Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

Gen, M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Luca Haas/Original Male Character(s), Luca Haas & Holmberg & LaPointe & Young

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Troy Barrett, Luca Haas, Shane Hollander, Zane Boodram, Wyatt Hayes, Young (Game Changers), Holmberg (Game Changers), Original Rookies

Additional Tags:

Dumb Hockey Boys, Social Media, Thirst Tweets, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Fluff and Humor, Sexual Humor, i can not stress enough how unserious this entire thing is

Language:

English

Series:

Part 7 of the loser has to fall

Stats:

Published: 2026-08-22 Words: 6,107 Chapters: 1/1

"ilya rozanov let me eat that ass like a fucking sausage mcgrittle"

Summary

HARRIS: Today you’ll be reading thirst tweets about the other.

HOLLANDER: No.

ROZANOV, delighted: Oh! This will be fun.

HOLLANDER: No way.

HOLLANDER stands up.

HOLLANDER: Where’s Barrett? He can do this.

HOLLANDER actively walks off-set.

or, in an unreleased video the ottawa centaur's read out thirst tweets in pairs and they all learn quite a lot they probably shouldn't have known about each other

Notes

luca in this AU: deeply closeted
also luca: i have a chance to flirt with my man on camera? i’m gonna take it

this one deeply goes out to my good close friend clio! clio was the one who suggested the haaland and bellingham valentines day video to me, and that spiralled into the ottawa centaurs reading thirst tweets about themselves.

i'd like to thank every buzzfeed thirst tweet video i've ever watched for inspiring the questions but ones that come to mind are:

hudson and connor's, rhett and link's, anthony mackie's and sebastian stan's, shawn mendes, sam reid and jacob anderson.

thank you to anyone who wrote any of those thirst tweets, they have served me well here because coming up with 24 horny tweets about men when you are a lesbian is a little bit tricky.

SHANE HOLLANDER and ILYA ROZANOV walk into frame. There are two chairs against a white backdrop. HOLLANDER looks mildly nervous and ROZANOV looks delighted.

ROZANOV sits down and claps his hands together excitedly.

ROZANOV: I still see no Swedish candy.

HOLLANDER: What is with you and Swedish candy?

ROZANOV: It’s good. I like it. I became a trending sound on TikTok.

HOLLANDER just looks at him blankly.

ROZANOV: You know what TikTok is.

HOLLANDER still looks confused.

ROZANOV: How do you not know what TikTok is?

HOLLANDER, trying really hard to think: Like… the Kesha song?

ROZANOV: Oh my God, Shane, you are so boring.

ARTEMY LEVIN and LUCA HAAS are already sitting on the chairs. 

HAAS: I just think that you need to get a curved stick, your aim is terrible—

LEVIN: I’m a defenseman, I don’t score.

HAAS: Not with the way the league is currently going, defensemen are just slowly morphing into a different type of forward, especially with how much faster the game is getting.

HARRIS: Uh… guys.

HAAS and LEVIN ignore him entirely.

LEVIN: Well, I’d say you need to get literally any defensive capabilities but I didn’t realise we were just saying issues with the other’s game.

HAAS, frowning: I’m a forward… that’s not my job.

LEVIN: I’ll kill you.

HARRIS: Arty. Luca.

LEVIN: Yeah?

HARRIS: We’re trying to film.

LEVIN: Oh, did we start, I’m sorry. What are we doing today?

HARRIS off screen sighs deeply.

RHYS HOLMBERG and WESLEY YOUNG skip onto set without a care in the world. Both are in full Ottawa Centaur’s merch, it is unclear if they actually own any other clothes based on prior media they’ve done

YOUNG: What weird shit are they gonna make us do this time?

HOLMBERG: Hopefully Harris doesn’t ask us to sign embarrassing photos of us.

YOUNG: I’m sure we’ll humiliate ourselves in a way that we will not be able to erase from the internet.

HARRIS: It’s not that bad.

HOLMBERG and YOUNG both look unsure.

The camera zooms out to reveal a crew readjusting the lights. HAYES and BOOD sit next to each other scrolling on their phones without a care in the world, occasionally tilting their phone to the other to show the other something.

