monkey, not wanting to meet Snows gaze, lest he know your secrets. You can feel his eyes on you.

“Perhaps they are, but a coin toss is uncontrolled, and messy. A choice is strategic and well planned, the outcome determined by each action we take leading up to it,” he responds

“Are you sending me back into the arena?” you ask, only continuing when there’s no answer “Then I’ll take my chances and return home,” you state, turning to leave.

“Shri,” his voice echoes out, stopping you in your tracks.

“Pardon me,” you ask, panic seizing your chest.

“My new bird, what do you make of the name?” he queries, the words sealing your fate. “You will return to 8 for the homecoming portion of the tour. There you can see your family, friends and anyone else you may wish to part with. Afterwards, you will return to the Capitol and fulfil your duties as champion. You will replace Cecelia and begin training tributes. You will also complete anything else the Capitol wishes, considering what they have given you,” he concludes, clearing his throat “Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?” he asks and you shake your head no. “I’ll be seeing you soon,” he states but the words muffle beneath your consciousness as you leave the mansion. Snow knew about Shri. She was no longer safe. As long as you were living, any slip up, any falter in your duties, accidental or not would risk her safety. While you were living, she was not safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a gruelling week, but you were finally on the train back home. Every district, every family, every crowd you had to speak to with false smiles and manufactured words that did everything, but apologise for what their children went through, for what you did to them. The visits to 1,2, 9 and 12 were the hardest, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at the screens displaying blank faces of those you had killed in cold blood. Nausea overwhelms you as their animated eyes staring blankly into your soul, reminding you of who you were. Snow's threat weighed heavy on your shoulders, stalling your sleep. He was always watching, as was everyone else. Cameras were following your every move adding to your stress and feeding your paranoia. Every small noise startles you, every shadow in your periphery causes your entire body to jump. The lack of sleep only increases your fears. As you lay awake staring at the train's ceiling one thought runs through your head, a thought you kept returning to. Shri wasn’t safe. Your family wasn’t safe. Anyone you loved wasn’t safe. Not anymore. Not unless you complied. A task that had become increasingly more difficult now you understood what Cecelia had meant when she said the victors belonged to the Capitol. As such, you were no longer certain you could live up to what they wanted, what Snow expected you to do. It was in district 4 that the solution first entered your mind. A solution that would result in the least amount of lives lost. The only way you could escape the Games, the Capitol and the president while ensuring your family, and Shri’s safety. With each sleepless night that passed and each unfamiliar face that approached you the solution grew clearer. You brush it to the side as the train stops. You were home. You prayed your short time here would offer an alternative path than the one laid before you. Cinna enters into view and you rush to your feet almost running towards him.

“When can I see them?” you ask, your smile quickly fading upon noticing his sombre expression. “What? What is it Cinna?” you push as he places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“There’s been a slight change of plan, just slight, please don’t worry,” he soothes unsuccessfully and you pull away from him. Your breathing becomes erratic and tears begin to rim your eyes threatening to spill over as the stress of your situation begins to take hold.

“Snow won’t let you see them until you return to the Capitol, but they’ll come visit you there they’ll do an interview, it's all been set up,” he explains

“Will they?” you ask between gasps, not believing Snow would allow you any such luxury. Not until you completely submitted.

“Honestly I don’t know” Cinna responds whispering

“Thank you,” you mutter out, rubbing the tears from your eyes.

“For what?” he asks

“Being honest,” you say, thoughts racing. Only one path becoming clear as the team of stylists enter with your final gown.

You pull on the red pants, the intricate gold embroidery lining the sheer panelling running down the side of your legs shimmering. An open face skirt is then pulled over top, the weight of the material sure to mark your skin. You inhale as they clasp the jewelled bodice tightly into place. Cinna places a golden crown of daggers atop your head, the blades splayed out like sun rays, its refractions shimmering against the wall. You look in the mirror, and an unrecognizable face stares back.

“Are you okay?” Cinna questions

“Would you believe me if I said yes,” you respond.

“I’ll see you soon, as will your family. Snow can’t hold out forever” Cinna says hugging you before leaving with the rest of the team. Snow would hold out though, until you lived up to the promise you had unwittingly made when you won the Games.

You're welcomed on stage and you scan the crowd, but there's not a familiar face in sight. Your family is nowhere to be seen. If Snow had them, it wouldn't be for much longer. The winter air cools your nerves as you address the crowd. Azlons family stands on a stage in the back, your eyes focus on them as you deliver the pre-written speech hoping to convey some form of sincerity for what had happened to their son, and what could happen to the remaining three children huddled around his parents. You tuck the cards away as President Snow comes out to address the crowd congratulating them on your winnings and the rewards you had won for your district. A speech that ends with muted applause, and blank stares. He then announces the new head Gamekeeper who walks onto stage waving obviously to the silent crowd stopping just to the left of you. He, along with Snow, take your hands in their own lifting them high above your head. As their grip loses, you let go and drag your wrists down the sharpened point of your crown blood spilling onto your dress. You glare into Snow's eyes as you collapse to the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To your surprise you wake up in yet another room that was not a hospital. The rooms once green walls had faded to a dingy grey, dust gathered on the portraits of presidents past lining the walls as the beating of your heart breaks the silence of the room around you. You look out the window watching small flakes of snow drifting down to the ground. Your eyes turn the chair in the corner of the room, heart sinking when you meet Snow's gaze.

“Get up” he demands, even toned, and you stand shivering in the thin white hospital gown that matched the white bandages wrapped around your wrists.

“I will stand for a lot but I will not stand for blatant acts of defiance,” he states. His exterior calm, but there’s a poison to his voice that chills you to the bone.

“I…” you start

“Don’t” he raises his hand “Interrupt” he finishes, and you stay your tongue back behind your teeth

“Follow me,” he says as he leads you out of your room. You walk barefoot down the isolated hallway in silence.

“Do you know what this place is?” he asks as you reach the stairs.

