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no-pucks-given · 3 years

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TYSON JOST | LIGHT MY WAY HOME

A/N: More than 12.000 words later, more than a month after the initial request from Taylor popped up in my notifications. What a freaking ride. My longest fic I've ever written, and maybe even my favourite one. Thank you, to everyone who hyped me up, send me inspo and send me sweet asks. I couldn't have done this without all of you. Special thanks to @dumb-and-dunner, @chicagoblackhawkslover96, @heybarzy and Chrissy (who doesn't have Tumblr unfortunately).

Warnings: Angst, ‘can I strangle him yet?’ Tyson, swearwords, some major character development and (how could I not?!) a happy ending.

Also: Gabe and Melissa Landeskog play a big part in this fic, so if you aren't comfortable with them, you might want to skip this one.

Word Count: 12.1K

Requested: Yes.

The NHL lifestyle, or the ‘popular’ lifestyle was attractive to all young, hormonal boys. You’d known that for a long time. You stood by Tyson’s side when he got drafted into the wicked world of the NHL. Parties, drinking, sex, training until you can barely move, fights, games, wins and losses. It all had it’s charms, but it also had its dangers. Just like any other guy Tyson wanted to experience it all, the whole package,

You assumed you fell under that ‘whole package’, you were his girlfriend for a reason, right? And you did, for a while. You partied together, came home together, did everything together. But the moment Tyson became older and ‘known’ outside the regular hockey fans, that title didn’t mean much anymore. He became more and more the type of guy you didn’t fall in love with, the type to take you for granted, the type to enjoy the attention of other people, other women in particular. You weren’t the jealous type, you didn’t want to claw out the eyes of every woman that looked at him, but you were at a breaking point. Maybe you were jealous, you weren’t jealous of those other women, you were jealous of the attention Tyson gave them. Attention he should’ve been giving to you, his freaking girlfriend.

You were however the loyal type, the type to come home after a long night. And that’s exactly where things went wrong with Tyson. While you were waiting for him at home with a meal, a warm bed or just simply anything else, he was out. You had no idea where he was exactly, he was simply ‘out’, whatever that might mean. You tried to talk to him, you tried to make him see that this wouldn’t end well for either of you, but he simply waved off your concerns, shrugged his shoulders and moved on.

How do you talk to someone who rediscovered himself? How do you talk to someone who thinks he’s on top of the world? How do you save someone from the downfall of success when they don’t want to be saved? You knew one day he’ll come down from this high, one day he’ll realize that he screwed up. One day he’ll come to the conclusion he let something special slip through his fingers, and for what? Fame? Drinks? A rush of adrenaline? One day. But you knew that it wouldn’t be today.

However today is the day that you’re done. Absolutely fed up with all the bullshit excuses Tyson has been feeding you, all the coming home late or not even coming home at all. You have no idea what he’s been up to these last months, he’s barely home. Even when he’s home it’s like he isn’t really there. You can’t even remember the last time the two of you slept together or the last time you actually went to bed at the same time. Breakfast together? A lifetime ago. A lazy day together? Can’t remember. Date night? Months, months ago. Even thinking about it pisses you off to no end, the pain and hurt slowly making place for a new emotion: anger.

It’s frustrating to say the least. You love and take care of him like he means the world to you, and he does. Tyson on the other hand seems to take you for granted, or forgets you’re here at all. It seems like you’re talking to a brick wall instead of your boyfriend. No matter how hard you try, your words have no impact, your tears don’t make him feel anything. It’s like he’s a totally different person. You barely recognize him anymore these days, he feels like a stranger inside the body of the man you love. It feels like you’re both living your life, besides each other instead of with each other. It hurts, that’s for sure.

Like any other day you’ve prepared dinner, put it on the table and sat down on one of the chairs. All you can do now is wait, wait and pray he’ll show up this time. You even texted him, begged him to come home and simply eat dinner with you for a change. Of course you didn’t get a response, of course it’s complete radio silence from his side. God, you were desperate at this point, you don’t even try to deny it.

With every passing minute your hope disappears little by little. You stare at the food on the table until it’s completely dark outside, no sign of Tyson. Hours passed and you barely noticed it, it isn’t until you try to stand up and your muscles ache from sitting in the same position for a long time that you realize how much time actually has passed. “Fuck this, why am I even trying anymore?” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head. This isn’t worth it, it hasn’t been for a long time. Maybe, just maybe you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.

Deciding to choose yourself over Tyson is a major decision, one you probably should’ve made sooner. It doesn’t matter, what does matter is that you’re choosing you now. You make the split second decision to just grab your stuff, just the necessary stuff. You remember Gabe’s offer, at the time you waved it off with a smile, pretending it wasn’t as bad as it might look to the outside world, but now? You want nothing more than to take him up on his offer. So what’s stopping you?

Even though you were excruciating calm this whole time, the moment you step into your bedroom, or Tyson’s bedroom, you break. This is real, this is really happening. You grab your bags, filling them with some of your stuff. Some clothes, some toiletries, your makeup, everything you might need. It’s a tough job, it’s even harder when you almost can’t see past the tears. At some point you lose track of things you did and didn’t grab, just shoving random items into your bag.

You let out a frustrated sigh, your body sinking down on the floor. In your hands the box containing all your high school love letters, all the small gifts you made each other. Tyson was quite handy, who would’ve thought that? You smile at the memories, sorting through the box. You frown at the feeling surging through your body, is this how heartbreak feels? Looking down at the contents of the box you sigh, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. Why couldn’t life be as simple as it used to be? It shouldn’t be this hard, right? You grab your prom picture between your fingers, smiling sadly at the two people in the picture, both smiling like they just won the lottery, both utterly in love with the other. How time can change..

You throw the box on the bed, maybe it will remind Tyson what the two of you had was special, maybe he’ll realize what he’s about to lose. If it doesn’t, well, it’s his loss. Hauling your bags downstairs is a full workout, you intended to bring ‘just the essentials’ but you have way more important stuff than you originally thought. You aren’t planning on returning to this house any time soon.

Shutting the car door after you loaded in your stuff gives you some form of relief. You let out the breath you’ve been holding in. You made your decision, it’s time to follow through now. You make your way back inside, and into the kitchen. Cleaning up all leftovers from dinner, which obviously is a lot more than you expected. Although.. did you really think he would show up? You shake your head again, putting the leftovers into the fridge. After you finish the dishes you retreat back to the living room, falling down on the couch with a loud sigh. All you can do now is wait.

You could’ve just left and never look back, but that isn’t your style. If you’re going to leave, you’ll do it the right way. You won’t leave without giving him a piece of mind, letting him know he fucked this up for good. You try to focus on the movie playing on the screen, but your heart keeps beating harder and harder, at this point you wish you would’ve just left instead of waiting for Tyson to show up. God, why did you have to do it the right way? Because you know, deep down, you would’ve wanted him to do it the same way. It’s the humane thing to do, it’s only right after spending such a long time together.

The front door opening brings you out of your thoughts. Honestly you don’t even know what time it is, but frankly you don’t care. All you want right now is to get this off your chest and leave. Tyson’s eyes widen when he comes face-to-face with you, surprisingly he doesn’t seem that intoxicated. You suspected he went out, but at this point he could’ve been anywhere.

“You’re still up,” Tyson says, walking past you and flopping down on the couch.

“Yep, and you missed dinner,” you counter, crossing your arms. Tyson simply shrugs his shoulder, clearly not caring enough to explain his absence. “I texted you to make sure you would be here,” you say, even though you know it doesn’t make a difference.

“Yeah, I was busy,” Tyson answers, looking down at his phone.

You almost feel the need to chuckle, to start laughing at his stupid behavior, but this is anything but funny to you, it fucking hurts. “I’m done, Tyson. I’m fucking done,” you say, shaking your head, trying so hard to keep the tears away.

Tyson looks at you with dull eyes, no emotion visible on his face. “Then go to fucking bed, I really can’t deal with your problems right now,” he sighs, turning his head back to the phone in his hand.

Right now, at this moment you know you made the right decision. This isn’t behavior of someone who’s in love, this isn’t even behavior of someone who loves. “You don’t have to deal with me anymore, because I’m leaving. I’m done, we’re done,” you tell him, emphasizing the last part. Tyson’s eyes shoot to yours, the panic clearly written all over his face now.

“No, we’re not. You can’t break up with me, y/n!” he almost shouts at you, standing up from the couch.

“Yes, I can and I will. You don’t get to act like you care all of the sudden, Tyson. You haven’t acted like a boyfriend in months. You haven’t given me any reason to stay, so I won’t. I’m done with whatever this is,” you say, waving between the two of you. Tyson grabs your wrist, tears starting to pool in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off. “No. No. You don’t get to do this. It’s over. You put on quite a show, but I can’t say it was very entertaining. This curtain fucking closes right now, show is over. You can act like you care, but I know by now that you don’t,” you tell him, ripping your arm out of his grip.

You walk over to the front door, keeping your head high. Now is not the time to break down, your time will come. You hear Tyson behind you, muttering how sorry he is, excuse after excuse leave his mouth. You open the door, turning around one last time to look at Tyson. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not,” you say while shaking your head. You close the door behind you, not looking back at what you’ve left behind, only looking forward to what’s yet to come.

It’s when you’re in your car mindlessly driving around when you realize you have nowhere to go. You forgot to call Gabe, and it’s probably way too late now. You quickly check the time, 2am, shit that’s late. You doubt he’s still awake, you feel bad for even thinking about waking him up. Two young children, both of them under the age of 2, and being a professional hockey player probably cost him enough energy already, you don’t need to add to that. “He did say I could always call him when I made my decision,” you say out loud, more to convince yourself that it’s okay than anything else.

You easily find Gabe’s contact, immediately pressing the dial button before you change your mind again. The line only rings twice before Gabe picks up. “I’m guessing you either finally broke up with him or there’s a fire somewhere,” Gabe says from the other side of the line. You chuckle, shaking your head. “And since you’re calling me and not the fire department, my guess is on the first one,” Gabe continues, trying to make you smile some more.

“I did it, I broke up with him, couldn’t stand to be there any second longer,” you sigh, brushing your fingers through your hair.

You hear Gabe’s sigh of relief. “I’m proud of you, y/n. I know this isn’t what you had in mind, but it’s better like this, I promise.”

Gabe turned into one of your best friends over time, Melissa is the older sister you never had and you love their children like they’re your own. Gabe and Melissa welcomed you into their family immediately after meeting you. You hadn’t expected to make friends and you definitely didn’t expect to make friends with the captain and his wife, but you’re so grateful you did. The support you receive from them is overwhelming, you couldn’t wish for better friends. So when Gabe first made you this offer, you were thankful he did, although you were still convinced at that point that Tyson would change.

“Uhm, you know.. that offer you made me? Is that still on the table?” you ask, praying he’ll say ‘yes’, praying you don’t have to sleep in some random hotel tonight.

“Of course, the guestroom is already prepared. Melissa expects you to be here as soon as possible, apparently she ‘really needs to cuddle her little sister’,” Gabe chuckles, you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at his wife.

“Thank you, Gabe. I owe you,” you say softly.

“You don’t. You’re family, y/n,” Gabe says, and you know he means every word he just said. Family. “Now get your ass over here, before Melissa starts a search party,” Gabe chuckles, making you laugh some more, because you know she would. You quickly say your goodbyes, promising you’ll be there in a few minutes. It’s just a short drive from your apartment, or Tyson’s apartment now, to Gabe and Mel’s place.

You kept up your appearance, keeping the tears at bay, but the moment you step out of your car and into Gabe’s arms you’re done. “Come here, I’m so sorry,” Gabe says softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You stand there for a few minutes, simply crying on your best friend’s shoulder, until Melissa squeezes herself between the two of you. “Hush, I need some sister time. Why don’t you grab her stuff?” she says, smiling sweetly at her husband.

Gabe sighs dramatically, sending a wink your way. “Whatever you say, wife.”

Melissa pulls you close to her, an arm around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you your room,” she softly says, leading you into the house. You’ve been here so many times already, but never like this. You’ve never been in a situation like this before, you’re not sure how to handle this. “I can hear the wheels turning in your head. It will be okay,” Melissa says, rubbing your arm soothingly. You sigh, shrugging your shoulders, not sure what to say.

Melissa leads you to your room, pushing you down on the bed, while she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re probably exhausted, but do you want to talk?” Melissa asks softly, her face showing nothing but compassion.

You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all that has happened. “I don’t even know what to say, Mel. I don’t even know how I feel right now. I’m just so...” you trail off, not knowing the right words to describe everything that you feel and think right now.

“Confused, relieved, mad?”

You sit back up, looking back at Melissa. “All of the above, I guess? It hurts, but I’m glad I did it. But I also regret it, because I love him, you know? I’m mad he didn’t try harder for me, for us,” you say, trying hard to keep the rush of tears away.

Melissa wraps her arms around you, pulling you close to her. “I know, sweetheart. It will take time, but you’re going to be okay.”

You sigh, knowing she’s right, even though it probably will take more time than just ‘some time’. You did just end a long relationship, it will take a lot of patience and time to work through that. “Thank you, Mel. For letting me stay here,” you mumble against Melissa’s shoulder.

“No need for that. You’re my sister, remember?” Melissa smiles at you.

Gabe softly knocks on the door before opening the door. “Brought your bags, thought you might need them before you go to sleep,” he says, smiling at the sight before him. Your friendship might be unconventional, but he couldn’t care less what other people think about it. Gabe absolutely adores the sister bond you and Mel share, he hoped the two of you would get along, so this? Picture perfect.

“Thanks, Gabe,” you smile at him.

“Do you mind if I steal my wife from you?” Gabe asks, making you and Melissa laugh out loud.

“Nope, she’s all yours,” you chuckle, waving at their retreating backs when they walk out of the room.

You strip out of your clothes, pulling on a sweater. You sigh, realizing you packed some of Tyson’s sweaters out of habit. His smell infiltrates your senses, making it damn hard to keep your emotions under control. It’s right this moment you know exactly how you feel. Heartbroken. The realization that your relationship with Tyson is really over doesn’t give you the satisfaction you hoped for, it doesn’t give you peace, it just fucking hurts. You simply feel hollow, even though deep down you know this was the right choice, this was what needed to happen. You know damn well why you feel so empty, you gave your heart to Tyson a long, long time ago, never expecting to be in a situation you might get it back. You don’t want it back, but you might need it back.

You realize it’s morning when the light softly shines into your room. You sigh, knowing damn well you’re lucky if you slept more than an hour this night. Rolling over you look at the clock on the wall, 9 am, perfect. Deciding it won’t do you any good if you stay in bed any longer, you force yourself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water warms your cold skin, soothing your sore muscles. All the twisting and turning you did all night surely didn’t help the way you feel right now. Why couldn’t life be a bit easier by simply letting the shower wash away all of your hurt, all of your pain? A fresh start, a clean slate.

You slip on some skinny jeans and a soft sweater, not in the mood to even think about doing your makeup. You dry your hair, before making a quick ponytail out of it. You walk down stairs, the chatter and laughter greeting you as soon as you walk into the kitchen. “Morning, guys,” you say, smiling at all the happy faces before you. A round of greetings sound throughout the room.

“How’d you sleep?” Gabe asks you as soon as you sit down next to him with a bowl of cereal.

“Can’t even tell you, suddenly it was 9 am,” you chuckle, shrugging your shoulders at Gabe’s raised eyebrow. “Do you have any idea where my phone is?” you ask Gabe, knowing he grabbed all your stuff out of your car.

“Uhh, I do, but I don’t know if you really want to look at it,” Gabe says, scratching the back of his head before pointing towards the kitchen counter. It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, walking over to where Gabe’s pointing at.

You unlock your phone, quickly checking your notifications. “Oh damn,” you mutter, looking at the absurd amount of missed calls and messages left by none other than Tyson himself.

You sit back down next to Gabe, dropping your head on your arms. “What do I do now, Gabe?” you groan. “Why does he care all of the sudden?”

Gabe rubs his hand over your back before answering your question. “Because he lost you, y/n. He never thought he would.” You turn your head towards Gabe letting his words sink in.

Gabe gets ready to leave for practice shortly after you settle on the couch with Lucas in your arms. The little man has a fascination with your hair, maybe it’s all babies who have that, but you like to think that you’re special. “Don’t pull out all y/n’s hair, baby boy,” Gabe chuckles, giving his boy a soft kiss on his head. He gives you a kiss on your cheek, softly squeezing your shoulder. You open your mouth to say something, but Gabe cuts you off. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry about it, I’m his captain, but I’m your friend, okay? Just relax, make sure Lucas doesn’t puke on you and go do whatever it is that you women do all day,” Gabe chuckles, knowing you better than you know yourself. You mouth a quick ‘thank you’ to him, wishing him good luck with practice before he runs through the house trying to find his girls to kiss them goodbye.

“Your daddy is a good guy, you know that, Lucas?” you smile at the baby on your lap. Lucas coos, his hands grabbing onto the strands of your hair. “Your daddy and mommy make me feel so loved, even though their children like to see me in pain,” you joke, trying to free your hair from Lucas’s small hands. “Buddy, you’re way stronger than you look,” you mumble, when Lucas pulls on your hair again.

Melissa laughs out loud the moment she walks into the living room. “How many times did I tell you that you need to keep your hair away from him and his grabby hands?” she says, expertly freeing your hair from her son’s fists.

“Apparently not enough times,” you chuckle at her. Melissa joins you on the couch, while Linnea Rae plays on the ground with some of her toys, happily showing you what she got every now and then. It’s times like this that you’re extra grateful for Melissa and Gabe, the way they welcomed you into their family has been nothing but perfect.

“So, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Melissa asks, while scrolling through series to watch on Netflix.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know, I’m kind of worried about practice, I think? I don’t want to put Gabe in this position,” you say, keeping your eyes on Lucas.

“You know Gabe would do anything for you, huh? You don’t know how many times he came home utterly frustrated by the way Tyson treated you. He never said anything, because you were still with him, I can’t promise you he will stay quiet this time,” Melissa says, squeezing your shoulder. “He’ll be fine, this isn’t Gabe’s first rodeo.”

You look at Melissa, who simply gives you a wink. “I know, I know. I just don’t want him to get in trouble or anything,” you say, smiling back at her. You trust and know Gabe, so hopefully there won’t be a lot of trouble today.

“If he does though, he probably deserves it.”

Gabe surprises you all with some takeaway when he gets home from practice. It’s been nice eating with other people for change, it’s been way too long. The amount of lonely dinners has been through the roof lately. Gabe nudges you with his elbow, causing you to look up at him. “No frowning at the table.”

Melissa rolls her eyes at her husband while you just stick out your tongue at him. “Sure, dad,” you say, causing Melissa to almost choke on her bite of food before she lets out a loud laugh.

“Yeah, dad. Leave us alone,” Melissa laughs, winking at her husband. Gabe shakes his head at you and Melissa, a grin plastered on his face.

It’s during dessert you find the courage to ask about Tyson. You weren’t sure if you needed to ask Gabe, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know anything, but now you know you do. “So, did anything happen during practice?” you ask him, playing around with your spoon.

Gabe shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “Not much, just some chirping. Told him I’m his captain and he needs to fucking focus on practice. That seemed to do the trick,” Gabe says, shrugging his shoulders, continuing to eat his dessert.

You look across the table at Melissa who has the same expression on her face as you. Not convincing at all. ‘Sure,’ Melissa mouths at you from across the table. You shake your head at her, furrowing your eyebrows at Gabe’s statement. ‘Nope,’ you mouth back at her, finishing your dessert. You decide to let it go, you don’t even know why you care so much. You shouldn’t, right? You broke things off with Tyson, so why do you care so much what he does and thinks? The answer to that question is pretty simple the longer you think about it. Because you still love him, that’s why.

