#halfabreath

[gothlesbianlardo]

MY BINGO

Rairpair Fic

Two Weeks by justlikeswitchblades

Rated: T

Pairing: Bitty/Ransom

one of the first fics that made me fall in love with bittyrans and it’s super cozy and sweet 🥰

Introduced You To A New Author

NHL!Bitty AU by @a-very-gay-disaster

Rated: N/A to E

Pairing: Bitty/Jack

nhl bitty is one of my favorite au’s of all time and sidney has become one of my favorite writers since I read this series

Character Study

How’s The Weather Up There by @goldasschains

Rated: T

Pairing: Bitty/Jack

a very fun au where bitty is tall and the thought of him being taller than jack is really cute and silly

Inspired You To Write

Reel Against Your Body’s Borders by halfabreath

Rated: G

Pairing: Bitty/Ransom

a favorite bittyrans fic of mine that inspired me to want to write bittyrans but also the pairing in general got me to discover ranzimbits especially because of bitty’s tweets and how much chemistry there is between the three of them

Best Worldbuilding

The State Of Being Alive by thitherstarling

Rated: T

Pairing: Ransom/Holster

idk if it counts as worldbuilding but the main plot involves ransom being drawn to holster playing a piano they found at a park and he comes to a realization that he is falling for his best friend

MORE FIC RECS

Genfic (No Ships)

A Little Loving In Between by @unacaritafeliz

Rated: G

Pairing: None

my favorite nursey-centric fic that takes place during his birthday throughout the years from childhood to post samwell

It’s Canon To You

Glow by @ivecarvedawoodenheart

Rated: T

Pairing: Ransom/Holster

honestly every holsom fic by this writer is canon to me 🥺

Underrated Fic

Amaranth by mnemosymnal

Rated: T

Pairing: Lardo/Camilla

idk if it’s underrated but every sapphic check please fic I’ve liked are underrated to me. but anyway this is the most beautifully written lardo/camilla fics I’ve ever read!

Main Character Is The Side Character

Ease Your Tension by @ivecarvedawoodenheart

Rated: T

Pairing: Ransom/Jack

so as you may know I am a big fan of any pairing within ranzimbits, and this jackrans fic is one of my favorites.

Short Fic (Under 1k)

Samwell Bridge, 11:11pm by @cricketnationrise

Rated: T

Pairing: Lardo/Camilla

I submitted this lardo/camilla prompt to cricket and I love it very much! 💕

Bookmarked Recently

Not What It Looks Like by halfdesertedstreets

Rated: T

Pairing: Bitty/Jack/Kent

in general I love everything this person writes but this fic may have given me a big soft spot for pb&j

You Weren’t Sure You’d Enjoy It But Really Did

I Watched It Begin Again by jacksbits

Rated: E

Pairing: Bitty/Jack/Kent

another pb&j fic that may or may not have made me like them. I also may have gotten emotional when rereading this fic.

Free

Snow Day by @a-very-gay-disaster

Rated: G

Pairing: Bitty/Ransom/Jack

I know this is the only ranzimbits fic that exists but it is the best fic in the world and I love them so much!

[ariesisms]

The Polycule Spider Hierarchy is so complex…………Shitty is adamant they shouldn’t be harms but refuses to touch them, Lardo will trap them under a glass and then leave a note and disappear, Holster always ALWAYS tries to get permission to use a lighter and a can of hairspray to make a blowtorch and has to be talked down by Ransom who is also terrified of spiders but doesn’t want them to burn so it’s just two giant ass men standing on chairs arguing about spider rights and arson. Bitty has absolutely travelled from Providence to Boston to save Haus 2.0 from a wolf spider

YEAH EXACTLY like i think shitty and lardo will inevitably get spiders if jack and bitty are away and ransom and holster are yelling at them to do so, but if it's just them they'll see a giant spider, name her, and be like wow i love our new roommate she's doing amazing work. also jack is like (heavy sigh) yeah ill get the spider but secretly he's crying on the inside wishing bitty was home. holster is actually sometimes fine with spiders he just isn't allowed to kill them anymore because yeah he's weird and intense about it

[shitty-check-please-aus]

Nailed It au (but maybe it’s science? People do science?) where Ransom is the incredibly kind hilarious gorgeous encouraging host and holster is the world’s sexiest PA who’ll do anything For The Bit

This is..... extremely good

Is Bitty the knowledgeable pastry chef who explains to contestants what they did wrong?

