#it may not be obvious that this is a ''lightning round'' because i still schedule my stuff to post once per day but. eh

[buttercup-barf]

**randomly shows up in your inbox**

May i respectfully request you to draw more Eva (Guardian Tales)—

**slinks into a hole- also hoping you have a good day—*

How's this? I tried doing my own interpretation of this sprite I found.

[daisybeewrites]

Academy Blues — Prologue

word count: 1.8k

warnings: not any for this chapter

ship: Dousy, background Fitzsimmons and Philinda

okay y’all.. here it is. the first installment of my first LONG TERM SERIES!!!!!! ahhhh i’m so excited. literally i cant wait to continue this and see where it takes me. i have an idea and a few different planning sheets, but honestly i have no idea where exactly this will end up. i love each and single one of you <3 thank you for reading!! this is also posted on Ao3, and linked in the masterlist.

Daisy hated the sound of the bells at The Academy. Screeching, awful, way too loud, the bells were the bane of her existence. They all wore standard-issue watches from the lab that monitored vitals and gave them reminders, and also told the time, for god’s sake! Fitz had even modified hers so that she could play snake on the tiny watch face! There was no need for the bells to be so excruciatingly disruptive. Though, Daisy guessed, there were many things more tortuous than bells ringing every hour and fifteen minutes.

Daisy slowed to a jog, cutting her morning run short. The bright side to being a third-year was that you chose your schedule, for the most part, and that meant Daisy had a free first period for four out of five days of classes. She usually spent this free period getting an extra hour in at the gym, boxing or sparring with Mack or Bobbi, two fourth years that had reluctantly taken her under their wings, or sleeping in. She reserved sleeping in for especially rough nights where visions of ashes and earthquakes and lightning returned time and time again, no matter how many deep breaths she took or sheep she counted.

But this morning was not one of those mornings. She had been up before sunrise, a little before her usual alarm and silently headed out of her dorm for a run. It was humid this time of year on most Virginia mornings, but never so hot that it made Daisy feel as if she was being smothered. The cooler air chilled her sweaty skin, her chest rising and falling as she jogged up the three flights of steps to the second years’ dorms. Down one long hallway, and she arrived at her room.

Daisy had been given her own room at the start of last year, complete with poly-adaptic-proto-whatever panels, which she had painted a pastel shade of purple, to compliment the greens of her cacti and the dark purples and blacks of everything else in her room. Even May had agreed that the stark white was too ”psych wing” for a bedroom. Daisy was grateful for the space, but considering the panels and the private room were only necessary since...

She shuddered. Grabbing her shower caddy, Daisy set off to the bathroom at the opposite end of the hall, hoping no one else was spending a free first period at the dorms.

Her shoulder-length waves were wet from bouncing against her neck, and starting to become annoying now that the sweat had dried and was starting to itch. Picking the white tiled shower furthest away from the door, Daisy quickly turned the water on, checked the temperature, pulled her sports bra and shorts off and hopped into the shower. Shampoo, condition, soap body, rinse. Checking her watch, Daisy found that she had showered in record time, less than three minutes. After spending another five just enjoying the hot water, she hopped out and changed into her class clothes.

Dark purple leggings, Coulson’s grey vintage SHIELD tee and a pair of white running sneakers she had “borrowed” from Jemma completed her look. Passing the mirrors, Daisy tried not to glance at herself. If her hair was messy or her undereye bags a bit too dark, she didn’t want to know. Instead, she headed back to her room to pack her bag for the day.

SHIELD-issued laptop, extra hard drives and a charger, Advanced CS 3: Ethical Hacking: Theory and Application, Advanced CS 4: Secrets of The Coding Languages, Physics notebook, an essay that was three days late on some boring book about international laws, and her sparring gear were all thrown into the black bag. She gave a second glance at the Russian notebooks Bobbi had loaned to her, promising that she’d learn without taking the class. Oh well, she still had all of this term to start. Plus, would she ever really need more than the dirty words?

One look at the alarm clock that sat on her dark hardwood night table showed that she still had almost forty-five minutes before she had to be in the computer lab. Sitting down on her bed, Daisy ran a hand over the grey blanket May had given her.

Daisy’s relationship with May and Coulson had been something of a problem with other students when she first got here. Some had been okay with the obvious paternal love Coulson showed for Daisy, showing her around and checking up on her, scheduling lunch dates and reminding her of tests. May was more subtle, texting her links to tai chi videos when she noticed Daisy getting too stressed or letting Daisy do her own thing if she saw that she was overwhelmed. Of course, none of the other students knew her family history, what she had gone through just to realize that May and Coulson were more her parents than her biological father and mother could ever be. She would see them later today—May during field training and Coulson in between lectures in the canteen.

Daisy walked over to her window to open her blinds, staring out at the campus she had grown to love. The large brick buildings scattered around acres of the Virginia countryside; green fields meant for physical activities like sparring or obstacle courses, or simply basking in the weather to study or chat; the dorms—red brick and concrete melded together to upgrade and expand the charming style of previously-built homes.

Grabbing a protein bar, Daisy headed to the canteen to make a green smoothie (and maybe snatch a cup of joe before she had to listen to an hour-long lecture on the reason SHIELD must cooperate with the UN’s stupid rules at 7:30 in the morning). Smelling the pines and morning dew surrounding her, she smiled slightly. Maybe this term wouldn’t be so bad.

———————————————————————

Daniel Sousa was a man of honor. He was a man of great strength. Agent Daniel Sousa, previously Officer Daniel Sousa in the US Army, was a man who could fix his damn alarm clock on his own.

Just, not today. Or the day before.

So, Agent Daniel Sousa was now hurrying his way to class at The SHIELD Academy, books in hand and gym bag slung over his shoulders. Catching a glance at himself in the shiny glass doors of the bio-chem building, he groaned. He hadn’t even brushed his hair. And, looking down, he discovered he was wearing two different shoes.

This is the college experience everyone raves about, he thought bitterly. You see, Daniel Sousa had enlisted to the army straight out of high school, forgoing university. He climbed the ranks impressively quickly, earning his place as second-in-command and reconnaissance scout in the 28th Infantry Regiment. Unfortunately, after only four years in the army, Sousa was injured in the field, losing his leg and almost his life.

He came back to the US a war hero, and yet, he felt he wasn't finished. So, when a recruiter named Peggy Carter knocked on his door claiming to be from SHIELD (“Wow, you guys are still a thing?”), he leapt at the chance to continue fighti-...doing good. The Academy wasn’t exactly what he had bargained for, though. Trying to earn his B.A. and training to be an agent at the same time was grueling, but nothing he couldn’t deal with.

No, six different one hour and fifteen minute long classes plus mandatory physical therapy every day wasn’t going to break him. Learning how to be a communications agent and re-starting field training and catching up on general college education was no problem. Pressuring himself to be the best, to break the limits, to get past all his weaknesses was just another miniscule feather to add to the pile.

Unless his stupid alarm clock broke. Then yes, Agent Daniel Sousa would fail, buckle under the weight and be left on the floor to die.

Maybe he was being a bit dramatic.

One bunny-slippered right foot and a sneakered left leg carried him forward, propelled by a quickly chugged orange Celsius and his sheer will not to be late.

Daniel heard the late bell ring out, understanding that, on his first day of class, he would be counted late. It wasn’t like him, not at all. Especially when his first class was a refresher course on field tactics and covert strategy, something in which he was already aces.

He let out a sigh, slowing as he rounded the corner into the comms building. At the Academy, most buildings were grouped into categories: the cafeteria, gym and pool, and student resource building all to the south; the gun range, obstacle course, and specialized gym to the east; bio-chem labs, tech labs, and smaller rooms for lectures to the west; the computer labs and comms buildings right smack in the middle; and dorms to the north.

He swiped a key card with his driver’s license picture and student ID, unlocking the sliding doors that led to the computer labs. It was quicker to short cut through them than to walk around the building to the entrance closest to communications classrooms.

It wasn’t because he knew a certain broody brunette spent her mornings in the lab.

No, it wasn’t, because she wasn’t in her usual seat in the corner, typing away.

He slowly walked through the rows of computers, searching for a familiar black backpack. Nothing was there.

“Hey, Sousa,” an accented female voice called behind him. He whipped around to see who it was, feeling just a twinge of disappointment when Elena, or, as most people knew her, Yo-Yo, was leaning against the door frame. Yo-Yo, a fourth year operations trainee, who was very close with Daisy.

“Hey, Yo-Yo. Good morning,” he called, “I’m running a bit late.”

Elena checked her nails casually, “Way to state the obvious. You were running faster than I could trying to get here before the bell.”

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “Yeah…”

“Daisy’s running late today, too.”

Daniel looked around, pretending that hearing Daisy’s name didn’t make him want to smile. “Oh, of course. She’s usually here early.”

Elena nodded, chuckling a little at his response. She couldn’t tell if he was oblivious or just a bad liar. It was charming, really. “Right. See ya ‘round, Sousa!”

“See ya,” He replied. He thought he heard a quiet ‘Lovable nerds’ coming from the direction she left, but he couldn’t be sure.

And so, with a last look around the computer lab, Daniel set off to arrive late to May’s lecture.

———————————————————————

okay okay,,, what do y’all think?? like/reblog and let me know! it’s the best way to support writers and it only takes a second! stay tuned for more chapters!!

[likelightningafterthethunder]

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter Two: Reprieve

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Fic navigation to read the fic on tumblr

–

Katsuki wasn’t surprised to see one of his former classmates’ face on the news report with the tagline “found dead after hero-villain fight.” 

The reporter gave a rundown of the fight that had happened a few days earlier on the other side of the city, between a small gang of villains and Ochako. The villains themselves weren’t very high ranking― potential to be B-rank if they were more organized as a group, but C-rank individually― but they had managed to cause a decent amount of damage before Ochako had arrived on the scene. The news replayed the footage taken live from the battle, showing Ochako using her quirk on larger pieces of rumble to assist the lower ranked heroes in the area with evacuation as she charged forward towards the villain group herself. 

The footage wasn’t ideal. It was grainy from trying to capture the scene just outside of the limits of its scope and if it weren’t for the pink of Ochako’s hero costume, Katsuki was certain the camera person would not have been able to keep the camera centered on her. The footage continued until Ochako grabbed one of the villains, freezing seconds after the villain began to float. A red circle appeared around the villain’s face along with a mugshot before cutting back to the reporter.

In the aftermath of the fight, that one villain was never found. 

Ochako had been frantic when they had met up after, her gaze thousands of miles in the distance every time Katsuki looked. She denied anything being on her mind despite it being so blatantly obvious that something was, but Katsuki chose not to question it. After all, if she had wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t have asked to meet him.

The report continued to explain the search procedures that had taken place over the past few days before describing a call on the tip hotline that ultimately resulted in the discovery of the villain’s body. While they didn’t show a photo of the body, Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder just how bad it was for the report to completely skip over the cause of death.

In the end, Katsuki supposed it didn’t matter what caused the villain’s death. Ochako was certain to end up finding a way to blame herself, for not paying better attention during the fight, for not trying hard enough to find the villain after, for being the last person who saw the villain alive. 

Even if she didn’t, there were parts of society that would make sure she would never forget.

Cheeky: can you meet up with me today?

Katsuki: Takeshi’s?

Cheeky: yeah

Cheeky: drinks/dinner on me after if you want

Katsuki: I’ll be there at five. Don’t be late.

Cheeky: got it!

Cheeky: hey wait why are YOU telling ME not to be late when I’M the one who asked YOU to meet me

Katsuki: You know why.

Cheeky: it was ONE TIME KATSUKI ONE TIME

Katsuki was at Takeshi’s gym a quarter before five, reserving their usual space and changing into workout attire before sending Ochako a text to let her know he was already inside. He started his stretches, looking up only when he saw a pair of pink sneakers approach the ring.

“You’re late,” Katsuki said, continuing his stretches. 

“By five minutes!” Ochako dumped her water and towel on the bench next to Katsuki’s, quickly joining him in the stretches. “I was outside before five, waiting for you!”

“I sent you a text saying I was inside.”

“Yeah, like two minutes before five!” She huffed. “I was totally on time.”

“Whatever. Hurry the fuck up.”

They continued preparing in silence, speaking again only to confirm that the other was ready to start. This time, only a couple of the guests flinched when Katsuki charged forward at Ochako yelling out “die!”

After the fifth time a hit landed that Ochako would have normally been able to block with ease, Katsuki stood down. Her form had been lacking for the better part of the past hour, and there were a few times that her blows hadn’t hit with the full force Katsuki was familiar with. She didn’t even react to Katsuki’s change in form until Katsuki had walked over to the bench for his water.

“Wh― hey! What gives?” She frowned but joined him for a water break when he didn’t return to the ring right away.

