#I look forward to this more than I look forward to gay pride

[kipskiptrip]

[k3n-dyll]

Sub!Abby pushing against you desperately the second you've eased your strap into her, the sound of her ass lightly slapping against your thighs punctuated with soft whines and moans forcing their way out of her throat. The tough exterior she puts up completely unravels when you have her like this, her back arched, cheek pressed against the pillow beneath her as she damn near drools trying to get you to take over without sacrificing what smidgen of dignity she still has.

"C'mon big girl, you know 'm not moving unless you say please"

You tug on the length of her braid, pulling her head up and purring into her reddened ear, holding back a laugh because watching her try to be prideful in this position is almost funny. Abby knows well at this point that she's not getting what she wants unless she does what you say, but fuck if she doesn't try. She's already embarassed about coming undone so effortlessly, the sight of you with a visible bulge in your pants having been all it took to get her in this vulnerable, broken, pathetic state.

"God, can't you just-"

A hard thwack to her ass shuts her up, Abby's toned thighs twitching at the impact, her bottom lip catching between her teeth as she tries - and fails - to contain her whimpering.

"Aw, that's not how we ask for things is it?" You ask, condescencion practically dripping from each syllable. It drives her absolutely insane. "What did you mean to say, sweet girl, try again" You harshly snap your hips forward as you speak before going still once more, a whoreish sob escaping Abby's lips before she finally decides that her pride just isn't worth not feeling that again.

"Please, I can be good, I just...I need you to fuck me. Please"

Somehow Abby's face burns hotter than it already had been as she begs, burying her face into the pillow in attempt to hide it. Having none of that, you grip her hair and force her to look back at you, marveling at the already flushed and cock drunk woman in front of you. "There's my good girl. See, asking wasn't so bad was it?" You tease as you begin to pump in and out of her, eyes flicking down to admire how easily the silicone slips in and out of her.

And as much as she'd like to say something snarky. To tell you to fuck off or go to Hell, she just nods, not wanting to make this harder for herself. The look on your face is already enough indication that she wont be getting much sleep tonight.

Reblogs are Appreciated || Divider creds ☆ Donations 4 Palestine

Taglist ☆ @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery , @tohoko

[blossomthepinkbunny]

I wanna talk about the pride artwork for HB, because like a lot of other people I have some thoughts.

Firstly, positives:

It overall looks pretty good imo. The colours are bright and the picture has nice energy. I don't mind the HB/HH artstyle in general, it's mostly the designs that are the problem (the designs in HB are better than in HH). It is very cluttered, but I sorta learned to deal with that and I don't mind as much here.

Millie being there for Moxxie is cute and she looks amazing.

The outfits for some of the characters look good.

Sallie May being a Lesbian is nice (idk why, it just is).

Verosika looks great and very pretty (as always).

I like the idea of Loona taking Octavia to her first Pride parade. I like the idea of them hanging out in general and I want to see more of that.

Beelzebub looks cute.

I like the face Barbie makes (idk either).

Now onto the things I don't like:

Some of these sexualities seem kinda like they were just made up on the spot. Loona being Bisexual is nice, but she literally only ever showed interest in guys and there was never anything that could lead us to assume that she's Bi. The same thing goes for Mammon or Andrealphus. For Andrealphus it seems like they just made him gay to excuse the weird comments he makes about his Sister and especially since a lot of people started using their weird relationship to imply that Stella has some problems as well and isn't just a heartless bitch. Now they can basically just say: "Andrealphus isn't weird towards Stella, he is literally gay, why would he harrass her". I don't mind as much with characters like Bee or Barbie, because they only showed up once and it would've been pretty difficult to confirm their sexualities.

A lot of people mentioned Mammon being Ace just seems like an excuse to not put him in sexual merchandise or something. He is the only fat character in HB (who is actually relevant) and he is one of the two ace characters. It feels sorta disingenuous when the only two ace characters are a teen and the single fat character you have. Especially since, if I remember correctly there were a lot of people (including me) who found Mammon attractive and were looking forward to more sex-positivity for plus sized folks, especially when in Vivzepops shows theres only him and Mimzy (Adam as well maybe).

Why do a lot of the pansexual demons in this show feel stereotypical. Bee and Asmodeus are fine, the background demons as well I guess. Blitzø is super horny all the time and could fill a whole party just with people he slept with. Verosika and her followers are succubi who we saw sexually assault Moxxie. Barbie Wire manipulated a teenage/barely legal human to do what she wants by using her body. And Chaz is a literal and very open sexual harrasser/abuser. The only joke he has are making unwanted sexual remarks toward Moxxie and being horny. He has a sign that says: "I will fuck anything", which isn't what pansexuality is and the wording makes it really weird ("anything" not "anybody"). And he looks at Andrealphus weirdly. Him and Blitzø are also naked for no reason.

I would've loved to see some nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer characters. We don't have one confirmed genderqueer character. How about nonbinary Octavia or Vasago. Or genderfluid Moxxie. Or bigender Barbie or something. I just wished we had anything like that. Also a personal headcannon of mine, but Asmodeus should probably be Polyamorous. He is the incarnation of Lust and with how they wrote him in the show it's kinda hard to believe/doesn't make sense that he is in a monogamous relationship.

Where are Mayberry and Martha? They were confirmed to be sapphic and so far they're the only sapphic characters in an actually sapphic relationship we see in HB. Why does Wally get to be there but they aren't? Why is Vasago there instead of them, when he hasn't even showed up in an episode yet? Why is Vasago there in general? It's not like i'm gonna be happy with him being confirmed to be gay because there is nothing we know about him yet.

Why is Tex not there? Did they just forget him? He might be straight but he could still be there to support his girlfriend and isn't he literally Verosikas bodyguard. He was at the weird Blitzø hate party with her, but not here?

Isn't Chaz dead?

Why would Asmodeus and Fizz go to the same parade as Mammon, when the only episode with Mammon so far has dealt with how much he hurts Fizz.

You might say: "This isn't supposed to make sense, it's just a more interesting way to confirm characters' sexuality for pride month, so it doesn't have to make canon/logical sense". Which I would agree with, if they didn't excuse Stella and Striker (two pretty important characters) not being there by saying something along the lines of: "Do you really think they would attend a pride parade?". Maybe not, but I also don't think Chaz would attend a parade, being dead and all. I also don't think that Barbie would go out of her way to go to hell, just to attend a pride parade, especially since her brother is there too. I also don't think Andrealphus would go out of his way to go to a parade filled with imps and people he doesn't like. I also don't think Mammon would be there because it's nothing that brings him money or something. Stella might be straight and that's the reason she isn't here. But her brother (who she seemingly likes and confines in) is there and she could go to support him and her being straight isn't even confirmed, so she could very well be queer. And isn't Striker queer as well? Im sorta confused with that, because they try to make him a bigot (probably also homophobic), but the scene he has with Blitzø in "Harvest moon festival" seems very queer. His offense at sexual remarks could also imply that he is a very sex-repulsed asexual or Demisexual or something. Unless of course they want to use the fact that he doesn't like sexual remark from men as a way to make him seem homophobic (even though him reacting bad to unwanted sexual remarks doesn't mean he's bigoted, like that's well within his rights to be uncomfortable). It's not as if Viv shows restraint with making villians/antagonists queer in general. Mammon, Chaz, Andrealphus are all antagonists in HB and are also there. In HH they literally went out of their way to confirm Vox being in a relationship with Valentino, a rapist. It seems like being Straight/Bigoted/too much of an asshole to show up only applies to the characters who actively dislike Stolas and to the only main female antagonist.

[marauroon]

best friend james figuring out he actually has feelings for the reader??????

I G N O R A N T — JAMES POTTER!

james potter x fem!reader | fluff | 1.2k | masterlist!!

ignorance is bliss. or that’s what james keeps telling himself anyway.

cw — one singular mention of james having a suggestive dream

an — this kinda sucks lol sorry

James often found himself finding excuses to touch you any time the two of you were together.

He’d been physically affectionate his whole life, a product of the amount of loving he was given by his parents, but when Sirius and Remus were complaining about him being so touch-forward with them—even if it was light-heartedly—it made him feel a little bad.

So he always came back to you.

He’d hug you from behind, pulling you tightly to his chest, or find reasons to be close enough he could take your hand in his.

It made him feel a little confused sometimes—the way he craved being near you every second, how his heart would race when you walked through the door of the common room.

No one made him feel the way you did, and no one ever would.

As the ‘loud’, playful kid who never took anything seriously, the way James craved your affection and acceptance was almost foreign, yet it’d become such common place that there were times where he didn’t even blink at its abnormality.

James just needed you, in a way that had become very apparent to everyone in the Gryffindor tower by the time the two of you were in sixth year.

When the two of you were alone, especially, things often got more affectionate and intimate.

Subtle touches lingered longer as the years went on, a casual arm laid over your shoulder sliding down to rest at your waist, him brushing your hair absentmindedly out of your face progressing into chaste kisses at your temples.

There was nothing innately romantic about it, even as your bodies laid together with James’ hands resting on the small of your back and in your hair. Your eyes closed, his glasses crooked on his nose, always ending with one of you pulling away when the lines of friendship became a little too blurred.

And then the cycle would begin again.

You would laugh, push him away, both of you would make a joke about how long you’d just ‘spiced up your friendship’, and it would repeat. Over and over.

James had never pushed for more, never let his hands wander too far or his lips to dip below your cheeks. There wasn’t anything to rush about. The two of you had a pace, and you stuck to it.

A slow, devastatingly languid pace that managed to fit you both perfectly.

James’d tried getting into casual relationships before, to redirect his inherent need for you onto somebody else, but it was always too rough, to rushed, like the only end goal was get the two of them out of their clothes as quickly as possible. He didn’t like that kind of relationship. It just felt wrong to him.

So he found himself going back to you – always.

He didn’t like anyone more, no one made him feel the way you did. So who cared if what you had was a little outside the ‘traditional boundaries’ of friendship? The two of you were close, best friends.

You just happened to need each other.

The two of you made a promise when you’d started to add kisses into your ‘friendship’, that no matter what happened between you two, you would always be friends first and foremost.

James would never be anything less than your best friend, he couldn’t — he cared about you too much, and just the thought of losing you, losing his best friend, made his stomach twist like someone was wringing his insides out.

The Marauders? They were a great distraction, but the other three could never compare to you.

Sirius knew he was as gay as rainbow and was completely out, Remus already had a very ‘colourful’ love life, and Peter had his fair share of crushes from time to time.

James had none of that, he just had you.

But that was all that he needed.

You’d never know he’d started to look at you a little differently anyway, James prided himself on having a perfect poker face, almost as good as Sirius’, if not better at times.

So you’d go back to being the best of friends, and James would ignore how his heart beat faster anytime you were alone together, or how his thoughts strayed to your lips whenever there was a moment of silence.

He couldn’t imagine being without you.

It was just a fact.

The sky was blue. Fire was hot. You and James Potter were destined to be a pair.

Because if he didn’t have you, his beautiful, kind, brilliant best friend, he didn’t know what he’d do.

So the two of you continued as usual, you shared jokes, played pranks together, played with each other in the corridors when the marauders were around, and shared chaste kisses and cuddles when you were alone.

You were best friends, and you always would be.

Because that’s what it was.

A friendship.

The two of you weren’t ‘dating’ and, despite Sirius’ teasing that it was only a ‘matter of time’, it would never be anything ‘more’ than that.

You knew it. James knew it.

Because you’d promised each other. The two of you were friends above everything. Just friends.

Best friends, who knew everything about each other.

James knew what you ate for breakfast everyday, what time you showered, when you slept and how to wake you.