[samwell-sweethearts]

@halfabreath is such a talented writer and basically the best at showing Holsom

signed @thewritingninja

[showsonface]

Hey I just wanted to say that I love love love it whenever you draw Holster! Honestly the sheer manic energy of the Sweet Caroline comic was PERFECT. Thanks for making hilarious, sweet art!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! holster is my fave

i feel like its important to tell u that i have an oldies playlist for whenever me & my college friends drive anywhere, & everyone in the car engages in unholy, top-of-our-lungs-vocal-cord-scarring SCREECHING of the BAH BAH BAH whenever the chorus hits

we dont sing any other parts of the song, just that

[tater-mashkov]

God bless u both I will add them now

[omgpieplease]

halfabreath replied to your post “Plan for tonight: -Jam on a commish for @lostinanimage (second set of...”

Just in time for them to take the hobbits to Isengard

E X A C T L Y. 

[bittysvalentines]

Love's Light Wings

To: @halfabreath <3

From: @ivecarvedawoodenheart

You mentioned how you liked aus, so I tried my best at one :) I hope you like it! 

This is teen and up, for implied underage drinking. 

Happy belated Valentine’s Day!!!

________________________

It is times like this that Holster thinks the earth in his limbs is holding him back. Ransom laughs again, airy and so happy, and he’s never felt more stuck to the ground than he is now.

“You wanna explain that one to Jack?” Ransom says. His eyes are crinkled in that smile that says he’s truly amused. Holster wonders if he knows he’s floating two inches off the ground.

“You can tell him,” Holster says. His eyes are even with Ransom’s ears. “It’s better from you.”

They’ve reached the Haus now. Ransom shakes his head, still smiling, and flicks his wrist at the front door. A breeze curling past Holster’s cheek wraps around the handle and gently drifts it open.

Or that’s what Ransom said it did when they first met. The year after — the night they got dibs and moved into the attic — they were awake until the sun first cracked the horizon, Ransom explaining the dance of the currents with flowing hand gestures Holster was too tired to see clearly. He’d stayed up though. It was the first time they’d slept in the same bed.

In the morning, he’d had to concentrate harder than he’d ever had to in order to hold in an earthquake. He hadn’t felt this way since the day he found his brother’s porn file on his computer; he’d been fourteen, and the tremor that split the earth uprooted a tree into their power line.

Holster’s better about holding it in now. He’d only split the sidewalk in front of Faber once.

He reaches out now for Ransom’s elbow, gently tugging him back to the ground. Ransom throws him a grateful look. They step through the door and Holster waits for Ransom to speak; he knows what he’s going to say.

“Hadn’t realized,” he says. And then he adds, like always, “You’re so good at anchoring me.”

“You make me lighter,” Holster says back, like always. And that’d be all of it, if he didn’t love him, if Ransom knew.

But he does and Ransom doesn’t know so Holster stands and laughs when Ransom tells Jack about the Chads setting their house on fire, on purpose, to practice for their upcoming games and how the dean hadn’t been at all pleased to see fireballs whipping back and forth the lawn.

____________

Living with so many different elements in one Haus is a lot on Holster’s nerves. Most of the time, when he’s not pretending to not be in love with Ransom, he’s on the hammock with Lardo in the backyard. She’s better at hiding it, but he knows it gets to her too.

Lardo stomps her foot and jerks her chin upward and a wall of clay grows steadily out of the ground. Holster does the same, and soon they have a makeshift tent burying the hammock in shade. It’s a little wet, smells a little crisply earthen. It’s perfect.

