Master doc that contains different resources and support for many countries including Palestine, Congo, Haiti, Hawai’i, etc ((op is underneath the link))
[ID: Tweet by Nanu's eyebrows 🇹🇹❤️🔱… @ Seaweedlagoon which reads: "I'd appreciate if you guys would spread around my master document that not only contains support for Palestine but other countries as well, I'm updating it with resources for Puerto Rico, Lebanon and Trinidad and Tobago tomorrow!" With a link to the above doc/End ID]
kinda need a hangover-esque au where the raider's 2014 cup win coincides with ilya's 22nd birthday so the team parties in vegas and connors, marleau and ilya wake up in a hotel room they did not book with no memory of last night a baby in the bathroom an exotic bird eating bar peanuts out of ilya's designer jeans and 34 angry omnious texts that ilya can't figure out the context of from shane
Ilya slowly blinks into consciousness. His head is pounding. He sits up, and realizes that he'd fallen asleep on the floor, with a woman's underwear stuck to his right cheek. Ilya peels it off, makes an interested face when he also realizes its sticky, and tries to survey the damage from last night.
The first thought he has is this is not my hotel room.
Connors is already up, fully dressed and anxiously pacing back and forth. He seems to be distressed about something in the bathroom, shouting unintelligibly, English too panicked and incoherent for Ilya to make out what he's saying. Marleau is still facedown, also on the floor, completely naked.
Ilya looks down. Miraculously, he has clothes on. They are not, however, the clothes he started the night in. He's 99% sure he's wearing a woman's crop top. And women's pajama shorts. He's also fairly sure they are bedazzled on the butt.
"Guys! Wake the fuck up!" Connors shouts again.
Ilya starts feeling his way around the floor for his clothes, phone, and wallet. His search gets him to peek up from the suite's coffee table, which brings into view a gorgeous exotic bird, almost as tall as the men in the room, voraciously eating something from Ilya's jeans, which hang suspended on the hotel's chandelier.
To put it bluntly, the room is trashed. Furniture that isn't broken is overturned to its side. Strange stains that smell alcoholic in nature pervade the hotel floor. Women's thongs, bras, and other undergarments scatter themselves all across the room, with their owners nowhere in sight.
Ilya walks up to the exotic bird. The bird stops his eating, turns a yellow, predatory eye in Ilya's direction. Ilya pets the bird once, twice, and then spots his phone hanging out of his back pocket, to his relief. Ilya fishes it out of the air, and finds a charger conveniently strewn to the side. He plugs his phone in. He leaves the bird so it can keep eating at his jeans.
While he waits for his phone to power up, he walks over, nudges Marleau in the ribs. "Wake up," Ilya orders. Marly groans. Ilya nudges him again. "Captain's orders," he says, deadly serious.
Marly, on command, slowly comes to.
"Jesus fuck, what happened last night?" Marly groans. He realizes he's not wearing any clothes, looks at Ilya, then shrugs. He then checks the ceiling, at the chandelier, and the bird stretching its long magnificent neck to feast on Ilya's designer jeans. "Yo, who's bird is that?"
"We can worry about the bird later!" Connors shouts, flying back in from the bathroom. "We are three grown men with a fucking baby that isn't ours in our bathtub! We are going to get arrested if we don't identify who it is right now!"
Ilya and Marly make eye contact with each other, making a face, before joining Connors to head back into the bathroom. Ilya almost trips and falls on an empty Svedka bottle that he kicks to the side with a disgusted sneer.
Three grown men peek over the edge of a bathtub. There is indeed a baby in there.
Well," Ilya says, cheerily. "It has brown eyes, so it cannot be mine."
"Is it like a dog situation?" Marly asks, genuine. "Where they like, come with identification tags?"
"Maybe we should take it to the police," Connors says. "And we leave out the fact that it was here all night surrounded by drugs and booze."
Ilya ignores both of them as he walks back into the suite's common room. His phone blinks to life--10 percent battery. It helpfully reminds him that his flight to Moscow is in 12 hours. Ilya swipes the notification away. He dials Svetlana's number.
She doesn't pick up. He calls again.
"Bluh," Svetlana answers.
"Where are you?" Ilya asks.
Shuffling. "Our hotel room?" Svetlana grumbles. "Where the fuck are you?"
Ilya switches to FaceTime. Svetlana picks up. She looks terrible.
"Look," Ilya orders. He swings his phone around the room. He holds for a couple more seconds on the bird, so Svetlana can get a good look at it. Svetlana hums appreciatively, so Ilya takes her into the bathroom.
