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gaybroons · 8 hours

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The devastating difference between how much time it takes to write something vs how fast people read it lol

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gaybroons · 11 hours

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does it ever drive you crazy...

#I’m sobbing #SOBBING #charlie mcavoy #matt grzelcyk #brandon carlo #boston bruins

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gaybroons · 21 hours

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a little marcheron treat for your Tuesday morning c:

The sun no longer warmed.

It had been a gorgeous fall day, with clear blue skies and sunshine that made the air feel a good few degrees warmer than it was. But now the sun sat low among the trees, its light as pale and golden as the dying leafs they held, and the chill made itself known.

“Remember the first time we were here,” Brad asked, “just the two of us?”

Somewhere around Arlington Street Patrice had linked their arms together and now they walked through the Common, sharing one breath.

Patrice let out a chuckle.

“You mean the time I had to come fetch your drunk ass and haul it home? I’m surprised you remember it.”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” Brad protested.

“You were passed out under a tree.”

“I was resting my eyes!”

“Uh-huh. You know it took me half an hour just to find you because when I asked where you were, you said–”

The memory was well-worn in Brad’s mind, a stalwart feature of his ‘isn’t Patrice Bergeron the most amazing human being to walk the earth?’ reel he revisited every time he was drunk, high on painkillers or otherwise unable to sleep, but they rarely brought it up, out of consideration for what shreds remained of Brad’s dignity. And still they finished the sentence in tandem, bursting into giggles as they did–

“I’m by a tree!”

He had really said that. He looked down as they laughed. The soles of his feet knew this path, having walked it more times than he could count. His skin knew this air, its biting cold, and his eyes every inch, every plane and valley of Patrice’s beautiful face – the exact way the evening light caught in his brown eyes, his stubble, his royal brow, his eyelashes. These trees around them, the grass and the hot dog stands. The three of them – he and Boston and Patrice – were so intertwined, his bones said one could not exist without the others.

There was, of course, no use in dwelling on any of that. That was not how the world worked.

He smiled.

“I was so sure you were going to snitch on me.”

Patrice shook his head, like the thought was abhorrent to him even now.

Had he done so – and arguably he should have done so – they would have sent Brad down immediately and thought long and hard before calling him up again the next season. But instead, Patrice had taken him back to his own place, tucked him into bed, and the next morning delivered the speech on professionalism and making the right decisions himself. And when they did send Brad down a couple of games later for unrelated reasons, he’d given Brad the firmest hug. Looked him in the eye and said– ‘you will be back’ half a statement of absolute faith and half order.

You will be back.

Come back.

“I never did ask.” Patrice’s lovely voice broke Brad out of his reverie. “Why did you get so drunk that night?”

Brad laughed, not expecting the question. He quickly tried to think of a lie but he had given himself away; Patrice’s inquisitive gaze was now boring into him. Unfortunately at this point Patrice also knew every expression that flitted through his face.

So, out with it, then. The truth.

“Because you were too gorgeous.”

“Oh, come off it,” Patrice huffed and Brad filed his fond indignation away for safekeeping, too.

“No man, I’m dead serious.”

“You got smashed out of your mind, potentially risked a whole NHL career, because I was too gorgeous?”

“Yep.”

“Dude, even for you– God, Marchy.”

He was laughing though, in these little halting bursts, and Brad liked that so he laughed along with him.

To their left a couple were packing away their picnic. They chattered away as they folded the blanket and placed the last of the plastic plates back into the picnic basket. They were in their early twenties. They were clearly in love. This was probably going to be the last picnic of the year; the air would grow colder and colder, scarves would come out, then snow boots, and the ground they now sat on would be blanketed in a thick layer of ice and snow, before it all melted again and spring touched the blades of grass, the tips of tree branches, with its gentle breeze, bringing them back to life.

Patrice stopped them both and turned to Brad, a terrible, helpless look in his eyes.

Perhaps he had figured out the part of the explanation Brad didn’t give – the gay panic and the certainty he felt in his gut that all of the effort he put in to get to where he was would go down the drain in a single breath because surely any one person would see the way he looked at Patrice and clock him – or perhaps he too was thinking of the spring or of the time they wasted.

Brad put his hand on Patrice’s cheek. None of them would do.

“Let’s just enjoy this moment,” he said quietly.

Patrice nodded, forcing a smile onto his face, brave and determined as always. Then he leaned in to kiss Brad and Brad went gladly, meeting him halfway.

The way his lips felt against Brad’s lips, his breath against Brad’s skin, his warmth, his hands as they pressed against his back–

They were so new and they were already a part of him, rooting him in place, whispering–

#crying #I’m cradling this thing so gently in my hands #marcheron #hrpf

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gaybroons · 1 day

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cmd ginger momence

#aaaa!!!#pretty!!!!#connor mcdavid #ginger Connor

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gaybroons · 2 days

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I'm done

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gaybroons · 2 days

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My favorite answers from Taylor's latest survey ...

CCM

Sidney Crosby fishing

Which Penguins player could survive on a desert island?

Reilly Smith: I wouldn't say any of us!

P.O Joseph: Not Ned! I'm going to say Gravy. He's from the Maritimes, I feel like they know a little about the outdoors is my guess.

Lars Eller: Sid. He seems to be going different ways about things, about a lot of things. He doesn't rely too much on new technology, let's just say that.

Jake Guentzel: Sid. He's just an outdoorsman, that's kind of his vibe. I'm sure he could find something to live off of.

Chad Ruhwedel: Sid or Carts, or myself. They seem like they could handle themselves in a tough situation. I think I would do OK.

Kris Letang: Sid, he lives in the middle of the woods.

Erik Karlsson: Sid. I just feel like he would be very creative and would probably figure out a way to sustain himself for as long as he needed.

Marcus Pettersson: Raks is a good fisherman, but the problem is he's alone on that island. He doesn't touch the fish, he hates touching the fish. He doesn't do it. So it'd be a problem, he'd need somebody with him.

Rickard Rakell: I think Sid would do pretty well. I feel like he lives out in nowhere over the summer.

Sidney Crosby: I think I'd say Ricky (Rakell). He's pretty chill, I think he's got some survival instincts. He's got the tools.

Tristan Jarry: Tanger. He'd find someone to come pick him up.

#AGSJLSHAG #did he lie tho 😭#pittsburgh penguins

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gaybroons · 2 days

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Leafs discourse is literally just the barbie monologue. Like if they don't show emotion they don't care but if they dare exhibit any frustration they're whiny children. They have to stand up for themselves and play with grit otherwise they're soft but they can't be too aggressive or you're a selfish liability. Have to be confident, but not cocky, play nice with the media even when being asked the most invasive questions lest you be labeled undeserving and rude etc etc

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gaybroons · 2 days

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*reads a gorgeous line in a fanfic* oh my god. how is this possible. how did they even fucking think of this. the symbolism is spot on. the planets are fucking aligned, everything is one and all and the world is complete, my soul is at peace

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gaybroons · 3 days

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