“Don’t insult me,” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the shock on her face, “You’re distracted. What kind of fucking spar is worth the time when your opponent isn’t giving their all?”

“I’m focused on the spar! I’m totally and completely here! I wasn’t insulting you but I am now, you’re just saying that because of your enormous ego,” 

Katsuki paused, looking at her directly in her eyes. She didn’t flinch.

But the longer he held his gaze, the more Katsuki could tell that she was holding back.

“First,” He began, “Don’t be cheeky with me―”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be so cheeky with you if you didn’t call me cheeky all the time!”

Katsuki held back an amused smile.

“Second,” He continued, “I hit you five different times in ways that you should have been able to block with your eyes closed.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment, because what I’m hearing is that you think I could fight you with my eyes closed.”

“Insult. You didn’t fucking block the hits, dumbass.”

Ochako huffed, crossing her arms. “Whatever. I’m going to focus on the compliment part of it.”

“Third, you didn’t even notice I walked away until after I reached the bench.”

“I― I was expecting you to come back! That it was some sort of trick to get me to lower my guard or something!”

“And fourth, you speak faster when you lie.” He let Ochako stammer for a while in response, continuing when her shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “You sure this is the break you need? I don’t mind wiping the fucking floor with you if that’s what you want but you better respect my time back and fucking fight me with your all,” He shifted his weight a bit before adding hesitantly, “I can try to listen if you want to talk instead but that’s not really my thing,”

Ochako didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a drink of her water. Katsuki waited as patiently as he could, although he did offer her a glare to try to speed up her thought process. 

She put her water back down and hit her knuckles together, briefly reminding Katsuki of Eijirou. “Okay! One more round. I need to redeem myself before we leave for drinks,”

Katsuki grinned, shoving her lightly with his shoulder as he walked back towards the ring. “Whatever you say, Cheeky. You’re still going to fucking lose.”

“I’ll make you eat your words, Katsuki!”

She did not, but not for lack of trying. Ochako actually paid full attention to the spar after the interruption and while Katsuki still had the upper hand on brute strength, she was nimbler and lighter on her feet. Katsuki was fairly certain that had the shift manager not interrupted to tell them that their time was up that Ochako was only a handful of moves away from finding some “barely legal in a spar between friends but completely legal in a rules free battle against a villain” opening and winning the round. While technically neither of them had won, he did agree—after some teasing and pestering— to counting it as her point in their ongoing scoreboard, adding, “But if you want me to count it as eating my words, you’ll have to fucking try again.”

Ochako seemed to be in a brighter mood when they met up again post-changing in front of Takeshi’s. She bumped shoulders with Katsuki as he approached and began chattering about work and her day as they made their way over to the restaurant they usually ate at after sparring sessions. He didn’t offer much other than the occasional “yeah” and swear when her story necessitated it, but she didn’t seem to mind. She spared him from talking until after they were already seated and ordered their food and drinks. 

“Oh yeah! I heard from Tenya that you finally sent in your response to the reunion! Do you know when you’re heading down to Musutafu yet? We should get on the same train so that the ride isn’t as boring— well, kinda, since you’ll probably not be talking,”

“Shut the fuck up, I can talk when I want to,” Katsuki scowled, rolling his eyes when all it resulted in was a laugh from Ochako. “I haven’t looked at the train schedule yet. The Shitty Four Eyes approved for both the 28th and 29th off though.”

“Nice! Well, when you figure out when you want to head down, let me know and I’ll be your Anti-Explosion Time buddy for the ride down,” 

“Oh fuck off.”

Ochako laughed again. Katsuki hoped this would be the extent of the reunion talk but she continued, “It’ll be great to see the entire class again, don’t you think?”

“You make it sound like we never fucking see anyone. I literally saw you a few fucking days ago and you spend half your weekends with Frog Face or Four Eyes or the fucking Nerd or whoever the fuck,” Katsuki pointed out. “We see basically everyone at the Billboards too,”

“Don’t be such a bore, Katsuki. Reunions are different from the Billboards. We don’t have to deal with those ‘damn extras’ at the reunion,” She put on her best Katsuki impression at “damn extras,” extending her palms outwards and adding a playful “Boom! Pow!” 

“I don’t fucking sound like that.”

“Yes you do. I’m the great Katsuki Bakugou! Die you fucking piece of shit! Boom! Bam! You fucking extra! Bow before the king! Boomboom!”

Katsuki let the faintest hint of a smile slip. “I have never said ‘bow before the king,’”

“Oh come on Katsuki, you tried to name yourself King Explosion Murder, don’t deny it. Even if you’ve never said it, you’ve definitely thought about it.”

He scowled, muttering a “fuck off”, refusing to acknowledge that yes, yes he had thought about saying it once or twice.

“So you admit that I’m right!”

“Fuck off, I said no such fucking thing.”

“You didn’t say ‘no’ either though.”

“I’m demoting you to a fucking extra, you shitty fucking extra.”

Katsuki was given a brief break from any potential cheeky response from Ochako when the server stepped in with their drinks. They raised their glasses, a silent toast to making it another day alive, to making it as far as they had come, to their friendship.

To the silent understanding that there were some struggles that were best left unshared.

He didn’t press further about whatever it was that was stressing her out, even if he had a strong feeling about what caused it. She didn’t comment on the circles under his eyes or how his mind seemed to wander after she brought up certain high school memories. They talked, ignoring their stressors, and for a while, they could pretend everything was fine.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (39/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch. 

But then he came back and won the World Series. 

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now. 

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for literally everything, to @imagnifika​ for this banner, and to all of you for all of your support on this story and on others. I never expected to get quite so attached to this one, so I like that you guys are too. Misery loves company and all that. lol. 

I hope you enjoy the last real chapter. The epilogue will be coming soon! ❤️⚾️

(If there’s any weird formatting, hop on over and read on AO3. Tumblr is being funky with my formatting.)

AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

Outside, thunder rolls, quickly followed by a flash of lightning that illuminates the bedroom.

It’s raining.

Raining.

On the final day of the World Series.

Fuck.

Emma jolts up in bed so quickly that her head gets a little dizzy, all of the blood that’s supposed to be in other parts of her body very obviously in the wrong space, and she has to shut her eyes to keep from throwing up while the sound of rain continues to pitter outside, a continual drip that she doesn’t want to be hearing.

It cannot rain today.

After a few seconds, when Emma’s head feels normal again and not like she’s about to feel dizzy enough to fall down even without standing, she opens her eyes and twists to the side to make sure that Killian is still sleeping.

He isn’t.

In fact, he’s not even in bed.

For a moment, Emma wonders if she should bother to go and find him or let him be by himself wherever he is in the apartment. He was understandably quiet on the entire way home and through dinner last night, and she could practically see all of the gears turning in his head. There’s an unwritten list up there of how he wants to pitch to each and every batter on the Dodgers today, and Emma is almost positive that Killian is currently going through it and changing his game plan over and over again until he perfects it.

Considering the fact that her phone says it’s three in the morning, Emma is thinking that she needs to drag Killian back to bed. He may not fall asleep, but he can at least stay in bed so that his body gets a little bit of rest. Maybe he’ll fall asleep. Maybe he won’t. But it’s worth the effort.

Sighing, Emma pulls the thick covers off of her legs and adjusts her pajama pants so that they’re not hanging below her ass from where they shifted in her sleep. She doesn’t bother turning any lights on, the city and the storm bringing in enough that she can see without it, and after walking out into the hallway, Emma doesn’t even have to look in the spare bedroom or the gym to find Killian.

He’s sitting on the window seat in the living room, his legs pulled up to his chest and his cheek resting against the window as he looks outside, very obviously awake.

Killian is going to stress himself out far too much.

Quietly, she makes her away over to him, and while he doesn’t say anything to acknowledge her presence, he does let his legs fall open in obvious invitation for her to join him on the seat. She does, slowly adjusting herself to make herself comfortable while Killian wraps his arms around her stomach so that the warmth of his palms permeates over her skin to warm her from the chill of the apartment. It’s November in two days, but New York is already cold.

There’s a brush of scruff against her cheek followed by the soft press of lips against the underside of her jaw before Emma sees the reflection in the window of Killian resting his chin on the top of her head.

His fingers tap against her stomach in a pattern that she doesn’t recognize, but she doesn’t mind. She may have come out here to convince Killian to come back to bed, to get some rest so he won’t be like a zombie out on the field today, but there’s something almost soothing about watching the rain fall down to the ground to cover the street under the florescent lighting of the street lamps. Even with the thunder, the sound of rain is relaxing, and Emma can understand why Killian was out here being consumed by it.

(She’d still prefer the rain to stop.)

“What are you thinking about?” Emma whispers.

“You.”

“Liar.”

Killian chuckles, something deep in his belly, and she can feel it reverberate throughout her back from where he’s pressed up into her. “I mean, at this particular moment I was legitimately thinking about how good you smell, but no, I haven’t been thinking about you and the softness of your hair the entire time.”

“Damn. I thought our deal was that you always had to think of me and nothing else. Don’t you love me?”

Killian squeezes her stomach. “It’s too early in the morning for you to be so cheeky.”

“Says the man who probably never even went to sleep.”

“I did go to sleep,” he sighs, and Emma watches his eyes flutter closed in the window. “I maybe woke up an hour or so ago to use the restroom, and my mind just…it didn’t bloody turn off. I have changed mine and Al’s game plan at least seven times.”

Wow. She knows him so well. It’s almost a little ridiculous. Not that she’s complaining.

“Let’s…” Emma hesitates, not sure what exactly what to say that she hasn’t already said. “Let’s talk about something other than baseball, okay? We will talk about it after we’ve gone back to sleep and gotten some rest, but for now, this apartment is a no baseball zone. So, talk to me about literally anything else.”

His fingers keep tapping against her stomach, and Emma moves to place her hands over his, a silent reminder that she’s right here and not going anywhere. She may have run before, may have not known what to do when he lied about his shoulder and his accident and everything that came with that, but she’s not going to run now.

This entire relationship has been terrifying, but she’s glad that she took the leap. They’ve conquered some big freaking mountains.

“I’ve emailed someone to see what I need to do to finish my degree.”

Emma almost jolts forward so that she can turn to look at him, but Killian doesn’t let her, holding onto her that slightest bit tighter so that she loses a little bit of her breath.

“When did you decide to do that?”

“A couple weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it. I’m…I’m still not sure when exactly I’ll go back. The woman said they could arrange online classes for me, and they can help arrange a different schedule. I don’t know if I’d start during the off season and see how many credits I can finish before next season starts up. Or maybe I’ll go all year round even while playing. I could always wait until I’m retired, but I don’t exactly want to do that.”

Emma tries to take it all in and figure out the best way to respond to him. This is obviously something Killian has thought about a lot. There’s not a reason in the world for Killian to have to go back to school. He’s not going to be a physics teacher or professor any time soon, if at all, so this is obviously something he’s decided to do for himself just to have as an accomplishment.

Killian deserves to get to do things for himself.

“I think you’ll figure out exactly how you want to do it, babe. I’m really proud of you for doing that.”

“It’s nothing to be proud of.”

“Too bad.” She pats his hand again and shifts her head back so that she can kiss the underside of his jaw. “I’m proud of you. Unless this is some kind of long con to actually become professor Jones so that Will can’t say it mockingly anymore.”

He chuckles, and she kisses his jaw again. “Damn. You’ve foiled my plan.”

“I knew it,” she yawns, unable to cover her mouth with her hands. “You know, when I graduated from college, I got some kind of fancy ink pen that I never used. They gave them to all of the journalism majors. What do you think they’d give physics majors? Calculators?”

“No, because we’d already own a hell of a lot of those. I might need to get some new ones, though. And possibly find some old books and go through them. It’s been almost a decade. I’m not sure I even remember anything.”

“We can go back to school shopping for you. We’ll have to take a picture of you in your cute little outfit with your backpack on your shoulders. I’ll put it on the fridge and everything.”

“You realize I’m doing this online so I’ll just be wearing my regular clothes sitting on my ass in here. I may not even wear clothes while I’m doing it.”

“Well, I can still put that picture on the fridge, but we’ll have to take it down every time someone comes over. No one needs to see that much of you.”

Killian practically purrs in her ear as he trails hot kisses down the side of her neck, and it sends chills down her spine and up over her skin. “You certainly do. You could see it now if you want to.”

Emma brings her bottom lip between her teeth and tries to rein in any budding arousal. “As tempting as that sounds, you and I are both deliriously tired, and I really only came out here to get you to come back to bed…to sleep. We should go do that.”

Teeth bite down onto her neck. “Fine. That seems like the sensible thing to do, and as an almost college man, I have to be sensible, right?”

“Or binge drink and then study all night for a test at the last minute even though you had weeks to study for it?”

“Do people still do that?”