"Hey Svetlana," his teammates chime. Svetlana grunts in greeting.
The three of them, plus digital Svetlana, peer over the bathtub.
"Do you guys remember anything from last night?" Ilya asks the room.
"Nothing," Connors says, despondent.
"Nothing," Marly confirms.
"Nothing," Svetlana says, cheerily. "I do know who's baby that is though."
All three of them swing their heads to Ilya's phone. "What?" Connor asks, hopefully.
Svetlana smirks. "Yeah, it's Marly's."
Silence. Then--"Fuck off Svetlana," Marly responds.
"No, I'm being deadass," she says, somber. "Marly married a stripper last night, and that's her baby."
Even more silence. Ilya, Connors, and Marly look at each other, stunned.
"You two shut the fuck up!" Marly orders. "I didn't marry anybody--"
Connors' face is white. "Marly, your hand."
They all look down. There's a cheap, chapel ring on his fourth finger. Ilya starts laughing so hard he almost falls over.
"Svetlana," Marly begs, desperate. With fatherhood on the line he's locked back into life. "Do you remember anything else from last night? Do you know how we got here?"
"Literally no," Svetlana says, already burying her face back into the hotel pillow. "I only remember you getting married because it was so fucking funny. Then, we got back in the limo, I blacked out, the next thing I knew I am back in my hotel room," she waggles her eyebrows. "Seems like you guys had fun without me though."
"Come over," Ilya demands. "Help us solve the mystery of the missing baby. We can get burritos after."
Svetlana laughs, indignant, "Fuck that. You guys are halfway across The Strip from me. You come here."
"We literally cannot leave this room," Connors says, panicked. "Until we absolve ourselves of all guilt for everything that happened here last night."
Ilya sighs, starting to get irritated. "This is not a big deal, okay?" Ilya says, to the room. "I wake up to worse when I party in Moscow. Fix is very simple. We talk to hotel, tell them we do not know where we are, they insist we pay for damage we pay damage and leave and someone comes in to clean everything up. We tell call girl service about Marly's wife and tell them we have her baby, we call police about bird, and I head to airport. Easy peezy, as you say in your country."
"You aren't curious about what happened?" Marly asks. "You don't want to find out how we got here?"
"What is there to find out?" Ilya says, easily. "We have fun fucking night on my birthday and we black out. Is price of doing business."
As he says this Ilya opens his phone, reads through more of his messages.
His heart sinks into his asshole when he sees 1 new message from one Jane.
To start, everything from their text thread has been wiped from his phone. This is horrible news to Ilya, whose nighttime ritual the past six months had been reading all of Hollander's messages, jerking off to the memories of when Hollander let him fuck him, before continuing to not reply to any of his correspondences.
Also, it means he has no explanation for the single text that remains in their conversation.
Jane: goodbye, rozanov.
Ilya hasn't responded to Hollander in over six months. Yet, this singular message is enough to get him type, panicked--
Ilya: lol wtf are you talking about
He hits send. The message doesn't go through. Ilya's heart starts pounding in his ears.
He does something desperate. He calls Hollander.
The call doesn't go through.
Ilya has pissed off enough hook ups to know exactly what this is.
Hollander's blocked him.
The little fucking asshole.
"We must retrace our steps," Ilya announces, out loud to the room. "Starting with pregame bar."
"Yo, are you serious Cap?" Marly asks, hopeful. Connors looks equally relieved that Ilya has decided to take charge of the situation.
"I'm going back to sleep," Svetlana says, definitive, and hangs up.
"Men," Ilya says gravely. He clutches his phone tightly in his hands. He's already brainstorming ways he will try to get back in contact with Hollander. "We need to solve the mystery of what the fuck happened at my 22nd birthday party."
Post-outing and post- honeymoon pre-season Hollanov step out and are photographed for the first time in Ottawa featuring Shane— white t-shirt pre-season muscles bulging gray sweatpants dick outline healthy yes he's wearing his reeboks Mom and Ilya— decked out in TIGht Adidas track pants with the snaps black tank top clinging to that waist with Anya on a bedazzled leash— YES they're holding hands rings glinting in the golden hour YES they have their dog at this outside restaurant seating YES they're going to win this season YES Shane will have dessert and will give the first bite to his husband YES they're dropping a black card in the bill YES they're kissing each other's hands at the table and in a way it's kind of like Diana in her revenge dress except their best revenge is just living their best fucking life TOGETHER
Ilya does love seeing old photos of Shane. Fat Baby Shane™ in all his forms, toddler Shane in his little hockey gear, Shane in elementary school with a big missing-teeth smile, Shane blowing out the candles on his 10th birthday, Shane holding up his brand new driver's license at 16. The list goes on.