You thank everyone for dinner and dessert, promising to cook something from them later this week. Right now all you can think about is your bed and a decent night of sleep. God, that sounds like a true dream right now. You strip out of your clothes, crawling into the soft and cozy bed. It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep, showing just how exhausted you truly are.

The weeks that follow are filled with all kinds of activities, the 5 of you falling back into a comfortable rhythm, surprising you considering the situation you’re in. It isn’t every day you take in the ex-girlfriend of one of your teammates, or your best friend, whatever way you want to see things. When you aren’t working you spend a lot of time with the kids, trying to make things easier for Melissa and Gabe whenever they are busy or simply need some time for the two of them. You happily take on some of their care, even if it’s as simple as making sure they get their food in time. Honestly they are two of the sweetest children you’ve ever come across, they always find ways to make you laugh, even though most of the time it isn’t on purpose.

It’s been quiet around the house tonight, Melissa went out with a few of her friends, while she left Gabe and the kids with you. Apparently she needed some ‘alone time’ which didn’t include kids, and definitely didn’t include Gabe after he mentioned he wanted some ‘alone time’ with her as well. You love their friendly bickering, the love they have for each other visible in everything they do. So when Melissa gave her husband a dirty look and flipped him the bird the only logical thing to do was to start laughing at their exchange. “Have fun with them, sweetheart!” Melissa had yelled at you when she walked through the door, leaving the four of you behind.

Together you decide to just have a movie night. It’s late enough for both children to be asleep already, yet early enough to squeeze in a full size movie marathon. “Gladiatorrrrr!” Gabe exclaims excitedly while scrolling through the movie selection on Netflix, pausing on his all-time favorite movie.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please no, have mercy, Gabe,” you laugh, knowing damn well you’re going to sit through this movie again. How many times has it been already? 12? You wouldn’t even be surprised. This dude really loves his movie. You look at Gabe from between your fingers, seeing the look on his face which makes you groan even more. “Fineeee, one more time, Gabe. One more time,” you whine at him, secretly enjoying his taste in movies, something you don’t plan on telling him ever.

It’s a little after 10pm when the doorbell rings. You look at Gabe, who looks just as surprised as you are. “It’s a bit early for Mel, don’t you think?” Gabe asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Definitely, unless she drank the whole bottle of champagne again,” you chuckle, thinking back at one of the craziest parties you’ve ever been to with Mel and Gabe.

“Oh God, please don’t remind me of that,” Gabe shudders at the memory of that night, standing up to see who’s on the other side of the door.

Gabe hates to say that he isn’t surprised to see Tyson’s face as soon as he opens the door. Honestly he had expected him at his door days, maybe even weeks ago. The moment Tyson found out you were staying with Gabe he broke, Gabe expected him to fight, to yell, to scream, he expected him to do anything except cry. Which is exactly what Tyson did, breaking down in the middle of practice. For a moment the whole place went quiet, only Tyson’s cries echoing throughout the building. No one knew how to act, no one knew what to do, until Gabe realized he’s the captain for a reason. On and off the ice. It was a weird experience, one Gabe still feels extremely conflicted about. He comforted his teammate, his friend, while his other friend was at his home, utterly heartbroken, trying to get over the guy who was bawling his eyes out on the ice.

After Tyson got over the initial shock the anger took over, just as Gabe expected. It made him almost drop the gloves, something he tried to avoid, not wanting to hurt Tyson. He let him say his things, things that absolutely didn’t make any sense, until he got everything out of his system. “Now can we continue this fucking practice, Jost?” Gabe told him after everything calmed down. Gabe tried to avoid the Tyson/y/n topic as much as possible after that, not wanting to get in the middle of things more than he already was. Until tonight apparently.

Gabe raises an eyebrow at the boy before him. “Why are you here, Tyson?” Gabe sighs, already knowing the answer to that question.

Tyson looks around, eyes flickering from left to right, clearly uncomfortable being here. “I, uh, can I talk to y/n? I know she’s here,” Tyson asks, scratching the back of his head before putting them back in his pockets.

Gabe shakes his head at him. “You can’t, if she wants to talk to you she will find a way to contact you. As long as you don’t get your shit together and prove to me, but most of all to her, that you’ve changed, I won’t let you anywhere near her,” Gabe declares, starting to get annoyed with the way Tyson acts. There’s no way he lets him close to you until you feel like you’re ready to see him again, no way.

Tyson opens his mouth, but Gabe gives him a look that immediately shuts him up again. “I’m saying this as your captain, and definitely not as your friend right now. Go home and leave her the fuck alone. You had your chance, you fucked up and now you have to deal with the consequences. How you deal with those said consequences is up to you, but I suggest you leave now and think about everything you did and didn’t do, okay?” Tyson nods his head, turning around to walk back to his car.

When he’s a few steps away from his car he turns around, smiling sadly at Gabe. “She’s my home, Gabe. Home doesn’t feel the same without her. You out of all people should understand that.”

Gabe chuckles low, shaking his head at his clueless teammate. “I do. I do know what home feels like, but I never, never choose anyone or anything over my ‘home’. Never. You sure as hell did, time after time,” Gabe says frustratedly, before shutting the door, leaving behind an even more frustrated Tyson.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you caught the sound of Tyson’s voice when you walked to the kitchen, grabbing some more popcorn. You didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, but it felt like you were glued to your place, unable to take another step, unable to do anything but listen.

Gabe walks back into the room, the look on your face immediately letting him know you know. “How much did you hear?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly.

“Enough,” you whisper, before breaking down, no longer able to keep the tears locked away, no longer able to keep your emotions to yourself.

With two steps Gabe is in front of you, grabbing the bowl of popcorn you held onto between your trembling fingers. He guides you back to the couch, urging you to sit down, which is a true challenge for someone who can barely feel the ground they walk on. Gabe wraps his arms around you the moment you sit down, allowing you to cry onto his shoulder as much as you want and need. He whispers sweet nothings while softly brushing your hair out of your face, making sure you have room to breath. Time after time Gabe proves what kind of friend he is, always making sure to be there for you when he’s needed, always doing things with the best intentions. Even if it’s just holding you until you calm down, even if it’s just speaking the truth against Tyson, even if it’s just simply being there for one another.

“Sooner or later he would’ve realized what he lost, what he gave up for an evening of clubbing or God knows what. Apparently it’s sooner rather than later, however make sure you make him work for it, if you ever decide you want to give the two of you another chance,” Gabe softly advises you, when you finally calmed down a bit.

“I will, you know I love him, Gabe. But I don’t know if I should?” you mumble, not sure if it’s a question Gabe has the answer to.

“Sometimes the heart wants what it wants. If he’s serious about you, he will work his ass off to earn back your love and trust, I promise you,” Gabe comforts you, after knowing Tyson for so long he’s positive he knows that Tyson goes above and beyond to get what he wants in life.

Maybe it’s Gabe’s comforting words, maybe it’s knowing deep down Tyson still cares, maybe it’s your own strength, but for the first time in a while you feel a tiny flicker of hope, a little bit of light at the end of the dark tunnel. Maybe, just maybe this was all worth it, maybe this is what needed to happen to get better and move forward. Maybe this is how it was supposed to go.

It’s a weird feeling, knowing your ex still cares about you, but also knowing you aren’t ready to let him back into your life like that. You don’t feel like you’re capable of seeing him yet, let alone talk to him. The need to know how he’s doing, how he’s holding up grows, but also confuses you. It’s simply a weird and confusing situation to be in. Choosing between two, maybe even more ways to handle this, while also waiting for Tyson to make a move, which he obviously can’t since you don’t want to see him or speak to him, is a hard task. A task that will require a lot of thinking. You just need a bit more time to gather your thoughts, give all of your confusing feelings a place, while making sure you put yourself first, you need to put yourself first this time.

So when Gabe invites you to one of his home games a few weeks later you say ‘yes’ right away. It seems like the perfect time and place to see Tyson from a distance again, without putting too much stress on yourself, you can just watch and enjoy the game, you don’t have to force anything. Of course your seats turned out to be way closer to the ice than you expected them to be, although... what did you exactly expect with Gabe? You know he’s been talking to both of you, kind of acting like some sort of messenger. He tried to keep it casual, just slipping in some information during a conversation, but you noticed what he was trying to do. Frankly you’re thankful for his meddling.

Steadily your heart starts to beat faster and faster the more players appear on the ice to warm up. When Gabe appears you aren’t surprised to see Tyson close to him, knowing Gabe they probably had a little chat before they went on the ice. Tyson’s eyes shoot to yours the moment he’s close by, completely forgetting the ability to skate. You gasp when he lands on his ass on the ice, earning himself a round of laughter from the people around him, including Melissa and you. Gabe skates over to him, extending his hand and helping him upright again, but not before clearly telling him he’s ‘a dumbass’. Now that’s something you can agree on.

You know Tyson has something up his sleeve when he skates off to the bench, clearly busying himself with something you can’t see. After a few more stolen glances at each other Tyson skates closer and closer to you, until he’s right in front of the glass. His left hand catches your attention, until he gives you a small and almost shy smile. “Look at him, he’s blushing!” Melissa whispers next to you. You shoot her a quick ‘shut up’ look, before you focus your attention back on Tyson.

Tyson shows you the puck in his gloved hand, mouthing to you to catch it. It takes him two tries before the puck lands on the other side of the glass, safely in your hands. Tyson gives you one last quick smile before he skates off to get ready for the game. Melissa nudges you softly, bringing you back from your thoughts. “So, what’s on there?” she asks, knowing damn well you haven’t even checked.

“I don’t know if I want to look, Mel,” you tell her honestly. Melissa gives you a sad smile, throwing her arm around your shoulders.

“Let’s look together?” she suggests. You don’t know why you’re so nervous, how much can you actually write on a puck? He seemed happy to see you, so there’s no need to be nervous that it’s a bad thing. You look at the puck, turning it around in your hands so you can read the whole thing. ‘Talk after the game?’ is written on the puck, you immediately recognize Tyson’s handwriting and his little smiley face, or.. something that should resemble a smiley face.

“That wasn’t that bad, right?” Melissa asks softly, squeezing your shoulder.

“What if I’m not ready?” you ask her, a question that has been on your mind a lot lately.

“Then you take a step back, you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, you don’t have any obligations. But he’s trying, y/n. You’ve heard all of Gabe’s stories, you’ve seen it yourself just now. It can’t hurt to at least talk to him.” You think about Melissa’s words, she does have a point there. Talking is something you should’ve done ages ago, or at least Tyson should’ve done that. So this is progress, he’s at least trying this time, that’s more than he used to do.

It’s hard to keep the smile off your face, you can’t even pinpoint why exactly you’re smiling. Whatever the reason is, it’s a good feeling to smile again. The game sure as hell plays a big part in it, the guys are on fire, scoring goal after goal, never giving the puck away for long. There’s barely any time for you to give Tyson a thumbs up, indicating you’re up for a talk after the game. Whenever you look at Tyson when he’s off the ice he’s smiling, whether it is to himself or to one of his teammates, that smile won’t leave his face.

You follow Melissa down to the locker room after the game is over. You’ve done this so many times, but this time it couldn’t be more different. You greet all the girls who are patiently waiting on their man, getting enough comforting words from them to last you a lifetime. When the door to the locker room opens you come face-to-face with Mikko, someone you haven’t seen in a while. Mikko’s face lights up when he spots you outside the locker room. “y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long,” he says, while hugging you tightly.

“I missed you too, goof. It’s great to see you,” you smile at him, wiggling out of his iron grip. Dude’s definitely stronger than he looks.

“Between you and me, Tyson’s a good kid, he just needed to grow up a bit,” Mikko whispers against your ear, before leaving you alone again.

You raise your eyebrow at Melissa, who just shrugs her shoulders. Weird. After a few more minutes Gabe and Tyson appear in front of you, both of them joking around. Tyson nervously looks around, not sure if he should come any closer. Gabe hugs you swiftly before throwing his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Make sure you bring her home safely, Jost,” Gabe warns him, before quickly saying goodbye to both of you.

You watch them leave, your mouth agape by the way they just left you here. Rude. “Did they just really do that?” you ask no one in particular, still shocked by their actions.

You turn around, looking back at Tyson, who still appears to be nervous. Is he nervous to talk to you? Why would he be nervous? It’s just you. “Hi there,” you smile, looking up at the man in front of you.

“Hi beautiful, it was nice seeing you tonight,” Tyson softly says, giving you a small smile.

Your insides flutter with his use of words, it’s nice hearing them even though you’re not completely sure if he means them the way you hope he does. “It was. You played great, I had a lot of fun,” you say, smiling at the proud look that crosses Tyson’s face for a moment.

Tyson leads you back to the rink, which is now completely deserted, thinking it would be a nice place to chat. For a while the two of you fall back into small talk, ‘how’s life?’, ‘how’s work?’, all that bullshit. You know Tyson and you are avoiding the actual topic that needs to be discussed, or topics? Whatever it is, there’s a lot to talk about. “I missed it here, I forgot how much I loved being here,” you tell Tyson, looking at the lights that lighten up the place, thinking back at the memories full of fun and happiness you both created here.

“I missed you, baby,” Tyson blurts out, completely catching you off guard.

Your eyes shoot back to his, you feel the panic rising inside your body. “Tyson...,” you start, warning him he’s walking on thin ice here.

Tyson’s face falls a bit, seeing the anxious look on your face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Tyson groans, rubbing his face harshly, utterly frustrated with himself and the situation.

It’s quiet for a minute, both of you completely lost in thoughts. “Why is this so hard? We used to be able to talk about anything and everything. What changed, y/n?” Tyson wonders out loud.

You feel a painful pang in your heart, because you know damn well what changed. “You did, Tyson. You changed,” you almost whisper, the truth behind those words more clear than ever before.

You watch as Tyson’s whole composure changes in the blink of an eye, in just a split second he goes from the ‘happy’ guy to the guy who’s just as heartbroken as you are. “I did, didn’t I?” Tyson whispers, the tears pooling in his eyes. “I fucked this up, how could I be so stupid?” he mumbles, burying in face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I regret this more than I could ever admit to you. I’m so sorry, baby,” Tyson cries, trying to keep his eyes focused on you. It’s hard to keep your own tears at bay when the guy you love so much has a breakdown in front of you, so you don’t. You just let them fall.

You don’t make a move to comfort him, you do give him room to let it all out, give him time to gather his composure again. “I looked through the box, the one you left on our bed?” Tyson says, his voice still broken, still thick with emotion. You nod your head, it was something you hoped he would do. “I had no idea you kept all of that throughout the years,” Tyson smiles weakly at you. “It made me realize what a moron I have been these past few months, maybe even longer,” he continues, shaking his head in disappointment. You listen intently at him, this, this is what you hoped for all this time: realization.

“I’m not telling you that you weren’t a moron, because you absolutely were. But I’m glad you came to the same conclusion.”

Tyson chuckles at your statement, giving you half a smile. “I know, I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass for acting this way and a dumbass for letting you go. Any guy would be on top of the world with you by his side, and I just let you slip through my fingers,” Tyson tells you, finally showing he knows he’s been a fool all this time, he knows he let something special go.

“Is it too late for us? Can you give us another chance?” Tysons asks you, his eyes flickering between you and the ground.

You sigh softly, knowing this question would come. It’s something you gave a lot of thought, something that crossed your mind daily. “I don’t know, Tyson. I really don’t know. You really fucking hurt me, you know? I can’t just look past that, I need to heal from that,” you tell him. Tyson nods his head, a guilty expression on his face. “You made me feel worthless every single day. You didn’t even give me a second of your time day after day. All you cared about was being away. Being away from me?”

It’s right that moment Tyson interrupts you by grabbing your hands. “No. No. That’s not true, you need to believe me,” he tells you as fast as he can.

“But how can I believe you when you never gave me a reason to? Your actions showed me exactly that, Tyson. I need answers, I need to know why,” you exclaim, starting to panic again, your anxiety taking over.

“Easy, baby. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, everything you want, but right now I need you to breath. Breathe, baby,” Tyson says softly, trying to calm your shallow breathing back down to normal. “Listen to my breathing, try to follow the way I breathe.” You do as he says, following the rise and fall of his chest, gaining back control of your own breathing.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, while Tyson just shakes his head at you, letting you know it’s okay. “Can you take me home, Ty? We can talk later, okay?” you ask him, suddenly feeling the need to crawl underneath the covers of your bed and just simply sleep for a while.

“Anything you want, y/n,” Tyson says, leading you out of the room and back to his car. You’re pretty sure he mumbled something under his breath, something very closely resembling ‘your home isn’t there, it’s with me’.

The drive to Gabe takes longer than expected, giving you more time to think about Tyson’s earlier question. You still need and want to know how he spent his nights, where he spent his nights, and why he acted like you didn’t exist. That conversation might need to wait until another day, you aren’t up for any more information, any more realizations, you still need to process everything you heard, saw and felt today.

Tyson stops the car in front of Gabe’s house, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. You know he still hopes he gets an answer to his earlier question, and you want to give him at least that. “You need to show me you changed, Tyson. Show me you changed for real and I’ll try to get past everything that happened. I can’t promise you anything,” you tell him softly, meaning everything you just said.

Tyson nods his head, a smile of relief on his lips. “I will, I promise you I will show you I changed and that you’re everything to me. I promise, baby.”

So that’s exactly what Tyson does the next few weeks, every free moment he tries to show you just how much you mean to him, without smothering you. Whether it’s taking you out for dinner, although you’re still waiting for Tyson to actually make you dinner by himself one day, to small coffee dates and fresh flowers at work. It’s been a lot to process, a lot of adjusting to this ‘new’ Tyson, or rather seeing the ‘old’ Tyson again. And you missed him, God you missed him so much.

Tyson seems happier, more at peace with himself these days, it’s a pleasant change. Often you wondered what was really going on inside his head, but you stopped trying after he waved it off again, and again, and again. The late night phone calls, or facetiming during road trips have become a habit again, something you didn’t think you would ever experience again with him. You still take things slow with Tyson, deciding to rather allow yourself to slowly start trusting him again than diving head first into a relationship again. Maybe it will never come that far again, you don’t know how the future will look like for the two of you, but for now it’s enough.

You come face-to-face with a smirking Melissa when you get home from yet another ‘iced coffee and donut’ date, even though you’re pretty sure Tyson isn’t allowed to eat any donuts. “Oh no,” you groan at Melissa’s expression.

“It’s time we have a little sister-sister conversation, don’t you think?” she asks you, ushering you into the living room.

“Do we?” you groan again, not in the mood to handle whatever Melissa wants to talk about now, because you already know it’s either about you, Tyson or you and Tyson.

Melissa flops down on the couch, patting the place next to her, indicating for you to sit your ass down. “Did you already talk to him about it?” she asks, straight to point in pure Melissa-style.

You let your head fall back against the cushions, sighing loudly. “I didn’t. We’re doing great, we’re having fun. I’m going to ruin it if I start asking questions again.”

Melissa stays quiet for a minute, trying to figure out the right way to approach this sensitive topic. “You know you deserve the truth, right? You can’t rebuild a relationship when not everything’s on the table, sweetheart,” Melissa says softly, knowing you’re struggling with this.

“I promise I’ll talk to him after the road trip, I don’t want to create any unnecessary negative energy before,” you promise Melissa, although she gives you a ‘who are you trying to fool here’ look before switching topics.