“Dex and Nursey?” Lardo asks, curling against his side. He shifts to adjust for her and the hammock swings just enough to be comfortable.

He hums. “I don’t get it,” he says. He twists his fingers lazily; below them, a thin column of earth stretches up and starts massaging the knot just below his shoulder blade.

Lardo asks, “Don’t get what,” in a way that suggests she knows what he’s about to say. She probably does. They’ve had this talk before.

“They’re supposed to be good d-men, they’re opposites, so why—?” Holster breaks off in a sigh that borders on a yawn.

“Get me one,” Lardo says. He doesn’t say anything. He can tell without looking that she rolls her eyes before saying, “Earth-massager. Get me one.”

Holster drums the fingers of his other hand in the air and smiles when she sighs at the pressure.

“Better,” she says. There’s a silence in which he thinks she’s weighing something. “Shitty’s been trying to figure out where he wants to go next year.”

“Thought he decided on Harvard?”

“Mm. Me too. But he’s not sure, it’s his parents’ idea, and you know what he says about following his parents’ ideas.”

“‘Only dead fish go with the flow,’ right,” Holster says. He closes his eyes.

He’d made one of these earth tents for Ransom once. For Canada’s independence day. There’s a park nearly halfway between Buffalo and Toronto with the exact curling slide Holster always swears was in his middle school playground, and that Ransom always says was in every middle school playground everywhere. They’d climbed to the top of the play structure and everything was so small and Holster wanted to kiss Ransom so badly he nearly caused a cave-in.

Ransom had wanted to see what it was like inside one of them and Holster was, as always, so sunk for him that he made one. Ransom had taken one breath inside before he’d started panicking.

Earth and air don’t always balance, his mom said when he’d told her. She’d meant it romantically, but it works for hockey too. There’s a give and take that opposing elements are supposed to have with each other that the frogs lack.

“Maybe they’re too different,” Holster says now.

He feels rather than sees Lardo yawn at him. “Shitty and his ‘rents?”

“Well. Yeah,” he says. He yawns. Lardo elbows him and this time he looks and she’s so pleased with herself he sticks his tongue out. “Dex and Nursey. Water and fire don’t always balance, sometimes they make each other worse.”

“Maybe,” Lardo says. He doesn’t like how she seems to know what he’s not saying. Water and fire is an easy parallel with earth and air.

She kicks the wall and they swing, swing, swing for a long time.

____________

Another breeze slides cool hands down Holster’s face. He sucks in his lip, smoothing out the page of his econ book again, and tries not to sound like a dick when he says, “Hey, Rans?”

Ransom doesn’t turn around. Holster sighs and pushes and the clay ball Ransom has on his desk rocks back and forth slightly. Ransom takes out a headphone as he swivels around in his chair. It’d be a smoother action if the headphones hadn’t caught on the arm of the chair, yanking his head down.

“Ow. What’s up?”

Holster squeezes his eyes shut as another breeze skims his jaw. “Will you stop? Please?”

Ransom frowns. “Stop what,” he says.

“Wind,” Holster says, awkwardly waving a hand around his face. “It keeps touching me.”

“Air tends to do that, Holtzy.”

Holster asks, “Please,” softly.

Ransom nods, still looking confused, but he says, “Sure, bro.”

They turn back to their desks. Holster tries to forget how the air had smelled like Ransom’s cologne, the kind he wears when he hooks up with March. He aims his desk fan straight at himself to blow the smell away but it’s like it’s trapped in the pages of his book right next to asymmetric shock. A part of him thinks it fits there. A small thing affecting him more than Ransom.

Thirty minutes pass and the amount of gusts that ruffle his papers and don’t touch him pricks steadily at the back of his neck and underneath his shoulder blade. Holster shifts in his chair experimentally. The resulting squeak cracks the silence and he winces, but Ransom’s stuck in his music and in his bio slides and Holster’s not sure just yet if it hurts that he doesn’t look up.

