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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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ptersparkers · 4 years

Text

the tap of your fingertips

summary: all of jj’s internal thoughts.

warnings: none, i think and typos, probably.

notes: i tried to write differently and use inly a stream of consciousness. i hope you like it!

You think he doesn’t look. He does.

He feels every tap of your fingertips, hum of your voice, and breath when you enter the Chateau every morning with a blue water bottle. He thinks you’re beautiful without even trying. Five years of friendship never prepared him for seeing you in another light and it’s no secret that his feelings for you have switched. It’s not a secret to everyone but you.

JJ tries to keep his cool. He really does. It’s subtle movements that he cherishes in his mind when he falls asleep on John B’s couch every night. He replays the time he held your hand to help you into the boat that morning. Your hands were soft, unlike his callous ones. He could grow to like holding your hand.

He sleeps in comfort when you’re his last thought. JJ was never one to believe in lucid dreaming, but when the time is right, he could dream up a fantasy where he wasn’t afraid to proclaim his love for you. It was a distant wish that he wanted to come true. He wished for it when his eyes opened to the moment his eyes closed.

But delicate glances weren’t satisfying him anymore. He wanted to grab your exposed hip and hold you flush against him. Every time you placed the shiny lip gloss that smelled like sweet apples, JJ felt like the universe was torturing him with a sweet slow burn. You always smelled like sweet apples.

You decided to cut your hair short out of sheer boredom and you looked more mature, more refined. You were not what a Pogue looked like with that haircut. JJ liked that. He knew his opinion on your appearance didn’t matter but he wanted to say it anyway. So he did. You smiled and reached for an apple that Kiara had brought that morning. You and those damn apples.

There is a shift in the mood whenever JJ isn’t distracted by the other Pogues. He can feel his heart begin to beat faster when the mood has calmed down. It was almost always sparked by the sun beginning to set. He knew the night sky and the darkness of the calamity would force him to be alone with his own thoughts, unable to escape the impending doom of what he should do about his feelings. But he always put it off until the second he was about to sleep. That‘s his trick if he wanted to dream about you.

He often dreams about a big city where nobody cared about him. He dreams of a small apartment with you laying in your shared bed, the smell of fresh parsley cooking in the pan as he prepared two omelets with cheese and other ingredients laying around in your pantry. He dreams of a fresh pot of black coffee and a ceramic mug you had brought home the week you moved into the space. Your shared space. JJ dreams of waking you up with a tender kiss, feeling your warm breath on his chin as his lips touch the soft skin of your forehead. JJ will never admit it, but he craves the domesticity of relationships in which he was able to feel completely and utterly calm.

JJ likes it best when you wear his shirts after a swimming session. You were almost always too stubborn to wear your own and preferred the bigger size that he sported, not that he would ever complain. It was a cliche, that much he knew. But he never failed to smile when you stole the semi-dirty shirt from the boat when you emerged from the water, letting yourself air dry before slipping on the soft fabric. He was almost positive his entire wardrobe smelled like you.

Just when he thinks he has no real aspirations and dreams to fight for, you are the first to ease his mind about the future. The Outer Banks is a small island compared to the rest of the world. Getting out doesn’t just mean leaving the island physically. It means being mentally prepared to handle whatever life decides to throw at you once you step off of the land you grew to know so well. JJ’s always trying to think positively. He’s always trying to think of what you would say when he felt like the biggest failure on the island.

He didn’t know when he let you consume his mind but he wasn’t going to complain about it. The hot summer morning and cool summer nights were enough to spark imagination from him, one that would make it on his bucket list of things he wanted to accomplish before he left this godforsaken island. One of them was tell you he likes you. But he had time for that. He always tries to reason with himself.

JJ masks his anger and frustration with humor and comedy as a coping mechanism that helps him deal with the trauma he endures. His love for his friends outshines his own aspirations and he’s afraid that one day, he’ll find himself all alone after giving his all to the people he loved to much. He’s afraid of finding himself alone on the island while the Pogues have a grand time on different corners of the same planet. JJ thinks about his capacity for emotion and wonders when his next break down will be. He just hopes you’re not there to witness it.

It’s funny. He always thought about the classist society that exists between the Kooks and the Pogues. JJ is aware that this problem exists way beyond the small North Carolinian island, but he pretends it’s only his problem because it’s easier than dealing with the fact that leaving the island might be the worst decision he could make. If the world outside was like this then he won’t be able to protect himself. Here, at least, he knew how to fight stupid Kooks.

He’s scared that you’re not going to be there with him when he’s ready to leave. He says he is ready, and he’s hot headed with the tendency to act before thinking, but this is the only thing he wants to think through. Leaving the island with no money and nowhere to go means being stuck in square one. It means living as a Pogue in the world beyond the Outer Banks. It would be the same experience on a different playing field. But you always remind him that the opportunities beyond the gates of a small town are greater than his fears.

JJ’s starting to think he began to like you because you gave him hope. Not the kind of hope that resembles an empty promise, but the kind of hope that lifts his spirits and motivates him to get up every morning and seize the day. You are the sun in his dimly lit world and he’s afraid he will lose your sunshine.

The cheesiness of romantic comedies and John B. teasing him all day for being “soft” (whatever that means) is a combination of how JJ feels inside. He no longer feels to strengthen the hard exterior he spent years building when he was with you. JJ let his armor fall. It was always you and him in an isolated room with twin fire signs. He couldn’t hear loud ocean waves or thundering lightening. It was always calm with you.

With you, his slate was clean. He could build himself up without knocking himself down. The building blocks he needed were in your hands and all he had to do was grab them from you. JJ knew you were willing to give that to him. You were willing to share a piece of your soul so that his could be fixed. But he would never want you to break a piece of yourself in order for him to make himself whole.

JJ was pining after you like a little boy on the playground. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, touch you. He wanted you to pull him aside and admit these same feelings but never voiced this out loud. His armor had fallen around you but his walls were sturdy and high in front of everyone else.

He wasn’t sure if you knew. JJ was hyper aware of the times you’d choose to sit next to him or accompany him to fix the keg before parties. He was always aware of your head resting on his shoulder and when you would play with his rings absentmindedly. His hands always felt like they were on fire. But he welcomed that warmth.

And so he stood by the sidelines most afternoons and watched as you and John B. grew closer and closer. There were no romantics feelings involved, just the sheer fact that you two had known each other longer than he had known you. But that didn’t stop the blond boy from overthinking. Before he discovered his romantic feelings for you, every move felt like a provoking gesture. He never paid any mind to John B. pressing a quick kiss to your temple when you left the house. But now he did. Now it was personal. It was irrational. John B. was dating Sarah and you were like a sister to him. He knew that. It still felt weird.

But one evening changed everything. It was just the first of you in the Chateau and you were beyond tired. JJ could see the tiredness in your eyes due to the high-packed day the group had. He asked you to change into comfortable PJ’s before you slept in sweaty clothes and you obliged without a word.

He was used to seeing you without any makeup on and not as put together as when you were. But there was something about you that night.

JJ stepped forward.

You stepped closer.

He put his hands on your hips.

You looked up at him. He could smell the apple scented shampoo from your hair. The one you kept in John B’s bathroom.

There were no fireworks, nor music nor cheerful friends in the window.

There was just you two.

He slowly dipped his head and touched your lips with his, but just barely.

One. Two. Three.

That was the number of seconds it took for you to kiss him back.

You pressed your chest against his.

He dug his fingertips into your hipbone.

You felt his soft lips. He felt yours.

It was slow. Subtle. Sweet.

All JJ could think about was you and your apple flavored lip gloss, and how he wanted to taste it. But by the looks of it, he’d be tasting your apple flavored lip gloss more often.

***

taglist:

@princessdolan @ashyramblings-ficrecs @fanficscuziranout @simonsbluee @caswinchester2000 @jellyfishbeansontoast @karleeluv @briannarto @pogue-h @hyluas @angelic-ashleyaileen @mfmaddyperez @sspidermanss @outerbankslove.

aLSO WHY IS TUMBLR NOT TAGGING PEOPLE

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagines #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #obx imagines #obx x reader #obx #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks #my writing #the tap of your fingertips

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afeatherinthewind · 3 years

Text

Reminder that there is a separation between content creators' public personas and their real selves (from u/berkeleynoob)

((This is not my post, it is originally from reddit u/berkeleynoob but I got permission to repost as I know a lot of younger Dream SMP fans are on Tumblr and Twitter)) --- This was originally a comment I made on another post, but two people pm-ed me and told me it would be a good standalone post so I decided to expand on it a little. Given the amount of new (young) fans there are, I thought it might be a timely reminder.

The different levels of personas:

I'm using Tommy as an example here because that was what the original post I responded to was about. There are at least three levels to Tommy (and probably most content creators in the DSMP as well). There's c!Tommy, the character he plays on the Dream SMP. Then there's the public TommyInnit profile that he portrays on Youtube and social media (e.g. Twitter). Then there's the real Tommy, who we as the audience obviously aren't privy to see.

I think most fans are fairly clear that c!Tommy is very different from the real Tommy, and criticism/negative comments about the character are very separate from their opinions about the real Tommy. But I've heard less about differentiating Tommy from the TommyInnit persona that he portrays.