And you knew James’s exact routine after a bad day - what music he played when he didn’t want to think, when he needed company and when he wanted to be alone. You could count the number of times you’d seen James cry on one hand, but you’d been there to dry his tears every time he had.

You were a part of each other, two people who’d fit so perfectly together everyone around you expected you to just ‘click’ eventually and start dating, but you’d never considered it.

You were fine as you were, as best friends with an affection that bordered on being more, it was comfortable. Safe.

Even if James started to wake from increasingly detailed dreams of you, panting and blushing, with heat coiled tightly in his stomach.

He never thought about it.

He’d continue to live in his ignorant bliss just to keep your friendship going, and that was more than okay by him.

Because who cared that James Potter was in love with his best friend?

Not him.

It was just better for him, healthier for him, to stay ignorant of the true depth of his feelings for you and enjoy the friendship the two of you shared. It was better than losing you.

It was easier to just keep things platonic, to laugh about the jokes Sirius made about the two of you ‘being something more’ and ignore the way his heart raced whenever he felt your breath against his skin as you whispered in his ear, and it was easier to act as though your heart didn’t flutter whenever James would wrap his arms around you and press you tightly to his chest.

Ignorance was bliss. And the two of you were revelling in it like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

[brainrotdotorg]

God, Kim Kitsuragi. I love this man. He is so fascinating and multilayered. He is a gay mixed Asian (coded) in a world that has nothing but disdain for him. He became a detective and finally found some semblance of power, finally became something other than a faggot binoclard who lost his parents in the war. He is endlessly patient and profesional and blunt. He is stoic but not cold, he is a sore winner and surprisingly childish and really not so above it all. He has a sexy accent. He smokes one cigarette a day, which in his opinion is more troublesome than quitting, because he likes the feeling of having control over his nicotine addiction. He feels a strange sense of pride for having no connections to Seoul other than his ancestry. He will verbally lacerate those who espouse bigoted views. He will laugh at Harry during his bisexual awakening. He will give Harry a high five if he successfully shoots down a corpse from a tree. He is not religious but makes the sign of the cross in the church and prays to make the shot that will save Harry’s life. He is a man downtrodden by politics. Who defined himself as a moralist but now claims to only believe in the RCM. He had a partner called “Eyes” because his own vision was so poor. You can only know Kim Kitsuragi for a maximum of ten days.

He is an imperfect man, but he will be kind to you if you are kind to him. You can exasperate him and bewilder him and make him run back and forth across Revachol endlessly doing little side quests, but if you do your job and you treat him well, you will awaken a joy in him that seems to have been long since dormant. He will look forward to installing those headlights on the Kineema with you. He will play games of Suzeranity and subtly gloat when he wins. He will listen to speedfreaks with a smile and tailor his jacket and continue to smoke one cigarette a day.

I love Kim Kitsuragi. He really is my perfect wish fulfillment man; someone who comes when you are at your lowest and does not baby you, does not pity or tut their tongue or handhold, but picks you up when you fall and points you in the right direction. He will run right behind you wherever you go and give you the eyebrow when you ask him to tell you a secret. It is not just take with him; it is learning how to give, to return the patience and kindness you are shown and force him to share a sandwich or salami and whisper “we got them” and be rewarded with a smile only you can see. Camaraderie and support, and an idle animation where after ten minutes of standing still Harry lifts Kim onto his back and then Kim lifts Harry onto his.

[alexjcrowley]

The thing about brocedes still living in the same building makes me wanna munch my walls because on one hand I am convinced they're basically playing gay chicken except the first one to move out of that condo is not gay but implicitly admits to be psychologically weaker so now the fight is not about who wins the championship but who can recover more swiftly from 2016 and pretend he's unbothered by losing one of the most meaningful relationships of his life, it's psychosexual and unbelievable and uselessly painful and nobody really wins so they're both fucking ridiculous, they really said after the most heartbreaking friendship breakup ever documented on live tv let's be a little silly let's prolong our rivalry to levels only reached by american sitcoms

On the other hand

On other hand it makes perfect sense. They're not gonna move out because moving out would mean letting the fight die which would mean getting out of eachothers lives forever. Because when the fight ends we can't go back to being friends so I'd be forced to simply leave you behind and I can't do that. Let's keep up the fight, let me keep us for a little more, out of spite if not out of love. Yes I hate you and I can't even say your name and I won't call you on your birthday but please let me pretend it's out of my hands if I see you in the hallway one morning and then I hide behind a door. Until we live in the same building I have an excuse to see you without admitting I want to. Without testing my pride to see if I had the courage to come to you when we had no chance to meet on the stairs anymore, because I don't think I would allow myself that and I know I would suffer tremendously for it. We can't be a part of eachothers lives anymore because I've hurt you too much and you've done the same, we can't go back, but please don't let me move forward. You won't speak to me anymore but let me at least see your face once in a while. Not on posters or tv or internet, your face, without filters and the perfect lighting, with eyebags and imperfect hair and anything other than the press-trained smile because that is- was my friend, the man on tv- I don't know who that is. And it's my home, my home, understood, you can't force me out of it like you forced me out of your life so you move first if you want to move but I don't want to. It's my home and you were my friend and I'll be damned if I let you take anything else away from me again. I can't bear you in my life and I can't bear you out of it. Let's keep things muddy and confused and ridiculous, let's not ever put an end to this. Remind me everyday why I hate you rather than go away and force me to think maybe I still care about you more than I have ever hated you. Do not let this heal, because who knows if one of us will ever have the courage to go back to this car crash to see if there's still something that can be saved. I will stay here, forcing you to look around before you leave your apartment and check the flight of the stairs to see if I'm coming up when you need to go down, like a monster always hidden in a dark corner, like a ghost I will haunt you. I will force my presence into your life, if not in your home, at your table, in your living room, then in the corner of your eye, in a set of steps you could never not recognise, in a shadow approaching the hallway. The hurt will persevere and so will the love, in this new wretched form. We swore we would always be at eachothers side, we never said how. No, I won't move out and I won't move on. Allow me to force you to do the same.

[annieqattheperipheral]

you have to read this in full!!

i gotchu from behind the $wall:

The day Luke Prokop shook the hockey world by coming out, he needed to get away.

And stop looking at his constantly buzzing phone.

It was July 21, 2021, and the right-shot defenseman had just become the first openly gay hockey player under an NHL contract. The Nashville Predators’ No. 73 pick in the 2020 draft was just 19 years old and hadn’t even turned pro yet. He didn’t know how it would impact his future. His nerves were fried.

But one text message was impossible to ignore. He didn’t recognize the number but certainly knew the name.

“Hey, it’s Auston Matthews. I wanted to congratulate you. I look forward to sharing the ice with you someday.”

Prokop was blown away. The Toronto Maple Leafs superstar wasn’t the most famous person to reach out — that honor goes to Elton John — but the fact that so many NHLers, including one of the league’s best and most powerful players, were offering support meant a lot.

Now 21, Prokop still hasn’t taken the NHL ice, but on Wednesday he took a step forward, being recalled by the Predators’ AHL affiliate in Milwaukee. He could become the first openly gay player to appear in an AHL game Friday night for the Admirals in Rockford.

As difficult as the decision to come out was, Prokop told The Athletic in an extended conversation recently that he’s been mentally and physically freed by it. He doesn’t have to hide. He can be himself, on and off the ice. Heck, he can even date.

“It’s been massive,” he said.

Teammates and fans have welcomed him in his journey toward the NHL so far, from Calgary, Edmonton and Seattle of the junior WHL to, most recently, Atlanta of the ECHL. They treated him like he was any other player.

Not that there’s not room to grow. Prokop figured more players would come out after he did. They haven’t, not that he would rush anyone’s decision on that. He’s also been disappointed by the developments over the past few years with the NHL’s inclusion efforts, including the Pride tape “debacle.”

He can only control his own actions, though, and doesn’t regret his decision.

“I’d like to think I’m a realistic person,” Prokop said. “I know hockey is not going to be forever. As much as (when I came out) I would have loved to keep playing, I was OK with not playing any more if it didn’t work out — just being able to live my life the way I wanted, to be myself.

“But now, I don’t want to stop playing. It was definitely nerve-wracking. You never know what the reaction is going to be inside hockey, outside hockey, because no one has done it before. We kind of went out on a limb and hoped for the best. It’s been way more positive than we thought it’d be. You’re going to have some keyboard warriors, which there were a few, but I was expecting more.

“I did not expect the amount of support I got from NHL players. That was really cool.”

- - - - - - -

The Matthews text and Elton John phone call the morning after were memorable, with the gay rock legend welcoming him to the community and offering his email address if Prokop ever needed anything.

Prokop found even more comfort in a moment that came a few days later — the first time he played hockey since his announcement. It was a four-on-four league in Edmonton at Meadows Rec Center, a place where pros and NHLers competed and kept in shape during the offseason.

Prokop was on a team with Colton and Kirby Dach. The other team had Philadelphia Flyers goalie Carter Hart and the Boston Bruins’ Jake DeBrusk. During warmups, Prokop found himself near mid-ice. The first guy to approach him was DeBrusk. The two had met previously through mutual friends. DeBrusk tapped Prokop’s shin pads with his stick.

“Congrats,” he told him. “I’m really happy for you. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I didn’t know what the reaction would be,” Prokop said. “So that meant a lot.”

Prokop was returning that year to the Calgary Hitmen (WHL), the junior team he had played for the previous four seasons. But there had been a lot of turnover on the roster and, of course, a lot had changed for Prokop. So he decided to address the team in its first meeting in training camp.

“Everyone knows what I did last summer,” he told his team. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. There might be a lot of media asking you for an interview. If you don’t feel comfortable, you don’t have to do them. If you have any questions for me, come ask me. I’m an open book. I just don’t want you guys to feel uncomfortable.”

In that dressing room, Prokop had heard plenty of the uncomfortable language that’s not uncommon for any locker room. He even admitted using it. He didn’t want to out himself. He wanted to act straight, be “one of the guys.”

“I heard it, but it wasn’t all the time,” he said. “I also took it from the perspective that these guys don’t know any better. It’s hockey language. It’s how guys talk. They don’t mean it in a harmful way. They use the word ‘gay’ as a filler at the end of a sentence to make something stupid. ‘Well, that’s so gay.’ I wasn’t comfortable with it, but I used it myself. I didn’t want to seem like I was out of the mix.

“Some guys texted me (after I came out), ‘F—, sorry if I said anything to offend you when we played.’ I’d just say, ‘Guys, you had no idea.’ The lesson is you don’t know what everyone is going through. The words you say do matter. Make sure you think before you speak. It’s a silly rule you learn in kindergarten. It applies to life when you’re 22 or 35 and never goes away.

“The way hockey is going with the language, guys are naturally changing their language. I’ve heard a change in language on every team I’ve been on.”

Prokop said that season was the best of his career, both from a production standpoint and a personal one. He was traded to the Edmonton Oil Kings early in the season and had 10 goals and 33 points in 55 games for them, helping them win the WHL’s Ed Chynoweth Cup and advance to the Memorial Cup.

Luke Prokop won the WHL’s Ed Chynoweth Cup with the Oil Kings in 2022. (Courtesy of Oilers Entertainment Group)

Luke Pierce, then an assistant coach for Edmonton and now the head coach, said the staff and management had discussions with the leadership group before acquiring Prokop — making sure they were comfortable with it, feeling out whether their room could handle the attention. Pierce said he asked one of the captains, Blues prospect Jake Neighbours, for his perspective. Neighbours had known Prokop since they were 10 or 11, growing up playing in spring tournaments together. He told Pierce and the staff there would be “zero issue” and he’d be a great addition.

