#failed to see that you're gay and going through something. not really no

[maddy-ferguson]

people expect nancy to be mike's mom more than they expect joyce to be jonathan's

[semperama]

AHHHHHH will you write me buddie for 56 "it brings out your eyes"????????? 😃😃😃

“It brings out your eyes.”

----

"Okay, which one?" Buck asks, holding up two different t-shirts, one sky blue and one salmon-y pink.

Eddie sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. He's been perched on the end of Buck's bed for what feels like an hour, watching him fuss with his hair and then rifle through his closet. "I don't know, Buck." He lets his gaze drift down Buck's body for what feels like the millionth time, trying to ignore the way it gets fractionally harder to breathe each time he does it. "The blue, I guess. It brings out your eyes."

Buck snorts. "I'm going to a club. No one'll be able to see what color my eyes are." He tilts his head to the side and grins. "Not that they'll be looking anyway."

"Oh my God." Eddie looks up at the ceiling and says a silent prayer for mercy. "This is why I told you I wouldn't be much help. What do I know about clubs?" Much less gay clubs.

"Come on, man." Buck tosses the salmon shirt down on the bed and starts peeling the blue one off the hanger. "I'm freaking out, okay? Are you sure you can't come with me?"

Can't? Maybe that was a lie. With Chris gone, he has no good excuse to stay home these days. But the last thing he needs is to watch Buck get hit on by random strangers--especially not if alcohol is going to be involved. He wouldn't even have come over to help Buck get ready if he hadn't begged him. It'll be the first time I've gone out since me and Tommy broke up, Eddie. I could really use a pep talk.

"I don't even understand why you have to go," Eddie says. He watches Buck pull on the shirt, tries not to linger too long on how it stretches around his biceps, over his chest. "Is this really a good way to meet guys? At your age?"

Buck gasps with exaggerated affront. "At my age?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. "Last time we went out with Hen and Karen you puked in my front lawn and then complained about your hangover for two days."

"I did a bad job pacing myself that night," Buck says, his mouth twisted into what could almost be a pout. "Karen holds her alcohol better than I do. And anyway, they're older than us, so if they can go out--"

"They go out like twice a year. Together. As a couple. Not to meet people."

Buck's expression darkens. "Yeah, well. I'm not part of a couple, so." Okay. So Eddie fucked up with that one. He sighs, but before he can apologize, Buck spreads his arms out and swivels his torso a little. "Just...how do I look?"

He looks good enough to fucking eat, of course. The shirt hugs him in all the right places. His jeans make his ass look great. He must have found some new product for his hair, because his curls are perfect and soft-looking, begging to be touched. Eddie wants to drag him in by the belt loops and beg him to stay.

"You look great, Buck," he says quietly. Because Buck asked him for a pep talk, and so far he's failed the assignment. The least he can do is try to turn it around. The least he can do is be a good friend, not a selfish, jealous asshole. "Seriously, you're going to have guys falling at your feet."

The smile that creeps its way across Buck's face make it all worth it. He ducks his head, shrugs his shoulders up, and Eddie is stabbed by a longing so intense he's halfway to his feet before he realizes what he's doing and stops himself.

"I'll let you get going then," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets do he doesn't give in to the temptation to touch. "Let me know how it goes?"

"Yeah," Buck says. His gaze is searching Eddie's face. For what, Eddie doesn't know. "Yeah, of course."

Eddie makes it to the door, breath painful and ragged in his chest, before he hears Buck's feet pounding down the stairs behind him. He turns to look, to ask if there was something else, but he barely opens his mouth before Buck is there, one hand on Eddie's neck, the other wrapping around his waist, pulling him in so close it knocks the air out of his lungs.

Then, Buck is kissing him. Desperate press of lips, tongue licking into Eddie's shocked mouth. It's an electric shock, white heat spreading through him, painfully good.

But then as soon as it started, it's over, and Buck is staring at him, wide-eyed. Eddie wants to dive into that blue gaze and drown there.

"I'm sorry," Buck says. "I just--I had to try. I had to know, before I--"

"Buck." His fingers are curled in the back of Buck's shirt, and he curls them tighter, presses Buck closer. "Don't go," he says. "Stay here. With me."

"Okay," Buck says breathlessly. He looks like he has no idea what's happening, and Eddie knows the feeling, but they can talk later, figure it all out later.

"Good," Eddie says, and pushes his fingers into Buck's hair, pulls their mouths together again.

[bountycancelled]

LOST CAUSE

bada lee x reader (part 2)

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

warnings: none really, it's just sad once again.

content: mentions of drinking away feelings (don't do that, it won't work.), angsty as hell omg, lots of self deprecation from reader, no comfort (yet), mad gays, sad gays, unedited cuz idc

you felt like shit.

that was your first coherent thought when you woke up. you were sure that you looked it too, in one of lusher's shirts, makeup holding on for a prayer, and hair being very reminiscent of someone who had just walked through a hurricane.

your head was pounding, thanks to the rather heavy drinking habits you exhibited the previous night. water. you needed water. you sluggishly made your way to the kitchen, greeting lusher with something that was a cross between a grunt and a groan.

you chugged the ice cold glass in one go, instantly feeling just a bit more functional, a little more clear headed. then, you thought of her. bada.

her and her stupid beautiful smile, her laugh, her touch, her, her, her.

you thought of the fact that, while you were throwing yourself a pity party, drinking until you couldn't even think of her (which was impossible, she was always on the forefront of your mind), she was with another woman. a stranger.

you've known her for over a decade, but this random girl at the club managed to captivate bada in a split second, stealing her away from you. you supposed that 'steal' wasn't the right term to use, after all, bada wasn't yours. not in the way you wanted her to be.

but you were hers.

you had tried in vain to go on dates, to meet new people, to try to squash your affection for bada, but it never worked. your heart knew exactly what it wanted, and that was her.

just how embarrassing could you get? pouring yourself completely into her, devoting your time, your feelings, you love, your mind, your everything to her. you would wait on her while she met new people, while she made meaningful connections outside of you.

you would bite your lip as you waited for her to answer your messages, but the replies wouldn't come for hours, sometimes even days. you would make a mental note of every colour she liked on you, every silhouette, hairstyle, jewellery, lip colour, nail shape...

you did so much, for her. too much.

you figured that your mind thought that if you just tried hard enough then one day, she would see you in the light that you saw her in. but if last night was anything to go by, that time wasn't going to come.

the fact that she even felt comfortable enough to ask to essentially ditch you was all you needed to know. she asked, because she knew that you would say yes. because she knew that you would let her do anything. she knew that you would always come back.

and you always did, without fail, no matter what. if you were fighting, you would apologise first and break the ice. if you hadn't hung out in a while, you would always be the one to initiate something. sure, bada would always say yes, but what did it matter that she always agreed, because if you never asked, nothing would ever happen.

you were upset, rightfully so you believed. and yet, here you were in front of bada's front door, hoping and praying that the girl she had taken home was gone.

your hand hovered over the keypad as you hesitated, which you never did when it came to entering her apartment, to being in her presence. what were you even doing here? were you some kind of masochist or something? you already knew she was going to divulge in all the details of the night that you spent trying to forget she even existed, so what the fuck were you doing here?

you supposed that in you're hungover and angry haze, you had given yourself too much credit. of course you were here, of course you weren't going to make your discomfort known, you were just so... typical. pliant and ready to serve her at all times.

you typed in the code with a disappointed sigh, walking in and taking off the sneakers that lusher had borrowed you. you walked straight to the bedroom, finding her brushing through her hair, presumably getting ready for work.

"hey love, how was the rest of your night?" she asked, looking at you through the mirror as you flopped on the bed, her brows furrowing at the sight of you.

you opened your mouth to answer, and lie, say something like "it was okay, I was just a little tired" but she cut you off before you could respond to her previous question.

"whose shirt is that?"

you made a confused face, looking down at yourself. "oh, it's lushers." you said simply, playing with the hem as you spoke. you swallowed the oncoming bitter taste on your mouth, trying not to cry, or die, or both at your next words. "but my night was okay, lusher was kind enough to take me home earlier when I asked. how... how was your night?"

bada had stopped brushing her hair in favour of simply staring at you through the mirror as you spoke, though it seemed that her gaze was zeroed in on your frame. you werent going to look too deeply into it, you didnt want to fuel your own delusional mind any further.

you called out to her, seemingly snapping her out of a daze, and she finally answered your question.

"oh, it was cool, she was–" you zoned out, nodding and humming occasionally as a way of pretending that you were listening to her. but the last thing you wanted to hear was the love of your life speak in detail about her sexual escapades.

"can I say something quickly? sorry to interrupt you." you spoke before you could stop yourself.

bada nodded, sensing a certain seriousness in your tone that made her give up on getting ready completely, opting to turn her chair to face you.

you could feel a pit forming in your stomach, but you had already started the conversation, so there was no use backing out. you were going to give it to her straight. this was a long time coming, and you figured that her ditching you yesterday was the push you needed, in a roundabout way.

"I... don't like when you tell me about things you do with other people, it makes me uncomfortable. and I wasn't okay with you bailing on me yesterday either." you said the whole thing in one breath, waiting for her response. would she get angry at you? were you telling going to argue? was this the end of your friendship? you couldn't even look at her.

bada's face fell at your words, and she quickly moved to sit next to you on the bed, wrapping her arms around you. "I'm sorry, if I had known I would've neve- why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

you scrunched your face at the question, knowing how embarrassing your answer was about to be. "I just didn't want to upset you, you know? and, you don't need to apologise. you only did those things because I let you. its not your job to read my mind."

bada shakes her head profusely, resting her chin on the top of your head, speaking softly. "I'm your best friend for god's sake, I should've been able to tell."

you can't help but agree with that. how is it that she had absolutely no idea of how you felt about anything she did all these years? you sincerely doubted that you were that good of an actress.

for the second time ever, bada's embrace had the opposite affect on you than intended, making you more irritable rather than calming you.

you pulled away from her, crossing your arms over your chest with a blank expression on your face. "you should carry on getting ready, don't wanna be late."

the look she gave you as you spoke was nothing short of heartbreaking, but you steeled yourself as much as you could, trying to not be so easily swayed, like you always were.

"I could ditch work today, make up for last night." 'not just last night, but every night before that she's cancelled for someone else, every unanswered text, all of it.' you wanted to add on, but the words just didn't come out of your mouth. this was not the conversation to be had before she went to work.

you simply shook your head, looking away from her, because you knew that if you looked at her for a second longer, all of this trying to stand up for yourself, would amount to nothing. all of your anger and frustration would just crumble into nothingness when your eyes met hers, that was just how you worked.

"go to work. I'll be here when you come back."

bada nodded slowly at your words, but, for the first time since you've been friends, she wasn't so sure that you would actually be here when she came back.

she didn't like that feeling.

a/n: why did bada care about what shirt reader was wearing...? also reader finally saying what's on her mind, baddie alert! also thank you for the love on the first part♡

[offside-the-lines]

i'm half-doomed & you're semi-sweet | Connor McDavid (x Male!OC)

Summary: After a painful playoff exit to end the 2022-23 season, Connor just needs to get as far away as possible, all the way to Gold Coast, Australia. He expects some peace and quiet, a reprieve. What he doesn't expect is this happy and carefree bartender, Lucky, to make him question the choice he has been making since he was 10. Title inspo: Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes by Fall Out Boy

This fic is dedicated to @hiding-from-reality-56 for @wyattjohnston's Summer Fic Exchange 2k24. I'm really sorry it's late. Life has been nuts. I really hope you like it! S/O to Demi, Ashley and T for being my cheerleaders, beta readers and editors. Ilysm. Pairing: Connor McDavid x M!OC. This fic features an original male character. Word count: 11.3k Warnings: SMUT: 18 + ONLY. MINORS DNI. SAFE SEX RESOURCE. Angst, lots of (I would say light) angst (first 1/2). Smut, lots of (light to medium) smut (second 1/2). This fic deals with internalized homophobia and coming to terms with your sexuality by way of having your first gay and first sexual encounter (it's hot and sweet, I hope). This was a super meaningful topic for me to write about, and I hope it resonates. Please take care of yourself if this is a topic that is sensitive for you. Connor is also, as I liked to say as I was writing this, Cognitive Distortions and Anxiety and Self-Doubt stacked on top of each other in a trench coat. Our poor boy is going through it in this. The smallest emetophobia warning. Small mention right in the first section (7 paragraphs in). Masterlist | (My requests are currently closed.) | Read this story on AO3

It’s 4 am on May 15th, and Connor’s lying in his own bed. And the only thing he can think about is what should’ve been.

He should be going to Vegas, getting ready to win Game 7.

Or better yet, he should’ve never let it get to that point—needing a Game 7. They should be getting ready for the conference finals.

The humiliation of yet another failed year—a second-round exit, no less—stings deep, and he feels the bile rise in the back of his throat. The taste of ‘This is our year’ sits rotten on his tongue, the number of times he said it to the boys. Momentarily, he wonders if he ever truly believed it. If any of this means anything at all. Or if he really is just a mouse in a cage running on a wheel going nowhere.

The silence in Roger’s Place is all he can hear in the darkness of his own bedroom. It makes him feel like he’s going to crawl out of his skin. The idea of going back to his Toronto house, carrying the looming absence of those 35 pounds, makes him want to throw up.

Or maybe that’s just—

He bolts up in his bed, runs to his toilet, and throws up nothing but bile.

With his head resting against the cold ceramic, he thinks about his parents. He knows they’re not going to be disappointed. They don’t care about the Cu— They don’t care about all that. They care about him, but he doesn’t think he can stomach another off-season of their pitying looks and gentle encouragement.

Another off-season walking around the city of Toronto, feeling like everyone is laughing at him. ‘Look, there goes the Next Great One, the so-called McJesus. What a joke. Look at him, he’s a failure.’ He can hear their thoughts.

They don’t even know about the other thing.

He rinses his mouth and stumbles back to his bed. He picks up his phone and texts his agent about finding somewhere different to train this offseason before he can think better of it. “...in I don’t know. Fucking Australia or something. Just. Somewhere far,” he adds.

He sits on his bed, fiddling with his phone for a while.

He sighs and rests his head against the headboard. He closes his eyes and drifts, picturing what his life might look like if he wasn’t… Well… Him.

He remembers a sports psychologist he was encouraged to see called it ‘maladaptive daydreaming.’ Which—that’s always felt a little ridiculous, given that they also recommend ‘visualization techniques’. ‘Picture yourself scoring the goal, Connor,’ they’d say.

It always felt like the same thing.

He sighs and texts Jeff again. “Totally okay if not. I know it’s super late notice. Just feel like it might be good for me. And for next year.”

The next few days pass like a blur, just room full of people after room full of people. Saying the same meaningless comments over and over. Play the part. Be sad, but not too sad. Be honest, but not too honest.

It doesn’t help that Leon’s grumpy, too. Well, not so grumpy he won’t sit on Connor’s couch—that does occasionally happen—but grumpy enough that he’s been mainly communicating in grunts. But, Connor figures, a grunting Leon is better than no Leon, so they sit in miserable silence as episode after episode of Friends plays on his ridiculously large 85-inch TV.

Which—who even needs an 85-inch TV? Well… Connor does, apparently, according to his decorator anyway. It’s ridiculous, and he hates the excessiveness more with each passing minute. He considers how bad it would be to just rip it off the wall. Probably quite bad. He doesn’t do it. Instead, he pokes Leon in the side with his toe and smiles weakly when he gets an irritated grunt in return and a heavy hand gripping his ankle.