“I think so.”

“We’re really old, Swan.”

“Yeah,” she sighs as she stands from the bench and pulls Killian up with her, “but I think we’ve still got it.”

Emma easily falls back asleep, especially when Killian closes the curtains and turns on the box fan to drown out the sound of the storm outside, and while she doesn’t really know when Killian fell asleep, he’s slumbering away when she wakes up, his breath coming out in small puffs and his hair falling over his forehead. The weight of the world isn’t on his shoulders right now. He’s not thinking about what he’s got to do today or not do today, and Emma hopes that he sleeps as long as he can.

Hopefully right up until he needs to eat breakfast and go to practice.

But hopes are not always reality, and in reality, Killian wakes up a little past nine and all of the tenseness in his body returns. She can see it in the set of his shoulders and the way that he carries himself as he does some stretches to loosen his body up before making breakfast and getting on with his morning routine. She’s terrified, her stomach absolutely in knots, but she’s not going to tell him that. Emma is sure that he’s aware that she’s in this and wants this for both herself and for him, but she’s not going to tell him and put any extra pressure on them.

It’s more than just one man out there. It’s more than just Killian, but Emma understands how Killian works. If they win, he won’t take any credit for it. If they lose, it’ll be entirely his fault. She’s sure he’s talked himself into thinking otherwise, but his brain will revert back to that.

The storm in the night seems to have disappeared, the streets beginning to dry even if large puddles of rain water are left in dips in the cement, and according to all forecasts, it should be dry enough for them to play today. There are supposed to be light sprinkles, maybe a scattered storm or two, but it’s all sunshine when the game is scheduled to start. If there are any delays, Emma hopes that they aren’t long.

Killian may very well lose his mind.

(She may too.)

He’s currently showering, and while she hasn’t been keeping track of how long he’s been in there, it’s been long enough for her to curl her hair. She’s entirely sure that the humidity is going to cause it to frizz and fall flat, and the network will probably have her hair constantly attached to a curling iron and hair spray until her hair is like a bird’s nest of tangles and product.

Whatever it takes to look good on TV today, right?

She’s supposed to wear a dress or a skirt, something form flattering and attractive for television, but since there are no technical rules as long as she stays dressed, Emma completely ignores that suggestion in favor or her favorite jeans, a pair of trusty boots, and one of Killian’s jerseys, buttoning it up and tucking the front into her jeans. She’ll have to put on a sweater later to combat the cold, but she doesn’t want to do that just yet.

It’s ridiculous, but putting on the sweater means it’s time to go and she’s just…she’s not ready. They need a little more time.

“Are you wearing my jersey?”

Emma jumps and clutches her hand against the chain around her neck that’s visible with the way the jersey is buttoned up. She did not hear the shower turn off or hear Killian open the bathroom door. But considering he’s standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped low around his waist, he obviously did.

“Yeah?”

“What about – ”

Emma shrugs, a smile stretching across her lips. “Fuck them. I don’t give a damn about what anyone has to say. I can do my job while also dating you. It’s not a mutually exclusive thing, and today is a big day. If I want to wear the jersey, I can wear it now.”

Both of Killian’s brows rise high on his forehead, but he’s smiling too as his arms cross over his chest so that his muscles bulge the slightest bit. “I think this is the most attractive you’ve ever been.”

“Because I’m wearing your jersey? I thought we’d gone over that before. I – ”

“No,” he laughs with a shake of his head. “Because you’re saying fuck ‘em to all of the people who we both know will say shit about you wearing that. I personally think they should all pull the sticks out of their asses, but then what would they have to talk about?”

“Happy things?”

“Nah, that’s too boring for them.” Killian walks toward her, a definite swagger in his stride, and the cool tips of his fingers come up to touch her cheeks as he cups her face and brings his lips down to move over hers, slowly and thoroughly kissing her until she can’t breathe. It’s the good kind of breathless, though. “I don’t know if I’m going to kick ass today, but I know that you are. It’s pretty much undeniable.”

“You’re going to kick ass. Think it into existence, twenty-nine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t…I don’t know. I – ”

Emma sighs, and she swears it goes all the way down to her bones. There’s only so much she can say. At the end of the day, Killian has to be the one to believe in himself.

“You know,” she starts as her hand reaches up to her neck so that her fingertips ghost over the cool metal again, “about two months ago I had this really big thing happen to me, and I don’t think I’d ever been that nervous. Well, that was until my idiot boyfriend decided to play with an injured rotator cuff because he was too dumb to say something to anyone.”

Killian playfully rolls his eyes, but she sees his jaw tick. Still such a stubborn ass.

“Anyways,” Emma continues as she reaches up to unclasp the necklace, grabbing onto it and the ring before guiding her hand up to his where they’re still resting on her cheeks. Killian’s blue eyes widen so that she can see every color in them, and they get the slightest bit bluer when she places the ring in his palm and closes his fingers over it. “I was given this really beautiful, special ring so that I had a reminder that someone was cheering me on even when I couldn’t hear the cheers. You had this for a lot of years. I think you might need it back.

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down before he starts shaking his head from side to side, his eyes closed so that black lashes land against his cheeks.

“No, no, no. I’m just…no, Swan. I’m not taking it back.”

“It’s your mom’s ring.”

He opens his eyes then so that she’s consumed by the blue even as he steps away so that they’re no longer touching each other. Has she done something wrong?

“Aye, my love,” he mumbles even as he opens up the chain and wraps it around her, easily clasping it back so that it hangs around her neck once more. “It was my mom’s, but I gave it to you. I’m not taking it back. It’s yours now.” Killian smiles at her, the soft one that makes his eyes crinkle that she’s come to know as her own, before bringing his closed fist to his chest and tapping right over his heart. “I know right here that people are cheering for me. I know that my mom, my family – I know that you are cheering for me no matter what happens out there today.”

Emma’s not crying. She swears that she’s not crying and that the tears in her eyes are allergies or something, but that would be a lie. It would because she loves him a ridiculous amount, and she’s proud of him over everything that he’s done and been working toward lately.

He’s a good man with a good heart, and he deserves all of the world.

Stepping forward, Emma reaches up to tuck his wet hair behind his ear as her thumb traches over the apple of his cheekbone. “I love you, and I don’t care what Liam or Elsa or Addy says. I’m your biggest fan in that stadium today, and I promise I’ll be cheering you on no matter what happens. Tonight, win or lose, you and I are celebrating, okay? We’re going to sit in our pajamas stuffing our face with all of the food that you’ve been stress baking, and we’re going to drink copious amounts of alcohol.”

He arches his brow. “This sounds unhealthy.”

“You’ll have either won or lost the freaking World Series. I think we deserve a little unhealthy.”

“I think you might be right,” Killian chuckles, dipping his head down to slant his lips over hers. “I love you too, by the way. I’m probably going to tell you that a lot today.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“I don’t believe that at all.” He winks, and Emma swears that her heart flutters. “I’m going to get dressed, and then we can go to the stadium, okay? I want to get my practice in early in case it does rain again.”

“Yeah, sounds perfect.”

-/-

The stadium is nothing like it was yesterday morning. There’s no empty field that’s covered in morning dew with a quiet air around it that allows someone to simply sit out there and think about the history of this place that’s happened before and the history that’s still to come both for the team and for each individual player and for those who love them. People are bustling everywhere. Vendors are already in their stalls, executives are walking up and down the hallways in their suits, heels clacking along the tile, and players are seemingly everywhere. Emma wasn’t quite expecting anyone to be in the clubhouse, maybe just a few people, but they’re all watching old tapes, eating food, stretching, and bouncing strategy back and forth.

It’s like being thrown into chaos with no hope of getting out, but Emma manages to when Ariel pops up out of nowhere with a bright smile on her face that only broadens the moment she sees Emma.

“Perfect.” Ariel claps together her hands. “Just the couple I was looking for.”

Emma points to herself. “Us?”

“Yep. Things are about to get really crazy today, and I need the two of you to pose for a picture before we forget. It’s just perfect that you’re wearing his jersey.”

“Why do you need a – ”

“Just go with it, Swan,” Killian laughs as he wraps his arm around her waist and tugs her closer so that Emma can rest her hand on Killian’s chest. “When it comes to A, it’s best to obey.”

“That sounds like a great motto.”

“Kind of like a cult, though.”

“Just a little bit.”

“Shut up,” Ariel groans as she lifts her phone in the air. “And smile, I mean. Don’t look like I’m forcing you to do this.”

“But you – ”

Emma doesn’t get to finish her sentence before Killian is squeezing her hip and making her squeal as he brushes his lips against her cheek so that his scruff scratches at her skin like the asshole that he is.

But at least he’s an asshole in a good mood.

“Perfect,” Ariel sighs. “Now, Emma, I need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s about to get even crazier in here, and I’m saving you from the madness.”

Emma doesn’t even get a chance to tell Killian goodbye or good luck before Ariel is dragging her by her forearm out of the clubhouse and down the hallways of the stadium going on and on about everything that’s going to happen today like Emma doesn’t already know. Of course, there are several things that Emma didn’t know. Apparently, her plan for she and Killian to go home and eat junk food and get drunk isn’t really going to happen. He’s got press obligations that far exceed anything that she does, and then there’s usually some kind of team celebration that they all do together. It could be moved to the next day, but that’s usually reserved as an off day before the city does a parade and other celebrations and…

This is only if they win.

Emma points that out, and Ariel immediately corrects her and says “when.” She’s convinced that they’re going to win, and she will not take any other kind of thinking around her. Positive vibes only.

Emma and Killian are totally going home and eating junk food and possibly getting drunk before falling in bed. To sleep. Everything else can wait. And if it can’t, fine. They’ll deal with that and do all of the celebrations and be happy about it because it’s a really big deal, but at some point in the next week, they’re both locking the door, turning off their phones, and then not letting anyone or anything bother them.

Unless it’s the food delivery guy. He can bother them.

But that’s it.

She’s gained approximately ten new wrinkles on her face in the past two weeks, none of them coming from being a year older, and Emma very much needs the season to be over for her own sanity.

Without a doubt, she’ll start to miss baseball in no less than two weeks.

Ariel Fisher, however, lives and breathes baseball and managing baseball players and quite possibly being the most supportive woman on the planet – and that includes Mary Margaret Nolan and her continual positivity – and even if the Yankees sucked, she would somehow cause them to win by her willpower alone.

Emma has known her in a personal capacity for over half a year now, and she’s still not used to all of the never-ending energy. Ariel probably had a full night’s sleep last night. Or maybe she didn’t sleep at all, and she’s in that stage of sleep deprivation where everything is heightened and you’re hyperactive.

Emma would bet on the latter of the two.

But Ariel does eventually finish talking once they’ve made it far away from offices and weight rooms and restaurants up to the suites that Emma is so familiar with now. She’s also familiar with all of the people waiting inside. Killian’s family doesn’t joke around when it comes to baseball. There is no reason for them to be here this early, and yet here they are.

And suddenly Ariel has disappeared, probably off to talk someone else’s ears off.

“That isn’t rain.”

“That most definitely is rain.”

“Anna,” Kris sighs as he and Anna stand at the windows looking out to the field, “that’s rain. It’s this thing that happens when – ”

“I don’t need a science lesson. I need it to stop.”

“I’m pretty sure the entire team is doing some kind of rain prevention dance downstairs because I think we all need it to stop.”

Everyone turns to look at her like they didn’t hear she and Ariel come in.

“Emma,” Lucy shouts, scrambling up from the couch to run toward her and tackle Emma in a hug that’s quickly joined by Addy.

“Hey, girls. Are you guys excited?”

“I’m bored,” Addy sighs out, which is not at all what Emma was expecting.

“Bored? How can you be bored?”

“Because I want the game to start! It’s taking too long, and we’ve been in here forever.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” Liam tells Emma as he walks over to her and scoops up his daughter while bending to kiss Emma on the cheek. “But we’ve been very impatient with waiting even though whining isn’t going to speed up the game time.”

“So it’s been a fun morning in your house then?” Emma asks.

Liam rolls his eyes, and even though he and Killian don’t look too much alike, she can see the resemblance there. “Joyous. And from my chat with Killian this morning, I can tell it was about the same at yours with the sleepless night.”

“Well, it is a big day today.”

“Just look up the weather forecast, Anna,” Elsa groans as she moves to rest her head against the countertop. “It’s supposed to rain in the middle of the game. We have known that the entire time, but the sun is literally coming out. It will be dry enough to start play on time.”

Emma arches her brow. “Was Elsa the one not sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Liam mumbles as he adjusts Lucy on his hip, “yeah, she was. She and Addy sat in the living room all night because they couldn’t sleep. I expect them to crash soon.”

“I’m fine,” Elsa promises even as she takes a sip of coffee out of the largest mug Emma has ever seen. “I’m exhausted, but I’m fine. Where in the world did Ariel go?”