Neighbours said nothing really changed, that Prokop “fit right in” to the team. Pierce at first wondered if players would have any issue with rooming assignments on the road, but nobody blinked. Pierce noted that Prokop would joke about situations and even opened up about his boyfriend coming to visit.

“He put everybody at ease,” Pierce said. “I often tell people, if the outside world could see how the group of men interacted, it would be just a tremendous inspiration on how we should treat everybody.”

Pierce and Prokop pointed out how this generation is more comfortable and equipped to handle LGBTQ+ inclusion issues. Everyone seems to know someone, be friends with someone, or be related to someone in the community.

“I just don’t think guys really care anymore,” Prokop said. “They might be nervous as they have this stereotype version of what a gay guy might look like, sound like, act like. Like me, coming to a team, they think I’ll act a certain way, look a certain way, but they’ll realize three minutes into talking to me that I’m not that.

“Hockey is part of me. It’s who I am. Guys totally forget (about me being gay) when I’m at the rink. They’re not afraid to ask questions. But other than that, it never really comes up. That’s how I wanted it to be. I wanted them to know, but we can all go out and play. I never wanted to be a distraction.”

- - - - - - -

The NHL’s decisions around Pride jerseys and stick tape weren’t a distraction, Prokop said, but he has gotten frustrated about it.

He understood the issue over wearing sweaters during warmups — “jerseys weren’t really their choice” — but lamented that the fact the focus was on the handful of players who refused to wear them and not all the others who did. The NHL’s initial banning of Pride stick tape, then its reversal, was a whole other topic.

“To take away choices from players was really confusing,” Prokop said. “Some of them don’t really care. For some, it was near and dear to their heart. To take it away was mind-boggling. From the players’ side, the support was there. Zach Hyman talked about it, Travis Dermott. I like what they did. They didn’t make a big deal about it before — they just did it. Let fans see the rest, and it’ll take care of itself. There’s a massive amount of support from players in the NHL.”

What do the Pride tape and sweaters mean for someone in the LGBTQ+ community?

Prokop didn’t recall noticing them growing up going to Oilers games. He never got to see someone who was gay using Pride tape on the TV screen. He had to deal with it himself — “jump over those barriers without any help.” But Prokop continued pursuing his hockey career whereas “a lot of people don’t feel comfortable pursuing their career without that exposure, without feeling like they’re being seen.”

“I think with the Pride tape stuff, they were trying to show support for their older fans,” Prokop said of the NHL. “The fans that have been watching hockey for 40-50 years. That’s not how you grow the game. You want to get the younger generation, put these guys in the best situation to promote the game. Sometimes I don’t think the NHL does that the correct way. The Pride tape is one example.”

Prokop has been part of two Pride nights since he came out, one with the Edmonton Oil Kings and another with Seattle. The Oil Kings staff approached him after not having that event on their promotional calendar. They planned it in two weeks and it was a big hit, with around 8,000 fans in attendance.

“Some guys told me it was the most impactful game they’d been in during their career,” Prokop said. “They said they didn’t realize how many Queer fans they had. I don’t think they realize how much my community watches hockey, plays hockey and cares about hockey.

The Seattle Pride night was fan-driven, which made it unique. Thunderbirds fans noticed that other rival teams had a special night for Pride and made a push for their own, making bracelets and T-shirts. Prokop told teammates they didn’t have to wear the stick tape — he knows how superstitious hockey players are. They all wore some, for him.

“I always look at the perspective, the other side of Pride nights — why do you have them if no one on the team is gay?” Prokop said. “The point is that it’s for the fans. For me, it means a lot to play in them to show my community and be a representative on the ice.”

While education is important, Prokop said any real change in the NHL when it comes to inclusion will start with other players coming out. He’s not putting any timeline or pressure on that. He didn’t have one. But that’s when players in the league will see a different perspective, get more comfortable with it.

“Otherwise, it’s always going to be a story,” Prokop said. “I also can see why guys don’t want to come out. Especially in the NHL. They’ve been very successful, so why change? I kind of saw that from the perspective when the whole Pride jersey story came out. My phone was blowing up. I don’t think guys want to have to deal with that. There was a responsibility for me to talk about these topics. I don’t think guys want to do that. I can see it from that side, why they don’t want to come out.

“I don’t think anything is going to change unless someone else does. Someone else will step up. It’s only a matter of time. I thought there’d maybe be two, three of us by now. But it hasn’t happened. But I know there’s going to be someone else soon. It’s math. There’s what, 700 players in the league? There’s definitely a few more.”

- - - - - - -

While there have been some derogatory comments coming from the stands on a few occasions, Prokop has been encouraged there have been none from opposing players.

“Zero,” he said.

Most of the feedback he’s received, even on social media, has been positive. And it’s not just the comments like Matthews’ that stick with him. Two high schoolers in Seattle, Kaitlin and Jo, reached out to him over Instagram. They are part of the LGBTQ+ community and were struggling.

“Like everyone, they just wanted someone to talk to,” Prokop said.

Part of Prokop’s pregame routine is usually to hang by the bench and listen to music. On many occasions, Kaitlin and Jo would come by and the three of them would just chat for 10, 12 minutes. They’re the fans that Prokop saw every game above the tunnel on his way to the dressing room. They’ve stayed in touch. Prokop even did a Zoom meeting with their high school class last month. “They have a special place in my heart,” he said.

When, and if, Prokop makes his NHL debut, he says he’ll have a special secret plan for them.

Whether Prokop lives his NHL dream remains to be seen. He’s praised the Predators for their support from the first time he did a group video call with the staff. Former NHLer Mark Borowiecki, now a development coach, has been someone Prokop has leaned on often, not only for on-ice advice but for help getting through things mentally.

Scott Nichol, the Predators’ assistant GM, likes Prokop’s potential.

“Big right-shot defensemen that can skate, move the puck. They don’t grow on trees,” he said. “He just needs to polish up his game in some areas in the defensive zone. He’s got the tools. He’s got the skating ability. It’s just patience and embrace the process.”

Prokop is grateful for his support group, from his parents, Al and Nicole, to his brother, Josh, and sister, Alanna. He’s kept in touch with Heather Lefebvre, who is a specialist in hockey engagement and alumni relations with the Oilers Entertainment Group. They talk almost every day. What sticks out to Lefebvre is how young Prokop was when he came out (19), and while he wears this “trailblazer” cap, he’s still standing alone.

“I think this generation is more ready for it than past generations, for sure,” Lefebvre said. “It says a lot to me that nobody else has come out in the year and a half since he has. He’s the only openly gay player under NHL contract, but he’s not the only gay player under NHL contract.

“That’s where I think we have work to do. Is it great that he’s been accepted and can do his thing? Yes. But he looks at the positives, which makes me really happy for him. But that doesn’t mean there’s no negative.”

Prokop takes the positives in his off-ice life, too. He lives with Alanna in the offseason back home in Edmonton. He’s found teammates to share in his hobbies, like golf (he plays 40 to 50 rounds a year). He loves to read, from biographies to sci-fi. He watches basketball more than hockey and has more than 25 jerseys. He cooks. He got into puzzles during the pandemic and is bullish about doing them on his own.

Prokop also feels comfortable getting out there on the dating scene and not having to hide it from teammates.

“Obviously, the lifestyle of a hockey player is tough for some people,” he said. “I’m trying to find the right person to connect with. I’m a softie, a romantic guy. I love love. I’m always on the lookout for that right person to spend the rest of my life with.”

Prokop doesn’t see the label of being the first openly gay player under NHL contract as a weight. It’s more of a responsibility. He has a platform and wants to use it. He’s realistic, “dreaming about winning the community service award more than the Norris Trophy.”

Making the AHL jump or someday the NHL jump won’t define him.

“One of my main goals when I came out is that if I could have an impact on one person outside of my family and friends in my lifetime, I’ve done my job,” he said. “I think I’ve done that and more. And I want to continue to do that.”

[fathercharlesoffdensen]

Ngl as a veteran Cherik shipper, Charles Xavier apologist, and someone who watched the '92 X-Men animated series, I kind of assumed going into the '97 series that Charles' death/'death' was a known 'ruse,' borne not just from the Shi'ar having the technology to keep him alive following Gyrich's assassination attempt, but also from the logic of keeping him safe/protected going forward. If some of the veteran X-Men didn't 'know' (although I question how that's possible at least with Jean) that he survived, then I figured Magneto surely did, hence Charles willing his legacy to his mutant husband. Charles seemed fully aware while still living amongst the Shi'ar of the ongoing developments regarding Genosha, almost certainly, I assumed, because it was his and Magneto's passion project. I didn't NOT expect Magneto to be jelly of Lilandra - that's part of the fun/'fun' of Cherik's dynamic, after all - but I did assume/hope that their reunion would be more of a reunion and less essentially blaming Charles for all of mutantdom's past and/or current woes.

Some choice bits from the "Graduation Day" series finale of the original X-Men animated series to 'prove' my point(s). Context: Magneto's magnetism is the only way to give the dying Xavier the energy to contact Lilandra using their "unique, personal, telepathic bond" so that he can be saved using "the superior technology of the Shi'ar," though Magneto is busy gathering mutants on Genosha.

"Don't you get it? Xavier was about as normal as we mutants get. He was famous, rich, and human-looking, and someone went after him in front of the whole world."

"Xavier ... dying? [...] A sad ending to a great life. Out of respect for Charles Xavier, I will let you all live."

A huffy Magneto, after Jean asks him, "How much do you love Charles Xavier?": "How dare you ask me such a question? He was my only equal. I owe him my life."

Jean, redux: "What would you do if you knew you were the only one on Earth who could save his life?" [Magneto: "Do not play games with me!"] Jean: "LIsten to me: A telepathic message to Lilandra is Xavier's only hope. You may be able to supercharge his mind just like you did mine. His brain waves are electromagnetic." [Magneto: "You lie to torture me."]

Scott has to weigh in, of course: "You know what you should do." [Magneto: My greatest enemy, and perhaps my only friend. But I have waited all my life for this moment!"] Scott: "Wouldn't he do it for you?"

Instructions given to Magneto when he arrives at the school: "Focus your magnetic powers on his brain waves and increase them in gradual increments. Though beware: If he should pass away while connected to you, the psychic stress may destroy you as well."

Charles (in bed [heh heh]): "Hello, Magnus. Surely you have more pressing business to attend to than nursing an old friend." [Magneto: "Nothing more important."]

Xavier's students are told that Charles "will survive," but "only under Shi'ar care": "I know you cannot bear to see him go, but it is the only way." Then, when asked whether Charles can "ever come back": "Perhaps not in body, my children, but my spirit shall remain among you where it was always meant to be."

TL;DR: I'm not saying Charles and Erik/Magnus becoming Chancellors of Genosha together after probably using Bastion / Mister Sinister / Jean / Madelyne / etc. to 'fix' / reverse the damage from the recent staged terrorist attack and then Marvel allowing them to get married (extremely belatedly) just in time for Pride Month is the only appropriate way to end season one of X-Men 97, but ... we're so close to an extremely gay Cherik reconciliation and validation since the '60s, and yet still so far away.

[sky-neverending]

When Will finally came out to the entire party, he did it from the floor of Steve Harringtons living room. He wasn’t planning on doing it at all. Ever. He was terrified. Terrified of losing the people that meant most to him.

But then he walked in on Steve and Eddie stealing a quick kiss in the kitchen, and he froze, and hell, he almost passed out.

Eddie and Steve rushed toward him, pushing aside how terrified they were to help this poor boy who looked like a deer in headlight in front of them. Steve pulled him into his arms, because he knew that face. It was the same one he had made after Eddie had kissed him for the first time. Before he knew who or what the hell he was. So he just hugged Will until his breathing returned and his face was no longer whiter than a bedsheet.