Connor does his duty as Captain and hosts one last team barbecue in his absurd house that makes him feel like a zoo exhibit. He says goodbye to Leon for the summer—every year, it feels stilted and weird; he can never find the right words, but he thinks Leon gets it anyway. Or at least some of it. Not that Connor really knows what “it” is.

Not that Connor really wants to know what “it” is.

Connor swallows down the lump in his throat and turns his phone off, settling in for the flight from LAX to Brisbane, Australia—apparently, Jeff took him literally. He can’t help but think What the fuck am I doing? But that’s the point, right? To not think.

For once in his life, it would be nice to just do something without thinking about it endlessly. To just do something without thinking through the whole play, without reviewing the tape and dissecting everything that could go wrong.

He pops a sleeping pill with the hope that maybe it means he won’t spend the 15-hour flight ruminating on whether or not he should be doing this at all. And then ruminating on whether or not he should be ruminating on whether or not— Yeah. Five hours of rumination he can do—he does it often with the NHL schedule and the Edmonton of it all—but 15 hours seems to be a stretch even for him. So, he pops a sleeping pill.

Besides, he hopes that if he’s asleep, he won’t have to make any more eye contact with the flight attendant whose hand Connor accidentally touched when he helped Connor put away his carry-on. He kept making such earnest conversation with Connor, a smile crinkling the corners of his dazzling green eyes as Connor embarrassingly fumbled over his words, which—

Yeah, he needs to get a grip. And sleep. Hopefully, when he wakes up, he will feel a little less mortified—from experience, unlikely. At least the guy was Australian and didn’t seem to know who he was.

Connor wonders if he would be like this if he worked in something mundane, like finance or sales. If he’s destined to be this way, or if hockey made him this way. At this point, it was impossible to determine where Connor ends and McDavid-97 begins.

Luckily, hockey means he gets the good pills, at least, and he is knocked out for at least 12 hours.

Connor spends the first few weeks in a weird state of suspended animation, just going through the motions of his off-season training. He meets the trainers, who seem to have been briefed by Gary on what he needs and throws himself into the work. No one recognizes him except for a couple of the guys at the rink. But they don’t bother him. It’s a relief. He thinks he understands why Leon fucks off to Mallorca every summer. He wonders why he doesn’t fuck off to Mallorca with him—something else to not examine further.

He takes himself to the beach and watches the surfers and tries to remember to reapply sunscreen every 30 minutes, or whatever, even though it’s “winter”. He fails, of course, and burns bright red after only a few days. He’s forced to return only in the late afternoons.

He finds a pub-thing between his condo and the beach and sits at the bar for dinner every day; nothing better to do. He orders a beer with his dinner at the bartender’s suggestion. He hates it. He drinks it anyway. The bartender—Connor thinks he said his name was Lucky?—probably thinks he’s an absolute freak, judging by the little glances he throws Connor’s way and the amused look he has every time Connor orders.

It doesn’t help that Lucky is kind of stunning. It’s a thought that Connor usually keeps locked up, stuffed in some deep crevice of his mind where he won’t have to examine it, but the longer he watches Lucky—not that he’s watching, he just happens to be at the bar every night, and there’s not much else to do—the more he notices.

Connor watches the messy mop of curls fall in front of his eyes every time he bends over to put ice in a drink and the way he brushes it away with the back of a toned, tattooed forearm. It’s hard to tell exactly how dark his hair is or what the color of his eyes is in the dim interior of the pub, but Connor finds himself itching to know.

But the thing that Connor thinks about as he lays in bed at night is the way Lucky interacts with everyone—playful, easy. He notices the way he flirts—and the guys he flirts with. There’s this weird tightness that settles in his gut, and it twists every time he catches Lucky’s bright smile and the glint in his eyes.

There are an increasing number of days when Connor feels the need to stay until closing. There are a few other regulars he’s gotten to know, and it’s fun to hear about their lives. They will chat with Lucky as he’s cleaning up the bar. 

It has nothing to do with the way Lucky will sometimes take some guy home. Nothing to do with the way it’s just out in the open. Bold, confident, and unashamed. There are never any side-long glances from anyone, no snide comments.

Connor is completely unable to ignore the way his chest feels too small every time it happens. He wonders if he could ever do that. He wonders if he could even look at the thing head-on.

He thinks maybe Gold Coast Connor could.

It takes him until the night before his flight to the NHL awards to decide that Gold Coast Connor can make moves. Gold Coast Connor has the confidence and freedom that Connor McDavid does not. Gold Coast Connor is funny and banters with strangers.

Connor McDavid knows to never have more than two drinks. It affects his performance the next day.

That’s why Gold Coast Connor has 5 or 6. Switches to whiskey after the usual disgusting beer. Lucky chuckles at him.

“I knew you hated that. Was trying to see how long you were gonna keep drinking that for. You should see the face you make every sip.”

Connor's face heats; he knows the ruddy red cheeks look ridiculous against his messy ginger beard.

After the third drink, Lucky shoots him a look. He responds with only a shrug, and he seems to decide to not press the issue.

He knows he’s drunk when he shoots his shot.

“Come home with me today,” he says to Lucky, leaning over the bar conspiratorially.

He laughs, smile wide and easy, eyes wrinkling. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Lucky’s smile shifts, and he stares at Connor for a long moment, lips pressed together. The weight of the look sits heavy on him and makes him squirm. He fights the urge to run.

“Yeah, nah,” Lucky decides, “I think it’s time to cut you off. Switch to water.”

Connor suddenly realizes how this must look to him. “I’m serious,” he blurts out, “about the offer, I mean.”

Lucky laughs. “Good to know.” He winks, and Connor feels very warm. “But you’re six drinks deep when you usually only have one beer. Whatever this—” he gestures at Connor “—is, I’m not sure I want to get involved in that.”

His stomach sinks like a rock, and bile licks at the back of his throat. “Oh.” About twenty different thoughts battle in his mind, fighting for dominance.

Lucky looks at him consideringly and sighs. “Connor, it’s not a no. It’s a not today. Trust me, I am very interested. You’re—Look, you’re going on your business trip tomorrow, right?”

Connor nods.

“Okay, talk to me when you get back, yeah?” He leans in—it makes his biceps pop, but Connor tries not to let his eyes catch on it—something akin to amusement dances in his eyes as his lips curl into a smirk. “You can wait that long. You can be good, can’t you?”

A heat settles in Connor’s gut. “Uh, yeah,” he splutters.

Lucky leans back, his smirk bigger now, satisfied. “I thought you’d be into that. Yeah, we’ll have some fun when you get back.”

Connor swallows thickly; something that might be hope simmers under his skin.

The good feeling Lucky leaves him with doesn’t last long. It starts with the mountain of texts, missed calls, and voicemails that come through as soon as he puts his normal SIM card back in.

It only gets worse when he’s faced with Leon’s fury. Leon is pissed off often, but it is rare to see him genuinely angry.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Leon fumes, steel grey eyes not even a foot from his face as he grips Connor’s arm so tightly he thinks it might bruise.

“Um, look—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Leon continues right over Connor’s soft voice. “I had to call your agent just to make sure you were still alive. Hey—at least Cameron got a text, right? Nice of you to not ghost your family, I guess. Guess I didn’t make the cut, eh?”

“Leo, I’m s—”

“You know,” Leon grits, “I was going to fly back to Canada ‘cause I thought something had happened to you. But, no. Glad you’re living it up in Australia. Glad you’re having so much fun.” He drops Connor’s arm and steps back, chest heaving as he breathes heavily. “Well, if you don’t want anything to do with me, then you can have nothing to do with me.”

“Leo, please—” Connor’s voice breaks as his throat burns and his chest tightens like a vice grip.

“Fuck you, Connor. Seriously, you’re a fucking selfish asshole,” he says as he walks away, the door of Connor’s hotel room slamming behind him.

It takes too long for Connor to remember how to breathe after that, sitting on the floor of his hotel room, staring at his shaking hands.

The day somehow gets worse from there when he has to ask Mikael Backlund, of all people, why Matthew has a sling on.

Backlund gives him a strange look. “Wh—Chucky?”

“Yeah,” Connor swallows.

After a beat of silence, he says, “He broke his sternum. Game 3 of the finals against Vegas. Played in Game 4 anyway. Didn’t matter in the end.” Backlund winces. “They lost in 5.”

“Oh,” Connor winces in return.

Backlund stares at him for a while. “Heard it was pretty bad.”

“Shit.”

The festivities continue around them. He gives a cordial nod to Nico Hischier and Jack Hughes as they walk past.

“I thought you two were friends; that’s what Chucky used to say anyway,” Backlund finally says.

“We are,” Connor swallows around the guilt sitting in his throat. “I just, uh, needed a break, so I was—Never mind. It looks like duty calls, so I’ll be—” Connor forces himself to stand up and gestures towards the event people waving at him. “Have a good night. See you next season.”

Backlund nods with an expression Connor can’t quite place—he thinks it might be pity.

Connor sleeps so poorly over the next few days, and it’s a wonder he’s coherent when he meets the Bedard kid. He feels horribly ill-equipped to give the kid any advice and fumbles through some generic pointers. Leon was much better, as he usually is at these things.

At least the time together allowed him to earn back some of Leon’s good graces. They part with a promise of photos and texts and a hug that makes Connor feel unmoored. He wonders if Leon can tell he’s barely holding it together and just doesn’t care enough to ask anymore. He hopes not. He really needs it to not be that.

I guess we can add ‘friendship’ to the list of things Connor McDavid can’t do, he thinks. When he closes his eyes, he can only picture Leon’s furious expression, or Backlund’s confused disappointment, or Matthew’s annoyingly amused smirk when Connor finally had the chance to catch up with him and explain his absence. 

Leon’s anger is still the one that stings the most. It’s the one that plays on a loop in his head. It pops into his head at unexpected moments. It’s kept company with all the other failures and misses that haunt him.

He doesn’t sleep a wink on the flight back to Australia. 

It takes Connor a few days to work up the courage to go to the pub again, now more sure than ever that he made a fool of himself the last time. But, eventually, he forces himself to just do it—it has nothing to do with his inability to cook.

Lucky greets him, same as always, with an easy smile and a glint in his eye. It’s so normal that it makes him think Lucky forgot about their last conversation. But, something about the way he reaches across the bar and taps Connor on the wrist as he laughs at some dumb comment Connor made. Or maybe it’s the wink he sends Connor when he catches Connor staring at the way his shirt rides up when he reaches for the top-shelf liquor…

Either way, Connor knows deep down that Lucky definitely remembers their conversation. Which means Lucky knows something about Connor that no one else does. 

It’s a thought that should make his chest tighten and stomach churn—the idea of it alone would usually send him down a paralyzing spiral—but instead, it makes him feel feverish, a small crackle of expectation settling just below his navel. There’s just something about Lucky that eases something in his chest—Well, there just is something about him.

Neither of them do anything about it, though. Connor can’t decide if he’s disappointed or relieved.

A few days later, it’s almost closing and it’s quiet in the pub. There’s tennis on the TV: Wimbledon, Connor thinks, possibly a replay. He isn’t really paying attention. If he’s honest, he’s never really got tennis. Leon likes it, though, so he watches when it’s on.

“So,” Lucky says, interrupting Connor’s trance. He’s leaning against the bar back, polishing a glass—it makes the muscles in his forearm ripple. Connor pointedly doesn’t stare.

“So?” Connor says weakly. He knows. And he knows that Lucky knows he knows. He still doesn’t acknowledge it. He quickly looks around to check if anyone is close by.

“Did you still wanna come home with me?” Lucky says.

He just drops it into the space between them like it’s nothing. He just says it like it doesn’t turn Connor’s world upside down and his guts inside out.

Deep down, Connor knows that he could say no and Lucky would never mention it again. No hard feelings. Easy. They could both pretend like it never happened. Which is what Connor should want—it is what Connor wants. Which is why Connor is going to say no.

“Yeah.” It comes out close to a whisper, but it doesn’t need to be audible because Lucky smiles. Connor feels his cheeks heat, and it’s like every inch of skin suddenly fires up like live wire. 

Lucky turns around and places the glass on the shelf, and Connor blows out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in a puff. 

“Good,” Lucky says when he turns back around, “‘cause I already asked Kazza to close out for me tonight. I just need to grab something from the office, and then I’m good to go.”

Connor swallows. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Lucky runs his bottom lip through his teeth consideringly before he flashes Connor a heated grin and walks away. 

Connor waits for the pang of regret or guilt to hit; something to tell him to put a stop to this. It doesn’t come. All he feels is the prickling simmer of anticipation.

“Connor?” Lucky says, poking his head around the corner.

“Huh?”

“I meant for you to follow me,” he chuckles.

“Oh!” Connor scrambles to get out of the bar stool—it’s an entirely ungraceful affair—and follows Lucky and waits in the hall.

When he emerges from the office, he hands an envelope to Connor. “Can you hold this for a sec? Just need to put my jacket on.”

“Yeah, sure.” Connor looks down at the envelope, which has Lachlan written in Sharpie on the front. “Who’s this for?”

Lucky freezes and cocks his head. “What?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—It’s just on the—Nevermind. Don’t worry about it,” Connor mumbles.

“No, no. Wait.” He shakes his head and huffs. “It’s me? Lachlan, that’s my name?” He pronounces it like Lock-lan, which confuses Connor more.

“What do you mean?” 

“Lachy… It’s short for Lachlan?”

“It is?” Connor furrows his eyebrows.

“Yeah, mate! What have you been calling me?”

“I thought your name was Lucky!”

Lucky—or Lachy?—bursts out laughing, snorting a little as he clutches his sides. “I thought you were just saying it weird,” he manages to get out between laughs.

Connor rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, it was loud in there when you introduced yourself, so…” he lets himself trail off. He shifts on his feet, looking at the carpet.

Lachy shakes his head, still chuckling as he grabs Connor’s hand at the wrist. “Come on, this way.”

“It’s a bit weird now ‘cause I’ve been calling you Lucky all this time, and you’re Lucky in my head. I guess I have to change that now,” Connor murmurs, largely to himself.

Lachy hums. He tugs on Connor’s wrist and pulls him forward, swallowing the space between them as he backs them into a door. In a snap second, it’s like all the air has left the room, the world around them focusing in on the one point of contact at Connor’s wrist. Lachy’s hand is warm as it applies some pressure.

There is a beat of silence where Connor doesn’t know what to do but look. The lighting is a little better back here, and it catches on the strands of Lachy’s hair that have been lightened by the sun. In this lighting, Connor thinks Lachy’s eyes might be hazel or maybe a warm amber. He feels an inexplicable need to find out. 

The thing that catches Connor off-guard is the way he has to look down at Lachlan. Connor knew that he’s shorter—has seen him with his coworkers to compare—but it didn’t prepare him for the way it feels. The way that Lachy’s everything makes him feel pinned in place even as he towers over him—the six inches or so of height difference feels meaningless under his heated gaze.

Lachy reaches back with his free hand and grabs the door handle.

“You can keep calling me Lucky if you want, seeing as you’ll be getting Lucky tonight, right?” The corner of Lachy's lip ticks up in a smirk as he bites back a laugh. He leans in. “You can call me whatever you like once I’m inside you.”

Connor chokes. “Um, okay?” he squeaks, spluttering.

Lachy—Lucky?—leans his head back against the door and laughs. There is no explanation for the way the sound seeps into Connor, reaching every single crevice. It should be embarrassing to be this affected by someone’s laugh. Connor doesn’t have time to explore that thought further as Lucky pushes the door open and pulls Connor with him into the cool evening air.

