ravenidiot

[ravenidiot]

whatever you do, don't tell him.

The Haus kitchen on one late fall day. Muffins in the oven. Bitty has the Lemonade album on, because classics never go out of style.

Dex peeks around the corner into the kitchen. ”Bitty …” he stage-whispers. “Can we talk?”

For a long time now, the kitchen has served as many things: sometimes courtroom, sometimes therapy space, sometimes bar. Bitty wears a multitude of hats in this room. “Of course,” he says lightly, sensing that some tea is about to be spilled but keeping his voice and smile light.

Dex sits backward on one of the chairs near the table. “It’s about Nurse.”

This is not the biggest surprise in the world. “Oh?”

“You know he gets on my nerves.”

“Oh, no,” says Bitty, “what did you two get into it about now?”

Dex grumbles. “Nothing,” he says. “It’s not that.”  And before Bitty can inquire what it is, Dex gets up from the chair and pokes his head out in the hallway, looking in both directions as though trying to check if anyone’s in earshot. Satisfied, he returns to the chair, sits on it properly this time, and leans toward Bitty furtively. 

“Bitty,” he mumbles, “I think I might kind of like him.”

Oh, this is much better than Bitty was expecting. “Well, that’s good!” he says. “That’s progress. You two should try to be friends.”

“No, no.” Dex’s cheeks are a faint pink. “I don’t mean as a friend.” He lowers his voice again as though he didn’t just check to see if they were alone. “I mean I might like him like him.”

Bitty has learned that at Samwell, any expectations one might have of others’ sexual orientations should be chucked out a window upon arrival. He didn’t see this one coming, but maybe neither did Dex. “Oh, okay! That’s good too, I guess. So … was there something you wanted to ask me about it?”

“I don’t know.” Dex’s hand, resting on the table, tightens. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to say it out loud to somebody. I don’t know.”

He looks like he’s going to say I don’t know a dozen times, so Bitty decides to direct the conversation. “Well, how did you figure this out?”

The hand on the table clenches into a fist. “It’s so frustrating! I just happened to pass by one day and he was just sitting there, under a tree, reading. It was sunset and something about the light—I don’t know! All of a sudden he looked hot. Why is this happening to me? What crime did I commit in a past life?”

Bitty hasn’t told the team about him and Jack yet. He feels a swell of pity for Dex, who is not responding to this liking-someone thing the way Bitty really feels he should. “Now, now,” he chides, “Liking someone should feel good! Try not to stress. Try to … enjoy it? If you can.” 

The timer for the muffins goes off then, and Bitty turns to the oven to check on their progress. Behind him, he can practically hear the gears of Dex’s mind turning, grinding over and over trying to process the idea. At last Dex grumbles, “Sounds fake.”  A moment of silence, and then— “But I’ll try. Just, Bitty?”

“Mm-hm?” 

“Whatever you do, don’t tell him.”

----

Two days later, Bitty enters the kitchen to discover Nursey there, running his fingers through his hair so obsessively it’s getting unkempt and frizzy. He does not look at all like his usual “chill” self. “Something bothering you, Nursey?” Bitty asks as he pulls some ingredients from the cupboard. 

“No,” answers Nursey immediately. Followed by “Yeah. Kind of.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says again. “Maybe. Yes.”

Bitty pours out a measure of flour into a glass bowl. “Well, go ahead!”

“It’s about Poindexter.”

A sense of deja vu stills Bitty for a minute. He opens the sugar canister. “What about him? Did something happen?”

“No. Um…”

Bitty can’t help but smile. “I’m starting to have trouble believing you when you say no.”

“N… uh.” Nursey frizzes up his hair again. “Yeah. So. We’re in the showers after practice this morning, right?  And I’m not, like, looking at him. I just kind of glance over and you know, it’s Dex, right? He looks like Dex. Not super ripped, but his shoulders are just.. Anyway, I’m still not looking, but he’s got his eyes closed and he’s smiling a little like he’s got some kind of a secret and…”

Nursey trails off. Bitty waits a beat, then asks tentatively, “...and you want to write a poem about him now?”