There’s a gap between Ransom and his chair. Holster pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales once, quickly, and stands up.

Ransom jumps when Holster pushes down on his shoulder. “You were floating again,” Holster says. The pricking’s moved to his eyes now. “I — sorry, I’ve gotta—”

He practically jumps down the attic stairs before Ransom can say anything more than “Holtz?”

____________

Jack and Bitty both stare at him when he bursts into the kitchen. He ignores them in favor of the blueberry crumble sitting on the counter. Bitty stops him before he can take the whole dish, handing him a metal pie server that’s still just too warm from his fingers. Holster takes it gingerly, then wraps his sleeve around his fingers.

“Sorry,” Bitty says. The way he holds himself, curled inward like he’s burning out, makes Holster feel like dried soil. Crumbly.

Holster deliberately holds the handle with his bare fingers. “Takes a lot more than this to bother me,” he says. Bitty’s smile widens when Holster scoops out an extra large slice of pie. Jack doesn’t move, but the pie server cools a fraction of a degree until Holster really could hold it all day. He mouths a thank you once Bitty turns back to his French homework.

He smashes the pie in a minute exactly. “Thanks, Bits,” he says, making Bitty and Jack subtly lean back from the resulting spray of crumbs.

“Any time, honey,” Bitty tells him warmly. Bitty meets Jack’s eyes and they have a conversation without words that doesn’t last long enough for Holster to wonder at. “Thought you might need it.”

The prickle at his neck starts up again. “Why would you—”

Bitty just stares at him, unimpressed. Jack says, “We’re not blind, Birkholtz.”

“What do you. What,” Holster says, before the prickle travels up his spinal column to the base of his skull. He jams the palm of his hands against his eyes.

Cool fingers press the back of his neck. Holster lurches into a seat at the table and bows his head, letting Jack quietly ease the knots away. Warm hands slide up and down his back now, tap lightly along his shoulders. There’s an occasional hiss of steam when Jack and Bitty bump into each other, but other than the dishwasher laboring away, it’s the only sound in the room.

____________

Most days Holster’s fine but most days he doesn’t wake up to Ransom bobbing against the ceiling in the middle of a wind storm. It takes him half a second to figure out what to say, but even that’s too long; the wind rips the sound from his throat the moment he opens his mouth.

He tries again but the only sound is the air whipping their room into a cyclone and Ransom’s feet against the attic ceiling.

Holster stretches as tall as he can and reaches. His fingers brush the edge of Ransom’s hideous salmon boxers, but the fabric slips easily out of his grasp.

He’s on Ransom’s bunk in an instant, gathering his blankets in both hands, and tossing them over Ransom’s arm. Ransom snatches them when they flap against his ankle, and Holster nearly cries in relief. He tows him in, slowly, steadily. If nothing else, he must be steady.

Ransom tumbles bodily back onto his bed. He’s on Holster’s leg, but Holster can’t bring himself to care just then.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” he whispers. Ransom scootches in closer at the sound of his voice. “I’ll anchor you.”

There’s a pause. “Thank you,” Ransom whispers back. “Thanks.”

____________

They fall asleep with elbows in stomachs and knees uncomfortably under thighs and there’s a drool splotch on Holster’s chest and he knows he snores and must wake Ransom up, but he doesn’t complain.

A breeze caresses Holster’s jaw. When he opens his eyes, he’s alone in the bed.

Rain makes the Haus windows shiver.

There’s another blueberry crumble pie on the counter.

____________

Three weeks after he pulled Ransom down from the ceiling, Ransom passes Holster a puck he should easily catch. It slides between his skates.

“What’s the problem, son?” Hall asks him after practice. There’s a small puddle forming under his skates; after the pucks are all collected, the fire elements relax their hold on their heat. Dex always says it’s to help the zaboni. Everyone else always rolls their eyes.

Hall doesn’t roll his eyes. He keeps his gaze centered on Holster until Holster feels like an excavation site.