Criticism towards the persona vs towards the person:

There's a reason why Tommy starts every Youtube video with a disclaimer about people finding him annoying. The TommyInnit persona is a fairly polarising one, and I too found it somewhat grating when I first watched him. Even now I take my TommyInnit content with breaks because it can be a bit much after a while. But clearly Tommy knows his audience very well and he knows that the TommyInnit persona appeals to a great deal of people, as evidenced by how he's one of the fastest growing Youtube/Twitch creators and his fanbase is huge.

I think it's valid to have criticism for or to dislike the TommyInnit persona. It's not for everyone, and some people probably do find it annoying. But I don't think any of the audience has any basis upon which to judge the real Tommy since we know so little about him. The closest we got was probably the Eboys podcast, in which Tommy impressed me with his maturity and humility for a 16-year-old kid who skyrocketed in fame less than a year. Even when Techno was complaining to Phil (on stream) about how exhausting it was to stream with c!Tommy, he added something like, "and I mean the character Tommy, because believe it or not, Tommy is a entirely different person off-stream". I've heard nothing about great things about how Tommy is off-stream and there's no doubt he's an incredibly hardworking person.

So even though I don't love c!Tommy and the TommyInnit persona can get a bit much for me sometimes, I have nothing but respect for Tommy the person and how much he's achieved.

This goes for just about every content creator out there. Despite how much of their content you may watch and how well you think you know them, that is still their public persona, not who they really are in normal life. It's valid to pass judgement and have criticism for the personas they portray and how they portray it, but it's unfair to use the personas themselves (e.g. "oh Wilbur was mean to Tommy in non-roleplay video", or "Bad swore in this video so he's a hypocrite") to pass judgement on them as people. As fans and audience members, I think we have to accept that we may never really know much about who they are as real people, and that's fine.

The other side: Why being overly attached to the persona is bad

I'm probably older than a lot of the fans here, and I've been in and out of fandom for over 10 years now. I've lived through the terrible days when fandom was all about LiveJournal, ONTD and Tumblr ("I like your shoelaces"). So I know how easy it can be to get sucked into obsessive fandom and become overly attached to actors/singers/content creators. Here's a cautionary tale to show why you shouldn't make the mistake of thinking you know the content creator just because you're a superfan.

I used to be very involved in the Achievement Hunter (a group of Let's Players) community, I watched them since I was in high school and I enjoyed their content a lot. Roleplay wasn't really a thing and they did a lot of behind-the-scenes type of content (e.g. podcasts, recording random shenanigans in the office) that made it feel like I really knew and liked them as people.

One of my favorites was Ryan Haywood. He was a witty, sarcastic guy who was known as the 'madman' and 'evil mastermind' in the video games they played. He was happily married and had two children at home, and for many years I admired his perfect life and how he had gotten to that position: playing video games for a living and enjoying life with his family.

In 2020, it was revealed that Ryan had been having affairs with several female fans. He had messaged many young fans manipulative and explicit messages and even met up and had sexual relations with some of them. Some of the fans who came out and told their stories testified that they were underage when the affair happened, and they felt pressured into having relations with Ryan. There are a lot of other complicated details that I won't go into here. But this news shocked me and many fans to our core. I didn't want to believe it at first. This was so utterly different to the Ryan Haywood I thought I knew and loved.

TL;DR

That was an extreme example but it's a reminder that we are fans and audience members. We don't know the content creators, regardless of how personable they may be or how much of their life they choose to share with us. Especially for younger fans who may be delving headfirst into a fandom for the first time, it's a wild and fun ride and it's easy to get overly attached or obsessed.

Please use this as a reminder to take a step back and remember that there is a very real wall of separation between TommyInnit and Tommy, between Wilbur Soot and Will, between Tubbo and Toby, between any content creator's public persona and their real self. And similarly, there should be separation between what you feel about a content creator's public persona and the content creator themselves. We know their personas, not them. And that's fine.

#Dream SMP #dsmp #parasocial relationships #tw: ryan haywood #tw: manipulation #ryan haywood #be safe #tommyinnit #technoblade #dream #goes for all content creators #do not idolize people

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rottenprincessshura100 · 2 years

Note

Hello, i really like your account, I'm not usually on Tumblr a lot but I've been really obsessed with Blue Exorcist and mephyshura for a while and among my fanfiction searches yours have been proposed to me. there is one that I would really like to read only I can't find it.. (Queen of Time under the floor). where can I read it please, or else it no longer exists ?🥺🙇

I don't have it published anymore. But I can start publishing some of the old chapters here. I will do it first thing in the morning. ;)

Queen of Time Chapter one:

Shura padded around the mansion in her bare feet, the morning light streamed in the windows, illuminating her personal space. She cuddled down into an overstuffed chair, folding her legs underneath her. She allowed the sun to blissfully kiss her face. The last couple of months had been an exhausting trial and she wanted to settle into some sort of domestic normalcy. Ok, she admitted, it had been a bit boring. She's taken a leave of absence from the Vatican and focused on learning her new powers. So far she had achieved a rudimentary understanding of teleportation, telekinesis and time travel. It was very taxing and exhausting, Mephisto's lessons endless (no pun intended).

Shura may have inherited similar powers to Mephisto, but she still had so much to learn. Sometimes it was overwhelming, but she never admitted it. Shura never wanted to show any kind of weakness in front of Mephisto, she didn't want him to regret choosing to spend his free time with a lowly human woman.

Mephisto was born with all of his special abilities, it was simply a sophisticated part of his senses. His power was wired into his very being, his human body was the anomaly. Manipulating time for him was like breathing, he didn't have to even think about it. Shura, on the other hand, was born a human and was gifted demonic powers by Mephisto. The situation wasn't natural at all. It felt akin to being tossed into a lake and forced to breathe water.

The kettle whistled in the kitchen and she made herself a warm and welcoming cup of tea. She'd been drinking less booze lately, maybe she was getting older and more mature? Anycrap...whatever. A hangover stole the day away and she had things to live for now. Shura delicately held the rounded cup within her palms and headed out onto the balcony to take in the calm and peaceful morning.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mephisto had left for work early, he had meetings to attend at True Cross Academy. Shura's spouse was a complete trip at any given moment. He was certainly more than Shura could ever handle. She tried her best to have a normal relationship, but that trickster was always one step ahead or maybe ten. Still, she went through the motions of normalcy. Shura picked up her phone to check her messages. She had two texts from Mephisto at 6 am.

Mephy : "Are you awake yet Rotten Lady?"

Mephy: "Did I tire you out last night? ;) "

Bunnyhunny36: "Heh....don't get cocky....ya bastard. So, how's the office today? More boring crap?"

Shura suddenly heard the familiar twinkle of his ring-tone. He didn't have his phone with him? That's just bizarre. He never forgets or misplaces a damn thing ever. Shura followed the sound of the ring, locating the cell on his large wooden desk. She carefully picked it up, snickering at the little bunny and charms dangling off the gigantic thing. Her mind wandered, why the hell would he leave this behind? He was never without his phone. Was he testing her to see if she would spy on him?

Shura suddenly heard a rustling noise behind her, she turned quickly, only to see Amaimon hanging upside down from the ceiling--like an anthropomorphic bat.

"Are you spying on brother?" He spoke in a monotone voice. His large green eyes focused on the phone in her hands.

Shura crossed her arms grumpily. "When did you get here weirdo? Ever hear of ringing the doorbell? I could have been walking around naked or some shit! Don't I at least deserve some expectation of privacy?"

Amaimon stared at her blankly.

"Privacy?" He murmured with confusion. "What's that?"

"Why are you here Amaimon?" Shura sighed painfully.

"I want candy."

"I gave you three giant bags of candy--enough for an entire year...like a month ago!"

"Gone."

"Well...I haven't got any more. My god--do you ever stop eating?"

"I'm a young demon. I'm still growing." He dead-panned. "Sugar stops me from dying, please Shura, won't you help me?"

"Heh, stop with the bullshit." She chuckled and flashed him a crooked grin. "That's a complete lie."

"I'm trying to incite empathy to manipulate you. Humans are supposed to be weak and sensitive. Hmmmm... it didn't seem to work." He narrowed his eyes. "Because you already know too much. My brother is at fault. He's taken his ridiculous love of humans too far."

Shura caught the ire in his voice and laughed internally--repeating his statement, projecting her voice out into the room. "You're absolutely right Amaimon. I already know too damn much about demons. It is totally your brother's fault." She looked around, trying to feel for any hints of Mephisto's presence. Was he listening? Watching? She was sure of it.

"Speaking of brother," Amaimon changed the subject. " He has an entire room full of candy. Can't I have some of his?"

"Sorry weirdo, I have no idea where the secret stash is. He uses a magic key to hide it."

Amaimon hopped down from the ceiling and gracefully landed on top of Mephisto's desk. Reminding Shura of Peter Pan in punk boots.

"Why would Mephisto leave his phone here?" Shura queried. "He doesn't forget anything--and accidents don't happen."

"Maybe he wanted you to come into his office?" Amaimon shrugged his shoulders. "He wanted you to help me steal his candy. "

"I'm not helping you steal from your brother."

"If you don't help me, I'll smash his desk open and get the key myself." Amaimon glowered with an unspoken promise. "Just watch."