“You’re okay.” Steve whispered, running his fingers down Wills arm to signify he was there, and that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Come on, take a breath.”

After Will pulled away, he gazed up at the two of them. “You guys are dating?” He said in a whisper, like he was scared someone was going to hear him.

Eddie nodded slowly, holding out a hand. Will took it reluctantly and was led toward the kitchen table, sliding into the seat and staring at Eddie and Steve across from him.

The next words to come from his mouth about shattered Steve’s heart. They were small and timid, meek and filled with fear. It seemed to take everything in Will to get them out without collapsing on the spot.

“And it’s… okay?” He started, eyes glued to the floor. “To be gay?” The last word was barely audible. It came out in a strangled whispered, like he was choking on his words as they pushed their way out his mouth.

“Will.” Eddie said, his voice filling the warm with warmth and comfort. “Will, look at me.”

Will did so, his head moving upward first and his eyes following after, slowing dragging from the floor to the table to Eddie and Steve’s faces. They were red, glossy, like he was biting back tears.

“Will.” Eddie repeated, reaching a hand across the table the testing it on Wills wrist, where the fabric of this shirt met the exposed skin. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Nothing at all.” He smiled softly, leaning forward. “And anyone who tell you that? Doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about. Okay?”

“Okay.” Will said after a beat, and the corner of his mouth quirked up a little bit. He repeated the word, a bit more confidently this time. “Okay.”

Steve looked at him, his expression full of pride. “We can keep this a secret. If you want, I mean.” He offered, and Will shook his head.

“No. No, I want to tell them. I just- I want to be the one to do it. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, kid.” Eddie said, patting Will on the wrist gently before pulling his hand away and looping it through Steve’s own. “Take your time. No one’s rushing you.”

The three of them stood, heading toward the kitchen door, when Will paused. “Do they know about you?” He asked, and Steve bit his lip.

“No. No, not yet. I’m not sure i’m quite ready to tell them, ya know?” Will nodded.

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Eddie smiled at him, squeezing Steve’s hand one last time before dropping it and walking back out into the rest of the group.

The next few hours went on as normal. The kids argued for about an hour over which movie to watch before Steve stood up plucked the movies out of there hands, holding them behind his back and shuffling them around. He needed up picking Labyrinth, which was Dustins pick (mostly because Eddie said he loved it).

They settled into their normal spots, Eddie, Steve, and Robin on the large couch, Max in her wheelchair with Lucas and El on the floor beside her, Dustin in a large armchair he had claimed all to himself, and Will and Mike leaning against the front of the coffee table, closest to the television.

And then Will just sort of said it. The movie was paused so Steve could get some more popcorn, but the room was still dark, and the words just spilled from Wills mouth. There was no emotions or theatrics or gathering of attention. Everyone was in the middle of conversation and he just spoke up.

After he said it, the room fell silent, and he could feel the heat of every pair of eyes in the room settle on to him. But he didn’t care. Because he had said it, and a sort of weight he didn’t know he was carrying lifted off his shoulders.

Robin was the first to move. She rushed toward him and pulled him into a hug, practically squeezing all the air out of his lungs as she did so. “I’m so proud of you.” She whispered into his ear, so only he could hear it, and then she pulled away with a soft small and a lingering warmth left behind.

Max was the next to make any noise, letting out a small chuckle from where she sat in her wheelchair. “Way to go, William.” She cheered, partially sarcastic, but there was a hint of pride in her tone. Lucas simply patted him on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring grin, and El shot him a thumbs up from the floor.

Dustin stared up at him from his chair, silent for a moment before a grin spread across his face. “So who’s your crush?” He teased. Will went red.

“Shut up, Dusty-Bun.” Eddie called from the couch, chucking a pillow at Dustin, who poorly dodged it and threw two more back in response.

“No throwing pillows in my house!” A voice came from the hall, and Steve walked in with his hands full of popcorn bowls. “What did I miss?”

“Wills gay!” Dustin supplied helpfully, and Steve shrugged.

“Cool. No throwing pillows in my house.” Was a he said, but Will caught the gleam in his eye as he say down, and the large smile spreading over his face.

Mike never spoke. Not until Will sat down, still and awkward on the floor beside him.

“Hey.” Was all he said, pushing his shoulder into Wills softly.

“Hey.” Will responded.

The two smiled at each other before turning back the movie, but Will couldn’t help to notice how Mike seemed just a tad bit closer than he was before.

And as Will fell asleep that night, head on Miles shoulder, he couldn’t help but grin to himself. He had done that. And he hadn’t lost anyone at all.

i sort of hate this but i spent so much time on it that i’m gonna share it anyway. maybe i’ll make it better later. idk.

[rochenn]

really intrigued the theoretical possibilities of "gay sit" but too rabid over your dooku not to ask about "dooku x2"

YESSS thank you!!

that's the file name of a fic called "matters of consequence" in which dooku, sometime after qui-gon's knighting, time travels forward into the clone wars, meaning that he now exists in a reality where can look his old corrupted self in the eye and also be absolutely crushed by the things he will do/has already done.

he also gets to hang out with his lineage and crawl through trenches. good times all around!

snippet of the opening chapter under the cut ->

———

Feeling lost was a curious thing.

It wasn't a state of being Dooku had often been confronted with in his forty-odd years of life. Ire, pride, ambition: those were feelings he could process, coming to him as easily as they were dismissed again.

The clink of crude pottery—a clay cup he had known since childhood—mixed with the rattle of high-security handcuffs. The cup's contents warmed his palms, the hassock beneath him soft just like his memory of it. The cuffs, however, weighed heavier than they looked. He pretended they didn't chafe his pride more than his wrists when he drank from the cup, in part to find comfort in a familiar taste, but mostly to hide. Control eluded him.

"I recall, Master," he finally managed, "one of the first things you taught me being that it is rude to stare." His voice came out terse, and it was justified. He glared pointedly into the empty space between Yoda and Mace who had both been silently regarding him for minutes that stretched like hours. He didn't care to admit how much it unnerved him.

"You didn't resist." Mace made no pretense of acknowledging his words. "Why?"

Dooku swallowed a grimace and took another sip, unable to savor the tea's candid sweetness as the Force stretched taut and wary through the room. Light fell past half-shut blinds and painted glowing bars onto the walls, as though sun itself were inclined towards horrible metaphors. This, he was certain, was an interrogation.

"Why?" Indignation, too, came to him easily. "Why is it that when I walk these halls, you pull me away," like he wasn't supposed to be there, "you practically arrest me," like some sort of criminal, and he let the cuffs rattle for emphasis, "and subsequently lock me in this chamber for no apparent reason whatsoever?"

This was all a dream, he figured. It had to be. Mace and Yoda had aged by decades. The Force's river ran polluted and vile here, nearly unrecognizable.

"Again," Mace said, and his old face was hewn from stone, "are you aware of who you are?"

"I have answered this question more than once. I cannot fathom why you should ask at all."

A wisp of Yoda's misty aura brushed against his own and Dooku had to keep himself from reaching for it. Instead, he telegraphed his displeasure through their mangled bond. If his old Master wanted to reassure him, he could well enough open his mouth to do so.

[moonselune]

Hey you! I've been bingeing (is that the correct spelling? 🤔) your writing and reblogging on my side blog @andtheliver so I thought I'd send you a request cuz I'm still thirsty 😉

Would you be so kind as to write something for Minthara, Lae'zel, Jaheira and Karlach (separate) x Tav where Tav has a black belt in some sort of jiu-jitsu and she's teaching some basics but then these fine ladies volunteer and Tav just goes "why do I have a feeling I'm about to get my ass handed to me" and it's just funny and steamy and maybe low key romantic and just GAY Happy Pride btw!

First time writing for Jaheira so hope I did okay! HAPPY PRIDE ! And thank you so so so much for all of your support!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

You were in the middle of teaching the group some basic jiu-jitsu moves, the warm glow of the campfire casting flickering shadows across the clearing. The evening air was filled with the crackle of the fire and the occasional chirp of nocturnal creatures. As you demonstrated a particularly effective throw, your companions watched with varying degrees of interest and amusement.

Minthara, ever the warrior, stood at the edge of the group, her arms crossed over her chest as she observed you with a keen interest. Her piercing gaze followed your movements, the firelight dancing in her eyes like sparks of determination.

"Alright, who's next?" you called out cheerfully, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand.

Minthara stepped forward, a predatory smile curling on her lips. "I'll take a turn," she purred, her voice low and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine.

You chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the sudden flutter in your stomach. "Why do I have a feeling I'm about to get my ass handed to me?" you muttered under your breath, half-jokingly.

Minthara's smile widened, a glint of challenge in her eyes. "Perhaps you are," she replied confidently, clearly having heard your remark. With graceful movements, she took a stance that exuded confidence and strength, her posture commanding respect and attention.

You squared up, ready to demonstrate the move. But the moment you made your move, Minthara countered with a fluidity and precision that left you breathless. Her movements were swift and controlled, and before you knew it, you found yourself pinned beneath her. The weight of her body pressed against yours sent a rush of adrenaline through you, mingled with a surprising thrill.

"Impressive," she murmured, her voice close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "But you have much to learn."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound slightly shaky with a mix of surprise and excitement. "Guess I'll need more practice," you replied, looking up into her intense eyes, which held a mixture of challenge and undeniable attraction.

"You'll find I'm a rigorous teacher," Minthara stated, her tone firm yet laced with a hint of playfulness. She then pushed up off of you and held out her hand, you gladly took it and perhaps held onto her hand for just a moment longer than you should have.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

You were going through the basics of jiu-jitsu, the group gathered around you in a semi-circle, eager to learn from your expertise. Lae'zel stood out among them, her stance rigid and her gaze sharp, clearly assessing every move with her warrior instincts finely tuned.

"Alright, who's up next?" you asked, scanning the group with a smile.

Lae'zel wasted no time, stepping forward with purpose. "I will participate," she declared firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

You chuckled, feeling a mix of excitement and a healthy dose of apprehension. "Why do I have a feeling I'm going to become the student here?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood despite the competitive edge in the air.

Lae'zel's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of amusement softening her fierce demeanor. "Because you are," she stated matter-of-factly, a challenge glinting in her gaze.

You both assumed your stances, tension humming in the air between you. Before you could fully react, Lae'zel moved with startling speed and precision. She countered your initial move flawlessly, leveraging her strength and technique to swiftly bring you to the ground. Her solid form loomed over you, her presence commanding yet strangely protective.

Looking up at her from the ground, you found yourself breathless, partly from the physical exertion and partly from the charged atmosphere. Lae'zel looked down at you, her expression a mix of pride and something softer, an unexpected tenderness in her eyes.

"You fight well," she acknowledged, her voice carrying a rare hint of gentleness. "But you can always improve."

You laughed, feeling the rush of adrenaline and the undeniable chemistry between you. "I'll take that as a compliment," you replied, a grin spreading across your face as your eyes locked with hers. In that moment, beneath the flickering light of the campfire, a mutual respect and unspoken connection formed, promising more challenges and perhaps even deeper bonds to come.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

You were in the midst of teaching basic jiu-jitsu moves to the group, demonstrating techniques with practiced ease. Jaheira had been observing with keen interest, her expression thoughtful as she watched the fluidity of your movements.

"Alright, who's next?" you called out, your gaze sweeping over the group.

To your surprise and internal delight, Jaheira stepped forward gracefully, a small smile playing on her lips. "I believe it's my turn," she said calmly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Internally, you felt a rush of nerves mingled with excitement. Jaheira was someone you admired deeply, not just for her wisdom and strength, but for her inner and outer beauty. Teaching her jiu-jitsu felt like a test of your composure.