A few days later you find yourself back at Tyson’s place. It’s weird being here, knowing you don’t live here anymore. Nothing changed, absolutely nothing, Tyson kept everything the way you did, whether it’s out of laziness or out of hope you’ll come back on day. Either way it’s weird coming back to a place that’s no longer your home. You came here to talk, nothing more nothing less. You promised Mel you would, and if you’re being honest with yourself it’s time to know the truth, time to reopen old wounds and finally get some answers. You’ve grown closer and closer to Tyson, without knowing everything, without knowing you’d be able to forgive him if he ever made a misstep. It’s time.

Tyson has been a nervous wreck ever since you called him last night after he returned from the road trip to St. Louis. He knew this was coming, but he prayed you would simply forget, even though he knows that’s not fair at all. He can’t excuse his behavior, and he won’t, not anymore. You deserve nothing but the truth, the full truth. He’s not proud of it, but you leaving him opened his eyes, showed him he really needed to change. Tyson feels like that’s something he truly did, he changed for the better, he can only hope you’ll feel the same way. He can only hope you’re still on the same path after tonight.

“You did great these last games, Ty,” you smile at him. You’re proud of the way he’s been performing these last couple of games, he really stepped up his game.

“I know you didn’t come here to talk about my performances on the ice, so can we please skip the pleasantries?” Tyson sighs, catching you completely off guard with his rather harsh approach. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I’ve just been so fucking nervous since you called me,” Tyson curses, frustratedly brushing his fingers through his curls.

“You’re right though, I did come to talk. I think it’s time we lay all our cards on the table,” you tell him, nodding at your own answer.

You nervously bite on your lip, playing with the cup of water in your hand. It isn’t every day you ask your ex these questions. Questions you want the answers to, question you maybe don’t even want to hear the answers of. “I need to know if you cheated on me, Ty,” you blurt out, keeping your eyes on the ground, not wanting to see the look on Tyson’s face.

“Look at me, baby,” Tyson says, urging you to look up at him. “I never cheated on you, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

You shake your head at him, not knowing what to do with these emotions surging through your body. “It doesn’t make sense, Ty. Where were you all those nights? Where were you every time I lay in bed alone waiting for my boyfriend to come home? Waiting if he actually comes home this time or stays out all night again? Where were you?” At this point you’re past the civil conversations, past the friendly banter, you need answers, you need to know why he did what he did. The reason doesn’t even matter at this point, you need to know why. Why did he leave you alone so many nights, worrying about his well being, worrying about if he would come home at some point?

“Fuck, y/n! I know I fucked up, I know I did. But I swear on everything, I swear on my career, I swear on you that I never, never, touched another woman. I never kissed another woman, I never even danced with another woman, I did not cheat on you,” Tyson exclaims, hoping, praying you hear what he’s saying, that you’ll believe him. He didn’t do anything with another person, it was always you, it still is only you and he’ll do everything in his power to prove that to you every damn day.

“Then where were you, Ty? If you weren’t with another woman, then where the fuck were you every night you didn’t came home? Please enlighten me, because I’m so lost, so fucking lost,” you say, feeling utterly frustrated with yourself, with Tyson, with this shitty situation.

Tyson takes a deep breath, placing his cup back on the table. “Shitfaced drunk to the point I couldn’t even remember my own name, or so stoned I saw freaking elephants running all around town. Spending my money on unnecessary shit at clubs and bars, all to forget, trying to forget the fact that I had a perfect girlfriend waiting for me at home, while I did stupid shit. Fuck, this sounds even worse out loud than in my head,” Tyson groans, burying his face in his hands.

“But...,” you start, before Tyson cuts you off.

“I felt ashamed and guilty, y/n. Ashamed I let it get that far every time, guilty I didn’t tell you, guilty I didn’t come home again. One of the guys would just take me back to their place out of sympathy, letting me crash on their couch, trying to sleep off my haze.”

You try to come up with words to say, with anything but nothing comes out, you just feel.. empty? “I don’t understand, Tyson,” you say, at this point not even sure what you don’t understand.

“I tried, y/n. I tried to just come clean, but I couldn’t when you were so nice all the time, I couldn’t when I knew you would hate it, hate me. You know I’m a fucking lightweight, that makes it even worse. But those are no excuses, there aren’t any. I fucked up,” Tyson sighs, giving you a sad smile, “I couldn’t face you, I didn’t know how to show you my vulnerable side without letting it change the way you saw me. I didn’t want you to see me any different, but I didn’t notice I changed until you packed your bags and left me standing in the doorway.”

You’re absolutely speechless, there are so many things you want to say but you can’t form any sentences, any words. You just stare at him, your mind racing with an unlimited amount of thoughts. “Are you okay, baby?” Tyson asks softly, reaching out to put his hand on your arm.

You shake your head from side to side, wiping away the tears that spilled out. “I’m not okay, I’m definitely not okay,” you tell him. “I feel terrible knowing you didn’t feel like you could come to me, like you couldn’t talk to me. I’ve always been your biggest supporter, nothing would’ve changed that, Ty.”

Tyson gently wipes the tears away from underneath your eyes, scooting closer to where you’re seated. “Come here, baby,” he softly says, opening his arms for you. You hesitate for a second, not knowing if this is the right thing to do. Fuck the right thing, you definitely need a hug right now, and judging by Tyson’s facial expression he needs one as well. You lean forward, putting your arms around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his body. How long has it been since you hugged each other? You can’t even remember, way too long. Tyson closes his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible to his own body.

“I missed this, Ty. I missed you,” you confess, the feeling of his arms around you, the feeling of Tyson, bringing back so many memories, so many happier times.

“I know we still have a long way to go, but I hope we’ll do this together. I can’t even tell you how great it feels to have my arms around you again, even if it’s just for a moment,” Tyson says, after you both let go of each other.

“We do, but I’m in if you’re in, Ty,” you agree, wanting nothing more than to work through the issues you still have. It’s time to forgive, time to let go, time to change and time to move on.

“I’m all in.”

The talk you had with Tyson that Wednesday evening did wonders for the both of you. You still had a long way to go before you were even remotely close to where you used to be with Tyson, but the most important thing was that you were working on things. Slowly, but steadily the two of you worked on trusting each other again, telling each other important things again, just simply working on being in a healthy relationship again. Although the word never came up, you were nowhere near ready for that commitment, so you settled on something less intimidating. Friends.

It was supposed to be a regular, normal Friday evening with just Melissa and the kids. Gabe and Tyson were playing one of their most important games this season, both of them begged you to come, but it was too late to find a babysitter. Not wanting to be by yourself there and leaving Mel alone, you decided to sit this one out as well, promising to cheer them on in front of the tv. It’s the least you could do. So there you are, seated on the couch wearing your Jost jersey for the very first time again, just as you promised. Weird, like nothing ever changed, even though the exact opposite is true.

You’re bouncing a giggling Linnea Rae on your knee, looking down at her adorable mini jersey. “Look it’s your daddy!” you exclaim excitedly, pointing at the closeup shot of Gabe.

“Daddy!” Linnea Rae giggles just as excited.

You catch Mel softly smiling at your little interaction with her daughter, enjoying the love you share for each other. It’s been a blessing to have you around here, the way you care for her children, but also for her and her husband has been phenomenal. Mel couldn’t wish for a better friend, for a better sister than you.

“Oh no,” you whisper when Tyson gets slammed hard into the glass. Melissa grabs your hand, squeezing softly.

“He’s going to be fine, he’s a tough guy,” she says, trying her best to comfort you. And he is, like the tough guy Tyson is, he gets up again, shaking off the hard hit. The game continues and you’re glad Tyson is fine, skating like he didn’t just get squeezed between a glass wall and a 200 pound hockey player.

All goes well until Gabe decides the best place to smack his stick is directly against Tyson’s face, again. “Not his face, Gabe! Not his fucking face again!” you yell at the screen, thanking Mel for already putting the kids to sleep.

“Shit, that looks bad,” Melissa almost whispers, squeezing your hand again.

You don’t know many things for sure in life, but you sure as hell know Tyson will be spotting a black eye for weeks. But like the tough guy he already proved to be, he just goes on with the game, trying his absolute best to work as hard as he can, giving himself completely to the game, anything to get his team the victory.

“That’s the second time you gave my man a black eye, Gabe. Why do you keep hurting him?” you whine the second Gabe walks into the living room. For a moment the room stays awfully quiet, until you realize what you just said. “I really said that, huh?” you ask, fighting to keep the smile off your face.

“You sure did. But I’m sorry, it was an accident. Again,” Gabe chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.

“Uhu, again,” you say, rolling your eyes at your best friend.

Gabe grins at you, flopping down on the couch next to Mel. “I’ll try not to hurt his pretty face again, okay?” Gabe laughs, shaking his head at you in a playful way.

“Is it weird if I, you know.. went over to check up on him?” you ask your friends, suddenly insecure about the thought of just showing up at his door.

Gabe gives you a soft smile. “I’m absolutely convinced he’d love that, y/n,” Gabe says, pulling Melissa closer to him.

“I know he would, sis,” Melissa agrees with her husband.

“Fine, okay. I’ll be back in a few. Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” you tell the two lovebirds before finding your stuff and almost running out of the front door.

You’re giddy the entire drive to Tyson’s apartment. This could go two ways, either it goes extremely well or this backfires completely. You’re hoping for the first one. Seeing Tyson get hurt gave you some realizations. One of them is that you absolutely hate to see him hurt, and you want nothing more than to be there for him, care for him, to tell him everything will be alright. Which brings you to your second discovery of the evening: you still love him, you’re still completely and utterly in love with Tyson. You can’t, really can’t imagine your life without Tyson in it. It’s your turn to tell him you need him, tell him you don’t want to do anything without him, tell him you still see a future together.

You pick up his favorite comfort food on the way over, cake. You know his nutritionist will hate you for this, but he deserves a treat after taking a stick to the face. You chuckle to yourself when you think of the small cake you bought, it’s stupid and childish, but you love it. The fun you already had makes it absolutely worth it. You park in front of the building, hopping out of the car and quickly making your way over to the floor Tyson occupies.

You rummage around in your coat pocket for the lighter you bought alongside the cake. Quickly placing the cover back into the bag, and lighting up the ‘2’ shaped candle. You snicker to yourself, enjoying this way too much. You knock on the door and patiently wait for Tyson to open up. You hear Tyson approaching, making it harder and harder to keep your composure.

The moment he opens the door his face shifts from slight annoyance, to confused, to happy, and back to confused again. “y/n?” he asks softly, looking between you and the cake, confusion clearly written all over his face.

“Happy second black eye!” you yell, before bursting out in laughter.

Tyson can’t help but join you in your laughter, if there’s one thing he loves about you, it’s your wicked sense of humor. “You really are something special, aren’t you?” Tyson chuckles, shaking his head softly at you, a smile playing on his lips.

“You tell me, Jost,” you say, giving him a wink before walking past him and inside his apartment.

“So you bought me a cake?” Tyson asks you, looking over your shoulder to the cake on his kitchen counter.

“I sure did, thought you’d deserved a treat after what Gabe did to you, again,” you laugh.

“He sure likes to hit me in the face with things. But thank you, this really means a lot to me, baby,” Tyson softly says, squeezing your hip with one of his hands, before grabbing two plates. While Tyson cuts the cake you look for something to drink, deciding water will do for the night.

You flop down on the couch next to Tyson, immediately bringing the fork with a piece of cake to your mouth. “Oh God, that’s so good,” you moan out, you picked some killer cake.

“Don’t make those noises, please,” Tyson groans, stuffing his face with cake.

“I’m sorry I picked such a good freaking cake, mister,” you laugh, nudging him with your foot. Tyson rolls his eyes playfully at you, grabbing your foot with his free hand before you can nudge him again and again.

“Movie?” Tyson asks after you both finished your plates, although Tyson finished the last few bites of your piece. Like he said he’s a needy and hungry man.

“Sure, but just something light and funny, Ty. Nothing dark,” you tell him, knowing he’d love to scare you throughout some horror movie.

While Tyson scrolls through the movies, you make yourself more comfortable on the couch, laying back against the cushions with your feet against Tyson. He looks at you, scanning your body, clearly thinking about something since his eyebrows keep furrowing and relaxing.

“Come here, Tyson,” you softly say when he finally picks a movie to watch, opening your arms for him. His eyes shoot to yours, like he can’t actually believe you just told him that. He gives you a quick smile, before moving towards you, laying down beside you.

He rests his head against your chest, just like he used to do so long ago, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Is this okay?” he asks you, making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, even though you’re the one who suggested this.

“It’s perfect, Ty,” you reassure him.

Halfway through the movie you can’t resist the temptation to run your fingers through his curls any longer. Tyson groans softly when your nails rake over his scalp, sending chill through your body. “That’s so good, please never stop doing that,” he groans out, pulling you tighter against him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Ty,” you tell him, smiling at the way his eyes shoot to yours.

“You aren’t? Are you serious?” he asks you quietly, eyes still locked on yours.

“I am, love. I came to the conclusion that you’re worth all the risks in life. You’re my light, my guiding light in darkness, my light at the end of the tunnel,” you say, leaving a soft kiss on his forehead. You try to express your emotions towards Tyson, trying to make him feel what you felt when you came to the sudden realization he’s worth taking a risk.

“What does that mean, baby?” Tyson asks you softly, an uncertain smile on his lips.

“It means I’m willing to give us another shot, another go. I want to try again, Ty.”

You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips when you look at Tyson’s face, the realization setting in, the happiness and the gratefulness spreading all over his face, the relief flooding through his body.

“How does that work?” Tyson asks again, clearly trying to rid himself of any insecurities, any questions he has. You gladly take those insecurities away from him.

“A clean slate, completely starting over again to give us both a fresh start. How does that sound?” you ask him.

Tyson nods at you, the happiness radiation off him. “A fresh start, I like the sound of that,” Tyson muses. The changes on his face fascinates you, it seems like he goes through a whole range of emotions in just a few minutes. Until he reaches one you know all too well, mischief. He looks at you, the familiar glimmer in his eyes tells you he’s definitely up to something. He sends you a soft and sweet smile, that almost melts you into a puddle right there and then. “Hi, I’m Tyson,” he says, extending his hand to you. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, this is exactly how Tyson is. Funny, charming, an absolute dream.

“You’re a goof, you know that?” you tell him, softly shaking your head at him, but the big grin on your face tells him you loved that. Tyson intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing softly. When he doesn’t make any other moves you take matters into your own hand, slowly leaning in and softly pressing your lips on his. The familiarity, the rush of emotion flooding through your body hits you like a ton of bricks. The feeling of his lips against yours light something deep inside of you, and just like that you finally feel complete again.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fic #tyson jost x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fic #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #tyson jost fanfiction

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hold-our-destiny · 3 years

Text

so i thought since im not really writing much lately, id put a big list of all my ideas with brief summaries and if you guys wanted to see any in particular i could try to write a small oneshot of it.

1. basically peter having a long conversating with tony about the struggles of having his enhancements and explaining how he cant even kill himself because of his healing (like the scene from avengers)

2. Endgame au- “Hey peter? Its Tony- We did it. We won, pete- we won. Please Peter” then when peter’s in a coma he listens to a voicemail left by him before he left for the field trip (saved on insta) at some point peter says “i just wanted to be like you”

3. V slow (almost) major character death- three quick gunshots and a thump- peter worrying about tony’s head wound.

4. peter and harley falling in love (3k words) in tumblr drafts for harley

5. tony breaking down in the middle of a fight

6. Stony soulmate au- sharing scars.

7. “I didn’t think you cared about me”

8. Peter dragged underwater

9. Steve reading bucky’s journal in civil war

10. peter tries to help tony in siberia but gets hypothermia way more than tony does. after like a week steve comes back and tony screams at him cause peters in a coma, maybe steve finds him in the medbay

11. Parkner last words soulmate au

12. peter gets infected with anthrax

13.steve and peter kidnapped thing- peter bring scared of tony cause they used his tech against him

14. parkner hanahaki but with recovery and peter coughing up the rest of the flowers= whump. basically peter loves harley, passes out cause he can’t breathe and nearly dies, tells harley, and has to spend a week throwing up the rest of the flowers and being so tired he can’t stand

15. tony faking his death and peter and steve getting mad when they find out he’s alive

16. rhodey tony falling in love+ going to warrrr

17. okay so tony maybe almost dying and peter crying about it?

18. peter gets kidnapped after an argument saying “i know- i know you’re mad but- p-please Mr stark- please help m-me, i’m sorry” cause he thinks tonys mad at him.

19. steve helping peter with harassers- drafts

20. tony whump being kidnapped and refusing to give info on spiderman and peter saves him with rhodey and gets shot but because of adrenaline they don’t realise until they’re outside and peter collapses

21. the scene where he gets shot from enola holmes but it’s irondad- peter has a bulletproof vest on and gets shot by a shotgun and tony thinks he’s dead cause he’s oncounscious from being thrown into a wall

22. okay so what about a situation where tony and peter are at a press event and peter gets shot. just imagine what tony would be saying as he catches him and slowly lowers him to the floor.“it’s okay, i gotcha. holy shit- you’re gunna be okay, kid. come on, eyes on me-“ keeping on talking until the medics get there, still not leaving the kids limp form. Peters eyes never leave him, glazed over but never closing.Of course, when he wakes up later, Tony will be a little teary eyed sat by his bed, probably making a joke about “god kid, you’re not supposed to outlive your old man” Peter not wanting to be alone when he dies

23. tony and peter on a mission and tony goes to find peter cause he’s not responding and he’s unconscious cause of poison- tetrodotoxin B

24. Peter put in a cage thing with bucky when hes triggered into being the winter soldier and being on comms with steve and the others.

25. 5 times tony and peter thought they lost each other and the one time they nearly did.

26. Degloving

27. parkner voicemail with peter almost dying, end is him coming home. season 2 ep 3 of 911

28. soulmates rhodyetony can feel each other’s pain. rhodey knowing tony’s alive in im1

29. parkner enemies to lovers only one bed nightmare

30. character study of the mcu, ned, sam, wanda, mj, bucky,

31. harley thinking peter is dead, dealing with grief after a kidnapping

32. Prompt 885: Stephen and Tony were together before Afghanistan. They hit a rough patch when Stephen has his accident and the Accords are proposed. The stress causes a huge fight where Tony tells Stephen to get out and never contact him again. Stephen is crushed and leaves for Kathmandu the next day, leaving only a voicemail saying goodbye and asking Tony to not blame himself. The general consensus is he committed suicide. CA:CW and DS happen, and Tony runs into a changed Stephen in Greenwich Village.

33. basically incredibles- steve’s taken by hydra and peter and tony are in a plane when hydra attacks them, tony’s telling them to abort and steve slowly realises he could lose his family, then it blows up and tony calls a suit to peter. peters got broken ribs and bruises because of moving around and tony sends out a signal to the team

34. peter nearly dies on a mission, tony’s yelling at him and he breaks down crying when he realises what could’ve happened

35. peter nearly gets kidnapped/ sold and he’s really shaken up about it he won’t leave harley or tony

36. peter and tony are kidnapped, peters conditioned and at one point the kidnapper gives him a truth serum and asks intimate questions/ he’s not conditioned and it’s either ask the questions or take the punishment-

37. bucky getting back from hydra and coping? steve feeling sad, finding out bucky can feel his arm and tried to rip it out, tony helping? the scene in the woods with the trigger words and steve being there really sad and shit- also thinking pierce was steve

38. peter flinching during an argument

39. bucky having to pretend to be winter again in a mission

40. Peter telling tony about skip

41. ya know the hypothetical about hydra training bucky to give people guns incase they need to ‘execute’ the soldier, and him giving steve a guy.

