#self parking segment

[tony-andonuts]

Personal stuff below. Not really a vent but yall know how it is

So the landlord is handing us the keys tomorrow but bc the place we re moving from is 10 hours away we had to leave the day before which means we re staying overnight at a hotel. Andlike obv we re not rich (in fact at this moment in time no one in the house is employed) so we got a pet friendly hotel room with 2 full sized beds.

My mom n brother each took one of the beds which leaves me to decide who to sleep with but bc of severe childhood trauma i cannot bring myself to do it bc i feel disgusting for even sharing a room w relatives LET ALONE a bed. Which means the second my mom n brother are fully asleep im heading outside and chainsmoking <333

[youunravelme]

meant just for you // part one

author's note: long time no see! i'm (somewhat) back! i'm really excited to share this story with everyone, but it wouldn't be possible without bestie girl @thewintersoldierdisaster who has helped me tremendously along the way. thank you so much, p! this is for you :)

summary: you have a history of dating around and hooking up. after seeing your teammates start to settle down, you and mat make a bet to see who can fall in love first.

pairing: mat barzal x pwhl!reader

warnings: mentions of sex (though no actual smut because i can't write that to save my life), cursing, toxic boyfriends

the meeting

being selected for the all star pwhl 3 on 3 showcase was an honor in and of itself, one you didn't take lightly. it was even sweeter since it was held in your hometown, ubs in elmont, new york. 

you worked hard to get where you were today, not coming from money. sure your parents would be upper class anywhere else, but on long island? middle class. add on the extra expenses of skating lessons, goalie gear, and club fees on two teachers’ salaries, there wasn’t much cash left over when it was all said and done.

safe to say, your mom and dad shed actual tears when you were drafted to the sirens. whether they were tears of joy or tears of relief (from the fact that they hadn't wasted money on a career that would never be), you weren't sure. they probably would've cried regardless of what team, but knowing you were just across the river was a huge relief for them.

“proud of you squirt,” your dad said into your hair. “it’s time for you to start carrying your own goalie bag and peeling your oranges, now.”

you rolled your eyes. “i've been doing that for years, dad.”

“not the oranges,” your mom chimed in.

you grimaced. “i don't like the feeling of the peel getting under my nails. it’s gross.”

safe to say, you were ecstatic to tell your parents you were playing in the 2026 pwhl showcase. your parents had squeezed you so tightly in a group hug that you were sure some of your ribs cracked.

“you’re gonna be great!” your mom cheered.

“we can rent out our driveway to lazy tourists!” your dad said. you pulled back and gave him a strange look, but he didn't even look the least bit sorry. “i’m trying to earn back all the money i spent on your goalie gear, squirt.”

you'd rolled your eyes at the time, thinking it was just an over exaggeration, but when you saw how bad traffic was in elmont, you were grateful for the reserved parking for players.

you pulled into ubs’ reserved parking area, feeling the excitement hit you all at once. 

you were at ubs for the all star red carpet event you'd grown up watching from the rug in front of the tv in your parents’ house. sometime that week, you’d be on the ice instead of watching the islanders from the stands like you had the last few years. you grew up down the street, and later that week, you would play on that ice in front of thousands of hockey fans.

you could feel the excitement singing in your veins, you were bouncing on your toes, tapping your feet in your heels as you got out of the car. you straightened your teal patterned pant suit and black corset top, before pulling your phone out of your pocket. 

you: are you here yet?

you texted jessie eldridge, not sure if she arrived with everyone else. for the first time ever, you were running late. the anxiety (and probably the undiagnosed adhd) meant you spent more time fretting at your parents’ house than you anticipated, hence why you were arriving at the very end of the pwhl segment of the red carpet.

you’d have to apologize to your agent later.

now that you’d arrived, more anxiety started setting in. the cruel, self deprecating words inhabiting your brain told you to go home, that you didn't belong among “real hockey players.”

jess: not yet. pulling up now! traffic is insane!!!

you sighed and tried to touch up your lipstick in the reflection of your car window while telling yourself mentally that you could be brave, you could do hard things. you were the starting goalie on one of the six inaugural teams in the professional women’s hockey league, you were used to fear, or not feeling like enough. there was a reason you didn't check the comments on tiktok or instagram, or the replies on tweets after the games. people were cruel.

despite the shaking in your knees, despite the anxiety threatening to swallow you whole, you remembered the tears in your parents eyes when you got drafted, the hugs they gave you after each game.

you remembered the little girls you'd seen in the crowd with signs and your jersey on. that had to mean something, even if there were sexist pigs out there who didn't.

before you started walking, another car pulled into the parking lot and parked a few spaces away. you paused, recognizing the car, and waited for your teammate to get out.

jess eldridge popped out of her car, smiling wide as soon as she saw you. “long time, no see,” she joked, considering you saw her earlier that morning for practice. her eyes widened as she took in your outfit. “jesus fucking christ,” she said. “tryna get laid tonight?”

you grinned like a child and waited for her to catch up before you both started walking towards the red carpet. “we’re at a work function, jess,” you chided, knowing good and well that had never stopped you before. “how was the drive?”

jess shrugged. “traffic was not fun, you're lucky your parents live around here.”

“did everyone else ride on the bus?”

“they did if they’re from out of town.” jess pulled out her phone and checked the time. “i think we might be the last ones here. which, i’m always late, but you being late is unheard of.”

you shrugged. “i figured i could be late this one time. i’m early to every other event.”

the two of you walked towards the fan area, smiling as the noise levels increased. you started bouncing on your feet once more, grinning from ear to ear.

there were little girls who gasped when they saw you both. you pointed out a little redhead wearing jess’ jersey and the two of you quickly made your way to her.

sharpies were being pushed in your line of sight, it felt like there were so many people yelling at once. the announcer said your name, followed by jessie’s. little girls were asking for your autographs, social media interns were interviewing sarah nurse and emma maltais, there were random cheers at random intervals.

it was overwhelming.

somewhere along the autograph lines, you lost sight of all the other girls, only realizing when you looked up from yet another jersey and noticed you were standing alone.

an assistant called your name and gestured you down the line to take a few photos. you were on your way when a shoulder hit yours and nearly sent you sprawling on the ground had it not been for a firm grip around your bicep.

you glanced to your left and saw a man with a dazzling smile you knew all too well through the screen of your parents’ tv and your social media.

mat barzal.

“sorry,” he grinned. “didn't see you there.”

you weren't sure how, you two were standing eye to eye, it wasn’t like you were as short as emma, you were pretty tall, even without your heels on.

“oh,” you said. “you're mat.”

he nodded and stuck his hand out to shake before saying your name. you must've looked surprised because he laughed when he dropped his hand from yours and gestured to you. “you play for the sirens, right? goalie?”

you smiled and nodded before an attendant was ushering you down the carpet. you fully expected him to wave bye, but he kept up.

“you watch our games?” you asked.

he nodded again. “went back and watched the shut out you had against montreal. it was impressive, especially going against poulin.”

you beamed under his praise, remembering the amount of times you tapped the goalposts for blocking shots you couldn't or the twelve cherry starbursts you ate before the start of the game like you’d done since you were seven.

the game before, you only had eleven and lost by two goals. you weren't taking any chances anymore.

another attendant rushed you to stand in front of the banner to take your photo. mat caught up with you again after his picture was taken. “it’s nice to meet you,” you started when he was close enough to hear you. “my parents love you.” you blinked. “i mean, i grew up with islanders fans for parents.”

mat’s eyebrows rose, a small smirk on his lips. “really?”

you smiled. “grew up right down the street actually.”

he gave a low whistle. “bet that’s convenient.”

“my dad joked that he was gonna rent out the driveway to lazy tourists.”

mat threw his head back and laughed as the two of you continued down the carpet, stopping to sign autographs along the way. 

“your teammates here yet?” he asked.

“i was definitely like the last one to arrive. jessie eldridge showed up around the same time but i don’t see her...” you noted for the first time that you'd lost her somewhere along the way. “whoops,” you said. “are any of your teammates here? is sorokin?”

“big fan?” mat snickered.

but your mind was already moving on. your eyes widened as you grabbed the sleeve of mat’s suit. “oh my god, is patrick roy gonna be here?”

he shook his head, still grinning like an idiot. “he’s taking the bye week to ignore our phone calls.”

you huffed.

the closer you got to the end of the red carpet, the more you realized you were going to have to leave mat, the handsome stranger who wasn't really much of a stranger considering how much you knew about him already. 

he was starting to get tugged in different metaphorical directions by the fans reaching out for an autograph while it was obvious your popularity was nowhere near his.

“i’ll see you later,” you said.

mat’s brows pulled together. “you're leaving?”

you jabbed a thumb over your shoulder. “gotta catch up with the girls before the game tonight.”

“you feel good about it?”

your fingers twitched against your legs with more excited energy as you backed away from him, a smile on your face as you shook your head. “uh uh, nope. i don't talk about the game before the game, goes against my beliefs.”

mat cackled. “i’ll see you around, good luck!”

you spun on your heel and walked off the carpet. you walked until you saw familiar faces. emma and jess were standing at the end, looking at you and smiling as they talked among themselves.

“when i asked if you were planning on getting laid tonight, i didn't think you were going to go after barzal,” jess laughed.

you shoved her shoulder good naturedly. “we just ran into each other.”

emma snickered and shook her head. “he's hotter than all the other guys you've hooked up with, twitchy. why not give it a shot?”

it was true, you and emma went to ohio state together before being drafted to two separate teams. she was your roadie roommate and often saw the guys you'd swiped right on.

she was also the one who gave you what some might consider the offensive nickname of twitch.

“you keep spazzing out and twitching before games,” she noted.

“i’m practicing my eye and hand movements,” you said before popping a red starburst in your mouth.

you rolled your eyes but a smile was still on your face. “i don't hook up with hockey players.”

“why not? they’d be the perfect match, they'd understand your schedule, the intensity of the game. they could make a great boyfriend...” jess replied.

but you shook your head. “hookups are the only relationship i can commit to right now. i’ve got too much else going on. and hooking up with a hockey player just seems like bad news.”

emma and jess shrugged before you followed the two of them to your seats.

winter olympics - milan

the lack of travelling you did for the all star week was made up when you flew to milan for the winter olympics. it was a beautiful city to be in, no doubt about it. though, by the time you got to your room, you weren't interested in doing anything but collapsing face first into your bed. the six hour time difference and the flight immediately after all star weekend was starting to catch up with you.

safe to say, you felt like death heated up.

you shared a room with alex carpenter, your alternate captain. you loved alex like the older sister you never had, she was the picture perfect roommate.

except you were staring at her sleeping body like a weirdo because you were wide awake. how the hell had she fallen asleep so fast? it felt like your body was still in new york. 

you finally accepted that you weren't going to sleep anytime soon, and instead of scrolling on tiktok and waiting for sleep to hit you in the face (and risk waking alex up), you grabbed your phone, your bag, and headed outside towards the dining hall.

it wasn't too long of a trek, though you were wishing you'd put on more than a pullover and leggings when the wind blew too hard. when you finally made it in the dining hall, your cheeks were both warm from the blood rushing to them, and cold from the wind.

you looked around the large room, for what, you weren't sure. maybe it was for people you knew, or the food options, but you had red starbursts in your bag so you weren't too concerned on the food front. still, you wandered around, looking at the food anyway, just to see if anything piqued your interest.

you'd gotten to the dessert section when a mop of dark brown hair caught your attention. at first, you weren't sure if it was him, so you approached him in a way one might back away from a lion in the safari: slowly. it wasn’t until you saw his jawline and profile that you knew for sure

mat barzal had a stack of cannolis on his plate when you moseyed up next to him.

“i feel like four cannolis at two in the morning is a bit excessive.”

to his credit, mat didn't jump when you spoke. “leave me alone, we burn like thousands of calories doing this shit.” he piled another cannoli on his plate before turning on his heel and searching for what you assumed was a table (and hopefully not more food). “what're you doing up?”

“my brain says it’s only 8pm. i didn't wanna wake alex with my doom scrolling,” you said as you followed him to a table.

mat set his plate down and pulled out his chair, gesturing to the one across from him for you to sit. “jet lag is a bitch,” he said. his head tilted when he saw the bag you placed in the chair next to you. “what’s in the bag?” he asked before taking a bite of one of his cannolis. 

your eyes lit up as you smiled. “glad you asked.” you reached in and pulled out a starburst stick before ripping the top of it off with your teeth. you frowned when a pink one fell out. “dammit,” you grumbled, letting the pink starburst rest on the table. “pink is the worst.”

mat eyed you and the starburst for a moment before reaching for it. he unwrapped the paper and popped it into his mouth.

you did a little dance in your seat when the next starburst was red. it took no time for you to unwrap it and pop it into your mouth much like mat did with the pink one.

mat stared as he took a sip of his water. “is there something i’m missing? bringing a whole ass bag for just one thing of starbursts seems a little excessive.”

“you are correct,” you said, a smug smile on your face as you reached into your bag and pulled out a box. “i’m actually glad i ran into you. i was hoping i’d get to use this while i was here.”

mat blinked. “you brought battleship to the olympics?”

you nodded eagerly. “wanna play?”

mat sighed and shook his head, a smile on his face anyway. “you're so weird.”

maybe it should've hurt your feelings, but you'd been called weird all your life, this was no different. you shrugged. “maybe, but you didn't answer the question.

mat stared for a minute before pushing his plate aside. “no cheating.”

by 3am, you'd beaten mat twice and were on your way to your third win. “a7,” you said.

mat rolled his eyes and groaned. “you're definitely cheating. there’s no fucking way you're not.”

you laughed and fell back into your seat. “how would i cheat, mat?”

“i—i don't fucking know!” he sputtered and pointed an accusatory finger. “but i know you’re doing it! no one is ever this good at this stupid fucking game.”

“i played a lot as a kid,” you said like it was an explanation. “sometimes by myself.”

“how the hell did you play with yourself?”

you snickered, the joke was coming out of your mouth before you could stop it. “vibrators exist, you know.”

mat looked at you like you'd grown another head before bursting into laughter. “i fucking hate you,” he managed to squeeze out between wheezes. “you win.”

you giggled a little at his reaction, preening at the attention. “what do i get for winning?

mat slid the plate across the table to you. “pick a cannoli, any cannoli.”

you looked at the cream filled pastry, the way most of the cream had cooled to room temp and lost its volume, looking rather melted and unappealing. you twisted your face into a look of disgust. “i beat your ass three times and all i get is melted cannoli?

mat rolled his eyes, though the small smile on his lips betrayed his fake annoyance. “what do you want?”

you thought about it, thought back to the last few weeks, and what the next two weeks would look like. “you have to peel my oranges for the rest of the olympics.”

“...that's not a euphemism, is it?”

you cracked a smile. “no, i don't hook up with hockey players. my dad would peel my oranges because i hate the way the peel feels under my nails and oranges are my favorite fruit so it poses quite the problem.”

“so whenever i see you with an orange, i’ll peel it for you?”

you nodded.

he nodded and stuck his hand out. “you've got yourself a deal.”

you didn't see mat until two days later when you ran into him at the figure skating pairs event. well, “ran into” might be a bit dramatic. in reality, you were sitting in the stands with alex and emma when an unfamiliar (yet growing more familiar) body plopped down next to you.

before you could even react, a peeled orange in a ziploc bag appeared in your line of sight. “want it?” mat asked.

your eyes lit up when you saw it, your hands immediately reached out for the bag. “oh my god, i’m starving.” you did your best to not snatch the bag from his hands in your hunger, but you shoved three pieces in your mouth almost immediately after opening the bag.

mat cackled. “were you hungry?”

“starving,” you said through a mouthful of fruit.

emma laughed from her spot next to you. “oh my god. did anyone ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?”

you shrugged. “i don't know, men are usually too busy getting the best head of their life to complain.”

alex choked while emma threw her head back laughing. mat froze next to you. 

“you’re insane, twitch,” emma managed to say between laughs. “absolutely batshit.”

but you shrugged and kept eating your oranges.

“twitch?” mat said after a moment. “who’s twitch?”

you raised your hand like you were sitting at a desk at school. “that’s me,” you said after swallowing more oranges.

mat blinked. “why?”

emma piped in. “in college, she would look like she was twitching—”

“—i was practicing my hand and eye movements—”

“—in college?” alex interrupted. “she still does it.”

“and hence the name twitch was born,” emma concluded.

you rolled your eyes and looked at mat. “they're exaggerating.”

he only smiled and shrugged. “more creative than our nicknames.”

“well, the bar’s in hell then,” you said.

“barzy! we gotta go!” all four of you looked over and saw bo horvat standing at the end of the aisle, gesturing for mat to get up.

mat, to his credit, looked a little sorry to leave, even as he stood up. “i’ll see you around, twitch,” he said.

your friends, to their credit, waited until he was out of sight to start elbowing and shoving you around. 