BOOD reaches over and readjusts some of HAYES’s hair. HAYES smiles at him brightly, they both turn back to keep scrolling on their phone. HAYES immediately messes up his own hair so it looks exactly the same to how BOOD fixed it.

BOOD looks up from his phone at HAYES’s hair. Pauses for a second and looks at the camera like he’s in an episode of The Office.

HARRIS: Today you’ll be reading thirst tweets about the other.

HOLLANDER: No.

ROZANOV, delighted: Oh! This will be fun.

HOLLANDER: No way. 

HOLLANDER stands up.

HOLLANDER: Where’s Barrett? He can do this.

ROZANOV: Shane!

HOLLANDER actively walks off-set. 

ROZANOV looks at the camera, he looks a bit like a wet puppy.

[CUT]

TROY BARRETT is now sitting next to ROZANOV, he looks a little bit nervous. Glancing behind the camera and then at ROZANOV and then off at another spot behind the camera.

The camera is picked up off its tripod and turned around to where HOLLANDER is standing off-set, his arms crossed and expression narrowed at BARRETT. It is fucking terrifying.

HARRIS: —reading thirst Tweets about the other.

HAAS grins, it might be the first real bright smile he’s ever done on camera while not playing hockey. He turns to look at LEVIN and somehow grins even more devilishly. He genuinely looks like he has actual malice in his eyes.

LEVIN: Oh…

HAAS: Oh, this is going to be great.

LEVIN: He’s too excited about this.

HAAS: I know what they say about you on the internet, Artemy Levin.

LEVIN looks horrified for a second.

HOLMBERG: Thirst tweets?

YOUNG: Wait, so… we’re doing it to each other?

HOLMBERG: I can not look Young in the eyes while I read Tweets about how much people want him to rail them.

YOUNG: Why not, bro?

HOLMBERG: You do know we’re not actually gay, right? That title goes to Jones and Arty.

YOUNG: There’s a reason they didn’t let Arty and Jones pair up for this one… Harris, did you do that on purpose?

HARRIS, off screen: Maybe.

YOUNG: Would’ve upped our engagement though.

HARRIS off screen: Hm… can you call Gareth in?

HOLMBERG: He’s currently not in Ottawa.

BOOD and HAYES look at each other clearly nervous. BOOD seems to think for a second and then his expression relaxes.

HAYES: People on the internet are aware we are very married and very in love with our wives… right?

BOOD: Knowing half of our fanbase they’re all going to be threatening to fight us for a chance with our wives.

HAYES, frowning: I don’t want to have to fight people.

BOOD: You have been itching for a fight on the ice for years.

HAYES: Yeah… with Dallas Kent, that’s like wanting to shoot—

[HARD CUT]

BOOD: This is why people thirst about you on the internet.

HAYES, looking a little more pleased with himself: Good.

BARRETT looks over to where HOLLANDER (presumably is standing) nervously. He looks back at the phone in his hand.

BARRETT: I actually hate this.

ROZANOV, gleefully: No, no, no! Tell me what they’re saying.

BARRETT: “If I let Ilya Rozanov have his way with me his dick would permanently alter the shape of my throat and I wouldn’t need saliva anymore it could just be his—”

BARRETT breaks off into awkward laughter, his face is turning bright red incredibly quickly.

ROZANOV: Wow.

BARRETT, going even redder: I didn’t write it!

ROZANOV: Sorry to this person, I have a lovely husband. And the only throat shape being permanently altered by a dick is mine.

HOLLANDER, off screen: Ilya!

ROZANOV, not sounding sorry at all: Sorry! Let’s see what they have for you Barrett. Your boyfriend chose these, yes?

BARRETT: Someone else chose the ones about me.

ROZANOV: “Respectfully, I’d risk it all for Troy Barrett.” That was tame.

BARRETT looks more scandalised by this than ROZANOV did about his own. BARRETT opens and closes his mouth before looking at HARRIS behind the camera. He picks up his own phone again and gets the expression of someone drinking curdled milk.

ROZANOV looks delighted at BARRETT’s pained expression.

BARRETT: “Ilya Rozanov please give me one chance you have—” I can’t do this. “You have the— roundest, most beautiful ass in the world Shane Hollander doesn’t know what to do with all that.”