“I have no idea. She was here and then she wasn’t. I’m not even sure why she pulled me away from the clubhouse. It’s all been a bit of a blur.”

“Her nickname could be The Blur or something ridiculous like that. She’s always zooming in and out of rooms.”

“How’s Killian?” Anna asks as she steps away from the windows. “Is he freaking out? Has he tried to run away yet?”

Emma’s hand reaches up to toy with her necklace, moving the ring from side to side and choosing not to worry about the weather any more than she already has. “He’s fine. He’s freaking out, but he’s fine. All he needs is for the game to start so he can stop psyching himself out.”

“I want the game to start too,” Addy whines once more as she falls out on the couch and throws her arm over her eyes.

“Darling,” Liam laughs, “have we ever considered that we made her too big of a fan?”

Elsa shrugs. “I don’t think we ever even had a choice.”

Emma stays up in the suite talking and eating cheeseburger sliders and drinking hot chocolate for the next hour, and it’s enough distraction that she doesn’t really think about what’s going on and the nerves radiating deep from her stomach and out to every inch of her. That only really begins when she has to officially start working, leaving the suite to walk to the ESPN booth and get her microphone hooked up to her and prepped for the start of the game. They have her hair curled again, just like she thought, and Isaac and James most definitely eye the jersey she has on. Emma ignores them, even if she does put on her sweater and take the raincoat the network offers her, and leaves the booth to go find the spot they have saved for her behind home plate.

People are filling the stands, a hushed murmur covering the stadium as the sun continues to peek through dark clouds, and Emma’s eyes are stuck on Killian as he continues the last of his pre-game warm-ups.

This exact day last year was one of the craziest days of her life, and she doesn’t think any of it could compare to this.

“You look like you’re going to vomit,” Jeff murmurs as he sets up the protective cover over his camera.

“I kind of feel like I am. Don’t date someone on the team. It’s too much.”

“I think I’m safe in that department.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he laughs, and Emma doesn’t miss the rare smile on Jeff’s face. “You ready to go?”

Emma adjusts her earpiece. “Yeah, I’m ready to go.”

-/-

The Dodgers score on Killian’s first pitch.

A home run right off the bat – literally – and Emma feels the collective groan around the stadium in her bones. That is not what was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be a strike, then two more, and an out. Easy as pie, right?

(Killian would tell her pie isn’t actually easy.)

But that’s obviously not how things are going to go today.

Sports have really got to be a little less dramatic. Her nerves can’t take it. Can’t things just be simple? Can’t they have gone back to the beginning and have won in four straight games instead of losing enough so that they’re in game seven of the World Series?

“If” doesn’t exist, especially in sport, Emma reminds herself. That’s what Killian would tell her, and that’s what she has to remind herself.

It only works a little bit.

One pitch at a time. It’s how Killian is going to be out there, and it’s how Emma is going to be sitting in the stands talking back and forth with the guys up in the booth thinking the same thing. It’s kind of hard to think that, though, when there’s a continual string of near hits and misses and Isaac and James up in the booth won’t stop being so damn negative that it makes Emma want to scream.

The score is 1-0 in the top of the third inning. It’s not the end of the world.

The looming dark sky overhead is kind of making her think that way.

“I’m too nervous, Rubes,” she mumbles while Killian winds up his arm to throw a pitch. There’s two men on base, both due to errors from King. She’d feel petty and a little glad if she didn’t need him to play well for the team. “Tell me about wedding stuff. Distract me.”

There’s static in her earpiece before Ruby’s voice comes in. “We’re getting married on a beach with no clothes on. Don’t worry. We can get waxed on the bachelorette weekend, so we’ll all be as smooth as babies.”

Emma huffs. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hysterical,” Ruby corrects, and a part of Emma knows that Ruby and Graham might legitimately get married like that. “We haven’t planned any more than what we talked about last week. Small, intimate, and then a killer party with good food and drinks. Finding a location is hard. Everything is so expensive.”

“Destination wedding?”

“How is that cheaper?”

“I’m sure you can find a really inexpensive place in Nebraska or something.”

“You can get married in Central Park for one hundred dollars,” Jeff adds in, and Emma snaps her head away from the game to look at him. He shrugs his shoulders. “What? I know things.”

“I think the one hundred dollars is only if you want to get married in a certain spot, though,” Ruby sighs. “We’re going to keep looking. Graham said that he’d ask some of his buddies at the precinct if they knew of any spaces. It doesn’t have to be pretty since I know Mary Margaret will work her magic to make it that way no matter what.”

Killian’s pitch lands right in Will’s glove, and the umpire calls the batter out. Thank goodness. She doesn’t know what she’d do if someone else got on base. Then they’d be loaded with no outs, and things would pretty much be screwed from here on out.

Emma reaches over into her bucket of popcorn (she bought the jumbo size because she is stress eating) and stuffs a handful into her mouth instead of eating one or two at a time. One piece falls out of her mouth and down her shirt, landing somewhere in her bra so that she has to pick it out.

“You’re on the jumbotron right now, Emma,” Ruby giggles.

“Ah, fuck,” Emma mumbles as she looks up to see there be a replay of her digging in her shirt. “I hate everything.”

“That’s a little dramatic.”

“Me eating is like a running joke this season. I don’t get it.”

And she doesn’t really have time to get it before there’s the thwack of a ball against a bat straight past first base and away from everyone.

Shit.

It’s not good. Not at all. The two runners already on base get home, and the batter manages to make it to second.

It’s 3-0, and this is not at all how today was supposed to go.

Emma’s lungs are doing that thing again where they’re not taking in air, and there’s not enough popcorn in the world to make any of this better. If the tick in Killian’s jaw is any indication, she knows that there’s no one in the world more pissed at what’s happening than him. They don’t have anything together, and if they don’t get it together soon, they’re going to run out of time.

And then the sky opens up, little droplets of rain falling and landing on Emma’s nose, and that saying “when it rains, it pours” seems oddly appropriate right now. Her sadistic sense of humor is about to get worse.

They can’t lose. They can’t. she won’t allow it.

The rain keeps falling, a steady downpour of water, but it’s not enough to call for the rain delay. Not yet. And Killian is able to strike out the next guy and then get the third out of the inning with Eric catching the hit.

And just like the rain, the play stays steady. It’s not spectacular baseball by any means, mostly just a sludge match as everyone tries to keep their hands dry and the water out of their eyes, and the score slowly improves. Lance hits a good ball to get two RBIs, making it 3-2, and they manage not to allow any runs in the top of the fourth inning.

Good.

They’re creating chances. That’s what matters. They’re creating chances, and Emma can continue to eat her soggy popcorn while she freaks the hell out about what’s happening and continues to try to act like she’s a professional and not overly invested in the outcome of this game like she’s got money on it.

It’s the bottom of the fourth inning now, a chant of August’s name moving across the stadium so that it shakes in anticipation, and the bases are loaded. There are also two outs. Emma’s not saying that this could be the thing that changes the momentum of the game, but if the way that she’s gripping onto Jeff’s arm is any indication, she knows that this could change the momentum of the entire World Series.

“Come on, Booth,” Emma yells out as her free hand hits against her thigh, the wet denim clinging to her skin. “Be smart. Watch the ball.”

August obviously doesn’t know how to follow instructions because then it’s a swing and a miss.

Strike one.

There’s no chance for a strike two because while the rain has been sprinkling for the past hour, it’s pouring now. Jeff is mumbling about his camera and the cover not doing enough, but all Emma can focus on is all of the players running inside to the dugouts and fans shuffling inside while an announcement comes over the speakers that there’s an official rain delay.

An hour ago, she would have welcomed it. They didn’t have any of the momentum then. They do now.

This isn’t how things are supposed to be going.

Fuck.

-/-

“So how long is the rain delay going to be?”

“I don’t know.”

“But can you find out?”

“I can’t control the weather, Emma.”

“But you know things that we don’t, David,” Emma groans as she paces back and forth in a tunnel in the stadium, her hair frizzing around her face and her jeans completely soaked through. “It’s been an hour. Are they going to call the game? Are they going to continue it? This is agony.”

“You need to calm down.” Emma looks over to David with raised brows, and he holds his hands up in the air. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to say that to you, but you’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep worrying like this.”

Everyone they know is going to give themselves a heart attack, apparently.

“I know, I know,” she sighs, reaching up to hold onto her necklace and quieting down as some people pass by the two of them, probably looking at her like she’s a crazy person. “I’m nervous. This is really hard. I just…I want to be allowed into the clubhouse so that I can see him. He’s going to be freaking out. I just know, and I – ”

David walks toward her and places his hands on her shoulders while he looks down at her with a soft, reassuring smile on his face. She’s sure that he would hug her right now if she wasn’t soaking wet.

“Killian is fine, sweetheart. You are fine. We’re in the fourth inning. There’s still five more to go, whether it’s finished today or tomorrow or a week from now. They have time to come back. You, however, need to be back in hair and makeup because you’re supposed to be doing a clip on SportsCenter in fifteen minutes to fill the dead air time.”

“Shit. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I couldn’t get a word in. You were kind of having a meltdown.”

Emma practically has to run down the hallways, which doesn’t help her appearance at all, and she’s sure that here makeup is streaky and her hair a wild mess that can’t be tamed, and the entire world can probably see her bra underneath her jersey right now. There’s not a hell of a lot that the makeup department can do, especially without a change of clothes besides a dry raincoat to replace the one that got soaked through, but they try their best before she’s standing in front of a plain backdrop inside the stadium talking back and forth about what’s going on in the game, breaking it down inning by inning in a way that she hasn’t had to do quite some time.

Considering she does it all with last minute notice and no notes in front of her, she thinks that she does a damn good job.

None of that really matters, though, because right as they’re wrapping up the segment, they get the announcement that play will resume in the next twenty minutes.

It’s time to play some more baseball.

Emma shouldn’t have eaten all of that popcorn because her stomach is most definitely churning with nerves.

They can do this. They have to. They will.

-/-

August immediately gets struck out, and the fourth inning ends with the Yankees still down 3-2.

The next two innings are scoreless for both teams, and Killian wraps up his game after that. He played well. It wasn’t his best, the weather and the nerves probably impacting him, but she’s proud of him.

She’ll be proud of him no matter what.

And she really wishes that the network wanted her to do a mid-game interview or let her go into the dugout just so that she could see him and tell him that in person, but they seem to be determined to only allow her to stay on the sidelines by herself.

Emma: I love you, I love you, I love you.

Emma: You’re my favorite player (and person) no matter what, and I can’t wait to see you when this game is over and you’re holding that trophy.

He texts back almost immediately, and he must have his phone out on the massage table.

Killian: Will you go out with me if we win? Or if we lose?

Laughter bubbles up inside of her, and it’s the first time all afternoon that she’s felt this light.

Emma: Only if you ask me out on live television like the asshole you were when you did that last year.

Killian: I think I can do that.

Her stomach flutters again, and even though this is kind of the biggest game that Emma has ever watched in her entire life, her eyes keep switching between her phone and the game. It’s pretty much the only way that she can stay calm and keep getting air into her lungs without one of them collapsing and her having to go to the hospital.

This game is going on forever. Literally. Each inning is longer than the last, and the sun is beginning to set over the horizon so that the remaining gray clouds disappear into the dark of night. Florescent lights fill the stadium, lighting up the crowd and the players, and Emma can’t stop shivering, especially with the remaining dampness of her clothes and the chill that’s whirling around. It’s got to be forty degrees out here at the most, and if it weren’t for Mary Margaret brining down her coat for Emma to use, she’d turn into an icicle by the end of the game.

Probably before the end of the game.

Today is obviously going very well.

It’s not just Emma, though. The crowd is starting to get a little delusional now too. The game has been going on for over six hours now, the last three completely scoreless, and everyone is getting restless and antsy and probably very, very drunk.

Some rum or whiskey or several shots of tequila is sounding really good right now.

She can’t have any of it.

And she’s moved on from popcorn to copious amounts of hot chocolate to keep her warm.

It’s now the bottom of the ninth in what could possibly be the last inning of the game and the end of the season, and they’re still down by one run. It’s almost exactly what happened last night, and Emma’s dentist is going to hate her for how much she’s grinding her teeth.

Just one run to tie it up. One more to win the whole damn thing.

Easy, right? Right.

“Fuck,” Emma mutters underneath her breath, unable to keep the thoughts inside. This cannot end up like last night. They’re so damn close. They can do this.

Eric settles into his position in the batter’s box, his hands moving up and down his bat until they’re in the right spots, and Emma would probably give up her entire salary to know just what Ariel is doing right now up in the suite. She’s got to be losing her mind.

Emma is kind of losing hers.

One. Two. Three.