“No! Stop making me say no when I don’t mean it.” Nursey leans forward and bangs his frizzy head on the table. “Anyway. He just looked hot. Like, even his dumb ears looked hot.”

He looks at Bitty as if pleading for the next words to come from him. Bitty, meanwhile, is trying very hard to keep from laughing. “So, in other words…” he begins.

“NO!” It’s the loudest no yet. “I’m gonna say it myself.” 

Getting up from his seat, Nursey juts out his chin and looks pointedly at a spot just behind Bitty on the kitchen all. “Anyway. I thought. Thought maybe I like him. There, I said it. Got it off my chest. Chill. Thanks, Bits. Whatever you do, don’t tell him about this. Chill. Bye.” 

And before Bitty can say another word, Nursey is gone like the proverbial wind.

----

Dex corners him outside the locker room and hisses. “Bitty. Did you see his takeaway at the end of the first period there? What am I supposed to do? He keeps on being hot.”

It takes a moment to realize Dex is talking about Nursey. “Well…”

“Agh. So frustrating!” Dex punches a wall. “Don’t tell him anything, OK?” And he’s stalking down the hall and gone.

----

Nursey sidles up to him in the dining hall. “Yo, Bits, did you see Dex during that charity skate? How he was with that little girl? Man, I’m telling you, he was so stupid cute. The way he smiled at her… anyway. Don’t tell him I said anything.”

----

Dex, the day after a kegster. “Bitty, I can’t seem to get rid of this stupid crush. The taddies got so drunk last night and Nursey like deposits them on the couch and then takes each one of them home last night on his back. Like fucking Superman.”

Bitty consults his severely lacking comic book knowledge. “Does Superman take home drunk college students?”

“Like SUPERMAN,” Dex repeats. “How am I supposed to stop liking him? He can’t do anything normally. Shit, it’s like, hard to breathe around him sometimes. I’m gonna give myself an asthma attack.”

“Maybe,” Bitty ventures, “you should..”

“Anyway. Thanks for listening. Don’t tell him.”

----

Nursey, pulling Bitty aside after team breakfast. “Bitty, I am so fucked! I am so motherfucking fucked!”

“Dex?” 

“You’re goddamn right, Dex! After the game yesterday he told me my forecheck was ‘pretty fantastic.’ He used those words! My heart was beating like a million miles an hour! But also I had just been on the ice for over a minute. Still! How do I stop liking him more every time I see him?”

Bitty tries not to sigh. “Maybe you should think about…”

“Okay. Okay.” Nursey pushes out three breaths like he’s a woman in labor. “It’s good. I’m good. Just needed to say that. Thanks, Bitty. Don’t tell him.”

----

When Dex enters the Haus kitchen next, he sees Nursey sitting there and points at him like he’s picking a suspect out of a lineup. “What’s he doing here?”

Bitty slaps a wooden spoon against his open palm. “Listen, you two,” he declares. “I am not going to say a thing. I’m going to leave this kitchen and the two of you are going to have a conversation and say what’s on your minds. Got it?” He smiles. “Okay, good luck!”

And he marches out of the kitchen and toward the front door. As he goes, he overhears:

“Bitty, how can you do this to me?”

“Bitty, you traitor—”

“Wait. Wait, what have you been saying to him?”

“Me? What have you been telling him?”

“Uh.”

“Um.”

“Shit.”

-------

About fifteen minutes later, Bitty doubles back toward the Haus and sneaks up to the kitchen window. He takes a peek past the turquoise curtains, smiles, nods in satisfaction, and continues on his way.

[ravenidiot]

yeah. I wrote the smut.

This is the smut portion of at arm's length. Go and read that, and stop at the three asterisks and come back here and read this.

“We’re going to get caught,” Jack says worriedly as they ascend in the hotel elevator.