“Just an off spell,” he mumbles. He puts pressure on his neck before the discomfort start up again; he really can’t afford to pay to fix the sidewalk again.

“Make sure you take care of that,” is all Hall says. He claps Holster on the shoulder.

Holster says, “I’ll try, Coach.”

____________

It’s so, so unfair how good Ransom looks in their fratty party lighting. Bits and pieces of purple and green flecks bounce off his cheekbones, hiding now and then along the side of his nose and under his collar. Holster thinks he’d quite like to find them.

His empty cup seems to want to collect the light of Ransom’s skin, too. An empty cup, he thinks, he can fix. He dunks the ladle into the tub juice.

“Go easy on that,” Lardo yells to him. He blinks until he realizes she’s wearing glitter; he’d been trying to figure out how she made the lights stay on her like that. “Shitty made it real strong this time. I’m on patrol tonight, I’m not afraid to ground you.”

But Holster’s been grounded his whole life. Tonight he wants to fly, so he tips the cup back and downs it in one.

The party passes in a blur. He thinks Kent Parson might show up, maybe; the air gets cold like it does when Jack’s nervous about a test or something. Last time it affected everyone like this was Parson’s Cup day. Holster thinks icicles lean down from the ceiling but that could just be him leaning down for more juice.

“Think that’s enough,” someone’s voice says in his ear. Beautiful hands take the cup out of his fingers and he reaches for it — he’d just passed the Rockies, he wants to fly a little longer, a little higher — but the beautiful fingers twist and a gust of air sends the cup rattling across the floor. He thinks maybe it rattles. It’s too loud to tell.

The beautiful hands sling his arm over beautiful shoulders. Holster turns his head, and there’s a purple fleck on the beautiful mouth. He kisses it.

“Yeah, definitely bedtime,” the voice says. It becomes Ransom’s voice when they get to the attic.

Ransom gently eases him out of his shoes and jeans and tucks him into his bottom bunk. Holster smiles at him dreamily; there’s a smudge on the corner of his lips.

“Rans,” he says, flopping a hand toward him. Ransom takes it. His eyes look amused. “I flew, Rans. Over the Rockies.”

“You’re drunk, Holster.”

How had he never realized how comfortable his bed is? Holster burrows into the pillows. He says, “Going to Everest next.”

“Get some rest, idiot,” Ransom tells him. Holster closes his eyes when he’s told to. He thinks, maybe, someone kisses his forehead, but then a breeze comes and whisks him off to sleep.

____________

Holster regrets last night as soon as he opens his eyes the next morning.

“Turn off the sun,” he mumbles through a mouthful as heavy as earth.

Ransom’s laugh is a lot closer than Holster thought it would be so he opens his eyes again and then immediately regrets it. He compromises for squinting. Squinting’s safe; there’s a Ransom-shaped blob on a chair by his bed and less light piercing his retinas.

“When the sun wants to turn off,” Ransom says, feeling Holster’s forehead, “she’ll do so on her own.”

“What time is it?”

“Somewhere around one-thirty.”

“Can you—” Holster twiddles his fingers in a way that on some level he knows doesn’t at all resemble air manipulation, but Ransom sends him a subtle stream of cool air anyway. It brushes over his lips. He frowns. “Did I kiss someone last night? It feels like I kissed someone last night.”

Ransom’s hesitation is so slight Holster wouldn’t have caught it had they spent the last three years, forty days being friends, or had he not spent the last three years, thirty-five days being in love with him.

“I did, didn’t I.” Ransom still doesn’t say anything. “Just so long as it wasn’t April, the volleyball team’ll kill me.”

“It was me,” Ransom says now, and now Holster feels like he’s floating next to the ceiling. Apprehension curls up next to his spleen. “Don’t worry though, it’s fine. You were drunk. That’s all that happened.”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” Holster says automatically.

“Holtzy,” Ransom says. There’s a reluctant smile dawning on his face. “You asked Jack if his Ice Town cost him, an ice clown, his town crown. I still have no idea what that means.”