42. peter being trapped in the soul stone when he gets snapped, him being the only one there because of his mutation or something (his soul was too strong to be broken for the time so it had to be contained) plus dissociation when he gets back

43. peter and bucky kidnapped together, tony and steve both worried as hell and having to work together and bond to get them back

44. soulmate mind talking- peter getting into trouble/kidnapping? make collection for soulmates

45. peter and tony are running from kidnappers, peter gets caught in a bear trap. maybe include steve.

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 years

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Hiya! I'm a new writer, aside from an odd bit of fanfiction here and there. I'd like to finally begin an original story. What are your initial actions when beginning a new work? Aside from that, do you have any more tips for me to adhere to? I'm not looking to publish or anything, this is purely for fun.

Guide: Starting a New (Long Fiction) Story

Whether you’re writing for practice, publication, or fun, the process for writing a new original story is different for everyone and often depends on the project itself. Here are some things to consider as you start to prepare and get started on your new story.

1. To plot or not to plot?

The first thing you’ll want to do is decide how much you want to plot out the story before you start writing. Some writers are avid plotters, planning out every detail of their story before they begin. Other writers prefer to take an idea and wing it, and some people plot as they go. At the very least, it’s a good idea to make sure you know the following before you start writing:

Who is your protagonist? What do they want, why do they want it, and how are they going to get it?

When and where is the story set? What parts of this setting will play the biggest role in the story and how?

Who or what is the antagonistic force? Every protagonist needs an antagonist to work against them, creating obstacles they must overcome as they try to reach their goal. An antagonistic force is anyone or anything that creates those obstacles, whether a super villain, overbearing but well-meaning parents, a disease, a natural disaster, or a plague of zombies.

Know your beginning, middle, and end. Before you start writing, it’s a good idea to have a mental picture of how the story starts (your character’s normal life before everything turns upside down), what’s happening at the midpoint (what happens to raise the stakes and give the protagonist a big push toward the “final showdown” with the antagonist), and how the story ends (does your character defeat/survive the antagonistic force? Do they reach their goal? How does your character or their world change as a result?)

2. Research and Inspiration...

Whether or not you decide to plot, you will probably want to spend a little time doing some research and looking for information. If you are choosing to plot, you may want to do this afterward or during your plotting phase. Ultimately, you’ll want to consider whether there are any elements in your story that you need to know more about before writing them. This might include things like learning what it’s like to be deaf, how castles are laid out, or what kinds of plants and flowers typically grow in forests. If you’re setting your story in a real place, or are using a real place as inspiration, you may want to learn more about that place. If your story takes place in a particular era or involves a particular event or type of event, you will want to research those. For inspiration, you may want to look for pictures of everything from characters and clothing to buildings and places. Some writers enjoy putting together pinterest or tumblr galleries to house inspiring pictures. You may also want to put together character, setting, and story aesthetics (collages), put together a writing playlist that has the right feel for your story, or even travel to places or do activities that are related to your story.

3. Planning, preparation, and organization.

If you’re going to wing it, you’re pretty much ready to get started with writing now. However, if you’re going to plot your story, this is the point where you might want to do a little more planning and preparation before you start writing, and depending on how much stuff you accumulate through these early stages, you’ll probably want to do a little organization, too.

When I start a new story, I always do three things:

-- purchase a three-ring binder and dividers for keeping track of my story plans-- set up a story specific folder on my desktop with necessary subfolders-- set up a story specific folder in my browser with necessary subfolders

I like to decorate my binder with a printed out aesthetic picture and a pretty title on the side. The divider tabs for my binders usually contain sections like: characters, setting, outline/scene list, notes, rough draft, etc. If there is more than one major setting, sometimes I’ll give each setting their own divider. It really just depends on the needs of my story, and sometimes I re-organize my dividers as the story progresses and my needs evolve.

My desktop folder usually contains the following subfolders: drafts, storage, notes-ideas, character stuff, setting stuff, inspiration, and then sometimes I do additional subfolders... like my “character stuff” subfolder might have subfolders for each character or characters in each specific setting.

My browser folder is usually kind of a mess. I will sometimes do subject-specfic subfolders, but usually I just bookmark whatever I need to and make sure the bookmarks I access the most are at the top of the list.

Again, you will probably add to all of this as you actually get into the plotting phase. I consider this phase and the plotting phase to go hand-in-hand. This is really just about getting everything set up and ready to go.

This is also a good time to figure out things like a writing schedule (if you need to set one), daily or weekly word count goals, and get your writing space organized if you have one.

4. Plotting...

There are many different ways you can plot your story, all depending on what works best for you and the needs of your story. Some writers simply like to come up with an exhaustive summary of events from beginning to end. Others like to do some sort of outline. You may want to do a timeline and a scene list as well. My post how to outline a plot will walk you through some of the different options, and my plot and structure master list has lots of other posts that may be useful to you during this time.

5. Start writing!

Once you’ve gotten your story plotted out (or not, if you’re choosing not to plot), it’s time to sit down and start writing. Here are some things to keep in mind:

-- This is the very first draft of your story and it’s going to be ROUGH, which is why it’s often referred to as the “rough draft” or “zero draft.” This draft isn’t going to be perfect. It’s going to be messy, ugly, meandering, and kind of awful, and THAT’S FINE!!! This is just the rough sketch or mockup. You’re going to improve upon it later.

-- Because this is the first draft, now is not the time to worry about word choice, sentence structure, word play, grammar and punctuation, flawless story structure, etc. Just get the story down to the best of your ability. You’re going to make it pretty in the later drafts.

-- Also, because this is the first draft, don’t be afraid to go a little hog wild. You don’t have to worry about word count and having a tight story now. Feel free to go off on tangents, delve into fluffy scenes, and follow weird threads. Dive in and explore your world and its characters. This exploratory process allows you to kind of throw everything at the wall and see what sticks. A lot of the time you’ll end up discovering gems you hadn’t considered initially. Again, you can figure out what to cut out later on.

-- AGAIN... DO NOT EDIT AS YOU GO. I mean, look... sometimes, more experienced writers develop a process where they do edit as they go, and that’s fine. But until you’ve written enough stories from beginning to end to know what works for you, don’t trouble yourself with editing as you go. The most important thing right now is to write this story from beginning to end. Once you get to the end, you can go back and make it pretty.

-- It’s okay to feel frustrated and have days where you need to take a break. You may have days where you just want to delete the story and move on, but don’t do that. If you need to, walk away from it for a few days or a week and come back to it later. If the story still isn’t working for you, save everything and start on a new project, but never delete what you have no matter how much you feel like you hate it now. You never know when inspiration will strike and you’ll decide to go back to an old project.

Good luck with your story!

#writing tips #writing advice #wqaadvice #wqaguide

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yvynyl · 4 years

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Dear Readers + Listeners,

I’ve been sitting down this morning to try to rejuvenate this project - the core of YVYNYL - for months now and frankly, I haven’t had it in me. I log in, look at the tens of thousands of unread emails, the dozens of unpublished saved drafts. Life throws you all kinds of annoying challenges and some of the burdensome, unpaid ones simply become the first thing to go. YVYNYL as a project has been one of those things for me. At least, YVYNYL as it has been for the past few years. I let it drag and dip into a swamp that took all its energy out of itself. I didn’t let my intentions give it the lightness, ease, and energy that I wanted to give it.

Now, in the early months of 2020, I find myself pondering what comes next. For one thing, I still have more than two dozen unpublished Letters to YVYNYL sitting in my ‘to publish’ Drafts section of the site, but still in need of one last push, whether it be a small edit or publishing detail. Every time I log in to Tumblr the only thing I see is un-author sourced recognition gloop and more random internet re-posts. Nothing is original. Nothing here is clear. It’s all just about how many people were bored enough to just click “like” as they swipe and swipe and swipe. Or maybe that’s 98% of the internet itself these days.

I wish things here on Tumblr were better. I’m glad that it hasn’t closed up shop entirely. It still seems to have the slightest bit of steam within the context of the personal blog platform amongst people who love music. All kinds of music. Posting it, linking to it. And while I don’t have as much personal time as I used to have to engage on the level of spending ten’s of hours a week to read indy music blogs and to cull through the endless waves of independent music being published, I am still drawn to the possibility that many of us share a goal. We want to use music-the-artform to explain our lives, our burdens, our stories. The words we use, the ones we write are our tools for being outlaws, preachers, writers, wildly independent thinkers, anything we want. We are the people with a deep reverberating reason to listen to and make more music. We are the people listening with intention. Even if that group is a fan base of 10. Or 100. Or 10,000.

I love those relationships. Back in the late 00′s and the early 10′s, a lot of us were finding space to do just that, finding great new music. Now, I’m searching and searching again for that place, that energy, that community.

If you’ve read this that long and you are interested in being a part of that kind of community, here it is. Read on. And if anyone wants to jump in with me to make that idea thrive. Let’s do it together. Let’s publish good work. Let’s tell stories. Let’s sit together, far away from one another or together in a club. Let’s meet each other. Let’s date each other. Let’s surf the constant flow of the now and how much it serves as a beacon of truth. The ultimate experience we all crave.

Thank you for reading and listening to this rant. I don’t know whether I’ll keep pushing on here on Tumblr or let it die and reuse the connections I already have on Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter. For now, I just need to write this. To get something going. Anything. Otherwise, it will be truly lost. And truly dead. 2007 to 2019. Long live 2020! and beyond!

Click on to see some of the best-unpublished Letters here. It’s my goal to post a bunch of these, even though some are half a year old.

And thank you for being a supporter of this long-suffering project. If you’d like to join, head over to the socials or if you’re in Philly, let me know and we’ll go share some coffee or tea.

Love,

Mark* aka @yvynyl

PS - If you are a designer, wanna help me out and rebuild this page on Tumblr or on something else, hit me up!

#Tumblr #blogging #music #storytelling #essays #music blogging #writing #publishing #rant

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clevercatchphrase · 4 years

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2019 year in review

So… The 2010’s are almost over. Huh. What a decade it’s been. Hard to comprehend how much has changed in 10 years. I can barely believe that I was in high school at the beginning of this decade, and now I’m a college graduate with 2 degrees who’s been working at the same job for the last 3 years. But trying to summarize the past 10 years in a single post is a good way to give myself an existential crisis, so let’s not do that! Instead, let’s just focus on 2019 because there has been more than enough shit that’s happened to me in this year to talk about.

PART 1 OF 2: 2019 AND 2020 GOALS AND RESOLUTIONS

Huh, looking back through my archives, I apparently didn’t make a tumblr post about my goals this year. I definitely had some, though. Lemme list ‘em off real quick, and then we’ll go through them point by point.

1) Pay off all my student loans 2) Finish some song comics 3) Make art for my Redbubble account 4) Finish the first rough draft/script of a game I wanted to make 5) Practice ASL 6) Sew some stuffed animals 7) Finish some fan fictions 8) Work on Ghost Switch 9) AMVs 10) Do some original writing 11) Make illustrations for my fan fictions

Okay, first off, the student loans. I was actually SO CLOSE to successfully completing this one bUT THEN MY CAR HAD TO BE A WHINEY PISS BABY AND HAVE ITS ALTERNATOR DIE ON ME WHILE I WAS ON THE HIGHWAY AND THEN A BLOW OUT THREE WEEKS LATER.

GOD, if I had to summarize this year in two words, for me it would be “Car troubles”. I swear I spent more on auto repair in the first third of this year than I ever have just freakin’ OWNING a car. All four of my tires had to be replaced, my alternator failed and my car literally just SHUT OFF while I was driving, and I was barely able to coast into a gas station. Both my front breaks and rear breaks were worn down the metal and I only learned this when my car was barely able to stop after I had to slam the petal down full force! I went in for an oil change, and they found some problems and then I didn’t get my car back for three days! I don’t even like owning a car! I hate driving! I hate my country’s refusal to provide universal, free public transportation! I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS!

Oh-kay… number 2. Finish some song comics. I didn’t finish any. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t work on them. I have made tiny progress, but that’s certainly better than no progress. One of these song comics I hope to be realizes is going to be a collab with one of my friends. It’ll be a long-time coming as it’s pretty low priority for the both of us, but if anyone else out there was disappointed with KH3’s ending, we’re gonna have ya’ covered… With SONG!

3. Make some redbubble art. I actually did this one! Not in the way I expected, but I added (technically) 3 new designs to my redbubble in the middle of the year. If you like butterflies and dragons, I got some product for you~!

Number 4, finish a script for a game I want to make. I… thought about this. I thought about this a lot, but I never put pen to paper, so… oops. It almost happened! I debated making this my main writing project for NaNoWriMo this year, but ended up having more inspiration for another story. Maybe next year? (god, I hope not. I don’t want to wait a full year just to write something)

Number 5, practice ASL. I just straight up didn’t do this and I only have myself to blame. Still keepin’ up that Danish Duolingo streak, though. 4 years going strong and not a day missed yet.

Number 6, sew some stuffed animals. Again, another one I just straight up didn’t do, but I have an excuse of trying to save money while my car crashed and burned in every other sense except literal this year. Hopefully 2020 will be different. I’ll definitely be able to pay off this last loan within the first half of 2020, and then I can start saving for whatever I want to buy.

Finish some fan fictions was number 7, and I did this! Well, I only finished, 1, but it was a story I’ve been working on for over 3 years, and it came out to over 200 THOUSAND words long, which is the longest thing I’ve ever written, and I’m quite proud of myself. Now that the big story is out of the way, and I’ve gotten into a good rhythm of working on Ghost Switch, maybe I can squeeze in some short writing sessions more frequently. (either that, or just wait for my car to break down again and then go on a writing spree in a pepboys. The lord and the fan fic discord know that’s solely why I finished my other fic this year)

Speaking of Ghost Switch, working on it was a goal this year too, and I did that! I kept it up all year and took a vacation in November and it was wonderful. While the major plot points have been in place since before I started drawing, I still need to script each arc beyond Snowdin, but hey, by the time we get there, it’ll be 2022 so I got time. (Note, don’t do this, kids. Script your stories and comics thoroughly before publishing. The road I’m on is paved with misery and pain and it will only end in tears unless I change lanes soon)

Number 9, amvs. Do people make AMVs anymore? Idk… the last one I made was... Jesus, 5 years ago? (it was a gravity falls/fall out boy crossover, if you were curious) I’ve been wanting to do 2 more for just as long, but in order for me to do that, I’d have to spend time re-watching the shows to find the footage, and then actually edit them together, and I just don’t…. feel like it. Maybe someday, but not any day soon.

10; do some original writing. I did this! For nanowrimo! I wrote the first draft of some original fiction I’ve been planning for a year or two now and it completely sucks! But it’s on paper now and I’m happy. Will I revise and edit it? Sure, but not for a while. I want to let it sit and forget about it and look at it with new eyes months from now so I can be sure I can make it better when time comes to rewrite.

11, make illustrations for my fan fics. Now that You Monster is done, I want to go back and add pictures to it. I didn’t do any this year, but I did keep a list of scenes I wanted to draw, so I have plenty of ideas to do as warm up sketches next year~ I kinda want to stream them~

So, that was 11 goals, and I successfully fulfilled 4 of them! That’s! Not a very good ratio… QmQ So, goals for 2020. Some I’m gonna keep from this year, some I’m gonna drop and some I’m gonna add. In short I would like to,

1) Finish paying off that last student loan 2) Put more stuff on my redbubble 3) Illustrate my own fan fics 4) Sew at least one stuffed animal 5) Make an enamel pin 6) Read one new book a month 7) Write one page a day/Complete at least one new fan fic 8) Learn Python or C# for the game I want to make 9) Finish fully scripting Ghost Switch 10) Boost my patreon

Most of these I think are pretty self-explanitory, but I’ll go into detail just a bit because I’m on a roll and typing my thoughts helps me feel less alone in the middle of the night when you’re super tired and you know you should probably go to sleep, but the toddler in you is throwing a tantrum and doesn’t wanna go to sleep just yet, but you can’t fight the progression of time either way.

Number 1- I should be able to reach this goal by the end of March. End of June at the absolute latest. Once that goal is met, my secret new year’s resolution will be unlocked as well!

Number 2- I want to put more art of my OCs on redbubble. These OCs are tied to the game I want to make. There’s already some art of them up there, but I want at least one piece for each character.

Number 3- Mostly for You Monster. Embrace the cardinal rule of fan fic and apply it to fan art. If you want to read about see art about certain ideas, scenarios, or what-ifs, you gotta make it yourself.

Number 4- I have 3 potential ideas to sew. One is definitely leagues easier than the other two and will probably be chosen if/when I have the time and materials.

Number 5- This year I got really, REALLY into the idea of making enamel pins. Unfortunately it’s a pretty big investment (like, $350 to make 100 pins you might not even sell). If this happens, it’ll probably be towards the end of the year, and if I get enough interest. I’m currently torn between making an original enamel pin and one based off Undertale. We’ll just have to see where this goes.

Number 6- Back in 2018 when I paid off one of my many student loans, I rewarded myself by spending over 200 dollars in used books. All these books had a theme; they were focused on dragons because I have a problem. I have not yet read a single one of these books I have bought, and I would like to fix that. I have, like, 20 unread dragon books, and even if I only read 12 out of 20, I would consider that an amazing accomplishment and money well spent.

Number 7- I currently have about 8 different WIPs I could work on. (well, I don’t know if I can even call them wips. More like, a general idea and a title written down.) I want to build good writing habits, and if I can write just 200 words a day, hell, even 200 words a week and just one of my 8 stories done, I would consider this goal met.

Number 8- I’m torn between making my game in unity or ren’py. I know jack shit about both. Ren’py is more user friendly, but unity will allow me more customization. (Lol, can you guess what kind of game I want to make yet?)

Number 9- I really just want the full story to be done and written incase anything goes horribly terribly wrong in my life and I find myself unable to continue making ghost switch in comic form. Then at least I can finish the story by other means, you know?

Number 10- It always surprises me every month when I get that patreon email saying I got paid. Sure, I don’t even make double digits on it, but it still awes me enough to know that people out there like my work enough to throw me a tip. I can’t thank my patrons enough for supporting me and I hope to one day be in such a good place I can update my comic/song comics/writing frequently enough without need for goals or milestones. But until that magical day arrives, money is always a great incentive for anything, I suppose. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALRIGHT. PART 2 OF 2: SHIT THAT HAPPENED TO ME IN 2019

Cheesus crust what a year. This year started off great! Back in late January Kingdom Hearts 3 FINALLY released, and let me tell you a little story. Back in the summer of 2006 I was a 13 year old middle schooler with no way of making money other than by doing house hold chores at a rate of 25 cents a task. A few weeks ago, I had a sleep over at a friend’s house and they let me play this weird game called “Kingdom Hearts” and god, I was instantly hooked on it. That summer, I did over 800 chores, enough to earn myself 200$ and buy myself a playstation 2 (just in time for the ps3 to come out, gg me) The only games I had for the ps2 were KH1, 2, Re:CoM and Okami, and I beat them all… except Okami. Miffed that the PS3 wouldn’t allow for backwards compatibility, little 13-year-old me made a promise. I looked myself in the mirror and said “I will not buy the next playstation console until KH3 comes out, AND BOY that was probably a good choice for me to make with my level of gaming. I’m even less of a casual gamer than the average casual gamer, but I have been waiting 13 years for this piece of closure, and I even told my friends and family that “the day Kingdom Hearts 3 comes out is the day I will buy a playstation 4”. My dad apparently thought this was the funniest shit, because he literally took the day off from work that Friday to drive me on base to get the game and console (he thought it would be less crowded than a regular walmart, I suppose). I paid $400 on a ps4 pro while he bought me the game. Again, I have an impecible sense of timing seeing as the PS5 is now right on the horrizion, but just like before, I’m not buying a new console until the next KH game is released. See you in 2045, sony~. While I was at the gamestop on base, I also picked up Okami HD and The Last Guardian. For all of February and even early March, I took my time playing through KH3. And…! It was the best disappointment I’ve ever played. After a month away from gaming, I started The Last Guardian and finished it in a couple weeks. I love trico and would die for him, but trying to get 100% completion on that game is udder insanity. Okami, HD, however… again after a month break after finishing TLG, I started replaying Okami. I think I had only managed to get about halfway through the game before I just… stopped playing it on my ps2 version. I am currently SO CLOSE to getting a 100% on the ps4 version. In fact, I’ve beaten the game. I only (techinically) need 2 more trophies to be done; 1st, escape the water dragon without being eaten, 2nd, I need to beat that dumb stupid race with Kai, in order to get the last bead on my rosary, as well as the top dog trophy. I hate her so much. I hate this race so much. It’s awful and bad.

