#My deep dive into rabbit holes that are way too deep for my brain to comprehend

[youunravelme]

nothing happened in the way i wanted part 1

author's note: okay so let it be known that my FAV emily henry book is happy place (if you want a deep dive into my personality, if you want to know the inner workings of my mind, read the book) SO with that being said, this fic was inspired by that masterpiece. plus i've fallen down a matt rabbit hole as of late. just a warning, this is a LONG ass fic (74 pages and 30.3k words, not a brag, i kinda regret that it's this long bc my brain hurts) so pace yourselves okay? thank you for being the kindest people ever!! this is finished, but tumblr said what i wrote is too long. so i'm posting it in parts lolol.

summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something!

after

despite being back in st. louis for six months, summer still felt like it came too fast. your thighs started sticking to the seats from sweat about three weeks ago. summer used to be your favorite season because it meant you had unlimited access to the love of your life, you weren’t sharing him with his teammates or his crazy schedule.

but he wasn’t yours anymore. matthew hadn’t been yours in six months and some change.

the second you entered your parents’ home, you tossed your keys into the bowl and slid your shoes off. it’d been six months since you moved home, and it still didn’t feel like a space where you belonged. you walked into the living room without so much as a hello from either of your parents, both of whom were posted up on the couch. they weren’t talking to each other, just letting the noise from the news fill the room instead of conversation.

“hey,” you greeted, plopping down in the recliner.

“how was work?” your mom asked.

you shrugged, not quite having the words to convey how mundane it had been. you were working on restoring a piece for this rich couple who lived in the same neighborhood as the tkachuks. it wasn’t in too bad of shape, given the fact that you were the one entrusted to work on it. if it was actually something incredibly complicated, your boss would’ve found someone else more experienced to do it.

when you entered art restoration and conservation, you thought it would be mindless. art had always been an escape for you, a chance to remove yourself from your racing thoughts. you thought that by entering the art conservation field, you could add onto something, enhance the beauty that was lost over the years of damage, instead of creating something from your own experiences.

but no one told you how hard it would be after your breakup, that you would have to learn how to pour bottles of chemical solvent into a glass when your eyes were blurring with tears. no one said anything about how you would spend hours hunched over, fixing the problems in paintings that only served to remind you that while you could mend a masterpiece, you were unable to stop and patch up the problems in your relationship. no one spoke about how you would inevitably relate to the paintings that came to you in shambles, the only difference being that clients would pay thousands of dollars for their paintings to be restored to their former glory, your ex let you fall apart alone in a city where you had no friends outside of the ones you’d made through him.

but how could you communicate that to your mother? to your father? both of whom stayed in an unhappy marriage for the sake of optics? how could you tell them that it’s been months and you were still no more over your ex than the day it ended? how could they understand you? they stayed together out of convenience, out of a fear of ending their marriage only to never find someone else.

it had been six months since your relationship ended, and you were no closer to understanding why.

“just a mundane day,” was all you said instead. “nothing to write home about.”

both of your parents hummed.

“did you have dinner already?” you asked.

“was gonna order pizza,” your dad said.

your mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. “no alan, we had plans to see chantal and keith tonight for dinner.”

you wanted to throw up.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe some loyalty from your parents? though, they weren’t fully privy to all the information about the demise of your relationship with matt, so maybe you couldn’t expect them to stop hanging out with his parents, especially when said parents were such great people.

“oh,” was all you could say.

“you’re more than welcome to order takeout and watch a movie,” your mom commented, like you needed permission to make yourself at home when you were actively living there. “i’m sure ronald would appreciate your company.”

you glanced at the tabby cat who was perched on his cat tree. personally, you had no issue with ronald, but he liked your mom and your mom only. though on occasion, he would allow your dad to pet him. 

“i’ll figure something out,” you said.

your mom hummed before she stood up to go get ready while your father stayed on the couch. it was only another ten minutes before he got up to change quickly, and another five before they left the house without so much as a goodbye.

before

you were incredibly aware that you didn’t quite fit in. your mom drove you to school in a beat up 1997 toyota camry which looked incredibly out of place among the bmws and audis. your mom offered to walk you in, but she was wearing her scrubs from her night shift and her face looked tired, so you declined the offer and got out of the car yourself.

it shouldn’t have been as daunting as it was, but your old school wasn’t as prestigious as this one. your previous schools in cedar rapids had been public schools. no one was wearing a uniform, and most of the backpacks worn came from the same walmart in your old neighborhood. 

but your parents had decided they wanted a better education for you, even if neither of them had the money to fork out thousands of dollars for a private school. your mom’s parents, however, were loaded. they were more than willing to fork out a small fortune for your schooling under the conditions of your family uprooting your lives to missouri. you were too young to realize what a sacrifice that was, you didn’t notice the snide comments your grandparents made about your father’s choice of career or your mother’s choice in husband.

you didn’t see your grandparents any more than you usually did since you’d moved to missouri two weeks ago. they’d been out of town on a trip to rome up until three days ago and hadn’t reached out to have dinner or hang out at all.

not that you cared at the age of nine, you were more focused on unpacking your room. but now that you were standing in front of the giant school alone, you felt like you should’ve been more concerned with how nice your school supplies were.

a kind woman greeted you at the entrance of the school. she smiled and introduced herself, though you couldn’t hear her over the roaring in your ears. she stood next to a blond haired blue eyed boy who was your height.

“are your parents here?” you weren’t sure how you heard her over the noise in your head.

you shook your head. “my mom had to go home and my dad is at work.”

the woman blinked. “is today your first day?”

“mom, it’s everyone’s first day of school,” the boy groaned.

“i wasn’t talking to you, matthew,” she said, though her eyes never left your own.

“i just moved here,” was all you said, albeit a bit quietly. 

“well, you can walk in with us.” She placed a warm hand on your back and ushered you inside next to her son.

you took notice of her nicer clothing compared to your mom’s scrubs or your dad’s tattered khakis, though the woman’s clothing wasn’t as ostentatious as other parents’.

“do you know your teacher’s name?” the woman asked.

you nodded and showed her the crumpled paper in your hand. the night before, you were wracked with nerves and wrote your teacher’s on a blank sheet of paper and doodled around it. even at nine years old, you were concerned that you’d somehow forget. you couldn’t be more grateful for it now.

the woman’s face lit up. “oh how lucky! matthew look! you’re in the same class.”

matthew for his part, tried to look happy about it, but his eyes kept wandering to the hallways, like he was looking for people he knew. you felt bad for even being in this situation. you missed your friends from iowa and the light up shoes you used to wear before you were given a uniform.

matthew’s mom pointed out the classroom that was supposed to be yours and walked both you and matthew into the room. unlike her son, who immediately found his friends to do elaborate handshakes with, you stayed by her side. she was a stranger, sure, but she was more comforting that the classroom of fifteen other nine and ten year olds.

the woman sighed and bent down a little to look you in the eyes. “it’s gonna be a good day, sweetheart,” she said. “mr. terry is a great teacher, he���s really kind.” you weren’t sure how she would know that, but you weren’t going to call her a liar. “and if you need anything, ask matthew. he’s been going here since kindergarten, okay?”

you nodded.

mr. terry walked over and introduced himself. he had dark skin and a bright smile, showing you to your seat. your name was on a card with fun stickers on it. next to your seat, you saw matthew’s name. now it wasn’t necessarily an unpopular name, there were three matthews in your third grade class, so you weren’t holding out hope that it was going to be the matthew you walked into class with. but two minutes later, he was plopping down into the seat to your left.

matthew looked almost startled to see you sitting next to him, but when the shock wore off he gave you a crooked smile and stuck his hand out. “i’m matt,” he said, like you two didn’t walk into class together.

you shook his hand anyway and gave him a shy smile and told him your name, just in case he didn’t see it written on your desk.

if it was even possible, his smile widened. “pretty name,” he said.

after

you’d watched a movie and half of another one by the time your parents walked through the front door. ronald jumped off the couch to greet your mother while he ignored your father.

“oh,” your dad said. “you’re still up.”

“i’m about to go to bed,” you replied, though you didn’t move from the couch.

“dinner was great,” your mom commented. “chantal and keith said to tell you hello.”

your gut twisted at the mention of their names. you loved his family, you really did, but the mention of the family that was almost yours stung when you looked at how your parents acted like roommates on the best of days.

you remembered summer days spent in the tkachuks’ backyard, watching as matt and brady chased each other while taryn tried her best to keep up. you remembered your dad picking you up from their house, and how you begged the entire ride home for a little brother or sister. he looked at your through the rearview mirror and said “we already achieved perfection, why mess that up?”

but you were grown now. you saw how their marriage barely survived raising you, and they were probably being smart by not risking your upbringing just to have another child.

you bid your parents goodnight and headed up the stairs to your childhood bedroom. it looked less like the office it was converted into when you moved out originally. you didn’t fault your parents for taking advantage of your absence, you, like many people your age, had zero intentions of ever moving back in until an unfortunate set of circumstances happened to you.

and that’s what life had felt like lately:

unfortunate.

unfortunate shit just happening to you.

it wasn't late by any means, but you were surprised when your phone vibrated with a text message. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t really befriended anyone since moving back that had you flinching at the shock of someone other than your parents (or grandparents) texting you.

you unlocked your phone and opened the message, sighing when you read its contents.

emma:

hey girl! just checking in to see if you’re still good for this weekend? no worries if you can’t make it!

you dropped the phone on your stomach and groaned into your hands as soon as they made contact with your face.

years of dating matthew meant you’d grown closer to brady and taryn and by proxy, brady’s fiancée, emma. you’d already committed to being a bridesmaid and bought the dress before your relationship with matt ended. when emma found out, she called immediately and gave you an out, said she wouldn’t take it personal, that she understood if it would be too hard.

but you remembered the countless conversations had about planning your weddings while the both of you watched the loves of your lives try not to kill each other from your spots on the back porch. and you could hear it in her voice, how much it meant to her that you would be there even if she didn’t want to push it on you. it didn’t matter that only one of you was getting the wedding you planned. the bets made on who’d get married first were obsolete now.

you wanted to text her back and say you were busy, but you hadn’t seen her much since her and brady came back in town. when the senators’ season ended in april, he and emma spent some time with her family and attended the playoff games for the panthers. now that the panthers’ season ended two weeks ago, all of the tkachuks were back in town which used to excite you.

now it just filled you with dread.

no, it’s not like you lived in the same tax bracket as matt’s family. you didn’t go to the same grocery stores unless you were tagging along. no, there was a comfortable distance between your neighborhoods and st. louis was filled with two million other people that the odds of running into him were slim.

but your anxiety preferred zero odds rather than a slight chance, and it made the logic that was once screaming at you sound like a small whisper.

you sucked it up anyway, though. seeing emma and the other bridesmaids was better than staying in your room and staring at the ceiling.

you:

i’ll be there! can’t wait!!!

and maybe you used too many exclamation points. maybe you were trying too hard to prove something no one would believe if they took longer than a split second glance at your face. you were a horrible liar, that hadn’t changed. you were just hoping by the time the weekend came around, you’d be too busy to focus on any of the pain.

before

the summer after keith retired, the tkachuks took you and your family on vacation with them to turks and caicos. your parents were stressed initially about the trip, but you were filled with nothing but excitement at leaving the landlocked state you called home.

missouri had slowly wormed its way into your heart. when your family moved, there was never a thought in your mind that you would ever come to love it like you did with cedar rapids. there was no way you’d ever consider this place your home. but then you met the tkachuks.

it’d been nearly three years since you’d first sat in that seat next to your best friend in mr. terry’s fourth grade class. now, you were splashing around in the waves with matt and brady while your parents looked from the shore.

school had been different the past two years, with matthew going to an all boys school after fifth grade while you stayed. it took some adjusting to being without him the entire school day. you didn’t want to think of yourself as codependent, or clingy, but mat was your best friend. it was an adjustment, having to make new friends in the same school.

now that wasn’t to say that you never saw matt. after your initial introductions, chantal offered to take you to and from school if your mom or dad dropped you off at their house in the morning. both of your parents jumped at the idea. your mother, who worked as a night shift ICU nurse, reveled in being able to go home and go straight to sleep. your father, whose job as an electrician required him to be on job sites early in the morning, didn’t mind it either, he had to be up early anyway.

and sure, you had to wake up earlier than you used to, but you got to eat breakfast and pretend like you were a tkachuk most days of the week (with the exception of the days your mom was off). keith would ruffle your hair as he passed you in the kitchen. taryn would race matthew for the seat next to yours.

the tkachuks felt more like your family than your own some days.

especially now when your parents went on a date that keith and chantal paid for while they stayed back at the beach house with you and their children. 

all six of you were seated around the coffee table with the game of life laid out in front of you. the evening started out with a game of uno, but that game got out of hand quickly. it took brady reversing the order and hitting matt with a draw four before your best friend lunged over the table to tackle his brother. while keith broke up the boys, chantal cleaned up uno and instructed you and taryn to pick out the least competitive game you could find.

which is how you ended up playing the game of life.

even though life had to be the least competitive game you knew, matt and brady still managed to argue over it, even going as far to rant about how unfair it was that they had to pay for home insurance. keith and chantal had just chuckled and told them to enjoy childhood while it lasted.

you found yourself smiling and laughing along.

you weren’t quite sure who won, or how anyone ever really wins the game of life, but the moment mattered more. taryn went upstairs with keith to get ready for bed while brady helped his mom in the kitchen pop a bag of popcorn. you and matthew were responsible for cleaning up the game.

“are you having fun?” he asked.

your smile was so wide, it hurt your cheeks. “i’m having the best time. this is by far the best vacation i’ve been on.”

“really?” he smiled.

you nodded emphatically. “most of my family vacations have been spent with my grandparents.”

matt grimaced, already aware of the testy relationship your mom had with her own parents. “when’s the last time you saw them?”

you had to think for a moment, while your grandparents technically lived in st. louis, they were often out of town or ignoring your family’s existence altogether. with the exception of the last saturday of every month, when you and your parents were practically obligated to eat dinner with them. you didn’t notice their judgmental comments when you were younger and mesmerized by the giant dollhouse they bought for you.

but you were older now. you knew that there were terms and conditions attached to the cellphone they bought for you on your twelfth birthday. you heard the disdain in their voices when they talked down to your father and mother for their life choices. you weren’t an idiot, you understood that every compliment they gave you was a way for them to make your parents feel inferior in comparison.

you weren’t a child to them, you were a pawn in a game you never asked to play.

“we saw them about a month ago?” you shrugged. “they’re on vacation until halfway through august.”

matt hummed. “i think we’re gonna visit mom’s parents before school starts back again.”

to your credit, you did your best to look happy for him, even if it meant that you wouldn’t see him for a week and a half. you had other friends in town! in fact, you befriended a girl named simone when you started middle school. maybe you could call her when you get back to st. louis?

evidently, your little act wasn’t convincing enough. matt nudged your shoulder with his. “you’ll be fine,” he said. “you’re probably annoyed from how much time we’ve spent together this summer. you need a break.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “i could never get tired of you, matty.”

he blinked, almost at a loss for words, it felt like. but you should’ve known better, because he was holding up his pinky a beat later. “you promise?”

you locked your fingers together. “promise.”

after

it’s just emma and her friends and taryn, you thought. you already know all of these people. there’s no reason to be stressed out.

which, to be fair, your inner monologue was right. you had absolutely no reason to be standing in front of your closet debating what to wear for as long as you had. 

before you could stop yourself, you were hitting emma’s contact and putting your phone on speaker. the dial tone rang out through the room while you waited for her to pick up. you were seconds away from ending the call when her phone sounded through the receiver.