“No,” you respond

“It is the president's building. Each district had one built after the rebellion. I am the first president to enter this building since the rebellion,” he explains, leading you out of the large building onto the boardwalk that spans across the sea wall. “The people of Panem believe you had an adverse reaction to your life saving procedures that resulted in a fainting spell. Fortunately, you can manipulate just about any footage if you get to it fast enough, and we did,” he continues, you turn back seeing your footprints melting the dusting of snow. “The last president who stayed here came to deal with a foiled plot against the capitol. Fifty people from your district were rounded up and hung off this very wall,” He finishes stopping in his tracks. You turn back and follow his gaze to the top of the wall. An inhuman sound escapes your lips and your knees give out, slamming into the rotting boardwalk. So this is where he was taking you. To her. To Shri. Slowly you bring your eyes back up to face what you had done, tears blurring your vision.

“Remember Miss Aalto, we all have a choice, but actions have consequences. I just hope you are able to live with yours”

[loyolahcmass]

Homily on Tiger Woods

Here is the preview of Fr. Rossi’s homily about Tiger Woods:

Tiger Woods

"Oh God, what now?": Tiger Woods' car crash adds a cruel twist to an unreal saga

 I walk into the house, early afternoon.

 The TV is on a channel usually reporting politics.

__________

 And I hear, “Breaking news. 

 “Golf pro Tiger Woods …” 

 And I think, Oh, God, what now?

__________

 It's a one-car rollover accident. 

 “Single Car.” “High Speed.”

 I see Tiger’s car. 

 It seems to have rolled up a long, rocky, barren hill. 

__________

 At what speed, by what turn of fate, does the car wind up on its side with its front end crumpled? 

 Rushed to a hospital. 

 Injuries “moderate to critical, or moderate to severe.” 

 Surgery on Tiger’s legs.

__________

 Tiger, Tiger! 

 So many surgeries already. 

 A knee, more than once. 

 His back, more than twice. 

__________

 Just the previous Sunday, finishing up as host to the Genesis Invitational, he was asked about playing in this spring’s Masters. 

 He couldn’t say he would, and he wouldn’t say he couldn’t. 

 Too sad to be funny, what he said is, “I’ve only got one back.” 

__________

 We knew what that meant. 

 He hasn’t played lately because of the back.

 And he had to wait for it to get right before deciding if he’d play anytime soon.

__________

 And now? 

 A one-car rollover up a rocky hill. 

 Legs busted up, probably crushed against the engine wall. 

 An airbag and seat belt are helpless to protect a man’s bad back against the forces of a car cartwheeling downhill.

__________

 Tiger, Tiger! 

 He won his 15th major in April two years ago, winning the Masters. 

 It was his first victory in a major in 11 years. 

 It came after a divorce, after the surgeries, after the revelation of extramarital affairs. 

__________

 It was a victory so implausible that only he dared imagine it possible. 

 Even those critical of Tiger the man stood in tribute to Tiger the golfer.

 And the kindest of his critics saw in him, after that Masters, suggestions that he wanted to be a better guy.

__________

 Only three months ago there he was with his small son, Charlie.

 Charlie a mini-Tiger, Charlie with Tiger’s DNA in a long, sweet swing, father and son playing together in a tournament on national television. 

 Now, if you’re Tiger Woods, maybe you shouldn’t expose your 11-year-old son to the expectations the public will pile on him. 

 It is, after all, what Tiger’s dad did to him and look what happened. 

 But there is also this. 

 Maybe, if you’re Tiger Woods trying to be a good man, you decide it’s worth the daddy-dearest risk in an effort to be the best father you know how to be.

__________

 Maybe, too, this is one of those times to remember a line by the novelist J.M. Barrie: 

 “Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.”

 A battle we may know nothing about. 

__________

 We knew nothing about Tiger and women. 

 We knew nothing about his failing marriage. 

 We knew his life had come apart in battles lost and won—and lost again.

__________

 Again, Oh, God, what now? 

 Again, trouble. 

 This time, trouble of a kind that Tiger the golfer is unlikely to overcome and that Tiger the man will need help to overcome. 

__________

 I thought again, as in other times of Tiger’s pain, of the costs that come with gifts of extraordinary talent. 

 More than once, Tiger showed us he was the greatest golfer who ever lived. 

 He was 19, not yet a major champion, when veteran pro Mark O’Meara said, 

 “The kid hits shots no one has ever hit before.”

__________

 I think of William Blake’s poem, “The Tiger.”

 Tiger, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What mortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

 Only later did we see the cost of Tiger’s immortal gifts. 

 In this life, no one gets everything.

__________

 “Many began to believe in Jesus

when they saw the signs he was doing.”

Gospel of John

 Our fallen human nature always attempts to define the meaning of life with something we can measure.

 Other gods: you know, money, power, fame.

 That’s what the presence of the moneychangers at the Temple symbolizes.

 That’s why Jesus driving them out is a “sign”.

__________

 Their worldly activity in this most sacred place reveals their moral bankruptcy.

 They prefer those “other gods” to a relationship with the real One.

 But as it says in the Book of Exodus, the commandments of the Lord “are more precious than a heap of purest gold.”

__________

 Those precepts save us from all kinds of foolishness.

 His teachings bless us, as St. Paul says, with “the foolishness of God.”

 Jesus doesn’t want us—or Tiger— to suffer these foolish gods gladly.

 Just check out His “signs”!

[theolddarkmachine]

cups as red as our hearts

Patience, Shiro thought to himself, cradling his weapon as his eyes narrowed on his target, judging its distance. He could do this. He was a champion after all, and if there was anything he had learned, it was how to win. All he needed, was to focus.

Patience yields focus.

Breathing in, he leveled his hand, preparing to strike a killing blow to his mark.

Said mark, was one of four remaining red solo cups, and said weapon, a ping pong ball.

“You look worried, Shiro,” a single voice cut through the din of his thoughts and the music filling the backyard with the sweet dulcet sounds of Rihanna and Drake. Keith stood as the backdrop to his current attentions, arms crossed over the Garrison Soccer logo that spanned his chest in some sort of screen printed reminder that the toned definition of his forearms was from years of sport, and not because he’d walked straight out of Shiro’s dreams.

Though, he still wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t.