“We’re not,” Bitty says confidently. “The boys’ll all still be out celebrating. It’s not often we notch a win against y’all.” 

“Don’t you have a plane to catch?” Jack hopes he makes it back in time to catch his team’s plane early tomorrow morning. He has the feeling he’s spending the night.

“Yes, at some godforsaken hour of the morning.” The more Bitty talks, the more his Southern accent comes out, and Jack’s about ready to kiss those lovably rounded words off his lips, elevator cameras be damned. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it.” 

He doesn’t have to wait long. The minute the hotel room door swings shut, Bitty is in his arms and they’re kissing, short, hot, heavy kisses that send fire blasting through Jack’s whole body. Bitty’s lips are every bit as soft and sweet as Jack had imagined, and he’s a little ball of heat, his hands feverish on Jack’s back, his chest burning against Jack’s.

“I don’t, ” Bitty breathes between kisses, “do this often.”

“Neither do I,” Jack says. He bites Bitty’s lower lip and Bitty moans.

“Tell me you felt it.” They make their way over to the hotel bed and Bitty climbs in his lap, breathing hard in his ear. “Back on the ice… oh… when we were fighting…”

“Yes.” Jack feels like he’s drowning, the bed inviting underneath him, Bitty a welcome weight on top. “Yeah. I felt it.”

Bitty stops kissing him long enough to ask, “How do you want to do this?” “Up to you,” says Jack. “I switch.”

A smile crawls across Bitty’s face. “Oh, good,” he says, “I pretty much always bottom, so that works out just fine.”

Jack’s cock throbs. “I want to take you out of your clothes,” he says. 

“Ohh.” Bitty’s voice is breathy. “Okay.”

Jack stands, pushing Bitty back to his feet as he does. Bitty’s tossed his jacket on a chair, but he’s still in a button-down and tie. Jack loosens the knot on the tie and pulls it free, and Bitty exhales, as though the tie was trapping a breath inside him. Jack turns to his buttons, undoing them one by one, then pulling his shirt back to reveal an expanse of smooth chest. He’s as beautiful undressed as he was in the suit, and Jack can’t help running his hands down Bitty’s bare sides and enjoying the shiver he elicits.

“Like what you see?” Bitty asks. In answer, Jack cups his ass and pulls their bodies together so Bitty can feel how much he likes it. He tucks his head into Bitty’s bare shoulder and presses his lips there. Bitty throws his arms around Jack’s waist and gives a moan. “I want you, Jack,” he near-whispers. “I really want you.”

Jack mumbles a wordless assent. He steps back, a dull ache where Bitty’s body has been; they wriggle out of the rest of their clothes and Jack pulls Bitty to the bed and down on top of him. They kiss like lovers who are destined to be parted. Bitty feels so familiar and right in Jack’s arms, it’s hard to believe they just met that day. Jack wants to know everything about this man. He wants to be so close to him that their blood runs together. He’s intoxicated, fascinated. The bed creaks underneath them as they move together, cocks slotting against each other, both groaning.

“I have … stuff in there.” Bitty manages between desperate kisses, pointing to his suitcase. Jack rolls off the bed. Every second he spends looking for the lube and condoms is agonizing, but at last he finds them, and rolls a condom onto his own cock, so stimulated by now that even the touch of his own fingers is nearly torture.

Bitty’s already on his hands and knees on the bed. “Come on, Jack.”

Jack scrambles to get some lube in one cupped hand. He runs the other hand down one of Bitty’s thighs. Muscled and smooth and Jack wants to lower his mouth to there and press sucking kisses along the line of it.  He works Bitty open instead, listening to Bitty’s gasps and small moans and encouragement (“another, Jack, another—God I want you”). He’s hard as hell and his mind is teasing him with images of what Bitty is going to be like under him, all smooth pink skin and soft groans.

“I’m ready, Jack, I’m ready,” and that whining tone sends fire anew through his blood.