The walk to Lucky’s place is not very long. But it is enough time for Connor to feel the ever-present doubt creeping in, even as Lucky tells him a funny story about a collision he saw while he was surfing that morning. He’s standing so close. Close enough that he can feel the heat of Lucky’s arm against his own. Closer than is normal for two guys casually strolling down the street, which—

Connor knows they’re not just two guys walking down the street. Not at all. He can still feel the anticipation simmering under his skin even as the cold air cuts through his thin sweater.

He tries to focus on the fact that the streets are empty, except for the occasional car, and no one knows him here. Here, he’s just Connor. So he tries not to let the looming shadow of his Name dig its claws in.

The thing is… he has a guy—a really hot guy who definitely knows what he’s doing—who is willing to take Connor home. A guy who seems to be into his disheveled and awkward self for some reason. A guy who inexplicably makes Connor feel safe, thousands of miles away from home and away from everything and everyone he knows.

Connor should take this gift with both hands and say thank you like the good Canadian boy that he is.

He thinks about the visualization exercises and pictures himself taking off the Edmonton Oilers jersey with McDavid 97 on the back and the C on the front. He pictures himself handing it over to Australian customs along with the apple he had forgotten was in his bag.

Connor barely has time to even look at Lucky’s apartment before he’s crowded against the door. Connor sucks in a steadying breath.

Lucky looks up at him, his warm breath tickling Connor’s neck. “I’m sorry if I smell like beer; I know you don’t like beer.”

Connor makes an affronted noise. “I do so like beer. I just don’t like—”

Lucky huffs and cuts him off by slamming his lips on Connor’s. Connor lets out a little squeak of surprise before his body takes over. His eyes flutter shut as he takes in the warmth of Lucky’s soft lips.

It feels so foreign when Lucky slides his tongue over Connor’s bottom lip; the wet heat surprises him and makes him open his mouth instinctively. He’s rewarded as Lucky pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles on it slightly. Connor finds out he enjoys that as he bites back a groan.

Lucky’s hands move from the door behind Connor to rest on his hips, fingers applying gentle but firm pressure. His hands feel so warm Connor wonders if they would leave handprints for the world to see, like a brand.

Lucky makes a noise against his mouth that Connor can’t interpret. He hums a questioning sound and finds that it tickles a little. He finds out he likes that, too.

Lucky’s hands pull away, much to his dismay, only to grab Connor’s own hands and place them on his sides—Connor runs his hands down the firmness of his obliques and gives them an appreciative squeeze, earning him an approving sound as Lucky rests his hands on Connor’s chest.

Connor doesn’t know how long they just stay like that, kissing languidly as he slowly becomes more exploratory with his touches, sliding his hands over Lucky’s defined back. And Lucky returns the favor, running his hands over Connor’s chest—through the sweater material, it just feels like broad warm pressure—before reaching up to the nape of Connor’s neck and moving him the way he wants to deepen the kiss.

The wet, hot slide of their mouths feels so nice that Connor thinks maybe they could just stay doing this forever. But Lucky has other plans; he slides his hands under Connor’s sweater and hums appreciatively at what he finds. His hands travel up Connor’s chest; when he slides his hands directly over Connor’s nipples, Connor has to choke down a whine.

Connor’s hands move of their own accord, sliding down Lucky’s back and over his generous ass. His pressure is light, but it doesn’t stop Lucky from rocking forward and onto his tiptoes, stealing all the air from between their bodies. In doing so, he presses his hard dick right into Connor’s, the slide sending an electric shock through his body. They both moan at the same time.

Connor suddenly becomes acutely aware of how hard he is and the slight wet patch at the front of his boxers. Connor sucks in a breath through his nose. If he had known this was happening today, he would’ve jerked off before going to the pub. Hell—if he had even a second, he would’ve jerked off in the pub’s bathroom. Anything to take the edge off.

As it stands, Connor feels unable to get a hold of his restraint, like he’s reaching out to grab something just out of reach. It makes him feel underwater and suddenly too aware of all the sensations at once: the filthy slide of their mouths, Lucky’s thumbs rubbing over his nipples, the friction as Lucky grinds their clothed cocks together. It’s all too much as Connor feels his restraint fraying.

“Lucky,” Connor mumbles against his lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, leaning back a little.

This time, when Lucky slides his hands down Connor’s chest, he claws his hands, and his dull nails scrape over Connor’s nipples, drawing an unrestrained moan as he arches into Lucky.

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” Lucky mumbles as his hands continue to travel south, as he recaptures Connor’s lips in a messy kiss.

His mind feels fragmented. Split between needing this to stop so he doesn’t come way too soon, ruining the whole thing, and needing to come so bad he thinks he might die. But he can’t figure out how to put that into words, so he just floats in the liminal space between the two.

He feels Lucky slide hook his fingers over the waistband of his jeans and boxers, and it takes him a second too long to figure out what’s happening as Lucky’s hand dips inside. It’s just the brush of a hand over his bare dick, but it’s more than he’s gotten in almost ten years, and Connor panics.

“Wait—no—” he blurts out, muffled by Lucky’s mouth. 

Connor grabs Lucky’s hand and yanks it out of his pants, but it’s too late. He squeezes his eyes shut as he fights the shudder that travels through his whole body as he comes, largely untouched, in his too-expensive jeans.

He tucks his chin to his chest, face flaring so hot he must be bright red. He takes a few breaths to steady himself before he opens his eyes and dares to look up at Lucky.

He immediately winces at what he sees. Connor feels like he actually might die and prays for the ground to swallow him whole.

Lucky’s jaw clicks, his expression one that Connor has never seen on his handsome face before. One of hurt and confusion. Connor swallows.

“Is this a gay panic thing? Because I hate to break it to you, we’d been rubbing cocks for like twenty minutes,” he says, voice low and even.

“What? No! No, it’s not—” Connor stutters, “That’s not—No.”

“Right.” Lucky raises his eyebrows; he clearly doesn’t believe him. 

Connor realizes he is still clutching Lucky’s wrist so tightly it must hurt; he lets it go completely. Lucky takes a few steps back, and Connor misses the heat of his body immediately. He feels the edges of panic closing in, so he just speaks.

“No, I promise. That’s not what’s happening. I’ve known since I was like ten that maybe—” His eyes dart around the room, and his eyes fixate on all the little trinkets around Lucky’s house—it’s kind of adorable. He takes a deep breath. Fuck it. “No. I’ve known since I was 10. I’ve just never… told anyone before. Or done anything. That was… That was great. I really liked it. You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m so—” He runs his hands down his face. “Trust me, that is not what’s wrong. God, I want to die right now.”

His eyes affix to the surfboard mounted above the couch, a point just over Lucky’s left shoulder. It’s suffocatingly silent for a moment as Lucky looks him over. 

“Wait,” Lucky says, his voice low and tight, “Did you just… come?”

Connor drops his head in his hands and straight-up whines.

“Oh my god,” Lucky whispers. “Holy shit.”

Connor wonders if it’s possible to just travel through the door like a ghost. Or maybe blink out of existence.

There’s a shuffling sound before gentle hands on his wrists pull them away from his face. “Woah, hey, Connor. No worries, yeah? It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mumbles. Connor thinks about all the guys Lucky’s fucked before and wonders if any of them had ever come in their pants after being lightly grazed by a hand. Of course, he would be a failure at this, too.

“Baby,” Lucky’s voice is so gentle, “I’m serious, okay? You have nothing to be embarrassed about. That’s… Seriously, oh my fucking God, Connor, that is fucking hot.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, baby, it is.” He gently clasps Connor’s chin so he has to look at him and smiles softly. “Come on, maybe let’s take a break.”

“Oh.” Connor’s chest feels too tight. “Do you wanna stop? I’m sorry. I can go if you want. I’m sorry for ruining it for you.” He knows his voice sounds odd, but he’s too panicked to care.

“Stop? Who said anything about stopping?” Lucky chuckles. “Unless you want to stop, I am very much still very interested.” He directs Connor’s hand to the front of his jeans, where the hard outline of his cock twitches in Connor’s palm. “Trust me. Very. Interested. But I can wait for a second. Come on, lemme get us a drink.”

Lucky walks over to a bar cart and pours two whiskeys. Connor wonders if he should leave anyway, if he’s just being nice. Sure, he’s still hard, but does he really want Connor, the guy who came from a light breeze in his entryway? Connor thinks about all the guys he’s seen Lucky take home before, and he just knows he’s going to be the worst—or at least, the most disappointing. Maybe it would be less embarrassing for everyone if he left now.

Lucky walks over and leans against the kitchen counter opposite him and hands him the drink with a soft smile. 

Connor determines that he should probably stay, given he’s come once already, and Lucky hasn’t come at all. And that’s probably unfair.

“So,” Lucky says, “Earlier, you said that you’ve never told anyone you’re gay?” Connor shakes his head. “And you’ve never… done anything?”

Connor sighs. In for a penny, in for a pound, or whatever. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“Really? Never?” Lucky says, slightly incredulous.

“Well, there was like once or twice in juniors—high school, I mean, uh. Bro-jobs, or whatever, on, uh, school trips.” He shakes his head. “It just felt wrong ‘cause they weren’t gay, but I was. And it felt a little like I was taking advantage of it. So I stopped.”

Lucky snorts. “Well, sucking cock is pretty gay if you ask me.”

It pulls an unsuspecting laugh out of Connor. “I guess. I don’t know. That’s not what I meant—I guess—it was just different for me.” Connor shrugs and bites his lip. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I never did anything again after that.”

“Like… nothing?” Lucky asks, not unkindly.

“Yeah. Nothing.” Connor sighs. “I think you’re the first person I’ve kissed in like almost ten years. God, that’s so embarrassing to say out loud. You probably think I’m so fucking weird.”

Lucky reaches over and squeezes his arm. “Hey, I don’t think that’s embarrassing. Or weird. Different strokes, or whatever. It is what it is.”

Connor didn’t set out to have this conversation. Realistically, he never thought he would ever even have this conversation—not at least for another ten years. But something about the earnest way Lucky’s looking at him makes him want to say it. Like it’s suddenly something that’s clawing at his throat to get out.

“I just…” Connor pauses and worries at his lip again. “It’s different for me. I…” He takes a really deep breath and blows it out. “I work in the sports industry, and, unfortunately, being gay is still a pretty big deal in my line of work.”

“Shit,” Lucky nods. “That sucks.”

“I guess a little part of me always thought that if I didn’t say it out loud to anyone or do anything about it, then it was just something about me that was just for me to know. Something that other people don’t get to know about me. I guess in the process, I stopped really acknowledging it, even to myself. It’s weird. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also don’t want people to know. Which must mean I am ashamed of it, I guess. I don’t know.” Connor clears his throat to push through the tightness there. “I’ve never known another option. Like, I knew this was what I had to do from when I figured it out at 10. It’s like… if this is your reality, you might as well accept it and move on, you know?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not painful, though. It still sucks. I’m sorry.” 

Connor shrugs as Lucky lets it hang in the air for a bit.

“Am I the first person you’ve told?” Lucky asks.

“Yeah.”

“Wow… that’s…” Lucky smiles. “Congratulations, Connor. That’s a big deal. Thank you for trusting me with that.”

Connor blows out a breath, and it comes out long and shaky. Despite that, his chest feels looser, like one of the invisible chains that wrap around his body loosened. “Yeah.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit as they sip their whiskeys, deep in thought. Connor takes the chance to look over Lucky in the bright kitchen lights. Connor finally determines that he has hazel eyes. They’re largely amber with flecks of green, and it makes him feel warm. It reminds him of the start of autumn and the beginning of the hockey season and the hope that comes with it.

The muscles in Lucky’s forearm ripples as he taps his fingers on the countertop to an unknown beat. It makes Connor think of the little hints of his body under the fitted black shirt and black pants. He knows from the way his shirt stretches when he reaches for a high shelf that Lucky has a broad, defined back. He’s seen enough of his arms and hands to fuel his fantasies for weeks. And what he’s seen of his ass and thighs makes him want to dig his fingers in, just to see what happens. Lucky just looks so handsome, beautiful, hot that it makes his head spin a little.

A flash of heat rolls over Connor as he remembers the feeling of the solid planes of Lucky’s body against his. Connor’s a professional athlete. He’s seen so many naked male bodies in peak physical form so many times and felt nothing that he sometimes questions whether he is actually into men. Of course, there’s always someone who would knock him away from that thought like an 18-wheeler truck. Either way, he doesn’t look in the locker room. Rarely even wants to.

This time, though, it’s Lucky. And he’s not a teammate. And he’s gay. And, for some inexplicable reason, he wants to fuck Connor—a thought that sends another wave of molten heat through his veins.

He shuffles on his feet and feels the uncomfortable wet patch in his pants and flushes. Something catches Lucky’s eye because he raises an eyebrow slightly and cocks his head. It’s a minuscule moment, but Connor catches it, and the way the air seems to shift.

Connor thinks about how he’s already here, everything out on the table. Connor thinks about how he might never get this opportunity again—at least not for another ten years—needs to make the most of it. Connor thinks about the weight of Lucky’s hard cock in his hand. Connor—

“So,” Connor finds himself saying, “Are we gonna fuck tonight or…?”

Lucky throws his head back and laughs. It exposes the long line of his neck, and—Connor doesn’t know if it’s the whiskey or some other form of intoxication, but he has a sudden overwhelming urge to bite it, lick it, kiss it.

So he does.

He closes the space between them in one big step and leans down to run his teeth along Lucky’s neck. He moans in response, a deep rumbling sound that tickles his lips. Connor licks it and savors the flavor of salty sweat and the aroma of heady musk. 

“Yeah, baby,” Lucky groans, his fingers finding purchase on Connor's hips and gripping firmly, “I’m going to make this so good for you.” He tilts his head and captures Connor’s lips in a heated kiss. 

This kiss is different to the one at the door. It’s more urgent, incessant, purposeful. It’s messy as their teeth clash and tongues slide against each other. Lucky bites down on Connor’s lip harder than before, and he moans. Connor sucks on Lucky’s tongue, earning a moan of his own, before letting go with a pop.

“What do you want, Connor?” Lucky murmurs against his lips.

“I want you to fuck me,” Connor blurts out, the words spilling out.

Lucky freezes for a split second, almost imperceptible, before shaking his head lightly. Connor feels the stab deep in his gut; the sting of rejection hits him by surprise, and it hurts—more than he thought it would. He tries to pull away.

Lucky shakes his head. “No, I just mean, I’m not gonna fuck you tonight.”

Connor furrows his brows, feeling confused, still trying to step away.

“Connor. Not on your first night. You’re not ready.” Lucky squeezes Connor’s hip. “Next time though…”

Connor freezes. “Next time? There’s a next time?” he hears himself say, voice small and quiet.

“Yeah, baby. If you’re game, there will be as many next times as you want before you leave. You’re here for a few more months, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, breathless.

Connor doesn’t know who closes the gap between them, their lips meeting in a heated kiss once again. Lucky guides him backward until he bumps up against the counter of the kitchen island again. He hears the empty whiskey glass clink as his body knocks it back a few inches.

“So, what are we gonna do then?” Connor asks nervously as Lucky kisses down his jaw and neck.

“Oh, there are plenty of ways I can make you feel good, baby, don’t you worry,” Lucky says against the neck, the puffs of air tickling him. 

“Oh,” Connor breathes.

He leans back. “Luckily,” he winks, beaming, “you’re in very good hands.”

It takes Connor a second to process the joke before a surprised giggle escapes his lips.