"I won't allow you to do that. He trusts me to look after his shit."

"Do you trust my brother in return? He's the most untrustworthy creature in Assiah and Gehenna. That makes you pretty stupid." Amaimon huffed. "Maybe that's why he likes you, it's like having a dumb pet."

"Shut it you brat." Shura placed a hand over her chest and summoned her sword. "I know what he's about, but that doesn't mean that I'm less than him. This is my house now, whether you like it or not. I'm not going to let you smash it all to hell."

"This is not your fucking house!"

Amaimon angrily lunged at Shura. She tripped him, easily subduing the weakest of the demon kings, holding the blade of her sword threateningly to his neck.

He turned his head, glancing over his shoulder--and smiled at something off in the distance. Shura was suddenly barrelled over by an incredible force, finding herself flat on the floor. A large drooling beast now sat on her chest, preventing her from moving.

"Behemoth!?" Shura shouted. "I thought I killed this fucking thing?"

"It took me months to regrow him." Amaimon grumbled as began to carefully pick the lock on Mephisto's desk with his long black claw. "I was so irate when you exorcists exterminated him, it's like killing a kitten. Honestly, how could you?"

"Rin said you tried to eat Kuro."

Amaimon paused, thinking of a witty retort, coming up empty.

"Well, fuck you!"

"I thought demons didn't get attached to anything?" Shura snarled as she fought back the beast. "And here you have this thing."

"That's a lie. My brother has grown quite attached to his human pet." Amaimon mocked as he popped the desk drawer open and snatched an elaborate key from inside.

"I am not a GODDAMN PET!" Shura snarled. She reared back and finally tossed the growling Behemoth off of her. She tackled Amaimon, wrapping her arms around his neck in a stranglehold. "Amaimon! Don't use that key! Stop it!" He strained with all of his might against her, reaching for the closet door. He jammed the key into the keyhole, grabbed the doorknob and twisted it.... and he and Shura were immediately sucked into a portal.

"Ah, Fuuuuuccccck!!!" Shura screamed as they disappeared into a twisting vortex. "You little shiiiiitttttt!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mephisto casually walked into his office and slid his phone back into his pocket. He tapped another drawer on his desk with a clawed index finger, it popped open instantly revealing a hidden stash of junk food and candy. He grabbed a handful of jellybeans and popped them into his mouth. He started to chuckle--Amaimon thought he was going to rob him. That tricky little bastard.

He hoped Shura enjoyed her little adventure, a test for her new powers. She would find out some interesting tidbits about his past and learn to hone her skills even more. He'd gone out of his way to plan this excursion, it would be so much more fun than endless lessons. It is far easier to learn practical skills. Besides, she might actually bond with Amaimon. He grinned evilly, Amaimon now had a vodka aunt.

#mephy/Shura #blue exoricst

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james-joyces-right-eyeball · 3 years

Text

Absolute Favorite Books I’d Recommend to Anyone

This is a list of my top-tier favorite books that I would recommend/talk about endlessly to pretty much anyone (in no particular order). I know people probably don’t care but I just like talking about books I love so here we are.

Beloved - Toni Morrison

~ Based off the real story of Margaret Garner, a slave woman who escaped slavery and when captured killed her child in order to prevent them from ever being enslaved again, Beloved tells the story of a mother named Sethe, born in slavery who eventually escaped and is haunted by the figurative demons of her trauma and the literal (arguably) ghost of her dead daughter, who she herself killed. It is an excellent exploration of the horrors of slavery and of the haunting legacy of the institution for those who were subjected to it.

Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

~ If you’ve been on Tumblr for a while, you probably know what Lolita is. The story of the predatory Humbert Humbert who lusts after, rapes, and kidnaps the “nymphet” Dolores Haze. An excellent construction of how predators, unreliable narrators in their own right, hide behind fabrications, almost-believable excuses, and pretty words to make their actions seem maybe not so bad. In the words of the book itself, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.”

Ulysses - James Joyce

~ Notoriously one of the most difficult books in the English language, Ulysses lifts its structure from Homer’s Odyssey to tell the story of a common man, Leopold Bloom, as he goes about his day. Yes, this book takes place over the course of only one day. We follow Bloom as well as Joyce’s literary counterpart Stephen Daedalus through their thoughts and actions, gathering details of their lives previous throughout. It’s a book that, in my own words, “is life”. It is sad, funny, strange, vulgar, disgusting, beautiful, revelatory, sensual, and nonsensical all at once. Joyce aimed to create a reflection of life through his stream-of-consciousness style which some people might find confusing, but I personally find absolutely beautiful and honest and realistic. The prose is also gorgeous, but that could be applied to everything Joyce wrote.

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

~ The classic gothic book that tells the tale of Heathcliff and his ultimately destructive love of Catherine Earnshaw, whose eventual marriage to someone else and the general mistreatment of him by her family drives Heathcliff insane and he spends the rest of his life trying to take revenge by abusing and torturing the next Earnshaw and Linton (the family into which Catherine marries) generations. If I’m being honest, I like this book mostly because of how wild and dark it is, but the writing is also genius and beautiful. I think the book also carries an interesting view of the destructive nature of revenge, overzealous love, and othering.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith

~ A coming-of-age story at the turn of the century that tells the story of Francie Nolan, a young bookish girl growing up in a lower class family in New York City. It tells about her father’s struggles with alcoholism as well as her mother’s struggles to deal with that and at the same time raise Francie and her brother. Francie is confronted with a strange, uncertain world as a young girl, but tries to face it with bravery throughout childhood

Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

~ Another coming-of-age story, this time about four young sisters: Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March. You are probably familiar with this book already; it’s had more movie adaptations then I can possibly remember off the top of my head. It’s the story of four sisters as they try to navigate growing up, love, and loss during the mid to late 1800s.

The Color Purple - Alice Walker

~ A novel that tells the story of Celie, a young black woman who is raped and then married young to a man who will go on to use and abuse her, through her letters to God. Throughout the novel she meets Shug Avery, a woman with whom she eventually falls in love and begins a relationship with. Through this and her eventual freedom from her abusive husband, she is able to gain at last her own sense of self and take back control over her life, a life no longer ruled by the abusive men around her.

The Bluest Eye - Toni Morrison

~ The tragic story of young black girl Pecola Breedlove, who wants nothing more than to have blonde hair and blue eyes just like the women she sees in the movies. Both a deconstruction of the whiteness of beauty standards as well as how these standards can utterly destroy vulnerable young girls, it is also an exploration of the people who allow these sorts of things to happen, including Pecola’s mother and father. The Bluest Eye, I think, showcases one of the aspects of Toni Morrison that I like the most, that I aspire to the most: her ability to enter the minds of all people, even people who you might despise at first. Her characters, especially Cholly in The Bluest Eye, are ones you might not entirely sympathize with, but they will always be ones you understand.

The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

~ Based off of the author’s own experiences as a young college student, The Bell Jar tells the story of Esther Greenwood, whose depression over her place as a woman in a patriarchal society as well as her inability to choose a life path for herself leads to a suicide attempt and a subsequent stay in a mental hospital. A very nuanced portrayal of mental illness, especially anxiety and depression, The Bell Jar is an extremely moving and relatable story for me and clearly is as well for others. It is a classic for a reason.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

~ A memoir of Angelou’s childhood, this book tells the story of her experiences living as a black girl in the south with her grandmother and brother as well as her later years living with her mother. It also tells of how she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend when she was around eight or nine, and how she struggled to live with that and find her voice, both literally and figuratively. A wonderful book about overcoming struggles and the power of words and literature in such times.

Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison

~ Ellison’s novel tells the story of a young black man, never getting a name in the text, and his feelings of invisibility and his struggles to find a place in society to belong. His struggles only lead him further into despair, until he decides to “become invisible” as people seem not to see him as a person anyway. Invisible Man is an exploration of American mid-century racism and the isolation it causes to those subjected to it. Not only that, but it is surprisingly relevant to our times now, especially on the subject of police violence. (Personal anecdote: When I first read this book, when I got to the aforementioned police violence part it was right in the middle of the BLM resurgence last summer and I cried for a good twenty minutes while reading that chapter over how nothing had changed and it still hurts me to think about it. Embarrassingly, my dad walked in on me while I was crying, and I had to quickly explain it away.)

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - James Joyce

~ The title basically says it all lol. This book tells of the coming-of-age of Stephen Daedalus (the same one from the later-written Ulysses). His sensitive childhood, his awkward and lustful adolescence, his feelings of Irish nationality and Catholic guilt, and his struggles to fully realize himself, both as an artist and a human being. It is a very hopeful story, and one that I love mostly because I relate so much to Stephen Daedalus as an artist and as a person.

One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

~ A magical-realist intergenerational family drama, Marquez’s book traces the various lives and loves of the Buendia family over the course of (you guessed it!) one hundred years. A beautifully written, at times extremely emotionally moving and chilling masterpiece, Marquez in a way retells the history of Colombia, of its colonization and exploitation.

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

~ A classic Russian novel of society and love, Tolstoy tells the story of Anna Karenina, married, wealthy woman with a child she adores. However, she falls in love with another man, Count Vronsky, and comes to a tragic end for her love. The parallel story of the novel is that of Konstantin Levin, a wealthy landowner who also struggles to find fulfillment in his life and understand his place in society.