The ball flies off of Eric’s bat, straight down past third base so that it practically paints the line, and Eric is off like a cheetah, quickly passing over first base and turning so quickly that he nearly falls on his way to second base. Emma stands, unable to stay sitting down, and she can’t even hear herself yell over the roar of the crowd as Eric slides against the dirt to mark up his uniform and have his fingers touch second base right before the ball gets to him.

Safe.

Holy shit. They have a man on base.

And August is up next. God, she hopes that he doesn’t choke again. There’s been a hell of a lot of pressure on his shoulders in the past two days, and he’s crumbled underneath it after having some really big opportunities to close things out. As good as these guys are at playing in the moment, the past does have the ability to creep up around them and wrap around their neck to pull them back to the past so that they can’t move on.

August has to move on.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

Shit.

One. Two. Three.

Ball.

Okay.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

Fuck.

Emma cannot do this. She absolutely can’t. It’s too much. It’s all too much, and she has to bend down to put her head between her legs. She knows that her phone is going off, that she’s got texts and calls and emails, but she can’t look at any of them. If it’s something for work, Ruby will speak into her earpiece or Jeff will say something.

This is the worst. Who likes sports? This is just the worst.

One. Two. Three.

The ball thwacks against August’s bat, and it flies toward left field. Emma is positive that it’s going to go over, absolutely positive that it’s going to be a home run and that they’re about to win this game. But then it hits against the wall, and suddenly it’s back in play. It’s not a home run, not quite, but it’s enough to have Eric round third and run toward home, his body barreling as quickly as possible before he’s sliding through the dirt once more so that it flies up around him.

Safe.

3-3.

Holy fucking shit.

Emma can’t hear. She can’t. The crowd is that deafening, and while Emma isn’t jumping up and down, her knuckles are going white as they grip onto the sides of her seat. All she can focus on is the way that Eric runs straight into Killian just outside the dugout, the two of them jumping up and down and hitting each other’s backs and asses as every other member of the team surrounds them in a celebration that sends chills down her spine.

Her cheeks are warm for the first time all night, and Emma has to force down the emotion in her throat.

It’s not over.

But that’s a good thing. They have the chance to do this, to win this now, and Emma’s heart is pumping blood faster than it ever has in the entirety of her life. It may very well beat out of her chest.

She doesn’t even care.

The high comes down five minutes later when King is easily struck out, putting their first out of the inning on the board, and even Emma isn’t petty enough to want Arthur King to do poorly when him doing well is good for the team. She’s petty. Just not petty enough.

Will Scarlet, though, deserves the entire world, and all of the organs in Emma’s stomach shift again when he steps into the box and adjusts his helmet. Sprinkles of rain are falling down from the clouds and spitting against Emma’s skin, but it’s not enough to stop the game. Not yet. The momentum is with them again, the game and the championship on their bats, and Emma has never known Will to be scared of a little rain.

One. Two. Three.

A swing and a miss.

Strike One.

One. Two. Three.

No movement. Deep breath inhaled.

Ball.

One. Two. Three.

No movement.

Strike Two.

“Damn,” Emma mumbles under her breath as she tightens the jacket a little further over her arms, her legs shaking and tapping enough to power the electricity in all of the Bronx. She’s going to break the chain around her neck for how tightly she’s tugging on it. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

It’s got to be all fine.

The water is spitting a little harder now, Emma’s vision getting a little bit blurred, and it’s taking everything in her not to stand up right now so that she blocks the people behind her. Ruby is chattering in her ear cursing or hoping or something, her phone is still going off, and Jeff has to be complaining about how much Emma is crushing his forearm.

She doesn’t care.

Because Will is standing in position again, and he’s ready.

One. Two. Three.

There’s a sharp blow when the ball makes contact with the bat, and while the rain and the stadium lights make it hard to see, Emma already knows that the ball is going over the back wall and into the crowd.

Gone. It’s gone.

It’s freaking gone.

Will Scarlet is an absolute legend.

The Yankees just won the World Series.

Killian just won the World Series.

Everything is so loud around her, cheers reverberating and shaking the stands so that Emma can literally feel sounds, but she has trouble focusing on any of that over the sound of her heart pounding in between her ears and Ruby yelling in her earpiece that Emma has to get down to the field.

The field.

She has to get down to the field, and somehow, she does. Jeff must have carried her there or pushed her or something. It’s a madhouse, one Emma can’t navigate, and she knows that she’s supposed to be doing some kind of interview, preferably with Will, but there’s no way for her to find anyone. It’s a mass of players all huddled together and jumping up and down as coaches and wives and children all join in, the rain coming down even harder than earlier.

All Emma really wants is to find Killian and kiss him like she’s never kissed him before.

That’s saying something.

Emma sees him standing ten feet away from her on the outskirts of a pile of men embracing each other in happiness, his hair a mess like he’s been running his hands through it for the past two hours and his smile so large that it reaches his ears. He looks beautiful, ethereal almost, and Emma can scarcely breathe looking at him after pushing through so many people to find him.

That’s when he sees her through the people and the rain and the unending joy.

Killian pulls his arm up to tap his closed fist over his heart, and Emma’s heart stutters at the movement before a slow grin stretches across her lips while she reaches up to tap her fist over the ring and her heart.

She was cheering him on the entire time.

One. Two. Three.

Emma takes off toward him, ignoring Ruby in her ear and Jeff behind her with the camera, and in six strides, she’s pressing up onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, holding onto him so tightly that her feet come off the ground and Killian’s hands scramble for her ass, barely holding onto her as he lifts her in the air and swings her back and forth as they both get covered in the continual downpour of rain.

She can hardly see, the water far too much, and when she cups Killian’s cheeks and slams her mouth into his, he tastes like water and spearmint gum and quite possibly all of the happiness in the world bottled up into one human being.

Kissing him and being here with him is everything she ever wanted and everything she never allowed herself to dream.

“Fancy seeing you here, Swan,” Killian laughs, his mouth still pressing against hers.

“What are you talking about, Jones? I was right here last year.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, the grin the most infectious thing she has ever seen, “but I think I like this year a hell of a lot better.”

“Can’t wait to see how you try to top this next year.”

Killian throws his head back in in laughter, his skin covered in rain, and he finally puts her down on the ground so that her feet sink into the soft grass below her, arms still wrapped around Killian’s neck so that she’s close enough to see the sparkle in his eyes and the smile on his lips.

“You know what, my love? I think I’m good staying right here in this moment for now. We can figure out the rest later.”

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @dorisquinn​ @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​ @397bartonstreet​

[arielmagicesi]

often when a series ends and especially when there is such a show-stopping ending, before I can analyze how I feel, I have to first list everything that actually happened. Now I don’t know if Steven Universe is actually over but I just. what the fuck that was too much I didn’t have time to react before getting slapped with something else

spoilers below obviously

I was tempted to start listing from the point of “Gem Drill” because I’ve heard that only a year has passed since then and I mean, what a fucking wild year for poor Steven. I’m also tempted to start listing from “A Single Pale Rose” because shit moved FAST starting from there. But I’m just gonna list everything that happened in “Change Your Mind.”

It’s kind of what makes me suspect that this is the final episode of the entire series, because although plot pacing has been accelerating throughout the entire series (going from “Steven learns how to bubble” taking 10 episodes, to “diamond showdown” being a minor subplot of 1) and although the plot pacing went super-speed for this whole diamond arc, this episode shoved EVERY LAST THING IN.

stuff that could’ve waited (Lars and Sadie’s reunion) and stuff that should’ve taken vastly longer if it even should’ve happened at all (White Diamond’s lightning-speed reformation) was all put into one episode. now, it was deftly combined, and I liked almost every individual part, and there was some possibly-unintended comedy to it all (”she’s GOOOOONE!!!!” and White Diamond demonstrating the big ship’s pussy-out look, etc) but holy hell I would have loved for it to have gone at a slower pace so that they could have explored some of the stuff.

[also, my ability to react to things is lessened. meeting Sunstone would’ve been, I’m not joking, the highlight of my week just two years ago. now it wasn’t even the coolest of the fusions we met, and meeting the fusions was an incredibly minor point in the episode. also i have other things in my life now lol]

obviously, part of this pacing is due to the airing schedule of the show. on a normal airing schedule, I’d feel emotionally exhausted- this would have been, what, a month after the Pink-Diamond-is-Rose-Quartz reveal? but because this show airs in the dumbest way possible, we have like five hundred years between plot points. however, Steven did not? Pearl did not? Garnet did not? CONNIE did not? how the fuck are they getting along?

secondly, this was all in one episode, so yeah holy shit, some whiplash occurring for this here viewer

(one final note: I now take back getting annoyed that we got Watermelon Moana last week because it was so gentle compared to this)

anyway, my promised list of Crazy Shit that happened in one 40-minute episode:

1. Steven gets a flashback that tells him about a previous transgression of Pink’s, where we meet some other aliens. pointing to an old rebellion?

2. we see another Steven identity crisis with him flashing through Steven-Pink-Rose

3. Steven convinces Blue Diamond that she’s abusive and she immediately realizes the error of her ways and decides to help him and Connie out. (also, Connie talks to Diamonds a lot, I love her. damn girl)

4. we retrieve the bubbled Crystal Gems

5. Yellow and Blue have a big public diamond showdown

6. we discover that Yellow Diamond has emotions and tears, and feels pressured. shocking. if only the planets she’d colonized had thought to sit her down and chat

7. Yellow decides to join Steven’s side as well

8. they make a plan to escape via the leg-ship

9. White Diamond decides to show up and do her Creepy Act and she lands her big torso on the legs (confirming the obvious theory that the ships act as one big body)

10. Diamond Showdown Part 2, where Yellow and Blue attempt to fight White

11. Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot return. We see Lapis and Peridot’s new forms.

12. Bismuth has fixed the arm ships and upper-cuts an upper-crust for the first time in her life in a really cool way.

13. Steven manages to say words to White Diamond, and so do Yellow and Blue.

14. White Diamond GREY-IFIES BLUE AND YELLOW DIAMOND

15. which also means we find out exactly what the fuck is wrong with White Pearl (also may I say, this is something I wrote about in my fic, accessible on my AO3, linked in my About)

16. Steven falls dramatically with the gems of his friends in his arms

17. Steven finds out he can (and decides to) retrieve gems from their gems by fusing with them

18. We see Smoky Quartz form mid-air

19. We see Amethyst’s new form

20. Steven fuses with Pearl for the first time ever, and we see Rainbow Quartz 2.0 for the first time

21. We see Pearl’s new form

22. We see what a pink diamond/rose quartz forms with a garnet for the very first time

23. Steven’s own first fusion with Garnet

24. Sunstone attempts to start shit with the giant robot

25. We see Garnet’s new form

26. Bismuth presents the replacement for the Sword of Rose Quartz, as a gift to Connie

27. We see the full-blown temple fusion for the very first time ever

28. Steven has his first fusion with all the Crystal Gems

29. We meet Obsidian and she succeeds in starting shit with the giant robot

30. We see Bismuth, Peridot, Lapis, and Connie all contribute to the fight and survive horrifyingly dangerous scenarios. (still gotta wonder what the HELL Connie’s mom was thinking... she went from not letting her kid watch inaccurate TV shows to letting her nearly die countless times in outer space at the hands of alien dictator robots)

31. let me just add, I <3 Connie and she deserves the world. bravest kid in the universe

32. the Crystal Gems find a way to invade the robot

33. the four main Crystal Gems face up against White Diamond herself and her grey-ified pearl and grey-ified fellow diamonds

34. White reveals a bit to us via villain-monologue that we probably could’ve guessed already: she wants every gem to be flawless, to be identical to her essentially yet subservient- which she considers to be synonymous with flawlessness- and her theory about the way the colors of the diamonds informs their personalities. Including that Pink is part of White, despite White’s dislike of this fact.

35. White grey-ifies the Crystal Gems

36. Connie arrives, also fully ready to fight this bitch

37. the grey-ified Crystal Gems restrain Steven and Connie

38. Steven gets to have that full-fledged conversation he wanted with White, I guess

39. BIGGEST ACTUAL REVEAL OF THE EPISODE: We find out what happens when Steven’s gem is removed from his stomach!!! that’s been a question since episode ONE I think

40. we get to see a Pink Steven and a Human Steven, which is pretty cool. I compare it to what might happen if you got split into What You Got From Your Dad and What You Got From Your Mom

41. this is just my theory, but we find out, I think, that Steven’s general strength in everyday movement comes from diamond strength and that he turns weaker than a baby without it, which makes sense because he’s always had it

42. White Diamond attempts to grey-ify Pink

43. we find out, as Pink Steven so eloquently says, that Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz really, really is gone. she died in childbirth essentially. I think he might someday manage to access her full memories but I don’t think that persona is ever returning

44. we see what Steven’s bubbles/shield would look like in full diamond form

45. the badass scene of Connie CARRYING STEVEN TO HIMSELF?