HOLLANDER, off screen: He does.

ROZANOV: You are not allowed to not join in and then give your commentary from the sidelines.

HOLLANDER, off screen: What are you going to do about it, Rozanov?

BARRETT: Do I have to be here?

HARRIS, HOLLANDER & ROZANOV: Yes.

BARRETT looks genuinely afraid for his life.

ROZANOV looks at the phone with the Tweets on them again, still looking delighted about the entire situation.

ROZANOV: “Troy Barrett is lowkey underrated just because he’s not being slutted out on the internet for advertising like Hollanov doesn’t mean he’s not hot as fuck, like Mr. Barrett and Mr. Drover I’m free all next week do whatever you want to me.” Yours are really tame.

BARRETT: Please stop.

ROZANOV: You are weak.

HAAS grins. He swings his chair around and shuffles until he’s sitting right next to LEVIN. He turns his chair so he sits with his chest facing LEVIN’s arm and side. He leans forwards towards LEVIN’s ear. LEVIN looks afraid, but turns his head so HAAS can get a better angle until he’s leaning right next to LEVIN’s ear.

HAAS: Hey.

LEVIN, struggling: Hi.

HAAS lifts up the phone in his hand, resting his arm over the back of LEVIN’s shoulders. He looks at the Tweet and grins.

HAAS: “Artemy Levin.”

LEVIN: Yes.

HAAS: “You have bewitched me body and soul. I need to bite you.”

HAAS leans back, grinning as LEVIN looks entirely baffled by the situation playing out in front of him. HAAS swings his chair back around so he’s facing the camera. LEVIN adjusts the way he’s sitting in his seat.

LEVIN: Please never do that again.

HAAS: You’d let Gareth.

LEVIN: Well, Gareth and I are in love and are going to adopt three dogs together.

HAAS rolls his eyes.

LEVIN: “Luca Haas it seems I’ve grown quite fond of you though there are no sexual urges or desires you come to me as a long lost friend whom I once picked apples with in papa’s orchard.”

HAAS, frowning: There are no sexual urges?

LEVIN: According to this Tweet, no.

HAAS: Not even like one? No one is threatening to bite me?

LEVIN: You’d enjoy that.

HAAS: What do you know about my kinks, Levin?

LEVIN: Honest to God… I wish I knew less. Do the next one.

HAAS grins brightly as he looks at the next Tweet. LEVIN already looks afraid. HAAS leans over so their shoulders are brushing.

HAAS: Okay— so they’ve attached the photo of you that Young posted a few weeks ago.

The photo is shown on screen. It’s a photo of Artemy Levin sitting in some sort of wicker chair, he’s wearing tight shorts and his thighs look obscene, they’re nearly bulging out of the shorts.

LEVIN turns redder, somehow.

LEVIN: Oh God. I didn’t know I looked like that.

HAAS: And the internet thanks you for it. Alright. “New address just dropped: in between Artemy Levin’s thighs. It has all you need, food—”

LEVIN: STOP!

HAAS: “Shelter, warmth, entertainment. It truly is the perfect home.”

LEVIN slumps down in his chair, covering his face with his phone the best he can. The blush has spread down his neck entirely.

LEVIN: “So… is a hockey stick the only thing Luca Haas can handle or…” and then they did three winky emojis, five egg plant emojis.

HAAS looks up at the camera and winks. LEVIN looks afraid, baffled and impressed all rolled into one. 

LEVIN looks at HAAS, his eyes darting to HAAS’s mouth and then he looks away quickly.

YOUNG and HOLMBERG are laughing hysterically. YOUNG is trying to wheeze out words and failing dramatically. Both of them are red in the face and it’s clear they’ve been trying to say what’s on their screens for a while.

YOUNG: “Rhys Holmberg—”

YOUNG breaks off into wheezing again.

HOLMBERG slides down in his chair, actually falling off. A secondary camera shows that HOLMBERG is laying down on the floor, hitting his fist against the floor as he cackles like a jackal.

[HARD CUT]

Everyone is back on their chairs. YOUNG and HOLMBERG still have red faces and tears in their eyes but they are visibly more composed.