"You're not getting any younger, Jaheira," you teased playfully, trying to mask your underlying nervousness with humor.

She raised an eyebrow, a flicker of challenge in her emerald eyes. "Is that so?" she replied coolly, moving into position with a fluid grace that belied her age.

You both squared up, the atmosphere shifting subtly with a blend of competition and unspoken attraction. As you made your move, Jaheira countered effortlessly, using your momentum against you to pin you to the ground with a controlled force that took you by surprise.

"You might want to reconsider those words," she remarked, her voice teasing yet firm as she held you down.

You laughed, the sound slightly breathless as you met her gaze from the ground. "Never," you replied defiantly, though the pressure of her hold and the closeness between you sent a rush of heat through you.

Jaheira pushed you into the ground a bit further, her expression playful yet commanding. "Take it back," she urged, her voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

You relented, your gaze locked with hers, a smile tugging at your lips. "Alright, maybe you're not that old," you conceded, a playful glint in your eyes as you both shared a moment of lighthearted banter.

Underneath the training session, there was an undeniable tension, an unspoken acknowledgment of mutual attraction and respect. In that fleeting moment on the training ground, amidst the crackling energy of the campfire and the night's cool breeze, you felt a deeper connection with Jaheira, one that promised both challenges and the possibility of something more.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The evening air held a hint of coolness as twilight settled over the campfire-lit clearing, casting flickering shadows that danced around you. Tonight, instead of the usual stories or tasks, you took it upon yourself to share your passion for martial arts with the group, demonstrating basic jiu-jitsu moves. Your dedication and skill were evident in every precise motion, drawing the attention of everyone, especially Karlach, your fiery and passionate lover.

"Who's up next?" you called out, your voice carrying a confident tone despite the playful twinkle in your eye.

Karlach's hand shot up without hesitation, her grin wide and eyes alight with anticipation. "Me! Let's do this!" she exclaimed eagerly, stepping forward with a swagger that showcased her confidence and prowess.

Your heart skipped a beat at her enthusiasm, a mix of amusement and genuine fondness swelling within you. "Oh, I have a feeling I'm about to be thoroughly impressed," you teased, though there was an underlying thrill in your voice.

Karlach's laughter rang out melodiously, a sound that warmed the cool evening air. "Prepare to have your ass handed to you," she quipped, her grin widening as she took her stance across from you.

As you began to demonstrate the technique, Karlach moved with a grace and strength that captivated you. With fluid precision, she countered your move, effortlessly maneuvering you into a position where you found yourself on the ground, her form pressing against yours with a comforting weight that sent a jolt of excitement through you.

"Wow, you're incredible," you murmured, looking up at her with a mixture of admiration and something deeper.

Karlach's grin softened into a warm smile, her cheeks tinged with a rosy hue. "Thank you," she replied sincerely, her voice laced with genuine affection. "But you're equally impressive," she added, her gaze locking with yours in a moment charged with unspoken meaning.

In that intimate space, surrounded by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustling of the evening breeze, you felt a surge of warmth that went beyond physical exertion. As Karlach helped you up, her touch lingering with a gentle caress, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that this night had brought you closer in ways that words could barely convey.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Another happy pride for my fellow LGBTQ+ sweeties - Seluney xox

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with The Hollywood Reporter (2024)

Talking about his role in Showtime’s Fellow Travelers, Jonathan Bailey can’t help but be earnest. It’s a trait he calls out about himself but is learning to embrace, as he notes the importance of the series for LGBTQ+ viewers around the world, and within his own life, where it’s helped him chart a path forward and earned him his first Emmy nomination. 

“I’m so grateful that it’s for something that I can talk passionately about endlessly, and it feels really important,” Bailey says of the supporting actor nomination.

In the limited series, Bailey plays Tim Laughlin, an idealistic congressional staffer who falls in love with Hawkins Fuller, a career-first State Department official played by Matt Bomer. Their relationship begins during the Lavender Scare of the 1950s, when homosexuals were banned from holding positions in the federal government, and evolves across several decades, as the pair contend with the Vietnam War, the AIDS crisis and societal pressure. 

Bailey spoke with THR about the significance of the show, created by Ron Nyswaner and based on Thomas Mallon’s novel, and balancing the shooting schedule with Bridgerton and Wicked, as well as his upcoming role in Jurassic World 4. 

What made you say yes to this role?

I heard that Ron was going to be investigating and exploring 40 years of queer life and experience. But at that time, it looked like I might not be available. I pursued it. And after doing something like Bridgerton, it felt important to me to find something rich and complex. There’s nothing more of a gift than to be able to educate yourself, and also in the investigation and in the performance of it, to live a really dangerous life, but within safety, and, ultimately, write this love letter to those that came before us. I was enchanted by the idea, and there was no part of me that didn’t think it was the punkest thing to do. 

What impact do you hope this series can have? 

By stepping back 50 years or 70 years, you can highlight exactly what’s going on in our societies today. There’s rhetoric we hear now in politics that echoes Senator McCarthy’s speech that’s featured early on in the series. I’ve been in Thailand working recently, and there are so many people across the world now on these streaming platforms that get to watch it, and there are so many people who are living under a similar sort of regime to the Lavender Scare and the oppression of McCarthyism, and so much more extreme than that. I think the impact we wanted was for people to be celebrated, educated, and also for all the people who have lost their lives fighting, and spent their lives having to fight, to pay homage to them. I know this sounds incredibly earnest and sincere.

That’s not a bad thing.

No, it’s not. And that’s one thing that I’ve learned from Tim, because I can see how it’s changed the course in my life, put into focus levels of importance about how you communicate your own identity, and understanding that all of us inherit such a deal of shame, which comes from powerful figures using fear and an aggressive sort of alienation to control people. I’ve had more messages about this than anything I’ve ever done, and more people stopping me and wanting to talk about their own lives, whether they lost their fathers, their uncles, or they were children of someone who died in the ’80s. But then also now I get to live my life.

The thing that makes me really smile is that last Pride month, I was filming Wicked, and when I’m working, I’m incredibly disciplined and don’t really go out. But for Pride, me, Andrew Scott and Jessica Gunning all ended up on a night out together. We snaked through SoHo and had a really good bop that night. And it’s just so funny to see all of us now nominated for Emmys. It’s kind of extraordinary. And you think about that, about how now that’s being celebrated, which is amazing. But I look up and think, “Where are the 50-year-old and 60-year-old gay actors?” There’s a whole generation that’s been lost. That’s why the earnestness is afforded, for sure, and I feel very proud.

The Fellow Travelers scene, where Matt Bomer’s character seductively tells yours to “shut up and drink your milk,” has really taken off, especially after you turned it into a T-shirt collection with Loewe to raise money for your LGBTQ+ foundation, The Shameless Fund. What prompted that? 

I went to present an award for Matt at the [Human Rights Campaign] in Washington, and being in the room with people who were just so galvanized — it was my first American gala, and I was infected by the energy. I had this idea of a T-shirt, and it occurred to me that it should be about the spilling of the milk.

I think we had four scripts before we started, and there was one version of a sex scene, which I’ll leave to Ron Nyswaner to reveal at some point in the future, which was wild, and then when I saw that it moved to the milk. I just thought, this is such an incredible moment of the exploration of power within sex and intimacy. “Shut up and drink your milk.” It feels to me like an incredibly political line, somehow. 

Has playing Tim informed what roles you want to take on next?

Yes, a hundred  percent. Since then, I’ve magically been able to find parts that have similar character arcs, that have something massive to question and to overcome. But right now, I would say that I’d probably be looking for something as far away from Tim as possible, and I’m going back onstage anyway. I started in theater, and I wouldn’t have been able to give the performance in Fellow Travelers had I not done 12 weeks onstage just before it, because it’s so academic and it’s so in the body. You sort of have an exorcism, and you end up being a husk with no conversational skills or anything. But what you do have is stripped-back, pure instinct, which is so great to feel. I’m looking forward to going back onstage next year. But I’ll be excited to see what parts are lurking around the corner after that. 

You’re doing Richard II in the West End, another intense role.

Yes, and equally as sort of questioning and as poetic, I think, as Tim. In between running away from dinosaurs — I just spent a whole day doing stunts [for Jurassic World 4] — I just walked around Valletta with my AirPods on listening, trying to learn a soliloquy, and I’ve managed to get one soliloquy down, so I’m thrilled.

You were also shooting Fellow Travelers, while also shooting Bridgerton and Wicked, right? 

That’s right. The whole experience has just shown me how amazing producers can be. I think it was 32 days in a row where I didn’t have one day off. And I flew back and forth four times. I’d go from Hawk’s house in the ‘60s at the cabin, go straight to the airport, sleep on the plane, go straight to a regency ball, sleep there, then go straight to Wicked to be learning choreography. And at that point, I was so late in joining the Wicked lot, because they’d already started filming, and that also was incredible for Marc Platt to make that work. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of trying to work out the priorities of whether you have to learn the choreography today, or work on your American accent, or pelt your hair ready for another Bridgerton snog.

How did you keep track of all those different roles in your mind? 

I probably wouldn’t rush into doing that again. Music for me, is absolutely key, but it always sort of has been. It was an absolute freefall and luckily, I’ve got patient friends and family, and you just have to sort of sign off for a bit. I found playing Tim an incredibly happy place to be, which is also a testament to his spirit, I think, because obviously it was some really brutal stuff and the yearning and the constant battle that’s going on in his head of questioning what’s right and what’s wrong. But I would say that I was quite good at rolling all the way through and then at the end, I had a five-day holiday, and my hair had died from all the the perming and straightening, because I had to perm my hair for Bridgerton and straighten my hair for [Fellow Travelers]. I was like a teenage beauty advert, doing everything to my hair. I remember going on this holiday and I got to the beach, I sat down in the sun, and my hair was just like floating, whisping off, like breaking away. And I looked completely and felt completely insane.

Why did you want to do the new Jurassic World movie?

The original film Jurassic Park was just a completely life-changing moment because I went with my full family, and it was quite a rarity to all go, because I’ve got three older sisters. Every frame of that film is imprinted in my mind, and the Frank Marshall-Spielberg duo of the films in the ‘80s and ‘90s are just what totally encapsulated, enchanted and inspired so much in me. I couldn’t quite believe I was stepping into something that I so adore, and the script is brilliant. And it’s David Koepp again, who wrote the original, and it just asks some really brilliant fundamental questions that the original film did as well.

Source

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Photograph of A World on Fire (4) - Andy Herrera x DeLuca!Sister!Reader - Station 19/Grey's Anatomy

Summary: The world might be on fire with a pandemic happening, and you and Andy face loss after loss, but the two of you stick together and become even closer through it all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Request: hey 💓 could you write a deluca!sister x amelia fic where r is a cheeky italian which puts amelia in gay panic mode x

A/n: this diverts from canon like a curly wurly chocolate bar, also mentions a one night stand, there's no smut but it's alluded to, so, read at your own risk, and don't ask me where this happens in canon, because that will give me another headache:) (i gave myself that headache and followed canon slightly... ooof, warning, canon character death incoming)

A/n: to whoever reads this, you are important.

Andy found out her mother was alive, and then three weeks later, a pandemic set the world on fire.

Andy's mother left, and her father told her that her mother had died, rather than her mother had abandoned her due to mental illness.

Your brother and sister were determined to quarantine away from you, and with Andy in a bubble at the firehouse, you were isolated from everyone.

Andy had enlisted herself in distracting herself about her mother by going to an art store, masked up with a list of supplies for you so you could keep making your art from home. Andy didn't know you had gotten out of the car, sitting on the bonnet with your camera, photographing the empty streets.