The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner

~ A novel that features an entire family of unreliable narrators, The Sound and the Fury details the fall of a once-prominent southern Compson family and always-present place of the past. There are four different narratives: Benjy Compson, a mentally disabled man who is unsure of his surroundings and of time and only knows that he misses his older sister Caddy; Quintin Compson, the eldest son and a Harvard man both obsessed with his sister retaining her “purity” and the fact that she failed to do so and had a baby out of wedlock, going as far to claim it is his baby in an attempt to preserve something of the family reputation; Jason Compson, who is the caretaker of Caddy’s daughter and believes her to be going down her mother’s “sinful” path; and Dilsey, the black maid of the Compson’s who unlike the people she cares for is not weighed down by their history. The narratives take place in different time periods and is in a stream-of-consciousness style. It’s a deeply dark and disturbing novel about the haunting nature of the past, a common theme in Faulkner’s work (see Absalom, Absalom! for more of this).

Song of Solomon - Toni Morrison

~ It is the story of Milkman Dead, a young black man growing up in the south and his relationship with his very complicated family. To say anymore would be to spoil the novel, but I will say that it is an excellent book about family, self-fulfillment in a world that tries to deny you that, and, like The Bluest Eye, exhibits Morrison’s excellent character work.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - Tennessee Williams

~ A play which takes place on the patriarch of a family’s birthday in the oppressive heat of the midsummer south, Williams’ play explores lies, secrets, and how repression only results in anger, frustration, and sadness. It’s a tragic but brilliant play that I think was very ahead of its time. If you’ve read it (or do read it) then you know what I mean.

Giovanni’s Room - James Baldwin

~ This book tells the story of a young man and his love of another man named Giovanni while he is in Paris. It is a book about love, queer guilt, and has what I would call an ambiguous ending. There is uncertainty at the end, but there does seem to be some kind of acceptance. It is a bit of a coming-out story, but more than that it is a story of personal acceptance and at the same time a sad, tragic love story.

HERmione - H.D.

~ An underrated modernist masterpiece, HERmione is a somewhat fictionalized account of the author, Hilda Doolittle’s, experience as a young aspiring poet dating another poet (in real life Ezra Pound in this book named George Lowndes) who is a threat to her both physically and emotionally. It explores her own mental state, as she considers herself a failure and falls in love with a woman for the first time (Fayne Rabb in the book, Frances Gregg in real life).

To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

~ People think about going to a lighthouse. They do not. A couple years and a war passes then they do. That may seem like a boring plot, and you may be right. However, To the Lighthouse is not much about plot. It is more about the inner lives of its characters, a family and their friends, on two different occasions of their lives: one before WWI and one after WWI. Woolf explores in this novel the trauma that results from such a massive loss of life and security. Not only that, she also explores the nature of art (especially in female artists) in the character of Lily Briscoe and her struggles to complete a painting. It’s a short novel, but it contains so much about life, love, and loss within these few pages.

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers

~ A southern gothic novel about isolation and loneliness in a small town. Every character has something to separate them from wider society, and often find solace and companionship in a deaf man, John Singer, who himself experiences a loneliness that they cannot understand. There are various forms of social isolation explored in this novel: by race, disability, age, gender, etc. A wonderful, heart-wrenching book about loneliness and the depths it can potentially drag people to.

The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot

~ A modernist masterpiece of a poem, Eliot describes feeling emptiness and isolation. The brilliance of it can only be shown by an excerpt:

“Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.”

“The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. “

(My personal favorite line from this poem is, “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”)

The Trial - Franz Kafka

~ The protagonist of the novel, Josef K., wakes up one morning to find that he has been placed under arrest for reasons that are kept from him. Kafka creates throughout the novel a scathing satire of bureaucracy, as K. tries to find out more about his case, more about his trial, but only becomes more confused as he digs deeper. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the world he lives in, and the more tries to explain it the further the more that proves to be the case. An excellently constructed novel and a great one to read if you would like to be depressed about the state of the world because, though Kafka’s work is a satire, like a lot of his other work, it manages to strike a strangely real note.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

~ An absurdist play that is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet from the perspective of minor characters, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who in the broad overview of the original play, do not matter. Throughout the play, they question their existence and the purpose of it and through that Stoppard dissects not only the absurdity of life, but how fiction and theater reflect that absurdity inadvertently.

As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner

~ The novel details the journey the Bundren family makes after the death of the family matriarch, Addie, to bury her. Each chapter offers a different narrative from the family members and those who surround them, revealing some ulterior motives to them “going to town” to bury Addie. The patriarch Anse desires a pair of false teeth, and the daughter Dewey Dell is pregnant and needs an abortion, as there is no way for her or her family to support it. It’s about the powerlessness of people in the impoverished south. The Bundrens are constantly subject to forces beyond their control, struggles which would be easily solved if they had the money to spare for it. There is more to the book, but that is my favorite reading of it, that of class. Faulkner’s ability to create distinct voices for every one of his characters shines through here.

And, last but not least:

The Collected Poems - Sylvia Plath

~ All the poems Plath wrote during her tragically short lifetime. The best way to demonstrate or summarize the book’s brilliance is just to show you. This is her poem “Edge”, which appears in the book:

“The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in the scrolls of her toga, Her bare Feet seem to be saying: We have come so far, it is over. Each dead child coiled, a white serpent, One at each little Pitcher of milk, now empty. She has folded Them back into her body as petals Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odors bleed From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.”

HOPE YOU ENJOYED! HAPPY READING TO ALL!

#dark academia #books and literature #toni morrison #james joyce #tennessee williams #virginia woolf #william faulkner #sylvia plath #plays #poetry #can you tell i like southern and modernist lit lol?

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

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hi<3 okay i am finally writing the new kotss chapter, and once again here is a lil contemplative snippet of tumblr-drabble length as a preview for when i write the whole thing in a day or two!😌💜 (mostly bc i am feeling sleepy and sappy this morning about mickey’s growth and just. cannot get over it.)

hope u enjoy<3

He fucking loved the dog, okay?

When they were first waiting in that overly-bright room in the dog rescue center (or whatever the fuck it was called) with Ian sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, and Mickey had seen the bundle of fur with its paws hitting the ground, a scrawny puppy with a swollen belly and a protruding ribcage— he’d immediately known he was in trouble.

First, because there was no fucking way that Ian was going to let them leave this place without it, since he practically made heart-eyes the second the puppy stumbled its way over to him— and second, because Mickey was absolutely, totally sure that he was going to fuck this up. Even reading the fucking description on the website on Ian’s phone screen, “comes from a troubled past and needs a loving home,” made something twist in his gut— because how the fuck was Mickey supposed to provide something like that?

Mickey didn’t take care of shit like this, like fragile puppies or babies or anything he could mess up— and he especially didn’t let in anything more than he could handle losing, anything soft and helpless and innocent that he couldn’t let slip between his fingers on his own accord. He’d learned that shit early, when whatever whispers and soft traces of touches on his cheeks were ripped away by the pry of Terry’s calloused hands— when one day, when he was fifteen, he and Mandy and everyone else didn’t have a mom anymore. Losing his mom, losing his family after years on the road, even losing fucking Terry those now months ago; all of that shit compounded and pressed on the walls of his ribcage in a way that Mickey himself didn’t really understand, and apparently was oozing out of him in a fucking dog shelter as he stood there frozen, in the face of a helpless frame on wobbly legs with silky grey fur.

For some reason, even though he and Ian had been talking about the dog in the abstract for days now, something about seeing the dog scared him shitless— because taking care of shit was objectively scary, and Mickey was shit out of practice with it. He’d never been good, comfortable, at holding something fragile in his hands, something that he could mess up in a second with a slip of judgement. Mickey was great at getting shit done, but with something like this— well, honestly, he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself enough, to not make those split-second choices that Terry made, the ones that left cigarette burns on his sides and snapped his jaw out of place and left him with so many aching wounds that only became more dark and cavernous through the years.

I’m gonna fuck this up.

What if he got too mad and kicked the dog, what if he fed it the wrong shit and it withered away and became more frail than it already was, what if it ran away or got hit by a car or got fucking shot by a stray bullet in a shitty neighborhood? It felt scary to choose to care about something this fragile, to sign up for the loss and the ripping ache that would follow if Mickey overreacted or fucked something up or made a slip-second misstep. In the Milkovich family, loving was a liability— a promise that someone you cared about could get pummeled and bloodied and beaten in front of you, could get handcuffed and dragged upstate for months or years in the blink of an eye. When Mickey was fifteen, scratching “FUCK LOVE” and “STAY THE FUCK OUT” signs on pieces of cardboard with Sharpies he’d stolen from the dollar store, he’d made a promise to himself to harden himself against that weakness— against that loss.

And then, of course, freckle-faced chicken-legged Ian Gallagher showed up at his doorstep anyways.

So he’d let himself love Gallagher—and eventually he’d let himself love Franny after she plopped herself in his lap one day, wearing a princess tiara talking a mile a minute about monster trucks; and he didn’t even mind hanging out with Liam once in a while on those late nights in the Gallagher house, when Ian would be working a double shift and he and Liam flopped on opposite sides of the couch, watching shitty cartoons in a comfortable silence as the glow from the TV screen flickered on their faces.