YOUNG: “Rhys Holmberg… your white boy swag has made me intrigued, you look like you—” fuck this is good. “You look like you would have bullied me in school, and as I have unresolved issues I am irrevocably attracted to you.”

HOLMBERG: I look like I would’ve bullied people in school?

YOUNG: In Australia literally every eshay looks like you.

YOUNG reaches over and fluffs up the back of HOLMBERG’s mullet. HOLMBERG slaps his hand away.

HOLMBERG, looking into the camera sincerely: I promise I would not have bullied you in school. 

YOUNG: Didn’t you once stab one of your classmates?

HOLMBERG: THEY FELL ONTO THE KNIFE I WAS HOLDING!

YOUNG: IS THAT NOT STABBING?

HOLMBERG: NO!

[HARD CUT]

HOLMBERG and YOUNG are now turned around so their chairs are facing each other. They are sitting way too close and looking into each other’s eyes intently. They’re clearly both trying very, very hard to laugh and failing.

HOLMBERG: “I bet Young’s accent sounds so nice while he talks you through it.”

YOUNG bursts out into laughter.

HOLMBERG manages to keep it together for three more seconds before similarly bursting out in laughter.

HOLMBERG, with a horrendous Australian accent: Yeah, naur. It’ll fit—

YOUNG cackles with laughter, whacking HOLMBERG in the arm.

YOUNG: I do not sound like that.

HOLMBERG: You do!

[HARD CUT]

YOUNG: Alright. I’m a professional.

HOLMBERG: Sure.

YOUNG and HOLMBERG are intensely looking into each other’s eyes, YOUNG’s mouth quirks up and HOLMBERG looks like he’s about to explode with laughter. HOLMBERG’s cheeks are puffed out like a chipmunk, as if that’s going to stop him from exploding with laughter.

YOUNG: “Walking around the hockey museums in Ottawa and looking confused to attract Rhys Holmberg.”

HOLMBERG: Someone please do that.

YOUNG: If you wanna be mansplained hockey, Holmy is the guy to do it. Okay, you go.

HOLMBERG looks at the next Tweet for a long moment, he looks at YOUNG and then he looks back at the Tweet on his screen. He then glances over behind the camera and very deliberately scrolls to whatever the next one is.

HOLMBERG: So the picture attached is that one that Luca made your contact picture where you’re half taking your shirt off.

YOUNG: The one after our game with the Pelicans or the one after the Halloween party?

HOLMBERG: … uh, you’re in hockey gear?

YOUNG: Oh yeah, that one.

HOLMBERG: “I’d like to lick his abs and feel the muscle underneath my tongue.”

YOUNG pulls a face.

YOUNG: People know I’m sweaty as [BEEP] right?

HOLMBERG looks at him for five seconds in silence.

HOLMBERG: I think that’s the appeal.

YOUNG: What, why?

HOLMBERG: They’re freaks on the internet! You can’t be attracted to hockey players and not be at least a little bit into sweat.

YOUNG: Well, I’m not into sweat.

HOLMBERG: You’re also not attracted to hockey players.

YOUNG: I’m attracted to Shane Hollander.

HOLMBERG: Everyone is attracted to Shane Hollander. That’s like being attracted to Keanu Reeves or Superman.

YOUNG: You’re attracted to Superman?

HOLMBERG: You’re not?

BOOD: Okay… the image is of Lisa. “Wyatt Hayes, can you fight?”

HAYES: Yes.

BOOD: Please don’t.

HAYES: I will not let lesbians on the internet take my wife away, my sister keeps threatening to date Lisa!

BOOD: If you really loved Lisa you’d let her be with a lesbian.

HAYES looks at the camera like he’s in an episode of the office.

BOOD: Oh this is good! One of the quote retweets of your goalie fight with Toronto’s goalie and just saying “yes he can fight good luck though.”

BOOD is quiet for a few moments.

BOOD: Dude— you look so good in that photo. Who took that?

HAYES: What photo?

BOOD tilts the phone to face HAYES.

BOOD: Like that lighting is insane— the split lip…

HAYES: I look like whenever they make Spider-Man take his mask off in the movies to show how beat up he is.