“hey! what’s up?”

you exhaled. “i don’t know what to wear tonight.”

emma said your name through a laugh. “we’re not going anywhere fancy, i swear. it’s just dinner and then we’re going to a bar.”

you frowned. “so taryn’s not joining us after dinner?”

“no, she has other plans after dinner anyway. she said she was meeting up with some friends from high school.” as if she could see the hesitance on your face, emma spoke up again. “but you know all the other girls, it’s not like you’ll be hanging out with strangers.”

and she was right, you were in a groupchat with the other bridesmaids and found all of them to be quite pleasant.

“look, if you’re still stressed about what to wear, just wear jeans.”

“okay, but how nice is this restaurant?” you were rummaging through your closet. “because i’ve worn jeans to restaurants that weren’t supposed to be fancy and i found myself criminally underdressed.”

“yeah well, i’m better at communicating than matt is.” a gasp sounded through the receiver, like emma had just realized what she said. “oh my god, i’m so sorry—”

“it’s fine, you’re not wrong,” you said, forcing out a laugh even as your heart painfully squeezed in your chest.

“i really didn’t mean to,” she sighed. “i’m sorry, that was rude of me to bring up.”

you shook your head even though she couldn’t see you. “it’s fine, emma, i swear,” you said even though there were tears pricking in your eyes. “i’ll have to face the music eventually.”

“still, it was insensitive of me to say that.”

you cleared your throat. “don’t worry about it, i’m a big girl.” you pulled the phone away from your face so you could sniffle for a second without drawing any unnecessary attention. “so jean shorts tonight?” you asked.

there was a brief silence before you heard emma’s soft sigh over the phone. “that sounds perfect.”

before

matthew kissed you for the first time when you were hanging out with mutual friends after school in eighth grade. you’d been dreaming about that moment for years ever since sixth grade when you realized matt was handsome and the flutters in your stomach weren’t just from nerves anymore.

both of you were at your friend morgan’s house sitting in her basement. she happened to live in the same neighborhood as matt. so after school, you rode home with the tkachuks like you always did and then walked to her house.

morgan was the first of your friends to get a boyfriend and she wasn’t shy about telling everyone. it was easy to be jealous of her. while you hadn’t known her as long, your other friends had made it clear she’d garnered male attention since preschool. so there was no surprise that she’d announced at school earlier that week that she was dating someone from matt’s school.

hence the party in the basement.

morgan was the one who suggested truth or dare. she had all ten of you circle up on the carpet and sit criss crossed. you were keenly aware of how matt’s knee was touching your own, you could feel the heat even through your jeans. he was leaning back on his hands, with his right hand directly behind your back,in your delusions, you let yourself pretend he was doing it to be closer to you.

“alright!” morgan cheered. “who wants to start?”

no one said a word.

you made the mistake of looking around when you caught morgan’s eye. at the sight of a growing smirk on her lips, you quickly diverted your gaze.

“c'mon, no one wants to go first?” she hummed. “fine, i’ll go. babe,” she started calling thomas babe a week ago. “ask me, truth or dare?”

the only word you could use to describe the look on thomas’ face was besotted. without hesitating, he asked her the question, smiling when she grinned back at him. morgan chose dare, because she wasn’t “boring and lame.”

thomas dared her to kiss him. there was a collective groan when she leaned over and kissed her boyfriend. the second she pulled back, morgan’s eyes flitted over the rest of the group, looking like a tiger about to pounce. the two of you made eye contact and the corner of her lips raised in a smirk that was gone as quick as it came.

you prepared yourself for the worst, recalling how you let it slip that you have a crush on matt. and morgan, while she wasn’t intentionally cruel, had all but shrieked when you told her. so you didn’t think she’d out you to be mean, you wouldn’t put it past her to attempt matchmaking.

but her eyes skipped right over you and focused on simone. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” simone replied.

morgan rolled her eyes. “nerd,” but she cracked a smile anyway.

the game went on pretty effortlessly, you even got brave enough to do a dare (thankfully morgan never got the opportunity to ask you). it ended with morgan asking matthew. the smirk she had earlier, appeared as she made eye contact with you before setting her sights on your best friend.

“truth or dare?” she asked.

you immediately knew which option he was picking, matt never backed down from a challenge and had been choosing dare all night.

“matthew, i dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

your stomach dropped as did your gaze. you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, you didn’t want to see matt kiss another girl, you couldn’t. you wouldn’t do it.

a moment passed when you realized matt hadn’t moved an inch. he was still leaning on his hands, with one stretched behind you. all it took was a quick glance at matt to see him already staring back at you.

“no,” he said, eyes still locked on your face.

morgan blinked. “what?”

it was only then that his eyes left your face to look morgan dead in the eye. “nope. i won’t do it.”

she guffawed. “but you have to!”

matt shrugged. “i don’t want to.”

“but you lose if you don’t!”

he shrugged yet again. “oh well.”

your head snapped up to look at him in confusion. “matt,” you nudged him.

“we gotta go anyway,” he said, before he stood up and reached out to you. you took his hand, albeit hesitantly before he dragged you up the stairs and out of the house onto the street.

a cool breeze was blowing which inadvertently caused you to shiver. matt, who still hadn’t let go of your hand, tugged you further into his side. your heart sank when he dropped your hand, only for it to skyrocket when he threw his arm around you.

“why didn’t you do the dare?” you asked. the curiosity was killing you, even if you believed the real answer would be even worse than not knowing.

matt shrugged like he had been all night. “i didn’t feel like it.”

you blinked at him, staring at his profile while he guided the two of you back to his house. “you’re literally the most competitive person i know. you’ve never intentionally lost a game. last week brady dared you to drink that gallon of milk and run a mile, which, if i must remind you, you threw up not even halfway through.”

matt laughed. “that was funny. but what’s your point?”

“my point is that kissing someone is way less work than running a mile and throwing up. so what’s up?”

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze fell to the ground where he kicked a rock. “didn’t want it to happen like that.”

you blinked at him, refusing to move your gaze from his profile. “didn’t want what to happen like that? it’s just a kiss.”

he shook his head and stopped walking, grabbing your wrist when you kept moving. matt tugged your arm so you’d turn around and look at him. “it wouldn’t be just a kiss,” he said.

“would it mean more?” you asked, but he didn’t say anything. “matt?” your heart was beating against your chest. your hands shook at the idea of him wanting to kiss someone. you went through the list of people in that room. it wasn’t morgan, he’d told you weeks ago that he didn’t like her like that when you asked. could it be simone? she looked like a goddess on a bad day. her dark skin was flawless and free of blemishes and her faux locs were always perfectly styled. she didn’t even wear makeup on a regular basis.

oh god. did he like simone?

your gut twisted at the idea, of him falling in love with the closest friend you had at school. you could learn to be happy for them, simone was great and matt would adore her if she agreed to go out with him.

you snapped back into it when you felt matt’s thumb rub across your pulse. “matt, would it mean more?”

he shrugged again, still not looking at you, just the part where your hands were joined. “would it be a problem if it did?”

now it was your turn to be confused. “why would my opinion matter? i’m not the one you’d be kissing.”

matt blinked at you once, then twice. “you can’t be serious,” he said.

“what do you mean?”

“you can’t be that blind. there’s no way.”

“matt, what are you talking about?”

he dropped your hand to run both of his over his face and groaned. “there's no way you don’t know.”

“know what?”

matt fixed you with an intense look, one that had you squirming in your shoes a little. in all your years of friendship, you weren’t sure he'd ever stared at you that way before. a hockey game? sure, but you?

“matt what—”

“i like you,” he said as plain as day, like he didn’t just flip your world on its axis.

you blinked, you were pretty sure you stopped breathing. “what?” you whispered.

matt stepped closer to you, close enough that your shoes were touching. “i like you.”

“so why didn’t you kiss me when morgan dared you to?”

“i didn’t want it to happen like that,” he admitted. “didn’t wanna kiss you in front of everybody.”

you could feel the heat travel up your neck and to your cheeks. “and what about now? would you kiss me now?”

“would you let me?”

words failed you, you could only nod. matt hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. it was clumsy and awkward, and in the middle of the sidewalk two blocks away from his house.

but it was perfect.

after

you ubered to the restaurant before emma could suggest meeting at the tkachuk house. every single one of the bridesmaids knew you and matt were no longer together, all of them banding around you and offering support from thousands of miles away. so you didn’t think any of them would even hint at meeting at the tkachuk residence if they were as considerate as you believed them to be, but you wanted to avoid the sympathetic looks that would be thrown your way.

most of the bridesmaids were there by the time you arrived, the only exception being taryn. the entire table greeted you with bright white smiles, emma stood to give you a hug that you enthusiastically returned.

it felt great to be back in the company of people your age. despite being back in st. louis for quite some time, you still had yet to make any more friends outside of emma and taryn, both of whom you didn’t see that often because of who they were relationally attached to.

unfortunately, you’d lost contact with many of your friends from high school because of the distance. if you could go back, you’d slap yourself in the face for thinking matt was going to stick around longer than simone or morgan.

but how were you to know he would leave and wouldn’t want you to follow him?

you swallowed that question down and took a seat at the table. you sat next to a brunette named stacey, the other seat on your right was left for taryn, you assumed. there were already two bottles of wine sitting in a bucket of ice on the table. part of you considered pouring yourself a glass immediately, but you remembered the plans were dinner first, bar later. so you settled for water.

it was only a matter of maybe ten minutes before taryn was led to your table. you stood up with the rest of the girls and waited your turn to hug her. taryn saved you for last, smiling bright and wide when the two of you finally made eye contact. you squeezed each other tightly as you hugged, unspoken words being communicated.

“now, before anyone looks at the menu, i just wanted to let you know, it’s on brady tonight.” emma held up her hand as mouths began to protest across the table. “he insisted, and we won’t be taking no for an answer.”

and maybe you should’ve protested a little harder to look more sincere, but your job wasn’t paying you well enough to afford a 70 dollar steak and drinks.

the table breaks up into mini conversations while everyone was looking over the menu. you were doing the same when an elbow nudged you from the right. you glanced over at taryn who wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she wanted your attention, it was something you’d always admired about her.

“long time, no see,” she said. but before you could respond, she spoke up again. “how have you been?”

you shrugged and moved your eyes back to the menu to look busy. “nothing has been going on really, just working.” you cleared your throat and hesitantly made eye contact again. “and you? what have you been up to?”

taryn shifted in her seat, a tell you knew was coming. you weren’t a stranger to where she’d been the past few weeks, you still followed her on instagram, you followed all of the tkachuks on instagram, even matt. so you knew she’d just gotten back after the panthers lost in game five of the finals.

you nudged her with your shoulder and gave her a small smile. “it’s okay, i’m not gonna burst into tears if you mention him.”

taryn smiled. “i’m exhausted, we were traveling everywhere for matt it felt like. it was cutting into my workouts.”

your jaw clenched at the mention of his name, mainly to distract you from feeling the ache in your chest, but you kept a pleasant look on your face anyway. “you still have the rest of the summer for your workouts, though. summer’s barely started.”

taryn nodded but she didn’t say anything for a moment. you started to shift in your seat when she reached a hand out and squeezed your own. “i miss you,” she said sincerely. “it hasn’t been the same without you around.”

“taryn...”

“you know, you’re still in, like, most of our family photos hanging on the wall. mom and dad haven’t taken them down.”

you weren’t sure if that made you happy or brought you pain.

“i begged them not to, you’re in too many memories for us to just forget you.” she cleared her throat and looked back at her menu, giving you a break from the sincere staredown the two of you were having. “they ask about you all the time, but they didn’t want to impose, mom especially. said she’d understand if you never wanted to see them again.”

you tried reading the menu through blurry eyes and pinched your lips together so no one would see them tremble. “i’ve been meaning to get coffee with your mom,” you said, though you both knew it was a lie. you’d made yourself scarce for a reason.

“she’d be happy to see you again, she just didn’t want to overstep.”

you nodded, still not looking at the girl you fully believed would be your sister one day. “i’ll text her.”

the waiter came by moments later to take your orders. thankfully, the tears had cleared up out of your eyes. as soon as you’d cleared your throat, you were telling the server your order without your voice shaking.

you bore the grief well, you thought. you laughed when everyone else did, smiled when appropriate, and asked follow up questions. socializing wasn’t hard, years of galas and charity events as matt’s plus one had trained you well for moments like these, so long as you avoided the eyes of taryn and emma, both of whom knew you better than anyone else at the table.

emma paid with brady’s card like she’d promised earlier. unfortunately for you, that’s when the anxiety started to come back. taryn was leaving after dinner, too young to go to the bars with the rest of you, and according to what emma had told you, she had plans with friends.

the group left together, with taryn waving goodbye as the rest of you headed to a bar three blocks away. your hands were shaking, so you shoved them in your pockets to hide the trembling.

it’d get better once you got a few drinks in you, you told yourself. you’d loosen up soon enough.

emma opened a tab with brady’s card and you immediately started going in. the group started with a round of shots, but you were quickly ordering more than just tequila. it was only a matter of time before your vision started lagging and your brain began buffering to keep up with what was happening.

you were on the dance floor, grinding against a stranger, who thankfully, was keeping their hands to themselves, when emma tugged your arm, giggling. “everyone else has left. and i think it’s time for us to go,” she slurred, a giant smile on her face.

you allowed yourself to be tugged away from the stranger. “how do you know?” you asked, fumbling over your words like trying to catch a bar of soap with wet hands.

emma smiled and pointed at the bar where brady was, you assumed, closing out the tab. seeing him in the flesh had your heart stuttering. the anxiety was kicking back in, hitting harder than it did when you were sober. you hadn’t seen brady since november, or was it december? the months had blurred together just like that one scene from new moon.

but now you were seeing him in the flesh, and he was getting closer as emma tugged you over to where he was. brady was just slipping his card back in his wallet when the two of you got to him. he looked up and smiled at his fianceé before he even realized you were standing there. the lovesick smile dropped but it was quickly replaced with shock before it was transformed into a smile you could’ve painted from memory.

“hey!” he said just loud enough to be heard over the noise. “i didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

if you were sober, you’d see that statement as a warning, preparation for what was to come. you would’ve noticed the way his eyes kept darting to the entrance of the bar, but you didn’t. you were just happy to see him for the first time in a while, feeling the semblance of home you’d been missing for months.

if you were sober, you would’ve remembered that brady and his brother were a package deal. you would’ve known that the nights brady wasn’t spending with emma, he was spending with your ex, and when emma had inevitably texted (or brady offered) her fiancé to pick her up, that he was more than likely already out with his brother celebrating his upcoming nuptials.

if you were sober, you would’ve noticed him walk through the door because your eyes were always drawn to him. you would’ve known it was him by the smell of his cologne, instead of waiting for him to slap his brother on the shoulder in greeting.

if you were sober, you would’ve made a break for it the second he started approaching you, emma, and brady.

but you were drunk off your ass, and all you could do was stand there like a dumbfounded idiot while matthew brendan tkachuk glanced around the room.

brady shifted on his feet a little, bracing for the moment you both knew was coming. the moment where matt saw you for the first time since november 29, when he played calgary. you’d imagine to brady, it felt like watching a car accident happen in real time. to you though, you were the accident. you were the one getting hit by a bus going full speed. you were rooted to the spot, taking in every feature of matt’s face that you’d missed over the last six months, waiting for him to see you.

if you were sober, you would’ve run away by now, knowing that being that close to him would do nothing for you.

but it was too late now.

matt finally glanced at emma, then brady, until his eyes landed on you. the smile on his lips from the song that was bumping through the speakers dropped almost immediately. he recoiled, took a small step back, almost as if he was shocked to see you there at all.

you felt like an idiot.

you weren’t sure how long the two of you stared at each other before you took a deep breath and stared at your shoes.

your hands were shaking again.

you shoved them in your pockets again.

matt’s eyes darted to your shorts at the movement, his eyes scrunched together in what looked like concern, but you brushed that thought off before you could convince yourself he still cared. but you could feel his stare on you, even as you looked around and avoided eye contact. you felt like an ant, with matt’s gaze being the magnifying glass that was burning you with a beam of sunlight.