Flash forward to December! Earlier this month I was at Barnes and Noble, buying myself a planner for 2020. I exit the store and notice that there’s a gamestop across the street. For shits and giggles I go inside to look at their game selection, and I find KH 1.5 and 2.5. Now, my PS2 died a few years back (it just won’t read my discs anymore, I don’t know why) and I haven’t been able to replay any of my other kingdom hearts games since. If you had seen me the day I finished kingdom hearts 3, after the ending credits rolled, you would have heard me say “Man…. I wish I could play kingdom hearts 2 again”. AND NOW I CAN, ALONG WITH BBS which I had never even played yet, but knew the story of. I’ve restarted playing kh1, and I was so happy to hear that familiar music when I booted the game up for the first time. While at the game stop, I also picked up Rime and Tearaway, two games that had looked interesting to me. At the time of writing, I’ve finished Rime and am 25% done with tearaway. Rime was…. An interesting experience. I learned about it through Jacksepticeye’s channel a couple years back and thought the art style was enticing. For a super casual gamer like me, I found the puzzles just the right level of challenging and exploring was a blast! The music gave me VERY strong Princes Mononoke vibes, but the overall story left something to be desired. Overall I had fun, and enjoyed completing this game to 100%. Now for tearaway. Can I just say this game is super fucking adorable? I know the original was on the ps vita and the gameplay there was arguably more diverse and imaginative, but this game is just so fucking cute I don’t care?? ALSO, this game’s sound track is ABSOLUTELY incredible and I’ve only heard the first fourth of it! Listen to The Orchards, Pig Riding, and Gibbet Hill Pilgrimage for a taste of their wonderful beats and fantastic use of string and woodwinds! God, I’m so excited to get some more games in 2020. I’m proud to say I currently own more ps4 games than I ever did with my ps2 (and now the majority AREN’T Kingdom Hearts titles!), and I’m still hoping to play Journey, The Witness, and Abzu before everything becomes ps5.

What else happened to me this year. Oh, I went to a doctor for, like, the first time in seven years. I also had my blood drawn for the first time ever, and the nurse said the most disturbing thing to me while she did it. Now, whenever I get shots, I refuse to look. I did that here. So she thought it would be appropriate to say to me “Can you feel your blood leaving your body?” Lady… You can clearly see I am uncomfortable with what is happening here. Why, of all the things you could say, did you choose to say that. Unfortunately, while my doctor is nice, she keeps wanting to run tests on me, that I just cannot afford with my current salary, and my monthly insurance is about to go up to 200$ a month, so I’ve cancelled my next appointment with them, and don’t plan to go back until it’s absolutely necessary. Capitalism is fun, guys. Preventative healthcare is for wusses.

I started going to a chiropractor on a monthly basis. Story time- I don’t know when it started, but sometime late last November I began to notice that I had a headache that just... wasn’t... going away? And each day it was starting to get a little worse. It made it hard for me to find a comfortable position to sleep, it made it hard for me to be in bright areas or move fast. So I said to myself “Okay, if this headache persist through the month of december, then something is proooobably wrong and I should go see someone about it. And hoo-boy were thing wrong with me. By the time this January rolled around, I couldn’t even stay on my feet for more than a few hours without it physically hurting to just BREATHE. So I started going to this chain called The Joint (A+ name, I know). THey aksed me “How are you doing?” I said “I’m in pain” and they said “We can help fix that!”. I’ve only been to a chiropractor once before in my life a few years back after my freshmen year of college because I began to notice my hips weren’t able to support me? LIke, I would lie on my back, and I couldn’t push my hips up when my feet were flat on the floor. I also couldn’t climb anything steep, because my legs just couldn’t push me up if my knee had to bend more than 90 degrees when I lifted my leg up. (Turned out both my hips were apparently out of place). This time only one of my hips were out of place (which they fixed. they said one of my legs was an inch “longer” than the other because I had been leaning all my weight on one leg when I stand). But two of my ribs were apparently “Stuck” which was why it was hurting for me to just breathe, and one of my shoulders was missaligned too, causing one of my trap muscles to constantly be streched, which was pulling on my skull, and causing the headache. Anyway, after they popped all my bones back into place, I still felt terrible, but by god, that night was the first time in weeks I was able to sleep without a migrane. A chiropractor can’t magically heal your arthritis, or fibro, but I definately think they have merit to keeping your posture good and helping your body with things like circulation. 10 outa 10, would recomend. It’s all the fun of getting your neck snapped without the dying!

Earlier this month I got together with two of my friends and we baked Christmas cookies. It was a lot of fun, as well as a great learning experience. A member of my family has a gluten allergy, so we used rice flour for most of the cookies. We learned this is a bad idea! The cookies will just fall apart! A few member’s in one of the friend’s family have nut allergies. Other friend and I knew this and were careful to avoid cookie recipes with nuts, bUT THEN COMPLETELY FORGOT THAT ALMOND MILK AND ALMOND EXTRACT COUNT AS NUT. IN FACT, ALMOND EXTRACT IS PURE CONCENTRATED NUT JUICE AND WE FELT SO BAD FOR ALMOST ACCIDENTALLY POISONING THE FAMILY.

Earlier this year me and these same friends took a field trip to Hobby Lobby and just dicked around the store for a couple of hours. It was super fun, 11 outa 10, would recommend, a great date idea for your artsy S.O.

Back in May I went to a wedding for the first time in my life. (well, not true, but the first one I could remember) we left at 5am, drove 5 hours to get there, hung out at a zoo and spent the night in a la quinta before the wedding day. I slept on the bathroom floor because my mom was snoring too loud in the main room and keeping me awake, and the rest of the day was just spent me trying to keep myself together because I was pissed off and tired.

Other than all of that, nothing really major happened to me this year. I guess one more thing I’ve tried to do this year is started the process of breaking certain internet addictions so I can use my free time for more personal projects. Seriously, I found myself watching way too much youtube and following blogs that didn’t even make me happy. I had a personal intervention with myself where I sat down and asked myself, “why do you watch these videos and youtubers? Why do you follow these blogs? Do you really enjoy their content? Do you really care? If you stopped watching/following them, would you even notice?” After critically thinking it over, I’ve found myself unfollowing several channels and blogs and suddenly I feel so much happier. I thought I would miss it, but I realized I didn’t really care if I saw their content or not. I wasn’t missing much. And now I feel like I have more time to draw, read and write. If you think you spend too much time consuming and not enough time creating, I suggest you try and de-clutter your internet habits as well. It’s done wonders to un-fuck my headspace.

And… well, that about sums up my year. How are your holidays going? Anything fun, exciting, dramatic happen to you this year? I hope your new year is warm and safe! Good night, everybody!

#new year's resolutions #year in review #long post #(seriiously this think is like 3k words)

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asrasotherbottom · 5 years

Note

If you’re still doing the smutty asks, 30 for Asra/MC?

"you're doing so good my love. so good"

this is just what all sex with asra is probably like

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HEY IT WOULNT LET ME SAVE AS A DRAFT GIVE ME A FEW MIN TO WRITE THIS also tumblr mobile wont let.me do a readmore???

L e m o n! Some soft domming/blindfolding/oral

Asra went to lock the shop up for the night, pressing his hand to the door and replacing the wards. You had been waiting for this moment since noon. He had come back from the market with a small strip of very soft cloth and told you to hold on to it for later. The cloth was steeped in magic, but you couldn't make out what kind exactly. You caught him staring at you with a small smile on his face a few minutes later, and he brushed it off with a "You'll see."

He turned and walked back to the shop counter and pulled out the piece of cloth. You could see the light dancing in his eager eyes.

"I've been wanting to show you this all day. Do you know what it is?"

"Well I can tell its magic, but, no." He smiled nervously.

"I want to show you but...we've never done anything like this before." His cheeks turned red. "Would you be okay with a blindfold?"

"I'd be interested in trying, but...hm"

"What's wrong?"

"If I can't see what I'm doing, what if I do something wrong?" His eyes narrowed as he got an idea.

"I could tell you exactly what to do. And I'd be talking to you the whole time."

"You do loveeee to hear yourself talk." You give him a big grin and he throws his head back to laugh.

"So what do you say?"

"Let's do it."

He steps behind me and ties the blindfold around your eyes. You were expecting darkness but its quite the opposite. You could see the bright waves of magic coming off of all the items in the shop, but most spectacular of all was the beautiful purple of Asra's aura.

"So what do you think?" His words snapped you back into the present.

"Wow, this....this is beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you." He touched your chin and plante a kiss on your forehead. You could feel your cheeks start to get hot. No matter how long you've been together or how many things you do together, his raw love and affection for you always swept you off your feet.

"Can I help you out of your clothes?" You couldn't see his face, but you knew he had a gentle smile on his face. You nodded and started to undress; his warm hands slid up your body to take your shirt off. You felt so exposed, standing naked, blindfolded, in the middle of the shop. You could hear some rustling next to you and when Asra brushed up against you next, you could only feel his skin.

His put a hand on your neck and gently pulled himself close to you to kiss you deeply. You saw his aura glow brighter for a moment. The feeling of your chest against his was so much more than it usually was. You could feel every little detail to his body as you ran your hands down his shoulders. The feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch was so familiar, but so new at the same time.

"Kiss me." His voice was soft, guiding. You kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Again," he said, as soon as your lips parted. You kissed him again, and again.

"What else?" You could see your auras mixing where your bodies were pressed together.

"Touch me, kiss all the places your pretty lips can reach." Your cheeks flushed. His words were firmer this time. You started at his neck, caressing it and slowly kissing his throat. You could feel his pulse under your fingers, beating in perfect unison with yours. You kissed his shoulders, noticing for the first time truly how muscular he was. Every small movement was perceptible under your lips. Asra sighed in enjoyment. You wrapped your arms around his waist and started to kiss down his chest, your kisses getting faster and more passionate. You always felt you could never get enough of his body and feeling him like this was indescribable. You felt yourself getting more and more aroused as you worked your way down his body. You stopped after trailing kisses along his hips. His hand ran through your hair.

"I did say kiss everywhere your lips could reach." You took his cock into your hand, and gently wrapped your lips around the top. You could feel him gasp softly as you started to move your lips down his shaft. As you picked up the pace his gasps became louder and more frequent. He let out a low moan as you pressed your tongue against him. Instinctively you went to look up at him, but what you saw was your two auras mixed together, all the colors of the rainbow with a dancing ripple of purple.

"Is this okay? I- I can't see your face."

"You're doing so good, my love, so good." You smiled and took him back into your mouth with renewed passion. He leaned back against the shop counter as you became more and more intense. You could feel every muscle he tensed in pleasure and you felt his moans in your very bones.

"Keep going, I'm so close." You did exactly what he asked, pulling him closer to you by the hips. You could feel him getting closer and closer.

He cried out your name as he came into your mouth. You looked up at him and your auras together were nearly blinding but somehow, also, the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

You took a deep breath and sat back on your knees. Asra knelt down next to you and put his hand on your arm. You could feel him still trembling slightly.

"Can I take it off now?" You gave him a nod and felt him gently undo the knot. You looked around and was nearly surprised by how normal the shop looked. Asra, though, his eyes were just as beautiful as his aura, especially when he was looking at you.

"Did you like it?"

"It was amazing."

"I'm glad...I think we'll be bringing that out again." He blushed every so slightly. He put his arms around you and let you rest your head on his chest.

"I'd like that. But there really is no substitute for your face."

#asra #asra alnazar #mine #lemon #asra lemon #pls i typed this witb my THUMBS theyre gonna fall off

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Dragon Ball Z Movie 10: Broly -- Second Coming

The tenth DBZ movie premiered on March 12, 1994 at the Toei Anime Fair, after the airdate of Episode 220, and before 221. So presumably there was some kid in Japan who watched Dabura turn Piccolo and Krillin into stone, and then this movie, and then the episode where the Saiyans enter Babidi’s spaceship.

The original title was “Dragon Ball Z: Dangerous Rivals” or “Dragon Ball Z: Dangerous Duo! Super Warriors Never Rest.” When Funimation dubbed it in 2005, they simply named it “Broly -- Second Coming”, emphasizing that this is a direct sequel to Movie 8.

For my part, I didn’t wait for 2005 to see this movie. Cartoon Network had finished airing DBZ way back in 2003, and I was getting sick of waiting for Funimation to release the last few movies. I think Movie 8 and Movie 9 were released a year apart, to give you an idea. So I downloaded the fansubs of Movies 10-13 and watched those. I didn’t watch them in order, though, because 12 and 13 were of greater interest to me, and I was curious about 11 because I knew nothing about it. Turns out Movie 11 was the third part of the Broly trilogy, so I kind of goofed on that, but we’ll get into that later. If anyone from Funi! is reading this, rest assured that I legally purchased all four movies once they became available. As a matter of fact, I bought them again on Blu-Ray around 2009, and again in 2019 because your shithead streaming service doesn’t have them, and I can’t take screencaps from the Blu-Ray editions. So I think we’re more than square. Support the official release, kids!

So let’s cut to the chase. This movie is about Broly coming back to get revenge, kind of like how Movie 6 was about Cooler coming back after losing in Movie 5. The difference is that Movie 6 at least tried to explain how Cooler survived certain death in the previous film. Movie 10... doesn’t do this. At all. When we last saw Broly, Goku punched a big hole in his abdomen, and I’m pretty sure he exploded (!!) and then the planet they were fighting on got hit by a comet. Movie 10 just stone cold doesn’t care about any of that. It opens with a Saiyan spacepod drunkenly heading for Earth, and then it crashes on a mountain.

And here’s Broly, still glowing green and muttering about Kakarot. He’s badly hurt, but he looks a whole lot better than he did at the end of Movie 8. So I guess he just didn’t explode after all? How did he heal his wounds? Dd he heal himself, like Cell? Where did he get the pod? We only saw three spaceships on Planet New Vegeta in Movie 8. Paragus had a pod, as well as a larger ship, and Broly destroyed them both. Then there was the Capsule Corp. ship Piccolo used to join the battle, and all the good guys rode home on that.

To be fair, it would make sense for Paragus to have had a few extra spaceships handy, except the whole point of his scheme was to keep Vegeta (the prince) on New Vegeta (the planet) long enough for the comet to hit it and kill him. This is reflected in Paragus’ final scene in that movie, where he tries to make a run for it and leave Broly to die, and Broly catches him in the act. Paragus claims that he wanted them to leave together, but Broly knows that there isn’t enough room for them both in the pod, so Paragus’ betrayal is clear. The tragedy of the movie is that Broly kills Paragus, who he had once saved, and then he dies in the same trap that Paragus had intended for their enemies.

Only Broly didn’t die, because he’s here in Movie 10. There was a spare pod on the planet, and Broly somehow crawled into it and escaped before the comet hit. Then he rode it all the way to Earth, and somehow survived the trip. To be sure the only part of this that really adds up for me is that Broly wound up on Earth. Paragus planned to conquer it after killing Goku and Vegeta, so it makes sense that the coordinates would already be laid in. And Broly would want to go there, because he wants revenge on Goku.

But then the crater around the pod gets filled with water and freezes. How did Broly not drown? How did he not freeze to death?

I mean, I get that they were going for this Captain America thing, except they show the crater filling with water, and then they cut to Broly gasping for breath as the water freezes around him.

And here’s the title screen. Okay “A Pair in Peril” makes a lot more sense than “Dangerous Duo”. I never understood who the duo was supposed to be. Goten and Trunks? They’re hardly dangerous at all in this movie. But they are in danger, so maybe this is a big translation mixup.

The story picks up seven years later, with Goten, Trunks, and Videl gathering the Dragon Balls. Continuity-wise, I assume this movie was intended to be set after the Babidi crisis wrapped up. It couldn’t be set before the 25th Budokai, because Videl and Trunks hadn’t met yet, and they’re awfully chummy here. We never find out how Videl learned about the Dragon Balls. For that matter, how did Trunks and Goten know about them? I think Toei just assumed that they would find out about them eventually, which is fair.

The big thing that disqualifies this movie from canon (other than being a sequel to Movie 8, which also wasn’t canon) is that Videl doesn’t know very much about DBZ stuff yet. She can fly, and she know about ki, but she still doesn’t know about Super Saiyans, etc. But she gets a crash course in all of that over the next fifty episodes of DBZ, and by the time it’s all over this movie just wouldn’t make sense. The post-Buu Videl has seen Gohan and the others transform, she’s been on a Dragon Ball hunt and seen Shenron, and she’s died and come back to life. But no one knew all that would happen when Movie 10 was written, so they made due with what they had.

As far as wishes go, Videl just wants to see Shenron, while Trunks plans to wish for his own amusement park so he won’t have to wait in line for the rides. Goten wants to wish for infinite chocolate, and he hasn’t seen that gif on Tumblr yet.

One sidebar on their quest are these naturally forming crystals that Videl finds in the area near the final Dragon Ball. Trunks and Goten don’t care, and I’m not really sure why it’s supposed to matter. Videl remarks that the people who live in this place could make money off of the things, but their village looks very poor, so something doesn’t add up. And there is something afoot in the village but the crystals never seem to have anything to do with it.

The trio enters the village to check it out and maybe get some food, but they find a ritual human sacrifice taking place instead. This is sort of the same deal as Oolong’s first appearance waaayyyyy back in the Pilaf Saga, where the townsfolk would hand over a bride to Oolong to save their community. Only here, the monster is supposed to eat the girl instead of marrying her.

The sacrifices are organized by this dude, who never gets a name in the story. The subtitles call him “Prayergiver-sama”, and I think the dub called him a “Shaman”. The Dragon Ball wiki identifies him as Maloja, but I have no idea where that name came from. I’ll run with it, though, since I need to call him something.

Basically, the deal here is that things were pretty cool in this village until about seven years ago (hmm...) and then the climate became harsher, which apparently caused the emergence of some monster from the mountains. When the local wildlife became depleted, the beast started attacking the villagers, and Maloja convinced them that the only hope for their survival was to appease “the mountain god” with these human sacrifices.

Videl dismisses the whole thing as superstitious nonsense, which is kind of rich coming from a girl who used ki energy to fly to this place so she could summon a magic dragon. I mean, she’s right, but for all she knows Maloja’s plan is perfectly sound.

The kids offer to defeat the best and save the village from having to do any more child sacrifices. Specifically, Trunks demands Maloja’s ceremonial necklace as payment, which seems kind of random to me. There’s a big orange sphere on the front, so when I first saw this I assumed it was the Dragon Ball they were looking for, but that shows up later. Maybe it was originally intended to be a Dragon Ball in one of the early drafts and they ended up changing it but keeping Maloja’s design. But now you have Trunks asking for the thing for no apparent reason. Does he really like it, or is he just looking to humiliate Maloja by taking his stuff?