With a deft flick of his wrist, Shiro sent the ball arcing through the air, the soft plap! of it landing in the Natty Light rewarding him for his skill.

A gift for @otayuriistheliteralbest for @sheithlentines ! Shoutout to @nasigorengart for the beta :D

AO3

Rated: T for Teen, there’s some heated making out and implied sexy times.

Hi Anna! I hope you like my humble offering for Sheithlentines! I do love me a college!AU, and while I couldn’t exactly work in fuckboy!Shiro with a heart of gold, I thought turning him into a frat boy would be the next best thing. and soccer captain keith just because i couldnt help myself  Anyway, I HOPE YOU ENJOY! HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!

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Patience, Shiro thought to himself, cradling his weapon as his eyes narrowed on his target, judging its distance. He could do this. He was a champion after all, and if there was anything he had learned, it was how to win. All he needed, was to focus.

Patience yields focus.

Breathing in, he leveled his hand, preparing to strike a killing blow to his mark.

Said mark, was one of four remaining red solo cups, and said weapon, a ping pong ball.

“You look worried, Shiro,” a single voice cut through the din of his thoughts and the music filling the backyard with the sweet dulcet sounds of Rihanna and Drake. Keith stood as the backdrop to his current attentions, arms crossed over the Garrison Soccer logo that spanned his chest in some sort of screen printed reminder that the toned definition of his forearms was from years of sport, and not because he’d walked straight out of Shiro’s dreams.

Though, he still wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t.

With a deft flick of his wrist, Shiro sent the ball arcing through the air, the soft plap! of it landing in the Natty Light rewarding him for his skill.

“That’s called a bluff, Keith,” he said breezily, grin pulling his lips over his teeth as he dragged his gaze upwards from the cup and along the lines of Keith’s body until they found the mauve of his opponent’s gaze.

Keith had been his best friend since they were children, both having been there for each other since the days of scraped knees and boyish pranks, through the awkward stages of puberty, and through every dumb crush and consequential heartbreak. They’d been inseparable for so long, that when it came time to apply for colleges, no one even bat an eye when they had announced that they were both going for Garrison University.

They were Keith and Shiro, Shiro and Keith, their names only ever separated during fraternity events and soccer games. They knew everything about each other, and at times Shiro wondered if Keith could read his mind.

He knew he couldn’t, though, because if he could he would have discovered his deepest darkest secret long ago.

That secret was the truth behind each and every one of Shiro’s failed romantic ventures. Was the truth behind the late night hangouts. Was the truth nestled deep behind his rib cage, stuttering an erratic rhythm into the bone each time he stood in the stands watching Keith’s games. It was the truth behind the smile that he now wore, specifically crafted for one person, and one person alone.

That secret, was that he’d fallen for Keith.

It was a realization that had hit him hard after one particularly stressful soccer game, stealing his breath and painting every memory of the soccer captain an amorous shade. Shiro himself wasn’t even sure how long he’d been in love with him, unable to pinpoint an exact moment when Keith had become so much more than just his friend. All that he knew was that getting trapped in his orbit had been an inevitability. It was the kind of inevitable that snuck up on you, the obviousness of it not striking until it was already too late.

Falling for Keith had been as certain as the color of the sky, and came with all the ease of breathing.

“Bluff,” Keith scoffed, rolling his his eyes upwards to the heavens as he fished the ball from his cup and threw it into the water cup beside him. Carefully, he brought the white rim up to his lips as he returned his gaze back to Shiro. “I think you just got lucky.”

Shiro traced the long line of Keith’s throat as he tossed back the alcohol, committing the bob of his Adam’s apple to memory as he swallowed.

“It isn’t going to help you win though,” he continued once he surfaced from behind the red plastic, his smile dangerous as it carved an impression of itself into Shiro’s heart. “I’ve come to dethrone you, Champion.”

Keith rolled the nickname off his tongue with all the ease of a familiar jab, covering it in the burs of their banter. If Shiro hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was painted with flirtation.

Except that they were best friends, and he knew better than that.

Shiro acknowledged his feelings, but they were his own to suffer. He would never ruin what they had by forcing Keith to share the weight of his desire. Even if that desire was currently crushing him beneath the entire galaxy trapped in Keith’s stare.

A soft plink! ripped him out of his thoughts as a ball landed in one of his final two cups before him, a small splash of beer turning spots at the hem of his tank top a darker grey.

“Just one more,” Keith teased as he settled both hands on top of the plastic table, leaning onto them just enough for his biceps to strain against the cuffs of his shirt as they supported his weight. “Then I win.”

The liquid was cool against his fingertips as he pulled the ball from the cup, not bothering to dip it into the water as he gulped the beer down. Admittedly, it was not his first choice in alcohol— or his second, or even his third— but it was cheap and they both knew that he kept the good alcohol upstairs in his room.

One of the perks of being the fraternity president meant he got the room with the mini bar.

“And what do you think you win?” Shiro asked, ignoring the bitterness the subpar beer had left lingering on his tongue.

We should play with that bottle of Jack I got you, Keith had said when he’d started to setup the beer pong, eyes bright as he bit into his bottom lip and looked up at Shiro expectantly. At the time, he’d shot the idea down, citing that then they’d have to share.

And I don’t like to share.

But now, with the way his stomach was turning with the sharp tang of the Natty Light and something a bit darker, he wondered if maybe he’d made a mistake.

At least with the whiskey, he’d have an excuse for why he couldn’t stop staring at the bow of Keith’s pinked lips. ‘The alcohol made me do it’ was only acceptable when the alcohol came with a decent ABV percentage.

“Bragging rights,” Keith retorted, his eyebrow arching upwards as he licked over a pointed canine tooth. “Say I finally beat Golden Boy Shiro at something.”

Liquid began to pool in his palm where he held the ball, balancing it as if it was something sacred as he trained his attention on it in a vain attempt at slowing the quickened beat of his pulse. If the music wasn’t so loud, he would think Keith could probably hear the way his heart was hammering in his chest.

Don’t you know? He wanted to say. Don’t you know that you’ve always beat me? That you’ve always been so much better? That you’re everything I could ever want? Don’t you know?