One day Yuna finds an old disposable camera. The expiration date on it says 2009. She tells Shane about it; it might have some old photos from his graduation on it or something. She'd gotten a digital camera around that time so she can't remember what she used this one for. Shane is pretty indifferent about it.
Yuna sends the camera off to some company that still develops old camera film. It's about 15 years old at this point, though, so whatever is on it might not even develop correctly.
A few weeks later Shane and Ilya are over for dinner. Yuna tells them she got the photos back and they actually turned out ok. She hands over the stack of 10 photos. Shane rolls his eyes, but Ilya grabs the photos and starts flipping through them. The first two look like they are from some school event; there's Shane surrounded by similarly aged kids in an auditorium. There's one of the three of them on Thanksgiving that year and another of the three of them with Yuna's parents at the same dinner. Two of David asleep on the couch with the family dog clearly taken on different days. One of a Christmas tree in the Hollander's living room. The next two are Shane on the ice in a rink that Ilya recognizes as the one in Regina. The one from their first World Juniors Tournament.
And Ilya freezes. The last photo in the stack is a close-up of Shane. He's in a white hoodie with a black coat over it. He has on a dark green beanie and he's standing next to the door to the rink. He's smiling for the camera and his freckles are crinkled near his eyes. It's the Shane that so awkwardly and so confidently introduced himself to Ilya the first time they met. The Shane that had tried so hard to talk to Ilya then. The Shane that Ilya could admit to himself now that he'd had a bit of a crush on already. His Shane.
His Shane was getting blurry as tears filled his eyes.
So one afternoon at the cottage, Ilya has been in and out of the lake all day, excited like a kid, splashing around and clowning and fascinated by the wildlife and showing off for Shane. And after they finally head back inside and shower off the lake smell, Shane settles on the couch with a book and Ilya flops down with him, stretched out with his head in Shane's lap and whining until Shane frees a hand to sink into his hair. And it's been such a nice full day and it's all warm dozy sunshine and the lovely earthy nature smell that's everywhere around the cottage and Ilya has his face tucked into Shane's stomach where he can breathe him in, the familiar scent of his detergent and body wash, and Shane's big warm hand is in his hair and Ilya's pleasantly tired and drowsy and so comfortable that he just... drifts off, the kind of wonderfully indulgent nap that he never really gets during the season and finds hard to justify when he's in Russia for the summer.
But this year he's not in Russia, and he slips into this warm syrupy slumber while Shane pets through his hair (incidentally making a disastrous mess of his curls) and reads his book. When Ilya eventually rouses, with a happy grumble of contentment, nuzzling closer into Shane's stomach, he can feels Shane laughing gently at him almost before he hears it.
"Did you sleep well?" Shane asks, and that sounds warm and syrupy too, and Ilya rolls over so he can smile at Shane and revel in the smile he gets in return.
And then Shane says, "Are you hungry? It's almost dinnertime," and Ilya realises he's been lying here, napping and pinning Shane to the couch and wasting both of their time, for hours, and he jackknifes upright so suddenly that Shane startles back.
"Fuck!" Ilya spits out. "I was--fuck, has been so long. Why didn't you wake me up?" already guilty because Shane had wanted to make some pasta thing that he was weirdly excited about and they'd talked about maybe playing more Chel but now the whole day's been napped away and--Ilya sneaks a look---Shane's book is lying closed on the couch, bookmark set neatly aside, so Shane had finished his book and not even been able to get up to go do something else.
And he's just smiling at Ilya, completely unconcerned that Ilya's been idle and asleep and... and... lazy, all afternoon, just glad Ilya had a good nap.
Shane's frowning in mild confusion at him. "Why?" he says, genuinely not seeing the problem. "You were napping, it was nice. I mean, if I'd needed to pee or something I'd have got up but I was fine." He reaches out and smoothes some of Ilya's hair down. "Oh, the pasta. We can do that tomorrow, we have all that salad from lunch and rolls and there's peaches if we want dessert."
Ilya must have responded somehow because Shane beams at him and says, "Cool, I'll go set the table if you want to go wash your face." He smirks and pokes at Ilya's cheek. "Got a little drool there." And then he smacks a kiss on Ilya's head, gets up, and trots over to the kitchen while Ilya just sits there reeling.