So their big plan is to hide in the buffet the villagers left for the beast, and then whenever it shows up to eat, they’ll jump out and kick its ass. Videl seemed to think she could handle this alone, but Goten and Trunks wanted to be there to see her get eaten, or so they say.

But the boys are hungry, and there’s food sitting right outside of this pot they’re in, so Trunks reaches out and swipes an apple. When Goten tries to do the same thing, Videl smacks him in the face, and then he starts throwing a tantrum.

Eventually, Videl gives up and hands Goten a roll or something to shut him up, because she’s worried that Goten’s cries will give away her trap. Trunks tells her that Goten was only pretending to be upset, and she fell for it. I don’t want to give the wrong impression here. I’m not big on this movie, but Goten and Trunks are pretty awesome. I love these little shits.

But Goten’s wailing has unintended consequences. Somehow Broly heard him from all the way up in the mountain. Even though he was unconscious. And submerged in a frozen lake. Sigh...

Of course, as we all remember from Movie 8, Broly was traumatized as a baby when he heard Baby Goku crying back on Planet Vegeta, and just being near Goku as an adult was enough to drive him into a murderous rampage. So it does kind of make sense for Goten’s crying to be the one thing that disturbs his hibernation.

Moreover, Goten’s cries also remind Broly of when Goku wrecked his shit in Movie 8, so if anything, Broly’s original trauma was compounded by the events of that movie.

So Broly busts out and goes on another rampage, right? Wrong, first we gotta wrap up this “beast” subplot. Turns out it was just a dinosaur the whole time, and Goten and Trunks kick its ass.

Then they... eat it? Savage. I thought Trunks was only trying to punish the dinosaur and scare it away, but unless the villagers had some other dinosaur already curing in their smokehouse, they must have killed it and brought it back here for the victory feast.

Ok, this place is called Natade Village. Good to know.

And Trunks has Maloja’s necklace. See, I’m pretty sure this guy didn’t have a name in Movie 10 or 11, because Trunks refers to him by the chant he was doing during the sacrificial ritual.

But by the next morning, Maloja’s at it again, begging for the mountain god’s favor, because there’s some other disturbance in the village, and when Videl goes to check it out, she runs into Broly.

And they just star throwing down. Okay, so here’s where the movie really starts to get stupid. I like both of these characters, but it makes zero sense to have them fight like this. Broly spends much of this movie in Super Saiyan 1, as opposed to his jacked up “Legendary” mode. But that’s still strong enough to kill Frieza with one blow. Videl just learned what ki was a month ago, so how on Earth is she able to survive a hit from Broly?

To be fair, Mr. Satan took a hit from Perfect Cell and survived, but I think it was clear that Cell had no interest in killing him, probably because he wanted to terrorize him later. But Broly’s a deranged lunatic. He never showed mercy before, and he’s even more unhinged now. Even if he wanted to spare Videl here, I don’t know if he’d have the self-control to hold back.

Then Goten and Trunks show up, and Broly immediately goes after them, because he notices Goten’s resemblance to Goku.

So you might be wondering, where the hell is Gohan during all of this? Well, the movie doesn’t know either. We just cut to him in some far-off location, and he senses Broly’s ki and heads off to investigate. Did he just not want to join Videl on this Dragon Ball hunt? That seems a bit weird.

As for Goten and Trunks, they seem to do okay on their own, at least starting out. Their attacks have no effect on Broly, but they’re agile enough to stay one step ahead of them, at least while they’re in their Super Saiyan form.

But then Broly starts using stronger attacks, and the boys quickly find themselves outclassed. They land in this abandoned mine, which I guess was for those same crystals Videl found earlier? This is never explained. Did the villagers operate this?

The thing is, Broly clearly has these boys dead to rights, but he never bothers to finish them off. This is the same problem I had with him fighting Videl. If Goten and Trunks are in base form, Broly should be way out of their league while he’s in SSJ1. And yet he keeps tossing them around like ragdolls, and they never die and he never bothers to try harder. Is he just screwing around?

So then he just starts walking menacingly towards them, and the boys notice the seventh Dragon Ball lying nearby, so they devise a hasty plan. Trunks moons Broly to distract him, while Goten grabs the Dragon Balls and wishes for Shenron to defeat Broly for them.

So there’s a few problems with that plan, but besides all of that, Goten loses the ball in a pile of spherical crystals in the mine, so it takes him a while to find it again. During his search, he stops to take a whiz.

Meanwhile, Trunks does surprisingly okay fighting Broly alone. I guess the conceit here is that Goten and Trunks can hold their own against SSJ1 Broly, but they lack the stamina to maintain the form the way Broly does.

Eventually he has to take cover in a cavern behind a waterfall, and I guess Broly can’t sense ki or he would have found him a lot more easily than this. While he waits for Broly to leave, Trunks considers how his father would react to him hiding like this. So where is Vegeta during all of this, anyway? I used to think this movie might have been set after his death against Buu, but that hasn’t even come close to happening yet in the anime, and I’m fairly sure the manga hadn’t gotten there either. Are we supposed to believe that Vegeta just doesn’t know this is going on? He sensed Trunks was in danger in Movie 9, and he showed up in Movies 6 and 7 without an invitation.

Look, if they just didn’t want Vegeta to be in the movie, that’s fine, but they should have at least explained why he isn’t here. It doesn’t make any sense for him to sit this one out, and I have a hard time believing he would have no idea that Broly’s running amok on Earth.

Anyway, Goten finally tries to make the wish, but nothing happens. I don’t know if he just isn’t summoning Shenron correctly or what. Goten decides that he needs to move the balls out of the cave so that Shenron will have more room to manifest, and I guess that makes as much sense as anything.

So that leaves Trunks in the same bind he was in before. Broly starts doing... whatever this is supposed to be. Seriously, was this the most lethal manuever he could come up with? Even if he’s trying to hurt Trunks before killing him, there’s got to be better ways to go about it. Besides, why did he let Goten leave a minute ago? He’s the one Broly really hates right now.

Also, this screencap gives us a good look at the scar tissue on Broly’s chest. This is maybe the silliest thing in the movie. I remember in the Budokai 3 game, there’s a mode with a Red Ribbon Army theme, and Commander Red is there to introduce it, and he has a little bandage on his forehead, covering up the spot where Staff Officer Black shot him. That was a cute little joke, but this is supposed to be somewhat serious. Goku ripped Broly open in Movie 8. The scar tissue runs all the way up to his clavicles for crying out loud, and we’re supposed to believe that it just healed over like a hangnail?

Anyway, Trunks breaks the hold by peeing on Broly, and no, that’s still not as dumb as Broly growing back half of his chest.

Broly finally gets fed up with the boys and tries to finish them off, and then Gohan finally arrives to save them. Gohan’s surprised to see they lasted so long against an enemy as terrible as Broly. No, it’s not that amazing, Gohan, this movie just really sucks.

He tries to fight Broly... in his base form. Why? Why would that be a good idea? Then Videl shows up and kicks Broly in the head. Okay, so here’s why this movie is stupid.

To me, the whole point of bringing Broly back was to show how he’d fare against Gohan as a Super Saiyan 2. Movie 8 couldn’t deliver on this idea because it was made before SSJ2 was introduced. Then Gohan dominated Cell as a Super Saiyan 2, and he did the same thing to Bojack in Movie 9. Broly only lost in Movie 8 because the Z-Fighters donated their power to Goku, which made him strong enough to turn the tide.

But in this movie, it’s seven years later, and Goku’s dead and Future Trunks is gone, so it’s basically up to Gohan, with a lot less backup. But that’s okay, because he’s a lot stronger than he was in Movie 8. Sure, he’s slacked off on his training, but he still knows how to turn into a Super Saiyan 2, so maybe that’s all he needs. And Broly’s been out of action for a while too, so maybe the playing field is more even than it looks. Of course, Gohan would have to win against Broly, or the movie couldn’t have a happy ending, but most of the battle would be this suspenseful thing. Both Broly and Gohan have forms that surpass Vanilla Super Saiyan, but which one is superior? That’s what this movie should have been about.

But instead, Toei tried to do the battle from Movie 8 all over again, only it doesn’t work because most of the guys who were in that fight aren’t here for this movie. Goku, Vegeta, Trunks, and Piccolo have been swapped out for Goten, Trunks, and Videl, and they can’t look credible against a monster villain like Broly. That’s why they spend most of the fight doing comedy spots with him, and that’s why Gohan has to skip the first leg of the battle, so that he can rescue them here. In Movie 8, that was Piccolo’s job, but Gohan has to do double-duty because there is no Piccolo this time around.

The whole fight strains Broly’s credibility. He has to be at Super Saiyan 1 most of the time just to keep it from looking too ridiculous, and even that’s pushing it too far. If Videl can kick this guy in the face, why was he ever a problem in the last movie? You had four Super Saiyans fighting him at the same time and they couldn’t do anything to him. This movie has Videl survive his attacks and Trunks peeing on him. What was the point of bringing Broly back if they were just going to make him look like a joke?

So then, finally Gohan turns Super Saiyan 2, prompting Broly to whip out his Legendary form. I’m pretty sure Toei recyled the animation from Movie 8, since Broly’s clothes aren’t tattered like they are through the rest of this movie. But whatever, we’ve finally gotten to the part that I wanted to see.

And Gohan still can’t win. I wouldn’t have a problem with Broly being stronger, but Gohan can’t even get in some decent offense, which is all I wanted out of this stupid movie. If I wanted to see Broly clobber Gohan, I could have just watched Movie 8 again. I realize that this is kind of Broly’s deal, but thewhole point of doing a sequel set seven years later is to change things up.

Is Gohan using Super Saiyan 1 or 2 in this movie? You never see the lightning arc around him, which is kind of the tell or SSJ2, but the movies seem pretty inconsistent about this. Personally, I think this looks like SSJ2, but it’s open to interpretation, to say the least. My thing is, why would Gohan not use his strongest form in this fight? He knows how dangerous Broly is, and it’s not like he can’t use SSJ2, so why wouldn’t he? And this should have been clarified in the movie. This is where another character should have said “He’s gone beyond the Super Saiyan, just like he did against Cell!” Or if he’s not using that form, then someone should have made that observation instead.

Likewise, no one knows if Broly is stronger or weaker in this movie than he was in Movie 8. If he can dominate a Super Saiyan 2 like this, then maybe he’s gotten stronger. His power was out of control seven years ago, so maybe now that he’s finally recuperated from his injuries, his ki is increasing again like before. Or maybe he just got a zenkai boost from Goku nearly killing him.

On the other hand, he might be weaker. Look how lethargic he was against Goten, Trunks, and Videl. Movie 8 Broly would have slaughtered them without a thought. Maybe Movie 10 Broly is still suffering from the beating he took, and that’s why it took so long for him to ramp up to his Legendary form. And while he is dominating Gohan, it’s still a one-on-one battle. Broly never had this much trouble against a single opponent before.

I’ve lurked on message boards where fans tried to argue both sides of this, and I used to have opinions on the matter, but now I realize that it doesn’t matter. We shouldn’t have to ask these kinds of questions, because it’s the movie’s job to communicate that information. Nobody had to ask how strong Broly was in Movie 8 because they showed us. Here, it’s ambiguous, because no one bothered to go into detail.

I mean, this shouldn’t be so complicated. Each movie villain is supposed to be stronger than the last, mainly because the heroes get stronger as the story progresses. Logically, Broly ought to be stronger in Movie 10 than he was in Movie 8, and the selling point should be that Gohan is stronger too, but will it be enough? And then it is enough, because that’s what the fans want to see.

The closest we approach to this is when Gohan escapes a hold by kicking Broly in the face. I think this is one of the few times Broly actually experiences pain from an attack. From here, Gohan realizes that he can beat Broly by luring him into a river of molten lava, which was brought to the surface by one of Broly’s prior attacks.

So it seems to work, but then Gohan passes out on a patch of land right as it’s about to get swallowed up by lava...

And then Piccolo shows up to rescue him. Well it’s about time.

Only it’s not Piccolo, it’s Krillin disguised as Piccolo. Okay, that’s cute and all, but why isn’t the real Piccolo here? This stupid movie would have me believe that Krillin was sitting at home, sensed Broly’s ki, went upstairs to get out his custom-tailored Piccolo costume, put it on, and flew out here, but Piccolo and Vegeta have no idea what’s going on? This is bullshit.

I don’t want to give the wrong impression here. I’m pleased with Krillin’s cameo here, but it just raises more questions than answers. Broly’s kind of a big deal, and this movie seems to revel in the notion that less than half the cast would notice if he showed up on Earth. Where’s Tien? Yeah, he probably wouldn’t be able to help much, but he’d be one more guy for Broly to knock around. It’d make more sense than having him fight Videl.

Anyway, Broly survived, because he has the same force field he used to survive Planet Vegeta’s destruction as a baby. For that matter, Gohan used a similar force field earlier, so maybe this shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to him.

So then Broly catches Gohan in a bearhug. Why are there restholds in a cartoon? Seriously, it’s like Broly suffered a career threatening neck injury after Movie 8, and he had to tone down his style so as not to aggravate it. Only that’s dumb because he’s an anime character who doesn’t exist. Just punch the kid already.

Then Videl wanders over and tries to help by throwing a crystal shard at Broly. Well, I can’t fault Videl for being all heart, but that’s not enough to save this turkey.

Broly swats it away, which gives Gohan an opening to escape. But why? Wouldn’t Broly just let the thing hit him? It’s not like it could hurt him anyway. This guy took a Kamehameha to the face.

So Gohan decides to end this now with a Kamehameha, and Broly decides to do the same with his.... Gigantic Meteor? Omega Blazer? Gleaming Sagitarius? The video games had all sorts of stupid names for Broly’s moves, even though they all look the same. This one is, “Toss some more green shit at things.”

So then we get to a halfway decent part of the movie. Goten runs over to help Gohan, and they do a beam struggle with Broly. Cool.

But it doesn’t look good, and in desperation, Goten prays to Shenron for help.

Then Goku shows up. Is this because Shenron heard Goten’s wish? That’s the general idea here, but the movie refuses to say for certain. What I do know is that Shenron never actually manifests to grant wishes. The Dragon Balls just glow, and then this happens.

Also, Goku doesn’t have his halo, so I have no idea what this means.

Meanwhile, Trunks gets up from wherever he’s been laying, and he fires one last ki blast at Broly, for spite’s sake. This turns out to intercept one of Broly’s attacks, which seems to give the Son family an opening. It’s basically like how Vegeta attacked Cell right before Gohan finished him.

Actually, now that I write all that out, this all seems pretty derivative. We saw a Father-Son Kamehameha in the Cell Games, and a lot of this “Goku returns to help” stuff was covered in Movie 9. Even so, I dig this version a little better, because Goten is here. I still would have preferred it if Gohan had just beaten Broly on his own, without all this overbooked nonsense.

So the triple-Kamehhameha manages to break through Broly’s bullshit armor and it sends him flying into the sun, just like how Cooler lost in Movie 5, only all this green crap spews out of Broly as he dies.

Then he explodes, and the blast comes out of the other side of the sun, so maybe that’s enough to finish him this time?

Then the sun turns green for a second, like it has to burn off the last vestiges of Broly’s Gary Stu ki.

After the fight, there’s no sign of Goku, although the Dragon Balls have scattered, indicating that a wish was granted. Then Videl starts questioning how Gohan beat Broly, and she chases after him, demanding a full explanation.

As the movie closes, the narrator asks how Goku appeared during the battle, but claims that no one can ever know for sure. That’s horseshit, frankly. We know how the Dragon Balls work, and we know they couldn’t bring Goku back to life, so none of what happened makes any sense. Goten didn’t even say the wish out loud. He just thought it and Shenron heard that? It’s dumb. You had the whole movie to explain these things, and you blew it on piss gags.

Oh, and Krillin’s still embedded in the rock where Broly hit him.

So yeah, this movie isn’t very good. Team Four Star ranked it near the bottom of the list of movies and specials, and they often talk about how everyone says Movie 11 is the worst, but they actually dislike this one more because it’s more boring. Personally, I think 11 is worse than 10, but I’d hate to live on the difference.

I’m pretty sure Movie 10 is the main reason people dislike Broly. That’s not to say that Movie 8 would be universally loved if Movie 10 weren’t around. But I think Movie 10 cemented a lot of the worst aspects of Broly’s character. He comes back, surviving what should be certain death, then he survives several other predicaments, and he just says “Kakarot” over and over again for the entire movie. The only other line he speaks is when Gohan gets ready to Kamehameha him, and he’s about to fire back. Otherwise it’s all grunts and “Kakarot!”

In Movie 8, the guy at least had a personality, even if it was twisted and cruel. In this movie, it’s like they were trying to imply that he suffered some sort of brain damage. It’s just so dull watching him fight. He moves like he’s in slow motion sometimes, and he never seems interested in actually defeating his enemies.

And this is a complete inversion of how they brought back Cooler in Movie 6. Remember Cooler? He came back as a cyborg with unlimited spare bodies, just so he’d be strong enough to cope with fighting Goku and Vegeta at the same time. Movie 6 is far from perfect, but at least it understood the need to raise the stakes. Movie 10 brought back Broly and took a bold step backwards.

But at least Broly was actually in this movie, and I think that at least puts it ahead of Movie 11. I’m not sure that should be the only criteria for rating Broly movies, but I think it should be a major one.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #dbmovieliveblog #broly second coming #broly #goku #gohan #goten #trunks #videl #krillin #piccolo #well not really #maloja

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lunasaturnine · 4 years

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Vienna and cultural trauma

WOW so cool to sign into tumblr and see 99+ notifications, and think “oh a post got some attention,” but it’s actually just general attention!

My astro blog is ready for some action! Or maybe ppl are just bored bc of the quarantine. Either way, it would be cool to write.

I want to write about VIENNA.

I just took a course about somatic healing of trauma and it gave me a good overview of how trauma recovery works. Chapter 1 of trauma recovery is gathering resources. Chapter 2 is dipping or oscillating back into the memory, whether it’s a clear memory or just something held hidden in your body, with your new resources, and allowing circles to complete. Chapter 3 is being bigger bigger brighter in the world !!! (It’s a nice course, it’s on somatopia.com, it costs $40 if you have that to throw around, it’s like 2 hours of videos of a nice man talking in a soothing voice in intelligent language about healing from trauma)

Now I’m thinking about cultural trauma and Vienna. I have long felt that helping to heal the Hitler wound of Vienna is one of my soul’s major dharmic thrusts. So I googled “healing cultural trauma” and most resources out there talk about the trauma of the victim culture. That kind of trauma is totally different, because it recommends amplifying the traditions and greatnesses of the culture, and when you’re a cultural perpetrator of violence, amplifying the greatness of your culture is a trigger because cultural superiority is what lead your culture to be violent. But there are still a lot of resources with a lot of valuable information. I’ve only skimmed a couple things so far and it seems like one thing people emphasize in cultural healing is human connectedness.

The internet is a little hard to navigate on this topic, but I found an NYT editorial called “I loved my grandmother but she was a Nazi.” The author’s sweet grandma was literally a Nazi but she was a nice person who didn’t hate Jews. When the author talked to her about it, she would deflect. “He said a lot of things, I didn’t listen to them all” and “I was caught up in my own life” etc. The author says, that’s bullshit, there’s something she’s avoiding, and I can’t understand what it is or why she’s doing it, and I’m hesitant to say this because it might seem like I’m trying to forgive Naziism but I’m really just trying to understand who I look at when I look at my grandmother. It’s the most direct address of the West’s Nazi wound that I’ve found in my two and a half minutes of searching on google and I think it’s on the nose.