“do you have a ride home?” brady asked. your head whipped back around to look at him and emma.

you shrugged, already feeling more sober than you were two minutes ago. “was gonna uber.”

matt scoffed. “not happening.”

out of nowhere anger bubbled out of your chest and out of your mouth. “excuse me?”

matt fixed you with a hard stare, one you didn’t shy away from. “you’re not ubering home on a friday night drunk as hell. it’s not happening.”

“i think you lost the right to make my decisions six months ago.” you refused to say his name, refused to know what it felt like to have it back on your tongue even though your heart was crying out to utter those two syllables again.

brady interjected before the disagreement could escalate. “i just wanna make sure you get home safe,” he said. “can i drive you home?”

you glanced at the man you used to know like a little brother. you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the concern.

and maybe it was the love for brady and emma that had you accepting. or maybe it was the alcohol. you nodded your head and let emma lock arms with you as you were led out by the tkachuk brothers.

you found yourself in the backseat where you used to hold hands with matt when you went on double dates with brady and emma. the two of you used to tease the younger couple when they did literally anything romantic. if brady so much as grabbed emma’s hand, the two of you were gagging in the backseat “choking on their pda” all while knowing brady and emma have caught you in more compromising positions before.

but it wasn’t like that this time around.

you slid into your usual seat in the back before emma could offer up shotgun to you. maybe if you were more selfish, you’d accept, but you weren’t going to let your friend sit away from her fiancé when you could just suck it up.

the space between you and matt felt too suffocatingly small and yet it still felt like you were on two opposite sides of the globe. you thought about taking a risk and throwing yourself out of the moving vehicle, but there was still a wedding you were both in. you needed to figure out how to tolerate being around him if you didn’t want to cause a scene later in the summer.

you just had to make it to the end of july, then you could go back and pretend like december 16th never happened, like the past nine years of your life never happened. like you never fell in love with your best friend, like you never met him and his mother in fourth grade, like your parents never moved you to st. louis. like there weren’t traces of your failed relationship in every scrapbook in your parents’ house, like he wasn’t tied to every significant moment of your childhood.

you felt like the bundle of christmas lights that you’d sworn you put back in an orderly fashion the previous year, only to pull them out and realize you had an entire project on your hands to detangle them all.

except in the end, none of the lights worked anyway.

you could hardly remember a time where your life wasn’t deeply intertwined with matthew’s. you thought it’d lead to something, to marriage, to raising kids together, to celebrating his retirement, buying a home close to his family, and growing fat and old together.

you hated the idea that you went down that road only for it to be a dead end.

brady pulled up outside your house. you were unbuckling your seat belt and throwing the door open before he’d even put the car in park. you were doing your best to get to the front porch before anything else happened, but as hard as you tried, you were still a little too drunk. you were stumbling up the driveway and to the front door, all the while trying to figure out which key was the key to your house.

a car door slammed in the distance before footsteps followed.

you knew the sound like you knew the sound of your mother’s sadness. you would’ve recognized his footfalls anywhere.

in your haste and anxiety, you dropped your keys. you squatted down and nearly tipped over at the rush to your head. matt’s hand shot out before you could grab the keys while his other hand grabbed your elbow and pulled you into a standing position. he led you to the front door and with ease, found your house key. he unlocked the door but didn’t move to open it. you could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you refused to look back.

his touch on your skin felt like it was burning, and part of you wanted to rip your arm out of his grasp, but you couldn’t.

you just—

couldn't.

matt said your name quietly, but you just shook your head, willing the tears to go away. he didn’t get to see you cry, didn’t get to know that his actions had absolutely wrecked you. he tried again, but you inhaled and jerked your arm out of his reach before you opened your front door, grabbed your keys, and shut it in his face.

you barely made it into your bathroom before you threw up.

before

you were bouncing on your toes at the airport. matt’s plane landed fifteen minutes ago, and you were anxiously waiting for him to round the corner.

matt’s first year with the ntdp made your relationship a little difficult, though, you thought it would be harder than it was. modern technology definitely made it easier on you. matt would call you just about every other night, and if he couldn’t, matt was texting you whenever he had the freetime.

the last time you saw each other was when you and the tkachuks spent your spring break in ann arbor to visit, and that had been over a month ago. thankfully, you’d managed to convince your mom to let you check out of school early to wait for him.

“someone’s excited,” taryn teased, bumping her shoulder into your side. 

“honey leave her alone,” chantal chided. “we’re all excited.”

“i’m not,” brady grumbled. not even a beat later, keith was slapping the back of his head.

moments later, matt walked around the corner with his bags in hand. you fought every urge to run to him, deciding he probably wanted to greet his family first. and he did, you watched as he hugged his mom and dad first, moving the taryn, before punching brady in the shoulder.

you were nervously playing with the hem of your school issued plaid skirt as you looked on, suddenly feeling out of place. but it didn’t linger because in a blink of an eye, matt’s arms were wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his chest.

a sigh escaped your lips, one you didn’t even know was held hostage in your chest. maybe you were being dramatic (you were almost 16, after all), but it felt like the part of you that was missing was just returned.

“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.

you couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips.

matt didn’t let go of you, even when everyone started walking towards the car where keith parked. your hand was tightly grasped in his own, forcing brady to carry the other bag matt couldn’t. to make up for it, you offered to sit in the back of keith’s escalade so brady could have more leg room. matt ended up grumbling about it, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let you sit in the back next to taryn when he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

“i ruined my perfect attendance streak for you,” you said as you traced the veins of his hands.

matt smirked. “i messed up little miss perfect’s squeaky clean record? how will you ever get into college now?”

you ripped your hand from his and shoved his shoulder, barely restraining yourself from cussing him out. “shut up,” was what you settled for because while taryn and brady had most definitely heard their fair share of curse words, you didn’t want to be the one on the receiving end of chantal’s disapproving look, even if it meant keith would be fighting for his life to hold back laughter.

all four of you, keith and chantal excluded, all but scrambled out of the car when it pulled into the garage. you and matt grabbed both of his bags before bum rushing into the house and up the stairs to his room.

“leave the door open!” chantal called from the first floor.

you didn’t need to see his face to know matt was rolling his eyes.

“i’m tempted to ignore her and just slam and lock the door,” he grumbled.

you dropped the bag you were holding and guffawed. “you wouldn’t. you love your mom.”

matt dropped his bag and immediately took the opportunity to grab you by the waist. “and i love you.”

you almost giggled, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself so you beamed instead. the first time he said those words was a few months ago over facetime and it still made you giddy as it did then.

matt pressed his forehead against yours. “you’re not gonna say it back?” he asked.

you blinked, still smiling. “what?”

“you're not gonna say you love me back?”

you shrugged, knowing it would get under his skin. you knew the consequences. “hm,” you hummed. “do i need to?”

matt rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might’ve gotten stuck in the back of his head. “quit being smart.”

and maybe you should’ve given up, maybe you should’ve let it go and say those three little words you’d said countless times before. but teasing him was way too much fun to pass up when you hadn’t seen him in months. so you pursed your lips and hummed again. “i seem to recall you saying you liked how smart i am. something about being the beauty and the brains?”

and out of nowhere, taryn popped her head in. “well matt for sure wasn’t going to be the beauty, and he’s never been the brains,” she smirked.

matt let go of you and marched over to the door, all but slamming it in her face.

“matthew brendan tkachuk! that door better be open!” chantal’s voice carried up the stairs had you lunging across the room and whipping open the door in a hurry.

“sorry mrs. tkachuk!” you called out before turning around and glaring at your boyfriend. “you’re a menace.”

matthew smirked and pulled you close enough that you were chest to chest. “but you love me.”

“i love you so much.”

after

the hangover you had the next morning was probably the worst you ever remember having. well, until you remembered the night matt broke up with you, that was the worst one.

you turned over in bed, picked up your phone, and saw multiple texts from emma and brady alike, both ranging from “it was great to see you” to “i’m so sorry about last night.” you groaned and dropped your phone back on the nightstand.

last night, when you thought about it, hurt more than it should’ve. you saw him for the first time in the flesh and it looked like he was fine, like he didn’t completely upend your life six months ago when he ended things. part of you wondered if he could see through you, through the illusion of your happiness and to the core where you were just as fractured as you were december 17th. 

the rest of the weekend continued with you doing little to nothing but eating and binging trashy reality tv shows. when your alarm went off on monday morning, you contemplated calling off, but got dressed instead.

“you look like hell,” was the first thing frankie, your mentor and boss, said to you. because of the nature of your relationship, you felt comfortable flipping him off, even as he passed you a cup of coffee. “rough night?” he asked after watching you take a hefty sip of the hot beverage.

“rough weekend,” you grumbled.

frankie gave you a small smile and patted you on the back as the two of you walked to the workspace. “wanna talk about it?”

you recognized performative kindness when you saw it. while you firmly believed frankie cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew he didn’t want to hear the sob story of how you ran into your ex drunk at a bar, at least, not at 8am. so you shook your head.

“i looked at some of your work on the bradshaw family’s piece so far, and i was impressed. i do have some notes, but for the most part, you’ve been doing a great job.”

you did your best to smile gratefully, but you weren’t sure it translated. “i really appreciate your guidance on this, and the trust you have to let me work on some of these projects.”

“you’re very talented,” he said. “you ever thought about creating something for yourself or someone else?”

there wasn’t a word to describe the noise that came out of your mouth. was it a nervous laugh? a squeak maybe? you didn’t know, and neither did frankie.

“what?” he asked. “why is that so scary?”

you shrugged as the two of you made it to the workspace. normally, you would start by pulling out the supplies you needed to begin working on the bradshaw piece, but if frankie met you at the door, it was because he wanted to have an impromptu meeting first.

“i feel like i’m good at fixing things,” you said. “maybe not creating something from thin air.”

“you have so much talent,” frankie replied. “i hate to see it wasted on fixing and preserving someone else’s work when you could be doing both. it could be your art that people hang in their houses and pay thousands of dollars to preserve.”

you nodded, but kept your eyes on the table, studying the wood grain and tracing the pattern with your finger.

“i don’t think i’m capable of that anymore.”

frankie reached over and squeezed your shoulder. “just think on it, okay? couldn’t hurt to just think on it.” he walked out a moment later, giving you space and time to queue up music and get started on the day.

you opened spotify and pressed the play button on your liked songs without even thinking about it. not even two seconds later, you regretted your decision. the soft tones and beats of frank ocean’s thinkin bout you echoed through the room and slammed against your chest. you immediately switched the song and found a classical playlist to listen to instead.

but the tune wouldn’t get out of your head.

not two minutes later.

not thirty minutes later.

not after your full eight hour shift spent hunched over your workstation.

not even on the drive home.

frank ocean’s voice permeated every fiber of your being.

it was simone who first showed you the song in high school. you remembered liking the melody enough, but you didn’t get the lyrics. and why would you? you were in love with your best friend who loved you back. even though you were fourteen and too young to even think about marriage, you knew matthew was going to be the person you ended up with. it was him or no one.

and now it was no one.

now, you listened to the song play over and over in your head, the lyrics resonating with you deeper than ever before.

you pulled into your driveway, completely unaware of what cars were parked in the street. they’d never mattered to you before. why would they now?

you sat in your car for a few minutes, taking a deep breath while you worked up the courage to go inside. when you finally got a grip on your emotions, you opened your door and grabbed your bag. you were too busy fumbling with your keys to notice anything amiss until you were on your porch and a pair of shoes came into sight.

“hey.”

it took everything in you not to scream. you dropped your keys and nearly dropped your bag. matthew stood on your front porch with his hands in the pockets in his shorts like he was innocent of any pain or suffering he’d caused you. he was in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and you hated yourself a little bit for thinking he’s attractive like that.

“what’re you doing here?” you hated how hoarse your voice sounded, like a low quality audio recording where things sounded muffled and broken.

“your dad wouldn’t let me in.”

“good.”

matt sighed and ran a hand down his face. “can we not do this?”

“not do what?” you asked. “not act like you ended things for no damn reason?”

“if you—”

“we dated for nearly ten years and you decided to end it over a five minute phone call. and you still think you’re entitled to my time?” and maybe you should’ve been kinder, maybe you should’ve been more civil. but you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months (until a few nights ago) and he just turned up out of the blue? expecting you to do what? forgive him? move on?

matthew said your name delicately, but not in the way he used to, like saying your name was a luxury he was honored to have. no, he said it like you were going to break, like you were fragile, like he wasn’t the sole cause of your pain. “please—”

the anger was draining out of you quicker. you were exhausted between work, and frank ocean’s stupid song, and the other night. 

“what do you want?” your voice cracked on the last word. “wanna ruin my life a little bit more? put the final nail in the coffin?”

“no,” he shook his head fervently. matthew took a step towards you and looked something close to devastated when you stepped back. but it didn’t make sense, he ended it, he had no right to look or feel that way. “i just wanna talk.”

“six months,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice clear. “you had six months to say something. what could you possibly have to say now that you couldn’t then?”

“i know we didn’t end on the best of terms—” he started, but it was cut off by your scoff. you turned your head away and used your palm to wipe at your eyes before you crossed your arms over your chest. “—but i don’t think we should let this ruin brady and emma’s summer. we’re gonna see a lot of each other and i don’t want things to be tense around them.”

you took a minute to really look at him. blonde frizzy curls, blue eyes that wouldn’t leave your face. he hadn’t changed one bit.

one summer, you’d attempted to count the number of freckles on his shoulders. you got up to 87 before you gave up.

and yet you felt like you were standing in front of a stranger.

there were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you’d dreamt of screaming at him, but now that he was here, in front of you, asking something of you, you felt drained, tired. you used to crave his presence, now it felt like a leech.

you loved him, but he was sucking the life out of you.

so you nodded. you nodded and said “okay,” before you walked inside your front door and left your heart on the porch.

you pressed your back against the door and slid to the ground, pulling your knees to your chest. there was no telling when you started crying, or when your dad joined you on the floor, hugging you as close to his chest as he could.

“why wasn’t i enough?” you sobbed into your knees.

your dad petted your hair before he pressed a kiss there. “you’re more than enough, honey. but you can’t make anyone love you if they’re not willing to.”

“he used to!” you wailed. “he used to love me!” then, in a smaller voice, “what changed?”

a beat of silence, then your father’s somber, quiet voice. “maybe he did.”

before

“so what are your plans for after high school?” ms. meyer, your high school guidance counselor sat across from you at her desk. her stare was kind, but unwavering.

you’d already applied to notre dame, knowing that’s where matt committed. so when you answered, it was confident. it had been your plan since matt said yes to the school. “i’m going to notre dame and majoring in art history.”

“do you have any back up schools?”

you nodded. “ucla and the art institute of chicago.”

ms. meyer pursed her lips. “you know all of those places are highly competitive, right?”