“he brought you a peeled orange? how did he even know to do that?” emma pestered.

once again, you rolled your eyes. “it was my reward when i beat him in battleship.”

“battleship? when did you have time to play that?” alex asked.

“the other night when i couldn't fall asleep.”

“are you gonna hook up with him?” emma bounced in her seat, her blonde hair falling around her face.

“i don't hook up with hockey players,” you said. “too close to home. besides, there are plenty of men to sleep with while i’m here.”

you found yourself making out with (and fucking) a french snowboarder before the night was over. he wasn't bad, he used a lot of tongue, that was certain. which begged the question: was it a french kiss in france? or was it just a kiss? you'd never know, you forgot to ask him.

alex was getting in bed by the time you got back to the room, your hair mussed and lips swollen. “eventful night?” she asked.

you shrugged and changed into your pajamas. “you could say that.”

“how was he?”

“sloppy kisser. how’s steph?” you asked.

a smile you could only describe as soft graced alex’s lips. “great, we spoke an hour ago. she told me to tell you good luck.”

“she’s so sweet.” you groaned as you fell back into your bed. “none of the guys i’ve been with have ever been that nice.”

the room was silent, yet so loud. “twitchy,” alex started. “they're hook ups, not boyfriends.”

you sat up in bed and looked at alex. “what do you mean?”

“hook ups have no emotional investment, twitch. why would they care if you did well or not?” she asked. and the truth stung a little, you weren't going to lie about that. after a beat of silence, she continued. “could it be possible the hook ups aren't enough anymore?”

you shrugged and fell against the bed. “i don’t know,” you groaned. “it’s not even like the sex is good anymore. i mean, it’s not bad, but it’s like i have to give a beginner’s lesson every time.”

“that is a benefit of a committed relationship. you're not starting over every time you have sex.”

you turned your head and saw how alex was scrolling on your phone. you weren't sure how she could do it when you were having a slight crisis. “but i don't know that i have time for a boyfriend and hockey. how the hell am i supposed to manage that?”

alex turned to look at you. “if he wants to be with you, and if you want to be with him, you both will find a way to make it work. but you have to get over this fear of commitment for it to work.”

you turned back to look at the ceiling and said nothing.

alex fell asleep shortly after your conversation ended like she didn't just wreck your worldview. and like a few nights ago, you got up and went to the dining hall, except this time without battleship or your bag of starbursts.

you should've been surprised when you saw mat again, but instead of focusing on why he was stuffing his face with cannoli, you just plopped into the chair across from him.

“do you ever wanna settle down?”

mat coughed and choked on a cannoli. “w—what? with you?”

you rolled your eyes. “no, just in general. aren't most of your teammates married? do you ever want that?”

he swallowed and nodded, taking a sip of water before speaking. “i mean yeah, eventually. why?”

you fell back into your chair and sighed. “i feel like my friends expect me to grow up at some point. i mean i’m almost thirty, shouldn't i be committed to someone by now?”

he shrugged. “i don't know, should you?”

“don't your teammates ask you about that?”

“i don't know, maybe. but i just ignore them.”

“you do?”

“...no. okay? no. it gets to me too. but it is what it is. i can’t manage hockey and—”

“—dating, right?”

he nodded.

“what if we made a deal?”

“a deal?” he leaned in. “i’m listening.”

“you and i, we both want to stop being single, right?”

“right.”

“but we’re athletes, we’re competitive. so what if we made this a competition?”

mat took a bite of cannoli. “so what’re you thinking?”

“first person to fall in love wins. we try dating around and finding our people but the first person to fall in love wins.”

mat’s eyes widened. “just like that? we’re going from an inability to commit to falling in love?”

you nodded eagerly. “it’s like exposure therapy! grabbing the bulls by the horns.” you inhaled. 

“what does the winner get?”

you hummed. “a favor that can be cashed in at any time.” he nodded, looking lost in thought. “so what do you think? are you in?” you stuck your hand out, ready for him to shake it, but anticipating that he won't.

a moment passed. mat ran a hand down his face. “god i must be desperate,” he mumbled before he shook your hand. “i’m in.”

guy one: paul

you were soaked in sweat and your lungs were burning. with the water bottle attached to the back of the goal, you sprayed yourself in the face, the cold liquid doing wonders to cool you off.

you skated off the ice and towards the locker rooms. you shucked your jersey and chest protector off almost immediately.

“you in a rush, twitchy?” jess said from her locker across the room. “hot date?”

“maybe,” you replied.

truth be told, yes. you were meeting this guy named paul that you met on hinge. he seemed nice enough. granted, the bar was in hell. “nice enough” was the result of him not sending you a dick pick within the first three texts. he had yet to send an inappropriate text or photo, which gave you a little bit of hope.

so when you looked at your phone, you expected to see a message from him. but it was mat’s name on your home screen.

mat barzal: what time is your date tonight?

after that night in the dining hall, you and mat exchanged numbers. it was his idea, saying it’d be better if the two of you didn't leave meeting up to chance anymore. you'd hardly call meeting at two work events “chance” but you weren't going to protest.

you: 7, why?

you continued undressing until you were just in a pair of spandex shorts and a sirens shirt.

mat barzal: just curious. 

mat barzal: you ready to hang it up?

you: hang what up?

mat barzal: your hoe stage. may she rest in peace.

a snort came out before you could even think to stop it.

you: i’ll hang mine up if you do the same.

mat barzal: i thought that was the deal.

you liked the message and locked your phone.

jess slid into the spot next to you and tried to peer over your shoulder. “what’re your plans for tonight?”

you shrugged and began untying your skates. “hinge date.”

her eyes widened as she smirked. “ooo with who? the mystery man you were texting?”

you rolled your eyes. “no, that was just barzal.”

it was almost like someone had used a clorox wipe on jess’ face, because any trace of her smugness was gone in a flash. “barzal? barzal who? barzal as in mat barzal of the new york islanders?”

you blinked. “yep.”

her jaw dropped. “when did you get his number? is he the one you're going on a date with?”

as if the word “date” was a beacon in the night, every single one of your teammates’ heads turned your way. “you have a date tonight, twitchy?” ella shelton asked. “who is it?”

“mat barzal!” jess replied quicker than you could.

it was silent for just a moment before a million questions were fired your way. since when were you dating him? how did you two meet? when was your first date? is this your first date? why didn't you tell us?

“we’re not dating,” you said over the noise.

“then why is he texting you?” ella asked.

“because we made a bet.” the girls leaned in. “whoever falls in love first, and by proxy gets someone else to fall in love with them, wins.”

alex carpenter blinked. “why?”

you blinked back. “why what?”

“why make it a competition? i thought you weren't interested in dating?”

you glanced around the room, most of your teammates were in committed long term relationships with someone and those who weren't had just gotten out of one. then there was you, and maybe one or two other stragglers left to go bar hopping with the potential of taking someone home.

sleeping around was fun, but maybe you were ready for someone to understand you, to not laugh when you say you love sleeping in socks. you were tired of falling asleep with cold feet anytime you wanted the other side of your bed warm.

but how could you say that? a post practice gossip session was not really the place you wanted to lay your heart bare.

“maybe i just wanted some consistency.” you gestured to alex. “i mean, i see steph at nearly every game. it would be nice to have someone show up for me other than my parents.”

the mass interrogation dispersed not long after that confession, with you heading off to the showers before heading home to your one bedroom jersey apartment. to pass time, you took a nap while watching gilmore girls.

you met paul at the chipotle not too far from prudential. he suggested it and though you'd had chipotle plenty of times that week, you agreed because it was easy enough.

you filled your bowl with your usual and watched as he only got chicken and white rice. part of you tried to brush it off by thinking maybe he had food allergies, but why would he suggest a place where he couldn't eat most of anything on the menu?

he picked a table in the middle of the restaurant, which was also odd, but you went along with it. he was already seated and mixing his dry ass bowl together by the time you made it to the table with your drink.

it was weird, you'd admit. it wasn't like you expected him to pull your chair out for you, but you did at least expect him to wait until you sat down to start eating. maybe his family was different than yours.

“so,” you started as you mixed your bowl with your fork. “what do you like to do for fun?”

god you were horrible at this.

he shrugged and stuffed his mouth full of rice and chicken. “i’ve been reading rich dad poor dad.”

oh god. he was even worse at this than you were.

okay, okay, maybe this date could still be saved. “so you like to read?”

paul shrugged again. “sometimes.”

you blinked and took a bite of your burrito bowl while you waited for him to ask you a question.

he kept munching on his chicken and rice.

“so,” you started. “do you have any hobbies?”

“running.”

more silence.

“what do you do for work?”

“i’m an accountant.”

you stabbed your bowl with a little fierceness, but tried to taper your frustration. “i play in the pwhl.”

you waited and watched, hoping if he didn't understand what you did, that he'd at least try to act interested. but he just kept eating.

“have you ever run a marathon?” you asked.

“no.”

the date continued on like that, your questions answered followed by painful silences that served to exacerbate how one sided the whole experience was. at the end, he stood up to throw his things away without saying a word. you followed, because you were ready to say goodbye and end the disaster you were ashamed to call a date (god you can’t believe you shaved for this).

the two of you stood on the sidewalk, letting people move around you.

“we should do this again. this was fun,” he said.

and without even thinking about it, you said, “was it?”

paul blinked. “why wouldn't it have been?”

you laughed until you saw he didn't join in. “oh,” you stopped, “you're serious.”

paul just stared like nothing had happened. before meeting him, you weren't sure what a blank stare looked like, but after seeing it on his face, you could safely say the lights were on but no one was home.

“paul, you didn't ask me a single question, the only reason we didn't sit in silence was because of me.”

he blinked like he was getting paid to do it. honestly, at that point in the night, it seemed to be the only thing he did.

“you have nothing to say?” when he didn't respond fast enough, you rolled your eyes. “bye paul.”

before you could stop yourself, you started the drive to elmont to see your parents. you could go back to your apartment tomorrow, but you really needed to touch grass after that date, even if it was the small yard behind your parents’ house.

you were at a stoplight five minutes from your parents’ home when your phone rang.

mat barzal.

you squinted at your phone but picked up anyway. “hello?”

“hey! are you currently at a stoplight?”

that was an odd coincidence. “yeah?”

“about two blocks from ubs?”

“...yeah.”

“okay cool, i see you.”

you look around alarmed until you saw a hand waving in the car next to you. you couldn't help the smile on your lips when you saw him sitting in the car to your left. his phone pressed to his ear with one hand, his other waving at you. “what the fuck are you doing out and about?”

mat jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, like he was pointing at ubs’ general direction. “just had a game. you? i didn't think you lived on the island.”

“visiting my parents. i need to touch grass, my date was rough.”

mat grimaced.

the light turned green and you half expected him to hang up, but he kept the call going. “what happened?”

“i would’ve rather watched paint dry than relive that date again. he was the most boring person i think i’ve ever met. i asked him questions and he'd give me one or two word answers and then wouldn't ask me anything. and then at the end of the night, he said we should go out again because it was ‘fun.’ and then he had the audacity to be surprised when i told him it wasn't!”

“how boring could he possibly have been?”

you groaned. “his order at chipotle was white rice and chicken.”

“and what else?” mat asked.

“that’s it. that’s the only thing he ordered.”

“oh my god.”

“and he reads fucking rich dad poor dad for fun i guess. and he likes to go running. he’s also an accountant, but don't ask me for any more information because i think he’s allergic to details.”

mat cackled through the phone. “what was his name again?”

“paul.”

“hate to break it to ya, twitch. with a name like paul, you really should've expected it.”

before you could stop it, a laugh bubbled out of your chest. “that’s super judgmental.”

“and maybe if you were as judgy as me, you wouldn't have gone on a date with the human equivalent of wet cement.”

you turned your blinker on and got into the turning lane for your parents’ neighborhood. “not all of us can be as discerning as you.”

“hey, if you wanna run your hinge matches by me next time, i’ll gladly provide my expertise, free of charge.”

“i’ll keep that in mind for next time, barzy. thanks for listening to me bitch.”

the smile on his face was audible when he spoke to you. “anytime, twitch, anytime.”

guy two: nathan

the second date only happened after an extensive vetting process, aka sending screenshots and screen recordings of hinge profiles to mat and jess (in separate threads of course. there was no way you were starting a group chat with the both of them).

jess had been more forgiving than mat had, which surprised you. she pointed out her fair share of red flags, but it was nothing compared to mat’s.

mat met you outside sweetgreen where you went inside to collect your mobile orders. to his credit, he did have a beanie (for once, it wasn’t islanders related) and sunglasses on in a sorry attempt to not be spotted. it was clear the attempt didn’t work because there were two kids asking for autographs when you came out.

you stayed back far enough where it wasn’t obvious you were with him and waited for the kids to leave with their parents.

“i swear i’m not trying to attract attention,” he mumbled to you when the coast was clear. 

you handed him his order and rolled your eyes. “you're one of the most recognizable faces on long island, and you thought a beanie and sunglasses would save you?”

he shrugged before popping a pickle chip in his mouth and started walking down the sidewalk. “do you have any updated matches you wanna show me?”

without even responding, you handed mat your unlocked phone.

“oh immediately no,” mat said, looking at some guy named jonathan.

“what's wrong with him?” you asked, peering over his shoulder.

mat flashed your phone at you for a brief second. “he has a neck beard!

you grabbed your phone and looked at the photos again. huh, you hadn't noticed that before. “he can shave it!”

it was mat’s turn to roll his eyes. “he posted that picture because he thought he looked good in it, he's not shaving that fuckass beard.” he continued swiping through your matches and scoffed at most of them.

“this one has too many group photos, and i guarantee you, he's not the guy you think he is.”

two minutes later, mat scoffed and said fishing photos were a bad sign.

“it’s just fishing.”

but mat shook his head and offered no explanation. “didn't your friends tell you these things?”

“jess and ella were looking at the answers and content more than photos, i think they’re concerned about my safety.”

“and neckbeard passed the test?” mat’s eyebrows practically raised into his hairline. “twitch you are way too hot to be dating neckbeards and men whose only personality is fishing.”

“how is that fair to them? my only personality is hockey!”

you stumbled over the uneven sidewalk before mat’s hand steadied you by your elbow.

“try to stay on your feet, twitch.”

you stopped walking long enough to give him a look of disbelief. “i know you're not talking to me about staying on my feet. you fall down like four times each period.”

part of you expected mat to get defensive, but he smirked instead. “aw, you watch my games?”

you glowered and kept walking.

that was two days ago. you were currently getting ready to go on a date with nathan who had (somehow) managed to be approved by your board of trustees as mat called them. ella, jess, and mat couldn't seem to agree on anyone collectively until you matched with nathan.

he graduated from penn state law before he moved back to new york. he was the oldest of three boys and had played football since he was a kid. he doesn't play anymore now, you figured, but still got together with his friends at least once a month to play in prospect park.

it seemed like a good fit. ella pointed out how having friends was a good sign. jess said that he seemed to be passionate about his line of work and lighthearted. and judging by the dms you’d been sending each other, nathan was also way more charismatic and entertaining than paul, which was a win.

you met him at a coffee shop in manhattan, he didn't pull your chair out but he did stand when you walked over with your coffee in hand. which was fine, you weren’t old fashioned or anything, it was more than paul had done.

“hey,” he greeted with a thousand watt smile.

dear god, he was handsome.

it’s okay, you told yourself, you had marie philip-poulin shoot pucks at you a million times before, and she was way scarier than any man.

“hi,” you smiled back.

the two of you took your seats.

“hi,” he said again. “you look great!”

“you do too, handsome, i mean.”

he nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “what did you order?”

“mocha frappe,” you smiled. his face pinched in a small frown before it was covered up with yet another smile. “what about you?”

“americano,” he said. “i like it bitter.” he took a sip. “so i saw you're a fan of hockey, what’s your team?”

“oh, i’m actually a professional hockey player,” you gently corrected. “so, my go to team is the new york sirens, but if we’re talking nhl, my parents are huge islanders fans so i’ve been pulling for them as long as i can remember.”

his eyes lit up. “oh cool! i didn’t know you were a professional hockey player, i wasn’t aware they had a league for women now.”

“yeah! the inaugural season was last year, but we didn’t have official team names until this year.” you took a sip of your frappe. “what about you? do you follow the nfl closely? i know your profile said you played football.”

he smiled sheepishly. “unfortunately, i’ve been a jets fan since birth.”

you grimaced. “yikes...”