Lucky pushes his sweater up, exposing his stomach and chest. Lucky flicks a tongue over one nipple and a thumb over the other. Connor groans, his hands tightening on Lucky’s shirt.

“So sensitive,” Lucky laughs into his skin as he kisses his way down Connor’s front. “So pink. God, you’re so flushed, too. It goes all the way down to… I need to know if…”

Connor doesn’t have time to even process the way Lucky looks on his knees between his legs because Lucky is popping the buttons on his jeans and pulling his jeans and boxers down in one motion.

His dick bobs free, already achingly hard again. The swollen head glistens, wet with a mix of his come from before and the new beads of pre-come collecting at the tip. The air feels uncomfortably cold against him, and it makes him squirm. 

He’s not uncomfortable for long, though, because Lucky wraps one hand around the base of his dick and squeezes firmly before running a hot tongue up the shaft. Connor’s breath catches in his chest. 

He’s given no time to process the sensation before Lucky sucks the head into his mouth, bobbing once before sucking him all the way down with a salacious wink. Connor groans and is, for the first time this evening, happy that he’s come already because it is the only reason he doesn’t blow it from that alone.

Lucky moves, bobbing up and down, his hands resting on Connor’s hipbones, holding him still. It is impossibly hot and impossibly wet and impossibly tight. Connor doesn’t even know what sensation to focus on; the only thing he can think is fuck, that feels so good.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to get a handle on his ragged breathing.

He has nothing really to compare this to, but he doesn’t need to compare anything because he feels as though he is on fire, sweat prickling all over him as he focuses on not coming. He focuses on the tension and heat that settles in his gut. 

It’s so different than when he touches himself; it’s just so much more. More everything, everywhere. The sounds, the smells—he hasn’t even opened his eyes yet. He thinks that maybe he can’t open his eyes and see what this looks like from a real POV perspective because seeing it would ruin his life.

Connor likes to think that as a professional athlete, he has conditioned himself to have great control over his body. A theory that is being very much tested as moans and curses fall from his mouth without his input at all.

“God, fuck,” he rasps, his hoarse voice sounds insanely erotic. “Lucky…” Lucky swirls his tongue over the head as he moves himself up and down Connor’s dick. “Lachy… Fuck. Lachlan,” he moans.

Lucky hums—Connor feels it all the way up his spine—and pulls off with a pop. “Say it again.” His hand moves to lazily slide up and down his shaft.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.” His voice sounds even more fucked than Connor’s; it makes his head spin.

“Lachlan,” he says softly.

Lucky smiles and makes a low noise of approval before sucking Connor back down, all while keeping his eyes pinned on Connor, who can’t look away.

“Oh fuck, Lachlan,” he says, and he’s rewarded with another groan. “You look so good. You feel so good. This is… ahh…”

His hands are gripping the kitchen counter so hard it hurts. The view of Lucky’s shiny red lips stretched over him is too much, his hold on his self-control close to faltering. 

He closes his eyes and lets his head hang back; he’s unable to bite down the keening sound that escapes when Lucky flicks his tongue along the frenulum. The symphony of sound in the room sounds so filthy Connor thinks he would be flushing even pinker if he could. But he knows he’s already flushed red from his face to his dick that’s disappearing into Lucky’s incredible mouth.

Connor thinks about Leo and what he would say if he saw this. He wonders if he would be disgusted. If he’d never talk to him off the ice again. If he’d request a trade. If he would lose his best friend. He thinks about what the people would say if they saw him like this—Cam, his parents, his teammates, his agent—

Lucky’s hand slides down Connor’s shaft to the root and traces the line between his balls that are wound up high and tight against his body. His dick throbs inside Lucky’s mouth, and he feels more than hears Lucky’s moan of appreciation.

He decides he shouldn't be thinking of anything at all. However, the decision is more or less taken out of his hands when Lucky presses a finger behind his balls with such incredible precision his knees almost buckle.

The movement causes him open his eyes, and he watches as he accidentally fucks into Lucky’s mouth. Lucky’s dark lashes are wet, and his hazel eyes glisten as they look up at Connor as he fights against a choke, eyes fluttering shut in concentration. Connor thinks he’s never going to forget this moment, the way this looks. Even if this is only a one-time thing, it’s worth it.

Lucky reached up to grab Connor’s hand and place it in his hair. Connor cards his fingers through the soft curls. Lucky rolls his eyes humorously before pulling off.

“Fuck my face, Connor,” he rasps.

“Oh… Oh, fuck,” Connor whispers, hands shaking slightly as they move to grip his hair.

Lucky waits, mouth open, as he reaches one hand between his own pants. Connor watches as Lucky wraps a hand around his own cock, and feels compelled to say something.

“No,” he says.

“No?” Lucky furrows his brow.

“No, don’t—I want to get you. After—”

“Oh,” Lucky breathes, “Fuck, yeah. Okay.”

Connor watches as Lucky gives himself a firm squeeze before pulling his hand out and placing it on his broad thigh. He looks up at Connor and smiles before opening his mouth again, tongue hanging out over his bottom teeth. Connor groans as his dick kicks, another bead of precome collecting at the tip. Lucky leans forward and licks it off lightly.

Connor swears before grabbing his dick in one hand and Lucky’s hair in the other before feeding his dick into Lucky’s awaiting mouth. The heat, and wetness, and tightness puts him on edge immediately as his hand clenches, pulling Lucky’s hair tighter. His moan vibrates against Connor’s dick, and he feels it resonate inside every bone in his body. The urge to come is suddenly close to overwhelming. 

He keeps his eyes open this time as he rocks into Lucky’s mouth experimentally, watching for any sign of discomfort. As if reading his mind, Lucky rolls his eyes and makes a brief movement with his hands. It surprises a chuckle out of Connor as he relents.

He brushes over Lucky’s lips reverently with the hand that was gripping the base of his dick before he moves it to cup the back of Lucky’s head as he starts to fuck deeper into his throat. With each thrust, he feels the control he barely had fray and unravel.

His pace quickens, hitting the back of Lucky’s throat on every thrust. Lucky places his hand back on Connor’s hip to steady himself as Connor fucks his face. The tension in his groin feels impossibly taut.

“Lachlan, fuck, you’re incredible,” he murmurs. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” 

Lucky hums and grips his hip tighter so Connor doesn’t even think about pulling out. Their eyes lock, Connor unable to look away as Lucky cups his aching balls in his hand, reaching behind to the spot, and presses his fingers deep, plunging Connor over the edge.

Connor moans his name as he spills down Lucky’s throat, the world going hazy as his balls tighten and throb. He thinks the only thing that keeps him upright is all the years of balancing on knives on ice.

He gently eases Lucky off his dick, realizing suddenly just how tightly he was clutching his hair. 

“Sorry, was that,” Connor says, his voice hoarse and soft, “Was that okay? Did I hurt you?”

Lucky laughs, shaking his head before tipping forward and burying his face into the crook of Connor’s thigh.

“Yeah, baby, you did so good. A total pro at getting your cock sucked.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Connor rolls his eyes, unable to contain his laughter too.

“Now, there’s an idea,” Lucky says.

“Yeah?” Connor says, voice suddenly small as a wave of heat rushes over him. His spent dick throbs valiantly in interest.

“Oh, yeah,” Lucky hums against his thigh, “Not today though.”

Connor reaches down and pulls Lucky up to stand, supporting his weight a little as he comes off his knees. He leans down and kisses him gently.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against his lips. He can taste the faint flavor of himself on his lips.

“Nah. Yeah, no worries, baby,” Lucky chuckles, “Any time.”

Connor’s body shudders at that thought, and he chooses to push it aside as he feels Lucky’s hard cock against his thigh.

“I want to take care of you. Can I?” he asks quietly.

Lucky hums and pushes a hand under Connor’s sweater, muttering, “Why are we still fucking wearing clothes? And to answer your question, fuck yeah. Come on.”

They fumble, Lucky guiding Connor, who’s walking backward, to the bedroom, their mouths clashing while they finally remove their clothes.

Connor feels his knees knock against the bed as Lucky gives him a slight push, sending him sprawling. His dick unceremoniously flops on his stomach, and Connor feels momentarily embarrassed before he looks up at Lucky.

His breath catches at the sight. Lucky is standing there, naked at the end of the bed, his heated gaze raking down Connor’s body as he strokes himself. Connor is transfixed by the movement. From where he is, Lucky’s dick looks thick, thicker than Connor’s own anyway, maybe a bit shorter. It tapers down to the tip, where the head, red-purple and mouth-wateringly wet, peeks out from the foreskin.

Connor always thought he would be nervous at this moment, unsure. But looking at Lucky, he feels calm, like the moment before his skate hits the fresh ice in pre-game. Every single cell in his body feels dialed into this moment, reaching out to feel Lucky’s skin against his.

His eyes follow the dark trail of hair, from the groomed patch at the base of his cock up to the mat of hair between his nipples. His eyes track the movement of Lucky’s toned arm as he works himself slowly, languidly. He bites his lip as his eyes trail down Lucky’s thick thighs, a carpet of dark hair over them. For some reason, Connor just wants to sink his teeth into the meat of his thigh.

When he finally meets Lucky’s eye, he feels like his soul is going to leave his body. The look is almost predatory, the way his gaze feels heavy, pinning him in place. His eyes are so dark now, his pupils swallowing the beautiful hazel, as his curly hair falls messily over his face.

“You like what you see,” Lucky says gruffly.

“Yeah,” Connor replies, breathless once again.

“Good.” He kneels on the bed, and Connor slides back further onto the bed. “Me too.”

Lucky knee-walks his way up the bed, his thick thighs bracketing Connor’s legs, skin blazingly hot. Connor can’t help but scramble back until his head hits the pillow.

Connor swallows hard when Lucky finally towers over him. The hand not stroking his cock is pressed against the pillow right next to Connor’s head. The view is intoxicating. Connor’s hands twitch at his sides.

“Can I touch you?” he whispers.

Lucky moans and nods, biting his lip.

Connor reaches up and runs his hands over Lucky’s cheek. Lucky’s eyes flutter closed as he leans into it. Connor’s thumbs brush over his thick eyelashes, and then he pulls his bottom lip out from between his teeth. Lucky’s mouth remains slightly parted as Connor slides his hands down his neck, through the thick hair at his chest, down the hard planes of his stomach, and onto his thighs. 

Connor digs his fingers in, earning him a small hiss, and pulls Lucky’s thighs forward so he can sit comfortably on Connor’s stomach. He slides his hands up the back of his thighs, savoring the contrasting rough and soft of his thick leg hair. He takes a moment to knead Lucky’s ample glutes before taking one hand to trace the thick groomed hair at his pelvis.

Lucky’s hard cock sits heavy on Connor’s stomach, the pre-come smearing a little against Connor’s flushed red skin. Lucky wiggles at the light touch, cock kicking, as Connor runs his fingers down the soft velvety skin of the shaft, tracing the snaking veins. He is so transfixed by it, how soft it is, how much it responds to his touch, how hot all of this is—

“Please,” he hears Lucky whisper, a hint of a whine.

Connor blinks and looks up at Lucky, who looks like he’s in a tremendous amount of pain—although Connor knows that’s not what it is. His jaw is clenched, and he’s breathing hard and raggedly.

“Sorry, I just—Sorry,” Connor says softly.

He takes a deep breath before wrapping his hand around the shaft of Lucky’s cock, earning him a deep moan. He pumps his hand experimentally, noting the difference in how it feels in his hand compared to his own dick, before applying more pressure. When Connor slides his hand up and down again, he runs his thumb lightly against the underside of the tip.

“Connor,” Lucky moans above him, his head dropping a little. His curly hair brushes against Connor’s cheek.

He hums, drawing up the play in his head as he continues to repeat the motion. Lucky’s leaking so much that it doesn’t take long before his hand is wet enough to touch the sensitive head without it being uncomfortable—he hopes at least. He alternates his strokes between one that goes from the root to the tip and one that squeezes the head with a slight twist—the way he knows feels good.

“Fuuuuck,” Lucky breathes. His arm is starting to shake a little from where it is next to Connor’s head. Connor turns his head slightly and presses a light kiss to Lucky’s wrist. “Baby, that’s so fucking good.”

Connor smiles and feels his chest puff a little, proud like when a new drill finally clicks. He looks up at Lucky’s face, now flushed with pleasure. He watches as he applies more pressure, watching the way Lucky’s eyes roll behind the closed lids and lips hang open. 

“Yeah, fuck, just like that,” Lucky says. His hand comes up from where it was resting on Connor’s thigh and grabs onto his shoulder, fingers digging in. It hurts, but Connor doesn’t mind.

Connor continues to stroke at an even pace, eyes gliding over Lucky’s face and body, taking it all in. Lucky continues to drop little praises between them, mixed with his moans and curses. Connor feels like he could listen to the way Lucky says his name forever.

It’s not long before Connor notices the way Lucky’s hips start hitching with his strokes and speeds up his hand. He loosens his grip slightly so Lucky can fuck into his hand in time with his strokes. 

“Lachlan,” Connor’s voice sounds hoarse and fucked-out, even to his own ears, “Open your eyes. I want to watch you come.”

Lucky moans and his eyes open, gaze unfocused. Connor is transfixed by his face: the square jawline and full cheeks flushed with pleasure, the way his eyelashes flutter as he struggles to keep his eyes open, the shape of his mouth as he moans Connor’s name over and over.

Connor feels Lucky’s cock get impossibly harder in his hand as his pace becomes more erratic. Connor sees the moment before he comes in his eyes as they roll back, his eyes slamming shut. Connor feels the momentary desperation before the relief in the way Lucky’s fingers clench into the pillow beside his head and into the meat of his shoulder.

He feels the first pulse in the kick of Lucky’s cock in his hand before the cum hits his chest, his name on Lucky’s lips as he comes. He strokes Lucky through his orgasm in even pulls. He feels breathless and in awe and reaches up with his lips to pull Lucky into a deep kiss.

When they pull away, a while after the last pulse Connor feels, Connor is smiling wide. Lucky rolls off him and pants in the bed next to him, his arm draped over his eyes as he catches his breath. Connor stays smiling like an idiot at the ceiling.

“Holy fuck,” Lucky murmurs against his elbow next to him.

Connor hums. “Yeah.”

“No, seriously. Holy fuck.” Lucky knocks his leg against Connor’s. “You’re seriously telling me you’ve never done that before?”

Connor lets his head drop to the side to look at him. “No?”

Lucky peaks an eye out and looks at him. “What are you, some kind of prodigy? What the fuck?”

“Uh…”

“Did you hack my brain? How—I’m serious, Connor. I can’t believe that’s the first handjob you’ve ever given. I think I might’ve died and fucking transcended. Fuck,” he breathes.

“Um… Thanks?” Connor says, unsure, “I guess I’ve spent a lot of time jerking off, so…”

Lucky knocks a knee against him again, harder this time. “Shut the fuck up.”

Connor laughs.

Lucky turns in the bed to face him and smiles dopily. “Do you want me to get you again?”

“Huh?”

Lucky gestures to Connor’s dick, hard and curved up against his stomach.

“Oh! I didn’t even—No, I’m okay. I think I might be fully dry.”

Lucky laughs. “Yeah, okay.” He’s silent for a second. “Hey, Connor?”

“Mmm?”

“Stay, yeah?” he says, voice quiet. 

“Okay,” Connor replies softly.

“You can stay there; I’ll grab you a towel to clean up.”

“Hmm?”

“Your chest?”

“Oh!” he huffs and looks down at the mess on his chest. He runs a finger through the mess and pops it in his mouth, the flavor salty and tangy on his tongue. “Hmm!”