46. we discover that either Steven is the most special boy ever, or White’s powers are no match for love or some shit

47. we get to see Steven...  fuse with himself?

48. everyone gets un-greyified. Including White Pearl. the white-pearl-is-old-pink-pearl theory is confirmed, though I think it may have been in a flashback in “Familiar” and hinted at during Steven’s flashback at the start of the episode when Blue said “she’ll take away your pearl”

49. we see Steven/Pink’s full empathy powers in play, I think? that’s what happened when he pink-ified the whole group? INCLUDING WHITE?

50. Steven gives White Diamond one of his lightning-round therapy sessions, and she decides to Be Nice Now, Actually

51. that’s right. THERE ARE NO VILLAINS I’M GONNA LOSE MY MIND

52. the ENTIRE GROUP GOES TO EARTH

53. meaning that White leaves Homeworld (and “her own head”) for the first time in eons, according to the other Diamonds anyway

54. we get to see Sadie and the Cool Kids’ new looks. minor I know, but Jenny looks great in a suit!

55. also minor but cool: they’re covering “Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart”

56. for the second time in like 2 weeks, Diamond Ships interrupt a townwide Beach City gathering

57. we find out that Beach City is full of fucking idiots who thought that the ship was like, a grand finale to the concert? instead of full-on panicking mayhaps? cause every time this shit happens it usually leads to mayhem?

58. the Off-Colors, coincidentally, finally arrive on Earth at the exact same time

59. Lars meets Lion for the first time as Pink Zombie Brothers

60. Lars and Sadie reunion, in which we also find out that Sadie is like a legendary figure for the Off Colors

61. THE OFF COLORS MEET THE FUCKING DIAMONDS

62. Greg and Steven reunite

63. The Diamonds meet and finally heal the Centipeedles

64. The Diamonds visit Rose’s fountain and get it working as a four-diamond extravaganza event

65. every gem from the temple is brought there to be healed. we see the healing of, I assume, p much every monster we’ve met

66. we get to see the Heaven and Earth Beetle, who are pebbles too, and lesbians!

67. callback to the memories of the four Diamonds having swimming pool time

68. Jasper gets healed and naturally tries to destroy Steven immediately, then looks up to see all three of her diamonds. She and Amethyst get to bond, I guess.

69. Callback to the intro itself with the “We Are the Crystal Gems” song and all the new Crystal Gems chilling on the beach

70. New song, “Change Your Mind” and it’s cute obviously

My feelings on the episode? So besides what I wrote above the list, re: whiplash, I think that from a realistic standpoint and a writing-fantasy standpoint, it is some wild shit. For all three diamonds to achieve a FULL redemption arc in one episode? Too much. For there to be NO villains? Come on. And for the lesson to be, we should just give heartless dictators love and they’ll grow hearts? Worrying.

However, as I reached the end of the episode, I thought about a time in high school when my teacher asked me which superpower I’d want, and then annoyed the class by seeming morally superior by saying he’d want to speak every language. Thinking on it later, I thought- I’d want more than every language. I’d want the ability to TRULY understand others, and to make them TRULY understand me- and each other. Because yes, OF COURSE every conflict can be boiled down to a lack of understanding, a lack of empathy. If we had superhuman empathy on our side, we really could do away with violence. But in the real world, we don’t have superhuman empathy, we just have regular empathy, and some don’t even try to use that. So saying “have a little empathy for your oppressors” is ghoulish.

But Steven DOES have superhuman empathy. In fact, all the Diamonds do. Blue can make others cry, White can make others be identical to her, and Yellow can give others fear and command. And they use it only for evil. But Pink can make others understand. And she had only used it for frivolous things until she finally combined with a non-gem life form. Then, human empathy met superhuman empathy, and did what it had to do. THAT is how Steven defeated the Diamond Reign of Terror.

That being said: I don’t know if the target audience of kids really caught that nuance, considering that the episode went so fucking fast. Additionally: some of that superhuman empathy could’ve been pointed at the legions of crushed, oppressed little gems- which I know it was- but the focus was SO intensely on, like, “poor Yellow never got enough credit for being SO good at imperialism!”

So yeah. Both writing-wise, pacing-wise, plot-wise, message-wise... I did love it, as I do the whole show, but I also thought it could’ve benefited from some space, some criticism, and some better organization down at Cartoon Network’s scheduling department.

Art-wise, well I’m not an animation expert, but Obsidian can get it <3 and I loved the designs for everything.

Character-wise... I’ll have to think on it more.

OK THE END I’M DONE REACTING TO STEVEN UNIVERSE. SHOW’S OVER

[junker-town]

3 things to know for final round at The Open

Photo by Mike Ehrmann/Getty Images

Some traditional links weather is coming for the final round at the Open, where an Irish favorite has emerged and the scariest player in the game lurks.

The final men’s major of 2019 is set for Royal Portrush. We have a stout leaderboard with a mix of styles and countries represented. Conditions have been relatively benign at this Open, where a new 54-hole scoring record was set on Saturday night. That’s expected to change for the final round. Here are 3 quick things to have you ready for Sunday’s final round:

1. Shane Lowry is (esentially) at home, in control, and the favorite

Take a moment to breathe and appreciate what we saw on Saturday, because there have been few major rounds ever that have been as perfect, historic, memorable, and dominant as the Irishman’s third-round tour of the Dunluce Links at Royal Portrush.

If you started the day assuming Lowry might stumble, you probably weren’t alone. Lowry’s had major experience (more on that in a minute) and a nice year, but with a stacked leaderboard of stars around him, it’s completely reasonable to think the guy outside the top-30 in the world with just a single win in the last four seasons might not stick. After all, we’re just one year removed from the guy basically hating golf and cutting ties with his caddy at this very event.

And then came Saturday. A flawless, perfect-game 63 that featured eight birdies and no bogeys on a course where there’s plenty of places to get caught up. The entire afternoon was golf at its best, flawless shot after flawless shot — the type of A-1 stuff The Open’s been consistent venue for over the last few years, from Molinari, to Branden Grace, to Stenson.

Lowry is putting on a SHOW right now at Royal Portrush. pic.twitter.com/GZVTp6iCN3

— GOLF.com (@GOLF_com) July 20, 2019

There’s no question Lowry will have a rowdy, massive fully-throated crowd behind him tomorrow. Home is this island. Hell, listen to this. This is more ‘home football game’ than golf tournament — and it absolutely rules.

I can't even begin to describe how mad the fans are going out there. It's a good 20mins since Lowry finished and they've not stopped singing. Amazing atmosphere. pic.twitter.com/BkEkIOtleQ

— Michael McEwan (@MMcEwanbunkered) July 20, 2019

That’s an adaptation of Hey Baby, at a golf tournament, for an essentially homestanding player that just shot 63. Sometimes golf is cool.

But tomorrow’s still the test. How much has he mentally repaired himself from the four-shot U.S. Open lead at Oakmont a couple years back? Will the massive support and attention he’s going to get tomorrow comfort him — or shake him? Or will all the good vibes he’s gotten from this place over the years, including at the 2009 Irish Open where he won as an amateur, power him to a Claret Jug?

The way Lowry goes tomorrow, the tournament goes. If he backs up, the door will be open for top names — Brooks, Rickie, Justin Rose, and more. If not, well, this thing will be over quick. Place a big order of Guinness just in case, Portrush.

2. Millennials are ruining The Open.

The R&A has gone soft! One defining element of the oldest major championship in golf is the weather. It blows and rains sideways for at least a portion of almost every British Open, and they play through it as they have since the 19th century. Tee times were adjusted in 2014 at Royal Liverpool but that’s only because the storms forecasted were of the rare severe kind with lightning. What’s coming late on Sunday at Portrush is supposed to carry heavy winds and a bit of rain. The gusts are expected to hit 35 mph with sustained winds blowing about 20 mph.

That’s classic links weather, the kind every advertisement and vignette for the Open touts. But the R&A apparently thinks it will be too severe, opting to move tee times up an hour as a precaution.

A separate underlying concern here is that the balls may not stay put on the greens if it blows too hard. That gets us down a totally different rabbit hole of the ball flying too far forcing these tournaments to speed up greens as some sort of defense against absurdly low scores, which then in turn makes the greens unplayable if the wind blows too fast. We went into this in much greater detail when play at St. Andrews in 2015 was stopped for a full day because the balls would not stay still on greens that were faster than the seaside course had originally been designed for.

An hour in advance is not too drastic a schedule change like the Masters moving everything up half a day to avoid Georgia thunderstorms this April. It will give the Open some extra cushion but the reason given still runs counter to everything we understand the Open to be.

3. Beware Brooksy

No one may be able to come close to the blistering Shane Lowry, but the best bet for a chaser going low in the Sunday conditions is Brooks Koepka. The margin will be significant thanks to Lowry’s Saturday round, but Koepka is just a hot putter away from making it interesting.

Photo by Francois Nel/Getty Images

Koepka’s incredible run of sub-70 rounds at the majors continued on Saturday in a round where he made absolutely nothing on the greens. Koepka guessed he hadn’t made more than one or two putts outside four feet. His tee-to-green game is as good as ever so this failure to have it translate to a good score has had the deadpan Koepka visibly pissed off on multiple occasions up on the greens.

If you’re looking for a chasing option, it’s Koepka. That may sound obvious given his recent form at majors and the little fact that he’s the No. 1 player in the world. But the fundamental signs are all there at this specific tournament. He’s made only four bogeys in three rounds, so he’s as dialed in as ever. There’s just nothing going in with the putter and that’s the club that can be the most fickle from round to round.

As for everything outside the putter, Koepka declared after his third round that “No one in the field has hit it better than me.” For a chaser, he’s also got the forecast he needed — one that can vaporize players ahead of him who may not be hitting it as sharp as he has this week. He’s viewing the tougher weather conditions as an advantage because of the way he’s hitting it and now coming from the chasing position. Beyond the natural talent and his No. 1 ranking, the signs are all there and set up for a Brooks chasedown to juice this Sunday at the Open up even more.

Here’s your leaderboard at the 54-hole mark:

:

[ralseirose]

The Model and His Hero Day 15- Fear

Ladrien June- Day 15- Fear

Set immediately after Wait, I can explain.

 “When were you planning to inform me about these meetings with Ladybug?” Gabriel stood at his desk. In a way, Adrien was reminded of when he was a child. The situation was much the same. His father seemed poised to strike and avenge whatever misdoing he had committed in the name of the Agreste family. Gabriel would fix the wrongdoing and restore order. The situation was the same here but matters were more serious.

 Adrien didn’t falter. “She stopped by tonight and-”

 “You offered to watch anime with her? I didn’t realize that the defender of Paris would spare time for just an ordinary citizen in her busy schedule.” Gabriel’s gaze made Adrien want to crawl underneath his bed. “I’ve heard disturbances in your room at this hour for more than two weeks. I don’t suppose that they all came from watching anime?”

 Adrien hung his head low. “No,” he whispered.

 “I see.” Adrien cast his eyes to the ground. His hands began turning his ring, the miraculous, over and over to keep busy.

 “Look up.” Adrien did. Gabriel was standing. “You lied to me. You’ve been tired for the last few weeks. You went against both good sense and common decency in this.  Not only did you spend frivolous time with your crush, but you also endangered Paris by ensuring that Ladybug gets no rest herself. I’ve noticed that the heroes have been exhausted, but to find out that you're partially responsible? I’m disappointed.”

 His words were like a hammerblow. “I see.”

 Gabriel strode forward and stopped only a few feet from Adrien. Adrien’s hands were shaking. Gabriel looked down at his son. “I'll ask you one question. You will promise to answer truthfully.”

 “Yes father.” Adrien looked straight into his father’s eyes as his earlier words sunk in. Ladybug and Chat Noir had been slowing down lately. Paris counted on them, but Adrien had exhausted both himself and Ladybug just to spend some time together. Father was right.

 Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll trust you answer truthfully. Tell me this and we’ll discuss consequences.” He paused and stared for a second.

    “Are you and Ladybug dating yet?”

 Adrien blinked.

 Then blinked again.

 During the third blink, he convinced himself that he heard correctly. He looked to his father with an open mouth. Words tried to come out, but when Adrien tried to question his father’s sanity, he said nothing.

 Gabriel’s grip on Adrien’s shoulder tightened. “I would appreciate an answer sometime. I’ve been fending off suitors for ages, so I’d love to hear you say that you’ve already wooed the girl of your dreams.”

 Adrien tried to speak again.

 Gabriel sighed as Adrien refused to elaborate. “I’ve been wondering for months. I would have thought by now that Chat Noir would have been able to seduce his lady.”