“You still haven’t watched Parks and Rec.”

Ransom says lightly, “There’s been a lot going on.”

“There has.”

A pause. Holster uses it to study Ransom, to look at the dirt smudges still on his face and hands that he must have gotten from carrying him up the stairs. He must’ve sat here all night. Just the idea of it makes Holster clench his hands to avoid an earthquake.

He sits up carefully. “Justin, there’s something I should tell you.”

Ransom doesn’t say anything. Holster’s profoundly grateful for it. It takes him time to speak, he has to build momentum — it’s a shared earth element trait, he supposes; Lardo’s the same way. Rockfalls building to a landslide. These rocks have been falling for longer than three years.

He is going to start small. Something about the way Ransom looks when he asks the wind to work with him, about how it felt when the perfumed gusts of wind kissed his cheek. Maybe the way they connect on the ice, about how the balance each other in the Haus and locker room and buses. How those flecks of light looked darting here and there across his nose.

These are his rocks. These little things that build up his rockslide.

But the rockslide wants to be heard first, so Holster says, “I’m in love with you.” He shuts his eyes.

Ransom doesn’t say anything, but the next wind that comes ghosts over Holster’s mouth like a kiss.

When Holster opens his eyes Ransom traces the path the wind took with his lips.

____________

It is times like this that the Holster thinks the earth in his limbs have weighted him so he’s exactly where he should be. Ransom’s walking an inch off the ground as they step over the newly misshapen sidewalk in front of the Haus, and this time Holster doesn’t pull him down. This time, Holster tugs him in for a kiss, and Ransom lifts him up.

________________________

[checkpleaselibrary]

Bittle Birkholtz Brousins (series) by halfabreath

no archive warnings apply

not rated, general audiences

7 689 words

wip

eric bittle & adam birkholtz, eric bittle/jack zimmermann, adam birkholtz/justin oluransi

When Eric Bittle is 8 years old his Aunt Judy marries a Northeasterner named Jacob Birkholtz and suddenly he’s not the weirdest cousin anymore, it’s this gangly 12 year old named Adam who Did Not Want to move to Georgia and now they’re stuck in the same town together.

Parts 1-3, as they're posted on Tumblr.

[alphacrone]

@halfabreath replied to your post: a concept: there’s definitely a conspiracy theory...

ok but what if it’s a Marauders situation where only one of them is a werewolf and the rest are aggressively supportive

oh u mean maybe in a Universe Like This??

but for real YES aggressive supportive Werewolf Allies are my FUCKING JAM

[teluete]

He makes the decision for the both of them, stretching out his arm until his hand settles on Adam's chest. Adam doesn't move. Justin takes a small step forward and speaks into the hushed space between them.

“I’m going to help because I’ll go crazy if I don’t. I’ll fucking lose it. I need this and you need me and we both need us .”

A Holsom collab with @halfabreath. <3 

If you haven’t read, “Always Halfway to Go” yet, I highly suggest you do. And if you’re like me, you will go yell at them for making you feel feelings you didn’t sign up for.  

[pongpalace]

dahlia + lotus!

dahlia: what time of day/night is best for you to write?

ooooh. hmm. i can be super productive in the mornings when i actually get up to go places, but most of what i post, i write between 10pm and 3am

lotus: how many drafts do you currently have?

shit. 9...ish? 9 plus some half written sentences for pimms draft week, and an outline for what could be a big bang. potentially 

🌺 asks for fanfic writer

[pridetape]

If you're still taking these! Holsom + "With a hoarse voice, under the blankets"

Here ya go!

The song Holster sings at the end is a Yiddish song from the 20′s or 30′s that seemed to have been quite popular, with English covers by the likes of The Andrews Sisters and Ella Fitzgerald. The chorus translates as:

To me, you are lovely, To me, you are charming. To me, you are the only one in the world. To me, you are lovely, To me, you are charming, To me, you are more precious than money.

link to full translation + link to a recording of the song

Holster walked faster as he got closer to the Haus. His phone had died halfway through his first seminar and he hadn’t spoken with Ransom since that morning.