Closing his fingers over the ball, Shiro shrugged off the thoughts and Keith’s banter as he dropped the now empty cup into the stack with its fallen brethren on his corner of the table.

“You underestimate me, Keith,” Shiro prayed he didn’t hear the way his name dripped with his barely concealed want. “You of all people should know I’ve always liked a challenge.”

A small smile twisted the corners of Keith’s mouth as a familiar spark lit his eyes at the words. Holding the amethyst gaze within the silver of his own, Shiro flicked the ball towards the other side of the table without any sort of preamble or setup. Heat lightning was erupting within his chest, running its electric warmth over his skin and through his bones as time stood still with only the plastic ball carving its way through the air.

He barely even heard the small crowd that had begun to surround them, the existence of the other partygoers lost to him as he watched a particular shade of pink dust itself across Keith’s cheeks.

Don’t you know?

Maybe, Keith did.

The cup barely shifted as the ball landed in it with a soundless splash.

***

Shiro won. Because of course he won. He was a man crafted by God himself with the sheer purpose of proving that there really was such thing as perfection.

At least, that was the theory Keith worked with.

Not being very pious, he couldn’t actually say for sure.

He felt the familiar burn of awe and something just a bit brighter as they mingled with the warm heat of the whiskey he swallowed. From where he sat on the couch the fraternity had oh so creatively christened ‘Party Couch,’ he could see the way Shiro was making the rounds, offering all the other frat brothers and their guests that shining smile that turned his insides to ash.

Keith wondered if his best friend knew the effect he had on him and his internal organs.

It often felt like Shiro did, especially when his eyes would flicker towards him and the corners of his lips would turn up just enough to set crinkles in the corners of his eyes, just as they did now.

Of course, if he could, he would probably be able to guess as to why his pulse ratcheted up to triple time anytime he was near.

Once upon a time, Keith had told himself that was just how it was between best friends. He and Shiro had been so close for so long that of course he would be exuberantly happy whenever he was near. Of course, he would feel the muscle trapped in his chest stutter whenever Shiro would easily shift from his steadfast leader persona into something softer that only Keith got to see. It only made sense that his pulse would race anytime he’d seen his lifelong friend in the stands during a game, the constant in his life replacing what family would have been sitting in that same space if he had them.

That was inevitable, right?

Only, the truth of his own feelings had revealed itself to him when he’d realized after one particularly disastrous date, that the reason it would never work, was because the guy wasn’t Shiro.

None of them were, and none of them would ever be.

That realization had come with all the ferocity of a tsunami as it dragged him into the depths of his emotions and attempted to drown him there. While he wasn��t even sure when his feelings had evolved into something so much more, he knew that now it was too late.

Keith had fallen for him. He hadn’t even stood a chance. By the time he’d realized it, he was already too far gone.

Falling for Shiro had been as certain as the color of the sky, and came with all the ease of breathing.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking that hard,” the devil himself spoke, the couch dipping beneath Shiro’s added weight as he sat, throwing an arm over the back of the couch behind him. What he tried to not think too hard about, was how close Shiro had chosen to sit, each movement of his steady breath tickling against his arm with barely there touches of his side against his skin.

“And what makes you think I’m thinking that hard?” His fingers gripped around his red cup in an attempt to do something other than reach out and stroke the soft strands of bangs that had pushed themselves through the hole of the the snapback Shiro was wearing backwards. Leave it to him to make one of the most stereotypical frat boy fashions hot.

Or maybe Keith just thought everything Shiro did was attractive.

In fact, that was most likely the case.

Without warning, a metallic finger jabbed into the space between his eyebrows.

“You get this line,” Shiro chuckled, slightly twisting his fingertip to emphasize his point. “Right here.”

Heat prickled and blossomed from the touch, gathering in his cheeks and working its way down his neck as Keith allowed his eyes to map the expanse of Shiro’s skin, following up the metal surface of his prosthetic to the exposed muscle of his upper arm and up towards his face until he met his gaze. A brightness touched them that set them closer to the realm of polished silver instead of a dull tempest.

Keith’s heart stalled for a moment as he thought he recognized the look, knowing his own eyes were touched with the same light.

Only, that couldn’t possibly be it. They were best friends.

It was most likely the glow of those stupid heart lights that were stretched back and forth across the backyard.

It’s Valentine’s Day, Keith, we had to be festive.

“That could be my normal stare. Resting bitch face, you know,” Keith said, ignoring the breathiness of his own voice as he leant back enough for Shiro’s hand to fall away. The plastic cracked in his grip as his fingers twitched around it again as he swallowed down the acrid taste of disappointment at the loss of contact.

“I think I know what your normal stare looks like, Keith,” Shiro deadpanned, mouth twitching downward as he shifted his weight, his side fully stroking across Keith’s arm. Deep within his chest, he could feel the heat of a newborn star as it expanded against the confines of the muscle and bone. Its flares shot out over his skin, running lines of fire over his veins that gathered at the point where Keith’s arm met Shiro’s side.

The oppressive burn was almost too much as he looked up at his best friend, trying to decipher the look that had twisted his mouth into a scowl while simultaneously trying not to burn alive.

“You going to tell me what you were thinking about?” Shiro’s tone was brusque, as if he was walking through the same flames.

Don’t you know? It took everything in him to not say those three words as his fingers bit into the flimsy cup. You. It’s always you. You’re everything I could ever want. Don’t you know?

“Nothing,” Keith said with a shrug, hiding the lie in the bottom of his cup as he emptied it before he set it on the grass at his foot. Carefully, he let himself settle further into the back of the couch before he dropped his head onto Shiro’s outstretched arm. With his eyes turned upwards towards the sky, he could only see the pale pink and red glow of those stupid heart lights.

“Everything.”

The word escaped him on its own volition, carried so lowly over his lips, he wouldn’t have been shocked if Shiro hadn’t heard him.

But of course, he did.

“That’s a lot to think about.” Shiro’s skin was warm against his hair where his arm pillowed his head.