Anyway it's really important to me that Shane dismantles all of Ilya's awful self-talk about laziness.
If there's one thing Shane is surprisingly knowledgable on it's beef in the rap and hip hop world because Ilya is Invested and takes Hard Sides and will just constantly bring it up at home.
Shane ends up being the one to explain the Drake vs. Kendrick feud to Hayden (who came into it cold when Not Like Us got huge). JJ started explaining it to him but, honestly, he was doing a bad job at it and Shane has heard Ilya rant about this for months now, every time there was a new development, so he takes over and Hayden and JJ both just stare at him in blank shock.
The veterans on the Centaurs ask Shane to explain the Cardi B trial because Ilya got too worked up over it and started speaking Russian when they asked him.
They watched the entire four-part documentary on Diddy that 50 Cent produced and Shane now gleefully tells people that 50 did an in-depth interview on ABC, specifically because that's one of the few channels shown in prisons (yes, Ilya made him watch the interview and cackled beside him the entire time).
During them watching that series, Shane asked Ilya "who's that?" when Biggie Smalls came up on screen for the first time. Shocked and appalled, Ilya played Shane Biggie and Tupac's entire catalogues and showed him several video essays covering the East Coast–West Coast hip hop rivalry.
After that, "I've been in this game for years, it made me an animal It's rules to this shit, I wrote me a manual" from the Ten Crack Commandments becomes almost a stim line for Shane, he'll be saying it under his breath in the locker room, on the ice, or even while cooking dinner.
I wanted to send a more positive ask after the shit from instagram. Your music taste is beautiful so I wanted to ask what you think caitvi's first dance song was if they had a first dance at all?
oH I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS :'DD
i don't think this is what it would actually be? but lately i've been listening to '1973' by james blunt imagining their first dance
i honestly have no idea where their music taste would meet up but i could see florence being an overlap, so maybe they'd choose 'between two lungs' or 'never let me go'
idk if this was intentional but i LOVE this parallel of Jinx crowd surfing before vs after getting sober and reconnecting w her family :,) seeing her get to have these amazing experiences and ACTUALLY being present for them, AND getting to share them with Vi, oughhhh my heart
AAAAAAA yes i did think about it while i was drawing it!! she probably has so much more fun at concerts now that she's coherent for them
also,,, idk if i'm making this too deep but the fact that in the first one she's in the dark at a shitty basement show and in the second one she's outside under the sun,,
not to keep beating this horse but the further we get into this arc of jinx lore the more i realise that a lot of people GENUINELY think that biology is some top tier sacred thing and that not having a kid you're related to is a tragedy
i feel like i haven't been able to describe what this has been like without actually showing it so
i genuinely don't think most people mean this in a negative way at all but like. do you not see how this sounds???
i don't like being snarky to people who are earnestly asking questions but i can't help but try and gently bait it out of them. like say the quiet part out loud!! just say you think he should have a REAL child because i KNOW that's what you mean!!
This is what I meant by how a lot of white supremacy is projection.
"I feel like my penis/my Manhood as a symbol is smaller than Black man's" becomes "Black men have oversized penises and are sexually insatiable beasts."
"I am sexually attracted to, fetishizing, and feel entitled to Black women's bodies" becomes "well she's asking for it, look at how she looks, Black women are always more openly sexual."
"I am afraid of approaching Black men" becomes "Black men are a threat."
"I am afraid of approaching Black women" becomes "Black women are always angry."
"I am not smart enough/not qualifed enough/can't beat my white counterparts professionally" becomes "DEI and affirmative action are letting those Blacks steal my position in school/jobs!"
Your own fears and insecurities about yourself somehow become a reflection of my humanity, when it had nothing to do with anything. And somehow enough people think that and now it's systemic instead of the made up nonsense it always was. Ijeoma Oluo called it mediocrity, James Baldwin called racism the white man's problem, and they remain correct.
quirky fourth wall breaking character but theyre just fucking. wrong about the medium theyre in. they keep making references to cinematic techniques and directorial styles and the other fourth wall breaking character is like "dumbass we're in a fucking comic book" and they are in a video game.
Autism is some monkey's paw sort of shit, you've got the power to give people the most devastating rip-your-scalp-off level insults that will haunt them for life, with a completely straight face, but the catch is that you don't do it on purpose and also have no idea that you're doing it at all before people get mad at you for no apparent reason again.
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