“take pity on me, i’ve been through a lot, my trust is damaged.”

you snorted before you could even think to stop yourself. your eyes widened as you made eye contact with nathan whose shocked face did nothing for your confidence. an apology was about to come out of your mouth before he changed the topic and pretended like nothing happened.

the rest of the date went so well, you exchanged numbers at the end of the afternoon. it was a little odd when you saw his phone, it looked older than you thought it should’ve, but maybe he was an old soul and didn't want the newest iphone just because he could have it.

on the second date, a week later, you met up on your side of the hudson. you were fresh from practice while nathan took his lunch break to see you.

his phone kept buzzing on the table, but he brushed them off as work emails, which made sense. he was a lawyer, he probably had hundreds of emails to answer on a regular basis. when his phone started ringing, he held it kind of awkwardly in a way where you couldn't see who was calling. he held a finger up at you and excused himself from the table. 

you watched as he paced up and down the sidewalk, confused as to why he was so agitated. sure, you hadn’t known nathan long, but he didn't seem to be the type to frustrate easily.

your own phone vibrated on the table, and since nathan was on a phone call, you checked it.

mat barzal: when are you free next? i have raya matches and i need a girl’s perspective.

you: don't you have teammates?

mat barzal: they’re all practically married.

you: i’m failing to see the disqualifications

mat barzal: they’re all dudes, they don't know what they're talking about

you: and i do?

mat barzal: you’re a girl, aren't you?

you: i’m not even going to dignify that with a response

mat barzal: photo attachment

when you opened the text, it was a picture of what you assumed was child mat in hockey gear. 

mat barzal: would you say no to this face?

you: i’m on a date, but when it ends, i’ll call you.

mat barzal: :)

nathan came back in, looking more flushed than usual. “everything okay?” you asked.

“huh? oh, yeah, just a work thing.”

you blinked. “seemed a bit intense for work...”

he shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. “it’s just a lawyer thing.”

the lunch continued for another twenty minutes before he rushed off saying he had to get back to work. he pressed a sweet but brief kiss to your lips and promised to call you.

there was no reason to not believe him.

as you walked out of the restaurant, you pulled up mat’s contact and called him. he picked up on the second ring.

“hey! are you free?” he asked.

“just left my date.”

“oh...sorry, did i interrupt?”

you smiled despite yourself at the slight apologetic tone in his voice. “no barzy, you did not, he had to go back to work.”

“oh...so you’re free? right now?”

“yep, just headed back to my apartment. do you wanna come over?”

“yeah, just send me your address.”

an hour later, you were buzzing mat up to your apartment. he immediately started scrutinizing the space. it wasn't much, probably nothing like he was used to considering the giant salary gap between the two of you, but it was lived in. your grandmother’s quilt lay across the back of the couch you saved for. you'd thrifted the floor lamp and the rug (and the money you saved on it went to getting it professionally cleaned). on the coffee table was a candy jar full of only red starburst, the others were in a gallon sized ziploc bag in your pantry.

“cozy,” mat said.

“i know it’s not much—”

“do you like living here?” he asked.

you nodded.

“that’s what matters. that it feels like home.” he pulled his phone out and pulled up raya. “can you help me with this? the guys keep mentioning wife material and telling me i’m not gonna meet a wife on a dating app.”

you rolled your eyes. “your teammates have also been dating their wives since high school so i wouldn't take everything they say so seriously.” your thumbs began scrolling through his matches, taking mental notes of the girls flying across the screen. “not this girl,” you said, showing him a picture of a red head.

mat’s eyes widened. ”what? why? she volunteers at the animal shelter!”

“taking a picture at the animal shelter and volunteering at the animal shelter are two different things. besides, it’s the fact that all her group photos are with guys, not a single girl spotted.”

“so? she says she's one of the guys.”

“and in girl words, that means she’s dealing with a lot of internalized misogyny and might be a pick me. she’d probably see any woman in your life as a threat.”

“huh.”

“and this girl,” you showed him another one of your matches. “she seems nice, but if you look in the background of one of her photos, there’s a rangers jersey on the floor.”

mat physically recoiled like you'd just slapped him.

“but the other girls seem fine, especially this grace girl, she seems cool.”

“thanks, twitch,” mat said reaching for his phone.

you picked yours off the coffee table and plopped down on the couch. “wanna watch a movie?”

mat nodded and watched as you put on the mighty ducks. sure it was a bit on the nose and the two of you had already been submerged enough in hockey culture, but you were ready to turn your brain off and just be a kid again. besides, the two of you would probably end up scrolling on your phones most of the time anyway.

you opened instagram and saw a dm notification from an account you didn't follow. hesitantly, you clicked on the message and promptly felt you stomach drop to your ankles.

hey girl, the message started. the guy you’ve been seeing, nathan, is my fiancé, we’ve been dating since high school. i would really appreciate if you ended things with him.

“oh my god,” you mumbled.

“what? have you never seen this movie before? it always starts like this,” mat laughed. his laugh stopped short when you showed him the message. “shit.”

“yeah,” you said. “shit.”

mat’s girl one: lauren

the final buzzer sounded, signifying the end of the game, a 4-2 win over toronto at prudential. alex skated over to you first, wrapping you in a hug and patting your helmet. “good job, twitchy,” she smiled. your other teammates followed suit.

jess was last, embracing you as tightly as she could with both of your pads in the way. she skated alongside you back to the locker room. while you loved being one of the three stars of the game, you were glad you weren't chosen that night because nothing sounded better than showering and going home.

after the game debrief in the locker room, you rushed to the showers to scrub the layers of sweat off your body. only when you felt human again, did you get dressed into your sirens sweatsuit. sure, maybe you should've put your cute outfit on again, but you could already feel how exhausted your body was and couldn't imagine putting on an underwire bra and real pants after the game you just had.

on your way to your car, you checked your phone for the first time since getting to the arena. your mom and dad were the first texts you saw, both apologizing for not being able to make the game tonight and inviting you over to dinner the next night.

the most recent text was from emma maltais who told you to let her score next time just because you used to be on the same team in college. after all, weren’t you both forever buckeyes?

but it was the fourteen texts from mat that caught your eye. they all ranged in length with most of them being short exclamations and questions. the last text just read:

mat barzal: can you call me asap? i think i’m losing my mind.

as soon as you got in your car, you called him.

he picked up on the second ring.

“do i need to go to college?” he asked immediately.

what. the fuck.

“huh?” was the only intelligent response you could give him.

“do i need to go to college?”

“mat, what the fuck are you talking about?”

a loud sigh echoed through your phone as you pulled out of the parking lot. “you know how i went on a date tonight?”

“yeah, with that lauren girl, right?”

“mhm, have you read any of the texts i sent you? i feel like that would make more sense.”

“i’m driving right now, i just saw your text asking me to call you, i hadn't had time to go through the rest of them. why? what happened? was she secretly a serial killer?”

“what? no! she said hockey is barbaric and started quoting cte statistics to me.”

“what the fuck? who does she think she is?”

“she’s about to graduate from med school.”

“and she was on raya?”

“...she has a following on tiktok doing ‘days in the life of a med student.’”

if you weren't driving, you would've face palmed. “and she was telling you about how unsustainable a hockey career is?”

“she said i’d retire at thirty-five and probably have a mid life crisis that would be exacerbated by head injuries and how rough i’ve been on my body so it’s probably best that i look at going to college to find a real job.”

“oh my god—”

“so should i go to college?”

you sighed as you pulled up to a stoplight. “mat, how long have you known this girl?”

“...um, a week?”

“you're gonna let a stranger convince you to spend money on a degree you probably won't use? you get chirped a thousand times a night and yet you're not contemplating quitting the game just because someone you've played against for years says you suck.”

he paused, the only sound on the other side of the phone was his breathing. “okay okay, you're right. god i don't know why i freaked like that.”

“i don't either, you don't know this girl, you don't owe her anything.”

“what’re you doing tomorrow?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject. “do you wanna come to my game? i’ll get you a ticket.”

“i’m getting dinner with my parents tomorrow—”

“your parents can come! i’ll get the tickets for all three of you, if you think they’d be interested.”

if they’d be interested? what a joke! your mom and dad had been isles fans as long as you'd remembered. when you were growing up, your dad said you should play for the isles if they weren't going to make a women’s league.

“first woman to play on an nhl team would be quite the honor, don't you think squirt?”

“i’m sure they would love to be there, mat. thank you.”

you could hear his grin through the phone and imagined seeing his eyes squint from his big smile.

“i’ll send you the tickets.”

you woke up the next morning with a text from mat with the tickets enclosed; you shot back a quick thank you, and that you'd see him later.

when you called your parents the night before and gave them the news, they were ecstatic, asking a million questions about how you knew mat barzal, why he was giving you tickets, why you hadn't told them you knew him earlier. you'd told them you'd drive to their house after morning skate and you could walk to ubs together.

more than anything, you were excited to see sidney crosby playing up close. mat had gotten decent tickets after checking to see how close to the ice you'd want to be. he even told you to meet him at ubs before heading to your parents so you could get the family passes to come to the locker rooms after the game. you weren't sure why he was being so nice, but you weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

you waited in the parking lot of ubs, leaning against the driver side door when mat sped into the lot and parked, rather chaotically, two spaces away.

he hopped out in his game day suit with mostly dry hair and three passes in hand.

“hey,” he smiled. and if nathan’s grin was a thousand watts, mat’s could power the entire island alone. “here are the passes.”

you took them from his hand with a matching grin. “thanks, mat.”

he shrugged like it was no big deal. “no problem. you got the tickets, right?”

you nodded. “they’re in my phone.

“great! i’ll see you later then?”

“try not to fall down this time, barzal.”

“no promises,” he said. “is that what you're wearing to the game?”

you glanced down at the black sweatshirt, jeans, and black and white dunks. “is this not fashion forward enough for you?”

“i don’t know, black’s not really an isles color...” he teased. “if you need any gear, i’m sure i can find a jersey—”

“i’m sure my dad has a t-shirt i can wear if it would really mean that much to you.”

mat slapped a hand over his heart. “would you do me the honor of not wearing the colors of the team i’m playing against? i would really appreciate it.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“only for you, twitch.”

you laughed and shook your head. there was a moment where it looked like mat lit up at the sound of your laughter, but you were probably reading into things.

“i’ll see you after the game?”

he nodded. “see you then.”

you left him in the parking lot and headed down the street to your parents’ house. to no one’s surprise, they were both fully dressed and ready to go to the game that didn’t start for another four hours.

“how do you know mat barzal, sweetheart?” your mom asked as soon as you got settled on the couch. “i don't think you ever really explained it.”

“we met on the all star red carpet fan event. i was late, he was early.”

your dad cocked an eyebrow. “and he gave you tickets to a game after one interaction?”

you shook your head. “we ran into each other at the olympics, started talking more after that.”

“well, i think it’s very nice of him to invite us to his game tonight,” your mom replied, but there was a tone in her voice that had you looking at her suspiciously. 

“you're not dating him are you?” your dad asked flat out.

you choked on your own spit, hacking and coughing until you felt like you could breathe again. “what?! no! we’re just friends.”

“hm.” your parents hummed in unison.

it used to unnerve you how many times your parents did things in sync. walking, talking, humming together, they did it all. but they’d been married for thirty years, maybe it would've been odder if they weren't so in tune with each other.

the three of you watched a rerun of ncis before you started walking to ubs together. the walk was only twenty minutes, but the wind was brutal that evening. by the time you made it in the arena, you couldn't feel your face.

you made your way down to your seats and watched as the kids gathered in the space in front of you. mat wasn't fooling around, they were great seats, right behind the bench, across from the penalty box.

the area had cleared out mostly by the time the game started, leaving you and your parents to freak out about being so close to one of your childhood heroes, patrick roy.

god, you'd have to see if mat would let you meet him.

the game itself was an ugly one, ending in a win for the islanders, but it didn't really feel like one. it didn't take you playing hockey your whole life to know that there were penalty kills that should've never happened, sloppiness on both teams. hell, you probably didn't even have to be anything more than a fan to realize that.

nonetheless, you and your parents made your way down to the locker rooms where you saw a crowd of blonde women and their children. you could feel their eyes on you, but it didn't feel judgmental, just curious if anything.

there was no telling how long you waited before players started coming out of the locker room and greeting their partners. you recognized them all, but had never met any of them but mat, so you kept to yourself and your parents, looking up occasionally to look for mat.

when he finally walked out, you called his name and waved, cheesing like you did for your kindergarten school photos. in real time, you watched his face light up as he walked over to you.

“great game,” your dad greeted.

mat immediately stepped up and stuck out his hand to greet your father. “thanks, sir. it’s nice to meet you, i’m mat.” he looked at your mom. “and you must be twitch’s sister.”

on cue, you could’ve sworn your mother swooned. you rolled your eyes.

what a charmer.

you watched with a smile as your dad and mat talked about the game. your dad, while quite knowledgeable, was sensitive enough to not mention the multitude of mistakes made that night.

“we definitely need to clean up a little during practice this week,” mat started. “i think roy is gonna address it...”

you couldn't hear another word after he said patrick roy’s name, like you suddenly remembered mat was being coached by your childhood hero. you tugged on mat’s arm like a child asking for another cookie.

“mat,” you started. he immediately turned to look at you, his brows pulled together in confusion. “can i meet coach roy? please?”

“oh lord,” your mother said. “you’ve started it now, mat.”

“squirt, he's probably busy, mat’s already been kind enough to invite us—”

mat glanced over his shoulder to the locker room, then looked around the hallway, like he was taking attendance. “you wanna meet him?”

you nodded emphatically, bouncing on your feet.

mat placed a hand on your back. “i’ll introduce you.”

your parents eyed mat’s hand but said nothing. you were too busy hearing the rush of blood in your head to fixate on it. “squirt, we’ll meet you at the house, you too mat! join us for dinner if you’re not too tired!” they turned on their heels and headed out of the tunnel towards the exit.

mat led you towards the locker room, but made you wait outside while he glanced around to make sure there were no naked men inside. when the coast was clear, he gestured you to come inside.

you were practically skipping into the room.

patrick roy stood by one of the lockers talking to anders lee when you entered the locker room. your jaw dropped at being so close to the man whose film you watched over and over again on youtube.

“don’t be weird,” mat mumbled. “he's just a guy.”

“you shut the fuck up,” you mumbled in reply. “he’s patrick fucking roy.”

as soon as anders finished talking to roy, he started towards the exit, nodding at you (albeit a little confused) and clapped mat on the shoulder.

the hand on your back pushed you forward until you were just a few feet away from mat’s coach.

“barzy? what’s up?” patrick roy asked before his eyes landed on you.

mat pushed you forward a little more. “coach, this is twitch, she’s the goalie for the new york sirens.”

“you're literally my hero,” you blurted out. “you made me wanna be a goalie.”

to your relief, he smiled and stuck his hand out. “it’s nice to meet you, how’s the season looking so far for the sirens?”

“not too bad, we could definitely be doing better.”

“sounds familiar.” roy’s eyes cut to mat in a sarcastic way.

“well, you met him, we gotta go, though,” mat said, already leading you away from his coach. “don't wanna keep your parents waiting.”

roy’s eyes twinkled and his lips slid into a smirk, like he knew something you didn't. “it was nice to meet you, twitch.”

“you too!”

the hallway was mostly empty when you and mat exited the locker room. you glanced up at him and smiled. “oh my god thank you! i don't think anything will live up to this moment.”

he shrugged like he didn't just do the biggest favor for you. “don't worry about it.”

“do you think i could meet sorokin next time?”

mat guffawed and lightly shoved you. “don't get ahead of yourself, that would require you to come to another game.”

“deal.”

the two of you walked towards the parking lot mat parked in. “i’ll drive you home,” he said.

“you really don't have to come for dinner, i know you’re probably tired.”

he scoffed. “and miss out on the chance to get a home cooked meal and look at your baby pictures? never.”

“you're not gonna see my baby pictures.”

“i'm sure your mom would pull them out if i asked nicely.”

you shook your head. “nope. nope. nope. invitation rescinded. you can't come over.”

“not your house, you can’t rescind an invitation you didn't give.”

you groaned. “this isn’t fair, it’s not like i can go to your childhood home and look at baby mat pictures.”

he shrugged and opened the passenger door of his car for you. “you can always visit during the summer.”

you thought about it. “summer in vancouver doesn't sound bad...”

he smiled and shut the door behind you before walking around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. “just let me know, i’m sure my mom would be happy to have you. she’s always happy to host my friends.” he pulled his phone out. “can you put your parents’s address in?”

you typed in their address and handed the phone back to him while you picked at the dirt under your nails. mat pulled out onto the turnpike and down a few side streets until you were pulling up to the house.

“i’m sorry your date didn't work out.”

mat turned towards you. “huh?”

“your date,” you explained. “with lauren.”

“oh,” he said. “it’s fine. tonight made up for it.”

it took your mom no time at all to sell you down the river (read: pull out the photo albums). as soon as dinner was over, mat asked, and your mom immediately went and grabbed the albums without hesitating.

mat was all too giddy to see your photos, he was nearly bouncing in his seat when your mom came down the stairs, armed with blackmail material. 