But none of that felt like a choice—all of those people, those warm bodies to love, just fell into Mickey’s lap; so it wasn’t Mickey’s fault, really, if shit hit the fan. It wasn’t like he made the choice to love them in the first place— it just happened.

But adopting a dog (or having a fucking kid, like he knew Ian wanted)— that was a choice. That was telling something, someone, that you were ready to take care of them; that you were ready to lose everything when they inevitably got taken away, that you were ready to pour all of your fucked-up bullshit into someone and hope that you weren’t the reason why they turned out screwed up. It just seemed like too much; and in the face of the tiny fucking furball that Ian was cooing over as he sat cross-legged, Mickey’s immediate impulse was to keep his distance and tether himself into the linoleum floor miles away.

But of course Ian had done that fucking thing only he had the power to do, and melted whatever iron walls Mickey had soldered into place with a gentle Mick, d’you wanna pet her?— and of course the fucking dog had to nuzzle her goddamn tiny wet nose into Mickey’s hand, and give a too-trusting lick to his palm as she rolled over onto her back, exposing her vulnerable belly even after whatever fucking dog-fight bullshit she’d been through— and immediately Mickey couldn’t couldn’t see a timeline in which they didn’t wrap this fucking mutt up in a soft towel and take her home to the dog bed in their apartment and get her healthy on gourmet fucking dog food from a monogrammed tin bowl.

So even though it drove him fucking crazy that she was so fucking skinny, and the entire first night when she’d slept curled on the bed he kept waking up and googling the best dog foods and exercise regimens and refilling her water bowl at the kitchen sink like an obsessed fucking maniac— he really couldn’t help it.

Against every instinct, he’d chosen to love when he didn’t have to— and he was starting the realize that maybe that shit wasn’t a weakness.

“So, I hear you guys’ve got a new mascot.”

Tommy was ambling in the front door, right on the dot of their 2 P.M. opening time, with Kermit skittishly following a few paces behind him.

Ian rolled his eyes from behind the bar when he thought Mickey wasn’t looking (fucking traitor).

“Yeah, I think the whole neighborhood knows by now. Someone’s been a little too eager with the dog photos.”

Which— fuck that. So what if he fucking posted a few pictures of Baz to the mostly-defunct Alibi Facebook page that Kev had given them the login info to, some of which featured Baz wearing Mickey’s sunglasses when they were partway through a walk? Nobody needed to know that Mickey alone was behind that shit— Ian liked taking dog photos too, even though they were never as good as Mickey’s, and mostly just featured the moments Mickey was passed out on the couch with Baz sleeping on his chest.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Ian grinned and turned towards Mickey. “Nothin.’ Just nice to see that you’re growing into the whole dog parent thing. Though it is kind of turning into a stage mom thing.”

Mickey furrowed his brows. “Fuck you. The customers love her. It’s good for business.”

Ian held up his hands in surrender, still smirking—which just cause Mickey to shove him gently in his sternum.

“It’s not my fault Baz is the prettiest pit on the fucking Southside.”

In the corner of the bar, Baz was sitting on her cushion that they’d bought at a boujee pet store down the road, to keep downstairs at the Alibi so they could keep her other dog bed upstairs— and when Tommy and Kermit came into the room her ears immediately lifted, her tail twitching excitedly at the new faces. Tommy just gave a wary side-eyed glance to the dog pillow before plopping himself onto his usual stool, but Kermit nervously crouched beside the cushion and gave Baz’s chin a scratch.

“Ey! Paws off the princess until you drop some money on a beer, Kermit. I didn’t haul myself down to the empty bar on a Monday afternoon to watch you pet my fucking dog.”

Kermit shuffled to his usual seat beside Tommy at the end of the bar. “She’s cute. I didn’t realize pit bulls could be so scrawny.”

Baz was already filling out fast in the few days she’d been living with them; but it was true that she was still small and wiry for her age. Mickey made sure they got some sort of fresh dog food shit from the pet store that they had to keep in the refrigerator (even though Ian insisted kibble was fine, like a fucking cheapskate) to get her strength up, and he also got a bunch of fucking vitamins, like salmon oil and shit to make sure her coat was shiny—and yes, okay, maybe he also bought her a badass collar with spikes on it, and maybe he also dropped money on one of those engraved pet tags in the shape of a skull and crossbones that said “Bazooka Gallagher-Milkovich” on it with the Alibi’s address on it. He couldn’t fucking help it; they had a steady stream of cash coming in from crowded nights, they were planning on doing Ian’s karaoke shit once a month, and Mickey felt like they could afford to spend money on shit like this—like they could afford to do this right. And because of Mickey’s doting, even though Ian had started to take Baz for runs in the morning, it was no secret that she liked Mickey ever-so-slightly more than Ian; when they were laying in bed at night Baz would always hop up and curl into Mickey’s side and leave inches between her and Ian, causing a surprised chuckle to escape Mickey’s lips the first time it happened as he scratched behind her ears. Ian just stared at him, with some sappy fucking smile on his face.

“The fuck’re you looking at?”

“Nothing. Just glad we took her home.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, but felt a smile creeping onto his lips despite himself. “Yeah. Me too.”

“And I’m definitely not jealous of a dog right now.”

It was later in the evening and the bar was pretty empty, a standard for a Monday night— Mickey had been trying to train Baz to stay on her cushion now that she’d learned how to sit and lay down on command; much to the amusement of Tommy and Kermit, who kept fucking distracting her. If Mickey had his way, he’d train Baz to bark at Kermit whenever he said something stupid (the guy just got on his fucking nerves, what could he say)—but of course Baz had other plans once she realized Kermit was the one of the pair who would pet her, and kept nuzzling her head onto Kermit’s thigh and thumping her tail on the floor.

“I thought pit bulls were supposed to be vicious.”

“Fuck you, Kermit. That’s fucking… dog racist, or some shit.”

Kermit just meekly looked down at his half-empty beer glass, as Ian came in the front door from where he was bringing in the sandwich board from the curb, not expecting any more customers for the night. He reached down to ruffle Baz’s fur along the way.

“How’s our girl doing?”

“Pretty good. Once these assholes get out of here we can called it a night.”

Tommy scoffed at that. “Milkovich, we’re some of your most loyal customers— hell, we’re your only loyal customers. I think we deserve more than insults.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna go drink the day away somewhere else?”

Tommy faltered for a moment, and raised an eyebrow. “Touche.”

“Alright, bozos. Time to pack up. No one else is coming in tonight, we’ll see you tomorrow. Me and Ian have better shit to do.”

Tommy drained the last of his beer, placing a wad of one-dollar bills on the countertop and giving an exaggerated salute. “Until tomorrow, gentlemen.”

When they left the bar and the doors were locked, Ian’s shoulders started to shake with laughter. “Jesus. I never thought I’d be at a point in my life when I’m dependent on the consistent generosity of Tommy and Kermit, but here I am.”

“More like consistent alcoholism.”

Ian smirked, then flopped to sit on a barstool opposite the countertop from Mickey, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you fine taking Baz out? I’m kinda tired, wanna get a start on dinner.”

“Yeah, man. Works for me.”

They’d been living with each other in the Gallagher house for months, sure, but they were still new at doing this— at only accounting for each other’s schedules, at divvying up tasks like walking the dog and cooking dinner and doing fucking dishes rather than just coasting on someone like Debbie getting them by. Things were different now— things were settled and quiet, in a way that still made Mickey like he had to rub his eyes extra hard to clear them in the still, dark mornings in the apartment, like he wasn’t convinced this shit was real.

After dinner they sat cross-legged on their bed, watching a movie on Ian’s old beat-up laptop with Baz sitting between them and chewing on one of her toys that squeaked loudly every few seconds (this one was a stuffed animal in the shape of a police officer, because in Mickey’s own words at the pet store, “ACAB motherfucker”)— and later that night, wrapped in the smell of laundry soap on clean sheets and dog shampoo, Mickey slept easily.

Maybe this was something he could trust himself to hold on to.

#catch me laying in bed & ignoring my exams & instead writing This #ily all i hope u are having good thursdays<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #bazooka gallagher milkovich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #ixm

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foxghost · 3 years

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Joyful Reunion, Chapter 91

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 3, Chapter 21 (Part 1)

Autumn sun is burning bright overhead as Li Yanqiu brings the horse to a halt outside the Hall of Supreme Harmony. An evening breeze has set the banners to either side of him fluttering.

“Long Live Your Majesty!” The Black Armours army salutes, falling on one knee in front of him in an earth-shattering display.

Xie You and Cai Yan have slowly made their way to the palace, but Li Yanqiu has stopped there before the steps, his mind wandering for a little while. Earlier, there was that one moment where it felt as though he … sensed something.

“Good work,” Li Yanqiu says.

The Black Armours part like the tides, leaving a path open. Li Yanqiu steps into the main palace. The Jiangzhou Imperial Palace has seen its share of trials and tribulations, but after some repair and renovation it has become even more extravagant than the one in Xichuan. A eunuch steps forward to untie Li Yanqiu’s cape for him, after which Li Yanqiu keeps walking through the corridor.

Both Zheng Yan and Lang Junxia have already arrived. As Li Yanqiu walks by the Eastern Palace, he glances inside to find Lang Junxia sitting in the corridor playing his flute. He doesn’t get up to bow even as Li Yanqiu passes by.