Lucky groans beside him, “Oh my god! What the fuck am I gonna do with you? You’re a fucking menace.”

“What?” Connor asks, confused.

Lucky rolls his eyes and climbs off the bed. “I can’t believe you genuinely don’t know what you do to people, do you? Fuck.”

Connor shrugs, not really following but too content to care.

They wake up facing each other the next morning, the sliver of light streaming in through the curtains illuminating their faces. Their bodies are pressed in close. Close enough that Connor feels Lucky’s morning boner pressing into his own.

Through sleepy blinks, they kiss for a long time, slow and heated, their bodies sliding against each other. Lucky hooks a strong thigh over Connor’s and pulls them even closer together, their hard dicks sliding against each other perfectly.

They moan into each other’s mouths, kissing messily as the sensations build. Eventually, Lucky reaches down and wraps a hand around both of them, rocking against each other. The air in the room feels thick with their pants and moans.

Each slide of Lucky’s cock against Connor’s sends sparks up his spine; the way their heads rub together is unlike anything Connor’s ever felt before. The pressure of Lucky’s hand is light, and it shouldn’t be enough to get him to the edge, but it does faster than he expects.

“Lachlan, I’m gonna come,” he whispers, his voice thick with sleep and arousal.

“Mmm, me too,” Lucky moans.

When Connor comes, it’s nothing like the night before. It’s slow and sensual, waves of heat and pleasure rolling through him like molasses. Lucky follows not long after, covering them both in sticky heat.

Lucky captures Connor’s lips again, resuming their lazy kiss for a little while longer until the mess between them gets to be uncomfortable.

Lucky reaches up with his hand and licks it clean—it unbelievably makes a molten wave of heat roll through Connor’s body again—before he reaches up to cup Connor’s cheek.

“You didn’t panic and run away,” Lucky says evenly, without judgment and maybe even with a sigh of appreciation and wonder.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t,” Connor smiles. “Why? Did you expect me to?”

Lucky shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess.” He pauses and sighs. “It happens. A lot of guys will have the post-nut clarity, or whatever, and make it clear that they regret what happened. They’ll try to make it real clear they’re “straight” which…” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I didn’t know you wouldn’t do the same. I mean, I hoped you wouldn’t. But…” He trails off and shrugs.

It stings more than Connor expects, and he feels his full-body wince. “Good thing I’m gay then, eh?” he says. 

He didn’t know he was going to say that when he opened his mouth to respond, but he feels with amazing—post-nut—clarity that he is glad he did.

Lucky smiles and it's the smile that makes Connor feel warm and tingly from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It’s a different heat than before. He imagines it’s the type of heat that sunflowers chase when they supposedly turn to follow the sun.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Lucky says.

“Me too.” Connor leans in and plants a soft kiss on Lucky’s lips.

Lucky hums, content. “Come on. Let’s shower, and then I can make us breakfast.”

Later, when he’s sat at the kitchen island watching Lucky talk animatedly about the merit of sharks of all things while making an incredibly delicious smelling omelet, Connor is struck by the normality of the whole thing.

You could replace Connor with any single person, and the world would keep spinning. Why would Connor be any different?

He thinks about checking his phone earlier. He had opened it, heart pounding, holding his breath while he towel dried his hair—he took the opportunity while Lucky was drying his hair in the bathroom with an absolutely wild-looking contraption—”It’s called a diffuser, Connor”.

So, he was hiding, essentially, crouched on Lucky’s bedroom floor where Lucky had plugged his phone in before bed, knuckles white around his phone as he turned the screen on.

It was underwhelming, really. The world did not burn down. It wasn’t front-page news on ESPN or Deadspin or Twitter or something. There wasn’t some sort of international beacon that went out screaming: “Connor McDavid is Gay” or “Connor McDavid has Gay Sex; what is next for the Edmonton Oilers Captain”. There were no “you’re fired” texts from Ken or Bettman. There were no “you’re disgusting, and I hate you” texts from all the people in his life who loved him.

There were only the normal texts. Photos from Cam of some Canada Geese. A text from his mum asking how he was doing. The most notable thing on his phone was a recent text from Leo, apologizing for Nashville—an apology Connor didn’t feel like he was owed, but Leo wanted to let him know he was sorry anyway. 

“Hey, just wanted to say sorry for how I was in Nashville. I don’t want you to think I meant it,” he had said. “You’re one of the best people I know. I was worried and hurt. So I’m sorry. I hope you’re having a good time in Australia. You haven’t sent me any pictures, asshole.”

“Isn’t it like 3 am in Germany right now? Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?” Connor had texted back.

Leon had sent back his typical response—an eye roll emoji—and Connor had smiled and turned off his phone.

So, Connor watches Lucky move at the stove, easy and carefree. And, for the first time in a long time, Connor feels a little bit of that ease in his chest. Like there is just a little bit more room to breathe. Like there is an ever so slightly less weight on his shoulders.

For the first time since he was 10, Connor considered that maybe he could be wrong. That maybe Connor McDavid could get to have something like this. Something easy—private but easy. Connor considers that maybe this is something he might want to share with a select few people when he’s ready. Not the people who would make it into a Connor McDavid-97-Captain issue. But people who deserve to see Connor a little more clearly.

But for now, he’s just content to watch as Lucky tries—and fails—to flip the omelet in the air like a pancake.

“So, how do you feel about scrambled eggs?” Lucky asks, smile broad and eyes shining.

“Good,” Connor laughs. “I feel good about scrambled eggs.”

“Fuck yeah!” Lucky laughs.

“Fuck yeah,” Connor says softly.

Masterlist | (My requests are currently closed.) | AO3

[lovingherwasgay]

I'm genuinely afraid that once the movie comes out and it inevitably doesn't "make trobed canon" people will be quick to criticize its quality for it and dismiss it as a whole. like it's a fatal flaw and bad writing. like the whole movie is shit because of it. It's not. we can love trobed all we want but it isn't owed to us and it doesn't mean the character arcs are BAD just because they don't turn out the way WE would like them to. It's not the only valid outcome.

and we haven't been queerbaited ffs. Does community really look like a show that gives a shit about what the popular audience thinks? do you seriously believe Dan Harmon and the writers would write anything into the show with the sole purpose of gaining the viewership of some specific audiences? LMAO go watch the show again. this show barely scraped by enough to get its 6 seasons because they DID NOT COMPROMISE artistic integrity, ever, they always made the show they wanted to make even at the cost of near cancellation and viewership loss. if they wanted to 'bait' any audiences into watching they could've made a more digestible, less fucking insane tv show my dude.

and not to be that person but Yes, if you only think their relationship is worthwhile if they're canonically confirmed as romantic/sexual you are SO missing the point of what already makes them special in the first place. They're soulmates they're best friends they love each other more than anyone else and all this CAN be platonic/queerplatonic. You can dislike the writers' decision on that, you can disagree with them, but it does NOT mean it's queerbaiting or that the writers are making it a gay joke/trying to bait gay audiences. It just sounds like you're channeling your old wounds with past truly queerbaity shows into this situation when it does not apply at all, this isn't that kind of show and it never was nor will be.

And honestly, on another note, just take a look at how Dan Harmon writes relationships in general. No ship in community is meant to last. Every time he uses them it's there to show the character's FLAWS and why the relationships suck (jeffannie, jeff/britta, britta/troy, annie/troy...). He has NO INTENTION of writing a relationship that WORKS, that stays together for good, it doesn't interest him. If it appears in the show it's doomed to fail.

"Uh why don't they make trobed canon but we have to see these shitty straight ships that don't even work together :/" gee I wonder WHY. almost like it was written that way intentionally or something. With this in mind, him not making trobed explicit is honestly a GOOD thing and I am glad it's something just for us to dream about, because relationships in Community's universe just don't last. Friendship and found family are the things that prevail forever, as the 6 seasons kept proving again and again. You can dislike this about his writing, you can think it's a bad take, but it does not mean you can accuse him of queerbaiting just because he doesn't wanna write what YOU wanted to see onscreen. That's not on him or the writers.

TL,DR: we are not entitled to canon trobed and if you'll trash talk the movie just because it doesn't go through with it you're missing the whole point of the show you supposedly love and understand

[wilcze-kudly]

Reasons why YOU should ship Bolin and Wei Beifong:

1.Gay🏳️‍🌈

The Avatar universe has a lot of WLW characters, but not many MLM ones. And having another member of team avatar be comfirmed as queer is always a good thing (they're all canonicaly queer in my heart tho).

Also having Bolin be queer adds a lot of interesting dimension to the character, eapecially to his previous interactions with female love interests. I've always headcanoned Bolin as very comphet. Discovering you're queer is something I wish were more explored with Korrasami, but Bolin 'i have a new heterosexual love interest nearly every season' would also be an imteresting character to follow through that process. Feel like it would give him an existential crisis and I want to see that bisexual disaster happen.

Especially if contrasted by Wei, who comes from the very liberal Zaofu. Look me in the eyes and tell me Su doesn't support gay rights. Zaofu is like the gayest city in the Avatar universe. Just look at their slay outfits and Aiwei's cool nosering.

2.Good Chemistry

Between the cute little sparring moment with the pebble and the famed rescue scene, these two do have some excellent chemistry. Look at them. LOOK AT THEM.

The lil 'you impressed?' eyebrow raise and smirk from Bolin. Wei's smile. THE PAT PAT. Bolin's little confused bi moment. The fact that they're just CHILLIN with Bolin holding Wei bridal style while Toph is RIGHT THERE and the fact that they're in such a high stress situation and that the rest of Wei's family needs to be rescued. BUT NO, THEY'RE JUST STARING INTO EACH OTHER'S EYES BECAUSE THEY'RE IN LOVE, YOUR HONOUR.

3.Rivals to friends? to enemies to friends again to lovers???

Wei and Bolin's first interaction is a little squabble during sparring, where Wei sandwiches Bolin with 2 metal plates and Bolin smacks Wei with a pebble. They've got this whole cute little rivalry thing going on and i think it's adorable.

Assumedly, they start getting along more after Bolin and Opal start dating. This probably doesn't last long, since after Bolin joins Kuvira, his relationship with the Beifongs probably sours tremendously. Even outside of a shipping context I would wanna know what Bolin's relationship with the other Beifongs was at the time.

I imagine especially after the Beifongs get captured by Kuvira's forces, Wei wouldn't be too inclined to like Bolin. But when Bolin comes to rescue them, Wei is the first to get tossed over, which would require a lot of trust in both Lin and Bolin. And Wei's first interaction with Bolin after Bolin catches him is *ahem* very friendly. Which seems to imply that, at the very least, Bolin is somewhat forgiven.

I also think it's really fucking cute that Bolin brought metal wires for Wing and Wei to bend and I'm devastated that we didn't get the scene of him giving them to the twins. I am shaking my stick at the heavens as we speak.

Presumably, fighting side by side against Kuvira would have Wei and Bolin bonding more and perhaps striking up a genuine friendship. I love it when gays bond over traumatic events. It's the purest form of courtship.

Also whenever the twins are standing next to Bolin, Wei is always the one closer to the guy... like i know im grasping at straws here but i just... im not sane anymore

4.Lavabending/metalbending symbolism

Do I need to say more? They're both talented in two of the most prominent earthbending substyles. Also there is interesting symbolism to Bolin having struggled to learn metalbending his entire life and failing but then getting a metalbender boyfriend could be really cute. THEY LITERALLY COMPLETE EACH OTHER GUYS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

(also you can't tell me that Wei wouldn't find lavabending incredibly.... hot....)

5.Tension filled sparring

Their first interaction was a sparring session during which they were playing litte dirty tricks on each other. Also we all love sexually charged sparring sessions.

6.Detecting lies/performer symbolism

So I've kinda talked at length about how Bolin is a 'performer'. (Which @thenamescaba has pointed out could very well be masking. Bolin is very autism) Bolin often seems to act in a manner that would make people like him, rather than genuinely. Which is pretty in line qith his childhood. Assumedly being homeless didn't win him any perks socially, so now he's compensating by trying to garner as much positive attention as he can nowadays.

This can have an interesting contrast with Wei, who comes from a family with the ability to detect lies and assumedly also has this skill. I could totally imagine Wei calling Bolin out on contorting himself in order to be more likeable.

7.Height/Size difference

This is just self indulgent to be honest. I headcanon all the Beifongs as a pretty short family in general and while I'm pretty sure that Wei isn't very small, I have a soft spot for tall/average characters who are absolutely dwarfed by their giant, bulky partners. Also, how strong is Bolin because he is just holding a guy his age with apparently no effort???

8.Daring rescue/princess carry aesthetic

Listen, fairytales had this trope down pat for a reason. Sure it's cliche and overdone but it is a guilty pleasure for a lot of folks. Plus, I do think there's a lot of humour a usually capable metalbender having a major case of damsel-in-distressitis.

There is also the fact that the scene is unintentionally (or intentionally, i feel like SOMEONE in the writer's room has it out for me) paralleling the Nuktuk posters, for which Bolin posed with a love interest.

9. The Freedom/belonging contrasts

Now this here is a stretch, but an interesting and fun one. With Bolin we see a huge, underlying theme of him 'trying to find himself', practically feom the first season. He bounces from job to job, tries new things but nothing feels good enough. This probably stems from his childhood in the streets, he may be compensating for all the lost opportunities or something else. What does matter is that Bolin is 'untethered' and floating rather aimlessly, to his great distress. It's shown in book 2 that he envies the rest of team Avatar, who have already found their places in life.

Now, for Wei we can only use context clues and his siblings as reference but bear with me. We see that Suyin is a slightly overprotective mother, who would rather all her kids stay at home with her. We see this with Opal's hesitance to leave doe the Air Temples and with how harshly Su reacted when Kuvira nad Baatar Jr left Zaofu. This, paired with the fact that Wing and Wei are the only ones of their siblings who are 'upholding the legacy of their mother and grandmother ' might place them under a lot of pressure.

Therefore, Wei, in stark contrast to Bolin has a firmly set place in the world, one from which it would be incredibly difficult to free himself. This is completely different from Bolin, who , while he hasn't found himself yet has the freedom to be whomever he wants to.

One could set forth the idea that Wei and Bolin envy one another.

Bolin, envying Wei for having everything Bolin had wanted as a child. A stable family and life and a meaningful legacy. While Wei could be jealous of Bolin being able to forge his own path, instead of treading water.

10.Good angst potential

Being in love with your sisters boyfriend (why yes, I cannot look at Satisfied from Hamilton the same way, how did you know) is angsty even of itself, but then said boyfriend joins your fascist estranged siblings? Is this a greek tragedy? Especially that the twins and Opal seem rather close, so I think it would be unlikely that Wei would try to interfere in his sister's happiness.

Even as an unrequited romance, weilin provides a lot of potential for an amazing story. And we get to torture one of Toph's grandkids. As a treat.

On Bolin's side, realising you're queer can be a long and arduous process, especially if you've been taught otherwise. And I don't exactly believe the Triple Threats would be super accepting. This could also lead to some really sweet moments between Bolin and Mako, because Mako, for all his flaws is a very good big brother. And Korrasami could be the cool bi mentors. DO YOU SEE MY VISION. (Also Opal would be 100 percent supportive she's an absolute queen)

11.Good comedy potential

Just two himbos, dumb as the rocks they bend, tryna get together but both being too stupid and nervous to actually take the plunge.

Bolin is usually very forward with his advances, but perhaps trying to get with a guy the first time would feel like unfamiliar territory and make him even more nervous. And even so, Bolin's usual flirting is a sight to behold.