“this was when she was six months old,” your mom started, pointing at different photos. when mat cackled and smirked at you, you knew he'd found the bathtub pictures.

a few pages later and mat’s eyes went wide as saucers as he looked in your direction. “why’re you dressed as an amish woman?” he cackled.

your dad smiled. “she went through an amish hyperfixation after we went to pennsylvania and saw an amish family riding in a horse and buggy.”

mat pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos, snickering to himself all the while. “this is so cute,” he said, pointing at a photo he wouldn't let you see.

your dad continued. “she even asked us to have candlelight dinner for her birthday because the amish don’t have electricity.”

mat couldn't stop laughing.

you shrugged, not even the slightest bit embarrassed. everyone had their weird fixations, yours happened to be the amish. “i tried wearing the dress with my goalie gear and cried when i couldn't,” you said.

mat continued to scrutinize the photos, flipping pages as he smiled. “you were so cute.”

for some odd reason, heat flooded your cheeks. but you brushed it off as a side effect of the glass of wine you had with dinner.

it was nearing 1am when mat finally said goodbye. you walked him out, not noticing the smug look on your parents’ faces.

“thank you for letting me crash your dinner tonight,” mat said, leaning against his car. “it was nice. your parents are great.”

you shook your head and smiled. “thanks for the tickets and the passes. the game was really fun, and i know mom and dad appreciated it.”

a cold wind blew that made a shiver run down your spine. mat took a step closer, then a step back, like he thought better of it.

“when’s your next date?” mat asked.

“not sure,” you said, scuffing the ground with your shoe. “haven't found anyone yet. you?”

he shook his head. “trying to focus on getting to the playoffs, can’t afford any distractions.”

you nodded emphatically. though his playoff run started before yours did, the urgency was still the same.

“let me know if you wanna come to another game,” he said.

before you could stop yourself, you were already shaking your head. “mat you don't have to—”

he held up a hand to quiet you. “you can make it up to me by giving me tickets to see you play.”

you smiled and couldn't stop. even as he got in his car and drove out of sight, you wore that smile inside, missing the knowing looks from your parents.

“he’s nice,” your mom said, a strange tone in her voice that you paid no mind to.

“he’s pretty great.”

mat’s girl two: grace

when mat texted you that he had gone on a date with a girl named grace and was planning another one with the same girl, a strange sinking sensation happened in your stomach. you weren't overly familiar with the feeling. you just assumed it was because you hadn't eaten much.

when he facetimed you a few minutes later, you were shoving a handful of spinach and cheese in your mouth.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he asked. his cackle echoed through your kitchen

“it’s dino time,” you said through a mouthful of spinach.

mat blinked. “‘dino time?’ as in dinosaur?”

“what else would it be for?” you scoffed. “c'mon mat, i know you grew up in canada, but you should've learned this in kindergarten.”

“okay sure, but why?”

“why what?”

“why are you eating a handful of lettuce?”

“...it’s spinach.”

mat dragged a hand down his face and sighed. “okay so it’s spinach. why are you eating a handful of spinach?”

“i saw a girl on tiktok doing it.”

“huh. and you do whatever people on tiktok do?”

you rolled your eyes. “oh get off your high horse, mat. i’m only doing it to get more veggies in. it’s not like i’m snorting cocaine because i saw the wolf of wall street.” only after you shoved more spinach in your mouth, did you ask another question. “why did you call anyway?”

“i was wondering if you'd be able to get two tickets to your game tomorrow.”

“who’s going?” you asked with your mouth still full of leafy greens. “you and bo? duclair? lee?”

mat rubbed the back of his neck. “i was actually planning on taking grace, if that’s okay.”

“oh,” you said, swallowing your spinach. there was that strange sensation in your stomach again. it was odd though, because you were eating, so the feeling should’ve been gone by now, right?

right?

“yeah,” you nodded. “yeah i can get some. i can also see if i can get passes so you can come down to the locker rooms after the game.”

he smiled brightly. “you’re the best, twitch. i’ll talk to you later?”

“mhm.”

he ended the call shortly thereafter, leaving you with your bag of spinach and a quiet room.

he planned on taking grace to your game.

suddenly the greens didn't taste as good anymore. but you had no idea why.

“you’re jealous,” jess deadpanned in the locker room a few days later.

you scoffed. “i’m not jealous. i’ve just been feeling weird.”

“and that all happened to coincide with when mat got a girlfriend?”

“one date hardly makes her his girlfriend.”

jessie eyed you, but you kept taping your stick as if you didn't see her in your periphery. 

there was no way she was right. you still texted the tickets to mat. but instead of meeting him outside like he did for his game, you sent one of the attendants out to give him the passes. your reasoning was simple: you weren't feeling well for some reason, and the idea of seeing grace in his passenger seat only made your stomach twist more.

“listen, all i’m saying is you might have a little crush. it doesn’t have to be devastating.”

devastating? devastating? 

devastating was losing 4 to 5 to toronto. devastating was smiling through the irritation and disappointment when emma maltais skated over after celebrating with her team.

devastating was not looking over at mat and who you assumed was grace standing at the glass, close enough that you wanted to vomit.

you were only halfway listening to your coach’s lecture after the game, knowing damn well it would lead to bag skating tomorrow. the idea of even touching the ice made you want to slam your head against the wall until you forgot about the game you just played. 

when you showered, you originally just stood there, letting the water drown you briefly before you actually washed your hair and body. there was no shot you were drying your hair, you were willing to risk getting a cold if it meant leaving that godforsaken arena as soon as possible. so you slapped a sirens beanie on top of your wet hair and walked out of the locker room.

only to be met with mat and grace standing outside.

fuck.

you'd forgotten about the family passes after three periods of shitty goaltending. the last thing you wanted to do was see mat after your performance that night. the only thing that could top it was meeting grace.

of course she was lovely, smiling at you and offering her hand when mat introduced her. you weren't an asshole, so you shook her hand and did your best to smile even though you wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep off the loss.

however, you did your best to look as interested in the conversation, you pretended to be genuine when grace said you did a great job, that she had fun at the game. all her words should've lifted your spirits, but you didn't know her from a can of paint and you weren't up for conversation. maybe after the next game (that you'd hopefully win) you'd be more up for talking.

“hey,” mat nudged his foot with yours. “it’s not your fault.”

you rolled your eyes, even though they started stinging. “i should've blocked that last goal.”

“and your team should've scored or kept the puck away from you,” he said matter of factly. “the puck has to get through three forwards and two defensemen before it gets to you.”

“but if i—”

mat shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing the bones there. “you're gonna keep yourself up all night overthinking this.” he leaned his head down to look you in the eyes. “it’s not your fault, you've gotta let it go.”

you scoffed. “i can’t just ‘let it go—’”

“you can, and you will if you wanna prevent yourself from making the same mistakes.”

you nodded. “thanks mat,” you mumbled, standing there in the moment until you remembered grace was right there. “it was nice to meet you, grace,” you said, doing your best to smile at her without it looking like a grimace. “maybe next time, we’ll win and i’ll be in a better mood.”

she smiled so bright that it nearly blinded you. “no worries, i look forward to your next game.”

“i’ll see you later, mat,” you said. with your goalie bag on your shoulder, your tired legs started to carry you down the hall towards the parking lot, but a hand reached out and slipped the bag off your shoulder.

“i’ll walk you to your car.”

“but grace—”

“she can come with, right, grace? we’ll drop twitch off and then i’ll drive you home?”

you and mat glanced at her, she seemed frozen in her spot, but she slipped a smile on her face with minimal faltering. “that’s fine,” she said.

mat carried your bag all the way to your car and tossed it in the trunk without breaking a sweat. when he closed the trunk door, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “text me when you get home,” he said.

“you're the one with the hour long drive, mat. you should text me when you get home.”

he laughed and tugged on the ends of your hair. “will do. let me know what your schedule looks like this week!”

you nodded as he walked away and watched as he took grace’s hand. your stomach lurched again, but you wrote it off as a side effect of losing that night.

but the sight of mat and grace reminded you of the bet you'd made at the olympics.

you still had some falling in love to do.

guy three: peter

when you were in high school, you watched a movie called serendipity and fell in love with love. the idea that the right person could be in front of you the whole time made your sixteen year old heart beat like wild.

so when you ran into your ex, peter, at a coffee shop in manhattan, you knew it was your moment.

he was the one.

he had to be.

god and to think you two broke up in college and somehow found your ways back to each other? it had to be a sign.

“it’s not a sign, it’s a coincidence,” emma said over facetime.

you rolled your eyes. “how else would you explain him being in manhattan now? i met him when we were at osu.”

“just because you exchanged numbers again doesn't mean you should date him.”

“we ran into him in the most densely populated city in america, emma. i don't think that’s by chance.” you inhaled. “besides, i think he’s changed. i know i have. maybe it was the right person at the wrong time.”

emma blinked like she didn't believe you. “what does mat think?” she asked.

that was an odd question.

“what do you mean? why would he care?”

she shrugged. “i just thought you two were talking to each other about your dates. thought he might have an opinion on the matter.”

“eh, haven’t spoken to him much.” and truthfully you hadn't. between practicing, games, and dates with peter, you two hadn’t spoken in about a week and a half. which, for anyone else, wasn't that deep, but for you and mat, it was a little strange.

“maybe you should fix that,” emma said.

almost like he knew you were talking about him, mat texted.

mat barzal: would you be up for a double date? you, me, grace, and pete?

that sounded like a comically bad idea.

you said yes anyway.

peter chose the restaurant after mat suggested meeting in manhattan, a suggestion he probably made with you in mind. it was a bit fancier than you would've liked. you were fully expecting on finding a little mom and pop hole in the wall with some indoor seating and calling it a day, but you should've known peter was more refined than that.

you were in a black dress with his jacket draped over your shoulders when you walked in the restaurant. mat had texted you earlier to let you know he and grace were already seated.

peter’s hand was on the small of your back as he led you back to the table. he plastered a polite smile on his face and whispered in your ear. “why did you agree to this?”

you shrugged. “thought it would be fun.” you glanced back with a smile on your face. “i think you'll really like mat, he's cool. and grace is nice too.” though, admittedly, you didn't know as much about her as you did mat. after all, he was the one you quieted the anxieties you were feeling about this date entirely.

“it’ll be great!” mat said as the two of you walked around a park. “you and i already get along,” he passed back your now peeled orange. you immediately shove three pieces in your mouth. “it would only make sense that our partners would also get along.”

not even peter’s cynicism could put a damper on your mood.

mat and grace stood as the two of you approached. mat hugged you first, then shook peter’s hand. you and grace waved at each other before you took your seats. mat pulled grace’s seat out before he sat down, peter was seated before you could even blink.

you shrugged it off, pulling out a chair wasn't that big of a deal. but you saw mat’s lips pull down in a frown before it was gone entirely.

“what’s good here?” mat asked. “i've never been.”

you glanced at the menu, your mouth started watering already. “the lobster ravioli looks good,” you noted. “god my stomach is growling already.”

peter made a noise in the back of his throat. “have you looked at the salads?”

you froze. in the corner of your eye, you saw mat’s head snap up from where he sat diagonally from you. “why would i look at the salads?” you asked. “i want pasta.”

peter shrugged. “just think the salad would be healthier.”

“so you can get a salad. i want pasta.”

“if i’m paying, i think you should get—”

“it's on me tonight,” mat interrupted. his eyes met yours. “get what you want, twitch.”

you closed your eyes and sighed when you felt peter tense up next to you at the mention of your college nickname. in your head, you said a little prayer that he would drop it, or at least wait until the two of you were alone to address it.

grace cleared her throat and smiled at you. “has your season gotten any better?” she asked.

grateful for the sudden change in topic, you smiled back. “it has, i feel much better now. sorry that you caught me on a bad night.”

“it wasn't that bad, twitch,” mat said. “it was an off night for everyone. you did the best you could.”

you shot him a grateful smile right as peter cleared his throat. “how’s your season going, mat? i’ve been trying to keep up but you play so many games and so does this one,” he nudges you. “it’s hard to keep track.”

mat shrugged. “we have to get better at putting pucks in the net, that’s for sure.”

“don't let his modesty fool you, peter,” you started. “mat’s on an eight game point streak right now. he’s killing it.” mat looked up and smiled at you. on reflex you smiled back at him until peter cleared his throat.

peter blinked, then gave mat a smirk. “must be cool playing for the rangers,” he said. “has to be the greatest team in new york.”

your brows furrowed right as mat’s jaw clenched. you'd told peter about mat, how he was a forward for the islanders, and was a strict rangers hater. so it was a mystery how he confused mat for a rangers player at all.

“i don't play for the rangers,” mat replied coolly.

“my mistake,” peter shrugged before taking a sip of water. “i assumed your team was the winning team.”

your eyes widened and you nudged peter in the arm. “can you chill please?” you mumbled.

grace, sensing the tension, turned the conversation back towards you. “mat told me you grew up on long island, is that true?”

you nodded and smiled widely, grateful for the topic change. “yes! right down the street from ubs. my parents and i walked to the arena to see mat play not too long ago.”

“it’s like a five minute drive,” mat chimed in.

grace nodded, then froze. “how do you know that?”

he shrugged. “we ate dinner at her parents’ after the game.”

you could cut the tension with a knife. based on grace’s thinned out lips, she wasn't necessarily enthused about the idea of mat eating with you and your parents. granted, you didn't think anything of it, but maybe it was cause for concern for her.

thankfully, the server came over and took your orders. you told the server you wanted lobster ravioli before peter could order for you and sipped your water as he rolled his eyes.

when the food came out, you were too busy eating to notice the looks mat and peter were sending each other or the way grace kept glancing back and forth from you to mat. the lobster ravioli was just too good to focus on anything else.

when the time for the check came, peter scowled when mat paid for it, but said nothing. your mood soured the longer peter was grumpy. by the end of the date, you were rushing him out the door, but not without waving goodbye at grace and hugging mat.

peter didn't say anything until you got into his car. “i didn't know mat had met your parents.”

you blinked. “i didn't think it was worth mentioning. do you want me to tell you that jess and ella met my parents on draft day?”

“that’s not the point and you know it,” he scowled. “and why is he calling you twitch?”

you shrugged. “because it’s what everyone calls me. he heard it from emma and jessie and it’s stuck since then. why is it a problem?”

he huffed. “i never said it was a problem.”

“you're acting like it is.”

“that’s because you're too old to be going by a college nickname. when you meet my coworkers, can you just give them your real name?” he asked.

there was a sinking sensation in your stomach that you hadn't felt since you were twenty. “sure,” you tried to smile. “if it’ll make you happy.”

two days later, you were drying your hair after a 2-1 loss against montreal. peter had texted you earlier that week asking for days you were available to hang out with him and his friends.

truthfully, you didn't want to, especially after losing. but peter was so sweet last night. he brought you flowers, though you weren't really a fan of daisies, a bottle of his favorite wine, and pizza from a place down the street from your apartment. he let you pick the movie out and said you were beautiful.

you were willing to endure a night with his finance bro friends because he sacrificed his free time last night to see you.

you put your walk in outfit back on and sighed when you looked in the mirror. the last thing you wanted to do was go to a bar where you only knew your boyfriend.

but love was about sacrifice, right?

you drove home and ordered an uber to the bar in manhattan. when you finally arrived, it took you a second to realize where your boyfriend was.

he was propped against the wall while one of his friends was shooting pool. peter kept talking and didn't notice you walk up until you were right next to him.

“oh hey!” he kissed your cheek, which made you grin just a little. he was so sweet and you loved the affection. “how was your game?”

your smile faltered. “you didn't watch it?”

a light bulb went off in his mind. “oh, i mean, they had the islanders game going on, so i didn't get a chance to see it. i’m sorry, babe. i would’ve if i could’ve.” 

you nodded, not wanting to fight in public. because your game ended over an hour ago, and peter, according to your texts, had only been at the bar for forty-five minutes.

he seemed to take your silence as a sign that you were okay and ushered you forward towards his friends. “guys, this is my girlfriend,” he said before looking at you, expecting you to introduce yourself.

you waved and said your name. peter’s friends nodded back at you and got back to their game. peter was cheering as one of his friends, whose name you didn't know, shot a ball in the hole.

“peter,” you said over the loud music. “peter!”

he finally glanced at you, eyebrows raising like he just remembered you were there. “yeah?”

“i’m going to get a drink,” you said.

he nodded before turning back to the game.

your heart sunk as you walked to the bar, dodging bodies like your teammates did on their way to the net. in your backpocket, you could feel your phone vibrate. you reached back and pulled it out, smiling when you saw a text on your screen.

mat barzal: do you feel as shitty as i do?

you pulled up the nhl app and saw the score. a 4-5 loss against the rangers.

stupid fucking rangers.

you: i feel like absolute dog shit. like the kind i would have to pick up when i took benny on walks.

mat barzal: who’s benny?

you: my childhood dog, sweet as can be, but took massive dumps on every walk.

mat barzal: what’re you doing now?

you: at a bar with peter and his friends.

mat barzal: ...that’s fun?

you laughed at his message. 

you: if only, but i’m hopeful it’ll get better.

mat barzal: where are you right now?

you dropped him a pin.

you: why?

mat barzal: i’m like five minutes away, would it be weird if i joined you?

probably yes, given how mat and peter’s last interaction went, but you glanced back at your boyfriend who was laughing with his buddies. he didn't notice you'd been gone for almost ten minutes now.

so maybe you were feeling petty, but you didn't care at that point. maybe you'd pay for it later, but the price of not feeling alone in a dive bar was worth any tension that would inevitably come.

you: it wouldn't be weird! i’d actually appreciate some company right now.

mat barzal: bet.

you were alone for another seven minutes before you saw a mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors. you watched as his eyes searched the room until they landed on you. it was like someone flipped a switch, the way his face immediately lit up at the sight of you. the very sight made your stomach twist in a way that had you buzzing in your seat.

mat shoved his way through the crowd of people before he flagged down a bartender and took the seat next to you.