BOOD turns his head to look at HAYES for a few seconds.

HAYES seems entirely unaware of the vibe shift in the room from mild attraction and appreciation to bafflement. He lifts up his own phone and his face twists.

HAYES: “Zane Boodram… my dad just died… but will you be my new daddy.”

BOOD: Oh… I’m sorry to hear about your dad—

HARRIS: Not what they meant.

BOOD: But—

HARRIS: Trust me. Stop speaking.

HAYES and BOOD frown at the phone with identical expressions on their face. BOOD laughs and runs his hands through his hair, pushing some of it back. All the muscles in his arms flex in his very tight t-shirt. GIFS on Tumblr will never be the same.

BOOD: I’m choosing to take it as a compliment, thank you whoever Tweeted this.

BOOD winks at the camera. GIFs on Twitter will never be the same.

BOOD: Let’s see what we have for you… “Sometimes baby girl is a 28-year-old hockey player wife guy named Wyatt Hayes.”

BOOD and HAYES both screw up their faces.

HAYES: Baby girl?

BOOD: You are a grown man?

HAYES: Last I checked?

BOOD: Harris… why are they calling Wyatt a baby girl?

HARRIS, off screen: It’s a term of endearment, like scrunkly.

BOOD: What the everloving fuck is a scrunkly?

HARRIS: Something you cherish and hold dear.

BOOD faces HAYES, then holds either side of HAYES’s face in both of his hands. HAYES looks confused but allows it.

BOOD: Wyatt Hayes, you are my skrunkly.

HAYES: Zane Boodram, you’re my skrunkly too?

Off screen anyone in the crew under the age of twenty-five burst out with laughter so loud it’s picked up on the mics on BOOD and HAYES. They both look around baffled.

BOOD: Was that not right?

He only gets laughter in response.

[CUT]

The crew have controlled themselves the next time it comes back to them. HAYES and BOOD still look slightly confused, but they have a task to complete but God fucking damn they will complete this task. 

HAYES: “Zane Boodram being the alternate captain makes me horny like please hold your hockey stick against my neck.”

BOOD just stares at the camera. He looks at HAYES, HAYES is trying very hard not to laugh at the level of concern, disgust and also pure terror on his face.

BOOD: Okay— that’s a lot. Uh… thank you?

HAYES: I don’t know if you should be encouraging them.

BOOD: Well what else am I meant to say!

HAYES: I don’t really know… uh… not that?

BOOD: Well, I do thank them.

HAYES: I do not thank them. I am not a babygirl and I can fight. Please stop trying to date my wife.

Cut to ROZANOV and BARRETT. BARRETT is still nervously glancing wherever presumably, HOLLANDER is standing. A quick flash to another perspective shows that HOLLANDER is standing there, looking ready to kill people.

ROZANOV also glances in HOLLANDER’s direction off camera, winking at him once before holding the phone up.

ROZANOV: “I would let Troy Barrett split me in half like a pistachio.”

BARRETT: Ew.

ROZANOV, patting BARRETT on the knee: Do you not like pistachios?

BARRETT: I like pistachios…

ROZANOV: Then you will enjoy cracking someone in half like one.

BARRETT glances over to presumably HARRIS behind the camera. Someone else on the set gasps.

ROZANOV screws up his face.

ROZANOV: I hate gay people.

HARRIS: You are married to a man, Ilya.

ROZANOV: Yes, and that is the one gay man I do not find deeply annoying.

HARRIS: Okay you can’t actually say that—

[HARD CUT]

BARRETT: Uh— it’s a photo of you with your helmet off pushing back your hair? I think after a game?

ROZANOV: Sure.

BARRETT: “On the bed, on the couch, on the floor, against the wall—” wow. It just… keeps going. “Against the perplex, on the ice, in the airplane bathroom, on a sex swing, on my father’s grave, on his father’s grave—”

ROZANOV looks vaguely intrigued.

ROZANOV: Well… 

BARRETT, disbelieving and horrified: There’s more…

ROZANOV: Oh good!

BARRETT: “In the Uber, on top of the airplane, on my knees, in the kitchen, on his knees—” 

BARRETT has turned a truly impressive shade of red.