While we don't exactly know how Wei would react to this i can see him being a bit of a tsun. He just has that vibe. I could also see him not knowing how to react to being flirted with, since I can imagine that he spent most of his childhood isolated with his siblings.

I can totally imagine them both being much too awkward to make the first move and everyone around them being absolutely mentally exhausted by this weird little himbo mating ritual.

12.Because i said so

[thatswhatsushesaid]

more salty commentary about.... salty fandom commentary, but for a fandom i'm not really involved with

ftr this is about the gay-ass (affectionate) vampire show

squinting at some of super vitriolic anti-armand commentary that tumblr's algorithm keeps throwing at me like 'this? you want this one bestie? no? what about this one instead?' when in fact i want none of these takes, actually. "i don't believe a word that comes out of that lying liar's mouth!!" "of course he could have stopped claudia and madeleine's murders, he's the most powerful vampire in the world!!" (uh, i'll come back to that one later. maybe. if i feel like it) "he was onboard the 'let's murder claudia!' train from the very beginning!!!" etc. if you're even peripherally keeping your finger on the pulse of this fandom's discourse, you've probably seen some of this, too.

and... okay. bearing in mind two things:

it's been about 20+ years since i read the original novels, and

the show's relationship to the original novels, as well as the 1994 movie, is both conversational and subversive,

two seasons into this delicious mess, how are we still collectively failing to recognize that the central conceit of amc's retelling is that, intentional or not, all recollection of louis' past is both catharsis (for louis) and performance (for ???)? that all of louis' recollection of his own actions, as well as the actions of the other vampires in his orbit, is filtered through the lens of his own feelings about those vampires in that moment? like this isn't a subtle storytelling device, this is something the show is repeatedly bashing us over the head with again and again and again: louis' reliability as a narrator of his own experiences can't be trusted even when he isn't so consumed with rage that he tries to drain twenty year old daniel molloy dry for the unforgivable crime of /checks my notes, mouthing off at him like a dumbass, or goes into vulgar detail describing to lestat precisely how he is going to kill him, cut his head off, and then feed his decapitated head to lions at the zoo. which, it bears mentioning, is not the version of events that we were presented with during s1, but it is the version of events that louis himself comes to reluctantly believe is the more accurate recollection of the past.

does that make lestat into The Real Victim™️ who did nothing wrong to louis or claudia, ever? please tell me you're not actually asking me this question. be serious.

the point is that louis is right in the thick of feeling his intensely passionate vampire feelings about armand in real time, in the present day, while looking backwards through time at the 77 years they have spent together, and he is questioning everything. justifiably so, for the record! why wouldn't he question the actions and motivations of the supposed love of his life after discovering that such an important memory from his and daniel molloy's shared past was erased from his mind? but seriously, if you have reached this point in the story and your takeaway from the last episode boils down to "THIS TIME louis' recollection of the past is definitely 100% accurate! the rose-tinted glasses are OFF and we can see the TRUTH about you now armand!!!" then i just. i don't know what to say to you. lmfao.

anyway rather than getting into the weeds with anyone actually in the fandom about which of these diva vampire daddies is right, actually, find me hanging out with claudia and madeleine's ashes giving all of them the proverbial finger. because honestly, fuck all these vampires (affectionate).

[memeapple2]

Tails gets trolled rp starters part 1

yeah 😔 yes I'm leaving in the typos beacuse it's funnier that way :^) Fight me nerds!!

"Fuck you trolls!"

"They can't troll you if their dead!"

"I'm so mad, I'm gonna have sex with my girlfriend so I won't be so mad."

"Dumbass will learn."

"Mad? U Mad? U look mad U stupid bitch!"

"sorry *insert name* if this looks gay to the viewers."

"the art of trolling was actually started from humans but it wasn't called trolling it was called being a dick but back in the middle ages i was being made fun of because i wasn't human."

"im extremely hurt you would think im a douche. it might not look like it but i have feelings and you hurt them."

"hey can you put that on a coaster?"

"They have been getting trolled. you know how it is. there calling *insert name* gay and shit they cant take it."

"the way to stop a troll. is to become his friend .as his friend you can show him the right path!"

*-goes back to knitting-*

"come i will talk to these kids and stop this hate with kindness!"

"sometimes there is need to do whats needed, if it was up to me *insert name* would be dead and we would never have to worry"

"im not gay I have a girl friend and i would like it if this conflict to end in peace"

"you must not know who i am. i have alot of talent and i have lots of friends. one of my friends is right beside me . and for what your saying isn't true, so i am not afended by your hateful comments"

"ehhh...... im gonna ignore what you just said and ask you one more time. lets end this hate and become friends"

"why don't we just be friends this is stupid"

"ok im gonna take a random guess and say you guys failed with that peace crap"

"i fucking knew it"

"hello dickheads so your the trolls i heard about"

"hey do you see that? it looks like a group of pokemon.coming at us"

"for a em→→breaded donkey i can sure fuck your mom hard."

"there isn't. you remember what happen when you guys tried peace? you cant talk to them. there to oblivious"

"yea remind me next time to not kill such a fat person"

"high shovel!"

"ok i'm gonna go back to sleep now good night."

"banana"

"don't worry man I killed the fat one. its all cool man. i know all about the taste for blood"

"thank you for proving that peace isn't shit. when it comes to trolls. your a good friend"

" *insert name* Wake up! you fucked up big time!"

"People can't troll me beacuse I have no ears. They can't troll me if I can't hear them!"

"What? I don't have fucking ears!"

"If you don't mind I'd like to continue knitting this!"

"did you know with seat belts people die all the time in car crashes? I thought that was interesting!"

"have you ever been bitch slapped from lack of listening? Lack of doing what you're told? Beacuse I'm not that far from slapping you."

"which means I can be super powerful and kick everyone's ass..I'm gonna be awesomely badass!"

"trust me this plan will be better beacuse I'm gonna smoke my smart weed! I'm smarter when I'm high."

"Why are you filled with so much hatred and aggression? I'm finding it difficult to assume what you must have went through to mold you into the person standing in front of me now."

"Hey troll! FUCK YOU!!!"

"hmmmm this isn't as i thought it would be, killing people is really boring and all these annoying screams, i mean damn."

"Yeah that wasn't very good. I tried to do something similar to high shovel. Let's just forget about this."

"there is no need for any blood shed, this problem can be solved with out any villains"

"I do all kinds of stupid and gay shit."

"I’m starting to think that even if we pray our hearts out and know that we do wrong, that maybe there are things that god can’t fix and maybe, instead of putting our hope in god to fix all our problems we take action for our mistakes and learn from them."

"Sorry it took us so long to save you from TIME PRISON. So what did you do in TIME PRISON?"

"You gotta calm down bro, chill man, smoke a joint!"

"After 50 years I started to feel like I was losing my sanity so I started to break my fingers and I would just break my fingers and set them again. "

" I started breaking all my bones. I broke every bone in my hands. I broke my arms, separately, and then I started to break my own ribs. I broke my femurs, it took a while. And then I healed and broke them again."

"After 5000 years my bones were all scar tissue. They had all grown so solidly back together that I was unable to move. "

"And after another 5000 years of furious infinitesimal movement, I built up enough muscle mass to spontaneously break any bone in my body, and then I could move again. "

"My body had done so much healing that I healed almost instantly. That’s all I do now. Every time I move my body, my bones shatter and heal back in my next shape. If I take a single step, every bone in my legs splinters and then reforms. I don’t know what pain is because I have been alive for 10 million years."

"Okay but it looks like your walking normal."

"Well that's just stupid."

"oh sorry i forgot about this and took a nap and then took a shit. im so sorry i forgot but no worries man im here now"

"ahhhhh........................................................ yeah i dont know."

"hey your awful lonely. you must be a looser or something."

"this is the down side of having no ears, i can't hear if *insert name* is screaming for help or not, i mean i have no clue if hes screaming towards me back, so damn it having no ears kind of blows."

"hhahahahahahahahha i dont even know what the fuck you said?"

"i was trolled until i got bigger and stronger then them now i am feared"

".................... i have no importance to this story line what so ever, i think im gonna go."

"wow that story was super amazingly awesome, im not even joking right now"

"ahhhhhh so gay"

"we neutral's dont take sides in childish battles that normal people do. to pick sides is fullish."

"well most of the trolls are stupid but they all think there smart it's funny if you think about it."

"ummm. what object is like that? huh? ........ its unbreakable and its breakable? how is that possible? is it a liquid? hmmm i don't understand ?"

"now im gonna kick you right in your hairy ballsack"

"ok everyone! do you guys see this paper? well theres nothing on it yet but there will be"

"hey guys i was just telling him the plan. we are gonna do a all nighter and get fucked up hahaha its gonna be sweet."

"What? what are you talking about? We can discuss this further when there's not a gun in my face.."

"shut up, i got this alright, i got this shit in the bag, you'll see."

[charmac]

Hi! Do you have any thoughts on Mac and Mrs. Mac’s relationship? I find the whole McDonald family dynamic so interesting, but especially after season 16/frank shoots every member of the gang I’ve been fascinated by those two. You always have such impressive, well thought out answers!

Thank you!

I do have a lot of of thoughts regarding Mac's upbringing, especially in terms of his relationships with his family and how they clearly affect his current-day relationships and misconceptions of love, but I'm not sure I've really fleshed that out so, great question.

First of all, I have a gripe with Frank Shoots Every Member of the Gang, as it really insanely retcons Luther's age. Mac Kills His Dad established that he was 59 at the time, which would have made him a teen when he had Mac. Shoots establishes that Luther's dad served in WWII and wrote him letters during that time, which means he had to have been born before 1945, and would have been at youngest in his 30s when Mac was born. It's not like it's a huge issue, but it does change some previously-thought dynamics. (Though, the fact that they weren't younger-cast in A Sunny Christmas does better-align with the idea that they were in their 30s when they had Mac.)

There was/is always kind of the vibe that when they were together, pre-Luther going to jail, Ms. Mac did really love Luther and vice-versa, and Mac was more kind of like a by-product of unprotected sex more than he was a part of the family. (I mean, they named him after the Hamburger Clown). Luther clearly love(d) him as the idea of having a son, someone who could carry on his bidding and his name, but doesn't love him as the child he actually has. I think Ms. Mac didn't love him as the idea of a son and doesn't love him as the child she has, and never did. BUT she did love Luther, and Mac observed that as a young kid, his parents loving each other but neglecting him. Looking at Christmas, we can kind of assume the order of anything in Mac's childhood home was Ms. Mac > Luther > Mac. So for his early development he was kind of sidelined, saw no love from his parents toward him, but did see love between his parents (in a definitely not healthy way, as it goes).

We know in the deleted scenes of Sunny Christmas that Mac's dad is going to prison probably right after the events of the video tape... I honestly think it's reasonable to assume that Mac's screaming that woke up the residents of the house they were robbing might have been probably was what led to Luther being arrested (with whatever warrants he had hanging over him catching up with him once he had been detained). So, does Ms. Mac blame her son for her husband being locked up for the next 25 years? Probably. She didn't even want him, didn't care for him, and then his obnoxious behaviour was their downfall.

Back to Shoots, I did really like it for what it gave us in terms of (Char)Mac childhood lore. I think it definitely wasn't a shock for them to drop the cigarette lighter line, but it was a hit to the chest for me. Everything I kind of assumed before, re: didn't want or care about having a child equated to strictly-neglectful, Mac clawing for the love he saw his mom give his dad, now with his dad gone even more-so, and being brushed off, now escalated to retaliation in response to Mac failing to be brushed off. Sometimes the dismissive, grunting and not moving from your chair approach just doesn't work on a hyperactive little bastard like Mac, sometimes you have to make him shut up by giving him something else to fuss over. I think Ms. Mac probably hoped that would be what breaks through his skin, makes him realise she doesn't love him, but Mac only sees it as a warning, a pause, a try-again-later, mom's just in a bad mood.

Presently, what we see of Ms. Mac is almost always the same: completely indifferent. Shrug, cough, I don't care at all about you. Mac's a serial killer? Yeah. Mac's dead? Ok. You're gay? Meh. She'll fuck with him though, sure: your dad is actually Dutch. You wanted these letters that meant something to your father? I needed toilet paper. Who cares. She doesn't love him, never has, never will, and Mac has no ability to understand that.

Based on his upbringing and the past 20 years, I think he has a complete misunderstanding (and at this point inability) to recognise and understand what love is, mostly because of his mother. Because she just, doesn't love him, never did, but Mac thinks that parents have to love their children, that's a fact in his mind. If he has a mom and a dad they do love him, they have to, especially when he was a little boy, right? His dad loves him, he's just in jail so he can't show it, but his mom is here. And mom did love dad, he remembers that, he saw it, so he just has to make himself known, she can love him too because she's capable of it and she's his mom. He loves her, he says it over and over, she never says it, but she just doesn't see him because she's busy, working, or making a home for him, or just for some reason she's not paying attention... So love for Mac is fighting neglect, love is refusing to be ignored, love is pestering over and over because if you can get away with your bombardment without a finger being raised, without being scored by a cigarette lighter, they must really want you to continue... they must be waiting for you to really prove yourself before they show or admit their love for you. There are people in his life who have to love him, it's like a law, so they'll admit it as long as you keep asking, keep making yourself known, keep trying to prove yourself... and if it comes to the point where you're getting burned, stop for a minute, take a step back, and reevaluate how (or when) you can try again...

[luffyrose]

Dc x Dp Blurb #3

It's late, I'm tired and on my phone so it's weird writing here but I must share this one instantly.

So, I saw a Trans Danny AND Trans Jazz thing earlier and I lost it. The idea that they both are is so good to me, and I have so much angst for it.

Just, neither of their parents even REMEMBER that they're trans. Like Danny's their son, Jazz is their daughter....but only because they know they have one daughter one son and clearly that was correct, not because they remember they're both trans. Acceptance through negligence basically.

Also side note but totally an au where the kids at school know and are like "Hell yeah you go!" About the trans stuff. Dash will push Danny into a locker but if he hears someone deadname his nerd friend he's taking a note from the ghosts and breaking shit.

Now the crossover aspect that's been invading my brain. Danny is visiting Gotham temporarily for something and is just like not hiding that he's trans, he's got a lol pin of the flag on his bag. Class trip with the Fentons being some of the supervisors, they came along to see if Batman was a ghost, and Danny us just very tired at this point. He's king of the realms, come to a midpoint with his 'rogues' after realizing it was more a ghost thing than a hate thing for 99% of them, and finally become friends with most of his class even if Dash still liked to mess with him.

Walking through the museum they're touring with Lancer, and a class from the local high school, Danny ends up near the edge of his classmates group next to the other school group. They're not avoiding one another but also not really talking, but this one kid just goes, "nice flag pin," before showing off the bisexual and polyamorous ones they have.

It's Tim. Because he saw the flag and went :O friend time. And also no one he talked to was with the group he was in, so he'd rather talk to this stranger who probably won't treat him differently since he doesn't know him.

The two talk as they are going, some of the other Casper high students chiming in since hey if a kid is nice to their weirdest classmate they're pretty okay in the books. (50/50 if the class know Danny is Phantom but they totally know he's different from all the osha violations in his house and most of them are so worried after really paying attention after they became friends).

Randomly Jack and Maddie come out of nowhere and grab Danny talking about something to do with ghosts, much to the apparent tiredness and even slight distaste on their kid's face, which they didn't even notice. Tim is unsure what is happening but seeing the dislike on the whole class's faces and some worried looks Danny got he's now wanting to go all detective on him because hey Danny's fun to talk to! Totally not because he's very very gay-

So after they leave, he causally tries to learn more about the two and why the class seemed to hate them, even why Danny himself didn't seem to want to be anywhere near his parents. Of course he tries to be subtle.