Jack steadies himself and sinks in slowly. Bitty takes him like he was meant for it, opening easily, then clenching tight around him. Jack completes a thrust and stays there, just marveling. Breathing hard as Bitty encourages him. “That’s it, Jack, so good, you can move.” 

Jack holds onto his hips and starts to move. Each thrust is staggeringly good, all velvet and muscle, and Jack tries to stay in a regular rhythm and not lose himself. When he’s steady enough on his knees, he reaches one hand around and takes Bitty’s cock into his hand. Bitty lets go with a loud nngh when he does, and then he starts talking, “yes, yes, just like that,” and Jack is thrusting and stroking him and listening to those ecstatic sounds fill up his ears. It’s too good. He’ll come too soon.

“Can you … on your back?” he asks, hoping a change of position will slow him down.

“Yeah … yeah, okay,” Bitty says between rapid breaths. Jack pulls out and Bitty flips on the bed and raises his legs. Jack can’t believe what he sees, this gorgeous, willing man beneath him, all hard muscles and soft skin. He lines up and pushes in again, leaning as far over Bitty as he can manage, just able to press kisses to his collar and his neck. Bitty strains upward so they can kiss mouth to mouth and then lowers his head to the pillow, arching upward as Jack fucks him.

This is crazy, he’s just met this man, but it’s like Bitty is made for him, like someone molded him just for Jack. Everything about him is making Jack mindless with want. The way his skin feels against Jack’s. The way he keeps talking, “feels so good” and “harder” and “more” streaming from his lips in soft tenor tones. Jack doesn’t want to just fuck him. Jack wants to take him home and keep him, that honeyed voice speaking to him every day, those beautiful eyes there to look at him always.  

It isn’t long before Jack can feel his rhythm breaking up. “Gonna…” he murmurs.

“Yeah, yeah, Jack, please…”

Jack lets go, losing his rhythm and thrusting erratically until the sensation rises up like a tidal wave and crashes over him. He comes harder than he has in a long time, probably harder than he ever has with any previous partner, seeing white spots as he clings to Bitty and takes deep gulps of breath. Beneath him, Bitty arches up against his body until he shouts and loses control, coming between their bodies in a wet blossom of heat. He locks his arms around Jack, and they gasp and come back down to earth together. 

Jack feels like he and Bitty have been doing this forever. It was impossibly, effortlessly good in a way Jack’s not used to. His mind is blown. He buries his face in Bitty’s neck and gives a long, uncontrolled groan.

“Oh, God,” Bitty murmurs. “Oh, Jack.”

“Yeah,” is all Jack can say. “Yeah.”

“That was … that was. Oh. So good.”

Bitty sounds the way Jack feels, all strung out and wrecked. His voice is sweet as honey in Jack’s ears. Jack picks up his head and captures Bitty’s mouth in a kiss, tender and lingering. He doesn’t want to let go.

But let go he does, long enough for Bitty to go clean himself off, and when he returns Bitty settles himself down onto Jack’s chest and breathes a long, satisfied sigh.

“Jaaaack.” He draws out the word, laughing as he does. “How was that so good? That may have been the best I’ve ever had.”

Jack curls a hand into Bitty’s blond hair and runs his fingers through it. “Me too,” he says, meaning it.

They lie there for a minute, unspeaking. Bitty angles his chin up. “Jack? Can I ask something that might be kinda strange?”

If Bitty asked him to marry him at this point Jack would probably say yes. “Yeah, go ahead.”

“Was that… oh, God, this sounds so stupid.” Bitty sits up and looks straight at Jack. Their eyes catch, and Jack’s heart thuds. “Was that just sex?”

Jack knows exactly what he means. “No,” he answers readily. “Not just sex.”

A grin spreads across Bitty’s face. “Yeah, I think so too,” he says. “I really want to know more about you, Jack.”

Every time he says Jack’s name it’s another twinge of his heart. Jack reaches up and touches his cheek. “Yeah.”