“my transcripts and resume are impressive and I did really well on the SAT and ACT. i think i’ll be able to get in.” and you were, you were pretty confident as they come when it came to academics. any school would’ve been lucky to have you, that much you believed.

ms. meyer nodded. “i understand ucla and the art institute, both of those schools have incredible arts programs, but why notre dame? it doesn’t seem to fit with your aspirations.”

“oh,” you laughed under your breath. “that’s where my boyfriend is going.”

your guidance counselor blinked. “you’re incredibly smart and gifted, i’d hate to see that talent wasted when you could be developing it elsewhere. what do you want?”

“i want to be with matthew.”

ms. meyer sighed and gave you a sympathetic smile, you weren’t sure why though. you’d never been more sure of anything. “honey, can i be honest with you?” she didn’t wait for your response. “you have so much talent, so much to offer, i’ve seen many girls come in here, putting off aspirations for their significant others only for that relationship not to last.”

“i know we’re young,” you started, already feeling the heat rise up in your chest. she didn’t know anything about you personally, she didn’t know about you and matt. “but we’re gonna make it, i swear.”

ms. meyer nodded. “of course you are.” she cleared her throat and adjusted the papers in front of her. “so, notre dame...”

after

you weren't exactly sure what compelled you to do it, but at dinner a few nights ago, your mom had asked about what happened to simone, your friend from middle and high school. so you reached out, though it made you feel like you were contacting someone to join your mlm.

it legitimately surprised you when simone replied to your facebook message. the two of you made plans to get coffee on saturday.

and now it was saturday.

you weren’t getting coffee until 9:30, but you were awake and staring at your ceiling at 7. you’d done the due diligence of stalking simone’s profile, so you knew she was married with two kids who looked just like her. she worked as a data analyst for kroger and her husband was a public defender. she met her husband in college and they got married shortly after they graduated from grad and law school respectively. 

if you were a better woman, you’d admit you were jealous. jealous that she got what she wanted in the end. but when you put that aside, you still felt overwhelming happiness at her station in life, regardless of how yours turned out.

you kept scrolling through her social media until it was eventually time for you to get up. you stayed to facebook, not even wanting to bother with going on instagram and accidentally stumbling across one of the tkachuks’ posts.

it was 9:10 when you finally finished getting dressed and ready. you came down the stairs and threw a goodbye over your shoulder before grabbing your crossbody bag and your keys and running out the door.

despite your sprinting and nearly running red lights, you were still five minutes late. you came into the coffee shop, gasping for air after sprinting down the sidewalk from your parking spot.

the second you entered the business, simone’s hand lifted and she smiled brightly, calling you over almost immediately. she stood to greet you, and like no time had passed, pulled you in for a hug.

“it’s so good to see you,” she said. “wasn’t sure if you still liked an iced chai latte, but i got one for you.”

“oh my god, yes,” you gasped before taking a seat and taking a sip of the beverage.

she kept smiling, which made you feel lighthearted for once. most people kept looking at you with pitying eyes, but simone saw you for more than the grief of the last six months. she had to know about it, she just had to, but you thanked her for not bringing it up in the first minute of your conversation.

“how’s work going?”

you shrugged. “it’s mostly tedious, but it’s been fine. what about you? working for kroger? that’s a huge deal.”

simone shook her head. “it’s just a means to an end, a way i can pay for my family’s lifestyle.”

“but are you passionate about what you do?”

she shrugged lightly. “it’s a job, it’s not my life. not everyone is going to work a job that fulfills them. my husband? he loves being a public defender, and he’s good at it. me though, as fun as analyzing data all day sounds and as helpful as it is, getting to have a job that doesn’t come home with me is probably my favorite part of it.”

you nodded along like you understood. and maybe you didn’t do a good enough job at being convincing because simone sighed.

“i wanted to wait to ask this, but i can’t hold it in any longer. how’re you holding up?”

it took you several seconds to answer her question. your mouth open and closed multiple times. “i— i don't know.” you sank back into your seat and picked at your cuticles. “it’s been a shitty few months,” you admitted. “you’d think i’d be over it by now.

simone shook her head and leaned in, arms braced on the table. “you two were together for a decade, what’s a few months in comparison to that?”

you shrugged. “i saw him the other night, when i went out drinking with the other bridesmaids. it was like, i don't know, i got dunked in an ice bath or something. he looked completely unaffected and i couldn’t breathe.”

simone whispered your name.

“but i’m fine!” you asserted. “i’m trying to be.”

simone nodded. “so what do you do now?”

you could’ve kissed her feet for the change in topic. “i’m working in the art restoration and conservation field.”

simone blinked. “you’re restoring art? do you like it?”

you shrugged. “most days, it can get repetitive, but that’s what i like.”

your friend sighed and fixed you with a soft, sympathetic look. “but is that what you want to do for the rest of your life? restoring someone else’s art? doing something repetitive? you are so talented, i hate to see you wasting that talent restoring someone else’s work.”

“it’s not a waste! it’s incredibly difficult and some things deserve to be preserved.”

“but some new things deserve to be created.” simone leaned in closer, her forearms braced on the table. “i think it would do you some good to start creating something again, even if it’s shitty. and you think you aren’t ready, just try something new. a new bar, a new hobby, a new man, something new.”

your stomach twisted at the thought of going on a date with someone other than matt, but simone was right. it had been six months and he seemed to be doing fine, it was your turn to start moving on, to find yourself again.

so you nodded. “we should do this more often,” you said. “i’ve missed you.”

simone smiled. “i’ve missed you too, i’m glad you’re home.”

you talked for another hour about everything the two of you had missed over the years of you being elsewhere before she had to leave and relieve the nanny at home. simone hugged you goodbye and texted you her new number before she left the coffee shop. 

the drive home was quiet because you were pondering the things she’d said. you weren’t sure you were ready for making your own art, you sure as hell weren’t ready to go on a date. but maybe you should try.

maybe you were ready to put yourself first for once.

before

the biggest argument you’d had with matt was after you found out he wasn’t playing at notre dame at all, he was going to play for calgary.

you felt so stupid for committing to that school when you should’ve known your boyfriend was talented enough to skip it altogether. maybe you should’ve taken a gap year, then you wouldn’t have to be doing even more long distance in two different countries.

the two of you never argued, or maybe never was too strong of a word. you hardly ever had a disagreement if you thought about it long enough. most of the time, you suppressed the disappointment and the anger, shoving it to the side because you were surely being dramatic.

but now you were standing off to the side, waiting for your name to be called to cross the stage at your high school graduation, and you wished you’d said something to convince matthew to delay settling into his new calgary apartment with one of his teammates.

but you swallowed your disappointment and pride and just dealt with the fact that he wouldn’t be there.

it was fine.

just high school.

you were snapped out of your reverie when your name was called. you smiled and walked across the stage. when you dreamt of this exact moment, you always thought you’d walk with grace, that all noise would cease to exist as you honed in on the sheet of paper you’d spent the last 13 years working towards.

but it wasn’t like that.

because you heard one specific voice above all the others. as your principal handed you the diploma, your eyes searched the crowd and saw him.

matthew standing up and yelling with his family next to him. he had a sign, the words you couldn’t read because there were tears forming in your water line. he was pointing at you and kept yelling and clapping, hooting and hollering like it was his full time job. your parents were smiling, though they were seated, and your grandparents were stone faced clapping like they were at the masters tournament.

so you kept your eyes on him, even as you walked back to your seat. you might have stumbled, tripped even, but all you could see, all you could feel was him.

you were back in your seat by the time the person calling out the names spoke again.

“please hold your applause until the end.”

you could hear his scoff, even from your seat.

your leg bounced for the rest of the graduation ceremony. you didn’t even register the turning of your tassel. you just couldn’t wait for it to be over so you could be in matt’s arms.

as soon as the ceremony concluded, matt was shoving his way past families, nearly taking out an elderly gentleman in his quest to get to you. on the other hand, you were being pushed to move farther away from him as the procession of students filed out of the gym. you kept looking over your shoulder to find him, but it looked like brady had caught up to him, wrangling his older brother to follow the crowds outside.

“outside!” brady pointed.

you nodded.

as soon as you got through the gym doors, you were booking it outside into the sunlight. it blinded you momentarily, but you whipped your phone out seconds later to see if matt had texted you where he’d be. you pulled up his contact and were seconds away from calling him when arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you up into the air.

a squeal left your lips until he set you down a moment later. you spun around in his arms and before you could say anything, matthew was kissing you like no one else was around.

when the two of you finally needed air, you pulled away. “i thought you were in calgary!”

matthew scoffed though there was a large smile on his lips. “you thought i’d miss my favorite girl’s graduation? calgary can wait, your high school graduation only happens once.”

“i’m glad you’re here,” you whispered. 

“me too, baby.”

unfortunately, matt pulled away so you could hug your parents and even your grandparents who were standing off to the side. taryn and brady pulled you into a group hug afterwards, with taryn going on a tangent about all the fun things the two of you would have to do before you left for school.

but brady was taking your graduation cap off your head to ruffle your hair as matt grabbed your purse and took your car keys out. keith and chantal were offering to pay for a celebratory lunch while your grandparents gave an irish goodbye. your parents were smiling, you were tucked into matt’s side, and brady and taryn were bickering and—

everything was perfect.

you wanted to freeze that moment, that sensation in your chest, take the saccharine feeling and bottle it up and store it on your bookshelf. 

and if you could’ve, you would’ve savored the sensation of matt’s lips pressed to your temple while both of your dads discussed the best route to get to the restaurant.

but you had no idea how the future would turn out.

you thought matt was forever.

after

you were on a double date, or at least, hyping yourself up to go into the bar and meet up with simone, her husband, and a friend of theirs. you didn’t want to be a bitch, but you also didn’t want to send yourself into a panic attack. simone had suggested just entertaining something with someone, didn’t even have to be serious, it could just be sex.

you could do that, right?

just casual sex?

the thought was nauseating. you’d only slept with matthew, no one knew your body like he did and—

you stopped yourself before you could go down that rabbit hole.

your hands shook as you stepped out of your car and locked it. maybe you should’ve gotten an uber, but then again, you weren’t really planning on drinking like that. you were hoping you’d still be sober enough to go home.

the music in the bar shockingly wasn’t as loud as you expected. it wasn’t the bass bumping, ass grinding bar like the ones matt used to take you to after games. even still, your palms started sweating as you looked around. you spotted simone’s natural hair across the room and made your way towards her. 

her husband, stephen, stood to greet you first, followed by simone, then lastly your date. a guy named andrew who was a partner at his firm, the youngest on his team.

his handshake was firm, but there were no calluses on his palm. his hair was slicked back with what you guessed was a pomade.

he was so unlike matthew it was alarming.

but maybe it was for the best.

you smiled and took your seat next to simone, you sipped on the water in front of you.

“we didn’t want to order drinks without you just yet.”

“thank you,” you mumbled just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“it’s nice to finally meet you,” andrew started. “simone spoke highly of you. she said you’ve been friends since middle school.”

you felt bad because simone didn’t really say much to you about him. if you were a gambler, you’d assume it was because she didn’t want you to back out. you barely even knew him and you were already comparing him to matt.

which wasn’t fair, you knew that. andrew deserved to be a human without the baggage of your last and only relationship determining how you viewed him.

you would try, at the very least for simone. at the very most, you’d try for yourself.

“nice to meet you too. i heard you’re a partner at your law firm? how is that going?”

oh god. you were so bad at this. asking about work on a friday night?

but he smiled. his teeth were perfectly straight and white. you'd bet your last dollar that he'd never needed braces, not like you did.

you hated yourself for thinking of the gap between matthew’s teeth.

“it’s going well,” he said. “lot of work, but i managed to get enough done this week that my friday was free. i wanted to meet the ‘best artist on planet earth,’ according to simone.”

“oh i don’t know about that,” you flushed.

simone scoffed. “don’t downplay yourself.” she turned to look at andrew. “you should see the art she created in high school as a teenager. it was so impressive.”

“what medium do you like working with the most?” he asked.

“mostly acrylic.”

andrew’s eyes lit up. “do you have any photos of your art? i’d love to see your work.”

you shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed at all the attention. “i don’t really paint like that anymore. i work in art conservation now, not a whole lot of time to create something new.”

“that’s such a unique career! what does your average day look like?” andrew leaned forward a little and took a sip of his water.

you told him a little bit about what you did. about how you spent hours hunched over a painting and fixing the smallest problems in hopes it would satisfy the client.

“you must’ve gone to some prestigious art school for that. if you don’t mind me asking, where did you go to college?”

your spine stiffened. “university of calgary.”

and just like you anticipated, his face twisted in confusion. there was no logical reason you should’ve gone out of the country for a regular school. it would be one thing if you went to an art institute, but you didn’t.

“why calgary?” he asked. “seems a bit random, if you don’t mind me asking.”

you shifted in your seat and wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat in a sorry attempt to get the lump out, that you spoke. “it’s a long story,” you said. “thought i had a future in calgary.”

andrew, to his credit, knew when to not ask questions and changed the subject immediately.

the rest of the night passed in a blur. you were only halfway present, your mind reeling at how you wasted those years in calgary waiting for a man who would dump you as soon as he moved to a warmer state.

he, quite literally, left you in the cold.

andrew offered to walk you to your car, an offer you accepted because it was dark and st. louis.

“i had a great time tonight,” he said. “it was really nice to meet you. you’re even better than simone and stephen said.”

you gave him a small smile. “it was nice to meet you too.”

andrew shifted on his feet. for a moment, he didn’t look the part of the youngest partner at his law firm, he looked like a boy. “i was hoping maybe you’d want to do this again? maybe get some dinner?”

your throat felt like someone had force fed you cotton balls. but then you thought about how pathetic your life had been the last six months, how pathetic it was going to be when you flew to new jersey to be in the same bridal party as your ex.

you refused to be pathetic any longer.

which is probably why you smiled (albeit shakily) and said yes.

before

you were bouncing on your toes in the hallway as you waited for matt. it was a brutal game, and he spent a good portion of it in the penalty box, mostly for minor things, but one incident was for fighting. which wasn’t atypical, but you’d never seen him that keyed up before.

and given his reputation, there were any number of things that could’ve caused the fight itself. two weeks ago, matt had fought someone for being too forceful with one of his teammates, which after years of watching the game, was on par with the sport and your boyfriend.

because he fought so much, you weren’t necessarily surprised whenever he did. sure, you flinched when he was punched, knowing how badly it would bruise, praying to whatever higher power existed that he would still have all his teeth. but usually, matt wasn’t trying to fight everyone on the ice at all times.

tonight was different.

safe to say, you were a little anxious waiting for him to come out.

you weren’t exactly sure about what was said on the ice to get him so riled up. the worst you’d seen was when someone on the other team said something about taryn. you used to think that was the angriest you ever saw him. and it was.

until tonight.

you could feel the energy rolling off of him in waves as he exited the locker room. usually, after a win, matt is relaxed and easy going, but despite the victory from tonight, he was tense and pent up, frustrated even.

“hey,” you said, meeting him halfway.

matthew didn’t respond, just dropped his bag and wrapped you up in a hug, tucking his head into the space where your neck met your shoulder.

“you okay?” you asked.

he nodded. he squeezed your waist once before letting go, taking your hand instead. “ready to go?”

the car ride was silent minus the music matthew had playing through the aux. his hand rested on your thigh, though the grip was particularly tighter than normal, especially after a win. part of you wanted to ask, the other part not wanting to spoil the rest of the night with your curiosity.

but this was the man you loved. and it hurt you to see him this upset.

normally, you would’ve left well enough alone, but you were going back to notre dame in two days and didn’t want to spend the rest of your time walking on eggshells around him. you couldn’t help him if you didn’t know what was wrong.