You didn't know it was the start of one of two projects during the pandemic that would make your career flourish, as you sat in your black attire, watching the funeral of Pruitt Herrera, that due to the pandemic had to be done online. Watching as Andy spoke, you couldn't hide the love in your eyes for this woman. This woman of fire. Your fiamma.

///

Your brother sat on your porch as you sat in the hallway, talking to each other through an open door.

"I found inspiration, for two big projects."

"Two big projects? Wow, that's amazing, angioletta. I hope I get to see them before Carina." Andrew smiled, the pride in his eyes obvious.

"Oh she'd be so mad!" You laughed, remembering the last time Andrew had seen your artwork before Carina did, and how jealous she got despite trying to hide it.

"How's your girlfriend?" Andrew threw you off, almost dropping your snack on the carpet in surprise at his question, but you took a moment before replying.

"She is at a family picnic for the first time in twenty years, and I didn't want to impose y'know. Plus, everyone is so determined to quarantine, I'm isolated from everyone and everything, but my art." You admitted, spotting the sad look on your big brother's face at your confession. You were feeling lonely.

///

"It probably won't help if I tell them that I have a girlfriend too." Andy admitted to her cousin Michelle, whose eyes lit up at Andy's admittance.

"You do? Tell me everything!"

"She's an artist, with two older siblings, who are both doctors, but she is my saving grace in this, this cruel world." Andy confessed, getting her phone out to show her cousin a photo of you, and some photos of your art.

///

Your phone buzzed as Vic sent you a video, getting your brother's attention as you gasped.

"There, there was a tiger, in the firehouse... a tiger... that's not totally terrifying!" forwarding the video to your brother, who checked his phone.

///

Fiamma: you don't have any vagina art, do you?

Cariño: that's more my sister's interior design style...

Cariño: good luck to Maya

///

"You know, on the nights we don't have dinner together. I eat canned green beans for dinner, out of the can." Andy confessed as she watched you stand over the hob, stirring your wooden spoon into something that smelt amazing.

"Fiamma, that's disgusting."

///

Andrew's text sent horror through your body as you read it. He and Carina were following a human trafficker. And nobody was answering their phone. Not Andrew, not Carina, not Andy, and not even Maya. Miranda and Ben weren't answering either, so you ran out of your house, tracking your big sister's phone as you got in your car.

Your brother was good, he was stable, taking his meds, getting sleep. Your sister had moved in with Maya, she was happy as she could be without missing Italy and stressing over your father.

Warren and Maya began to call you as Ben read your message, realising you were going after your big siblings.

///

"Announcement! Uh, Carina and her brother Andrew are... well... they're following one of the kidnappers, and uh, Y/n is going after her siblings apparently so..." Maya nervously explained, about to tell Andy off for hurriedly getting her phone but Warren shook his head.

"Probably going to call Y/n. They're, they're friends."

///

"Carina, Andrew, there's something you should know. Y/n is on her way to you, I'm guessing nobody's kept your little sister in the loop."

"Angioletta? No, she could get hurt. How does she know where we are?" Carina began to panic, hearing what Maya said.

"She's probably tracking our phones." Andrew deadpanned, knowing it was too late to stop you.

///

You knew they were at the Seattle Transit Station, running as you spotted Carina heading through the doors of the station. Speed-walking after your siblings, you barely made it onto the train before the doors shut, quickly making your way up the carriage until you landed in the seat next to Andrew, sandwiching him in the middle of you and Carina.

"What are you doing-"

"You both scared me. Plus nobody knows who I am so..." you trailed off, whispering in Italian to obscure your words to any non-Italian speakers.

The three of you watched as another passenger stood up and moved away from the three of you.

"My first time being profiled as an Italian."

///

"Stay back, angioletta." Carina whispered, as your siblings stood up to follow the human trafficker off of the train.

"Go find Ben and the police, I'm not losing her again." Andrew instructed, leaving Carina to nod and get out her phone. That was Carina's mistake as she took her eyes off of you, who ran after her big brother like she did when she was a toddler.

But Carina lost sight of you both, stuck rallying the first responders. She didn't see what you saw. The man barge into your big brother, and stab him.

"NO! Help! Help! Call 911!" You screamed loud enough that Carina heard you, hurrying over to see you putting pressure on a stab wound. A stab wound in your big brother's chest.

"We're here, we're here!" you sobbed, as Warren got your brother on a gurney, Maya holding back Carina as you curled up on the floor, hands covered in your brother's blood.

Carina cleaned your hands as you sat numbly in the back of the aid car, Maya and Ben treating your brother, and Carina recalling songs from your childhoods to soothe your brother's pain.

///

Sitting in the Grey Sloan outdoor waiting room, you were numb as you saw the look in the approaching doctor's eyes.

Your brother was dead.

///

In grieving, Carina shut down, but you threw yourself into your art projects. Carina had Maya to keep an eye on her, but you...

Andy was there for you. Andy was there when you didn't sleep at night, staring at a blank canvas until you started to paint, she sat and watched you. You didn't want to talk, your big brother was your lifeline.

"Okay, I know your French toast is better, and so is Carina's, but it's the only thing I know how to make for breakfast." Andy explained, bringing a tray into your spare room aka your art room at this point.

"Looks delicious." You managed to smile, but Andy was taken off guard as you pulled her into a hug, burying your face in her neck and not letting go.

"I'm acting captain today... are you sure you'll be okay alone?" Andy asked, her fingernails running gently over your scalp as she cradled your head.

"I have food and water. I just want to paint my grief, because I don't know how else to express it. Talking doesn't work, talking makes me miss him, even if he's with our mama now." You replied, but Andy saw the look on your face when you spotted the red paint on the palette. She didn't see how it reminded you of your brother's blood on your hands as you sat in the aid car, numb and hoping it wasn't his time.

Your siblings may have called you angioletta, little angel, but your brother was the angel among you now.

Your mother called Andrew and Carina two halves of a whole, but you needed both of them. You were away from Carina for so long growing up, all you had was your brother.

Now he was gone, Carina was stuck with the paperwork, and you buried yourself in your art. Minus any red paint, which Andy had removed after seeing the far away look on your face at the sight of it.

///

Carina called you hours later, asking if you had spoken to your father at all. You hadn't, but somehow he had heard two days ago that your brother died, and he didn't call either of you.

Andy found you sitting on your porch on her return home, in the spot where your brother had once sat, with a portfolio she hadn't seen before in your hands.

"Andrew was supposed to be the first person to see my projects, but he's..." you trailed off, opening the first page to reveal the photographs you had taken of empty Seattle streets.

"I've never seen Seattle so empty."

"Exactly." You let out a wet chuckle, holding back your tears until Andy met your gaze with a faltering smile at your crying.

///

Maya Bishop: A Doctor Gabriella Aurora just turned up here

Y/n DeLuca: you'll be okay, it's been a long time since medical school, trust me.

Maya Bishop: Come over and help me?

Y/n DeLuca: i'm having dinner with my girlfriend tonight. i'm cooking too.

Maya Bishop: Girlfriend?

*left on read 4:21pm*

///

"You know your sister has a girlfriend?" Maya enquired as she walked through the Grey Sloan car park with Carina, hand in hand.

"I assumed she had someone living with her. She had two mugs out when I surprised her one morning, and someone gave her a neck bruise."

"A hickey?" Maya raised an eyebrow, wondering how long you and whoever it was had been dating.

"Yes, a hickey. My sister is not a fan of double dates though." Carina added before Maya could get any ideas.

///

"I still haven't met your girlfriend. I even met your ex-roommate before I met her." Andy's cousin Michelle pointed out, after pointing out how Andy had gone to every barbecue and not brought you with her.

"My girlfriend lost her brother and her sister is very protective and doesn't want her getting the virus... and we still haven't told her sister we're dating, or that I moved in so..." Andy trailed off as Michelle's eyes widened.

"Oh so it's serious?"

"She's my saving grace."

///

"My visa expires next month." Carina explained to you, making you flinch. You and Andrew had citizenship, but Carina was here on a visa for her study.

"You have to go back to Italy? They shut down the immigration offices... Carina..."

"Angioletta..." Carina whispered, letting out a squeak as you pulled her into a tight hug, fear setting in that you would lose the only family you had left in America.

///

Carina and Maya were unaware of how well you really knew Andy, until it came to your brother's memorial in the Grey Sloan car park.

Amelia wasn't there, even if she had mentored your brother for a time. You hadn't thought of the neurosurgeon in a long time, having removed all traces of her from your portfolio, your life and your memory.

Whilst Maya held Carina in the car park, you sat on the ground, holding your knees to your chest until arms wrapped around you, and Andy was almost cooing in Spanish, calming you as you clung to her, mask soaked with tears.

Neither of them had any time to judge, but both were unaware you and Andy really knew each other as more than friends. Any assumption they had was wrong. Andy and yourself were well acquainted.

You didn't hide your relationship with Andy. She was at the firehouse a lot, not wanting to bring covid home back to you, since Maya and Carina were further along in their relationship and when Andy had moved in with you, she tried her best to keep you safe.

Everyone wanted to protect you, but they were isolating themselves from you to try keep you safe.

One of your art projects had been inspired by frontline workers, gaining attention online as people wanted to buy the works, the money going to charities to support people during the pandemic... you were flourishing, and your big brother couldn't see it from anywhere but above, whilst your sister and your girlfriend could see it, and you, but chose not to as often.

Your second project reflected another side to the pandemic, photography of the empty streets, void of all life. Almost apocalyptic in a sense.

Andy spent more time with you than Carina did, but you and your sister handled grief differently.

The fire between you and Andy burned brighter than anything else. An eternal flame.

"What are you painting this time? Is that a heart on fire?" Andy peeked over your shoulder, her chin resting on it as her hands hovered over your waist, hesitant to touch in case she messed up your brushstrokes.

"It was supposed to be symbolic, fires of love? Eternal flame? I think I'm better at realism... the portraits reflect that." You shrugged, gesturing to the paintings on the other side of the room.

"You are the sweetest but your sister and Maya should be here in an hour, and you are wearing more paint than clothes." Andy pointed out, her eyes widening as you smirked, walking backwards to guide her to the shower.

"Maybe you should join me, to make sure I get all the paint off."

"I would like that very much, but we need to-" Andy began to point out the lack of time, but you shushed her as you leaned in, waiting until she met you halfway, the hour countdown until Maya and Carina's arrival forgotten about...

///

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth, ch10

chapter ten: departure

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no physical descriptors or pronouns are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is chapter 10, act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read act 1 or chapters 1-9, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

author's notes: Frederick is so cunty. He INVENTED cunt. This man stared down Abel Gideon and didn’t even flinch. He just said “see you in court.” 💅 This man left Hannibal a copy of the book he wrote *based on him*. That shit was crazy!! I don’t care what anyone says. Frederick is cunty.

Anyway. This chapter has been eluding me for a while. I wanted to live up to the intensity from the book, but I felt like that was impossible for me to accomplish. I also didn’t want this to be a straight replication of the book scene, so… I tried to make this deviate a bit more. So, here goes. It’s a bit shorter as far as chapters go, but whatever.

I also made small edits in the first installment of this series, changing the writing from Hannibal giving you his clothing to Hannibal just giving the reader clothing in their size. I realized it wasn’t inclusive to all body types so I wanted to change it. Plus, imo, it’s even more homoerotic to think that Hannibal specifically bought clothing for you and kept it at his house. That’s very gay. Anyways. Back to regularly scheduled programming!

Warnings: typical violence/blood; kidnapping, death, vomiting. Lots of gore for this one. To avoid spoilers, I’ll put more in-depth warnings in the endnotes.