In the readmore are my more concrete thoughts on potential resources for Western/German/Viennese healing, and thoughts about what working through phase 2 would look like for a perpetrator culture.

Resources

On this reddit post:

https://www.reddit.com/r/history/comments/5nfqwp/my_grandmother_grew_up_in_nazi_germany/

there are some resources. First of all, 1. there are people from diverse backgrounds respective to WWII, coming together and talking as equals in the same kind of “room.” The descendants of the persecuted and the persecutors are together and they are not enemies. The knowledge, and SOMATIC FEELING EXPERIENCE, of that, can be a resource. I am typing over this brusquely and that’s Mercury magic for you and you should know that I just burst into sobs. That in just a couple of generations, the grandsons and daughters of enemies can be together and not hate each other and even love each other is an immense resource and can be leaned into at any point. There is a vast well of cultural relief available here. My tears are thankful, grateful tears, tears of relief. I am thinking of the parks in vienna that are holocaust memorial parks. I am thinking of that horrible statue out in front of the Albertina that is a memorial to cultural violence but at the same time, also represents the trapped soul of the Perpetrator culture, since we are all One. In the same way that a piece of music which opens with a terrifying chord represents both the terror experienced by the terrorized, and the menace of the terrorizer, AND THE FEELINGS IN THE terrorizer that caused them to generate this chord... off on a tangent, and I’m not sobbing anymore! That was crazy. I have a tendency to lock my feelings up, but being alone in this house and in this quarantine, I can open up locked wells of feeling like that.

That resource is IMMENSE, and it’s RIGHT in front of our faces all the time. I took a class on 20th century germany in undergrad, and the professor was a young guy with a Nazi grandfather, well I’m not sure if he was a Nazi but he was a German soldier, and he remarked on it. And I think at the time I thought “how lovely” but if you sit with that feeling, it’s deep as hell. And if you sit with it from the perspective of a penitent perpetrator, it’s REALLY FUCKING DEEP.

So that’s available. Im gonna post this real quick as a way of saving the draft but I have more ideas.

Okay. Continuing,

Resource 2 also from reddit post

The top respondent says his German POW uncle had a British GF. That’s similar to the first resource, but more immediate. I’m sure there are lots of stories like that. Intercultural experience that nullifies certain tensions

Resource 3 also from reddit post

The stories of people who did do the right thing... maybe. I dont know. I’ll get off this post soon but it’s interesting. Idk if this counts as a resource, it’s kind of a tangent, but the more I learn about karma and trans-life inheritance of it, the more it seems true that it really is better to die living in line with your beliefs than to live safely. Like the person in Pweuy’s post. That father died but his karma was pristine as far as this was concerned and perpetrator trauma did not cling to him.

ok jesus this is an interesting post... the girl skipping over the river of blood as it trickled out of the asylum... the hitler youth boy befriending a lamb and the nazis slaughtering it in front of him... the russian soldier who guarded the german girl because she reminded him of her daughter...

Okay. Before I go on, I want to clarify that I am not specifically talking about people who held Nazi beliefs in their core. There is a special type of perpetrator injury that is specific to that kind of thing, true villains and terrorists. I’m talking more about “ordinary Germans” who didn’t think very hard and got swept along, moderate supporters to moderate resisters. As a culture, they were moved by the tides into Naziism. They have culpability, but not the exact same kind of culpability as perpetrator people. The culture moved to perpetrate these crimes, and they were a part of that culture. That’s the specific kind of wound I’m interested in healing. There is a poster on that page whose grandma really loved Hitler...

Ok! I spent a lot of my energy in that page, now its 10PM and I still have veggies to prepare. I need energy for this next thing I was going to talk about.

Resource 4 - this one specific coffee shop

I’m putting *s in its name because I like this blog anonymous. P*****n is a coffee shop in Vienna that is the only happy place I went. There were places that were ok... and fine... maybe pleasant... but this place was American levels of happy. Waiters danced around and were actually relaxed and happy. P*****n’s theme is intergenerational communication. It hires grandmothers to work behind the counter, and make pies, and you’re supposed to buy a slice of their pie and talk to them a bit. And then the waiters are young, and they communicate with the Omas. And the Omas are maybe not old enough to have been Nazis but their parents were.

They also include a bit in all their menus about intergenerational dialogue and wondering what more they can do and how they can be more of a space for it.

I had MANY genuinely pleasant little experiences there... and I think that little space that some person with a vision made, is a blossoming flowerpot with lots of healing energy where true dialogue could happen. So that could be a resource too. The happiness of that place. In fact, these conversations could happen there.

But I wouldn’t want to break the space. The course I just took talked about titration, which is just accessing a TINY part of the traumatic memory, so you don’t get overwhelmed. This is a very icy fucked up conversation for a lot of people. My Viennese friend told me to talk more quietly about it than I was. Actually I did talk about it there with some people! The German girl was surprised that I thought Vienna had a wound. So was the Irish girl actually. For other people it’s really evident. My Viennese friend. D**n. Rf: “it’s ALL I feel when I am there.” ME. God that conversation was sooo gentle and sweet and light. The Irish girl was wondering if she should move to Vienna or stay in Barcelona, and the three of us talked about Vienna nd it was SOOOOO LOVELY, holy BALLS.

But even if we don’t hold conversations there exactly, that could be a really good place for conversation to start. I could reach out to the people who run the shop to ask them about it. And then maybe conversations could happen in other places (don’t want to spoil the sweetness of the shop).

Resource 5 - personal as I investigate maybe not really a resource - but yes maybe it is a resource: Grounded, comfortable people who are Viennese, and who understand the goals and also understand the sensitivities of Viennese people more than I do;

Resource 6 - people who are experts at cultural healing in victim cultures

Resource 7 - fostering dialogue between those two parties, also me.

Again I’m really playing fast and loose with the idea of resources. Maybe. We’re starting to move into phase 2, also, because with this dialogue, I want to open up some scripts for how to TITRATE sensitively.

phase 2

For instance, notice that I didn’t say something like “Remembering Vienna’s amazing heritage of incredible music that has the power to redeem and heal equal to and more accessibly than religions.” I think it’s true that Viennese music is a major healing resource (BEETHOVENSCHUBERTMOZARSKLTBSLJRTHBLEWSKJNS:OFDFD), but since it is bound up in Viennese identity, that notion is complex. Also, it’s not only that Viennese identity is nasty because it’s nazi and therefore that gives Schubert etc a dark tint, but also, the grand things that Vienna has contributed to western culture are now a part of Vienna’s current wound of degradation, cheapification, and humiliation by TOURISM. although I will say that I think Resource 8 should be MY OWN deep internalization of the healing power of Viennese music. Posting again to save...

...not only does that music help me be healed, but it also helps me understand healing process in the specific language of the culture i’m interested in

okay. Phase 2.

A picture of what I think sorta needs to happen

I think Omas that say “It was just a lot of talk, we ignored it” and “I was busy in my life”... I think what needs to happen for a perp culture is for them to actually own their part in the villainy, to claim it and stand in it and feel the pain, and say “I’m SORRY, this was HORRIBLE, I AM SORRY.” THIS WILL ALLOW THEM TO BECOME NEW!!!!!!!

That’s a v different healing process from like native american healing etc.

I really think somatic approach is a better road in than cognitive because, god, imagine cognizing all of this HORRIBLE SIN bit by bit knowing your culture perpetrated it and not having anyone to blame it on. Jesus.

How might the process of getting there look?

This is vague especially now that I don’t have that burst of energy. Conversations...

Here’s a question. After resource gathering.

“Knowing that bells rang for Hitler in Vienna, how does it feel to be Viennese?” IN YOUR BODY?

Damn THAT’S GOOD! THAT’S THE FUNDAMENTAL QUESTION. How does it feel to be Viennese? The goal is for it to feel OK.

Um, speaking specifically about Wiener trauma and their welcoming of Hitler, a few years ago, I read this in some guidebook, Vienna’s government acknowledged that they welcomed Hitler and that they were wrong, and investigating that is important for my mission. It’s cool because 1. it’s a Big Ol Step and 2. it lays groundwork for all of this.

Step 3 is really beautiful to think about. In the course I took, it’s where the instructor got out of his soothing calm neutral demeanor and started speaking passionately and bursting with smiles.

In addition to being able to be more firmly grounded in their own individual and cultural identities...

Okay, so, I’m drawn to this because I’m drawn to it, punkt. That’s all. But also, and I think I’m really late on the uptake here, I think I was due in Vienna many years ago, I think that whatever work I do in Vienna is helpful for the echoes of Naziism in today’s world, such as Trumpism (which does not...exactly... have the same kinds of premises but uses a lot of the same kinds of mecahnisms) and actual brazen nationalism, white supremicism, and far right movements. Hitler is a LOUD and REVERBERANT figure in our history for this kind of energy, and if we can do healing surrounding him, re-discovering resilience in the moderates, helping them go through the emotional journey they need to go through, they will be a beautiful resonant horn call from the past, a solid core of NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that will strengthen the culture of the entire FUCKING world.

Music will be a part of it.

I have always loved Vienna, and I can’t really analyze it. I love it like a girlfriend. I know she’s problematic. And she can be really really horrible.

The wound is deep. The horribleness, the life negating quality not only of the FUCKING WRETCHED SHOP CLERKS, but also of the WAY -- THINGS -- HAPPEN, of the overall weird ass SPIRIT in Vienna, is... God DAMN WHY do I like that city so much? It’s bizarre. It’s very pervasive. I don’t enjoy experiencing it, I don’t think it’s attractive, I don’t like it. I love Vienna THROUGH that wound. I REALLY LOVE Vienna. That’s one of the clearest things that I know in my heart. I love Vienna... and that’s the whole story. It’s one of the easiest things for me to say.

Lots of people love a city. We do it for reasons. I think our hearts are drawn where they are drawn because we are attracted to healing the specific karmas of places. The karma of my hometown is mainly racial, with native american underneath. The coffee shop that is equivalent to P*****n serves often as a place of racial conversation and healing. It is actually pretty amazing. And once there was a white supremacist with a gun there and he stood up on a table and let people see his gun. He didn’t yell or anything. But that vital thing happened there in that coffee shop.

Excuse me I also love coffee shops and Vienna is the land of coffee shops.

Okay. I love Vienna! I literally love Vienna, with my heart. I love Vienna.

One last thing. I’m saving then editing...

The postscript: A major resource, and it kinda sidesteps some things, is language. It will be much better if German is spoken in these conversations. When I went to Vienna last, I didn’t prepare my German because when I went to Vienna first, everyone spoke English and it was simply easier to speak English all the time, so I figured I wouldn’t try to give the illusion and disappoint. But lo... the native people really, really resent it if you don’t even try to speak German. They actually seem to experience it as an injury. It is wild, if you’re not expecting it.

ALL OVER VIENNA I saw the Graffiti stamp/brand, “Tourism is terrorism.”

When I was in the airport and the cute customs dudes asked me the purpose of my visit, I said “TOURISM” and they laughed. That was fun. But it was a lie. I was a pilgrim. I... know I was a tourist, technically. But I felt such hatred for the tourists standing like apes in front of the Schubert statue in the Stadtpark. Their wretched selfie smiles plastered on top of the emptiness of their experience. My purpose in Vienna had nothing in common with theirs. And I claim that I didn’t do a lot of the tourist things - not many museums or concerts or whatever.

One of my more pleasant memories was going into a used book shop and asking about a book in the window, a German-language edition of the tao te ching from 1923 (a very strange time). I asked in English. The clerk was confused and asked if I spoke German, and I answered in German that I spoke some German, but was learning, and knew the TTC very well, and that it’s simply usually easier to speak in English. I might have used imperfect German, but I felt dignified and natural doing it.

Ok, not only the German language, but the quiet Viennese demeanor of Scorpiness. Scorpscorpscorpscorp. Quiet, observant, emotional, and responsive to gentle tenderness and consideration, and traumatized by brashness.

Both the spoken language, and the language of the demeanor, I think are somatic approaches that sidestep cognitive...things and make the culture feel unconsciously accepted and open.

On my first trip I learned howwwwww AMERICAN I was, and then on my second trip I opened myself up to my inner Wiener and was quiet and scorpy, and I felt warmth emerge from the people and city in response. It felt really right, and it felt like i was honoring...her, and it felt um sort of romantic. ha

#Vienna #Wien

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apparitionism · 5 years

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Helicobacter 15

I have very little idea who even sees what I post anymore, given Tumblr and its unparseable algorithms. Once again, in the interest of possibly appearing in search results, I’m going to eschew links to the other fourteen (!) parts of this story here in this post... but they exist and can be found! This piece mostly boils down to callbacks, so the previous parts are indeed important, in an inside-joke sense. Anyhow, with housekeeping out of the way, where were we? Previously on Helicobacter, Myka was happy, Helena was too, and I myself couldn’t be bothered to stitch some dialogue exchanges into a full scene. Did a little better this time, but it’s still sort of Frankenstein’s-monster-ish.

Helicobacter 15

Helena knew that what she beheld wasn’t real. She knew it, because this was a plan, because everything thus far seemed to be going to plan. But when she entered the hospital room and saw Myka in that bed—that hospital bed, which was so very much not the bed they had so recently shared—all of what she knew left her mind: the “you’re up!” text she’d just received in the parking garage where she and Steve and Liam had been waiting for their cue, the fact that Steve and Liam were indeed right behind her, the crush of people in the room itself. The full complement... Abigail, extravagantly “blood”-soaked; Rick and Varsha, exuding white-coated competence; Jeannie, wearing a stricken expression that proved she either was an extremely good actor or did not enjoy having to see her daughter this way any more than Helena did; and, finally, Jane Lattimer, with whom Helena had interacted in only the most functional of ways but who had maintained a commanding, severe aspect at all times. She now looked a bit like Helena herself most likely had, in that original, first hospital immediacy, her face a mix of “something is happening to which I do not have full access” and “how can I persuade my actual day to resume.”

These things left Helena’s mind, and what remained was Myka, in a hospital bed.

“It was you all along,” Myka said, and her voice was sweet, not weak. “It really was you.”

Helena had been working on a dramatic statement in the “yes, it was I!” genre in response to whatever she encountered, here in this little hospital-room playhouse. But “I’m sorry” she said instead. An inadequate apology for everything from the original sin of the textbook through to Myka’s having to lie here in a hospital bed again.

Myka said, “I’m not.” She smiled. “But we really need to stop meeting like this.”

Enough of Helena’s wits returned for her to observe, “Abigail seems to have got the worst of it this time.”

“Impressive, right?” Abigail said. “When she gets sick, she gets sick. Overachiever.”

Now Helena did try to “act”: “You told her,” she said to Rick, who nodded. “So you know everything?” Helena asked Myka.

“I hope so,” said Myka. “I want to.”

“I want you not to be sick again,” Helena said, and that was no act.

“I can see that. Come here. If I am going to be sick again, it’s where you belong.” Myka looked up at Rick. “Now I’m the one who’s sorry. I did think it was you. Before. That it was supposed to be.” Rick said a soft “me too,” and Helena saw that Myka’s words, and his, were indeed about before: before Helena. Months ago, she would have found such an acknowledgement exclusionary and enraging. Now it raised further gratitude in her. She found she could not quite remember how it felt to hate Rick.

She did remember, however, how it felt to go to Myka’s bedside and take her hand. “I didn’t think I’d be allowed to do this,” she said.

“Technically,” Myka said, now with a glance at Jane Lattimer, “you’re not. But isn’t there an initiative about to be rolled out? That might make it okay?”

Everyone else was now conspicuously silent. Helena was not at all sorry to have missed whatever histrionics had preceded her entrance, but poor Liam was likely to regret finding so little to work with, improvisationally.

“Initiative?” Jane asked, with an edge, and Helena began to worry.

“Sunshine?” Myka asked back.

Jane frowned, and Helena, her worry intensifying, said, “I don’t want to cause trouble. But at the same time, I’d be happier if I didn’t have to skulk in someone else’s emails. Even if he was kind about it. Thank you, Rick.” She meant it.

“You’re welcome,” Rick said, and he seemed to mean it as well. “Happier’s a good goal. For you and for Myka. I think we all agree on that.”

“We certainly do,” Jeannie said.

Her words made Helena remember that, given the situation, she wouldn’t know who this was. “Have we met?” she asked.

In lieu of a real answer, Jeannie ruminated, “Myka told me about you, the first time this happened. Of course she told me after the fact. About all of it. ‘Hi, Mom, hope bridge club was fun, and by the way, cancer.’ And even then she seemed more concerned about having decorated you with so much of her AB-positive... that was a little confusing, in terms of priorities, but the most confusing part is why nobody insisted on calling her next of kin!”

“Mom,” Myka said. “First, I wasn’t dying. And second, storyline, okay?”

“Fine,” Jeannie said. “Am I allowed to sigh and say words about destiny?”

“Like I could stop you,” Myka said.

Helena tried to walk a middle way with, “I wish the circumstances were better, but I’m pleased to meet you.”

“We’ll see if it’s likewise,” said Jeannie, with a bit of her familiar twinkle.

“I’ll try to make it so. If Myka will let me, now that she knows that my feelings belong to me, not Rick. And now that she knows that her feelings are for me, not Rick. That is, if she still has those feelings, given the revelation that they may be for me, not Rick.” Well, that had been a terrible improvisation. Helena wished some language-use fail-safe mechanism could have cut her off after the first “me, not Rick.”

“I have them,” Myka said, with admirable simplicity. To Jane, she said, “So could we?”

“Could you what?” Jane asked. She still wore a frown, but was that was from “when will my day resume” annoyance, or because Myka was on an extremely wrong track?

“Hold hands, now that we know who feels what for whom. Could we just do this, and not worry about our jobs? Given the sunshine, I really think we—”

“But Myka,” Jane said, her expression changing from severe to gently serious, “that isn’t how it’s intended to work. It’s intended, once we announce, to flush people out: ultimately, to be an even greater deterrent. To show that we can find problems and dispatch them. One of you would still have to go—the only thing the initiative does is provide for some negotiating and grace period. A softer landing, with associated publicity. For example, Helena’s firm could finish the library, but she’d be barred from city work after that. Or you could wrap up your projects, and then you’d exit with some sort of severance package.”

Myka’s small smile had vanished, and her hold on Helena’s hand had become progressively tighter through Jane’s explanation. “What? No... no, no, no! Blameless adorable girls!”

“What?” Jane said.

Myka turned to Helena and said, in a voice as tense as her grip, “I didn’t know.”

Helena said a quiet, “That’s your just deserts for reading things you shouldn’t. Draft memos... marked-up city planning textbooks...”

“I thought it was going to be perfect,” Myka said. Her eyes dampened, and she blinked fast.

“It is perfect, as far as the initiative goes,” Jane told her, “but it doesn’t get you the outcome you seem to want.”

Myka hates how red... they really could not move to Maine and refuse to fish for lobsters, so Helena was going to have to come up with something else, and she was going to have to do it quickly. “But not the outcome you want, either,” she said to Jane, buying time.

“How do you mean?” Jane asked.

“Do you want me to be barred from city work?”

“Of course not. I wish I could say there were plenty of firms in the sea that can bring work in on time and on budget, but.”

Helena continued, slowly, “And you can’t possibly want to send Myka off into the sunset with a severance package, because she’s exceptional at her job.” An even more salient through struck her: “And because you most likely won’t be allowed to replace her, will you? Given budgetary concerns.”

“That’s most likely correct,” Jane said.