“hey,” he huffed, out of breath.

you laughed. “did you run here?”

he shrugged, even as his cheeks turned pink. “maybe. that’s not the point. what’re you drinking?”

you held up your half empty cup. “moscow mule.”

“you want another?”

you let mat buy you another drink. you let him pay for it. you let him ask you about how the game was and in turn, you asked how his went. you let him tell you about bo’s kids as well as matt’s, how the bet was going, how grace was doing.

he seemed ambivalent to that last conversation topic, the spark in his eyes when he talked about his teammates died quickly.

“i don't know,” he said, tracing the bar top with his pointer finger. “things are good.”

“but?” you asked.

“but i thought falling in love would be different.”

your heart lurched in your chest, your stomach twisted like you were about to vomit. there was no reason for it though, maybe it was the alcohol?

“you're in love with her?” you managed to get out.

he shook his head, and the pressure building in your chest lessened. “no, but maybe i should be.”

mat’s eyes looked past you, when you turned around, you saw he was staring at peter and his friends. “do you love him?” he asked quietly, just loud enough for you and only to hear.

the truth was, you used to when you were in college. you thought he hung the sky, the moon, and the stars. you thought he put the earth into motion. he was your sun. but now things were different, he was different, you were different. it was like a piece of a puzzle that almost fit but not completely, like you were forcing it into a spot and saying it was close enough.

“i don't know,” was the answer you settled for. “maybe in time, i will again.”

mat let out a breath. “but you don't right now?”

“not yet.”

he nodded.

a beat later, an arm slid around your waist that had you tensing until you heard his voice. “hey sweetheart, you'd been gone for a moment, i got concerned.” you could hear the tension in peter’s voice as he spoke to you. if you were a betting woman, you'd gamble your bottom dollar on mat being the reason for it.

“pete, hey,” mat said with a wave.

“it’s peter,” your boyfriend said. “hope you’re not feeling the sting of a loss too bad, mat.”

you whipped your head around to look at peter, confusion written all over your face. “you watched the game?”

peter shrugged like he barely heard you. he wasn't looking at you anyway, his gaze was locked on mat. “we pregamed before coming here.”

“you watched the rangers play but couldn't watch my game?”

but he didn't even acknowledge what you said. “it was nice seeing you mat, but me and my girlfriend are going to go play pool. have a good night.” peter steered you away from the bar and back towards the pool tables.

it was like someone was draining the life out of you like one would tap a tree for sap.

“i think i’m gonna go home,” you said, pulling away from peter. “i’m really tired and i have practice tomorrow.”

peter’s brows pulled together, he frowned. “but you just got here. i barely got to see you.”

“that’s because you were playing pool with your friends. i’ve been here for over half an hour, peter. i lost tonight and i just wanna go home and lay on the couch and watch trashy reality tv.”

“fine,” he huffed. “i’ll see you later.”

you went on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips, but at the last minute he turned his head away so your lips met his cheek instead. you stepped back, a little hurt before you spun on your heels and headed for the exit.

“you're leaving?” you glanced over your shoulder and saw mat shoving past people to get to you.

“yeah,” you said. “i’m tired and wanna get in bed.”

“have you ordered an uber yet?”

you shook your head.

“let me ride home with you, i don't want you going home alone.” you were already shaking your head, telling him to catch uber back to long island, but he held a hand up. “it’s late and i don’t want to have to tell your mom that i let you catch an uber back to your apartment without making sure you got there safely.”

you held up your phone. “i can give you my location.”

“not good enough. i need to see you walk into your apartment building.”

“seriously, mat, i’d feel bad that you're adding more time to your commute.”

he shrugged like it was no big deal. “don't think of it like that, just think of it as me wanting to spend more time with you.”

the ride back to newark was short, but you felt bad knowing that mat had an hour trip back home because of you. but he shrugged your worries off and said he'd text you when you got home.

that night, after your second shower, after crawling into bed to watch the bachelor, you went to sleep smiling.

your mood over the next two days fluctuated, with you rarely hearing from peter. if you got any response, it was strictly five words max per text message. and each message took him at least thirty minutes to reply.

safe to say, when you arrived at prudential for another game, you were ready to devour the red starbursts you saved in your goalie bag.

except the bag was empty.

and really it shouldn't have been that big of a deal, but you'd been eating red starbursts before every game since you were six and your mom stopped caring about red dye 40. your shaking hands reached for your phone and hit peter’s contact. 

the phone rang and rang and rang and rang only to go straight to voicemail.

so you called again.

same thing.

so you called again.

same thing.

you called one more time and it went straight to voicemail.

peter: can you chill? i’m busy.

you: i need red starbursts. do you think you could bring me some?

radio silence.

so you waited five, ten minutes. and not a single reply.

you: peter? will you?

peter: i’m busy. why don’t you get that?

tears welled up in your eyes. you were starting tonight, you couldn't afford to not have the candy. what if you lost because you didn't have them? would the whole team blame you? you know you would.

you walked into the hallway and scrolled through your contacts. you hit the contact of the person you were searching for.

two rings.

“hello?”

“mat,” you sniffled, trying to keep the crying to a minimum, thankful you'd gotten there early enough, no one else was in the locker room. and no one was in the hall.

“hey, you okay? are you crying?”

“can you do me a huge favor?” you asked.

“anything.”

“can you bring me red starbursts? i tried asking peter but he’s busy and my parents are at work still and—”

“i got you, don't worry. where do you want me to meet you?”

a sob escaped your lips as relief crashed over you. “thank you thank you thank you, mat. just call me when you get here, and i’ll meet you.”

he was there in forty-five minutes with a ziploc bag stuffed full with your favorite candy.

you about tackled him in the hallway. “how did you get down here?” you asked, bouncing on your feet as he handed the bag over.

“apparently my face is familiar,” he joked. “when i told one of the social media interns i was here for you, she led me down here.”

without even thinking about it, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for the tightest hug possible. “i owe you one. seriously.”

when you pulled back, his cheeks were a light pink, something you could've read into had jess and ella not come bounding down the hallway.

“twitch! who is this?” they asked, wide smiles on their faces.

“no,” you mumbled. “mat, run.”

you tried pushing him away, but he turned around and smiled at your teammates. “i’m mat,” he said.

jess’ lips formed a smirk. “i’m jess, the best friend.”

“ella, the other friend.”

“are you staying for the game?” jessie asked, mirth rolling around in her irises.

“he can’t he's busy—”

“sure,” mat smiled. “i’d love to.” he turned back to you. “are your parents coming?”

you nodded, a little sheepishly. “they have my tickets—”

“you can have mine!” jess cut in. “they should be next to yours anyway.”

“you really don't have to come, mat—”

but he shrugged. “i’d love to. do you think your mom would cook again tonight?”

“i’m sure if you asked, she’d make a five course meal just for you.”

you missed the looks passed back and forth between jess and ella, only focused on the way mat’s lips curled up into a smile. “then i’ll see you out there, twitch.”

as he walked away, jess and ella smirked at you, waiting until he was fully out of sight (and earshot) to shriek at you.

“he’s eaten dinner with your parents?!”

“shut up,” you groaned, walking back into the locker room. “it’s not that deep.”

“girl, what was he even doing here?”

you held up the bag of starbursts. “i ran out.”

jess paused. “...and he brought you some?” she reached for the bag, testing its weight in the palm of her hands. “girl, this is like several packs worth of starbursts.”

you shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. “he was being nice.”

but when you skated out for warm ups and saw him sitting next to your parents, you could see the blue of the sirens jersey he was wearing, you could see your number 26 on his sleeves. he was leaning down to listen to what your mom was saying when you skated past their seats.

your parents were sporting a homemade t-shirt of you in goalie gear at the ripe age of six, if you had to guess. on any other day, you wouldn't have felt the heat flooding your cheeks, but something about mat standing next to your parents wearing those shirts felt a little too intimate. it felt like something peter wouldn't be happy about if he found out.

the same peter who brushed you off, you reminded yourself.

suddenly, you cared a little less.

you skated to the crease and started scuffing it up before prepping for the rest of the warm ups.

by the time the game ended, you were exhausted. it ended in a win, something you were grateful for. ottawa put up a good fight, but you felt every one of those twenty-three shots on goal in your bones. you were so tired, you didn't even bother checking your phone, you just shoved it in your back pocket and walked outside of the locker room.

what you saw in the hallway had to be some sort of nightmare. standing with your parents was mat, jess, and ella all of whom were pointing at the homemade shirts they wore.

you immediately started walking towards them.

“you have to make me a shirt next time,” mat quipped.

““no—” you cut in.

“of course, mat! if you come over afterwards, you can pick which picture you want on your shirt!” your mom crooned.

your eyes widened. “mom no—”

but mat was already smirking and cutting you off. “i have just the picture in mind.” 

jess’ eyes brightened, like a lightbulb went off above her head. “is it the amish picture?”

he shook his head and smiled. “nah, i got a better one.” when ella and jess opened their mouths to ask, he shook his head again. “and it’s a secret. you'll all find out one day.”

you laughed while your teammates rolled their eyes. it wasn't long before they were saying their goodbyes and walking out while you, your parents, and mat just stood around.

“you know, mat,” your dad started. “the offer still stands if you want to come over for a drink.”

mat’s eyes met yours. a silent are you going? passing between the two of you.

you thought about how you should probably go home, how you'd be better just going to your apartment instead of driving an hour to your parents’ house.

but your parents made cute shirts and sat in the arena cheering you on like they had been doing for years.

“your call, barzy. but be warned, we will probably play spades. so if you're game—”

“i’m down,” he smiled.

which is how you ended up throwing cards at mat because your parents set the two of you in the card game.

“what the fuck mat!” you yelled, but it was drowned out by your parents cackling and mat groaning.

“language!” your mom chided.

mat threw his hands up at your accusation. “i've never played this before! your parents have been playing together for years!”

“not an excuse!”

“oh c'mon, squirt, don't be such a sore loser, it’s mat’s first time playing.”

you huffed and sat back in your chair, crossing your arms. “i don't remember being this bad,” you said.

“you were a concussed fifteen year old, i doubt you remembered much from that time,” your dad quipped as he shuffled the deck of cards.

mat choked on a laugh that he quickly stifled when he saw your glare. you opened your mouth to retort when your phone started vibrating in your back pocket.

peter.

you sighed and held your phone up. “i've gotta take this, i’ll be back.” you pointed at mat. “make sure they don't cheat.”

mat held his hands up. “i wouldn't even know how they could cheat at shuffling cards, but okay.”

you stepped into the living room, just far enough for a little privacy, but close enough to monitor what was being said by your parents. “hello?”

“where are you?” peter asked immediately. “i tried ringing your doorbell but you haven't buzzed me in. i’m freezing my ass off, here.”

“huh?” you asked, wondering if you heard him wrong.

“i’m outside your apartment,” he sighed.

“wait,” you said. “why?”

a moment of silence and then a deeper sigh. “to apologize. i feel like you were angry with me earlier. so i wanted to make things better.”

you blinked. “so you're at my apartment?”

“with daisies, your favorite. so, are you going to stop ignoring me and let me in? it’s way too fucking cold for this, baby.”

you grimaced at the idea of telling him the truth. “i would peter, but i’m not in jersey right now. i’m in elmont, with my parents and—”

mat’s loud ass laugh cut you off.

the silence on the phone was deafening.

“is mat there? was that him?” peter’s voice was cold in a way you hadn't heard before.

“yeah,” you said, not seeing an issue with it. “he's here. we’re playing spades.”

a long pause. “why?”

“why what?”

“why are you at your parents’ house with another guy? can you tell me how that makes sense?”

you pinched the bridge of your nose and moved upstairs to your bedroom so your parents and mat couldn't hear. “we’re just playing a card game—”

“why is he there?”

“because he came to my game,” you said.

“why was he at your game?”

“because he didn't hang up on me when i asked for red starbursts, peter.”

“oh my god,” he groaned. “i was in a meeting! you seriously can't be mad at me for not getting stupid candy for you this one time.”

“well, you asked why he was here and i told you. he brought me red starbursts, jess gave him one of her tickets, and my parents invited him over for dinner.”

“why?”

he couldn't be serious.

“because they're my parents, and they've never met a friend of mine that they didn't like. which you would know if you'd had more than three conversations with them.”

“oh don't turn this around on me, sweetheart. you’re the one with a guy at your parents’ house right now.”

“you know what?” you started. “i’m not even gonna entertain this bullshit. why did you stop by my place again?”

“to apologize!”

“for what?”

“i don't know,” he admitted. “i could tell you were mad and probably blamed me so i came to apologize for whatever i did to piss you off.” you could practically feel the sarcasm in his voice seeping through the phone.

“okay peter,” you said. “i’m going to hang up now because you're being an ass and if we continue this phone call any longer, you're going to be single. i’ll talk to you when i’m back in jersey.”

before he could say another word, you hung up and took a deep breath to steel your nerves. you took a moment to pull yourself together as you headed down the stairs and back into the dining room. 

“everything okay, squirt?” your dad asked.

you nodded and did your best to smile. “just peachy.” you walked back to your seat and pointed at mat. “don't fuck this up for me, okay?” you said. “i have a lot of pride riding on this game.”

“language,” your mom scolded.

but mat smiled anyway and slapped your hand out of the air. “wouldn't dream of it.”

mat left around 2am and you were asleep in your childhood room by 2:15.

[heartikeu]

LOVE IN RED INK a sim jaeyun smau series

〔 𝒾 〕 One coffee spill later, you're dumbstruck by the older, attractive, and incredibly new partner at your job. It's not possible for such a magnanimous man like him to be interested in you, a mousy assistant with such little romantic experience. No way.

estimated 10 chapters ⋮ 18+⋮ ONGOING comedy, smut (in written segments of future chapters), non-idol!au, ceo!jake (technically), older!jake, feat! lee heeseung/park jongseong/park sunghoon/yang jungwon and winter of aespa and ryujin of itzy, jealousy, some terrible puns and jokes from mr. sim, some swearing, self-deprecating humor and kys jokes throughout ᯤ 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈: 𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 — 𝘸𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘦, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 — 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴, 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 - 𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘰𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰, 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 - 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 — 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮 — 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘯, 80𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 — 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘺𝘯𝘯, 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 – 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵 JOIN TAGLIST HERE

⌗ 𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ── My first SMAU series! I have been inspired with my recent smau and also my muse himself, so why not. I hope you guys like it!

→ MASTERLIST BELOW

01. at first spill , 02. snow day , 03. under pressure , 04. holi-holi-holiday , 05. only liquor anoints you , 06. little deaths little blooms , 07. i've never been here , 08. crimson banners , 09. over (not under) coffee , 10. caffeine kisses rest of chapters to be added as they release!

── .✦ 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 (𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘):

@tinycatharsis @filmnings @innocygnet @xomakara @frenchkisstheabyss @gyubookeries @xylatox @jaylaxies @lovetaroandtaemin @lollipop3 @anormieee @jaays-moon

[jesncin]

we need to talk about dc pride 2025-

PURELY from a consumer perspective!! I'm not writing this in an antagonistic way just because I'm part of the DC Pride fanzine (which I'm very proud of, you should check it out)- I just really want to talk about it and I feel I'm entitled to an opinion as gay book king of 2025 so HERE WE GO

To catch you up to speed, the DC Pride specials are usually anthologies with a handful of short stories highlighting and celebrating DC's canonically queer characters, with an all queer creative team (as is tradition). They're ordinarily self contained stories. This year though it looks like they tried to be more ambitious- and the stories are all connected to a bigger plot. In my humble opinion this was a huge mistake.

It's the nature of anthologies to have hit and miss stories! You've got a huge pool of creatives and some of those writing styles or stories aren't going to vibe with you. But that's no biggie, because you can just hop onto the next story and start fresh. It's what I've come to enjoy about anthologies! And I found this an accessible way to learn about DC's queer characters through these short stories.

BUT THAT'S NOT THE CASE FOR THIS YEAR'S SPECIAL. The overarching plot that all the Pride stories are under follow a magic plot where all queer characters across universes are trapped in a fantasy world (where they supposedly have all their desires granted) and need to snap out of it to get back into the real world. A character named Ethan Rivera, a trans man who served in the war, is usually the one to snap people out of it. This Pride Special serves as a backdoor-pilot style origin story for Ethan.