Frederick Chilton wants to pick you apart. And he isn’t the only one—far from it. That’s the danger of being in a position like yours—a federal agent tasked with chasing after killers and criminals. The thrill of the chase… It forms a relationship between cat and mouse, predator and prey. Frederick may be a predator, but you are not his prey; you have a much larger carnivore on the prowl nearby, haunting your shadows and waiting for you to slip. Frederick may be intrigued by you, but Hannibal Lecter is utterly fascinated by you. There’s no denying the harsh shift in his behavior, from silent and nearly despondent in your absence to verbose and enigmatic upon your arrival. Frederick had tried to pull that energy out of him through their sessions, but he was entirely unsuccessful. Lecter was well aware of his research interest, and seemed perfectly content with keeping his lips firmly closed in the first years of his captivity. 

The thought interests and infuriates Frederick in equal measure. After all, having unrestricted access to an intelligent, self-aware sociopath is a very rare opportunity. The sheer strides Chilton could make in the field of abnormal psychology from even a single test score from Lecter… Frederick has to actively push himself away from those thoughts. They are nothing more than a deluded fantasy, for Hannibal Lecter completely defies quantitative reasoning. 

Frederick muses on the nature of Hannibal Lecter as he approaches the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The building is still a bit of an eyesore. Since his promotion to Head Administrator, he’s made efforts to both repair the space and modernize many of their practices. Whether those efforts have done much to improve the institution’s reputation is another story altogether. 

He’s looking forward to sitting down at his desk and getting through the mountain of paperwork waiting for him. The thought has been bearing heavily on his mind over the weekend, and Frederick is eager to do something with the restless energy that he can’t seem to suppress. 

He’s one step away from the stairs leading up to the entrance when a sudden harsh pain erupts in the back of his head. Frederick topples to the ground as his blurring vision slowly fades to black. The last sensation he can register before succumbing to unconsciousness is a vice grip on his ankle. 

A harsh ringing sound forces Frederick to acknowledge his hazy new reality. His head lolls forward and he blinks open his eyes, only to be met with an unrelenting darkness. It takes him a few seconds to realize he’s been blindfolded, and a few more to register the bindings around his wrists and ankles. He seems to be restrained in a chair. 

Frederick isn’t new to being kidnapped—not after Abel Gideon. But this particular situation feels different. Something deep in his chest—an inexplicable yet unwavering conviction—tells him he won’t survive this particular encounter. Because if his captor is who he suspects… he will show no mercy. 

He immediately starts fidgeting and struggling, but the effort is pointless. Frederick has been tightly and effectively restrained. Fear strikes at his heart as his senses work to interpret the space around him. Darkness camouflages the majority of the space, but Frederick can just barely make out some sort of projector screen in front of him. There’s a projector situated right next to him, tauntingly close and within reach. But what good would it serve?

The sound of footsteps sends Frederick’s heart roaring in his ears. He almost feels trapped in the foreign room, time moving like a slow sludge as another presence makes itself known. The person—evidently his captor—steps behind him, their breath practically hitting Frederick’s neck in their proximity. 

“Frederick Chilton.” His captor’s voice breaks through the stiff air and sends a shiver down Frederick’s spine. It sounds like he has some sort of speech impediment, as his S’s are drawn close together. Frederick has very little time to dedicate to that observation, as his blindfold is roughly yanked off. “Lay your eyes upon me. If you don’t wish to look, I will make you look.”

Frederick’s eyes water and he blinks a few times, only to find himself staring at a blindingly white projector screen. Before it stands a shadowed figure, towering over him in near darkness. The man takes a step forward and Frederick just barely stops himself from inhaling sharply at what he finds.

The man is wearing an elegantly patterned kimono; he has a cleft lip, his face slightly disfigured. His knuckles are cracked and bloodied. The man looks at him with gleaming eyes, almost appearing to salivate before him. Frederick’s heart drops to his throat as he remembers everything the FBI deduced about this killer and his personality. The Tooth Fairy stands before him entirely unmasked… and Frederick is assailed with the unshakable conviction that he is not going to live to escape this nightmare. 

“Do you understand?” His captor asks after a few minutes. 

Frederick doesn’t understand anything that’s happening. But he has the wherewithal to recognize the answer the man is looking for. “I understand,” he says through gritted teeth. His mouth is growing dry and his stomach is aching. Just how long has he been confined here? 

“Do you understand who I am?” The man insists. 

“I understand,” Frederick repeats. The only thing he is able to adequately understand is the pulsing fear running through his bones, cementing his fate to die a slow death behind these crumbling walls. Frederick can’t even begin to understand or comprehend the man before him. 

“I am no man,” his captor says, as if somehow sensing his thoughts. His voice echoes in Frederick’s ears, igniting goosebumps along his skin. “I am many things, but never a man. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Frederick is too terrified to say anything else. He can’t deviate from his agreement, for fear of losing his life to this behemoth standing before him. Indeed, his captor is inhumanly tall—looming over him with a far too intent gaze. Every rational part of Frederick’s mind is reminding him of the likelihood of his own impending death. 

“Do you see?” His captor demands.

“I see.” Frederick chokes out. The man quickly breaks the distance between them, his large hand crawling up Frederick’s neck and cradling his jaw. It takes an immense amount of effort from Frederick to remain pliant under the killer’s grip. His touch is deceptively light, almost gentle. Frederick’s breaths are shaky and shuddering. He is forced to be frozen in his bonds, as this man’s thumb carve paths along his face. 

“Once upon a time,” his captor murmurs, his voice almost a whisper. Frederick is terrified of this man—terrified of the juxtaposition between his purported cruelty and the delicacy with which he’s touching him now. Frederick nearly chokes on a breath when the man’s thumb glides over his Adam’s apple, before sliding up to his cheek once more. “I would’ve killed to be like you.” Frederick doesn’t need to think about that statement too much to understand the gist of what he’s saying. He can’t imagine the kind of cruelty and harsh treatment this man has been faced with on account of his facial disfigurement. And while that is no valid excuse for the crimes he’s committed, it contextualizes the desperation behind them. The desire to be seen. The need to be perceived. 

“But not anymore.” He continues. Frederick swallows past the acidic feeling in his throat. The man’s hand keeps rising higher, higher, higher. Now, his right hand stops at the edge of Frederick’s cheekbone, his thumb close enough to make Frederick’s eye flutter instinctively. “Bear witness to my Becoming.” 

It happens in a dizzying blur. His captor’s hand twists, his fingers locking into sharpened hooks. Frederick doesn’t even have the time to flinch before the man is digging his hand into his eye socket and yanking, dragging his eye out in a brutal move that rips a horrified scream from Frederick’s lips. He has never been in so much pain before. It feels as if his captor is digging deeper and deeper into his eye socket, ripping at anything and everything. Frederick’s vision goes dark on the left, deep red tears streaking down his face. In a harsh, disgusting snap, his eyeball is firmly ripped out. His severed optic nerve hangs out of the cavern that sits on the left side of his face. Someone has been screaming in a raspy, broken voice—and it takes Frederick several moments to realize the sound is coming from him.

The killer holds Frederick’s eyeball in his hand. Frederick feels nausea bubbling up his chest and into his throat with frightening speed, barely giving him a chance to prepare before he’s lurching forward in vain and promptly throwing up. Within seconds, he’s dry-heaving as saliva drips down his lips. He’s shaking and trembling, as the vision from his right eye almost pulsates in time with his heart. 

Frederick wants nothing more than to sink into unconsciousness. But the killer is shaking him roughly by the shoulders and hitting him every time his eye threatens to slip shut. At some point, Frederick’s exhaustion is temporarily at bay. “I want you to repeat after me, Frederick,” his captor demands, a camera in hand as he stares at him. “You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

Frederick can hardly respond. He manages a jerky nod and the man hums, starting his camera and giving him the words to say. Frederick is horribly delirious, the words falling to mush on his tongue. He’s slurring through the blood in his mouth and what he’s saying holds absolutely no meaning to him. 

His captor is cruel and merciful in the same breath, for once Frederick truly starts to lose the battle against unconsciousness, he is freed from his bonds and led to collapse on the floor. His cheek meets the scratchy carpet and he blinks tears from his uninjured eye, the man before him morphing and swirling in darkness. 

A wet wipe is rubbed harshly over his face, roving over his cheekbones and following the path the killer  had made with his fingers only moments ago. Frederick lets out a pained whimper and the pressure stops, replaced with an achingly tender swipe along his skin that still seems to hurt. His mind is buzzing, a dull hum that refuses to leave him in solitude. As much as he tries to stay awake and aware of his surroundings, the pain ripping through his face is enough to drag him into the shadows once more. 

He does not wake as he is bound to a wheelchair and thrown into the back of a van. Frederick does not wake, even during the horribly bumpy car ride that ensues. If he were able to pull himself from the unseeing void, he would recognize the fate that awaits him. But he is unknowing of the horrors that have not yet ended. 

Frederick is only broken from his slumber by the harsh screeching of the van arriving at its final destination. He blinks and the doors slide open, revealing his captor standing outside with a mask secured over his face and gloves covering his hands. Frederick can discern little of the environment around him, save for the inky black night devoid of stars. The man then steps into the back of the van and rolls Frederick out onto the pavement.  

“A mortal cannot witness the transformation of a god without dying,” he remarks, his hands gripping the handles of the wheelchair. Frederick desperately tries to escape, despite knowing it’s no use. His vision is still adjusting to the loss of his left eye; he’s exhausted; and the ropes binding his ankles and wrists are rather tight. The killer seems to know this, as a strange sort of smile rises on his lips. “This has always been your fate.”

It is only then that Frederick notices the red gasoline canister he’s holding. Even through his exhaustion, his mind rapidly connects the canister to the box of matches poking out of the killer’s pocket. The Tooth Fairy is going to burn him alive. Frederick begins to writhe and squirm as his adrenaline spikes, but his struggling is futile. There is nothing human in the monster’s face as he upturns the canister, coating Frederick in gasoline. Frederick is nearly hyperventilating now, as flashes of significant moments in his life come to mind. 

He stares up into the eyes of his captor, searching for a hint of humanity to appeal to. But there is only an unfeeling abyss. Terrified, Frederick watches in mute horror as the Tooth Fairy circles around him and stops behind him. He hears the telltale sound of a match being lit; a searing warmth greets the side of his face, before a match crawls down his shirt and his entire body is consumed with flames. At some point, Frederick is shoved forwards—sending the wheelchair careening down an incline with increasing speed. He screams until his voice dies in his chest. Fire paints his tunneled vision a remarkable orange-red, with the air around him flickering and waving with the sudden heat. His last breath ripped from his chest, Frederick Chilton slumps back in the wheelchair and surrenders to the relentless flames.

warnings: gore involving eyeballs/eye sockets & ensuing blindness; kidnapping and captivity.

endnotes: Did I have to make that so homoerotic? No. Do I regret it? Also no.

Wow. I really made Frederick go through it. *Sigh.* I love hurting characters I like.

anyways, thanks for reading! <3

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[ghulehthezombiequeen]

lost in yesterday - kylo ren x male reader

yeehaw gays in space 🤠 happy pride month folks

warnings/things to note: suggestive but no smut, male reader, hints of reader's unstable mental health, uhh not really canon timeline but it's fineee

this is also part one of 2 ( call out my name )

reqs open (link goes to req boundaries)

masterlist.

word count: 1,831

After bullshitting your way through life, you finally managed to get caught in the crossfire between the First Order and the Resistance, which was definitely not good as you've been in some pretty hot water with both sides.

Currently, you found yourself strapped to an interrogation bed in the Supreme Leader Kylo Ren's ship. He stood menacingly above you, wanting to instill fear into your defiant being.

"I won't ask again," his deep voice pulls you back to the present. "Are you a member of the Resistance?"