“It has been a wearisome journey.” Li Yanqiu pays no mind to Lang Junxia, and simply says to Cai Yan, “Go get some rest.”

Cai Yan trails him from behind. “The auspicious hour where we must offer sacrifices to the heavens is at dawn tomorrow. You should try to sleep earlier as well, uncle.”

“We may have a new home, but I’ll be taking my medicine as always. Don’t worry.”

And so along with the other servants of the Eastern Palace, Cai Yan bows as Li Yanqiu departs.

In the Palace of Eternal Autumn,2 Mu Jinzhi is painting her eyebrows in front of the mirror. Her clothes, accessories and makeup have also been delivered, and her maids are opening and checking each box over one by one.

“Who got on your nerves this time, Your Majesty?” Mu Jinzhi says with a smile, her reflection looking at Li Yanqiu in the mirror, one eyebrow raised.

“No one in particular got on my nerves,” Li Yanqiu replies, standing behind Mu Jinzhi. "No matter how sharp your eyes may be, there are times when you can be mistaken.”

Mu Jinzhi puts down her hairpin and says, “A request to recruit retainers for the crown prince’s palace has been issued. We should get a list of candidates after the civil exams and let him take as long as he likes to choose.”

Li Yanqiu replies courteously, “Thank you for keeping this in mind and taking the trouble, Empress.”

They hardly have anything to say to each other, and so as soon as Li Yanqiu finishes saying this, he leaves the room. In the mirror, Mu Jinzhi rolls her eyes at his back.

Li Yanqiu returns to his bedroom and looks out at the clear skies outside.

Zheng Yan happens to be sitting beneath the veranda, asking a servant to open up a case for him to search for his wine.

“Zheng Yan.” Li Yanqiu is wearing a slight frown. “Why are you still here?”

“The crown prince despises me, Your Majesty.” Zheng Yan says courteously, “With Wuluohou Mu around, I no longer have a need to see him roll his eyes at me. Don’t you think he and I would both be happier if we don’t see each other?”

“The sight of Wuluohou Mu makes my blood boil.” Li Yanqiu gives his reply to Zheng Yan just as amicably, “All four of you great assassins are warped — from what I can see now, it actually seems like Wu Du, the least accomplished amongst you, is more upright than you lot. I keep wondering if Wu Du’s poisoned you people, and that’s why you three have become this way.”

Now those words have essentially insulted Zheng Yan along with the rest. One brother Li used to be sharp as a blade, while the other is brocade with hidden needles. Zheng Yan sussed out Li Yanqiu’s disposition long ago, and knows he’s furious.

Zheng Yan says at once, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I’ll head over to the Eastern Palace right away.”

Only once Zheng Yan is gone does Li Yanqiu heave a long, long sigh.

“Your Majesty, it’s time for your medicine.” A palace maid brings him his medicine. Li Yanqiu takes it without looking, drinks it, and casually tosses it into the courtyard. The coloured glaze bowl shatters into a million pieces with a quiet crash.

“Wow —!” Duan Ling has finally arrived in his new home.

The chancellor’s estate has given Wu Du and Duan Ling a courtyard house only an alley away from the main house. Compared to their old house on the outskirts of the estate in Xichuan, their new home is a lot bigger, with four buildings, two gates, a spirit screen, and a back courtyard where they can keep horses. They’ve even been assigned a steward and two servants to have at their beck and call.

The courtyard has a rockery and a pond; the land behind the pond is a bamboo grove. Peach trees are planted at the edges, while a gentle stream is led into the pond, flowing back out through a zigzagging water duct. The bamboo pipes are set on top of the wall, and the water itself is drawn from the chancellor’s main estate.

“The Lord Chancellor said you should rest for now,” says the steward. “Have a bath and wash off the dust of the road. There will be a banquet in honour of your return tonight.”

“You may go. We don’t need anyone to wait on us,” Wu Du tells the steward in the front courtyard. Duan Ling is inside looking this way and that; their new home is outfitted with silk brocade blankets and screens; carved windows cast ornate shadows on the walls, reminding him of the Viburnum. Even the decorative items are made of celadon. There’s also a study provided for him to study in.

The steward carefully helps Wu Du into the room.

“Certainly.” The steward seems to have predicted as much from Wu Du, so he merely stands out in the courtyard — but he isn’t leaving.

Duan Ling stops to think, then he tells the steward, “Master Wu’s house contains secret information of the martial arts societies, and too many poisonous things are kept here. He’s worried that it may unintentionally injure you and the other servants, so you don’t need to stay here in the courtyard house. If we should need anything I’ll go ask for help at the Chancellor’s estate. You may go.”

The steward nods then, and after giving both Duan Ling and Wu Du a bow, takes his leave.

The only way Wu Du and Duan Ling can have a conversation is to not have any outsiders around — otherwise they may drop dead before finding out how or why.

“There’s money here too!” Duan Ling says in the next room over, “Two hundred taels of gold!”

Duan Ling had already written a report of the treasure from Tongguan. Now that Mu Kuangda has a mountain of gold, Duan Ling doesn’t even know what the chancellor is going to do with it. If it’s for spending though, it’s enough to buy an entire city. This bit of reward isn’t really all that much money.

But Duan Ling is still pretty glad to have it. At least they won’t have to eat flatbread at every meal anymore.

Sitting in the room, Wu Du says, “If there’s anything you want to eat I’ll go out and buy it for you.”

“You stay put. Stop moving.”

Duan Ling comes in with bedding in his arms, and after telling Wu Du to scoot over, he puts another pillow on his bed.

Wu Du stares at Duan Ling and says, “If you sleep in this room, I’ll sleep on the floor. Right there, just off the bed. That way I can keep you safe.”

“You’re not worried I’ll stomp you to death when I get up to get water at night?” Duan Ling says smilingly.

Wu Du recalls that this was precisely what he said himself several months ago, and suddenly finds it really funny. Both of them laugh.

Wu Du says, “Let me do this.”

“Can’t you just listen to me?” Duan Ling says seriously.

“Alright alright.” Wu Du replies, “But you’ve got to give me something to do. I’m injured, but I’m not a cripple.”

Wu Du really doesn’t feel right having Duan Ling wait on him this way, but it’s not due to Duan Ling’s identity — it’s because for all his years he’s never had anyone take care of him like this before.

“Then take a bath,” Duan Ling says to Wu Du.

Wu Du raises a hand and sniffs his sleeve, upon which his face goes bright red. Duan Ling leaves the room to summon a servant to bring them water.

The young servants carry in a huge tub and set it down in the corner room. Then they add bucket after bucket of hot water, then some cold water to cool it down.

“I can wash myself,” Wu Du says hurriedly.

“Strip already,” Duan Ling says to him, then he carries Wu Du’s dirty clothes off to the back courtyard where he tosses them into a basin. He draws some water and soaks the clothes in them before he heads back to the house to search for clean clothes. Mu Kuangda has found the right person this time; the steward they met earlier is extremely considerate, and Duan Ling has somehow forgotten to give him a little bonus.

Soon, Duan Ling comes in with a bundle of fresh clothes, and he rolls up his sleeves to scrub down Wu Du. Wu Du still has bandages wrapped around his hand that mustn’t get wet, and he’s trying to scrub himself with one hand. When he sees Duan Ling come in, the blush on his handsome face spreads all the way down to his collarbones.

Duan Ling holds Wu Du down and scrubs him clean all over. Ever since the night he sustained those injuries, Wu Du hasn’t had a bath. And now with his left hand resting at the edge of the tub, his wide and strong shoulders and back are above the water, letting Duan Ling scrub him as he wishes.

“Don’t fall in now. Hey don’t—don’t—don’t—don’t reach any lower!”

The bathtub is huge, and Duan Ling has leaned halfway into the tub. Wu Du can feel that Duan Ling really is seriously trying to scrub him down, but alas Duan Ling’s hands keep moving all around his body touching him and Wu Du can’t take much more of this.

Duan Ling says, “Raise your leg a little.”

Wu Du finds Duan Ling quite amusing all of a sudden, and in a bout of playfulness he wraps one arm over him and pulls him in. With a splash, the ground all around the bathtub is covered in water.

Duan Ling says angrily, “Why you!”

Duan Ling is soaked through, while Wu Du’s cheeks are suffused with a blush. He laughs. “You go ahead and bathe. I’m done.”

Duan Ling says, “You’re too dirty. Stop moving.”

Duan Ling unties his robe, removes his wet clothes and pants, and climbs onto Wu Du to straddle his thigh naked. When he does, an unbidden and indescribable sensation rises to the surface of his heart. He’s never felt this way before, not in any instance where he’s touched Wu Du skin on skin.

Duan Ling’s face also starts to take on a blush; it’s almost like he’s returned to that night when he was still a child, that night when he saw Lang Junxia’s body through the window panes. Yet when he faces Wu Du now his heart is beating even faster, as though there’s an exceedingly novel and exciting sensation just hiding behind a layer of gauzy silk, waiting for him to reach out for it.

“Why’ve you stopped talking?” On the contrary, Wu Du has come back to himself. With one arm languidly resting on the edge of the tub, he uses the other hand to give Duan Ling’s pale back a pat, staring at him with a questioning look in his eyes.