“Sometimes I think it’s too much to think about,” Keith breathed, the lights blurring in and out of focus with the combined efforts of the alcohol and Shiro’s warmth. Against the dark sky, they now looked like glowing orbs of color. Maybe, if he looked long enough, he could find all the answers he needed within them.

A single moment stretched as he kept his eyes looking upwards, ignoring the way he could feel that silver gaze etching curious lines up and down his flesh. He wanted so desperately to tell Shiro about everything. How he had felt for so long. Why every relationship had failed, how much he meant to him, just how badly he wondered what his skin tasted like. It would be so easy to finally tell him.

To expose his truth.

“How about you don’t think for awhile.” Shiro’s suggestion was a wisp of a thought, nothing but breath with barely there syllables that shattered Keith’s reverie like a fist through glass. Eyes focusing back onto the lights until the dual colored hearts stood against the black sky with perfect clarity, he swallowed his own after it had leapt up into his throat.

Turning his head to face his best friend, his cheek resting against Shiro’s bicep, Keith saw the softened look that he was giving him now. Eyes darkened and lips curling upwards at the corners, he looked like a man something awe inspiring and precious.

He was looking at Keith like he understood the blaze of a new galaxy burning into itself into his body.

Don’t you know?

Maybe, Shiro did.

Dragging his gaze down to the full of his lips, Keith couldn’t help the unsteady breath that parted his own. He was just so close, and so beautiful.

Shiro had the kind of face that the Greeks had written myths about. Kind, and filled with the strength of heroes.

If he didn’t know better, he could chalk up the feeling in his gut as the alcohol catching up to him.

Too bad he did, and he knew the headiness that left him reeling with the slow burning desire working his chest open, was nothing more than fraternity president himself.

“Shiro,” he breathed, gaze still trapped by the sweet curve of his mouth.

God, did he want to kiss him.

Then those very lips he was so enthralled by pressed forward, closing the space between them as Shiro pulled Keith into him, capturing his mouth with a heated kiss that coaxed a gasp from deep within him. In a flurry of heat, he felt Shiro’s hands as they found the back of his hair, his thumbs brushing across the crest of his cheekbones as his fingers dug into his scalp. His own hands found their way to the front of Shiro’s tank top where they twisted into the fabric and anchored him to his chest.

All else fell away as Shiro licked along his bottom lip, looking for permission he was all too ready to give as he opened for him. Pouring all that he was into the pressure of the kiss, he tried to convey those three small words through their language of tongue and teeth.

Don’t you know?

Shiro pulled him closer, as if any amount of space between them was still too much as he returned the same heated intent.

I know.

***

His room was dark as they tripped over each other into the president suite that he called his home, causing Keith to huff a small laugh that he caught on his tongue as Shiro continued to press into the embrace. It felt like he was on fire, Keith’s touch igniting his skin with every caress and drag of his hands as if it was his goal to burn everything that he was to the ground.

It would be a worthy death, a small voice bit out as he kicked at the door behind him until he heard it slam shut.

Nothing else mattered except Keith and here and now and the way he tasted like a mix of whiskey, beer and fire.

When Shiro had made his rounds down at the party, his mind had been racing with the incendiary thoughts that had been plaguing him.

Don’t you know?

The voice had whispered as he’d eyed Keith from across the crowd. The soccer captain had been lounging against the Party Couch with ease as if he wasn’t aware that even from a yard away, he still held all of his attention.

Don’t you know?

It had said when he’d caught his stare, that thought line etching a dip divot in between his eyebrows as he’d looked at Shiro as if he could see straight through him.

Don’t you know?

That stupid voice had screamed when Keith had turned to face him, his head pillowed on his arm and the Valentine’s lights coloring his skin with an ethereal glow.

Somewhere in the galaxies of his eyes, reflected in the stars that shone in their depths, Shiro had recognized the hungry fire that had born them. For just a moment, Shiro saw everything that he felt staring back at him. It had broken whatever cage of self restraint that had confined him, and lost to the intoxication of all that Keith was, Shiro felt felt the strange tang of greed.

And then, he not only need everything, he wanted it.

So he took it.

Dropping himself onto the foot of his bed, his hands wrapped around Keith’s waist as he dragged him down into his lap before he wrapped his arms across his lower back. With a knee on either side of his thighs and a hand on his shoulder, Keith braced himself over him, looking down at Shiro with a look turned impossibly soft with fondness.

“Keith,” Shiro breathed, scared to put too much weight in his voice for fear of shattering the delicate moment that had settled around them. He felt the shudder that the brush of his name ran down Keith’s spine as he shook within the halo of his arms. Fingertips found his cheek as they traced over its arch, pushing back to the seam of his hat.

Turning his head into the touch, Shiro brushed his lips over Keith’s pulse.

“Is this okay?” He asked, the words tickling against Keith’s skin as he flicked his gaze upwards just in time to see the soccer player’s mouth form a moan that hung dangerously between them.

It was a guillotine, waiting with its deathly gleam to drop and cleave their friendship in two.

“I think it’s a little late to ask that,” Keith laughed, sounding almost as breathless as he felt. Where his lips still pressed into his skin, Shiro marveled at the way he felt the pulse there jump and quicken. A gentle press of his palm against his cheek led Shiro’s face to look up towards him.

“I want you, Shiro,” he said lowly as he settled himself lower into his lap, evening their gazes as he brought his other hand up to his face. They were impossibly warm against his cheeks, trapping him so that he could look nowhere else but the wine filled depths of Keith’s eyes.

Their intoxicating power went straight to his head. If Keith hadn’t been holding onto him, he was certain he would float away.

“I have for quite some time. You’re my best friend,” Keith smiled as he leant forward to press his forehead to Shiro’s. “You always will be. I want this.”

The soccer captain teased him with the simple, innocent brush of noses as his lips slightly parted with a breathy sigh that was anything but. It was enough to crack the shell of his chest open, leaving him open and raw as Keith let his eyes dip shut for a moment, as if he was preparing himself. Hanging the moment between them, Keith let Shiro burn for just a few seconds longer before mauve filled his vision.

In one fell swoop of three small words, Keith dropped the guillotine.

“I want you.”