In actuality you weren't, you were just another smuggler following the footsteps of the great ones before you. But you knew you'd probably be sent to death row within the hour if you said that. So, you did what you did best.

"Does a Wookie shit in the woods?" You grunted in reply, earning an ice-cold glare from Kylo. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back as he pulled on it roughly.

"I suggest you cooperate, unless you want things to get more painful than necessary," he warned over your groan of pain. Your head was already throbbing from the stormtroopers' beatings and lack of hydration, and it only grew the tighter he held your hair. You licked your lips and panted heavily.

"Mmh, don't tug any harder or I might just come."

Kylo rolled his eyes at your cheeky response.

"Quite the smart mouth you have there," he replied, gripping your hair even tighter. He leaned down slightly, his face inches away from yours.

"Are you trying to provoke me?"

You whimpered, your mouth turning agape and almost twisting in a half-smirk. "A-Ahh, I wasn't kidding..."

Kylo's expression darkened almost instantly as he pulled your hair even tighter, your back arching as you let out a pained gasp. He leaned in closer, his mouth just millimeters away from your ear.

"Watch yourself," he whispered, his voice a low, intimidating growl. "I could easily break you if I wanted to."

"Kinky!~" You grunted, your shit-eating grin never leaving even though your heart was pounding.

Kylo's eyes narrowed as a flicker of irritation flashed across his face. He released your hair and stepped away from you, his arms crossing over his broad chest as your head slumped.

"You really don't know when to shut up, do you?" he asked, annoyance dripping from his voice. "I could have you tortured for days for your smart mouth."

You took this short moment of respite to catch your breath before giggling softly. Maybe you were losing your mind, but he just looked too funny in that last moment.

His eyebrow raised in curiosity as he heard your soft giggles. He stepped forward again, his hand reaching out to tuck your bangs behind your ear.

"What's so funny?" he asked, his tone still edged with irritation.

"You're- you're trying so hard to get me all scared for my life and whatnot," you paused to chuckle some more, your head lowering again to hide your manic smile. "When really, I don't give two shits about it! I have nothing to give you and nothing to lose!"

Kylo's eyes widened in surprise at your boldness. He wasn't used to someone being so unflinchingly fearless in his presence, especially someone who was strapped down like a prisoner.

"You think you're invincible, do you?" he questioned, his tone now holding a hint of fascination. "You don't care if I hurt you? You don't care if I break you?"

"Nah," you shook your head, lifting it to show him just how unafraid you were. His forehead wrinkled as he observed it. He just couldn't fathom how someone could be so carefree in such a dire situation. He walked around the bed, stopping next to you and looking down at your bound form.

"You're either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish," he stated, his eyes studying your face intently as you shrugged.

"I get that exact statement more than I do credits," you chuckled under your breath.

Kylo scoffed in disbelief. He ran a hand through his dark raven hair, shaking his head slightly. "You're unlike anyone I've ever interrogated before," he admitted.

"The others all break eventually, begging for mercy. But you…" he trailed off, his gaze roaming over your face again.

You shook your head, your smile never leaving your face as you held his gaze. "I exist out of spite. And let me tell you, it is glorious."

Kylo chuckled darkly at your snarky comment. He placed a hand on the bed next to your hip, leaning down to get closer to your face. "Spite, huh?" he repeated, his gaze locked with yours.

"You're a walking contradiction, you know that? Defiant and yet… somewhat amusing."

"That's what gives me so much power, darling," you winked.

"Oh, but... not physical, of course," you added, tugging at the restraints with a soft chuckle. "No, I'm talking mental power. You see, I just so happened to have found the cheat codes to the entire kriffing galaxy, and I am winning."

His eyes widened in amusement at your words. He chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "So, you think you've found the secret to life, huh?" he said, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "You're tied down to my interrogation slab and have literally no power, but somehow, you're winning?"

Your eyebrow raised, "well, you haven't exactly broken me yet now, have you?"

Kylo's jaw clenched as your smirk hit a nerve. He couldn't deny that you were right, but he wasn't about to admit it out loud.

"I'll break you, eventually," he warned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I've broken countless others before. You're no different."

"Mhm," you replied sarcastically. "Just don't go crying back to Daddy when we don't work out, okay?"

His eyes widened in shock, his irritation growing by the second as he clenched his fists to control it from flying right into your face. He stepped closer, towering over you as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Don't push your luck, smart mouth," he practically growled. "I have ways to make you regret ever being born."

"Oh, honey," you laughed, shaking your head. "You're going to have to try much harder, I already regret it every waking day!"

Kylo's patience reached its breaking point. He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.

"You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?" he demanded, anger lacing his words. "You think this is all a game, don't you? You think you can just taunt and tease me, and I'll just let you go?"

"Oh, no- I don't plan on leaving. No, no, you're really a great host," you answered, your tone laced with sarcasm and a smirk.

His cold eyes darkened with anger, his grip on your jaw becoming tighter. He gritted his teeth, struggling to keep his temper in check.

"Oh, you think you're real cute, don't you?" he snarled. "You think your sarcastic comments and smirks are going to save you, but let me tell you something..."

He leaned in closer, his face inches away from yours.

"I can make your life a living hell if I want to. I can make you beg for death, and I won't hesitate to do it. So watch yourself, smartass."

You leaned your head closer as well, your lips barely hovering each other's. "I already beg the Maker for my death, and every day I wake is a living hell," you whispered into his mouth. "So you're going to have to try so much harder if you want to break me."

The Supreme Leader's breath caught in his throat as you leaned closer, your lips dangerously close to touching his. He could feel your hot breath on his face, sending a strange wave of feelings through him. He hadn't been this close to someone, let alone a prisoner, in a very long time.

He swallowed hard, his expression faltering for just a moment before he regained his composure. He released your jaw, backing away slightly as he composed himself.

"You're nothing but a walking contradiction," he grumbled, his voice now tinged with something other than irritation.

"Like I said," you shrugged while returning to your resting position. "I exist out of spite."

Kylo rubbed a hand over his face, his frustration slowly turning into fascination. You were unlike anyone he had ever met before. Most prisoners would be quivering in fear, doing everything they could to please him in hopes of being spared. But you were different. You were fearless, taunting and teasing him, seemingly unintimidated by his presence or power.

He couldn't understand it. Why weren't you afraid? Why weren't you begging for mercy? Instead, you were… smiling?

he scoffed and leaned against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he observed you. His mind raced with questions and curiosity.

"Why aren't you afraid?" he finally spoke up, his voice calmer now but still laced with intrigue. "Most prisoners beg and plea for mercy, but you… you act like this is all some kind of game. Like you're enjoying this."

You leaned towards him as close as you could within your restraints, remaining firm eye contact.

"I'm proving that you're not as powerful as you promote yourself to be," you stated simply, your voice low and finally serious.

This earned another raised eyebrow at your response, leaving him somewhat impressed by your unwavering confidence.

"And you think this is the way to prove it?" he questioned, a hint of amusement in his voice. "By being snarky and defiant? Good luck with that. I've dealt with plenty like you before."

"But no one is just like me, now are they?" you smiled, leaning back again.

Kylo studied you closely, his gaze roaming over your calm, confident form. He couldn't deny that there was something different about you. You seemed untouchable, almost completely unbothered by the dangerous situation you were in.

He pushed himself off the wall, his footsteps echoing through the room as he walked over to the edge of the bed. He leaned down, his face now just inches away from yours.

"You're either recklessly brave, or incredibly stupid," he stated, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You already said that, but thank you, sweetheart," you teased, giggling again as you watched him suddenly turn to leave in fury. "Hey. Same time next week?"

This caused him to freeze in his tracks, his eyebrow twitching in irritation. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he shot you a glare.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he snapped, his voice a mix of annoyance and something else. Without another word, he pushed past the doors and made his way down the corridor, his mind replaying the interaction again and again.

Your giggles died down, and you had to bite your lip to hide your pained sobs slipping through them. No, you had to be strong. You had to live, to spite the galaxy.

[irishmammonagenda]

CATHOLIC MC WHO GETS SENT INTO HELL?! NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!! (part two)

introduction, part one, part two (you are here), part three

Warnings: None? Mentions of religion (obviously) and GN but AFAB MC,Mammon being an idiot, and me not being able to type irish accents out phonetically.

The sound of the council room door beckons the brothers to look toward it, Diavolo’s gaze stays upon the litte human in front of him. How interesting! This was a rare insight into human world culture, he couldn’t look away!

Barbatos stands at the doorway, explaining that Simeon was helping Solomon with a spell and he would be in the student council room the moment it was safe to walk away from the cauldron.

Diavolo nods, looking back to MC, who is currently praying. (surprise surprise) Well Simeon would be here soon!

.

.

.

Simeon arrives by the door with Solomon and Luke in tow, his calmed smile slightly strained as he asks what exactly the problem is.

"What the problem is?! This!" Mammon says, or rather, shouts. "This right 'ere is the problem!" He points towards MC and Simeon's gorgeous blue eyes widen, just a little.

Hearing a gasp from Luke, he immediately turns around, concern for the young angel quickly vanishes when he sees the stars in the young boy's eyes.

Simeon nods, so the young angel felt it too. The aura was pure..someone had been praying.

That someone must be the young human on their knees. Simeon chuckled, it was an adorable sight.

“MC was it?” he asks gently, making sure to shove on his halo before the human looked up, immediately, they ceased, their tense posture relaxing.

“Y-yeah.” MC nods, Simeon can see the relief on their face. What an adorable human, Diavolo seems to agree as he coos softly and tries to cover it up.

Simeon was doing just fine in calming the little thing down, before, like usual, the brothers had to be chaotic.

“So MC, are ya normal now”

Simeon swears to Michael he is going to glare somewhat meanly at Mammon.

Thats all it takes to send MC back into panic, except this time they’re more of a logical approach and…

…bless their bottle of riverrock water.

…Making it holy water.

…And then chucking it at Mammon….

…and missing…

(moreso Mammom dived to the ground Rocky Style so it hit Asmo)

..the champagne haired demon screeches like all nine cricles of hell just went up in flames AGAIN.

Its a bit of an overreaction seeing as Asmodeus is one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom so Holy Water is more like a dull bee sting.

Lucifer sighs. Simeon tenses. Solomon is fucking cackling.

All the while MC stares at their hands, “…I can make Holy Water….Im not a priest…” they look down at their very much female school uniform “or a biological male…”

The confusion, thankfully, is what allows Solomon to swoop in like the housefly he is and take the bottle of Holy Water from the clearly dazed human.

This is an opening that Diavolo exploits. “So MC, we truly mean you no harm…! I’m Lord Diavolo, Prince of the Devildom and Acting Ruler! You’re here as an exchange student for a year as we chose you!” He says cheerfully, careful eyes watching MCs reaction.

“What.The.Fuck.” MC says, more to theirself than anyone else.

“We sent you an email.” Barbatos adds in gracefully.

“Oh. Must be in my spam folder. Also who checks their email.” MC looks around the room calmly. “So who are these emos?”

The black haired man from before steps forward a devilish smirk on his devilishly handsome face, “I’m Lucifer, the eldest brother and the Avatar of Pride.”

“Gay.” MC then turns to the Irish One who’s suprisingly not paler than milk (the Irish don’t exist)

“I’m the Great Mammon! Avatar of Greed…don't be messin’ wi’ me human.”

MC nods shakily, making a clear note to ask later if he has an Autism diagnosis.

Speaking of an Autism diagnosis, the third born introduces himself quietly before hiding into his game again.

The introductions go so on and so forth until MC stares at Lucifer, their head tilted like a dog not understanding something.

"…Pride, Greed, Envy, Wrath, Lust, and Gluttony…Theres supposed to be 7 deadly sins. Where's Sloth?"

shit.