“No—no reason,” Duan Ling says nervously.

In that instant Wu Du seems to have realised something as well; his eyes are smiling.

Duan Ling hums something quiet, and without looking up to meet his eyes, he keeps scrubbing at Wu Du’s chest with a cloth.

Outside the room, footsteps approach, and both Wu Du and Duan Ling stop moving.

“Hey buddy, don’t you still owe me a cup of wine?” Zheng Yan’s voice says indolently.

Duan Ling is quite startled — he’s never met Zheng Yan before, so he’s assuming it’s someone from the chancellor’s estate barging into their house. But Wu Du is wrapping one arm around Duan Ling’s waist and pulling him closer.

Without a pause, Zheng Yan keeps walking towards them and opens the door to the corner room. Right as the door opens, Wu Du is holding the fully naked Duan Ling in his arms, making him drape himself on his chest, burying Duan Ling’s head against his shoulder.

When Zheng Yan comes in it’s to a view of Wu Du holding a young man, the two of them taking a bath together.

“Zheng Yan! Can you take a hint or what?!” Wu Du says impatiently, “Get outta here!”

Zheng Yan bursts out laughing uncontrollably. He hurriedly closes the door and says, “Continue, don’t get mad at me please. I truly never expected that.”

Wu Du replies, “Wait outside. That’s enough out of you.”

Duan Ling only looks up again once Zheng Yan’s footsteps have grown distant, and before that he was pressed up against Wu Du, both of them naked. He had felt their hearts both beating out of their chests, as well as that thing between their legs swelling up so much they’ve gone stiff.

They face each other, a little out of breath. Wu Du puts a finger in front of his lips to pantomime shh, and that they should continue washing up. Duan Ling swallows, and scrubs Wu Du’s hair for him.

“All done now,” Duan Ling says quietly, and steps out so quickly that he nearly slips on the floor.

“Careful.” Wu Du reaches out to wrap an arm around Duan Ling’s waist, making him stand upright.

Duan Ling quickly wipes himself down and puts on a pair of pants. The blush has faded from his cheeks. He helps Wu Du out of the bath to dry him with a cloth, but when he gets between Wu Du’s legs, the dry cloth bumps into the erect, powerful thing standing there, and they’re both blushing crimson again.

Wu Du throws a robe around himself. His injuries are almost all healed, and he can already walk with a little bit of a limp. He puts on a pair of wooden sandals and limps his way across the veranda, dragging his feet, passing by Zheng Yan as he heads to the main house to look for things.

“So fast?” Zheng Yan says, “I didn’t scare it out of there, did I?”

Wu Du spits profanity at Zheng Yan, startling Duan Ling who’s still in the corner room, as it’s the first time he’s ever heard Wu Du say something so foul. Soon enough, the sound of wooden sandals are approaching him again as Wu Du slowly clacks all the way back to hand Duan Ling clean clothes for him to change into.

Once they’ve dressed properly, the servants come back to get the bathtub. Wu Du’s hair is still dripping wet as he leans against the daybed, barefoot and dressed in nothing but a bathrobe. He raises his left hand so that Duan Ling can change his bandages for him, before he starts engaging in an intermittent conversation with Zheng Yan.

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

The Palace of Eternal Autumn is the imperial empress’s palace, and sometimes the phrase stands for the empress, just as “Eastern Palace” stands for the crown prince. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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whoiskt · 2 years

Text

Today on Things Nobody Asked For: My review of every anime I’ve seen/am currently watching.

First, I want to split this list into three parts. Before I met Will, after, and ones I never finished. Just because I think it’s funny. Since I’ve started doing Cosplay Photography, however, it’s something I personally choose to get into.

Quick explanation of my ranking system:

S-tier: Excellent, would recommend

A-tier: Great, would generally recommend if you have similar tastes

B-tier: Good, maybe recommend

C-tier: Meh, it exists if you’re into that

D-tier: Bad, wouldn’t recommend

F-tier: Horrible, I actively recommend you DON’T watch this

PRE-WILL ERA: (not in order)

1. Death Note

I saw Death Note around the internet a lot back (deviantart, youtube, talking about it on IM) in the early 10′s and was interested in the premise. It was readily available on the brand new streaming platform, Netflix. This all makes me feel very old.

I’m sure you’re aware of the plot.

Death Note, is, without a doubt, An Anime. They spend a lot of time just talking about doing stuff. It doesn’t sound appealing it’s ridiculousness in this aspect is one of the things that make the show so great.

A show where there’s someone hiding a major secret and you’re just waiting for them to get caught or pull it off are some of my favorites. Death Note is a classic. Everyone knows this.

S-tier

2. Supernatural: The Animation

No one fully understands why this exists or who asked for it. It’s extremely cursed. It generally follows the plot of Season 1/2, with a lot cut out or reworked for a japanese audience.

I do like the art style but the animation is what you would expect for a 2011 anime series made to get Japan to watch The CW’s Supernatural. It’s been many years since I watched but I remember a lot of the changes weren’t really improvements by any means.

However, I am happy exists if only for the Abridged series it has on youtube.

D-tier

3. Princess Jellyfish

This one came to me recommended by tumblr. I don’t remember why tumblr recommended it but I’m guessing it was for the drag character.

If I remember currently, the drag character (I don’t remember anyone’s name) is trying to teach a group of pathetic girls how to be stylish and cool.

I have mercifully started to forget the details of this show over the years. What I remember is the drag character is just some rich boy whose entire motivation for dressing in drag is to piss off his rich parents. I was disappointed by this and the character as a whole. In fact, I found the entire cast kind of irritating. Except for the Kill Bill girl, who was the best part of the whole show.

No, the best part was it was only 1 season and it was short. So, I was able to finish it despite hating most of my time watching it.

F-tier

4. Angel Beats

This was another recommendation from tumblr. I think there was a compilation of funny moments on the show that got me good so I decided to watch for myself.

There’s many mysteries abound in Angel Beats and I think it’s best experienced going in with little information about it. Basically, there’s a group of students who are fighting for their existence in limbo/purgatory against a character named Angel.

It’s hilarious and it’s heartbreakingly sad. It’s still one of the best animes I have ever seen despite being one of the first.

S-tier

5. Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt

I believe this was a tumblr recommendation but certainly came from somewhere on the internet. Sometimes compared to South Park, P&S is a very raunchy comedy/action/supernatural show. I do not like South Park. I do enjoy P&S. The show follows two angels who were kicked out of Heaven for bad behavior and must defeat evil ghosts to earn their way back up to Heaven. Panty has her own side-quest of sleeping with 1000 men. Shenanigans ensue.

I usually don’t like very raunchy/sexual shows but this show just has some sort of charm to it. It’s funny and weird and surprisingly heartfelt at times. The fights always end with a live-action puppet being blown-up. It’s a show that really takes risks along with the risque.

Watch it and if it seems to be your sense of humor then you’re sure to enjoy it. Otherwise it’s just going to be a weird and comfortable journey for you, haha.

A-tier

WILL ERA

1. Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Jojo was on my to-watch list for many years. A lot of con buddies I had became Jojo fans, and my favorite youtubers frequently made references to it. However, convincing myself to watch anime was always a difficult task, and ESPECIALLY for a series I knew that was as long as Jojo.

On our second date, Will made a reference to stands that I was able to catch, and I stated I would be willing to watch the show. So, it began.

Each part of Jojo is a unique story, with connection being all the main characters from each part are related in some way, and each one is “Jojo” is some way. Theoretically, each part could be watched as it’s own story and being completely understandable. And each is different enough that they really deserve their own rankings. I don’t want to do that here though. Rest assured, some parts are great, some are ok, and some kinda suck.

A-tier

2. Attack on Titan

AoT was a show I originally began Pre-Will and made it about half-way through the first season before I became busy and wasn’t able to watch it anymore. Along with the fact it went on a long hiatus and no one was really talking about it anymore, I never got back into it. Until season 3 starting airing and Will recommended I “get caught up.”

This show is another one filled with mystery which can be REALLY difficult to keep yourself from googling spoilers. Basically, some kids join the military to defeat Titans, who terrorize them and keep them living inside their walled up community.

To me, it’s the mysteries and the slow reveal of answers--that really just give you more questions-- that make this show so good. Although it has some flaws and missteps, it is one of the best examples of good story-telling I have ever seen. Attack on Titan is not just a good for an anime, it’s good media.

S-tier

3. Death Parade

I had never even heard of this before Will but he has excellent taste and this proves it.

At it’s base, Death Parade brings the newly dead to play a game (darts, bowling, etc) that determines where they’ll spend the rest of their afterlife. There’s more going on but if it was only this I would still be super intrigued and want to see a hundred more episodes.

Sadly, it is only one season, but it’s perfect as is. I cried a few dignified tears watching. I would recommend this to anyone.

S-tier

4. Dorohedoro

This one was recommended to me by @oubliette-od and I put it on in the background while I was working on some projects. I was quickly drawn in and ending up finishing it in record time. (I don’t usually binge watch shows.)

Dorohedoro is completely 3D animation, which isn’t my usual style but 3D animes have come a long way and I think this is a very fitting animation style for the series. It follows Caiman, an amnesiac, who is trying to find the sorcerer who turned his head into a lizard.