BARRETT: And that’s all.

ROZANOV: If I could go back to Russia I would—

HOLLANDER: Stop.

ROZANOV: You don’t even know what I’m about to say.

HOLLANDER: Read the next Tweet, Rozanov.

ROZANOV does exactly what he’s told and lifts his phone up to his face. There is a Shane Hollander trading card in the back of his phone literally no one comments on.

ROZANOV: “Troy Barrett is sooooo fine I need to shrink him and swallow him whole.”

BARRETT: Please don’t.

ROZANOV: You don’t have to shrink him to swallow him.

BARRETT: Ohmygod.

ROZANOV: You can tell me I’m wrong.

HARRIS: Ilya. Please stop speaking, your husband is trying to explode my boyfriend with his eyes.

Quick cut to what the editors have dubbed ‘Hollander Cam’ in the bottom right-hand content of the video which is a very, very unimpressed HOLLANDER looking at the set.

ROZANOV: Shane runs a stiff ship.

BARRETT, certifiably baffled: Do you mean a— tight ship?

ROZANOV: That too.

[HARD CUT]

BARRETT is bright red again, staring at a Tweet on his phone as ROZANOV looks delighted at how uncomfortable BARRETT looks.

BARRETT: I can’t read this.

ROZANOV: Read it.

BARRETT glances to where HOLLANDER is standing and hesitates a few seconds.

BARRETT: “Ilya Rozanov let me eat—” I can't, your husband is going to kill me!

ROZANOV: It would be an honour to be killed by Shane Hollander.

BARRETT: I don’t want to be killed?

ROZANOV: Finish reading!

BARRETT: “Let me eat that ass like a fucking sausage McGrittle with extra maple syrup. I’d tear that shit up I’d—” please kill me.

ROZANOV: It’s not over?

HOLLANDER storms onto the set. He grabs the edge of the chair and drags BARRETT off set. BARRETT looks baffled but happy.

The camera cuts to a ‘Hollander Cam’ where he is standing slightly off frame with BARRETT still in the chair, looking confused but happy with how things have turned out.

The camera follows HOLLANDER as he stalks around the set and grabs an empty chair.

Cut back to the original camera angle, ROZANOV looks delighted as HOLLANDER carries a chair and sits down next to his husband.

HOLLANDER: Where were we?

ROZANOV: Hi Shane.

HOLLANDER: Hello Ilya. Give me the Tweet.

ROZANOV: Were you jealous?

HOLLANDER just gives ROZANOV a look and ROZANOV grins brightly. For someone currently being glared at by the love of his life, he is exactly where he wants to be.

HOLLANDER picks up his phone and narrows his eyes at the screen. He puts his phone down and turns to look at ROZANOV.

HOLLANDER: “Ilya Rozanov let me eat that ass like a fucking sausage McGrittle with extra maple syrup. I’d tear that shit up, I’d slormp on that bitch, you feel me? Your knees could be the apple pie on the side I’d munch, munch that shit and wash it down with a cold glass of my tears and your sweat.”

HOLLANDER puts his phone down and kisses his husband on the forehead. He then grabs the chair he brought over and carries it out of frame.

ROZANOV, for the first time on video is actually blushing a slightly pinker colour than he normally is.

ROZANOV: Uh… I think that’s a cut, yeah?

HARRIS: Yeah… I’d say so.

HAAS: “I want to put Artemy Levin’s biceps around my neck and then I want him to choke me out until he has to do mouth-to-mouth on me.”

LEVIN: Did you read that or is that just a thought?

HAAS looks at his phone, then up at LEVIN and his entire face breaks out into a bright smile.

HAAS: You tell me…

LEVIN: You know a lot of these are very violent… like can they just say they want to have sex with me?

HAAS: At no point was sex mentioned, just choking.

LEVIN: Well… bad news I’m not into choking.

HAAS: I think everyone is a little bit into choking.

HARRIS: Okay— that is being cut. Luca we do not need you to air out your kinks on main.

HAAS pouts. Next to him LEVIN raises his phone to read the next Tweet. 

LEVIN keeps scrolling through for a few long moments, his eyes narrowing as his eyes scan over the various Tweets. His eyes land on one and he looks up behind the camera, presumably at HARRIS.