The story serves as a spiritual sequel to Alan Scott's recent solo comic. Years ago, Alan and his ex carved a heart onto this wall in a gay bar, unknowingly imbuing it with magic. In modern times, the wall and the bar its in are going to be turned into a parking lot, another gay monument lost to history. Suddenly it's doing some cosmic horror stuff where every queer character is sucked into a fantasy and regroup there.

(this dialogue is so....uh trite and on the nose I'm sorry afasdf)

This might seem like a new fun way to shake the Pride specials up- you get an overarching plot and everyone gets to interact with each other. There's a main character to help follow you through the action, theoretically giving you the opportunity to explore more depth in conflict than your usual short self contained Pride story, etc.

But no. It did the opposite for me. The overarching plot put some serious constrains on the writers, forcing them to essentially write the same plot over and over again.

Character is in a fantasy, something is off, Ethan snaps them out of it, and they all end up in a "home base of operations" where they get exposition dumped and caught up to speed with the magic shenanigans happening.

Interesting at first but very quickly overstays its welcome!! I couldn't escape the loop. I wasn't granted the freedom of a fresh start to read a new story, it was the same plot. Again and again and again.

I can sense some writers really trying with the limits they're given. Vita Ayala's The Question segment was among the stronger stories! And I felt a sense of this character's personality and history way more than the others.

Other characters weren't so lucky. Connor Hawke has been done so dirty this year. Not only was he whitewashed in a Pride illustration (that accompanies this collection), with half his face covered to add insult to injury- but he got a meager 2 pages of backstory before being cast to the side. And the writing was among the worst of the collection. Tragic.

(these panels summarize all these stories' plots. Just the same thing rinse and repeat)

Lowkey hate that the ace character's "celebration" this year is getting smooched on and then cast aside for a bigger plot. Justice for Connor.

Quick roundup of stories I want to talk about- sorry if I don't include your fav! This was just such a repetitive read that they all sort of melt together in my mind.

Any Apollo and Midnighter fan can go in more detail over how these complex morally grey characters get watered down to being sanitized Pride ads every year, so I'm going to review this on just the basic storytelling level. The premise is that the fantasy these two husbands are stuck in is a tongue-in-cheek respectable sitcom. "vigilante justice" is "legalized" but whenever someone violently threatens the gay couple, Midnighter can't really kill them. They turn into confetti.

I can sense this is trying to poke fun at respectability and censorship but it lands flat for me. Why are there people threatening them with slurs and guns if it's an escapist paradise? I've never seen a cute sitcom have that. It doesn't help that this idyllic fantasy is literally a desire for Apollo. That the reason they're stuck there is that one of them actually likes it there. If they went a more WandaVision route where they were stuck in a censored reality where they can't boink and have to dress as respectable sweater-wearing neighborhood gay dads, this could've poked fun at the company's own problems with softening edgy queer characters. Just a fascinating case study of attempting rebellion within a company.

Quick note for Harley's story. It basically says that all her modern motivations boil down to wanting a girlfriend. If that isn't a summation for how these characters lose all depth after being canonized as queer I don't know what is.

We need to talk about the Blue Snowman story. Or what I like to call, "this year's contender for "Pride is a Party""

Summarized perfectly by Dizzy on twitter as

The Blue Snowman's fantasy is that they're outed by Wonder Woman when she uses the Lasso of Truth on them. Forced to come to terms with their fluid gender identity, they imagine being graciously accepted and defended by the world against Wonder Woman, with her labeled as "Not An Ally". (we'll talk about how Wondie's canonically queer later in the conclusion)

I get that it's a joke, that the Blue Snowman is self deprecating, insecure, while also being egotistical enough to frame Xanthe Zhou as an "unimportant trans person"- who is inspired by the Blue Snowman to be queer. But it's not funny. And reads like a conservative "the gays are so fragile" comic. Again, this is presented to us as the Blue Snowman's secret desire. Much like the Apollo and Midnighter one, any commentary it's trying to make doesn't land.

Xanthe and Blue Snowman only "reconcile" in a quiet sequence of panels where Blue Snowman begrudgingly holds Xanthe's hand. The one time this comic decides to shut up, it does this. Justice for Xanthe because they barely get stories outside of these DC specials, and the one time they return it's to be insulted and barely apologized to.

The Blue Snowman story is the most trans focused narrative out of the entire collection this year (outside of Ethan exposition dumping his origin story). And this is what we got.

In between everyone's stories, we see Ethan in a dreamscape fantasy realm that is very beautifully rendered! Props to A.L. Kaplan!!

Even though I visually love these pages, I did find them disruptive to the flow of stories. It didn't help that Ethan sort of intrudes on everyone's stories to snap them out of their fantasies- I just found it all annoying to read. I couldn't really get into each character because they were mandated to follow a specific structure. In the end I still don't have a grasp of who Ethan is as a character either, despite all that screen time.

Ethan just tells us his origin, we don't experience it with him. He explains to us how he feels about everything. He is entirely a tell not show character.

He'll even explain what the metaphors represent to the reader. "Because it feels as though everything I've done since then has involved a transition of some kind. It's like I'm always transitioning. Like this place." "It's a beautiful tribute Alan. And look what you started! These carvings, this wall...it's like a monument. it represents everything you and so many others were feeling." This is real dialogue. He literally tells us what the wall represents like we're too foolish to know.

The dialogue in general was a pain to read. Everyone sounded like a Joss Whedon character. They'd say the most obvious on the nose thing, in a weak attempt to hide it as quirky charisma. It was not working.

(just because you lampshade your writing by showing characters being bored of exposition doesn't mean it's suddenly good writing!!)

It got exhausting to read hope speech after hope speech of characters talking in corporate prideisms that I found myself wanting to skim through the pages because I felt I wasn't learning anything new. And when I say these characters yap, I mean they YAP.

Godspeed to the letterer team because what the heck!!

All this text and for what? More cosmic red lantern magical nonsense.

Anyway the interconnected story ends abruptly. After yelling at the cosmic image of Alan's ex, Ethan returns to the graffiti wall in the gay bar with all the other queer characters transported back to where they came from. And the ending is...surprisingly passive about its conclusion.

There's a strange resignation to the characters. Despite being literal superheroes who have attachment to this gay bar and graffiti wall that houses generations of queer expression, they just kind of give up on saving a queer historical monument. They don't even try.

This is all lamp shaded under a "the fight never ends" speech from Alan. But like, again- y'all didn't try. You didn't fight for the place. You are just telling me that you are. "It's always been that way, and it always will be. That's what we get right? That and the privilege of hoping that, because of what we do, the next generation and the next may get more." A bit of an oxymoron to say it's always the same and hope the next generation will get it better.

I understand what this collection is going for. Deeper, interconnected conflict for its queer characters that you wouldn't normally get in its typical anthology format. It's even trying to end in a more somber note. They don't save the gay bar and its graffiti wall. They move on.

But it's lacking nuance in its garbled hope speech by the end. I understand that "It gets better" can become an irritating platitude to hear when historically, we know it doesn't always get better for marginalized people. I think if the story ended with "Things don't always get better. It can get worse if we're not careful, that's why we have to keep fighting." And show your characters being active instead of just accepting queer erasure when it happens, that could be really resonant with the current political climate. Instead we get this passive resignation. Anti-hope disguised in hope speeches.

Quick review of the Jenny Blake auto bio in the end. It's cute, though I have some thoughts. Inevitably when these collections feature an auto bio comic, they feel more authentic because they're about a real person.

I do find it ironic that Blake starts this comic by saying "just as no two human beings are exactly alike...no two lgbtqia+ stories are exactly alike" when it's featured in an anthology about queer characters experiencing the same "I'm in a fake fantasy, whoa time to wake up into the real world! What going on? Someone exposition dump me please" story over and over and over again. I had lost a lot of my patience by the time I made it to the end of this collection. And this felt like a punch in the face in the funniest way. Amazing lack of self awareness.

I have a nitpick for this later part though. Blake says "Evil reared its ugly head, and my country descended into cruelty and madness. Playing it safe was no longer an option. I needed to represent as my true self. I would not hide in the closet waiting for the bigots and transphobes to come find me!"

It's very cloying in its delivery. But I take issue with framing closeted people as shameful cowards who won't live their truth. Just "waiting for bigots to come find them". If things are hard for you in Texas (or anywhere for that matter) as a trans person, being in the closet doesn't make you any less queer. You're just protecting yourself the way Superman does when he's being Clark Kent.

NOW FOR BIG CONCLUSION FEELINGS

The DC Pride anthologies are always interesting to me for the wrong reasons. I'm fascinated by them like it's performance art. They're an annual celebration of the company's queer characters and staff. But they're also Pride ads. Sometimes there's little gems in the collection, but for the most part its watered down and corporate. I love dissecting all the ways they represent respectability, assimilation and the struggle between art and commerce.

This collection's existence is proof- evidence if you will- that queer writers don't always make great queer stories. Because they're human beings.

So this year's collection showing ambition to break away from the celebration-style writing to be more interconnected and somber, but still managing to feel corporate is a case study that my brain can't stop chewing on. Despite its deviance from the norm, it still follows DC's limitations with queer rep.

DC has so many more queer characters than those that show up in their Pride specials. And they even have huge mainline queer characters that mysteriously never show up in Pride.

Remember how the Blue Snowman comic joked about Wonder Woman not being an ally? Well. She's not. Because Diana's a canonically queer character. But DC doesn't market her that way. To the general audience, DC wants you to believe that Nubia is the queer Themysciran, the queer member of wonderfam. Despite Wonder Woman being a queer headline Trinity member, DC wants you to remember that Diana is for the boys. So they can't have her in the Pride anthologies.

Same with Selina Kyle, she may be Catwoman, she may have kissed a woman, but she's for the boys. So both her and Diana have a magical restraining order from the Pride Specials. A Lasso of Lies if you will. Catman can be here, though. Allies like Nightwing can be featured too.

Bi representation in DC is very bi-nary (pun intended). When Harley Quinn was canonized as bi, she's written like a lesbian character. Modern Harley solely hits it up with women, and has no feelings for men. Even in this collection she's being creeped on by a dude and has to reject his advances as she chases her girlfriend. It's as though DC resigned and said "fine, Harley's for the girls".

When Tim Drake came out as bi, he's virtually been written as a gay man. All his previous relationships with women are written off and discarded. Highlighting his gay relationship as the true relationship.

When Jon Kent came out as bi, he never says the word "bi". And is written to be a gay character. Yeah he's in dramatic love triangle right now, but we can't have our biggest multi-flag wearing mascot cheat and feel complex about this. That would be a bad bi stereotype! We can't have that.

The luckiest we get is bi characters like John Constantine. Who flirts constantly with men- but only has deep, character-defining romantic relationships with women. That's as good as it gets. He'll get bi jokes tossed at him though. We can't have everything.

That's only one out of the many ways corporate mingling messes with these characters. How it stops them from being truly transgressive. Because this Pride Special, for all its ambitions, just has the same foundational problems of the collection's usual offerings.

Only this time, in my opinion, there was no standout or good story. Because they were all the same story. They were forced to be. Which is deeply ironic for a Pride special.

[amazingdeadfish]

Blue and Violet Scenes/Ideas that never made the cut

Self Indulgent post ahead, but I kind of wanted to share some of the things that had been part of the early stages of BAV but were cut out when I finally started publishing! Most of this stuff was either cut out due to my interpretations of the characters naturally changing and/or I simply realized that these aspects simply could not fit the story I wanted to tell (or, they are just silly things I simply could not fit into the plot line. OR, I forgot about them and didn't remember these things existed until now 💀).

Starting off strong with a thing I actually wrote a segment for (an idea that was relatively recent compared to the ones down below): During Colours, Baihe and Macaque were meant to visit the ruins of her house and try and salvage any bits and pieces which might help them find her parents. In the end I had decided that, Baihe would have done that already before Macaque found her on the park bench. I just think that that moment between her and her old home should just... well, it's a moment that belongs to her. Something Macaque didn't need to bare witness.

Extra Info: This is where Baihe was originally meant to find the old photo of her, her parents, and Māo as a kitten. And... Macaque is there in the background. Stealing an air fryer that managed to survive the wreckage (this was in fact written into the draft of this segment).

Next is- well, it contains a bit of a heavy topic. It's about Mayor and LBD and... erm...

In the published version of TQFTSK. Macaque betrays the Chief and locks them in the Calabash and this inevitably leads to LBD telling Chief to cut off their hair. Originally, this was not going to be the only thing she would do.

I have incredibly mixed feelings about this concept, but basically, after Chief especially failed to get the key and 'let' Macaque escape, LBD would have had severe insecurities about the Chief being on their own and the idea that they would never be able to get anything done without her. So, she made them wear a collar. So that every time they didn't do anything right, the needles imbedded into it would dig into their throat and- well, it was basically torture. She would have called it 'necessary discipline'. Of course, the collar would not be visible to anyone. It only appears when it's 'necessary'.

But this was an extremely early concept that I threw away in the bin after realising that this was not what I wanted LBD and Mayor's relationship to be like. While the initial idea behind this was to really empathize the fact that LBD owns Mayor and is extremely controlling, the idea of a physical collar ruins that aspect of their relationship. It's a visual and painful representation of their relationship, sure, but it made their relationship too negative and, well, Mayor loves her. And I knew it needed to be important to at least give you guys some sort of reason and some sort of argument as to why that admiration and love would be justified. The collar was just too much, and it didn't fit LBD's character to do something like this.

Side Note: One thing I think subconsciously happened though, was the needle thing. LBD ended up killing Ling with tens of thin needles piercing through their body. So, not a collar, but the basic principle of needles being used for pain... remains. It may or may not be to do with the idea of 'stitching up a puppet to fix its mistakes'.

Moving on, a more silly one this time! Somewhere near the beginnings of all of this (all the way back when I had only planned to make TQFTSK and Colours), there was going to be one single chapter (in Colours) dedicated to the Mayor going through all the stages of grief (eventually I'd come to the conclusion that they needed a lot more than one chapter to do all of that lmao). As a part of their bargaining stage, Macaque was going to stumble upon them in a bar and- unfortunately, being the curious nut he is, decides to stick around and just listen to the Mayor drunkenly mope.

PSA: No, this would not have ended in drunk kissing. This was meant to end in a snotty nosed Mayor and Macaque promptly leaving after he'd had his bit of listening to their misery.

Another thing was that Mayor was meant to be able to see souls! This particular story feature eventually just evolved into Mayor simply being able to judge a soul by looking at their eyes (hence the whole, "eyes are the gateway to the soul").

Another Note: This whole idea was also meant to emphasize the fact that Mayor has no soul and, how whenever they look inside themselves, there is no colour and there is no soul (that is, until they get their soul back). But, well, I figured their eyes alone would be able to do all of that just fine without this ability.

Now, as ashamed as I am to admit, originally I had completely bought into the Baihe, Macaque, and Mayor family dynamic. So, in the beginning, this was what was going to happen.

But then I decided Baihe was not going to conveniently be an orphan or have shitty parents for the sake of this dynamic. No, no no no. She will have loving parents, character development, and she will be more than just a character to fill in the slot of 'the child'. Whenever I write Baihe, I always strive to not use her for the sake of developing Macaque and Mayor's characters. No shame to those who like this dynamic though, its a good one and it's so silly (I still like it to be honest).

Now, let me tell you that there are a LOT more unused concepts than this. It's really just a decent slice from a never ending pile of WIPs and shower thoughts scribbled onto a doc from all the way back in like... 2022-23.

[tonydaddingham]

look i know that this is not a new revelation but i want to draw attention to the fact that at the bandstand - when crowley was screaming literal blasphemy - aziraphale was not looking up. he was not in fear of god, but in fear of whomever could be strolling around the park - taking a jog or tending the gardens - that could overhear.

granted, this was before aziraphale trying to speed-dial god and try to get her to intervene, but a good portion of his fear has always been rooted in what heaven could do. what heaven probably would do.

on the lookout, vigilant and twitchy, and whilst that may be in the interest of aziraphale's own safety at being not only seen in company with a demon conspiring to thwart said Great Plan, but also hearing it without challenge... i imagine it would be a smidge in fear of what heaven would do to that demon in the process. they're nothing to heaven, the lowest of the low and at best a means to an end. if they came to haul away aziraphale, what on god's green earth would they do to crowley without a second thought? actually, no, let's not be silly; heaven wouldn't bother - what would hell do?

he knows what: 1941 proved that. 1827 proved that. and as would be shown to him directly later that day, after the bandstand - the abduction and subsequent bathtub trial in hell proved that too.

so then take aziraphale's behaviour here (and throughout the whole segment):

im not personally of the mind that aziraphale was deliberately hurting/manipulating crowley in order to protect him. at the bandstand? maybe. maybe out of (understandable) self-preservation, but also to protect crowley. but the final fifteen? aziraphale was - to his mind - being given the opportunity to protect crowley from within, in a position where he had the confidence, or at least the optimism, that nothing could happen to him.

he had to go, had to take the chance to change heaven so they, and anyone else, could be truly free. and if he could take crowley with him? out of the reach of hell, and equally so close to him that heaven wouldn't dare? of course he would offer what he did.

in any eventuality, the very likely notion remains, from aziraphale's perspective, that there is a very real threat from heaven. it may not have been overt, it may not have even been vaguely hinted at by the metatron, but aziraphale has never lost sight that heaven is dangerous. and they are lurking in disguise in the bushes, just as they are watching from just outside the door.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Incomplete vs. overshoot

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in Seattle (Feb 26) with Neal Stephenson, then Portland, Phoenix and more!