And now Helena had to throw that last reasonable save-us-all possibility out the window as well. Not on impulse, but as an imperative: because it was no longer a reasonable possibility. She said, “I would swear to fall out of love with her, but I don’t believe I can do that. And you would have your suspicions, wouldn’t you? Regardless of what either of us swore.”

“‘Suspicions’ is far too mild a word for what I would have, if you tried to sell me that story,” Jane said. “That story.”

It was a clear request: sell me the right story. What was the right story? The current circumstance was once a different circumstance, Helena reminded herself, and then she began to remind Jane of it: “Let’s consider a hypothetical situation. What would have happened if she and I had been together before I bid on the neighborhood?”

Jane said, promptly, “You would never have been allowed within ten miles of that bid.”

“But remember, the process began before the current mayor took office. And Myka wasn’t involved, not initially. Under the previous administration, that was the functional equivalent of being ten miles apart, wouldn’t you say? Under the previous administration, our integrity would have been the stuff of legend. Perhaps even epic poetry, composed in Greek.” She glanced at Myka, who was not at all ready to smile. I will never, ever let this face be red again. Maine, lobsters, red. Everything connected. Fix it.

Jane said, “I have my doubts about the poetry, but in a general sense, yes.”

“And neither Myka nor I could have known that after my unfortunate incident with her now-former coworker, you would assign her to the project. Could we? She certainly didn’t volunteer for it.”

“No...” Now Jane Lattimer had a tilt to her head and a glint to her eye that suggested she was beginning to see Helena’s point: blameless adorable girls...

Myka was still blinking, and she was breathing hard through her nose: she wasn’t there yet.

“The timeline,” Helena said. “The timeline. You assign Myka to the project, having no idea that she and I are together in some way; we don’t say anything about it, because why would we have done, under the previous regime? A short time later, the new mayor takes office; new rules go into effect. Myka and I are now stuck: what can we do? If we reveal ourselves, either she loses her job, or my firm is dropped from consideration. We don’t want either of those outcomes, so for a brief while, we bide our time. Perhaps we’re trying to figure out a plan.” She looked at Myka again, and now Myka blinked again, but slow, an I trust you blink, an I still don’t quite see but I trust you movement of lids and lashes.

Helena, encouraged, continued, “We fail to figure out a plan before Myka falls ill, and we have our day in hospital. She conveys to you the basic facts of what happened—that she did fall ill, that I was there with her—because she could hardly conceal those facts. And you, following the guidelines, remove her from the project and install Abigail instead. We breathe something of a sigh of relief, but we also find ourselves consigned to secrecy. We’re trapped. We remain trapped, all this time... but, notably, I don’t attempt to influence any of Myka’s work, and she exerts no influence to benefit me. That is objectively the case.”

“The mayor wouldn’t bother to follow that story,” Jane said. “She’s busy; it’s lengthy. And I’m not persuaded it’s true.”

“It could have been true. Just as this story of emails and a relapse could have been true,” Helena told her—but having done so, she realized that she had fully confessed to the fictional nature of the current situation. Monumental error?

Apparently not; Jane’s posture relaxed, and she said, “So Myka’s all right?”

Myka squeezed Helena’s hand. “I’m all right,” she said, and Helena was so relieved to hear her sound like herself again that she sat down next to her on the bed, heedless, now, of all appearances, even of making it clear that she had indeed been with Myka, lately, in a better bed than this one. She noted that she was on the correct side of this bed. They had been in better beds, but at least she was in this one correctly.

“All right then,” Jane said. “Several things could have been true. What actually is true?”

The words “First there was a fountain” made their way out of Myka’s mouth before Helena managed to interrupt, “I don’t believe anyone’s life will be improved if we try to explain. Speaking of stories no one would bother to follow.” Myka’s theory regarding public shaming was all very well, but now they needed to offer something that made sense.

“All right then, “ Jane said. “We’ll save the truth for a less instrumental time. But what would you like me to sell to the mayor?”

Helena said, “Sell her this: a city employee and a contractor have a personal relationship that predates the current administration, but that relationship has never been allowed to influence their work. I think that says a great deal about how this mayor has managed to bring integrity back to governance, don’t you?” Jane began to nod, if still with bit of skepticism, so Helena went on, “If the mayor is indeed concerned about having nothing to disclose, then here is something that may be disclosed. If everything looks too perfect, here is a story in which everyone’s behavior, while not perfect, is undamaging to the work at hand. In fact the work at hand is being done rather well, and our conduct has been, all things considered, very nearly exemplary.”

No one else in the room had said anything for quite some time—poor Liam, Helena thought again. Everyone’s eyes were on Jane, who said, “It’s a shame you weren’t secretly married. I’d have a better case for having this new initiative somehow grandfather you in, given your ‘exemplary’ conduct.” Helena heard the quote marks.

“Hm,” Rick said. “How about if they were engaged?”

Jane tilted her head one way, then the other. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Rick turned to Myka and Helena and shrugged as if to say “well then.”

“There are several people who work at this hospital who would attest to that as fact,” Helena said.

Myka smiled up at Helena. “Plus it would help explain why you dropped everything to be here today—I mean, here, today, when I’m having this relapse—regardless of appearances.”

Jane said, “And I suppose it would explain why, here today, you were both unable to hide the ‘real’ situation from me. Given what a terrible actor Helena is.” She said this last with a “go ahead, challenge me” air.

“Terrible,” Helena agreed, not rising to the bait, if indeed it was bait. “Jane, I believe you’re the hero in this scenario, are you not? You offer the mayor an easy way to show a tinge of relatively harmless imperfection, and you keep all your personnel in place. No other department head could possibly have the opportunity—and ability!—to thread such a needle.”

“Don’t push,” Jane warned.

“I can’t help but push,” Helena said, because it was true. “Look at her.” She herself looked at Myka... and was struck by the fact of her. No more impulses; only imperatives.

“It’s fortunate you’ve given up asking me to believe that this romance is purely epistolary,” Jane said. “We do still have one problem, however, speaking of looking: going forward, there’s that pesky appearance of a conflict of interest. I’m not sure how I can talk the mayor down from that.”

Varsha said, “I have an idea. You see, I’m using this wallpaper”—she gestured at Rick—“to help my career.”

“Who are you again?” Jane asked.

“I am Doctor Varsha Parekh, but that is unfortunately neither here nor there in the present circumstance. The point is that the wallpaper is fine with it. He would most likely not be fine with it, however, if I hadn’t told him. If for example I told someone else and that news made its way back to him.”

“Full disclosure!” Liam said, with a florid melodrama that the current circumstance certainly didn’t warrant... then again, Helena did see that it was likely to be one of his only lines, so of course he would want to make the most of it.

His making the most of it startled Jane. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I thought,” Liam began, just as extravagantly—then Steve elbowed him and he calmed down—“well, I thought I might get to play a doctor too, but instead I’m ‘Assistant’s Boyfriend.’ Which is fine.” He elbowed Steve.

Jeannie sighed. “I’m still just ‘Mom.’”

Myka burst out with, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

“I know you did,” Jeannie told her, “and it’s fine, just as Liam said, but—”

“No, Mom,” Myka said, “I’m talking about disclosure. If I warn them, no one can say I didn’t warn them.”

Abigail mused, “It is a conflict of interest. Say it loud and proud, over and over, and eventually nobody’ll think twice about it; they’ll bake it into every single good word you might say about her. And every single bad word you might say about anybody else.”

“You will have to say it over and over,” Jane told Myka, “or everyone will think you’re joking.”

“I will be so happy to say it over and over,” Myka said. Her hand, still gripping Helena’s, was warm.

Jane said, “You’ve always been above reproach... are you ready to take that reputational hit?”

At that, Myka did lose a bit of her shine. Helena looked at Abigail, who shrugged and said, “She’s the one who keeps saying she’s tougher than she looks.”

“Think of it as a metaphorical pie in the face,” Helena suggested to Myka.

“I guess you did pre-apologize,” Myka said. “First thing when you walked in here.”

“And I felt I really did have to throw it. Well, to set you up for it to be thrown, I suppose. Unfortunately I don’t think anyone will bother hiding it in a bouquet.”

“Helena, I had no idea you were this strange,” Jane remarked.

“I’m not the one who—never mind. Yes, I am this strange. Now. I occasion the throwing of metaphorical pies. I personify the lessons of a koan that inexplicably involves a lobster. And everywhere I go, I find myself there under false false pretenses.”

“Not everywhere,” Myka said. “But speaking of false false pretenses, and why she goes places, I should make clear that regardless of when anything did or didn’t happen, I did all the pursuing, I swear. If she’s been trying to get me to wield influence on her behalf, she’s doing a terrible job. Gave me no incentive at all.” Myka accompanied this with an irresistible nestle against Helena’s side... a reminder that Myka herself had provided near-constant incentive for Helena to give up and give in. As she was now once again doing.

“Maybe she’s spectacular at reverse psychology,” Abigail said.

“Whose side are you on?” Myka demanded.

With a glance at Jane, Abigail said, “Good governance. I’m on the side of good governance.” She glanced down at the “gore” that decorated her. “I’m also on the side of clean clothes.”

Steve said, “She is not spectacular at reverse psychology. She’s not even very good at straightforward psychology.”

Helena sat there and took it, because really, what were her options? Her martyrdom was mitigated by the fact that she was still sitting next to Myka, holding her hand. With a modicum of hope.

Jane said, “Honestly, psychology aside, I wish you’d just come to me in the first place. My heart isn’t made of stone.” She shook her head in an exasperated chide.

In response to which, Helena had no choice but to muse, “How ironic it would be if someone had, prior to all this, suggested doing precisely that.”

Myka un-nestled herself and poked Helena in the side. “How even more ironic it would be if, after all this, someone else were to decide she’d changed her mind about wanting to be with someone.”

“I am having a sign made that says ‘point taken.’”

“Good investment.” Myka then re-nestled herself, as if it were a relief to have that settled.

And with that, Helena capitulated. Entirely: no part of her soul was divided. She would sell the firm to Steve if she had to; she would move to Maine; she would confront lobsters or any other monster from her childhood, from her subconscious, or from reality. She would maintain.

Jane said, “I need to make one more very important point, one that each and every one of you needs to take to heart: You’re all terrible actors—“

“Now, wait,” Jeannie said, and Liam added, “You should have seen me as Biff Loman three seasons ago at the Civic Theater.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “But since you’re willing to put on this ridiculous show to ‘help’ them, can I count on you to maintain the equally ridiculous position that they’ve been involved for as long as they have to have been, for this story to be plausible? A year? More?”

Helena, suddenly giddy at the idea of victory within their grasp, said, “We have known each other for more than a year and have been madly in love for twice that long. Wait, was that backwards?”

“Liar,” Myka accused. “Three times that long.”

Rick offered, “I am pretty sure Myka cheated on me with her.”

Myka raised a threatening hand to him. “Hey. Actually too soon on that.”

“Sorry,” he said.

Helena remembered how it felt to resent him. She glared.

“Very sorry,” he amended.

“Some secret engagement that you were trying to tell me some fake story about,” Steve said, contemplatively.

Helena recognized the phrasing. “You did say that. At the time.”

“I was all set to believe it then... so now I do.” His breathing was steady. Helena reflected that if she did have to sell the firm to him, everyone there would most likely breathe far more steadily, far more of the time.

“Wonderful,” said Jane. “And when I say ‘wonderful,’ I mean that if I hear one whisper of trouble about this, everyone in this room over whom I have any authority whatsoever is fired, removed, or otherwise penalized. Do I make myself clear?” She received decisive nods from everyone, even those over whom she technically had no power at all. “All right. Here is the ‘real’ story: you’ve been engaged since before the current administration came into office. I had no knowledge of this engagement. As far as I knew, you met on the day of Myka’s hospital stay—during which, I’m gathering, Helena represented herself as Myka’s fiancée.”

“I did,” Helena said.

“That representation of the situation was, if anyone asks from this point forward, true,” Jane told her.

Helena said, “It felt true.”

“It did,” Myka agreed.

“True enough,” Rick harrumphed.

Helena remembered yet more resentment.

Jane went on, “And I removed Myka from the project with absolutely no knowledge of this previously existing relationship. And the two of you spent a great deal of time fearing for your lives and livelihoods.”

“Also true,” Helena affirmed.

“Very,” Myka intensified.

“Because you didn’t know how magnanimous I would be in attempting to work out this grandfathering situation,” Jane concluded.

“I bet I suspected,” Myka said, with a bit of a wily smile, and she knew Jane better than Helena did, so she would know if that was all right, but Helena still had to resist a strong urge to shush her and tell her not to tempt fate.

Fortunately, Jane seemed not to take it amiss. “I haven’t survived as many administrations as I have by being unwilling or unable to do what’s necessary to get to my preferred outcome. You’re not wrong about the politics of the situation, Helena. I think this will let the mayor send a particular signal... I think it could, strangely, work. And work well.”

“So many of Myka’s ideas seem to,” Helena said. “Work strangely, I mean. And well. Although rarely as she intends.”

Jeannie said, “You probably wouldn’t be surprised to hear that that’s been true since she was five and decided that she wanted a pet. Her father wouldn’t get her a dog, so she used Pop-Tarts to train a raccoon to sit at the backyard picnic table with her.”

“And against its better judgment, it agreed to continue to pose as her fiancée,” Helena said, and she felt Myka’s body move. Laughter, accompanied by a mumble of “should’ve tried Pop-Tarts with you.”

Abigail asked, with enthusiasm, “Did it bite her and give her rabies? Ooh, Rick, is that why you decided to become a doctor? Seeing your little best friend foaming at the mouth?”

“Seeing Myka foaming at the mouth would’ve made me want to become an exorcist, not a doctor. Also, I thought Myka did have a dog.”

“Can you not tell dogs and raccoons apart?” Varsha asked, giving him a look. “That is so sad.”

“You are a fine one,” Helena told her.

“I know which one you are. If my grandma were standing here with a bowl of her famous lapsi, she would without doubt refuse to serve it to you. She’d train a raccoon with it instead.” She really was very matter-of-fact about it. Helena believed her.

Jeannie continued her story: “That well-fed raccoon spread the news about the Pop-Tarts far and wide. Myka’s father took the trash out one day and met up with eleven of them, sitting in a line, waiting for Myka and snacks. Reasonably politely, but still. He screamed—he’s never liked raccoons—but they were unfazed.”

“And?” Helena asked. Myka was still laughing against her, harder now, saying “Eleven, eleven...”

“And the next day, he brought home a dog to deal with our raccoon problem.”

Now Myka picked up the tale. “She was a Corgi mix named George Eliot—although I was five, so I thought that was all one word, ‘Georgeliot’—and I adored her. So did the raccoons, and vice versa. My dad felt so betrayed.”

“I begin to see why he spends so much of his time sitting in a boat,” Helena said.

“Also he thinks raccoons can’t swim,” Myka told her.

“Can they?”

Myka, solemnly: “Like little furry crocodiles.”

Helena did think she had gone all in, mere moments ago. Now, however, a small, final bit of her heart or her soul or whatever might have intended to hold out some possibility of defiant resistance dusted its hands, picked up its lunch bucket, and walked off the job. She sighed. “I suppose they’ll feel right at home in the fountain, then.”

“They’ll keep it lobster-free for you,” Myka assured her.

“Considerate,” Helena said. She closed her eyes and, for one breath, paid no heed to those surrounding them; she let herself revel in the physicality of leaning against inadequate pillows, atop an industrial-grade bedsheet. With Myka. Not the day’s inevitable outcome by any means.

Then Jane said, “I am now exiting this inside-joke snowglobe and going back to City Hall, where I expect Myka and Abigail to join me shortly. And I’d appreciate it if Myka and Helena would both be so kind as to continue behaving in your exemplary nonpersonal fashion until I’ve had a chance to talk to the mayor.”

“Should I be there?” Myka asked. “I really think I could explain—”

Jane interrupted, beating Helena to it by a nanosecond, “You should not be there. You should be at least half a world away.”

At this, Myka gasped, dropped Helena’s hand, and sat up extremely straight. She said to the room, “Half a world away! If everybody here isn’t thinking exactly what I’m thinking, I’m going to be so disappointed.”

Helena said, “I, on the other hand, will be relieved. Because I fear for our collective sanity if we’ve all started thinking like you.”

“I’m with you, Helena,” Rick said, and Helena felt her umbrage subside again.

Varsha said, “I’m inclined to agree, but for reasons of family and history, I’ll vote ‘present’ instead.” She directed an appraising gaze at Myka and asked, “Unless you’re thinking about rabies? It’s caused by a lyssavirus, not very interestingly shaped, but extremely—”

“Not rabies,” said Myka. Varsha deflated, and Myka said, “I promise to think about rabies some other time.” Varsha didn’t smile, not exactly, but Helena for one was amused to find that there was a facial expression easily legible as “pleased to have at this moment begun mentally assembling a PowerPoint presentation on the topic of lyssaviruses.”

“Clean clothes?” Abigail tried, to which Myka shook her head. Abigail glanced at Jane again. “But I still care about good governance.”

Liam declared, “I’m a dime a dozen, and so are you!”

Both Steve and Myka said, “What?”

“It’s from Salesman. I was thinking about that season at the Civic.”

Steve said, “I was thinking about what kinds of design projects we could bid on that might involve greenhouses.”

Jane said, “Hm.” Then she said, “Well.” Then she pointed at him and said, “You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s a public/private partnership being set up to fund a senior-housing complex. I heard the word ‘greenhouse’ mentioned as something to consider, in terms of providing resident activities. Then again I also heard ‘horseshoe pit’ and ‘pickleball court,’ so they may go sporty instead.”

“When we bid,” Helena began, but at Jane’s ahem hurriedly corrected to, “rather, if we bid, Steve will wax lyrical on the virtues of gardening and persuade them otherwise. Won’t you?”

“The virtues of gardening, but the virtues of gardeners in particular,” he responded.

Liam put an arm around his shoulders. “Aw. You’re not a dime a dozen.”

“Neither are you,” Steve said, with an answering embrace. Helena found them charming.

Myka, charmed or not, was undeterred. “What is wrong with you people? Half a world away!”

“Well,” Jeannie said, “my first thought was probably too stereotypical a ‘Mom’ line, given that it was ‘honeymoon,’ so—”

“Ding ding ding!” Myka shouted. “We have a winner!”

“Your thought was ‘honeymoon’?” Helena asked, and Myka nodded in dramatic fashion. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I don’t believe we can go on a honeymoon.”

“Why not?”

She had to be joking. The guileless eyes had to be an act. Helena didn’t know what the purpose of this act in particular was, but she played along and said, “Those generally follow weddings.”

Still guileless: “And?”

“And—Jane, don’t listen to this part—as far as I know, we are not in fact even engaged to be married.” Something had turned slightly strange in the room; Helena looked to Steve, but he gave her very little in response, not a smile or a shrug, just a gaze. Abigail did the same. Helena began to worry again. “These things do tend to proceed in a customary sequence,” she said, as a last aren’t-we-on-the-same-page stab.

“Okay, then, let’s get our raccoons in a row.” Myka turned her still-upright torso toward Helena and took her hand again. “First step: will you marry me?”

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Helicobacter #part 15 #AU week #I am curious to see if this part shows up in searches or tags #because there seems to be no rhyme or reason to what does or doesn't anymore #this vestige of bering-and-wells land should be allowed to persist #even if tumblr is trying to pretend we don't/shouldn't exist #I thought that particular tactic vis-à-vis bering and wells was the bailiwick of a TV show #that sent the father of science fiction to Heteroville Wisconsin #for no reason whatsoever

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