LEVIN: “Luca Haas is the hottest person I’ve literally ever seen. Did you see that goal against Montreal?”

HAAS: Why are mine about being good at hockey or being innocent?

[CUT]

HAAS: “I would crawl over hot coals and glass and use a knife as a…” can we say that?

HARRIS: Yeah.

HAAS: “I would crawl over hot coals and drag my entire body through shards of glass and use a knife as a dildo if it meant Artemy Levin would let me sit on his face for ten seconds.”

The entire room goes quiet for a few seconds as they sit with the weight of that Tweet. LEVIN open and closes his mouth a few times.

LEVIN: Please don’t do that?

HAAS: Please do.

LEVIN: Do not! Please do not use a knife as a dildo— or crawl over hot coals, or drag your entire body through shards of glass… just like, say hi and maybe talk to me like a normal person if you want to sit on my face?

HAAS: Crawl through glass and hot coals if you want a chance.

LEVIN: Do not do that!

[CUT]

LEVIN: “Luca Haas you are literally three apples tall, I am obsessed with your energy and I love you.”

HAAS slams both of his hands on his thighs, turning to look into the camera.

HAAS: I know what these freaks say on the internet, why am I only getting the ones that are nice?

LEVIN: Oh boy.

HAAS: I know you Tweet about wanting me to shove you on the ice and fuck your throat until you feel like you’re about to die but it’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to you—

LEVIN next to him looks horrified.

There is an impressively stunned silence from the entire room.

HARRIS, off camera: We’ll find you some deranged ones.

HAAS: I can make up forty-seven on the spot. “Luca Haas, why don’t you shove a puck in my mouth and force me on my knees?” or like “Luca Haas I want to suck you off until my throat recognises your vein pattern.”

LEVIN: Luca! 

HAAS: I can keep going.

HARRIS: Please don’t.

HOLMBERG: “Did Ariana Grande write the song ‘Side To Side’ about Wesley Young… let’s discuss. Because I would like to be there all night and day and I would also like to be walking side to side.”

YOUNG: When they say there…

HOLMBERG: They mean having sex with you.

YOUNG: Right.

HOLMBERG: I think. Did I just make that up?

YOUNG: I mean that’s the vibe I got but maybe they wanna just like… talk footie with me or something and we’re very dirty minded.

HOLMBERG: Wesley… we’re reading thirst Tweets.

YOUNG: Oh! Yes!

HOLMBERG facepalms before handing the phone to YOUNG.

YOUNG looks moderately embarrassed, but picks up the phone he's been handed despite the fact he has his own in his other hand.

YOUNG: “If I said I wanted to grate cheese on Rhys Holmberg’s abs… then what would you say?”

HOLMBERG: I would say… good luck? I’m not actually that ripped.

YOUNG: You really are, bro.

HOLMBERG: Aww… thank you, man.

YOUNG: I love this Bro-Fest for us.

HOLMBERG: This is what the average day in the Frat House looks like.

YOUNG: I can not believe the general public knows about that name. That’s cursed as fuck.

[CUT]

HOLMBERG: “I am quite endeared by the Australian Wasian from the Ottawa Centaurs who still doesn’t know how icing works, I need him. Call me… I lived in Canada my whole life. I can explain icing and then you can put me through the mattress.

YOUNG: I know how icing works!

HOLMBERG: Do you?

YOUNG: Yes! Someone made one joke because I forgot in a practice once and suddenly I don’t know how hockey works! I know how hockey works, I play hockey professionally, I’ve been playing hockey since I was three years old.

HOLMBERG: And you’re still on the third line.

YOUNG: You’re Canadian, fuck off! You’re Canadian and on the third line, that’s way more embarrassing for you, you had all the infrastructure how are you still not good enough—

HOLMBERG: I AM PLAYING IN THE MLH.

YOUNG: Me too!

HOLMBERG, slightly grumpily: Read the next Tweet, Wesley.

YOUNG shuffles on his seat a little bit, he straightens up his hoodie despite it wasn’t out of place at all, before picking up the phone left on the table between them.