You know the "horseshoe theory," right? "The far-left and the far-right, rather than being at opposite and opposing ends of a linear continuum of the political spectrum, closely resemble each other, analogous to the way that the opposite ends of a horseshoe are close together":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horseshoe_theory

It's a theory that only makes sense if you don't know much about the right and the left and what each side wants out of politics.

Take women's suffrage. The early suffragists ("suffragettes" in the UK) were mostly interested in votes for affluent, white women – not women as a body. Today's left criticizes the suffrage movement on the basis that they didn't go far enough:

https://www.npr.org/2011/03/25/134849480/the-root-how-racism-tainted-womens-suffrage

Contrast that with Christian Dominionists – the cranks who think that embryos are people (though presumably not for the purpose of calculating a state's electoral college vote? Though it would be cool if presidential elections turned on which side of a state line a fertility clinic's chest-freezer rested on):

https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/otm/segments/how-alabama-ivf-ruling-was-influenced-christian-nationalism-on-the-media?tab=summary

These people are part of a far-right coalition that wants to abolish votes for women. As billionaire far-right bagman Peter Thiel wrote that he thought it was a mistake to let women vote at all:

https://www.cato-unbound.org/2009/04/13/peter-thiel/education-libertarian/

Superficially, there's some horseshoe theory action going on here. The left thinks the suffragists were wrong. The right thinks they were wrong, too. Therefore, the left and the right agree!

Well, they agree that the suffragists were wrong, but for opposite reasons – and far, far more importantly, they totally disagree about what they want. The right wants a world where no women can vote. The left wants a world where all women can vote. The idea that the right and the left agree on women's suffrage is, as the physicists say, "not even wrong."

It's the kind of wrong that can only be captured by citing scripture, specifically, A Fish Called Wanda, 6E, 79: "The central message of Buddhism is not 'Every man for himself.' And the London Underground is not a political movement. Those are all mistakes, Otto. I looked them up."

Or take the New Deal. While the New Deal set its sites on liberating workers from precarity, abuse and corruption, the Dealers – like the suffragists – had huge gaps in their program, omitting people of color, indigenous people, women, queer people, etc. There are lots of leftists who criticize the New Deal on this basis: it didn't go far enough:

https://livingnewdeal.org/new-deal-and-race/

But for the past 40 years, America has seen a sustained, vicious assault on New Deal programs, from Social Security to Medicare to food stamps to labor rights to national parks, funded by billionaires who want to bring back the Gilded Age and turn us all into forelock-tugging plebs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

If you only view politics as a game of elementary school cliques, you might say that the left and the right are meeting again. The left says Roosevelt got it wrong with the New Deal (because he left out so many people). The right says FDR was wrong for doing the New Deal in the first place. Therefore, the left and the right agree, right?

Obviously wrong. Obviously. Again, the important thing is why the left and the right think the New Deal deserves criticism. The important thing is what the left and the right want. The left wants universal liberation. The right wants us all in economic chains. They do not agree.

It's not always just politics, either. Take the old, good internet. That was an internet defined by technological self-determination, a wild and wooly internet where there were few gatekeepers, where disfavored groups could find each other and make common cause, where users who were threatened by the greed of the shareholders behind big services could install blockers, mods, alternative clients and other "adversarial interoperability" tools that seized the means of computation.

Today's enshitternet – "five giant websites, filled with screenshots of the other four" (h/t Tom Eastman) – is orders of magnitude more populous than that old, good internet. The enshitternet has billions of users, and they are legally – and technologically – prevented from taking any self-help measures when the owners of services change them to shift value from users to themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The anti-enshittification movement rightly criticizes the old, good internet because it wasn't inclusive enough. It was a system almost exclusively hospitable to affluent, privileged people – the people who least needed the liberatory power of technology.

Likewise pro-enshittification monopolists – billionaires and their useful idiots – deplore the old, good internet because it gave its users too much power. For them, ad-blocking, alternative clients, mods, reverse-engineering and so on were all bugs, not features. For them, the enshitternet is great because businesses can literally criminalize taking action to protect yourself from their predatory impulses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Superficially, it seems like the pro- and anti-enshittification forces agree – they both agree that the old, good internet was a mistake. But the difference that matters here is that the pro-enshittification side wants everyone mired in the enshitternet forever, living with what Jay Freeman calls "Felony contempt of business-model." By contrast, the disenshittification side wants a new, good internet that gives every user – not just a handful of techies – the power to decide how the digital systems they work use, and to be able to alter or reconfigure them to suit their own needs.

The horsehoe theory only makes sense if you don't take into account the beliefs and goals of each side. Politics aren't just a matter of who you agree with on a given issue – the real issue is what you're trying to accomplish.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/26/horsehoe-crab/#substantive-disagreement

[strryhaze]

Ya know what….what songs would you want on a Kennedy series? 👀👀

i’m gonna cry this is one of the best asks i’ve ever received. thankyouthankyouthankyou for giving me the chance to do this 😭 here we go!

well we gotta start with the golden one here! and that’s lost at sea by lana del rey.

i imagine this song in the opening intro for some reason — either this song specifically or a grander, more orchestral version of lost at sea. and have it be a recurring sort of background theme (like a subdued, instrumental score, a variation of lost at sea) that plays during significant scenes of the family. i also imagine it playing during an emotional young jack scene. either during the war or shortly after. the song has such a haunting, nostalgic tone to it. lana’s voice carries a simple yet emotive touch to it while the melody has so much going on underneath. it’s like a forgotten song, a whole history, shimmering deep beneath the ocean.

two. in the aeroplane over the sea by neutral milk hotel.

this song would be playing in the beginning of an episode during the late 60s. we see a little boy with a beatles-inspired hair cut running around, either in a park, or a garden, or in jackie’s new york apartment. we see the back of his frame first but then we slowly realize who it is as the camera pans over to his face. he’s causing an absolute delightful chaos. it’s a happy scene, sweet and idyllic and hopeful. looking at the world through a child’s eyes. young john’s eyes, specifically. but there’s almost a sad tinge to it, for what the lyrics foreshadow and for what we the audience know of his future.

three. the end by the doors.

i found this song watching a murder at the end of the world and it makes me emotional every time i listen to it. it was released in 1967 and so i imagine it playing in bobby’s last episode. right when he’s walking down to give his speech and he’s talking to his aides and friends for the last time, shaking hands, asking about the food, giving his last smiles. or in the final scene as we go on to the end credits after it happens :/

four. rocket man by elton john

definitely like a…. s5 teddy kennedy song.

five. my reverie by larry clinton & his orchestra

i remember reading somewhere that this was one of jfk’s favorite songs. so definitely have this playing during the war years. maybe while jack is writing to joe or maybe while joe is living real life masters of the air and dancing with english women. or better yet, this song beneath a subtle, sweet scene of inga arvad and jack!

six. video killed the radio star by the buggles.

i can very vividly imagine this playing during a segment of teddy’s struggles during his failing presidential campaign 😭😭 he was going THROUGH it. him and everyone else around him. then the music would die down in the middle of the episode and it would get very serious and then the final scene of that episode would him be bombing that one question in a video interview (wink wink):”why do you wanna be president?”

seven. out of time by the rolling stones .

jackie choosing to have FUN herself while onassis is out being his miserable, cheating self.

eight. a sunday kind of love by etta james .

okay this one is sweet but kind of angsty at the same time. i imagine it playing during a montage of jack and jackie returning from their honeymoon, settling into their georgetown home. they’re truly acting like the brand new married couple that they are. we see jackie writing thank you notes for the wedding gifts. they both have opinions about the furniture and they’re wondering if the living room color is the right shade. jackie wants to bring in dining chairs specifically brought in from france. they’re both going out on late-afternoon strolls whilst gossiping about the neighbors and the congressmen. we see them running and going, in and out the house, a unit. one night, they go to a restaurant with bobby and ethel. we see bobby give jack an appraising look that jack dutifully ignores. jack is obviously indulging this honeymoon ‘act’ for a little while longer and we can see him enjoying it and believing it and almost, almost trusting it. letting himself go. but we see him start to get inexplicably frustrated. he snipes suddenly at jackie when she tries to help him out of bed. he starts to leave breakfast earlier than usual. he begins reading the newspaper instead of listening to what jackie has to say. he only hums along and sighs whenever jackie won’t let him focus on whatever he’s reading. we see jackie ask him if he wants to go take a walk with her. he says he’s too busy while rummaging between documents, doesn’t even look at her. the distancing starts with these little things, little details, that jackie ever the observer immediately catches onto but tries to ignore. until one night, after having set the table, jack doesn’t come in on time. minutes, hours pass. jackie goes to bed, concern and suspicion etched all over her face. we know what’s running through her mind. she turns off the light. the other side of the bed remains empty. and yes, this song is playing the entire time throughout the entire montage until it fades. the sunday kind of love jackie had hoped for fading as well. her reality sets in heavily.

nine. the diplomat’s son by vampire weekend.

IDGAF. idgaf if this was released ten years too late. this is a john f kennedy junior song through and through and i would want it played on #my kennedy series!

ten. hallelujah (i love her so) by stevie wonder.

an ethelbobby song 😭❤️ during their very first years of marriage. hell, maybe even during their courting days + them going out to dances my shaylas

eleven. soar (main title theme) from masters of the air

okay this doesn’t count really but i just wanted to say that something like this during joe jr’s last flight :( and we get flashes of scenes of him throughout the show. until it all ends in one big white flash or seeing his face, knowing something’s wrong before it all goes black.

twelve. september song by ella fitzgerald.

this one is a cover of an older song that jack used to sing before dinner accompanied by the piano playing of his mother :( i imagine this one playing during jack’s last summer with his family in hyannis. also am i the only who finds the fact that jack sang these lyrics as a young man a little haunting though? (oh the days dwindle down to a precious few / september, november / and these few precious days, i’d spend with you)

thirteen. someone to watch over me by ella fitzgerald, london symphony orchestra.

a period-accurate bobbyjackie anthem! the lyrics are so scrumptious guys. need this playing after they both attend the theater and it’s like. drizzling or something idk. sue me! it’s late and the streets are nearly empty. bobby accompanies jackie back to her apartment bc it’s late and they both chatter ab the play and etc etc over a warm cup of tea in quiet, hushed voices. quiet, hushed laughter. or it could also be playing after a late-night soirée during the white house years when bobby walks her back to her room or in an episode of their winter ski trip :((

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

Hero is doomed to be seen as "perfect" by the narrative because Sunny is an unreliable narrator who idolizes him and because Hero, himself, constantly and purposefully hides his struggles.

Since Hero has a more docile personality, doesn't like to be the center of attention, and is terrified of burdening others with his problems, we never really get to have the opportunity in-game to dive into his actual motivations and the depths of his grief and pain that he works incredibly hard to repress and keep hidden from everyone including Sunny (and, by proxy, the player of the game who is following Sunny's point of view).

As a result, we only see what Sunny sees: on the surface, Hero really does appear to be perfect.

More thoughts under the cut. (Warnings: OMORI spoilers and heavy topics including grief, trauma, and guilt)

After several segments of gameplay spent with the idealized "Headspace Hero" who is superhumanly perfect and adored to an almost outlandish degree, it almost feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy that we first meet "Real World Hero" when he jumps into the lake in the Faraway Park to save Basil and Sunny from drowning. Despite the fact that Sunny has already been shown to be an unreliable narrator given the fact that there are some major differences between some of the characters in Headspace and in the Real World (Aubrey especially), it is easy to ignore this when it comes to Hero at first because it is so understandable why Sunny sees him this way.

Hero is selfless, kind, compliant, docile, and generous. He consistently prioritizes the feelings of the other characters around him, is the first to try to understand where Aubrey is coming from (even though she just pushed Basil into a lake), and he doesn't even think twice before jumping into a murky body of water fully-clothed to save his friends. He jumps in (no pun intended) immediately to save the day, and so, naturally, from Sunny's perspective, Hero is still this amazing older brother figure he looked up to in his childhood.

Additionally, from the outside looking in, Hero appears relatively well-adjusted all things considered. He is incredibly successful and accomplished with a room filled with trophies and awards and has just returned from university where he is pursuing a difficult degree in medicine. Even if Sunny is just comparing Hero to himself, he would likely be impressed and amazed by the fact that Hero at least appears to be living his life and achieving so many things while Sunny has been so grief-stricken by the loss of Mari that he could not leave his house or do much of anything for the past four years.

There are some indications that Hero is not doing nearly as well as he seems (i.e. Kel's account of the one (1) fight they had after Mari passed away and the fact that Hero has never visited Mari's gravesite--refusing to visit even as recently as the 2nd day in the Real World), but these are easily overlooked by Sunny because Hero does not seem to exhibit any outward signs of trauma or internal turmoil or distress like Basil or Aubrey. Hero is very good at hiding his pain which means it is difficult for Sunny to see—which makes it difficult for us, who are following Sunny's perspective in the game to see it as well. We only get to see what Hero wants us to see which is, honestly, not much since Hero doesn't like attention.

Hero isn't a perfectionist in the traditional sense, but he wants to appear "perfect" to reassure his loved ones that they don't need to worry about him. Everything about the way Hero presents himself to the world screams, "I'm okay. Please don't worry about me." If he can really appear to be perfect, Hero believes he will never be a burden on anyone. It's all fake adjustment, fake healing, and fake happiness--fabricated because he's terrified of hurting or burdening anyone he loves with his struggles, but it's convincing.

In one of the most heart-wrenching scenes in the game, Hero drops everything to comfort Sunny at Mari's piano in the middle of the night. He does such a good job at supporting Sunny that one could truly believe that Hero really has found healing and made his peace with Mari's death...until Sunny returns through the door to find Hero crying alone. And that's the real Hero: the young man who buries his pain and pushes it aside in attempt to take care of everyone else. No matter how much he may hide his struggles, they're always there under the surface. Hero is always one piano, one visit to Sunny's old house, one mention of Mari away from tears. He just desperately doesn't want anyone to know.

Taking a step back to think about Hero's greatest strengths in this context, also reveals his greatest weaknesses. His selflessness brings with it a fear of burdening others which prevents him from really opening up to anyone. His generosity leads him to struggle setting boundaries. His complacency and easy-going nature can stem from an extreme avoidance to conflict of any kind which, in turn, makes it hard for him to advocate for himself and his own needs and to express his emotions, particularly negative ones.

It suddenly makes sense why the boy who seems to succeed at everything is only "most improved" when it comes to debate. He doesn't debate. He can't. He can't stick up for himself or express his own thoughts, wants, or desires. He will always acquiesce to someone else in order to keep the peace and make them happy, even if it's at his own expense.

Hero will always, always put himself last which causes him to bury his grief, suffering, and trauma so deeply that no one is allowed to see the pain he is actually in. Unfortunately, "no one" includes the game player as well. We get small glimpses of it, but it's so subtle and so buried, that, just like Sunny, it's easy to get caught up in this idea of "perfect Hero" and struggle to understand that there is so much more to him that just that.

[lunapwrites]

Segment the actual-fifth

In which I had tried to rewrite it all properly with more of a narrative voice and then lost steam way faster.

Anyway, this is the last one. Promise.

-

I: ORPHAN SOURCE

n.; a self-contained radioactive source that is no longer under regulatory control.

“See that guy knock himself out on the railing?”

Sirius is in fine form tonight, grin wide and white, a half-forgotten joint pinched between his fingers.

Lily wrinkles her nose at him, wiggling her septum ring. “What, the jagoff doing spin kicks in the crowd?” Sirius snorts, and she rolls her eyes. “Yeah I saw him — get fucked.”

Remus throws his head back, sending a stream of smoke into the air. “Wre-ecked,” he croaks, then coughs. James can’t help it — he laughs.

Peter flicks his lighter, takes three tries, then takes a drag. “He didn’t hit anyone, I don’t think,” he muses around his cigarette — no pot for Petey tonight, he’s driving. “Frank would have thrown his ass out if he had.”

“Like a fuckin’ javelin,” Remus pipes up again, miming throwing a spear, woosh. “Right out the fuckin’ window.”

“Serve him right,” Lily adds, not done yet because of course she’s not. She’s tying her hair into a topknot, scowling. “It’s a fucking metal show, not an MMA fight; get that Naruto-ass shit out of here.”