“what happened?” you asked when the car came to a stop at a light.

“nothing,” he grunted.

“your team won and you’re still grumpy, matthew. so tell me, what happened? i want to help you.”

“there’s nothing to help.”

“matthew,” you groaned. “i’m only here for two days, can you just be honest with me? i don’t wanna waste the rest of my trip with you being upset when i can help you—”

“then go back to indiana!” he all but yelled, ripping his hand off your thigh so he could shove it through his disheveled hair.

your jaw dropped. in all the years you’d known matt, he'd never talked to you that way. and you weren’t starting a bad habit by letting him think he could ever do it again. you unbuckled your seat belt and grabbed your bag. you tugged on the handle of the door. “i’ll see you at home,” you said.

matt scoffed. “don’t be dramatic.”

“i’m not being ‘dramatic,’ matthew. you’re being an asshole.” you braced yourself for the cold as the door opened and let in a cold breeze.

matthew called your name, but you ignored him and slammed the car door shut. it was a little petty, considering how matt had berated his siblings over the same thing.

a car honked, probably because the light had turned green and matt was still sitting at the light, looking at you.

a cold wind blew and for a moment, you thought about hopping back in the car with matt, but he was pulling away and your pride wasn’t ready to take a hit just yet.

his car sped away until, with an efficiency you only wish you had, he parallel parked in a spot just up the road.

“get in the car,” he called, slamming his car door shut. “it’s too cold for you to be proving a point.”

“and what point am i trying to prove, matthew?” you asked over your shoulder.

you kept walking.

“would you please stop walking and just get back in the car?”

you kept walking.

a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, you might’ve shrieked had it not been gentle, had you not recognized the scent of matt’s cologne.

gently, he turned you around.

“baby, just get in the car. you don’t even have to talk to me. don't even have to look at me if you don’t want to. i’ll sleep on the couch or something, but it’s not safe for you to be walking home alone.” he ran his thumb back and forth over your pulse point in a soothing manner.

you kept your eyes on his hand. “what happened during the game?

he sighed, shoulders sagging like they were tired from carrying the weight of the world. “they were talking shit.”

you blinked. “and that’s different....how?”

with the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, matthew pinched the bridge of his nose. “they were talking shit about you. saying you deserved better and shit.”

“matthew, you know that’s not true—”

“they called you names.” his voice was dark, angrier than you'd ever heard before. “things i’m not comfortable repeating.”

a shiver went down your spine, for matt to be that upset made you uncomfortable. you didn’t want to think about what they said, you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer.

“well,” you said, voice feeling small and weak in your throat. “well, we know it’s not true, so it doesn’t matter.” you tried to make your way back to the car, but matt’s grip on your wrist stopped you.

“but it does matter,” he insisted. “what they said, i get it wasn't true, you and i both know that. but i’m not gonna let anyone talk shit about you, i don’t care who they are.”

your eyes finally met his own and in the blue you saw determination and conviction there. you started towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“i love you, matty.”

he kissed the top of your head. “love you more.”

after

“where are you going?” your mom asked from the couch.

your dad looked up from his james patterson book to squint at your outfit: a square neck black dress. “are you going out?” he chimed in.

you felt sheepish, like the fifteen year old girl going on her first solo date, no parents picking her up because matt just got his license. “remember that guy i went on a double date with?”

“with simone and her husband?” you mom asked.

you nodded. “we’re going out again, just us tonight.”

your mother gave you a small smile while you dad kept staring. “have fun, sweetheart.”

your dad, however, put his book down and looked at you above the rim of his glasses. “are you gonna be okay?”

“alan, this will be good for her!”

but your dad’s eyes never left your face. “you’ll call if you need something?”

“andrew’s a good guy, dad.” or at least, you were assuming so. you’d only met the guy one other time and he seemed alright.

but you could see the look in your father’s eyes, you could hear what he wasn’t saying.

so was matthew.

you swallowed and nodded at your parents. your phone pinged with a notification that your uber was outside. “i’ll be back.”

the drive to the bar was silent. usually, you wouldn’t have taken an uber, but you were unsure how drunk you would get tonight. the date could go well, it could be everything you wanted, even if all you wanted was matthew. 

but you were prepared for the worst. you were prepared to drink until you couldn’t see straight just to get through the night.

andrew was a nice guy, but he wasn’t who you wanted.

and you hated yourself for it.

the uber pulled up to the bar. and simply because he didn’t kidnap or talk to you, you gave the driver five stars.

andrew was waiting at a high top table for you, a glass of water ready to go. you waved at him and carefully made your way across the room, avoiding people and drinks and people with drinks.

“hey,” he greeted.

you gave him a small smile. “hi.”

“was traffic bad on your way here? i wasn’t sure, given that it’s friday and what not.”

you shook your head. “not too bad.” 

c’mon, think of something. say something. anything.

“crazy busy tonight, huh?” you wanted to facepalm. that was what you came up with? all the words in the world and that was what you—

“yeah,” andrew cut off your mental tirade. “i think some famous guys are here tonight, heard murmurs of it.”

you nearly broke out into a cold sweat. “d-do you know who?”

andrew shrugged. “i didn’t ask, i just heard someone talking about it when i was getting a drink.” then, like he finally realized, he snapped. “do you want anything? i can grab it for you.”

you gave him your drink order with a smile. he tapped the table with his knuckles before promising he'd be right back.

you traced the grain of the table with your finger, allowing it to feel the grooves and water stains left from other customers. it felt awkward, sitting by yourself with no one to talk to. andrew said he'd be back, but the bar was busy, it could be ten, fifteen minutes before he'd come back.

your phone buzzed.

simone: 

how’s it going?

you smiled despite yourself. 

you:

he’s nice. he went to get me a drink.

you put your phone down to look around the bar. it was busier than normal, or at least, what you thought was normal.

you were scrolling through your social media feeds when andrew finally came back. he had your drink in hand with a smile on his face.

“sorry, the line took forever,” he said.

you glanced at the bar to see a small crowd of people. “doesn’t surprise me,” you said. “friday’s are usually busy.”

“yeah especially when there’s two hockey players in town. heard someone at the bar talking about it, thought you might wanna know. simone said you were a fan?”

your stomach dropped to your feet. you took a hefty sip of your drink to avoid andrew seeing a frown on your face. there was a chance that it was a blues player still in town, but your gut knew better. if you were a betting woman, you'd bet your last dollar on it being brady and matt.

you wanted to throw up.

instead, you chugged the drink.

“whoa, you okay?” andrew’s eyes widened a little, maybe in concern, but there was something about the smirk on his face that said otherwise.

you gave him a shaky smile. “just fine. can i get another drink?”

he smiled immediately and got up to get you another.

and another.

and another.

your vision was blurring a little when you tried to cut yourself off, even as andrew was sliding another glass in front of you. you threw the drink back again, not even blinking at it.

matt and brady could be here. it was too soon to see them again, you weren't prepared to see them again. maybe if you drank enough, you’d black out and forget all about tonight.

but then andrew was grabbing your elbow, he was leading you towards the door, encroaching upon your personal space. his lips were on your neck, whispers of what he had planned for you.

your skin crawled, you wanted him off of you, but your arms were sluggish, you were tripping over your feet and he was the only thing holding you up.

“no,” you slurred. “lemme go.”

but he either didn’t hear you or was ignoring you because he kept dragging you to the door.

then the panic set in.

it felt like it came out of nowhere, but maybe the surmounting panic was always there like a loyal friend. you tried squirming out of his grip, shoving at his chest, but the panic was building the longer he held onto you. your head was shaking furiously, your mouth doing its best to protest, but it was like the alcohol made your tongue heavy.

“lemme go—” you tried shoving one more time before you heard a shout in the distance. 

“hey!” you weren’t aware of the people around you being shoved to the side, you were unaware of the rage surrounding you. you were unaware until andrew was ripped away and you were being shoved into another body.

“matt hey—”

brady. you were right, brady was here.

god you loved brady.

“brady?” you slurred, smiling lazily up at him. “you’re here! why’re you here?”

with one arm, brady kept you pressed to him, but he wasn’t acknowledging you. his eyes were focused on his brother holding the collar of your date.

oh. your date.

there was no rhyme or reason for the feeling of horror that washed over you when you realized what almost happened before matt and brady showed up.

you were gonna throw up.

or pass out.

you weren’t sure when you started hyperventilating, but it felt like the walls were closing in. was the music always this loud? was matt always that loud when yelling? you wouldn’t know, he hardly ever yelled at you—

“hey,” brady’s gentle voice sounded it your ear, but it was like you were hearing it from underwater. “hey, breathe, it’s okay. you’re safe now.”

the funny thing about hyperventilating is no one wants to be hyperventilating. it’s similar to worrying in that telling someone to stop worrying is ineffective. brady telling you to breathe wasn’t helping because it wasn’t like you wanted to be light headed and struggling to get oxygen.

your mind was just racing with the thoughts of what almost happened.

were your hands shaking? or was the world just rocky? was it the alcohol? why did andrew give you so much? was he planning on—

oh god.

oh god.

“matt!” brady’s voice again sounding like a deep echo in a cave, one you could barely hear. “matt, i think he got the point, she needs you.”

did you?

but it didn’t matter what you thought, because you were being gently pulled into a pair of arms you would’ve recognized anywhere. you could be deaf, blind, and mute, you could’ve had your nose plugged so you couldn’t smell his aftershave and you still would’ve known it was matt. his arms were the only ones that felt like home.

maybe it was the way your head tucked under his chin perfectly, or the way you could hold your own hand when you wrapped your arms around his waist. maybe it was the way matt tried to fit you into his ribcage whenever he hugged you.

“hey,” his voice was quiet, hoarse from the yelling probably. “you’re okay, i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna hurt you, not while i’m here.” his lips were on the top of your head, mumbling the words into your hair.

“he—he was gonna—”

matt was shushing you, running a hand up and down your back. “do you wanna go outside? get some fresh air?” you nodded against his chest, a place you used to lay your head on at night.

matt walked you outside, brady not far behind. he was supporting most of your weight. you were still incredibly drunk even if the event that just happened sobered you up a little.

your hands were still shaking, your knees a little weak, though you weren’t sure what the original cause of that was. if it was from alcohol, the sleazy date, or just being held by your ex, you weren’t sure.

what a year tonight has been.

your heartbeat slowed down as you listened to matt’s. his hand continued to rub your back in long lines.

“you’re okay,” he continued to say. “i’m not gonna leave you. you’re safe right here, baby.”

your heart soared at the pet name until gravity kicked in and you were right back where you started.

rock bottom.

you pushed away from matt, now that your heart rate had decreased. you stumbled a bit from the lack of stability, but you managed to right yourself before matt could get his hands on you to help you balance.

“you okay?” he asked.

“no,” you mumbled, shaking your head despite the world feeling like it was spinning too fast already. “no. i’m not okay.”

matt took a step towards you, it was like watching a film in slow motion, seeing his face fall as you immediately took a step back.

“baby i—”

“stop! stop calling me that!” you yelled even as your words slurred, throwing your hands up in the air before pulling at your hair. “you—you don’t get to call me that, not anymore. and you certainly don’t get to ride in like some white knight coming to my rescue either!”

“what’re you—” he cut himself off before running a hand down his face. “he was going to hurt you, i wasn’t going to let that happen!”

maybe it was the alcohol that made you more honest than normal. “why? you don’t seem to care what happens anyway?”

“what the hell are you talking about? i would never let someone hurt you, not if i can stop it.”

“but you had no problem hurting me? leaving me in a country alone?”

matt’s jaw dropped. “you can’t seriously be comparing the two. he—he almost—he had every intention of—” but he kept cutting himself off. and by the looks of his clenched fists, it was hurting him more just thinking about it.

and he was right, what almost happened with andrew and what actually happened at the hands of matt were two different things, but it hurt more from matt, the man who swore he’d be at your side, to love you through it all. he’d dropped you like a bad habit and was expecting everything to be normal again? like you hadn’t spent over half your life completely in love with him?

you sighed, your shoulders sagged, all fight evaporating your body once more. “thanks for help, i’ll see you around.” you turned on your heel and nearly ran into brady, whom you forgot was even there.

“let me drive you home,” brady said. “‘s the least i could do.”

brady at least let you sit shotgun this time, with matt in the back. and when he pulled up to your house, matt was the one to walk you to the door like he had many times before.

“can we talk?” he asked. “sometime this week? or next? or whenever you're free?”

you looked at him, really looked at him. his hands shook at his sides and you longed to hold them in your own to steady them like he did for you earlier. “why’re you doing this to me? why can’t you just leave me be?”

matt stared at you before he pressed his lips together. he looked off to the side almost like he was looking at brady waiting in the car or a scrap of self control, or maybe just the right words to say. “i don’t think i’m capable of letting you go.”

your voice caught on the words in your throat. “i need you to try, matt. because i can’t keep doing this. you can’t call me baby when i’m not your baby anymore.”

he nodded. “just one conversation, i promise.”

you should say no. you should just let it go, but you didn’t think you could deny matt anything if he really asked for it. “okay,” you said. “just one conversation.”

[bam-stroker]

Stuck in the middle with you

@betweenblackberrybranches, ok you got me with the rlgl au. Here is my silly drabble for it!

I guess I'd say this is a suggestive/PG-13 level because Sun is smooching/getting smooches. But otherwise not much spice and all clownery. Just like have yakety sax or something playing in the distance

Well this was a problem. 

You should have been paying better attention to the time. Maybe if you hadn’t stayed up all night falling down a wiki rabbit hole you would have been a little more mentally present. Sharp and ready to duck and dive your way out. But no. 

You had gone into Sun’s room thinking you had enough time to grab the bucket and mop you forgot in there by accident. After cleaning up Moon’s mess earlier your mind was too busy celebrating the success you happily marched off to lunch. And left the stupid mop and bucket behind. Nothing says high class like getting wined and dined in front of a beat up old mop and bucket.

You run your hand over your eyes and hold in the groan of frustration that desperately wanted to rise up. 

So here you are, hiding behind a curtain a good distance away from the door.

You had managed to hear the door handle turn just in time to hide away with the cleaning tools when Sun and his customer stepped in. Laughter and murmuring following along their path to the couch deeper in the room. 

You’re 10 minutes deep into this hiding and have two choices. 1) Turn into a skeleton behind this curtain, squatting in hiding until the session was done or 2) try and make a quick dash while the customer was…. More occupied. You squeeze your eyes shut and try for a third option of using your brain power alone to magically travel through space and time out of this place. You open your eyes again. Still behind the curtain. Today would not be the day you unlock your hidden magic powers. A shame.

Sun’s voice carries over from the couch and you can tell he must have shifted to be the one facing the door and curtains. 

Well. 

You hold your breath and peek one eye out as slow as possible to get a view. Your hunch had been correct, Sun would now be the only one to really see you. The customer’s back fully to you and the door. It is also in that moment where said customer leans in to kiss along Sun’s jaw line and he fully locks eyes with you. 

It feels like the kind of moment meant to have with a laugh track in the background. You’d laugh if the moment wasn’t terrifying for both of your job securities. 