This show is gritty, blood, gross, action-packed, but also funny and self-aware. It sets up and interesting universe and all the characters are very compelling that it’s become an instant fave of mine. I love their wacky hijinks.

A-tier

5. Hunter x Hunter

HxH is not a show I started watching because I found the premise particularly interesting, or because anyone really recommended it to me. I started watching this one simply because it was one of Will’s top 5 shows and I love him

This is one of those classic shows that everyone rates highly. I see it’s charm and definitely think it improves greatly with each arc, but I can’t help but feel it is a tad overhyped.

The premise is a boy, Gon, wants to find his father by becoming a hunter. A ”hunter” can be anything really but the license for it is incredibly hard to obtain. People die during the test for it. He makes friends and does stuff to try and find his deadbeat dad.

When I finished it, I was sad to know there wasn’t more because it wasn’t really complete and likely never will be. The characters are charming, the power system is a little too complex, and the fights are sometimes interesting. It’s really An Anime though, which can have it’s draw backs in over-explaining and still frames. At times! It gets better.

B-tier

6. Puella Magi Madoka Magica

This was one of the first animes Will recommended me. I had my doubts because, first, I am not really a fan of the magical girl genre, second, the cutesy art style was off-putting, and finally, I knew it had a dark twist and was worried it would be edgy.

Although the art style did take some getting used to, Madoka ended up being an excellent subversion of the magical girl genre without becoming 2 edgy 4 me.

It follows a young girl who is deciding whether to make the contract to become a magical girl and fight witches for the rest of her life in exchange for a wish.

Now, something everyone failed to mention about this show which I love SO MUCH is the experimental-esque animation. It is a welcome difference from other anime and it is so beautiful.

This anime took me so much by surprise and it’s message is amazing. It really left me thinking about it for days and weeks after. One of my favorites.

A-tier (I’d rate it S-tier but I think it can be a little niche in taste)

7. Demon Slayer

I started watching Demon Slayer almost exactly a year ago because I had plans to see the movie. I only had about to week to watch it all so it was more of a task than enjoyment when I binged it. My friends were really into it which helped me get into it myself.

The show follows Tanjiro, after his sister is transformed into a demon, he fights to keep her safe and trains to become a member of the Demon Slayer Corps to find the demon who killed his family.

What this show does best is character design. The characters all sport some of the most iconic outfits and hair you’ve ever seen. It’s a big title so it frequently gets beautiful and complex animation. Great fights.

In many other qualities, it is pretty average for what you would expect. Zenitsu is so annoying he drags the whole show down.

B-tier

8. Neon Genesis Evangelion

Now here’s a show I watched solely because Will had never seen it. It’s everywhere and everyone knows about it because it’s another classic! So ha! Will! I’ve seen an anime you haven’t!!

This show is about children who have to get in mechs and fight off “angels” who are destroying stuff. It has very interesting lore and many biblical references (that don’t really make sense all the time). It also has a lot of movies and other shows tied to it that I can’t even remotely figure out what I’m supposed to watch or not. They really milked this property for all it’s got, and then some.

I’m not generally a fan of mech anime or mech anything. However, the show is more philosophical rather than action-based. The show ended so horribly (no budget) so they made a movie that made that fixed that. Overall, it’s DEFINITELY an over-hyped show, but it has it’s moments that make it deserving of being called a classic.

B-tier

9. Assassination Classroom

This one I impulsively started because I had heard about it a few times and I just wanted to know what it was even about.

Well, it’s about a weird squid-like yellow guy threatening to destroy earth, and has made an agreement with the government to teach a jr high class while they all try to assassinate him. I guess it is politically motivated to be considered an assassination, technically...

The show fails to stand out to me, yet I still find it entertaining. Animation? Average. Characters? There’s a lot of them and they’re mostly okay with juggling all their stories for such a large cast. Plot? It’s a little weird, as you might guess. Humor? Meh. Hitting emotional beats? For the most part, yes.

It’s enjoyable but not much more than that.

C-tier

10. Mob Psycho 100

Mob Psycho was one of Will’s favorites, so naturally I had to watch it. He knew I would love it.

It follows a middle school boy, Shigeo/“Mob”, with psychic powers, as he is mentored by the fake psychic, Reigen.

This show has everything! Great characters! Compelling plot! Great humor! Character development! Hard-hitting emotional scenes! Great lessons! Amazing animation!

And openings that are freaking bops!

S-tier

11. Komi Can’t Communicate

I started this one because I saw it on Netflix and was interested in a show about social anxiety, since I have pretty severe social anxiety myself.

Komi, well, she can’t communicate. It’s a slice-of-life humorous anime that follows her in her journey to make 100 friends.

The show has it’s charm. Komi and Tadano are cute. They have crushes on each other and that’s very endearing. Some of the friends Komi makes are.... not great. For example, one of them is a lesbian who is obsessed and commits creepy crimes to get to Komi. It’s bad representation of lesbians and I’m not a fan. In general, the whole class considers Komi a god, which would be flattering to see such a socially anxious character be so well-regarded! Except it’s just weird and creepy.

C-tier

12. Erased

As a fan of Death Note, I checked out this anime by the same director with Will.

Erased is about a manga-writer who is transported back in time for a second-chance to make a difference in elementary to ultimately prevent the murder of his mother.

All and all, Death Note feels like a more complete story although they both have their flaws. I felt like the ending has less of a climax to it in this which brings it below Death Note, but I don’t want to get too caught up in comparisons. They’re both intriguing in their own ways.

B-tier

13. Doctor Stone

Dr. Stone is an anime me and Will impulsively started together after it’s first episode came out.

Like Attack on Titan, it has a very interesting premise with questions you want answered. Dr Stone is about all the humans in the world being turned into stone by a strange light, until thousands of years later Senku is miraculously released from the stone and begins a new era.

I don’t think it reveals information in as interesting bits as AoT does however, Dr Stone is a science-first show also focused on fun around it. The animation doesn’t always keep up but the characters are all enjoyable and the plot is entertaining.

B-tier

14. Jujutsu Kaisen

(STILL WATCHING!) So, I actually watched the prequel movie first, with Will who had seen the show first. Me? I thought the movie was pretty good! Will? He thought it was kinda boring and mediocre. The difference was the villain, Geto, seemed to really die. The character, Maki, was new and interesting and the reveal about her backstory with her family was compelling. But, if you see the show, you KNOW all this already. You know Geto doesn’t really die, and in a big way none of this really matters. I realize now how poor the movie would seem if you watch it in order.

I’m still watching it but I do suggest you choose my watch order and watch the movie first. Especially for Maki’s character, her backstory is very brushed over in the show. Overall, the movie is a bit better at “show don’t tell” or at least telling in an interesting way.

The show is pretty light-hearted and most the main characters are very likeable.

Tentative B-tier

15. The Disastrous Life of Saiki K

There’s usually some level of worry when watching a foreign comedy that the culture’s humor will align with your own. Pretty much regardless, there’s always going to be some jokes going over your head. Language-based jokes in Japanese usually can’t even be translated well to English.

However, Saiki K manages to be an absolutely hilarious show regardless.

The show follows our titular character, a psychic high-schooler, and the weird cast of classmates who like to gravitate to him. He doesn’t think of them as friends, but he definitely cares for them so, they’re friends. The show gets cute and heartfelt at times too.

The best anime comedy show if rated by humor alone.

A-tier

UNCOMPLETED ANIME:

1. Made in Abyss

One of Will’s favorites. He started playing it impulsively at a friend’s house one night. I saw the first couple episodes but after that night we never picked back up watching it.

It’s not that the show is bad at all, just random happenstance that I didn’t finish it. Would love to go back and rewatch and complete it.

2. Banana Fish

I heard this was good so I wanted to check it out on my own. It’s a fast pace show and the plot is not un-compelling. However I got lost in whether the two characters were actually going to get together or if it was some sort of queerbait? I ended up googling it because I didn’t want to get disappointed and it turns out they are ambiguously gay. I lost interest after learning that.

For whatever reason though, I feel like this would make a good live-action. Like, if Netflix wanted to pick this up I could totally see this working. It’s set in America so...

3. One Punch Man

Only saw the first episode. It wasn’t bad. I’m sure it picks up. Hearing that the second season sucks was a huge bummer and stopped me from watching more.

4. Shiki

I started watching this in preparation for a cosplay shoot with someone dressed as Sunako. It didn’t really have the tone I was expecting for a horror anime. Really not scary at all. Very anime-y. Not my style.

5. Soul Eater

I tried watching this so long ago that I can’t really remember the first episodes or why I didn’t like them. I remember being surprisingly bored. Maybe they spent too much time talking or something.

6. Inuyasha

Boring.

7. Promised Neverland

First season was sooo so good. Second season was ill-paced garbage. Stopped watching because I heard it was only gonna get worse. Sad! It had so much potential.

8. Interviews with Monster Girls

This was the anime that made me stop taking recommendations from tumblr. This show is borderline pedophilic and absolutely disgusted me. I think it was recommended for the teacher/teacher romance but one of the teachers is the one who is doing the interviews and all the students have crushes on him. They do very inappropriate things with him and he just allows it. These are his students. DO NOT WATCH THIS SHOW.

#think i got them all lmao #lifeblogging

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