Bitty leans in to his touch and gives a little shiver. “Oh, Lord,” he says, “my heart is gonna beat right through my chest!”

Jack knows love isn’t something you just fall into, that it takes time. But he is falling really hard in like right now. “Bitty,” he says, and then—just trying—”Bits. I feel the same way.”

“Bits.” Bitty’s grin is brilliant. “Yeah. Call me that.”

[ravenidiot]

at arm's length

a Four Nations Face-Off AU. For those not aware, the US played Canada in Montreal last week. There were three fights within the first nine seconds, after Canadian crowds booed the US national anthem.

Jack Zimmermann is in the starting lineup for Canada. No sooner does the puck drop against the US then half his teammates drop the gloves and multiple fights are underway. Jack is a skill player and not a tough guy. He stands back and lets it happen and doesn’t get involved.

Except—

—except the next thing he knows a US player roughly the size of a thimble is trying to punch him in the face.

“No offense,” says forward Eric Bittle as he tries and fails to land blows. “It’s for my country, you know?”

It’s fairly easy to hold Bittle at arm’s length. “What are you doing?” Jack asks him, because he’s genuinely curious. “You’re not a fighter.”

“Fight me back and you’ll find out, sweetheart,” Bittle says. Even his voice isn’t tough — a wavering tenor.

“Yeah,” Jack says, “I don’t think so.” He tries not to laugh as he keeps Bittle at arm’s length, and Bittle keeps trying and failing to punch him.

They end up in their respective, crowded penalty boxes anyway. Jack watches, amused, as Bittle’s teammates congratulate him heartily on being such a tough guy.

“You’re a good sport, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bittle hollers at him over the space between the boxes. He takes off his helmet and shakes his hair free of sweat. With his short-cropped hair framing his face, Jack realizes, he’s really, really cute.

“Nice try, Bittle,” he calls back, unable to keep from poking fun.

Bittle’s cheeks, already rosy from the ice and the exertion, flush a bit more. Damn, he really is cute. Jack has no business mooning after the enemy but he can’t help imagining Bittle in his arms. In his bed.

Jack doesn’t think about sex a ton, as a rule. His mind is usually all hockey, all day. But something about this Bittle teases out that usually dormant part of him. There was something in the air when they fought, or attempted to fight. And even now he keeps stealing glances over during the interminable five minutes for fighting.

It’s a not-very-well-kept secret in the NHL that folks who are in penalty boxes don’t always scream at each other through the duration of the penalty. In fact, conversation between the two participants in a fight can get downright friendly at times. Somehow, between the three guys in his penalty box and the three guys in theirs, a get-together over beers gets planned and a suitable location here in Montreal hammered out. And then they get out of the box and go on to play an actual game of hockey.

The US wins. Handily. It’s an embarrassment, and while the Americans are jubilant, Jack sits with Nathan MacKinnon in the locker room and sulks a little. “We’ll get ‘em in the title game, eh?” Jack offers. Nathan shrugs and gives a noncommittal yeah. Other guys are less gloomy, but overall the mood in the locker room is not the greatest. Jack is suddenly really looking forward to that drink.

In the car on the way to the bar, he asks his car computer to tell him about Eric Bittle. He’s a Boston Bruin, about two years younger than Jack, from the unlikely-to-spawn-a-hockey-player state of Georgia. Turns out he attended the same college Jack did, but a few years behind, since he played in the minor leagues a bit between highschool and college. Jack had already graduated by the time Bittle came to school.

He rolls up at the bar and discovers he’s the last of the six to arrive. Bittle and the Tkachuk brothers are already in an argument with Jack’s countrymen over, from what Jack gleans, the Canadians booing the US national anthem. “The way I see it,” Bittle says, “y’all brought this on yourselves.”

“We weren’t booing,” Hagel says. “The crowd was booing.”

“You were enjoying it,” says a Tkachuk (which one is which?).