This of course prompts Sirius to start doing that stupid little run, arms straight out behind him as he runs down into the parking lot, and, well, James can hardly let him go it alone. He runs out after him, making nonsensical hand signs and pretending to blast Sirius off his feet. And Sirius, quick as ever, pretends to get his absolute shit rocked, sound effects and all.

You’d think they’d be tired after performing for two and a half hours, but they’re all fucking amped. They always are, takes hours for the adrenaline to fade, for James to feel the burn in his arms and calves, for Remus to register that his fingers are bleeding again. Tonight’s no different.

They’re a bit of a motley crew, the five of them. Former band nerds — later jazz ensemble nerds — who loved music enough to want to get weird with it. If anyone asks them what they play, they all give different answers. Lily calls it prog; Sirius, jazz with balls. Remus rattles off about fifteen different subgenres no one’s ever heard of — James still isn’t sure what a Djent is and at this point he’s afraid to ask. Peter keeps it simple: metal.

James just calls it fun.

They pile into Pete’s van, stubbing out their cigarettes and putting out their joints. Lily calls shotgun and James slips in behind her, and Sirius stage-dives across his lap, landing with his face on Remus’s upper thigh. He twists around, snuggling in like a Labrador looking for belly rubs.

"Keep it PG over there," James warns, and Sirius moans dramatically. No one pays him any mind; they’re all used to it by now.

Lily gets carsick about ten minutes in. She hangs her head out the window, breathing through her nose deep and slow while Pete begs her not to puke in his car.

“Technically,” Remus says, “she’s puking outside.��

He’s always saying that sort of shit — technically and actually and if he was anyone else James thinks he might hate him a bit. Thinks they all might. But somehow, no one who ever meets Remus wants to punch him in the face. He’s got a little je ne sais quois that warms people right up to him, inures him to most consequences. Like a puppy pissing on your favorite shoes. You just can’t be mad.

Sirius is like that, too, but in a

IN A WHAT, LP???? WHAT WERE YOU TRYING TO SAY???????? [shakes brain like a busted vending machine]

The only other thing I had on here was the title section for the second chapter:

II: ISLAND OF INVERSION

n: a region in the chart of nuclides where isotopes have enhanced stability in a sea of mostly fleeting and unstable nuclei at the edge of the nuclear map

[pateticapateticapatetica]

thoughts based on observations in the pink valley that i had to get out of my head or it would blow up

tldr i believe the entirety of the pink valley is a mental catharsis/battling the anger, blame and self hatred the main character feels regarding his life and his failed relationship with ella. (duh) i dont believe ella is dead, but likely left his life in such a way that he is conflicted with who to blame, burdened by loneliness, and unsure of his identity without her.

from the state of his house he copes with drinking, and from his scratched out face in photographs and destroyed mirror, clearly has a negative view of himself. the few instances you do get a chance to see his reflection, his eyes are larger than most adult npcs and mirror the look of the children and mini. could mean he sees himself as infantile, or perhaps its more reminiscing to when times were happier or simpler in his life. (or not... the "PATETICA" note in the school stands out, and the entire "hogar" segment with the discordant screaming)

notice the only time you see his actual character sprite is in the health hud and the death screen, where he wears an unsettling grin while committing violence and hes dressed in black hatred-esque attire. i see this as an acknowledgement that his thoughts are leading him down a dark path, but the reflection is the reminder that he isnt there yet. he hasnt fully become the monster his anger and loss is pushing him towards.

monono: on top of a useful future weapon, the mc clearly sees them as a personal comfort item. its telling how theyre in ellas room in the beginning and how you cant obtain them there, as if to say "she took away my security." so he looks for monono in every level in an effort to get it back, to use them as a weapon against the enemies. you feed mini to them to power them up. you give monono your childhood.

the faceless man in the park, the faceless ella... who is he without her? who is she now that shes moved on? and ella smashing her face into the wall: how would she react if he were to act on these violent thoughts? the loving/fighting couples in public? representations of relationship extremes hed rather not see anymore.

i think the squiggling/shrieking enemies is the point where mc begins to see the danger in it all. he cant keep thinking this way, but hes become so paranoid. he clearly struggles leaving the house with how much his hand shakes holding the bus pass, maybe thats how it grew into hatred for those around him and why he fantasized about violence.

the conjoined enemies appear after he enters the house with the same toys and family photo from his house, where he is scratched out but his sibling isnt. perhaps his poor self image stems from feeling trapped with them and always compared to them. this could also add significance to the matriarch enemy!

enemies become directly hostile, smiling, obvious parodies of the monster persona hes on the verge of becoming. now HE is confronting the gunfire, now HE is smashing ellas face. "its your fault, you did this. you ruined everything."

some enemies flower open as a tentacled monster when you thought you killed them, as if to say "thats not enough. you have to go to the source, the root of it all." and the slugs? a parasite, like the anger and resentment hes holding onto.

[jules-has-notes]

Geoff Castellucci's bass singing tutorials

Relatively few singers and musicians are able to make performing their primary job, let alone their only job. So young Geoff started college as an education major and planned to become a music teacher. In some alternate universe, a lot of lucky kids have great memories of being in Mr. Castellucci's class. In our world, fortunately, theme park gigs were plentiful enough, 4:2:Five transformed into VoicePlay and was able to become self-sustaining, and we've been provided with this series of videos chock full of advice, demonstrations, anecdotes, and Geoff's endearingly corny humor.

.

How to sing REALLY low – a short tutorial

In this first video, Geoff gives a brief overview of several common bass techniques — growl, vocal fry, and subharmonics — with descriptions and demonstrations of each.

release date: 6 December 2019

.

How to sing LOW – your questions answered, part 1

After his initial video generated a deluge of questions, he made this follow-up to provide a few answers. The topics include further description of vocal fry, more detailed advice for practicing and performing subharmonics, ways to improve recorded sound in post-production, methods of increasing your lower range, and his opinions on the best bass singers.

release date: 8 January 2020

.

How to sing LOW – your questions answered, part 2

The answers continue, getting more specific and personal. Segments include a demonstration of Geoff's natural range, a humble description of his own vocal type, the ending of "Oogie Boogie's Song", maintaining his upper range, microphone recommendations, increasing resonance, general vocal maintenance, other ways to improve overall musicality, and a shout-out to his subharmonic inspiration David Larsen.

release date: 17 January 2020

.

Singing REALLY LOW – questions answered

In this final (so far) Q&A, Geoff provides yet more advice for practicing bass techiniques, shows off his best Thurl Ravenscroft impression, reiterates how to achieve cleaner sounds in post-production, explains the impressive descending parts in "Kidnap the Sandy Claws" and "Oogie Boogie's Song", considers more complex subharmonic techniques, demonstrates why he doesn't use ingressive phonation, provides further advice for practicing subharmonics, reflects on his own vocal development and maintenance, dashes some folks' hopes for an ASMR channel, and teases his hair care routine.

release date: 12 March 2020

[signaturglobalplots]

Why Signature Global Farukhnagar Plots Are the Smartest Real Estate Investment in Gurugram?

In recent years we have seen a large transformation in the Indian real estate space which is very much also the case in the National Capital Region (NCR) area. To the list of up and coming areas for smart investors and home buyers, Farukhnagar has emerged as a star for it’s affordability as well as it’s growth prospects. In this dynamic segment of the market, Signature Global Farukhnagar Plots are a stand out which present a package of lifestyle, investment and future readiness. As buyers which are looking for more from their purchase than just land a community feel, convenience of location and appreciation in value this project is it.

In the heart of Gurugram’s growth story which we see in Farukhnagar a once quiet area which has transformed into a hot bed of urban development we have Signature Global which is a name in the Indian real estate space that you can trust for quality and innovation. They have responded to this change with a well thought out development which brings together the best of both worlds - a peaceful home environment and also access to the best infrastructure. For those looking at plots in Farukhnagar this project is a rare find in terms of value and location. Also it's proximity to key routes like the Dwarka Expressway, KMP Expressway, and NH-48 which in turn connects to Gurugram, Delhi, Manesar and IGI Airport makes daily travel a breeze and very efficient.

What makes Signature Global Farukhnagar Plots stand out is the development philosophy which we have designed. This is not to break out the land but to put in place a smart, sustainable and future proof neighborhood. We have planned the township to foster walkability, green living and self sufficiency which are today’s urban buyers’ top priorities. In a world which is health and environment conscious, at Signature Global we present rain water harvesting systems, wide internal roads, landscaped parks and secure gated access which turns our residential plots into much more than just land. We have set out a model for a modern, liveable community.

In the real estate space we see that which is very true of residential plots in Farukhnagar they have great growth prospect. Out of the saturated city areas, Farukhnagar is still in the growth stage which means we see competitive prices today but also a very large chance of that changing as infrastructure develops. Also the Haryana government is behind the push to take urban development out of the hands of Gurugram and into the outlying areas which in turn benefits this region. We are at the stage of large scale urban expansion and also of planned development which in turn means high ROI for early in to players. Also with Signature Global being a RERA approved developer buyers also have legal transparency and regulatory safety a key element in today’s real estate environment.

From a financial perspective the Signature Global Farukhnagar plots present great value. We see that as opposed to the very high prices of Central Gurugram which is soaring, what we have here is a different story, these plots come at a fraction of the price at the same time they have access to the same economic areas. Also this is a big draw for middle income families, first time buyers, and young professionals that wish to get into the market without putting everything they have into it. Also the plots are made to order so buyers have the chance to create their dream home at a pace that is right for them and to a design that suits them best. That also is a huge plus point in a market that is very much for the personalized home as opposed to the mass produced home unit.

The lifestyle is very much the same. These don’t exist in silo. They are within a gated township which at completion will include schools, retail, parks, and recreation areas. Here you are a part of a full scale ecosystem which in turn fosters community living while still very much preserving individual privacy. For those that want to live in nature's embrace but still be a part of the economic pulse of Gurugram, Farukhnagar puts forth the ideal balance. And at the helm of that is Signature Global which is bringing that promise to life.

Another which does very well from Signature Global’s Farukhnagar plots is the NRI community. NRIs are increasing putting money back into what is home for them also for the emotional and cultural ties but what we see is that Indian real estate is outperforming foreign markets. These plots present a chance to get into tangible assets in one of India’s most dynamic real estate zones. With the rate of development in the area it is a sound and forward thinking play. Also high net worth individuals (HNIs) looking to put diversity into their investment portfolio will see in these plots a safe and also scalable addition which balances risk and reward and at the same time adds prestige to what they hold.

Another issue for Farukhnagar is that it has become a residential extension of Gurugram. As the city center is transforming into a more business oriented and crowded environment families and professionals are looking out for what the periphery has to offer in terms of better air quality, quiet streets, and at the same time which also provides easy access to their work places and schools. In that regard Farukhnagar is the answer. Also in on the action is Signature Global’s project which is put forth to benefit from this outlying migration trend. With report of many infrastructural projects in the pipeline which includes new metro lines and improved arterial roads the area is to become a residential priority. Also for those who put in now is the best time to do so.

Also see that which we at Signature Global come from a very strong background. In Gurugram, Sohna and beyond we have delivered many successful projects which our audience of thousands of families put their trust in. We are known for our timely delivery, open books policy and customer first approach which goes beyond just building homes for our customers we are building communities. Purchasing a plot from them in Farukhnagar is to be a part of this legacy and that which they stand for.

The range of plot sizes we offer from small which is great for compact homes, to large for duplex villas or boutique developments. We have designed this flexibility for our customers’ specific wants or market growth strategies. If you are looking to build out your own home, hold the land for it to increase in value, or turn around and rent it out we have options for that.

In that which is left, Signature Global Farukhnagar Plots are not just a real estate purchase. They are a foray into a better future lifestyle, wealth creation, and peace of mind. As Farukhnagar transforms to become Gurugram’s next premier suburb these plots are at the crossroads of value and vision.

[some-mari-thoughts]

thank you for the nice tags, they made my morning!! 🥰 your recent map part looks incredible btw, i especially love the accumulating blood effect, it encapsulates the vibes of that part of the game so well…

now… yes please tell me about the draft you mentioned, im interested 👀

YIPPEEE i put so much effort in it, and now im putting even more in another part! ALso yess, making the blood completely soak him was a rlly fun decision and experiment :] He's so full of regret and blame and self hatred.!

sadly we hardly get to see his face or his fingers getting cut but i tried to incorporate it at least just a bit :O I really love the entire segment of the game, my playthrough art getting rlly concentrated and high quality there probably also says a lot And about the draft.. oouuhhh So i got inspired by @ehlihr 's OFF animatic so that's why the beginning of the song is skipped.

UNDER THE CUT: WARNINGS

Endgame spoilers, cruel language, bad ending drawn and referenced multiple times. Death and blood.

Yeah! - sunny agreeing to play at the recital at christmas (then there's music interlude so i have a bunch of time to use some of the game story)

Go fuck yourself - "You should kill yourself". Look at omori, omori gets to speak. You heard him right

Don't call me nice again - NO MORE BEING NICE. NO MORE GAMES HES SICK OF THIS

Don't you have somewhere -> to be at 7:30? - hospital IV drip on top transitions to the balcony and a hospital wall. Arrow points to the gap in the railing

I'm ready, I'm ready, ready ready ready - omori comes closer and closer threateningly

to blow (blood splatter flash here) my brains out - omori POV - sunny backing off scared and defensive, flashing dead on hospital parking lot

you die (quiet composition) - mari alone in the dark. undefined emotion

words don't do anything - mari trying to speak but the words go across her neck and nothing abt scenery changes

It's permanently night - streanger in black space. looking at camera with his back turned. something spreading from where he stands

return to the fight. Omori holds up the knife - I won't feel anything

Friendsssss room, omori has a little ^^, they'll all be laughing with you

when you die - sunny's crushed hand from the fall

words don't do anything - basil's heart monitor flatlining

it's permanently night - mari sunny and basil's graves in a row

(I won't feel anything omori again tbh)

15. We'll all be laughing with you when you die - view of stage 5-6 bg of the fight - so 4 hanged corpses and hellmari

I was in a haze very late at night but it had to be drawn

[eternal-echoes]

“WHEN ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE toured America in the early nineteenth century, he saw that its social and political institutions forged a kind of solidarity. All classes were clearly felt to be dependent on one another.(20) He noted that "in the United States the more opulent citizens take much care not to isolate themselves from the people; on the contrary, they constantly come close to them, they gladly listen to them and speak to them every day."(21) Tocqueville described this cross-class interaction largely in terms of mutual self-interest. But the intermingling also made fertile space for a culture of encounter.

The data-driven thesis of Charles Murray's Coming Apart, however, is quite different. As Murray sees it, American socioeconomic classes have been diverging culturally, economically, and geographically for the past fifty years. (Murray focuses on white Americans to avoid the confusion of confounding variables, but his analysis is also broadly applicable to Americans of color.) Murray identifies two archetypal neighborhoods: Boston's upscale Belmont suburb stands in for college-educated professionals, and Philadelphia's Fishtown area stands in for non-college-educated blue-collar workers. He then tracks five decades of relative stability in comfortable Belmont, and decline in less privileged Fishtown.

Half a century ago, people from Belmont and Fishtown lived in roughly similar neighborhoods. Their children went to the same kinds of schools and played in the same kinds of parks. But as Murray quotes the researcher Douglas Massey, "During the late 20th century ... the well-educated and the affluent increasingly segmented themselves off from the rest of American society."(22) Along with this geographical separation came a cultural separation, especially in family life.

Based on every metric-marriage rates, divorce rates, nonmarital childbearing, happiness with marriages-the Fishtown cohort went from comparable to the Belmont cohort in 1960 to being radically deficient in comparison by 2010. We needn't dwell on the numbers, but one set of figures may be useful.

In 1960, more than 95 percent of children in both Fishtown and Belmont lived with both natural parents when the mother was forty years old. In 2004, this was still true for 90 percent of the Belmont cohort. But in that same year, fewer than 30 percent of Fishtown children were living with both natural parents. Murray argues that the Fishtown figure "is so low that it calls into question the viability of white working-class communities as a place for socializing the next generation."(23)

In Murray's view, Americans are raising a wave of young citizens seriously unprepared for the demands of self-government. And most persons from the Belmont cohort who do continue to model family stability have abandoned the solidarity across class lines that previous generations saw as a duty.

Unsurprisingly, Murray sees a sharp drop in "social capital"-participation in community life through associations-in Fishtown, but not in Belmont (though the latter's prosperity doesn't necessarily translate into moral integrity).(24) When the family is hurting, it gets very difficult for other communities to form properly. And when local communities can't form, as Tocqueville notes and we've already seen, the state steps in to fill the void.”

-Archbishop Charles J. Chaput, Strangers in a Strange Land: Living the Catholic Faith in a Post-Christian World

—

(20) & (21) Tocqueville, Democracy in America

(22)-(24) Murray, Coming Apart