You give a panicked bug eyed look to him and then to the door and back to him. His mouth falls open as if to say something to you, eyebrows furrowed, but quickly tries to play it off as if he’s swooning from the kisses. Clearly the acting works because the customer just slips to kissing his neck. Sun raises a hand to cradle their head to him… and prevent them from looking up without pushing past his hold. He takes his other hand to give an accusatory point your way. The gesture falling into a ‘What are you doing?! You shouldn’t be here’ kind of intention. 

You throw your hands up and shake your head furiously an, ‘Obviously I shouldn’t be here!’  right back at him. You also do a motion to try and convey that you were getting a mop. That one must not have landed because he just blinks at you in confusion. Before he can answer the customer shifts to lift their head back up and he gives all the smizing he can their way. If he could make a twinkle visual effect appear around him it would fit perfectly. “O darling, how kind. Could you maybe kiss me a little… lower?” he flutters his eyes and tries to give a bashful look to entice them. 

It works and kisses are moving to trail down his chest. He gives out sounds of encouragement, keeping a close eye on where they’re looking. Then he looks at you and gives a look back and forth from the curtain trying to say, ‘Go back to hiding there!’ You shake your head throwing your hands in an x, ‘Hell no! I want out.’ You then hold your arms in front of you doing a fake makeout with the air and point from Sun to the customer. Clearly articulating, ‘Distract them.’

And before he can object you crouch down to start sneaking your way out. 

It wasn’t really that far. Just a couple paces and you would be free. 

Sun keeps his eyes wide and open on you as you inch forward. 

“Is something wrong?” 

You freeze and Sun snaps his eyes to the customer. They only just now looked up at him, “You’re so quiet now.” He lets out a strangled laugh raising his hands to hold their face, what would seem intimate but in reality was just a way to keep them focused in on only him, “O, I just was a little lost in all the thoughts you inspire~” He leans forward a whisper away from a kiss, “Maybe I could show you some of them?”

As he swoops in for a kiss you take two large steps. The door handle so close now. 

But now you realize you’ll have to try and turn the handle as quietly as possible. You can feel sweat start to pool on your forehead under your hat. 

As your hand reaches up you watch the customer wiggle in Sun’s hold. Clearly a bit ticklish. That must not have been expected because before they open their eyes to a sweaty janitor posing like a taxidermied animal in fear, Sun throws a hand up to cover their eyes. 

His golden digits and palm the only thing keeping you out of sight. “Oho! Ticklish I see? Well, why don’t we make this a little game.” The customer giggles clearly taken by the flirt. Sun stares daggers at you and gives a single gesture with his free hand, ‘OUT. NOW.’ 

And as you turn the handle he lets out a flurry of flirty giggles pinning the customer to the couch. Their own laughter is loud enough to hide the click of the door shutting behind you. 

You stand facing the hall… A deep inhale and exhale. Adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

And then you realize you left the mop and bucket behind the curtain. 

“...Shit…”

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 25/8

Aw, thank you! Sometimes I actually think I overdo it a little - that my dives are a little too deep. This is how I consume media IRL, though, so if nothing else, it's authentic.

The Battlefield is definitely growing. The spatial warping makes it hard to measure how much it's growing, so it could definitely be exponential, especially if we keep adding higher dimensions.

As for how Jack matches up against Bec - Jack is definitely smarter, but he's also a lot more vulnerable, since losing the Ring will render him powerless. He'd have to be incredibly careful in a fight, especially against someone just as fast as he is.

I still think Bec has the edge, but his victory is far from guaranteed. I totally understand why Jade wouldn't want to risk it.

Imagine what Eridan would have said to a 'lowly greenblood' like Jade.

Yeah, there's no way trolls have therapy.

I hate to say it, but the Alternian version of therapy is probably moirallegiance. You're supposed to rely on this one person to keep you emotionally stable - and if you're not outgoing or charismatic enough to find a moirail, you don't even have that.

Of course, this system has nothing in common with the relationship dynamics of any culture on Earth. We really dodged a bullet there!

Gamzee really leans into the 'court jester' aspect of being a bard. He doesn't take anything seriously, nor is he expected to do so - he's just off to the side, dancing.

Yeah, my prediction is that Vriska is going to use him.

If she can manipulate Tavros into trying to control Jack, she might actually be able to remove his Ring. I speculated that she might use some sort of cheat to gain an advantage in their fight, and I think we may have found it.

He casually controls Becsprite later on, so I don't think he needs their goals to align.

As for why Bec didn't try to save Jade - I think he knew instinctually that someone was going to make him save her, so he didn't need to do it manually. That's Alpha, baby!

I can't tell if I've reached the controversial part, to be honest. Was there discourse about whether Tavros had done anything wrong?

Personally, I think it's hard to argue that he didn't, but other characters have done much worse - and in much more ambiguous scenarios, too.

Lord English is coming, send help plz

Thank you! It's kind of funny actually - I know that Homestuck's irregular update schedule used to drive people mad, but I'm reading it at a similar pace, with similar irregularities, and it really has been a chill experience on my end.

Maybe it's because I'm not participating in the fandom the way live readers were, and therefore, I'm not subject to the weapons-grade hiatus brain that Cat has war stories about.

Poor Kanaya - she really knows how to pick 'em. Rose is definitely less stressful to crush on than Vriska, though.

I recently saw this quote for the first time in a while. Excited to learn which of the comic's several thousand plot points it's referencing.

@spyril4132 asked: i have seen this in my youtube recommendations and must now share [s] descend but with silvagunner's high quality nuclear rip - YouTube

Legitimately amazing, and perfectly timed.

For anyone doesn't know about Silvagunner, please take a dip down this rabbit hole.

I do wonder how she's getting physical details about the Sun. Isn't it, like, fully outside of conventional reality?

Maybe the Sun is physically real, despite being in an unreal location. Technically, that's also the case with sessions.

I do like the 'music player' metaphor from an earlier ask. You don't necessarily have to use discs - a cassette player is also a good choice, or maybe an older variety of music box.

If you want to stretch the symbolism a little, your Time Player could wield something really kooky, like an iPod Nano, MIDI keyboard, or analog radio.

(Sally the Time Player would wield Rhythm Heaven for the Nintendo DS.)

It's been years since I've watched Primer, actually. I remember enjoying it, but I don't recall enough to give a proper review. Rewatch time!

Yeah, the rules for Captcha codes are all over the place. This example implies that they hold the general idea of an object, without any 'corruption' - but when John's Ghost Dad poster was defaced, its code did change.

The implication, I guess, is that defacing a poster counts as changing its nature, but spilling oil on a pogo ride does not. It's weird.

It is odd that it's marketed as a beta. Sburb and Sgrub seem almost identical, the latter's bifurcated session notwithstanding.

The human session failed, yes - but it failed due to manipulation, sabotage, and a generous helping of terrible luck. If Gamzee prototyped one of his clown posters, Jack's regicide could just as easily have happened in Sgrub.

All that said - when it comes to software development, I'd trust Sollux over Grandpa any day. If one of those games is more stable, it's Sgrub.

Alright, that one's actually pretty great lmao

[comicaurora]

Question, from one aspiring writer to another: how do you manage to maintain the drive to keep writing and how do you not lose interest in what you've created before it's done? Asking because I need advice.

Tricky question. I don't think it has a single answer.

For me personally, there are a few things that buoy up my enthusiasm:

Rabbit Holes - random deep-dives into topics I find incredibly interesting. Because I have so many outlets for my rants about highly specific cool things, I don't need to stifle any random hyperfixations because almost all of them can be turned into scripts or worldbuilding concepts. If I feel the enthusiasm strike, I chase it down as far as I can and take as many notes as possible along the way. However, these things work like lightning strikes and I can't just get randomly super interested in any one thing. Almost all of my longform videos start out as these.

Comedic Reframing - the bread and butter of the channel and the lifehack that let my poor brain actually focus on extremely long and boring books through college. It's easier for me to retain information and enthusiasm if I can find humor in what I'm dealing with on a smaller scale. When working on illustrating videos, for instance, the way I avoid burning out on individual frames is by making sure they have witty dialogue or fun character moments, because I genuinely enjoy drawing those a lot more than just "character moves into position" or "scene change" shots. Same goes for the comic - the more dynamic or interesting the pose, the more interesting the panel is to draw and the easier it is for me to stay jazzed.

Audience Feedback - I feel like this part is simultaneously understated and overstated in different ways. Creating art solely for the accolades it might garner is seen as generally both gauche and inefficient - it'll turn into an existentially draining losing battle like all pursuit of fame for fame's sake does - but any writer or artist will tell you that people losing their minds over their art is the number one way to guarantee they want to make more art. When drawing the comic, even when I'm lower energy, I'll often think to myself "oh man, they're gonna be yelling about this panel" and that'll help give me a boost. Early on in the comic I read through the discord discussions almost every day, but now I'm mostly sustained just from people yelling in my askbox.

Letting The Characters Run Wild - I've mentioned this elsewhere, but one of the most fun parts of writing for me is when the characters kinda tap me on the shoulder and say "hey boss, I really wanna do this". Their character-moment is almost always spicier, more complicated and more interesting than whatever plot-serving guideline it's replacing. Making the characters act as automatons that solely move the plot forward is less interesting for me as a writer than turning them loose and seeing the havoc they cause. Before I ever put pen to paper for this story, half my fun would just be playing out extremely fraught conversations and encounters between characters - no script, no plan, just "here's the premise and GO." Lots of stories start out as daydreams, and daydreams are like the purest form of energizing creation, existing only for the joy of the creator and thus flowing almost effortlessly; I think it's important to retain the heart of that when the daydreams start being set down on paper. If it's not a little self-indulgent it's not gonna be too much fun, and sometimes all it takes is letting the characters do the wild thing with consequences you haven't fully worked out yet.

In my experience, the thing I enjoy most as a creator is solving puzzles. I have more fun writing my story when I only mostly know where it's going, and I have to work out the most interesting consequences to my characters' unexpected actions. I have more fun drawing out a joke if the punchline didn't even occur to me before I started the frame, because the idea is fresh and fun and hasn't gone stale from sitting in my head too long. And my enthusiasm for my older work is reinvigorated when I see how other people respond to it, because it lets me almost see my own work through fresh eyes, which is a rare treat for any creator.

And when I get really worn down, I treat that like a sign that something needs readjusting. I don't force it when I'm worn out or can't bear to look at my tablet - I step back, take a break, take a walk, indulge in Floor Time, watch a movie, buy a coffee, do something that isn't trying to floor the accelerator when I'm stuck in a creative snowdrift. Sometimes that means putting a project down for months. Sometimes that means realizing I wouldn't actually be able to make a project happen because it'd be draining my will to live the whole time.

I sometimes use the metaphor that a creator's mind is like a garden. Its works need to be cultivated, but sometimes they also need to be left alone, or maybe the soil needs to be actively left fallow for a while. It may look like the project isn't doing anything, when in actuality it's spreading its roots and developing a much more solid foundation where you can't see it. Maybe two concepts cross-pollinate in an unexpected way and you get a new third thing to cultivate. But the most important part of this metaphor is that the well-being of every individual thing growing in the garden is heavily dependent on the heart of the garden overall. If you aren't doing okay, your art isn't going to be okay either. If it's feeling like a fruitless and nothing is growing, you might just need rain. Or nitrogen-fixers.

[sharonisthebettercarter]

Slipknot Vermillion Butchlander.

FUCK. YES.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH~<3<3<3 buckle in buckle in y'all cause this about to be a DOOZY<3!!

songs if ya hadn't heard them~<3 (def give them a listen, pt.2 is like an acoustic version, both lovely~<3, same general themes tho different vibes which-- ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

anywho~<3

FIRST OF ALL. YES. absolutable~<3

you beautiful beautiful little monster, this is PERFECT. okay, okay, yes, i'm getting too excited lmao. BUTT--

"I won't let this build up inside a me--"

this is an absolutely perfect opportunity for a deep dive into billy's psyche, psychosis, and an incredible exploration of psychological horror~<3

and it starts~?

with a *married* butchlander<3<3<3 OOH~<3!! (altho fair to use for for other ships with butcher, just doesn't get to the same level of psychological turmoil from the whole *husband is the villain* thing--;)))))))))) ANYWHO<3

basically butcher and homie are in a loving, *healthy* relationship. john is a good husband. maybe they even have ryan<3 or a little baby in billy's belly on the way<3<3<3 (or both~! lmao, always gotta throw that in-- ;))))))))))) a/b/o always an option, trans/intersex billy too, the world is the oyster~<3 any explanation like homie can just knock dudes up i guess lmfao--maybe that was the start-- :O ;)))))))) anyway, everything's perfect--except...

billy's having a bit of psychological... trouble. in which for some reason, his brain seems to be fabricating an entire reality with a loving and perfect wife, becca/becky--where his husband is the villain who tore them apart... and the situation in turn... starts to drive him and john apart...

and at first, of course, they'd be managing, between medications, care, brain scans, billy having nightmares and dreams, john trying to help, fighting and screaming, moments homie would have to hold billy down because he's having a meltdown, john having all the proof to keep billy from going nuclear/make it clear that he's... unwell, and that he's there for billy. maybe even a dna test to show that ryan is *theirs* and no one else's if a baby still in billy ain't enough--

but trust is wavering.

OOH, exploration into billy falling down that rabbit hole and believing it so much, he makes an effort to investigate and run away while homie always comes to get him/find him, drag him back home--and always *always*, refuse to hurt him even while billy is at his worst trying to force his hand, maybe even asking john to kill him so this doesn't continue--and again, his husband refusing.

now here's the kicker<3<3<3

this story could be done in two main ways (with expansive variations~<3, 3 if you count the middle road<3<3<3)

OOH! but before i dive into that, i should also mention that billy potentially being the *villain* in his own mind--in which he kidnaps and tortures and holds captive this *perfect* woman while john is none the wiser--ooooooohhhhhh... we'll come back to that one~<3 ;)

back on *john* being the villain in billy's mind.

"she isn't real. I can't make her real--"

and there in lies the *question*...

whether or not billy *is* experiencing psychosis and john is *actually* the villain, is it's own exploration~<3<3<3. depending on which version (regular or pt. 2), you channel the vibes of lmao

pt. 2 def feels like it could be more of a tragic rendition of this idea, where billy really *is* experiencing psychosis and john *is* a loving husband who *is* trying to help and care for billy<3

but the original...? mmm. let's just say there could be various... hints of a completely manipulated world around them--signs of a world *rewritten* or people silenced ,sides to john that he never *ever* shows to billy. certain... *things* that would certainly *imply* he is the *monster* billy's mind has made him--maybe it's billy's real memories trying to spill through whatever homelander did to him-- ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

mmmmmhmmmm~<3<3<3

BUTT, my personal fave?

*open. ended*

in which... there are... hints that might suggest one is true, and then the other, or even elements of both, but there's never truly an answer given... OOOH<3 FUCK YES. OOF, just the IDEA def gets me lol

i do feel the songs lean towards the 'she isn't real' factor (for obvious reasons lol) but for a fic~? ;))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

for variation in that exploration (and maybe an easy way to dig into the open ended vibes, but with a twisty lean~<3), maybe *most* of the 'hints' implicate one way with extremely *vague* BLINK AND YOU MISS IT hints for the *other* end, and one very *strong* hint/scene that ties together all the *vague* hints and makes them... impossible to ignore~<3

gawd i love psychological horror<3<3<3 lmao can you tell?

NOW. what about *billy* being the villain~<3?