And then he was everywhere. Electric and burning, Keith filled every one of Shiro’s senses as he closed the minute space that had separated them. Tightening his arms around his waist, Shiro let himself drown with the flames as their chests heaved together. Lips pliant beneath his, Shiro chased the breath they shared as he licked into Keith’s mouth, dragging out moans he had only thought he’d ever imagine.

But he was really there, in his arms, pressed against him like all those times he’d dreamed of, unaware it was ever anything he could actually have.

All that time between them swelled with all the ferocity of a southern storm, lightning crashing across their bodies as they rolled against each other. Keith’s fingers quickly discarded his snapback before they found a home nestled in the hair at the back of his scalp. The bite of his nails sent buzzing lines of anticipation and need rolling down his back as he sucked in a breath.

With his arms still wrapped around his waist, Shiro carefully shifted his position, using his strength to press Keith’s back to the mattress, pushing him up further until he was met with the embrace of his pillows.

Pulling away only when his lungs began to protest with an entirely different burn, Shiro allowed himself the opportunity to drink Keith in. Hair splayed across the white of his pillow case like spilt ink, his cheeks were dusted with the same shade of crushed flower petals, and his mouth was kiss bruised and slick. He wasn’t one for art, but in that moment he was certain the picture of Keith looking at him, eyes bright and pupils blown as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt to chase Shiro’s taste, was what artists meant when they spoke of a muse.

He was inspiring, and he was there.

And in right now, he was his.

Dragging his thumb across Keith’s jawline, marveling in the way his touch made his eyes flutter, Shiro let himself just touch. Following the lines of his throat down towards the collar of his shirt, and over the clothed rise of his collarbone, he collected all the different parts of Keith.

The soft hush of his gasps.

The gentle roll of his hips.

The heat of his skin.

“Shiro,” Keith breathed as he dragged his own hands down the sides of his neck and over his chest until his palms came to rest on his pecs, the left held firmly against the strong beat of his heart.

“Is this okay?” He asked again, fingers brushing up across his shoulder and down over the cuff of his shirt until he found bare skin again. Goosebumps dotted Keith’s arm where he dragged the pads of his fingers, causing another shiver to run through him as his eyelids fluttered.

Heat was pooling in Shiro’s gut as he felt himself straining against his jeans, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop his careful exploration.

All he wanted was to continue to explore the way Keith’s moans could fill his room.

“Shiro,” he groaned again, hips twitching upward as he fisted his hands in the fabric of Shiro’s top, nails scratching dully through the cloth against his chest. “I want you, now.”

Emphasizing the last word, Keith pulled him forward by his shirt until he nearly landed face first against him. His breath danced over his lips as Keith looked at him, eyes burning with determination and unadulterated want.

“Anything else, we can figure out in the morning.”

Artlessly rolling his hips upwards against him, Keith kissed him again, swallowing the groan he earned as he began to take him apart.

“Okay,” Shiro breathed as his hands found the hem of Keith’s shirt, pushing under it to feel the sport hardened muscle of his stomach. “Okay.”

Keith was his best friend, and he was so much more. Anything else, they could figure out in the morning. Until then, they were here and now, with Keith underneath him with all the promise of everything he had ever wanted.

Shiro pushed forward once more to chase that promise.

Anything else, we can figure out in the morning.

***

The sun cut through the darkness of Keith’s dream, coloring it the same red of the backs of his eyelids as he turned his face into the the warmth next to him in an attempt at just a bit more sleep. It might have worked if that warmth didn’t shake with silent laughter, its fingers finding the hair at his temple and tenderly pushing it behind his ear.

“You need better blinds,” he muttered into Shiro’s chest before placing a chaste kiss to the skin warmed by his breath.

“You never were a morning person,” Shiro’s voice rumbled through his chest as he let his fingers trail through his hair. Humming at the touch, he pulled his head back to look up at Shiro.  His eyes were bright as if he’d been awake for quite some time now. The soft brush of happiness turned Keith’s features soft as he smiled.

Shiro’s mouth was still kiss bruised, and his cheeks still flushed as he mirrored the expression.

If he allowed his gaze to wander, he knew he would see the evidence of himself written across Shiro’s skin in the form of inky bruises and red raised lines. He relished in the idea of them. With each bruise and scratch, Keith finally marked Shiro as his.

But now, he found himself helplessly enraptured with the tender look of Shiro’s tempered steel eyes as he looked at him with open wonder.

“No,” he replied carefully, not wanting to break the warmth that was growing between them. “But I think I could be if this is what I have to look forward to.”

Keith felt the brush of Shiro’s chuckle as it stirred his hair, lips ghosting across his forehead in a quick kiss.

“If I knew that was all it took, I would have done this a long time ago,” Shiro said, tone bright with teasing as he lingered, pressing his face to his crown. A quiet settled over them both as they just basked in the feel of their skin against each others and the heat of the sun as it blanketed them with its bright glow.

It felt right, and for just a moment, Keith felt the soft sting of regret for having waited so long. Shiro was his best friend, and he always would be.

Anything else, we can figure out in the morning.

Only, there was nothing to figure out. At least, not for him. He was wholly, and completely, Shiro’s. He had been for quite some time, and even if Shiro didn’t want to pursue anything, he would carry that burden on his own.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Shiro tightened his hold on him, pulling Keith closer for a quick, crushing hug to his chest.

“Keith?” His name was soft as it blew across his hair.

“Yeah?” He asked, ignoring the way his voice faltered over the reply.

“Do you want to go get breakfast?” The question was shy, tiptoeing towards nervous. Nestled in the spaces of each word, Keith heard the underlying intent. Shiro was offering him the opportunity to go back. To undo the last night for favor of the friendship they’d cultivated. Nuzzling his face into the crook of Shiro’s throat, he ran his lips across his skin in a soft, barely there kiss.

Yes, Keith would carry the burden if he needed to. But something told him he wouldn’t have to.

Pulling back from Shiro’s embrace so that he could look up at him, Keith smiled.

“Yeah. I would love to.”