“It’s disrespectful,” Bittle says, and he turns up his nose, and oh damn, he’s still cute.

Jack saunters over. “Some people say you’ve lost that respect. By electing him.”

The Tkachuks look like they’re ready to throw down. Bittle speaks up quickly, as much to placate them as to argue, Jack suspects. “However you feel about him, a country’s bigger than just a president, don’t you think? You can’t all tar us with the same brush.” His nose wrinkles. “Tar us? Tar and feather us? No, that seems wrong…”

Jack smiles despite himself. “Fair point.”

Bittle gives him a smile back, and it is such a winning expression that Jack’s heart thumps in his chest. “Anyway, it’s all well and good now, right? We got the anger out. Also, we clobbered you, so there’s that.”

“Wait till the title game,” Jack returns easily.

“You assume you’ll be in the title game,” Tkachuk 2 says. (Jack’s resorted to numbering them at this point.)

“We’ll be in the title game,” says Bennett, and the argument erupts anew.

Somewhere in the fray, Bittle touches Jack’s hand gently and nods in a certain direction, a come with me. Jack follows.

Bittle sets his mug of beer down on a table in the corner. “Listen. I feel the same way about that guy you do,” he says. “To tell you the truth, the atmosphere’s awful lately.”

“That’s what I hear,” Jack says. A couple of guys on the Falconers have expressed similar sentiments.

“Still. We get caught up.” Bittle sighs. “I’m sorry I came at you like that.”

The idea of apologizing for a hockey fight, especially from someone whose arms are so short he can’t even land a decent punch, strikes Jack as funny, and also endearing. “It’s hockey,” he says. “You don’t have to say sorry, Bittle.”

“Consider it the Canadian in me,” Bittle says. “Call me Bitty. Everyone does.”

Bitty suits him so perfectly. Jack’s honestly enthralled. “Bitty, then. Nice to meet you.” He holds out a hand to shake and Bitty takes it. His palm is cool from the touch of the beer mug. “That was a nice goal there, at the end.” It was one of the prettiest goals Jack’s ever seen, but he doesn’t want to lay it on too thick. His heart is already being unruly, just sitting here at a table for two with this attractive guy.

“Thanks,” says Bitty. “Anyway, yeah. The atmosphere is rough. Especially for guys like me, especially in sports. You know what I mean?”

Bitty looks straight into his eyes at that, and yes, Jack knows exactly what he means.

“Do they know?” he asks.

“Those guys? No way.” Bitty laughs ruefully. “I’d be hanging from the top of a locker by my underpants. Some of my teammates back in Boston, though. Brad knows.”

“Yeah. It’s the same here.” It doesn’t feel like coming out, necessarily. He has the feeling Bitty already knows. “A couple of my teammates. But no one on staff, nobody else. Doesn’t really matter, since they call me hockeysexual to begin with.”

“Hockeysexual!” Bitty laughs louder this time. The smile on his face is like the sun.

“Yeah.” Jack can’t help an answering smile. “My friend came up with that a while back and it stuck. Always felt pretty accurate.”

“But you’re not, right?” Bitty says. “Hockeysexual, I mean.” His eyes have gone half-lidded. In the low light of the bar, his lips look so soft. Jack longs to touch them.

“No.” Jack feels like he’s under some kind of spell. He looks into Bitty’s eyes and lets the feeling wash over him. “Not all the time.”

Bitty puts his hand on Jack’s. It’s warmer now. “Jack,” he says softly, “if I asked you to come back to my room, would you still hold me at arm’s length then?”

* * *

The Canadians do, in fact, make it to the title game. It’s held in Boston. 

Jack and Bitty leave Bitty’s apartment together and drive to TD Garden. When they get there, Bitty ushers them into a dark corner.

“Good luck, Mr. Zimmermann,” Bitty murmurs as Jack takes him in his arms.

“Same to you, Bitty,” Jack says softly against Bitty’s lips.