"So you're parents seem pretty accepting of you being trans, that's good!"

Maybe not so subtle, in his defense, he hasn't slept recently. Danny tried to smile at it though but completely failed, just giving up and slouching as he shrugged.

"More like they don't even remember."

So now Tim is concerned and confused, but much to his luck, the tour is over and the Casper students are leaving. He's worried about his new friend, even if they exchanged numbers, so he goes down a rabbit hole. Not only does he find suspicious stuff about this small town that was heavily deleted from many things, but he finds that Danny has a sibling. It's evident to him they're also trans from the few pictures before and after but the sibling's name isn't anywhere to be seen so he tries to dig deeper.

He pauses before going further down though to respond to some of Danny's messages. But his sleep deprived brain decided 'let's just ask'. So he asks a bit of questions about Danny. Like what's his town like? Any other family? Are they fine with you being trans, because he'll totally beat anyone who's not, etc. Danny answers them and in turn asks about the Waynes, mainly because Danny is not entirely convinced Bruce himself isn't weird like Vlad, but he does acknowledge that he's at least not evil.

Eventually Danny offhandedly mentions Jazz is trans to, and Tim being the detective he is is like "huh..." and asks if his parents were accepting of Jazz too. It's a while before he responds but Danny just says;

"They don't remember we are trans...so no problems or anything with it..."

Tim doesn't get the chance to say anything about it as Danny asks about something about him being poly and what his dad and siblings thought. Of course he replied but his mind was also reeling from the fact that Danny's parents literally don't pay attention to their kids enough to not realize both kids are trans.

They keep in touch and Tim puts investigating on the back burner some since while kinds neglectful they seem to be decent enough parents.

He regrets that though as Danny doesn't message him for nearly a month. It worries him enough to put that investigation back to the forefront. Of course he finds osha violation city in the Fenton's house, as well as the actual paranormal activity happening. What concerns him the most is that apparently the town hero, a ghost boy, is missing...from around the same time Danny stopped messaging.

It's a week into trying to find Danny that he gets a message from his number, except it's not Danny. It's Jazz. She asks Tim if Danny had gone to him, she was trying everyone since no one knew where he was. This sparks a big ol search.

Danny meanwhile ended up with a hero (any but Clark or Bats cuz we want some rarer family dynamic, the good juice) after crash landing, most literally, right by em. The hero, I'm thinking Hal or Barry idk, is too busy trying to help this random powerful teenager who was bleeding way too too much to not have some regeneration ability.

After some drama of trying to find Danny, and Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and Tim knowing identities(Danny's included) because Tucker accidentally hacked around and found out, hero parent of Danny shows up with said boy closely in tow to a meeting after their surprise break from league work and Tim just jumps up and doesn't even remember that Danny doesn't know his identity.

Danny panics initially but quickly realizes it's Tim and finally gets back in contact with Jazz and all of his friends/classmates who had most definitely stormed a GIW lab in his absence. The league is confused and it's a whole mess before Danny trauma dumps on em and Tim as RR just admits this all started because he saw the trans pin.

My brain is rambling too much for this now, but basically lotta trauma, the league appalled and Danny getting a good family after everything is settled. His classmates so visit him and Tim, Kon, and him date because I feel like Danny would meet him, learn he's a clone (after being very gay for a moment) and just be like "heck yeah, my younger sister is a clone" which also caused more panic but like gay trio.

I'm gonna go sleep now, enjoy the angst and randomness this blurb is-

Remember these are free to take and do whatever you please with them, it's just random ideas/thoughts that I have but don't plan to do anything with for the foreseeable future!

[seramilla]

So follow up to the homophobic heaven au ask. After Emily comes out to Sera and gets told that it's not love she'll grow out of it and to not tell anyone about it especially the elders. Emily is confused and hurt by Sera's response but what sticks with Emily is that Sera's reaction isn't angry, disappointed, disgusted or sad but instead terrified even when Sera tries to act like she is one of those it's clear to Emily she's mostly acting but Sera's fear is clearly genuine. She decides to try and figure it out she goes and talks to some other angels not coming out to them but more talking about the idea of someone liking someone of their own gender saying a human told them they were worried if their kid would get in because they are gay. Now all the angels who were alive before Lucifer fell supported heaven during that mess but most in the years since then have become somewhat disillusioned and or think the elders are too harsh or disagree with them on some points. So they tell her maybe and explain the whole story of Carmilla who was Sera's best friend and fell after it was revealed that she was in a relationship with a woman and didn't say who it's clear that angels Emily is talking think the elders response was wrong and they talk about how shocking and kinda of messed up how Sera seemed to not react to lossing her best friend and why they have kept somewhat distant from her. Emily realizing the fear how close Sera and Carmilla were described and some other things thay seemed odd growing up concludes that Sera was Carmilla's lover and decides next time she sees her sister to ask about Carmilla.

"Who's Carmilla?"

Hearing that name in her little sister's voice sends such a pang of emotion through Sera's entire body, that she nearly falls over from the shock of it. Slowly, Sera turns to face Emily, who is sitting patiently and humbly on the couch in her office. She's looking at Sera with genuine curiosity -- this isn't some trick, or a gotcha, or a way to get the upper hand. She genuinely wants to know.

When Emily had asked to "talk" earlier that morning, Sera had thought it would be something about the newest wave of Winners about to enter Heaven that day. She thought it could be about virtually anything else; she hadn't expected to be reminded about the woman she's tried all these thousands of years to forget.

"Where did you hear that name?" Sera asks, trying to remain calm, but failing spectacularly. Her eyes are blown wide, and she's shaking all over. She can't stop herself from sweating.

"I don't want to say," Emily answers, meekly.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to punish them."

Oh, Emily. Ever the selfless, self-sacrificing, considerate angel who always puts others' wellbeing before her own. Sera worries so much that she's going to get herself in trouble one of these days. The type of trouble Sera can't protect her from.

Sera bends down in front of Emily, taking the younger woman's cheeks in her hands, stroking them softly. Emily is so small. So young. So fragile in Heaven's eyes.

"I won't punish them...but if you really won't tell me, then may I ask why you're asking?"

"Umm...someone...some people...told me that you cared about her very much. That you were inseparable. Best friends. But when she fell, there were rumors that it didn't even bother you. That you didn't care. But I didn't believe them, Sera! How could you not care? After everything you'd been through together! That's not the Sera I know!"

Sera's fighting back tears now. Just hearing Emily speak that name, and remind her of the special bond she'd shared with Carmilla for so long. Carmilla had opened her heart, made her see herself, and Heaven, and the entire concept of existence and what they're doing up here, in a different light. And to protect herself, she'd pretended nonchalance. She'd acted like it hadn't bothered her, so she could stay here, and make some type of difference in Heaven, even if it was only a little one.

She'd wanted to make Carmilla proud. Now, hearing Emily talk about her again, brings all of those memories and hopes for good intentions to the forefront. After the way Sera had guilted her sister, instead of being honest and explaining things to her...how she'd condemned her sister's actions as confusion or just a phase...Sera wonders how much Carmilla would be ashamed at what she's become.

She's become the thing that she hates most.

"I did care," Sera confirms. "I cared a lot when she fell. So much, that I kept it bottled up inside. To protect myself...and to protect you."

"Sera, did you love her?"

This question of Emily's also catches Sera off guard. Her instincts tell her to lie again, to brush it off, and say no, of course not, that's a sin! The old Sera would do that. She'd do it in a heartbeat. But Sera already feels guilty enough about the way she'd handled Emily confronting her with her feelings about other angels. About women. That she likes women, too.

Emily is so much like her. It's scary how much her sister is a reflection of the High Seraphim.

So Sera tells her the truth. The entire truth, for once in Emily's life, and not some half-baked version of it. Because Emily deserves that much.

Sera sighs heavily.

"I did. I did love her. I loved her so much. Heaven took her away from me. And then they gave me you. And I thought that was recompense enough, for a while. But then I did you wrong, Emily. I lied to you. I'm no better than they are. I'm so sorry. I loved her, and I love you. That shouldn't be a sin to say. Emily, I want you to love as fully, as wholly, as I did. I want you to love as much as you possibly can. Do you hear me? No matter what I or anyone else says. I take back everything I told you before. Can you ever forgive me?"

Emily smiles. There are tears in her eyes. Of course Emily would forgive her. She barely had to ask.

"Of course, Sera. I love you. And I just want you to be happy, and feel loved, too. That's all I've ever wanted for you. Thank you."

[demdozeguys]

Strap in for a long one, because it's time for:

REVIEWING AND RANKING EVERY GAME I GOT FROM THE STEAM SUMMER SALE

ramblings under the cut:

UNRANKED: ULTRA STREET FIGHTER IV

okay look I know I said I'd be ranking all of these but putting a fighting game up against six linear-progression single-player adventure type games feels a bit unfair.

as for whether I liked it: yeah it's alright. it's street fighter, it's fun. only time will tell how much my brother and I will get out of it, but I'm already feeling like I don't like it quite as much as 5. how much of that is due to 4 not having Urien is anyone's guess.

#6: CROW COUNTRY

I'm gonna be honest I didn't fuck with this game nearly as much as I thought I would.

maybe it's because I'm new to the genre. maybe it's because I've been spoiled by autosave. or maybe it's just because I can't aim to save my life. but losing upwards of 20 minutes of progress every time some creature I failed to hit or juke tagged me one too many times got frustrating pretty fast.

I didn't hate my time with Crow Country. the environments are gorgeous, the story kept me intrigued, and filling out my mental list of "oh shit I can go here now"s was still satisfying. if this is your thing don't let me dissuade you, I just wasn't built for it.

#5: KAMIKO

Kamiko is decent fun, but there's not really a whole lot to say about it. It's a short and sweet zelda-esque game where the meat of the playtime comes from trying to go through it as fast as possible, and as you'll see later I happen to enjoy going fast. enjoyable, but not super meaty. if you like routing and time management give it a shot.

#4: PONY ISLAND

Alright, this is where we get into the Good Shit.

Pony Island is a game in which you play a game called Pony Island made by The Devil From The Bible. every few minutes there's some new weird meta setpiece to keep you on your toes, plus the code puzzles and pony sections between are solid fun on their own. it's a great time. and if you're interested, there's a pretty solid reward for getting 100%.

if I had to dock points, it didn't seem to have much in the way of replayability, but that's not a huge dealbreaker. I really need to get my hands on Inscryption now.....

#3: SPOOKY'S JUMPSCARE MANSION REMASTERED

I'm not normally big on horror but Spooky's kept me coming back. despite going into it already knowing what all the specimens did, they managed to keep me on the edge of my seat because you never know when they're going to show up. combine the legitimate building terror with an offbeat and self-aware sense of humor and you have a damn fun package.

it's worth noting that as of writing this, I've only completed the main story. the DLC campaigns probably won't affect the final ranking? but I have a feeling they'll make me appreciate the game more.

#2: PEPPER GRINDER

Pepper Grinder is fucking awesome.

The level design is great, the soundtrack rips, and just moving around with the core gimmick of "what if you could drill and then jump out" is so good. I just really wish there was more of it.

I was able to get all the major in-level collectibles and reach the end in under 3 hours. the bulk of my playtime came from the time trials, which do manage to hit a sweet spot of encouraging you to push yourself without requiring CBT perfection. demolishing the gold medal on the final boss took me well over an hour's worth of attempts and may have been one of the most viscerally satisfying challenges I've ever completed in a game.

Pepper Grinder is really, really cool. But if it had another world's worth of levels it would be even cooler.

#1: CHICORY: A COLORFUL TALE

Man. I fucking love Chicory.

The vibes are immacculate. The story made me really feel for these gay little animals. The soundtrack is delightful (Lena Raine, everybody!). The exploration is rewarding. The painting mechanics made me actively want to go back to areas I'd already been to and recolor them better than I did originally, which is like. not something most games do. You can even draw penises everywhere if you want. There's something for everybody.

I'm having a hard time putting down exactly what made me fall head over heels for this game as much as I did - especially when I wasn't expecting to going into it. Maybe it was just in the right place at the right time. No matter how it cheated the system, Chicory is easily the best game I picked up.

And that's that. this was my first time doing something like this (especially on tumblr) so it felt kinda weird but idk lmk if I planted any seeds in your brain

[canyoufucksoniccharacters]

CAN YOU FUCK BIG THE CAT?

Yes, him. Big The Cat. From Sonic.

Hey, I ain't judging. Here at CYFSC Inc. we give every character an equal fair shot, and Big is no exception. So let's get into it, shall we?

Alright, starting off, let's look at the archives. And by archives, I mean something that only exists through internet archives- the Sonic Channel ages! As you've likely gathered from the last post, I have a certain disdain for these. But, We're trying to look at official sources and canon material here, so let's start there.

He's... 18? Allegedly? That's odd. For someone so subdued, well put together, someone who loves fishing like nothing else in the world, someone who has seemingly the largest amount of physical strength out of anyone we know in the entire cast (Not counting transformations or power-ups), you wouldn't think he'd be listed as the same age as Rouge. Let's see, where could this have-

OH GOD FUCKING DAMN IT

Every time, without fucking fail. As stated in the last post, this manual holds no ground whatsoever. The ages were never listed in the original Japanese manuals, not a single time. And, again, there is no confirmation whatsoever that there was any communication between whoever wrote these and Sega. Reminder, this manual said that Eggman is a feminist and a romanticist. It is a malignant cancer that will be mentioned around 12 times, give or take, because of how absurdly inaccurate it is, and how much it influenced the age listings we had before they were removed from Sonic Channel.

So, an age of 18 that has been unlisted since October of last year, which is sourced from one of the most god awful yet wordy manuals the series has ever seen. Yeah, I don't buy it.

Look at this. This thing is not 18. This is not a young queer man getting his footing and entering adulthood. He has his own little hut in the jungle that he presumably made himself, he's an expert at fishing and seems to hold more knowledge on sea life than any of us could ever hope to match in our entire lives. He's absurdly strong, able to lift entire cars and boulders over his head as seen in SA1 with very little effort. Sure, Knuckles can crack boulders into pieces with one punch, but can he deadlift them? I don't think so. Big is strong. Real strong.

This is a bear. Not the animal, the gay archetype. This is a massive man who could bend you over his knee and crush your skull. But, he won't. He'll just fish. Fish, as it would seem he's been doing for years with his little frog friend. Don't let his childish way of speaking fool you, he's just like this because he's kind of a hermit that rarely ever leaves his little jungle hut for any reason other than fishing. Rest assured, this man is at MINIMUM about 20 years old, maybe even around 30. Really, you could go anywhere with him so long as you're not approaching the realm of old age.

Big The Cat is, by all accounts, able to consent. You can fuck him. But...

Would you fuck Big The Cat? Could you fuck Big The Cat?

This isn't a matter of if he can consent. He can. That much is obvious. But could you? Would you look at his 6'5/200cm figure, his seemingly impossible weight of 617 pounds, and think yourself physically able to? Would you be able to look into his deep cream yellow eyes while you fuck him? Whether Big is a top or bottom is beyond my jurisdiction, but neither gets you off easy. It might get you off, but it won't be an easy time. Fucking Big is not for the faint of heart. It's a commitment. I can't stop you, I have no intent of trying to stop you.

All I can do is wish you good luck.

You will need it.