**************************

[almasidaliano]

a few of today’s new epiphanies; a dissertation. {pt 1 // 0304.}

telepathy is a beautiful thing really. strange this little experience. i thought i was delirious and honestly maybe i still am. however, i’m in control of how i use that. i understand now, a little more than before. i have a lot to do; few book series in store. i must commit to fluently typing on a typewriter. because of the aesthetic. {the idea is to release at MINIMUM 3 books in various structures; all the beginning of a different series/saga.} i plan to stick to handwriting until my muscles breathe with the memory. every word i write, solidifies the world’ll remember me. and every seed indeed.

thurtherfore, my mouth is not my only gifted piece, you see coupled with my ears- i don’t know how else to be.. blessings are curses too; it the most melocholny ways.. i listen to myself now; not immediately not completely however {i’m prone to self sabotage so we won’t be greedy😂} - only up from here ; just as soon as we find it again. :$ if everyone is truly listening how are things as they’ve formerly been? let that sink in..

so am i wrong; for trying to preserve, something that took every level of my existence to procure? seeing as it took every level of her existence to preserve; long enough to see the top; i didn’t expect the drop.. there’s power in having nothing to lose - expect i didn’t want to be who i was around your family because i couldn’t see past the bruising and the scars. i’m a product of my environment , just like you. different environment, so initial different construct. i met you and then all i thought knew was confirmed or surprisingly corrected. still easier said than done simply reframing your ideologies. because wounds aren’t healed, things still have been suppressed and have yet to even be addressed; because time had other plans in mind.. {so do i..}

so here’s the sitch ; i miss my stitch. and refuse to indulge something less than what exists within the bond we built, whilst feeling guilty so then receding into isolation to avoid feeling as if i was compromising myself and that bond. like i only can’t access 3/4 of one piece now. that physical aspect is missing.. that comfort that grounds you. the way her existence was my only addiction; used correctly you can help someone you love remember/find themselves; that’s what she did.

i’m in a place i’ve never been. this is when everything changed. WELL 2021. i say that because i’m way out of my lane; i have never been through nor felt the things i’m experiencing. i’m in a position i wish i had only ever seen on tv, while simultaneously thanking divinity. because - it is better to have loved and have lost, than to never know love at all.

***my ENTIRE romantic life before her was a sham. no shade, peace and prosperity to most. i say that because before i was testing society or fitting the picture; i was chasing platonic love because my friends were my family. they helped me manage and maintain my sanity. but friends aren’t caretakers yk we all get older. and not to say s/o are either; just meaning on the day to day. mental health is not easy, and i was never too much.

my friends and i we don’t touch like that {intoxication don’t apply because everybody extra —- eh only alcohol make the volume rise ; just depends lmao} i mean in day to day casual setting ? no. we may quick hug as the family bond grew, had handshakes and mf theme songs before that😂 my family dont exhibit PDA. when i seen people who were together interact it was usually abusive, toxic, portrayed through necessities {extremities} in some form. tough love has been vastly misconstrued. A PRODUCT OF THAT HERE! lmao however- a late winter night, outside a laundromat changed my life. HONESTLY. infinite times for the laundromat cause listeeennn; changed my life night after night. she touched me; and i could breathe again; and feel it. i could feel everything. the way i had been absent from the present; so numb.. she confirmed the theory she created when our eyes met; she always knew she “won”. and i wasn’t hella clingy; i craved the way she showed affection from the first look, first touch, first kiss or moreso gave me the support and courage to accept. besides her i can’t even tell you when any of that happened. AND she’s the only one w a first look and first touch qualifier lmao.

the bond is infinite. spiritual emotional and mental all intact. it’s the physical; the touch i’m searching now to get back. or get a consistent “this’ll be do” ; like we’ll be cool and shit still too.

confession 1: if i collected every night i ever SLEPT meaning truly rested, alone; i may have 2 years at max though.

whether family, roommate, friend, partner i’ve never spent too many night alone. and developmental years? yea maybe 10 of those single nights are from those.

ever seen twitches? i really think to an extend some darkness can consume souls. another time another place we’ve arrived at the gold; two gems to wrap up this expressions ordinance.

so the plan if not bone marrow when we would have a baby was going to be her brother because of the lineup of genes. i still feel , and want {regardless of semantics it will be} to continuing manifesting towards our dreams. it’s just strange; because well how do you approach any person in this situation? 😂 but how do you go to the brother and say this “ like i want to continue to build on the foundation we pavemented. and i was wondering if you’d mind—“ i never expected it to be under this condition. i think she’d be fine with that .

here’s the cavieat: first everything is the same but everything has changed i stg. he doesn’t look the same as i recall from my birds view . however he reminds me of her so much more than the rest of — eh depends it’s anywho. and it’s strange because i strayed and now i don’t know how to break the ice. and i meant to speak to him at all. and that’s like the most important part lmao. because i wanna know him. because him and i are a lot alike because i can’t really believe the “he’s okay” without talking to him, except niggas real short and vague these days i see lmao. he lost his big sister; i my big brother. full blood. balance. your rod. my brothers keeper. it’s ; i am him in this situation above the other siblings dynamically and i want to help however i don’t want to pry or seem weird. some people just want to be bothered because he also doesn’t talk to me so maybe he doesn’t want to. they have the same kind of light in their smiles he only squints his eyes when he laughs. dimples are genetic and let’s just say thanks yall lmao.

it’s energy. it’s just vibes fr. like —

sometimes; even my mind isn’t a place i’m alone.

to be continued..

-A.

[cardfightcentric]

Weekend report thing

Aka. Sneak report + Locals report + Thoughts on standard/premium

Busy weekend! The first official sneak of the new format, and when I finally went and picked up my trial decks, so my first games in standard and my first games with a true premium deck ( sort of), not just a G-Deck. So I have a lot to talk about today!