“Hey Bitty, is Rans home yet?” asked Holster as he finally got to the Haus and dumped his backpack on the kitchen table.

“Nope.” Bitty didn’t look up from the pie lattice he was laying. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Oh,” Holster said, failing to keep the disappointment from his voice.

Bitty raised an amused eyebrow as he carefully placed the last strip of dough, and Holster took off before Bitty had the chance to chirp him about it, snagging a fresh cookie off the counter on his way out. He shoved the whole thing in his mouth as he took the stairs three by three to the attic, launching himself into the super-sized bean bag Ransom had bought him last Valentines day.

“Holzty?”

“AHH!!!” Cookie crumbs spewed out of Holster’s mouth. There was a cough and he realized it was coming from beneath a mountain of blankets on the lower bunk. “Ransom? Bitty said you were still out.”

“I never fuckin’ left, bro.” There was movement and a huff as a pillow fell to the floor, then Ransom’s frowning face appeared in a small opening under the blankets.

“Babe, are you okay??” Holster quickly moved to lean over Ransom, stopping himself abruptly two inches away from his boyfriends face, because he loved him but he so did not want to catch whatever bug was making him this sick. “Is it contagious, can I kiss you?”

“No– yes–” Ransom shuddered. “It’s shark week.”

“Oh. OH!” Holster blinked and suddenly realized he was cross eyed from being so close to Ransom. He pulled back and sat on his haunches, wracking his brain to remember what Ransom wanted when his period hit. “Can I get you a Tylenol? Chocolate?”

“I’ve already hit my maximum daily dose,” Ransom said miserably. “And if I eat any more sugar I’m gonna puke.”

Holster’s heart clenched as Ransom contorted his face against a wave of pain. It had been ages since his last cycle, the combination of 20 hours of strenuous hockey a week and bi-monthly testosterone shots having pretty much put an end to that particular hardship.

“Can we just cuddle for a while?” Ransom said feebly once the pain receded.

“Bro, it would be my absolute pleasure,” Holster grinned. “Scooch over.”

It took a minute to arrange the pair of six-foot hockey players and Ransom’s seven blankets on the single bed, but they had practice in this sort of thing. Holster tucked his knees behind his boyfriends and wound an arm around his waist.

“Hey, Adam?”

“Yeah, babe, what is it?”

“Can you sing me that song, the one that goes like, uh,” Ransom hummed a couple bars before petering off in uncertainty.

“Of course.” Holster took a breath to start but was cut off by Ransom grunting in pain again.

“Hey, Adam?” Ransom said on a long exhale.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”

Warmth filled Holster’s chest and he pressed a long kiss to the back of Ransom’s neck. Pulling his boyfriend even closer, he softly started singing.

Bay mir bistu sheyn, Bay mir hos tu heyn, Bay mir bistu eyner oyf der velt. Bay mir bistu git, Bay mir hostu it, Bay mir bistu tayerer fun gelt.

send me a prompt

[chirpingbitty]

halfabreath replied to your post “So last week I hit 1000 followers, which is pretty crazy because...”

Holster and Hanukkah?

@halfabreath So I know very little about Hanukkah, though I’m happy to do some research for it. I’d probably want to get some insight on which elements people think are appropriate to focus on though, like I could add in some pictures which reference the historical elements to the holiday, or would it be better to focus on the SMH team relationships and time of year? Also what are the general feelings on Hanukkah versions of christmas things like cookies or decorations, or I’ve seen actual presents being given during the holiday? Because that’s the sort of images I’ve found so far and I wouldn’t know if that’s the sort of thing people would be looking for.

[showsonface]

Orchard and Cinnamon!

orchard - share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn.

i would like to make at least one new friend.

cinnamon - if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where?

the 80s! but like, with less racism and sexism and homophobia and police violence and

[thebluths]

Somewhere over the rainbow