STATUS: BIG

[abeautifulblog]

thoughts on the Barbie movie

Finally got around to seeing the Barbie movie -- I think some of its messaging could have been clearer, but on the whole it was a lot of fun, and one of the most visually-innovative things I've seen onscreen in ages. So much stuff these days bills itself as "deconstruction," when more often than not it's just a mean-spirited mockery of something the writers don't actually understand. The Barbie movie is deconstruction done right, by people who are deeply in the know about the material (which in this case equals the entire Barbie mythos/ideology), and love it anyway, warts and all. Good deconstruction is both a critique and a love letter.

The theme that the movie understands and communicates most clearly is about the impossible, contradictory directives that are constantly put on women -- "you need to be assertive, but you mustn't be a bitch", etc -- and how unfair it is that half the population isn't given the same respect and the same chance at success. Barbieland flips the script so that the Kens are the empty-headed ornaments while Barbies run the world (which I suspect is what made a lot of men so viscerally uncomfortable with the movie), but that's also eventually recognized to be just as unfair as the Real World where patriarchy reigns.

What's a lot muddier is the messaging around how exactly men participate in the patriarchal oppression of women, and how the patriarchy harms them too. Because patriarchy is a pyramid scheme -- and not all men are on the top of that pyramid, nor can they all be. It convinces men to strive for an unattainable ideal of masculinity (not unlike the unattainable ideal that Barbie represents for femininity, actually!) and then penalizes those who fall short for not being "man enough," and paints it as a personal failing, not one that's baked into the system.

A lot of the gags around Ken Discovers Toxic Masculinity legitimately had me in stitches, because oh my god, too true, but then it didn't really offer any conclusions about it. Granted, this is the Barbie Movie not the Ken Movie, and he already gets more of a character arc than female love interests usually do, so I'm not going to rend my garments all "BUT WHAT ABOUT THE MENNNNS??"..... but if you're not going to follow through on toxic masculinity, then maybe better to leave that particular can of worms unopened. There's more than enough for feminism to talk about without it.

Personally, I would have preferred if Ken weren't an antagonist -- if he'd just been the supportive himbo boyfriend who cheerfully follows Barbie on her journey of self-discovery, and backs her every play, and has never had a mean thought in his empty head, which is kind of what the promo materials led me to expect -- but that would have been an entirely different plot. (Possibly one in which Ken encounters the real world and finds that the men there think he should tone down his self-expression (for coming off as too GAY) and be less of a simp for his girlfriend, and he's like, Wow that sounds terrible actually, no thank you!)

In any case, I don't envy the women who are now having uncomfortable conversations with their husbands and boyfriends who got mad about the movie and went on the offensive. Because this is not a movie that softshoes its message to coddle to men's fee-fees -- its male characters are largely mocked and/or marginalized, and I imagine that a lot of men who saw it, and who haven't ever examined their privilege, came out of it feeling personally attacked, and reflexively wanted to attack it in turn and reject everything it's saying.

To which I'm like… y'all need to sit with your feelings for a minute. Remember that one movie taking the piss out of men does not actually make a single dent in the power and privilege that men enjoy in the real world. And then think about the fact that media BY men (which is most of it) routinely treats women the same way -- frivolous and sidelined, ornaments and sex objects. And the fact that we consider that the normal way of things -- that women are expected to watch themselves being portrayed like that and enjoy it.

(A line that I think should have gotten more weight is at the end when Barbie says, "I want to be the one doing the making, not the thing being made," because it's such a clear, straightforward articulation of the subject vs. object distinction.)

Storytelling-wise (to put on my nerd-for-narrative hat), the third act of the movie runs into difficulty with the fact that this is not about human characters, but about anthropomorphized archetypes of femininity and masculinity -- and how do you write a narratively satisfying "ending" for things that don't actually end? And how do you do that within the context of not just a doll world, but the Barbie world, with a gender-unequal status quo that isn't actually going to change either? With the conflicts they set up, I'm not sure there was a wholly satisfactory way to end it.

But anyway, none of that detracted from my enjoyment of the movie -- it's fun, heartfelt, thought-provoking, a continuous source of pleasure and novelty for the eyeballs, and consistently hilarious. Definitely worth the watch.

(And if you want some feminist-themed media that does do a complex exploration of how the patriarchy fucks men over too, even the men who think they're winning at it, I recommend Agent Carter, it is so so good. (The first season, anyway. 😑) There are five notable male characters in it, and the only one having a good time is the one who's declined to buy into society's narrow idea of what constitutes acceptable masculinity.)

[chipthekeeper]

Acolyte episode 3 commentary by me, a person with no filter:

- I'm extremely nervous about this one, I'm….not gonna lie. Like in a good way, I think I'm going to enjoy it a lot, but like, tomorrow, when the whole world has seen it, it's gonna be ugly……….Who cares though!

- Alright here we go oh my god, and Mother is the thumbnail so [giggles]

- [creaky old door groans].............I'm terrified, like—

- [weakly] I'm gonna have a heart attack…………Oh it looks like Aldhani [tears in eyes]

- oh pretty tree, pretty birds, oh, maybe not bird, maybe it's a bug. not important

- [pausing for yippy dog next door] Really gonna have a fucking dog, barking right now, what, god, shut the fuck up

- It's too much Aldhani I'm gonna cry

- (hooded figure appears behind the girls) who the fuck is that!?! Oh. Sol?! Oh nooooo…what is happeningggg [nervous chuckling] I have a bad feeling about this

- ooooh! Planets-wha-what [scoffs] I was starin’ at that

- (Aniseya arrives) [gasps] MOTHEEERRRRRRRRR

- “did anyone see them?” “I do not believe so” [snorts] innnnncorrect

- [gay gasping] THERE WE GOOOOOOO [deep sigh]

- hm. Fraught lesbianism, here we go. My favorite genre

- This is just gonna be me doing a lot of hmmmmm

- I definitely keep getting confused, which is which here…….which witch is which

- Man I'm gonna be really mad if she's actually dead. If they did pre-bury these gays…well, keep me from getting my hopes up I guess…

- “Tell her you love her” “i love you” [snorts] yeah, buying it

- “you think you want something different than life in this coven” Are they giving Wheel of Time vibes? Or only because I've watched that episode like..48 times…

- Ugh, the moons!!....Whaaaat?

- Well this answers the question of who's braiding their hair. That's really fun. That's a really cute detail, actually I like that

- Does this planet also have a ring? Wait, that would make sense. We see ssssomebody flying through a ring later? Ohhhh are we coming back??

- (ascension ceremony starting) This is hot, can I move here?

- Definitely bookmarking Brendok as a place to have characters…hang out

- Do they have to climb up the pit? Is that what the ascension means? [laughing at own joke]

- [ears perking up] Unnatural, huh?

- OH my god that’s….The moons are doing the eclipse thing like in the logo hh my god….The red one in front of the blue one….

- [delighted chuckling] ohohoho what is happening….

- Woah! Magic tattoo!!

- *kitten squeaks again* Biggs go lay down. It’s a very tense moment, go lay down

- [doubtful grunt at Indara] You're stationed on that and you think it's uninhabited? Why would you be there?

- Kelnacca, you narc

- Aww Sol. He has instant dad eyes

- Sol no! Put that away–oh. Just kidding

- We don't take children, we just…entice them with toys…..He's like luring her into the back of his van…….She is into it though, so [noncommittal mumbling]

- “There are only four Jedi. Who would miss them?” That's….not good math

- “and what happens when the jedi discover how you created them?” [idiotic 12 year old boy voice] By fucking…

- Yeah, fun little dysfunctional family. I love it

- Poor Oshie…..

- (Tommen/Torbin on screen) I have a…just desire to see Ser Pounce

- (he takes her blood) Testin’ those middies!!!

- (indara explaining the jedi test, “tell us what you see”) A cup! A speeder!

- “she promised she would fail and she broke her promise” She tried!!

- (telling Mae to go with Koril) That's a great idea…

- I was dead wrong about everything I thought about Aniseya but…I fucking...love her

- Oh don't make me cry. Don't make me cry

- No love for your hardass mama though, that’s fine

- Oh my god the stuffies! What are they….

- “i’ll kill you” uh jesus christ! That's going to help you get what you want…………you little psycho…

- Shiiiiiiiiiiit….

- What is this? A vault in their room…….ah. Laundry chute……Seriously, what is this?

- We're not done, clearly….’cause what happened with Torbin and...

- [sees mother lying “dead”(?), turns into sad simba] No, no, get up. We’ve gotta go home….

- What is…[whines] You cannot. That's…….they’re leaving shit out

- “Mae started the fire” How would you know?!

- “You’ll never feel like this again. I promise” Oh damn Sol. Don't do that

- Why was this not twice as long? How am I supposed to wait another week? God!

- [lots of deep sighing] That went by so fast and I'm…..not happy

I was happy actually but immediately desperate for more

[sarahscribbles]

It might be Valentine's Day this week, but tomorrow is the vastly superior Galentine's Day and I couldn't let it pass without showing all my amazing computer friends how important you all are to me. I'm so grateful for you all and the porn we all share together. It warms my heart like nothing else.

I've written you all a lil something because I love you all so, so much

Love, Saz 💕

@cake-writes I begrudgingly recognise that you are a pal, even if you bully me relentlessly. My only issue is that you live so far away in upside down land so I can't see your eccentric gay ass in person. You have been an amazing friend to me over the past year and helped me through some really dark times. Talking with you makes my day and any time we don't talk for whatever reason, I'm always by my phone like "I miss Bri." I love you so much and I hope you feel it all the way in Oz.

@the-lady-amphitrite Amphi, you know how much I adore you. I can't go a single day without speaking to you and I wouldn't ever want to. I don't know what I did to deserve you as a friend, but I am giving thanks to the universe that our paths crossed. You are unhinged, but in the best way that I would never want to change. You listen to me be a whore 99.9% of the time (and also in the other 0.1% where I'm ranting/crying/exploding over something completely unrelated), and I get to be one of the first people to hear what goes on in that whorish brain of yours. You are a joy to know and I wouldn't choose anyone else to be an unhinged whore with.

@muertawrites My OG Tumblr pal. The one and only first friend. I would be lost without you always in my corner and always encouraging me to be the best whore I can be. You're always ready to drop everything to listen to me vent about my Latest Problem and I don't tell you enough how much I appreciate it. You are so strong and so amazing and damn if I'm not lucky to have someone like you on the other end of a DM while we go through the horrors of figuring out our 20s. I love you so much!

@muddyorbsblr One of my New Friend Recruits that I'm endlessly grateful for. Talking with you is like being wrapped in a warm blanket while drinking hot chocolate. You're absolutely an enabler but I wouldn't have it any other way! You're so encouraging with my porn even though it's killed you multiple times and I appreciate your dedication to the cause. You never fail to provide the filth and I thank you for that. You're hilarious and fantastic and talented and I'm so glad I get to call you my friend!

@cheekyscamp AYOOO my fellow rear enthusiast! You are also completely unhinged daily in my DMs but I actively encourage this! And the talent you possess?! Outstanding! You have a freaking heart of gold and Lord am I glad you decided you wanted to interact with my dumb ass! I love whoring out with you even if I do lose a little bit of my sanity each time. I can't wait to see what this friendship brings!

@springdandelixn My Beans! You are just all round amazing and talented and fierce and I love you so, so much. You've listened to all my silly vents without complaint and been the voice of reason every single time that's saved me from spiralling and making a mountain out of a molehole. I don't know what I would do without you! You're always ready to throw hands on my account and I want to send you the biggest, tightest hug for being on my side. Keep on moosin'!

@joyful-enchantress Steph, my love! You've been with me since almost day one of my Loki days and I'm so glad of it! I don't think you have a bad bone in your body, and I am so infinitely grateful for all the support you've given me (including photos of London when I've been feeling down)! I always love talking with you and hearing the filthy ideas that come out of your head, and I'm so thankful that you decided to start writing and let us see how talented you are! You're a wonderful person inside and out!

@mochie85 Mochie, you are a delight! Honestly, I couldn't find one bad thing to say about you if someone paid me to. You are endlessly supportive and uplifting and beautiful and so damn talented! How did I get so lucky to have so many talented friends? You're someone I look up to and try to be like - effortlessly kind and just an all round good egg. I love you so much, my dear!!

@give-me-a-moose Cas, I love you so much. You might not know it, but HoC got me out of such a bad writing slump last year, so I credit you with the filth that followed! You have been so supportive both with my writing and with other shit that's been going on and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me! I know I keep parroting this, but you're amazing and I'm so lucky to have you as a friend. You can make me laugh so easily and reading about your work escapades always puts me in a good mood (praying that you find your museum dad soon)!

@lokisgoodgirl I know we only talk sporadically and briefly (and even then it hasn't been without some bumps), but it's plain as day that you have a good heart (and an equally filthy mind that we're all thankful for). You're the reason I've met so many wonderful people on here and I'm so thankful for it. I can only hope that there are no more bumps along the way because you're the type of person that everyone needs in their life. (Though I'm still going to beat you at that dance off).

@fictive-sl0th Camille, you are without a doubt one of the kindest souls I have ever met. You are a human rainbow! Anytime I see you in my notifications my mood increases by 110% because I know it's going to be something that will make me smile (something you have never yet failed to do)! I want to bottle you up and keep you with me all the time! You're wonderful and talented and a little ray of light in so many people's lives!

@simplyholl You've been in my notifications from almost day one of the Loki shenanigans so I've considered you a friend for a very long time! I don't know how someone can be equal parts incredibly sweet and a complete whore but you manage to do it perfectly! You've also supported me through so much shit and I can't thank you enough for it. I'm sending you a massive hug (I'd send you Loki if I could) for everything you've done for me over the past ? years. You are a wonderful human being!

@maple-seed Maple, you are also completely unhinged and I adore it. You make me laugh so much and when your name pops up in the server my first thought is "oh yeah this gonna be good!" You're another New Friend Recruit that I'm glad to have in the ranks! You deserve all the good things (because you are a good thing) and I love you so much!

@loopsisloops I freaking adore you, Loops! You keep me feeling young and hip, but also prevent the whore in me from dying with all the thirst traps and photos you never run out of! You're a sweetheart with a heart of gold and I hope everyone in your life knows how amazing you are. (If they treat you than anything less than amazing I will fight them)!

@kinky-faerie I am so glad you have managed to find your way into my corner of this hellsite. You are full of filth and I wouldn't have it any other way! I love nothing more than checking this app first thing in the morning and seeing your name in my inbox because I know it's going to set the horny mood for the rest of the day! You are my favourite kinky lil fairy!

@lokiprompts You are so strong and amazing I can't put it into proper words. You never fail to be positive and supportive and every compliment you've given me has made me grin like a complete idiot. I hope you get all the love you deserve and all the love you put out into the universe because you deserve it tenfold!

@coldnique Girl, you are just all kinds of lovely! You have such a kind heart and I couldn't find one bad thing to say about you. You're always popping up with your hilarious comments when I need a little bit of a mood booster and my day instantly improves! I'm so freaking grateful that you're one of my Regulars now and just know that I adore you!!

@holymultiplefandomsbatman my fellow sub!Loki enthusiast! You are a delight to know and an amazing friend to have. Your mind is wonderful as are you as a person! You are so incredibly smart and capable and I wish you knew that! I'll tell you every single day if I have to. There's nothing you can't do and I fully believe you are going to shake the world! How you manage to find time to write such amazing filth while also being a bad bitch getting your degree is beyond me and I bow to you! You are going to do amazing things, I have no doubt! I love you so incredibly much and I can't wait to see what amazing filth that brain of yours comes up with next!