The sneak went pretty well for me, I wasn't originally gonna buy anything since I don’t really plan on making blasters for standard, rather just waiting for aquas and granblue before I really start to invest. But i wanted new marrons, so I figured why not and got two kits. Ended up pulling really well and made my money back more or less, and got some trades to making my own semi jankish blaster deck for standard, just to hold me over until algos XD

I had picked up a blaster trial deck simply because if our head judge wanted to run a standard tourney I could actually play something. But since I pulled some stuff for it and wanted to use my newly acquired playset of new marron, I threw something together with soulsavers and a few new cards and a trial deck. I tried playing a few games with a friends similarly janky kagero deck. Honestly while it felt nice to slow the game down a little bit, it also felt just...almost too slow and vanilla with what i’m used to playing. I understand its very early so i can’t really pass any judgements about how the deck plays yet, of if this is what the rest of standard format decks will be like. But it did feel extremely slow and honestly kind of boring. I’m sure it will be significantly more exciting for me playing aqua force, granblue and eventually golds. But for now I will continue to just kinda sit back and wait for those since honestly i’ve never been a fan of playing blasters XD

For the tourney i played the royal deck I fell in love with: brave. I had yet to use it in a real tourney, and i had made some adjustments to my original list so I was itching to try it out. What makes it a premium deck? I put in the new triggers lol. I figured since my list had very few “brave” triggers anyway, trying the 10ks would not be a bad idea, since I’m playing mega aggression 12 crit brave anyway. Balls to the wall deck, in other words. And i’m actually surprised at how well it went, considering the matchups I had.

Round 1: Novas vs Brave

This is my friend who usually beats me in the final rounds, our meeting just happened to be in the first round today. Honestly i think this matchup is very 50/50. If i can outrush a nove player early i can win, but if he’s drawing fire he wins just as easily. The first game I lost by the second stride, the second game I won by the second stride. Since I hadn’t played brave in a while before this, had I not messed up my guarding on the third game, I would have been able to win. I went first, so he could stride first. I g guarded once. And I HAD THE IDEA IN MY BIG BRAIN to guard the second, meager attack with maskgal, since then I would be able to hit 1st stride GB4 with fides and basically take the game. Did I guard with maskgal? NO. So I went into my turn, pushed him to 5 damage with two cards in hand, and then got crit to death. I’m not entirely upset about loosing that way since I know a lot more about how to win the matchup and its honestly not overly difficult if you know how to work with brave resources. It was more of a lack of foresight on my part since I haven’t been playing a lot the last few weeks. And if I have, I’ve been almost obsessively playing Gurguit since I miss him <3

Score 0/1

Round 2: Kagero vs Brave

You know like I don’t even care about this matchup honestly. It’s like go ahead, retire my cards. So long as i’m able to keep a majority of them in my deck the matchup is actually very easy. Because while they have big scary purge turns and easy access to retire, kagero lacks the hand size to really be able to put up with brave and function well. Like yea your gonna purge me, but that's the only attack your going to get this turn, because you had to drop all your rgs to guard me last turn. Both games i was able to sweep with a 2nd stride turn fides. The important part here is really just to make sure their hand is small before sweeping in for a fides turn. Since not a lot of kagero players play heavy draw support it’s much easier to just run them off the field, especially since their key mechanic of retire does very little to stop you from doing what you need to do. If you set up all your Felaxs in the back row they can’t denial you either, so your safe to just steamroll.

Score: 1/1

Round 3: X Gallop Vs Brave

This was actually a very funny set of games. The player that was using X Gallop is horribly annoying, so playing with him is usually a chore within itself. I also despite playing against X Gallop since they draw so much, my rush decks just usually can’t keep up. But brave is the king of rush decks for me, so i  worried. First game I managed to sweep since he didn’t realize what fides does ( i talk about the card all the time so i was like really?) and therefore didn’t plan to guard very well. 2nd game was probably the most horribly unlucky game of brave in my life. I drew or damage checked all 8 of my calling grade 2’s (Sulliman and Liverot) so my plays were pretty stunted. Its unfortunately a weakness of the deck, but its something thats kind of difficult to fix due to the way that vanguard just works and the fact that brave royals don’t really have a way to renew resources. If they did, then it wouldn’t be so much of a problem. But I got clapped. The third game was probably one of the most hilarious games i’ve ever played. So this player I was playing against is infamous for being outrageously cocky, so this is kind of karma coming back around. The game started off pretty bad for me. He drew all 4 of his reika's ( i think that's how you spell it) and with a commander laural was able to draw something like 14 cards. Since I choose not to drop a perfect since he had one of the guard break triggers active, and would have sacked it. But i’m a dumbass and I let it hit. So i’m going into my turn with like 20 cards in his hand. He’s at 3 damage, so he’s kind of safe. I stride into fides and i’m trying to figure out how to make this work while not blowing all my own resources. Since I couldn’t get fides call skill, due to not being at Gb4 I decided to attack with him first, and come swinging with the rear guards later. He no guards, which is super cocky in my opinion with that hand size. Then fides decided to bless me and land me a triple crit off my drive check ( to be fair I had thinned a fair amount, and hadn’t seen any triggers in my early turns, so i knew they were in there). I won that game, which usually ends with his cocky ass luck sacking me every time. It was good karma and the look on his face was priceless. I love Fides.

Score: 2/1

Round 4: ChouChou vs Brave

I was...not optimistic about this matchup. While I out pressure, i don't really have big hands to protect myself with on his big turns. With that being said however, I think it's very similar to novas after playing the matchup. Your both going to put out pressure and it comes out to who has better hands to guard with, since mt guard restrict and his restand stride are both very easy to reach. We did get to a game 3 after i just overwhelmed him using my grade 2’s to take him from 2 to 6 damage in one turn, with no triggers might i add. The third game if i had just had ONE MORE card to guard with in my hand of ANY value, I would have lived and then just swamped him next turn. I didn’t actually feel too bad about this loss either, as i felt like i played it very well. Its just a simple fact that the chouchou deck has fr more synergy with itself then brave does, and with the cards I was dealt ( literally) I felt like the games went pretty well.

Record: 2/2

So I felt like it was a pretty good day, i found some adjustments i’m going to make to fides and I very much enjoyed playing the deck. While I know it's not a balanced playing field with the new triggers now, i feel like the bigger triggers really helped brave with its already low hand size and massive power. I really liked playing them and will probably do it again next time i play fides, since its like eh, why not.

I apologise if the formatting on this is bad, I had to wrote in on mobile since my new router sucks ass