They share a long, lingering kiss and promise to meet later. Then they head off to their separate locker rooms and prepare to do battle one more time. (I wrote the smut that happens between scenes - check it out here)

[ravenidiot]

rip 2009 Kent Parson you would have loved Good Luck Babe! by Chappell Roan (2024)

[ravenidiot]

This one's an absolute classic

this is so late but thank u for being the only person to submit a panel atlas ily <3

i had a lotta fun doing this!! submit more omgcp panels for me to redraw or even comm me if you’d like hehehe 🤭

[ravenidiot]

SARAH CHRIST & THE CHOSEN

tip jar

[context + commentary + ID under cut]

IMAGE 1: Smosh fanart of various figures of Sarah Christ and the Chosen.

Figure 1: 2 identical busts of Sarah with a look of dread, titled: “Sarah ‘women are my specialty’ Christ.” The first has greasy choppy bangs, and the second has long wet strands of hair alongside her face, labeled: “classic vs overgrown bangs.”

Figure 2: A bust of Sarah blowing a strand of hair out of her face in annoyance, labeled: “needs haircut (not gonna get one).”

Figure 3: Sarah Christ and the Chosen in the Spiderverse mentor meme with Sarah as Peter B Parker and the Chosen as Miles Morales. Sarah is thinking of the Creekside Killer while Chosen is thinking of Sarah. Beside Sarah is the bisexual flag with the quote, “Put some tits on that guy, I’d fuck him,” and beside Chosen is the trans flag with the quote, “I saw the board game glow,” as well as a note underneath that reads: “(idek which direction i just know it to be true).” The figures are colored in a blue and pink palette.

IMAGE 2: Smosh fanart of various figures of Sarah Christ and the Chosen.

Figure 1: Sarah and the Chosen redrawn in a Brooklynn 99 meme. Sarah has choppy bangs and is holding Chosen to her chest protectively and aggressively says, “If anything happens to the Chosen, I’m killing everyone in this room and then myself.” His face is expressionless and squished in her embrace.

Figure 2: The Chosen is drawing out his sword in defense of Sarah as he says, “Don’t worry, Sarah! If this guy wants to mess with you, he’s gonna have to get through ME first.” He looks the same as before, but Sarah has overgrown bangs. Behind him, she draws a line across her throat in a threatening death glare. The text above points to both figures 1 and 2, reading: “Characterized by: devotion + delusion (interchangeable between them).”

Figure 3: A headshot of Sarah with overgrown bangs, giving a side-eye and holding a cigarette between her lips. Sunglasses sit atop her head with the note: “Still has the sunglasses Chosen gave her :”)” Another note points to her cigarette that reads: “Just holding it.”

VIDEO DESCRIPTION: Smosh Mouth clips of The Chosen & Sarah Christ episode with OP’s commentary as follows:

“the chosen [handshake emoji] sarah christ: i would kill for you.”

“there’s a naive but genuine sweetness in the way that the chosen thinks of sarah and wonders why misfortune seems to follow her”

“he chalks up her “bad luck” to mirrors instead of her own reckless actions, which speaks to his superstitions but even more so his admiration of her”

“so it’s significant that the chosen later gifts sarah charmed sunglasses to protect her from ‘dark forces’”

“they look out for each other in their own ways :”)”

IMAGE 3: Screenshots of Sarah Christ subtitles from various Smosh videos against a bisexual flag background, as follows:

“Before I knew it, I, Sarah Christ, had fallen deeply in love with Amanda Lehan-Canto.”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t a wet cop until I met Amanda.”

“You don’t know anything about gay pride, do you?”

“Put some tits on that guy, I’d (bleep) him.”

“Women are my specialty.”

IMAGE 4: Screenshot of a comment section from the Chosen Trivial Pursuit: Try Not To Laugh video, as follows:

Commenter: “the chosen canonically being aware of I Saw the TV Glow is INSANE”

Reply 1: “I mean he has undeniable tboy swag”

Reply 2: “one day the chosen’s egg will crack”

OP’s note pointing to both replies (colored in trans colors): “I like that these both co-exist for the Chosen.”