 If Adrien was surprised before, he was was startled beyond belief now. The knowledge that Ladybug wanted to keep their identity secret, however, was enough to get him to speak. “What are you talking about? I mean there’s no way I can be Chat Noir. You must be mistaken. I don’t have superpowers!”

 “Your ring is a miraculous and you disappear to transform in obvious places. Do you know how many security cameras I’ve wiped after finding out your identity? While the magic may obscure the actual transformation, it isn’t a huge step in logic to see Adrien Agrest one frame and Chat Noir the nextv and assume the two are the same.”

 “Hahaha! He got you! That was brilliant! A prank almost as worthy of something I would pull!” Adrien’s story was completely ruined when Plagg drifted out of his jacket to float near his father’s glasses. “You set it up like you were disappointed in him, then you hit him with the Ladybug line.” Plagg’s chuckling grew louder. “That was genius. Have any Camembert?”

 Gabriel didn’t flinch in the eye of a magic being, though he did raise an eyebrow. “I’d assume that is why you’ve been consuming an overwhelming amount of cheese of late.” He mutterted. “The staff should be asleep. There should be some Brie in the fridge, and I’ll talk to Nathalie about obtaining some Camembert later.”

 Plagg shot up with more energy than he had ever displayed in a situation with an akuma. “I like him! He knows about how to feed a kwami properly!” He phased through the wall.

 Gabriel stared at him for a second. “Is he always like this?”

 “Yes.”

 Gabriel nodded in sympathy. “My condolences. You still haven’t answered my question. Are you and Ladybug dating?”

 Adrien felt his face go red. “Well you see- I mean- I think we like each other, but she hasn’t said anything! She just ignores Chat and I haven’t even told her about Adrien being Chat Noir-”

 “She doesn’t know that you're her partner?” It was if a bolt of lightning stuck him. Gabriel put a hand to his head. “I was going to talk her about you. I would have revealed you in an instant.”

 Adrien shook his head. “We can’t let each other know! Ladybug’s kwami insisted on secrecy.”

 “That won’t do.”

 “What do you mean?”

 Gabriel strolled over to look at the painting of his missing wife.”You are in love with Ladybug, correct?”

 “I mean-”

 Gabriel steamrolled through whatever Adrien planned to say without moving his gaze from Adrien’s mother. “You love Ladybug. Judging from what I saw earlier-” He flashed Adrien a look. “She likes you too.”

 If hope was ever something Adrien had, it was outclassed by what he felt now. “Really?”

 Gabriel continued, “The two of you have a good chance, but what will she do if she figures out you’re Chat Noir? A good partnership would be ruined by lies.” The portrait held his attention. “As soon as possible, you will reveal your identity to her.”

 “But her kwami-”

 “Do you love her?” Gabriel stared into Adrien’s eyes. “If you ever did, you will do this. I know what lies will do.”

 Something in his words seemed to take root in Adrien. Gabriel’s words were cutting, but they were also soft. He sounded like he spoke from painful experience and a desperateness that caused Adrien to shiver. That was why Adrien said what he did.

 “I will”

 His father returned to staring at the painting. “Get some sleep. You'll have something important to say tomorrow.”

 Adrien left without another word.

  Gabriel focused on his wife’s gazing eyes. They seemed to pierce into his soul and demand answers. Had he been a little demanding? His son looked terrified. He looked like Gabriel was going to take away the only thing that made him happy, and that feeling hurt Gabriel.

 He just wanted to keep his son safe. Safe from the mistakes of a father who made too many. He’d keep his son underneath his watchful eye, even if it took away his happiness.

 But the city needed Chat Noir. Gabriel knew all too well that another chosen would be impossible to find. The city would be left in ruins, the miraculous seized, and the world ended if he stopped Adrien.

 Ladybug’s kwami was wise for avoiding an identity reveal. History showed the consequences of that, with many of her chosen being killed because they choose to trust someone. Examples like Joan of Arc and Hippolyta rose to mind, but Gabriel knew the price of secrets.

 He opened the painting to reveal the secret door behind it. He ignored the peacock pin and spot where his book had once been. He was sure Adrien was behind that. Instead, he grabbed a picture hidden from sight.

 A peacock, a butterfly, and a champion stood side by side. Their arms were slung over one another and they posed at the camera. The butterfly seemed in the midst of scolding her two friends, whereas the champion gazed at the butterfly.

 Gabriel was too aware of what secrecy did. It was what he feared for years.

 His biggest mistake was made, and Paris’s monster was born.

 For the first time in ages, and far away from prying eyes, Gabriel wept.

 After Merry-go-round

 Adrien was afraid. His hands were shaking, and sweat was pouring down his back.

 “Are you okay?” Ladybug stared at him. “We were having fun with the carousel! I thought we might go some other time- that is- if you don’t- If you wanted to.” She stared at Adrien with a tone he hadn’t heard before as Chat.

 He thought of his father’s words. He seemed so sincere, but would Ladybug be angry at him for revealing he was Chat Noir the whole time? Would she be thrilled? He talked with Plagg. He thought it was time, but he’d never agreed with the secrecy in the first place. His uncharacteristic seriousness, on the other hand, sold it to Adrien.

 Adrien refused to peek whenever Ladybug’s transformation ran out. He wouldn’t discover her identity until she was ready, but his father seemed heartbroken. In the end, his loyalty to his father won out.

 “Do you trust me?” Adrien said and pulled on Ladybug’s hands, though his intention was to quell the shaking that was occurring. He was afraid of what he was going to do.

 “Of course!” Ladybug smiled and wrapped her hands around Adrien’s. “You’re my friend.” Her gaze was like the shining moon, but Adrien only saw the craters and shadows.

 Adrien pulled away. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and spoke firmly. “Plagg, transform me.”

 The first thing Adrien noticed after his transformation finished was Ladybug’s gaze. Her mouth moved, but what came out told less than her eyes did. She didn’t meet his eyes.

 “My lady?”

 “It’s not possible. You've been in the same room- you haven’t.” Ladybug said. She met his gaze and if they could, her eyes would have burned holes into his own.“You promised to keep it secret!”

 “My father said-”

 “Tiki said we could be compromised! How many times have you been taken control off? What if it’s me next time?” She sniffed. “I need to go.”

 Adrien’s worst fear came to life as Ladybug left. He was left standing in the park. The carousel behind him petered out as Chat Noir’s luck took into play. It was dark.

 He was alone.

 Not much Ladrien, but more is coming.

Everything is happy. I regret nothing.

Crossposted on Archive of our Own and Fanfiction.net

Previous- Merry-go Round

Wait, I Can Explain

First

[whirofinvention-blog]

The Value of Compromising

Life gets really busy. Everyone experiences this past a certain age. Sure, the average 9 year old is probably just going to go to school and maybe to football, gymnastics or dance after school. In high school, you get a little busier. Your school work becomes more straining on your schedule and the extracurriculars can start to pile on. You get your first job and your first girlfriend/boyfriend and have even less free time. College can break either way. You may be busier than ever or you may be the kid who skips class unless it is mandatory for you to attend. Maybe you get really involved in a student union or are playing college sports. If you are like me, then a lot of your free time is going to be devoted to doing your essays last minute and going to random parties on Wednesday nights (my first two years of college were not a high point for my academic career, but that's a story for another time).

After all that time, school is finally done and you are free. Infinite free time to do whatever you want. You can stay home and play the newest Elder Scrolls game all day long or take that road trip you've always wanted to go on or even sit on your couch and make spicy new Magic brews for hours. Odds are, you will do none of this. Instead, you get a job where five days a week you are doing the same thing all the time. You will realize that sitting in a desk or at a cash register is not keeping you as in shape as you wanted to be so you have to get a gym membership. Don't forget that if you want to save money you have to make food at least a few nights a week. The time just slips away. This is where I am at. It seems like it is going to get worse before it gets better. There still is more responsibility to come. Whether it is parenthood or buying a house. Things don't really seem to settle down too much for most people.

In case it isn't obvious, this post is about how life can strain the amount of time you have available to do the things you like and some of the sacrifices you have to make. Now, the sacrifice I am going to talk about today is not exactly huge but is relevant to this blog.

Portland is the home to about 10 game stores, and I don't think there is a perfect game store among them. The issues cover the full spectrum you'd expect. Bad prices. Rude employees. Horrible owners. Small selection. A weird obsession with making every order be made via computer even if it is just one card. That's not to say that they are all bad. The ones with rude employees or bad prices tend to have the best selections. The worst selections have the best communities. A few of these stores I have gone to for years and a few of them I will never step into again.

In the summer of 2017, I moved to a different neighborhood and after having signed a lease discovered my apartment was a few blocks away from a LGS. It is one of the smaller shops in the city, but the owner knows a lot about Magic and will provide advice to anyone who walks in to buy singles. Myself and a couple of others are the spikier players amongst the community. At FNM, we are there to have fun and there is a lot of table talk during the event, but we also know how to play and want to win.

Unfortunately, this shop is a little too small to run modern events. There just isn't a large enough player base in the store with modern decks at the present. I can think of four other people who have decks, one of which is a very spicy but not competitive taking turns brew. At the same time, the community is growing and events do fire pretty consistently. The first prerelease I went to there was about 12 people. The Dominaria and Guilds of Ravnica prereleases were both sold out at 32 people. FNM still doesn't fire as often as you would hope, but the first FNM of a new draft format is usually about 16 people compared to 12 months ago when it was 9.

What does this have to do with sacrifices and being busy? Well, I am busy. I work Monday thru Friday and come home everyday to make dinner with my partner. I try and go to the gym for a minimum of 6 hours a week (approximately 3 times). I need to spend time at home and with my friends. Magic is not something I can play every night and when I do go to shops, I try and go with a friend to make it a more social event than just playing games with strangers. Modern events aren't something I will go to by myself. If a friend is up to go to one I will, but I need to plan these things ahead of time because being out till 11:30 on a Wednesday with work at 7:30 the next morning is not where I want to be.

Things haven't lined up in such a way that I have been able to play modern in an event since my last post. Instead, I have been taking advantage of my local shops growing community and the kindness of the owner. These past few weeks I went to their Saturday Standard Showdown event and jammed some games with the owner's G/B/u deck (list at the bottom). This deck oozes value with there being between 10 and 13 cards that can yield two for ones. Last week, things didn't go so well with the deck due to some awkward draws and mana woes. I still went 2-2 and won my entry in store credit back as well as a foil Mox Amber out of my showdown pack. This week I showed up and did the same thing as last week where I just sat there and when an odd number of people signed up, I signed up and borrowed the same deck to make it an even number.

Here's what happened:

Round 1 - RW Angels

My opponent this round is a regular and a brewer. I have a lot of respect for him because his decks are always good, and he almost always is using his own decks. He has been playing this deck since the beginning of the format, and his original iteration was pretty close to what the Boros midrange deck looks like these days. Game 1 started out pretty evenly with him playing his early Adanto Vanguards and  Resplendent Angels with me firing right back with Plaguecrafters, Chupacabras, and Assassin's Trophys. He missed his fourth land drop for a few turns, and I felt like I had the game locked up. Unfortunately, I punted this game. I misevaluated the threat of one of his Resplendent Angels and Trophy-ed it. This gave him his fourth land and allowed him to play a Lyra Dawnbringer on the next turn. I ran out of answers and didn't hit any of my game ending cards early. He hit a few more threats and ran away with the game. The next game started out with both of us mull-ing to five. His early game was three Adanto Vanguards and mine was a Dusk Legion Zealot and Merfolk Branchwalker. I was able to hit my land drops easily and answer all of his threats with Dead Weights and Plaguecrafters. He flooded and played a Huatli and a Lyra in consecutive turns with both being met by Vraska's Contempt. In the end I just went wider than he did and had more answers. Game three was really closed at first with both of us trading resources in the early game with my removal answering his creatures. Then he played Rekindling Phoenix. I had the answer in Vraska's Contempt. A few turns later he plays a second one and I am forced to use a Trophy on the front half and a Moment of Craving on the second. Unfortunately, after giving him a few lands early, when he played the third Phoenix and a Resplendent Angel in the same turn I had no answer. The next turn I played a Branchwalker and explored into an Eldest Reborn which I leave on top. My opponent activates Angel and swings in for over half of my life. The next turn I play the saga; he sacs the angel token and kills me on the crack-back. Keeping the saga on top was a definite misplay since I was dead on board without a card like Vraska's Contempt into Ritual of Soot. Those weren't the next two cards in my deck, so it didn't matter but a misplay is still a misplay.