OOOOHHHHHHH!!! now *that* one has some *real* hard potential for gut wrenching love from john<3<3<3 (i should also mention, *def* an option for psychosis with *john* there and OOF gotta stop giving myself expansions into this but it's just so FUCKING GOOD, LISTEN TO THE SONGS DAMMIT AND FEEL INSPIRED--)

similar enough deal, except with billy believing he's committed these horrible crimes to an innocent woman, a wonder of it might have been real or not and john trying to be by his side and settle his mind--and of course, the potential for a seriously covered up horrific crime because john's not about to lose his husband *for any reason*<3<3<3

maybe billy believes he committed the crime when it was really john and they covered it up together but billy--

this of course works just as lovely for the *canon compliant* show option with *john* feeling the full brunt of his psychosis--and billy trying to cover it up... *OR*... did it really happen at all? is billy right, is ryan really *their* son and there was no becky/becca?

;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

oh i know i am absolutely TERRIBLE I KNOW-- but listen. LISTEEEENNNN... I FUCKING LOVE PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR, OKAY!?!?!

anywho~<3

there's also an element of serious *danger* involved with homie being the one to experience psychosis (powers and all, def one with billy too but not nearly as savage--unless a course ya give him powers too<3), especially if homie *convinces* himself that he *is* this *monster*, and therefore *must* act as this monster.

ooh, def some dives into comics themes but it go a little somethin'... like this:

"i think, therefore i am" or cogito, ergo sum (heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyy that's a title if i ever done seen one for this one lmfao only if 'vermillion' isn't used i guess, alternatively 'cinnabar'<3)

and

"i can, therefore i must"

but the comics actually have a perfect set up for this too--OOH! it kinda goes back to that 'detective husbands' prompt lmao (expect a little different obviously) where instead of being a 'convinced i'm right when i'm wrong' dickwad billy or even *homie knows he didn't do it* (he would have to be on that edge of sanity/not know for sure for this one to work<3) we have a billy who actually legit *explores* and *investigates* what happened to becky because he *sees* that things don't add up *before* he starts actively making it worse. instead doing his own *solo* detective work~<3

maybe even stalking, meeting, getting to know homelander (*john*) personally. possibly even with the motive of finding his weakness, etc. and then tripping and landing on his dick and falling in love along the way~<3<3<3

lmao could be that billy even *abandons* the boys to get to the bottom of what really happened-- but also cause he ends up knocked up after realizing homie *was not* in fact the culprit<3<3<3

do feel the homie versions (show or comics) would deal less with the 'vermillion' vibes or i guess less chance for *open ended* horror themes, and more of a cut clean *he did it/he didn't do it* and is losing his mind sorta feel. in a sense, *becky* def *wouldn't* be real for comics homie because they never actually interacted (while the show version could be actively trying to remember her/struggling with who he *used* to be--OOH!! jason blood is def a place to look for inspo there~<3), so the tie in could be *exquisite* for sure, but it def is a slightly different feel lol

honestly might consider writing the comics/vermillion themed one (at some point, i have promised myself to other shit), it would explore billy instead of using homie as an excuse to be his worst self, homie becoming billy's excuse to hold onto what becky actually wanted for him/turn homie good (which is cute and sad in it's own way but could be SO fucking precious<3) and that would be some GOOD shit<3<3<3

FUCK! this is probably gonna build up inside a me i--

[ko-existing]

https://x.com/postdisclosure?s=21

Do u think aliens exist? I saw this profile on twitter and i thought maybe aliens were spreading non dualism to make us go crazy or spiral out of control 😭😭😭

You promise your not some malevolent alien???

Im only 13 and shifting realities has ruined my life and taken away my innocence. I just keep going down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. Im insatiable right now. I just wanna know whats real. 😭😭

Literally from "no concepts," to loa, to shifting, astral projection, alien, conspiracy theories, demons, alchemy, angels, folk spiritual practices, witchcraft....ever since I was 11 and came across shiftok I dove deep into all these esoteric studies

And while "no concepts" feels the best, when you chnaged your pfp I got scared 😭😭😭 because it happened when I came across this community of people that think aliens are gonna come for disclosure and theyre not sure if theyre good or bad, but that humanity needs to know. It was such a stupid synchronicity...maybe i dreamed up this way...because im so scared of all this crazy esoteric knowledge i know now. All my friends think im crazy, but they also think its cool, but also dont have the mental fortitude to dive as deeply as i did 😭😭😭 im all alone

Theres these beings that esoteric people on 4chan talk about, theyre called mantids and they can control your brains😭😭😭 theyre partially aliens

Idk what to believe, but again, i even tried witchcraft and spell work, and astrology. EVERYTHING over these past two years to find out the truth of reality. I have over a terabyte of files worth of esoteric knowledge. And i still don't know!!! I wish i never came across tiktok and did this deep dive into the unknown. I wish I had just been a normal middle schooler

I wish i just found loa and non dualism first

Do you have any advice? I know, I think u might be an alien. But ur probs not lol.

My parents and grandparents cant even help...all they care about is work and keeping our lives organized. My mom and dad told me im just going down rabbit holes for no reason. My family laughs that im into all this esoteric stuff. I actually think they think its a cool quirk in the family. So shallow😭😭😭😭😭😭 im too young for this mental illness

But its too late, I know too much...

Any other no concepts people, please say anything to this post

Ur guys words have been the thing that makes the most sense. But this awakening/noticing is intense and nobody around me is going through this 💔❤️‍🩹😭🫶🏻

jesus christ???????

1. Anon with all due respect, your first question.. if you know i'm an AV/" " account, where does the belief in aliens fit in?

2. In a slightly concerning tone, don't you see how out of touch all of this sounds?

3. At your young age of 13 you might want to stay away from social media for a bit because.. this does not sound healthy anymore😬 over a terabyte of files worth esoteric knowledge.. jesus christ

[chirpsythismorning]

What do you think about the possibility of El and Will not being exactly twins but half siblings? Maybe Lonnie was in the MK Ultra project for money and had an affair with Terry Ivis, so El was born. His sperm was affected, and Lonnie had another child with Joyce, who was born with repressed/hidden powers (I'm considering Jonathan was already born when Lonnie's balls were chernobyl'd). Then Lonnie took Will to the Lab a feel times for test, but they concluded he was born powerless, because he appeared to be a normal kid.

Upon coming across twelvegate, I did initially go down this rabbit hole! I made a shit-post about the possibility of Lonnie being both Will and El's dad, but more recently I've expanded on that evidence in an ask, discussing why I basically don't think that is the case anymore.

The main thing that makes me so confident about this, is that I'm certain Terry isn't El's 'mama'. Like pretty much 100% certain.

There are a few posts where I discuss this (here, here, here) so definitely check those out if you want a deep dive to better understand where I'm coming from with that claim.

To be fair, I did not subscribe to this up until recently. It was as if my brain blocked me from even merely considering the possibility that Terry isn’t El's mom because of how tragic her whole situation was. And so it felt almost insensitive to even speculate, I guess?

But as of now, after actually going back and watching her scenes for myself, as well as flashbacks featuring her that resurface in future seasons, I think that if anything Lonnie is a roadblock to the truth, in the same sense that Terry is. Because the evidence that Terry isn't El's mom is too alarming to ignore. Like, once you see it, it becomes very obvious they've always been trying to hint this to us, as subtly as possible, and they did it successfully bc it went over everyone's heads.

And so since Terry isn't El's mom, and there are certain details tying Terry to having some sort of connection to Brenner (ie Papa/Mama, Bonsai trees, Hopper's line about Terry's 'relationship' with Brenner), then it's very likely that, in the original timeline/universe or whatever we want to call it, Terry could have worked closely with the lab in some capacity, though ended up supporting Joyce’s claims over allegations about the lab and experimentation, ie. the article at the end of s1 including Joyce/Terry's testimonies. And so she was basically a confidant to them who went against the lab and was lobotomized for it and placed in a scenario that blocked out the truth very conveniently for them, while also essentially punishing her.

And when it comes to Lonnie... That is where it gets very complicated. Because I think it's likely that in the OG timeline, Lonnie was not the greatest guy. I think there was a lot of scary subtext surrounding him harming Will in s1 and it's possible that this dude has been given the role of their father in this timeline, which in the original timeline he is not. He's essentially Stranger Things' very own Biff.

This does make me very intrigued about what is going to be revealed in 'The First Shadow' play coming soon. We're said to get the backstory for not only Joyce and Hopper but also Lonnie and Bob (and Henry) apparently, so that is making for some interesting potential Back to the Future parallels from Marty’s parents’ 1955 timeline vs Willel’s parents’ 1959 timeline. Also the synopsis being young Joyce Maldonado and Jim Hopper dealing with the shadows of the past...

Arguably, it is crunch time. We're approaching the final season and this is a revelation that a lot of the audience are probably not going to be ready for, despite a lot of the hints in the details. I presume they wont have much time in s5 to rehash the mysteries of the past, beyond glossing it over, and so this was honestly a perfect way for them to go back and give context for what is to come in a really unique way that is canon, but without having to cram too much into s5 like they had to for s4.

I do think that Lonnie is very likely to return in s5. Though he referred to Hawkins at its most tame as a hell hole, so idk if he would be running back there during an apocalypse, seeing as everyone else seems to be trying to get out ASAP. It is possible though, and yet I just really don't think his arc is about this series long secret that he is both El and Will's father. If anything I think the revelation is much darker in relation to what truly happened to him and El, possibly in relation to the lab, as he could indeed have been an MKUltra volunteer like you said. It could also help to go read up on some of the cases/allegations put against MKUltra back in the day bc, though it is quite disturbing in parts, it could very well hold the answer to at least some secrets seeing as this is partially based on a real life program that did exist back in the day.

If Lonnie was their dad, I think he would have been a lot more prioritized in the overall story over the seasons, and yet they kind of introduced him in s1 with only a couple references to him in passing since then. If anything it's giving we do not want to give this character too much acknowledgement in the story.

I think a return for him would perhaps look like the storys way of revealing to us that he is not actually their father. Either via flashbacks to the og timeline or perhaps vecna visions at a point when we’re still assuming this is Will’s dad. I do think he very likely is connected to the darker secrets behind what really happened though, related to Will and El's original disappearances, leading up to them in the lab presumably.

I won't claim to understand the memory/time-loop nonsense, because I think that it could also have a lot to do with Will's powers related to time and therefore probability perhaps, which ties really well into the whole X-Men 134 reference. And yet, obviously, I feel like it's too much to try to be certain about which angle go at it, despite having a lot of the pieces to perhaps figure it out? Bc we can guess all day what Will's powers will look like, but we still don't really know for certain? And so going too far beyond that feels like too much guessing to me.

I will say that what makes me even more confident about this theory, even more than the Terry evidence, is just the heaps of evidence connecting Will and El from the very beginning, and how that also connects to Joyce and Hopper more often than not.

If you're open to looking at evidence related to the whole Joyce + Hopper = Willel twins + Jon ? gate (?), or even just how byler also fits into this, bc tbh a lot of the evidence connects, these are a few posts below that might peak your interest. And this isn’t even all of it.

This is the MAIN one so if you read any of them, read this (first and foremost)

Twelvegate Evidence going back to s1 and oh so many unanswered questions

Twelvegate Evidence going back to s1 + Willel Twins

Deer Imagery following The Hoppers/Byers Family

David Harbour cryptically changing his IG pfp to twins, multiple times before S4 dropped:

The fact that Star Wars' big plot twist was that Luke/Leia were twins... That the Duffers are twins... That Noah Schnapp is a twin... 'IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT (MIKE), THEY'RE IDENTICAL'...

El: Me? I'm twice as happy now *cut camera to estranged twin Will opening van door for him and El*

The Wright Bros

Parallels between El being confronted, with Will standing by frozen

"She missed her dad. We all do."

El and Will reuniting at Nina and the remaining timestamp is 12:00

"Mom!"

I will alway say that I am subject to be wrong. The only thing I'm very confident about now is that Terry isn't El's mom, and it just so happens that everything else sort of falls into place after that.

[existingtm]

I'm pretty sure EVERY manga in CLAMP are connected in many ways, the biggest and literal one is that they're made by the same group

I'm glad I know a few CLAMP mangas that are my comfort food, but I'm not gonna jump down that deep rabbit hole, NO I feel like my brain will overdrive

lol- it's always a rabbit hole- dive right in

also i'm peeping that you're a dinoverse fan too 👀

[triumphantfury]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. Get to know your mutuals and followers❤️

I already answered this once, but I can always find more things that make me happy 😊

Okay, okay… Umm… Where to start… OH!

1) Music! I love music! As someone on the high end of the spectrum, I don’t always know how to ‘feel’ emotions properly (not sure how to put it in a way that makes sense…🤷🏼‍♀️). Whether it’s happy or sad, or anything in between, music has always helped me cope with life during the times that my disfunctionally-functional brain simply can’t.

2) Quiet time. I enjoy spending time around my friends, but I’m also an extreme introvert most of the time. I love that point at the end of a busy day where you get to go home, put on some comfy sweats, make a cup of tea, and just relax. This is when I tend to do my best writing, but sometimes I also just sit in complete silence and decompress, and it’s lovely.

3) Animated movies/shows, of course. There’s certainly genres that I like more than others, but I love that you can’t really have a bad actor in a cartoon, regardless of the plot (though you can still have a crappy plot). If I’m feeling down, or just particularly overwhelmed from too much peopling, I always feel better after watching one of my faves over again for the thousandth time.

4)Tea! Goodness I love tea! I mean, I also have a crippling coffee addiction, but that’s only in the morning. Tea is my go-to for the rest of the day, and I get a weird amount of joy from finding different sampler packs so I can try new flavours. Every year at Christmas for the last 5 years, my hubby has ordered me a tea advent calendar instead of a chocolate one, and that’s just another reason why I love him.

5) Learning random facts/deep-diving into random topics. Sometimes I’ll see, hear, or read a thing, and then I’m sucked down a rabbit hole for the next month and half as I decide that I need to know everything there is to know about it right this instant. Getting to then share that knowledge with others at random times afterward is always curiously rewarding — especially if that person then gets pulled down the same rabbit hole with me 😅

[lastoneout]

As someone who is on a mood stabilizer(lamotrigine, in fact) what's happening to the people in these screenshots is not what happens to the average person who has hobbies and fandom-adjacent interests. My meds have never stopped me from loving with my whole chest, instead they simply give me the ability to balance my intense love of things with my real life wants and needs in a healthier way. They give me the ability to stop playing Minecraft before I give myself a migraine, or stop thinking about my OTP long enough that I can make a phone call and actually focus during it, that sort of thing. I don't stop having hyperfixations, I just am able to have one and also have a functional life too.

But these people were clearly missing something important in their lives that's place was filled by a truly unhealthy obsession(or like. had mold poisoning. that person is an outlier dw). They use the word hyperfixation but like, I don't think that's really what's going on. This isn't a bog standard hyperfixation on like Hero Academia or WWDITS, these were obsessions with real living celebrities, and fandoms for celebrities tend to take a dive into conspiratorial thinking and vague cult-y behavior REAL fast. Like, I mean, you can be a fan of a celebrity or band and be normal about it ofc, but I see the conspiratorial thinking pop up a lot more and faster in fandoms for real people. Genuinely combing over every single thing Taylor Swift has ever done or said 500 billion times to compile a dissertation on how she's been subliminally telling her fans for years now that's she's gay and attacking everyone who says otherwise because they don't get it and are just homophobes and like, fucking stalking and threatening her ex-boyfriends and spending every spare moment of every day posting about it with other people who are doing the same....that's not healthy. That's not a normal special interest or hyperfixation. That's clearly someone who is missing something crucial in their lives, be it connection with other people or stable brain chemistry or a community, and filling that hole with something similar but extremely dysfunctional shared with a community of people who are also unhealthily obsessed and thus promote and encourage unhealthy fixations and conspiratorial thinking at the expense of every single part of the rest of their lives. This is on the same level as like, someone's grandma who has always kinda been convinced Elvis' death was faked and in 2016 accidentally fell down the Q Anon rabbit hole, not someone who thinks about their blorbos holding hands before they fall asleep at night and is begging for someone to ask them about the tv show they're from so they can info-dump.