Each of the comments has been liked by OP.

[ravenidiot]

Picture this:

You’re a gym bro named Chad, you take your gorgeous girlfriend named Lou Ann on a vacation to a mysterious tropical place. You decide to book a pontoon experience to have a romantic time together. But on another pontoon 100 meters away a loud obnoxious gay couple arrives. They see you and immediately start gossiping about you. The blonde one dives in the sea like a newborn giraffe and the loud one cheers him on like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. Then the loud one suddenly becomes very quiet and he starts projectile vomiting into the ocean that you and your lovely girlfriend were wanting to swim in. The loud one starts yelling at the blonde one to get out of the sea. A few minutes later they get picked up by the boat that dropped them off not 15 minutes ago. You’re glad that you and your girlfriend can have some peace and quiet now, only for the annoying gay couple to make a YouTube video about the incident where they publicly call you a 3.

[ravenidiot]

haven’t uttered these words in years but steve rogers n bucky barnes, whether you like it or not, were written romantically. “til the end of the line” literally means til death do us part (a marriage vow)

[ravenidiot]

When AO3 is back up, but you didn’t even know it was down because you had class all day, and now it’s the only thing on your feed

[ravenidiot]

Greg and Charlotte Excitement 💕🤼‍♂️

[ravenidiot]

Harry definitely has James’ hair

[ravenidiot]

Ao3 does not need an algorithm, you're just lazy

Ao3 does not need a 1-5 star rating system, you just want to bring down authors writing for FREE

Ao3 does not need automatic censorship, it is an archive, therefore anything can be posted

Writing or reading about something illegal does not mean the author nor the reader condones it, if that were true, you could never read a story involving anything negative

Purity culture is ruining fan culture and you all are fucking annoying

[ravenidiot]

Current links to my Poolverine fic series:

Part 1: mind over matter (but a beast is in the heart) -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58926184

Part 2: silence is what i do best (but still i hear it all) -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59197186/chapters/150950710

Part 3: you've been scared of love (and what it did to you) -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60336547/chapters/153986602

Part 4 (currently being updated): i knew the feeling would be forming (are you ready for it) -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62671288/chapters/160434319

If you would like to read the series as one long fic with all parts put into chapters: Too Dangerous a Thing to Want -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62767045/chapters/160694065

[ravenidiot]

the existence of a parallel universe where i know angela giarratana as ROBIN BUCKLEY is insane to me

[ravenidiot]

Someone asked me to draw up the rest of the Bad Kids from #fantasyhigh so HERE THEY ARE 💙🤯

I could colour this but I'm scared to lmfao lmk who your fave is!

[ravenidiot]

Smosh Cast as Vampire: The Masquerade Clans

Shayne, Brujah - "Rebels, always opposing the status quo"

Arasha, Lasombra - "Manipulators working from the shadows"

Spencer, Tremere - "Blood mages, always researching and perfecting their craft"

Court, Salubri - "Three-eyed healers and undead fugitives"

Amanda, Ventrue - "Rulers and blue-bloods, always aiming for the throne"

Chanse, Toreador - "Beauty-obsessed artists, or seducers looking for a new thrill"

Damien, Hecata - "Necromancers fascinated by death and what lies beyond"

Trevor, Thin-Blood - "Neither vampires nor human, envied and despised by other vampires"

Angela, Malkavian - "Oracles and prophets, perceiving more than others"

Tommy, Ravnos - "Nomads and tricksters, using illusion and deceit"

Ian, Banu Haqim - "Judges capable of silently punishing transgressions"

Anthony, Gangrel - "Prowlers, (un)living close to nature and their Beasts"

I'm excited to watch the Fast and the Furious Dread video, but I had convinced myself it was going to be vampires. So, I did the next best thing, combining the cast with one of my other passions, VTM!