1-2, 0-1

Round 2 - BR Aggro

One thing to note about this tournament is there were a lot of mulligans. Last round my opponent mulliganed every game and the same thing happened this round. Also, another random thing was I lost literally every die roll so was on the draw a lot. My opener was awkward and consisted of Island and Watery Grave as the only lands. Though I had Muldrotha in hand, I don't want two blue sources ever or Muldrotha in my starting 7, but I kept because I had a Moment of Craving and Ravenous Chupacabra so was in a good spot against any creature deck and the control matchup is bad game 1 anyway so mulliganing to 6 doesn't really help my odds. Luckily for me my opponent plays a Swamp followed by Vicious Conquistador. I draw a second Watery Grave play it tapped and pass turn. Over the next two or three turns my opponent plays a few more durdly creatures like Viashino Pyromancer and I draw the second Moment of Craving and am able to just cleanly answer all of his threats. At the end of my fourth turn, my opponent made a play that made me really confident I would win the match. While I had no creatures on board, I pass the turn and on end step he Lightning Strikes me when I am at 18 life. Whenever this happens I feel so far ahead because now I know my opponent has committed a card to a game plan that I can fight against with little worry. He floods out and I stabilize at 5 life with a Muldrotha in play and many good cards to get back in the graveyard. This game was actually pretty close at one point when I had drawn all three Watery Graves, Island and a Drowned Catacomb, but I drew mostly black cards which are the better cards in the matchup. Game 2 is almost exactly the same where I 1-for-1 till I stabilize with Muldrotha and Eldest Reborn. Truthfully this just seemed like a terrible matchup for my opponent, but his plays game 1 definitely sealed his fate more than anything I did.

2-0, 1-1

Round 3 - BW Vampires

I know this player pretty well and have played him a few times in both Standard and Limited. I think we were 1-1 in Standard, 2-0 in Limited and like 1-4 in Modern (he also plays Hardened Scales and has always beaten me in the mirror but Lantern has gotten there). A few weeks ago he was playing Abzan Knights to middling results. Last week he tried his hand at a Naya Hexproof build and we went 2-1 with my edicts being stronger than his Vine Mares, Nullhide Feroxes (Ferices?) and Palladia-Mors. This week he was running back a classic. Game 1 he plays a Plains and passes the turn. The following turn he plays an Adanto Vanguard and the following turns plays Mavren and then Sanctum Seeker. Overall his curve was very good, but I had answers for most of his plays and by the end of the game I have a Muldrotha, both Vraskas and his Ajani on the battlefield. Needless to say, his vampires weren't as good as my on board removal and draw engines. Game 2 was actually disgusting. His curve was something like turn 1 Vicious Conquistador, turn 2 Legion Lieutenant, turn 3 Radiant Destiny, and turn 4 one drop and Radiant Destiny. I never stood a chance without drawing Ritual of Soot. Since I never drew it, I picked up my cards and we went to game 3. 

Before I get too far into this, I would like to say that this game had one of the better plays I have ever made in Magic happen during it. The game starts alright with my opponent playing early threats and me playing early answers. Around turn 5, I clean up the board with a Ritual of Soot at a pretty comfy life total. I pass the turn and my opponent plays a couple of vampires and ticks up an Ajani he already had to five. The following turn I do nothing but look at my completely empty board. My opponent then plays two Vicious Conquistadors and an Adanto Vanguard. I play a Muldrotha and pass the turn. On his turn he plays a Sanctum Seeker and Legion Lieutenant, pluses Ajani up to ult range and attacks with two Conquistadors and the Vanguard. I block a Conquistador with Muldrotha and go to 1. At this point I am circling the drain. I swing with Muldrotha at Ajani because I am dead on board to the attack trigger with any vamp so long as the Sanctum Seeker stays alive. Luckily he blocks with his Sanctum Seeker wanting to ult the Ajani to seal up the game - which was already sealed. I am forced to Dead Weight one of the Conquistadors and then recast it from the graveyard on the second. After playing a Merfolk Branchwalker to block and an Evolving Wilds I passed the turn. On the next turn my opponent plays another Legion Lieutenant and swings with Vanguard. I chump with the Branchwalker. He ults Ajani and passes. For the rest of the game I am forced to Dead Weight and recast my own Plague Mare from my graveyard every single turn to wipe away the cats over and over. Eventually I am able to play four spells pretty much every turn and my opponent never is able to catch up. I thought I couldn’t win the game but was proud of myself for seeing the line to keep his cat tokens at bay and eventually grind out the win.

2-1, 2-1

Round 4 - Mardu Burn

My opponent's deck this round was honestly one of the craziest standard decks I have ever played against. A friend of mine at the shop had mentioned losing to this player the round before and simply said that my opponent was on a crazy burn deck playing both Risk Factor and Sword-Point Diplomacy. I had the advantage going into the round of having some idea what my opponent was doing, so I was optimistic. Still, I didn't feel great about it. Going into the game my deck felt like it was made up exclusively of dead cards. Moment of Craving. Dead Weight. Ravenous Chupacabra even. This game wasn't even close. He cast multiple Sword-Point Diplomacys and a Risk Factor and was able to kill pretty much every single threat I played with Justice Strikes and random burn spells. At one point he just goes face and Banefires me for 5 when I was at 4 to play around countermagic. I went with the tech-y play of Moment of Craving my own creature to go to 1, but he just runs it back the next turn so my play didn't matter. The sideboard for this deck isn't designed for this matchup. I don't believe any sideboard is designed for this matchup. Fortunately for me, the sideboard is heavily skewed to beat control so I grab the copies of Duress, Negate and Unmoored Ego (which is for the Teferi matchup and I really don't like in the Teferi matchup). I pull out every copy of Dead Weight, Midnight Reaper, and Dusk Legion Zealot figuring the Dead Weight would literally never do anything (which was accurate) and that the life loss of these two creatures could be too detrimental. The other considerations were the Vraska's Contempts and Moment of Craving, but the Contempts have so much utility and the Cravings sometimes just keep you alive. Game two starts with me Duressing my opponent and seeing Banefire, Risk Factor, Cleansing Nova and four lands. I take the Banefire and pass the turn. Turn 3 I Unmoored Ego naming Risk Factor and see my opponents win cons are Erratic Cyclops, Angrath, Banefire and burn. The following turns consist of me playing creatures and him killing them. I eventually Unmoored Ego away his Sword-Point Diplomacys to put him in a position where he has no traditional card advantage. My Eldest Reborns and Contempts answer his Angraths and I stabilize in the low teens with a Vraska, Relic Seeker and Karn in play. He scoops up his cards, and we go to game 3. Game 3 consisted of a few misplays on my part but was extremely similar overall to game 2. I turn 3 Unmoored Ego away his Risk Factors again, curve out and play my lands. He kills my creatures and also hits his land drops. There was an awkward moment later in the game where I Unmoored Ego and say Sword-Point Diplomacy but almost immediately say Angrath afterwards. Unfortunately my opponent flipped his hand face-up so fast and had an Angrath already putting me in the position of not wanting to feel like I was angle shooting - I swear I didn't see his hand when I changed my choice. I do what I consider to be the right thing and take out the Sword-Points. I had an Eldest Reborn in hand anyways. The game ends with him having to regularly use his board wipes to clear my Eldest Reborns allowing my creatures to trade 1-for-1 the whole time. Once my second Muldrotha hits the table and I bring back a creature and Eldest Reborn, the game is pretty much over.

This was the coolest deck I played against all tournament. The pseudo-redundancy of the punisher cards made the deck feel consistent and, well, punishing. The game 1 matchup was probably close to unwinnable with the percentage being like 80/20 in his favor. The sideboard games though felt really hard to lose and probably flipped it to 60/40 for me. In the last game, I wonder if I should have named Angrath and Banefire from the start with Unmoored Ego to make it literally impossible for him to win assuming I can kill his Cyclops with one of the six cards that cleanly deal with creatures in the deck. If I had both Egos in my opening hand then I think that play I made was wrong but since I only had one, it was probably correct still. As a note and request to players out there, my opponent seemed like a really nice guy, but his graveyard/exile zone was super chaotic and literally just a pile of cards thrown together. Don't be like my opponent. Keep a clean play area.

2-1, 3-1

Round 5 - G/B Midrange

The two of us sat down at the table and instantly knew what the other player was on. Since I was borrowing the shop owner's deck the regulars were familiar with it, and I had been sitting next to my opponent round 1. As we shuffle he says something like, "This is a bad matchup for me. All of your Plaguecraters and Chupacabras are really hard for me to beat." The start of this game is pretty slow with him playing a Wildgrowth Walker and some explore creatures early and me playing two drops and removal spells in response. He misses his third land drop for awhile, and I continue to play lands and threats. By the time he hits his third land, I am too far ahead for him to come back. Now, I understand that casually chatting while shuffling is good form, but I would advise against saying card X or card Y is hard for you to beat to your opponent. Knowing that my sideboard plan became simple. Take out every single card that wasn't a 2-for-1. I took out the Greenseekers (since they probably are rarely going to survive the turn cycle), Moment of Cravings, and a single Dusk Legion Zealot to bring in the Arguel's Blood Fast, Find//Finality and Ritual of Soot. Every game started with both of us playing early creatures and having a back and forth of resources. Unfortunately, his creatures just slightly outsized mine, and I was put in a spot where my blocks weren't good but my life total was ticking down. He cast a Sylvan Awakening (there was a weird lands subtheme in his deck that I never really figured out) and brought me down lower than I could recover from after he played a big Vraska the following turn and started making pirates. Game 3 saw me keeping a very sketchy 7 that I probably should have thought on more. He specifically told me that his deck didn't do well against 2-for-1s that answered creatures. So, keeping a hand of Merfolk Branchwalker, Assassin's Trophy and five lands may not have been a great idea. He duresses me on turn 1 and takes the removal spell. I draw a Ritual of Soot off the top, play Branchwalker leaving a spell on top and pass. He plays his Wildgrowth Walker and passes back. A few turns later he plays a Kitesail Freebooter and sees my hand has both an Assassin's Trophy and Ritual of Soot. He's pretty much priced into taking the Ritual since it wipes his board and would get back any other card he may take. I decide to Trophy his Freebooter and get back my Ritual. Over the next two or three turns my opponent makes the mistake that loses him the game in my opinion. Since I have the board wipe in hand he decides to pass the turn doing literally nothing. No land drop. Not adding to the board. Not attacking. Nothing. I draw my card, play my land and pass. This happens one more time where he draws and says go with me responding with a draw, land, go. On the following turn cycle I draw Muldrotha and cast Ritual of Soot. He plays some threats, but I play Muldrotha and an Evolving Wilds after drawing a second Muldrotha. He obviously kills the first but when the second comes down he has no answer. Eventually multiple Eldest Reborns seal the deal in my favor.

I understand the incentive of playing around the board wipe, but this was a classic case of me not being pressured enough to need to use the board wipe. With neither player adding to the board and me hitting land drops, I don't think my opponent had a chance. He had a Find to get back the wiped creatures, but he probably should have forced me into playing the board wipe as early as possible to allow him to rebuild aggressively. I still would have won probably given my draws, but he gave me to much control of the end game. The fact that his main deck was designed to beat aggro probably helped me out a lot too.

2-1, 4-1

I'm very happy with this result. I didn't play perfect, but I did well enough to get 4th (the lowest of the 4-1 players due to breakers). The standard showdown pack had a Sulfur Falls and a foil Risk Factor in it which was nice. The deck ran smoothly, and the only meaningful changes I would make would be cutting the blue since it makes the mana a little painful and awkward. Though it gives access to a few powerful spells, I have to wonder if the Muldrothas should just be Jadelights, Izonis, or Carnage Tyrants. Let the Negates and Egos be a fourth Duress, Wildgrowth Walker, and maybe something spicy. Also I would probably swap out the Dusk Legion Zealots in favor of Seekers’ Squire since I think the body coupled with the lifeloss can really matter against aggro.

The best estimation I can give of the decklist is below. I don't have the deck in front of me so there are some things I am guessing on (specifically the number of Branchwalkers, Vraska's Contempts, and Chupacabras). If you have the cards, I would recommend building the deck. It is definitely fun.

2x Dead Weight 3x Dusk Legion Zealot 3x Merfolk Branchwalker 2x Dryad Greenseeker 2x Moment of Craving 3x Assassin's Trophy 2x Midnight Reaper 2x Plaguecrafter 2x Vraska's Contempt 2x Ravenous Chupacabra 1x Golgari Findbroker 1x Karn, Scion of Urza 2x Vraska, Golgari Queen 3x The Eldest Reborn 2x Muldrotha, the Gravetide 1x Vraska, Relic Seeker 1x Find//Finality 2x Evolving Wilds 1x Island 5x Swamp 4x Forest 3x Watery Grave 2x Drowned Catacomb 4x Woodland Cemetery 4x Overgrown Tomb

Sideboard 3x Duress 2x Negate 2x Arguel's Bloodfast 2x Plague Mare 3x Unmoored Ego 2x Ritual of Soot 1x Find//Finality