And like yeah fandoms can get you like that too, I've gotten too deep before and fallen in with conspiratorial thinking(almost always around ships tbh) and whenever I get out I feel pretty ashamed of letting that free dopamine and validation roller coaster make me act like someone I'm not, and ofc some fans will stalk and harass the people behind their favorite show or movie for ship validation or write up massive conspiracy boards about how "xyz ship is def endgame trust us see we connected the dots and we will destroy the lives of anyone who disagrees including the people who make the damn show" like I was at Phoenix Comic Con the year Andrew Hussie got mobbed(but not in the mob!! thankfully I didn't get caught up in all that!!), I know how fandoms can be, but overall what's happening in these images isn't something the average fan needs to worry about. If you aren't writing conspiracy boards about celebrities sexualities or an OTP and harassing the celebrities/creators about it, sending death threats to real people who disagree with your theory or like other ships, and spending every spare second of every day posting and talking about them to the point that you literally, physically, don't have time or energy for anything else then you don't need to worry about meds making you not like your favorite webcomic as much anymore. What these people are going through is framed through the lens of fandom, but was far closer to going to a Flat Earth Convention in terms of actual behavior and outcomes.

Your meds shouldn't make you stop liking things entirely. When I think about not liking things I genuinely loved as much as I used to I get a little sad because I miss them, when I think about getting riled up because I believed a show runner was specifically trying to spite ME I feel embarrassed, and I'm glad I stopped doing it and moved on to things that actually make me happy and aren't borderline conspiracy theories. That's the difference. These people aren't sad, they are straight up happy to be out, talking about how it's wild to look at the insane things they believed, and putting focus on how their lives are better now. They clearly don't miss these things because they've moved on. Or, in the case of the BTS person and probably the swifties, they still do like the artist or actor or band, they just aren't Obsessed(tm) with them to a truly unhealthy, world-view altering degree anymore. They can still love these artists and actors without that obsessive love taking over their entire lives.

So nah. The average fan does not need to worry about meds doing this to you. These people were outliers in unhealthy situations that improved when they got the things they were missing. That's almost certainly not what's going to happen to you.

(But also yeah even if you do find your interests changing, that's not always a bad thing. Interests change, we find new things to love all the time, it doesn't invalidate the joy we found and friendships we made to recognize that now we want to post about a different show or movie or comic. That's just how life is, we change.)

And if you don't like the way meds make you feel, you can tell your doctor and stop taking them. There are some meds out there that make me into a zombie that no longer cared about anything at all. And so I stopped taking them, told my doctor, and we worked something else out. Don't be afraid of change, but also, if it sucks hit the bricks.

[shizuoi]

talk shop tuesday! do you research in preparation for writing a fic? what was the most bizarre piece of trivia that you got to find out that way?

dklsahgldsfjk jk not constant researching but i do a lot of research for fics that require it!! like for my cot3 hanahaki au the first half of my writing doc was just notes on flower language, plant structures, how diseases are scientifically named etc. i don't write research-heavy a lot bc for me, when things require a lot of research it kind of roadblocks my brain and i get really caught up in making sure things are accurate and it prevents me from being able to write as freely as i like to, but a good research-based fic every once in awhile is so much fun!!

as for bizarre trivia, i went down a massive linguistic rabbit hole when researching for my l&co zombie au (which is easier than you think bc i love linguistics so it was no hardship LOL) but did you know that persian/farsi and arabic are actually from two completely language families?? persian is part of the indo-european language family while arabic is a semitic language, which is wild bc arabic has had a lot of influence on persian! they're very close geographically too; iran has persian as their official language, but both persian and arabic as working languages. persian dialects are also close enough to be mutually intelligible (such as with iranian persian/persian, dari, and tajik), but arabic dialects are distinct enough that they aren't mutually intelligible!! i had practically no knowledge of any of this before so it was so much fun to dive deep and try to dig out this information hehehe

[victusinveritas]

Norkshire (typo in star carr post)

Thank you for catching this. I copied the info from a facebook group (which usually posts pretty things, and has a link at the bottom if you want to fund their stuff, and didn't bother to proofread it because sometimes I'm just that lazy). My tired, dyslexic brain just said...well, I'm sure there is a Norkshire somewhere in England, maybe it's like Rutland or something and I just haven't heard of it because it's England and I've been there maybe four times, and only through Yorkshire twice. It's like locating anything in Rhode Island if you're not from there: wicked hahd, but if you're from there, sure, you've got a cousin who lives ovah in Little Compton, and yeah, used to drive all the way down to Aunt Carrie's for stuffies and chowdah every summah. That said, again, thanks. As always, if you ever notice any errors in my posts, let me know. Also, if you look back far enough in time, especially before 2015 or so, I'm sure the rabbit hole gets deeper and weirder, so...if you notice any errors from then, please be advised that I had cracked my skull twice in a two year period, had several concussions, and was just generally going through what my psychiatrist has referred to as "some shit." If this post inspires you to take such a deep dive...do so at your own risk, but let me know if you find anything that is too weird/crazy/or just unpleasant...people change over time, and I like to think I have.

[minty-playhouse]

ooh you've been listening to the who for a while! what got you into them? ahhh all the best cowboys is probably my favorite pete album too! but i love white city and honestly all of his (what you said about having a keith connection is how i sorta feel with pete, now THAT'S pretentious, no way around it) so have you read any biographies about keith & what were your opinions on them? thoughts on roger's keith biopic he's been talking about since 1980?

Hello yes I’ve been listening to them for a long while, due to my mom’s influence (she’s a huge fan too!). I think my very first exposure to Who content in a way I could like, understand (my mom would hear them when I was like 8 years old but I didn’t have the brains to appreciate it lol) was when I watched the Kids Are Alright movie.

I had just started getting really into the Monkees at the time and I was going really deep into the “60′s and 70′s” music rabbit hole, so watching that was a huge eye opener to me like “Wait, why am I not listening to them RIGHT NOW?”

As for biographies and books, I actually got Keith’s most extensive bio not too long ago, but just reading like the intro chapter already got me really weirdly emotional so I had to take a step back and prepare myself emotionally a little better before I dive into it (that and the other two Who books I recently acquired).

About the biopic, at the same time I’m looking forward to it because it would be super duper cool, I am secretly so scared because I worry about them focusing on the awful side of his and not like, him as a whole (although I trust Roger not to do that but movies are complicated things like maybe he wouldn’t have the final say ah...)

And again sorry for the absurd delay in answering this I’m being terrible at this secret santa thing /rolls on the floor

[bergamo-money-bergamo-problems]

Harley smirked even as Nina teased her right back. Good. It was nice having someone who saw her eccentricities as a turn on and not as something to be cured. Deep down, she didn’t want to be cured. She wanted to get worse. “Okie dokie. Just don’t come crying to me when ya ears are ringing from hearing me scream loud enough to shatter glass. Or when I talk so trashy it overheats your processor from blushing too hard. Or however that works anyway,” she said, cocking her head and looking off to the side for a moment as she pondered the logistics of how a cyborg blushes. She shook her head and refocused on the matter at hand: the warm, wet matter at hand.

“Oh I ain’t ever denied it,” she purred as Nina rolled her back and started to straddle her face, “I’m a slut. A whore. When I had my cherry popped, I got addicted. Boys, girls, cock, cunt-” she practically spat that word up at Nina with a hungry snarl- “I can’t get enough. You though? You put me through my fuckin’ paces, and I owe you one for that. One, a billion, somewhere between there. I wanna fuckin’ live off of ya cum and just live with our faces strapped to each other’s pussies, cumming forever like a fuckin snake eatin’ its own tail.”

Harley let out a curious little huff as Nina mentioned the possibility at being turned into a cyborg herself. She had to admit, the idea was tempting. Doubly so if she could get a tongue like Nina’s and a pair of tits that caught the attention of every man and woman for three blocks with enough robotic muscle support to never have to worry about carrying two dairy cows worth of mammary tissue around all day long. And hey, flavored tits as well? What’s not to love~?

Harley slid down between Nina’s hips and gave her inner thigh a little nibble, before humming at the taste of Nina’s wetness, and slowly licking her way closer and closer to the goth heroine’s wet womanhood. “Last chance to back out,” she offered with a cocky grin, “because there’s only one difference between me and a mosquito when I start.”

“A mosquito stops suckin’ when you slap it.”

She didn’t bother to wait for Nina to respond, diving in and sucking Nina’s clit into her mouth in a flash of blonde hair, pale makeup, and ruby red lips. She curled a pair of fingers inside of Nina, twiddling them back and forth as she sought out her g-spot, eager to twist, tease, and tantalizingly torment the sex goddess that was now riding her face. Harley’s tongue, while not superhuman like Nina’s, was extremely dexterous and flicked across her clit with all the practiced skill of a woman who’d started eating pussy in high school and started treating it as an essential food group.

“Fuck you taste good,” she cooed between messy dives between Nina’s legs, “I meant what I said about living off of ya pussy. We’d never stop sucking each other off, just trapped cumming our brains out, together, forever.” A dark thrill ran up Harley’s back as she shivered at that thought, a truly never ending life of sexual excess, her burning, inexhaustible libido like a candle snuffed out in a deluge of cum the size of an ocean. The thought was… intoxicating.

“I’m gonna make you cum yourself to the point you think about giving up the heroine gig and join the wild side, honey,” Harley threatened playfully, “I’m gonna suck every last drop of good out of ya like a succubus and then show you how deep the fuckin’ rabbit hole goes. We’re all gonna be mad here, Alice baby.”

⚔️?

(action starter? Action starter!)

Middle of the day patrol. You know what you do when you're paroling the streets in the middle of the day? Rescuing cats from trees, helping people who need directions. The kind of thing that USED to be done by the cops, back when they just patrolled the streets on foot and bothered to talk to people.

Still, if they were going to give up the space of being the friendly neighborhood person making people feel safer, Cybergoth certainly could fill that space! And nobody would comment about how she looked, considering how superheroes tend to be just... Like That.

You know, incredibly attractive people in skintight latex and the like.

Action? She had yet to really SEE action. She didn't have flight or anything like that, just a motorcycle and a connection to the police band. Most of the time, if something gets called in either the police are swarming the site (and wouldn't want some random goth forcing her way in.) or some other hero's already dealt with it!

No, sadly, so far her day to day was handing the nice little girl her cat (who was only mildly confused his claws couldn't stick into the strange woman who easily pulled it free from the tree branch with strength alone) and walking back to her bike, adjusting her goggles and breather mask that was the real component of her hero 'outfit'.

Seriously, what did it take to get some action around here? Something that stands out?

[hyperbolicreverie]

Hey Rev! I loved your devil fruit post yesterday (reblogged it and gave my own two cents about Paramecia types), and I love that you’re trying to think about the science of devil fruits in-universe! Smile’s existence definitely lends to scientists studying devil fruits, but I’m genuinely curious how deep that rabbit hole goes!

Like for example, I tossed around the idea of there being sub-categories for Paramecias, but that’s not a leap seeing as canonically there’s some for Zoans. Mythical and Ancient Zoans for example, and also Chopper points out during Water 7 that they even get classified as far down as Carnivorous Zoans- are there classes for Herbivores and Omnivores as well? And Chopper said Carnivorous Zoan wielders are more aggressive, so do Zoans affect the ability user’s mind as well as body? (The Five Elders did note that Zoan fruits have minds of their own…) Would a Herbivorous Zoan become a vegetarian and lose taste for meat? What about logias? Are there sub-types for “solid” elements like ice, “liquid/plasma-like” elements like magma, or non-tangible ones like light?

There’s a Devil Fruit Encyclopedia in-universe, and given the experiments by Vegapunk and Caesar and such, I wonder if this is a legitimate field of study, and how much of it is science and how much of it dives into history and folklore for rarer fruits that don’t appear as often. (I believe one anon had an idea that Mythical Zoans inspired the legends surrounding them.) Like do certain devil fruits always reincarnate into the same kind of fruit? If one kind of fruit grows really slowly, could years go by before the devil fruit attached to it is reborn?

Sorry if I’m rambling- it just makes me happy to see I’m not the only one who thinks way too much about a pirate anime 😂 I’d love to hear more of your thoughts about potential lore and world-building!

It really is a fun rabbit hole to spiral down, because I feel like attempting to answer one question spawns three new questions all on its own.

I do frequently see Paramecia fruits sorted into broad categories--generator-type, alteration-type, et cetera, but I find it interesting that Zoans are the only variety that have canon subtypes (unless you count Special Paramecia, but there is only a single example of one of those and one fruit does not a healthy sample size make). Who even came up with the classifications? Are there proper categories for Paramecia fruits or did whomever started assigning these things just deem Paramecia to be "the grab bag class" and leave it at that? Seems lazy, if so. Zoans seem to have received the lion's share of fleshing out as far as characteristics--as you point out, we learn that bit about Carnivorous Zoans affecting temperament and then much more recently that little reveal about them having wills of their own. I am very, very interested in what exactly that means. Like, is there a consciousness involved or what? Is it because Zoan fruits are the only ones directly related to living creatures with brains and instincts, or is it something else? Do all devil fruits have a "will" to a certain degree and Zoans are just that much more noticeable? How do we know this about the fruits in the first place? Please, I want to know!

Logias seem to be the least complex, possibly because they're so rare, but there do seem to be some ways to break them down. For one, there seem to be logia fruits that are "stronger" or "weaker" versions of another one--and I use quotations because a lot of that is up to the user. But, Monet's snow fruit being a lighter version of Kuzan's ice fruit, for example. (We get these with some of the Paramecia fruits too, like the Kilo and Ton fruits, so it seems to be a somewhat established feature). And speaking of logias, they bring up such fascinating possibilities for interactions. Like, what the hell is Caribou made of anyway? What's "swamp?" Or, could you conceivably turn Crocodile into a glass statue with sufficient application of heat? Could you trap Enel in a bottle and use him to power things? Or trap Kizaru in a small mirrored space?

As for what people study and what people know about devil fruits, the vast majority of ordinary civilians, at least outside the Grand Line, still don't really believe they exist, so any research is probably very restricted. I don't seem to recall the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia being very widely available either, which probably contributes to the misinformation. Then, you have to consider that the people with the power and resources and understanding to undertake this sort of research are probably benefited by the masses not knowing about them--it limits the parties interested in the fruits, after all. This also folds nicely into the question about Mythical Zoans in particular. Which came first, legends or the fruits? Bit of a chicken and egg situation, but it's hard to say if even those people who research them know for sure.

I do wish we knew more about how regeneration works, because again, we've only seen it happen once, and one example does not a good sample make. Does each fruit require a specific base fruit to recreate itself out of? Is it always whichever is closest or is it a crapshoot? Gosh, the idea that there could be a time limit on regeneration for some of them, increasing their rarity simply because of that alone?

(Also, please do not apologize about rambling, I am the queen of rambling, and narrative and worldbuilding analyses are some of my favorite things. I will go off on pretty much anything if given a prompt and I will be happy to do so).