YOUNG: “It is wrong to sexualise a celebrity in any capacity as some statements may make them uncomfortable and feel awkward. However, I would absolutely let Rhys Holmberg destroy my cervix.”

HOLMBERG starts laughing nervously as YOUNG laughs too. Then YOUNG does a double take at the account.

YOUNG: This is my sister’s account.

HOLMBERG tries to look surprised by this information. It is the worst acting job ever in the history of acting.

YOUNG: Why are you not surprised by this? BE SURPRISED BY THIS?!

HAYES has started looking wildly uncomfortable about the entire thing and is fidgeting every few seconds. BOOD is sitting next to him, looking relatively calm as someone retouches his makeup and steps out of frame.

HARRIS: Could you read the next Tweet please, Bood?

BOOD nods, grabbing his phone off the table in the middle of them and squinting at it for a few moments. Then he brings it closer to his face to read.

BOOD: “Wyatt Hayes… I’m bowing down on my knees. Let me wash your feet and scrub and lick between your toes—”

HAYES: Nope.

BOOD: Oh, come on.

HAYES: Nope! Red, red, red—

BOOD: I’m sorry… is that your safe word right now?

HAYES: Yes.

BOOD: You don’t want to hear about this Twitter user using the dry skin on your feet like seasoning?

HAYES gags.

HAYES: I am reading yours as soon as possible so we can avoid… literally all of that.

HAYES scrolls on his own phone.

HAYES: “We as a society need to thirst more openly for Zane Boodram than we currently do.” I feel like they already thirst openly for you a lot… like I don’t think you need anymore or you’re going to get a huge head.

BOOD: I think more people should openly thirst over me.

HAYES: I think you are opening Pandora’s Box.

BOOD: No, but surely you’ve seen like— all the edits of Ilya, I want those of me.

HAYES: I think you’re just on the wrong side of the internet, I get them.

BOOD: Why don’t you send them to me?

HAYES: Because I scroll past them… I want to see Spider-Man edits, not you.

BOOD: WHY NOT?

HAYES: Uh… because I like Spider-Man?

BOOD stops looking pretend offended for a moment and looks at the camera like he’s in The Office. Someone next to the camera snickers. BOOD readjusts his grip on his phone, holding it tighter and giving HAYES a flat look.

BOOD: “Every time I see Wyatt Hayes with his helmet off I just think GOD I NEED HIM TO CRACK ME LIKE AN EGG!’”

HAYES: I— what?

BOOD: You heard me.

HAYES: What does cracking someone like an egg mean? Am I going to break them in half and then all of their guts and insides fall out? That doesn’t sound… enjoyable?

BOOD: People on the internet are into weird stuff.

HAYES: But dying?

BOOD really considers this for a few seconds before shrugging.

BOOD: People are into what they’re into. Ooooh read me my last one. It’s my last one right?

HAYES grabs his phone again, scrolling before he smiles at one of the Tweets he sees. He leans back in his seat a little bit and gives BOOD an easy smile.

HAYES: “Not only is Zane Boodram hot and sexy, he is perhaps one of the kindest players the MLH has ever had. A lot of what has been done in Ottawa culture wise comes back to him sticking by his draft team all this time. Zane Boodram, thank you for all you’ve done for hockey, I will personally make sure you get your flowers.”

BOOD looks a little bit teary. HAYES does too. BOOD wipes at his eyes and looks away from the camera, a very small smile on his face.

HAYES: Milo is very lucky to have you as a dad. The Centaurs are somehow even luckier to have had you for as long as they have.

BOOD, tearily: Thanks Hazy.

Final shot with ROZANOV, BOOD, LEVIN, HAAS, BARRETT, YOUNG, HOLMBERG and HAYES all crowded into one shot. LEVIN is at the back actively doing bunny ears over HAAS and ROZANOV’s heads.

YOUNG and HOLMBERG are elbowing each other in a way that is supposed to look sneaky but isn’t at all.

ROZANOV: This is the Ottawa Centaurs— Holmberg what the fuck are you doing?

HOLMBERG has missed elbowing YOUNG and instead gotten ROZANOV.

HOLMBERG: Nothing!

ROZANOV: This is the Ottawa Centaurs reading thirst Tweets!